//------------------------------//
// Chapter Twelve: Mareusalem Salts 
// Story: Fallout Equestria: Space Captain Andromeda 
// by Weavers of Dreams 
//------------------------------//

Short Wave had been dreaming about what many young, single stallions dreamt of. Mares. He wouldn't have been ashamed to admit it either. His grandma always said that dreams were half a prophecy, and his grandfather kept dragging him out of bed in the morning. These contradictions of philosophy confused him to no end. But what was even more confusing was that he found himself waking up of his own accord and being dragged behind his grandfather.

The Commissar had, during the night, attached the cape to the back of his power armor, laid his grandson atop of it, after wrapping him in some blankets, and simply begun walking across the dunes. The armor was powered up and he had his visor up as he marched steadily onwards. The moonlight reflected off of the polish, showing a couple blackened marks that were not there just a few hours ago.

"W-what's going on?" the earth pony asked, trying to sit up, but found himself incredibly weak.

The old zebra didn't stop moving, but cast a backwards glance at the buck. "We're moving."

Short Waver sighed and tried to wiggle out a bit of blanket that bunched up under his side. "I can see that. I want to know... why?"

"Coal worms," the old zebra stated simply. He turned back to the empty wasteland ahead, following a particular star. "Coal worms?" he heard his grandson ask. He explained simply. "Nocturnal desert beasts the size of one of my legs, devour minerals to form thick, black shells about their frail bodies. Coal. They have mouths full of teeth and consider anything that wanders into their territory to be a fair meal."

"What happened to your armor?" Short Wave indicated the black marks.

The Commissar grunted and picked up his pace a bit when he started to hear a noise. "The coal that surrounds them in fragile, and breaks off when they strike. They try and use this to blind their prey, making the face a favored striking point. Luckily, I was ready for them."

Short Wave felt uneasy and angry at the same time. "So we've been marching through this plot-blistering sand, and you never told me there were flesh-eating monsters under our hooves the whole time?" The zebra chuckled.

"You had nothing to worry about," he said as he flicked his ears at the noise's increasing volume. "They're ambush predators that go for the bigger threat first. Namely, me. That is why I was having us move so much during the day, to discourage them from trying to set up an ambush at night. After all... it's not hard to outrun worms."

Short Wave was still confused. "Well... if we've been moving so much, then how did they catch up to us?" The answer dawned on him even before he finished speaking. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Approximately twenty-three hours and eleven minutes," was the collected reply. You are very lucky. You were close to suffering heatstroke. Your mother would have killed me. Then, after she finished me off, your grandmother would raise me from the dead, somehow, and kill me all over again. They might even give the rest of the family a few turns."

Short Wave rolled his eyes. "Don't be so overdramatic. That's mom's job."

"Careful what you say," the old zebra warned him in a low tone. "If she's anything like my mother, she may just be over the next dune with a wooden paddle. Then again, that was because I left my radio on. Do you know how humiliating it is to be sergeant of an entire squad, and then find yourself over your mother's knee as she spanks your plot?"

"I thought zebras liked that," Short Wave muttered. He threw his hooves over his mouth and gasped sharply as he realized what he just said.

"You're too weak to punish physically for that racist slip," his grandfather assured him. "The fact that I coal worm almost bit off your face while I had to relieve myself should be punishment enough." He suppressed a hearty chuckle as he heard his grandson begin to thrash about, weakly, in an attempt to make sure he had all his important parts.

As they breasted the hill, the Commissar paused and just looked ahead. Lights. Lots and lots of light. A city lay just up ahead. The sound he had been hearing was that of some sort of machinery going on in that place. The heads-up display inside his helmet told him it was called Mareusalem. He gave a great sigh of relief at the sight of the great city rising above the sands. A sense of pride filled him as he looked on at the grand city.

"Stop squirming and hold on," the zebra said as he started forward again. His pace was much quicker this time, almost a full gallop, Short Wave held onto the cape with his hooves and teeth for all he was worth.


*	*	*


A couple equine figures stood atop of a large sandstone arch, some of which was ancient, and some of which was quite new, freshly laid even, looking out past the battlements hooves resting upon large machineguns. These two wore the same magenta power armor as the Commissar, minus that gold imagery and capes, instead a crest of owl feathers ran flush out the back of their helmets. They swept the stationary guns around the horizon, HUDs analyzing the terrain. A great wind picked up from inside the city, blowing dust outside in a great cloud.

"Another dull night," the one on the right muttered, a deep male voice resonating from within his suit. "At this point, I would volunteer to hunt coal worms. It would pay better too."

His partner chuckled, an equally deep voice. "But that would require leg work. Unless you want to join a different unit, I'm staying right here."

"You always were a lazy one," the first said as he tilted the barrel of his machinegun upwards in boredom. "Your mother still thinks you're lying to her in your letters about passing basic training." That got another chuckle out of his friend. "To be fair, I still think you hired a double."

"With all the caps laying about in this city? I'm lucky to afford cheese in Tuesdays. Speaking of caps... you wouldn't happen to have some you could spare, do you?"

"I'm not feeding your tail chasing again, Numbskull," the first one sighed regretfully. "Three of those mares had to be hospitalized."

Numbskull made a rolling motion with his head and chuckled. "It's not my fault they couldn't handle my endowment, Bayonet."

Bayonet growled furiously and raised a hoof as though to strike his partner. "Think above the belt for once you..."

"Shadow," Numbskull suddenly cried out, bending his head down flush with the gun and aiming at something. Bayonet did the same. They watched as a dark shape made its way into the fringe of the lamps set up about the arch. Bayonet used a back hoof to kick a small lever at his side.

A green flare shot out of a small tube attached near the top of his armor, one reason he didn't have a cape. "Halt. One more step and we'll shoot."

The figure didn't stop, and they didn't shoot. For, in the light of the flare they saw power armor, and with a zoom feature on their HUDs, they saw the title on the helmet. They kept the guns trained on him as he approached, stopping just beneath the archway. "I am Commissar Delta Forerunner, of her grace's Shield Bearers. I am under orders to see General Scorpion. Let me pass through, lest I turn back and report to her grace."

Numbskull saluted. "Up load your signature to our registry, sir. We are under orders ourselves."

The Commissar nodded in understanding. He held up a hoof, the armor split open to reveal an archaic tattoo, which glowed with a dim radiation. The two guards' zoom features scanned and analyzed it. A blue bar flashed on their screens.

Numbskull turned to alert the gatekeeper. Bayonet saluted the Commissar as he unfolded his helmet as a sign of trust and respect, the owl feather becoming like a collar, he was a brown earth pony with a golden mane. "You're confirmed inside our registry, sir. Forgive us for the delay, I implore you, sir."

Delta shook his head. "No need. Any who do not confirm their alliances should be shot on sight."

"Shall I have the general alerted to your arrival, sir?"

"By all means, soldier. Oh, and tell him I may be late. My grandson, whom I have brought with me, is ill, and needs attention."

Bayonet nodded and waited for Numbskull to come back so he could send him about this business. He wanted to ask more questions, but he didn't want to aggravate a Shield Bearer. Especially when his grandson was apparently sick.

The gate of Mareusalem was a thick wooden box of ancient oak, stuffed with sandstone bricks with metal reinforcement for holding out siege weapons. The process of opening it involved hydraulically lifting it up out of a trough in the ground, and then a heavy bar-winch pulled it back on giant cylindrical bearings allowing those who sought entrance to pass through around the sides. It also made enemy charges through the front suicide as troops would be forced to pass through narrow paths that could be covered by a single stationary gun.

For safety's sake, there were four stationary guns on each side, as the Commissar saw while passing through.

A medical tent lay just beyond the gate, an unfortunate necessity in the unforgiving desert. And upon seeing the earth pony being dragged behind the soldier, a stretcher was immediately brought out, borne by two griffons in white medical suits. Delta instructed them to keep him informed of any issues, then promptly left his supplies there as well, dusted off his, after dusting it off, and began his march deeper into the city.

The cracked asphalt was familiar beneath the old zebra's hooves, urging him to power down his armor to relive a brief moment of nostalgia. But he pressed on, not wanting to leave the general hanging. That didn't stop him from looking about at the familiar sights, though.

Neon signs of taverns and shops, selling everything from food and water to guns and armor. Some signs were unfamiliar, to him, namely: Chipper's Metalwork, Punch's Oasis, Cole Wyrcs, and Absentia. He wasn't so sure about that last one, the name was pretty vague and there didn't appear to be display of it's wares. Perhaps it would be worth looking into if he had time. He looked about a bit more in search of a specific sign, one that he had only seen on the side of a delivery cart. But, alas, he could not find it, and carried on his way.

"That sweet mare had better still be alive," he muttered to himself.

The further into the city, to tighter together the buildings became, and the louder that noise grew. He kept his helmet up to keep from being blinded by the blasts of wind and sand. The city was also heavily patrolled by soldiers in both power armor and cloth uniforms, including civilian volunteers that kept watch from the shadows. It was rather annoying as everypony he came across had to salute him, sometimes blocking his way, but he didn't complain.

When he finally reached his destination, one Numbskull passed him, huffing laboriously, even with power armor active, after delivering the message. Fortunately for Numbskull, Delta didn't know he was the one who delivered the message, or else he might have recommended a few weeks intensive training.

Ahead of him was a tall building, from which that great noise came from, vents about its base blasted out the winds, driving the sands away as a defense system for the city, keeping their enemies blind. A large set of glass doors was set at the top of a short staircase, and above the doors read: SANDHERDROAM. Delta walked up the stairs, paused a moment to dust the sand off himself, and pushed throught he doors.


*	*	*


Short Wave didn't know if he felt all that sick or not. But when a very pretty young mare in a nurses uniform asked him if he needed any aspirin, he found himself unable to say no. She was sweet, a tan unicorn with freckles and a candy-striped mane, and she had the softest hooves the young stallion had ever felt, as she rubbed out the kinks in his muscles to make sure he was relaxed before the other doctors examined him. She spoke reassuringly, and commented on his bravery for having crossed the desert. Again, he didn't have the heart to tell her otherwise.

"My," she said as she rubbing his forehooves, "what great callouses you have. Crossing the desert without any shoes, what an incredible feat. You must have a great tolerance for pain. And, don't you have a hat? Don't tell me... you're too macho of a stallion to be bothered with such things. You laugh at the sun's rays, beating against your scalp."

Short Wave just smiled and nodded as he mentally beat himself senseless for not bringing shoes and a hat. "Well, you know, some bucks will bow to nature, and others just want to tell nature to buck off. But, she can be a vengeful little bitch every now and again."

The mare covered her mouth with a hoof as she giggled. "Ah, this is true. Just like Mareusalem, no matter how much sand we blast out, there is always more."

They both chuckled at this.

"I'm Short Wave, by the way," Short Wave said, pulling his hooves closer to himself to bring her in closer. She didn't seem to resist. "I was actually born here in Mareusalem. Can you tell me your name?"

"I am Sham," the unicorn said, beaming a proud smile, great-great-great-great-great-great-great granddaughter of Flim the inventor. He's greatly credited for he and his brother's work in Gallopoli."

"Yeah, where the Blue Stripes promptly have now taken over, turning all that work against us," said snide-looking zebra mare, balancing a tray of medical equipment on her back.

Short Wave saw that the unicorn almost wanted to cry. "Hey. Are you okay?"

"No," was the blunt reply.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Do not bother," the zebra told him as she set the tray down and took out a stethoscope. "She'll just preach on about how her family was so misunderstood and..."

"Aaaahhh."

Short Wave cringed at the sound of the young mare's shrill cry as she got up and rushed from the tent sobbing. He glared at the zebra. "The buck was that for?"

She rolled her eyes as she placed the end of the stethoscope against his chest and listened. "Because she a preachy little harlot who's family history is riddled with thieves and conponies, who she keeps on insisting were just misunderstood entrepreneurs. At least her sister, Shim, is more a honest harlot about it. Last I heard she had been hospitalized due to having a small foal chute."

Short Wave was confused by that last part, and it showed on his face. The mare groaned in annoyance at his ignorance. "Some stallion with a overly large phallus stretched her undersized birth canal too far. Does that make it any clearer?"

Short Wave turned a shade of red at the realization. The zebra rolled her eyes at his naivety. "Did your mother teach you nothing?"

"How to be respectful and courteous," Short Wave said proudly.

"Oh," the mare raised an eyebrow. "And how many mares has that gotten you?"

"Sex isn't everything in this world, you know," Short Wave shot back. He grumbled as she laughed at him and continued her examination.


*	*	*


The Sandherdroam was a spacious building inside, full of ponies, zebras, and griffons, all going about business. The floor was covered in a purple carpet and the walls were a simple dirty white, and had soundproofing spells on them to keep to the noise of the machines. There were constant shouts as one pony wanted to talk to some zebra about a griffon's proposition. Or any combination thereof. It was like some terrible cacophony of cats during estrus.

Delta had stopped in the center of the lobby to look at a fountain he had not seen it before. It was made of brass with copper highlighting, depicting a soldier in power armor running a sword through an Enclave soldier, while a zebra mare in a nurse uniform with a pistol stood behind him, protectively standing over a frightened unicorn filly and earth pony colt. The water ran down over the metal statue like a film, giving it an illusion of life. A gold plaque was placed on the outer rim of the fountain's base.

In memory of the heroic last stand at St. Cream's Foal Hospital, where five hundred and twelve civilians and fifteen soldiers gave their lives to ensure the safety of the foals within against the Enclave menace.

Delta was glad he had left his helmet up, as he was starting to tear up a little bit. He walked around the fountain a bit to get a closer look at the colt. It was as he thought. He sniffed and gave a quick, respectful salute, causing some who saw it to dare laugh at his sentimental display, he ignored them and headed towards a staircase.

At the top of the stairs was a long hallway, which he headed down until he reached a door at the very end. He didn't bother knocking and just pushed right through. It was a waiting area with several officers, who immediately jumped up and saluted him, and some civilians in business suits. A secretary sat at a desk near the next door, she was griffon with a real no-nonsense look about her. Which didn't intimidate the Commissar, who walked right by her and proceeded into the next room.

It was an office, rather large, with a desk facing the door, behind which sat a heavily scarred pegasus, missing half his fur. He wore a hybrid of Enclave and Sanctuary power armor, the insect-like helmet rested on his desk, collecting dust like a foal's toy just kept around for nostalgia. A flag set behind the desk, black and white stripes with a purple alicorn in the center.

The secretary quickly came in after Delta. "I am so sorry, sir, he just burst right in. I tried to tell him to stop, but..."

The general waved her off with a hoof. "It's quite alright, Bustle, I've been expecting him. Cancel my other appointments for today, this is more important."

The griffon gave Delta a dirty look and left in a huff, all but slamming the door behind her.

"Touchy, isn't she?" Delta asked with a chuckle.

The general laughed as well. "Best secretary I could ask for. One look at her and the snobs turn tail and run. So, what has her grace set her eyes upon that she would send you? What must I do to fulfill this new interest?"

Delta waved him off. "In a moment. I have not seen my good friend in sixteen years, and would like to hear how he is doing."

The general nodded and reached under his desk to lift up a glass bottle. Opening the cap he tipped it up to his lips and took a great gulp before offering it to the Commissar.

"Zeta informed me to stop drinking, sorry," he said with a wave of his hoof. The general rolled his eyes.

"I thought you wore the metaphorical pants in the family," he said slyly. Delta shrugged.

"I may wear them, but she's the only one who knows how to mend them when I hit the rocks after a great fall."

"And she's apparently got you going philosophical," the general said before taking another drink. He set the bottle down, suspiciously close to edge on across from him. He bid the Commissar to sit and leaned forward, resting his chin on the desktop, next to the dusty helmet. "So... did you see the new fountain?"

Delta nodded as he lowered his helmet and shut off his power. "I did. Although, I noticed somepony missing."

The general's ears perked up at this and he tilted his head to the side. "What do you mean? I had them detail Commander Carnival, Nurse Pure Glyph and the foals perfectly. Together held the Enclave off for five days..."

"And what about the pegasus who carried all those two hundred foals to safety?" Delta interrupted him. He watched as the general's ears drooped. He continued. "The disillusioned Enclave soldier who prostrated himself on the ground before my battalion, begging to aid us in any way possible? Who shielded the last foal with his own body when the Enclave discovered there were no more foals for their experiments, resulting in disfiguring injuries? Who swore loyalty to her grace after one of the most brutal battle in Saddle Arabia? Where was he?"

The general didn't look him in the eye. "Wanting to forget those days, wanting to feel the sunshine while standing in the sands. Wanting to rid his mind of the government sanctioned population control, the live experimentation on hapless victims, wanting to forget he was even a part of those..." he couldn't finish the sentence. He grabbed the bottle and took a couple more big gulps.

"Her grace did not wish for you to forget," Delta said, pointing out the magenta helmet on the desk. "She wished you to remember, to realize you rose above their cowardess and selfishness. All her ponies saw you as one of them that day, and you rose higher than even she could have predicated, General Scorpion."

Scorpion looked at the helmet and sighed. "Not much cause to wear it anymore. The Enclave have vanished, thankfully, and with them, their evil. The Blue Stripes are quiet, and there's nothing around for miles from Gallopoli. I doubt they'll much of a problem. I'm just a desk jockey now, it seems. Her grace didn't by chance mention me on this mission, did she?"

"I'm sorry, Scorpion," Delta said with a shake of his head. "Before I launch into what is required, I will tell you a little story."

Scorpion rolled his eyes. "We may not have seen each other for years, but you still remain the same."

Delta ignored that and continued. "It was some time after our last visit, I was taking my grandson, Short Wave, through the marketplace, when he noticed a poster. On this poster was a propagandized image of a Enclave solider in armor, covered in blood while standing on the skulls of earthbound creatures." The general nodded, having seen these before. "It simply said, 'Watch the Skies'. Little Short Wave dragged me over to it and pointed up at it, foals usually shy away, as is the intention, as smiled. 'Granpy,' he said, 'that pony saved me'." Delta watched as some water appeared in the pegasus' good eye. "He remembered you, even after six years."

"What did you do?" Scorpion inquired, raising his head and blushing a bit as his ego began to return.

"Spanked him soundly and sent him to bed without supper," the Commissar said with a shrug. He burst out laughing when the general's chin hit the desk with a groan. "Only kidding, my friend. I bought him so much candy he got sick and my daughter had Zeta shave my mane and dye my stripes pink while I slept. It was worth it to see him happy."

"Well," the general began, seriously thinking about pulling rank on his friend at the moment, "let's discuss her grace's business now. Before you start telling more stories."


*	*	*


Some time after the zebra mare's examination, Sham came back into the tent, her face still moist from crying. She avoided the other patients and medical staff, seeming to just wander aimlessly. Short Wave watched as she fiddle with an empty cot, trying to look busy, but failing miserably. He didn't like that zebra, and he especially didn't like her attitude. She was one of those doctors who had the nurturing instinct of a female praying mantis. Her words appeared to have opened old wounds the little mare had tried to heal.

He called out her name when she got close during her wandering. She reacting as though she expected to be struck, a few tears trickling down her muzzle. When nothing happened, she looked up and noticed it was the earth pony she had spoken to earlier. She trotted over quickly and looked him over.

"Are you alright?" she asked in concern. "Did you need some painkillers, or maybe some more aspirin?"

Short Wave shook his head. "No. I actually just wanted to talk to somepony. And you're the only one here who seems... well... nice."

Sham sighed and shook her head. "I try. So, what did you want to talk about?"

"How about why that zebra bucker just had to pick on you like that," he said as he tried to shift into a more comfortable position.

Sham lowered her head. "My family made a lot of mistakes. Too numerous for me to try and recall at the moment. They really did try their best, but, luck always seemed to be against them. You wouldn't think a long line of salesponies would amount to such a reviled history. That why my sister and I became nurses."

"You wanted to break an unfortunate chain of events," Short Wave said. The mare nodded.

"But, the family legacy proceeded us. I do my best. But, Shim... she couldn't handle it as well as I could. She got kicked out of the medical core, and took to drinking. I try to support her as best I can. But, she yells and screams that she's already got a steady influx of caps."

"Is that why she's in the hospital?" Short Wave asked sympathetically. Sham didn't look surprised that he already knew.

"The sins of the father shall be cast upon the third and the fourth generation," she said in a hushed tone. "Ponies pay attention to us, know who we are. All because of a family history stained with greed. None of them are even what you could call criminals. Just desperate ponies trying to make cap."

"Bit," Short Wave corrected her. "Back in the day, they using gold coins called bits as currency."

Sham actually smiled at that. "Ah, I had forgotten. I know this. We use them to get bottles out of vending machines." She looked him in the eye and tilted her head shyly. "So, what did the doctor say?"

Short Wave shrugged. "That all I needed was some rest, and then walked off."

Sham searched the room for the zebra, found her, and glared daggers at her back. "She seems to be saying that a lot lately to patients. One time I had to scrounge up some painkillers when a griffin came in here with two broken legs. apparently got drunk and fell off the wall. She just had them set and told him to stop whining. It's almost as if she likes hearing others cry in pain."

"Maybe she just wants them to toughen up," Short Wave suggested, not wanting to start a war.

Sham turned her glare on him, causing him to cringe sharply. "If something is hurting you, you should cry. At least a little. It's up to others to help take away great pain, you can't take it all yourself, no matter how tough you are. No pony should be left hurting, I would even help an Enclave soldier if he or she was crying."

"What about you?"

"Huh?" Sham asked, giving him a quizzical look.

"You ran off crying," Short Wave said, reaching out a hoof to touch her shoulder. She was a little out of range, but she understood his intent and leaned forward a little. "Who comforts you?"

Sham looked down at the ground and sniffed. "My sister was once the dune I used for shade. But she couldn't handle the many gusts the desert threw at her. Now she is just another sorrow."

"Are you by any chance a poet?" Short Wave inquired, beginning to notice her speech patterns.

Sham nodded. "I'm amateurish at best. I just needed something to help me collect my thoughts during the day while everything keeps trying to fall on me."

"Can I hear some," Short Wave asked, honestly interested. This mare's voice was soft and sweet, and he found himself wanted to hear more and more of it. She was ecstatic, and immediately launched into daily muse.