Chapter Twenty-One: New Pegasus
It took two days to travel from the ruins of the Minty-Fresh Toothpaste factory to New Pegasus, and I spent that time trying to rationalize what had happened. I’d known Seltzer for barely a minute, yet her death had still been shocking—turned to ash in an instant without warning. I hadn’t even had time to seek cover and identify her attackers before they’d swooped down from the sky, abundantly prepared to end my and Rael’s lives had we tried to resist. I’d faced hopeless odds before and come out on top; even so, I didn’t fancy my chances at taking out six power-armored pegasi, not even with the advantage ERSaTS would give me. Rael and I had complied with their demands, I turned over my weapons, and our captors led us away from the rubble field and the fresh, glowing pile of ash that had once been a mare. At least they didn’t take my clothes and other possessions, as Grand Marshal Gideon’s private squad of enforcers had done.
I kept a close eye on our captors, just as they surely did with us, though it was difficult to tell beneath the visors of their helms. They viewed us with suspicion, and I found out upon trying to speak with them that they weren’t shy about telling us why they viewed us with suspicion. They believed that Seltzer had been a pondroid (though the term they used more frequently was “synthetic equine” or “syntheq” for short) since she’d matched a description they had, and their standing orders were to shoot all pondroids on sight. Regarding why they had such orders, they were less than clear. New Pegasus seemed to be in some kind of conflict with pondroids or at least saw them as a threat, and they were to immediately eliminate any they could positively identify. Learning that there were pondroids here in the Commonwealth had tied a knot in my stomach, because I had a good idea of exactly how they’d gotten here; it had to have been the RoBronco scientists that had come here from Vanhoover, the ones I’d been following to RoBronco Site Dahlia. Our captors were unresponsive to any attempts to explain that, though. After all, they weren’t willing to believe anything Rael and I said on suspicion that we were pondroids (or, maybe griffdroid in Rael’s case) trying to mislead them.
If these pondroids were like those at Harmony Tower, I could understand the animosity. However, those pondroids had been inferior models that required the flesh of living ponies to replace their own, and Seltzer hadn’t looked like a patchwork of parts as those pondroids did. She’d appeared no different from any other pony, just like Ache and Mr. Bucke. Granted, there weren’t many positive things I could say about Mr. Bucke, but Ache had been my friend and Seltzer hadn’t seemed to be a threat.
We followed the railroad at first on our way to New Pegasus, but departed it as it began to turn north and made our way cross-country. We passed through several settlements as we went, all of them empty of griffins or ponies. Our captors were tight-lipped when I asked what had happened to them, but I could surmise it had something to do with the pondroid conflict. Some of the settlements showed signs of recent fights, but others were relatively untouched, with signs only of the residents having left in a hurry. We’d stayed to the belly of the valley for most of the trip, but after leaving the railway, the terrain began to climb and eventually turned into foothills as we neared New Pegasus.
Around midday, the famed settlement came into sight—and what a sight it was. It certainly couldn’t compare in size to Pleasure Coast, Castoway, or a roost; but for a post-War settlement, it was larger than any I’d ever seen other than the Ponies’ Republic of Stalliongrad. Much of New Pegasus was made from the kind of construction that sprouted up whenever additional buildings were required in the post-War world, ramshackle structures built from reclaimed materials. Typical for most settlements, this sprawling field of scrap buildings was built around something existing; though in this case, what they were built around hadn’t been here before the megaspells had fallen. Among the rust and brick-colored structures, and towering over them, were two battleships. They seemed absurdly out of place here, so far from any major body of water, until I recognized they weren’t quite the same as the remains of battleships I’d seen on the docks of Trottingham. Their shape, while reminiscent of oceangoing vessels, had several differences that suggested they never were to set sail. For one, ungainly struts and blocks jutted out from their sides in a way that would unbalance them. For another, weapons, or at least the mounts where they would have been placed, existed below the waterline. Likewise, bays on the front opened out lower than they ought to be were the ships to stay afloat for any length of time. We approached them from the front, but I could see the skeletal remains of a third ship scattered across a hill in the distance, and there had clearly been propellors not just beneath the ships’ sterns but also above them.
“They’re cloudships,” Captain Mereskimmer, leader of our captors, said as she caught me staring. “Raptor-class. Built by Equestria during the War, hoarded by the Grand Pegasus Enclave, and now liberated by us. Come on, let’s keep moving.”
“They flew?” I asked, trying to figure out the mechanics of getting such large vessels into the air with no discernable gasbags, like the airships in Trottingham or ones used by griffins.
“They can still fly,” Mereskimmer said forcefully, probably regretting sharing the information now that she recalled I was a suspected enemy.
Maybe they could still fly, but that seemed implausible to me once I got a closer look. A fence surrounded the sprawling ramshackle city, and after passing through a gate set into it, we traveled up a central boulevard that led to the cloudships. The ships had landed parallel to each other, leaving a gap between them that had been filled over time by shops built against the vessels’ hulls and bridges that had been constructed to connect the decks, some of which had buildings atop them as well. If the cloudships ever did take off, they’d bring everything around them crashing down, if they could even extricate themselves from the years of urban framework surrounding them to begin with. I felt it was best to hold my tongue on such things, however, especially as our pegasus captors clearly held the cloudships in such esteem.
The six power-armored pegasi closed in tightly around us as we made our way through New Pegasus, both to keep us from trying to escape and to keep nosy onlookers back. Not that they were very effective against the flying denizens of the settlement, which included many of them. I saw plenty of earth ponies and unicorns in the crowd, but much of New Pegasus’s population were pegasi, with a few griffins here and there. In Equestria, I’d only ever seen one pegasus, and in the Griffin Commonwealth only ghouls of them, so to see so many in one place was an unusual experience.
As we entered the alley between the cloudships, I could see—repainted many times—names sketched on the hulls: Eurus and Zephyrus. Mereskimmer led us into the cloudship on the right (Zephyrus) and our escort closed in ahead and behind. The corridors were narrow compared to many buildings, but nowhere near as tight as those aboard the Red Harvest, and they were mostly bare metal. Other pegasi met us going the opposite direction or could be seen down branching hallways, either suited up in cerulean power armor or wearing stiff military uniforms of the same color. Some glanced at us as we passed, but most paid us little more notice than that.
Captain Mereskimmer motioned with a wing for our procession to halt as she opened a door and peeked inside. She made some additional signs a moment later, and our captors ushered us within, Mereskimmer the first to follow. The room we’d been led to had once been used for storage, but it had been haphazardly converted into a mixture between an infirmary and a laboratory. Gurneys sat in one corner, their dark coloration making it hard to determine what they were stained with, and workbenches with meticulously labeled cabinets beneath lined one wall, mysterious components spread across their surfaces. Behind a low table with a terminal on it was a pegasus in a white lab coat with a blue coat and a spiky black mane. He was seated backwards upon his chair, whose back was tilted so much that he was barely upright, stretched out upon his stomach as he manipulated the terminal with his hooves.
“Doctor Cyclone,” Mereskimmer pronounced loudly to get his attention, “I have two new candidates for you.”
“Oh, do you now?” Cyclone said as he looked up over the top of his terminal with interest. “Two, you say? Have the syntheqs cracked the feather barrier, then?”
“That’s what you’re going to find out,” Mereskimmer said without amusement as Cyclone launched himself out of his chair, sending it rolling back to crash against a stack of cardboard boxes.
“Well, if they are syntheqs, they certainly made some … interesting choices,” Cyclone said as he looked Rael and me up and down, his eyes lingering on my prosthetic arm. “You planning to stand there the whole time I check them out?”
“If they are syntheqs, I’m not going to leave them alone here with you,” Mereskimmer said with finality, although she did motion to the rest of our escort that they could all but one could leave.
“Well then, you might as well pull up a chair and take off your helmet,” Cyclone said as he hustled over to a cabinet and began rustling inside it for equipment.
“I’m on duty,” Mereskimmer replied.
“It’s not against the rules,” Cyclone said. Mereskimmer snorted dismissively, but she did take off her helm, revealing a mare with a russet coat and short-cropped blonde mane.
Doctor Cyclone grinned widely as he returned his attention to the others in the room, apparently considering Mereskimmer’s acquiescence to part of his request as a victory. So began the pegasus’s examination of Rael and me. We were subjected to various scans, had samples of our blood, hair, and saliva (and Rael’s feathers) tested, and were measured in almost every dimension. At last, Doctor Cyclone sat back with confidence, prepared to share the results.
“Well, you are not a syntheq,” the pegasus said, pointing to me, before turning to Rael, “And you are not a synthgriff.”
“Yes, I knew that already,” Rael said, surprising me, though there was nothing in his tone to suggest he was giving the doctor sass, so I dismissed the thought.
“Not that we’ve ever seen a synthgriff. Nor a convincing synthetic pegasus. They just can’t seem to get the feathers right,” Cyclone shared.
“I wanted to be thorough,” Mereskimmer said defensively.
“Yes, of course, of course,” Cyclone replied.
“Are these pondroids—,” I began to asked, but Cyclone raised a questioning eyebrow, “syntheqs so realistic that you needed all those tests?”
“No, I knew you were the real deal ten minutes in,” the doctor said as he trotted around to a workstation. “The rest was just to put together everything needed to keep you from ever having to go through this again.”
He returned with a pair of thin plastic cards in his mouth that he motioned for Rael and me to take. Upon mine, printed in very tiny characters, was an extremely extensive list of measurements and descriptors.
“Keep those on you in case another zealous patrol tries to take you in,” Cyclone said, and Mereskimmer grumbled quietly. “They’ll provide proof that you are who you say you are and that I’ve already looked you over.”
“Thanks,” I said as I tucked the card into my saddlebags. “Are we free to go, then?”
“Yes, I’ll escort you out so the doctor can return to his work,” Mereskimmer said, somewhat sarcastically, and Cyclone only smiled mischievously.
As we exited the Zephyrus, Mereskimmer had her companion return my weapons, and Rael and I were once again free to do as we wished. I still wanted to find out what had become of the RoBronco scientists and what remained of RoBronce Site Dahlia, but while we were in New Pegasus, there was no reason not to see what the settlement had to offer. From what I could tell, not much had changed while we’d been in the Zephyrus being examined, other than the dispersal of the crowds that had watched us get marched into the cloudship. Parts of New Pegasus were still crowded, and after talking to the ponies and griffins from these crowds, the reason was soon revealed.
Pondroids had, apparently, been attacking or abducting (nobody was quite sure) settlements aligned with New Pegasus, and so others had been ordered to evacuate their populations to the safety of the city until the pondroid threat was dealt with. That meant that the settlement was well over the population it typically housed or was able to manage, and Rael and I witnesses several arguments and scuffles break out between residents of settlements that didn’t get along despite being under the same flag. There was usually a Rokkist priest to break things up before I felt compelled to get involved, and when I commented on this to Rael, he reminded me that New Pegasus was built where the Blessed Town of Dawn, the heart of Rokkism, had once stood. Much to Rael’s excitement, I asked if we could visit where his religion had begun, and he happily led the way. As we trotted back toward the rearing cloudships, the music playing from speakers set up along the main boulevard faded out, to be replaced by a familiar voice.
“Good afternoon, my fellow citizens. And, of course, I say that with all seriousness, for what is a president but simply a citizen chosen by his fellows to lead them, to preside over the affairs of their government? Yes, it is an important lesson, especially for younger listeners, that even I, President Snowmane, am no different from you,” the speakers blared, the Grand Pegasus Enclave’s former president delivering a speech that the former Enclave pegasi probably found comforting or nostalgic. “Remember that when you look to your fellow citizen and remember that it is all our responsibility to look out for one another. That has always been my intention, to dispel the clouds over Equestria and descend at last to aid the ponies left below, fighting over the scraps in an irradiated wasteland. I still pray that this will someday come to pass, but I sincerely doubt now that it will be under my leadership. No, not when I’ve broken so publicly with the Grand Pegasus Enclave, become a rebel to the very state I once presided over. But what else could I do? I was awakened to the suffering of others and the entrenched inertia of those who’d succeeded me, who were unresponsive to my calls that now was the time we’d been awaiting. They wouldn’t listen, and so I had to flee my beloved Equestria. Do not take this as disparaging toward your home, my fellow citizens, but as a sign of my love and longing for my dear Equestria just as you love your Griffin Commonwealth. And yes, of course I consider all who’ve joined our city of New Pegasus to be my fellow citizen, be they pegasus, earth pony, unicorn, or griffin. We must all pull together, all stand as one, and all look out for each other. These are trying times we face, beset by a menace disguised as a friend. Remain strong. Remain united. And we shall prevail.”
As the music faded back in, I found myself stunned. Back in the Equestrian Wasteland, Enclave Radio had played speeches by President Snowmane I’d thought were live, only to find out from Rare Sparks that President Snowmane had died over a century ago and his radio broadcasts were being played on loop as Enclave propaganda, since they never really talked specifics. This time, however, President Snowmane had clearly been addressing the present moment, or at least some time of trial since New Pegasus had been founded. Otherwise, how could he have known the things he did? Was it truly President Snowmane? The speaker on the radio claimed to be him and I’d recognized the voice, but I hadn’t listened to Radio Enclave in years; it might not have been exactly the same as I remembered. Was somepony else claiming his name for the purpose of rallying the pegasi?
“Who was that on the radio?” I asked Rael as he continued to hover and lead the way. He seemed to be in the know about New Pegasus, at least as far as the basics were concerned.
“That was President Snowmane, leader of the Dashite Enclave,” the griffin missionary replied.
“Yes, that’s what he said, but … it’s just that … there was a President Snowmane in Equestria, or there was a long time ago, who gave speeches just like that. It can’t be the same pony.”
“Why not?” Rael asked, landing next to me as we entered the alley between the cloudships.
“Well, for one thing, he’d be at least 150 years old,” I said.
“So?” Rael said. “Snowmane has been president of the Dashite Enclave since they came here a half century ago. Pegasi claim they’ve met him during all that time. Maybe he’s a dragon or a computer.”
Thinking back to my time in the Equestrian Wasteland, I supposed Snowmane could’ve made a copy of his mind just as I had as Lord Lamplight. He could also be like Orthros, his brain kept alive but the rest of him long gone. Unfortunately, everything I’d seen where a Wartime pony’s brain was preserved didn’t speak well for the president’s sanity. Maybe Rael was suggesting that Snowmane had always been a computer—but that seemed even less likely. I’d seen systems that had achieved some sort of personality, but they were extremely limited, and I found it hard to believe that one could convincingly mimic a living creature well enough to fool even those merely listening over the radio.
While I pondered President Snowmane’s continued existence, Rael led me into the Eurus and up through its hull. Although the Eurus was the same class of cloudship as the Zephyrus and had the same structure, it was quite different on the inside. A few pegasi in Dashite Enclave uniforms could be seen, but mostly it seemed that the cloudship had been given over to residential space. As we passed up and forward, we entered the portion of the ship that had been given over to Rokkists, and we passed a hangar that had been turned into a massive church of Rok. Rael bobbed his head repeatedly as we passed priests and priestesses of Rok, some with one or more of his fellow acolytes following behind. I noticed ponies among the congregants waiting in the hallways or down in the hangar, and I wondered how many of the residents of New Pegasus had turned to Rokkism.
The babble below died down as we ascended one last staircase and emerged out onto the deck of the Eurus. There was still the noise of the settlement coming from below and around, but the space into which Rael had led me was hushed. A fence of trees had been placed in planters around the area, tended to by a griffin with a watering can, shears, and an icon of Rok, blocking out the sight of the cloudship’s guns and nearly hiding the superstructure that reared up to the east. Paths were created through the garden by ropes and posts, guiding us on a meandering path past various shrines dedicated to Rok and his initial followers. Rok’s grave marker stood at one point, looking very out of place here atop the cloudship.
“It marks where Rok is buried,” Rael explained in hushed tones when I asked. “Not immediately below it, of course, but under the cloudship. During the Enclave Civil War, this ship crashed atop the Blessed Town of Dawn, burying most of it.”
“And the Dashite Enclave has never moved it?” I asked.
“No. Despite what they claim, I do not believe this cloudship will ever fly again, and so we will never see the Blessed Town of Dawn again,” Rael replied.
We continued through what I was beginning to realize was a memorial for the town of Dawn. Markers of where founding members were buried and relics atop pedestals were reminders of the town Rok had created that they could no longer travel to. They were cut off from the tangible works of their prophet, so the Rokkists had created this to keep them from being forgotten forever. At one point we came across a miniature replica of the town. Dawn hadn’t been much, smaller than many settlements I’d seen, with only a few dozen homes. It’d been built in a radial pattern, structures spreading out around a central obelisk that I could also see rearing up from the center of the garden.
The path ended at the obelisk, a sheer-edged, four-sided structure that reached up to the sky. Upon it had been etched various sayings, some of which I could recognize from particularly poignant passages from the Book of Rok. These stretched up almost to the point where the obelisk suddenly narrowed into a pyramid at the top, and Rael confirmed that they’d been etched by Rok himself, the flightless griffin using progressively higher stacks of boxes or ladders as he ran out of space to etch his thoughts on how to live in a post-megaspell world. The base of the obelisk was badly mangled and missing an indeterminate span that would have taken it to the ground, replaced with concrete to fill in the gaps. It was clear what had happened to the obelisk, even before Rael’s explanation. When the Eurus had crashed, it had eradicated most everything, but the obelisk had been broken off at the base and flown free rather than becoming buried. The Rokkists had reclaimed it and returned it to where it had once stood, back when Rok had walked among them.
“Rok,” I said solemnly after we’d left the garden and were walking across the Eurus’s deck, “Whatever happened to Rok? I’m still reading his book, but did he cease writing after founding Dawn? It certainly doesn’t seem like the rest could encompass a long and happy life as the town grew until he died of old age.”
“How many of us die of old age in this post-megaspell world?” Rael asked with a sad smile. “You’re an astute pony, Doc. No, Rok’s death was not a happy death, but it was an important one. The Blessed Town of Dawn was attacked by raiders only a few years after it was founded. It seemed a promising target for them. A town of pacifists with enough resources to comfortably support themselves? No more inviting of a prize. It was a brutal night, and though the founders won in the end and proved that pacifist does not mean defenseless, Rok perished in the fighting. Yet, the Blessed Town of Dawn lived on and continued to pursue his ideals after his death. Rok died young, but reading some of his later writings, I think it’s what he would have wanted.”
Rael smiled a little less melancholically. “I know some of my colleagues would disagree with me, but Rok was worried after he’d founded the Blessed Town of Dawn that settling in one location would change him in a way he didn’t want. He feared growing complacent and losing sight of why he believed what he’d written down. Whether that would have happened is a theological debate I’m not yet qualified to have, but it was certainly something on Rok’s mind in his last days. It’s one of the reasons that we acolytes go out into the Commonwealth before becoming priests. A clergy that has known only comfort and complacency is ill-equipped to care for those who need their help. The Griffin Commonwealth is, in some ways, not as savage or dangerous as it was in Rok’s day, but it is still necessary to be reminded of the struggle for survival many still experience, so that we understand their pain and are ready to help them.”
“The other reason is the cloudship beneath your hooves,” Rael continued, and I listened attentively as I trotted along, letting him open up about what impassioned him. “Before the Blessed Town of Dawn was destroyed, Rokkism was slow to spread. Griffins would hear about the strange town following a dead prophet, and they’d come curiously to see what all the fuss was about. Some would take Rok’s words to heart and stay or bring them with them back home, but many paid little mind to Rokkism. After the Blessed Town of Dawn was destroyed, evangelism became an important part of our pilgrimages. Rok’s teachings couldn’t be allowed to be lost if a single town was destroyed, and so we try to spread them through the Commonwealth as far as we can.”
“Well, you seem to be succeeding,” I told him. “Even in Moonraze, it seemed like you found some converts.”
“Getting a clawhold in a roost would be a great accomplishment,” Rael said. “Roost-dwellers are naturally less inclined to think we need a new way to live since they’re still trying to live as if the megaspells had never fallen.”
“Well, it sounds like you’re due for a promotion,” I told him.
“Moonraze doesn’t really count as a roost. And besides,” Rael said as he scratched the feathers on the back of his head abashedly, “I did … kind of … abandon my mission there to follow you.”
“Right,” I said. “I hope I don’t hurt your chances.”
“It was my decision,” Rael reminded me, “And we are given considerable freedom on our pilgrimages. Otherwise, what would be the point?”
“I suppose,” I said, though I still worried that this curious young priest-to-be might be damaged by his association with me, a pony who frequently took life. I tried to always act for good, but did that excuse killing my fellow pony or griffin, especially in a world whose population had been severely cut back? It was the same question Rael was wrestling with, the reason he’d left Moonraze to follow me. I realized I cared about Rael, and about what conclusion he came to. I wanted to believe I was a good pony, but most of the time I still lived as if I was in the Equestrian Wasteland, a very different and much more violent place than the Griffin Commonwealth. Maybe the roost-dwellers weren’t the only ones who needed to realize it was a different world they were living in and change their ways.
During our conversation, we’d made our way back toward the stern of the Eurus, past the massive forward guns until we were alongside the ship’s superstructure, where various shops and homes were built against it. Gradually the buildings closed in around us, forcing Rael down alongside me, and the space became lit by strings of bulbs rather than Celestia’s sun. At one junction of alleys was a sign that read New Pegasus Historical Museum, and I instinctively followed it and the signs that ledinto the cloudship’s superstructure. My natural curiosity about the history of the world that had fueled my persistent collection of memory orbs and recordings in the Equestrian Wasteland hadn’t gone away, and I wanted to learn more about this pegasus settlement in griffin lands. Rael knew plenty about the history of Rokkism, but I wanted to hear about New Pegasus from a pegasus source, which I was pleasantly surprised to find when we arrived at the museum.
The New Pegasus Historical Museum had once been the Eurus’s mess hall, and many of the tables remained bolted to the floor, exhibits now upon them. A flimsy folding table sat near the entrance, and behind it lounged a pegasus with a bright green coat and a white mane and tail. As we entered, he looked up from the book he was reading and excitedly snapped it shut before jumping to his hooves.
“Visitors! Ah, it’s always good to see visitors!” the pegasus exclaimed as he trotted around the table to us. “You are not from New Pegasus, are you?”
“No, I’m not,” I replied.
“Good. Good. Everypony around here is too ‘educated’ to think they need to come to the museum and experience our history. But I can tell you everything!” the pegasus said with enthusiasm.
“Maybe not everything,” I said, “At least not all at once. Just the basics would be good for my first visit.”
“First visit,” the pegasus said, clearly giddy at the prospect of return visits. “Of course, of course. I’m Skyscout, curator of this museum.”
“Doc,” I introduced myself, and Rael did likewise.
“Right this way,” Skyscout beckoned as he hurried over to the first set of exhibits, which included some propaganda posters for the Ministry of Awesome in extremely poor shape, propaganda posters for the Grand Pegasus Enclave in slightly better shape, and a collection of bizarre metal rods with the cloud-and-lightning-bolt symbol of the Dashite Enclave on the ends. “To understand the origins of New Pegasus, you have to first understand the Dashite Enclave, and the two competing terms that make up their name. At the end of the War, when spellfire rained down upon Equestria, the pegasi closed up the sky after the loss of Cloudsdale and secluded themselves from the rest of ponykind. Isolated, the Grand Pegasus Enclave was saved from the worst effects of the megaspells, but not every pegasus agreed with leaving the rest of Equestria to die of radiation or starvation. The most prominent critic was the former ministry mare of the Ministry of Awesome, Rainbow Dash. She was banished from the Enclave and hunted down, and all after her who opposed the GPE were banished. Rather than being killed, they had their cutie-marks branded off and replaced with the mark of the arch-traitor, Rainbow Dash’s cloud and lightning bolt cutie-mark, and named Dashites.”
“For over a century, this was the status quo. The occasional pegasus would rebel and be branded a traitor, but for most there was no reason to challenge the Enclave. We were fed and safe, and to be banished to the Equestrian Wasteland was a death sentence in all but name. However, beneath the surface there was a hidden, simmering discontent in many pegasi, until there was enough to challenge that status quo, if only a spark could ignite them,” Skyscout said as he led us past displays of pamphlets, newspapers, and badly damaged uniforms and barding, including a nearly complete set of power armor like the suits worn by the pegasi who’d arrested us, except painted a glossy black rather than cerulean. “Fifty-seven years ago, a brave—or foolish—young Enclave soldier named Featherlift decided while on a scouting mission of the Equestrian Wasteland to help the ponies below, and everything kicked off. Knowing he’d be condemned for his actions, branded, and banished, Featherlift appealed to a higher authority and awakened President Snowmane from his long sleep. The Enclave Civil War started out civilly, with debate and disagreement between ponies and the Senate, but when both that and a coup attempt failed, those in favor of intervention in the Equestrian Wasteland seized control of two cloudships: the Zephyrus and the Notus. They intended to use them to go to the Wasteland and give aid to the ponies there in defiance of the rest of the Enclave, but the GPE’s leaders wouldn’t stand for it. A fleet was dispatched to end the war and recaptured the Notus, after which the rebels fled across the Celestia Sea to the Commonwealth.”
Skyscout continued to lead us through the museum, taking us through a broad display of maps, diagrams of cloudships, and a random assortment of aerial naval items, all culminating in a diorama where several cloudships were suspended from the ceiling. “The Dashite Enclave, as the rebels had begun to refer to themselves, thought they might have a chance to escape and do some good in the Griffin Commonwealth, but the Enclave was not willing to let them go so easily. A small fleet of Raptor-class cloudships continued to follow them, trimmed down so as not to provoke a griffin response but still capable of dealing with the rebels ... or so they thought. The Eurus, Apeliotes, Kaikias, and Iapyx followed the Zephyrus to the Iron Valley, where the final climactic battle took place. Alone and outnumbered, the Zephyrus took down the Iapyx, Apeliotes, and Eurus, and severely damaged the Kaikas, forcing it to limp back to the Grand Pegasus Enclave in defeat. Since then, the Enclave has left us alone, not willing to send another fleet and risk getting embroiled in a war with the Griffin Commonwealth, nor to face us now that we have two functioning cloudships again.”
“In the years since, the Dashite Enclave has taken over the governance of a new city in the Commonwealth: New Pegasus,” Skyscout continued as he led us to the last few exhibits, which held photographs of pegasi in uniform making agreements with flightless ponies and griffins, prototype flags, and copies of the city constitution. “With the technology and knowledge gained from the Enclave, we’ve been able to start rebuilding civilization down below and expand out from just New Pegasus itself. It may not be where the original members of the Dashite Enclave wanted to settle, but it’s an important first step to one day being able to recross the sea and bring civilization back to Equestria. Questions?”
“Yes, actually,” I said, and Skyscout’s face lit up. “I’m from the Equestrian Wasteland originally—”
“You are!?” Skyscout exclaimed.
“Yes, so anyway,” I continued, “I heard President Snowmane’s broadcasts there, but they were from over a hundred years ago. Yet Snowmane is still around making broadcasts here in New Pegasus, and he was apparently involved in the Enclave Civil War somehow. What’s his deal? How is he still alive?”
“Ah, well, we’re not really supposed to talk about too much, you know, in case … spies and assassins and all that, but …” Skyscout hesitated, “I guess I could tell you the basic idea. When President Snowmane realized he wasn’t going to live long enough to see his vision of ‘descending to save Equestria’ come to pass, he had himself interred in a long-term medical pod and went into a deep sleep in order to wait. When Featherlift woke him up and still the Enclave was no closer to his goals, he took leadership of what would become the Dashite Enclave and led us here. He’s tucked away safely deep in the bowels of the Zephyrus, but still very much alive, though only the Executive Panel is allowed to visit him directly.”
“I’ve never actually been in here before,” Rael said as he looked around at scattered displays of equipment and memorabilia. “Is all this from the other cloudships?”
“The Zephyrus still has most of its equipment, of course, though I was able to snag some of it where it wasn’t needed. Similar story with the Eurus. A few special pieces were taken from the Notus before it was recaptured by the Enclave,” Skyscout said as he ticked off his wing feathers for each cloudship. “The rest was taken from the wreck of the Apeliotes, what wasn’t taken to repair the cloudships here. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to get my hooves on anything from the Iapyx.”
“And why’s that?” I asked as I examined a framed medal that had been half melted away, shrunken cloth and burnt hair still clinging to parts of it.
“The Apeliotes is nearby, but the Iapyx crashed a long way from here and it’s infested with mutants. The Dashite Enclave’s soldiers have already stripped it of anything useful for repairs and maintenance, and they don’t see any need to ‘go poking around for mementos,’ no matter how many times I ask them to send an expedition,” Skyscout bemoaned. “I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you look … ‘rough-and-ready,’ so to speak. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to go to the Iapyx for me?”
“That depends,” I said. “What kind of mutants, and what’s it pay?”
“Just giant moths,” Skyscout vaguely answered my first question. “And as for your compensation, I’m willing to spare no expense for truly unique pieces from the cloudship.”
“All right then,” I said as I presented my PipBeak to the pegasus. “Where’s the Iapyx?”
***
The Iapyx was slightly less than half a day’s travel to the southeast, where the foothills became mountains. After our examination by Doctor Cyclone and the visits to the Dawn memorial and the museum, the day was nearly spent, so Rael and I stayed in New Pegasus for the night and set out for the crashed cloudship at first light. Even from a distance, it was clear that the Iapyx had taken a severe pounding during the Enclave Civil War. Its hull was covered in scorch marks in the places it hadn’t been torn open entirely, and the ship had either broken or nearly broken apart at several points so that its remains were spread out down the face of the mountain. In the time since its crash, the greenery that had been burned or blasted away had returned to overtake the cloudship, making it seem like part of the landscape rather than an intruder.
As Skyscout had said, the Iapyx was infested with giant moths, but they didn’t present too much trouble for me, though I did have to be careful not to splatter them against the treasures the museum curator wanted me to retrieve. My task of taking down the insects was made all the easier by the new weapon I’d picked up in New Pegasus to replace my combat shotgun the Dogs of War had destroyed. A moth hissed and rattled angrily as it flew at me, and I fired my new starscatter gun into its abdomen. For the first time in the Griffin Commonwealth, I had my hooves on a magical energy weapon again. As I pulled the trigger, a cluster of bright blue beams shot out from the end of the rifle, some scorching the moth’s hairy body and some lancing through it to emerge on the other side. With a crackling sound, the giant moth turned into a cloud of ash that washed over me, disintegrated by my magical energy shotgun. I’d need to be careful about ammunition since the Dashite Enclave were the only ones who knew how to make the power packs, but for the moment I was relishing the experience of being able to use a magical energy weapon and a shotgun at the same time.
“Is that everything?” Rael asked as I loaded mugs with the cloudship’s name and logo on them into my saddlebags.
“Just about,” I said as I consulted the list on my PipBeak. “Skyscout still wants some things from the captain’s cabin.”
The Iapyx was a Raptor-class vessel just like the others than had come to the Griffin Commonwealth, and according to the diagrams of the Eurus in the New Pegasus Historical Museum, the captain’s cabin was nearby. I blasted back a giant moth with my starscatter gun on the way and reloaded before pushing into the cabin. The door didn’t want to open at first, but with a shove from my body and my magic, it jerked haltingly inward. The moths had made a nest here, and cottony gunk covered the corners of the room as well as stretching between furniture and across the floor and ceiling.
I was taken off guard by a truly massive moth that barreled toward me, upset at my imposition. The other moths had been smaller than me, but this one was significantly larger, barely able to fit through the hatch as I stepped back. ERSaTS labeled it a “Killer Moth” as I cast the spell and fired my starscatter gun into the giant insect’s face. I burned out one of its eyes and numerous holes were punched through its wings by shots going wide, but that gave it no pause as it bowled into me. I went flying backwards, my starscatter gun falling from my grasp as the killer moth slid me along the hallway. I tried to get free as I slammed up against a bulkhead, but the moth was faster, using its legs to pin my limbs in place. I tried to levitate my battle rifle, but the strap was trapped beneath me, and I could only get it into an awkward angle where I took out one of the killer moth’s back legs and nothing else. The killer moth snapped at me with its mandibles, and I conjured up a glowing magical shield that it knocked its head against angrily. The moth began to buzz rhythmically, and my magic dissipated. I tried levitating my battle rifle again but found myself unable to, my horn sparking uselessly as the killer moth somehow suppressed my magic.
My starscatter gun rang out from behind, and the killer moth turned its attention from trying to eat me to this new challenger that had ignited a wing and taken out one of its antennae. It still kept me pinned in place until the magical energy shots rang around me and one of the moth’s legs went limp. I was able to squirm enough to free the holster with Big Iron and, my magic restored, drew it and fired the revolver into the killer moth’s face. Half its head was torn away as the bullet shot through its open mouth, and a moment later it was disintegrated by another starscatter shot. On the other side of where the moth had been stood Rael, the gun held awkwardly in his claws. After confirming at a glance that I was okay, Rael looked away uneasily before helping me up and returning my gun.
“Thank you for that. Good job,” I told him, which didn’t seem to decrease his discomfort one whit. “Was that all right for you to do?”
“Of course,” Rael said, jumping out of his inward thoughts. “It wasn’t like it was a griffin or a pony, and besides, if I hadn’t then you’d have died. So, it was good. It’s just … it’s been a long time since I’ve held a weapon and that one … well, it’s made for a battle saddle, not for my claws.”
“We’ll have to do something to fix that when we get back to New Pegasus,” I told him, and Rael looked shocked. “You never know when I might need you to save my hide again. Come on, let’s finish up here.”
***
When we returned to New Pegasus, my saddlebags were packed full of items that I hoped Skyscout would be over Luna’s moon to add to his museum. The sun was setting in the west as we entered the settlement, and lights were beginning to flicker on outside to light the paths and ramshackle piazzas. Rael and I detoured off the main boulevard instead of heading straight for the Eurus. Shops were still bustling, but that was because many would soon be closing down for the night. I had no idea how long it would take to unload our haul at the New Pegasus Historical Museum, but I had the feeling that Skyscout would want to carefully examine every piece we’d brought. Before we sat through that, I wanted to restock on some of the supplies we’d used on our trip out to the Iapyx and back, not least of which were the microspark cells for my starscatter gun. If I was lucky, I might even be able to drop off the gun to be modified overnight and pick it up in the morning.
All those plans went out of my mind as I spotted a familiar face in the crowd of ponies and griffins milling around one of the makeshift market squares. The pink-coated earth pony mare stood near a shop selling pots and pans, idly side-eyeing them while other customers made their purchases. Her curly yellow and white mane was just as it had been when I’d first met her years ago in Harmony Tower. I pressed my way through the crowds until I was close enough to speak to her directly.
“Ache! What are you doing here?” I exclaimed, happy to see her, but surprised she’d come all this way, especially since when I’d last left her, she’d still had the mind of a child. “How’d you know I was here?”
“I’m … sorry. I … don’t understand,” Ache said hesitantly as she gave me a confused look.
“Do you recognize me?” I asked. “Did something happen to Tartarus? Why have you come here?”
“Sorry, I think you’ve confused me for somepony else,” Ache said. “Excuse me.”
Plenty of ponies (and griffins, for that matter) could look alike, and it had been a long time since I’d seen her, but I was absolutely certain that this mare was identical to Ache. She must have managed to relearn everything she’d lost, but apparently she hadn’t learned her history before she’d been shot in the head and had to be reset. That, or she just didn’t recognize me. Our time together in the Equestrian Wasteland hadn’t been the most comfortable, but I was looking noticeably more haggard after my travels and imprisonment on the Grittish Isles, not to mention the missing foreleg.
“It’s me, Doc,” I said, and showed her the faded patch on my shoulder that I’d scavenged from my old doctor’s coat.
Ache frowned at me, as if considering something, before looking up. I noticed the rest of the crowd doing the same and joined them. Overhead flew a platoon of power-armored pegasi. As they wheeled around in formation ringing the piazza, some of them shouted at the ponies and griffins in the air and they landed, looking unhappy.
“Everypony and everygriffin remain calm!” the lead pegasus demanded over her suit’s speakers, “Remain standing where you are, and this will all be over soon!”
The crowd grumbled as the armored pegasi swept their eyes over the milling throng of bodies, but complied with the order. Explosions suddenly rang out through the night, both near the cloudships and closer, among the market stalls. Scrap and bodies went flying through the air and ponies and griffins panicked.
“Stay where you are!” the Dashite officer above us demanded, to no avail. “Open fire! Confirmed shots only on targets with no chance of collateral!”
Magical energy shots lanced down into the crowd, only increasing the panic. Ponies cried out as they were turned to glowing ash. Pegasi and griffins who tried to take to the skies were forced down with warning shots or physical force when that didn’t work, but none were fired upon. I turned toward Ache, but she was gone, running away down a side street.
“Ache!” I called after her a second before she was hit by two separate magical energy bolts and disintegrated in place.
Confusion raged around me as the crowd tried to break free and the Dashites attempted to cordon the area off while I could hear similar scenes playing out across the settlement, accompanied by the sound of fires and occasional explosions as New Pegasus descended into chaos.
Level Up [Max Level Reached]
New Quest: Night of the Boiling Pot – Survive the tribulation in New Pegasus.
New Perk: Constantly Improving – You’ve reached your maximum level and will no longer level up or receive free perks, but you are still able to improve your skills through use.
Alteration Magic +1 (40)
Barter +3 (122)
Energy Weapons +5 (105)
Manipulation Magic +1 (47)
Small Guns +1 (142)
Survival +9 (84)