• Published 3rd Jul 2013
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Fallout: Equestria: Close Call - ZIAT



Change is as inevitable as it is exciting. Dangerous too, which a young pony named Close Call finds out after he sent to learn of the world around him.

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11: In Which an Enigma is Wrapped in Mystery, and Bonds Torn Asunder

Chapter 11: In Which an Enigma is Wrapped in Mystery, and Bonds Torn Asunder

“Nusquam est qui ubique est. Vitam in peregrinatione exigentibus hoc evenit, ut multa hospita habeant, nullas amicitias.”
“Everywhere means nowhere. When a person spends all his time in foreign travel, he ends by having many acquaintances, but no friends.”
- Seneca the Younger, "Letter II: On Discursiveness in Reading”


“Again!”
“Quod maximas est…in nobis fit in…bello.” The yellow colt slowly recites, struggling over his words.

The magically suspended ruler comes down hard on the desk, missing the colt’s nose by millimeters. “No, no, no!” His instructor screams, “It’s maximum, you insita mala! Again!”

“Quod maximum est, in nobis fit in bello.” The colt repeats. The lack of ruler intervention prompts him to continue, “It is in warfare in which the greatest in us is achieved.”

“Good. Dismissed. Id gestum sufficiat vobis…

The colt gathers his books and bolts out of the classroom, just as quick as he can. The elation of earning his cutie mark had faded quickly in the face of the grueling instruction that followed. The young colt has taken fairly well to languages and his understanding of Zebra writings, but “fairly well” isn’t good enough; he must be perfect. In Stable 81, no matter what you do, be it security, operations, linguist, or even a janitor, it must be done perfectly. Everything everypony does must be perfect for the day when they are called to serve their great nation against the striped menace. So the colt is drilled, day in and day out, alone in a steel box of a room with the current Head of Linguistics, on the various languages and lexicons of the Zebra Empire. It’s fine now, though; the day’s lesson is over and now the little yellow colt can relax at home with a book, or hang out with his friends in the atrium before curfew .

“Hi, Mom! Hi, Dad!” He greets cheerfully as the foot to their unit gives a pneumatic hiss, closing behind him. His parents are sitting at the table in their kitchen: his father reading, his mother sewing. His father smiles and nods. His mother, however, frowns, turning her whole face sour.

“Close Call, you try that again, only properly this time.”

The yellow colt sighs. Every day since he was assigned to his position in the linguistics department, his mother would hardly speak to him unless he at least greeted her in Roaman. He wonders if any other colts or fillies yearn for the days before they earned their cutie marks before he answers her. “Hujambo mama, gani?” he says, allowing himself a small smile. His formal education at this moment is centered on Roaman, but he’s been studying the other Zebra dialects as well. Cowhili, for example.

“Ite ad locum tuum. Go to your room.” His mother snaps.

The smile disappears, and the yellow colt trudges to his room, hanging his head. He had thought for the briefest of moments his mother might be impressed by his command of more than two languages, especially considering how young he was. This fantasy, however, had led him to forget that she would instead take it as nothing more than blatant disrespect, and disrespect of one’s parents was one of the worse things one could do in Stable 81.

“It’s not fair!” The yellow colt screams into his pillow. He punches it a few times before collapsing back into his bed, seething.

He’s fallen asleep by the time his mother enters the room. “Quare persistunt confundis matrem? Why do you constantly go against me?” she asks softly. She probably assumes he still sleeps – rightfully so, as he is turned away from her, unmoving. The little yellow is awake, however; awake, and listening. “Tantum est ut nobis bene mane salutare meum; cur hoc tam est difficile? I only ask that you greet your father and I properly in the morning; why is this so hard for you?” She sighs in resignation. This would have been the end of it – at least, the end of that day’s argument, Goddesses knew it would’ve rekindled in the morning whether the little yellow colt had been awake or not – if she had left it at that. Yet before she stepped out of the room, the colt’s mother merely sighs again, adding, “Non tamen nactus esses, qui malus honesto loco... It wouldn’t be so bad if you’d at least gotten yourself a better job…”

“Sicut pictor? Like a painter?” The yellow colt answers, not even bothering to face his mother, “Painting pretty pictures nopony pays any attention to after a week?”
The chill in the room in as sudden as it is piercing. The colt’s mother slowly turns to face him. “Respice ad me. Look at me.” She says. When the colt doesn’t move, she repeats herself. “Respice ad me et dixi! I said look at me!”

He turns to face her, and is stunned to see not only the cold fury in her eyes, but also the tears beginning to form there. “Non patiar audire petulantes stultitia puer, ita tamen, ut non loquaris mihi. I will not make myself listen to the whining of a petulant child, and you will not speak to me in such a way. Putasne intellegis me? Do you understand me?” The colt still refuses to answer, only staring at her with all the rage a young pony can muster. “Close Call! Respondebis! You will answer me!” His mother shouts. A few tears fall free as she does this, but they go unnoticed by both parties.

“You’re just mad because no one cares about what your special talent is! Dad’s the only one that actually does anything!” The colt fires back. Standing on his bed now, he almost comes up to eye level with his mother.

She recoils as if struck. “Pater tuus audiens. Your father will hear about this.” She states, before turning on her heel and walking out. The door closes behind her, and there’s a small click on a lock.

“I hate you!” The colt screams after her, neither knowing nor caring if she heard him.

* * *

“I don’ give an alicorn’s asshole what you think of me, get up!” The slaver growled, giving me a sharp kick in the stomach. I awoke with a start, transitioning immediately from a sleeping position to a fighting stance. At least, I tried to – not for the first time, I had forgotten about the chains binding my hooves, and they rattled as they brought me back to the hard earth. The burly slaver pony barked harsh laugh before moving down the line to wake the others. There were four of us, each chained to the other: a pair of unicorn twins, a colt and filly with an odd-looking ring around each of their horns, an earth pony buck roughly my age, and myself. From what snatches of conversation I overheard, we were being taken down to Fillydelphia, to serve as slaves for a pony named Red Eye. Myself and the unicorn twins were being treated “special”, in that we weren’t being beaten as much as the earth pony buck, and…well, unlike him, our chains hadn’t been unlocked every night so we could be dragged into one of the slavers’ tents. Aside from this, I knew nothing of our captors, nor my fellow captives; every time one of us would try to speak, we would be kicked or whipped by one of the slavers. It was better to just stay quiet.

From what I could hear, however, today was special. How it was special, I had no idea. Our small group had been reinforced by more slavers, these ones more heavily armed than our captors. Also, where before they had been wont to loudly boast about the various things that they were going to do to us – rape us, kill us, eat us, perform experiments on us, maybe rape us again – today they were quiet, speaking only in hushed whispers. We weren’t even moving; I thought we’d only been waiting on these new reinforcements, but now they were waiting too. Waiting for what? Was the wasteland south of Whinnyapolis really that dangerous? I shuddered at the thought. I barely survived my travels around the city and its outskirts, I could hardly imagine what would be more dangerous than raiders or alicorns. I shuddered to think of what I would do if any of them showed up.

A pony once said, “Speak of Nightmare Moon, and she shall appear”. After a few hours of waiting, I heard the flapping of wings. The slavers looked up and called out to whoever was above. I never would have thought that a face could hold equally as much relief as it did apprehension, just as our captors’ did.

Three massive, almost regal alicorns touched down in the middle of our camp. They stood amongst us, dark and imposing; from their green-so-dark-it’s-almost-black coats to their blank flanks, each in itself a perverted Nightmare Moon. I hadn’t seen any of these terrifying monsters for at least a few weeks – I don’t know why I’d thought myself finally rid of them. I wasn’t the only one feeling uneasy: the earth pony to my right whimpered like a foal, and a visible sweat had broken out on the forehead of the slaver nearest us. I just looked down, hoping they wouldn’t recognize me, hoping they were here for anypony but me. The past few weeks had been bad enough without getting captured by this crazy “Goddess”. It was strange, though: every other time I’d seen these creatures, they had had some sort of force field around them, but these had none. Perhaps they trusted these ponies? Were the alicorns working with slavers?

* * *

“Again?! Quid est quod tibi est?! What is wrong with you?!” I had screamed. Parum Sororem, my little sister, had seemingly out of nowhere stopped and started weeping. This had been the fourth time she’d done this since we had left Sukawaka, and that was four times too many for me. “Putavi quia supponitur esse fortissimos? I thought you were supposed to be the toughest little filly ever? This is pathetic!”

“Hey, leave her alone! What the fuck is your problem man?” Sunny chimed in, looking back at the two of us, at me with perhaps only slightly more reproach than normal, and at Parum with a softness I never would have thought her capable of. “I mean, I have no idea what the fuck you’re saying, but back off, she’s only a filly!”

“A filly who’s killed more ponies than the both of us combined!” I snapped back, rearing on the brown unicorn, for a moment completely ignoring my weeping sister to focus all of my energy on her.

“Guys, let’s just calm down, okay?” Butcher asked, keeping her tone level, “We can stop, it’s ok. We’re making good time, and there’s really no rush.”

“No rush? The last time we waited around one of my parents died, and the other kicked me out! No, we keep going.” I spat back, “I’m not stopping until I’ve found those Twins and put my hoof through their skulls, understand?” That had become my goal now: find the Twins, and kill them. If somewhere along the way I found out why they’d orchestrated my coming out here in the first place, that would just be icing on the delicious cake I was going to make with their entrails. Something had snapped when I saw the leader of my stable shoot my mother; the old Close Call was gone now, dead along with her. This new Close wasn’t the whimpering, commiserating, compromising wimp I had been; he was angry, he was deadly, and he no longer cared about anything more than finding those twins and spilling their blood.

“Who the fuck made you king?” Sunny asked me then.

I reared on her. “What, like you have anything better to do?” I asked, “If you don’t like it, why don’t you just go? Go, run! Run away like you always do; I wish you luck when your debtors come to collect.”

“Fine then!” The unicorn screamed, turning on her heels. She stalked off, only looking back to shout, “Anything’s better than following you pricks around. I’ll see y’all in hell.”
“Damn you, Close, what’ve you done?” Butcher cursed. She flew off after Sunny before I could answer, calling for her to come back. I turned to Parum, who, while having stopped openly sobbing, was still sniffling, and still sitting.

“Well?” I snapped, “Are you coming or not?” She didn’t answer, only stared at her hooves. I snorted. “Some Hellion you are then.”

I walked off, and didn’t look back.

* * *

“Whaddya mean, ‘We’ll take ‘im’?” One of the slavers shouted at the alicorn.

WE MEAN EXACTLY AS WE SAID: WE WILL BE TAKING THE YELLOW ONE WITH US. THE GODDESS WANTS HIM FOR HER OWN PURPOSE.” The middle alicorn shouted back. I winced, as did my fellow captives; when these things spoke, it wasn’t with their mouths, it was with their minds. And they always shouted. Always. Shouted. “THE GODDESS WILL SEND MORE OF US TO ESCORT YOU TO RED EYE, BUT WE SHALL BE TAKING THIS ONE WITH US.” She (they?) continued.

“Not without payin’ fer ‘im, you ain’t!” The slaver replied, “Pony’s gotta make a livin’! I’ve got foals t’ feed!” He winked, and that’s when things got…crazy.

With their shields down, it would have been the perfect time to attack them, and that’s just what one of the slavers tried to do, the wink apparently having been a signal. I say tried, because while one could assume this slaver fired his weapon at one of their superpowered escort, he ended up shooting the buck chained next to me. Accident or no, the Goddess’ children were not happy. There was a cry of “HOW DARE YOU?”, and next thing we knew, there were bullets and spells flying everywhere. The alicorns’ shields were up, although this did not dissuade the slavers from trying to murder them with bullets. A few tried knives as well, but they were killed quickly. I flinched as a rogue spell hit the chains connecting me to the twins, dissolving the links as though they were made of butter. I looked up – nopony had noticed, or they were too busy with each other to care. I turned to run, only to fall flat on my face; while I wasn’t chained to the unicorn twins anymore, the chains still on my hooves didn’t provide much room for movement.

“Hey, hey you!” a high-pitched voice called. I turned, and was faced by my fellow captives. “Get these rings off our horns and we can help you!” The colt said, with his sister nodding enthusiastically. I looked behind me, and, believing that I still had some time before my escape was noticed, concluded I could at least help these two. After all, it’s not like I’d get very far in my current condition, right? I walked as fast as I could to them, and examined the rings. I didn’t know what they were or what they were for, but they didn’t look too terrible complicated. I was still careful, though, as I first removed the colt’s, then the filly’s ring. They came off easily enough, and when they were, the twins smiled. They touched their horns to their chains, which promptly disappeared. I blinked in surprise, as they then touched their horns to my own manacles, which also disappeared without a trace. “Seeya!” the twins said in unison, before touching their horntips together. They, too, promptly disappeared, leaving me alone in the middle of a firefight between some poorly-equipped slavers and the self-proclaimed children of the Goddess.

Well, it wasn’t much of a firefight now. By the time the twins had disappeared and I’d turned around, the slavers had either died or ran, and only the alicorns remained. They were all unhurt, of course; those shields were nothing to laugh at. All three looked at me as they brought their shields down, the threat obviously having passed – even if I had been considered anything of a threat, they must have figured the three of them versus the one of me would be a hilariously one-sided fight. They would be completely right in believing this, but it wasn’t just me.

The force of the explosion knocked me right off my hooves, leaving me coughing on the ground a solid ten feet away. Through the ringing in my ears, I began to hear voices. Softly at first, but becoming more and more clear:

“FORE!”

“I don’t think that’s how it goes.”

“I think I don’t care.”

“You’re supposed to say it before you do it.”

“Then they’d know we were here, and then we’d be dead. I dunno about you, but I sure as shit don’t have a cock and hang around Manehattan killing alicorns. And, once again, I
don’t care.”

“Well you could have killed him! Then where would we be?”

I shook my head, trying to clear it. The voices were oddly mechanical, as if spoken through a filter. The second one even sounded vaguely familiar…could it be? I groaned, slowly getting myself up as I heard what could only be the sound of armored ponies approaching. “Close Call?” I heard one of them call out, “Or is it still ‘No Balls’?”

I blinked, having to squint to make them out. Although I had once again lost my glasses, I could clearly tell even at this distance that my saviors were Steel Rangers – armored remnants of the Equestrian Army. And, if I was hearing the one correctly, one of them was a Ranger I’d met before. “Knight Honey Heart?” I replied. We were face to face now, but I didn’t think I’d ever be able to distinguish one Ranger from another while they were in armor. This one did have the two high-caliber laser rifle battle saddle that Knight Heart had possessed the last time I saw her, although a group of technology hoarders most likely had more than one pony with beam rifles. I didn’t recognize the other one, though: she was huge, larger than both me and the other Ranger, almost as large as one of the alicorns. Mounted on her back was what could only be a mortar, and on each side of her was a gatling gun. This other ranger kept an eye out for trouble as her partner spoke directly to me.

“Yep! Although it’s Crusader now, not Knight.” She said brightly, “I thought we’d lost you after New Falmalla. Good thing we caught up with you when we did, though.” She added, looking at the entrail-filled hole where three alicorns would be.

“Good thing I was there, you mean. Those pea shooters of yours might’ve tickled them.” The other ranger snorted.
Knight-er, Crusader Heart sighed, ignoring her comrade. “We’ve been tasked with bringing you to our headquarters in the Whinnyapolis branch of the Ministry or Wartime Technology for the removal of your PipBuck-“

“Can’t you please just take me home?” I interrupted. I had thought Honey Heart to be one of the more level-headed Steel Rangers I’d met, looking more for information than technology. Granted, I’d only ever actually met two Steel Rangers, one of which was standing right in front of me, but this was the one who wasn’t supposed to care, dammit!

“Goddesses, do tribals always beg like this? Can’t we just shoot him and saw off his leg or something?” the second Ranger chimed.

“-But we’re not going to do that. Either of those things.” Crusader Heart finished, raising her voice to be heard over the two of us.

“Wait, what?” We chorused. The other Ranger knickered, as I just stood there, swearing that I must have had a concussion for a situation like this to be even remotely possible.

The other Ranger recovered first. “Our orders-“

“I know what our orders are, Knight Jack,” Honey Heart cut in, “And I am amending them. I’m getting a little tired of your insubordination. You listen to your superiors; I don’t care who your mother is. Understand?”

The other Ranger, Knight Jack, only snorted. “Yes ma’am…” she muttered, “Even though I will request – once again – that you call me by my full name.”

“And what’s that?” I asked, curious.

The mare drew herself up to her full height, placing her hoof over her chest in salute. “I am Knight Flapjack, of the Whinnyapolis Steel Rangers.” She declared proudly.

“Her mother is Star Paladin Maple Sausage, the head of our chapter.” Honey Heart added, “Knight Jack – sorry, Knight Flapjack was assigned to me after my promotion to crusader.”

“I wish I’d been assigned to Paladin Gun Bunny. Now there was a true Ranger.” Flapjack muttered.

“I do too…” Honey Heart agreed, more quietly. Knight Flapjack either didn’t hear her or pretended not to, and she continued. “Back to the point; yes, I do want to get you back, but we can’t go back the way we came. We don’t have the provisions for three ponies, and the slavers’ supplies were blown up by somepony.” She looked back at her comrade, who seemed determined not to hear her.

My eyes went wide. My stuff! The slavers had taken everything but my PipBuck when they captured me! I looked around – the cart they’d been using to transport supplies lay in a smoldering heap nearby. I ran to it, hoping against hope that at least my saddlebags had…

I breathed a sigh of relief as I shifted through the debris and found a steel box. It was dented, and the lock had been destroyed in the explosion, but its contents were safe. I threw on what had become my trademark red sweater/dark blue vest combo, the bandolier of pouches, and my glasses. At least, for a second, before I saw that my glasses were in fact shattered, and now worthless. I threw them away, and grabbed my saddlebags. A quick check of my PipBuck’s inventory sorter confirmed that I had everything…minus caps.

“Everything alright?” Honey Heart asked. I nodded, grumbled out something about thieves, and she went on. “Alright, here’s the plan,” she said, “We’ll keep heading south to Manehattan. There we’ll resupply and head back. Might even be able to snag a ride from the Manehattan contingent.”

“I thought you said you didn’t have the supplies for three ponies?” I interrupted.

“Not for a trip all the way back to Whinnyapolis. We can make it to Tenpony Tower though, easy. Do you know where you are?” She asked. I shook my head. All I’d known for the past few weeks was walking; no idea where, because wondering where I was would take precious energy away from the walking. “Well, let me put it this way: if we started now, it’d be at least two weeks before we even got close to the Whinnyapolis Ruins, much less New Falmalla. If we start tomorrow, we can be in Manehattan in a day, Tenpony in two. So we’ll go to Tenpony and work from there. Questions?”

* * *

“Congratulations, it’s a girl!”
The little yellow colt’s father smiles, despite himself – he probably wanted another son. His mother just smiles, too exhausted to do much else. In her hooves lies a lime green filly, a unicorn. She’s bawling, kicking weakly at the air. “She’s a strong one!” The doctor assures them. “She really is…” The colt’s mother agrees. The little yellow colt says nothing. He has a new friend, and he doesn’t want the moment ruined by accidentally speaking Pony in front of his mother.

~

“Mom, can I go to the atrium with Insusurro?”

The yellow colt’s mother doesn’t even look up from the sleeping filly as she answers, “Close…”

The colt sighs. “Mater, esse et agere cum amici Insusurro?

“Sic. Sure, go play.” She answers offhandedly, still not even looking up. This isn’t the first time this sort of thing has happened with either of the colt’s parents; at this point, he is certain that he could just start coming and going as he pleases, and his parents wouldn’t notice. At times he is tempted to ask for something crazy, like if he could go play in the incinerator, just to see if they are actually paying attention to him. He doesn’t, however; while he thinks that all of their attention is on his sister, he isn’t sure, and is afraid to find out. The colt is sure of one thing, though: it’s not the filly’s fault that their parents’ world revolves around her. The yellow colt loves his sister, and more than once he’s wished that their parents would just…go away, and leave the two of them be. Then he could play with her and take care of her and the both of them could do what they wanted without the fear of incurring disappointment or anger. Life, the colt is certain, would be so much easier if his parents were gone.

* * *

Honey Heart had been right about one thing: I was a long way from home. Although to me the Wasteland looked pretty much the same no matter where a pony went, as we approached the Manehattan Ruins, I began to notice some clear differences. First and foremost, it was evident that before the balefire bombs, this part of Equestria had been much, much more heavily populated, as well as more densely populated. Here there were true skyscrapers, or at least the ruins of them; the ones which still stood somewhat intact stretched so high that I was sure that if we were still on ground level, we wouldn’t be able to see the tops of them. There were more bones as well, both ancient and, distressingly enough, recent. As I looked around, I soon began to realize that prewar Whinnyapolis would’ve been considered small, even backwater; I wondered if this Hoofington I’d heard about was the same way. The biggest difference, though, wasn’t the size or density of the ruins – it was when one morning, I saw the sun rising form the east. Now, this in and of itself wasn’t strange at all; the strange part was that my compass agreed. This opened up yet another mystery for me: where before I’d thought that something in the entirety of the Wasteland prevented my compass from working properly, it was clear that this was something specific to at least the Whinnyapolis area. I tucked that thought away for the moment, deciding to focus first on getting home and dealing with the Twins…among other things.
It hadn’t taken long for us to reach the edge of the ruins. There, Honey Heart had led us to an elevated roadway, something called a “monorail”, and it was on this that we were currently traveling. The occasional sign indicated that this was called the “Celestia Line”, and that if we followed it, would eventually lead us to this Tenpony Tower Honey Heart had told us about. Speaking of, while this Knight Flapjack was (mostly) silent, refusing to speak to me (“I don’t talk to tribals”), and hardly speaking to her superior (I assumed fear of further insubordination), Crusader Honey Heart was easy to talk to. She’d gone back to the Steel Ranger headquarters after we’d parted ways at the Ministry of Morale, and after telling her own superiors what had happened, was given a promotion and a new mission: take Knight Flapjack, find me, and bring me back to them. She obviously wasn’t going to do this, for reasons she wasn’t telling me at the moment, but she’d taken the mission anyway. Apparently Rangers hardly ever traveled in pairs, and were rarely given the freedom to essentially do what they wanted; this was a perfect opportunity for Honey Heart to do what she’d wanted to do anyway, which was travel with me, Sunny, and Oya. The only issue with this was Knight Flapjack.

Knight Flapjack was the closest thing a pony could come to royalty: her mother was the great Star Paladin Maple Sausage, leader of the Whinnyapolis Steel Rangers. Maple Sausage’s father, Poached Egg, had been their leader before her. Now, normally, this direct line of succession wouldn’t happen in the Steel Rangers, but since both Poached Egg and Maple Sausage had been such great Rangers, it just so happened that the both of them had been put in charge. Flapjack, as Maple Sausage’s daughter, was expected to do great things for the Steel Rangers, to follow in the hoofprints of her forbears. What she’d done so far was develop a healthy hatred for “tribals” and annoy the piss out of Crusader Honey Heart. She was also the only big enough in the Whinnyapolis Steel Rangers (and probably the Rangers as a whole) large enough to mount an actual piece of artillery on her back. But her loyalty to the Rangers was absolute; while I was sure Honey Heart’s was too, she was much more willing to bend rules and disregard orders than Flapjack, and I wasn’t sure how that would affect our endeavor here.

“So are we gonna meet up with these other Rangers at Tenpony?” I asked as we walked.

Crusader Heart shrugged. “Probably not.” She answered, “Last I heard, the Manehattan Rangers were off on some fool errand for their Elder, and the Fillydelphia contingent is too busy fighting with Red Eye’s slavers to be hanging around a place like Tenpony Tower. Even if they were, they don’t know us – they’d probably take you for themselves and tell us to go crying back to Maple Sausage. So really, it’s probably better if we’re the only Steel Rangers in the place.”

“I heard Steelhooves lives around here somewhere. Do you think we’ll see him?” Flapjack chimed in.

“Probably not. I heard he’s a bit of a recluse. Probably doesn’t get out much.”

“Who?” I asked.

Honey Heart just shook her head. “Nopony to worry about. An old legend in the Steel Rangers. If he’s even real, I doubt he’s still alive. I’ve been hearing stories about him since I was a filly, and he’d supposedly been around for a while even then. So no, we’re going to go to Tenpony, load up on supplies, and head back. No field trips, no distractions – got it?” I nodded, and Knight Flapjack remained silent, which I at least always took as agreement.

* * *

As I’ve said before, I’ve never been religious, but…Goddesses.

Tenpony Tower rose from the ashes of Manehattan, a phoenix from the ashes of the world. It was a monolith both of Equestrian ingenuity and of survivability. It stood more intact than nearly every other building in the city, most likely due to some protective spell or another…or six at the same time. One of its four sides had been mostly destroyed and summarily repaired, and there was obviously evidence of fortification. Even without my glasses, I could see guardponies walk along the balconies every few levels. There was no signage; I assumed it had been destroyed in the bombing. What did remain was an embarking station built into the side of the tower, which served as the entrance to the tower. Our path led us directly beneath an archway, which in the setting sun looked absolutely stunning. It was the sign which hung underneath the arch, however, that caught my attention:

Ministry of Arcane Science
Manehattan Hub

I stopped dead in my tracks as I gazed up at the words, my mouth hanging open. “You…you never said…” I began, a question vaguely directed at my current traveling companions.

Honey Heart began to answer, but as beaten to the punch by Flapjack, who was thoroughly unimpressed. “I don’t get it.” She said simply, “Does this matter to tribals or something?”

“It matters to me!” I cried excitedly, pacing from side to side in my excitement, “My stable, Stable 81, was chartered and almost entirely funded by the Ministry of Arcane Science! And this…this isn’t just any hub: Manehattan was the biggest city in Equestria! This would’ve been their main hub, or at least the biggest one! Just think of all the information that could be gained by even peeking at their records. Oooh, I wonder if any of them survived the war – do you think they did? I bet so! This must be the largest center of learning and refinement in the Equestrian Wasteland!” Honey Heart and Flapjack had moved on without me, but I didn’t care. I hadn’t been this excited since we’d found the Declaration of War in the MoM hub back in Whinnyapolis! I turned, almost expecting Parum to be standing there, bemused, or Sunny looking annoyed, or even Oya, just looking generally confused…But then I remembered they were gone.

* * *

There had been no fire that night, as there hadn’t been for a few nights. I didn’t know much about how to make one without wood or matches, and I had neither. Whinnyapolis’ backbone may had been lumber – they cut it, sold it, built with it – and many buildings in the older parts of town had been made of wood. However, as the city expanded in the modern era and the demand for lumber nationwide grew, more and more structures were built with iron and steel. I was in one of these areas: close to the edge of the old city limits. So I sat, eating sugar bombs and ruminating.

The incident outside of New Falmalla hadn’t left my mind as it should. It hovered there, landing like a blanket over my thoughts with impunity. And with nopony else to talk to, over the past few days it had been getting harder and harder to shake it off. I was still angry; finding the Twins and ending them was still on the top of my list. It was the only thing on my list, actually. Since my sister and I had been kicked out of our stable, I…had nothing else to do. There was no reason to continue my old mission, and…well, the Twins were my only reason for anything right now.

I nodded, making an agreement to myself. I would take care of the Twins, and then see about making up with Parum, if not Sunny or Butcher. I wondered where they’d gone, especially Sunny. She’d spent most of her life running, if her drunken rants could be believed, and I wondered where she’d run to now. Considering how well she got along with other ponies, I believed it safe to assume that she was about in the same boat I was in: no real place to go and no idea how to get there.

“So you are still alive.”

I looked up, and stared at the round, floating robot in front of me. “Haven’t seen you for awhile.” I stated simply.

“I’ve…been busy.” The spritebot replied, “Actually, that’s why I’ve been looking for you, and…where are your friends?” the ‘bot swung left and right, looking for them
I barked a harsh laugh. “Friends?” I asked bitterly, “You mean the ponies who kept trying to distract me from killing those responsible for my shit life? They were too slow and I left them behind. Now, what were you going to say?”

I never would have thought a robot could look sad. The spritebot dipped, its faceplate pointed toward the ground. “I knew you weren’t the one…” it muttered.

I blinked at that. “What was that?” I asked sharply.

“There is already so much loss in this world…” Watcher answered, diverting, “For a pony to lose their friends…”

“They weren’t my friends!” I shouted, for a moment feeling like Sunny. The comparison hurt, and I flinched. Watcher just hung there for a long moment. I didn’t know if there was a in that thing or what, but I knew I at least felt watched.

“I…heard about you going back to your stable…” It asked, “What happened in there?”

To this day I don’t know why I answered this faceless voice’s question. This was maybe the fourth time I’d ever talked to it, and I knew nothing about it except that somehow Watcher got its information along the same lines as DJ PON-3. By the end of it, however, I was crying. I was crying about my mother, and I had no idea why. “And…the last thing I said…the last thing I ever said to my mom was yelling at her about how if she loved me…how if she loved me she would’ve tried harder to not get me and Parum put on trial. Then…then Decuc…this wasn’t supposed to happen!” I finished, shouting again. “All of this death, all of this…this!” I waved my hoof in front of me, indicating the wasteland as a whole, “None of this was supposed to happen!” I sobbed into my hooves, crying for my lost friends, crying for my lost family, crying for my lost world.

When I had looked up, Watcher was gone. He had been replaced with a rough-looking earth pony I’d never seen before. He leered at me as he growled, “Well lookee what we have here…”

* * *

Getting into Tenpony Tower had been only the slightest of issues: even though Honey Heart had told the guardponies her rank and business, it wasn’t until she floated a bag holding 200 caps that they would finally let us through. The security ponies allowed my companions to keep their weapons (which was good, considering I myself saw no way to remove them from their armor), so long as we left any ammunition at the door. Easy enough for me, amicable enough for Honey Heart…and absolutely out of the question for Flapjack, who threw the biggest of fits, even after Honey Heart asked, “Seriously, Jack? What do you really need a piece of artillery in a hotel for?” Still, the line had been drawn, and eventually we settled on Flapjack staying with the guard ponies outside while we went in to get supplies. According to Honey Heart, we’d be staying at least one night in Tenpony – even Steel Rangers needed sleep. Where, though, I had no idea. Ponies stared at us as we walked by, though, and even though Honey Heart seemed to know where she was going, I was anxious to escape their gaze. Almost everypony was dressed in prewar formal wear of some sort; if there could be a High Class at the end of the world, it would be these ponies. The occasional security pony, donned in MAS Security gear, walked by as well, eyeing us warily, in search of anything that could be construed as “raider activity”, which was grounds for execution in Tenpony Tower. Their uniforms, like the other ponies in the tower, were about as pristine as anything got in the Wasteland. Although they, like everypony and everything else, were still dirty, they looked as though they could actually remember their last hot shower. I’d come from desolation, only now to find myself surrounded by high-end restaurants, shops, boutiques, and hotels. The floors were all a polished marble, making the entire area seem to shine with its own internal light. The more we walked, and the more ponies I saw, the more I wanted the desolation back.

We stopped. I looked up; before us was a large, ornate desk with a terminal and a pony behind it. A sign on the desk read “Goldentail's Luxury Suites”, and Honey Heart was reaching into her saddlebags to hand the clerk a bag of caps. “We’ll be staying at least one night, maybe two. I’ll let you know tomorrow.” She was telling him.

I cocked my head. It’d already taken us two hundred caps to get inside! A place like this couldn’t be much cheaper! “Just how many caps do you have?” I asked incredulously.
Honey Heart just gave me an even look. “Enough.” She said simply. The clerk pony handed her a pair of keys, and she gave me one. “You can drop off your stuff if you want.”

“Actually, I’m gonna have a look around…” I said, turning back toward the entrance to the hotel. “For…” For my mission? What mission? To satisfy my own curiosity? “…I’m going to just stretch my legs a bit. Being chained for three weeks wasn’t fun.” Honey Heart nodded, and I went on my way.

The looks didn’t stop now that I was alone, but they did subside. Even without my armored companion, I still was just a dirty wasteland pony to these ponies. Perhaps merely a dirtier wasteland pony among cleaner wasteland ponies, but it seemed that this was a detail many of them were more than willing to overlook. What they weren’t willing to overlook, however, was my lack of caps. Apparently, “I was captured by slavers and they took my money” was a common excuse for the poorer travelers who came through; I naturally assumed “I was fleeced by the door guard” would be a close second. I got to look at all the nice clothes and food (which, upon closer inspection, revealed itself to only be normal wasteland food made to look pretty and overpriced), but left each shop and restaurant with just as much as I had entered with. I was exiting one of these shops when I overheard an…interesting bit of conversation.

“Did you hear that DJ’s broadcast yesterday?”

“Yeah, the zombie lover. I don’t even know why they let him stay here.”

I nearly tackled one of the ponies in my excitement. “What did you say?!” I demanded, “DJ Pon-3’s here?

The business buck was not amused, nor was his date. “Yes, you didn’t know that?” he asked in an affected accent. He looked me up and down, then nodded, as if confirming something. “Figures,” he mused, “You…lower-class ponies worship him, don’t you? He’s upstairs, but he doesn’t see anypony. Look for his assistant if you want to talk to him.” They walked off, looking back on occasion to gawk/glower at me. I didn’t care – he was here, right here. The pony responsible for ostracizing me from half of Whinnyapolis (and probably half the wasteland as well), the one who, without even talking to me first, put me out as some harbinger of doom and destruction, was here. Sure, he’d also made Parum famous, but I was more concerned about the slight against me.

A quick question to one of the security ponies led me to the elevator, and a quick button press sent me on my way. As I ascended, I paced around the cramped, two-hundred-year-old elevator, muttering to myself. A part of me pleaded for civility, claiming that there was no way for the enigmatic DJ to know any better, that we could talk this out. Another, larger part of me wanted to slam him against the wall and show him just how much of a harbinger of destruction I could be. Yet another part had no idea what I should do, or what I was going to do. What if he wasn’t there? What if he was actually ten feet tall and covered in spikes and armor? What if he was surrounded constantly by a regiment of Steel Rangers?

The elevator gave a soft “ding!” as it arrived at its destination. The doors creaked open, and I stepped out into a magnificent marble foyer. Its center was dominated by a water fountain: an ancient brass alicorn, rearing up and spreading her wings as if about to take flight. She wore a necklace of sapphire which spouted fresh, clean water, seemingly from nowhere, into the pool below. I stopped and stared at it; I had heard of water talismans, I knew they were used in Stable 81, but I’d never actually seen one until now. With something so small, one could support an entire settlement, and yet here it was, being used for nothing more than decoration. A spiraling staircase wound its way around the foyer to a mezzanine, ending at a large set of double doors. Instead of taking the stairs, I walked around the fountain to the large set of double doors behind the fountain. I looked up at the sign, squinting and wishing yet again that I hadn’t lost my glasses. The sign read “Twilight Sparkle Athenaeum”, and I cocked my head, puzzled. “A library…?” I muttered. I tried the door, but it was locked, and I had no skill with which to pry it open. I looked up at the other pair of double doors, and began to make my way up the spiral staircase. With every step, I thought of all the trouble DJ PON-3 had caused me since he’d first somehow spied me leaving the stable: shunned by Harbor, avoided by traders, attacked by mercenaries and raiders…Well, the raiders weren’t really his fault, as they just sort of attacked anypony, but by the time I reached the top of the steps, I was ready to blame that damned DJ for magical radiation.

The doors at the top were identical to the one behind the fountain in all but the sign:

M.A.S. Emergency Broadcast Station
Authorized Unicorns Only

Jackpot. I tried this door, only to find it locked as well, which only threw more fuel onto my rage-fire. “Hey!” I shouted, pounding on the door, “Open up! Get out here, you son of a bitch!” I kept pounding, going so hard that my hoof started to hurt. I stopped then for a moment, and waited for another for the door to open. When nothing happened, I ceased knocking and began attacking the door, channeling all of my rage and pain into this solid wooden barrier. “DJ PON-3 IF YOU DON’T GET OUT HERE I WILL BLOW DOWN THIS DOOR, DRAG YOU OUT HERE, BEND YOU OVER THIS RAILING AND BUTTFUCK YOUR SOUL!

“You’ll what now?” Came a voice behind me, “Who are you? What do you want?”

I wheeled around, and was surprised to see…a filly? No, not a filly, just a small mare. She was a steel grey unicorn, adorned in the same elegant (for the wasteland) dress as many mares in the tower. Her face was a mixture of anger and confusion as she looked up at me. “I’m looking for DJ PON-3, where is he?” I demanded, trying and failing to take some of the outright hostility out of my voice.

“He’s out. I’m his assistant. Now what do you want? Other than do terrible things to his soul?” The little grey pony answered tersely.

I took a breath, composing myself before I went on. If I couldn’t talk to the DJ himself, his assistant would just have to do. “I need to speak with him regarding his depiction of me in his program. It is erroneous, and it is slander; he claims to tell the truth, but he couldn’t be any further from it.” The unicorn blinked, and I added, “I’m Close Call, of Stable 81.” Nothing. “…The Egghead?” Finally, a nod and a silent “Ohhhh” of recognition.

“You’re the one who’s been causing trouble up north. You and your sister.” She explained, as if I didn’t know.

“That’s not true!” I countered, “Those Twins started it! They’re the ones who had be kicked out of my stable, they’re the ones who’ve been hunting me for months now, and I have no idea why.

“Well, then what is the truth?” she asked. I was impressed at how little disbelief her voice betrayed. “I’ll make sure it gets to the DJ; I’m sure he’d love to hear your side of the story.”

“It’s just like I said…” I explained. The fact that she (and by extension, DJ Pon-3) was willing to at least hear me out deflated a lot of the anger I’d been holding on to – I just wanted to get it out there. “I went to my sister’s cuteceañera, and next thing I knew, I was being pushed out of my home to, well, see what I could find. Then Sunny hit me with a two by four, and then these Twins showed up…” I paused as something finally dawned on me. “I…I actually have no idea what I’m doing or why I’m doing it…” I finished quietly.

The unicorn gave me a long look. “How long are you going to be in Tenpony?” she asked.

I blinked. “At least tonight. I think we’re leaving in the morning –“

“Come back tomorrow, DJ Pon-3 might have something that could help you, but you’ll have to check your attitude at the door. Now if you’ll excuse me.”
I nodded silently, and left.

* * *

“Who’re you?” A question that’d been asked a lot today, and was starting to wear on my nerves, even if I was the one who’d just asked it.
After leaving the DJ’s lair and the surreal situation I’d encountered in there I had gone straight to the suite in which Crusader Honey Heart and I were staying. The episode had left me drained and exhausted, as if everything that had happened to me and everything I’d ever done since first stepping out into the blinding light of day had fallen at once upon my body. All I wanted to do was sleep, and maybe when I woke up none of this would have happened. Instead, I’d stepped into the suite, and was greeted by a pony I’d never seen before. A shapely, faded pink earth pony mare stood before me. Her mane was long, straight, and the deepest blue I’d ever beheld, and her cutie mark was odd as well: it was a large oak tree, with a pencil lying at its roots. I was more concerned with her eyes, though; they were a deep blue that rivaled her mane, and I as lost in them. Not so lost, however, that I wasn’t immediately put on my guard by a strange pony in my room.

“Really? Are you serious?” The mare asked, half-smiling at me. I didn’t answer, and she laughed – a nice laugh, if a little condescending. “Who else has a key to this suite?” I cocked my head to the side, still not answering. “Goddesses above, Close, it’s me! Honey Heart!”
My mouth opened in a soft “ohhh”, before I cleared my throat and apologized. “Sorry, I didn’t –“

“Didn’t know Steel Rangers could take off their armor?” She asked wryly, “Don’t worry, it’s not an uncommon thought. Don’t know why; who honestly expects a pony to wear armor all the time? I can’t even imagine how much that would suck.” She shivered, before shaking the thought from her mind. “Anyway, this’ll make it easier to go shopping. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Steel Rangers don’t tend to have that many fans, especially not in Tenpony. So what’ve you been up to?”

“I went to see DJ Pon-3.” I said, going to drop off my saddlebags at the foot of one of the two beds in the room. At the foot of the other was Honey Heart’s armor, dismantled and thrown into a pile. I probably would’ve noticed it if I hadn’t been so preoccupied with the supposed stranger in our suite. “He was out, though, I met his assistant instead. She told me that she might have something that could help, and to come back tomorrow.”

“Looks like somepony’s been up to some trouble. I’m surprised you were even able to talk to his assistant; DJ’s kind of a recluse, obviously.” Honey Heart noted offhandedly. She gathered up her saddlebags and gestured toward the door. “Come on, let’s go get some supplies. Maybe we’ll find you some new glasses too.”

* * *

“This might be rude, but how much money do you have?” I asked as we walked out of one of the many clothing stores that dotted the massive landscape that was Tenpony Tower’s shopping mall. This one had been run by a seamstress, who said she’d be able to fix up my outfit to not be so…wasteland-y. She’d been skeptical at first, until Honey Heart had deposited a large bag of caps on the counter. Between this, the hotel suite, and the gate guard, I was wondering whether or not I was traveling with a secret millionaire.

“A lot.” Honey Heart replied simply, grinning nonetheless, “Steel Rangers tend to only worry about technology, and generally take anything they want, so caps aren’t usually an issue. Thus, whatever caps we find, we sit on. My superiors gave me a ‘discretionary fund’ to cover whatever Jack and I would need while getting you.”
That reminded me of something that’d been bothering me since my rescue from the slavers. “So why aren’t you bringing me back to them?” I asked, figuring I might get an actual answer now that the aforementioned-Knight Flapjack wasn’t around.

“It’s…complicated.” She answered slowly. “Thing is, Maple Sausage doesn’t just want your PipBuck. She thinks that there’s some benefit to be had to have the Twins on our ‘side’,
if they take sides. And since it’s almost impossible to track them down, she wants you.”

“Because wherever I go, the Twins are never far behind.” I cut in, “She’s not the only one; this ‘Goddess’ has her weird alicorns looking for me for the sole purpose of luring them to her.”

“All the more reason to not give you to either of them.” Honey Heart agreed, nodding, “Thing is, I’m directly disobeying orders by not taking you to my superiors, which…is something we’ll just have to deal with later. My first priority is getting back to Whinnyapolis though. Speaking of, is there anything you need? Guns, ammo? I mean, we can’t get any actual ammo here, but didn’t the slavers take your weapons?”

“I don’t use guns.” I replied. Honey Heart looked at me with utter disbelief, so I explained. “I suck with them, I don’t like them, and I’m not strong enough for a battle saddle, and also I suck with them.” I said, “I’m just a lot better with my hooves. I let…I used to let Sunny handle the gunplay.”
She shrugged. “I could see that. What happened, anyway? Last I saw you, you had yourself quite the entourage.”
I looked away, then look back, taking a deep breath. “I…I messed up.” I explained, “After…after what happened back in 81, all I cared about was finding and killing the Twins. I turned my back on my friends…my sister…”

“Wait, your sister?” She cut in, “Why would you –“

“Because they killed my mother!” I shouted. Ponies around us stopped to look, and I tried my best not to notice. Honey Heart had stopped as well, her attention on me. “They lured me from my home, and twisted my leader’s mind to the point in which the only course of action was to kill my sister and me! They are the sole reason I’m in this hell, and I won’t rest until I have wiped them from this earth!” I sat down hard, looking at my hooves, biting back tears. It simply wasn’t proper to weep in front of so many ponies. “I thought I could do it alone…I thought I had to…And that’s why I left. A decision I’m regretting.”

Honey Heart nudged me gently with her hoof. “Come on, let’s get you home then.” She said softly. I nodded, getting myself to my hooves. The tower ponies, seeing a lack of further spectacle, resumed their business, although not without the occasional furtive glance back in our direction.
Next stop on our shopping trip was the clinic. Tenpony Tower had an excellent medical facility, but I figured that Butcher would get more out of it than I ever would have cared to. This stop was partially to barter for whatever medical supplies we could get our hooves on, but mostly to see if perhaps the Equestrian Wasteland had yet recovered the ability to make a pair of prescription eyeglasses. The clinic was run by a certain Dr. Helpinghoof, but just like DJ Pon-3, he was out at the moment, and we instead met with his assistant, Life Bloom. “Can I help you?” he asked us amiably.

“Hi, we were hoping to buy some medical supplies?” Honey Heart asked sweetly. While not necessarily a mercantile genius, she did know how to get her way around bucks. The lack of armor definitely helped.

“And…” I reminded her under my breath, resisting the urge to kick her.

“And?” She asked me, then suddenly remembered, “Oh! He needs glasses, too.”

Life Bloom smiled, and chuckled. “I’m afraid that won’t work here,” he explained, “We don’t really have any supplies to sell. You, however…” He peered at me, “If you come back tomorrow I might have something for you.”

I sighed. How many times was I going to hear that today?

* * *

“What do you mean, ‘she left’?!” Honey Heart shouted. All of the friendliness that she’d exhibited toward me today was gone; to the Tenpony security ponies she was Crusader Heart of the Whinnyapolis Steel Ranger, albeit without her armor.

The guard she was talking to shrugged. “My job’s to prevent ponies from coming in, I don’t care if they leave.” He explained, “All I know is that she was sittin’ pretty fer a spell, then she muttered somethin’ about ‘dereliction o’ duty’ and left.”

Honey Heart cursed. “She’s either going to the Manehattan contingent for help or going home. This was her plan from the start! Dammit!” She turned on her heels and stalked back inside, with me following after her, confused. After the clinic we’d decided to stop by to check on Knight Flapjack and see if she wanted or needed anything. When we arrived, however, we found that she was nowhere to be seen, and if the security ponies were to be believed, she’d been gone since shortly after we came to the tower.

“So what does this mean for us?” I asked once we were back inside.

She knickered. “It means things are moving a little faster than I’d intended. I had planned on ditching her anyway – oh don’t look at me like that, I was going to leave her here at the tower, she could’ve made her way to either the Manehattan or Fillydelphia contingents.” She explained, rolling her eyes at my shocked expression. I guess I didn’t have room to talk as it was. “Anyway, her leaving on her own could actually work out for us. If we could get back to Whinnyapolis first, I could try to spin a story on how she’s actually the one who abandoned the mission…only problem is, Maple Sausage knows of my more…liberal interpretations of our code, and Flapjack’s her daughter; if she were to tell her mom that I’d sprouted wings, raised a second sun in the sky, and declared this to be the Age of Honey Heart, Maple Sausage would be mobilizing against this new goddess before you could say ‘wait, what?’.”

I nodded, drinking it all in. “So…what’re we going to do?”

Crusader Heart opened her mouth to answer, but her stomach beat her to it. “Get something to eat, I guess.” She admitted resignedly, “I think there’s a cheese shop around here somewhere I wanted to try.”

The cheese shop was closed – owner was out – so instead we sat at one of Tenpony Tower’s numerous fine dining establishments. I was confused: when I heard fine dining, I thought of exotic cuisine, or perhaps even fresh foods. What I got was the same over-two-hundred-year-old irradiated food, only cut up into tiny portions and charged at exorbitantly higher prices. When I raised my voice to complain, I was told if I didn’t like it, I could go out into the ruins and find food. I remained silent and let Honey Heart pay for the meal, but I wasn’t happy about it. “Et hoc non habet finem…This is pointless…” I grumbled at my plate of Sugar Bombs, with its tiny portions of normal food.
“Just how many languages do you know?” Honey Heart asked, surprising me. I looked up, unable to answer for a moment; just how many languages did I know?

“Other than Pony?” I asked. Honey Heart’s expression was deadpan, so I smiled sheepishly and went on, counting them out with my Sugar Bombs, “I know Roaman, Galician, Old Griffon, Royal Canterlot Voice…I’m getting a lot better at my Cowhili since coming out here, Hisan…and at I’m at least passable in Buffalo and Loshad. So…” I counted up the Sugar Bombs, “Fluent in seven, passable in two. So you could say nine. And I can read another eight or nine on top of that.” I looked back up; Honey Heart’s mouth was agape, her eyes wide. “I told you,” I said with a chuckle, “I’m – I was Head of the Linguistics Department of Stable 81. It was my job to know languages.” It hurt a bit, realizing that the title I’d been using since first exiting the stable was for all intents and purposes null and void now. Another piece of the old me lost. I wondered, not for the first time, if there’d be any of the old me left after long.

Honey Heart closed her mouth and coughed, embarrassed. “I always wanted to learn another language,” she said, “I mean, I picked up some Roaman reading as a scribe, but only a few words here and there.”

I nodded. “It can be tough. Once I got my cutie mark, though, my entire life became learning just about every language we had access to, both modern and ancient. I’ve been engrossed in it since I was a colt.” I paused, then added as an afterthought, “I’m actually surprised I still speak pony as well as I do…”
Heart leaned to the side and down, then came back up. “What does a torch have to do with languages?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I have no idea.” I admitted, “It showed up after I translated an old text nopony had been able to crack in almost two centuries. I’d happened to be in the office for my shadowing, and saw the paper on the department head’s desk. I looked at it, and even though it was written in a completely different language, the words just…came to me, out of nowhere. The torch came in on my butt, and my fate was sealed.”

“What did it say?”

I shrugged again. “It was just an old Hisan proverb: “‘Ahthr adwk mrh wahdh fijmya anha'a، wsdyqk alf mrh. sdyq mabar mzdwj yarf almzyd hwl ma ydhr lk.’ ‘Be wary around your enemy once, and your friend a thousand times. A double crossing friend knows more about what harms you.’ It was something from Saddle Arabia that’d been confiscated by the Zebra Empire once they began expanding. I read it, got my cutie mark, and I’ve been studying ever since.” I mimicked Honey Heart, leaning over to look at her flank – er, her cutie mark. “How’d you get yours?”

She smiled and looked away, as if recalling a pleasant memory, which it sounded like it was. “There’s this little park outside the MWT hub back in Whinnyapolis,” she said, “I grew up there; my parents are Steel Rangers, just as their parents before them, and so on, stretching back to the war. Anyway, there was this park on the grounds, and before the bombs it was covered in trees. They’ve been dead for centuries now, of course, but I always liked to sit under them and draw. One day I came in from drawing, and my mom noticed my cutie mark had appeared. Simple as that.”

I was confused. “So why did you become a Steel Ranger then?” I asked.

The smile stayed on her face, but her eyes dropped, and now it was her turn to shrug. “You don’t get much of a choice when you’re born into it. Sure, I’d thought about striking out on my own, but then I’d be leaving my family and all my friends. It was also safer at headquarters than it was outside. So when I came of age, I became a scribe, and the rest is history.” She looked down at her piece of salisbury steak, and sighed. “I’m going back to the suite, I don’t think I’m that hungry.” I nodded and let her go – even a stable pony like me know when somepony wanted to be alone at this point.

* * *

I didn’t do much else of note that day. I had no caps, so I couldn’t do any more shopping. Anything else I would have done had to wait until the next day, and I was getting tired of all the sidelong looks from the tower residents. What did they have to be hoity toity about, anyway? When you came right down to it, they lived in only a somewhat-less-shitty part of the wasteland and had access to fancier clothes. I was sure if a single one of them ever had to go out into it, they’d have just enough time to wet themselves before they died. The fact that I’d been outside the stable for months and was more hardened than they were made me feel just the tiniest bit proud.

Honey Heart was sitting on her bed when I got back. In front of her was a dirty piece of paper on a clipboard, and in her mouth was a pencil. The fact that she’d found a pencil and paper blew my mind enough, but the fact that the pencil was in pristine condition shocked me even more. It took me a moment to remember that Tenpony Tower was one of the main MAS hubs; it’d been protected by the most powerful shield spells and technology when the rest of Equestria burned around it. How the pencil had survived the dirt and grime of two hundred years, however, I doubted I’d ever know.

Honey Heart looked up as I walked in. “Hey.” She greeted, smiling, “Sorry about ditching you earlier. Talking about home like that…”

“Gun Bunny was your friend, wasn’t she?” I asked, “More than just your squadmate or whatever?” She nodded. “Don’t worry about it. What’re you drawing?”
A deep red hue appeared on the faded pink mare’s face, and she quickly flipped the clipboard over. “Nothing, don’t worry about it,” she said quickly, “Wow, it’s getting late, aren’t you tired? We should rest up for tomorrow.” As she spoke, she took the paper off the clipboard, dropped it into her saddlebag, and laid down facing away from me in one fluid motion. Seconds later loud, fake-sounding snores filled the air. What the hell?

* * *

The next morning Honey Heart and I made our rounds. First stop was the clothing shop, and boy was it worth every cap! The mare who ran the place had sewn up the various tears in my red sweater, and even gone as far as to add leather elbow pads and shoulder pads, and replaced the denim vest with a black leather one. “It’ll over you greater protection without restricting your movement.” She told me as I put it on. She’d cleaned it too – Tenpony must have been flush with water talismans to spare any for cleaning clothes – and even though it still held the filth of time, it was now decidedly less so. “This is great!” I declared happily as we walked to our next destination, “Good thing she didn’t try to sew armor plating in anywhere; fighting would have sucked.”

“Of course she wouldn’t have,” Honey Heart said, “She knew you were a hoof to hoof specialist. Oh, don’t look so surprised, any pony worth their stuff can tell. You’re lighter on your hooves, and more fluid with your motions, especially since last I saw you. One can tell you’ve been in a few fights.” Next on our list was Dr. Helpinghoof’s clinic. This stop was quick: Life Bloom had managed to find a pair of glasses that not only matched the visual clarification of my old pairs, but actually surpassed it! Score!

Finally, we got to what I had been waiting for: DJ Pon-3. I could hardly keep still as Honey Heart and I rode the elevator up to the atrium, only this time it was in excitement as opposed to anger. The doors opened, and we were greeted once again by his assistant, whose name I’d neglected to get on my last visit. “Oh, you brought a friend…” the grey unicorn said, as if she were surprised I had any. Honestly, considering the way I had acted to the few ponies I actually considered as friends, I was too. “Well, if you promise to be civil, I did manage to find something I think you’ll find interesting.” She beckoned us into the foyer, and had us wait there while she disappeared behind the large double doors at the back of the room. She reappeared a few moments later, levitating a holotape as she trotted toward us. “This was found when ponies first began to gather here and fortify the tower.” She explained as I took it from her gently. The holotape was labeled TOP SECRET: PRGM. Top secret? PRGM? What did that stand for? I popped it into my PipBuck, and hit play. It was a set of audio notes; I could tell, I’d taken them before back home. A voice came through my speakers: a stallion, educated by the sound of it, probably a high level researcher in the Ministry of Arcane Sciences:

“Project Gemini, Entry 4: Time is…1924 hours.
Subject Pair Seven, codenamed “Nyx”, is responding well to the latest battery of tests. Vital signs are within normal ranges, and subjects show no outward signs of plague infection. Pair Nyx, for record, are two unicorn twins, orange, no cutie marks as of yet, from Whinnyapolis. To date neither twin has shown any changes in physiology or psychology – they continue to live and play together as normal siblings do, despite continued injections of original and modified plague virus. I’ve been observing them closely, and the only change of note is the sudden onset of a teleportation talent in the both of them. I first observed this yesterday, and they have done it numerous times since then, although they cannot seem to transport themselves more than a few feet at a time. Once again, cutie marks have not yet manifested, so I cannot confirm that this will be their special – or only – talent. Continue 24-hour surveillance and notify me of any developments that may occur. Note: whoever left a fedora in their room needs to be found and terminated. Both colts launched into hysterics once they realized there was only one, and only got worse when we tried to take it away. The only option was to give them another, so now the both of them have one a damned fedora and they refuse to take them off; even if we try to take them while they’re sleeping, one of them will wake up and scream until you give it back. End of report.”











Level Up!
Perk Added: Piercing Strike – You’ve figured out how to hit a pony where it hurts, and now all unarmed attacks now negate 15 points of enemy DT!

Author's Note:

Holy crap on a stick this took awhile. Trust me, dear readers, I haven't forgotten about you! Just went through some...personal things, but now I'm back! As always, I'd like to thank Kkat for creating the Equestrian Wasteland, and give a big thanks to you, my readers! See you in Chapter 12!