“Buckley ATC, this is Archer. Can you hear me?”

After a moment of silence, a stallion’s voice responded through Archer’s portable radio. “Loud and clear. How’d things go out there?”

“Well, we’re back in one piece, and there were no Talons out and about on our recon route.” Archer answered his fellow guard. “All in all, mission accomplished.”

“Commander Tracer will be glad to hear that.” the tower guard responded. “He actually radioed the tower about fifteen minutes ago, told us to inform you that he’ll be waiting outside the missile silo bunker entrance. He should still be there now.”

“Alright. We’ll head there right away.” Archer replied. “Tell the sentries and the howitzer crews to hold fire to the east, Nova and I are entering Buckley airspace at low altitude.”

“Roger that. Welcome back.”

Just ahead, Buckley Air Force Base sat at peace within the crater-filled fields surrounding it. Late evening was quickly passing by, the first signs of night showing behind us in the east, and Buckley itself was beginning to glow from a number of activated building lights, from the solid white light shining through the windows of the church, to the nightlights of the base’s hangers and the concert hall, to the bright multi-colored lights pulsing out from the windows of the base’s club building.

Though it wasn’t home, approaching the base was still a tremendous relief. Today had been an incredibly long and exhausting day, so much having transpired over its course that left me with much to think over, and now that we were on our final approach to the perimeter of the settlement, I knew that the day was soon, finally, going to come to a close. In all honesty, only four things were on my mind now, and those included checking up on my friends and my little brother, a trip to Buckley’s spa, dinner, and sleep… in that order.

To my right, matching pace and flying side by side with me, Archer looked over to me as we came up on the base’s east perimeter. “Let’s go ahead and give this stuff to Tracer.” he said. “After that, I’m sure that you’ll be free to go.”

After having shut down the Shimmermist Farm broadcast and leaving the site behind, I had expressed my growing tiredness to my wingmate during the return trip. The day had certainly been long, but in truth, I felt more that it was what had taken place at the farm itself that had instilled this sense of weariness into me. Knowing the history of that place, its connection to Mother Shimmer, and what it had once been to her compared to what it was now was part of the reason why. But more so than that, it was because we had found the remains of her parents. Those skeletons, knowing and seeing with my own eyes who they had once been, and knowing how they had died - waiting by that radio day after day for a response that never came - left me adequately disheartened. But it also left me with questions, chief among them one that I asked myself with anxiety. When Mother Shimmer saw the terminal, the memory orbs, and the toys from her old bedroom, how would the deaths of her parents, knowing the how and the why of it… how would all of that affect her? Indeed, Archer had asked the very same thing, and that was before we had left for the farm; at hearing my own concerns, he showed that he was just as worried as I.

At his nod, he motioned for me to veer right, and I fanned my wings out wide as I banked and followed him over the perimeter towards Buckley’s twin runways. True to his intent, Archer had carried everything that we had decided to bring with us from the farm by himself. The six memory orbs, the recollector, and the stuffed animal had all found secure homes in his combat armor’s pockets, and the frisbee had been tucked away between two of the rig’s protective pads on his left side. He had even carried the terminal in his forelegs throughout the entire flight, not stopping even once.

Now, we angled in for our landing, placing the missile silo entrance bunker directly in front of us. Outside of the small building nestled between the runways, only two ponies waited before its open entrance, and as we dived down and quickly closed our distance to the bunker, I discovered one of them to be Commander Tracer, currently garbed in his combat armor. And the second of them, to my surprise, was Gracie, currently waving up to me as we descended.

“Hey, Grace!” I called in greeting, backwinging to draw myself parallel to the ground and halt my momentum before landing solidly on all fours, tucking my wings back to my sides. Beside me, Archer hovered in more slowly, carefully lowering the terminal and setting it delicately on the dirt before likewise landing.

“Hey.” came my friend’s reply; the bright red unicorn’s smile was refreshing to see. “I take it things went well out there? Raemor told us something about scouting for Talon Legion patrols.”

I nodded. “Yes. We didn’t discover any enemy groups out there on our route. That should mean that they’re all much farther east of here.”

“That’s good news, damn good news.” Tracer voiced with a nod of approval. “That gives us a couple more days, at least long enough to focus on tomorrow’s mission.”

“And we found these.” Archer said, catching the commander’s attention. Turning to the pegasus, I saw as he placed his left forehoof atop the terminal, the same monochrome green that had accompanied us all the way back to Buckley flickering away on the monitor. “Turns out that your hunch was right, commander. On this terminal are two accessible video logs, and in my pockets, I have six memory orbs with a recollector, a frisbee, and a stuffed animal, all items that we found on the farm. The video logs on this terminal were the only things that Nova and I looked at ourselves, but they’re all the proof you need to show that that farm really was Mother Shimmer’s home all those years ago.”

Glancing back at the commander, I saw the red earth pony as he bowed his head, looking back at the terminal. “So… she really did live during the wartime era.” he spoke, letting out a sigh. “To be perfectly honest, I was expecting you to come back empty-hoofed. The whole thing just seemed too unlikely… it still kind of does.”

But Archer shook his head. “No. Mother Shimmer was once a gold earth pony with a blue mane and tail and emerald eyes, the same eyes she has today. She lived as a single child to a military family that was honorably discharged from the service after eight years on the frontlines, and she spent her days as a foalsitter, caring for children brought to her home while their families were away.”

“The mare on the video spoke just like Mother Shimmer talks today, and the same personality is something that’s easily recognizable.” I added. “When we were on the farm, we found the skeletons of the ponies who’d been Mother Shimmer’s parents, laying in a looted cellar with a HAM radio that was broadcasting a looping distress message. Whether it had been on the day that the bombs fell or a short time afterwards, they had set up the message because Shimmer had some sort of heart condition, a critical illness. That message had been playing for one hundred and seventy-five years before I finally shut it off.” Though I was looking the commander in the eyes, the buck listening with unbroken attention, I saw Grace and her wide-eyed expression in my peripheral vision.

“I’d have you look at the video logs,” Archer spoke after me. “but this is something that we can’t make up. Believe me, we were doubtful, too. But this is as real as it gets.”

Tracer, though, shook his head. “No, I… with how seriously you both are going on about this, I believe you.” The commander looked back up at us. “It’s just, with this stuff that you’ve found out there, and knowing that Mother Shimmer’s been alive for over one hundred and seventy-five years… it’s really something else to take in.” Pausing, the red buck approached the terminal, looking over the frame and scanning the video list display on the flickering monitor. “Alright. Let’s get this stuff inside.” he ordered after a breath. “Mother Shimmer just returned to her quarters in the silo for the night. We’ll take these items to her, and then I want to leave her alone while she looks them all over. She’s going to need time and privacy when she sees just what these are.”

Definitely understandable.

“If you want to leave now, you can go ahead and do so.” Archer then spoke, nudging my side with a hoof at his polite offer. “Once we give Mother Shimmer her stuff, we’ll be going our own way, too.”

I nodded gradually. “I guess if you two don’t need help carrying anything, then I’ll take my leave.” I replied, taking a step back and passing a glance at Gracie, my friend waiting composedly a few paces away from us. “But if I could ask a favor…”

“Of course.” Archer assured.

“Let me know how all this turns out.” I said. “You know, how Shimmer takes all this in. I’d like to know.”

He nodded with a small smile. “I can do that.”

With a grateful thank you to the steel-blue pegasus, I turned away and made my way back to my waiting companion. But after only a few steps, “Nova…”

Craning my head around to peer over my shoulder, I saw both stallions looking back at me, Tracer smiling. “Well done. Thank you for doing this for us… it really does mean a lot.”

I smiled in return. “You want Mother Shimmer to be happy, to give back to her and to grant her wish to remember. Between my short time here on base and from what I saw on that terminal, I’ve come to get a basic understanding of the pony that she was and still is. She’s a caring soul, somepony who’s already done a world of good by leading Buckley through a prosperous life. It was my pleasure to help her.”

“I just want you to understand how important this is, to me and to her.” the commander responded. “After everything you’ve done for us, even after we greeted you with high explosives, I speak from the bottom of my heart when I say that I’m sorry… sorry for giving the order to fire on you earlier today. I know now that you and your group are decent folks, and I’m glad that you’ve stuck around. I hope you’ll understand and forgive me.”

“Well, there’s no denying the truth that Buckley’s bombardment was… well, terrifying.” I replied, a little less warmly despite my efforts to speak otherwise. “I hope my friends and I never go through anything like it again.” But still, between how deeply I had gotten involved with Buckley over the course of just half a day, and knowing that I, Blake, and all of my friends were still alive and intact (more or less in poor Blossom’s case), it wasn’t too hard to let a small smile return to my face. “While I’m not really sure I can speak for everypony in my company, I myself like to think that that’s all behind us now.”

Tracer chuckled a single humorless note. “I understand. It was a mistake, one that I regret, but I’m glad that there’s no hard feelings between us, considering you, at least, will be joining the expedition tomorrow.” he said. “I will, however, say that one of these days, Buckley will pay you back for all the good you’ve done us. Of that, I give you my word.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, commander,” I replied, though shaking my head after. “but I think for now, Buckley’s paid us back enough by giving us a place to rest and recover for the night.”

“If you say so.” Dipping his head, the commander bid us farewell, saying, “I’ll leave you to your rest then. You’ve all more than earned it.”

I returned the parting gesture. “Thank you. I’ll see you in the morning.”

With a nod, the commander turned his attention back to the computer terminal between his and Archer’s front hooves. “Come on, Archer. Let’s give Mother Shimmer her stuff back.” he spoke, then taking one of the terminal’s handle bits in his mouth before he and Archer disappeared into the silo bunker.

“I was wondering how a simple patrol managed to last almost four hours.” Grace remarked, my friend already facing towards the east side of the base as I looked back to her. “I was starting to worry.”

I briskly trotted up to stand at her side. “Sorry. It was just something that Tracer wanted to have done, something that he was keeping secret from Mother Shimmer.”

“Oh, don’t be sorry. I’m just glad you’re back.” Grace replied, swinging her head around to look back at me with a smile. “Although I can’t help but be curious – what were you doing out there exactly? You went to some kind of farm?”

As I begun detailing my latest escapade into the southeast, Grace led me across the runway towards the northernmost sprawl of Buckley’s residential shacks, taking us to our temporary abode. On the way, I began by recounting the more important bits of the meeting in the ATC tower, briefly skimming over the expedition objectives and recalling the orders and position I had been given before describing Tracer’s secret mission. I told Grace of how Mother Shimmer had been suffering from memory loss, sometimes spending hours at a time confined to her silo and asking herself about her former life, trying to remember the things that had occurred far into the past. I explained also that this had been a factor to play in her decision to begin exposing Buckley to the outside world, and I told my friend of how Mother Shimmer had not come from Stable 192 like the rest of Buckley’s residents, but had instead been found on the base itself; like me back when I had first heard this, Grace was appropriately shocked.

Finally, as we entered the north residential sector of the base, I described the Shimmermist Farm itself and what we had found there – the radio tower, the looping distress message, the cellar with Shimmer’s parents’ remains inside, and finally, the farmhouse with the objects we had collected and returned here. “I’m sorry to hear about that radio tower.” Grace said at the end of my recollection. “It’s a shame how they died, truly.”

“I know.” I agreed with a solemn nod. “I can’t imagine going through that myself, all of that insufferable waiting they endured while the world was going up in flames around them.” Together, the two of us stopped on the walk-lane between two rows of metal shacks, coming to a halt outside the door of what I assumed to be our provided shelter for the night. But my own thoughts kept right on walking at the presence of the present topic. “And… and you know, for a time… I actually thought that the broadcast was coming from travelers that needed help. I thought we’d find a family lost on their way to Challenger, or somepony who’d been ambushed by a raider patrol… But that message was… just playing again and again for all these years…” Goddesses, just talking about it pinned my ear back against my head, and I lowered my eyes to stare at the dirt underhoof as I shook my head. “I can’t help skeletons, Gracie… I can’t help ponies that are already dead.”

“Oh, Nova…” I felt a hoof under my chin, forcing me to look back up to Grace, whose eyes showed great sympathy. “Please don’t beat yourself up because of this. You didn’t know.”

I let my shoulders rise and fall in a sigh, averting my eyes. “I just thought there’d be somepony who actually needed help, somepony looking for another to help them in the right direction… or something…… But it was just the wasteland playing a sick joke on me in the end.”

“But you still went in there with the right intentions.” Grace remarked. “You were still ready to help, and more importantly, you were willing to do so. Just because you found long-dead ponies instead of living ones doesn’t change who you are, nor does it change anypony’s opinion of you. This was just something out of your control.”

“I know it was… but it’s still just as disheartening.” I replied lowly back.

“Yes, I know it is. But I just want you to understand that this doesn’t make you some kind of bad pony. You’re still very much the same Nova that we love. You understand that, right?” To those simple yet comforting words, I merely gave a small nod, whereupon Grace’s hoof left my chin as she took a step forward, placing a kiss on my forehead. When she released me, I looked back up to her as she stepped back, seeing a smile adorn her face. “Now then, I don’t know about you, but I am more than ready for our trip to Buckley’s spa that we had been planning earlier today.”

“That sounds nice.” I replied, letting a smile come back to me. “How are the others?”

“As I’m sure you’ve gathered, this is our shack.” Grace explained, horn glowing alight with magic as she focused on the door handle. “I moved Gunny and Blossom here while you were gone. They’re both sleeping inside, and Blake is as well.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “He actually fell asleep before nightfall?”

“Oh yes.” Grace replied with a nod. “I think the day’s been more than a bit tiring for all of us, some more than others.”

“Well, I’m glad he’s managing to get some rest.”

“Shore’s inside as well, but he’s awake, tending to his energy rifles.” Grace continued, slowly pushing over the door as she lowered her voice. “And Raemor’s out walking around the base. It’s been quiet here, and we’ve all welcomed it with open arms.”

I nodded my approval of this. “Good.” As far as I was concerned, we were done working for the day, and peace, quiet, and relaxation was something that we all needed.

Upon pushing the door in enough for us to walk through, Grace entered the shack first and I followed. Inside, the shelter was but a single chamber, plain yet spacious. Against the east wall to the right of the entrance, a single metal table lay against the corner of the shack, currently occupied by Shore who was tinkering away with one of his energy rifles. Directly ahead at the shack’s far end, three intact mattresses sat side by side, spaced a few hooves apart. Two of them were occupied at the present time, the leftmost bed taken by Blossom and the center bed by Blake. Gunny likewise slept, laying on his belly by Blossom’s left side on the metal floor. The both of them had stripped away all of their gear, stashing it in designated piles along the shack’s left wall, which was where Gracie quietly made her way to as she passed a warm hello to Shore.

“Welcome back, friend.” the black earth pony greeted me as I pulled the door shut with its hoof handle.

“Good to see you again, Shore.” I replied, trotting up to him to give him a quick hug. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine. Although, I have discovered that I am running dangerously low on energy cartridges for my multiplas rifle.” As he explained, he turned back to the disassembled plasma weapon on the table, my eyes following his stare to the tidy arrangement of weapon parts. He had dismantled the rifle down to the smallest parts, even the autoloader having been removed and opened up for inspection and cleaning. “I have only two cartridges left, enough for fifty or so shots before the weapon will become useless.” Shore continued, reaching out with a hoof and gesturing to two small yellow-orange canisters placed at the far corner of the table. “While I am glad to say that my laser rifle’s recycler still works perfectly, I might very well have to look into using a conventional firearm should I have no luck finding any more cartridges for my other rifle tomorrow.”

“Oh. You’re coming with me to Marefax?” I asked with a smile, to which he nodded.

“It’s not as important as coming with you and being able to contribute a little more to Buckley, but hopefully the city will yield to me a resupply of ammo. I only carried what I had on me out of the Stable, and everything else had been left in the armory.”

I gave him a slow nod. “I see. Well, I’m glad you’re coming along.”

“I figured that at least a couple of us should go with you.” he responded, looking away from his dismantled rifle to smile at me as he adjusted his reading glasses. “And Raemor is already planning on coming as well.”

“I’ll be staying here on base tomorrow just to be with Blake while you’re away, Nova.” Grace spoke up from the other side of the shack, my friend setting her revolver and her saddlebags quietly down on the floor next to a spread open suit of Equestrian Army combat armor and a grenade rifle – Raemor’s gear. “I offered that he go back home to Hopeville with Gunny and Blossom tomorrow morning, but he insisted otherwise. He wanted to stay as close to you as possible.”

I let out a light sigh, shaking my head as I turned and trotted over to Gracie as she set down her leather armor suit, having removed the last of her gear. “That sounds like him.” Craning my head around, I caught Blue Fire’s Torchby the stock with my teeth, pulling the rifle free from its place before setting it down on the floor.

But then, as I sat on my haunches to begin fumbling with the main strap of my battle saddle, “Oh, by the way, Nova,” Behind me, Grace looked back at me from her place by Shore’s work table. “one of Buckley’s ponies stopped by our shack while you were away with Archer and said that he was looking for you.”

“Who was it?” I asked curiously, undoing the buckle of my saddle’s strap and taking it off to set the two rifles by the Torch.

“His name was Ludwig, a white unicorn with a blonde mane and tail. He’s apparently the music director of Buckley’s concert hall.” Grace answered, making me stop just as I removed the first plate of my armor. “Do you know him?”

“Yeah, he was at the meeting with me earlier today.” I replied, returning my focus to getting out of my armor. “What did he want?”

“He told us to tell you that he would like to see you in the concert hall tonight before you go to bed.” Shore explained. “He didn’t really tell what he wanted to see you for, but he had said that he had been pleasantly surprised at your interest in music and was hoping to talk to you in person because of it.”

With all of my armor’s plates removed, I lowered my forehooves to the floor to look back at my friends. “Curious… I wonder what… oh!” With a jolt of realization, a smile quickly came to my face. “I wonder if he wanted to talk to me about Buckley’s upcoming concert… maybe he wants me to help him prepare and organize it!”

“If that’s the case, I think it’d be quite the opportunity.” came Gracie’s reply, my friend smiling with me. “It sounds like he’s well aware of your love for music.”

“Well, I did kind of unintentionally make it known during the meeting once Ludwig talked about making a concert in celebration of a successful first journey into the outside world.” I explained, flushing a bit as I turned back to my kevlar vest to work myself out of it. “It’s kind of embarrassing when you speak your thoughts aloud and you don’t even know you did it… you know, until it’s too late. In truth… I don’t think that kind of thing happens to anypony else except me…”

“So that’s what happened.” Shore remarked with a chuckle.

“Yeah, it was a slip.” I replied, ignoring his amusement as I pulled free of my vest and set it atop my growing pile of gear. Then, I removed my sidearm, keeping it and its extra clips together on the belt that wrapped around my left foreleg as I set it down. “He definitely did brighten up when I spoke out my interest, though. Ludwig’s really passionate about music, and hell, he’s overseeing part of the expedition itself.”

“He is the director of music in Buckley. If he’s interested in seeing you, especially because of your appreciation of the musical arts, I think you should stop by the concert hall tonight. It could be really important.”

“I think so, too.” I responded in agreement to Gracie’s observation. “But first, if I’m going to see Buckley’s music director, I’m going to need to clean up a little. I haven’t had a shower since before we left Challenger, and these ponies get showers every day.”

“Yes, that might be best.” Grace stated with a polite giggle. “It’ll be good for the both of us, really. Are you about ready?”

“Just a second.” Raising my pipbuck leg, I looked over my computer’s frame for the appropriate key, and finding it at the top of the frame, I used my free forehoof to push down on the button that released the clamps holding the device around my foreleg; with a soft thud, the computer fell onto the pile.

Now I was completely free of gear, a somewhat odd feeling as I rose to all fours and stretched, shaking out my legs one by one and flapping my wings a single beat before returning them to my sides. “It definitely feels good not wearing all that stuff.” I remarked, turning away from my equipment only to halt as my eyes passed over the sleeping members of our company. All three of them were still sound asleep, more than managing to do so through our chatter. Blossom had shifted, lying at the edge of her mattress with her muzzle just brushing against Gunny’s neck. Nearby, Blake was laying on his left side, lightly snoring as he dreamed… and yet something was missing……

Turning back and returning to my equipment, I pawed through the pile until I found my saddlebags, then opening the left-side bag. Mine and Blake’s shared blanket was held within, hastily folded and stored away the previous morning, yet still clean. Quickly, I snagged the blanket in my mouth, the cover easily sliding out of the bag before I turned and walked with light steps to where my baby brother slept. Setting the blanket down on the floor, I expanded the cozy coverlet fold by fold, drawing it out to its full size. And then, taking one corner in my teeth, I carefully, ever-so-carefully, pulled it up and over Blake’s mattress, setting it down over the snoozing colt. A couple of delicate adjustments later, and the blanket covered him up to his neck, leaving only his head to poke out from underneath.

And he didn’t even stir.

With a smile, I lowered my head down to place a soft kiss on his right cheek, then giving him a single affectionate nudge with my muzzle before I silently stepped away. Behind me, Grace was smiling, Shore giving a nod of approval as I rejoined them. “Alright. Now I’m ready.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come along, Shore?” Grace asked after nodding at me. “They do have just regular showers for stallions.”

“I actually think I’ll wait one more day.” he answered. “Marefax will be a whole new world of dirt and grime, so I think it probably best to wait until I’ve experienced what that city has to offer. Besides, somepony needs to be awake in our shack, and since Raemor is out and about, that pony would be me.”

“Suit yourself.” Grace replied, horn glowing as she trotted to the shack door and opened it, then adding with a sweet smile, “Although, you really should think about getting a shower. It would probably make you feel better.”

After a moment of silence, Shore hummed in thought, and I looked to him to see him slowly letting his hooves off of his plasma rifle stock. “Well… perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to rinse off at least.”

“And you wouldn’t be as stinky.” Grace added in cheery singsong, turning away from him to face the door.

“Hey, I’m not that bad.” Shore protested, thankfully unaware of the small smirk that rose to my lips and proceeded to grow as his narrowed eyes took on an uncertain look. “Am I?”

“Come along, Nova.” Grace called, carrying a triumphant smile with her as she cantered out the door, and with a giggle I followed her out; oh, poor Shore.

Behind me, the door swung back on its hinges and closed on its own, and just ahead, Gracie continued down the lane at a lively trot; that same smile of victory was plastered to her face as I drew up alongside her. “Well, way to pick at Shore’s pride.”

“Oh, I just like to tease him.” Grace replied to me, laughing lightly. “Besides, we’re all a bit aromatic right now. And actually, I think the boys haven’t even washed since we left One eighty-one.”

“It’s not like there’s a lot of opportunities to do so.” I pointed out, the two of us exiting the residential sector and turning right, walking parallel to the east runway. “And even when there is, there’s usually something that has to be taken care of. But still, I’ll probably end up going through the same talk with Blake tomorrow. He hasn’t been doing nearly as much physical work, but he’s getting pretty dirty, too.”

“I understand that being clean isn’t a major concern out here, but I know that I’d like to take advantage of opportunities to groom myself should they arise. It’s kind of one of those little treats now, not like the daily routine it was back in the Stable.”

She certainly had a point with that. “Right. And really, I think this spa will be a great way to unwind. It’s actually kind of exciting.” I said with a smile. “Back in the day, spas were a fairly common place for friends to get together. It’ll be interesting to see one for ourselves.”

“Yes. And that Marlena character really seemed to have a deep love for her own.” Grace replied. “I remember her talking about her parents having created one out of one of the base’s old buildings. The facility was practically built again by the family and then passed from one generation to the next. That speaks greatly of the care and talent going into its preservation and its success.”

Already, the building in question was close by, the stone structure smaller all around than the generator building that neighbored it. The front entrance of the spa was alight in response to the coming night, two hanging lanterns set on either side of the larger single door sitting center against the building’s west face. On the door itself was a square window through which a soft golden light shined through, the three light sources combining to illuminate a single poster on the wall. As we approached the entrance, I could make out the board to the right of the door, a greeting panel whose message was printed cleanly in black marker, sitting below the word OPEN written in bold letters.

Welcome to the Buckley Air Force Base Spa! This facility is open from mid-morning to late evening every day - simply look at the sign to see if we are available. Remember - no scheduling is necessary! Just come on in!

“Hm… that’s an interesting welcome.” My eyes had fallen to the very end of the short message, where two dots and an upward-arching line made a smiley face, an awkward… yet warm and welcoming addition to the cheerful posting.

“Well, when dealing with other ponies constantly on a daily basis, one does need to be as friendly as can be.” Grace remarked, likewise observing the poster as she giggled. “Everypony has their own way of approaching that, and I can tell that Marlena and whomever else owns this spa are quite cheery indeed.”

“Let’s go on in.” I urged, smiling as I trotted up to the door, hooking my foreleg around the handle and pulling it open to enter.

Closing the door behind us, we entered into a lobby chamber, a small but colorful arrangement that made the spa’s waiting room, as indicated by a chalk board hanging outside the entrance to the spa itself, reading, Welcome! Please wait here for one of the spa staff members. Somepony will be with you shortly! Along the right wall of the room was a row of cushioned seats, each with silky fabric covers of their own color, ranging from bright blues and greens to moderate reds and yellows and even darker purples.

“Oh my! Nova, look at these.” To my left, I found Gracie as she motioned for me to join her, pointing then to three potted plants set together in the room’s front left corner. The three vases were of polished metal, silver with a gold hue seemingly imbued into the material gleaming along their rounded sides from the bright ceiling lights above. Within each, an awe-inspiring clutch of vibrant and blossoming flowers was planted in a home of brown soil, rich in color and life, the exact opposite of the dry earth of the southeast. The flowers themselves were each their own symbol of beauty – there were circular white and yellow flowers with unblemished pedals, broad golden bell-shaped flowers with orange centers, and five tender red roses, all of them fresh with dew from a recent watering.

“They’re beautiful.” It was a pair of words that I spoke in an unintentionally quiet voice. Lovely as they were, they brought with them a sudden but brief recap of a time not so long ago, of how I wished for things to be just a little different, for the existence of two others in this world at my side. “Mother would’ve loved these.”

My friend and I traded glances, Grace giving a sad smile to me. “Well, if you really think about it, she’s actually seeing these flowers with you. You do have your mother’s eyes after all.”

I looked away from her, back to the flowers as the tiniest of smiles tugged at the corner of my mouth. “You think so?…… They remind me of her, how she used to grow beautiful things like these. There were the blue roses that she loved so much, you know, and I think bell-shaped flowers like these ones grew next to them, and the apple trees, too. There were so many different flowers and crops stuffed into there that I don’t really remember too much of the layout.” Grace nodded along with my newest bout of reminiscing; my smile grew. “But the Stable orchard was her haven, her place of rest, her great passion. Seeing these flowers now… it makes me glad that Buckley has the means to grow them just like we once did. At least somepony or another should keep that alive. I’m sure mom would’ve tried herself somewhere along the line.”

“I bet she’s glad to see that they actually do survive up here in our new home.” Grace encouragingly added, to which I gave a good-spirited nod; I bet she was.

Then, my ears perked as a hoof rapped on the wall, drawing my attention to the end of the lobby where a familiar pink earth pony with a blue mane poked her head around the corner of the doorframe, her eyes coming to rest on me as a great big smile spread quickly across her face. “Hi, Marlena.” I greeted, returning her gesture with a smaller smile of my own.

“Nova! I’m so pleased that you decided to come over!” the pink and blue earth pony exclaimed, trotting fully into the lobby to join us by the flowers. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d even take up my offer.”

“Sorry. I was out on a mission that Commander Tracer gave me, and I just got back a few minutes ago. I’ve only just gotten the free time to stop by.” I explained with a polite chuckle to the happy mare. “I wasn’t planning on skipping out on a visit to a legitimate spa. Neither of us were.”

“Well, welcome! Both of you!” Marlena replied, bowing her head to both of us in turn before gesturing for us to follow her as she trotted back to the lobby exit. “Please do come in. We have a variety of services for you both to choose from, and you’re free to avail yourselves of any or all of them.”

Leading us out of the lobby, Marlena brought us out to the first room of the facility, a wide open chamber that was home to two rows of massage tables – plush, cushioned beds which sat upon steel frames that raised them up to around a grown pony’s head-level. Out of the twenty or so beds in the room, only three earth pony stallions made up the patrons of this particular service. Each was being attended by a member of the building’s staff, three groomed unicorn mares garbed in thin and silky white gowns, and as each stallion lay seemingly slumbering on their tables, the mares worked their forehooves along their customers’ backs, shoulders, and necks, looking down upon them with care and focus as they administered their massages.

“You made a good choice coming by during our later hours.” Marlena remarked as she craned her head around to look back at us. “During the middle of the day especially, all of these tables are usually full, and we often have others waiting in the lobby.”

“So you always have ponies coming in?” Gracie curiously inquired.

“Oh most certainly.” Marlena answered with a vigorous nod. “Everypony in Buckley has their own tasks on base, whether it be guard duty, tending to the base’s old computer systems, or working underground in the orchard or the service tunnels and maintaining the buildings. The spa is simply meant to allow our residents to clean up, relax, and even heal if they get cramps and aches on the job. As you might’ve come to gather, we don’t charge anything to any of our customers either. We’re simply another cog in the settlement’s proverbial clockwork.”

“Has that been your policy from the beginning?” I then asked, Marlena nodding.

“Yes. My parents set that into place first thing.” she explained. “When they passed it on to myself and my big sister, we didn’t change anything that they had done with it.”

“This really is a lovely place.” Gracie complimented, waving a forehoof over the expanse of the massage room. Even the walls and ceiling lacked the constant spiderwebbing cracks and spaced blemishes that Hopeville’s houses and shops had. Of course, age had its own affect upon the building… just nowhere near as bad as others out in the wastes.

“Thank you. We most certainly do try to keep it as welcoming as possible.” Marlena replied gratefully. “With this room, there are four others that we have in this building.” Pointing to her right toward a hallway at the far end of the rectangular massage room, she said, “The chamber at the end of that hall is where ponies go to get hooficures, mane and tail grooming, and for unicorns, horn treatments – it’s basically the place for body care and styling.” Then, gesturing directly in front of us, another short corridor leading to a visible room behind it, Marlena added, “The room there is our mud bath and hot tub room, and the steam room branches right off of that. The steam room is the most commonly used facility in the spa, second of course to the showers. If you’re only looking for a shower to clean off the dirt and grime of the outside, that room is at the opposite corner of the facility.”

“We were certainly hoping for more than just a shower.” Grace assured with a polite laugh; Marlena, to my amusement, did seem a taste nervous about an affirmative answer to her last sentence. “But we might need to take a shower before we avail ourselves of anything else.”

The pink mare cocked an eyebrow, and I noticed the sense of understanding slowly coming to her as she looked us over, taking in the accumulated dirt and grime the both of us possessed. “Oh, well… perhaps, but only if you want to. I assure you that you can start anywhere you please.”

“That’s very nice of you, but if nothing else, it’s at least a common courtesy that we can give you. We are kind of filthy.” I replied.

But then, Marlena’s attention suddenly driffted away from us, and she shot up a foreleg to give a wave to somepony else, and when I looked, “Gisela! Come over here and meet the outlander that rescued me!”

To the right, another earth pony, similarly washed and groomed as Marlena herself, was carrying a small stack of white towels towards the hot tub chamber. This mare, for a moment, looked exactly like Marlena, with a pink coat and a blue mane and tail. It was only the shades of her natural colors that were different, with her mane nearly blue-white in color, and her coat a deeper, darker pink. The new pony’s sapphire eyes, the same color as Marlena’s, swung to us before she froze in place. Then before I knew it, the mare had ditched her towels completely, the white cloths falling to the floor before I was swept into a strong hug. Taken off guard, I found myself letting out a sharp exhale at the surprising strength of the embrace. “OH GODDESSES THANK YOU! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!” Gisela cried as she clung to me; sweet Celestia, she squeezed me even tighter!

“You’re welcome.” I managed to breathe in reply, tentatively returning her hug with a pat on her back. “Could I… please breath now?” I hoped I hadn’t sounded rude, but seriously, this mare was strong!

“Oh!” Finally, she released me, and I stumbled a step before quickly righting myself in and taking a breath. “I’m so sorry. It’s just that, Marlena told me about what happened to her, told me about you, and she had been outside for so long, and…… I-I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re okay.” I assured, giving her my best smile as I finally looked her in the eye. “I just need to breath like everypony else.”

Gisela and Marlena both let out a short giggle, the former trotting over to stand next to her sister; sleek and feminine in body as Gisela was, she has surprising strength, a true example of earth pony might. “Right. I’m just so glad that I got to meet you, to meet you both.” Gisela replied, now with composure restored. “Marlena’s my baby sister, and I was so scared when she went out there all by herself that I had to let somepony else run the spa in my place. Buckley’s guards wouldn’t even let me leave the perimeter to search, and that just added fuel to that fear I felt. Marlena’s the only family I have left, and this place just isn’t the same without her…” She paused to let out a sigh. Then, “I know she went through some bad things out there, but the both of us are whole again now that we’re together and running the spa.”

I nodded understandingly as the second spa pony spoke, and I couldn’t help but notice that she sounded quite a lot like me. I could tell in just the first few seconds of my hearing her that she was very protective of her younger sibling. This I understood, as well as that, no matter how slight, we shared a faint connection. We both had a sibling in our lives, albeit Marlena being fully grown, and we both had the same protective instinct. It was just a shame to hear that it was because of Buckley’s ironclad lockdown policy that she hadn’t been allowed to pursue Marlena on her own; that in itself wasn’t fair to her at all. “I have a younger sibling of my own, the last of my family.” I explained to her. “I know how you feel, and the circumstances in the aftermath of Marlena’s disappearance weren’t right. I’m glad that I could help… although, I can’t help but notice that Marlena has quite a knack for disappearing. Did she tell you that she snuck out of Proudspire in the middle of the night when she was on the mend in the town’s clinic?”

At my words, I found Marlena flushing bright red, darkening her pink cheeks and eliciting a chuckle from her big sister. “Is that so?” Gisela questioned, smirking back at her sister who gave a short little nod. “I’m going to have to be keeping a closer eye on you it seems.”

“In all honesty, I’ve learned my lesson, sister.” Marlena replied, casually brushing away a lock of her bright blue mane from in front of her eye.

“I’m sure you have,” Gisela nodded before her smirk spread into a sly grin. “but this just means that I know who’s been sneaking into the oatmeal cookie jar at night.” And so Marlena’s recovery effort went down the drain, the younger pink mare facehoofing as her cheeks went even redder, drawing a laugh from all three of us as Gisela then reached over and hugged her sibling tight. Then, as Gisela and the rest of us calmed, the older sibling gestured grandly out to the spa, putting on a proud smile as she said, “Anyway, welcome to our spa, outsiders! What can we do for you this evening?”

*** *** ***

Amazing.

It was the first word I could think of regarding how I felt. Upon leaving the spa, I was significantly relieved and refreshed, feeling, perhaps for the first time since 181’s takeover, like a normal mare. Grace and I, though insistent that we hold to our word and start with showers, had begun our time in the spa by lounging in the mud baths at the pressuring of Marlena and Gisela both. Though at first I had been hesitant at plopping down in a tub of mud, I found that it was actually rejuvenating in its own way. That, and it offered us the best time to make easy-going conversation with the two sisters, learning of how life in both our worlds went by on a daily basis and asking simple casual question back and forth.

Afterwards, we were then brought to the shower room, taking the time to fully clean ourselves off before making use of the rest of the spa’s services. In my opinion, the shower had been much more relaxing than our first activity, as I easily recalled the wonderful feeling of the warm and radiation-free water cascading down my sides, wings, flanks, and neck, letting it soak my mane and tail, covering every inch of me in its revitalizing touch as it banished the wasteland’s dust and filth to my shower stall’s drainpipe, leaving my coat wholly clean again and bringing out the blue, black, and grey that were my natural colors.

After drying from that, we came upon the steam room. This had been a real treat, as unwinding in the cloud of hot steam allowed me to feel my muscles begin to loosen. I had realized then that many of those muscles had, much more likely than not, been tight ever since Stable 181’s evacuation. My body was certainly glad for the long amount of time I had spent simply lying on the bench and letting the steam wrap me up like a blanket; this was especially the case for my wings, the soothing haze allowing them to fully recuperate after the amount of flying I had done today and in days prior.

Then came the massages, the best part of the spa. As per her request to pay me back for helping her sister return home, I had allowed Gisela to apply my own while Marlena had attended to Gracie. Gisela’s practiced hooves had made for an absolutely divine massage, rubbing along every inch of my back, shoulders, and neck, working every spot just right to smooth out the remaining tension in my muscles; the only thing that would’ve made it even better was if it had been Archer doing the hoofwork.

The last stop in the spa had been to the styling room, Grace having insisted on me getting my mane and tail brushed with a hooficure on the side. However, the latter activity had been something that I had come to politely refuse. Whether it had been the filing tool itself, or how it had felt when put to my hoof, I didn’t like ponies touching my hooves, at least not with metal filing utensils. Instead, Marlena had let me out of the hooficure, leaving my hooves alone, and moved on to brushing my mane and tail. Because of Grace’s additional time spent with her hooficure, Marlena and I had decided to experiment with a couple different mane styles. Though my mane wasn’t quite long enough to make a lengthy ponytail out of, Marlena had tried brushing it out to its full length, flat and smooth along my neck and head. That had definitely upped my feminine side, and had Grace, Gisela, and Marlena all convinced that stallions would be falling over each other to get my attention. I had been certain that they were simply bluffing, but it had entertained some possibilities on how Archer and Gunny and Shore might’ve reacted. Marlena had then decided to mimic her own mane style with me, combing my mane back while still letting it hang long against the back of my neck, making me look exactly like one of the spa ponies working the later hour. By then, Grace’s hooves had been done, and Marlena, somehow, perfectly returned my mane and tail to my preferred tomboyish look, the “Rainbow Dash Style” as ponies in the Stable had sometimes called it.

That had marked the end of our time in the spa, and after a hearty farewell, we left the two sisters to close down for the night, darkness having settled over the southeast long before we had finished. Now, Grace having returned to our shack for the night, I was on my way to Buckley’s concert hall to tend to the last errand of the day. I was in much better spirits now as I walked alone down Buckley’s east runway, and though sleep was already calling to me, I was very curious as to what Ludwig wanted to see me for.

As I walked along, passing by the base’s south residential quarter and several of its awake citizens as they socialized to my left, I found that Buckley was already hard at work setting up tomorrow’s venture to Marefax. On the opposite runway to my right, a whole column of equipment was being laid out and checked over. One behind the other, three large wagons, Old World military armored cargo carriers, were being set up by ponies in engineering jumpsuits as they installed the spark batteries and looked over the hulls for weaknesses. Similarly, guard crews were positioned by each wagon, two to three members of each group inspecting some sort of heavy weapon; my guess was that each wagon would be outfitted for defense as well. Behind the wagons, two howitzers were being checked over by their gun crews, and I recognized the voice of the earth pony howitzer captain from the meeting as he gave out orders to his subordinates. And behind the field guns was Buckley’s fourth cargo carrier, with two full racks of the giant howitzer shells, nine in each, sitting beside the wagon’s open tailgate, waiting to be loaded in; seeing the convoy as it was set up definitely put a nervous twinge in my gut, especially considering that I had never been a part of such a large operation.

Facing back forward, I saw one of Buckley’s howitzer crews with their assigned field gun, a second team trotting towards them from the ATC tower as they prepared to take over on night watch. Just in front of them and to the left, I could clearly see the concert hall’s multiple sets of double doors. Like before, the building’s entrance was under guard, three unicorn guards patrolling back and forward with light machineguns in their telekinetic grasp. The one female of the three guards spotted me first even before I was at the entrance, alerting her two companions as I approached. However, to my pleasant surprise, they didn’t immediately ready their weapons at my presence, the female only giving a brief wave before she called, “Ludwig’s already inside, probably wrapping up another rehearsal. He said we should be expecting you, so you can go on in.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Coming up on the entrance, one of the male guards pushed open the door for me, allowing me to enter without a fuss.

I remembered walking into the concert hall’s lobby for the first time, recognized the feeling of the thin yet soft red carpeting underhoof. The white steel pillars, three of them holding up the similarly colored ceiling above, were illuminated to a gentle golden sheen from the baroque glass light fixtures spaced levelly along the four walls; the lobby was just the right level of dim to make a peaceful and welcoming setting. Straight ahead from the concert hall’s main entrance, another set of double doors were closed, bridging the lobby to the performance space itself. Beyond those doors, I could hear voices speaking back and forth, with only the occasional musical note or short phrase being played out at random intervals; it sounded like some of the violin players were squeezing in a few more notes after the rehearsal’s closure.

Cautiously, I nudged open one of the doors and poked my head inside. Unlike my first visit, the gigantic performance space beyond was lit in its entirety, allowing me to see just exactly how big the room was. The stage I had seen before was set farther to the back of the room where it was connected to a walled-off chamber that was only accessible from the stage itself, perhaps some kind of preparation area. But all around the stage, set high up upon the walls and supported by metal spires were rows upon rows of seats, all set into one massive ringing balcony that overlooked the stage. These seats were undoubtedly what the staircases to the second floor led to. However, curiously, the polished wood floor itself was completely bare, carrying no seating arrangement of its own.

On the stage, members of Buckley’s orchestra and (to my surprise) some recognizable singers from its church choir were gathering up their music folders, stands, or instruments as they prepared to depart for the night. In front of them all, looking back and forth among the personnel and their set up, was Ludwig, the white stallion suddenly tapping his hoof against the stage’s floorboards before his musicians, one and all, looked to him. “Well done tonight on this rehearsal.” he spoke. “As you all know, tomorrow, I will be away from the concert hall to oversee a part of the Marefax operation, and I hold very high hopes that it will bring us the instruments we need to complete our orchestra. Because of my absence, I will leave you all to practice on your own time tomorrow. Get with your sections, run through any trouble spots together, and be ready for a quick rehearsal before the concert tomorrow night.” A general murmur of confirmation went around the group at their director’s words, and with a nod, Ludwig added, “For the orchestra members, make sure to focus more on the two symphonies and the suite that we have selected during your practice time. Remember, pending how tomorrow will turn out, this will be the first time that music on such a grand scale as those three works will have been played in Buckley, so we want it to sound as close to perfect as we can manage. You all are sounding absolutely wonderful, and I’m very much looking forward to another successful performance tomorrow.”

With that, his musicians carried on with packing their things, Ludwig himself turning away to his right and descending a short flight of stairs at the end of the stage to step down onto the floor. It was then that I decided to enter the performance space, stepping through the door and letting it close behind me as I made my way towards the stage. In only a moment, Ludwig had found me looking towards him, waiting to get his attention, and he gave a cheery wave as I picked up my pace to join him. “Ah, welcome outsider. You’re right on time.”

“Hello, Ludwig.” I greeted with a smile. “This concert hall is amazing. I’ve never seen a building so big before.”

“Oh, isn’t it?” the buck asked. “As I’m sure Mother Shimmer explained already, this is Buckley’s greatest treasure, and has been ever since the settlement’s founding so many years ago.” Pausing long enough to turn back to the stage, many of the musicians having already cleared out to the backstage area, he added, “And it is my hope that you will become a part of it.”

“What did you want to see me for?” I inquired curiously. “My friends told me that you had come looking for me earlier today, but I was outside with Archer on an assignment from Commander Tracer.”

“I understand.” Ludwig motioned with a nod to follow me, the director steering me back towards the stage before he said, “Today at the meeting, you showed me that you held a very high opinion of music. In all honesty, this was not something that I had expected to hear from an outsider, and I was very surprised, yet very happy to have been proven wrong.” As I listened, the white unicorn stopped in front of the wooden steps leading up to the stage, looking down at a black saddlebag as his horn flickered with soft light, pulling back the flap of the saddlebag to open it. “Saharra had told me that you spent a fair amount of time around music back where you came from, listening to it and even singing on occasion. What I would like to do, if you wouldn’t mind sparing the time, is have you go up on that stage and sing for me and a couple of others. I would be very interested to hear you, as I have a gut feeling that you do have a potentially lovely singing voice. And if my hunch is right, I would very much love to have you sing a song for our upcoming concert.”

“Oh…” Well, this hadn’t been what I was expecting.

His hunch towards the musical value of my voice was one that I had a difficult time believing fully, and it left me with a mix of emotions. I was flattered that he’d think of me as a singer with a decent voice, and I was excited that I was standing here within Buckley’s performance space, even triply so at being offered the opportunity to reconnect with music on a much greater level than simply hearing it being played. But at the same time I suddenly became rather timid, hesitant to simply traipse on up to the stage and sing in front of a bunch of strangers. When I sang, when those sparse moments actually came around, it was simply for the enjoyment of my parents and friends. And that was before the wasteland entered my life. Now, it was simply for Blake’s benefit, to sing him to sleep should he ask it of me… and I hadn’t even done that since leaving Stable 181. That was a realization that put a bit of kick into my train of thought; I really should make an effort to do that again sometime.

“Oh?” Ludwig was still seeking an answer in front of me, cocking an eyebrow as he waited.

“Um, well, it’s just that I haven’t sung that much, and I’ve never gotten the opportunity to read any sheet music before.” I explained, shyly scuffing a hoof along the floor. “I’m not sure if I know enough about music to sing for Buckley.”

To this, Ludwig hummed, bringing a hoof to his chin as the light around his horn disappeared. “I see… let me ask you, when you’ve sung before, how did you learn the song that you sang? If you hadn’t read sheet music before, you must’ve have come to memorize it on your own. How did you go about it?”

“I think that was really about it.” I answered after a moment’s silence. “There was a lot to listen to, and if I listened to it enough I came to memorize it. Um, have you heard of Fluttershy’s Lullaby?”

Ludwig smiled and nodded. “Oh yes. It’s a beautiful melody.”

“That’s a good example as to what I’m trying to get at. I’d listen to that song enough times that I’d remember the words and be able to sing it exactly as I heard it, with correct pitches and everything.” I explained.

“I understand. You can recreate a musical tone from memory, identify its sound, and then sing it.” Ludwig stated. “Hm… I believe that if you had some time to devote to musical study, at least to the point where you would have a basic understanding of pitch classes and individual note names, I’m beginning to suspect we would find that you have an auditory ability called perfect or absolute pitch, or the ability to name or recreate a given musical note without a reference tone.” Yeah… he lost me there. I truly was intrigued with what he was describing to me, but I had never heard of such a thing before in all my life. When I expressed this to him though, he only smiled again, horn glowing as he removed a small file folder from his saddle pack. “There is a quick way that we can find out. Please come and join me up on stage. Saharra should be up there still, I do believe.”

“I’m right here, Ludwig.” came a call from beyond the steps, the voice recognizable as belonging to the mare in question. And as I ascended the steps after the director buck and stepped onto the stage, “Hey there, outsider. I’m glad you could come.”

I gave a wave to the red cerulean-maned unicorn as Ludwig stepped up to her. “Saharra, if you could please lend me a hoof with a quick test,” he began. “I want to see if our outlander friend here has perfect pitch. Could you please fetch your violin?”

“Perfect pitch, huh? Sure, give me a moment.” Turning away, she trotted to the back of the stage and pulled away the far end of the curtain with her magic before disappearing behind them.

“So what exactly is this test?” I then asked, shuffling as I cast a look around the stage. Though silent, I noticed a few lingering onlookers from the orchestra and choir, keeping their distance but still glancing back between us and their equipment as they finished packing.

“It’s simple, really.” Ludwig answered. “When Saharra returns, I’m going to have her play a pitch of her choosing, and then I want you to sing it back to me as accurately as possible. I want you to recreate the pitch with your voice.” I nodded, that faint tingle of nervousness clinging to the back of my mind. Though I thought oppositely, this was apparently quite obvious to the white unicorn, as with an easy smile, he added, “And please don’t mind the small audience. You understand that this is quite the unique situation we find ourselves in with you on our stage.”

“I know,” I assured, though quieter. “but I’m still a little uncomfortable singing around ponies I don’t know.”

“Don’t worry outsider.” a new voice called, belonging to a silver unicorn buck with an ashy red mane, carrying a closed guitar case along his back on a sash. “Nopony’s listening to judge you. It’s just what Ludwig said – we’re kind of curious.”

“I’m ready.” Saharra called, the red mare reemerging through the curtain and now wielding her pristine violin and its bow in her telekinesis as she trotted up to stand beside Ludwig.

“Right. Are you ready, outsider?”

Oh boy…

I let out a breath, shaking out my wings as I sought to calm myself. Then, giving a nod, I replied, “Yeah… I think I’m ready.

At that, Ludwig sat down on his haunches, Saharra levitating up her violin by her neck and setting the bow across the strings. “Alright. Now, let yourself relax.” Ludwig urged with a comforting smile. “Stay calm and focus on the pitch you hear. Let the sound sink in for a moment, and then sing it back to me on ‘ah’.” I gave a nod of understanding, letting my eyes close as I evened out my breathing, lessening the impact of the sense of anxiousness that had welled up in my belly.

I heard the first pitch, a beautiful and rich sustained sound from Saharra’s violin. It was a single note, and when I looked, I saw Saharra’s horn alight as she drew the bow slowly across one of the hovering instrument’s strings, the closet string facing me of the four. Beside her, Ludwig sat waiting with a patient yet intrigued smile, and others still were looking back at me, waiting… I cleared my throat as the note rang. I could hear it I my head, the exact sound and its class of pitch…

Then I opened my mouth and let myself sing out what I heard, quiet at first until, to my private satisfaction, I found that I had matched the pitch exactly on my first attempt. With more confidence I let the volume rise, putting more strength in my voice as I held the ‘ah’ syllable with Saharra’s violin; that’s when the instrument cut out, and me along with it, silence taking over.

I met a wide pair of eyes when I looked back at Saharra, and I found myself looking back to similar gazes among some of the other remaining musicians. Ludwig himself, along with half of my temporary audience, was much calmer, but was smiling brightly. “Um… was that good?” I asked.

“Good?” Saharra asked back, lowering her instrument away from her neck. “That was… shocking.”

“Please, let’s have another pitch.” Ludwig gently interrupted. “I’d like to try a few more notes just to be sure.”

I found both a sense of pride and anticipation taking shape as Saharra returned her violin to its playing position, setting the bow against a second string, the farthest from me, and once again letting another note come to life. This one sounded a little different, and just by hearing it, I could tell that there was an odd interval’s distance between the frequency of this pitch and the last one. Still, as I heard it play in my head, my mind processing the sound for me to hear internally and externally together, I let myself sing out the pitch, once again copying it perfectly with my voice.

Three more times after, this test was repeated, Saharra playing a new pitch for me to sing back to Ludwig. After the fifth time, every time having been the same success that the previous had been, the white unicorn buck looked among the assembled orchestra members. “Let me see here… we had assigned Flynt to the electronic keyboard part for The Voice, right?”

“Yeah, but he’s long gone. Left as soon as you said we could.” a unicorn buck replied, a smaller plastic instrument case at his side.

“Ah. Well, that’s okay. Are there any contrabass players left?” Ludwig then questioned to the stage. At once, three ponies stepped forward, one earth pony stallion and two unicorn mares, and responded; behind them were three of the larger stand-up instruments, still sitting out of their cases. “You all know the song I’m talking about, at least the basic progressions. Would you three mind lending the bass to our friend here?”

“Wait, what are we doing now?” I asked, looking hastily back and forth between Ludwig and the bass players, the latter beginning to pick up their instruments and position themselves to play where they stood at the front edge of the stage.

“I have one final test for you, outsider.” Ludwig answered, briefly nodding to Saharra before standing and walking to me; the file folder from his saddlebag was levitating beside him. “Within this folder is a piece of music, one of the many songs that are kept within Buckley’s libraries. You have already proven that you have quite the voice with you already, but I would like to hear you sing more than just a single note at a time. I want to hear you sing a phrase, a vocal melody.” Stepping around to stand by my right side, the director brought the file folder before the both of us and snapped it open. I was now face to face with a genuine page of preserved sheet music, a page drawn all over with an assortment of circle and stem markings all set up in a specific arrangement to create a song called The Voice. According to the page, this was the vocal part of the piece, specifically labeled as ‘mezzo-soprano’ in the upper left corner.

I had not the slightest clue what these markings meant, or what the purpose was of their arrangement on the paper… but I did know that everything on this page made a thing of true beauty, a treasure, just like Mother Shimmer had said. And knowing that I was now in the presence of one of these treasures, one out of hundreds if not thousands of songs that Buckley held behind its wall of firepower…… I felt honored and privileged… and so excited!

“If you’ll look at this with me,” Ludwig then said, raising a forehoof up to place it on the page. “this is one of the songs that I’ve picked for Buckley’s upcoming concert. However, whether it is used or not will depend solely on you, outsider.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Me?… Why’s that?”

“Throughout your time here, Commander Tracer and Mother Shimmer have found ways for you to prove your trust to Buckley.” he replied. “As I already said, it is my hope that you will join Buckley’s musicians in participating in our newest concert, and I wish that even more now that I have heard the first sounds of your voice. But as to why – I planned this out as another means of approaching a peaceful relationship between Buckley and your company, perhaps even between us and your home in the wastes beyond as well. I feel that having Buckley’s citizens bear witness to an outsider singing alongside the artists they already know will give them a much stronger sense of comfort to your presence, especially if you sing a song such as this one.”

“But are you sure it’ll work like that?”

“I am very confident in it.” Ludwig answered with a smile. “Music is what all of Buckley lives to enjoy and protect. In this matter, music will hold the strongest impact upon the ponies here.”

I cracked a small smile back at the director, his surefire confidence in the matter making me all the more eager to progress with this last test. With that, he took a moment to briefly explain the markings on the paper, showing me that the circular marks, some of them with stems atop them, represented notes. He showed me that a single circle represented four beats to the rhythm, a single circle with a stem on it representing two, a filled circle with a stem representing one, and a filled circle with two stems, the second branching off the top of the first, representing half a beat. He explained that various markings told the singer to sustain a pitch for a longer length of time, particularly double the original value of the first mark; these lines bridging two neighboring marks called slurs. After that he had detailed the opposite of written notes, which were small black boxes or vertical squiggled lines that represented rests, or moments where the singer was silent. He also showed me staves, a combination of five lines that stretched one below the next down the length of the entire page, each set of five spaced from the other and containing their own number of notes. At the top stave, to its left, was a pair of numbers (one atop the other) that represented what he called a time signature, and beside that was a symbol that he called a treble clef. Below the notes on each staff, the actual lyrics to the song were written in, a tool for helping to learn it.

At the end of Ludwig’s brief tutoring session on the basics of what was written on the page, I found myself reading part of the song's lyrics aloud, discovering for myself the strength of the meaning behind them. “I am the voice in the wind and the pouring rain. I am the voice of your hunger and pain. I am the voice that is always calling you…” I spoke, briefly glancing away from the music to look to the white unicorn; he only smiled and nodded back to me. “This is amazing…”

“But you have yet to sing it.” Ludwig countered with a chuckle. “I believe the others are ready for us now. Yes, Saharra?”

While I had been distracted, the red unicorn mare had relocated to a new place on the stage. She was now standing in a group with four others, made of the three contrabass players and the grey unicorn buck, guitar now held in his magic; I noticed that each of them only carried their instruments… no music. “Yes, Ludwig, we’re ready whenever Nova is.” came Saharra’s reply, the five of them bringing their instruments to playing positions.

“If you’re ready, I would like to hear you sing the first phrase of this song.” Ludwig stepped off to my right, letting the music rest on the stage floor in front of me. “I’ve established by now that you listen to music and recreate it with your ears as your primary asset. With this in mind, I’ll have Saharra play the melody for you on her violin. If you’d like it repeated, simply say so, and when you think you have it down, signal to me and I’ll cue the others to play as well as your entrance.”

“Alright, I think I’ve got it.” I replied with a nod, looking back down at the paper. Looking at the notes on the page, I realized that, because of my lack of actual musical study, I would have to rely more on my ears to help me sing it. Still, as Saharra suddenly begun to play the tune, the hauntingly beautiful melody that I would soon be singing, I begun to establish the correlation between the written notes and the duration of the pitches.

I followed this to the end of the phrase, ending on the word ‘free’ which was sustained for twice as long as a ‘whole note’ as it was called. For my benefit, I had Saharra play it again as the other players waited patiently. From memory the violinist played the vocal line, allowing me to take in the flowing purity of her instrument as she recited the line with her bow, copying its written note changes perfectly. The third repetition I requested let me focus in on the pitches, and I let my mind free itself as I recalled the frequency of each note, when it sounded in the melody, and readied myself to recreate it all.

Then, as Saharra closed the phrase for the third time, I gave a nod to Ludwig, and he raised a foreleg up and faced his five musicians, all of them coming alert and waiting. After a pause, he gave a nod and began conducting the beat, all three contrabass players drawing their bows along their strings to create the first chord of the song. Then I was on, opening my mouth to sing the first word. ‘I’ was a sustained word, possessing pitch fluctuations that I sang to the best of my knowledge. After the first word, I carried on through the phrase, singing, “hear your voice… on the wind.” I found myself closing my eyes as I sung, nearly shivering as I heard the basses change their chords with my words, the first chord once again sustained as I sang, “And I…… hear you call out… my name.” Taking in a breath at the ensuing pause, I heard Ludwig’s forehoof tap against the stage floor like a soft drum as I carried on with, “Listen my child, you say to me.” Through my concentration, I heard the acoustic guitar join in. “I am the voice of your history.” The song was picking up, rising to an inevitable peak as I sang out, “Be not afraid come follow me. Answer my call and I’ll set… you… free!” I let out the last word and held it strong, and for a moment, I was wrapped in sheer power as Saharra once again joined us, her violin blooming out from the calm with a solo as the basses set the beat with unison changing notes, the guitar matching the beat with quick rhythmic plucking of the strings.

And just like that, as my breath depleted, the phrase ended and we came to a stop.

I let my eyes come open as I took in a breath. Of those who had been playing at my side, I found the same reactions as before now amplified, especially from Saharra herself. “Outsider… that was amazing.”

The acoustic guitar buck had spoken that to me, causing a bashful smile to tug at my lips. “Was it really that good?”

“Nova, I’m surprised that you don’t hear it yourself!” Saharra voiced, lowering her violin and bow away from its playing position. “You were spot on through ninety percent of that entire phrase, and your voice was beautiful!”

Wow…

“I agree.” Ludwig added nearby. “If you had the time to devote yourself to a few weeks of applied singing lessons, the talent you already possess could be refined to a professional level. That truly was lovely to hear.”

“I… t-thanks…” I was positively touched by these kind words, and my mood was already further improved in the aftermath of what I had just sung. But even if I had managed to sing the pitches correctly, I wasn’t so sure if everything being said was entirely accurate. “I still don’t really think I have that great of a voice though…”

To this, Ludwig only smiled, trotting back up by my side. “My dear, your voice… I see it as a songbird - a beautiful entity that yearns to fly free and be heard. But at the same time, I see this songbird trapped in a cage of timidity and uncertainty that prevents it from doing so. Hearing you today in just this short amount of time, I can see that you have a gift for music whether you know it or not, one that has taken shape because of your love of the art. And I believe that this gift is just now beginning to come to light, both to you and us, to the wasteland even. This is something that you would do well to nurture and care for, as this untrained talent can lead you to accomplish great things. And certainly, music is not something that can help you in physical fights and such, but there are other great things out there besides winning battles and completing missions.”

Slowly, I nodded my understanding, smiling all the while. Never in any of my years had I thought of my own singing that way, and truly, I never even contemplated hearing something so deep as what I heard from Buckley’s director of music. This was a whole new thing for me, an entirely new level of appreciation for something that I had, once upon a time, simply looked at with a simple shrug and smile. Whether it had been modesty or an overly-high expectation as to what a quality singing voice should sound like, I had simply seen my own voice as a thing of entertainment and, in the case of my baby brother, comfort. To hear Ludwig’s words, here and now, put new strength and confidence in me, and sweet Celestia did it make me feel good!

“You certainly do have a beautiful voice, Nova.” Ludwig added, patting me on the back. “I can say with every ounce of truth in my words that I would be glad to have you as a part of our concert tomorrow. Will you join us for this?”

I spoke my answer without a second guess. “I’d love to.”

*** *** ***

Before I knew it, the next morning had arrived, bringing with it the newest items on my agenda. As I came to discover the night prior, Ludwig and Saharra both were habitual night owls, and at the former’s insistence, the three of us had remained in the concert hall for three more hours after its closing in order for me to sing through the entirety of The Voice and work at memorizing the lyrics and their related pitches. This had been accomplished through simple but constant repetition and practice, Ludwig guiding me through the song phrase by phrase, Saharra then playing the melody on her violin, and me finally singing it back until, within the last ten minutes of our session, I had the whole song memorized.

Though it involved no evasive flying or precision rifle-work, the rehearsal had been tiring. With a complete lack of breaks, the virtually non-stop singing had begun to put a strain in my voice, a tingling in my throat that threatened to make my voice crack every once and awhile. However, this was easily bearable, because I had been absolutely spellbound to the song I had been assigned to sing, lost in the blanket that was my concentration and my love for music. Between this and the encouragement from Buckley’s concert director himself, I was blazing with confidence in my musical capacity, and at the end of the rehearsal, when Saharra had finally convinced Ludwig to head to bed and get some rest for the trip to Marefax, I found myself humming the entire tune to myself five times over before I finally retired to the shack to sleep. That night had warranted the best sleep I felt that I ever had out in the wasteland. It was a peaceful and comfortable sleep, wrapped up in my blanket with Blake snuggled up against my side, my protective wing draped over him like always. It was shorter, this I knew, but I still woke feeling well-rested when the guard came knocking on our door.

In truth, had it not been for the wakeup call we had received, I would’ve slept right through the rally time that Commander Tracer had assigned to the expedition. Everypony had woken up together, and after a quick breakfast, worked quickly to pack up and reequip all of our gear. Because Gracie would be remaining on base to be with my baby brother, she had distributed most of her remaining stock of medical supplies to the rest of us. She had given the larger quantity of these to Gunny and Blossom, leaving myself, Shore, and Raemor with a combined total of four healing potions, one super-strength restoration elixir, and three bottles of rad-x with five radaway pouches. This had left her with what she declared to be just enough to keep for ourselves for later use, though we had decided that some haggling with Doctor Preston was in order to purchase more supplies.

After being refitted with our weapons and equipment, and giving Raemor a small portion of our food and water to carry on the trip, we had rallied at the front gate with Buckley’s convoy. It was when I had joined up with the ranks of the base’s volunteers that I had met up with Archer, who, true to his word, came to me with some new information regarding Mother Shimmer. However, it wasn’t news that put me at ease, as Archer had only seen her once, during which time she had been crying at her desk. The pegasus hadn’t bothered her, but with the memory orbs and their recollector sitting around her mattress, it wasn’t hard to tell that the revelation of Mother Shimmer’s past had hit her hard… very hard.

Archer’s report made me all the more worried for Shimmer, and the fact that the ghoul leader of Buckley hadn’t even arrived with Tracer to see the expedition out of the gates amplified that concern even further. But still, the convoy finished its final preparations under Tracer and Amber Dawn’s supervision, whereupon Gunny and Blossom gave us their farewells before heading southwest back towards the news radio building. And only a short time later, I had found myself once again giving my baby brother a goodbye hug and kiss on the forehead as I ventured out into unknown territory with Shore and Raemor at my side, all three of us now members of the most heavily armed convoy I had ever seen.

*** *** ***

Marefax.

All around me, Buckley’s convoy rolled along at a slow but solid pace, hugging the left side of the Old World highway heading north. And straight ahead, the glow of the early morning light illuminated brightly enough for me to behold our destination in full. Grey crumbling towers, shrouded with a black ashy coating against the dim cloud ceiling, rose from the earth like colossal gravestones reaching desperately for the sky. And all around them, the decayed shapes of shorter buildings under the bosom of those silent high-rises made miles upon miles of metropolitan ruin, the result of the Last Day and the balefire missile that had brought its wrath to the city and its populous.

We had first seen the city as thin, dead appendages rising over the northern horizon, spotting it just an hour past the remains of the Shamrock Farmstead; Shore had pointed out to us the collapsed structure, where he and the others had been ambushed, as we passed it by. Beyond that came the first challenge to the convoy, as over two hours past our discovery of the Shamrock Farm, the highway had quickly become congested with Old World passenger wagons and carriages, soon blocking any easy path on it from the expedition’s pulling teams as they hauled Buckley’s cargo carriers and two howitzers behind them. And by the time that we were no more than a half hour from the city border, the convoy was having to guide the wagons out into the fields themselves, as the rusted corpses of wagons and chariots continued to thicken, spreading out onto the road’s shoulders and eventually scattering out into the fields themselves the closer we came to the city limits. The expansive graveyard of Old World transports made it perfectly obvious that a lot of ponies had tried to escape Marefax on that fateful day… and yet many, if not all of them, whether by the heat blast, the destructive shockwave, or the fires and the proceeding radiation brought by that missile, had perished, and all in mere minutes… seconds even…

My ears perked as my pipbuck emitted a chirp, giving me a welcoming distraction from the devastation ahead as I paused in my walk to look over the screen; I found that the computer had placed a second marker on my map.

As part of the infantry escort surrounding Buckley’s cargo wagons and field guns while en route to the city, I was able to pause and observe my surroundings whenever the pulling teams had to surpass a divot in the earth or other obstruction. One such obstacle was currently causing difficulty for one of the howitzers, forcing its crew of six unicorns and four extra guards to pause and work the gun’s left tire free of a ditch with their combined telekinesis. We were coming up onto another farm just outside the city limits - a smaller destroyed farmhouse, a row of four rickety metal shacks, and a pair of rubble piles that had once been barns were what my pipbuck labeled as the Red Grove Vineyard. Behind the shacks, I could see rows upon rows of what had once been the farm’s crop - short trees planted one next to the other, stretching west, which had once held bushels of grapes and berries. Now, they were merely sticks poking up from the ground, dried up skeletons of their former selves that looked ready to crumble to dust in the gentlest of breezes.

“I’m surprised we haven’t come across anything hostile yet, sir.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll see something out here soon enough.” Commander Tracer replied to the cautious voice; when I passed a glance over, I saw that he was speaking to one of his guards, standing at the head of the convoy and watching as the first wagon continued onward with Saharra, Ludwig, Raemor, Shore, and the rest of its escort staying close by.

“What makes you think that, commander?” the guard buck asked.

Tracer raised a foreleg to gesture to the urban boneyard in front of us. “Because in a place like this, silence on its outskirts represents a calm before the storm, and that storm is going to consist of every threat that Archer laid out on that map. You’d best enjoy this peace while it lasts, son, because things are going to get interesting once we cross into the city itself.”

At that, the guard dismissed himself with a quick but nervous salute, trotting back up to the second wagon in line as it passed out of the vineyard and further along the road. Only a moment later, as I begun walking again, Archer swooped down from higher up and hovered in above the commander. “Commander, if I might make a suggestion?” he spoke. “We’ll be coming up on the city’s tourist information center within the next couple of minutes, and it’s the last building on the highway before the city limits. With it being positioned just outside the border, I think that it’d make an ideal firing position for the howitzers.” The commander nodded for the pegasus to continue, attention focused on the convoy as it continued forward. “This highway ends right in the outskirts but instead turns into the Silver Arrow, a two-lane road that can take us through the outskirts and all the way up to the Silver Arrow Crossover, the bridge we’re going to take into the downtown sector. I figure that if the guns are set within close proximity of that tourist center, they’d still be able to cover us all the way to the industrial park.”

“That could work.” Tracer commented with a nod. “If it’s right outside the border, then it would be a good place to set up and keep the gun crews out of harm’s way, long as there aren’t any sand hornet nests nearby.”

“No, the closest nests to our route are in a place called Fairfield, a residential township of the city.” Archer assured, watching with the commander as the third wagon was pulled past them. “We shouldn’t have too much trouble with them, but we’ll need to be more careful the farther in we go.” By now, the stuck howitzer was pulled free, the gun crew putting their telekinesis back to work in rolling the weapon forward on its two tires. Slowly, the convoy was coming back together from the delay, with the three empty cargo wagons lined up in the front, the two howitzers pulling up after them, and the wagon with the guns’ ammunition making the caboose of our train.

With the convoy piecing itself back together from the short postponement, I picked up my pace to a trot, putting the Red Grove Vineyard to my back as I rejoined the column by the third wagon. But just as I did so, I heard hooves land right behind me, belonging to Archer as he tucked in his wings and joined me by my left side. “How are you doing?” he asked me, a small smile that I was slowly becoming familiar with adorning his face.

“I’m… okay.” I answered… perhaps a taste too slowly to be fully believable. And when Archer cocked an eyebrow, easily catching on, I spoke outright, adding, “It’s just kind of hard for me to look at this city at the moment… you know, knowing what happened to it and everything.”

“Ah… yeah, I understand.” he replied. “It’s not an easy thing to take in.”

I nodded. “Yes… but really, it’s just me and my nostalgia.” I urged myself to let out a little laugh at that, adding, “It has a habit of kicking in when I see Old World places, or when I’m left to my thoughts. And it’s kind of swooping down in force now that I’m looking at a city.”

“Well, I can be honest when I say that I haven’t met anypony that longed for the ways of the past more than you.” he replied, once again bringing a light blush to my face. “But I still understand. If there’s anything I can do to help out, even if you just need a listening ear, feel free to let me know.”

Aw, how gentlecoltly of him. “Thanks, Archer. But in truth, I think I’ll be plenty focused away from all that once Tracer sends me up there with the Eagle Eye. I have every intention of doing whatever I’m told and doing it right on this mission.”

“That’s good.” the pegasus buck remarked with a nod. “How’s the new gear fitting you?”

“I don’t really like the position of this camera thing under my stomach, but overall I think it’s just fine.” Before we had left on our trip, the artillery captain had pulled me to the side in order to fit me with the promised Eagle Eye unit, the new gear I’d need as a part of my assigned role as artillery spotter. While a single terminal and compacted desk had been loaded into the wagon carrying the howitzer shells, the other half of the unit had been fixed to my M.P.D. armor via a lightweight metal housing that used its own set of cables to secure itself to my armor’s side plates. The housing held the camera device, a turret-like array that was composed of the camera itself, hidden up to its lens in a half-spherical shielding unit that rotated every which way, allowing the camera to see anything on the ground below me while I was in flight. The last addition to this new equipment was a piece of headgear in the form of an old military hat – a patrol cap – with a headset fastened into its fabric. Connected to the headset, hovering by the right side of my mouth from the thin plastic extension tube built into the headset’s frame, was a small microphone that would simultaneously allow me to communicate with the convoy’s artillery coordinator as well as hear orders given from Tracer throughout the mission. While basic in its functionality, the wartime technology was definitely interesting to learn about, and when put on, the only complaint I had about it was the awkward addition of weight on my belly, as the camera hugged my body dead center around my stomach… and though I kept the thought hidden from everypony else, the thing did kind of make me feel fat…

With a good-natured chuckle, the pegasus responded, “Yeah, tell me about it. I’ve worn that thing a couple of times, but I’ve found that it’s pretty easy to get used to once you’re up in the air.”

“Makes sense.”

“Just remember what the captain said.” he added. “Keep yourself as level as possible, and fly in a wide circle around the convoy’s position. The artillery teams need you to fly in those lazy circles to see the targets, so don’t divert off unless you’re told to do so. I’ll be up there with you to attack targets from higher up, too, so you’ll have some protection and some reminders of what you need to do if the need arises.”

“And everypony in the convoy is linked through this one radio frequency?” I asked, raising a hoof to tap the mic by my mouth.

Archer nodded. “Yes. So at some points, you might hear multiple voices talking back and forth. It just depends on what’s going on. So make sure you listen for your name to be called, that way you know what you need to respond to.”

For the next few minutes as we continued down the highway, I had Archer run over the rest of the basics, both to make me more secure in knowing my responsibilities and for the simple benefit of hearing them again. We were coming into hazardous territory, each step carrying us closer to what was undoubtedly the most dangerous place in all of the southeast, and if I forgot something, or didn’t do something correctly, it might very well cost a life. The focus that I gathered up at this thought was amplified knowing that both Shore and Raemor would be staying with the convoy the entire time, fighting back anything and anypony hostile that came at them from the vast stretch of ruins that we would be crossing.

As Archer and I wrapped up our conversation, ending with his suggestion that I trade my pipbuck’s larger map for the local variant, voices begun to give out orders to check weapon loads towards the rear of the convoy. “Looks like we’re coming up on the tourist center.”

At Archer’s remark, I craned my head forward to peek past the wagon we walked alongside. Though we walked outside of the highway, still thickly packed with the rusted hulks of old transports, I could spot an intact brick building with a crumbling black tile roof just ahead and right of the highway, a short off-ramp leading to the structure itself. But what caught my eye more was something sitting on the opposite end of the highway, parallel to the building. Sitting on two rusted legs dug into the blackened earth, bent forward on its frame, was a very old metal signpost. The broad signboard had once been painted over with an array of vibrant yellows, blues, greens, reds, and light greys which had now faded to hazy and lifeless versions of their former selves. Along with this, the sign had been perforated with bullets, leaving numerous holes that tore away at the legibility of the text worked into the artistic design of the board. But still, with all of its wear and tear, and with its faint colors, there was no mistaking the purpose of the board, and there was no missing what the remainder of the text spelled out.

“Alright everypony, it’s time to get this show on the road.” Tracer’s voice carried out over the entire convoy, drawing everypony’s attention toward the rear of the train as it came to a halt. “Captain, take the guns and the ammo wagon straight ahead about thirty yards to that clearing before the first street. All the houses beyond that are wrecked, so you’ll have a clean lane to fire from.”

“Yes, sir. Move it, everypony!”

“Remember, our first target is the Cirrus Communications building.” Tracer continued, the convoy infantry rallying close by to listen in. “It’s a long walk there, so stay alert at all times. Keep close to the wagons for cover and protect them and their pulling teams from anti-armor and any other heavy weaponry if we run into raider nests. These wagons have to survive, or else we won’t be able to cross any further into the city. I want no less than ten guards to every vehicle, but when we’re on the streets, put space between yourselves. I don’t want three ponies getting hurt at once because of a grenade. Remember your training, and be prepared for anything.”

The guards begun to disperse as Tracer concluded, scattering to take up their positions around the stationary wagons. As I watched, I saw both Shore and Raemor heading to the front of the column, passing quick waves to me as they trotted ahead. Along with the other preparations, I saw as rectangular hatches sprung open on the armored tops of the boxy wagons, four mounted weapons emerging from the holes to lock into place atop their vessels, with their assigned operators following them up and swiftly checking them over. Two of the wagons, the first and third in the column, were armed with bulky pony-sized grenade machineguns, long-barreled repeating guns that fired the larger forty millimeter grenades in rapid succession. The second wagon of the train was armed with a mounted missile launcher, a different model that, instead of being built with the break-action that I had seen on Proudspire’s launcher, used a heavy revolving cylinder containing three chambers that gave the launcher three missiles to fire before a reload. The final wagon, which would remain behind, was mounted with a heavy machinegun, an all-purpose fifty caliber weapon that would be used to cover the howitzer teams as they provided support for the convoy. These two teams were already moving ahead, pulling the howitzers up side by side and digging them in as the pulling team of their ammo wagon brought the vehicle around.

“Archer, Nova,” Commander Tracer called, bringing my gaze to snap behind me where the mission leader stood, nodding up to the sky. “it’s time for you two to get up there. Go ahead and get airborne while the artillery sets up, and keep your ears open for communication being tossed around on the radio. You both know your roles?”

“Yes, sir.” Archer replied, with me nodding beside him.

“Alright then. Good luck you two.” With a dip of his head Tracer turned and trotted back to our three-wagon train, moving ahead to the lead vehicle. “Let’s roll!” At his word, the guardsponies taking up the call, the three wagons begun to move again, the pulling teams carrying them forward as their gunners finished their weapon checkup, locked and loaded. And with them, after Archer’s nod, the two of us were on the move too, springing skyward and flying a circle low above the convoy.

The organization and the crispness of Buckley’s guards, the swiftness of their following of orders, and the amount of preparation that had been put into today’s task made for an interesting group to be working with. Our reduced convoy of three wagons had a total of thirty-four guards, including Tracer himself, Saharra, Shore, and Raemor, with Ludwig having taken shelter within the armored protection of the center wagon, being the only non-combatant among us. All of this was moving forward as a single mobile unit, the wagons lined single-file and inching closer to the highway as the dead transports on the road slowly begun to thin out past the city welcome sign.

As Archer and I began to climb higher up, still flying in a slow, wide circle directly over the others, I began to see more of the terrain in the path of the convoy. Ahead of them, a narrower street, barely recognizable from the scant remains of concrete that had once made it, crossed the highway perpendicularly, creating a four-way intersection that separated the first of the city’s residential districts from the fields to the south. Beyond that road, a vast and heartbreaking expanse of scorched houses, ruined shops, and other demolished suburban structures, over ninety percent of them crumbled down to nothing more than foundations or skeletal frames, made the graveyard that was the Serenity Springs Township, named from the intact stone marker just past the intersection. While the highway itself ended at the intersection, a narrower town road, what Archer had called the Silver Arrow, continued straight ahead. From this main road branched several streets, dividing the outskirts into an even larger expanse of suburban blocks that stretched outward to the east and west while gradually curving in, following the overall circular shape of the downtown area as far as the eye could see.

“Outsider, can you hear me up there?”

The voice buzzing in my headset took my eyes off of the ruins below and the train entering them, jolting me back to focus. “Yeah, yeah I hear you. Who is this?”

“I’m Cale, the artillery coordinator for this mission.” the buck explained in reply. “You and I are going to essentially be partners while the convoy makes its way to the industrial park.”

“Okay. So, what’s our first step?” I asked in reply.

“I’m going to go ahead and turn on the camera, so don’t mind the noise.” came Cale’s answer. “While I’m doing that, climb a little higher. I can see you from here, and I think that if you raise your altitude a little more, I should be able to have a full steady view of the convoy.”

With a quick affirmative, I banked upward at a sharper angle, hastening my ascent. Archer was staying close by as I flew up, and underneath me, I heard as the camera begun to whir to life, the gears and other internal components buzzing as the unit activated. At the end of my climb, I had more than quadrupled my height above the convoy, and the three cargo carriers moving through the first block of Serenity Springs resembled pudgy rectangles amidst the squares that made the housing foundations surrounding them on both sides, the infantry guards now dots moving with the wagons.

Still buzzing under my belly, the camera continued to move as I leveled out, letting myself glide at an easy pace on the cool wind. “That’s a good height.” Cale spoke up. “Just head a little farther east and that should allow me to have the view I need.”

Without word I followed the instruction, winging away straight ahead out over the east side of Serenity Springs. A quick flight later and I was given the okay, establishing myself at the right distance away for Cale to have a full view of the wagon train and the surrounding area. And with a final order to maintain my circular course around the convoy’s airspace, the mission had finally begun.

With Archer diverting off to fly ahead of the train’s path, executing his own patrol route, I was left near the nine o’clock position of the train as I flew my counterclockwise circuit. Alas, being alone up in the air once again allowed me to take in the dead quiet of Marefax, except this time, I was seeing more of the city than I had seen from low altitude. As the convoy moved, it would be coming upon a scattering of intact buildings along the way, the first of these (about two blocks down) still carrying a large readable signboard on its front wall above the metal double-doors that was its entrance – the nearby Serenity Springs Grocer. Further along the rubble-strewn road, seven blocks down, the blasted houses gave way to a temporary clearing, a divider between Serenity Springs and the next district. But placed just before this was the second standing site on the route, a series of nine fenced-in rectangular structures set in three-by-three formation along with one larger building behind them; I had no idea what it was.

A shiver passed along my back as I scanned over the first portion of our route to the heart of the city. One hundred and seventy-five years ago, this had all been part of a bustling and lively metropolis, with hundreds of thousands… maybe even millions… of ponies going about their day, working, shopping, touring the city, playing and mingling… countless families - mares, stallions, foals, elderly… they were all here by the score, and all it took to wipe them all off the face of the earth was one single weapon, one push of a button. Now, the blackened field of destroyed houses, the streets littered with rubble and scattered detritus, and the tombstones that were the city’s skyscrapers was all that remained. It was only the occasional echoing report of a rifle deeper into the city, light even to my keen ears, that served as a reminder that some souls still remained here, raider or otherwise.

Below, the wagons were moving smoothly, weaving around broken down carriages in their way while still staying in formation. With the silence and the chilly air as my company, I was passing by behind the train, the camera of the Eagle Eye occasionally whirring and buzzing under me as Cale continued to scan for hostile positions. Within minutes, the wagons were coming up to the grocery store, the first wagon now crossing to the closest corner of the building’s parking lot, occupied by at least a dozen strewn-about wagons and a much higher concentration of old garbage; on that terrible final day, I was sure that they had belonged to families shopping for supplies, food for their families’ dinner tables…

I sighed.

“Commander Tracer, this is Eagle Eye.”

Through my microphone, I heard Tracer’s reply. “Go ahead, Cale. Do you see anything?”

My camera buzzed again as the machine adjusted. “I’m seeing two potential targets ahead of your current position. The first looks like a roost of feral ghouls in an old housing foundation down the road, just a couple houses ahead of the grocery store. If you give us the okay, we can drop a shell on it and clear the majority of them away for you.”

“How many are there?” the commander asked.

“I count at least ten on the road, but there’s probably a few more hiding within those busted homes.”

“Okay… what about the second target?”

Again the camera shifted. “About four blocks ahead of you is a broken-down house with more ponies in it.” Cale explained. “I’m seeing… Goddesses, they’ve got corpses hanging from nooses on that house…”

Raiders…

I warned the two stallions of that through the chat, immediately looking ahead down the road with narrowed eyes. The rows upon rows of housing foundations and barely-standing residential buildings made it hard to pinpoint where this nest was, but there was no denying that what I had heard was the handiwork of raiders; they were the only ones I knew that’d do something like that.

“Can you see how many there are?” Tracer inquired.

I heard with a small frown as Cale let out a shaky breath. “Yeah… yeah there’s at least a squad there, six at least… probably more.”

“Alright, I don’t want to use up all of the howitzer rounds within the first few minutes, considering we could only spare eighteen shots for the trip, so we’ll let our wagons handle the ghouls.” the commander ordered after a thoughtful pause. “Set coordinates on that raider house and drop a shell on it. Ponies with guns are far more dangerous than creatures, and I don’t want the train to have to face any of those until the downtown area if I can help it.

“Roger that, commander. We’re going loud.”

With that, my mic went silent, as did the world around us. The grocery store didn’t appear to hold any hostile targets, as while I spotted a half-dozen guards searching over the parking lot from my place up high, there was no gunfire coming from the site as the convoy continued to move by unhindered.

BOOM!

From behind, the thundering report of one of the howitzers raced across my ears, and I looked to see a plume of white smoke drifting skyward from one of the field guns farther behind us. Then, a moment later as I quickly looked back to the street, I saw a wrecked home farther ahead as it went up in a violent explosion of fire, dirt, and shrapnel, the raider den obliterated whole from the single howitzer shell.

“Direct hit.” Cale announced through the mic.

I couldn’t help but crack a faint smile as the fire dissolved away, leaving a lingering cloud of thick dust as debris continued to fall from the sky around the blast site; at least now, the howitzers were pointing at ponies who deserved it instead of my friends.

The sudden report of rifle fire drew my eyes back to the grocery store. Just beyond it, the first wagon and its escort had encountered the pack of ferals that Cale had spotted. All at once, the infantry formed into a loose line and put concentrated fire downrange as a line of sharp explosions strafed the street ahead, sweeping away a number of the incoming hostiles all together. The forward wagon’s grenade machinegun fired a second burst of rounds as I found it, six detonations, one by one, decimating another pocket of ghouls emerging from the carcass of another house; the building and the ghouls around it were blasted to pieces by the deadly weapon.

Beyond that only three other ghouls remained, continuing their charge through the thick dust, undaunted by the bits of meat and rubble that fell around them. But then, executing all possible means of the word overkill, the second wagon of the train, whose pulling team had brought it off to the right side of the front wagon and behind the infantry formation, let off a round from its revolving missile launcher, the rocket-propelled projectile roaring forward before consuming the last targets in a fiery explosion.

“All clear?” Tracer called through the mic after a pause. “Anypony see anything else?”

“I’ve got nothing, sir.” a female guardspony answered.

“Yeah we’re good.” added a male.

“All clear from up here.” Archer spoke, chuckling as he added, “You know, Brock, if you start blowing holes in the road at every turn, the wagons are going to have a harder time getting to the downtown area.”

“Sorry, fly boy. I can’t help myself.” the same guard responded with a laugh, the column continuing ahead and bypassing the small blast crater left by the missile with relative ease, despite Archer’s joking concern.

Another block later, and Archer was engaging targets farther ahead at the wreckage of the raider nest, reporting back that a couple of strays had survived the initial blast of the howitzer shell. Still, without any help, he had made quick work of them from the air, his twin .308 rifles only firing thrice before he returned to higher altitude.

But only just after the pegasus’ rifles went silent, gunfire was picking up again, keeping the entire convoy on alert as it progressed. The noise was soft on the air, but was still easily strong enough that my ears could distinguish the varying calibers. Lighter pops of sound were the product of low caliber weapons, perhaps thirty-eight or nine millimeter. Machinegun fire was mixed in, evident by the burst-fire that carried out on the air, and even sharper bursts of sound led me to believe that lever and bolt-action rifles of moderate caliber were also involved in the hidden gunfight.

“Archer, do you hear that?” Tracer asked through my headset.

“Sounds like a shootout.” came the pegasus buck’s response. “We may have to divert from our original course if it’s too thick.”

“I understand. Fly ahead and see what’s what. If we have to deviate, so be it.”

“Should I go with him, commander?” I asked, watching as Archer veered north to scout the road.

“No, I need you flying that circle for now.” he responded, making me frown. “Don’t worry, you’ll get your time to help us out on the ground, but you’re the eyes of our gun crews right now, and I want you to stay that way.”

“Yes, commander.”

Looking back ahead, I could just make out Archer’s shape against the morning sky, patrolling in a loose circle above the first clearing about three blocks ahead of the wagon train. He continued his circuit in silence as he branched out, gradually making his way northward farther down the Silver Arrow to investigate the next residential district, with the gunfire showing no signs of lessening. “Do you see anything, Archer?” I questioned; the lingering silence, combined with the fact that I wasn’t out helping him made me restless.

“Yeah. It looks like I was right.” he answered. “I’m seeing two big groups of raiders holed up on opposite sides of the Silver Arrow engaged in a gunfight. They’re about three blocks into the next township after Serenity Springs, called Fairfield, past the Greener Pastures Greenhouses and the clearing surrounding the site.”

“Then we’ll need to find another route to bypass the firefight.” Tracer observed.

“Already on it, commander.” Archer replied. “The train will be coming up to the greenhouses soon. When you’re there, you’re going to hook a right to the more intact streets, travel two blocks east, and then continue north. That’ll give us a large enough distance to slip by unnoticed. We can return to the Silver Arrow after a few blocks on the new road.” Up ahead, the dot with wings that was our second flier hooked around, on his return approach back to us. But then, as a particularly loud shot echoed on the air, a cry of agony pierced through my headset, and with a gasp, I snapped my wings out full to jerk to a startled halt.

Archer plummeted down out of the sky!

“Archer?!” I lost sight of him behind a standing house. “Archer, are you okay?!”

“Archer!” came Tracer. “Come in!… Damn it…”

“Goddesses… we’ve got to help him, commander!” a male guard spoke up. “Those raiders’ll be on him in seconds!”

“Everypony pick up the pace!” the commander barked. “Move!”

“I’m going out there, Tracer!” I then called through my mic. “He needs support, and I can reach him the fastest!”

“Get out there and find him, outsider.” came his reply. “You do, then dig in to a defensible position and wait for backup. The wagons will be there soon.”

Even before Tracer had finished, I was winging away, following the Silver Arrow and keeping my eyes glued to where I had last seen Archer’s form. Quick as I could, I passed by the Greener Pastures Greenhouses site, over the surrounding clearing, and out above the township of Fairfield. By now, I could see the muzzle flashes of firearms against the wrecked houses and shops farther north, the gunshots ringing clearly up to me. I could even see shapes moving on the road, the combatants of the battle below, and some of them were beginning to branch off towards me.

Then, from my mic came another familiar voice. “Outsider, this is Cale.”

I kept my eyes on the ground, scanning the wreckage below me. “What is it?”

“I’m just giving you a quick warning – I’ve snapped a picture of Fairfield and the howitzers will be sending some rounds your way.” he answered. “You have to let me know if the shells are coming in too close to you since I won’t have video feed from the camera. Understand?”

I came to a hover once more, focusing my attention to the southernmost roads. “I understand.” On the Silver Arrow, the small figures I had spotted were clumped together into a group, on the move and advancing quickly across the second block down from the greenhouses. “I think Archer landed within Fairfield’s south side, maybe within the first block, because I’m seeing raiders moving towards that first road intersecting the Silver Arrow.”

“Okay. Search there and we’ll keep fire away from you.”

Suddenly, a loud burst of gunfire preceded five rapid consecutive shots that whizzed by my right side, and with a yelp I banked hard left before dropping into a nosedive. From below, the street was lighting up with more gunfire, and this time, several shots were coming for me. There was no time for any retaliation as the streets came rushing up to me, and righting myself quickly to draw parallel to the Silver Arrow, I poured on the speed and bolted, flying just high enough to pass over the hole-filled rooftops of a trio of standing houses. More shots followed me from just below, the raiders now clearly visible in their pieced together armor and their ratty weapons. There were dozens of them, each spaced along the street and digging into positions behind rickety walls or destroyed wagons; I was in the thick of the fight now.

Hurriedly, I arced back around, passing over a four-way intersection before reversing course and heading back to Fairfield’s south perimeter. It was then that my ears perked to a familiar noise - the sharp clap of sound that came from a .308 rifle. It was close, and looking back down to the surface and ahead, I spotted a trio of raiders armed with melee weapons running close together, cutting across an old backyard to leap one after another through the window of a standing wall to my left, one of two that was left of the house it had once been a part of. The second barrier, facing north, blocked my view of what was behind it, but I put my full trust in my ears; the shot had definitely come from behind those two walls.

Flipping my saddle’s safety off, I urged one final burst of speed out of my wings and turned left, another round from the .308 sounding even closer. Then, passing the west barrier by, I turned in flight, rotating in the air while dropping back behind the wall, winning defilade from the raiders on the streets. Behind the walls, I found our downed pegasus trapped in a corner. Two corpses lay nearby, and even as I beat my wings and charged, Archer abruptly wheeled and bucked, hind hooves lashing out in a swift and powerful strike that snapped the neck of a crowbar-wielding earth pony stallion; but then, the remaining two jumped him. One male earth pony and one female unicorn drove into the pegasus together, tackling him to the ground before the male swiftly pulled back the lead pipe in his mouth and slammed it down on Archer’s left shoulder. At just a few yards away, I let myself slip into the embrace of S.A.T.S. and targeted the raider buck. Just as he reared back for another swing, my carbine and battle rifle fired together, a pair of shots driving home into the raider’s back and knocking him off of the struggling pegasus. But even before Archer could get back to his hooves and recover, the unicorn, undaunted by her companion’s demise, once again slammed into him, bowling into his side and forcing him onto his back as I hovered lower to line up another shot.

At this distance, I could see that the unicorn was brandishing two weapons in her telekinetic grip as she straddled the pegasus under her. One was a combat knife with serrated teeth, a weapon that she promptly attempted to stab Archer with as I lined myself up for my second shot. Still, Archer snaked out of the way of the attack, the knife plunging into the rotten floor and just missing his throat. But then came the unicorn’s second weapon, a grey canister with a long iron nozzle at its end, which suddenly spit out a tongue of orange flame as she pulled the trigger and angled the tool to face her target. “You want to be my new coltfriend?” the unicorn asked with a toothy grin, cackling maniacally as Archer fought to keep the flame from the blowtorch away from his face.

BLAM!

A pull of the firing bit, and the psychotic unicorn mare wasn’t laughing as two bullets struck her in the upper back, staggering her as the fire of the blowtorch went out, the improvised weapon clattering to the floor. “Sorry, you’re not my type!” Rearing back with his hind legs, Archer bucked the mare off of him with a single kick, sending her to the floor as I hovered in to land.

“Archer, are you okay??”

But just as I landed and tucked in my wings, Archer having risen to all fours, the pegasus wheeled only to shout out, “GET DOWN!” With a yelp, I fell flat to the floor, a broad machete sweeping above me as I landed on my belly. Then, I heard a cry of pain behind me as Archer fired off his saddle, his twin .308 rifles making short work of my would-be killer. Quickly, I scrambled to my hooves, making my way up beside the pegasus as his saddle’s autoloaders ejected spent clips and loaded his rifles fresh; one shot later from him, and the blowtorch mare who had been trying to rise jerked back to the floor from a headshot, blood pooling out around her.

For the moment, we were in the clear.

“You alright, Nova?” the pegasus asked.

“I’m not hurt.” But even though I wasn’t, I felt my heart sink as I saw the wound on the buck’s left wing. The appendage was hanging limp at his side, nearly dragging on the floor because of the lucky shot that had struck it. Blood seeped freely from the wound - a sizeable hole created by a moderate to high caliber cartridge – and dripped to the floor. But worst of all, through the blood, I could still make out a glint of broken metal in the wound; the hollow point round had lodged itself into the wing. “But you need a potion to at least stop the bleeding, Archer. That wound’s ugly.”

“We don’t have time for that.” he retorted, grunting in pain as he tried to lift the crippled limb up. “Ow…… We’re close to that fight down the street and there’s more raiders coming in.”

“Well I’m making time!” I sharply countered, craning my head around to rip open my right-side saddlebag. “You need to get that wing healed up.” Even as I spoke, my ears perked at a recognizable low whining noise in the air, growing swiftly in intensity before a violent blast of fire and rubble erupted just ahead. A second explosion of equal magnitude quickly followed it, striking to the left of the initial blast as I clamped my teeth around the healing potion, pulling the bottle out from my pack.

Another shot from Archer’s rifles drew my attention to the end of the west wall, where he quickly ducked back behind cover as bullets kicked up dirt just in front of him. “Damn it, Nova, don’t worry about me! There’s no time!” he shouted. “Get your saddle ready, there’s more coming in!”

But stubbornly, I chucked the potion low over the ground, the bottle landing easily on the floor and rolling the rest of the way to him. “Then drink that when you get the chance to!” I replied, facing the north wall before checking my E.F.S..

Yeah, that was quite a bit of red.

Quickly, the pegasus raised a hoof to his portable radio. “Commander Tracer, this is Archer!” he shouted through our communication channel, even as bullets begun to rip through the unsteady wall that made our cover.

“Archer, we’ve been trying to reach you. Are you alright?” Tracer asked.

“We’re both fine! Nova’s with me and we’re holed up just inside Fairfield!” he responded through the increasing noise of the gunfire peppering out cover. “We’ve got a lot of bad guys coming after us though, and my left wing’s crippled! I’d really appreciate it if those wagons would hurry up and save our asses!”

“Hold on, you two. We’re moving as fast as we can.” the commander assured. “Until then, do what you have to do to hold them off. I’d recommend trying to fall back to the greenhouses and rendezvous with us there.”

“Here they come, Archer!” Focusing between the wall and my E.F.S., I saw as the hostile markers begun to fan out, showing that they were closing in.

“This isn’t solid cover!” Archer replied, pausing long enough to take a swig from my healing potion. “But there’s a couple of old wagons parked just behind us that’ll give us better protection! Let’s get behind those!”

Carrying the potion bottle whole in his mouth, Archer made a beeline southward toward a neighboring foundation, and turning and following after him, I could already see a pair of rusted cargo wagons lined lengthwise one behind the next just beyond it. But even as we leapt over the short remains of the foundation’s north brick wall, the bullets begun to fly. Bits of debris pelted my face as a loud rifle shot struck to my right, other smaller caliber shots striking all around it. Miraculously, Archer and I escaped to our cover with no injuries, and though my armor had absorbed two shots at my flanks, I was still just as alert and focused, the adrenaline pumping freely. Now, crouching with Archer behind the left wagon, we were ready to fight back.

Archer went first, setting his partly-finished healing potion down against the side of the wagon before he wheeled out from cover, firing two shots from his saddle before he hurried back. Then I was next, and after a brief break in the fire, I leapt past Archer and into the open, activating S.A.T.S. once more to scope the field. Up ahead, I saw a half dozen targets spaced between the housing foundation we had crossed and the remains of the house that Archer had landed in; others were farther behind. Two of the raiders, two unicorn stallions in bloody leather armor, were side by side, one armed with a shorter rifle and the second with a double-barrel shotgun. I took aim for the riflepony first, dialing in one shot before executing the spell.

The buck went down hard as the pair of bullets drilled through his weak armoring and into his chest. My attack granted his raider partner a shot at me, and dust flew up in my face as the shotgun roared, the shot striking just in front of my forelegs and forcing me back to safety. Once there, bumping up against Archer, I heard a *ping* from my battle rifle, the autoloader ejecting the spent clip and reloading the weapon. “Nova, go to the other end of our cover and make sure none of them try to flank us!” the pegasus spoke as my battle rifle locked closed, ready to fire. “When we kill off enough of them, we’re going to displace out of Fairfield!”

With a quick nod, I reared around and bolted away behind the second vehicle that made our barrier, a wider and taller metal husk that had once been a heavier freight wagon. E.F.S. showed that one hostile was moving in fast towards my side of our barrier, leaving me little time to react. Out came Fire Rose before I stepped from cover, aiming downrange to spot the raider as he approached. Brandishing a heavy steel wrench in his teeth, the earth pony made an easy target for S.A.T.S., and one activated spell later, the buck was down in the dirt with two holes in his chest.

But then, returning to cover, I found myself face to face with another hostile, a grinning unicorn buck with a filthy green coat and greasy grey mane and tail, and before I could respond to his presence, the thick wooden board he held in his telekinesis swung and struck me hard against the left side of my head, knocking my pistol from my teeth and across the floor as I was sent sprawling onto my right side. Even before I could fully stand, I was smacked to the ground again as the same board smashed down on my left side, only my battle rifle preventing a painful impact. Thus being saved from a broken rib, I managed to roll away as the buck tried to hit me a third time, and with a grunt of effort, I quickly brought myself up to my hooves, tasting copper in my mouth and staggering from the burn in my side as I faced my assailant.

“Show me where it hurts!” the buck called to me, carrying the same grin as he leveled the board for another attack. “I’ll make it all better! I promise…” The insane raider proceeded to chuckle after he spoke, then lowering his head to point his horn at me before he charged, laughing all the while. This time, though, I was one step ahead, and with mouth already gripping the firing bit of my saddle, I chomped down and fired, my rifles blasting a single pair of shots that smashed through the raider’s brains, sending him toppling to the ground in a motionless pile, his mad laughter silenced.

But another took his place, an even uglier unicorn stallion whose mushy yellow coat was caked almost in its entirety in dried blood. This buck, however, looked upon me with eyes that sent a chill down my spine. Tiny pupils surrounded by bloodshot red made the gaze of the stallion as he paused in his run to look me over. His left ear (his right looking to have been bitten off) twitched as he giggled with freaky giddiness, and it was then that he removed his weapon from its sheath atop a single harness secured around his torso; metal against metal created a grating sound as the raider revealed the worn sword holstered along his back. “I haven’t gotten my protein for the day!” he spoke up, the sword turning in the air above him as he bared bloody, rotten teeth. “Come closer…”

What??!

My eyes went involuntarily wide as the maniac rushed me, the sword’s lethal tip pointing for me as he let out a battle cry. But I held fast and let my rifles meet his charge, locking in two shots for his head in response; to my immense satisfaction, the first shot immediately killed him before the second blasted his head wide open, pink and red goop painting the dirt as the rest of him fell limp.

Upon leaving the calm of S.A.T.S., I heard the low whine of another incoming artillery shell, and I winced as a mighty explosion ripped out from the earth just behind our wagon cover. A second explosion followed right after it, just like before, taking out another standing house frame just due northwest of us.

“Look at me when I’m charging at you!!”

Behind me and to my right, a new raider’s voice shouted out through the partly diminished noise of our fight, and I wheeled back around to see Archer as he intercepted another unicorn melee attacker. The pegasus nimbly dodged out of the way of a swipe from the raider’s sledgehammer, then swiftly bringing his right forehoof down to deliver a staggering punch to his opponent’s muzzle. The raider stumbled back, head bowed from the shock of the blow, giving Archer the time he needed to finish him off with a shot from his saddle.

The pegasus ducked back behind cover, long enough to reach for his potion to drink again. More shouting was nearby though, and hurriedly I raced back to retrieve my sidearm, scooping it up with my mouth and tasting the bitter floor before rejoining Archer. “They’re starting to wise up a little!” the pegasus called after casting away the now empty potion bottle, letting out a breath. “The rest of them actually have rifles, and they’re firing from cover now!”

I holstered my pistol, shaking my head; I could feel blood trailing my cheek where the board had hit me, and red likewise marked my firing bit. “How many more are out there??” I asked. “Did the whole fight come after you??”

“I guess so!” Archer answered over the gunfire. “The howitzer’s cleaned out a bunch of them, but they still outnumber us!”

“Archer, Nova, we’re just over a block away from the greenhouses.” Tracer’s voice sounded through my mic. “Where are you two?”

Archer replied first through his portable radio. “The raiders are trying to pin us behind cover just inside Fairfield! We’re going to make a run for Greener Pastures!” At Tracer’s affirmative, the pegasus then looked to me. “Nova, you go first! I’ll cover your exit!”

I jerked with a start as a bullet pierced through our cover entirely, passing just over my back. “We can cover each other! You take left, I take right!” One after another, three more shots punched through our safeguard, all passing dangerously close to us. Whether our barrier was weakening, or the raiders were packing better weapons and ammo, there was no more time to discuss the matter, and nodding, Archer bolted as I trailed hot on his tail.

We ran full gallop past the nearest housing foundation before we stopped to turn together, facing the wagons that made our former cover. The raiders were beginning to advance now, three of them running by the wagons entirely while two more took up positions behind them. Two of the forward three were to the left, and the third, a unicorn mare, was sighting her bolt-action rifle on me from my right. Once again, S.A.T.S. guided my aim as I dialed in a shot for her. Though farther away, the display showed a good probability of a hit, and firing, I incapacitated the mare with a shot to the left foreleg, at least taking her weapon out of the spaced but steady stream of fire coming at us.

Archer likewise got off a shot despite the bullets flying by him, and one of the two enemies to our left toppled back from the twin .308 rounds that punched through his armor and into his left shoulder. Then we were on the run again, leaping together over the crumbled wreck of a short wall and into another collapsed house. Inside the shell of the home, I could see the clearing just down the Silver Arrow as Archer branched off to take us onto the road. With our enemies briefly lost within the ruined houses, we had just enough time to put some distance between us and our pursuers, booking it straight down the left lane of the two-lane road. But the raiders were back on us just as quickly, and we turned around, halting our gallop together just as three more enemies appeared on the road.

But as they did, the low whine of incoming howitzer rounds resounded in the air, and as the raiders one and all retreated off of the road, I knew that they did too. Seconds later, the first round smashed to the right of the road, just in front of the Fairfield’s first four-way intersection. The second one, came in even closer, and I knew that it took out at least one target when the fireball engulfed the two wagons we had hidden behind. But then, I had to shield my eyes as both wagons suddenly exploded AGAIN! With a deep roar of sound, two miniature mushroom-shaped clouds of green rolled into the air as slabs of rusted metal, now all that remained of the former cargo carriers, flew in all directions.

I didn’t stay long to gawk at the spectacle, as Archer shoved me along before the both of us picked up our pace and continued to run. The explosions provided us with much more time to flee, and just a short gallop later, we were out of Fairfield and running straight for the Greener Pastures Greenhouses. But we weren’t out of the fire yet, as we had just crossed the border back into Serenity Springs when I felt a burning impact against my right flank, the armoring absorbing the bullet that hit me and preventing a wound; Goddesses, these bastards were persistent!

“Head left!” Archer shouted, still in full gallop as he crossed in front of me. “That wagon there!” Though I didn’t respond, I could see the aforementioned vehicle as I hooked left and followed, nearly slipping as a bullet clipped just behind my hind legs. The wagon was alone on the street, a long passenger carriage with shattered windows and a blackened hull toppled over onto its side. Though the greenhouses themselves would’ve offered better protection, the wagon was much closer, and we needed new cover.

Halfway there though, and Archer once again skidded to a halt and turned around, driving me to do the same. Our pursuers were spreading out along the road, and out of the five that I could see, two of them were running for the greenhouses. Archer put fire on those two raiders as he began moving backwards toward cover, dropping one while the other raced on by, and taking the opportunity, I called up S.A.T.S. again on one of the stationary targets. The earth pony was chasing us with a saddle composed of two short-barreled rifles, and had already fired a shot when my spell brought time to a temporary stop. This time, when the spell released, my shot missed, just as his struck my chest plate. My vest still held, but the pair of bullets staggered me from the force of their impact. And beside me, just a second later, Archer let out a grunt, similarly stumbling before he reared away. “Ugh!… Come on! Get behind the wagon!”

I had no problem following that order, because even as the original four remaining raiders begun to advance, even more began to file into the street from Fairfield, laughing and shouting all the while. There were at least ten that I had counted before turning away and making a dash for the wagon. Up ahead, Archer stopped just in front of our cover to turn and fire two more shots, covering me as I closed the distance between us before leaping behind cover, finally winning defilade from the fire that chased us all the way out of Fairfield.

Archer was right behind me, concrete chips and dust kicking up after him as he barely escaped the raiders’ crosshairs. Now, as I heard a volley of shots spark off our barrier, I knew that we were temporarily safe. But almost a dozen raiders were bearing down on us, and Buckley’s wagons still hadn’t come; we needed that firepower and we needed it fast! “Commander, where the hell are you?!” Archer called through the com-link, his saddle weapons reloading to full clips.

“We’re about to cross into the clearing now, and we see the raiders coming out of Fairfield.” came Tracer’s response. “I’m sending the infantry ahead. Just stay alive and we’ll come to you.”

“Thank Luna!” Archer replied, standing up straight and leaning back against our chariot’s undercarriage. “Nova, stay here on the right side and keep those raiders back! I’ll take the left!”

With a grunt, I whirled and lunged across our barrier to move up to its left edge. Then, I stepped out of cover and took aim with S.A.T.S.. Five raiders farther back were peppering our wagon with light and medium rifles and sidearms, standing farther back down the road. But four were rushing us, more melee attackers that had divided off into two pairs to engage Archer and I simultaneously. On my side, the closest attacker was an earth pony mare, maneless and wearing an eyepatch. She was brandishing a wicked bladed weapon in her mouth, a jagged cleaver, and behind her, a unicorn buck in leather armor was levitating an aluminum bat with horrific nails driven into its upper half.

They were coming in fast as I targeted them both, the mare already rearing her head back for a swing as she approached. Activating the spell, my rifles fired and brought the mare to a halt, the shot tearing through her right foreleg. But the second shot, despite how close the raider buck behind her was to me, went wide and struck the pavement at the unicorn’s right side. As time returned to normal, I felt a sharp blast of panic race through me as the raider let out a savage cry, bringing his weapon over his head to strike. But with a yell of my own, I leapt away and to the left as the bat came crashing down on the concrete. Quickly, I whirled around to face my opponent, but already, the raider was bringing the bat around for another swing, and I ducked down low as the weapon passed overhead. And after that, I had to quickly rear up as the unicorn’s magic swung the bat in the opposite direction, the nails on the tip nearly striking my chest plate before I fell back to all fours.

His last swing had given me a large enough window to counterattack, and though S.A.T.S. was still recharging, I was already facing the raider to line up a shot. But just as I bit down on the firing bit, I felt another impact on my left side, a bullet punching into the guard. The bullet, though stopped by the plate, threw off my aim as I fired, and my shot went too far to the left of my target, and with a *ping*, my battle rifle went inactive to reload; in my efforts to dodge every attack the bat-wielding pony threw my way, I had stepped out into the open where one or more of his comrades had easy sight of me to fire.

Even as I got my equilibrium back and leapt to the right, more bullets continued to strike the ground around me. But when I tried to get back to cover, to at least get out of the direct path of the rifleponies down the road, the unicorn intercepted me and swung his bat again. Once more, I ducked under the attack, even as the raider laughed over the rising noise of the fighting. “This is some fucked up foreplay isn’t it?” he taunted, lunging forward once again for another attack. This time, I sprang up and snapped out my wings, beating up as his bat swung under my hooves, and with another beat to propel myself forward, I flew over him and back behind the wagon before landing roughly on all fours; Archer was still at his place, once again stepping out of cover to put another shot downrange.

I spun back around in time to see the raider unicorn strike out at me once again. I ducked low in response, the bat passing by and smacking into the metal underbelly of the passenger wagon. But then, I had to rear back onto my hindlegs as a second raider, the earth pony mare I had shot in the leg, took a swipe at me with her cleaver. The blade missed on its first pass, but the lighter weapon was easier to swing, and a gasp escaped me as I landed on all fours again, the blade already coming back for another strike. This one cut across my vest, carving through the protective material to slice across my chest. I didn’t cry out, but the burn that immediately erupted there told me that the attack had drawn blood, and even then, the two raiders pressed. The mare swung again, and I dodged left for the blade to slice past my neck on the right side, and then I had to drop to the ground as the bat sailed by over me. Then, the mare came back again, forcing me to rear back up to dodge a swipe at my forelegs.

“Don’t make me beat you too much!” the male shouted, laughing as he swung the bat over his head down at me, making me lean left to evade. “I don’t like my meat rare until I’ve had it in my bed for a day!”

But now, after all the dodging, I was finally in a position to strike back. With the mare pulling back for a more powerful strike, I had enough room to bring my left foreleg around, and with the most hateful ‘fuck you’ I had ever screamed in my life, I brought my hoof around and up and socked the male raider square in the jaw. Even my lighter and more fragile limb staggered the buck as he stumbled back into the wagon with a metallic thud. The momentum behind my swing brought me around with my back to his female companion, and just as she lashed out with the cleaver again, I crouched forward and bucked out, my hind hooves connected solidly with her head, forcing the earth pony raider to lurch back as she dropped her cleaver to the pavement. Then, I spun again to face my opponents, and this time, my mouth was already clamped on the firing bit as I activated S.A.T.S.. One shot for the dazed mare, and one shot for the bat-wielding pony, and I executed the attack, finally dropping both of them with clean headshots.

My heart was racing, my breath short from the physical exertion of dancing around the raiders’ attacks, but still the firefight continued, and the report of Archer’s twin rifles drew my attention back to my fellow pegasus. As I returned to cover, leaning against the wagon and stepping back from the bleeding corpse of the nail bat stallion, Archer pulled back to cover and looked back to me. “Some of our ponies are drawing the attention of some of the raiders!” he called to me, his saddle reloading. “We’re almost done!”

But as I made to reply, my ears perked up at a noise just behind… and above us. With a start I leapt forward and whirled to face the wagon, and I found that another raider had climbed up atop our cover. But this one, another unicorn stallion, was already levitating six different objects close around him in his telekinesis… metal apples that he removed from a sash holding just as many more of them.

And with a grin, he pulled all the grenades’ pins at once, making no effort to move from his place above the wagon, but instead lifting his head up and bellowing out a bloodthirsty cry to the clouds above.

“ARCHER, RUN!”

As I turned tail and fled, I caught a glimpse of the pegasus stallion doing the same. But a second later, the suicidal raider’s cry was replaced with the detonation of the grenades, and the immediate and much more powerful explosion of the wagon he had stood upon. The force of the old transport’s detonation launched me off my hooves and through the air, and even through my own scream, I heard as my pipbuck’s geiger counter erupted into a solid buzz from the radiation wave as green light shined bright from the blast. The deafening explosion threw me several yards before I landed hard on my back, tumbling and rolling over myself for several dizzying seconds before I came to a halt on my left side.

My head pounding and my ears ringing from shellshock, I took in a ragged breath and coughed out the exhale, forcing myself to move my limbs. But as I got one forehoof planted on the ground, I jerked back onto my side and shielded my eyes as the wrecked frame of the former transport, now a burning green metal fireball, landed with a heavy crash just beside me. Once more, my gieger counter begun to tick rapidly, and I could feel the heat of the balefire against me as I forced my legs to work. Quick as I could, though struggling, I pulled myself up to my hooves to stumble away from the wreck. But only two steps in, and my left hindleg buckled, the pain in the limb bringing me back down to the ground as I let out a yelp; it was then that I noticed the long metal shard that had run it through, jutting out from the front and the back of the limb as blood welled up around it and trickled down to the concrete.

“Oh… damn it…” I grit my teeth as that terrible burn lingered in my crippled leg, once more forcing myself up to a stand.

“Look! It’s pegasus on a stick!”

“Come to me, my pasty cake!”

“It's time for a new meat hammock!"

Looking to my right, I gasped at the sight of four more raiders galloping through the rolling smoke left from the explosion, their combined voices and laughter a tumultuous wave of psychotic glee. At the head of the group was a unicorn mare armed with an iron pipe as she charged me, and behind her, three other ponies likewise armed with melee weapons were stampeding after her, eyes all on me.

I reared around to face my newest opponents as they closed in, grunting with pain as my leg threatened to force me into another collapse. With my injury, it was harder to quickly set up my next shot with the rapidly approaching targets, and even as I finally got a line on the leader of the small group, the unicorn mare was bracing her magic for a swipe at me. But then, as I braced for a collision, two fast energy bolts, one red and one green, lashed out from the left and struck the mare’s right side. The impact staggered her, and as she stumbled, her hide begun to sizzle and glow a brilliant red. Then, there was nothing left but a pile of ash as her three companions halted and turned towards the source of the attack.

Shore emerged from behind one of the nearby greenhouses and met them head on, chomping down on his saddle’s firing bit to open up with his energy rifles. And at the same time, with a strong battle cry, Raemor came charging out into the open with his fire axe held aloft in his telekinetic grasp. The rearmost raider of the pack had little time to react, and though he attempted to swing his own weapon in response, Raemor was the quicker, and the axe blade smashed down into the raider’s skull, driving him into the ground for a gruesome kill. The next raider, unlike his friend, was ready to attack, and lunged forward to lash out with his combat knife. But the older stallion, having already yanked his axe from the corpse of his latest kill, was already facing his enemy. He parried the raider’s attack with the axe handle, and with a quick turn, brought the blade around to slice across the raider’s chest. Then, as his opponent staggered, Raemor spun the axe twice over his head before driving it into the raider’s lower jaw with a deadly uppercut, a spray of crimson escaping into the air as the raider fell back to the street, dead; the third, having made a reckless charge for Shore, met his end at the barrel of my friend’s multiplas rifle, nothing but a puddle of green goo remaining of the former raider.

Then my two friends were turning their attention to the raider group down the street, Shore keeping up steady fire as Raemor tossed his axe aside to pull out his grenade APW, launching a barrage of the smaller 25mm grenades at the cluster. Beyond my two friends I spotted, to my great relief, the convoy itself finally rolling in. Buckley’s infantry was swarming into the street and engaging, some swiftly spreading into the greenhouses to take up positions behind cover while others put steady fire downrange, easily driving the accumulating raider force back into Fairfield. Behind the infantry, the head wagon of the column was entering combat while the other two moved into view behind it, and the mounted grenade machinegun blasted the first stretch of Fairfield to smithereens with an unceasing stream of 40mm grenades. Where over a dozen raiders had been before, there was nothing left but bodies and smoke, and through the bullets coming from my allies, I cracked a small smile as what raiders had survived retreated off into the ruins.

“Nova!”

I thanked the Goddesses as Archer’s voice sounded behind me, and I craned my head around to find the pegasus buck limping towards me. “Goddesses… Archer are you okay?” I asked concernedly, stumbling a step toward him.

The stallion had taken another wound, a bullet that had punched through the thinner armoring of his right front leg to plunge into the flesh. He was keeping his weight off of it as he hobbled up to stand before me, and with a nod, he answered, “I’ll live… but your leg… we need to get that-” He was interrupted as the injury in question spiked with pain, my attempt to shift the limb causing it to give out once again, and I staggered forward to fall against his chest. Thankfully, even as I uttered a pained grunt, hissing from the sting, he caught me with his injured foreleg, holding me against him as I fought to stay standing. “We need to get that piece of metal out of there so the wound can heal.” he finished lowly; I could only sigh in response, resting my head over his shoulder and leaning into his hold.

Around us, the sounds of gunfire were finally diminishing, and I heard as the order begun to work its way around the convoy to regroup. Behind me, I heard Shore and Raemor confirm back to one another that they were in the clear before their hoofsteps came toward me. “Goddesses, Nova… your leg…” Shore came up by my left side, placing a hoof on my back. “Are you okay?”

When I got my balance again, Archer lowered his foreleg away from me, and I backed up a slow and cautious step to look back at my friend. “Well, I’m not feeling the best right now… but I’m alive.” I answered, forcing a weak smile to try and ease Shore’s very pronounced concern; it didn’t work, and the stallion instead gave me a gentle hug, an embrace that I gratefully welcomed.

“We saw that wagon go up when we were approaching the greenhouses.” Raemor spoke up, coming to stand beside us as Shore released me. “Your geiger counter is almost in the red, Nova.”

With a groan, I lifted my pipbuck up to eye level, whereupon I found myself face to face with the computer’s medical screen. It was alight with activity, the cartoonish pegasus pony wearing a pained frown with its left hind leg now drawn with a dotted outline showing its crippled state. And along with the physical condition report, a radiation warning was flashing yellow, the geiger counter needle dangerously close to the red zone. I shook my head at that, lowering away the computer with a sigh. “Sweet Celestia… all that radiation from just one wagon?”

“Hey! We need our medic over here!” Archer suddenly called.

When I glanced around toward the greenhouses, I spotted a trio of Buckley guards that had emerged from behind the greenhouses looking back at us, another two standing farther back as they kept their eyes on the road leading into Fairfield rifles ready. The center guard of the front three, an earth pony buck with a combat shotgun and assault rifle on his saddle, acknowledged Archer with a nod. “Right. I’ll go get her.” In a flash he was bolting away into the lingering smoke, the second guard of the three following after him while the third turned her attention to the street; the rest of the infantry was returning from their pursuit now, orders carrying back and forth.

“The radiation wave was caused by the detonation, which was in turn caused by the damage done to the spark battery block.” Raemor explained, bringing my train of thought back to my recent question. “If they take enough damage from bullets or explosions, they’ll detonate.” As he explained this, with me myself doing my best to take in the information the old stallion supplied, he used his horn to open up a pocket stitched into his Equestrian Army combat armor. From the pouch came a clear packet of orange liquid, labeled with red marker as Rad-Away. “Here. Drink this.” With his magic, he removed a plastic straw connected to the pouch from its protective casing and punctured the packet before holding the drink out to me. With his help, I slurped down the medical beverage, a sour elixir that felt a little syrupy going down; still, it hadn’t been nearly as harsh as Plainwell’s Bitter Drink.

Thanks to the mix, upon my finishing up the last bit of it from the pouch, my rad meter begun to drop again, quickly falling back into the green until it halted in the middle of that healthy zone. It was higher than it had been, but the one pouch would be sufficient for now, and with a small smile, I said, “Thanks, Raemor… that whole spark battery thing is kind of dumb if you ask me. It makes me have to drink that Goddess-awful thing.” I gave a nod to the empty Rad-Away pouch as Raemor tossed it away.

“I don’t like radiation remover either. Takes away my appetite.” my old friend replied with a chuckle, matching my own smile before a concerned and focused frown took over. “Now, we need to fix that leg.”

I grimaced, looking back at the lengthy spear-like slab of metal in my limb. “It’s going to hurt isn’t it… getting it pulled out?” Of course, I already knew the answer… but I definitely wasn’t looking forward to experiencing this…

“Sorry, Nova.” Archer spoke, giving me a small nod. “I’m afraid that you’re going to have to bear through a bit to get that leg patched up… here comes the medic now.”

When I swung my gaze back to the greenhouses, a small party of Buckley personnel were coming to meet us. At their head was Commander Tracer himself, and at his flanks, Saharra and two guards, along with a grey unicorn with a violet mane and tail in doctor fatigues, were trotting along to match his pace. “I was scared of what I’d find when that old carriage went up.” the red commander said, coming to a halt as he and the small group with him joined us. “I’m glad to see you two alive. I’m just sorry we didn’t make it sooner.”

“Better late than never, commander.” I replied, as lightheartedly as I could; he wasn’t amused.

“Was anypony else hurt?” Archer then asked.

“No, everypony’s fine, and we got all the raiders we could find.” Tracer answered, to which the pegasus let out a relieved sigh. “We shouldn’t be bothered again for a while.”

“Good… I wasn’t counting on being shot down like that, sir. I’ll do better next time.”

It was Saharra who spoke up, wearing a heartening smile as she said, “Don’t worry, Archer. We’re all here and alive.”

“Well, I’m here and alive because of Nova.” the stallion remarked back; even in my weakened state, I found myself snapping my eyes to him. “If she hadn’t shown up when she did, I would’ve had a blowtorch put to my skull… She saved my life.”

A small yet genuinely thankful smile formed on his face as our eyes met; great, even now, after everything we had just went through, I was still blushing at the pegasus stallion… I couldn’t help but agree with myself that his wounds made him look even more attractive. “Well… um… just… just remember that you saved my hide, too.” I bashfully responded, taking a step toward him.

Big mistake.

Once more, my hind leg buckled, and with a single sharp shout of pain, I fell to the ground, only catching myself with my forehooves to prevent myself from completely collapsing. Shore was right by my left side in a second, Raemor quickly stepping up to my right as both tucked their muzzles under my belly, helping me back up as I rose to a shaky stand. “Sophie, let’s get Nova’s leg patched up, please.”

In response to the commander’s order, I heard a mare’s voice reply, “Yes, sir. I need just a few seconds to get my supplies out.”

“Go ahead and lay down, Nova.” Shore spoke, leaning forward to make eye contact. “We need to patch you up.”

“Actually, you may want to take your battle saddle off.” Raemor added. “You’ll need to lay on your side until that metal’s out.” I gave Raemor a nod at that, the unicorn undoing my saddle’s main strap before taking the rig away and setting it aside. Then, with a sigh, I gradually lowered myself down. For a painful few seconds, the metal ground against the flesh of my leg when it snagged on the concrete, forcing me to freeze on more than one occasion. But eventually, I managed to spread out fully on my right side, by which time the unicorn nurse approached with a single doctor’s bag in her telekinetic grip.

“Hello, Nova.” she greeted, setting the bag down with a smile of comfort. “I’m Nurse Sophie, one of Doctor Preston’s assistants. I was assigned as the convoy’s medic for the journey, so I’ll be taking care of you.”

“Hi… so, can you get this thing out of my leg?”

“Yes. But, I have to warn you now that this will not be without pain.” she firmly answered. “Once that metal piece is out, I’ll need to clean and sterilize the wounds and then give you a healing potion or two, pending on how the injury heals. With that in mind, I have to ask that, no matter what, you try your best not to move around much until I’ve finished tending to this leg. Can you stay still for me while I work?” At my nod, she begun to levitate out a number of items including two thick white towels, an assortment of medical tools on a metal tray, and a healing potion. “Now, you two are her friends, yes?” Speaking to Shore and Raemor, she added, after their confirmation, “I’d like some help from the both of you. Since you’re a unicorn, I’d like you to hold this cloth for me. Once the metal comes out, I’ll need you to apply pressure to both wounds until they close, and they will bleed.”

“Certainly.” Raemor replied.

“And for you,” the nurse continued, looking to Shore. “if she reacts too much to the process, I’m going to need you to hold her down until I can finish. I don’t think it’ll be much of a problem, but just stand close and be ready.”

Together, Shore and Raemor stepped to their respective positions, the old unicorn taking the two towels as I found myself looking up at Shore standing above me. “I’ll try not to be much of a nuisance for you.” I spoke up to my friend, letting out a soft chuckle.

“You are a tough mare, Nova. I’m sure you will be fine.” came his encouragement, passing me a warm smile before looking ahead at the nurse again.

“Are we all ready?” Sophie asked.

“As ready as I can be, I guess.” I replied after a sigh, Shore and Raemor voicing much more confident answers.

“Okay, on three.” I shut my eyes tight and braced myself, feeling Shore place a comforting hoof on my foreleg as the nurse counted down. “Three… two… one…” I didn’t look at the nurse or my friends when the countdown completed, but I most definitely felt as the metal was pulled from my leg.

And Goddesses, did I scream.

*** *** ***

“Parkington Street…”

Once more, I repeated the name on the first street sign, the wagon train coming to a temporary halt just beyond the exit of the Southside Industrial Park. After nearly another hour passing through the outskirts on the Silver Arrow, we had come up to the Silver Arrow Crossover, a massive suspension bridge, crumbling yet standing, that connected the city outskirts to the great expanse of gigantic buildings that made downtown Marefax. At the Crossover entrance, which had been just past an old diner and a vehicle yard - Audrey’s Diner and the Zane Wagon Scrapyard specifically - we had encountered a small platoon of raiders, forty or so, who had occupied the tollbooths and made themselves a fortified bunker within which to hide out and raid. Thankfully, this was nothing that four howitzer rounds and a barrage of forty millimeter grenades couldn’t handle, and we had quickly conquered the fortification with only a scattering of injuries.

After this, we had advanced on the bridge itself, and I had gotten my first look at the Garden of Marefax. What had once been a vast earthen channel of flowers from every corner of the globe that ringed around the entirety of the downtown sector, truly a wonder of the Old World, was now nothing more than a heartbreaking pit of thick pink haze that swirled, churned, and rolled ominously under us as we crossed that bridge. On our way through, having progressed unhindered by additional raider patrols, talk of the pink abyss had come up on the communications link in whispers, everypony in the convoy taking in the terrifying sight with awe and apprehension alike. During that time, I had learned from Archer that the source of the pink cloud had come from underground, as understood during his days spent here making his map for the journey. Though he didn’t know from what, and how, his hypothesis was that whoever had brought the megaspell to the city had detonated it underground to prevent anypony not already evacuating Marefax on the Last Day from hiding in the city’s sewer network or service tunnels, where a chance of waiting out the balefire missile, even if slight, had existed; it was a very grim reminder of how war on such a grand scale worked.

Without incident we had passed the Crossover, whereupon we emerged into the city’s Southside Industrial Park. The park, before the end of the war, had been a sprawling expanse of massive production sites that had added considerably to the fires of Equestrian industry. Though most of the buildings had been unidentifiable husks and hilly piles of rubble, our travel through the park had let my pipbuck’s local map identify several structures on our route, including Madison Utility Manufacturing, Marefax Steel, Marefax Pharmaceuticals, the Ironshod Firearms Marefax Branch (comprised of an office complex linked to an assembly plant via a metal skybridge), and even a musical instrument factory called the Mason Piano Company. When word had gotten around of the latter site, Ludwig had insisted from his place in the forward wagon that the building be investigated. Though the structure’s nearly collapsed state should’ve been an indicator, Ludwig, Saharra, and a small team had rooted through the building in a quick but thorough search for instruments to load up and return to Buckley. However, aside from several wrecked pianos and other unfinished models on the factory’s assembly floor, nothing turned up aside from a sparse collection of instrument maintenance tools and supplies; these were taken anyway and stored in the lead wagon.

The last intact site in the industrial park had been the expedition’s first target building, the Cirrus Communications compound having been built neighboring the Marefax Steel foundry to the north and the Madison Piano Company building to the south. It was here that our convoy split up once again, the third wagon in the train remaining behind along with an escort of ten soldiers who, after being read an equipment list provided by Tech Sergeant Lela before our departure from Buckley, begun to loot through the old factory to find as many components as possible for the ATC tower’s planned transformation. And now, with just two wagons and twenty-four infantry personnel, we had crossed out of the industrial area and into downtown Marefax itself. At that time, I had been called back down to the surface, whereupon I had been ordered to leave the Eagle Eye camera unit with the team remaining in the industrial sector. And with this, Commander Tracer gave the order for the howitzer teams to hold fire and save the remaining seven shells they had packed for the return trip.

Now we were venturing into dangerous territory with no fire support.

All around me, the city buildings towered up high above, growing steadily taller the farther north I looked. Behind me, the exit of the industrial park felt more like a spiritual gateway, a portal between two worlds that gave me the option to turn back and run, or to face forward and stare down some of the southeast’s greatest threats, whatever lurked within the carcass of Marefax. The buildings alone put me on edge, the groans and creaks of their metal foundations echoing across the litter-filled streets and meshing with a light yet audible breeze that brushed against my body, speaking in its hushed and chilling tones. The steel and stone constructions were all so tall… I felt that one would get up off its foundation and crush me with a single step, and looking up at the tops of the even taller skyscrapers at the city center, farther away yet already feeling so close, made my stomach queasy. In the presence of this city, within its very midst… I’d never felt so small and fragile in my whole life…… but with how far we’d come… there was no turning back now.

“The next street we’ll be moving onto is Maple.” Archer explained from just in front of me. “Should be just ahead.”

“Let’s get moving then.” came Tracer’s response. “Everypony keep your eyes peeled, and if you spot a hostile, call out the target.”

The convoy begun to move once more as the pulling teams hauled the two wagons forward. The grenade machinegun wagon, the turret operated by an earth pony mare named Kenzie, was in the lead, with the missile launcher wagon following behind it, a unicorn stallion - Brock - still in the gunner seat. Now that I was on the ground with the rest of the train, I was finally back with my companions, and both Shore and Raemor stayed close by as we moved. Archer himself was farther up at the front with Tracer and a unicorn guard, the later pony using his horn to levitate up Archer’s hoof-drawn map to track our progress. And Saharra, the last pony I knew that was a part of this journey, was at the back, staying close to the second wagon’s closed cargo hatch to guard Ludwig who resided inside.

As if the city was reacting to our very presence, more and more echoes of gunfire begun to sound in the air. Though Parkington Street was clear, the noise was closer, and it kept everypony on high alert for more raiders. Thankfully, we had come across no threat as we rounded the first street corner. The signpost on the old sidewalk was still intact enough for us to read the street names painted in white against the green metal. Maple Street was the only direction we could’ve chosen either way, as both other streets of the four-way intersection were clogged off with massive piles of blocky rubble.

Like Parkington, Maple Street was home to multiple six to eight-story structures, likely once having been apartment complexes or even offices, spaced by narrow alleyways. On both sides of the street, each and every building was inaccessible from the ground floor, the entrances having either been boarded up or blocked by rubble from the deteriorating buildings. Not a one of them was perfectly flat at their rooftops, each having aged together as the years went by. Up ahead, between the scattered rusted hulks of old wagons, sections of entire buildings had fallen apart, with their remains strewn across the road. The obstacles made for some difficulties for the wagons, and one such collapse had created a wall across the entirety of the road. Though traversable on hoof, the pulling teams would have a much harder time getting the wagons over the rubble; it was when we reached this obstruction that Tracer ordered us to a halt.

“This wasn’t here before…” I heard Archer remark from up ahead, the buck turning his eyes to his right and upward; I followed his gaze to see the interior rooms of an old apartment building, the entire north face of the building having come free to topple to the road. “This was a very recent collapse.”

“Alright then. I’m going to need two volunteers to keep watch from the top of the rubble pile… there, and there.” Tracer ordered, gesturing to both ends of the pseudo wall. “Likewise, I’ll need a couple others to keep watch behind us, and I’ll need the rest of you to help move this rubble. We need to clear a hole so the wagons can continue. I’d also like a word with our three outsiders as well as Archer and Bolt. Everypony else, get to work.”

Immediately, the convoy was alive with activity, orders relaying back and forth to designate each guard to a task. Together, Shore, Raemor, and I made our way to the front, rallying by Tracer and Archer just as Bolt, the grey-coated, orange-maned unicorn I recognized from the fight in Buckley’s generator building, stepped into view from the front of the first wagon and joined in our circle. “We’re going to be here for a few minutes, so while the guards get this rubble moved, I’d like the five of you to come with me and make sure there aren’t any raiders or ghouls waiting for us down the road. If any buildings are accessible, I want to root through them as well, just in case.”

“If I remember my map correctly, the next street is Warren and branches off northward from Maple.” Archer explained in reply. “We should get a look at the street corner and see if anything’s lurking on the next road.”

Tracer nodded. “Agreed. Let’s move then. Hopefully we’ll be out of this mess shortly.”

With a nod, Tracer took the lead, trotting past the first wagon and its pulling team to stop in front of the rubble. Already, over half a dozen unicorns were beginning to pull away the chunks of rebar and twisted steel bars from the top center of the pile, and at the top of the pile, on both ends of the roadblock, four guards were setting up defenses, two earth ponies with their light machineguns sitting on bipods and two unicorns with .308 sniper rifles, all keeping their eyes on the street as Tracer begun to ascend the rubble. Bolt followed after, and Archer trailed behind before Shore and Raemor followed him up.

As for me, I gladly flew the short distance over the rubble to land on the opposite end, seeing the rest of Maple Street as it stretched ahead. Thanks to Sophie, the laceration on my chest and my crippled hind leg had been healed entirely, restoring my body to its former self. The nurse knew her medical work, and though my formerly wounded leg was a little more sensitive than the others, I was able to walk with only a slight limp. As for Archer, he had taken to digging out the bullets from his flesh by himself with a combat knife, despite Sophie’s protest, and he was criticized for damaging his injured wing even further than before when the pegasus had rather forcefully removed the hollow point pieces from the joint. As a result, his injury, according to Sophie, would be keeping him grounded until after a day or so of resting the wing.

Before me, Maple Street was empty, with only a light drizzling of rubble and three spaced wagon carcasses to mark the cracked concrete. Like the front portion of the street, the building entryways were once again boarded up or blocked by debris, and a quick check of my E.F.S. confirmed no hostiles in the vicinity. “It looks clear so far.” I spoke, looking back up to the rubble pile as Tracer descended, the others following close by.

“Let’s move up the street.” the red earth pony replied, trotting past. “It looks like there might be a couple of buildings that are opened up just ahead.”

I waited for Shore and Raemor to finish their trek across the uneven rubble and join me before I followed the commander in his search. As it was, there were indeed two buildings near the end of the road that looked intact enough to enter. The first building, on the left side of the street, was another apartment complex, a building whose west neighbor was leaning against it, having snapped free of its foundation but being saved from collapsing into the street wholesale. But the one on the right, near the street corner itself, was a much shorter building, only two stories, which carried with it an intact signboard above its open double doors that read: Lightning Brothers Electronics Outlet.

“Lightning Brothers?” The name was ringing bells on my train of thought, and I repeated it aloud again as we continued towards the searchable buildings. But that was when I found Archer looking knowingly back at me from his place near the front, and I remembered, with a start, just where I had heard the name before. It had only been yesterday when I first heard it - Macon and Misty had bought a camera from the Lightning Brothers to record events onto their terminal, events that Archer and I had been able to see with our own eyes one hundred and seventy-five years later; nostalgia came creeping back as I lowered my eyes to the road underhoof.

“Outsiders, how about you three check out that electronics store while I take Archer and Bolt to sift through the apartment here.” the commander ordered, our group coming to a brief halt. “The convoy will broadcast to us when the debris is clear off the road, so Nova, keep your ears open to your headset.”

I nodded, reaching up to adjust my patrol cap and its microphone. “Yes, commander.”

“Alright then. Disperse and get to it. And be careful, all of you.” With that, the commander reached for the harness of his only weapon, a large silver semi-automatic pistol, before giving the nod to Archer and Bolt, both priming their own weapons before they trotted away together to the apartment.

“Let’s see what’s inside this store shall we?” Behind me, Raemor undid his fire axe from its place on his back and held it at the ready as Shore took the lead. Single file, with me at the rear behind Raemor, we approached the shop and stacked up along the wall outside the entrance. The entire front face of the store had once held two large glass windows on either side of the doors. The former of these had been blown away, and the wrecked metal doors were currently wide open, both barely clinging to their frames.

Then Shore stepped up to the open window and aimed inside, scouting left and right for hostiles before giving us a nod. “Looks like it’s clear on the first floor.” he said, trotting up to the doors. “Do you see anything Nova?”

“No. E.F.S. is clean too.”

“Okay. It should be safe to explore, then.” Shore replied, stepping by the open doors and into the dimly lit building. “Oh. There’s a terminal in here.”

As Raemor and I emerged inside the old shop, I spotted Shore as he trotted around to the east side of the room, stepping behind an ‘L’ shaped countertop table built into the floor at the far corner. Atop of the table, amidst a scattering of old papers and clipboards was a terminal the exact same design as the one on the Shimmermist Farm, and, when I looked, it was of the same design as two others on the opposite end of the room. The west side of the chamber belonged to four rows of shelving units where items for sale would’ve been displayed. Presently, these included the two replica terminals as well as three radios of differing models. However, none of these items were intact, as each contained a blackened frame and gaping holes, showing where the internal components had been destroyed in one fashion or another. With them, other bits and pieces of scrap were scattered along the shelves, showing the remains of what had once been other electronic devices.

“Hm… this computer is already unlocked.” Shore spoke up; I turned to see him briefly disappear behind the desk, lowering his head to investigate another item. “A safe was connected to this terminal, but it’s already open as well.”

“It’s likely that this building has already been picked clean by scavengers.” Raemor observed, both he and I trotted over to the desk.

“I remember Hallion saying something about that when he was in the region.” I added, looking back to Shore who nodded to me.

“This terminal only has a couple of corrupt video files and an old inventory list.” the black earth pony explained, adjusting his reading glasses with a hoof. “Except one file looks intact.”

“Another video?” I asked, stepping around the counter to join my friend in front of the flickering green screen. A total of six items were listed in the main menu, four listed as corrupt data while the fifth was a typed document; the bottom item on the list carried a title to label it, reading For You, The Viewer. “That’s curious…”

“I think it’s another video file.” Shore replied, scrolling the blinking cursor down to the item.

“If you two want to view the document, I can scour through the second floor.” Raemor offered across the counter.

“E.F.S. isn’t showing anything in this building.” I replied, raising my pipbuck for the old stallion to see. “I think the building’s safe.”

“I like to see with my own eyes.” came his response, dipping his head. “No offense, but I don’t trust technology as much as you do.”

I gave a small smile and shrug. “Everypony has their preferences.”

“I’ll go ahead and check upstairs with you, Raemor.” Shore spoke up. “I still need to keep my eyes open for any energy cartridges that might be hiding around.”

“I’m curious about this video log. I’d like to see it, if that’s all right with you two.” I said afterwards.

“Sure. We’ll be back in a minute.” With Shore’s final remark, the two stallions were off to the east end of the building where, amidst a quintet of toppled shelving units and destroyed electronic appliances, was an intact metal staircase leading to the second story. As the two ascended one after the other, I turned to face the monitor, and with the press of the key, activated the video log.

In a flash, green faded away to black and black brightened to grey as the video loaded up. And then, ashy green covered the screen as I found myself facing an unblemished wall. But more important than the color was the barrage of different sounds coming from the video’s audio recorder. There was a multitude of voices sounding, mostly mixing together all at once to make a dull indecipherable noise… except for the spaced yet frequent screaming and shouting coming from beyond the camera recorder. But then, “Yes sir…… I understand sir……” The voice belonged to a stallion, middle-aged. “But, beg pardon sir, shouldn’t we try and do something about this city? I mean, all of Marefax has gone into a frenzy. There’s traffic jams and citizens are starting to loot and hoard supplies. Ever since the whole city witnessed those zebra missiles flying by just west of us about an hour ago, they…… yes sir…… no sir……” The one-sided dialogue, the tired tone of the unknown male voice, put a chill through me; I didn’t like where this was going. “Wait, you mean… the National Guard Bunkers… the Guardian Project… went offline? That’s how those missiles got through??………” A long pause proceeded the shocked tone of the hidden stallion. “A-and Buckley too??…… Sir, that means Marefax is an open target! The southeast is defenseless!…… Sir…… But sir, Cloudsdayle was just one city, and we’ve sealed the rest of them away! We can’t just abandon the surface like this! There are millions of ponies here and just one Raptor in Marefax would save……… yes sir, of course I love my family…… no, I’d never betray them……… no sir…………” A sigh escaped the unknown buck, a sigh of utter defeat. “Yes sir… yes sir, I’ll be at the rendezvous in ten minutes… I… I just need a moment…… yes sir… thank you, sir… I will, sir.”

Another moment of silence proceeded, the video only projecting the mob of voices outside. Then, hoofsteps, and a moment later, I came face to face with the stallion I had heard. He was a yellow buck with orange eyes, mane and tail two-tone red, and at his sides was a pair of wings. This stallion was a pegasus pony, and currently, he looked to be on the verge of tears, a face that made my ears pin back in sympathy. For a long time, he and I stared back at one another, the pegasus buck’s ear occasionally perking up as a particular volume of a shout or a word sounded outside of his walls. In the lingering silence, he even turned away from the camera to adjust the strap of his saddlebags, the only items he wore on his body. But then, finally, after a sigh, he said, “This is Staff Sergeant Lightning Strike, Marefax Second Battalion, First Artillery Company…… Goddesses… I haven’t said that in a while… not for two years, anyway…… As I speak, Marefax is plunging into chaos, and I have no doubt that the zebras are sighting in on us. As one of the soldiers on the Equestrian Reserve, I still maintain contact with my battalion’s commanding officers… and I just got word from General Wind Walker himself that we’ve lost contact with both Buckley Air Force Base… and the National Guard Bunkers to the northeast. We don’t know how they fell… but the loss of these military posts have left Marefax completely exposed… and the General has just given the order for all pegasus ponies in the southeast to evacuate the surface… and rally above the cloud ceiling at a temporary checkpoint before we’re rerouted to Neighvarro for new assignments.” Again, the pegasus sighed, shaking his head. “General Wind Walker led the battalion through some tough fights during the later stages of the war… but this… leaving all of Marefax’s unicorns and earth ponies to whatever fate awaits them… this is fubar… and technically, I’m committing treason for even thinking like that… guess the general saved me from the firing squad on that one…… But, in all honesty, if it wasn’t for my wife and son… and my brother and his pregnant wife already having left for the cloud cover… I’m not sure if I would’ve complied with the order to run.” Lightning Strike stopped once again, looking up over the camera and around at his shop; his eyes carried with them a certain look… one that said without words that he had no true desire to leave his shop behind.

“After our time on duty, Lightning Wave and I came here for peace, for someplace to work a civilian job and make a civilian living.” he said, looking back to the camera. “We made this shop together, and it was our livelihood, the living we wanted for ourselves, to support our wives that we met along the way, the children we’d come to have… and now I’ve got to abandon it all because of this fucking war.” He looked away from the camera. “After nineteen years, the whole damn thing’s reached the tipping point… ever since those balefire blasts went off southeast of here two days ago, I feared the worst… And now, after those zebra missiles flew right by the city just an hour ago… those fears have been confirmed…… Goddesses, I never thought I’d actually live to see the apocalypse… or an apocalypse of any kind…… but all the signs are there… it’s really happening…”

Suddenly, through the dim roar of voices outside, a new sound cut through the audio of the video recording, a noise that drew a gasp from me and the Lightning Strike both; a raid siren. The alarm blared ominously through the entire city, easily cutting into the video log and dominating over the other sounds on a single dissonant pitch that sustained itself for several seconds. Then, the note fell before rising back up to that single scary warning tone, a blaring cry for everypony to find shelter, to flee in any and every direction away from the city, to save themselves and their loved ones. It was the city’s final word; a balefire missile was coming.

The siren continued to rise and fall, and I winced as a wave of terrified screaming replaced the dim rumble of the previously somewhat composed voices outside. Yet still, the video continued, and the pegasus bowed his head; even through the screen, I caught a glimpse of a tear as it fell from the stallion’s eye and dropped behind the counter. Then, he rubbed a foreleg along his eyes, clearing away the other tears that wanted to fall, before he looked back up at the camera. “Well… this is it, I guess…” he spoke. “In minutes… everything my brother and I worked to achieve outside the soldier’s life will be turned to ash…… I’ve heard rumors from other pegasi veterans that the pegasus officers in the Equestrian Army and Air Force are working on making their own army altogether, just with us pegasus ponies… don’t know what…” Again, the pegasus shook his head. “But I don’t like the sound of it… something tells me that it’s going to be an uncertain future from here on out, even if the other pegasus cities have been hidden away… I guess we’re not exclusive to that though… an uncertain future…… I can’t imagine what the surface will be like once the dust settles. It isn’t fair that we have the capacity to fly above the clouds and away from the eyes of the zebras while the rest of ponykind has no choice but to stand by while the world goes up in smoke… I hate that so much…… but I’ve heard of those Stables that were made all around the Equestrian territory… might have some hope rebuilding with those around.” Even with the siren continuing to sound, and the screaming still coming from outside, the pegasus cracked the faintest of smiles at the camera, holding it just long enough to let it sink in. “I don’t know what’s going to happen once I get up to the clouds with the other fliers… but hopefully, when this mess passes, the leadership will have their shit together, and we can act.” With a sad shake of his head, and another tear, the buck added, “So, to any surface dweller that sees this video… from me to you… just… hang on. Do what you can to survive… look after yourselves and those you love… work together to rebuild… and hopefully, soon, the pegasi will return to help you, to help restore Equestria…… For now… just hang on…… and good luck.” Then, slowly, Lightning Strike reached up over the camera with a forehoof, and with one final wail from the warning siren, the video ended.

I was left with a terrible heartache for the pegasus, and that dreadful siren continued to ring in my ears, making me shut my eyes tightly for several seconds. Lightning Strike, another soldier during the war, like Macon, had been forced to flee and leave his whole world behind, and he had no choice but to watch it burn from his safe place in the clouds above. For me, my world was Hopeville and its people, and while I couldn’t even fathom what it would be like to watch that town, all the progress that I and my fellow Stable dwellers had made in restoring it, topple to the ground, Lightning Strike had witnessed the destruction of civilization itself. But what was worse than that, was that he had wanted to ease the impact of the catastrophe, to save Marefax’s citizens with help from his superiors and the soldiers at their command. But because of one single order, that chance had been taken from him, the chance to do something good stripped away because of protocol; I couldn’t imagine what that had been like for Lightning Strike.

“Don’t count on it…”

I jumped at the sudden voice, and nearly jumped again at seeing both Raemor and Shore standing by me. I had been so absorbed into the video file that I hadn’t noticed their return, but the voice hadn’t belonged to either of them, as they had both looked at me with varying levels of sympathy, Shore much more so than Raemor, who only looked at the terminal with a sort of solemn understanding. But no, the voice had instead come from Archer, the pegasus standing on the opposite end of the counter where both my friends and I looked back at him. “Excuse me?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow as I forced my attention away from history.

“I said don’t count on it.” the pegasus stallion responded, his tone curiously darker, eyes slightly narrowed as he looked to the far end of the room. “The pegasi coming back to the surface?” Archer shook his head. “You’d think that one of the last bastions of pure ponykind would have an interest in restoring Equestria to its former self, helping those that lacked the ability to follow them to safety… but don’t count on that.” For a moment, we were all silent as the steel-blue pegasus turned to look me in the eyes, his glare easing up as he did so. “I figured I should get that out now before you start getting your hopes up about it.” And before I could even ask as to what in the world he meant, he turned away and walked back outside, leaving me staring after him with nothing but utter confusion.

“Um… is he okay?” I asked back to my friends, looking back and forth between them with concern.

A look of similar confusion was all I got from Shore, while Raemor answered, “I’m not sure. But that video log must’ve made him remember something for him to become so suddenly irritated.”

“He was always so calm and easy-going yesterday, it just seemed like that was how he always was.” I replied, looking back to him. “That seemed a little out of character for Archer.”

Then, “Commander Tracer, this is Kenzie. The rubble is nearly cleared out enough for our wagons to cross over. We should be moving in the next couple of minutes.” The female voice on my microphone brought my focus back to the matter at hoof, and the continuation of the expedition took precedence over my worry for my fellow pegasus; still, I made a note to inquire about that to Archer directly at an appropriate time.

“Alright, good work everypony. We’ll head on back.” the commander replied.

“We should get going as well, Nova.” Raemor spoke up, trotting back around the counter and heading for the shop entrance.

With a nod, I followed him and Shore back out of Lightning Strike’s shop and back into the street.

*** *** ***

Halstead.

Following the train as part of the rear guard, with Archer, Shore, Raemor, as well as two other guards clustered around and beside me, I rounded the street corner to leave Indigo Road behind and emerge onto Halstead Boulevard. About a half hour earlier, we had been traveling due north on Warren Street, and had spent roughly twenty minutes heading on a straight route closer and closer to the Marefax Skyline, the cluster of skyscrapers at the very heart of the downtown sector. Warren had been a four-lane road with widened sidewalks, with a raised median along its entire length that had once held proud towering trees. Now, however, the road had been nothing but an example. The buildings along Warren had shown greater and greater levels of destruction and decay the farther north we went, leading Archer to explain that we were walking ever closer to “ground zero” – the impact point of the balefire missile that had destroyed the city. Though he had assured us that we would be keeping a safe distance from the blast crater, it was still a chilling thought to know that we were closing in on the epicenter of the city’s demise, and it was magnified further with the sudden darkening of the cloud cover above.

Once a brighter grey to resemble the midmorning light, the sky had become a much darker shade of the former grey-white, and as we had continued along our route, slowly but surely thickening with rubble and obstacles, it had begun to thunder. After Warren Street, which had yielded a brief firefight to fend off a small pack of scavenging feral ghouls at its end, we had finally hooked onto a new road, veering eastward on Indigo Road as soft thunder and dim lightning continued to accompany us. Indigo Road had been a smaller and narrower street, and had been the graveyard to a number of old wagons piled together against the buildings, a result of the shockwave of the missile. Near the end of the road, I had been witness to another one of the larger transport wagons, this one having held within it a host of pony skeletons blackened from the balefire that had swept out and consumed all in its path; I had nearly cried as the nostalgia hit me like a bag of bricks.

Now, with that transport behind me, but still fresh on my mind, we were on Halstead Boulevard and continuing northward. The ruin here was similar to that of Warren Street, rubble thick and hindering the wagons’ progress, forcing crews of unicorns to move ahead of them and clear the road of concrete blocks, steel bars, and even remains of old wagons. Buildings continued to flank us from both sides, more and more withering closer away to just their frames and interiors. But up ahead, I could distinguish intact buildings, these ones with labels marking their names; they were the first I had seen since Lightning Strike’s electronics store.

On the right side of the street, three structures built side by side were intact enough for access. The closest was labeled in blocky red letters as a pharmacy, though one letter sat isolated from the others, the only one left of what I was sure had been the name given to the pharmacy itself. Next to that building, a black signboard with cursive white lettering was legible enough to make out the words Songbird Jewelry Store. And finally, beyond that, an electronic sign flickering with red light spelled out Tea’s Shake and Sandwich Joint. However, parallel to the jewelry store, a single rusted away wagon sat horizontal across the road, and ironically, it looked to be along the same model as our own cargo wagons, blocking just enough of the street to prevent our vehicles from passing; one side of it would have to be pushed out of the way.

“Alright everypony, hold up.” Tracer ordered from up ahead, the convoy swiftly coming to a halt behind him. “We’re going to have to move this…”

“Beg pardon sir, but I think some of us unicorns could use a bit of a breather.” a female guard voiced from somewhere along the train.

“Playing street sweeper is fun until you start getting a headache, sir.” a male guard added afterwards, this guard shaking his head as I spotted him just in front and to the left of me.

After a moment’s pause, the red earth pony nodded. “You’re right… alright, everypony, take a few minutes, just sit down and grab some food and water from the provisions you packed. Rest up a little, but make sure to stay alert. We’ll see about getting past this wagon when we’ve all got some sustenance in our bellies. I just need two guards to follow me past the wagon and see what’s ahead.”

At his word, six unicorns in my sight immediately plopped down on the concrete, a couple even gratefully shedding their primary weapons before joining their companions for a quick snack. By my side, I caught sight of Shore stretching out before sitting down himself, and Raemor’s horn flickered with light as he pulled out a bottle of dirty water from one of the pockets on his armor. “Would either of you like a drink?” the old buck asked, unscrewing the plastic cap with his magic.

To the question I gave a nod, and I sat to take the bottle in my forehooves, taking a swig of the water before handing it back. “Thank you.”

“Certainly.” the copper unicorn replied, passing the bottle to Shore who likewise gulped down a mouthful of the water.

“Hey commander… uh…” My ears perked at a nervous mare’s voice that suddenly sounded over my headset.

“Holy shit…” a male voice spoke up, whispering into my ear over the com-link.

“What is it?” Commander Tracer asked, voice cautious.

“There’s a lot of bodies in here, sir.” the mare answered; simultaneously with the majority of the guard detail, I shot back up to all fours and faced the obstruction in the road.

“Everypony up… now.” Tracer ordered, sharp but calm. “We need to get that wagon out of the way and then get the hell off this road.”

“Goddesses, we’ve walked right into a raider hideout haven’t we?” I heard a male at the front call out.

“Merciful Luna, they turned the jewelry store into a fucking meat locker!” a second mare shouted, sounding nearly at a panic.

“Everypony stay calm.” Archer quickly interrupted, his much more composed voice sounding both beside me and over my headset. “Half of us get to work on moving that wagon, and the rest of us keep a lookout for hostiles. We need to focus.”

“Yeah… yeah, okay.” a second male replied, taking in a breath.

“Come on, let’s get this hunk of junk out of the way, and quick.” a third ordered.

“Keep your eyes on the buildings. Some of them have multiple floors.” the pegasus added, looking up himself at the top levels of the closest multi-level structure to his left. “Call if you find something.”

Now, an eerie quiet overtook the train, Commander Tracer and four other guards reappearing from behind the wagon as a crew of five unicorns and six earth ponies got to work on pushing away the wagon. The rest of the train was slowly scanning the surrounding area, covering all of our flanks and searching the open windows of the buildings looming over us. “This wasn’t on the map either was it?” came a guard’s questioning voice through my headset.

“This street was the closest to a nest a couple blocks away to the southeast.” Archer replied, the pegasus backing up next to me as the two of us, along with Shore and Raemor, stepped by the rear wagon. “This was the only street that would take us through the next city block. The rest were sealed off by rubble.”

“The deeper into Marefax we get, the more like a maze it becomes…” a female guard nervously observed.

Up ahead, a metal grinding echoed along the street as the obstruction was beginning to shift, the combined telekinesis and physical strength of the crew attending the obstruction sufficient enough to move the vehicle away. “Nova…”

To my right, Commander Tracer was approaching at a brisk trot. “Yes?”

“We’re going to be taking a right on the next street before we head north again on the road after that.” he explained, stopping in front of me before pointing a hoof up, gesturing to the taller ten-story structures at the end of Halstead. “I’d like you to take up a sniping position on the most secure rooftop on one of those buildings and check for any hostiles up ahead. With luck, any raiders nearby will be occupied somewhere else within their territory so we can slip by.”

I nodded, spreading out my wings. “Yes, commander.”

“Archer, I’m going to have you sneak up to the street corner and set up a sniping position on the ground.” Tracer added, turning to the steel blue flier. “Diego also brought a sniper rifle along, so I’ll send him with you as another set of eyes on the ground.”

“I’ll go meet him then.”

“Alright. Everypony get ready to move, and keep your eyes and ears open.” Tracer ordered, the wagon pulling teams reequipping their harnesses as the guards took up their positions; the wagon had been moved only a short distance along the road, but just enough for our carriers to pull up to the sidewalk on the right side and inch past. After a quick farewell to Shore, Raemor, and Archer, I beat my wings to spring into the air. With a general lack of room to maneuver freely in the street, I dipped before pulling up to fly parallel to the buildings. Within seconds, I passed over the rooftops and leveled out, ready to scan for a position to set up shop.

But instead of open roof, I came face to face with a team of two ponies, crouched quietly and lying in wait… both of them wearing tattered leather armor.

“RAIDERS ON THE ROOFTOPS!!”

Just as I screamed my warning, the unicorn bucks jumped to their hooves, lever-action rifles snapping up to point right at me, and I jerked my wings shut to drop just as they fired, the twin shots whizzing right above me. Then, as my wings once more came unfurled, halting my momentum, “Contacts front!”

“On the road, dead ahead!”

“Take cover!”

Right after the frantic radio chatter began, muzzle flashes erupted like lightning against the hulls of our wagons below me as the guards at the front begun putting fire downrange, meeting a raider squad that had poured out from the street corner just ahead of them. More of them, at least another half dozen, emerged from the next street on our route to take shots at the guards at the front of the train as they scrambled for cover. But at the same time as the ground force of raiders made their move, more gunfire sounded from the rooftops themselves, and not just the one I had first encountered. From two different positions, unicorns were peering over the edges of the rooftops and pointing their rifles straight down to put lead onto the train from above; the convoy was boxed in!

But even before I could speak a word, I found the same two raiders as before bringing their rifles to point at me, and I poured on the speed to get away. A quick flight forward, bullets lashing by just behind me, and I was pulling up at a sharp ascent to pass the roofline before hooking hard left and coming around. The convoy was out of my view now, and all I saw were the raiders attacking the train from above. There were four in total, two at each of the positions, and the foremost pair were still keeping their iron sights on me; I had to get into this fight, quick!

The pair of unicorns were firing again as I leveled out from my turn, forcing me to bank right to avoid them. Then, in an attempt to open a window for a counterattack, I dropped down, intentionally skipping a beat in my wings before I leaned left and picked the pace back up, weaving in a successful zigzag. The maneuver put me a step ahead of my targets, buying me the time I needed to bank back right and line up with the enemy, and I slipped into S.A.T.S. to dial up my shots. One shot for each of them, and the spell activated, my rifles roaring to combine with the noise below. The first missed, striking the rooftop just in front of the raider and making him stumble back. But the second was a hit, catching the second unicorn in the right hind leg. The shot staggered him, and right before I flew by overhead, I saw as he stumbled back one step too far, losing his balance as he stepped over the edge and plummeted down ten stories to the pavement below.

But now, the other two raiders were after me as I arced left for another pass, and this time, two assault rifles from the unicorns sent a hail of bullets after me, one absorbed by my side guard before I aborted my next pass and dove back below the roofline. Below, the battle was continuing in force. To my great relief, Tracer had led the infantry to shelter in the jewelry store, the sandwich shop, and the pharmacy, setting up defensible positions with plenty of cover to put fire on the raiders on the street. However, the two wagons had been abandoned because of the raiders on the rooftops, and already, three enemies were making a break for the lead carrier. It didn’t take much to tell me what their intentions were, and there was no way in hell I was going to give those raiders forty millimeters of grenade-spewing destruction to turn against my friends; for now, the raiders on the rooftop could wait.

Spreading my wings to level out from my dive, I shot by over the second wagon and caught sight of my targets as I drew up to the first. With S.A.T.S. recharging, I had to angle in for the shot, and I lined up directly in front of the lead raider of the three and fired. My mere presence in the air caused the three to slow, caught off-guard, and my shot struck home in the leader’s throat. I pulled up and away as he fell, beating upward as fast as I could as more bullets streaked by around me. But then, as I leveled out once again, backtracking, I felt two impacts simultaneously, one bullet striking my leg guard as another hit my back plate; the latter pierced the armoring, and with a pained cry, I lost my pace in the air.

The bullet had, fortunately, just missed the right wing joint, but as I got my wings to snap back open, trying desperately to catch myself, I still felt the pain wash over the affected area. I couldn’t beat my wings fast enough to catch the air again, but I managed just enough to slow my fall, and passing over the first wagon, I brought myself roughly to ground, stumbling a step forward before I came to a full halt. Tucking my wings back against my sides, doing my damnedest to ignore the burn in my back, I quickly surveyed my surroundings. I had landed by the nose of our second carrier, and I was on the left side of the street. Up ahead, the vehicle that had blocked our path now lay across the left sidewalk and roughly half the road; the enemy would be coming around the right side or up over the wagon, and the rest of my team was fighting from the buildings just beyond that.

Bullets drilled into the pavement, eliciting a yelp of shock from me as I made a run for it. The raiders from the rooftops were chasing me, the bullets cracking the concrete behind me forcing me to fall back, and I skidded around the nose of our front carrier to take cover. “Nova, where are you??”

I recognized the commander’s voice over my headset. “I’m hiding behind one of our wagons!” I shouted, metallic clangs sounding above me as bullets reflected off my cover’s armored plates. “There’s enemies on the roof that are keeping me from running!”

“I’m sending a couple of our guards to get you out, just hang on!” Tracer replied. “You three, get ready to move! Diego, knock out those targets on the rooftops!” Suddenly, from the wrecked wagon just behind me, laughter alerted me to a presence there, and I saw two raiders emerge on top of the Old World vehicle; one of them pulled the pin from a red grenade in his telekinetic grasp.

“It’s bath time!” the male unicorn shouted with glee, hurling the metal apple straight for me. It skipped along the pavement and stopped at my hooves before I leapt away, springing once to the right and then scrambling back along the right side of the wagon. The grenade detonated, a wave of fire rolling out just in front of me and bathing me in a splash of heat and lingering smoke.

“Oh, you’re fast!” the same raider called with a sinister laugh. “Get back here, my little meat muffin! My friend needs you!”

“I need another head for my merry-go-round!” the second voiced after, his own shouting even closer to me. “Yours is perfect!”

Adrenaline surging, I turned back just after my two opponents rounded the corner toward me, and in unison, the second drew a pump-action shotgun as I chomped down on my firing bit. We both fired together, the buckshot pellets striking my chest plate dead on as my own shot hit his lower left front leg, the bullets ripping out a chunk of his hoof as he collapsed to the ground; even he wasn’t insane enough not to cry out.

The raider who had thrown the grenade was already after me as I tried to line up another shot, and he lashed out with hoof adorned with a steel ponyshoe. The metal unarmed weapon missed my muzzle by inches as I forced myself to rear back, and I retaliated with a punch of my own. Though light, I scored a hit across his own jaw, making him recoil away. But as I made to fire again, the raider leapt away behind the wagon, my shot missing and striking the old wagon behind him. He was out my line of sight by the maneuver, and even as he dodged away, his comrade was staggering up, bringing his shotgun to bear with a maniacal grin even as the stump on his hoofless foreleg bled openly. “Don’t worry, I’ll just get a new hoof from you!”

The shotgun fired as I ran for the opposite end of the street, the pellets sending up a spray of concrete dust as I skidded to a halt and reared around. The pump-action loaded the next shell as I brought my rifles to bear, and he fired again, the scattershot punching hard into both of my foreleg guards at once, sending just enough force to the limbs to trip up my balance and send me falling onto my side. With a cry, I rolled, desperate to get away, and the next shell from the raider’s shotgun smashed into the pavement where I had just fallen. The racking of the pump-action weapon sounded much more like a death bell in that moment, singing out for me as the adrenaline charged through my veins; I wasn’t going out like this!!

With a twist of my body, I rolled again onto my back, biting down on my sidearm to pull it from its holster in the same maneuver. And simply pointing and praying, I fired desperately, Fire Rose spitting out five rapid shots until the trigger clicked on an empty chamber. Still, behind the iron sights of my mother’s pistol, I found the raider lying dead, the shotgun fallen by his forelegs. But there was no time to celebrate, as two more raiders, two female earth ponies with their own battle saddles, emerged to take his place, and the male unicorn from before now stood atop our lead cargo carrier, already eyeing the unattended 40mm grenade machinegun.

Through the noise of rifles and a buzz of sound from some sort of full-auto weapon, a piercing crack of sound echoed through the street, and I caught a glimpse of another raider falling from the rooftop as I scrambled to my hooves. Then, the earth pony raiders were firing and I was running, diving to cover at the back of the forward wagon. But right away, the male unicorn raider from before was after me, and he… toppled off the wagon and over me to land motionless on the road. And then, a friendly leapt off the wagon and scurried over to join me; Kenzie had killed the raider atop the cargo carrier.

“When the bullets started coming down from the roof, I took cover inside the wagon!” she shouted over the noise.

“There’s two more between us and the rest of the team!” I called back after holstering my empty sidearm; I had no time to reload it manually.

“We’ve got to deal with them!” With that, the orange earth pony mare with a short red mane reached around and bit down on the weapon over her back, a military assault rifle with a built-in firing bit that she brought before her.

Without a moment’s pause, she turned and leapt out into the open and fired, keeping the trigger down to send out a spray of lead at our targets. I joined her right after, running past her before facing down the road. The two mares had been joined by yet two more raiders, another earth pony mare and a unicorn stallion, the former armed with a single pistol and the latter carrying a crowbar in his telekinesis; if more raiders were getting to us…… I needed to get to the others!

Another crack of sound from the louder rifle echoed in the air before I brought up S.A.T.S. once more. Kenzie had already killed one of the earth ponies, and the second was taking cover. The two newcomers were in the open though, and I targeted the pistol-wielding pony with a single shot before executing the spell; a hit to her chest brought her down.

But with a *ping*, my battle rifle ejected an empty clip, prompting the auto loader to kick in, and my markspony carbine was likewise reloading. Kenzie too was on an empty clip, and the both of us were forced back to cover as the remaining earth pony mare returned fire with her assault rifle saddle. Then, both of my weapons’ autoloaders locked new rounds into the chambers, and I was ready to fight again. But then I stepped from cover, only to find that the crowbar stallion was already waiting for me, and I couldn’t react in time as his hooves reached for me, grabbing me by the neck and throwing me past him and into the ground.

I let my momentum carry me into a roll, and with that I dodged a swipe from the crowbar, the steel tool cracking the concrete at the force of the raider’s swing. In a flash, the murderous buck was after me again, charging forward to close the gap between us. “You’re going to look good as a neon sign!” he shouted as I rolled to evade him, my attacker once again bringing the crowbar down on the pavement.

On my last roll, I brought my hooves back under me and pulled myself up, turning to face the raider as he charged once more. “SCREW YOU!” I screamed back, biting down on the firing bit and firing two shots in rapid succession, bringing the raider down and ending his psychotic charge.

“Nova, run for it!!” The call followed a third shot from the higher caliber weapon, and just behind me, I saw Kenzie racing for the old wagon up ahead, the way now clear of raiders even as the gunfire continued in full beyond it. And even as she ran, more friendly contacts emerged, three male guards diving frantically for cover one after another before Raemor joined them, my friend making the caboose of our much needed support. As the gunner mare and I ran to meet them, I recognized one of the guards as Bolt, swiftly reloading the carbine at his side.

“Over here!” one of the other guards called, Kenzie and I skidding to a halt behind cover with the others a moment later. “Diego just knocked out the last of the raiders on the rooftops!” the guard buck explained over the fighting. “Kenzie, we need you on your gun so you can blast this wagon away! Once that thing’s nothing more than scrap, that grenade machinegun can mow down the rest of these fuckers!”

“How many of them are left??” I asked back, listening as I turned my attention to my sidearm, pulling it and another clip out with my teeth before setting them on the ground and working to reload the weapon.

“They brought in twice as many as we have!” Raemor answered me. “They’re recklessness is there weakness, so we’ve kept them from gaining ground!”

“Was anypony hurt??” Kenzie then questioned.

“No deaths, but a few of our guys took some hard hits!” the second guard stallion answered. “Sophie’s tending to them under fire!”

“Right now, the whole damn thing’s a stalemate, and we’re taking turns blasting through each other’s cover and taking potshots at each other!” Bolt added, turning to Kenzie as he added, “That’s why we need this scrapheap out of here, Kenzie!”

“I’m on it!”

With all due haste, the earth pony gunner ran back for her position, approaching the front left side of the cargo carrier and climbing up the support steps. But then, right after reloading my pistol, holstering the weapon and the empty magazine, I was being nudged forward by Raemor. “This vehicle’s going to detonate when Kenzie uses that grenade machinegun!” he quickly explained, the two of us picking up pace with Bolt and the other two guards as they ran past Kenzie’s wagon and up to the second. “We need to take cover!”

Oh no, not this again!

I ran with no argument, following the guards as they took cover behind the second wagon. Then, as Raemor and I likewise took shelter, Bolt put a hoof up to his own communicator. “Everypony take cover!! Kenzie’s taking out the wagon with the forty mil!!”

“Everypony down!” Tracer ordered back, all five of us crouching low to the ground behind our cover. “Kenzie, hit it!”

A second later, and the repeating blasts of the 40mm grenades carried to my ears, and the tremendous detonation of the Old World vehicle’s spark battery unit followed suit, green light flaring around us as the old vehicle went up in a roaring ball of balefire. Then, even before the noise of the explosion died away, “Come on, let’s get in there and finish this!” Bolt shouted, already running out from cover and back towards the fight as I opened my eyes and stood back up.

Swiftly, the two other guards followed after, and finally, Raemor and I gave chase. Now, there was nothing left of the former obstruction besides scrap plate, the entire vehicle having been blown apart. Through the dying smoke, I could make sight of the battle zone, finding well over a dozen raiders protected by slabs of stone, rebar, and even another wagon lying on its side by the sidewalk. In front of them, scattered in the middle of the road, were numerous bodies, the corpses of the rest of the enemy force. Opposite of that, completing the frantic shootout, our team of infantry was holed up within the three named buildings on the right side of the street, some even having taken positions on the upper floors; more raiders had tried to charge directly into the buildings, only meeting a messy end and laying dead at the entrances to the structures.

But now, most important, Kenzie and her implement of destruction had a clear line of sight on the remaining raiders. Now, we were the ones attacking the raiders from multiple angles, and knowing this too, Tracer once again spoke through the com-link. “Kenzie, light them up!!”

*** *** ***

BLAM!

One shot from S.A.T.S. and another feral ghoul fell at my hooves, and a second later as my battle rifle reloaded, I turned to see as a female unicorn guard nearby smashed the butt of her rifle against another feral’s face, sending it to the ground before jamming the rifle barrel to the creature’s head and pulling the trigger; her shot was the last before silence ruled the streets.

“Clear!”

The call went up around the convoy, followed shortly by a swift roll-call, and gratefully, I let myself relax. All around us, a pack of over forty feral ghouls lay dead on the pavement of Nellis Street, and even more of them had been blasted to meaty pieces by the wagons’ mounted heavy weapons. We had found the herd huddled together in the first floor lobby space of an unnamed tower, a building that stood at least twenty stories up and spanned over a third of the block; even as I trotted back to the lead wagon with a sigh, I knew that there were more ghouls inside the building’s other floors, and I thanked the Goddesses that we weren’t heading in to explore the old structure.

After fighting our way out of the raider ambush on Halstead, we had continued along at a fair pace as Sophie tended to the wounded, our rear wagon becoming a mobile clinic. Unfortunately, our numbers were diminishing slowly, as six guards already lay recovering inside the wagon, having been incapacitated because of the ambush and now leaving us at eighteen to continue alongside the cargo carriers. Nevertheless, there were no casualties, and we marched onward, merging onto Tango Street and crossing it unhindered onto Granville Road. After that came 89th street and the 89th Street Cinema, an Old World movie theater that had caved in entirely except for its front wall, revealing its name to us as we passed. On the same street was the second music-based site we had found throughout the journey - the First Staves Instrument and Sheet Music Center. However, unlike the Mason Piano Company in the industrial park, the smaller shop had been picked clean of everything but wrappers and scraps. And, worse than that, I had been the one to discover a slice of the Old World left inside the building, the skeletons of what I assumed to be the former shopkeeper and his or her family, complete with two much smaller skeletons that was all that remained of the family’s children, all huddled together in a compact storage closet. There had been a small written diary with three preserved pages in that closet as well, revealing the skeletons’ identities and their last sorrowful thoughts before their demise on that fateful day.

I left that diary and its words behind… Lightning Strike’s voice was more than sufficient in fueling my nostalgia without me carrying that book around. And still, the further along I went, following Buckley’s mission deeper into the corpse of Marefax, I was becoming sluggish, weary as the city exploited my mental weaknesses. Every piece of the Old World I discovered with the convoy pressed down on my conscience, straining my will, and making me all the more hesitant to see what else was hidden in the city’s broken streets. To put things lightly, I was already planning on making another visit to Buckley’s spa, and I was sure as hell looking forward to the concert, and being with Blake again; more and more… I wanted out of this place.

But still we moved on, and upon leaving 89th Street behind, we had hooked onto a road called Wilshire, a short straightaway that carried us to Friendship Heights Avenue. This was the home of the Friendship Heights Scenic Park, a flat sprawl of dirt that had once been a grassy field filled with stone monuments for ponies to mingle and rest from the hustle and bustle of life in the downtown sector. It was certainly a curious landmark, almost seeming out of place as we passed by, as it had been completely surrounded by crumbling buildings; it was as if the city leadership had forgotten to erect another tower where the park was.

From Friendship Heights we had turned onto Cornerstone Road, this street also home to another intact building that was once a local post office. Though we hadn’t run into another hostile squad of raiders, the post office bore the gruesome signs of their passing, the exterior walls of the building defiled with splayed corpses, splashed blood, and crudely written profanities. But then, after turning onto Lotus Street past the post office, we had come upon Nellis Street and continued north.

We were now near the end of the street, or at least the end of the portion of it that we were traversing, as, according to Archer and his roadmap, we were approaching our next turn. “This next street we’re going to be turning on is the second-to-last on our route, commander.” the pegasus stated, the convoy preparing to move once more. “We’re almost there.”

“That’s good news.” Tracer responded, nodding as I watched from my distance away from the two. “What else are we going to be coming across before we get there?”

“The rest of the route was free of raiders and ghouls when I mapped it, so as long as none of them move from their territory, we’ll be safe.” Archer explained, then raising a foreleg to point straight ahead of us. “Behind this building here is a clearing where the city’s farmer’s market was set up. We can cut across that to head onto Franklin Road, we follow that east for a bit and after that, we hook north on Starlight Avenue, and the Moonrise Symphonic Theater is right down there.”

The commander nodded again. “Alright, good. We’re going to go ahead and get the wounded rallied up, while Sophie tends to them and gets them back on their hooves, we’re going to keep moving. While we do that here, I want you and a couple of others to search the courtyard and Franklin Road just to make sure that the route’s free of raiders.”

“Yes sir.” With a quick salute, Archer turned and trotted away to disappear behind the forward wagon, Commander Tracer and a unicorn guard with him folding up the roadmap before they too trotted off to new tasks.

“Hey, Nova! Could you help me out a second?” I snapped my eyes to the left, recognizing the voice of Saharra, and spotted the concertmaster supporting a wounded guard buck – a white-coated, green-maned earth pony – back onto the street from the sidewalk. Both of his forelegs were bleeding freely, crippling him to a hobble that forced him to lean against the red unicorn for balance.

“Goddesses, are you alright?” Hurriedly, I trotted over to the pair and took up a place by the wounded stallion’s left side.

“A couple of ferals teamed up on me during the fighting and bit through my armor.” he explained, gingerly stepping down on his left front hoof and still grimacing. “I guess that’s what I get for not taking my brother’s advice about wearing heavier armor.” he added with a grim chuckle. “I’ll probably get an infection for this… just in time for the concert, too.”

As Saharra and I helped him along, I managed to get an understanding of just how painful his injuries were. The bites the guard had sustained were nasty, as the fabric of his light armor rig had been shredded by the gnashing teeth of the ghouls that had attacked him. Because of that, the fronts of his forelimbs had been entirely exposed, and the flesh was savagely torn, leaving deep lacerations and ragged bloody holes. “Don’t worry, Echo. Sophie will fix you up just fine.” Saharra encouraged, helping the buck right himself as he stumbled against her in his latest step. “This is a cake walk for you, and besides, you’ve got two mares leaning up against you to help you walk. We dig scars, you know.”

“Oh, is that what this is about?” the guard asked with a playful roll of his eyes, smiling slightly.

I found myself blushing as Saharra smirked. “Well, we do.” she asserted, the two of us abruptly stopping as the buck staggered again, falling against me as I quickly adjusted myself to keep his weight supported.

Getting himself upright again, the guard laughed a single light note. “Okay, Saharra. If you say so.”

A couple seconds later, and we were helping Echo to the ramp leading inside the rear cargo carrier. Inside, I could see Sophie’s makeshift clinic, currently home to nine recovering guards with magical healing bandages over their respective injuries. The nurse herself, with Ludwig levitating her assorted medical gear close by, was currently encouraging one of her patients inside - a young unicorn mare who had taken a painful bite to the back, now holding back tears as the nurse drizzled a healing potion directly atop the wound. “I know.” Sophie spoke softly, with sympathy. “I know it hurts, dear.”

“Merciful Luna…” the young mare hissed, eyes clenched tight. “I would say that I didn’t sign up for this crap, OW… but I did…”

“Sophie, we have another wounded guard with us.” Saharra gently interrupted, waving a foreleg as the nurse looked to us. “He’s been bit on both his forelegs.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you for helping him here, you two.” the grey unicorn replied, setting aside the partially empty healing potion to join us. “I’ll help him the rest of the way in. My guess is that the commander will need you out there when the wagons move again.” At her prompt, Saharra and I stepped aside, Echo giving us both a quick thank you before leaning against the nurse and hobbling into the clinic.

“How are you holding up, Ludwig?” Saharra called into the wagon, the white unicorn looking toward us.

“Oh, I’m alright.” he replied with a small smile, running a hoof along his mane. “I may not be a fighter, but I can manage. Don’t worry about me too much.”

“I said I’d look after you, so don’t tell me not to do my job.” Saharra chided playfully, the two of them chuckling together. But with a quick reassurance from the music director that he was, despite bearing through the fighting we had encountered so far, still faring well, Saharra and I left him to his duties and returned to the street, hooking around and heading together toward the front of the convoy. “Hey, thanks for helping me out, Nova.”

I looked back at Buckley’s concertmaster, meeting a smile. “Of course.” I replied with a friendly nod. “Is he a friend of yours?”

“Mhmm. Echo’s in the church choir, sings as a member of the baritone section.” she explained. “It’s harder to pull off guard duty and being a member of the music department together, but he’s done it for around two years now.”

“Have you two been in the music department for that long?” I inquired, curious.

“Oh no, I’ve been in the orchestra for over five years now.” Saharra answered, the two of us drawing along the front wagon whose pulling team was gearing back up to move. “Back when he was just a guard, we often passed each other by and made casual conversation. When he auditioned for the choir and joined, we had more time to get together because of our rehearsals and concerts, and we’ve been best friends ever since.”

I smiled and nodded, opening my mouth to reply when, “Nova, Saharra!” The voice belonged to Archer, and I looked ahead to see him a short distance ahead at the very front of the convoy, assembled with two unicorn guards, along with Shore and Raemor, as he waved a foreleg. “Would you two mind joining us to search the Farmer’s Market Square?”

“Oh. Yeah, sure.” Saharra voiced, picking up her pace to a trot that I quickly followed.

“I’ll help, too.” I added, stopping by my friends and giving them both a warm smile that they greeted with smiles of their own; they had both been uninjured in the fighting, though Shore’s security armor had been torn in several places.

“Thanks.” Archer replied, turning to look out ahead at the expanse of Nellis Street. “The convoy’s going to be up and moving in a bit. During the time that they traverse the rest of this stretch of road, we’re going to be making sure that nothing else is waiting along the next bend. We’re close to the destination now, so if there’s anything up there, we can hopefully catch it ahead of time and prevent another delay.”

Beside me, Saharra let out a sigh of relief. “Good, good. I just hope that there’s something in that theatre after all this trouble.”

“We’ll find out soon enough.” the steel-blue pegasus replied, trotting ahead with a nod for us to follow after. “Right now, let’s just focus on keeping everypony alive.”

Sticking close together, our group of seven left the wagons behind and moved on at a steady trot, keeping to the center of the road as we passed by the rest of the base of the twenty-story building that had been the ghouls’ lair. Beyond that, encompassing the rest of the city block’s west face, concrete foundation gave way to open terrain, a smaller patch of blackened earth that ended at the stone stairway of another wrecked building to the east, unnamed. A low metal barrier, bent back and rusted in several sections, but still largely intact, followed the shape of the market square and divided it from Nellis Street as well as Franklin Road up ahead. In the market itself, a junkyard of wood, metal, and canvas was spaced only with a total of four old produce stalls. And only just barely visible beneath the layer of scattered rubble, a concrete walkway weaved its way around the square, the entrance of which was just ahead of us, designated by a heavily faded signboard bolted to two metal spires; a smiling earth pony mare in a straw hat, coat orange and mane and tail lime green, was resting a hoof over a basket filled with apples, welcoming us to the Marefax Farmer’s Market Square.

“I’m going to keep moving up and have a look around the next road.” Archer explained from just in front of me. “Anypony want to have a peek around the market and that building there?”

“The one behind the market? I can look into it.” Saharra voiced, the pegasus buck nodding.

“I’ll go with her.” I added, followed by Shore asserting the same.

After Raemor decided to stay with Archer and the two other guards, we split off at the market entrance – a break in the barrier – and with Saharra taking the lead, she, Shore and I stepped hoof onto the walkway. Even from the street, we could see that the market square itself was abandoned, and with the tower we had just passed having no entrances facing us, we could focus on the building beyond the market square. It was a strange structure, what was left of it, with the entrance sitting behind metal pillars holding up an extension of the roof. The building itself was a much shorter structure, nestled in with ten to twenty story buildings all around it across Franklin and at the east end of the block.

Then, “I think it’s starting to rain.”

Ahead and left of me, Saharra stopped long enough to cast a look up at the clouds above, and it was only a moment later that I felt a raindrop on my muzzle, a low rumble of thunder accompanying it. I looked up in response, likewise glancing over the expanse of darker cloud cover. “We might end up walking back in it.” I responded to her, catching sight of a flash of lightning within the clouds themselves, shortly proceeded by another flicker of light.

“It is starting to pick up a little.” Shore agreed after.

As we continued walking, we drew side by side, another wave of thunder rumbling much deeper and louder than before. “Well, with any luck, we’ll be heading back to the industrial park within the next half hour or so.” Saharra replied, smiling faintly as she added, “And with a new array of instruments that we can restore to good condition.”

“Curious…”

Shore’s observant tone made my ears perk, and when I looked over to my friend, I saw him staring with focus toward the building we were to investigate. “What is it?” I asked him.

“It looks like some kind of camp was set up at the top of those stone stairs there.” he answered, nodding ahead for me to look. “See that barrel? There are char marks all over it, and there’s a stack of wood next to it. It must’ve been used for a fireplace.”

We were approaching the stairs at a steady pace, and as we closed the distance to the building, I could see what Shore had spotted. The barrel was standing just at the top of the staircase, and the old container was blackened around holes that had been punched into the rusted metal. Beside it was a small stack of unused wooden planks, and next to that, I recognized a personal hooflocker sitting atop an intact metal bench near the edge of the stairs. “Maybe a merchant?” I offered.

“I don’t know.” Saharra replied, the three of us approaching the base of the stairs. “Let’s go see.” Together we ascended the flight of stone steps, a short trek that eventually proved Shore’s theory correct. At the top of the stairs, the barrel and firewood were joined also by discarded wrappers and a pair of empty glass bottles, and with them was a thin metal sheet, rectangular in shape and covered in a torn and dirty brown blanket to make an improvised bed. But within the abandoned encampment, scattered amongst the setup, were spent bullet casings belonging to a heavy-caliber weapon; there were only around a dozen or so, but their sheer size made me think of Archer’s fifty caliber rifle – Longbow.

“I guess whoever was here was driven off… or killed.” I observed lowly, scuffing away one of the casings by my hoof and sending it clinking down the stairs.

“I think the former is the more logical.” Shore replied to my right. “Because whoever was here before left in a hurry.”

When I looked, I saw the black earth pony standing by the bench, hoof holding open the lid to the chest. Curious, I trotted up to his side to look into the trunk myself, beholding the meager collection of items inside. The first was a small clump of ammunition, a total of nine alarmingly large rounds, looking the same size as the empty casings. Next to them was another bottle, this one unused and filled with a dark liquid, the intact label on the glass reading Sparkle Cola. A small box of bobby pins sat beside the pre-war drink, and an empty healing potion bottle lay next to that. But then, beside these, was the final item in the case, one that I recognized with a start – a hoof-sized square of white plastic, flat with two reels protected under an aluminum sheet, and a small attached compartment on its side containing a short black cable was the assembly that made a holodisk.

“Hey!” Saharra suddenly called. “You guys, I think I found the raiders that had been here before.”

The violinist had moved on while Shore and I looked over the case, and she was now standing at the entrance, a flashlight in her telekinesis that she was shining into the building. “They’re dead then?” Shore called back, the two of us leaving the hooflocker at our backs and joining Saharra by the entrance, one which lacked a door entirely.

“Yeah. Six of them are dead here.” she answered, nodding inside with a grimace. “It’s a little messy… and don’t go inside. The smell would probably kill you all by itself.”

Indeed it was a mess, as when I looked inside, I saw the beam from Saharra’s flashlight shining over a cluster of corpses, each laying no more than a few hoof-lengths away from the others, and each already showing signs of decay. Three of the bodies had been dismembered to various degrees, one even missing three legs, and a fourth was seemingly missing a belly with its torso having been blown wide open. The raiders had died in what was left of an entrance lobby, a spacious rectangular room with ruined furniture along its right wall and a long table near the back. Just behind that, I could see two doorways leading deeper into the building. However, I could also see through the dark inside that both of these entrances had been blocked off by rubble, the building having collapsed on itself in that area. The lobby had been the only place where these raiders had been hiding, and the two corpses nailed to the table with iron hooks was all I needed to see to know that this chamber had really been their hideaway. But the raiders who had once occupied this building now lay surrounding a blast crater on the floor, small but still easily noticeable despite the dry red-black that caked the old tile; it looked like a well-placed grenade had seen to putting their madness to an end.

Backing away, I briefly raised my pipbuck leg to look over the computer display. “E.F.S. is clean. Whoever was here at this camp made short work of the raiders in that lobby.” I stated, then lowering the computer away and bringing my hoof up to my headset. “Commander Tracer, this is Nova. The market square is all clear.”

After a moment’s pause, “Good, thank you. The wagons are on the move again, so we’ll meet you on Franklin Road.”

“Okay.” With that, I lowered my hoof back to the concrete, letting out a little sigh.

“Well, it’s six less bad guys for us to deal with, then.” Saharra replied, shutting off her flashlight and storing it away before levitating her assault rifle before her. “Did you two find anything in that case?”

“Actually, yes.” Shore replied, turning to make his way back to our latest discovery. “There are actually some scant supplies here.”

“And there’s a holotape, too.” I added, both Saharra and I following after my companion to rally at the bench. “I kind of wonder if it might have belonged to whoever made camp here.”

“Huh… interesting.” With a spark from her horn, the unicorn lifted the holotape up from the case and to eye-level to examine it. “Can we listen to it?”

“Nova’s pipbuck can play holodisks.” Shore replied, leaning forward to look past me and at Saharra as she turned the device in the air. “That cable you see there plugs into a port on Nova’s computer, and then she can access the data in the disk.”

“Oh okay, I get it now.” Focusing on the holotape, the unicorn unwound the cable and held it out to view the connector at the end of the cord. Then, looking me in the eye, “Do you want to listen to it?”

After a moment’s pause, I gave her a nod. “Since the market square is secure, I think we have a minute to spare.” I sat down on my haunches before lifting up the pipbuck, turning the computer to reveal the port for the tape to plug into. “Go ahead and plug in it, and we’ll see what we have.”

With a nod of her own, Saharra leveled the tape to the computer and plugged the cable into the port. Right away, my terminal gave a chirp of sound, recognizing the device and simultaneously bringing up the notes and records display on the screen. In the memory bank, the files from the Hopeville M.O.P. building were still at the bottom of the list, and with them was also the first holotape I had found in the Southeast Regional News Radio Station – still labeled M-5.13. But above that was another name, the name my pipbuck had designated to this new recording… one that caught me entirely by surprise.

M-5.5

“That’s certainly interesting…” Shore remarked, looking over the screen by my side.

“What is it?” Saharra asked, cocking an eyebrow as she joined us, keeping the tape aloft.

“The first time I had found a holotape like this one, it gave me that name.” I explained, raising my free foreleg to point a hoof at the screen. “And now I find this one… and it has the same letter and number code as the first.”

“Well, play it.” the concertmaster urged. “Maybe you’ll recognize something else when you listen to it.”

“Yeah…” Perplexed as I was, my curiosity bump was already itching like mad, and with a nod and a focused frown, I tapped my hoof to the playback button, activating the recording.

“Empty… just like every other city I’ve walked.” My ears perked right away at the voice on the log, a stallion’s strong tenor speaking with a mysterious tone, with confidence; I had heard this voice before… my ears wouldn’t lie to me. “The heartland, the Hoof, the north, seen Old World cities where ponykind tries to rebuild, forming settlements and tribes, living off of the crumbling buildings and scattered wreckage like the city has any part of its spirit left to give…… our race is stubborn like that... but stubbornness is part of the will to live, I suppose.” Within the log’s playback, I could hear the sound of shifting, the stallion adjusting himself to a sitting or lying position at the ensuing silence. Then, “Seen life here too, not like the southeast... but twisted and sinister, raider gangs not of the Black Blood moving on the roads free of fallen rubble. Watched as two groups fought one another at an intersection, heard their laughter through the flames and bullets as they tore at each other for sport. They wore the same tattered armor, almost like they were of the same tribe. But the victorious group took the bodies of the dead away, enemy and ally alike, gutted them and nailed them to the side of an old antiques shop, put them on display for others to see. There's nothing new in that, seen how raiders act before… just another sight to keep me from forgetting.” I caught the change in tone that gradually sounded over the recording’s progression, the buck taking on a much more somber voice at the last sentence. It was a sentiment I could share with this pony, even though I didn’t know what it was that he couldn’t forget. “Came across scattered terminals in a sleeping part of the downtown area, uninhabited by gangs and creatures. Saw the last entries of ponies who lived here before the end, and saw about how they cared for their home, even with the war and the corruption all around them… they cherished it. Average workers and soldiers, families, a whole city of worthy souls… all extinguished in a flash of light, a wave of fire, green.” Here, the stallion let out a low sigh, the crumpling of a wrapper sounding over the audio; Goddesses, he sounded almost as nostalgic as I was. “Marefax… that’s what this place is called… so much smaller than the other Equestrian metropolises, but still full of just as much life as any of those in the heartland. Easy to understand that when you look at its history, find what it was that made the city thrive. It was a good place once, before the end of things... like home once was. Like the wasteland is trying to be...” The stallion's voice trailing off, I noticed yet another change of tone, recognizing this time a small swell of nervousness taking place of his calm confidence. It was a surprising change, one that made my ears flick, especially after it had proceeded his words of Marefax, the wasteland... and his home... Something in that topic of the wastes made him nervous... but what... and why? “Only the wind in the streets here now, the voices of the buildings, the ghosts of the past. Can hear them speak their pain, their tears… can hear them crying for the ruin that was brought here if you listen long enough… just like my home, like my ancestors who once lived there.” I felt my ears begin to fold back at those words, yet another reminder of the destruction that had been written here; I could tell from the stallion’s voice that he and I shared sympathy for this city. “The destruction here, it brings back memories of home, of the streets I first walked after leaving the Legion’s shadow, finding the steps left behind by better ponies than they, or perhaps even I, ever could be.” he continued, a mix of confidence and subdued apprehension meshing together in his words. “Destruction’s similar there, larger in scale, but caused by the same source… Equestria's greatest mistake... the action that spoke to history the strongest.” Another pause fell here, the buck once again shifting while his words sunk in. He had spoken of Equestria, the word at least, with a hint of worry... maybe even fear, as if the topic of the nation of ponykind was one that was bitter on his tongue. “As I walk the streets of this city, I can see glimpses of what it had once been, echoes of a thriving community full of life, serving Equestria as it was made to do, just like us… And like us, it was extinguished, plunged into the darkness by the fear of ponykind…” Again, I noticed the change of tone in his voice, literally feeling the melancholy in his words as the stallion let out another sigh, one of defeat, to let himself focus. Then, lowly, he said, “Marefax… once something great, now nothing more than the tomb of two million ghosts... a statistic that I pray never has to be made again...”

With those dismal last words, the log ended, leaving us once more in the silence of the city, and leaving me to ponder the message. I knew that voice… I’d heard it before. The same stallion had spoken a recorded message to me in the holotape I had found in the radio station, back when he had taken the remains of the sole pony who had died in the building’s fallout shelter and buried them, paying his respects to the mare it had once been. Back then, he had spoken about Blue Fire’s Torch, about his initial discovery of the rifle, and had made mention of his ancestors, what he learned from them. Now, in this log, he had spoken of them in more detail… just a little more.

‘Like us’ was what he had said, and whoever ‘us’ was, whatever their relation to him was, he said that they had ‘served Equestria’, and then had been ‘extinguished’ because of ‘the fear of ponykind’. But in the end, I was left wondering as to just who ‘us’ had been, how they had ‘served Equestria’. The somber lining in his voice when he spoke of his ancestors got me to draw a connection between us – perhaps there was some sort of similarity between my history and his. If he was speaking of his settlement, his home… like Hopeville, then maybe there was some likeness between us. He had mentioned the Legion, the Talons. That much I could piece together… maybe he was somepony who had come under attack by them, like me? Maybe that was why he ‘left their shadow’… But then again, it didn’t fully explain why he spoke with a suppressed yet distinguishable nervousness when mentioning the Old World Equestria, or at least the nation it had become during the war. He-

“Hey, we’d better get moving.”

Saharra’s voice, coupled with another rumble of thunder, knocked me out of my trance, and I looked to see her gazing out to the north; the convoy was already rolling down along Franklin Road, approaching us at a solid pace. “Yeah… okay.” With a nod, I stood back up to all fours, Saharra detaching the audio tape from my pipbuck. For now, the time for questions would have to wait… but still… “Hey, Saharra? Could you put that tape in my saddlebags, please?” I asked the violinist. “I’d very much like to keep it with me.”

“Sure. That pony was a little too… cryptic for my liking anyway.” she replied, chuckling as she used her telekinesis to open my pack, setting the tape inside before closing it again. Then, after she scooped up the ammunition, bobby pins, and Sparkle Cola from the hooflocker, the three of us descended down the stairs and made our way back through the market square.

The rain was beginning to pick up into a light sprinkle now, visible raindrops striking the ground with increased frequency as we turned and made our way to the metal divider separating the market from Franklin Road. We came to a stop together as a much more solid clap of thunder sounded above us, standing just in front of the metal barrier as we looked skyward. The thunder hadn’t been too loud that time, but it definitely showed that the coming storm system was close; in my head, I was growing more certain of my previous statement that we’d be walking back to Buckley in this weather.

At that, Saharra faced forward and leapt over the divider and onto the sidewalk. But as I made to copy her move, a hoof on my back stopped me. “Are you alright, Nova?” Shore asked with concern. “That recording really seemed to draw you in.”

“Oh… yeah, I’ll be okay.” I replied, nodding slowly. “It’s just that… I had heard that same voice before, on the first holotape I’d found in the radio station that night we found Blossom.”

“Are you sure it was the same stallion?” my friend questioned, adjusting his glasses on his muzzle.

Right away, I nodded. “Yes. That voice, the way he talked about things, how he expressed his message… yes, it was the same stallion. I know it.”

“He certainly is a curious character.” he replied. “He seems to know a lot about the Old World, if it isn’t that he simply makes an effort to connect himself to history in some way or another, what with the way he spoke of his ancestors and the like.”

Again, I nodded. “Both times I’ve heard him speak, he’s left me with a lot of questions.” I explained, flashing a small smile. “I probably should smarten up and not occupy my thoughts with them. I mean, they’re just holotapes, made who knows how long ago. Besides, there’re more important things to be doing right now.” Together, Shore and I looked to our left, finding the wagon train on approach down the road, the lead wagon almost parallel to us. “Like wrapping things up here and getting back to Buckley in one piece.”

One after another, Shore and I hopped the rail and trotted along the sidewalk to rejoin the train. “Alright.” the black earth pony replied. “You were just really focused on that recording. It looked to have a little bit of an impact on you.”

Well, considering that the stallion who had spoken in the recording was the same who had recorded a message on the last holotape I had found, and considering that the stallion had known about Blue Fire’s Torch but had not taken it because of some sort of self-promise, and considering that I had heard him speak as if he had known the dead pony who the rifle had belonged to, a pony who had, according to her diary, lived at the end of the war itself… there was just something about this stallion that made me curious, made me listen to his messages and wonder at the why of it all, why he thought the way he did, what his history was, what connection he held to Blue Fire’s Torch.

So many questions.

But to Shore, I only shook my head, giving him a fuller smile. “I’ll be okay. Don’t worry.”

By now, we were back among the ranks of the wagon train guards, both Shore and I drawing alongside the lead wagon and continuing eastward down the road. Up ahead, Archer, Raemor, and the two guards with them, had also returned, and I could hear as the steel-blue pegasus gave his report to Commander Tracer, saying, “Franklin Road is clear, and we didn’t see anything down the next bend either. It should be clear from here to the theatre.”

“Good, good.” the commander replied with approval. “Fall back in, and we’ll see about wrapping this half of the trip up within the next few minutes. Good work.” At his dismissal, the two Buckley guards disappeared behind the first wagon to return to their posts, Raemor coming back to join Shore and I as Saharra stopped Archer long enough to pass him the large-caliber rifle rounds and the bobby pins we had found in the hooflocker.

Then, with everypony back together again, the train continued in relative silence down Franklin Road, with only the continuing symphony of the thunder to divide it. Within the next minute, we passed by the market square entirely, ruined buildings once more flanking the train on both sides. Again, the buildings were completely inaccessible from the ground, and most of the towers within my line-of-sight had crumbled partway down their length from top to bottom, slowly shortening as the years of wear carried on. Farther ahead, rubble blocked off the route eastward, a huge mound of rebar and twisted iron stretching at least five stories up, if not higher, and when I looked, I could match it to another tower, only two walls remaining from the top levels of the structure, while the rest had fallen to the street or had caved in on itself; beyond that tower, to the east, the buildings showed even greater levels of decay, some with only their frames remaining on the upper stories.

Fortunately, we were turning off of this street just before we would have come across the roadblock, according to Archer. But as we neared the intersection of Franklin and the new Starlight Avenue, a new building caught my attention. It was a smaller structure nestled under the shadows of the taller towers all around, sitting right along the street corner. Though inaccessible, with the roof having caved in and collapsed all four stories of the building, I could make out an intact signboard above the destroyed entrance, red letters against a cracked white and gold backdrop spelling Equestrian Air Force Recruitment Station. I noticed also, as the wagons moved on by, that the building had caught the attention of other guards, one of them being Archer himself as he sidetracked to move in closer to the site. But from my place in the train, I could make out the writing of four intact posters placed around the former entrance of the structure, the same posters that had caught Archer’s eyes. To my surprise, one of them was a poster for Buckley Air Force Base itself – a V formation of five steel-armored pegasi flew over a family of smiling earth ponies, one mare, one stallion, and one filly who all stood beside a short metal pole thrust into the ground under their hooves, the Equestrian flag raised to its top flying proud. And written in the space between the two groups was the poster’s slogan: Angels on Equestria’s Shoulders.

Just above Buckley’s poster was a promotional advertisement for another military installation, this one called Altus Air Force Base. A vehicle took up the majority of the space, a contraption that sat on three tires with its twin propeller engines, one on each side of its sleek body, sitting dormant. The vessel was equipped with two short wings just behind it’s pointed nose, each bristling with heavy weaponry, and in front of the vessel, two figures, one an earth pony mare, and the second a larger griffin, posed proudly with confident smiles on their faces. Both of these figures, and the vehicle with them, stood upon a square of concrete, and all of that sat in front of a black and orange backdrop, the outlines of giant hanger buildings still visible. But then, upon reading the quote inscribed in white at the bottom of the poster – Altus Air Force Base – Our Pilots Today, Your Heroes Tomorrow! – I recognized the vehicle as a Vertibuck, this model of the attack aircraft having once appeared in a history book back in the Stable; the actual model evaded my memory, but the vehicle itself was unmistakably a Vertibuck.

The third poster of the collection was a wholly different one. Framed in dark blue and sandy orange, the poster contained eight pegasi silhouettes flying with wings outstretched around its left, right, and upper edge. The fliers surrounded two larger figures wreathed in dark blue with ominous yellow eyes, and flanked by them, occupying the center of the board, a cyan-coated and rainbow-maned pegasus mare in a black combat suit and facemask stared back at me, yellow eyes nearly glowing with all the confidence and determination in the world. That pegasus was Rainbow Dash alright, and underneath her hooves, written in big bold letters, was her cry to the people – VICTORY – Just a wing’s beat away!

The fourth and final poster of the collection was a poster for the recruitment center itself. This one lacked fancy artistry, only carrying a single symbol against a black background – a red outline of a shield, with feathered wings open wide from both sides and a pair of steel spears making a V shape under it, surrounded the cutie marks of both Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, and above the symbol were the words: Make the difference and earn your wings! Visit your local E.A.F. recruiter today!

It was a surprise to see these posters intact, especially considering their proximity to the epicenter of a balefire strike that had otherwise scorched the entirety of Marefax. But still, there they were, tattered around the edges and faded, all staring back at me even as I forced myself to look back ahead. Thankfully, we were quickly rounding the bend and merging onto the final street of our journey. This road immediately broadened as we turned onto it, and amidst the scattering of old wagon husks, I could distinguish four total lanes that made Starlight Avenue. Here, a cluster of the buildings lining along the right side of the street were cut down to only two to five stories in height, the majority of them relatively intact because of the much taller towers shielding them all around.

Starlight stretched northward as far as my eye could see, and I shuddered ever so slightly at the clear view the road presented of the Marefax skyline, the tallest standing towers in the city. For being a pegasus, it was a bit surprising to me when, after tracing the entire height of those towers all the way to the top, an unsettling pit formed in my belly. But what was worse than that, when I forced my eyes back to ground-level, I caught sight of a light green haze at the far end of this road… faint, but there; we must’ve been getting close to ground zero.

“The theatre’s going to be on the right side of the road.” Archer spoke up, the stallion flier suddenly trotting past me to return to the front of the convoy. “If I remember right, the building’s entrance is a lot like Buckley’s concert hall, with several sets of double-doors. There should be a courtyard in front of the theatre as well, so keep your eyes peeled.”

“Kind of wonder if this was one of the main tourist traps in this place.” a male guard spoke up, an earth pony at the front.

We were passing by the first of the shorter buildings on the right side of the road, and I immediately took notice of a much more elaborate design, even in its aged state. Pillars of cracked yet solid stonework lined the four-story building’s front face, holding up an extension of the roof which was shaped into a gentle triangle. A set of at least thirty stone steps led up to the front, and hung up between each pillar, scant tattered remains of formerly rectangular banners shifted lazily in the breeze; so little remained of them that I couldn’t even guess at the symbols they once held, though my first assumption was that at least a couple were Old World national flags.

Next to this, an identical structure, though in much worse condition than the former, was bridged to the first one via a single-story tunnel connected to each building at the very back. The large three-sided structure surrounded an open concrete yard, and only what was left of an iron gate divided it from the road. A minute of walking brought us past the unnamed structure, and we continued down Starlight Avenue passing by two more compacted sites, blocky buildings only five stories high. Then we passed by what was left of a restaurant, three stories high with the remains of what had once been a wide balcony on the third floor. A two-lane driveway, complete with a worn iron arch at its entrance, branched from the street to lead to the upper-class restaurant’s entrance, a spacious cul-de-sac that was currently home to three rusted-down carriages, lined up one after another by the short set of stairs that climbed to what used to be the building’s entrance itself, now congested with rubble.

Continuing beyond those, we came across an even larger site, a six story building of a circular design that sat behind a large parking lot. The entrance held a familiar design, the entrance marked with stone pillars and a set of twin double-doors leading to an open lobby space. We didn’t divert to investigate the building, but the partly intact neon sign placed against the wall facing the road, somehow miraculously flickering with purple light, designated the building as a hotel. The further along we went, the more Starlight Avenue was showing itself as a main strip for visitors in the Old World, and rightly so, because beyond the remains of the hotel, a new building came into view, a basic rectangular building that was five stories up. But that was all that was basic about it. A courtyard separated it from the road, divided from the street by a wrecked metal fence, and at its center was a huge stone fountain, a sculpture comprised of a thick iron pillar with a dish-shaped cap at its top, a central vasque around its middle, and an even larger pool at its base. The giant fountain took up about half of the courtyard, and the courtyard itself was surrounded by a broad driveway, one that hooked off of Starlight Avenue and arched in a moderate curve to draw alongside the building’s entrance plaza before hooking back to meet the road again. The entrance of the structure, unlike many of the others we had passed before now, did not consist of a staircase, but only a short flat walkway that led to six sets of double-doors, all of which were still intact.

This structure was, all things considered, the most beautiful of all that I had seen in this city thus far. Of course, wear and tear had made its mark, even a section of the wall facing us having come down entirely, giving us a view of the entrance chamber. Cracks, chips, and holes were plentiful in the masonry along its west face, but to me, everything that was still intact outweighed the damage done to it. Because above the entrance, a plain white sign, tilted because of its weakened supports, carried upon it legible writing in bold black cursive, neat and tidy in its design, which revealed to our team what this building was.

Moonrise Symphonic Theatre

“Wow… there it is…” Saharra was the first to speak as the entire convoy came to a gradual stop on the road, voice soft as she took in the sight of the Old World concert hall. “And it looks like it’s still largely in one piece… that’s good-”

“Alright, this is the place. Everypony move into that courtyard.” Tracer spoke up quickly, bringing the concertmaster’s, as well as my own, attention back to the new situation. “I want the wagons to cover both entrances, one gun on each end of the driveway, and I want the majority of the guard detail to stay outside for the time being. If there are any raiders moving along this road, we need to keep them from taking us by surprise.”

The orders to move again were passed around swiftly, and I followed the pulling team of the lead wagon as they turned their vessel right and guided it onto the driveway. The guards at the head of the train entered ahead of the first wagon, Saharra, my friends, and I all among them, keeping weapons ready and scanning the area for hostiles. For now, according to my E.F.S., things were quiet here, the same observation passing along the infantry as the front eight guards divided and took up positions – four by the fountain and four at the entrance.

As the first wagon entered, the pulling team guided the vehicle along the arc of the driveway, pulling past the building’s double doors before eventually coming to a stop. The second wagon crossed the fence after and stopped a short ways in, and the second wagon’s escort followed suit, the remainder of the guards spreading out into the courtyard and setting up around and even inside the fountain as Commander Tracer and Archer, the last to enter, trotted by and toward the entrance.

“I want only six ponies to go inside until we find what we’re looking for.” Tracer announced, the commander briefly looking over the arrangement of his subordinates and giving a small nod. “Archer, Bolt, Hope, you three will be with me.” he added, pointing between two of the guards by the entrance at the mention of the latter two names.

“Sure thing, sir.” a unicorn mare, Hope, replied from her place at the theatre entryway, checking the assault carbine in her telekinetic hold.

“And Saharra,” Tracer then added, swinging his gaze around to us. “go ahead and get with Ludwig. This is where we’ll need his help, so you two will be coming with us as well.” With a quick nod, Saharra was trotting away to the lead wagon, the tailgate of which was already coming open.

“Can my friends and I come with you as well, commander?” I spoke up, catching the stallion’s attention just as he made to turn away.

But to that, he answered, “I’d like at least two of you to stay out here. We’ve got enough injured right now that I want to keep the majority of us close to the wagons for protection. One of you can come along if you’d like, but I’d prefer you to be here right now.”

Slowly, I nodded, replying, “Sorry. I’m just a bit curious about this place. That’s all.”

“I reckon you are.” the commander buck replied with a small smile. “But I don’t have time to discuss it, so come along if you want. If you do, though, just do me a favor and put the objective before your own curiosity. We still have a job to do.”

“Of course.” I assured, smiling back before turning around to Shore and Raemor. “Would you two mind if I went with them?”

“We can stay out here.” Shore assured, both he and Raemor giving their own nods. “We’ll wait for you.”

With a quick thank you, I about-faced and trotted along the rest of the courtyard, both my friends heading to the front of the fountain behind me. At the entrance doors, Tracer was gathering those he had called for, Archer, Bolt, and the white-maned, lime green colored unicorn Hope already waiting by his side. And just to my left, Saharra was leading Ludwig up to the entry, the music director’s eyes looking over every inch of the theatre with open fascination. “This place must have truly been a sight to see back in its day.” came his astonished remark. “Such a shame to see it like it is now…”

“Alright everypony, let’s focus.” Tracer spoke up, the last of us joining around him. “Ludwig, you’re going to be our roadmap in this building, so I’ll need you and Saharra to stay in the middle of the group with me, the better to keep you out of harm’s way if we run into anything in there.”

“I understand.”

“Are you sure you don’t want a weapon, Ludwig?” Saharra inquired, a tinge of concern in her words. “Even if it’s just a sidearm? You can have mine.”

“Oh no. Remember, I’ve had no training with weapons before, and they’re more dangerous in the hooves of those with no experience than with guards.” Ludwig answered with a shake of his head. “No. I’ll go where the commander tells me, hide if I need to, and run if I need to, but I’ll be more than sufficiently protected with the six of you nearby.”

“Just make sure you stay with us at all times, and keep close.” Tracer warned, winning a solid nod from the concertmaster before he added, “Bolt, Hope, you two are going to take point, and Archer and Nova will take up the rear. There’ll likely be narrow corridors and tightly placed rooms in here, so remember your training, cover each other, and check every corner.” With a ‘yes sir’ from the guards under his command, Tracer gave the nod. “Bolt, Hope, after you.”

Together, the two guards levitated their weapons close, pushing one set of double doors open wide enough to aim their rifles into the lobby before opening the doors completely and stepping inside, Hope checking the right side as Bolt covered the left. Then they were moving into the lobby, looking down their iron sights along the walls as Saharra, Ludwig, and Tracer followed after them. “Lobby’s empty, sir.” Hope spoke up, soft but audible as Archer and I came in last, side by side.

The entrance of the theatre was, at least in comparison with Buckley’s concert hall, far larger, and back before the end of days, had likely been far grander at the same time. Though short, the square room was wide and stretched far, with four even rows of stone pillars stretching from the doors to the far wall, creating five aisles of equal width. The room was completely bare of anything else, no furniture or even old carpet to break the grey and white checkered pattern of the tile floor; I supposed that if a hundred ponies were waiting outside for a seat to a show, though, that this room served in its purpose.

Cautious but swift, we advanced down the center aisle and to the end of the entrance chamber. At that point, we came across two different hallways parallel to the far wall, one to the left and one to the right. There were no signposts to guide our way, but our options were limited to the hall to the right, the left having caved in on itself to block the way with rubble; a skeleton lay at the bottom of the pile, its head, neck, forelegs, and two pairs of rib bones having not been crushed by the collapse… but with the whole family of skeletons I had seen in that music shop, and all those skeletons in that big wagon, I was able to handle this a little better upon seeing it.

Down the right hall we went, following it straight for a short distance before it begun to unwind in a slow arc to the left. As it started to turn, the checkered floor became spaced with what I recognized to be picture frames, though each that had fallen with the front facing us was bereft of an actual picture. Still, I noted several with intact rectangular placards on the bottom side of each metal frame, white letters carved into the black material spelling titles like Arianna – Harp, Stingray – Trumpet, Slider – Trombone, Dancer – Flute, Pearl – Clarinet, Candice Blackmore – Alto, Hugo – Tuba, and, as we continued down the increasingly long hallway, many others.

“Are these names?” I inquired softly, stepping over another picture frame. “Who were they?”

“Yes, I believe they are names.” Ludwig answered back, equally quiet. “This hallway might have very well been devoted to performers who were specially honored for their talents. Some of them may have very well been sheltered in Stable One ninety-two all those years ago.”

“Quiet… hold up.”

I nearly bumped up against Saharra’s flank as the group came to a sudden stop, and looking to the front, I saw Tracer trotting a couple steps ahead to look over an intact door. It was the first we had come across, sitting parallel to our position as the only door in a small square lobby room; a wrecked table and a ruined lounging couch adorned the small chamber.

The hallway we had been traversing now branched off to our right in a sharp turn, and this time, a placard fastened into the wall designated the passage as the path to the concert hall’s seating and balcony access. “This door doesn’t have a label on it…” Bolt remarked curiously, only to be nudged by Hope, going silent as he looked back confusedly at the commander.

“Do you hear that?” the commander softly asked, nodding for the group to move into the short room in front of us.

“Hear wha… wait…” I stood still, Archer stopped a step ahead of me to look back, as my ears perked. There was a small, muffled sound coming from behind that door, a light staccato beeping… but E.F.S. showed, not one hostile target, but two. “There’s two hostiles behind that door.” I whispered, creeping quickly over to where the others had assembled.

“Sounds like a turret that’s closest to us, commander.” Archer spoke up, his ear likewise perking up as he listened in. “One of those ceiling-mounted buggers like the ones we have back home.”

“Hm… what do you think Ludwig?” the commander asked. “The hall leads to seating, but this door doesn’t have a designation label. Any idea where it might go?”

“Well, if this place shares roughly the same layout as our stage in Buckley, then this door would likely lead to the maintenance sector backstage.” the white unicorn answered thoughtfully. “Concert stages that are made to entertain hundreds to thousands of guests, like this one, had to have crews to maintain it and work the lighting on a regular basis. The rooms holding the various tools and equipment usually made one quadrant of the building, and the rehearsal space, practice rooms, and instrument storage area made up another.”

Taking in his explanation, the commander nodded, then turning to Hope. “Hope, I’m going to have Saharra open this door. When she does, you toss in an EMP. We’re going to knock out those hostiles.”

“Understood.”

“Bolt, you should have your suppressor with you. Go ahead and attach it to your rifle. If that other contact’s a raider, I want a silent kill.” Tracer ordered – the grey unicorn guard getting to work – as he stepped back from the door. “The rest of you, stand back.” he added, guiding Archer, Ludwig, and I back to the far end of the room.

Together, the three unicorns of our group lined up side by side, each keeping away from the front of the door. Then, the three of them passing a nod to one another, their horns came alight with magic in unison. In one swift maneuver, Saharra pulled the door back, Hope taking a step forward and pulling the pin of a blue-grey apple before letting it fly into the hallway. Two seconds, and a flash of white, silent aside from the light cackling of electricity, briefly washed the hallway with light. Then, carbine aimed ahead, now equipped with a black tube extended from the barrel, Bolt stepped into the hallway, Hope falling in behind him with her own weapon raised to her eye-level. I flinched at a sudden shout from farther away, but just after, a trio of muffled gunshots met the cry of alarm, and all went quiet.

Both of the red marks on my compass were gone.

“Clear.” came Bolt’s voice, Saharra turning and giving an affirmative nod to the rest of us.

“Good work.” Tracer responded, the rest of us following the commander up to the entrance.

“It was definitely a raider, sir.” Bolt commented as I rounded the corner. With rifle lowered, he was staring just down the hall, looking over the body of a unicorn buck with a scraggly mane and tattered armor, a rusty machete on the floor next to him; yeah, that was a raider alright.

“The turret was a homemade job then.” Archer observed, the stallion looking up at the ceiling with a thoughtful eye where he stood beside me.

“It is a good deal less intimidating than our own, huh?” Hope asked with an amused snort.

“I’ve never seen a turret like that before.” I remarked, partly curious myself at the small mounted gun on the roof, now pointed at the floor directly beneath it after having sagged in its housing, short-circuiting because of the strange grenade Hope had thrown. The turret was a compact weapon, like a short-barreled assault rifle, and looked to be that of a low caliber at first glance.

“They’re portable units. Can be hooked up to most every surface.” Tracer quickly explained, trotting into the hallway as Bolt and Hope moved ahead. “There might be more floating around, so keep your eyes and ears open.”

Quickly, our group got back into formation, Saharra ushering Ludwig to the center of us as we crossed along the first short hall. At the front, Bolt and Hope checked each pair of rooms we crossed, three in total in this first hall that were nothing more than small storage rooms, each lined with tool cabinets and shelves in various states of disrepair. At the end of the hallway, with another presentation of a lack of options by a different collapsed section of the building, we hooked left. Though a little surprising, the first raider we had encountered was the only one that had been present in the maintenance wing of the backstage sector as we continued along, and though we eventually encountered another turret in front of a T-intersection that hooked back around to the backstage exit, this one had been deactivated, sitting idle in its frame.

“Ah, I think we’re close now.” After what seemed like an hour (though likely only minutes) of cautious and silent walking, all of which slowly built up my level of tension, Ludwig’s words of certainty were a great comfort to my ears. We were at another T-intersection, the third we had passed in the maintenance wing. But unlike the last two, this one carried a branch that hooked to the right, deeper into the theatre. And the crooked signboard attached to the wall designated this hallway as the stage access hall. “I have a feeling that this mess of hallways extends all the way around the stage itself. If we cut across the stage, we might save ourselves some time, commander.”

“Hm. Good idea.” Tracer agreed with a nod, gesturing for Bolt and Hope to move down the new path.

“You know, with all these halls, it’s going to be a real trick trying to move anything out of here and back to the wagons.” the grey unicorn buck observed, still staring with focus down the sights of his carbine as we moved.

“Oh no, Bolt.” Ludwig replied with a soft chuckle. “I can assure that any instrument we might recover could be moved through these halls with ease.” At the end of this passage, a closed metal door, windowless, waited to be opened. And as we approached, both Archer and I turning around and backstepping to keep watch behind us, Ludwig continued with, “Really, all that we might have difficulty moving is something like a piano. Oh, that would certainly be something to find an intact piano.”

“Calm down, Ludwig.” Saharra joked with a giggle, Tracer then silencing them on purpose.

“Multiple voices behind the door, commander.” Hope whispered, my ears perking at her discovery of the newest threat before I craned my head around to look. “I think a few raiders are on the stage.”

“Great…” I muttered.

“I hear them.” Tracer responded, quickly turning to Bolt. “Flash bang?” Keeping his rifle afloat, Bolt unbuttoned one of the pockets in his combat armor, pulling out a black metal apple with twin white stripes, giving him a nod. “Right. Everypony step back and don’t face the entrance. I’m going to knock down this door, you toss in the flash bang, and we take out every raider we find.”

“Got it.”

Together, Archer and I turned away, Saharra bringing Ludwig past us and further down the hall to safety, and a second later, I heard as the commander delivered a solid buck to the door, knocking it clean off its worn hinges before, with a shout, Bolt hurled the grenade. I barely shut my eyes tight, holding my foreleg protectively over them, before I heard the detonation of the grenade. Right after, gunfire sounded, coming from both Hope’s rifle and Bolt’s suppressed carbine, and as Archer and I wheeled back around, the startlingly loud report of Tracer’s large sidearm added to the noise.

One after the other, Archer and I passed the open doorway, stepping onto the broken door itself as we searched for more targets. Three raiders already lay dead on the floor, and I caught sight of a forth further ahead just as he was brought down by a clean headshot. A fifth startled raider was in my line of sight, bringing a 10mm pistol to bear as I activated S.A.T.S., and one shot from my saddle later, she went down. After, I reared around to my right as the gunfire continued and took aim, Archer and Hope both taking down two other raiders at the edge of the wide walkway we were now standing upon. But just like that, the firefight was over, the ensuing silence bringing me to release my hold on my saddle’s firing bit.

“All clear.” Bolt called, Hope taking up the message after him.

“Well done.” Tracer replied, having holstered his larger pistol into its sheath around his left front leg. But now, with the seven occupying raiders dead, the silence presented us all with the time to see just what room we had entered, and me… as my body begun to calm from the brief adrenaline charge… I gasped at what I saw.

Before me, all around me, was the concert hall itself, a massive chamber whose floor was packed with rows upon rows of ruined seats, each row just slightly elevated above the one in front of it. And above that, at the far end of the room, a gigantic balcony that ringed around the entire eastern side of the room carried a similar arrangement, the entire room easily holding hundreds of seats, maybe even over a thousand of them. Looking over the balcony had brought my eyes to the ceiling, which was in itself a giant mural of blue, black, white, and grey color, a breathtaking representation of an Old World night sky. There was a full moon at the very center of the dome-shaped ceiling, glowing white, and a myriad of stars accompanied it, clustered together across the entire painting’s expanse. Though not numerous, fluffy clouds painted in grey, illuminated by the moon, seemingly drifted across the ceiling as I stared, and with all of this, two pegasus ponies, their silhouettes a bluish-grey against the dark sapphire sky, were painted with white eyes opened and wings outstretched as they flew… no… danced together in the moonlight; I noticed specifically that one of the two looked more masculine, more strongly built, the second more feminine, more sleek and graceful… and I could play out a scene of those two as they swooped and dived together, like some sort of romantic ritual.

The beautiful mural carried down onto the walls themselves, stars and spaced clouds covering the entire expanse of every wall down to the floor. But alas, like every other building in the city, this one showed heavy damage. Though the moon and the two dancing pegasi were spared, there were three gaping holes in the ceiling where the stone had given out, a light but steady rain now falling through them and onto the seats below. The largest of these holes was overtop the balcony, rubble from the collapse having taken a chunk from the center rows of seats with it to the bottom floor, smashing another cluster of the seats nearer the back of the room. A portion of the south wall had caved in entirely, thankfully not enough to cause a total collapse of the hall, but enough to have accumulated a hefty pile of rubble, showing the hallway beyond it which would have otherwise been concealed. The collapse even stretched beyond the performance space, with the farthest point of the collapse, beyond the hallway I had seen, revealing a sliver of the dim hue of the city sky beyond it.

“Mother Celestia… look at this place.” Hope remarked, likewise looking up at the mural with near jaw dropping awe.

“I never thought I’d see anything like this outside Buckley’s fence.” Bolt added, shaking his head as he looked over the north wall. “Goddesses…”

“Oh… oh my…”

Ludwig’s voice carried over to the right of us, the music director having already emerged into the room with Saharra at his side. But unlike us, he was looking straight ahead as he walked, slowly walked, along the wooden causeway. The path followed the shape of the wall, which turned at a gentle angle towards the south wall, making the fourth side of the room. But it was in that direction that I caught sight of what it was that Ludwig had come to find.

The performance stage… and on it was a whole graveyard of dried pony bones, no full skeleton still intact. The bones… the many, many bones… surrounded broken-down chairs and rusted metal music stands, and with them, numerous like the bones they rested with, were corpses of brass, wood, and plastic. My time in Buckley’s concert hall, rehearsing with Ludwig the song he wanted me to sing for the settlement’s upcoming concert, had allowed me to identify several instruments that Buckley’s ponies created their music with; the sight of that stage, the instruments and the bones, brought a sad tear to my eye.

The bones were piled with the wrecked remains of the instruments they once played. There were violins and violas, all cracked, chipped, and darkened with age, strings snapped… There were clarinets in the mix, the delicate metal keys having worn down and fallen apart. I could see trumpets, now rusted husks of their former selves, and there was a horn I could see, bell folded back and delicate slides crushed. There were some flutes in the mix, bent and misshapen with several missing keys… a piano with all of its legs having snapped off to bring the instrument crashing down onto the floor. A set of large drums, amidst other percussive instruments I couldn’t identify, were ruined, drum heads snapped and frames cracked…… and there were just so many other instruments.

“Celestia, Luna… don’t tell me that there was a concert here when the world died…” My prayer came out as a whimper as I shook my head… my nostalgia was burning me from the inside out at this point…

“No… not exactly, Nova.” Ludwig spoke up from his place ahead of me, drawing my attention to him at the answer he gave, not the one I was expecting. The stallion had stopped a few paces away from the necropolis on the stage, Saharra standing beside him with ears splayed back, and was looking back at me, composed… but with eyes showing heartbreak of his own. “All of these seats are empty… but the stage… perhaps they had been rehearsing.” He paused to look back over the stage and the wreckage upon it. “Or maybe they already knew that the end was coming.” he added after a sigh. “Maybe they just wanted to get together again, play one last tune together… one last song for themselves… one last song for their home…… Goddesses rest their souls.”

I bowed my head at that, speaking a silent ‘amen’ again and again before I felt a hoof on my back. “Hey…” Archer spoke, gentle and careful, and with empathy.

“Sorry…” I ran a foreleg across my muzzle, sniffing and holding back the tears I wanted to cry for those ponies, for this place. “Nostalgia and all that…” I said, forcing out a single light note of laughter. “You should know my drill by now…”

At that, he only looked into my eyes for a time, the both of us silent until he gave my back a sympathetic pat, then lowering his hoof to the floor and looking ahead. “So is this it, Ludwig?” Tracer asked the white unicorn; even he showed a degree of sympathy to the director stallion.

Ludwig shook his head though, looking past the bones and broken instruments and settling his gaze on a closed wooden door. “No, commander. I believe that the instrument storage is the closest room to the stage itself.” he explained. “The rubble that blocked our access to other hallways before likely kept us from going there directly… but I think that behind that door, we’ll find our way to where the facility kept its remaining instruments. If you wouldn’t mind, I would like to have a look there before we leave for good.”

“Sure thing, Ludwig.” With that, the commander craned his head around, finding Bolt and Hope where they stood together nearby. “Are you two good to go?”

Together, the two guards gave determined nods. “Yes sir. Let’s find us some instruments.” Hope confidently declared.

With a nudge from Archer, the two of us joined up with the others where Ludwig and Saharra stood. Though the bones and broken instruments took up the majority of the space, there was an open lane of travel that followed the edge of the stage, and forming into a single-file line, we eventually got back on track, moving along towards the doorway Ludwig had indicated.

Bolt had taken the lead once more as we made our way around the stage, passing behind the line of destroyed percussion instruments with each of us having to tread around more scattered bones along the way. Together, Bolt and Hope took up positions on either side of the door as the rest of us approached it, and with a nod, Bolt turned the handle with his magic and pushed the door open, rifle trained beyond it as he silently stepped through, Hope following in behind him.

We got the all clear from the two guards after a moment’s pause, and one after another, the rest of us filed into the next hallway. Again, I found myself looking upon another compacted corridor like those in the maintenance wing of the building. But unlike the grid-like layout of that sector, this new hall stood alone, stretching straight for a short ways before branching slightly to the right. There were no other rooms along this hall either, nor were there even picture frames. There was only the faded white of the brick walls, the cracked tiled floor, and the worn ceiling with fallen panels to mark this hallway.

Still, it was a relatively short walk before we found ourselves at a fork, with a second hall crossing this one to make a four-way intersection. The path turning to the left, undoubtedly caught in the collapse I had seen back on the stage, had been blocked off with rubble. The path continuing straight led to another small cluster of rooms before dead-ending, the farthest room away labeled with a sign designating the door as a stairway access. The path to the right was short, and led only to a single door that sat at its endpoint. The door itself was metal, sturdier in its place around the frame holding it, and largely unharmed save a few scratches and points of rust; at its center was a small square window, the glass still fully intact.

“Where to next?” Bolt questioned, lowering his rifle and turning back to us as Ludwig made his way to the front.

“This hall in front of us likely leads back to the maintenance wing, probably to the parts that we’d been cut off from by rubble.” Ludwig responded, trading glances between the two paths, eventually settling on the hall branching right. “This hall here is kind of curious though. Perhaps we could look and see where it goes.”

“Okay.” With a short nod from the commander, Bolt and Hope drew up side by side, keeping their rifles aimed as they advanced down Ludwig’s path of choice, the director following close behind with Saharra and Tracer before Archer and I turned with them.

In moments, Bolt and Hope were upon the door, the latter using her magic to test the hoof handle as I looked over my compass. There were no hostiles, but with that came Hope’s bit of news. “It’s locked, commander.” she spoke.

This brought a hum from the brick-red earth pony. “A couple of solid kicks might bring it down. If not that, then we might have to go back to the convoy and get a satchel charge.”

“I’ve got lockpicks with me, sir.” Archer suddenly spoke up, taking a step forward beside me. “I can take a swing at getting that door open.”

“I see. Very well, give it a try.” At his word, the commander stepped aside, Hope and Bolt backing up from the door as Archer trotted to the front of our group.

Right away, the pegasus stallion set to work, sitting on his haunches in front of the door before reaching up for one of the pockets on his chest plate. One after another, he brought out a flathead screwdriver and a small, partly crumpled cardboard box, letting them both fall to the floor. From the back of the group, I watched the pegasus with a curious eye. I had seen Gunny picking locks before, but he had strictly used his horn to help bring up the tools he needed to work the lock. Telekinesis was a huge advantage in that case, and seemed to be the only way for anypony to tamper with locks. But still, Archer was working, currently holding a single bobby pin by its tip between his front teeth as he guided it into the lock. A single practiced movement saw the bobby pin inserted into the mechanism, whereupon he brought his right forehoof up to hold the pin in place before reaching down and scooping up the screwdriver in his mouth. Then he adjusted it to be holding the end of the grip in his jaws, the flathead facing the lock, and like with the bobby pin, he guided the tool into the keyhole.

Despite everything, I couldn’t help but shake my head, impressed at the task the pegasus was executing, and all without magic either. He was finally situating himself to work the lock, having pressed his hoof to the top of the screwdriver, and returning his teeth to biting down on the tip of the bobby pin. Then, with short movements of his head, he began adjusting the bobby pin within the lock, ears perking as he concentrated. And then, seconds later, he begun to push down on the screwdriver with his hoof, the lock beginning to turn, and with a click, the lock gave.

Amusingly, the pegasus pulled his head back and spit the bobby pin onto the floor, likewise letting the screwdriver fall to the tile before he pushed the door open. “You’re welcome.” he remarked with a small smile.

“Not bad, feather-brain.” Hope replied with a light laugh, Bolt stepping by Archer to enter the room to search for threats as the pegasus picked up his screwdriver and guided it to its pocket, the bobby pin box following after help from Hope’s telekinesis.

“Good work Archer.” Tracer likewise complimented, stepping ahead after Hope and entering the room with Ludwig and Saharra falling in behind him.

“I’ll be honest, I didn’t think lockpicking could be done without magic.” I spoke up, stopping by the pegasus as he stood back up onto all fours.

“Just takes a lot of practice.” he replied with a light chuckle, then gesturing to the reward of his effort. “After you.”

Giving him a smile in return, I turned and stepped into the new room, hearing the all clear once more. Now, we were inside a large rectangular room, likewise painted in a dimmer yet solid white on the floor, ceiling, and walls. But right away, simultaneous with a soft gasp of shock from Ludwig and Saharra both, I came face to face with shelves, storage units of varying sizes that were set into no specific pattern, each made of reinforced plastic that had been fixed to the far wall. The units spanned the entire length of the far wall, and within several, like bricks missing out of the wall itself, black cases, closed up tight with latches of silver and gold, sat undisturbed and untouched. Some of the boxes were small, no taller than half my foreleg. Others were thin yet long. Some were midsized, perhaps reaching up to about the base of my chest in height. And yet others still were larger. One near the far right corner of the room sitting upright was taller than I was, and another next to it was only slightly smaller. In total, there had to have been at least twenty to thirty cases in those shelves. But I found that, what had drawn the attention of everypony else in our group, was not the cases themselves, but was instead a large item sitting at the right side of the room, pushed up against the wall.

It stood on three legs, with a fourth leg between the front two from which extended three metal pedals painted in gold, nearly touching the floor. Atop the legs was what some might have assumed to merely be a thick table, a flat surface that was curved along its right side, turning elegantly inward to create a rounded end at the back, whereas opposite to this, a row of black and white keys spread along the instrument’s entire front face. And its entire body, somehow reflecting light even in this dull room, was painted over in a coat of pure glimmering white.

We were, one and all, staring back at an undamaged, undefiled, genuine grand piano.

In my head, the same question played over and over again, asking myself as to whether or not my eyes were deceiving me. But no… what I saw here and now, was real… and somehow, despite all the shit that was outside the walls of this storage room, what I was seeing now had survived through one hundred and seventy-five years of abandonment… I was at a loss for words…

“Oh my… it’s magnificent.” Ludwig was the first to break the silence with words, and as Bolt, Hope, and Saharra begun to make their way to the storage shelves, Ludwig approached the beautiful implement of music with the utmost care. It was as if he were afraid that his very presence would see to the instrument crumbling down to kindling, becoming one with the ruin all around it… I would be afraid of that, too…

“I’ve got to admit, I’m impressed.” Tracer spoke up, remaining in his spot with Archer and I as Ludwig stopped before the instrument, reaching a gentle hoof up to trace along the piano’s frame down to the keys themselves; a single sweet and heartening note, pure, echoed in the room when he pressed one of the black keys down.

To the left, my ears perked at the sounds of careful rummaging, and I looked to see Saharra and Bolt using their magic to guide the biggest of the cases down to the floor, laying it flat onto its side as Hope removed one of the smaller cases from another shelf nearby. Together, both cases came open, whereupon Saharra’s eyes went wide as she beheld the contents of the largest case. “Ludwig, come see!” she called, looking eagerly over to where the music director admired the piano.

“Is that what I think it is?” came his question, the white unicorn taking a single step forward, nearly overflowing with anticipation.

“A tuba, Ludwig!” Saharra happily replied. “A fully intact Miraphone!”

“Here’s another one.” Hope added, her own words quickly growing with their own enthusiasm as her telekinesis lifted out a brass instrument from the case she opened – an untarnished trumpet. In moments, everypony other than the commander himself was beginning to pull cases from the shelves, each of us coming to open one of our own to find yet other preserved instrument. The case I opened revealed a disassembled flute, silver metal glinting up at me in welcome, and beside me, Archer had discovered a large woodwind instrument, one that Saharra had gladly explained to me to be a bass clarinet.

“This is amazing…” Ludwig commented from his place by the tuba case, both he and Saharra having lifted out the huge metal horn to look it over, inspecting every valve and slide. “So many instruments… perfectly preserved…”

“But how did these not eventually wear down?” Bolt questioned, carefully setting down the violin he had uncovered. “After one hundred and seventy-five years, I’d have expected to find rusted scrap and cracked wood like those instruments on the stage.”

“As would I.” Ludwig agreed, smiling bright all the while. “But you see, these instruments have survived over all these years because of their cases. You did notice the panels, yes? The flicking green lights?” Through his explanation, I pulled the lid of the flute case closed, nodding to myself as I found the tiny light bulb on a square metal panel. “These cases are like the same ones that were brought into Stable One ninety-two when our first generation evacuated to the shelter on the Last Day. They were built to maintain just the right humidity and temperature to keep each instrument in top condition!”

I looked up at the excited stallion, eyes wide. “Wow…”

“They’re just like the cases in our own concert hall.” Saharra added, looking over another open case that she had set at her side, the longer container being the home of a trombone, likewise perfectly conserved.

“But what about the piano?” Tracer then asked, standing by the instrument and looking over its keys. “Those other instruments might’ve had their own specialized cases to protect them, but there isn’t a case in this room that can hold this beast here.”

“Yes… that, I actually can’t explain.” Ludwig responded, eyes narrowing in thought. “I believe that normally, a piano left out like this would have normally come to grow into a state of disrepair, and yet this one looks like it had just come off the factory floor. It is a strange thing…” It was definitely something that begun to turn my mental gears as well, though I myself couldn’t come up with anything close that might provide an explanation. Though raiders may not have gotten to it, I was fairly certain that, even after sitting untouched for one hundred and seventy-five years, the instrument would’ve accumulated its own damage, or would’ve at least become more sensitive, brittle with decay perhaps. But that was most certainly not the case here.

“Well, who are we to question it?” Saharra energetically spoke up. “It’s a beautifully preserved piano, maybe very well being the last of its kind, and it’s been sitting here in this room, with all these other instruments, for all these years, in perfect condition… Goddesses, this is almost too much to take in.”

Ludwig let out a good-natured laugh at the concertmaster’s words, the two of them exchanging a strong hug, making me smile at the same time. Explanations be damned… this was definitely a special occasion, especially for Buckley’s music makers. “Yes.” Ludwig replied with a smile to the unicorn mare (who was nearly in tears at this point). “And now, we get to take them home.”

From his place by the grand piano, I heard as the commander let out a chuckle of his own. “I’ll call the wagon train and let them know the good news.” he said. “Looks like we’ve got some moving to do.”

Footnote: Level Up!!

New Perk: Gun Nut (Rank 3) - Standard firearms have become your weapons of choice, and you just wouldn’t have it any other way. Each rank of this perk increases your small guns skill by +5.

Skill Notes:

Small Guns (75)