Fallout: Equestria - Murky Number Seven

by FuzzyVeeVee

A Long Way From Equestria

    “So where do you go from there, when it might feel like you’ve just reset to where you were?”

     It's...like being caught between worlds, feeling like you can almost reach the other one, but just unable to escape the routine.  Before I realised I had a life of my own, every day was just the same monotony. To simply wake up, sigh, and go about your business.  Never thinking, complaining, or questioning. But with open eyes, it becomes harder. You see what slavery is doing to your life.  How it had damaged mine.

The biggest threat, I had discovered, was losing momentum. The moment you started to feel like you weren’t going anywhere, that was when you would falter. That was when desires started to feel impossible.

    I'd almost lost desire once already, up on the precipice of the control tower.

Of all ponies, Protégé understood this most.  He saw that I needed to taste freedom to truly understand what I wanted and where I belonged in life. He hadn’t meant it how I’d read into it at first. It wasn’t about knowing it because I’d fail without it, it was about knowing it to give me the drive to actually go the distance when things go wrong.

It was a valuable lesson, one that I had to take to heart now that I was back in the Mall.

It was confusing, looking at him. I didn’t feel threatened by him.  Every time I told him he didn’t know where I'm coming from, he did. Every time I cried, he knew why.  Every single facet of my life he just somehow understood.

    And that's why I think I forgave him for stopping me. Because I had a feeling something was amiss with him, something I didn’t understand yet.

That, and him being one of the few ponies in the whole of Fillydelphia that didn't just comfort me or tell me things could be better. He actually took steps to try and make things better.  Whether I agreed with his 'way' or not, he tried to make the lives of those around him better in some way.

What’s it like to near enough hard reset on your progress?  It's awful, being stuck between two worlds, being on the brink between slavery and freedom. It was enough to make me feel like I hadn’t advanced anywhere. That was the lesson I needed to learn, that those experiences make you stronger.

The problem is it's so hard to notice about ourselves. To go back to feeling we’re useless.

    But even before I got a chance to feel lost once more, he was already trying to light my way...

I was galloping, corridor to corridor, scampering around corners, terror gripping my every muscle so hard that my very skin crawled with stings and aches.  He was out here somewhere. Oh Goddesses, why didn't I just stay with Protégé? He was hunting me, stalking me, and...and I couldn't hear him!

Rounding a corner, I glanced ahead. Wasn't this the way back to the cage? No, this was the Mall! I could run out the back door and get away!  But before I could even move, that cackling voice drifted through the thick air and darkness...

    “Murky is my bestest slave...woohoo...whoopee...”

    Shrieking, I kept galloping. He was following me, following from nowhere and never leaving.  The sound of the chains being pulled across the ground followed my every move. I screamed for Glimmerlight, for Protégé, for anyone.  As I ran, I tripped and fell again and again. My hooves just wouldn't stay under me, like they were being weighted down and trapped, unable to move.  Please...please!

    “He's the smallest, sickest, all around weakest pony...pony...”

I couldn't stand.  My legs just stopped working.  The gunshot on my chest sucked and bled. The knife wound on my shoulder was cold and numb.  Tears ran down my face. Why couldn't I stand? I had to go, he was coming, he was coming for me!  Why couldn't I gallop anymore?  Desperately, I crawled, pulling my heavy body along behind me on tired limbs, my eyes unable to focus, turning the dark corridor of the Mall into a misty and indistinct environment.  Again, that voice, his voice, drifted through, closer.  I could hear his hot breath and heaving mass as he closed in on me.  Almost laughing, playfully muttering the haunting tune.

    “I bet if I chain him all nice and tough into slavery...slavery...”

    Screaming, pulling, I felt his hooves wrap around me and drag me back before the thick collar snapped into place around my neck.  I shrieked, feeling my own mind pull me into his sway.

    “He'll give the whole rest of his life to ME!”

    Flipped around, thrashing as the length of chain yanked my neck and head up, my eyes were forced open to see that leering face.  I could smell the sickly breath oozing through rotted teeth, and see light green eyes gleaming; pits of despair showing the true depths of sheer sadism and control within him...and that welted scar sealing the deal.

Even as he laughed, lifting a white hot branding iron in the shape of an eternal chain, I kept screaming and pulling from his grip.  Even if I got away, that chain kept pulling me back. Pulling me closer and closer to the huge figure of The Master and that burning iron that stabbed downward onto my cutie mark.  My mouth opened and howled as—

-I fell and landed in a crying heap.  Curled up, bawling and shivering, I kept pulling my hind legs in, expecting to feel the searing pain of the iron.  Hooves were trying to hold me down. Fighting from under the blanket, I weakly kicked out and tried to scramble away until finally I heard her voice.

    “Murky!  Murky, it's okay!  It's me...it's me...”

The blanket was pulled from my head, and azure eyes sparkled in the darkness before me.  Behind me lay the shop cell’s sofa, where we had been sleeping. Breathing hard, my face was so wet with tears that it had dampened the woollen blanket. Slowly,I felt my heart rate drop as Glimmerlight hugged me and stroked my back.

    “I...I...”
   
    “It's alright...you're not the only slave who gets nightmares, I'll bet.”

Clinging tightly to her, I tried to reassure myself. Just a bad dream.  But as I looked around the dark, misty interior and heard the eternal industry outside, I found little comfort in the reality that was Fillydelphia.  The Master had been strangely absent since I had returned. Somehow, him not being where I could see him only made things worse, it allowed my fears and memories of him to become bigger...more intense and mythical.  Every time I looked in a mirror or felt my own forehead, it brought more hurt and than any taunt or crack of a whip could ever do.

    Somehow, l had a horrible feeling he knew that his disappearance was having that precise effect and was doing it for just that reason.

Sighing and sitting back from me, Glimmerlight glanced across to the doorway and saw the Mall was still fairly dark.  Likely, it was still night time, or a cloud of smog was just passing over. The past few days had become nothing but a whirlwind of activity, to the point that I didn't even know anymore.  All we knew was what Protégé told us, that we had a few hours to bunker down and rest before work started again. Glimmerlight and I had curled up on opposite ends of the sofa, with her insisting that I have the one blanket.  Still sitting on the floor, I glanced from side to side, watching the darker corners of the room through teary eyes. It seemed all too familiar from my dream...like somepony was watching from the shadows.

    Of course, knowing certain ponies in here, there may well have been.   

    Glimmerlight wrapped the blanket up, tucking it into the arm of the soda. “Don't worry about it. Its over now, okay?”

    Still sniffling, I felt my breathing return to normal, and nodded shakily.

    “I...I know...”

    “Want to talk about it?  I'm all ears to any dreams. Raunchy ones with Pip or not.”

Despite myself, I couldn't help but snort with laughter and blush while wiping my eyes.  But I still shook my head.

“I don't really want to think about it. Sorry, you can go back to sleep.  I'll...I'll just...sit around and draw or something. I don't really want to sleep anymore.”

    “Murky, you're tired.  Come on, I'll sleep beside you, so you know your big sis' won't be far away, alright?”

I smiled warmly as she reminded me of our 'bond' of sorts. I was tempted, but even a vague glance into the darkness of the stockroom felt too close for comfort.  I could feel my body jittering with nerves and fear. No way could I relax into another sleep. I needed to think and clear my head a little.

“Don’t think I can sleep any more.”

Watching me carefully through her clearly tired eyes, Glimmerlight pulled my saddlebag over with her magic, opened it, and placed my journal before me.  Apparently, Protégé had dropped off my things, much to my delight...and further confusion as to his intentions.

“Well...alright, Murky.  Hey, listen, why don't you go up to the roof?  The back door Brim and you got open should have a fire escape nearby.  Get a little fresh air, or as best as Filly ever has, and try to calm down a little, alright?  I'll be just down here if you need me. Don't think twice about waking me up, alright?”
   
Picking up my journal with my mouth, I adjusted my reacquired fleece, after having messed it up in my post-nightmare thrashing, and nodded to her.  With a muffled thanks and a promise to see her in a little bit, I trotted off sullenly to make the long climb upwards.

Pulling the door shut behind me, I couldn't help but see her still lying awake and glancing across at me, looking rather concerned.  Waving gently, I heaved the door shut and moved off toward the rickety old fire escape.

    “Hey there, wastelanders!  How you all doing on this cold wasteland night?  The answer should be 'We're doing great, DJ! Because you're still on the air!' Hahaaa!  Far be it from me to be egotistical to all of ya, but it sure will be what you're saying with our late night line up!”
   
    Carefully, almost lovingly, I put charcoal to parchment and drew a line.

The singular motion seemed to finally allow my heart to settle and my frayed nerves to gradually ease.  Despite the wonders of having a friend and the relief that my success in the pits had brought me, that one moments between just me and my artwork were never going to lose their calming impact.

I sat atop the roof of the Mall, alone, simply drawing and listening to the DJ's show.  Nestled in a hidey hole between a few vents and metal...boxy...things, I was hidden from pretty much every angle while still being able to pop my head up for a look if I wanted.  The air was thick and warm with that ever-present iron tinge to it. If anything, it was just irritating my throat and burning my eyes, but the lazy wind on my sweaty and shivering coat and mane was at least some comfort after the claustrophobic and dominating nightmare.  My eyes were still heavy with sleep, but the idea simply seemed too terrifying. No, better to stay awake up here and let others dream. I wouldn't be alone, for I had my oldest companion to spend the night with. The DJ.

    “First up, we've got a great little newsflash for you all.  Turns out, the recent troubles over at Sweet Apple Acres have mostly calmed down.  That mysterious Stable up there seems to have been saved from the Steel Rangers by...yup, you guessed it, the Stable Dweller!”

    Ee!  I had to stop drawing for a second to hug myself and remember that she was still a force for good.  Red Eye and Protégé claiming or hinting that she had left me behind and wasn't all that heroic was not going to last long in my mind.  To even hear one tale of her exploits was enough to refresh my mind, and immediately my charcoal raced to yet again illustrate that brave mare.

     A flutter in the air made my skin crawl.  Dropping the charcoal, I ducked under the vent and watched the shadow of the passing griffon team flash past along the rooftop.  They would have needed to be directly above and looking directly down, anyway. But there was no sense in advertising. That and random little flutters still made me nervous and started my stomach aching.  That moment short of the wall still stung.

Raising my head to be sure they were away, I got a good look at the surrounding area from the roof's height.  It provided a commanding view of Fillydelphia, just high enough to see across the city, but too low to see over the huge wall.  When I had been climbing up the creaky fire escape, I had tried to distract myself by imagining Fillydelphia as it once was before all this.  But the effort was just too great in the light of being dragged back here. The chains had tightened all the more, locking and pulling me in. Now I could not see it for anything but the horror it was.  Processions of slaves marched under guard away from the colossal crater. Others could be seen hefting the heavy auto axes in earth pits while guards trotted back and forth on suspended platforms. All were just tiny figures from up here.  Through a set of tall, smoke-belching chimneys, I could spot the rickety roller coaster of the FunFarm above the petting zoo and helter skelter. The sight was unsettlingly nostalgic, even for less than a week since I had left its scarce, harsh life.

Now, however, things felt hardly different.  We had failed in our escape, losing our most reliable friend in the process.  Now, we were simply back in the machine. Unable to take on any more salvage missions due to their losses in the Stable, Protégé's stock was waiting to rebuild its numerical strength.  Until then, we were all being relegated back to standard work shifts in the factories. So much was different, but nothing really changed for the slaves in Fillydelphia.

    “Now I'll bet many of you are saying 'Hey, wait, you told us that earlier!' Well of course I did, but now we've got the happier ending to the story.  The survivors are comin' out! Pave way, my little ponies, there's soon to be a new settlement in the wastes near Shattered Hoof! Get your trades all ready, folks, cause things are taking a turn for the better today.  As for all you less than stellar raiding bastards listening in to try and spot a weak target? Forget it! You had enough trouble with one Stable Dweller, well here's a bunch of 'em! That, and they are under the protection of the Talons, so I hear, so don't even think about it.  Now, just to mark this occasion, why not a little bit of music created by a pony from that very Stable? Yes folks, we all gotta have our rock and roll. Take it away, Velvet!”

Glancing and smiling at my PipBuck, the catchy, fast beat kicked up (my rear hoof tapping away without even intending it to), it occurred to me that Protégé would know I was outside with his tracking to my PipBuck, but I frankly didn't care.  The link to the voice of truth and hope was too much to give up. No, what I needed wasn't worrying, it was time to think. Which meant time to draw.

Charcoal slid, stopped, and changed direction.  It hesitated and then struck out boldly, waving to and fro before arcing around.  I never checked drawings midway through, it just felt...natural to let my imagination work and flow until it was done.  Eventually, pulling back, I saw my creation.

A rearing earth pony mare.  Sunny. Below her, the rough-coated form of Cayenne bounded around her master.  The wide-brimmed hat atop Sunny's head flew back as she shouted something unknown to me.  Fighting back guilt, I allowed my eyes to drift upwards from the drawing to see the vista of Fillydelphia once again.

    I felt so very sorry for bringing this upon her.

Part of me wanted to make her my next, well...mission?  But I was just one little pony, hurt, weak, and unable to make a difference inside the city of slaves.  Wherever she was, Sunny was out of my reach. The thought of what she was no doubt going through was likely going to haunt me for some time.

    Shivering, I had to resist my mind telling me that the real reason I couldn't help her was because she was his and that even trying to help her was to go against his will.  My dream had been proof enough of that, his shackles were still firmly entrenched in my...soul?  I had run from him outside the walls, but that was different. Trying to rescue Sunny would be going up against him. Not just running away from him.

Sniffling, I turned the page.  A new blank canvas of the yellowed parchment sat waiting.  These last few days, I had been forced to confront my own worst fears of the times long gone.  I had been working in a Ministry, moving through long-abandoned houses, and even lost in the depths of a dead Stable.  Memories long gone terrified and upset me in a way I couldn't describe, particularly those related to the 'last day.' But Glimmerlight had shown me something else: how to look for the memories that could do things other than simply hurt.  Without even realising it, I had done it in the Ministry of Image by listening to that audio recorder.

    I had been learning a little, instead of burying it all under a mountain of sadness and loss.

    Without really knowing it, I felt my head descend to start drawing again.

Aurora Star.  That name had turned up a couple of times, hadn't it?  The leader of this city's Arcane Magic Hub who had visited Rarity and Fluttershy to hand over some sort of special memory orb.  Then there were the scientists in the Stable. They had worked under her, bringing some of that memory research in with them.

Below me, small sketches formed, little wisps of creativity to show my mind's version of Rarity, Fluttershy, and the Overmare.  All had known Aurora Star to some extent. It was nothing drastic. She had been a leader in Fillydelphia, so it only made sense they would know of her.  Between some sketches, I drew light lines. From Fluttershy to Rarity, two friends, the Ministry Mares. From both of them to a new sketch, Doctor Flowerpot, the pony Rarity had mentioned that I now knew Weathervane had also worked with.  I added him, then drew a line from the old ghoul to Flowerpot. Lastly, I added an older mare with a star on her flank, my version of what Aurora looked like, given I had no idea what 'Aurora' even meant...

    To her, I drew lines from the Overmare, Fluttershy, and Rarity.

Weathervane had been involved in spell storage, right?  His name had turned up from the Stable details that Glimmer had found.  Leaning down, I drew a line from him to Aurora Star.

Others might organise their thoughts by writing it all out, but to me, this was worth so much more. In front of me lay my understanding of what little I’d learned about this city long ago. It was meaningless, a few bits of dead research that someday might prove useful to somepony else.  Incredibly basic, perhaps, but it was the train of thought that it permitted. Each dot was a separate piece of the past unto itself, with the connections being the 'links' between them all. Like a...a...what had my old master called them? Star shapes? Consta...con...

    Shaking my head, I looked back down again.  They were linked.  Frozen moments of Old Equestria, joined by connections that created an overall picture.  It was like drawing the very fabric of the past itself, rebuilding the shape and form that was their lives.

What would it be like to find more?  To complete the puzzle and find out...well, everything.  What had happened, why had the world had ended this way, and who was responsible?  Perhaps there were hidden secrets only permitted to those who found enough of it; who might complete this tapestry of memories.  What might such a pony who delved into the past enough discover out there in the wastes?

Sighing and sitting back, I could only look at my half finished collection of sketches, occasionally joined by some lines.  Strangely, seeing the past like this, in my own drawn style...it made it easier to contemplate. It got it out of my mind and down on paper, like any emotions I had expelled into art to escape the pain or sadness.

    Beep!

That...and there was this, too.  The music was interrupted as the beeping started.  In truth, I had expected it by climbing up here, almost hoping for another message from Sundial to help me relax.  But after drawing out what I had, I looked on it as another opportunity to see the past with new eyes. Or ears...

    Beep!

    Click.

    “Uh...hi there.”

    “Hi...”

    “Well, uh...I'm not sure what to say here.  But, well, I need to get this out somewhere.  Oh Celestia, what is going on in my world...”

    A shot of cold fear passed through me. Sundial's voice was breathless and scared.  Like he'd just galloped for a long distance.

    “Look, I...I may have to do something bad, to do something good.  This world is coming crashing down, there's been reports of crazy huge spell testing going on, and the shifts just keep going up.  This entire thing is escalating again. My father's been recalled out to Hoofington to help cope with all the casualties there. Already, these Stables aren't seeming quite so stupid.  I need to get the money to afford a ticket for Skydancer! But I...I may have found a way...”

    My drawing forgotten, I now held the PipBuck in my hooves, feeling myself sweating as I just stared at it.  Sundial's life, to me, was a perfect image of a buck earning real pay in a job he wanted with a lovely special somepony by his side.  What had happened?

    “When I came off shift today, I was just crying, I couldn't stop.  I've worked the maximum seventy hours this week and I'm still not earning enough!  I'm just...sorry, that drill I mentioned? We had another one yesterday, but they don't tell us it's a drill till they lock the door shut!  Every time my nerves fray, and I feel so guilty. It's tearing me apart having to abandon her...again and again. Each time it could be the real thing.  But, even when I sat in the alleyway behind the factory, this...this figure approached me. He just appeared from nowhere! I never saw his face, all cloaked up, but the accent was pretty exotic.  I'm not an idiot, it was a zebra. He dropped this huge bag of bits at my hooves and said that...that I could have it if I brought him some plans of what it was we were working on. Celestia help me, I'm tempted. I just want to protect the one I love!  I've got no one to turn to about this, the Ministry of Morale is everywhere.  Every sprite-bot I see I'm afraid is watching me now, like they're just waiting to spring if I dare do anything.”

    Even today, in Sundial's far-flung, unfortunate future, I could relate to that feeling.  When Pinkie Pie had set out to watch everypony forever, she had meant it.

    It was silly, really, me worrying for what would happen here.  Sundial had been dead for hundreds of years, I'd seen his skeleton.  Had he given his ticket to Skydancer in the end?  Was that even allowed? Or had he just been unable to get there in time?  It only now began to occur to me that, given enough time, this PipBuck would likely lead me to his death on the day the balefire was set loose upon Equestria.

Yet something compelled me to keep listening, recording after recording.  Sundial's messages were meant to be heard. He wouldn't have programmed them to play elsewise.  He had made an effort to ensure the truth of the average pony's life was known to those of us in the wasteland.

    “I just wish I knew what to do. I even considered going to the guards about it, hoping for a reward, but there's no proof and the city's coffers are running dry on building up all this industry these days.  No, I have to decide myself. They must have been watching me, knew I was one they could exploit.”

    Sundial's voice was cracking, tinged with frustration, anger, guilt, and fear.

    “I hate this...I just hate all this!  I shouldn't have to make these decisions!  Why me?”
   
Feeling tears drip from my own eyes for him, I could only relate in that I had asked that question of myself a thousand times in the last few days since the Pit.  The most I could truly do was curl up around the PipBuck in my hidey hole and try to pretend it would somehow make a two-hundred-year dead pony feel better.

    “I can't lose her...she's all I have these days.”

    Nodding, I agreed, not just for him.

    “Is it really worth it?  To work with evil to find freedom from pain?”

    I don't know, Sundial.

    “...I should go, don't want anypony else hearing this, so...well, bye for now.”

    “Bye...”

The PipBuck clicked and hummed for a second before fizzing through its half ruined speaker and slipping back into music from the DJ's station.  Seething frustration began to build. Why did that war have to hurt him so? Sundial was a nice pony, choosing the lovely and happy ways, not wearing any cynicism or warlike attitude.  Why did it have to drag him in, too? Oh please, Sundial, come through this okay...

    But I knew the ending already. A skeleton abandoned in a refuse pit, alone and forgotten until I had found him.

    That...that did it.

The old feelings were dredged up, as I felt myself curl up ever tighter and clutch the PipBuck to my chest.  The past could hold good, but the all too familiar haunting feelings were returning from the sense of what was lost.

    “Well, I'm gonna be signing off in a bit, wasteland.  Even your good ol' DJ needs his shut-eye now and again.  But for those of you like me, up late at night and worrying for others out there in the dark...here's a little something to match the quiet night air.  Something to help calm those nerves. Goodnight, wasteland.”

Sweetie Belle's soothing sweet voice seemed to whisper in my ears, gentle and caressing.  A lullaby for all time to settle upset ponies and clear their minds. Still sobbing, I picked up my charcoal stick and cast the lattice of the past away to a new page.  I could draw the past, I had learned. Time to make worth of it. The touch of my stick on the parchment stopped my trembling enough as I put all the heart I could into this one drawing.

    I didn't know what he looked like, but it didn't matter.

    “Hush now, quiet now, it's time to lay your sleepy head...”

Lines becoming curves, seeking to return a pony's memories to life.  Just as the DJ and Sweetie Belle had helped stop me being lost to the horrid past, I would do the same for him.

    “Hush now, quiet now, it's time to go to bed...”

Curves became shapes, restoring his presence in the physical sight of those he sought to deliver his tale to.  He would be seen once more, if only to my eyes. A fate better than forgotten bones for the buck who had helped me from so long ago.

    “Drifting, off to sleep, leave your exciting life behind you...”

Shapes became life, gentle twists of the charcoal and jerks of my head adding in everything I could.  The shape and flow of his mane. The thick, bulky PipBuck that was now mine on his right hoof. But not alone, I had drawn the shape of another with him, my mind's eye of Skydancer, radiant and bright to be with him forever, if only in my artwork. She had a curvy mane, streaked with colour. Lying curled up together, her wing over his back and her head nestled into his shoulder.

    “Drifting, off to sleep, let the joy of another land find you...”

Fighting my own tired eyes, I added the last details before finally dropping the charcoal stick and fighting a squeaky little yawn.  There. Now they could be together no matter what happened in their lives. The same way they were together in the embrace of the Goddesses now, at peace after the horrors they had endured.

Glancing upwards at the cloud ceiling over Fillydelphia, my eyes blinked open only once as a small break in the thick red clouds drifted over; tiny and quickly fading.

But through it I saw a star shape. Little dotted memories, drifting far from home in another world, a long way from the Equestria they knew.

Even as the hole closed up quickly, I simply lay on my back and watched it, feeling my eyes slowly begin to close again.  This time, my dreams were filled with nothing but the sweet thoughts of what it might be like, to have somepony I might care about in the same way they had care for each other until the bitter end.

    “Roll-call!  Everypony get your skinny slave flanks out here. On the double!”

I was already halfway down the fire escape by the time the shout came. Bellows to wake up had gone out a few minutes ago.  Given just enough time to gather my things, I raced to join the muster. Being late for roll-call was, and always had been, a quick ticket to a hoof across the face or a whip across the back.

Waking up had not been pleasant.  For once, I had slept soundly, but the ashy air and sickly tasting fumes had gathered throughout the night to lead me into a coughing fit upon waking.  Foul black muck tinged with dark red had splattered on the ground, ejected from my throat. It had felt like it had been filled with glass shards. That probably wasn't a good sign. Hopefully Weathervane was still around.

Glimmerlight was already pulling her crimson initiate robes on, staggering with heavy eyes toward the stockroom door.  She turned back for just a second as I strained to close the heavy rear door.

    “Come on!”

“I'm coming!  Sorry, sorry...” I looked up, seeing her robes.  “Glimmer, why are you putting them on if you're getting the bandages changed this morning?”

    She rolled her eyes.  “So that nurse buck gets to watch me take them off, duh!”

With a giggle, she cantered on out.  Dropping my saddlebag inside the stockroom, I hurried out after her to find everypony had gathered on the bottom floor of the plaza.  Across the centre, around the fountain, lay the dozens of mattresses, or rolls of filthy blankets where the wounded still lay in pain.  A few remaining doctors from Hearts and Hooves Hospital were wandering around, slowly checking bandages and ignoring the moans from those left without any painkillers.  Most had shrapnel wounds, often multiple on one pony, from the Rangers' large and indiscriminate weapons. Others bore burns, or were hacking from smoke inhalation in the fires that no doubt had gutted the inside of the Stable.  A few nurses also remained, including the blonde buck Glimmerlight seemed rather intent on meeting. She immediately cantered toward him, grinning over her shoulder at me. Most slaves made way for her. I could only imagine why.

Making a beeline to stay behind her, I found myself having to hop, skip and jump over a few 'misplaced' hooves thrown in my way to try and trip me; both raiders and normal slaves taking what chances they could to garner some mild amusement at my expense.  One harshly flung leg from a mangy raider mare caught my injured right hoof, making me yelp and limp away. A series of snorts and high-pitched laughter chorused through their ranks, often mimicking my voice. I dearly wanted to buck backwards and catch them between their legs, but seeing all their 'friends' clustered around, I just put my head down and limped over to catch up with Glimmerlight.

Most of the recovering slaves I weaved around had dirty bandages, but few seemed to have gotten full medical attention.  Weathervane's magic had only had so much stamina for the dozens upon dozens of casualties. Already, I could see many of the mattresses were covered in blankets where once had been a still living pony before.  The night had not been kind.  

Having seen me being tripped, Glimmerlight brought me round to stand on the opposite side of her, away from the others.

    “Don't worry about it, just stick near me, Murky.  We'll find a way to make it through without Brimstone...”

Immediately, despite nodding my head, the thought that we no longer had his protection was beginning to set in.  What would happen the moment the raiders got in a mood to come for revenge? The guards around the healers were providing security right now.  But once they left...

    “Leader's here!  Stand still, you wrecks!”

The shout came from above, one of the leather-clad slavers making use of the balcony platform above the door to announce.  Below him, the newly repaired cage door squeaked open, revealing the large form of Ragini leading the way. I breathed a sigh of relief. Protégé was taking this roll-call.  

My master himself strode in behind his ever-loyal griffon guard with a scroll and quill held within his telekinesis, followed by a small team of slavers carrying the day's oatmeal.

Apparently, not even Protégé's intent to do his best for the slaves under his command could locate better food than the ubiquitous slime in a bowl.

The actual roll-call was somewhat underwhelming.  No called names and no shouting your 'number.' Protégé simply looked around us and ticked something on his scroll, sometimes checking with an attendant slaver for confirmations on fatalities during the night.  Somehow, given Red Eye's insistence to remember slaves’ names, I figured it only made sense that his student was attempting to do the same for his own stock. Eventually, returning to near the door, he spoke, raising his voice just enough to be heard.

    “Today's work schedule, listen closely!  We've been pulled from scavenge duty.”

There was an uproar of indignation from the raiders.  It occurred to me that they were in the majority of survivors. Wasteland weathered and tough, they had shrugged off many of the injuries I had seen claim normal slaves' lives.  Protégé raised his hoof, awaiting a moment of calm.

“We don't have the numbers left, so until new volunteers are in, we're back on standard work fares, as previously mentioned.  Half of you will report in one hour to the scrapheaps outside Slit's factory for auto axe reclamation duty. I offer the choice that for those of you unable to use an auto axe, you may also move to the fuel refinery, two blocks over.  The following ponies are to report to me for specific work allotment in my office within the next half hour.”

Already, I was half-expecting my own name to be on that list somewhere.  My real objective was simply to avoid wherever Barb and his lot ended up, and if possible, be in the same place as Glimmerlight.  I cast a glance over to her, but she wasn't looking back. No, what was she looking at...

I followed her eyes and found it led rather unerringly to the nurses' flanks.  Well, she wasn't wasting time getting into her promise made inside the Stable. Blushing, I looked away before anypony accused me of looking at him too.

    “Thunder Racer!  Kriss! Barb! Lemon Mint!”

As each name was called, I saw the individual ponies perk up.  Barb and Kriss shared a glance and a strangely knowing grin.

“Rocksplitter!  Murky Number Seven!  Wool Stitch!”

Well, there it was. I saw Barb and his student leer at me, and immediately quivered, feeling a cold sweat.  Oh no...Protégé, what are you doing?

Glimmerlight's eyes shot right back to me, a cold fear clearly visible on her face. I felt her wrap one hoof around my neck.

“That's it.  You've all got half an hour to get some food in you and have Doctor Weathervane check you if you're still injured, he'll be here in ten minutes.  I expect you all to work your best on these tasks; they are all important for the restoration of Fillydelphia and Equestria as a whole. For achieving our Master's dream of Unity.  That is all.”

    The surrounding slave base murmured in displeasure.  I could see why. Most of them had joined the salvage missions in a bid for freedom or less mundane work.  But now they were being cast right back into it. 'Unfair' would have been the word, had slaves any rights at all.

Protégé ignored the protests, turning on his rear hooves to march out again.  He hadn't even glanced at me, something I was a little glad for. Slaves that received special treatment from their masters became nothing but targets for night assaults to 'bring them down a notch'. But as he reached the cage door, I saw another figure push past him, a doctor.  A foul, rotten reek drifted in his wake, as the tall, half bearded, ghoul stomped his way back into the slave pen. Apparently, Protégé’s estimate of ten minutes was to be cut down severely. Feeling my lungs sear on each breath, I dearly hoped those packed saddlebags of his contained RadAway.

    A slaver cried out.

“Right, you lot!  Chows in, get it now or lose it!  Half an hour! Move it!”

Amidst the stampede of hungry slaves, I just stood still.  Long ago I might have run as well, but arriving at the front of the queue only meant more ponies to hit me on my eventual beating to the back.  By the time I had arrived at the rickety table used to hold the huge pot, my bowl received only a small drizzle of mostly leftover cold water. Slimy wads of thin oatmeal floated in the milky liquid.  Sighing, I took the bowl in my mouth and left without complaint. Slaves were gulping what they could down, most of them long adjusted to the tasteless and thick gruel of a meal, day in and day out. Surrounded by his students, Barb lurked in a shadowy corner, mostly blending with the darkness around him.  Trotting by, I received another knowing gaze from the raider's leader, following me with an eye while taking wads of his followers' own meals for himself.

    “Oi!  You! Pegasus!”

Almost spilling my bowl as the harsh shout seared through my sensitive ears, the slaver shoved me to make his presence known.

    “You been seen by the doc?”

    “N-no...”

“Get on that mattress then.  Fuck knows why he wants to waste time with you, gonna be dead in a couple days anyway.”

Whimpering at being reminded of that, I morosely took direction and dragged my bowl to the mattress near the fountain.  Apparently, I was not fast enough, as the slave guard pushed me toward the mattresses, knocking me onto one of them. Obediently, my rump thudded down behind me on it to wait for a doctor. Sipping the rancid meal while waiting, I tried to distract myself from the taste by glancing around, searching for my 'together by life' sister.

Glimmerlight was nearer the shop cell we inhabited on another mattress, the blonde buck nurse already sitting beside her and checking the bandage around her forehead.  Despite too much ambient noise to hear specific words, I could see she was happily chatting away to him. At least there was enough security around right now that I didn't mind being separate from her for a few moments...that, and I figured she was a little busy talking anyway.  No need for a socially awkward little buck to get in her way.

Across the hallway, I saw a nurse alongside Bloodbank trying to hold down a thrashing slave after informing her that she was going to lose a leg below the knee.  The mare had been crying in pain all night, languishing as infection had eaten away, with no potions or drugs strong enough to stifle it available for a mere slave, with or without Protégé's authorisation.  Beside them, two healers were having an argument.

    “Shady Sands is dead to us now, look, we can wake him up, sure—”

    “So why not?  We're healers!”

    The older of the two, rubbed his forehead.

“For what reason?  This is just going to cause him to be too slow and sick until some slaver kills him for failing!  It's more a mercy to let him pass now in peace under the boss' anaesthetic spell.”

    I could already hear the younger of the two healers being defeated in his voice.

“You're going to just watch a pony die.  I can't believe this...”

    “It's less painful for him in the long run, Tulip.”

Tuning them out, my eyes fell upon this 'Shady Sands.' He looked fine, but I of all ponies knew that the deadliest things lurked beneath the surface.  I clutched my sore chest, almost in relation to the quiet form of Shady. Had he just taken in too much smoke?

Perhaps the worst realisation was that this wasn't the first time I'd heard this same argument.  Ponies in pens all across Fillydelphia had argued the point about their comrades dying in their sleep from the poisoned air and radiation within their bodies.  Many had debated with themselves. Was one quick impact from a great height better than a lifetime of this? All these slaves with healing knowledge could do was try their best, but I could see that same question arising occasionally. Whether to save them would only lead to worse.

And I could see how much such a revolting question hurt those who felt their duty was to hurt. I had no end to respect for that breed of pony for choosing such a hard path.

But for all their efforts, it was nonetheless a rather grim sight on either side of me.  Occasionally, I would see a slave laying there, too still to be alive. A mare in a jumpsuit, her clothing bearing a hastily stitched butterfly peace symbol, morosely draped a cloth over one such poor soul.  Even those still awake were not through their horror yet; lack of medical supplies, particularly the valued healing potions, was giving rise to sharp screams, as invasive telekinesis attempted to pull shrapnel out or clamp wounds shut.  Feeling my right hoof throb, part of me began to worry what I might have to go through when they examined it.

I wanted to run and hide in the back room, but the watchful eyes of a guard kept my rump firmly attached to the ground.

    “What in the grand fucking hell are you doing to that stallion!?  Get out my bloody way, you incompetent bumblefuck!”

The rasping tone soared above the others, attracting eyes and ears as Doctor Weathervane strode toward a mattress and almost threw a young nurse out of the way.  Landing on his rump, the buck let his primitive medical tools fall from his magic and watched as the ghoul began work on the burn victim that lay screaming below them.

    “I...I was trying to put the healing bandages—”

    “Shit...I'm two hundred and seventy damned years old and you're saying you somehow have worse eyesight than me?  Don't you see that there?  The clothing has stuck to his skin and you're trying to bandage it down?  Celestia save me from the shit-sundae you were trying to create with that.  Ever hear of infection? Get out of my sight you absolute fucking moron!”

    “I...but—”

His protests fell on deaf ears.  In a flare of magic, Weathervane began his work on the burn victim, putting him to sleep with a spell and stripping the clothing from the torso.  The wet sound of tearing fabric mixed with the sight of patched and blackened material being slid off looked like a second skin being drawn from the stallion to my eyes.  The sickening smell of burnt flesh, known all too well to anypony in Fillydelphia, reeked through my nostrils and seemed to burn my throat.

Whether or not it was my imagination, the gag reflex led me to spasm and splutter out a thick cough.  My sickness had only been staved off by two half-shots of RadAway but I could already feel it returning.  Lying on my side upon the mattress only made me wince further as a popped spring prodded my left wing. I rolled to the right instead, where my hoof still ached as well.  Sighing, I let my head sink. Everything was sore somehow.  Perhaps if I—

“Yah!”

Squeaking in shock, I found my entire body moving of its own right to sit up properly.  A magic field surrounded me as I saw the ghoulish figure of Weathervane stomp on over.

“Just what I need.  I so much as magically touch you and you whine.  Sweet fucking Celestia, I'm going to have a damned migraine by the end of this, aren't I?  Now sit still, you're still healing and I can't say I'm over the fucking moon that you won't get proper bedrest.”

    His horn waved over me, before he immediately scowled, dropping his telekinetic field.

“If I had a bit for every stupid pony that doesn't follow prescription I'd be richer than Red Eye by now.  What the buggering hell do you think you're doing, Murk? I told you, one RadAway every single day! Your lungs are too susceptible to radiation; they'll be lighting up again by the end of today after that little stint in the pits I hear you got.  What happened to the five sachets I gave you?”

    The harsh tone bit deep, I felt myself wanting to shrink back and cry at the mere thought.

    “I'm sorry...they got stolen. I only got enough to stop it a few hours a-ago...”

Weathervane simply groaned and facehoofed.  “Well, I don't have any more with me. We're not here to treat radiation.  As for the rest, you're healing, slowly. I can treat the parasprite bites now that they've closed with magic, but you are weak, Murk. Your gunshot and stab wounds are both closed over, but the areas are very sensitive.  Any other trauma in those areas and you could be looking at permanent problems.”

As he worked his healing spell, I glanced over behind the ghoul, spotting Glimmerlight pulling herself out of her robes in front of the nurse for a bandage change.  It took some degree of effort to not blush and giggle at once as I saw that she was rather deliberately angling herself while bending down to slip it off her, standing side on to him to pose like some magazine cover mare.  Sometimes I really could not believe that attitude of hers, even after only a few days of knowing her. The nurse was rather openly blushing and fighting to stop the grin on his face. He laughed politely, but I saw her tail ‘accidentally’ stroke the underside of his chin. Oh great Goddesses’ grace, she was good at this...

    Pulling my eyes away, I stared at my left hoof to check on the progress of the bites.

Weathervane's magic was indeed closing the small parasprite wounds that had stung incessantly since the Ministry of Image Hub.  During the night, I had sometimes tossed and turned while trying to sleep on the sofa, feeling like they were eating me again.

Under his magical care, I was beginning to feel the lack of sleep as a warm and fuzzy tingling passed from area to area like a soft massage.  But his forward speaking manner was landing hard. Pressing my front hooves to my chest, I just wished I could...could...well, do whatever it would take to cure my tainted lungs.

    I didn't want to go away...not like this, in a slave pit.

    Weathervane ceased his work for a second, glancing down at me.  His voice was harsh, but professional.

    “More tears?  What's it now, kid?”

Spluttering on my own ragged breaths, I looked up at him, the rest of me shrinking back onto the mattress.  My voice felt unbearably weak.

    “D-doctor...am I going to die?”

His beady eyes focussed briefly on me before returning to his work.  Through the harsh, rasping tone that emerged from his ruined throat, I could have sworn there was the sound of a very tired pony.

“Two hundred and seventy years, Murk. Night shifts, performances going wrong, industrial accidents, a great war, the balefire...now the wasteland.  I've heard those words more times than I can remember. Shit...it's not easy to keep hearing them. You'd think I'd get used to it. But no, something in me just keeps. Fucking. Caring. She may have helped ruin my world with her place in creating the Ministries, but Fluttershy had ideals.  We all swore to them. To bring peace, harmony and comfort to all ponies. I quote, 'No matter how bad this becomes.' Well, this is still Equestria, and we're still caring. Just sometimes I feel like I'm the only fucking one left...”

Blinking, I sat still and attentive.  His eyes had left me, staring into space or around him at, I guessed, Fillydelphia in general rather than just this scene of pain and suffering.

    “Even so...feels a long damn way from the home I knew, if you get me.”

I didn't.  'Home' was an alien concept to me, muddled only by the occasional niggling feeling that it might end up being here in Fillydelphia.  Doctor Weathervane grumbled and reached out with his magic again to apparently scan across my chest.

“Without more RadAway in the next eighteen hours, I'd not rate your chances too high.  I can see you've taken some, but those pits have high ambient levels that have aggravated your bronchial tubes.  You won't feel it more than an itchy cough right now, but that'll start growing in the next four hours into the symptoms you'll recognise.  This tainted shit...it turns quickly, hits a certain critical mass, and then you'll feel it.”

Even Weathervane managed to contain his impatience as I fell to the mattress, covering my eyes with my hooves.  This just wasn't fair. I wanted out...not to just linger and die. My...my mother wouldn't ever know...

    After a few seconds, I heard Weathervane stomp his hoof lightly to get my attention.

“Hm...we've got none with us. That's all locked away in Hearts and Hooves Hospital.  But see if you can't let Protégé allow you to swing by later tonight. Come into the basement, and I'll see if I can't dig some out of the stockrooms.  You're the only pegasus I know of in this region of the world...it'd be a crime to let you simply expire. There's worse bastards out there and, Fluttershy forgive me for saying this, plenty of ponies who deserve life a lot less than a well meaning, if whiny, little pony.”

    My heart lifted, he would help me!  I almost wanted to hug the squishy old ghoul for offering.  He was rude, abrasive and clearly somber regarding the world he had lost...but how could I not respect a pony who still followed the oath he had sworn, even through the apocalypse?

    “Thank you!  Tha—”

    He shoved me back.

    “Quiet down, you stupid arse!  You know about my basement, but I'd rather most ponies still think it to be an irradiated area of nothing.  Now sit still. I'll keep helping you because it's what I do, but if you keep up these insane escape attempts there won't be a body left for me to heal.”

I felt my head sternly yanked up as he began to examine my new scar.

    “Ergh...that simpleton had no fucking clue.”

    “Who?”

“That shit-eating donkey molester calling himself a 'doctor' that treated this wound.  I talk about oaths? Well he broke every single one in the entire damned book in what he did to you.  I swear...if this were Old Equestria and he'd done this to somepony, even Fluttershy might have raised her voice.  Believe me, it wasn't fun whenever she did. Leaving a scar like this...fucking amateur.”

    He stretched the skin with his hooves, using his magic to lay some bonding plasters over it and dab something cold into the gaps. Letting my head drop again, I just curled up on the mattress as Weathervane backed off. His healing had worked, the bites were gone, but the ache on my chest, shoulder, right hoof, and forehead remained.  Clearly, it'd require more than he could spare right now to solve them. Even my wings still stung from pulling feathers.

    “That ought to heal it better. Maybe go below the coat in a few days, gone in a few weeks. Woulda stayed for months with that modern-art-mastershit of a treatment he used. Now, you're checked over, so try and get some rest, Murk.  Oh...and to repeat one more thing?”

Looking up, I remained still and small upon the ground.

    “No more escape attempts.”

    His raised hoof caught my attention before I could even open my mouth to protest.

    “Bu—”

    “No buts!  No fucking buts!  Always with the fucking 'buts!' You are too weak and too hurt right now to do anything more.  Put your head down, stay out of trouble, and get on with the work in Fillydelphia. That's the best thing for you right now.”

    “No...please, I can't go back to that.”

“Stick with those who'll help you. That mare from earlier, pink mane?  Just you and her help one another, and you'll perhaps find some way to be more content.  But escape isn't possible in Fillydelphia. Not from inside the Walls. I don't want you losing your life chasing some stupid dream, not one of the last living non-Enclave pegasi.  Take it from me, patience and keeping your head down is the way. I lasted two centuries through harsher days than this. The first days after the balefire...no settlements, trade, or currency.  Just brutal aggression, anger, and bitter loss turning Equestria into a living fucking hell. Chances come, history changes, life goes on. I'm not asking you to start agreeing and enjoy it, I’m not even asking you to not look for a way...just don't rush headlong in.  Equestria doesn't need another young corpse.”

The wave of hurt was coming crashing down.  My forehead ached, the scar thumping and flaring in sharp pains as the 'advice' was given to me.  But I nodded. Strangely, without even knowing what I was doing, I found myself feeling more sorry for him than I.  He'd lived with the world he hated for generations already.

    “Did...did you lose anypony, when it happened?”

His eyes flared, as though about to launch into another curse-filled tirade.  But restraining himself, Weathervane merely nodded, speaking quieter than I had ever heard him do so.

“You know...in this arse-backwards fucking city, that's the first time I've even been asked that.  Hmph. Come along tonight, Murk. We'll see about your lungs with some RadAway. Perhaps something else too, if I can remember the spell.  Now, stick with that mare...stay safe, because you will not hear the fucking end of it if I have to put up with any more filly-like whining from you than I already do.  Caduceus should be done changing her bandages now over there.”

He nodded his head to 'there' behind him.  Glancing over, I could only see an empty mattress.  Noting my confused look, Weathervane turned and sighed.

    “Oh, pissballs...where have they got to?”
   

Approaching the shop cell to collect my saddlebag, I couldn't help but ponder on just what kind of 'special' job Protégé needed both myself and two lethal raiders to report to his office for.  I only had a few minutes before I needed to head up, but I was intent on going up early. No way was I going to wander the corridors with Barb when he made his move.

Pushing the stockroom door aside, I blinked to adjust to the gloom, turning to wander past the corner toward the larger part of the room itse—

    “Heh...oh you cheeky mare, you...”

    I stopped dead.  Oh...oh dear...

Sounds, like that which I had heard from Sundial's message with Skydancer, were drifting around the corner that separated the doorway and stockroom.  Muffled giggling, mixed with the sound of a little movement under a blanket. Poking my head around the corner just fast enough to bite my saddlebag and pull it out from where I'd left it at the edge of the stockroom, I only saw a rather...actively moving blanket upon the sofa, before I whipped back around and pressed myself against the wall to slide out.  A buck's sudden intake of breath and soft tease was followed by another of her soft and low laughs.

    “Whaaat?  Can't a mare in this crappy city take what opportunity she can to have a little fun?”

Sometimes, hypersensitive hearing really was a liability.  Feeling my face burn brighter than my lungs ever had, I couldn't exactly tune out the little gasps and soft moans that drifted out of the blanket.

    Truth be told, I probably should have known Glimmerlight well enough by this point to have expected she’d be able to find company. Perhaps I would just come back when she wasn’t ‘busy’ and see her later.

    “Oooh!  Well...you certainly do know your anatomy, Mister Healer...”

    Much later.

Protégé's office was in as much a state as it normally was.  Strewn with books of all shapes and colours around that thick desk, if it weren't for the cleanliness of it (comparatively, anyway), I might have thought it just another wrecked room of the wasteland.  My master sat behind his desk, a quill fluttering to and fro, his eyes darting from the scroll before him to a large tome held on a bookstand.

    “Master, you asked me—”

    “Hold one second, Murk.”

Fighting back a squeaked apology for interrupting, I stepped back and averted my eyes from his writing.  Instead, I took notice of one new addition to the room. On the far edge of his desk sat a memory orb container, lying open.  Inside lay the three remaining spell orbs the slavers had confiscated from Glimmerlight. It didn't surprise me she hadn't been allowed to keep them, given their apparent rarity.

After a second or two, I felt my ears twitch and perk up, Protégé was muttering under his breath as he wrote.  So low I imagined even he thought that my hearing couldn't spot it. Lying down on all fours and closing my eyes to rest (you took any chance you could) I concentrated on listening, fighting the nagging feeling that I shouldn't be eavesdropping on my master.

“-that everypony has some role they can play in the recovery of our world, regardless of their flaws or fears.  Your faithful student, Protégé.”

I heard the scroll wrap up before I opened my eyes.  Another letter to his teacher, clearly. Unfortunately, this indication of any weak ponies still having things they could do hardly reassured me about this 'special’ job. Across my life, 'special' jobs tended to simply mean 'more dangerous' or 'liable to be disgusting.' Back on the rock farm, I had always been the one chosen to muck out the brahmin or stand watch for raiders during thunderstorms, on account of nopony being around to stand by my side.  Apparently, even having a few who would didn't make any difference in here.

How could things change so much but still feel so utterly the same?  The ache in my tooth, on cue, made its presence known. Just another job for just another day.  I wasn't any closer to escape than I had been sitting in my pig sty. The Master likely was right.

    The imagery of my nightmare flicked in my mind once again. That mocking laughter still rung in the depths of my imagination.

    “Thank you for waiting patiently, Murk.”

    Popping back to my surroundings from the daydream, I focused my eyes and lowered my head.

    “I can only wait to serve, master...”

His head inclined to one side, leaning on a hoof.  “You're sounding a little more autonomous today, is something wrong?”

“S-sorry...I...I'm...” There was no sense in lying to him. He'd spot it a mile away.  “I'm just afraid this is all I'll ever be, a slave in Fillydelphia til the day it finally kills me.”

Protégé nodded slowly, clearly picking his words with due care.

“So you're afraid of being a slave forever...and so you fall into being one even more?  A curious mindset, but tragically pessimistic. We shall make more of you, Murk. I believe you have earned at least an explanation by now.  Are you ready to go?”

    “Huh?”  I couldn't deny an interest in knowing just what it was he had in mind for me, but right now?  Just out of nowhere?

    “But...but master, what about my shift?  What about the other ponies like Barb, coming up soon?”

    Protégé was already trotting to his stand and pulling on the holster for his revolver, before moving past me to the door.

    “This is your shift, Murk.  The others will be seen to by Ragini; she has all the information to direct them to whoever it was that requires their services.  But you have something else to do. Follow, Murk, we're going out.”

Half cantering to catch up with my master in the corridor, we passed Ragini, standing guard in a small room near to his office.  A knowing nod from Protégé sent her to await the others in his absence. Briefly, I wondered about her. She had protected me from The Master, then shot me, and finally spent time insulting me on every meeting...yet I barely knew anything about her.  Any questions likely wouldn't have a chance, as I found Protégé slowing down to allow me to trot alongside him, rather than behind him, where I felt my place truly was as the slave.

We passed down the stairs, clearly headed for the main entrance.  Slave guards stood more at attention as he passed, sinking back into lazed slumps in their posts once he was gone.

    “Master, where are we going?”

“Not far, Murk.  There is a view I would like you to see before I explain anything, in a building nearby.  Suffice to say, a little context is very important.”

Passing through the entrance, we were met by buffeting winds that stirred the factory fumes and sent whirling dervishes of black dust arcing down the roads.  Passing by a group of carts pulled by thin slaves, I found Protégé leading me not on the main streets that would take someone to the factories or mills, but away to the west of the city. We passed through quieter roads, travelling for around ten minutes, before approaching a small courtyard.  High-rises towered up from the ground here, their top halves having collapsed off as though sheared by a massive axe. The tops had simply been blown away to collapse all over the dead park on the opposite side. Huge chunks had also torn part of the elevated monorail that passed between the high-rise buildings clean off, making a ramp up to it from the ground into the courtyard.

After a few more minutes, it became clear that the entrance to one of these buildings was Protégé's intent.  What was left seemed like a jagged castle of thick concrete, supporting pillars, and bent iron rods. Burnt curtains flapped through shattered windows on some floors in the wind. I gulped.

    “I...I don't think this is a good place...”

    “Calm yourself, Murk.  They supported the weight of two centuries of wear.  Two small ponies won't cause them to collapse.”

    Shaking my head, I dropped slightly behind him.

“N-not that...ponies died here.  This was their home.”

Reaching the low and wide steps that would take us to the shattered glass of the front doors, Protégé stopped and looked up at the missing top floors.  After a second, it almost seemed like he was trying to imagine it whole and rebuilt.

“Yes, it was.  As was everything the unfortunate souls of old possessed in this city.  We won't be going too high. Now...let's get going, we shouldn't take too long.”

The interior was as desolate as the Stable.  Spilled bags filled musty corridors, many of them blocked by rubble.  The distant whine of auto axes and screams of slavers were heavily dulled in here, punctuated only by the roar of factory shift horns.  Protégé trotted ahead, seeking another staircase after the main one had proven to have collapsed. Taking my small nervous steps, I occasionally had to canter forward to catch up.

“Master Red Eye's workforce hasn't gotten around to this tenement yet with so many factories left to reactivate.  Truth be told, I've been tempted to get a few volunteers to scout it out soon.”

    “Isn't that what we're— yargh!”

I cried out, backing off as I glanced into a room and witnessed a small pile of bones facing away from a window. Through the broken glass, I could see the eerie glow of the crater facing this side.  Pressing myself back against the opposite wall, I gently shuffled away from the apartment doorway. Having turned in concern, Protégé trotted across and glanced in himself before sighing.

“It's likely that won't be the only one. These flats, I believe, were still being lived in when the missile struck.  Not all ponies could afford Stable tickets.”

I nodded, shakily.  Sundial had had the same problem.  Almost to my surprise, I felt Protégé's hoof touch my shoulder.

    “Are you alright?  You can keep going?”

I didn't know if I was shivering from the bones or from his suddenly caring tone, the sense of care fought with my memory of him stopping me.  I wanted to throw myself at his hooves and beg to be helped as much as I wanted to sucker punch his face for what he'd done to me.

    “I...yes...t-the Stable was worse...”

    “I know, Murk.  They often are. Come on, trot beside me, we're almost there.”

    He moved away, taking a few slow steps. I took a breath, and got up.

    “Almost where, master?”

    “You'll see.”

He brokered little questioning.  Ducking below a sparking, gem-encrusted conduit that had fallen from the ceiling, I saw Protégé point wordlessly to a signed door at the back.  Almost to my glee, I saw it had a little picture of stairs beside it. Some ponies were considerate for the illiterate!

Moving on upwards revealed only more dead corridors, filled with enough luggage to make an assumption that the ponies in here had received just enough warning to make one last dash for safety.  Likely the haunting sirens had been the only warning these ponies got. Some of the floors looked out onto nothing, simply a ledge where a portion of the floors had been torn away when it collapsed. Whimpering, sticking close to Protégé, I tried not to look at my hooves as we picked our way around the still-clothed skeletons that lay beneath the luggage. They had fallen on the stairs themselves. As I rounded the next set, something over the wind caught my ears.

    ‘...bee...bee...bee...bee...bee…’

    Stopping dead, the sound of some sort of alarm began to pick up in my ears.  I would have thought it to be Sundial, had we been any higher but no, this was muffled, and further away from above us.

    “P-Protégé...what's that?”

    He stopped, glancing around the immediate area.

    “What's what, Murk?”

    Of course, he couldn't hear like I could.

    “Something up ahead of us. Like a beeping, an alarm...”

    Shaking his head, my master continued trotting along, staying silent until he knew what it was.  Sticking close behind him, it occurred to me that beneath that student barding I still didn't know what his cutie mark was.  Probably just a book or something, maybe a padlock to stick with the theme as one of the ponies keeping me in here.

Continuing along the corridor, I could see the Mall through some of the blasted walls of wrecked rooms.  From these few flights up, likely just short of Sundial's message limit, I could still see the main entranceway.  No slaves were travelling, probably not yet the time for them to head out.

    ‘...bee...bee...bee...bee...bee…’

    Further along, Protégé stopped, more intently listening. To my shock, I saw him draw his revolver with a small magic burst.

    “Master, what—”

    “Got something on E.F.S.”

    He was looking, apparently, at the wall.

    ‘...bee...bee...bee...bee...bee…’

    Then I heard what he had seen. A small sound.

‘...kssh...kssh…’

    “Oh no, please no more. I've had enough of scary things from the past. I can hear something moving!”

Lowering myself to the ground, I just shivered. Protégé moved into the access hallways for this floor, glancing around in a full circle to check the area. It was filled with numerous open doors to apartments.

“Don't worry...it's not hostile.  Well, yet. But I don't see any movement, it's just standing still about twenty metres to our left.  Come on.”

    “O-ok...”

Creeping forward, I stuck nearby to him. One day in front of that revolver, the next, I was being protected behind it. It felt surreal, moreso in such a location as this. We stepped over an abandoned pram, and I saw that the corridor turned into a second row of apartments at the end of this one.

    Rounding the corner, I saw Protégé glance down the hallway and jerk back.

    Gradually, after glancing at me, Protégé re-aimed his revolver and advanced once again.  Moments later, he lowered it with a relieved chuckle.

    “Well, would you look at that.”

Nervously trotting out, I saw the source of at least one of the noises.  Ahead of us, a strange multi-limbed machine was sweeping the floor, hovering about a foot from the ground.  It wasn't sweeping everywhere, just one small patch that had almost been rubbed clean to the concrete. Many of its limbs hung uselessly, while the magical energy keeping it afloat (similar to the sprite-bots, I presumed) seemed to flicker and make it stutter in the air every few seconds.

    Seeing us advancing, an eye stalk whirred round to face us.

    “Brrrrrk-ello, sirs!  Brrrrk-brrrrrk-rry about the mess!”

    The eye turned back to its work, leaving us to simply stare at this strange, forgotten robot.

“An old Clean-n'-Handy, hmm?  I should see about getting your friend Glimmerlight to take a look at it.  Might still be recoverable.”

    “I...I'm sure she'd enjoy it...but...but the beeping?”

I could still hear it.  Above the soft sound of the old robot sweeping one square foot of floor, that digital sounding beep was still going off around us.

    “Well, I'd thought it was this old robot, but it's on our way.  No doubt we'll see...”

“Brrrk— so sorry sirs! I’ll let you past!”

    Gently pushing our way past the cleaning robot, Protégé began leading me toward a side of the building, the one opposite the Mall. His posture was becoming tense, far more than even mine. What was he worried about?

The hallways were more deserted here, hiding larger rooms that were oddly empty. Ponies being priced out of richer rooms? I wondered if these ones had been vacant.

    Protégé moved up to one, his magic lifting a note from the door. Scanning it, he read a portion aloud.

    “Sorry we didn’t have time to tell you, Surf. We’re moving out the city. Too many rumours, too many drills. I can’t take it anymore. Check with Radish down the hall for my new address.”

    He put it gently on a shelf behind the door.
   
    “I’d heard some ponies moved out the cities in the months before the megaspells.”

    “They knew?”

    Protégé shook his head. “Nopony really did. I guess some just got a hunch.”

    Much like Protégé himself right now, I wondered. His voice was very low, almost a whisper. His eyes kept looking around warily. Most curiously of all, I saw him sniffing the air.

    The beeping became louder, more directly audible as we moved down these higher end rooms. Soon it was clear, it was coming from within an apartment up ahead.

Protégé pushed past a fallen wall that led into a rather vertigo-inducing drop. A portion of the building had ripped apart in the collapse.  Edging carefully, I tried not to look down...what kind of pathetic pegasus was I? Afraid of falling?

But my fears quickly relocated, the sound was coming from the next doorway.  To my surprise, I saw Protégé finally seem to relax as he got close enough to hear it properly.

    “I think I may know what it is.”

Without waiting, he bucked open the jammed door, causing a great mass of dust and fragments of rubble to drop from the weak door frame.  Watching him walking calmly inside, I couldn't find the same ease of mind that he showed. If it wasn't dangerous...that didn't mean it wouldn't...wouldn't be...

    It was.

The moment I trotted in behind Protégé, it was revealed to be something as simple and depressing as it sounded.  Before me in the apartment lay an open door to the bedroom, its alarm clock insistently making a two-hundred-year-old wake up call to the couple that were still on the bed, their blackened bones curled around one another in a final embrace.

    They must have realised there was no way to get to the ground floor or basement in time, and had just lain and waited.

    No...no the Stable hadn't desensitised me. Not at all...

Feeling my hooves go weak, I turned and backed out on shaky legs until I could fall against the side of the rotted couch.  Coughing and sucking in air between sobs, I felt the hollow grip of tragedy. I loathed how it made me feel, but I couldn’t deny it. Each shrill beep of the alarm clock serving only to send further stings of hate for this world into my mind.  Eventually, it ceased; a small click as Protégé's hoof finally ended the little machine's wailing.

I heard him trot out behind me.  It hurt, to be so upset and sick in the presence of my master, and as I felt him wander over beside me I expected to feel the curt order and insistent pull to keep going.

    I didn't expect to feel his hoof rest over my shoulders to try and comfort me.

With all my life, I hated him.  The pony who had turned me back at the last possible obstacle; the one who had put a bullet in me.  But right now, he was the only one caring for me.

Before I even realised what I was doing, I had flung myself against him, taking refuge in the small measure of kindness he offered, crying my heart out into the shoulder of somepony I could not recognise as either a master or an ally.

We sat apart, afterwards.  Protégé had quietly asserted that this room would do. For what reason, I didn't really know.  I simply sat against a side cabinet, meek, and trying to not feel embarrassed about what I'd just done.  My eyes still felt red and sore, hopefully hiding the minor blush as I tried to work out why I'd done that. Why I'd sought shelter in him as much as I would in Glimmerlight.

Protégé had remained unflappable, simply keeping that one hoof gently held on the back of my neck as I had let the sadness all out.  Afterwards, he seemingly showed no real reaction, almost a little withdrawn. Only now, he sat and stared from the window. I had to hide my eyes as he turned toward me.

    “Are you feeling better?”

    “Mhm...”

    He smiled softly.

“Don't be ashamed, Murk.  You aren't the only pony who feels the sadness of what has been lost in this world.  By all rights...none of this should have happened. I think no less of you for showing it.  If anything, it has proven a part of you that I had long suspected. You’ve got a heart that cares past yourself. In some ways, its related to us being here now.”

    “You...you promised that you would begin to show me what it is you want with me...”

    He slightly winced, as though not liking my wording of that particular point.

“To show you how I intend to help you, is the better way I think of it.  Master Red Eye helps ponies, if they allow themselves to be helped. I want you to be the next one.  You might do Equestria proud, aiding us. However, I cannot order this of you, I can only give you a choice to help Equestria...or to willingly say no. It’s being here, away from unfriendly ears, that tell you that I require your help with something.  Something that, for all my authority, I cannot ask of you in my stead as a work leader under Master Red Eye.”

    My mind reeled.  Protégé had a job for me that needed done off the record?  Something that he could not risk others hearing, to the point that he had separated me from everypony else and other duties simply to find space to ask it?  I didn't know how to reply, or what to think. The idea that a master was giving me a choice was unfathomable. I had chosen before, but only for myself or those who were also slaves.

    “I...I...uh...”

    “Come here, Murk.”

Moving toward where the window had once stood, Protégé beckoned me with a hoof.  On cue, I lightly trotted over, glancing through.

The view from this side of the building gazed toward the Wall.  Behind it, the hills to one side of the large valley Fillydelphia lay within rose up, the same ones the Stable had been buried beneath.  

However, what drew my attention was something closer. The view was dominated by one building.  Sheer-faced with dark marble, and riddled with balconies and turrets, it held a grandeur not often seen in Fillydelphia.  Around it lay a thick wartime security wall topped with razorwire. Slaver guards could be seen permitting processions of limping slaves in through a mesh gate.

    “Somepony else's slave pen?”

    Protégé merely nodded, before pointing out the giant brass symbol of a six-pointed star.

“That, Murk, is the Ministry of Arcane Science Hub in Fillydelphia.  Or, what once was the hub, anyway...it has since fallen into a multi-purpose use.  Both as worker's accommodation on the lower floors, and specialist repair on the upper areas using the tools they have in there.  What I need from you, is for you to steal a piece of technology for me.”

    Staggering back, my mouth gaped open.  Suddenly, the reason for such secrecy had become apparent.

    “B-but—”

    Protégé cut me off, his tone serious.

“I understand this is asking a lot of you, Murk.  But this piece of technology would permit workers like yourself, under my care, to eat and drink with less fear of contamination.  It's called a Sparkle Sanitiser, developed near the end of the war by the Ministry Mare herself while experimenting with ways to counter balefire radiation.  Eventually, other projects far larger, ones never committed to any record I know of, took her attention, and it was sent here to be finished. One prototype made it to completion before the missiles fell...and it lies in there.”

Pointing with a hoof, he indicated the Ministry Hub itself.  From up here, I could effectively see the layout of the entire courtyard surrounding the area.  Mostly worn away, I could see piles of wreckage had been thrown in corners by the slaves. Even as I watched, one slave was being bucked repeatedly by a guard for dropping something.  Whoever ran that slave pen was clearly not like Protégé.

Pulling a small folder from his saddlebag, Protégé dropped it before me.  From within slid carefully drawn maps matched to the layout of, I guessed, the Ministry.

“I can provide blueprints, directions, and descriptions, Murk.  But do not think of this as me seeing you only as my personal thief.  No, I only ask because you will be bringing hoarded technology to the good of others, not just yourself. That...and I may be able to redirect some resources this technology would save me to try and help you survive, Murk.  Weathervane told me about your sickness...”

My hooves crossed over my chest, almost embarrassed.  That caring look in his eyes simply made me want to look away.  The feeling of throwing my hooves around my master to cry and let it all out was still jarring and uncomfortable.  You didn't do that.

    “I won't hold it against you should the decision be to simply return home, Murk.  This is your choice.”

“Master...why are you doing this for me in particular?  Why not Glimmer or...or some other pony? They want to be good, too...”

There was a small silence.  I wondered if he hadn't expected that question, leading to this quiet thought.  Eventually, he let the eyepiece drop into his hooves, turning it over a few times, staring deeply at it.

“I want you by my side, Murk. You and I are more alike than I think you know. When you really break it down, I think you want the same as I do. To live without the tragedy surrounding us. To find some place in this world that might be just...better. That is why I picked you to offer these opportunities to, in lieu of the freedom I cannot give you. Because I think you understand the feeling, and because I’d like to hope we could help one another through this. That we can make things, well, just a little better for ourselves.”

He got up, wandering back toward the door.

“I’m not forcing you. The choice is yours. Now, good day and, if so, good fortune.”

I could not quite believe what I'd just heard.  Protégé had always stood as a sort of beacon of conviction toward Red Eye's work.  Only now was I beginning to see the true emotion that lay beneath that unwavering obedience and loyalty he showed to his own master.  It was nothing more than a desperate wish to escape the reality of the wasteland...

Sitting against the cabinet, watching him leave, I couldn't ever hope to dredge up an appropriate response.  Only one thing came to mind. Protégé had helped me from the moment he had met me. Our confrontation in my escape attempt was a solid brick wall that prevented a true trust in him, but he hadn't turned away from trying to aid me in what ways he could.  He had even comforted me in my moment of weakness earlier.

    There was but one thing I could give that I knew I possessed.

    “W-wait!” I shouted out after him, and saw him turn.  “Please, I...I took this from the Stable for...for you.”

    Digging into my saddlebag, I bit and drew out the hardback book.

    Protégé came back in, raising an eyebrow at the sight.

    “A book?  Why, thank you, let's see.”

Protégé's magic draw it across to his face, flicking open to look at the inside cover. I found myself biting my lip.  I didn't even know what it was. His eyes drew back and forth for a few lines.

    He smirked.

“Daring Do and the Quest for the Sapphire Stone. Well now, a tale of a broken and hurt pegasus, unable to fly, as she faces an almost impossible task...”

    His eyes looked up with a knowing look. The book slid into his own saddlebag.

    “Rather appropriate...no?”

Turning with a curt and grateful nod, I heard him trot away down the corridor as I listened to his hooves gradually fade away in the abandoned building, leaving me alone in the room to make my decision.

For the longest time, I simply sat and stared upon the Ministry of Arcane Science.  Not at the slaves, or the horrid scrap constructions that repaired its marred walls that must have once gleamed, but at the symbol of the six-pointed star.

From last night, I had realised that the stars were the holders of memories.  They symbolised the past. I had seen the shapes that made up a long forgotten world, told only in patchwork across the canvas of time.

Now before me lay the largest icon to support this.  An entire Ministry whose work had been the preservation of memory. They had sought to help future generations, wasteland or not, to understand the past.  They were, in some way, the true visionaries of helping to create the better world that Protégé so dreamed of.

That I dreamed of.

Pulling my saddlebag over, I slipped the maps inside, before strapping my PipBuck to the left hoof, out of the way of injury.  Slipping my goggles on and adjusting my fleece, I took one last look at the Ministry from above, noting the only way in I could make out, across the old monorail track.

    Stars were memories. Aurora Star had led this place. Sundial and Skydancer were with the stars in the past now.

    It all came together in one great dream that this building had been a part of.

    That someday the stars might aid in our escape from the wasteland itself.

Finding my way up onto the monorail was not especially difficult.  On the way in I had seen the broken shaft that could act as a means with which to access the elevated platforms.  Old trains lay dormant on the tracks while others had simply been blasted off and cannibalised by Red Eye's workforce.  Presumably, the ones up here were too difficult to work on right now.

Picking my way through the buckled interiors for cover or hopping over thick singular tracks, I slowly crept toward the Ministry hub itself.  The monorail passed close to the edge of that barbed wall, my hope was that there was something I could land on safely to jump off. Those piles of scrap had looked promising, stacked at an angle against the walls to offer a somewhat rough ramp to break my fall.

Slavers wandered the courtyard surrounding the crenelated walls.  Most were directing slaves to carry boxes on their backs, in carts, or with magic.  Large piles had been set on pallets, ready for transportation, while newer outhouses and slaver accommodation had been built from black wood.  They would all provide pretty good cover until I could blend in with the other slaves.

Approaching the wall, scooting along below the small jutted side of the monorail tracks, I poked my head up to get a glance beneath me.

    Oh...oh that was high.  Gulping hard, I cast my eyes across the intended landing area.

It seemed to stretch out for a long fall.  The scrap pile, covered by sheet corrugated metal and a few thick slabs of steel, bottomed out with old cardboard boxes, only provided a small comfort against the drop.  The metal could be slid on, sure...and wet cardboard would slow me down, right?

Glancing around, I knew I had to time this right. Slavers were looking rather attentive with so many slaves out and about.  None would be watching up here, they weren't anticipating anypony trying to break in.  It took an achingly long time for them to seem to all be glancing the other way.

    Controlling my breathing, I leaned out. The sensation was uncomfortably familiar to a tower not too long ago. Sucking in breath, trying to force my aching lungs to operate properly, I let myself relax as best I could for a few seconds. 

I really hoped they had some RadAway to steal in there.  I could feel my throat clamping up under all the smog in the air out here.

Not giving myself any more time to think of further bad thoughts, I turned, braced my hooves against the monorail side, and hurled myself over toward the scrap.  The wind of the fall rushed in my ears, and I tried to roll and land on my side instead of my face.  A shock of motion kicked up my rump as I felt my tail catch the barbed wire and yank out a few strands.  The motion upturned me, leading me to land right on my back upon the sloped surface. The impact was sudden and brutal, shocking my body.

Feeling the wind knocked clean out of me amongst a pained cough, I slid faster and faster across the sheet metal surfaces, and bumped over thick rivets or girders.  With one last stinging smack on my rump from the edge of the large corrugated piece, I was thrown into the wet and soggy boxes that collapsed around me. The soil rocked my body on impact, making every limb of mine shake and feel numb for a few seconds. Seething with gritted teeth, I stifled a groan. That had been rougher than I’d expected, but hopefully quiet.

    “Oi!  Who dropped somethin'?  I'll 'ave yer knackers if you broke another box!”

    Not quietly enough.

Burrowing deeper, I covered myself in the boxes. I heard slaves scamper and avoid the stomping hooves of an overseer.  I could hear him so clearly, his hooves had to be within ten feet.

    “I...I think something dropped off the monorail!  Like a...a piece of metal breaking off?”

     The hooves stamped closer, making wet splashes in the turned earth.  Through the small gap below my hiding spot, I could see his shadow. I could only silently plead, ‘oh please don't look in the boxes...please, please…’

For twenty agonising seconds, I could hear a small stick being prodded into the scrap pile.  Each time closer, then only a foot away.

    “Eh!  Come on, Fruit Punch.  It'll just be another piece a' scrap.  That monorail's ready to go soon anyway.”

The stick retracted, but only after a few more seconds did I hear the slaver leave. Waiting for as long as I dared, I poked my head out through a hole in the boxes, seeing a dull grey earth pony trotting away toward the slaves.  They seemed to be packing up, ready to carry their last shipment in. Slowly, I began pulling myself free and creeping away from the box pile, sticking low to the ground. I felt terribly vulnerable, relying on 'Fruit Punch' not turning around, rather than any real cover.  The moment I was close enough, I ducked behind the thin metal wall of a slaver's home to plan my next move.

The slaves were taking boxes from just in front of this house toward a huge double door in the back of the Ministry. It wasn’t the only one. I could see a series of large entrances opening to allow fully laden carts to exit toward the main gates, clearly some sort of old loading area.  Under the noise cover, I slipped forward again, making a quick darting gallop to dive behind a pallet of square metal cases (oh, hello old friends...). But where now? If I could catch up to the full procession I could blend in with them like I had done at the Mill long ago (granted, that hadn't worked, but still...), yet there were too many slavers and bits of open ground between us.

With my back pressed against the boxes, I heard the command shouted to fetch the next pallet.  The slavers were making their way back. Poking my head out only led me to yank it back right away, they were coming this way!” This wasn't a good plan, no, not at all!

“Grab a box each, lift 'em in, ya' pansies.  Fruit Punch and I could take three each, and you lot are stumbling and groaning over one?”

I overheard a slave mutter something quietly about them trying it while malnourished and sick.  I could appreciate the thought. I'd never been able to lift these boxes even whilst empty. They were just far too large for me. For goodness sake, I could probably fit in—

    Aha!

As swift as I thought possible while staying silent, I turned and bit the lock, swung it open and tried to prise up the lid with my hooves. Straining, I risked a little more noise to push harder.  Already, one slave had reached the opposite side of the pallet to watch over them. Faster slaves were beginning to drag the other boxes off the front of the pile.

Almost tripping as it popped open, I set about swiftly yanking out the various wires and circuit boards in the box, and covering them with soil until I was happy it wasn’t too obvious. I glanced around, then hopped up and fell head first into the box. After wiggling my rear hooves in the air to give me enough momentum to get my back half up, I finally curled up into it completely. 

The lid snapped shut above to leave me in complete darkness, eerily similar to that of the Stable, only with my full body curled and crushed into a tiny space.  This time, I couldn't even dare turn on my PipBuck light. I simply had to sit quietly, still, and try not to let the claustrophobic feelings sink in.

Even a few seconds in, it was proving difficult.  The air was low in here, with only the smallest of gaps between lid and box providing just enough to survive on my weakened lungs, but I knew I couldn't keep this up long.  My throat was getting hot from the effort as I had to fight to breathe properly.

    “And the last one!  Grab that too!”

A lurch and loss of balance signalled the lifting of 'my' box, followed by the strain and cry of the poor slave who would have my weight to pull this one journey as well as the box itself.  With a dull thud and a shoot of pain through my spine at the impact, I felt myself dumped onto the cart before I was pulled slowly toward the Ministry itself.

In here, I had plenty of time to think.  It was all I had to try and distract myself from the cramped conditions.  Chief among them was, why was I doing this?  Was it because I did want to help? I didn’t think of myself as somepony who had big aims. Was it because I somehow found myself interested in the great stars of memories and had heard about the mare who ran this place?

    Or was it simply because he had asked me?

    Even now, I still wasn't sure if I was choosing...or simply obeying.

    Yet I couldn’t deny it. For whatever reason, something had drawn me to want to come in here.

    I just wished I knew what it was.

The journey was, mercifully, not too long.  Five or so minutes filled with the ringing wails of the slaves who took too long receiving canes or whips to their backs.  I wished I knew how to activate voice recording on my PipBuck. The ponies outside the Walls needed to hear this. If they could be made to realise the true horror of Fillydelphia, perhaps something might be done about it?  Trapped in this box, and despite living hear, I found hearing just the sounds of Filly a uniquely harrowing experience.

Before long, the trundling of the cart ceased, and I felt my box being lifted with a smooth grace, likely a strong telekinetic.  Swinging across, the odd loss of gravity felt incredibly bizarre, before I was harshly dropped the last two feet. The impact sent a jarring pain through my entire body, making my lungs spasm and my throat explode into a harsh coughing fit.  The noise wasn't an issue with so much noise outside, but I had no room to properly move. Each cough was like an inverse crush on my body in the small box. I felt a trace amount of blood splatter on my own stomach, before all balance and sense of direction fell out from under me.  Sniffing, whimpering softly in pain, I clutched my chest and shivered, praying that I could get out of this box soon.

    I heard one final clunk of a box being lowered, and a pony sighing in relief.

“That it all off?  Good, get back to the main chamber, you lot. Master's gonna have a new job soon.  Come on, stop limping back there!”

The sound of a few dozen ponies leaving began to filter through the box, backed up by the heavier trot of the slavers as they followed and herded their stock.  I spent a few minutes just listening, but all I heard were a few distant shouts and screams. It was time to go.

    Pushing myself upwards, I exerted myself to press the lid open.  To my horror, it didn't move.

    “Oh no...no, no, not now.  Do not do this!”

Pressing harder, thumping the back of my neck upwards and pressing with my head, I strained and strived.  It moved, but it felt heavier than I had ever remembered. Suddenly, the realisation began to filter through as to what that clunk from earlier was.  Somepony had put another one on top.

Fear began to set in, I was trapped in a tiny box, alone, with nopony knowing I was here and a gradually failing air supply.  Eyes watering, I frantically pushed, but to no avail. Hyperventilating, my lungs burned and my hooves shook madly. I pushed with every ounce of strength that my sick little body could spare.

It was hopeless. I was trapped.  Only fear of a worse fate kept me from screaming for help.  Twisting, I turned on my PipBuck's light to gain any sort of vision, but all it did was show very clearly the pressing lack of space, when I saw just how my body was twisted and contorted to fit in here.

I panicked.  I began thrashing in sheer terror, driven to a maddened state.

    “I...I don't want to die in here!  Somepony help me!”

    Forget other fates, I needed help!

    “HELP!” The shouting only echoed right back into my sore ears.  “I...I don't want to suffocate, I—”

Spasming again, my screams only led me to cough and hack painfully.  But amidst it, I felt my struggles rock the box from side to side. Sucking air as best I could, I tried to shift it again...and again.  Building momentum, I realised the box above me was heavier than I was. If I could just make it rock from side to side...

It took every bit of small courage I could to calm myself and keep rocking, even as my mind begin to wander. The lack of air was getting to me, I knew it.  I couldn't pass out. If I did, I might never wake up! I threw my body one way and then the other, feeling the thump as the boxes swayed and clumped down on their edges.  Finally...beautifully, I felt it overbalance and keel over, ejecting me onto a concrete floor in a dark room. Breathing in the musty air was like a dream.. I simply lay on my side for a full minute, filling my lungs as I pushed my chest out and in a good few times, and trying to stop my shivering. Slowly, I started stretching my dead legs to regain the feeling in them.

    Eventually, my front legs fell back to cross over my chest.

I hated this illness. Why couldn't somepony fix it?  I just felt so weak and helpless amongst other ponies who were stronger, faster, or tougher than myself.  All I had were my dreams and the small measure of faith from the mare who had shown me that anypony, no matter how small, could take back their life.

I tried to remember everything about her as I pushed my hooves beneath me.  I had to cling onto those memories, those little stars of hope like when she had risen to the skies above in the Pit.  

“Right...right...let's go…”

Opening my eyes, I found that the room was a large chamber. I could see the multitude of large doors that carts had unloaded at, the ones I’d seen outside. This had to be the delivery warehouse.  Piles of boxes, crates, and shelving units covered this side, while rows of carts were littered against the other. Three exits left this room, one big and gaping toward a brightly illuminated area, and the other two only dimly lit through small, single doors.  Staggering across, I tried to hear down each of them, but only the large entrance held any noise at all, that of many ponies laughing and screaming in dual succession.

    Maybe that one wasn’t such a great route.

The other two, however, were silent. Picking one, I crept forward and tried to open it under the dim light, only to find it was locked.

Shrugging, I made my way to the other one, finding the door already open anyway.  The flickering white gemlights on the walls gave enough ambient light so see fairly well, so I turned off my PipBuck light, and I trotted carefully inside. 

It led to a changing room, dominated with three rows of lockers cutting down the centre of the room.  Small wooden benches were dotted here and there, mostly snapped and made of peeling paint by now. Glancing around to make sure nopony else was there, I pulled out Protégé's maps.

It didn't take long to locate the huge warehouse on one floor.  Protégé had drawn a small purple circle on a higher floor, and pointed to it with a few arrows. That was likely where the Sparkle Spoofitiser was.  It looked like if I were to go through the back of this locker room and across the top of a big main room on the gantries, I would find the research areas.  From there it was a simple run through into what looked like a lab.

Okay, simple.  Stay to the shadows and creep. I could do that, right?  It was easy to remember the directions compared to the Stable. I could trot this place no problem after a quick look at the maps.

Right away it began to go wrong.  Perking up, I felt my ears twitch as the sound of two ponies laughing came to light nearby. A doorway in the same room as me, somewhere hidden behind the lockers, burst open.

Stuffing the maps back in, I rushed across to hide at the end of one of the locker rows, glancing down the line at the door, hoping they’d just walk past. It was dark, I could just go down the other side of the lockers.

They didn't. Staggering about, almost drunken looking, I saw a stallion and a mare holding one another up fall leaning on the lockers.  The mare, a unicorn, still had a glass bottle held in her magic that they were both taking swigs from. I whipped my head back to hide.

    “Hey...hey...wanna use the showers?  Could...hic...clean ya, if y'know what ah mean...”

The mare snorted before I heard the sound of a hoof impacting with a head.

    “Hah!  Yer a good drinker but...screw you...”

    “S’what I was hopin’ for!”

A second, harder, sound rung out, but the pair only laughed more.  Clearly, this was some sort of running joke to the two slavers. I heard a gurgle of one of them taking another swig from the bottle, before it dropped on the floor.

    “Aww...”

    “Hey hey...you don' do that...hic...y'throw em! Much more satisfying!  Watch...”

The sound of somepony grabbing and grunting with effort was followed only by my spotting the blur of the bottle. It flew past my head and smashed on the wall, showering me with thick fragments of glass.  I yelped in shock, before clamping a hoof over my mouth.

    “...whut was that?”

    “Yer mo— ARGH, FUCK!”

    The hardest hit yet denoted a return to thinking for the stallion. The mare, however, took a more serious tone.

    “I heard somepony!  Hey! Hey come out...we can have, snrk...a drink, or somethin’!”

Dearly hoping their far from sober state would keep them distracted, I tried to gently trot away down the other side of the lockers. If I could just reach the door...

Already, I heard them staggering down the opposite side, not more than a couple of feet away.  I almost leapt right off my hooves as I heard the mare scream.

    “PEEKABOO!”

    Hearing her shout at the spot I’d departed seconds before, I realised she had reached the end! Only feet behind me! I needed to move. I sped up into to a quiet canter, eyes locked on the open door.

    “I'll...I'll go look this side, see if it was somepony in the corridor fuckin' with us...”

I stopped dead.  The mare was where I had just been and would no doubt look up here soon, but the stallion was now going back the way he had came.  He'd see me if I ran out. There was one place to go.  

Scrambling, tucking my hindlegs into the handles, I clambered up onto the top of the dusty lockers themselves. Crawling along the top, I cast a glance back toward the door as, true to my guess, I saw the slaver wander up to it and glance out into the corridor.

    “Nopony here...”

    “And nopony down here eithe.,” replied the mare, her voice coming from the same row I’d just climbed out of. “Think we're hearin' them ghosts they say are in here?  Ooooo!”

The stallion blew a raspberry. “Pfft...that was just once in the main office. Said he saw a fuckin' purple pony appear right before 'em.  Nopony listens to Theory Shaker, anyway. Hence the name. Nah I think we're...we're just too fuckin' drunk, Flank.”

    “Dun call me that...me brother's the one with the shitty name.  Ah'm...ah'm Firm Blade now, got it? Now git over here...let’s go see if they got any more to drink in the warehouse.”

The stallion, didn't waste any time in staggering away.  Hunched atop the lockers, I concentrated on not letting myself cough from all the dust, swallowing it down and whimpering as quietly as I could. Spluttering into my hoof without opening my mouth, I felt my eyes go hazy and my head throb from the deadened coughs.

I finally opened my eyes after it was done, seeing silver glints in my vision, my balance momentarily whirling. This was getting worse.  I needed to get this done quickly before I was too sick to continue. Protégé likely didn't know how fast my illness could turn bad.

Poking my head over the edge of the lockers, I had to snap back. The slavers were still at the doorway I’d come in, talking about which crate might have their booze. It was a miracle they hadn’t heard my suppressed coughing.  I'd have to do this quietly. 

    On an unrelated point...I now had a headache.

Watching the slavers, the moment they moved away, I dived down, rolled on the floor and cantered toward the door.

Outside, I found the corridor to be much better constructed than most, somewhat on the level of the Ministry of Image yesterday.  It only made sense, I guessed. But here, multiple rows of coloured stripes ran along the walls. Some turned down one corridor while others kept going past.  Symbols were embossed at various intervals. Were they...directions to things? One, the purple one, held the six pointed star, while a red one bore the symbol of a small flame and a pony running away from it.

But my attention was taken by the yellow one, bearing the butterfly symbol of healing.  It pointed down the opposite way to my objective, but there was no way I was overlooking this opportunity.  Already, my vision was swimming as the ambient radiation built and made my chest feel hot. Already I felt the urge to cough, my throat felt like it was being tickled, but was dry and sore to swallow through.

The corridors seemed oddly deserted.  Weren't there dozens of slavers and almost a hundred slaves in here?  Where were they? Not that I was complaining, the more I trotted, the more I realised I was wandering side to side. The end of the corridor felt like it curved, but I knew it hadn’t. The headache got worse, and I fell against the wall from another harsh coughing fit. Perhaps I could blend in as a drunk?

Squinting to get my vision to reassert from the blurring lights, I saw my destination up ahead. An open glass room bearing the symbol of Fluttershy. Collapsing through its half open door, I began scouring drawers and cabinets feverishly; feeling my breath taking on a metallic tinge.  The medical room was little more than a single raised bed surrounded by cabinets and glass-lined cupboards. A couple of thin metal trays on wheels had been tipped over, spilling scalpels and empty syringes everywhere.

    Oh Goddesses, please, there has to be some.  I threw aside small tubs of pills and bandages in my search, anything I didn't immediately need or know got thrown on the floor in my frantic search from cupboard to cupboard.  Nothing. I searched the floor for any spilled sachets. Nothing. The drawers. Nothing. The bed, the bins, and the cabinets above. Nothing, nothing, nothing!
   
Collapsing against the bed, sucking air through clenched teeth, I felt my chest ache and swell in pain. In a discomforting sensation, I could feel the gurgle of blood deep down, or what I guessed it was. Like something was stuck in my throat that I couldn’t get out. Was...was this wing of the Ministry irradiated?  It shouldn't have advanced this fast!

Striving forward, I tugged at cabinets and climbed up onto the work surfaces to search the higher ones.  It felt like somepony had lifted everything valuable from here already. All that was left was worthless junk!  That wasn't fair! Everything tumbled out, from clipboards, to even a recorder. My hoof hit it as I stood on my hind legs to see into the top shelves.

    Click...

    “...oh...my, is it working?  Oh! Sorry! Did I just ruin the beginning?  I'm so sorry, whoever's hearing this...”

    Aha!  My hooves found one cabinet locked shut.  Through it, hidden to one side I could see an orange haze through the tilted glass.  Unfortunately, no matter how hard I pulled, the lock wouldn't give.

    “Don't worry, Miss Fluttershy, I'm sure they won't mind.  Now, your train leaves in one hour. I suspect they'll wait for a Ministry Mare, but we should get going.  You really don't have to set up each one of these yourself. The staff who'll operate it are very capable...”

“Sorry, Cherry, but I just can't bear to think I haven't helped out somehow.  I don't really like expecting somepony else to do the job I want. I'll leave after I get this medicine cabinet all locked in.”

    “Argh! Come on! Com—” I was cut of from coughing so hard that I fell upon the worktop, and then I cried aloud in in pain as I fell into the sink, my side bashing off the metal tap on the way down.  Wheezing, I looked around. There had to be something to prise the lock off with. They'd left me a message, but I'd rather they left me the key!

    “Of course, Miss Fluttershy.  Now, the recording you wanted?”

    “Oh yes!  My, I had almost forgotten, to whoever's listening, I'm so sorry—”

    I heard Cherry cough into her hoof.  I responded with a more savage cough of my own,  before standing up on my hind legs to peer into the glass again.  Now is when I wished I had Brimstone around.

    I missed him, what I'd give for him to just throw me out of the way and...and headbutt this stupid glass or something!

    “Right, well, I'm recording this for whoever comes along from the Ministry of Wartime Technology.  Applejack very kindly sent me a gift, a bodyguard. But I'm so very sorry, I can't take him with me.  He's just too...um...loud...and um...he likes the idea of war a little much...so sorry. I mean it's nice and all. He just makes me so nervous.  I'm leaving this for the engineer who's coming to set up the light. Could you return him to the Wartime Hub, pretty please? I'm sure they'd like to have him back...and tell Applejack I'm sorry.”

    The beaker smashed off the cabinet, as did the metal tray.  Snorting (or at least, what passed for a snort from me) I grabbed a scalpel in my mouth and climbed back up.

    “Miss Fluttershy, we really need to make tracks.”

“There, now any of the little ponies who come to learn in the student wing won't get any nasty medicine they shouldn't have.”

    Growling as I twisted and jammed the scalpel in the lock from between my teeth, I rattled it around.  Yeah...little ponies. Here's one little pony who really needed it, pretty please!

    “That's wonderful, Miss Fluttershy” The voice held a small tinge of deadpan exasperation.  “Now let's get you to your train. I'll call a trotters cab for us.”

    Nothing else for it...this would hurt.  A lot. I pulled back my hoof, ready to swing, and smash it.  But more cuts were better than my lungs acting up. I almost fell as my head swam and my hooves suddenly felt like wet noodles. My attack on the cabinet became impossible, as I instead curled up and coughed again, and again. I felt the taste of blood in my mouth, and spat it out. I couldn’t wait, no matter how much this cut my hoof, I needed to try.

Swinging forward, I took a breath, consigned myself to needing the bandages afterwards...and smashed my left hoof as hard as I could into the glass.

And rebounded suddenly and sharply enough to catapult me completely off the worktop.  

Landing on the bed, it rolled backwards and crashed into a tray, coming off its wheels to clatter onto the floor, dumping me against the far cabinet.  Moaning as the landing jarred my already sore torso from the convulsions, I looked up to see the glass defiantly intact.

    It was no good.

Holding my head in my hooves, I struggled to think of some other way. Some manner in which I might get the one thing that would let me live another few hours.

    “Thank you, Cherry.”

    The sound of hooves trotting about played through the recorder.  I heard the aid wandering away. Fluttershy, however, seemed to stop and make a few scuffling noises.

    “Oh, um, before I end this?  Please, could you tell the scientists the key to the cabinet is under the welcome mat until they get a proper box?  Thank you ever so much.”

    Click.

I stared at the recorder a few seconds...before launching myself to the long faded mat.  Pulling it up, I expected nothing but heartbreak.

    And yet, there it was...waiting to be discovered by anypony willing to actually listen to the past.

    “T-thank you...Flutters-s-shy...argh!”

Rolling over as another convulsion hit, I could feel my whole body spasm. I was shivering. The fever was starting to settle in.  Driving myself forward step after step, I pulled my sore body up to the cabinet door, climbing it like some hideously tiring mountain, key in mouth. I grabbed the sachet and nearly bit the top off in a rush to get that foul orange liquid down my throat, and fall back to let it work, thankful and relieved. Even now, in some way, she was still caring for ponies.

Weathervane wasn't as alone as he thought.

Allowing myself a few minutes to recover while the RadAway soothed my throat, I soon retraced my steps to continue on my route. My lungs felt like they were able to expand properly after the medication, and my head felt a lot clearer now.  That wasn't the closest run I'd had, but somewhere in here, I had run into radiation without knowing it to set it off that badly. Moving on seemed like the best idea.

Warily passing by the locker room door, hearing the two drunkards still shouting from within the cargo room, I advanced onwards, following the map.  Very quickly, I envied the unicorn ability to hold something like a map up while trotting. Me? I had to stop and hide every corner or two to check I was headed in the right direction.  Offices and rooms full of filing cabinets lined the route, possibly for the workers who dealt with import and export through the cargo areas? It certainly wasn't showing anything of the splendour I expected from a Ministry Hub.

A hubbub of noise began to filter in through my ears. I was clearly drawing near to somewhere with a lot of ponies all talking and shouting.  Music was playing, too. Some sort of slaver lounge? But there were too many voices, dozens upon dozens.

Following my map, I cantered up some stairs, again wondering just why this portion was so deserted.  I could see blankets and saddlebags left in these rooms, clearly accommodation for slavers or overseers...but nopony was home at all.  Another flight led me to a set of workshops. Benches with clamps across each side either lined the walls or were nailed to the floor in the middle. There was nothing even vaguely magical here other than the lights. And not one pon—

    Suddenly, I heard hooves.

I dove below one of the benches, pulling a few toolkits in front of me.  Seconds later, a galloping pony went by at a thundering pace, heading to the stairs I had just come up.  Slave or slaver, I did not know, but only once they had passed did I pull myself out and continue. My heart was beating fast, despite how quiet this area was. Background noise not considered, I was still deep in a forbidden place. I could never forget that.

If I were caught, if they discovered what I was, I likely wouldn't even get taken as a new slave. I'd seen trespassers brutally mocked, humiliated, and exhibited to other slaves in the past.  Often much to the amusement of the slaves themselves.  Not for the first time, did the sheer circle of brutality in Fillydelphia not cease to amaze me.

The workshops held five or six doors to the right, all of them seemed to lead into a large room, the place all the noise was coming from.  Tentatively, I snuck forward to push one open, before hopping back as my hooves almost walked clean off the edge of a sudden drop.

    A big drop.

Creeping forward, tentatively poking my head out, I saw a colossal room, three floors deep back to the ground floor.  Ornate murals furnished every wall down to the bottom, where I saw a large open space in front of a wooden stage. Covering the back wall was a simple curtain of half moth-eaten fabric. Lighting rigs hung above it, while I could see various remains of chandeliers over the open space.  Peeking my head around, I could see side rooms on the bottom floor, each containing small tables. Dotted here and there at various levels, I saw other balconies or open corridors that allowed onlookers to gaze into this central hub and watch whatever was taking place. In its heyday, this must have been beautiful.

But now, slavers had stripped out every seat before the stage, while the stage was lined with chickenwire mesh, shaped into large cages for slaves. Lines of foul banners and cloth were hung from balcony to balcony. Some bore Red Eye’s mark, others ones I didn’t recognise. The side rooms had been hollowed out into farther containment for their workforce, sealing them in with wooden barriers.  Opposite the stage, the slavers had set up a few tables where some of them now sat and bustled around, drinking heavily and laughing as they either played cards or whooped at the stage. I could see a scrawny, underfed, and crying mare being forced into a humiliating routine, as the slavers thumped their tables and screamed for more. Other slaves were lethargically dragging their hooves around to see to the needs of their masters between their work shifts.  In the side rooms, I could see the vast majority of the bony slaves, trying to get what rest they could or glaring hopelessly at the slavers.

There were a great many slaves simply left on the floor of the room, huddled in groups where they couldn't fit in the side rooms, as though the slave den was overpopulated. The majority of slavers not sat at the small tables were sitting against the walls or in side rooms, watching their stocks, their whips hanging ready.  Many ponies came and went from side rooms, likely to their own accommodations. In all the entire room seemed to bustle with activity, like some sort of combination between a common area and a den.

    But worst...the gantries on this level were gone. Inches ahead of my hooves, I could see where they had been torn away, leaving my route inaccessible.

    I'd have to go down into that and try to blend in as I passed by.  I didn't want to. I really didn't want to.

    But it was the only way into the rest of the building, and much as it still confused me, I couldn’t deny the motivation I finally felt inside me to make it in there.

    I just wished I knew exactly why that drive had gotten so strong for this task of all things.

    “If I tell you to go and fetch my fucking saddlebag, then you fetch my fucking saddlebag. Whether it's your shift or not!”

The slave was slapped heavily across the face by the burly earth pony, and rushed back out of the entrance on three legs, clutching their bloodied nose. In full view, I meekly trotted past them.  This was, unfortunately, the best way. There was no chance to sneak unseen. I simply had to play the slave and stagger on through. At least I had gotten plenty of practice across my life.

To that end, the moment I passed into the massive stage room, I fell in alongside a group of weary slaves returning from a shift.  I had hidden my PipBuck and goggles in my saddlebag to avoid drawing attention. Itching and sighing, the group around me made their slow path toward a spot on the floor where they collapsed.  Unwilling to appear differently, I dropped with them onto my side upon the laminated wood. Truth be told, it wasn't entirely all acting that I was exhausted. Thirst was clawing at my throat. RadAway always left me in need of something more refreshing.

Above us, the poor mare was being jeered to, in their words, 'turn around and wiggle some more.' I could see the roughly forced-on makeup stained from her eyes. I saw the half-dozen or so slavers watching drunkenly whoop and stomp their hooves.  The slave beside me was softly crying herself, clearly worrying for her own safety. Had she been told she was next, I wondered? If she hadn't been so deprived of cleanliness and food, she might have been quite attractive. Fillydelphia ruined all kinds of ponies, I knew.  

If I could just slowly move from group to group, I could make my way to the far doors that I knew led to the research areas.  I began crawling as though hurt and tired, reaching for a fellow slave in the next cluster. A few other slaves were moving too. I only had to stay average and forgettable—

A whip cracked upon the ground.  As one, all of us moving froze at the sound and turned to see the wiry unicorn stallion snarling.

    “Get in your groups and stop moving, all of you!  You think this is a social gathering? Unless yer told, don't move!”

Squeaking in terror, I saw his eyes focus on me, I hopped quickly into the next group along and cowered there, trying to pretend I'd always been from this one.  The slaves roughly pushed me to the outskirts of the cluster, complaining and seeking more space for themselves. Eventually, I simply lay on the ground and shivered, hoping that nopony would really pay me any heed as just a small bundle on the floor.  Already, the sheer noise and chatter of the slavers and the moaning of abused slaves was hurting my ears. A mare shrieked and begged when a couple of slavers tugged her off toward a curtained side room. Another buck wailed as he was whipped for bumping into a slaver.  Behind the mare on the stage, I could see similarly dressed ponies, both stallions and mares, cowering in the chicken wire cages.

This entire place was a misery. I could see why Protégé hated it.  A room that seemed to personify the day to day suffering of slaves.  No extravagant tortures or cunning deceptions. Just deprivation and control. The reality of life for so many ponies caught in this horrific trade. I often thought that was the worst thing. Seeing ponies of so many types reduced to the same state. Happy ones, strong ones, angry ones, scared ones, yet after some time, witnessing them slowly transformed into beaten and submissive slaves never ceased to make me feel uniquely uncomfortable. It was the one process of slavery I’d never known myself.

I had seen the thousands of them across my life, free ponies that had fallen out of control of their own lives after one haunting day of capture. With them, I simply had to be a part of it.

    For now.  I reminded myself.  For now...

Occasionally, I would spot a few slavers less interested in the brutal side of their work, preferring to simply rest on the outskirts of the room between shifts.  It wasn't unusual, some slavers were just taking it for the work, after all. If I could maybe go by them instead, maybe they might be less prone to severe enforcement?

Waiting for a procession of slaves to limp past, I gently slipped in among them, trotting with my head down.  Up ahead, I could see the thick door that led into the research areas swing open and close as slavers barged in.  At least it was unlocked...now I only had to—

    I was interrupted as I heard something that made the entire room come to a halt. The rythmic stomp and hiss of machinery approached...as something awe inspiring emerged into the light from one of the larger doors behind me.

My mouth gaped as I saw what had to be the master of this area.  I actually rubbed my eyes in disbelief, as I fought the urge to shriek on the spot.  This...this was no pony!

It stood on hind legs?  A thick, dark brown haired, and muscular body drew up above them to a bovine head bearing two sharpened horns.  At first I thought the behemoth was wearing armour, but very quickly, to my horror, I saw it was implanted.  Robotic-looking arms and embedded machines in its chest whirred away. Both arms bore brutally large tri-fingered claws, each claw looking over six inches thick widthways. It gave the entire beast a stooped gait from the immense weight of those things hanging on metallic arms.

Gazing into those rotating red blinking eyes, I felt unbridled terror within my breast. This beast was already monstrous, but those implants made it worthy of the description ‘death machine’ in my eyes. Below it walked an old donkey, limping on a stiff hind leg.  Then I realised, the huge thing was following the arthritic slaver. Was...that some sort of insane half-robot bodyguard?

Any thought further was killed immediately as I heard somepony else enter to my right.  The bionic monster and the oddly authoritative donkey were bad enough to have to worry about, but that one voice overrode every thought I had on the spot.

    “Get out of my way, you worms!  Move! Shift's coming in and you're lazing about.  Not over there, you wretch! Come here!”

    His voice.

The din died out, and by merely entering the room, he rose above it all. My head slowly turning to see the particular figure that I dreaded.  From the same way I’d entered, across the hall, strode The Master. A thick crack broke through the air, as I saw a bony slave being lashed by his heavy whip.  Again and again that whip descended, simply for getting in the way. The buck cried out in agony before being thrown away entirely.

    “Know your place!  Get inside, you lot. Think Grindstone's wants to just wait!?”

Around me, every slave present seemed to shift backward...and I joined them.  He...why was here here now? Hide, I needed to hide! I wanted to scream in pain as I felt my head sear and throb around the scar. I simply fell amongst a group of complaining slaves who seemed too tired to properly shove me away.

Behind him trooped a line of blackened and burned slaves carting crates and storage boxes.  Most of them had dried blood caking their torsos, flanks, and faces. They had been put through absolute hell. As soon as many were inside, they seemed to pass out on the spot.  I couldn't even tell which were mares and which were stallions under it all; these ponies simply looked like they were on the edge of life and ability.

    Crushing myself amongst a group of slaves, I didn't dare try to move for the nearby door now.  He was too sharp. He would know.  If he already didn't...Celestia, Luna, please lift me away from his wretched embrace...

“Chainlink Shackles, if my old eyes don't deceive me.  You're bringing me gifts, so I see. Your excursion went well?  I see your personal stocks have grown as of late...”

The donkey's voice was very low, rich, and surprisingly smooth.  The Master snorted, idly kicking a slave beneath him until he stood up again.

“You know the rules, Grindstone. You get what you catch.  That breakout stunt you had your informant arrange proved a lovely little way to get some of that upstart's little ponies into my hooves.  In return, the remnants from the Stable for your...heh, collection.  But most of these slaves are just appropriated from other slavers who know me Grindstone. The ones who don’t dare say no. Given a little time, I'll have a full stock of my own to play with once more.”

    The Master glanced at the small donkey before him, then at the giant beast marching along behind its charge.

    “A minotaur from Red Eye's technicians?  Heh...you must have done something to please...”

Grindstone was already wandering amongst the crates, ignoring the chitchat.  He lifted horribly burned pieces of terminals and wires out before dropping them and nodding.

    “Yes, this is good...Aurora Star's scientists went in there. Did you locate the information I asked for?”

    “Hmph...nothing after the fire.  If anything's there, it'll be on the terminals.”

    “Very well.  Slaves!  Take these to the storage room, now!  Half of you get it!”

His own band of slavers got to kicking and prodding the tired workforce on the floor into activity.  I felt myself being pushed toward him, and fought back to try and move away from him.  I had to! He would recognise me instantly. If he saw me out here, I'd be his forever!

Spurred by sheer fear, all too similar to when I had run from the FunFarm, I more actively threw myself against the slaves and galloped toward the next group.  The moments in which his gaze was averted, I made my moves, trying to simply gallop as fast as I could to any cluster of ponies while all the slavers were busy with the changeover.  A couple more slow slides into each group and I was at the door. The slavers seemed distracted enough that one pony slipping out amongst the mass should go unnoti—

    “YOU!”

    Every hoof ceased moving, locking me in place.  Facing away, I felt my breathing rapidly accelerate intpo short and sharp gasps.  Sweat and tears dripped off of my face in equal measure. My head stung.

I didn't want to turn...but I had to.  My Master was calling. Every old instinct seemed to re-emerge in his presence more than anypony.  Slowly, my hooves twisted and I turned to face him.

    My heart felt a spike of hope as I saw that it wasn't me he was looking at.

    But it broke the moment I saw who it was.

Lying to the side, nursing a series of barely-healed buckshot wounds on her side, covered in filth already with her brilliantly coloured mane stained from smoke, I saw Sunny Days.  

The Master strode over and pulled her up, despite her a cry of pain, before immediately slapping her across the mouth with one of those massive, bony hooves of his.  The fear in her eyes was unmistakable. Strong as she may be, The Master’s treatment clearly had deeply harrowed her already. She couldn’t keep eye contact with him, despite her earlier defiance.

    “You rest when I tell you!  Not when you want! You earn sleep, not choose it!”

Falling from my own hooves to hide, my jaw simply hung open. I watched as she was hurled toward the door, thrown away from me and back into the mass of unlucky ponies whom had fallen into his will.  She curled back, pulling herself away, and I saw The Master greedily lick his lips and chuckle at the sight. The donkey, Grindstone, simply stood and watched the show.

    “Sometimes, Shackles, you even scare an old vet like me.”

“Good.” The Master snorted. “It's my place in life to own them.”

“Ever the born slaver you are.  Well, you'll have enough to your 'whims' soon enough.  Come, follow. A room in private would be better to discuss certain matters of importance.”

    Backpedalling, I almost screamed in intense terror. They were coming this way!  Toward the door I was hiding beside! Turning, pushing myself to the floor, I crawled among slaves, disturbing those trying to sleep and inviting a few lightly bucked hooves into my side for the effort.  I had to get there before them. I had to!

    “Hm, Shackles, I see you don't have a, heh, pet with you.  You always did used to have one...”

Looking back briefly, I saw The Master raising a hoof, pulling up the empty collar attached via a chain to his armoured barding.  The smile became a fully fledged grin of sheer sadistic will.

    “Oh, believe me, my good Grindstone, I have somepony in mind.”

Shivering, I fought the urge to wail and just gallop.  The nightmare was here, the chains waiting to clamp home the moment he spotted me. It didn't take a genius to figure out who he wanted as his personal slave.  The swinging collar was almost hypnotic, before he dropped it again.  A slaver lashed out as I hopped to another group. I had to bear the whip and stifle the cry of pain as I felt it open a welt on my neck.  Shaking my hooves in apology, I heard him snort and leave. But the delay had cost me dearly. They were less than twenty feet behind me through the crowds.

A quick glance saw The Master stopping to reach out and grab a young mare with a hoof.  Clearly, he knew her from someplace beforehand, as I heard him taunting her on whether she was 'behaving.' Grindstone and The Master clearly had a long history.  Right now, however, the unfortunate target of his attention gave me another window to push forward to the last slave group ahead of the doorway. There were no guards, presumably it being an entrance that slaves knew better than to go through, it only led deeper after all. Reaching forward with a hoof to push through, I looked once again over the back of my body to see The Master looking up.  Squeaking in terror, I was forced to drop to the side of the door again. I was so close!

    A few slaves around me were staring at me strangely as I ducked back from the door.  The horrible thought of even one recognising me and shouting out was enough to make me avoid any and all glances. I had to wait for the moment he even looked away again…

    His head turned to something behind him.

    Now!

Grunting with the effort it took to power my wasted little legs into sudden motion, I slipped through the door in a single shove, kicking it closed with a back hoof as fast as I could.  Line of sight broken, I clambered up and galloped for all I was worth down the straight corridor. Rusted shut doors lined the walls, but I knew this led to some sort of research room, hopefully with a place to hide until they passed by.

    Reaching a corner, I dove behind it just as The Master and Grindstone (with minotaur in tag) pressed into the corridor.

“You should know, I'm moving forward with plans to increase my stock soon.  You'll have an ally nearer by amongst the slave masters, Grindstone. My own informant is taking care of preparations as we speak.”

    “You think you'll be promoted from overseer?  I know your eventual ambitions, Shackles.”

    The Master stopped moving, his voice taking a darker tone.

    “It isn’t ambition to want back what you once owned. Any master of slaves should know that. I owned more than what you consider ‘ambition’, Grindstone.”

    Grindstone, unlike most, didn’t seem particularly cowed. More just cautious in his words.

“If throwing them in a burning Stable and locking the door till they're done is how you treat your stock...woe betide your new pet when you get him.”

 “Oh...don't you worry. Nopony will be able to.  That's the point. He's not like the others. Once I've got my chains around him, he'll be begging me to control his life.”

    Crouched behind the corner up ahead, it took me a monumental effort to stop myself from clamming up so hard that I’d just remain paralysed in fear.  The double doors up ahead to the research floors were hanging open as I scampered through and shut them behind me. Even a few seconds had proven the difference in the past, no reason to think it wouldn't happen again.  Briefly, I considered shoving something against them, but that would only alert the couple. Instead, I turned to view the research floor.

It was a very wide and low room, bearing no windows. The walls and ceiling seemed carved and reinforced by elaborately carved obsidian, while the contents on the floor were punctuated by steel tables, terminals, and lots of measuring equipment both standard and arcane.  One entire wall was covered in musty books, while I saw machines large enough to sit ponies in all against the back wall. Much of it I recognised from the Stable, so much so that a familiar sense began creeping over me as I trotted quickly away from the door. Part of me almost wished I had another recorder to play and hear about what they had been doing here.

One difference though, was I saw the helmets on those machines this time had holes for unicorns, along with a small cage that went around the horn itself.

I was not, however, alone.  Almost startling me into shouting, I heard a long, drawn out snore.  Only after glancing to the left and right did I spot the one snoozing guard near a set of stairs on the far left of the wide lab.  He had literally fallen forward on a desk, drooling across a faded folder in his sleep. Breathing out slowly, I kept myself facing away from him behind the workbenches and desks scattered around in thick clusters for, presumably, differing projects.

Each piece of equipment I passed had a small note stuck to it, as well, perhaps to tell somepony what they were? The slavers were clearly catagorising things in here.  It seemed strange this was so empty of activity. Likely Grindstone simply didn't like ponies hanging around in an area filled with irreplaceable magical equipment, and lacking the scientists to understand it all.  Was that why he wanted the information from the Stable? The contrast between this silently preserved area stood out from the bustle of the main slave floor so much that it almost felt like a different building.

    Like a different world.

How might the scientists have toiled here, trying to better their understanding of preserving memory in these familiar machines?  Everything they sought was to avoid the present day nightmare from which I had just arrived. Absentmindedly, I found myself dropping a few of the more valuable-looking items such as spark batteries and fancy wired things into my saddlebag.  Protégé had just wanted me to steal the soffimizer. I wasn't sure this was what he had in mind, but it didn't stop me anyway. Glimmer would appreciate it.

While scouring the tabletops, I found a recorder.  Well, in the Stable they had recorded their daily lives, and I knew that if I had to remember all the sciency stuff, my little head would probably swell.  I threw it in my saddlebag, too, unwilling to make noise by playing it in this dark and silent manufacturing place with a sleeping guard present. Instead, I cantered onwards. I could see the door that would lead me to the storeroom at the far side, if my memory served me right.  Lined with brass on the doorframe, it certainly looked important. Checking behind me again, I grasped its cold metal handle.

    And...it was locked.  As was every other door to either side that exited the lab into the more specific research rooms. The most I could do was look through windows at areas with curiously glowing orbs sitting in the darkness.

The Master and the minotaur's hooves were becoming very easy to discern, even at this distance through a door.  I only had a few seconds to think, but everything in here was so practically designed or impossibly over ornate in its design.  There were no random storage containers or cupboards to simply hop inside, only open backed desks and work trays amongst the machines.  I began pacing on the spot, twisting to the right and left as my eyes scanned around. There were some spots, but it all held too much risk if they even went vaguely near it.  The dim purple and blue gemlights didn't exactly help matters to blend in with somepony as neutrally coloured as me, either.

Glancing to the side, one more set of stairs led upwards in an almost grand fashion. It was the route that the sleeping slaver was (rather badly) guarding.  Covered by a sheet of thin fabric that had been crudely nailed up, it seemed to be the only way for me. The purple line on the walls that I only now realised I had been following this entire time led upwards from both sides of the room to there, the symbol of the six pointed star hinting about where it led.

    I had no time to think or decide if this might end up just being worse.  There were no other ways out of here.  Silently, keeping my hooves light on the floor, I eased my way past the guard and slipped under the barrier to climb the stairs.  Behind me, the lab door was thrown open with a sharp clang as it hit the wall on the other side. I was already long past his field of view, but by some oddity of life, the slaver did not wake up from the noise.

Only after a few seconds did I realise I that felt sorry for him and what he was about to receive.  Gently, I pulled myself past the doorway at the top of the stairs, pushing the heavy oak with both front hooves to move it.  Ducking inside, I softly clicked it closed and waited on the spot with my head pressed against the door, not even daring to move, or even look at what room I’d entered.

The bellowing and harsh words from The Master at the guard were only matched by the roars and snarls of Grindstone's immense bodyguard.  The guard was thoroughly grilled, possibly even beaten, judging by some hard sounds. Every hate-filled word directed at the slaver made me quiver as The Master took care of discipline duties for Grindstone.  Even slavers weren't safe from him.

    What kind of pony was he to have this much sway from such a low rank?

    And why did he have to be fixated on me? I couldn’t properly escape him forever in this city...

Shivering behind the door, even as I heard them leave the sniffling guard behind, I could only maintain quietly wishing to myself.  I didn't want to be a slave. I didn't want to be in this city—in this world.  It was just too brutal, too uncaring and harsh.  The thought of a peaceful world of bright colour and smiling faces was like a tease, given I knew it had once existed.

    I really wanted to go there...

Finally turning, wiping my eyes, I looked upon the room I had entered.  I was stuck here for now after all, might as well see what was in it until I knew The Master and Grindstone were far enough away.

    With even a second or two of observing this room, I knew that if the Ministry was the body and the workrooms its heart, this was its soul.

Stretching high above me, a vertical office panned out to a colossal window that looked over what had once been the old park the high-rises had collapsed on.  High library shelves lined the walls, seeming to angle inwards as they went up to the point that I felt somewhat meek in the presence of such unreadable words bearing down upon me. I trotted in atop a soft purple carpet, turning in circles to see there were even fragile looking walkways on the upper levels of those shelves. Was that a bed up there?

Down on my level shelves of defunct or dim memory orbs in holders were mixed in with tomes, each with small notes tapes onto them.  On the floor before me lay that same symbol of the star, dyed into the fabric in a giant piece of wonderful art that I simply had to wander around, rather than over, for fear of offending it.

Slowly wandering forward, I couldn't help but feel small in the presence of what had to b  the entire history of Equestria. Across the ceiling was a mural depicting the great Goddesses themselves in half-arcs around one another.  Framed pictures between racks of books depicted a grand castle upon a cliff, the six Ministry Mares, and a set of jewels with a crown in the middle.  This entire room was like a nexus for all memory. The Goddesses who remembered it, the Mares who defined the past, and the orbs and stars to preserve it.  But sitting at the back, near the window, were two more immediate things to draw my attention. A desk, and a large machine in the corner.

The desk was light, thin, and smooth with a terminal sitting inactive at it.  Strewn across the tabletop were scrawled notes and diagrams of complex machinery.  One looked like the monstrosity that lay to my right.

Thick, clunky, and clearly haphazardly built from a thousand little parts, even I could tell it wasn't mass produced, owing to the ties and thick tape that bound much of it together.  No, this was hoof made, piece by piece. In a strange way, it seemed to remind me of the machine I'd seen in the Stable, or the ones downstairs, given it was linked to a rather familiar-looking comfortable cushion chair with a headpiece hung over the back.  Upon the seat was a small recorder. Around the bottom of the entire thing lay a whole host of memory orbs of both light green and shimmering cream. They were oddly bright compared to the dusty ones all over the shelves.

This had to be the office of Aurora Star.  I really wished Glimmerlight were with me. She would know what to make sense of from here, not to mention freak out at it all.  Memory was her thing.  But all the same, I couldn't deny my own curiosity here.  Glancing toward the door, I reached out and plucked the recorder to insert into my PipBuck.  Half muffling the speaker before hitting buttons, I finally found the one to play it. After a second, I instead slumped down into the machine's chair.

It was actually quite comfortable.

    Click.

    “This is Aurora Star.  Operating instructions for the Memory Projection and Extractor unit will follow.”

    Her voice was surprisingly young, somewhat nasally, and with a habit of sniffing between sentences.  I felt myself gasp at the mere idea. This was the mare I'd heard so many mention, if only in passing.  Another piece of the puzzle...

    “It's really quite simple. I did design it as such.  Well, apart from setting which memories to extract. Leave that to the unicorns trained in the memory spells.  Place the headset upon the brow of the user, whether for projection or extraction.  Then, pull the red lever all the way down for projection or the blue lever halfway up for extraction.  Just make sure you do it right. There's nothing worse than doing it wrong...then forgetting that you did it wrong because you did it wrong and forgot what you did wrong.”

    As a note, my headache was not exactly improving.

    “Dull orbs are to be copied onto, lit ones are to project from, again make sure of that.  Please, every time you are done, place the light blue one back in. It's the original test orb with one of my own memories.  I prefer them not to go missing to the press. Featherweight is rather good at tracking this sort of stuff down. Thanks.”

    Click.

    That had been a lot shorter than I’d hoped, given I was stuck in here. I didn’t dare move out until those two masters were long gone.

And so began a period of waiting.  I sat and watched out the window at slaves moving around below me, or stared wistfully at the Wall in the distance.  I flicked open a few books, looking for the ones with pictures in them. But even illustrations proved difficult to understand. Mostly they were graphs and arcane sigils.  I tried listening to see if the guard started snoring again...nothing. I sat in her well-greased chair that could spin in circles. (Whee!) But eventually I could not keep my eyes from drifting back to that memory projection machine.

    I wanted out of this horrible world. I wanted a better Equestria.

    I also knew how to operate it, and the light blue memory was still embedded in a little holder, one of Aurora Star's.

    A little shining star of memories from a better world, just waiting for me to see the real Equestria.

    After my drawings and thoughts recently, after Protégé's talks, after the Stable, and the Ministry of Image...I couldn't not do it.  Yes, it was foolish, orbs made you unaware, but I needed it.  One little escape. A brief trip to someplace that wouldn't hurt me.  Pulling off the headset from the chair, I lowered it atop my brow and pulled the red lever before wandering over to sit at the desk...because why not?  It was comfier than the machine's one. And could spin.

As I heard the low throb and tingle of spark magic inside the machine, I had a distinctly unsettling feeling in my stomach.  What if I woke up to see The Master or a guard? They were right out there! This was a horrible idea, but handed the opportunity to leave my world behind for a few minutes or so, I just couldn’t turn it down. Nopony would come in here, I was sure of it, and this might be the only chance I’d ever get to see this.

    My perception of the world swam. I heard the machine gurgle and spark with magical energy, and then everything faded away...

    I was Aurora Star.

She was trotting through the Ministry in the early hours of morning, judging by the still slumped faces of those around her in the brightly lit corridors.  She had a spring in her step, a saddlebag over her back by the feeling of it bouncing off my, um...her sides.  Upon my brow, a sensation of light pressure told of a thin set of glasses.  They were way more comfortable than my goggles. I could swear it was easier to tell details.

“Good morning, Miss Star!” A pony waved as she passed.  I felt my hoof lift to wave back, revealing Aurora's main coat to be a lavish ornate blue.

    “Good morning, Wheatsheaf!”

The unicorn named Wheatsheaf trotted on past with a smile upon his face.  It had been so casual and polite. Ponies seemed friendly by nature. I could get used to this sort of place!

    “Miss Star!  Miss Star!”

    A young buck, likely an apprentice, ran up to me...or her, well, me-her.

There was a term I never wanted to use again.  I really hoped that being a mare in a few memory orbs wasn't going to affect me in real life. Barb already called me a filly.

I felt Aurora raise her head proudly and reach forward to shake his hoof.

    “Sparkler, what can I do for you?”

“Nothing, Ma'am!  I...I just thought you might like to know that you have a visitor.  Um...a pretty important one. She's in your office. Also, your morning coffee should be waiting. I...uh...figured I'd pick you one up while I was out anyway.  My treat.”

I felt my eyebrows rise in interest, before she (urgh, he, she, me, I, whatever, I'd leave orbs to smart unicorns...) nodded a thanks.

    “Oh, thank you, Sparkler!  How very kind of you. Now, I have a feeling I know who it is...”

Bowing their heads in goodbye, she wandered past him toward the office.  Passing an mezzanine, she glanced down at the sound of numerous ponies cheering together as one. It was the central room I’d just crept through, the one now filled with slaves! The stage was polished and shining, and I could see filled tables and rows all around it. The chandeliers cast radiant golden light that reflected and twinkled off the patterns emblazoned in the walls. That same obsidian colouring on the pillars, while dreary and depressing in my time, was so well maintained that it almost acted like a mirror to ponies close to it.

Seeing this room as it was, I realised I’d been right. It was indeed beautiful.

A pegasus had presented something on stage.  I couldn’t hope to understand the diagram projected onto the screen behind her, but I felt Aurora smile warmly as the young mare was treated with respect and admiration by those trotting up to shake her hoof.

Finally trotting around and through another locked (in my version anyway) door, she came to the research lab, bustling with activity as ponies cast spells that flashed and glowed behind screens, or poured over books that looked just as dusty then as they were now.  With a magical throw of her horn, the heavy door to her own room was gently pressed open, and she approached exactly where I was now.

    I wanted to shield my eyes as the light struck them.  The office shone.  Daylight, actual daylight blazed through the windows, reflecting off the glass like enormous lens flares, tinged with every colour of a rainbow.  Only now did it hit me that I had never seen the past as it should have been. Even Glimmerlight's memory had still been the wasteland, but now...

    Equestria...was beautiful.

The colours, the way all the little details in the grain that time had long scoured away now showed on the wood of the desk.  The small gems that had once been in the eyes of Celestia and Luna upon the mural were no longer stolen. The sounds of gentle wind and polite discussion from the labs behind Aurora. The comforting feeling her wandering across a soft floor of thick carpet.

That was before I even saw past the figure sitting at the desk to witness the outside world.  I wanted to take control, steer Aurora Star toward the window to gaze upon the vista that I only saw hints of behind the lavender pony that she was so intent on. Aurora sniffed briefly, and cleared her throat.

“Miss Twilight Sparkle, an honour to know you visit us so unexpectedly.” Aurora's voice managed to rid itself of most of that nasal tone as she bowed her head slightly in greeting.

The older unicorn looked up, wearing tired eyes upon a weary, but strong, face. I had seen her on the banners in the Mall!  This was a Ministry Mare!

Twilight waved a hoof, smiling gently.

“Sorry for taking your office, Aurora.  I guess I just don't think too well without some books around me.  I won't be here long, really, I just wanted to talk to you about a little something.”

I felt Aurora shake her head, revealing to me that she had a rather long mane by the way I felt a ponytail jiggle from side to side on my neck.

    “No, no!  Please, Ma'am, it is alright.  I'm just the same, really! Something about the stacks is just naturally relaxing.”

Was she nervous?  I could feel sweat running down my face, and not just from the more natural heat that drifted throughout the room from the windows.  Twilight stood up and beckoned Aurora over to the machine I had just used.

“I wanted to talk to you about your projection machine. Now, I know it's been your own little pursuit for the past year, but I'm afraid it's no longer necessary to provide funding for mass production.”

    I felt Aurora step back in shock, moving over to protectively place a hoof upon the machine.

“But...but Ma'am!  This is my biggest project!  To allow non-unicorns to see and store memories!  I thought the Ministries were all on board!”

Twilight shook her head.

“I'm sorry, Aurora.  But we've had a breakthrough in Canterlot. Something called a recollector that works with a separate concept called the black opal.  Essentially, it does the same thing your machine does by letting anypony access or withdraw memories, but it does so in a much more portable form. I'm so sorry...but in these days we need to prioritise the ones that will have a greater overall effect in the war.”

    She did sound genuinely upset to have to break this news, moving over to lay a hoof on Aurora's shoulder.

“You've been an incredible leader of the Fillydelphia hub, Aurora.  You will continue to be. The papers you wrote, the ones about using memories to educate ponies?  That could be a wonderful tool to let all sorts of ponies learn about things they normally wouldn't.  After all, we both know how few ponies actually know about Starswirl the Bearded, right?”

The older mare's smile was met by a little chuckle from Aurora Star, clearly a little in-joke between the two of them.  But I could hear the laugh was masking a stutter in her throat, and I could feel her shoulders slump as Twilight led her to the window overlooking the park.  I would have felt elated had it not felt disrespectful to Aurora having one of her projects canned after, presumably, a long period of work and effort.

    All the same, Fillydelphia was not the city I recognised...

The park was...was green!  Gently flowing trees surrounded an oval and bright blue pond at its middle, where little winged creatures flocked madly to the edges to be fed by ponies.  The high-rise building was intact beside it, annoyingly blocking the view to the Mall. Laundry hung from windows, and I could even spot some ponies talking to one another across balconies. SUnlight made the world appear to glow with vivid colour, from the varied shades on the trees, to the bright red roads that groups of ponies raced one another down in the park. Small stands selling food crowded around benches close to the Ministry, while I could see mountains of brilliant white snow rising up from dense forest beyond the intact city.

I couldn’t believe this sight, to see the streets clear and home to so many ponies and the skies filled with pegasi that twirled to and fro.  Never...never in my wildest imaginations could it have looked so amazing.

Aurora, tracked a small groups of friends who ran with kites across the gentle hills of the park, before turning to look at the Ministry Mare. Twilight had been watching the same ponies too.

“Ma'am...do...do you mind if I ask you something a little personal?  I'm sorry, just, it's hard to speak to the staff about this, and you've been such a wonderful mentor to me.”

    “Of course, Aurora.  Believe me, I know what it's like to need one.”

    The reply had been so casual, that I almost suspected Aurora would be taken aback. Instead, she sighed and leaned on the windowsill.

    “Do you ever think that it's wrong to be making all this technology to go into a war effort?  I didn't imagine this when I was small, and wanted to be a scientist.  I wanted to help everyone, not just everypony.”

    Twilight listened, looking Aurora in the eye. Gently, she reached out again, patting Aurora’s back.

“So did I at your age. And believe me, I wish we could. Just, the world is changing and all we can do is hope we invent the right things to stop that change from going too far, and to try and turn this all back to the way it was.  I'm never sure how Applejack and Rainbow Dash manage it, developing or doing the things they do. Some days I fear I may have to start doing something similar if things get bad enough. But don't worry for the future, Aurora. You might be young, but you're a pony of the past. Saying that, at least in my eyes, ceased to become a euphemism for ‘outdated’ a long time ago. Just look at where we've come from, remember the world you saw when you were a foal, and just do all you can to preserve and maintain that through this, alright?”

    “Yes, Ma'am...”

    “Please, Aurora.  We're friends. It's Twilight.”

Twilight offeed a rather adorable little smile, even for her more advanced age.  My own mouth's corners twisted upward, too.

    “Yes, Twilight.  Thank you. I...I won't disappoint you.  But, I do have something!”

“Oh yes,” Twilight chuckled as she spoke. “I think I know what. All the other Ministry leaders have been mentioning you've been getting in touch with them.  Very canny business thinking to get word out. Come on, show me!”

Aurora was clearly blushing at her superior knowing ahead of time, but she turned to pull a lavender orb toward her, the same colour as Twilight.  In fact, I could swear the darker purple sparkles within it seemed to match her mane colour, too. It was slightly bigger than a normal memory orb and glowed when Twilight herself plucked it from the air with her own telekinesis demonstrating an ease and precision not even Protégé had.  Against the direct sunlight, the orb seemed to absorb some of the light in its strange glass-like surface.

Looking at her own reflection, Twilight gasped.

    “It's got my magical signature...”

    Aurora awkwardly rubbed her hooves together.

“Oh, uh, yes, Ma...Twilight. Sorry, I forgot you’d be able to tell that right away. Most unicorns can’t. They have to be created using a memory orb from the pony intending to use it, which is why I asked for one from each of you last year.  It's not a very efficient process, but it's a proof of concept. This orb will actually display a pony as an image to whoever activates the recorded memory on it. It lets you basically make a message that includes you and your expression, too. To play them back, you just place them on the holder they come with, so anypony can view it. We don’t have a proper name yet, but the apprentices use ‘projection orbs’, so it kind of stuck.”

The Ministry Mare toyed around with the orb. Turning it over, casting various spells that seemed to examine it, even while she gaped in quiet excitement.

    “Aurora, this...this is wonderful! I wish we had things like this back when I was just a student sending messages every week.”

    I could feel Aurora’s cheeks burning. Her front hooves bashfully crossed over.

“Well, it's yours.  The messages can be so personal with this sort of thing, but they are one use only so...if you want to record something, make sure it's important. I can't create them easily.  Also, um...you have to leave this one with me afterwards, I promise I won't look, but I need to have a model with me to help in creating more. I'll mail it back to you the moment I've worked out how, though.  I promise I won't look at the contents. It's your message from the heart to the ponies of the future...”

Twilight seemed transfixed, only nodding vaguely in response while pulling the orb close.

“I...I think I know precisely what to say in it.  Audio recorders just don't feel right to me, and memory orbs...well, it feels strange to talk to a mirror.  But this...yes, there are a few things I wanted to say. I'll have it back to you before the end of the day.”

    “Thank you...”

They hugged briefly, with me rather enjoying the small measure of physical comfort, even for just a memory.  Twilight gave her polite goodbyes and departed, leaving Aurora to look over the vista of Fillydelphia once again from her chair.  The kites were flying in the park, being pulled around by six young, laughing mares; while even the factories in the distance seemed cleaner and part of the scenery.  A wonderfully serene image of the world before it all.

Gradually, I felt the corners of my perception darkening; the memory was ending. I didn’t want it to! This world was happy!  I wanted to go to the park! To trot the streets! To run with them and their kites! I wanted to see the sun!  I didn't want to leave Equestria!

    Despite all pleading, everything began to slide away.

    I wanted to stay so badly...

Slowly, that world faded, falling apart through the haze of the orb's memory ending, to reveal the desecrated corpse of a city that had been risen from its death by Red Eye.  Colours withdrew to thick black and scalding red. The park was once again buried beneath a mountain of dark rubble, the kites fading into nothing. Factory smoke became like volcano ash, belching forth into the sky that was hidden by the clouds once again, blocking the sun and leaving us in a dark world.

    The return to reality was as harsh as I might have imagined.

Sitting in Aurora's chair, I simply hung limply for a while, not even crying.  I just stared. I wanted to go back, wanted every dream to be filled with that place.  Slowly, I gradually pulled the headset off and let it drop by my side. Turning my head, I saw the purple orb still sitting there beside its holder.

I couldn't live in that world.  But I uphold Twilight’s wish of the message being seen by those in the future.  Slipping off the chair, I picked it up in my hooves, seeing the magic within surge and twist in arcane shapes.  This was no normal memory orb. The radiance from it recoloured my own coat when held near me, while the sheen on it had gathered no dust at all. Gently, as though part of a ceremony, I carefully placed it upon the holder.

A sharp, but soft, magical crack snapped through the air as it made contact.  Sparkles whizzed free from the orb, orbiting it at high speed. Hastily stepping back, I could only gaze with an open mouth at the stars flowing faster and faster in all directions around the central orb; its light only growing. At its height, the sparkles flew outwards, and the entire orb gleamed.  Colours danced in the air around it, beginning to form and flow together. I saw lines...

    Lines became curves...

    Curves became shapes...

    Shapes...

    The Ministry Mare, Twilight Sparkle, came to life before my eyes.  Standing in front of the desk, she faced toward me.  Her body was somewhat translucent, twinkling from little star-shapes, who’s straight lines helped make up the shape of this legendary pony. She was taller than me, properly fed and healthy, if tired-looking.  In her eyes hung a weariness that had been either missing or hidden from Aurora.

“I don't know who you are, where you found this, or how long has passed since I recorded it.  Aurora Star has promised that they do not break easily...so this could be as far as I might imagine into the future.  So please, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Twilight Sparkle. I am one of the six Ministry Mares under Princess Luna of Equestria.  A land of peace, optimism and hope. Or at least… it used to be...”

She glanced to the side, away from 'my' perspective, had I been directly before her.  I began to worry about the volume and the guard, but if he hadn't been attracted by the first snap of magic, then I doubted he’d hear this. I shifted forward, standing right in front of the Twilight illusion.

After a few seconds, her eyes blinked, and she came into motion. Her mouth opening, and the voice that followed ever so slightly hollow and echoed.

“We have entered into a war.  A horrible war against the zebras that is consuming our entire civilization.  I am not here to tell of the reasons or the morality, because I don’t want to attempt to rationalise or justify what should not be happening.  We, of the Ministries, are sworn to find a way to preserve and protect Equestria, to end the war however we might, in order to help bring peace again.  But I take to this orb, not to tell of how we are succeeding, but of how I fear we may have already failed.”

    A part of me went out to the poor mare; I could see the hurt on her face as she spoke the last line.

“A Ministry Mare should never say these things. We are to 'remain steadfast' and 'promote victory' without thought of failure.  But I cannot permit this time to pass without some record of my true thoughts and feelings.  I am a pony first, a leader second. This...sorry...”

Twilight looked away, raising a hoof to her eyes.  This was hard for her. Where it seemed only natural to me to talk about the world, I had to remember that this was a mare who had grown up with a peaceful realm to love and enjoy.

    “I...I come to this orb to get this out.  I need to.  Equestria is not what it once was.  We’re not only losing countless lives against the zebras, we’re losing who we are.  When did we become about aggressive victory? I have seen great darkness and chaos overcome with friendship.  Savage greed and hateful intent beaten by love. But now victory and defeat comes only at the end of a weapon.  This...this isn't the Equestria I grew up with...”

My heart broke.  She was...she was crying.  My hooves felt itchy on the ground, unable to do anything but simply listen.  Twilight looked back toward me (or slightly above me, anyway) with tearful eyes.  There was nothing...nothing but me and her in the room. The broken past speaking to the ruined future.

“When I was a student in Ponyville, all I had were my friends and the love of my world.  We could leave our doors unlocked, trust one another to help out, and gladly offer up our time to aid a pony in need.  We played, learned, and loved in the light of a brilliant sun, sleeping soundly and safely beneath the beautiful moon. The worst I had to worry about day to day was getting a report done on time...such innocent days.  That world is gone. So far that I...I'm not even sure this is Equestria anymore, that I'm trying to save.”

Breathing sharply, she seemed to scuff her hooves on the ground, looking away again until she could compose herself.  I dearly wished I could hug her, but my hooves, I knew, would only pass through. Her voice grew and grew, pain and hurt expanding with every sentence.

“Today, on...hgn...sorry.  Today, on the train, I heard a group of young colts swearing and insulting others.  I passed ponies drunk and screaming; war veterans staggering and horribly maimed; and others suffering from the stress of war.  We own weapons in our homes that can kill in seconds, while our own Ministries are spying on each other! One of my best friends is a drug addict!  What happened to my world?  I...oh, Celestia, I'm sorry...”

She had slumped, falling to all her knees and hiding her face. I saw little sparks of magic simulate even the tears dropping to shimmer and disappear on the ground.  I was shivering myself, real tears forming in my eyes for her. I had lived in this world my entire life. She had to watch the one she loved become the hell I knew.

“In history, other civilizations were born in the fires of war, in pain and in turmoil.  We were born through understanding, love, and friendship. We strayed from the path we had set for ourselves not by hate or choice, but through the ignorance of our own innocence.  We were foals playing with the tools of our parents. Parents who had not taught us the responsibility we needed to know why we should never play with them at all.”

    Another sad pause. Twilight looked up again, twinkling eyes staring right at mine.

“I'm so far from the Equestria I knew. I just want to wake up tomorrow and be in my bed in the library.  To nag Spike for oversleeping and see my friends outside in the sun. To visit Sugarcube Corner for a snack or...or to go meet Fluttershy for lunch.  Why can't we just go back to what we once had? If this doesn't end well, I'm so sorry to whoever is listening to this. With things escalating and megaspells coming into being, I don't even know what's going to happen.  The thought that someday all the good might have been squeezed out of Equestria scares me, that there might not be any good ponies left. Just corrupted away from the magic of friendship. All I know is I have to stop all this or, if I can’t do that, find a way to repair my world, and hope somepony might be willing to do it.”

    “We're trying...” I barely breathed the words.

    She had stood again, pacing in place.  But right away, Twilight stopped, looking directly ahead.

“I know whoever you are, this must feel like you're the unluckiest pony in the world right now, should this war pan out the way I fear it could.  Ponies aren't meant to live in horror and pain. Please, don't forget where we came from. That's what matters, because there is always a way back.  I'm going to find it. All I can say is we're so sorry...”

She stretched her hoof forward, before looking confused why she did.  Raising my own, I pressed it toward hers until the light sparkled around the end of my own leg from touching the ambient magic.  Her sparkling, lavender, clean hoof of the beautiful past passing into the bandage bound, blood stained hoof of my future.

“Stay true to the elements that made us what we were.  Never surrender to the hate, I know your world may not be perfect, but Equestria is only what we can create ourselves.  Make friends, take time to make amends, do not be afraid to fight if in defence of a better world. This message is to let you see through me the thoughts and fears of everypony now.  We're all dreaming of the same peace, even if we don't know it. Good luck...”

With that, the little stars shimmered and whirled as the entire image collapsed into a shining mass that flooded into the orb, leaving me alone in the dark.  Alone in a silent new world, a million miles and hundreds of years from the true Equestria she had known.

    Somehow, I felt both more convicted to escape than ever, and yet farther from freedom than I had known my entire life.

I had sat staring at the orb some time, listening as I heard the guard grumbling to himself downstairs about being tired.

Twilight's memory had hit me hard.  They were hoping in the past that their world wouldn't fall into the abyss they saw coming.  Their hopes had been almost entirely dashed. Now it was up to ponies like Littlepip and all those others the DJ talked about on the radio.  All separate across every area of Equestria, all striving for the same thing. I really wished I could be like them, travelling the wastes and trying to make things better.

    But I wasn't.

Eventually, I slipped the orb into my bag.  It was surprisingly light for its larger size, but my bag was beginning to get a little full.  Pulling the straps across, I placed it back atop my torso and snuck back over to the doorway. The past had opened its wonders to my eyes, literally this time, but I could not linger any more.  I needed to get out, get that sardonitor, and get back to Protégé and Glimmerlight where I could draw and just make sense of all this. I had to push my wishes for another world away, lest they drive me to depression at the thought of what had been lost.

Pressing my ear against the door revealed the guard trotting around, likely to keep himself awake.  That was good. I could use the gap to get out the door. Gently pressing it aside, I cast one last look back at the office.

The guard was at the far side of the lab, far enough away that I managed to creep down, slip behind the workbenches, and stay low to the ground.  Listening to his direction, I crept around the tables, hopping from one to one only as the guard wandered past my position. Although he was a good fifteen feet away in the wide room, there was no sense in taking chances now.

“Fuckin' Shackles...thought we were rid of him...” The guard was muttering to himself.  Had The Master worked as an overseer here too? It did make sense to think about.

Waiting at the next corner until the guard wandered back towards his chair, I poked my head out to check on where he was looking, pulling back immediately once I saw his neck twitch to look toward the door.  Shivering from even that simple close call, I waited till I heard trotting again before moving on. Approaching the door, I lightly tested it with a hoof first, finding it swinging easily. Good, that wouldn't be a problem to jump through.

    Wow. I really could do this whole sneaking thing.

    Well, sort of.  I still was only going in.  Traditionally, it was while getting out of places that I tended to slip up.  Watching the guard's hooves beneath the benches and desks, I slipped through the doors the moment I saw him turn away.

Beyond was a thin corridor that split into a two sided junction at the end.  Trotting forward, I found that each direction curved away around a smooth corner.  Doors lined the outside wall while the wall on the inside curve had various windows.  Creeping up to one, I saw that the curves must have met at the other side. This was a single large test chamber surrounded by one circular corridor.  It was well lit and contained a very valuable-looking piece of machinery at the centre, like a large bowl connected to the ceiling with pipes and wires, and some sort of model of a pedestal below it.  It was very shiny, and very complex. As such, I ignored it.  With only one way in and no hiding places, even some shiny things had to get overlooked from my rather grab happy mindset in a place where I felt the slavers deserved nothing.  No, my objective was the room on the far side, in project storage. Trotting around, I saw that it held no door. Within was exactly the place I had wanted. I came across the a large storage chamber used for old machines and prototypes.

Piled scrap lay on either side of the entryway, while a rack of shelves around a table set against the wall bore a whole ton of weird and wacky designs.  Most were rusted or cracked. In the far corner, I saw a few old robots lying dead against the wall. They were big and boxy with large screens where I might have imagined their chests were.  It all tapered down past two weapon mounts and two arms to end in a single wheel at the bottom. No wonder they were junked, how could that ever work?

    But the storage chamber was dominated by a colossal machine.  What was worse, I recognised some elements of it.  Pods, just like the zebra-pony-ghoul cult had been using to zombify ponies, they were arranged out here as well!  They were laid out In a spaced ring around a central tower of humming magic and blinking lights.

    And there was somepony inside one.

Checking behind me, I trotted forward into the oddly sparse room.  I could see out of the corner of my eye a table that held the shape of the sanananitser, but this felt more important.  A young buck, an earth pony with a soft red mane light grey coat and perhaps only a few years older than I, was...sleeping?  He was clothed in some sort of war-era uniform, just lying with a slightly open mouth, while breathing gently. The pod had closed around him, bathing him in a bright white light.  His pod hummed louder than the others, while I could see a cluster of memory orbs atop the machine that pulsed and glowed.

A control panel flickered between two pods.  I cast a gaze at it, seeing one pod on the diagram lit in a flickering yellow while the others were an almost invisible blue against the background.  Text continually scrolled, paused, then repeated the same shapes again. My eyes kept flicking back to the buck serenely lying there. Was this a slave forced in?  A slaver volunteer?

    No, this was way beyond my capability.  ‘Just get the sanitisoor and go’, I told myself.  

Turning, I grabbed a strap hooked around the single box marked with a six pointed star in my mouth and lifted it from the table.  Now just to—

    The sound of moving scrap came from behind me.  Something was powering up...something big.  Oh no...

Dreading to turn, I found myself rushed by one of the machines.  It had powered on, and I now had two weapon limbs and two clawed arms firing toward me from that boxy torso while the screen flickered on to show an angered pony in gilded armour.  Above it, those two flashing lights on the top of the carapace flared in red circles. The wheel spat and span as it tried to gain purchase to stand and why wasn't I running for my life yet!?

    Good advice!  I turned and galloped for the door.

    “YOU WILL HALT AND STAND, COWARDLY THIEF!”

A whirring was my only warning before I screamed and felt claws clamp around my torso.  It could extend its arms!? Struggling, dropping the salinatoofer, I saw that one of those long tubular arms had shot out to grab and lift me up.  The voice was loud, booming and shook through all the corridors and halls around me. My headache thudded on every syllable of the robot's voice.

    “I wasn't stealing!”

    “A LIE MOST FOUL!  YOU WILL KINDLY ACCEPT BEING HURLED ACROSS THE ROOM IN PUNISHMENT!”

    “...what?”

It wasn't kidding. The sheer confusion was all that gave me reason to not panic before gravity inverted for me and I slammed against one of the shelving units.  Now I panicked, already howling in pain as my right hoof slapped against the wall and my battered torso flared in pain down both sides.  Scrambling on three hooves away from the machine, I waved my one good hoof toward it, begging profusely.

    “D-don't!  I'll give it back, I'm sorry!”

    “TO REMOVE WAR PROPERTY IS OF THE HIGHEST TREASON!  YOU SHALL SUFFER THE REMOVAL OF YOUR HEAD! FOLLOWED SHORTLY BY A BRIEF PRISON SENTENCE!”

    “NO!”

    “OH YES!”

Standing atop its one wheel, the colossal machine aimed it's short-barrelled gatling cannon toward my face, along with the quad-barrelled energy cannon on the other side.  Both arms clacked their claws together menacingly as it began to wheel forward. Retreating further, I found myself cornered.

    “I'm sorry!  I'M SORRY! Please, just don't kill me!  Don't!”

There was no way out. I saw the gatling cannon spin up as one arm raised to crush down.  Terror bled through every fibre of my being, I simply screamed and hid my eyes. My throat catching, I simply couldn't even scream louder. It just devolved into the longest and most pathetic whimpering squeak I had ever made in my entire life.  I heard the weapon cease moving.

    “Wait!”

Standing back up fully, the robot held itself still, the face changing to that of a puzzled unicorn.  I heard a warbling of something being rewound, before I heard all sorts of moans, groans and shouts. Eventually, I heard my own squeak played back (Was I really that whiny sounding?) and then shortly, an eerily similar one.

    “There is only one squeak I know of so pathetic!  SALUTATIONS AND GREAT JOY TO MY WARMONGERING HEART!  MISS FLUTTERSHY! IT IS GOOD TO SEE YOU AGAIN!”

Before I could even respond...I felt myself being picked up again and flung over one hard metal shoulder and then the other.  The screen had changed to a delighted foal.

    “I...um...huh?”

    “AS I PROMISED, I HAVE AWAITED YOUR RETURN WITH BAITED BREATH AND SAFETIES ALL OFF!  IS IT TIME FOR US TO GO TO WAR, MISS FLUTTERSHY? I DO SO LOOK FORWARD TO GIVING THE STRIPED MENACE A SOUND GOOD THRASHING!”

    It...thought I was a Ministry Mare?

    Wait...it thought I was a mare?  Oh come on...

    “But...but I'm no—”

     I mentally bucked myself, as I realised I was currently being held by a giant robot with at least four methods to kill me, who's only reason not to was mistaking me for a two hundred year dead mare because I squeaked when scared.  This was not the time to correct him!

    “Um...no,I was just coming to collect something!  You're doing...uh, a very good job though. A very...um, loud job.”

    “THIS IS MY PRODUCT LINE'S FACTORY SETTINGS FOR THE BATTLEFIELD, MISS FLUTTERSHY.  TO OFFER A FIRM TONE TO LET THEM KNOW WE ARE NOT SIMPLY HERE FOR CRUMPETS AND TEA!”

    “We...we aren't on a battlefield...”

    The screen changed back to the puzzled unicorn again. It looked around as though only just realising.

    “Oh.  Is...this a more sufficient volume for thine ears, Miss Fluttershy?  Please forgive me, I simply wished to express my unbridled joy at your return after all this time!  I was most upset when told I could not accompany you as your bodyguard, but I have instead taken the time to guard the room you asked me to.”

    Rubbing my ears, this was slightly better. but every word was like a clip across my skull.  This was one weird machine, guarding one room for two hundred years?  Somehow, despite it trying to kill me, I couldn't help but find that such an unbearably lonely thought.  Had Fluttershy ordered it to guard a pointless room just to get away from him and these warlike tendencies?

    “Hey!  What the fuck is all the noise in here, you stupid machine?”

The guard from the labs had galloped in, baton hanging ready around his neck to grab in his mouth.  Entering the door, he found me much closer...and simply stared for a second before scowling and advancing.

    “And you!  What the hell do you think you're doing in here, stealing?”

    “I...I...”

    “We got a good punishment in these here den for thieves.  Can't proper sneak if you're missing a hoof now, can you? C'mere!”

I yelped as the larger pony dived forward, grabbing and pulling me to the ground.  The baton swung, cracking off my skull with enough force to knock me back into the ground and hit it again.  The double impact reverberated in my skull, painful and making my still healing forehead welt and throb in abject agony.  I didn't even know if I screamed or not, but I felt him pulling my hoof out, reaching into his bag for...oh Goddesses! A knife!

The memory of a knife stabbing into my shoulder was all too fresh, too horrible to think about.  The penetrating cold metal rending my flesh...

    “COME HERE, YOU WRETCHED RAPSCALION!  YOU WILL UN-HOOF MISS FLUTTERSHY IMMEDIATELY!”

Suddenly, the weight of the slaver disappeared, forcing open an eye, I saw him being lifted, snarling and swinging his baton at the robot's arm, to no avail.

    “Let go of me you old scrap pile!  He isn't—”

    “SILENCE!  THE PENALTY FOR ASSAULTING A MINISTRY MARE IS A TEMPORARY BAN FROM OXYGEN FOR ONE YEAR!”

The robot shut him up rather forcibly.  I saw the claws clamp closed hard enough to crush his neck. Only a disgusting gurgle emerged from his mouth, while the eyes went wide.  The robot's screen displayed an angered armoured guard, the lights flaring red.

    “BUT BECAUSE IT WAS MISS FLUTTERSHY, I SHALL ADD AN ENERGY SPANKING TOO!”

With a twist and a whine of pistons, the slaver was sent flying into the wall.  Whirring, the quad-energy cannon powered up and blasted him into nothing but dust with a lingering pained gurgle being the only remainder...

I stared at the pile of ash, finding it drifting all through the still air.  Some of it landed on me! Scrambling, even past pain, I fought to clean myself of him!  I was covered in pony!  Further into the facility, I heard the shouts of dozens of slavers. Gunfire wasn't going to go unnoticed.  Hearing commands shouted, I broke myself from the horror, turning to the robot.

    “What did you have to shoot him like that for!?”

    “My sincere apologies, Miss Fluttershy.  If I'd known you'd have preferred the rockets...weeeell I still could if you really want me to.”

    It's shoulder popped open, revealing a dozen miniature warheads, I sat back, waving my front hooves madly.

“No, no!  No missiles!  Please, I need to get out of here, um...zebra infiltrators are disguised in here, and might try to kill me!”

    “Then I shall protect you!  THAT IS MY GRAND MISSION!”

Wincing, I cowered below him until my ears stopped ringing.  Already, I could hear hooves running all over the nearby rooms and floors.  We didn't have much time. The Master was still in the building, I just knew it. He'd be coming.  Coming to take me back again.

    “T-thank you, I think. But please, II don't want to kill ponies...I mean, zebras.”

    “This long and you don't change one bit, Ma'am.  Enough to make a warmongering robot like me blow a circuit in confusion.  What isn't there to love about the grand art of war?”

    “Right, right. Um, what is your desig...designa...name?”

    “Mister Peace.”

    ...go figure.  Hopping up on it's one wheel, the multi-limbed machine raised the quad-cannon to scratch its head.

    “Forgive me, Miss Fluttershy, but did I not make such an impression on your before to remember my illustrious name?  I did think we got on charmingly. But I am most capable of continuing to defend this machine should you require me to stay behind once again...”

Well, perhaps he could be just what I needed to save my life and get out of here!  We needed to go now, but perhaps it was the immensely armed killing machine that regarded itself my sworn protector...I simply had to ask.  Turning to the massive device with the buck in it, I pointed with a hoof before scooping up the Sparkle Satingaling.

    “Mister Peace, what is this machine?”

    He (it?) turned back to the pods with the memory orbs at the centre.  He seemed to stare at the buck inside.

    “This is something that Miss Star was putting together.  I'm a warbot, not a scientist, so I couldn't tell you exactly what it does.  All I know is that buck has been in there as long as I have stood guard and that the new mule in the Ministry keeps saying that it doesn't work anymore.  Truthfully, Miss Fluttershy, if you had any questions about war machines or the best way to extract a zebra's diaphragm I could help, but this is rather out of my specialist area, I'm afraid.”

He had been in there since before the war?  Pressing close to the glass, I watched his blank sleep.  Just dreaming. My own body lit from the white light flushed across his thin body, I couldn't help but wonder who was really more trapped between him and I.

    “Miss Fluttershy, if we are to get you out, we should go.  Hostile intent signals are approaching. Or should I go and cheerfully say hello?”

    He hefted the gatling cannon while I turned back and threw on my saddlebag.

“Alright.” Yes, it was time to go and get back to Protégé. There were too many secrets and mysteries in the depths of this Ministry's past.  “But, you need to be quieter, please...”

    “Oh...but I like being loud, Miss Fluttershy!  It strikes terror into the hearts of the most impolite enemy.  But if I must...”

So much better on my ears.  But the slump of his bulky shoulders and the disappointed earth pony on his screen almost made me feel guilty.  Galloping across, I listened from the doorway. Hooves were thumping all over the research labs, likely organising a team to rush in and check.

    “Do you know a way back to the big cargo place in here, Mister Peace?”

    “Oh of course, Ma'am.  This way!”

He rolled past me, weapons pointed, heading for a side door away from the circular corridor.  This whole 'Ma'am' thing was beginning to irk me. Honestly, I was a buck! I’d even accept colt at this point!  I liked mares and everything!  What did I have to do to get a bit of masculine approval in my life?

There was a sudden ripping crack of wood.  I leapt a good foot from the floor, shrieking at a filly-like high pitch.  Mister Peace stood before me with the door entirely separated from the frame.  The perplexed unicorn on the screen looked at the ruined door in his hand.

    “Hmm, I should see the engineers about this.  I believe it needs some oil.”

Galloping past him, I ran into the corridor beyond, hearing Mister Peace rolling after me.  This was leading us through many documentation offices. Even I could tell that, no pony would ever work with that many filing cabinets and stay sane in anything else.  Mister Peace directed me, shouting directions as we dropped flight after flight. Eventually, the activity lessened out as we passed into a more deserted area of the hub.  I hoped it wasn't due to more radiation...

We slowed, no sense in galloping about madly when I could sneak.  Mister Peace was fairly quiet when he wasn't talking, just a low hum and the soft trundle of his singular wheel.  Despite the attitude, he certainly did obey instruction. But away from the immediate rush (well...I hoped) I stopped to get my breath and hold my aching shoulder and chest.  The robot remained protective, watching corridors above me.

    “Mister Peace, what's the last thing you remember about me?”

    “Some time ago, Ma'am.  To be precise, five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred—”

    “Just...just what it is, I mean...”

“Oh, well, I was seeing you and your friend away from the Ministry after visiting Miss Star's office, of course.  Why, is there something in particular?”

Really, I hadn't known why I asked, but the poor robot being abandoned just struck a nerve, I hoped she'd at least said goodbye.

    “Alert!  Hostile targets detected within Flutter-Guard Range!”

I heard them too, a group of hooves coming from roughly the same direction we had.  In the long corridors around thick murky internal windows to research rooms, the sound echoed everywhere.  I struggled to my hooves.

    “Here, Miss Fluttershy, you are injured!  Allow me!”

One of those giant arms swept down, arcing around me and lifting my entire weight as though it were nothing but a foal's toy.  He carried me underarm. If I hadn't been happy to get off my sore little hooves...I might have found it demeaning. But he trundled on much faster than I could gallop, zipping around corners so fast I squealed, thinking I was going to slam into them.

As we passed a cross junction of corridors (how many corridors were in this damn hub!?) a shot pinged off of his casing, zipping by my face.  Stopping, he spun and placed me down behind the corner. I heard the gatling cannon whirr and roar down the corridor. Shouts to get into cover came from the far end.

    “It seems they have spotted us.  Good!”

I simply hid by the corner.  Slavers fired around the corners as I felt Mister Peace grab me again and quickly pull me across the junction behind him, out of the line of fire as bullets whipped off his thick armour.  The gatling cannon belched fire again, making every bit of incoming fire from the end of the hallway cease.

    “Cowering fools!  A real stallion should stand and take the bullet in his teeth!  Have at you!”

Popping open his shoulder, I couldn't shout in time to ask him to stop before he unleashed a rocket.  The back blast exploded from the rear of his casing as the deadly projectile streaked away, erupting in a harsh fireball around the slavers' position.  I heard screams, calls that somepony was on fire, and the sound of dropping debris. The concussive wave made my head spin, throwing my balance as it hit my poor, suffering eardrums.

    “I...I...”

    “Come on, Ma'am!  Let's get you out of here!”

Picking me up, he roared onward, sometimes stopping to unload fire down a corridor.  Slavers were beginning to close on our position, attracted by the gunfire. Mister Peace was powerful, but he was a very easy-to-track presence by the sound.  Through labs and weird machine-filled research chambers we soared. Even stairs he simply hopped down. One particularly large flight he just kept gunning for.

    “Um, Mister Peace?”

    “Hold on, Miss Fluttershy!  TALLY HO!”

    He ramped directly off them, clearing the entire stairway, accompanied by my shrieking the entire way.  Reaching the bottom beside a doorway, he placed me on the ground, where I struggled to regain the ability to move my hooves, simply shivering and staring blankly in shock.

The machine tore a bar from the door, before punching it open...and clean off the frame for that matter. 

Apparently I couldn't make allies who treated doors well.

Enormously satisfied with his work, Mister Peace trundled through.  Somewhat unsteadily, I staggered after him, adrenaline thumping painfully through my body.

We were back in the storage loading area!  This had been the locked door from earlier.  It was not empty. As we entered, I saw groups of slavers returning through one of the open dock doors.  A good dozen in total. Awed, they simply stood for a few seconds staring at us. They were heavily armed with battle saddles, shotguns, long rifles, and heavy pistols. They advanced, spreading out and drawing weapons.

    “Stop right there, robot!”

    “This the one they say is running about?”

    “Yup!  Crazy machine gone haywire. Didn't say he had a slave with him though, he must have rewired it to try and escape!”

    I heard safeties click off. They weren't going to let us go.  I felt Mister Peace's arm push me toward a large wooden box.

    “Miss Fluttershy, kindly hide behind that crate there.  Mister Peace has a little war to fight.  Oh, most glorious of days...”

    I didn't need told twice, ducking behind it, I poked my head out to see the slavers regarding him warily.

    “You got AP, mate?”

    “Think so. Hit it anyway!”

The sound made me fall to the ground, clutching my ears to the sides of my head, crying aloud as the echoes of gunfire battered my senses.  Booms, cracks, and chattering belts were followed by a storm of exploding wood and ricochets off crates and the ground. Mister Peace was rocked back on his wheel by the barrage, almost turned around by the impact of one of the shotguns on his shoulder.  The robot's screen flickered from the friendly pony to the angry guard.

    “You stand in the path of Miss Fluttershy!  PREPARE TO BE MOVED ASIDE! IN MULTIPLE DIRECTIONS!”

With no effort against the incoming fire, he whirred around, the gatling cannon and quad-barrel unloading with devastating effect.  Three of the slavers were blown into ash or pulped upon his fire barrage. The others dove for cover. A long rifle shot chipped off his screen, leading the machine to unleash a rocket that drove through a crate to explode directly onto the shooter.  Powering forward on his wheel, Mister Peace careened into one large storage box and hurled it toward another two slavers. Crying out, they dived away from the immense projectile.

    “ZEBRA LOVING IS THE VERY DEFINITION OF FAILURE, YOU WHELPS!”

    His wrists popped open, revealing a whole bank of extra barrels.  They fired rapid streams of red magic energy that ripped one slaver limb from limb.

    “EMBRACE FLUTTERSHY AS AN APOLOGY OR YOU WILL BE ERADICATED!”

One slaver had actually run up behind him, pushing a shotgun's barrel into a more vulnerable looking point.  Before he could even fire, one of those tubular arms seized and twisted his head so hard it separated completely.  I felt my stomach turn. The half dozen or so slavers that hadn't fled or been killed grouped together into a firing squad on the loading bay's cargo step.  Their weapons opened up again, blasting a volley into Mister Peace so hard I saw the robot stagger and raise an arm to protect his screen. For a horrible second, he fell backward and only just caught himself.  The fire kept coming, leaving black marks on his carapace or denting his structure. I felt guilty somehow. This machine was fighting for me, killing other ponies in 'my' name, and putting itself in harm’s way, all over a mistaken squeak.

But it was saving me. The threat of The Master bringing me back from in here was too great. I simply hid and watched as the machine was blasted and torn.  Eventually, the firing ceased and I heard multiple weapons click empty. Mister Peace stood rock still, before simply standing up. The slavers looked about in a panic before one of them finally saw me.

    “There!  The slave must be controlling it, kill him!”

    I hid as I saw one slaver begin reloading and aiming.

    “COMMENCING TACTICAL ASSESSMENT: ANTI-FLUTTERSHY THOUGHTS DETECTED WITHIN HER VICINITY.”

The gatling spun up.  The quad-cannons began humming.  Both shoulders rolled back to reveal racks of missiles.  His wrists popped open to reveal those mini-lasers again.  The slavers began glancing at one another in worry. Three threw down their guns.

    “BETTER WIPED THAN STRIPED, YOU IGNORANT LOUTS!”

    The barrage was so loud, so violent, so utterly decimating that I didn't even see or hear much.

    My ears gave out. I closed my eyes and turned away as he simply continued to fire.

Only after the horrific thumping and rocking of the entire floor had ended did I dare open my eyes. I could see the giant silhouette of Mister Peace glaring down at me from the smoke; his screen bearing the happiest looking pony I had ever seen.

    “Salutations, Miss Fluttershy!  How good it feels to operate under my prime directive!  But there are many more on approach. The battle has dissuaded them to find heavier weaponry. We must get you away now.”

I stood up, and found the entire right hand side of the loading bay in tatters.  Concrete pillars were shattered to the rebar beneath, wagons had been torn asunder, and there was no sign of the slavers.  In the distance, through the constant ringing in my ears, I could hear desperate cries and orders, too muffled to understand. I could hear the mutterings of slaves outside too, having been  abandoned with their carts when the slavers were called to tool up and go robot hunting.

There was a way out, yes...but it wasn't through force.  Shaking, still breathing far too fast to be healthy, I turned back to Mister Peace.

    “Y-yes...yes I need to get out of here, b-but, I'm sorry. I don't think you can come.”

I had known since he started following.  He wouldn't be able to accompany me. Such a machine just wouldn't work. He'd be shot down by the slavers outside, and then me with him.  Seeing the screen change to a rather blank-looking pony was enough to wrench my heart. I tried telling myself that this was a machine! But no matter what I thought, he had protected me.  Only a few ponies ever had.

    “I understand, Miss Fluttershy. Your role is not mine.”

    “I'm so sorry...”

I didn't even know what to say.  How did a machine feel? It was just obeying orders.  Sniffling, I just averted my eyes.

    “Thank you. I know sh— I know I'm proud of what you've done.  Is there any way you can stay safe?”

Mister Peace's screen flickered a few times, switching from pony to pony before settling on a unicorn with a bright idea.  Trundling over, he pulled open a side hatch to one of the storage rooms attached to the loading bay.

Inside lay a whole heap of machines, ones almost identical to Mister Peace.  Immediately, he began removing his bloodstained arms, unlatching their dented armour plates to replace them with new models.  The old ones he tossed into the middle of the floor, along with various chassis segments from the container. I could see his plan, those coming would think he had been destroyed by the team, while he hid beneath the scrap.

“Now for you, Miss Fluttershy.  I can detect many ponies, non-hostile, just outside with carts.  Allow me to load one for you that you may blend in. Suffice to say, pony society confuses me greatly these days. Things were so much simpler when we just shot at stripes.”

    “I'm sorry, you weren't meant to be left alone.”

Pulling a cart over, he dumped some scrap in it before offering the harness to me.  I morosely wandered forward, letting him strap me in.

“Miss Fluttershy, you are my reason for being.  Knowing that you are safe is all I require to be sated, no matter how far you are from me.  To see you again warms my battle-loving heart!  If it so works best for you that I once again must wait...so be it.  But know, I will always be loyal to you! If in need near here, simply call for me, and I shall SALLY FORTH!”

Wincing, I tried to stop my eyes from watering.  Testing the weight on the cart, I found it loaded with light metals.  This felt wrong, to just simply go and leave this robot with his misconception.  That his charge had been killed two hundred years ago.

If I had learned one thing from all this, it was that the past and present were still connected in ways I couldn't imagine.  From every skeleton telling a horrible story to the remnants and memories that littered this wasteland...Equestria had not been forgotten. We simply had to believe in it, and to look for it.

We were a long way from it, but it wasn't impossible.  Twilight Sparkle clearly thought so, Aurora Star wanted to...Littlepip, I was sure, believed in it.  Protégé, in his own way, perhaps, too.

“You must go, Ma'am. The enemy nears, and I must annoyingly deactivate. I would not wish to waste myself when not protecting your peaceable self!  Till next we meet, Miss Fluttershy!”

    “T-thank you, Mister Peace...”

Mister Peace circled on the spot, saluting sharply to see me off.  He remained still in respect and vigilance until I had departed. Only after I moved out of the loading bay did I hear him move away and dig himself into the piles of boxes.

Outside, I joined the mass of slaves without much effort. They were all too distracted and worried to care about one more pony joining them.  Shuffling into them, shivering and squeaking in pain as tired muscles strained and pulled, I awaited for order to ring out with our instruction.

    “Get these slaves moving!  That mad robot's in the cargo dock. D’you want to lose the workforce?”
   
    “Right, right!  Move it slaves! Out to the factory, now!”

We began moving, trundling forward.  Casting my eyes up, wiping my matted and patchwork mane from my eyes, I saw our route take us out underneath the six pointed star.  Yes, I really had found what I had wanted in there. The truth that there was a better world. Now all I had to do was hope someone would someday bring it back.

And so, I wheeled on, leaving the past behind me.  The memories, the pictures, the voices, and the survivors.  Under the six-pointed star they once again rested, awaiting the attention of those they desired to hear.

He was waiting for me nearer to the Mall.  Slipping out from the factory hadn't been difficult in the mass of slaves.  I heard him nearby, that damn eyepiece telling him exactly when and where I had returned, and where he could intercept me. I heard Protégé's terse trotting long before before he emerged from the smog across the street.

    He smiled.  I didn't feel like returning it.

“I must admit, Murk. I'm impressed, if a little surprised. I don't want to imagine what caused an entire wing of anti-machine equipped griffon mercenaries to take off for the Ministry of Arcane Science.  Judging by the noise, you stirred something up in there.”

For this task at least, I had no master to report to.  This had been my choice to see the past. I dumped the Sparkle Sanitiser at his hooves.

“Yeah, the past...” Wandering past him, I wanted nothing more than to steal a drink from the fountain and pass out on the sofa in Glimmer's cell.  But I felt him lightly stop me with a hoof.

“You did as I asked. I won't go back on my offer, Murk.  I believe Weathervane is waiting to see you. He said you'd know where.  Glimmerlight headed over earlier with him to wait for you.”

    Blinking, I turned, somewhat shocked.

    “You sent her on ahead? How did you know I'd succeed?”

That all-knowing grin emerged on Protégé's face as he picked up the sanitiser-thingy in his magic, and slipped it into his own bag.

    “A little trust goes a long way, Murk.  Thank you for proving my thoughts correct.  Did you learn something from all this?”

    Scuffing my hoof against the tarmac, I avoided his eyes, before nodding.

    “Not what you wanted...I think...but yes.  I did.”

“Good.  You saw something for yourself, Murk.  That's all I can ever ask of you. Look at the world and see what you believe for it, like I believe in Master Red Eye's vision to bring that world back.  That Ministry holds many records and secrets. More ponies would do well to remember them.”

I thought back, the Stable had protected me while telling its story. Fluttershy had helped me to survive my illness like she had promised Equestria she would. Mister Peace was still guarding that which he felt was important.  Protégé had seen things like this and took faith in their existence to justify his actions.

“Master, do you really think things can go back to how they were before?  With ponies like...like the slavers in there? Like...”

I wanted to say The Master, but I couldn't even dare say a word about him.  The Master was planning something, but while Sunny and the mare were under his threat, I couldn't say a word.  Protégé turned, pointing a hoof back toward the FunFarm.

“You have not seen the foals, Murk.  I see them every few days, sometimes to help teach them history or philosophy.  They are being brought up right, to be cultured and intelligent. They offer one another gifts on birthdays and share their belongings.  Things ponies from two hundred years ago might have done.”

    Turning back to me, his eyepiece glowed dully, making me squint in the light.

“Yes, Murk.  I do believe it is possible.  Perhaps someday I shall take you to meet them.  You have proven yourself a valuable pony to me, one I hope might stand by my side for the two years to come as we continue to rebuild this world. Now, your friend and doctor are waiting. Good day, Murk.”

With that, he simply nodded his head, leaving me standing alone for a few seconds in thought before I turned and silently galloped off.

    'By his side', I wondered. 

Just why was such a thing so important to him?

Weathervane's basement had a sachet of RadAway hidden just beside the outdoor entrance.  Having trotted up, I drank it as I cantered in. Protégé had been right in one way at least. There was something to learn about freedom in that place.  But it wasn't about choice, it was about what freedom from hardship truly was. Even after I got out of here, freedom would be what I made of my own life. 

That at least, was something I could start with in here. For now, that simply meant staying by those I cared for and trusted.  Freedom was a long way from here, but I didn't have to walk that path alone. Protégé had offered his aid with it, and there was no reason to turn him down. Ponies may have different ideals, different beliefs and opinions, but helping one another out was always something that mattered. Even if you disagreed.

If there was one lesson, I figured it was that.

My train of thought was somewhat broken by frenzied screams and loud slamming ahead of me.  The thick gate containing Doctor Flowerpot rocked and bucked on its welded hinges. Raspy roars erupted from within, making me trot back in fear.

    “Quiet down, you crazy fucknut!”

As expected, Doctor Weathervane got out to the door long before I could even approach his room.  His front hoof slammed and slapped against the wood, making the feral ghoul howl.

    “I said silence, you South Fillydelphian thundercunt!  SHUT UP!”

Enough curses to make me feel decidedly less innocent and much slamming on the door later, the maddened ghoul behind it seemed to draw away.  Only then did Weathervane turn and beckon me in.

“Took your sweet fucking time. Judging by the reports, you woke something up for sure.  Now get in here, got something for you.”

Entering behind him, I saw Glimmerlight awaiting at the far end of the medical lab.  Galloping forward the moment her eyes laid sight on me, she swept me up, hugging me tightly.

    “Oh good, you're alright.  Protégé told me not to worry, but really, in this city...”

    “I know, I'm just glad to be back. That wasn't fun.”
   
    Letting me down, I found Weathervane standing and staring, tapping his hoof impatiently before nodding to the stretcher.

    “Hop up and get your fleece off.  I've got three RadAways I can spare, but we'll get this done first.”

With a small glance at Glimmer, I found her smiling...what was that about?  Almost afraid, I struggled and pulled to get onto the high bed before tugging off my fleece, my wings stinging and aching from lost feathers and bad bones.  Weathervane trotted around me, horn glowing a dank yellow as he observed me.

“Hmm, little bit more radiation than I'd like. You must have wandered into a patch, but that RadAway will do the job.  Now hold still...”

    Sitting still as ordered, I felt my wings began to tingle. What was he doing?  The magical glow increased, reflecting off the steel sinks and every basin and beaker in the entire room.  Shivering, I felt a pressure grow on either side of my body, then suddenly pop with a sharp pain. Yelping aloud, I fell to my side as Weathervane's magic ceased.

    “What did you do?  That hurt!”

    “Oh, quit your whining. Take a look.”

    Turning my head, I near enough dropped right off the bed in shock.

My...my feathers! All the ones that had been damaged or lost over the years were back! Glimmerlight grinned madly from the side where she sat from behind one very proud looking Weathervane. He swelled up, for once actually smiling.

“Feather-fix spell. Been far too fucking long since I did it. Just took me a while to remember it. Now sit still. I've got a little more work to do to strengthen them.  I think I can help you with your wings, Murk.”

    I took a sharp breath, could he make me—

“However, you don’t go hoping to be able to fly properly. Let me get rid of any false hope now.  But, with enough work, picky and fucking tedious as wings are, I could be able to repair the damage and perhaps get them moving again.  I wouldn't be a very good pegasus doctor if I didn't damn well try to fix this. No, I'd just be some incompetent arse.”

    “T-thank you!  Thank you so much!  I...I...”

I didn't even know how to put it in words. I just kept looking at my wings, with all their feathers restored.  Maybe they could move again! Maybe I could once again feel the wind flow through them. Even if I couldn't fly, that would...it'd be something!  I felt Weathervane's hooves pressing me down again to begin his work to strengthen them, making my wings feel warm. Glimmerlight sat down and leaned over the bed to nuzzle me, simply glad to see me happier.

“You know I've heard what pegasi can do with wings that move other than flying. Who knows? Could be a whole new world for you and that journal.” She winked. I simply blushed.

“What's up with the journal?” Weathervane was distracted, but clearly still perceptive.  I saw Glimmer laugh. Oh no, please no. Don't say a word, not a word!

        “Oh, you could just say Murky here takes interest in having a lot of detail in his hobbies, doesn't he?” Her grin widened, as I felt embarrassed enough that I just dug my head into my hooves.

    Giggling, she ruffled my mane, and trotted off to sit by Weathervane's desk and spin in his chair.  (See? It was fun!) Coughing, trying to cool my warm cheeks, I pointed at my bag by the door.

    “Oh, Glimmer, look in my saddlebag, I, um...got some orbs and...stuff...”

Squeaking in joy, I saw her drag the full bag across and dive face first into it.  Orbs floated out around her invading head, before she eventually emerged with a mass of papers in her mouth.  The sight drew a laugh from me, especially when she wiggled her eyebrows in a silly motion. It was enough to keep my mind off the stinging going on around my wings.  

Weathervane didn't comment on Glimmer, but rather nodded his head with a grunt to catch my attention.  His eyes were briefly focussed across the lab to a silver sphere sitting on a small tripod.

“Never did remember to say thanks for fetching that for me.  Spell orb that powerful shouldn't ever end up in Red Eye's hands.  I just trust you won't say a thing about down here, alright?”

“Yes, sir...” Not like I had a choice. Weathervane had saved me too many times to risk making an enemy of him.  Besides, he swore at me often enough for whining...who knew what he'd say if he hated me?

“Useless to me really. Takes four unicorns to operate the bloody thing, but prevention is better than watching Red Eye tear apart that research to heal those that would hurt others.  Madam Star really had been proud of it. Shit...pity the poor mare never got to do much with all that research before those fucking megaspells hit...”

There went those links again. I wasn't sure whether to say anything or not in relation to it.  Thankfully, Glimmerlight quickly gasping and stifling her own cry of surprise drew all attention away from me.  Looking over, I saw her glancing at a leaflet of paper.

    “Murky, oh Murky, this could be something here.”

    “Could be what?  Some new technology?”

“No!” She swiveled on the padded chair, her magic propelling it round, and looked directly at us.  “More than that. If the rest of these orbs maybe contain little bits of information that I hope they do...this may be a way out.”

I almost leapt from the table, prompting Weathervane to roughly force me back down again.  Glimmer idly spun the chair as she spoke.

“It's a message from an apprentice to Aurora Star.  It's simply saying that their application to purchase an abandoned metro station for underground testing has been denied because the walls needed to be upgraded to stop, quoting here, 'the idea of some zebra being able to mine their way through the metro tunnel walls right into the Ministry itself.' This message is dated some time before the megaspells were unleashed, but...who knows?  What if they never got around to it?”

    Weathervane snorted.

“Forgive me if I withhold my boundless fucking enthusiasm.  You don't think Red Eye's reinforced all that shit? The metro stations were blocked off years ago to prevent slaves escaping...and to keep those tunnels sealed. For good reason.”

Glimmer pouted on the chair, huffing and tapping the paper.

    “Not even Red Eye can reinforce the walls of an entire metro system!”

    “Doesn't matter. Unless you know precisely where to dig for the weak points, then you don't have a hope in hell.”

Glimmerlight paused, looking at the rest of the papers before speaking again, her eyes not coming away as she floated the orbs up.

    “Maybe you're right, but if Aurora was as organised as she sounds—”

    “She was.”

“—then maybe the rest of this stuff might tell us where?  The Ministry had to have been concerned. Look, I'm gonna take a look anyway, even knowing which metro station they were interested in could give us a clue.  This could be it, Murky...”

    Spinning, she glanced at me on each revolution.

    “A way out!  Just like I said, we know it's possible now after getting so close.  This could be nothing, but it's worth checking out, even if there's a few problems in the way for us to figure o— whoa!”

The chair spun out under her, dumping Glimmerlight onto her rump against the desk.  Weathervane's belongings rattled onto it, a gasp from the ghoul preceeding a photoframe falling, until Glimmer's magic quickly caught it.  Biting her lip, she shrugged, rubbing her flank with a hoof and wincing.

    “Uh...sorry?”

    Weathervane narrowed his eyes and grumbled something even I couldn’t hear.

“Hmph...kids...”

The ghoulish doctor made a tug on one feather to test the strength, drawing a small yelp from me.  But I scarcely noticed it. We had a chance! Twice now I had failed...but with a little more digging, there might still be a method, if Glimmerlight's theory meant anything.  I trusted her with my life. She would do the right thing, I knew it!

    We could do this.

    Right now, however, Glimmerlight was still staring at the photo frame.

    “Hey, Weathervane?”

    “Hmph?”

    “Is this...you?”

He looked up from my left wing, eyes narrowing as he struggled to see.  I didn't imagine his vision was doing very well after all this time. Eventually, the squint on his face lessened and his cheeks rather visibly sunk.  Sighing, he nodded.

    “Yes, that's me, and my son.”

There was a rather sudden emptiness in the air.  Glimmerlight glanced back to it with a more serious look, as the obvious implication was felt by everypony present.  I glanced across at the photo, and saw the bearded doctor, rather old already with a stern face, standing proudly beside a little blonde and orange buck over Fillydelphia's skyline.  Weathervane sighed.

“Most ghouls like me lost somepony in the balefire. We all had to come to terms with shit like that.  I'm one of the lucky ones. He didn't die in the flames, no. He died peacefully, I got him a Stable ticket.”

    No.

“You might say, knowing he wasn't caught in it is what kept me going this long.  I save ponies. I'm a healer. He was one I truly managed to spare all this...”

    I didn’t want to believe this was going to be what it was. But somehow I just knew.

Glimmerlight looked at the picture more closely before setting it back up.  Her face was uncharacteristically morose and sad.

    “What was his name?” Her voice was quiet, respectful.  Weathervane just sighed again.

    “Sundial.  My little Sundial.  Knowing he was safe it's...well I guess it's what allowed me to not go feral long ago...”

I dropped my head into my hooves.  I heard Glimmerlight quietly gasp and move toward me.  She knew I had his messages, but she didn't know I'd found his corpse. Found it outside...far from any Stable.

    “Murky?”

    Her hoof lay on my back. She picked up immediately that I wasn’t mentioning this.

    “Murky, I just...sorry, Doctor. It’s been a long day, and I think he’s just—”

I didn’t hear any more of her convincing him, covering for me. Nothing...nothing could bring me to say it to the old doctor. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t ever do it.

Spying the photo out of the corner of my eye, of that happy time for others I cared about personally...I finally knew how Twilight had felt.

    And seeing the slow sink of Weathervane’s shoulders as he corrected the frame’s position only make that feeling all too stark...

    “Hey there, it's Sundial!  Well, who else would it be?  I figured I’d better record a second thing after that...well, that thing earlier.  Something happier. I need to stay positive. That's what Ministry Mare Applejack told me when she dropped by recently.”

“So...uh...I guess I should do something I haven't properly done yet.  I wanted to say thank you, so history will know. Thank you...to my old pa. My dad. He paid for this thing to help me survive, and I don't think I've really shown the right gratitude for it yet.  He wasn't ever like that...but it's all that's kept me going amongst all this.”

“Ponies care for one another. My dad saved me, and I want to save Sky.  All from one to the next. I hope whoever listens to this will still be doing the same.  Anyway, I should go and get things ready. I've been told that I need to go to a meeting at the factory about this new armour.  Maybe a promotion? Wish me luck!

Oh and...Dad?  If you ever hear this...you're the greatest.  I know we don't always show it too much and that we’ve lived apart but...you brought me up good, Pa.  I wouldn't be who I am with the mare I love without your guidance to show me the way. Hopefully, someday I can do the same for somepony else as they learn to go out into the world for themselves too…

    So, uh...bye for now!”

    Footnote: Perk Attained!

Shadow Canter (Rank 2!) – Thievery and infiltration are fancier words that you might begin to use to describe your role in life these days.  No longer just a basic beginner, those who want to keep their valuables safe might just begin to sweat a little if you're in the area. You gain a further +10 to sneak and may move 10% faster while sneaking.