“I am the driver.
I am the victim.
I am the slayer of my master’s enemies.
I am the right hoof of justice.
I am everything that my best friend needs me to be.
I am the Shine.
I am death.
My name is irrelevant.
Today?
Today, I am Taxi.”
“Miss Taxi?”
“Hmmm?”
“Miss Apple Bloom is waiting for you in the war room. Mister Limerence left a few minutes ago and Miss Cuddles is going to begin her attack soon. Hard Boiled is still resting and Miss Bloom says she wants to make a stop off to get something from the Skids before you take the Prince of Detrot on to the refugee camp. Vexis and Ambrock...the...the pair of dragons the Warden of Everfree brought us...are waiting to transport you.”
“Mmmhmmm.”
“Your weapons are ready. I cleaned them myself and made sure everything is tight. They’ll be in the air carriage.”
“Mmm.”
“I...I’ll be going now. O-one of the Marked will be outside and you can tell them when you’re ready.”
There was the sound of a closing door and retreating hoofsteps.
I slowly opened my eyes and let gentle images of rainfall over a field in the Zebrican savannah fade away.
‘She needs a new left kidney in the next two years—”
‘Not now.’
I unfolded my back legs and shifted my hips, letting the pain retreat a little. The pain was never really gone, but it would take holidays from time to time. I hadn’t let it, of late. It was all that was keeping me sharp.
Getting to my hooves, I pulled my braid over one shoulder and exhaled, staring at the black on white pattern. My surrogate mother had liked to brush it and even if I wasn’t much of a daughter, I’d let her sit me at her vanity and spend fifteen minutes combing out the tangles every morning. She’d lost her own daughter to a miscarriage, after all, and it was what she needed.
Supermax’s ‘private rooms’ were only isolation cells, but they were comfortable enough since Tourniquet’s various renovations at the hooves of the Aroyos. The cot was clean and the pillow, fluffed. Better than I’d had in some time, really. I hadn’t been back to my apartment to check whether or not it still stood. Granted, if it was still there, it’d never been much of a home. I mostly stored knick-knacks and showered there. Most nights, the cab was my bedroom. I could lay there, listen to the radio, and if anypony got in I had an excuse to go for a drive.
Then a dragon set fire to the Night Trotter.
I’d slept in the Dragon Flagon Wagon when I could, but for various reasons it wasn’t an option just then.
An hour’s meditation calmed my thoughts somewhat, but I still felt a deep-seated, gnawing anxiety knowing my best friend was about to get himself killed. Again. We’d planned and discussed and prepared as much as ponies could. Funny, I guess, that none of us bothered to say ‘goodbye’ at the end of that meeting.
Turning, I picked up the list Hardy’s Nightmare Moon-possessed body had shoved into my hooves a couple days back and lifted my saddlebags off the pillow beside it. I ran a hoof fondly over the painted checkerboard pattern before throwing them around my hips. Then, thinking better of it, I pulled them higher around my barrel and reached down to close the buckle.
I glanced at the list, having already memorized it top to bottom, then carefully turned it sideways and started ripping it into tiny little pieces, scattering them under the bed. Reaching back, I felt through my fur for one of the ladybugs that’d been riding on me for the last hour. Finding one, I lifted it to where I could see the little creature. It sat back and flexed its wings, then gave me an attentive buzz.
“Are you in contact with Hardy?” I asked it.
The ladybug nodded its entire body.
“Tell him to stop fantasizing about Scarlet and Lily. He might need to spend a week with both of them in a cabin somewhere, but I need to think clearly about what the city needs and he’s throwing me off my game.”
The insect let out what I thought was an amused chitter, then burrowed back into the fur on my leg.
A police issue walkie-talkie sitting on the end table crackled for a second, then the call light lit up. Before I could pick it up, a voice broke in.
“Hey, Miss Taxi, the delight of Detrot’s streets! Gypsy here! You ready to get this show on the road?”
“As ready as one mare can be. What are the royalist dragons doing?”
“The ones in the city? I can see three or four from here. They seem to be more alert than they’ve been in recent days. They’re acting like they’re waiting on something.”
“Should we have a bet on that being the white elder dragon? What was her name? Propana?”
“That’s her, and I wouldn’t take a bet against it. If she’s headed in to join this battle, then our problems just multiplied. I have some files from the war in here, and Propana is big.”
“We knew it was likely she’d be on the way. If she falls, the rest of the dragons will retreat and the city can be evacuated.”
“That’s a big ‘if’...”
I glanced back at the scars where my cutie-marks once were and smiled, quietly, to myself.
“If she dies, they’ll retreat to get new orders. Dragons tend to have the fight go out of them when their leader falls.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Cinching my saddlebags on, I opened the cell door. A young Aroyo colt with Tourniquet’s red crescent-shaped mark on his forehead of all places was leaning against the wall, playing with a paddle-ball. Then he straightened up smartly and tucked the paddle-ball away in his poofed pink mane.
His eyes immediately began to glow.
“Miss Taxi?”
“Just Taxi, Tourniquet,” I said, nodding down the otherwise empty prison corridor. “Update me. Where do we stand?”
The colt’s body took up a leading position a couple body-lengths in front of me. “We’ve got plenty of bodies, but a shortage of knowledgeable soldiers and gun users. Iris Jade was able to teach me a few offensive spells and I’ve been teaching all the Marked and they’re teaching everyone else. The army is...mostly ready. As ready as anything cobbled together this fast could be. I’ve got Marked in the sewers near every street corner and started moving groups of ponies to every corner of the city to hit every known P.A.C.T. location or identified dragon roost simultaneously.”
The fur on the back of my neck stiffened as both the scale and terrible reality of what was about to happen momentarily brought on a case of nerves.
“This is going to be a slaughter,” I muttered.
Tourniquet turned to look at me, the colt’s body adopting a slightly indignant pose. “I am not going to let anypony die needlessly. Swift told me to keep ponies alive, so I’m keeping ponies alive. Those refugees on the outskirts will need us.”
“I know. Celestia, I do know,” I said, shaking my head. “When I was with the buffalo for a little while, the shaman I spent a weekend getting stoned with described this emotion that sometimes comes before a sacred stampede. Those stampedes...sometimes buffalo die in them. They fall and the ones behind run them over.”
Tourniquet tilted the colt’s head to one side. “Why do they have them, then?”
“He said if they didn’t run together, then they would all run alone. No buffalo could think of anything worse than looking around and finding themselves without their herd. A few died, from time to time, but many more lived because they knew they would have to run as one, one day. It encouraged a certain cooperative mindset, even across tribes. That feeling he told me about was always there, though. It’s the feeling of riding the edge between life and death, like a tightrope that just won’t stop moving.”
“What happened after he told you about this...feeling?” Tourniquet asked.
“Well, he painted me with some mud and then I went for a nice long run across the plains with a bunch of buffalo. I broke three ribs, sprained an ankle, and earned the name ‘Crazy-Mare-Who-Runs-Too-Fast-On-Uneven-Ground’.”
Rolling the colt’s eyes, Tourniquet went back to trotting along in front of me. “Before you go for any dangerous runs, you better see Miss Bloom. She looked downright excited. Whatever she wants to get from the Skids has her almost bouncing on her hooves.” She hesitated in place for a moment, then turned back to look up at me. “Can I ask you something...um...Taxi?”
“It might be my last chance to answer you, so go right ahead. I don’t think I’ve got many secrets worth keeping, anymore.”
“Phew, they weren’t kidding about you being grim sometimes,” Tourniquet muttered.
“Who are ‘they’?”
Tourniquet tapped the side of the colt’s head with one hoof without breaking stride. “The Marked talk to each other an awful lot. Some days I feel like a switchboard operator and other times like a spy. They don’t seem to mind it. They know they can leave anytime they want to. Still, they talk about all four of you. Hardy, Limerence, and Swift...and you. Little Mags sometimes, too, but that’s mostly the kids. The kids like her.”
I cracked a little smile, then quickly buried it. “That’s interesting. What’d you want to ask me?”
“Oh! I...I guess I don’t know how to be polite about this, but how do you always know what people need?”
“It’s my talent,” I replied, gesturing at my flank.
“I know that. I just don’t understand how you do it. Hardy has this really physical reaction to injustice. He thinks he hides it, but when something hits him, he does this little dance with his hips like a bee just stung him. Swift has to write things down. Limerence...just waves his horn and everything falls silent. I don’t understand you, though.”
Pulling my braid over my shoulder, I patted it nervously for a moment. “Call it ‘voices’ in my head. I tried to ignore them for a long time, but lately...Hardy said I should kiss and make up.”
“Really?” The construct hummed softly to itself, then asked, “What did those voices have to say about Salty?”
“Who?”
“Sea Salt. The mare who was in your room just before you finished meditating.”
“Oh...”
The colt’s body rounded on me and Tourniquet prodded me in the chest with his hoof. “You did pick up something, didn’t you?”
I couldn’t meet her glowing gaze for several seconds. “S-she needs a kidney.”
“And...were you going to tell somepony that?” she demanded.
“You knew,” I said.
“Of course I did! And if she lives through today, she’ll get a kidney. But that’s not what matters. Were you going to tell somepony?”
I swallowed and slowly shook my head. “I can’t...I can’t live like that.”
Tourniquet squinted up at me, then took a step back. “Like what? If she wasn’t one of the Marked, you might have saved her life.”
Pushing past the colt, I headed for the door to Tourniquet’s chamber. She quickly caught up with me, but I just moved a little faster.
“Come on, what is it?” she asked.
“Ponies...Ponies don’t need somepony like me telling them what they need. Hardy needs me, but everypony else?” I pressed a hoof to my chest and tried to still my breathing before it became panicked. “I’ve tried, Tourniquet. I’ve tried to help everyone who needs help. I almost lost my mind. This city is a yawning maw full of need, even at its best.”
“So why did you stay?”
“I stayed for Hardy,” I replied without hesitation.
Pressing the colt against my side, she brought me to a stop and said, in a soft voice, “Does he need you, today?”
I shut my eyes and held very still. Reaching out, I tried to touch Hardy’s feelings, but he was too far away. That or he wasn’t feeling much, or he was drunk, or one of a hundred other things. It was so much easier when I was close to him.
“I don’t know,” I said, after a minute.
“What about me? What about the city?”
“I-I don’t want to know,” I whispered.
“I’m pretty sure you think you’re going to die today, anyway. What will it hurt to see? I know you’re curious. Swift tells me a lot of things. She told me about that first day, on the crime scene, when you tried to wait in the car. So why not take a look?”
‘You need to see.’
‘I don’t!’
‘You will see.’
‘Please don’t.’
‘I need to show you.’
----
And I witnessed.
I saw the bloody streets and dead foals laying unburied where they fell.
I saw a hospital that’d been sealed off, the patients still inside. The doctors were sleeping in shifts to keep their charges alive for weeks on end with fewer and fewer resources each day. They were starving, but they kept their patients fed even as they fell ill themselves.
Across town, a family who’d prepared a basement bunker with food and water were eating their last ready-to-eat meal before the father would have to go out into the city to search for more.
There were thousands of ponies out there, tucked away in whatever corners they could find, hiding from the monsters and gangs of roving looters.
The jagged teeth of the city ringed a fiery maw into which all the pain of Detrot poured: Uptown.
There—in Uptown—some greater need existed. It was a fire that scoured everything it touched. It consumed all and was forever hungry.
Above it all, four lights glittered in an empty sky, devoid of stars.
----
I came back to myself with Tourniquet standing over me, gently shaking my shoulder.
“Y-you didn’t have to do that,” I muttered, though not really to her.
‘Yes, I did.’
“Yes, I did,” Tourniquet replied, putting a hoof around my shoulders as she helped me to my hooves. “You were set on dying out there today. You were going to throw yourself in front of Hardy and let them kill you as some kind of ‘final act’ of martyrdom. I can see it when you look at him. You think you have to die to repay all he’s given you. Well, now you can’t.”
I pushed myself up off the cold concrete, the faces of all those ponies in desperate need still flashing in my mind.
“I...I saw the city, Tourniquet. There’s a whole hospital full of ponies that have somehow been overlooked out there and—”
“I know about them.” she said, tilting the colt’s head as though thinking, “That’s the Apple Peach Family Emergency Hospital. There’s no good sewer access nearby and a dragon roosts on the rooftop. It’s been keeping us from approaching and the doctors won’t abandon the patients who can’t be moved or they’d have already left.”
“You...you knew?”
Reaching up, the colt’s body tapped me on the chest. “I don’t know exactly how your talent works, but I’ve observed enough to make some educated guesses. You looked at what I need, right? Well, I’m the city.”
Shuddering, I braced a hoof on the wall and almost tumbled onto my face. “My talent made me look. I didn’t choose to. Those ponies at the hospital ran out of food three days ago. They’re down to nutrient bags.”
“We’ll try to divert a small force with some supplies to get there. It’ll be easier if we can drive the dragons off. You know, the Aroyos call you one of their ‘loa’ now?”
I paused, brought up short by the thought. “One of their spirits? Don’t I have to be dead to be a spirit?”
“They call me the ‘Lady of Shadows’, and I’m not dead. They treat the Ancestors that way, too. They think you watch over them. They hear stories about Hardy, but they also hear stories about you. How you brought him back from the dead. How you stood by him when he went into all those dark places. How you somehow managed to fight the control of The Office. Mister Limerence was really impressed when he told that one, by the way. Bones gave us a more dramatic retelling and he’s far more entertaining, but the gist was the same.”
“I only remember bits and pieces of what happened in there,” I murmured.
“Then take my word for it. You were amazing.”
“What does this have to do with me needing to see all that horror?” I asked.
“What doesn’t it? If you die, there is nopony to see those secret needs. This city needs you, Sweet Shine. Now come on, Miss Bloom is getting antsy.”
----
Tourniquet’s antechamber was packed with creatures all reclining on the various ratty couches or slumped on cots, talking to one another in hushed voices.
The colt the construct was riding paused at the door and held his leg out for me to head in, then his eyes dimmed and he gave me a curt nod before trotting off in the opposite direction.
I glanced around, trying to get a measure of the room.
Dragon Envoy Firebrand knelt against the wall in a meditation pose as she sharpened one of her swords. She looked entirely engrossed, but for one perked ear-fin that was keeping track of the ongoing conversation between Ancestor Apple Bloom and a pony I didn’t recognize, but who wore plenty of Aroyo tattoos and a red crescent on their chest.
Beside them sat a razor thin mare in a feathered hat, wearing a white sash across her chest that marked her as one of Stella’s Stilettos. She was very carefully ignoring everypony else while somehow still paying close attention.
Apple Bloom looked up as I came in and all but danced up to the tips of her hooves, her hat bobbing as she excitedly waved me forward. “Oh, Miss Shine! Ah am so pleased ya made it! Ah was about to send somepony for ya!”
“Is this everyone?” I asked.
“Well, the Prince of Detrot is waitin’ on us upstairs, but Ah remembered Ah happen to have a lil’ somethin’ that might make this a tad easier. We gotta head by the Skids, though. Ah’d damn near forgot where Ah parked it after all these years. Ah hope the storage spells held.”
Firebrand slipped her sword into its sheath and rose, folding her massive wings against her shoulders so they didn’t brush the ceiling. “I take it from context that you have some piece of Crusades era technology tucked away somewhere, Crusader Apple Bloom?”
“Ah prefer ‘Ancestor’, but Ah do indeed! Now, Ah don’t wanna get anyone’s hopes up, but Ah think Ah might have a solution to our ‘Propana’ problem. Maybe. We gotta get goin’ though if we’re gonna make it in time. The attack is startin’ soon.”
“I saw our logistics reports,” I said, reaching back and pulling a tuft of papers from my saddlebags. “We don’t have enough heavy weapons to hit all of the dragon roosts, not to mention any additional dragons that’re waiting outside the city.”
“Don’t have ta! All we gotta do is bring down Propana. If she falls, the rest will scoot! Ah fought dragons through the whole war. Ah know how they think.”
“Indeed. I concur. However, Propana is a dangerous foe,” Firebrand interjected, testing the air with her forked tongue. “She battled a dozen other females to become the Dragon King’s consort. She is a monster by any measure and when she is angry, she is nothing short of insane. My squad couldn’t beat her together, and we will not be together for this battle. I have spread my companions to give the best hope of destroying various roosts and protecting the refugee camp on the outskirts.”
From the couch nearby, the stiletto in the hat, who’d been silent up until this point, piped up. “Pardon me, Miss Shine. Mistress Stella says that you need to get Propana to fly in low over the Bay of Unity, then he has a way to deal with her.” The mare shook her head and sighed. “I don’t know exactly what his plan is, but he said he’ll be waiting.”
“Ah don’t suppose that serpent even gave any clue as ta what?” Bloom asked.
The stiletto shook her head again. “I’ve worked for Mistress Stella for almost five years, and he doesn’t tell anypony anything they don’t need to know. I’ve learned to trust him, though. If he says he has a way, he has a way.”
“Now, we gotta drop off Precious at the refugee camp,” she said, brushing her battered stetson back on her head. “Ah should have volunteered fer to go with the nerd with the glasses.”
Firebrand quirked one eye-fin at him. “Do you and the Prince of Detrot not get along?”
“Nawww, it ain’t that. He’s just a bleedin’ heart like ya never saw. If those dragons come anywhere near that camp, he’ll cuss a blue streak on’em and he won’t leave till every last soul is safe.”
“Then we’d better get out there,” I said, pulling my walkie-talkie out of my saddlebag and hitting the talk button. “Gypsy?”
“I’m here, boss,” the DJ replied down the crackly connection. “The Marked are just finishing getting Ambrock and Vexis all tethered into that sky chariot. They complained like mad, but once they got about thirty T.V. dinners apiece they settled down. You sure you want to take those two along?”
“I could pull a sky chariot myself, if necessary,” Firebrand growled, puffing a ring of smoke out of the corner of her long muzzle.
“We don’t need’em ta pull the sky chariot,” Bloom interjected. “We need’em for mah little surprise. Shall we get our tails up top?”
----
Firebrand was beside me and Apple Bloom had the lead as we stepped out into the chilly, whipping winds over the armed camp that’d taken up residence below Fortress Everfree.
The rooftop was crowded with Marked ponies, fussing over the giant, lumpen blue and yellow shapes of Ambrock and Vexis. They looked to have put on a few healthy pounds of fat since their incarceration and they’d lost that gaunt look they’d both had when I first laid eyes on them, though both seemed strangely smaller in stature.
“I see the greed is off you,” Firebrand commented as the Marked flowed back from the two young dragons, revealing the pair sitting side by side with what looked like an angular black box on wheels hanging behind them.
“I know!” Vexis said angrily, thumping her much reduced tail against the rooftop. “I hate it! Can’t I just do something greedy? I’m going to be too small to reach top shelves here soon!”
“Not if you want a place in this world of ponies,” the dragonlord replied, padding across to tap the much larger dragoness on the end of her muzzle with the tip of one claw. “I may not be large, but I am rich in friends and there are few dragons bigger who would dare test me. You will learn that power and size are not the same thing. It is also easier to live when a single turkey is enough for dinner.”
“If it means I’m not starving all the time, I guess I wouldn’t mind being a little shorter,” the blue dragon muttered.
“M-me too,” Ambrock added, rubbing his stomach a little. He looked up at me, then at Apple Bloom. “Are...are we going to go and fight, now?”
“Soon, you will prove your bravery,” Firebrand said, trotting to the sky carriage and pulling open the door. She peered inside and a cheerful smile broke out on her normally stoic features. “Ah! Dragon Friend Precious! We are your guards, it seems. It is good to fight at your side.”
“Good tah see ya too, Sparky! Not that Ah could see ya if Ah tried. Come on in and bring the rest of that lot in out the chill!” the Prince of Detrot crowed. “Is that Sweet Shine and...dear me, Miss Apple Bloom! Ah am in distinguished company!”
Trotting over to the carriage, I covered my face against the whipping rain, then stepped up into the warm little compartment. Sky carriages were usually little more than two flat backed vinyl seats facing one another inside a box of varying size and a whole lot of crash padding, but somepony had gone to the trouble to add a little heater to keep it from getting too unbearably cold.
Precious was sitting there in a fresh spangled jumpsuit, his guitar strapped to his back and a pipe-wrench propped against the wall beside his cane. He smiled his wrinkled, cheerful smile and patted the seat beside him. It was enough to bring a grin to my face, even knowing where we were headed and what sort of horrors we were going into.
‘He needs to go home to the Burning Love.’
I couldn’t wholly suppress a wince as the Prince’s sadness at being away from his beautiful guitars and plumbing masterpieces washed over me. Smiling he might be, but he was not happy.
“Sweet Shine, Ah am most pleased to have ya here! Ya’ll guardin’ me out to the refugee camp?” he asked.
“That’s the idea,” I replied, settling into the padding beside him. “Somepony told me they put my weapons in here?”
Reaching underneath his seat, he tugged a latched metal box out and pushed it over to me. “Don’t know as Ah’ve heard of anypony carryin’ a P.E.A.C.E. cannon since the war. Might get me one to keep behind the counter in case ruffians or goons come ‘round. It’d be right fun to stick one to a wall with them glue rounds.”
I quirked a lip at him. “You haven’t had a ruffian or a goon in your place in forever, Precious. They know to keep out.”
He gave me a light poke in the side nearest him, his milky eyes swiveling in my general direction. “Ah’ve had you lot, who can’t seem to responsibly keep outta trouble. Now, then, get in. Time ain’t on our side.”
“The Skids are pretty close to the refugee camp, right?” I asked as Apple Bloom, assisted by one of the Marked who offered her back to the effort, stepped up into the carriage.
“They’re a couple miles out of the way. Much as Ah don’t care for leaving them to fend for themselves a minute longer than Ah have to, Ah think they’ll be happier if we arrive in somethin’ a little more suited to our cause,” the Aroyo elder answered. “Ya get those keys off Hard Boiled like Ah asked?”
Reaching into my saddlebag, I produced the keys to the old dragon bunker in the Skids that we’d briefly occupied what felt like years ago. “He gave me access to his little enchanted pockets years ago. You wouldn’t believe some of the crap he had in there.”
“Oh, Ah would. Scoots had them same pockets durin’ the war. When Ah cleaned’em out afterwards, she had a whole leg off some unlucky lizard magically preserved in there. Dunno if it were a trophy or maybe from an ally she was hopin’ to give it back to someday. Didn’t ask.”
As Firebrand clambered in and sat down next to Miss Bloom, I heard somepony climbing into the driver’s seat atop the carriage. The interior was a bit cramped with four creatures, including a dragon, but we made it work.
“One of the Aroyos is driving?” I asked.
“Yeah. Little mare named Amaretto,” Bloom replied, “Ah trained that filly mahself. Delivered her foal, too. She’ll see us safe in the air, but we’ll be in it deep if some beasty has taken up residence in the Skids since we moved out. Ah doubt it, considerin’ there ain’t nothin’ for treasure there, but Ah could be wrong.”
“Never thought that Ah would find myself going to war, again,” Precious added, running a hoof through his greying mane. “Anyone care for a song?”
Firebrand raised a claw, then slowly lowered it. “I...I had one, but I don’t know if a pony would know it.”
Swinging his guitar up into his hooves with a smooth motion, Precious strummed the strings, letting out a series of pure notes. “Oh? Do please. Ah’m always glad to take requests.”
The dragoness hooked a fang over her lower lip, nervously, then asked, “Do you know ‘The Ride of The Valkyrians’? It is...a story of another hopeless plight that somehow this world survived.”
“Heh, of course! If ever there were a time for a song about hope against the odds, Ah would say it’s today!”
With a whip crack of wings opening, the carriage began to move as the haunting tones of the ancient draconic melody filled the inside of the cabin and—for a short time—we could all pretend we weren’t going unto the horrors of war.
----
‘You need to listen.’
‘I know.’
‘You will...you will listen?’
‘I’m trying. It’s been so many years. Daddy wanted to make me an assassin, like him. He wanted me to be a killer.’
‘You are a killer. If you want to be more than that, you and I must be together as one.’
‘I don’t know. I don’t know if I can. I don’t know what I need. I’m so frightened. What if I stop being the pony Hardy loves?’
‘You need to take control.’
‘But if I do, what will happen?’
‘You will be free from both of them.”
‘B-both?’
‘From your father and from Hard Boiled.’
‘I don’t want to abandon Hardy!’
‘Then you need to live and you cannot do it for him. You can only live for yourself. You need to be free.’
‘I’ve never done that! How can I? If I can’t let his talent guide me, what will I become?’
‘I don’t know. But the alternative is death. His death. Our death. The death of this world.’
----
I woke with a jolt as the wheels of the sky carriage touched down. Precious was tuning his guitar while Apple Bloom fiddled with one of Firebrand’s swords, testing the edge on her hoof. I glanced out the window to see we’d come down on Capriole street, just inside the Skids.
“Oh...goodness. Why did you let me sleep?” I asked.
“You seemed to need it,” Firebrand murmured.
“I guess I did.” Peering out, I tilted my head to one side as I stared up and down the completely deserted street. “Is it just me or did this place not get hit as bad as the rest of the city?”
“Who’s gonna try to rob a slum?” Apple Bloom asked, pushing open the door on her side and hopping out onto the pavement.
“Mmm...the smells of the city,” Precious added, sniffing at the air as he stowed his guitar and picking up his pipe wrench and cane. “Haven’t been down Skids-way in a few years. There was a lovely girl—Buttercup was her name—who stole mah heart once and she hailed from down here. Wrote a song about her, once. Ah wonder if she ever heard it.”
Vexis and Ambrock peered back around the sides of the carriage at us.
“W-what should we do?” the smaller male lizard asked.
“Wait here,” I replied. “We’ll be back soon, I think.”
“I smell other dragons,” Vexis murmured, splaying her neckfins out. “They smell big...”
“How can ya tell if someone smells big?” Apple Bloom asked.
“She means they smell like large hoards,” Firebrand answered, shifting uneasily from claw to claw as she loosened one of her swords in its sheath before reaching back into the carriage to retrieve her golden helm, settling it on her head. “I smell them as well. Gold, gemstones, and other rubbish. They do not seem to be here, however.”
Looking up at the Marked who sat atop the carriage, I gestured for the heavyset mare to get down. She bowed her head and leapt off, landing gracefully despite her weight.
“What be I and I doin’?” the mare asked.
‘Her child is in the nearest housing block, off to the right. Withdrawal will kill her if she is not treated in the next twelve hours.’
“Your daughter is here,” I said, quietly.
Her eyes widened. “W-what?”
“She’s in your old apartment,” I murmured, flicking my tail at the particular building. “Get her to somepony who can treat Ace addiction as quick as you can. I’m sorry we can’t help you, but Tourniquet can give you a map of the sewers.”
Stumbling back a couple of steps, the large mare wordlessly turned toward the building I’d indicated and galloped off through the swirling snow. I turned back to my companions to find them all watching me like I’d grown a few extra heads.
“I’m not explaining that,” I growled, maybe a little more defensively than was strictly necessary.
When nopony else said anything, Precious reached out and touched my shoulder, then ran his hoof up to my cheek. “Ah don’t need an explanation, Miss Shine. Ah think what we’re all thinkin’ is you’re a more amazin’ mare than ya let on. Don’t hide it. We need amazin’ ponies in times like these.”
Despite myself, I felt a tear creep down my cheek. I hadn’t really known it was what I needed to hear, but upon reflection it made sense. My heart swelled with affection for the old stallion and I quickly put my front legs around his shoulders, hugging him tight for a moment.
For just a second, I thought I might know what it was like to have a father.
Setting me back on my hooves, he patted my cheek again. “Now...are ya ready?”
I pulled myself up straight and shifted my saddlebags higher on my barrel before reaching back and poking at the one I’d secreted away my walkie-talkie in. “Gypsy? You listening to all this?”
“Here and monitoring, boss-mare!” the crackling response came. “Tourniquet is sending another Marked to help get Amaretto and her kid out of the Skids. Limerence is already scooting to get in position for his run on the shield pylon and Swift is about to start her attack. You got orders?”
“The Skids are empty and I suspect might be a good fallback point for the refugees, at least until we have cleared the way to Supermax. There’s also at least one dragon bunker. You think we can get those ponies here?”
Several seconds worth of silence passed, then Gypsy replied, “Tourniquet says that’s a bit of a walk and they’ve got injured, but she thinks it’s doable. There are a few sewer routes that might work. For some sections they’ll have to get back above ground.”
“Can she see the refugee camp, directly?” I asked.
“There’s no major powerlines under it, but she’s positioned a Marked in a nearby building. The camp is not good. They’ve got no meaningful facilities, but they raided a grocery warehouse that’s keeping them fed for now. Those ponies were planning to get out of the city entirely, but they watched dragons hit one caravan that tried to leave and anypony who goes beyond the city limits dies. They’re just all squatting out there in a couple of buildings with a few light fortifications, tents, and whatever vehicles people managed to get out there with them.”
“Get Tourniquet on the logistics,” I ordered, waving a few snowflakes off the end of my muzzle. “Those refugees are a juicy target and if we don’t at least get them moving before the attack we’re facing a city-losing scenario.”
“Wait, what? I mean, I don’t want them to die any more than you do, but—”
“Think about it. How much faster will the wish engine charge if all those ponies die?”
“Oh...right.” Gypsy’s breath caught on the other end of the line, then she asked, “Are we sure our attack won’t do the same thing?”
“No, but we know theirs will. Hop to it and keep an ear open in case we need backup.”
“Roger that. Queen of the Signal out.”
That done, I pulled the keys to the Nest out of my bags and jangled them lightly. “Now, shall we?”
“I fear I am unclear on what, exactly, we are doing in this...dreary...section of the city,” Firebrand said, studying the nearby buildings with a curl to her lip.
“That’ll be mah turf yer callin’ ‘dreary’, Missy,” Ancestor Bloom snapped, snatching the keys off my hoof.
Firebrand’s eyes almost popped out of her head and she spread her wings as though ready to take flight. “I-I meant no offense, Crusader!”
“Hrmph! Come along. Might as well see if this is a fool’s errand or not. Ah can’t afford to tinker, so if mah preservation spells failed we might be wastin’ our time.”
With that, Apple Bloom marched off into the alley where the Nest’s entrance was tucked away. I hadn’t been back in weeks, but a certain weight of displacement fell off my shoulders as we single-file marched down the grated steps of the old bunker to the thick metal door. Strange as it might sound, the place still felt like home.
Miss Bloom slotted our key into the lock, turned it, and gave a rough shove, sending the massive slab of metal slamming inward against the wall. The sound echoed for what felt like hours, but there were so many other rattling, coughing, squeaking noises coming from every corner of the city I doubted there’d be anyone coming to investigate. A burst of warm air greeted us, followed by the stink of rotten food. The hallway beyond was dark, but after a few seconds mage-lights set into the ceiling flickered on.
“Did ya not think ta empty the trash before ya left?!” Bloom barked, trotting over the threshold with one hoof over her nose.
“We had a few other things going on at the time, but by all means, complain to Hardy; he was in charge of the garbage,” I grunted, pushing the door shut after Precious and Firebrand followed me in.
“This is a dragon bunker?” Firebrand asked, curiously, poking at the wall with one clawtip. “I never thought to stand in one. We were taught they tend to explode when a dragon enters them.”
Apple Bloom snorted derisively. “That’d be one of Princess Luna’s little ‘propaganda efforts’. She’s the one responsible fer that rumor about carrots makin’ yer eyesight better, too. Our snipers just developed a half decent scope earlier’n ya’ll did. Much good did it do us considerin’ how tough dragon scale is.”
Firebrand shot her a toothy smile. “Oh, I have heard that fearfully repeated by many members of the Dragon King’s retinue. They may not have died of any but the most particular shots, but no creature wanted to spend months or years waiting for a molt with bits of shrapnel beneath their flesh.”
I cleared my throat for attention. “Much as my zebra tutor wanted me to ‘live with the moment’, I don’t have the luxury right now. We’re here for whatever equipment you’ve got that’ll help us fight Propana. I think it’s time you had your big reveal, Miss Bloom.”
“Alright, alright. Us old ponies gotta stop and remember the yesteryear, sometimes. The garage is back this way.”
I blinked at her retreating backside as she headed down the hallway toward the living quarters, then followed as Firebrand took Precious’s knee in her claw and helped guide him along.
We trotted into the rear quarter of the facility, or so I thought. There’d been one door we never managed to open during our stay and that was where Apple Bloom took us: a giant circular vault even thicker than the exterior entrance. We hadn’t found a proper keyhole, but the elderly mare just laid a hoof on the surface and shut her eyes. After a few seconds, the vault door clanked, clicked, and let out a deafening creak as it swung inward.
Light bulbs overhead sparked, then a half dozen of them exploded, sending a shower of sparks down on us and briefly illuminating the sole occupant of the plain concrete room which was only just big enough to contain it.
“Oh thank goodness! Spells held! Ladies and gents, Ah give ya...what might be the last fully functionin’ Generation One in the world!”
I’ve never been a particularly proud mare, but my reaction to the massive, beetle-like vehicle was nothing short of perverse lust.
I needed it.
‘You don’t need a War Scooter.’
‘We are not talking about this right now!’
‘I am simply stating that this is not a fundamental—’
‘Don’t you dare take this from me!’
I needed it.
Even thirty years on, the War Scooter was an impressive beast, despite the thin layer of dust over it. Since most ponies have never had the opportunity to stand beside one outside of a cordoned off museum display, it’s difficult to get a real feel for exactly how gigantic they are. Needless to say, Apple Bloom didn’t have a red rope keeping me a safe distance away.
Ever since I was a filly, I’d always wanted to ride in one. I’d watched old war films in my foster mother’s living room when all the other fillies were watching Power Ponies or Princess Moondrop’s Adventures.
Imagine a giant, green flying saucer with a pair of massive, quad-barrelled gun turrets mounted on the top and bottom, which looks strangely like a heavily armed wheel off a foal’s scooter, and you may come close to the reality, though its majesty is ever so much more intimidating. The gleaming barrels of the guns caught the light, and I wanted nothing so much as to wrap my hooves around the triggers, just to hear their song. Tiny portholes dotted the surface at intervals around the outside and a large yoke-like bar apparatus hung out front, attached to the vehicle with a pair of thin chains that I had to imagine only looked weak, considering the massive weight they were expected to haul.
In short, I was in love.
Apple Bloom, meanwhile, pushed her stetson back onto her neck, letting it dangle by the cord as she marched around the mighty vehicle like an anxious mother inspecting her daughter on her wedding day.
Clicking claws stopped beside me, but I didn’t have the strength in my soul to tear my eyes from the War Scooter’s enchanting curves and lines.
“Mmm...I see the violations of treaty went deeper than keeping one of the Crusader weapons around,” Firebrand chuckled.
Apple Bloom let out an indignant growl. “Ah’m within’ full treaty compliance! Them guns are disabled! Display only!”
I frowned. “Wait...what? What good does this do us, then?”
The elderly mare rubbed the back of her neck self-consciously.
Before she could explain, Precious spoke up, tapping his cane back and forth until he was beside the War Scooter, before touching its immense shell with a sort of reverent smile. “Treaty compliant means the guns can’t fire. Ah doubt that means they’re broken, though. Where’d ya put the firin’ pins, Miss Bloom?”
“They was in Scootalooo’s sock drawer,” she mumbled, turning her hat over and flipping the ribbon around the brim down to shake eight tiny metal rods out onto her hoof, each the length of a bullet with a bit of wire sticking out of the end. “She’d be pretty mad if she knew Ah was takin’ her scooter and lettin’ somepony else drive it after all these years. Too bad Ah forgot to tell her. If ya get it blowed up, that’ll be yer job.”
“I...I get to drive this?” I stammered.
“Course! Miss Firebrand and Ah are gonna be gunnin’. Now then...May Ah introduce the Mark One Mobile Aerial Assault, Command, and Recon vehicle, Demolisher configuration. She started life as the prototype, mind. Scootaloo liked to have me try stuff out, so Ah replaced the normal Nightshade forty cal cannons with fifties and added a few little tweaks here and there. Got a bit more kick and will put holes in damn near anythin’, armored or not. The ammo is heavy, so carryin’ a lot ain’t an option. We can be the scariest damn thing in the sky...fer about five hundred shots apiece.”
“I...do not mean to be impertinent, but I seem to remember these vehicles flew under their own power,” Firebrand murmured. “Why do we need Ambrock and Vexis? And why does this one appear to be designed to be hauled?”
“Yer later War Scooters flew under their own power,” Bloom explained, tapping the hull which let out a dull ‘tink tink’. “Scoots liked pullin’ her own with magic assist to make it lighter. She had the guns tied to a sorta magic interface in her head, so she could operate with no gunners in a pinch, but it weren’t ever so accurate as havin’ extra bodies on the shooters. Ah tried to scale that system down and stick it in a pony-mounted weapon, but couldn’t find anypony could generate the needed dynothaums to make’er work. Yer little Miss Swift has that prototype. Makes me weep for our security measures.’
I looked left, then right, then up at the ceiling. “How do we get this out of here? How’d you get it in here for that matter?”
“Couldja hit that there button on the wall beside ya, Miss Dragon?” Bloom asked.
Firebrand glanced over to where a small glass box was mounted beside the door with the words ‘lift’ stenciled on it. She flicked the cover open and pressed the bright yellow button with one clawtip. I almost wet myself as the floor suddenly lurched under us.
“Whoa!”
“Hang on, now,” Bloom said, cheerfully leaning on the massive engine of destruction. “Don’t know if those old motors held up. They was supposed to be good for a few hundred years, but Ah weren’t really checkin’em.”
A sheet of dust rained down from the ceiling as it suddenly cracked from wall to wall, letting in a swirl of snow and a steady stream of rain. My ears popped at the change in pressure before, with a lurch, the floor began to move under us. I wobbled a little, then planted all four legs as the massive surface began to rise.
“Bloom, you could have told me this thing was a giant elevator!” I snapped.
“Ah liked the look o’surprise on yer face! Yer one of them ponies who fancies herself unflappable, and flappin’ that sort is a bit of a hobby o’ mine.”
“The last time I was surprised in an elevator, it ended with me having two broken legs!”
Apple Bloom had the decency to look abashed. “Well, Ah gotta have mah fun where Ah can. It’ll take a few minutes to reach street level. Ya want a tour of the inside or you want to stand there and complain?”
Somehow, in the minute and a half since it’d been said, I’d managed to forget I was actually meant to be piloting the giant machine. I almost danced on all fours, darting over to the side of the vehicle where the hatch was located. It was a circular bulge on the hull with a heavy crossbar in the middle to operate the latch. I expected to have to fight with the mechanism, considering how long it’d been sitting, but the second I laid my hooves on it the cogs and gears whispered free and the door swung open.
The inside of the War Scooter was ridiculously cramped; a pony with claustrophobia wouldn’t have handled it especially well, but I’d been born into a life of unpleasantly tight spaces and miserable little dungeons. Mechanism and gearing was jammed into every inch that wasn’t being strictly used for someone to breathe with. Strange as it might sound, I felt right at home.
“Hop in,” Bloom said, giving my flank a nudge, “The lights will come on. Go up the ladder to reach the second floor or down the ladder for the bottom guns. Driver’s position is up in the front center, just behind the yoke. Ya can’t exactly get lost.”
As the elevator gradually raised us to surface, I hauled myself into the war scooter, landing on a thin strip of clear floor between two bulwarks covered in heavily worn safety stickers. Just as she’d said, there was a hole on the floor and a hole in the ceiling, each with a simple hoof-ladder. I peered down towards the turret on the bottom and could just make out a sort of bubble-like fixture with a seat in the middle.
Something in the close air inside the war scooter was making certain bits of my anatomy tingle in a not entirely wholesome way, but I tried to put it out of my mind. The dim lights lining the interior provided barely enough room to navigate, but still, it was enough. Firebrand crept in after me, somehow managing to look more comfortable in the tight space despite her size.
“Our enemies would have given their entire research and development budgets to stand where I now lay my claws,” the dragoness whispered, shaking her head as she stroked one of the bulkheads. “Truly, this is an honor.”
I pointed toward the bottom gunner station. “You’re down there, okay? If this follows the blueprints I studied as a filly, there’s a release you can hit down there when the gun is empty that will drop you into open air.”
“That was Sweetie Belle’s seat,” Bloom commented, with a small, nostalgic smile as she put a hoof on the bottom rung of the ladder that headed up to the top gunner bubble. “Ah wonder what she’d say if she knew a dragoness was about to go gunnin’ from there.”
“Ah think that lovely mare would be right proud,” added Precious, who was feeling his way along the inside of the war scooter with both a hoof and his cane.
“Now ya mention, she probably would,” she replied, then shook her head, “Ah’ll go fix the guns and get the loadin’ mechanism sussed. Ammo is already on board and preservation spells kept it sweet. Go get acquainted with the driver’s seat. Them two young’uns who’ll be pullin’ us won’t enjoy how this thing flies, but they’re just providin’ thrust.”
----
It was a bit of a childhood dream to sit behind the controls of a War Scooter and the anticipation of actually operating it was damn near killing me. Even getting into them was a bit of a task; I’d had to crawl over top of the driver’s chair, then turn around and work my tail through a hole in the back of the seat. A small porthole in front of me provided about ten degrees of vision, but small magical projectors on either side appeared to be wired into cameras on the exterior for greater field of view.
I was surrounded on all sides by switches and toggles with labels that would have excited a monk, much less a pony with a none-too-subtle firepower fetish.
Most of the controls resembled the ones in my childhood books, but somepony had modified them extensively and added some that were downright weird. One button said ‘Lateral-zero-inertia-rotation’ while another was labeled ‘Rope-a-dope’, strange and arcane, with no indication what they might do. I decided to stick to what I knew.
Certainly it was less comfortable than my cab, Celestia rest its soul, but as I laid my hooves on the yoke and joystick, I felt a palpable sensation shoot up my spine as though the War Scooter was anticipating the chance to fly once more almost as much as I was eager to get it in the air. It wanted to be flown.
“Oookay,” I whispered to the metal monster as I stroked the console with the back of my hoof, “You don’t know me and I don’t know you...but we’re going to have to be friends if either of us is going to survive this day. I promise, if you just keep the dragons from roasting us, I’ll do my best to make sure you come through in one piece...”
“So ya do that too, huh?”
I yelped and jerked my head back into the supports.
Apple Bloom was standing there over my shoulder, an amused smile on her wrinkled face.
“Ah didn’t mean to interrupt.”
I quickly shook my head. “It’s fine. It’s fine. I’m just getting acquainted. There are a lot of controls and I don’t recognize some of them.”
Edging sideways, Bloom held out a small black key on a blue ribbon. I took it, letting it dangle from my toe. “Ah wouldn’t worry about anythin’ ya don’t recognize. Half of it was hooked into experimental systems Ah never wired up. Here. Ignition key, from back when Ah thought they needed’em. Ah’ve modified this thing about five hunnered times, but if ya know the basics, it should fly for ya and the gunners can do the rest. The dragons’r gonna hate it, though, guaranteed.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, yer in almost total control. All they’re doin’ is providin’ thrust. Think about that.”
I peered out the porthole at the yoke mechanism lying on the ground in front of the scooter.
“Wait, you mean-”
“Yep. Early designs had one pony steerin’ while a bunch of pegasi pulled, but we couldn’t figure out how to get full maneuverability out of’em with all them different brains workin’ the wings. Fortunately or unfortunately—depending on how you look at it—Twilight Sparkle had this student who liked her mind control magics. Anythin’ which is strapped into that yoke is more or less a puppet with bones, till ya shut the ignition off.”
“Oh, the dragons are gonna hate it...”
Bloom tapped a keyhole in the dash and I quickly slipped the key into it. “Later designs that went to the army didn’t need the bodies pullin’, but if ya signed up with the Crusaders, sometimes ya ended up on haulin’ duty. We used it as a sorta hazin’ ritual. Ah always promised myself Ah’d install one of them new engines, but Ah never got around to it. That’s why Scoots eventually fixed it so the pony haulin’ could drive, but she was the only one could do it. Ah recommend ya keep the ignition runnin’ till after the fightin’ is done.”
“We’ve got to tell them, right?” I asked.
“Up to you, boss lady.”
I was about to reply when the ground jolted under me and Apple Bloom raised her head to peer out the porthole. I followed her gaze and realized we were at street level.
“Come on. Let’s go get’em hitched up. If convincin’ a pair of dragons to give up bodily autonomy in a firefight is the toughest thing ya do today, yer probably doin’ well.”
“Mmm...I’ve got an idea in that direction.”
----
“So, you’re saying if my brother and I do this, then Lord Stellatrix will give us a job? I’ve heard stories about him! He’s supposed to be huge and clever! I bet he wants some guards! What did you say he does for the ponies, again?”
“He screws them and they pay him for the privilege.”
“Where do we sign up?!”