//------------------------------// // 3. Medical Supplies (April 2021) // Story: Mass Effect: Continuum // by Oceansama //------------------------------// Chapter Three: Medical Supplies (…………………………………………………………………………………………) Chief Thunder Hooves was angrily pacing up and down the bank of a river where his tribe had settled retreated to after the Braeburn pony had left their previous resting spot. The calm rolling of the free water stood a stark contrast to the buffalo’s agitated demeanor, grunting with bottled fury every couple of steps. This was a sacred place and located deep in buffalo territory. Not even the ponies in the nearby town were aware of its existence and, as such, no fires were lit to give its position away. He, along with a select chosen group of followers, were investigating ground zero where they’d earlier observed a bolt of magical light. Shortly after the storm had passed a separate light had been seen shooting straight up into the air like a signal flare. As it had originated upon a part of the buffalo’s traditional stomping grounds, it was a most critical matter that needed to be resolved. The Chief sniffed the air and the ground in equal measure trying to determine the origin of this second unexplained event. “Chief!” Little Strong Heart called out while running straight up to him, a look of deep worry etched on her face. “What is it little one?” he halted in place giving her his full attention. “We found something, you need to see it!” She said quickly before retreating in the direction she had come from. Swiftly he followed, hooves kicking up clouds of dust as his heavy gait cut through desert ground. “What treachery is this!” The chief roared in indignation at the sight presented before him. By this point the stench of a recent fire had mostly cleared but it left a carpet of charred brushes and cacti that had been blown into piecemeal leaving only the stumps behind. Rocks had been shattered, with the many sharp pieces embedded in the ground like a bed of nails. It hadn’t taken long for the Chief to realize that the source of all this destruction radiated out from a central point. That focus was a, still, warm crater that reached half a foot deep, and a diameter the width of five buffaloes. Thunder Hooves could feel the powerful magic that lingered in the air, obviously the cause of the explosion. While the magical arts were unknown by him or his people, every creature contained some magic within them and could sense the residue left behind after a recent magical events of this magnitude. It felt like a fizzing sensation, akin to pins and needles tapping ever so lightly on his skin but it wasn’t painful. “Hmm...” He circled around the crater several time, observing the destruction with a keen eye, looking for any clue as to what might have caused this. There were tracks that started from the crater and departed the area, but not a trail to be found leading towards the crater. By this time the wind had taken its toll and eroded most of the hoof prints and soon would erase them completely. But still enough remained for him to get a good idea of who the perpetrator of this crime was. “Unicorn pony!” The chief snorted, steam escaping his nostrils as his blood pressure rose to catastrophic levels, “I want this trespasser, this defiler, this...Appleloosan found for they have dishonored the Great Spirit Cante Pejute!” For only a little over a year the Appleloosans and Buffalo had agreed on a peace agreement that allowed ponies free passage over his land, and to live and farm on a specific portion of it in the interest of good will and delicious apple pies, but that was the end of it. Spirits curse him if he sat idly by and allowed the ponies to encroach upon even more of his ancestor’s lands. “Hold it Chief,” Little Strongheart warned, gingerly placing a hoof on his shoulder, “I don’t believe that the Appleloosans would risk another war by breaking their agreement.” “What makes you believe that?” He regarded her suspiciously. “Well, I know that Braeburn said...” The Chief interrupted her with an annoyed snort. “Must I warn you again, my daughter, that you misplace your trust. That stallion is a pony and he will always be so. He would say anything to protect his own kind. Do not waste your time with him.” “He was one of the few ponies who tried to listen to us before. Just hear me out Fa...Chief.” Strong Heart stared him straight in the face. “The Appleloosan ponies have nothing to gain by causing trouble. We don’t even know for sure if it was them or an outsider trying to cause trouble.” The bigger buffalo made to interject but a raised hoof from Strong Heart silenced any rebuttal. “Plus, Appleloosa is mostly Earth-ponies with very few unicorns. Finding the one who did this shouldn’t be a big problem.” “What do you speak of?” “Braeburn taught me that the color of a unicorn’s magic is unique to each individual. We need only to ask the townsfolk to help us find the one who emits a purple glow from their horn. Besides, if we hurry we might be able to track them down before they take the railroad in the morning.” “And if they have already escaped by this so called road, what do you suggest we do then?” The lead buffalo felt his anger subside slightly as he listened. “Some pony must be held accountable for this insult.” “Then leave it to me to find them. Just, please, lets not implicate the whole town over the actions of one pony. I don’t want a repeat of last time, and I know you don’t either.” Her pouting eyes make it difficult for the Chieftain to refuse her. His tribe knew better than to question his will, but he felt a swell of pride in his daughter for she was truly different, patient and wise beyond her years. “Very well,” he relented, trying to keep a scowl despite his pride threatening to birth a smile. “I will stay my hoof for the time being. Now, let us not waste anymore time here.” “Thank you.” Little Strong Heart shot forward and embraced the Chief in a hug, wrapping her forelegs tightly around his neck. He was about to admonish her for such a public display of affection, instead he reluctantly wrapped a foreleg around her. Smiling, he stroked her back for just a moment. Afterward he broke the embrace and any traces of emotion vanished. “The tracks lead towards the river, further south than we were before.” He redirected to the matter of the hunt. The pony tracks they followed were soon joined by a second pair of hoof prints belonging to a creature they had never encountered before. (…………………………………………………………………………………………) Shepard lifted her second shot of the night to her lips and in one swift motion she downed the warm, amber liquid in record time. The bourbon burned well going down and it added a much needed warmth in her belly. The alcohol was strong and had a hint of a smoky hickory taste that spoke of its natural fermenting process in a wooden cask. It was a taste that was sadly lacking in a lot of mass produced liquors that she had sample from across the galaxy. Though it was certainly still no substitute for Serrice-Ice brandy, but after all the crap she’d been through recently, a stiff one was just what she needed to bring back a little sanity. She slammed the empty glass down with a sigh of pleasure, savoring the taste. Feeling her mood had started to improve, it was hatefully soured when her instincts picked up on her host’s jittery body language. He was trying to hide it by keeping his expression neutral, yet, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, his nervousness was punctuated by excessive sweating and a refusal to look her in the eyes. He had been all calm before, so she was confused as to what had changed since then. She internally cursed herself for having gotten far too familiar with a society that was not her own. Because, despite the similarities, there was probably a thousand and one ways in which she could easily cross a cultural taboo, break an unknown law, or simply cause personal offense. As an Alliance soldier, captain of a military vessel, and a representative of humanity she had been responsible for learning about the customs of each and every single foreign species known. Back home she had had free and instant access to information concerning each cultural and historical aspect across a dozen and a half alien races. That was no longer a luxury that was afforded her on this world. She had to learn from firsthand experience; in other words, ‘the hard way.’ By some strange wrinkle in the universe she was a pony like them now, that or maybe god had personal vendetta against her. Shepard rubbed her temple trying to focus on the now and it was important that she needed to try and think like a pony, not a human. Complicated as the familiarity of location and language was mixed with an previously unobserved culture and alien race. She knew how to act and yet didn’t at the same time, which didn’t make any sense, but neither did the existence of this world. Next to her empty glass was the bowl with the offered peanuts. With a mind to forge ahead, she scooped a small amount into the ‘bowl’ of her hoof and slammed them into her mouth. They were unsalted, but might not have been peanuts, or maybe it was due to her altered physiology, the taste sensation that exploded in her mouth was different. For a moment her brain rebelled against it, having expected one thing, yet receiving another. After a moment of chewing she found the experience not entirely unpleasant; different, nutty, and somehow better than a peanut. “Is there something wrong?” Mortan asked uneasily, “I assure you they are freshly harvested.” “Are they?” Shepard didn’t pay the stallion much consideration as she focused on identifying the taste. Upon swallowing her meal she spotted the remainder of the salt cube from before. With a mind to compare the two tastes against each other she took the bowl and ate the cube whole. Upon biting down, an audible crunch, and a very salty taste to bloomed all over her tongue. A slight burn turned into an exploding firecracker to the degree that it completely overpowered her senses. Her center of balance was suddenly sent spiraling all over the place. Both fore hooves caught the edge of the counter to save her from falling over and further embarrassment. Her face scrunched up as she rode the rollercoaster of heightened excitement and nausea. She hadn’t felt like this since that one time she’d nearly been poisoned by a devious bartender in the Afterlife bar on Omega. The feelings washed over her for a moment and then receded in a groan of displeasure. “Whoa, take it easy. You’re supposed to lick it not eat it whole.” Morton seemed to overcome his shyness long enough to scolded her harshly while sliding over a glass of water. “Good thing I only gave you a sample then. Any ‘normal’ pony would’ve been knocked onto their flank if they’d done that. “Duly noted.” Shepard took note of the strange emphasis the bartender used on describing her as normal. Setting that concern aside she shook her head, trying to clear her blurred vision. If it was possible to stuff her head full of cotton then this was how it felt. “Don’t they serve salt where you’re from?” “They do, normally it’s mixed in with food.” she replied off-hand, not sure why it mattered. “Then what fool idea possessed you to eat it straight if you’re not used to it? Here, salt is harvested from the finest salt mines in all of Equestria and is traditionally served straight up, not in food.” His scorning attitude suddenly transformed into honest curiosity as he twirled his mustache in thought. “So, what do you mix it with?” It was as if he’d suddenly hit upon a sudden epiphany, a moment of genius elightenment. Shepard wasn’t sure if he was asking because he was genuinely interested and fishing for ideas, or just trying to make small talk. Whatever the reason, his earlier nervousness had subsided for the time being. “Um...,” she felt like her eyes were sliding off objects, “lots of things.” She searched for legitimate examples. Sure, she was talking salt and food with a brightly colored equine, but that was far more preferable than lingering on the feeling of her head imploding again and again. “Like?” He egged her on. “Ah, a lot of things,” she repeated, still in a daze, “uhh...soups, pasta,…um steak...” At the mention of the latter the stallion took two large steps backwards. “Steak?” he whispered to himself, “so she really does eat meat?!” Although he’d spoken to himself with horror on his lips, Shepard could sense the room had been listening in on their conversation. Silence gripped the room and she could feel the stares crawling up her back. There was a feeling of adrenaline kicking in as she realized that she’d committed yet another faux pas. She mentally punched herself at her lack of foresight, wondering how she hadn’t made the connection that these aliens were herbivores. Especially given their tangential similarities to the Terran native species. cringed, hard, because of course she had to land in a world that frowned upon eating steak, and she freaking loved steak. Could this day possibly turn out to be the worst possible thing to ever happen to her ever? “What?” was her weak reply, before she shut her mouth with an audible clack and reconsidered her response. “Ehhu...ha...I was making a joke.” Shepard quickly backpedaled, smirking coyly and forced a chuckle out on her own trick. Morton seemed to relax slightly, if only just, but was still giving her the evil eye that spoke loudly of disbelief. “This is getting out of hand.” “Well, it’s been a pleasure, but I’m not feeling well, so I should go.” Shepard put a hoof to her stomach and amped up acting sick as best as she was able. “Do you think you could point me towards a Doctor?” “YES!” Morton sprung back to life with such surprising enthusiasm that it nearly caused Shepard to jump back instinctively into a combat-ready position. Still the moment cause her to frown severely, and reaching instinctively for a pistol that wasn’t there. Grasping that she’d been in no real danger, Shepard still struggled to relax given the already tense atmosphere. Fortunately, no further dispute arose as the bartender pointed her in the direction of the local pharmacy. Shepard then thanked the stallion, paid her tab, and then properly marched out the door. Her pride only slightly bruised. (…………………………………………………………………………………………) The commander broke into a paced jog down the now nearly empty street towards her destination. The air had grown still and the only sound now was the metallic click-clicking of her dog tags swinging on her neck and the chirping of crickets. Where once there had been scores of ponies sweeping up trash or conducting basic repairs, now only one or two of them would occasionally pass her by, but paid her no mind. Though, she had a feeling that would soon change when the gossip mill began to spread about the debacle at the saloon. At least it hadn’t turned into a bar room brawl, that was progress at least. As experienced and powerful a biotic as she was, taking on that many at once would not have lead to an unacceptable outcome for her, and most of them as well. If she still had her weapons and armor, however, she could’ve easily painted the room red, littered the floor with a stack of bodies, she could rip... A sharp shake of the head interrupted that dark line of thinking. “Must be the salt playing with my mind.” She dismissed her sudden macabre thoughts. Hurting civilians and innocent bystanders was not what the Alliance had taught her. Even as a council Specter she couldn’t engaged in such wanton destruction at will unless she had a god reason; at least a better excuse than a case of cross-cultural confusion. Still, a feeling of worry squeezed at her chest like a bad case of heartburn. Knowing where she was going hadn’t stopped her from observing every detail along the way, exploring every road and alley with her eyes. The forgotten corners of the town where one would have expected to find trash and filth, hiding spots where the homeless and rejected stalked, where just as clean as the rest of the area. Not that she desired to see unnecessary suffering or waste, but the lack of evidence to the dregs of society was a little odd. The Commander turned left at an intersection and quickly spotted the Doctor’s building directly ahead, just as Morton said it would be. The structure was nearly identical to its neighbors with the sole exception being the sign. It was mounted on the second floor, between two gabled windows, and just over the front door. It was a picture of a blue medicine bottle with a cork on top and a label sporting a red cross. “Found it.” Shepard celebrated while informing Anderson of the situation. “Commander, I know you’re not a fan of the gentle approach. Still I feel a little more ‘purposeful discretion,’ of the situation is required.” Shepard’s earbud did nothing to mute the punctuation lacing his displeasure. “Fair enough.” She reflected, remembering that he had been rather put out when she’d reported on the bar room incident. “Yes sir, and under normal operating procedures I would have slapped that creep with a shockwave before putting two in his ten-spot. But we’re both making sacrifices tonight.” She replied with a joking sarcasm, then rubbed her forehead with a hoof. “Damn it Commander, you know what I mean. Beating a drunken old man and scaring the citizens isn’t the way I picture us gaining allies and, for that matter, neither is stealing.” “I didn’t steal his money,” she protested, “I was simply exercising my rights as a Spectre to requisition financial aid for injuries sustained to my person and for emotional distress.” Her reasoning didn’t sound as good spoken as it had in her head. “That may placate a Council-member race, maybe, but again I don’t think the local police recognize Spectre authority. Hell, there may not even be a Council or a Spectre organization left anymore, not after the Reapers took control of the Citadel.” “Anderson, the way I see it we just saved their asses from having to fight the Reapers in the next cycle.” She returned, adding an edge of irritation. “Whether they know it or not, they owe us and I think they can spare a few handouts in appreciation.” “Need I repeat the point that we need to avoid a cross-species incident? Don’t forget that, as your direct superior, your actions reflect on me too.” Drill sergeants had less patronizing tones than Anderson did. Shepard had to stop for a moment and ruminate on that point; really, there was not much to it. Being a Spectre had allowed her to dance fast and loose with the rule book, if not outright disregard it plus, with a war on, most people tended to turn a blind eye to minor instances of bending the rules. Now with neither the excuse of war, her military connections, and lacking the support of the Council she would never get away with even half of the crap she’d pulled off in the last couple hours. “Alright Anderson, you win. I promise I’ll try and be more discreet and play it strictly by the book from now on. We still need those supplies, but I’m still keeping the money for the supplies we need. We can think of a way to pay it back later.” “Anderson?” She repeated after an unusual length of silence. “I spotted some movement in the distance. A large group of creatures; two, maybe three, squads in strength.” She could barely understand him, he whispered so low. “Creatures? More of the natives?” “Hard to tell from here, but too big to be them. They seem to be looking for something.” “Are you hidden from sight? Need backup?” Slight, subconscious, twitches in her tail mirrored her unease. “Don’t worry about me. Just do what you have to and get out of there ASAP. I’m going to lay low for now, but remain in contact for now.” “Roger that.” She finished just as the connection was severed. All she was able to feel right then was a kind of volatile trepidation. The same kind of fear she had felt when she’d been forced to abandon Anderson on a Reaper-controlled Earth. That day, as the Normandy took off, she had made a promise that she would not stop until she saw him again. (…………………………………………………………………………………………) As wild west shops went, the pharmacy was noticeably smaller when contrasted against the town average. Approaching the grass green front door she spotted a printed flyer that had been nailed to a billboard. The brown crusted post was faded with age, but still legible. ‘Appleloosa Frontier Pharmaceuticals,’ the post began, ‘for all your equestrian medicinal, tonic, and herbal supplemental needs, wants, and desires; for whatever ails you. Owned and operated by the one true medicine stallion, Dr. Snake Oil.’ The bottom half of the flyer listed a set of business hours which went largely ignored by Shepard apart from the fact that the office was long closed at this hour. “Dr. Snake Oil?” She rolled her eyes, “Now that’s a name that inspires confidence. What’s next? Dr. Malpractice? Dishonest John? Professor Pain?” “It might not mean the same here as it does for us.” The Commander reasoned as she placed a hoof on the door handle only to find it locked. Then she tried knocking on the door; three swift and firm raps. After several long moments of silence she deduced that no one was there. “Of course it couldn’t be that easy,” Shepard huffed as she circled the building, heading towards the back, “so not only is this place one giant stereotype, but a pun factory as well. Joker would’ve loved it here; I swear the horse jokes would never end.” She mused aloud, and then switched to her best emulation of the jester pilot. “Shepard, let’s saddle-up and kill some bad guys. You’re all ponied up, hot date tonight? Say again Commander, you're sounding a little horse. What’s the difference between Commander Shepard and a Krogan? One has four hooves and the other four testicles.” “Commander,” Anderson whispered, suddenly sounding rather jovial and much to Shepard’s dismay at forgetting the line was still open, “stop foaling around and get off your high-horse.” A cartoonish squeal of rubber against pavement released as Shepard came to a complete and utter stop. “What did you just say to me?” She was so blown away with incredulity that she almost forgot to be offended. “I said its goddamn cold out here. Quit horsing around and double time it, Commander.” “Wow,” she slowly drew out the word, as if the world had suddenly gone mad and she had been the last one to know, “I didn’t know you had it in you, sir.” “Tonight has just been full of surprises. Right, Shepard?” “Uh-huh, that is has Anderson.” Filing the conversation away to be concluded later, Shepard returned to the task at hand. Finding that there was a door at the back she tried the door handle. There was a soft click as the door opened without resistance.