Salvage

by Rollem Bones

Negotiating Conviction

Chapter 9: Negotiating Conviction
“Working together is just another way of saying mutual exploitation.”

The morning brought rain, great sopping gobs of rain that seemed in earnest effort to drown the world in as lazy a way as possible. I like the rain in the general sense that I had no fervent animosity towards it. It fell, I liked the sound, and I particularly liked how it had a tendency to make for a calm day in the wastelands. Murder, disease, theft, big things that liked to chew on ponies was all well and good, but no pony likes to be stuck out in the rain. Thus the rain was why our little group of outsiders sat huddled together inside of a single train car, listening to the thud and thunder.

We had breakfast, or, we had an approximation of something called breakfast offered by Two-Shot. Even given his expertise —which still surprised me— with the ingredients we had left he could only manage a weak stew. I drank it all the same. Cutter didn’t partake of the soup, she instead satisfied herself with a stash of dried meat.

“I know it tastes like shit,” said Two-Shot from the spot in the corner where he found he could watch the Bastard camp through a hole in the boxcar. Now, though his angry stare pointed directly inward. “I can only get so much out of the garbage they eat around here. That’s all the flavor you’re getting, so suck your cider and be happy.”

“Think it tastes pretty damn good,” Cutter threw in. She stayed near the door of the boxcar, never drawing closer. Even as the rain slicked her feathers and fur, she remained by the door.

I laughed. Nopony else did.

“So, Call, about this deal you cut with the Bastards.” Summer cut into the conversation. She hadn’t drank her soup. It made me wonder where her food stash was and how I could get my hooves on it.

I grinned, scoping out the others to gauge the mood before speaking. “Cutter and Summer will be free to go as soon as I broker a deal between the Bastards and some settlers.”

“Like fuck I’m going,” Cutter objected as soon as I closed my mouth. “Not while I still have patients.”

I countered the griffin’s snap with calm tones. “The point of the negotiation is to get a mechanical doctor for the tribe. That way you can go on your way, safe and secure that they’ll be taken care of. I’m not going to endanger your patients. Daisy is one of them, after all.” I nodded over to the blue mare, about the only one of us besides me giving any thought to eating Two-Shot’s soup. Healing needed energy, I suppose.

The griffin tapped at her beak, giving me a narrow eyed look of predatory scrutiny. At least this time I felt like an equal instead of an entrée. “We’ll see,” the griffin ventured, her voice wavering where her eyes didn’t. Then she told, she looked over to Summer. It was furtive, or it tried to be, her big eyes didn’t move in subtle glances. “I want to see if it works,” she directed a talon toward Fizzy, “She looks it over first.”

“That sound good to you?” I asked Fizadora. She had been silent since I left her the night previous. I had no idea what she was putting together all by her lonesome, but whatever it was it seemed finished since her ingredients were safely tucked away. More importantly, she still had Mister Boom nearby. That, I noticed.

“I could run some diagnostics,” Fizzy replied with a casual shrug. Much of her attention remained on the contents of the bowl in front of her. However, it was attention in a scientific inquiry sort of manner as opposed to any actual consumptive intent.

“Does that settle that?” I asked the griffin, hoping she was assured on the matter. I was hoping just to get Daisy’ patched up by stopping here, but the boon of having a genuine medic was too much to pass up.

Cutter heaved a sigh and waved the situation off with a claw. “I don’t do deals,” she remarked, looking out at the rain splashing down. “I don’t like leaving patients. I won’t unless I know for certain they’ll be okay. Everything else you take up with Summer.”

I looked over to Summer and asked her the obvious question by way of an inviting raise of my brow. The smile wasn’t even necessary, just a sweetener.

The orange pony took longer than I anticipated contemplating the question before her. “So what’s the something big?” she asked, leaning toward me, her eyes challenging my bargaining position and me directly.

“Picture this,” I started, casting a pointed look over to the distracted Fizzy. “A place that can afford to toss a pony like her out into the waste for a supply run. A settlement nopony, or griffin, outside of this boxcar really knows about. You get first dibs on opening up trade with them.”

Fizzy perked her ears and looked at me. Her brow knitted together and a small frown tugged at her mouth. Whatever was on her mind went unvoiced as she watched me use her home as a bargaining chip. Maybe her entire home, but enough of it to serve its purpose.

Summer looked to the ceiling given the absence of a sky to gaze at thoughtfully. She tapped her chin in slow time, buying moments for her to contemplate the possibilities. “So what you’re saying is there’s an opportunity. Nothing guaranteed.”

I had to admit, she saw right through me. “An opportunity,” I agreed with a nod, “With a place desperate enough for goods to send a genius into the wasteland.”

“Or,” Summer was quick to counter, “It’s a place that has so much she isn’t worth much to them.”

Fizzy looked between us, frown quirked even deeper. “Um. I’m right here,” she started to speak up, raising a hoof in objection.

Summer and I continued as we were. “Either way you’re looking at a gain. You’ll either be offloading supplies at higher cost or able to pick up supplies cheaper. It’s a win either way,” I suggested the weighted points in my favor.

The orange mare leaned back, sitting on her haunches. Her head tilted down and she set upon me with a look of confidence that didn’t just border on cocky; it set up a duty-free shop. “Shame there’s more than two outcomes to any opportunity. Are you really trying to tell me this is no risk?”

I laughed off the rejection of my heavy-hoofed offer. “Got me dead to rights, Summer,” I told her, altering verbal course by way of a shrugging feint. “There will be risk involved. I’m absolutely certain of it. I know nothing about these ponies, just supposition. They could be naught but grifters for all I know.”

Summer’s soupbowl burst with a sudden pop, soaking both Summer and I with soupy shrapnel.

We both looked to Fizadora. She adjusted her glasses and gave the two of us, mostly me, a single snort.

I directed a hoof toward Fizzy while grinning to Summer.

“Point made,” Summer Bounty acquiesced. “You got my interest. We’ll go along, like one big happy caravan.”

Fizzy groaned. She turned from us to leave the boxcar. As she moved out into the rain, she held her head held high and her body rigid.

The boxcar was still for the moments after the aggravated departure. I shared a look with Daisy, both of us frowning but hesitant. Two-Shot was busy looking out the side of the train car, watching something in the rain from his corner. I looked over to Summer, who was still trying to clean the soup from her coat.

“Wow. You fucked up,” chimed the ever-helpful Cutter. “See, this is why I don’t do deal making. Never works out.” She added while crossing her talons and leaning against the wall of the car. The rain slicked her feathers as she looked out into the camp.

“Celestia help me,” I muttered to myself and walked to the door. “I’ll go get her,” I told the others, not glancing toward them before jumping down into the sopping mud.

Wet, it was so very wet outside the confines of the boxcar. The rain didn’t drive on my back, it soaked through the gaps in my barding and drenched me to the bone. I looked at the camp through the dripping curtain of water that fell from the brim of my hard hat. It was an empty world, the rain kept even tribals inside.

I found Fizzy standing alongside the boxcar. Even with the rain, her lab coat kept her dry for the most part. Heavy rivulets of rain ran off her muzzle and tail, though it seemed to avoid her Mohawk, apparently fearful of the Wonderglue resistance. Stifling the laughter in my throat, I approached and sat beside the mare. I immediately regretted the action, not for Fizzy’s reaction, for she had none to speak of, but the ground was very muddy.

Together we sat, soaking in the rain. I’m not certain exactly how long, but long enough to drive the point home that neither of us was just about to up and leave the other. The rain continued to pour, the wasteland continued to waste, the ponies and griffin in the boxcar continued to do as they were doing. Fizzy and I sat, got wet, and sat some more.

“We aren’t bad ponies.”

Fizzy spoke without looking at me, instead staring at a circle she had drawn in the mud. “We aren’t,” she reiterated.

I studied my hooves while flipping through my mental playbook for a tactical approach. Then I looked at the mare beside me and threw that book out the window. “I got nothing to go on, Fizadora. Nothing except that your Haystack doesn’t like ponies that don’t have something for them. With a pony like Summer, I need to turn that into a selling point.”

“Because she’s your marefriend?” Fizzy asked, lifting her eyes to meet mine. Once more was I a parasprite under glass.

The comment made me laugh. “Summer? Goddesses no.” I shook my head, dismissing the notion. “We screw, yeah, but just because she’s good at it. Can’t say I love her. Like her, but that’s it.”

Fizzy looked to the boxcar for a split second before returning to me. “Not bullshit,” she said with a sigh somewhere between relief and frustration. “But why do you want her around? Why use my home?”

“Because without her we don’t get the griffin. They’re a package deal, they’re our best bet and they’re right here in front of us and I’ll use what I have to make a deal that gets us a little further and makes things a little easier.”

Fizzy held a hoof to her head, eyes closed. “Okay, okay. We need the doctor. We can’t afford any bad injuries without one.” She looked back to me and flicked water from her ears. “Do you trust her?”

“Not in the least.”

Fizzy looked agog so I decided to fill out my answer. “I can predict her. I trust you. I trust Daisy. I trust Cutter. Luna help me, I trust Two-Shot. With trust, though, comes uncertainty. I can’t say for certain you’ll never cut my throat, but I can say you’re a good enough pony that I’ll leave it unguarded around you. I can’t say that about Summer, but I can say I know when, why, and how she’d cut me. At times like this, that can be more useful than trust.”

I had made my point as honestly as I could. We spent the next few moments without words as I let her parse mine in peace. She looked away, and then turned away, taking a few steps from me. A moment longer passed before she took a deep breath and turned back to me.

“The Haystack is a technologically advanced facility. Very much so compared to what I have seen outside of our walls. I would suspect, and evidence has shown, one of the few places in the wasteland still capable of dedicating ourselves to the pursuit of knowledge. We have plans, but in order for those plans to achieve fruition, we must maintain secrecy.”

“You literally have Haystack in big letters on your coat.”

“You didn’t know what it was, and no other pony did.” Fizzy grunted, slapping her hoof against her forehead. “Never mind that, irrelevant. We need to get that soda because for all our knowledge and small scale testing, we cannot enact on a full scale without materials. Materials we are incapable of producing.”

The skinny gray mare sighed and hung her head. She looked visibly pained at the revelation and it was that look, more than the words, which took me aback.

“I won’t tell anypony else,” I assured Fizzy.

“I know you won’t,” She told me back, “If you did, they’d never be able to find all the pieces. I just wanted to show you I trust you. That I can take the risk. I was thinking last night. You do not have a reason to be here. You are taking threats upon yourself because you think you can make something of them.”

“It could just be a long con.”

Fizzy narrowed her eyes at me, and then smiled. “I’ve played with explosives all my life. Maybe it’s time I tried my hoof at something risky.”

I looked to Fizzy, shock writ upon my face. I laughed, we both did. It felt good to release the tension I wasn’t even aware I was feeling. “We’re getting soaked,” I pointed out. “Let’s go back inside so we don’t drown.”

Fizzy nodded, and we headed back to the boxcar. Neither of us spoke of what we discussed and admitted to one another, but it wasn’t necessary. After all, I knew Summer wouldn’t care, and I could trust the others not to ask.

In hindsight, it may have been in my best interest to inquire about the Bastards initiation rites before taking them. I found myself standing, still in the rain, within a large ring of tribals surrounding where the bonfire burned the night before. Ash, soot, and charcoal had been rendered into gritty slurry that I now waded through and across the way, joining me inside the ring of their comrades, where four Bastards. Not a one of them looked as though they were the type of pony to settle the matter over a game of Battleclouds.

I stared at them. They stared at me. The audience stared at all of us. Not one of us moved, not one of us spoke. Then, from the audience, a voice of reason rose. A voice that spoke up against conflict, for brotherhood and comradery. A voice that strove to touch to the genuine good that lives in the core of all living beings.

“This is the most stupid fucking thing I have seen in a good goddamn time!”

A voice that had the tact of a sledgehammer yet none of its persuasive knack.

The collected entirety looked toward Cutter. The griffin looked back at the collected entirety. “What?” was all she said.

Somepony in the crowd coughed. I looked down at the mixture of ash and mud at my hooves. For a brief moment, a feeling of self-awareness held sway over all of us. The fight was a waste of time, pomp and circumstance serving nothing. I was to negotiate for these ponies, griffins, donkeys, buffalo, and I think a minotaur was somewhere out there. The whole point of my negotiation was to get a mechanical doctor to help with their injuries. A tribe that had, or claimed to have, limited resources was going to throw them out in the name of their tradition. It was all a waste.

That moment of clarity was cut short by a spirited roar that picked up among the crowd. My ears pricked at the sound and I lifted my head. That’s when I took a hoof to the face. The blow drove me to the mud. The thick, semi-solid liquid filled my nose. I tried to cough and spit the gunk out to little success. Not an easy feat when four ponies are attempting to play six eight time on my torso.

Each blow that rained on me struck my unguarded hide. As this was a test of strength, Bad Road had me remove my barding and my helmet. “You go in as you are and you come back as you end up,” according to him. At this rate, I was going to end up a fine paste well mixed with the mud. I know I’m an earth pony, but I doubt that was the meaning behind the ‘connected with the land’ sentiment directed at my kind.

I did catch my opening when it presented itself. One of the Bastards, an orange earth pony, missed planting a hoof in my eye socket. I lashed out, wrapping my forelegs around the offending limb and spinning like a turbine. The pony went over, slamming into the mud with a choked grunt. The splash he kicked up bought me time to get to my hooves.

None of that time allowed me to savor my limited victory. There still was the question of the trio still standing. We stalled for a moment, staring at each other. I pawed at the mud, ratcheting my stare to a glare levels. Add one confident grin and I was ready for anything they could throw at me.

A dark brown unicorn, it was the guard pony named Dozer, flicked his wet mane from his eyes and sent his own glare. When I considered our first meeting I realized that I was outmatched in the non-verbal threat category. His glare did not just imply physical harm in the general sense; it implied particular bones and organs. This look supplied references and liner notes to the techniques behind the pain the giver intended to inflict. I was in the presence of a master, and in my heart of hearts, he had me beat when it came to the art of the look.

So I kicked him in the head. He was good at looks, but I was faster and had him on reach. I caught him on the forehead, just under his horn. The blow drove him to the mud. For the moment, I operated under the belief that it was Dozer who attacked me when I wasn’t looking. The thought made it better that I just forced him to kiss the ground.

A blue-green mare rammed her head into my ribs. The blow forced me to the side, only to be met by a pair of hooves coming from the other direction courtesy of another earth pony. Back to the other side and the blue-green mare’s newest kick caught me just below the chin. This time there was to be no stumble. I simply spun on the spot and fell atop Dozer.

An alien feeling hoisted me into the air. I wriggled, flying against my will. A chocolate colored haze gave me a not so subtle hint as to the reason for my sudden case of airborne. I probably should not have made the assumption that Dozer was going to be put down with a single blow. While looking down and seeing the unicorn beneath me get to his hooves, I realized I was in for a world of hurt.

My prediction came true a moment later. I picked up speed, hurtling across the ring toward the Bastards on the far side. Just before I careened into the crowd, I was wrenched downward and spiked into the mud.

By the time I pulled my head out of the ground for a needed breath of life giving air, the Bastards set upon me. One of them, I think the orange one, slammed into me, rocking me forward. Almost pitched to the ground, I stayed up only through the kindness of two Bastards squeezing against my sides. They kept me up, lifting me between them, and ran. The world eventually stopped spinning and I could make sense of what was going on, only to find I didn’t want to. The pair halted. I didn’t, and immediately found myself flying toward Dozer

When the dirt colored magic flared around my body, I caught a glimpse of Dozer’s look. All it said was pain.

Dozer set out to explain the concept of inertia to me and his lesson was succinct. I stayed in motion until I met a body with greater mass than the force of my travel. In this case, the greater mass was the planet, again.

As I lay within the small, me-shaped crater, I decided to stop moving. Pain throbbed and thudded throughout by body. Blood tried to run from my nose. Stopped by the caked mud and dirt, it instead ran down my throat. The warm iron taste made me gag. However, the mouthful of liquefied charcoal may have helped.

I rolled onto my back and looked up to the gray skies. A drop splashed into my eye. It was fitting icing on this shit cake. There I lay, resting and taking stock of the injuries, internal and external, to body and pride. Hoof to hoof combat was not something I lost often, but four on one was a little much. I was beaten in more ways than one.

A head popped over the side of the hole and into my field of vision, Dozer’s. With a flick, clearing his mane from his eyes, he raised his eyebrows and nodded upwards. He wanted me to get up, but the look had no malice, no anger or wrath. It was a coaxing and friendly look. A sort of expressive helping hoof offered by a not quite enemy.

I stared up at the incongruity through my one good eye. “You have got to tell me how you do that,” I told Dozer, pointing up at the unicorn. Against all of my bodily desires, I lurched to my side, heaved myself to my hooves and then heaved of a different sort. All the while, the world spun around me. Eventually I managed to poke my head from the ditch.

“Come on,” I breathed. Every word felt like they weighed a ton. I couldn’t stop now, and I couldn’t just use some words here. I licked the blood off my teeth and spat it at the ground. I gave a grin, quickly realizing that I had a new hole in my teeth to breathe through.

“Is that all you got?” I challenged no pony and every pony at once, “Cause I ain’t done dancing.”

A whooping guffaw rumbled out over the crowd. The hulking form of Big Buck Bastard stood tall, pushing through the crowd. “Well, well, well,” he bellowed with each great stride taken toward me. “Still standing?” Once beside me, he changed to hushed tones. “Good.”

“Look!” Big Buck boomed to the collected Bastards. “Look at this pony. He walks the long road. He brings an end to the poison spread by those who deceived our comrades at Haven. He pledges himself to our cause, to our way of life. He has come to me wishing to speak on our behalf, to speak for all of us who have gone so long unspoken for. He has come with promises to claim the mechanical doctor from the high and mighty who would look down upon us. It is his will to place himself as the first, to lead the efforts of our survival so that you and I may live to see another day. That is his promise and his word.”

The bison moved as he spoke. Back and forth, he paced in front of me. Every time he acknowledged me in word, he did so in act through a nod of his horns. He knew the way to bolster a pony’s pride and given that my body was currently propping itself up on pride alone, I took all the boosting I could get. It also helped that I was standing in my own ditch; that way, nopony could see my legs quaking in silent protest while Big Buck continued his speech.

“Of course, my brothers and sisters, we will not simply stand and take the word of any pony who claims to be a friend. Many of us know all too well where that train of thought leads. So no doubt, there were many among you who doubted the honesty of your newest brother. I ask you all this. Who doubts now?”

He paused, and silent was the crowd.

“As I thought,” said the bison. He stepped aside and stopped his pacing. “Curtain Call, tonight we drink in your honor, and the honor of all Bastards.”

Cheering happened in the way that cheering does when there were shadows of future inebriation to consider. Loud shouts and whooping cries mingled with the stamping of hooves. Many of the Bastards had thrown their helmets to the ground and used those to sound off. At least, the ones that weren’t decorated with spikes or horns.

I was supposed to feel good, to feel happy. To let elation wash over me when a crowd was cheering my name, cheering for me. Instead, I felt nothing. I felt nothing all the way to the ground. Then I saw nothing, too.

My eyes opened to behold a blurry avian face staring down at me with a quizzical eye. She squinted, looking down at me, and made a quiet little trill of curiosity. It was, in its way, kind of a cute sound. However, that may have been the head trauma talking. I tried to speak, but it felt like my mouth was filled with cotton; mostly due to all the cotton in my mouth. That experiment over, I resigned myself to my fate and looked up at Cutter, who chose that specific moment to disappear from my field of vision.

A flash of light brought a brand new definition of pain and misery to my personal dictionary. The light flooded my vision. Blind, I struggled to keep from struggling. I knew in the rational part of my brain that this was all happening for a good medical reason. The irrational part of my brain, however, was mounting a persuasive argument that Cutter was attempting to melt my head.

“Hold still, damn it,” Cutter hissed at me, pulling the light away from my face. “Needed to see if your pupils synch up and dilate properly.”

I tried to speak again and once again produced nothing more than muffled mumblings. Cutter responded by pointing a talon at my head. I watched as a small bag float above me, surrounded in a gray haze. Then a fresh new feeling akin to getting my head dunked in ice water joined the myriad other aches and pain that ran throughout my body.

“Try not to move much,” Cutter told me while I watched her dig through a bag. “None of your injuries are too life threatening, so you don’t need to whine. Tell you the truth, I’d rather just let you heal yourself, take you off your hooves for a few days and let you rest but apparently you have this big meeting to go to so I need to bust out the magic. Great idea, by the way, agreeing to let yourself get fucked up by the gang that you want to help.”

Not being able to verbalize an answer, I responded with a withering gaze. I suspected the look failed to have the intended effect as Cutter just made a laughing little trill.

“Have the tooth?” Cutter asked whoever else was in the tent.

“Ayuh,” Responded Fizzy’s voice. Something white bobbled in the air from outside my perspective, wrapped within her magic field. So, I was missing a tooth after all. Not missing the tooth, exactly, since it was right there in front of me. However, it was certainly not in its proper place.

Cutter yanked the gauze from my mouth. I winced. “Stick it back in the gap,” she told Fizzy, “Don’t be afraid to really jam it in there.” The last bit she added with a suspiciously direct grin aimed toward me.

“I real—“ I was interrupted by the forceful reentry of my tooth. Part of me wondered if this was, in some way, retribution for past slights.

The taste of the brew that slithered down my throat confirmed that I was indeed being punished by some cosmic force. I made an effort to spit the medicine out, purely on reflex, only to be stopped by a pair of talons wrapped around my muzzle. The strength of a griffin’s talons, by the by, is something to take note of. Under force, I swallowed the bitter brew.

My mouth felt like it was on fire. I rolled to my side and tried to retch, but nothing came from my gut. In fact, nothing came from my mouth at all. Using my tongue, I prodded about my mouth. Every tooth there and accounted for. Chalk one up for alchemy.

“Picked that one up from an old Zebra remedy guide,” Cutter smirked as she boasted. “Of course, there’s still the subject of your concussion, and several other issues stemming from blunt force trauma to take care of.”

“I think I’ll be okay with a healing potion or two,” I suggested, my voice dipping to sheepishness. I disliked the sharpness of the griffin’s grin.

“Oh, I know,” Cutter purred. “That’s why I had Fizadora whip up something special. She ain’t a doctor, but she gets chems.” The griffin procured a syringe seemingly from thin air. “Hope you like riding the mainline.”

The griffin jabbed the needle into my flank.

All I felt was a little pinch and, even then, with the speed the injection worked with, I felt good as new by the time Cutter was tucking away the empty syringe. Anticlimactic, but I never did have a problem with needles.

“Thanks,” I said, lying back down on the cot. “Both of you.”

Fizzy’s grin squeaked. “I’m just the chemist. All I did was mix the reagents. Well, I found your tooth, too.” She floated the little ice bag from my head. “Other than that, it was all Cutter’s doing.”

“Still glad you did that, Fizzy, I was kind of attached to it.”

We shared a short-lived laugh, but Cutter put a stop to the enjoyment with a cough. Giving a pointed look to Fizzy, she nodded to the tent flap. “You helped me out, but I need to do private doctor things with the patient. Think you can give me a minute?”

Fizzy was puzzled. I was puzzled. However, the dour look about the doctor made me consider the importance of the request. I shared a look with Fizzy. She frowned, looking at me from over her glasses frames.

“It’s okay,” I told my friend. “I’ll see you in a minute.”

Hesitant though she was, Fizzy left the tent. On the way, she asked Cutter for a catch up medical lesson after Cutter and I were done. Leave it to Fizzy to not want to be left out of the loop when it came to learning something.

Cutter watched Fizzy leave, going so far as to hold her head poked out of the tent for a long minute. Popping back in, she let the flap fall. She spun and stared at me. Sharp eyes and sharper beak set, she took stalking steps toward me.

“Can you be straight with me?” she interrogated. A quick look around and I was suddenly very aware of how empty this tent was.

“I am an open minded stallion.” Humor, don’t fail me now.

Cutter stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes wide, beak open, feathers all ruffled. Defensive strike a success, the griffin was off her track.

“Not even remotely what I meant,” she muttered while she smoothed her feathers back down and tried to find her bearings.

“So what did you want to know?” Knocking the doctor off her guard left me emboldened. I rolled off the cot and back to my hooves. It felt good, I felt good. That injected potion did a number, and did it fast. Whatever Cutter did during my beating induced naptime worked wonders.

Cutter shook her head and sighed, placing a claw between her eyes. “Was talking, want to know how legit you are. I get a bunch of stories from those ponies and none of them fit. I want to know the truth. So I’m going to the source”

It was my turn to be thrown off base. I considered the matter, considered the griffin I was speaking with, and considered what she had done for me. Down, up, around, I looked about as though an answer would dance its way into view.

“What truth do you want to know?” I settled on the open ended.

“What’s your aim in all of this? What are you getting out of it? I watched all that time, whenever Summer and I were in Manehattan. You weren’t the kind to go help others. Now I see this, and I heard that crap on the radio. Summer says you’re faking. Fizzy there says otherwise. What do you say?” The griffin poked my chest to punctuate her statements.

I looked the griffin in the eye. Then I broke. I looked away, laughing despite myself. “Okay, okay. Truth is, it’s a big investment. I lost everything and Fizzy seems the best opportunity.” I paused, holding in a slow and quiet admission. “And I’d like to see something better in this life. Too much shit’s already happened and I’m tired of it. I keep hearing about ponies trying to make a change for the better and I think maybe it’s about time. Fizzy’s Haystack looks about as good a place to start as any.”

“And these tribals?”

“Investment. I’ve got enemies and bet I’ll make more. If getting beaten up and having a damn fine doctor patch me up is enough to give me an army to throw at them, I’ll do it.”

“So you’re using them.”

“Inasmuch as they’re using me but not nearly as much as they’re using you.”

I stepped around the griffin to take my leave. “I’ve got to talk with them about just what I’m dealing with here. Thanks for patching me up, Cutter. It’s good to know there’s someone else I can trust out here.” I made sure to tell the griffin that with a smile, but I didn’t wait to see if she was smiling herself. However she took it, she didn’t stop me.

Leaving the medical tent behind, I walked to the roundhouse. My guess was that if the leaders of the Bastards, and after the big speech this morning I could not see Big Buck as anything but a leader, were anywhere it would be there. The rain had stopped, but the ground was still soggy. Not that it mattered how muddy my hooves got, my coat was already a train wreck after the initiation. I was certain I had mud in places I didn’t even know about.

Two ponies and a buffalo sat around a table in the back of the roundhouse. I wasn’t surprised to see the same three non-leaders doing their leading. Trotting towards them, I hummed an old world song as loud as I could. I would have waved a banner if I had one nearby. I wanted them to know I was coming, that I was ready, that I was more than happy to do this for them because I was certain to hold them to their word in the future.

“What luck, finding you all here in one place,” I shouted out to the lot, grinning wide enough to make my mouth hurt. “So it looks like I’m going off to do some talking for you, make that us, and I was thinking that I need some information to put this all together.”

I planted myself between Bad Road and Brickbat, putting Big Buck across from me. The buffalo was the one I trusted the least out of the trio and the one I wanted to watch closest. Brickbat looked at me; the unicorn looked unconcerned with the matter. A scowl built from a hardscrabble life of conflict was all she had for me. Bad Road was more amiable in the way that a tombstone is to a circular saw. The buffalo broad grin gleamed; his hulking frame took up most of the table.

“Good to see you back up so soon, little brother,” Big Buck laughed, his frame quaking. “Even better to see you so eager to throw in with our lot.” He looked down to the dust colored pony to my right. “Bad Road, if you’d like. This is all your plan.”

Bad Road began with a small nod with an added glower toward Brickbat. The unicorn looked away, making a half-hearted effort to hide her smirk. “The background and objectives regarding the matter are simple. A settlement to the North calling itself Conviction has somehow come into possession of a pre-war mechanical doctor. The tribe needs use of that machine. The settlers have refused all offers of a diplomatic nature. Their reasoning is simple as it is false; they claim we are a violent gang representative of the ongoing rot that plagues this world.”

I nodded my head throughout Bad Road’s opening. “So why send me?” I asked, picking at threads I didn’t like the looks of, “If you’ve already tried diplomacy and negotiation before why send another?”

“Exactly,” Brickbat cut in, slamming a hoof on the table, “We got to go in there and smash some fucking skulls. Show the creeps around here they can’t dick with us without getting it right up the ass.”

Bad Road raised his eyebrows with the expectant look of a parent waiting out a foal’s temper tantrum. When it seemed Brickbat was not going to continue her outburst, he went back to talking. “Your cheery fantasies aside, Brickbat, I would prefer we not add to the markers on the Long Road.”

“You just don’t respect our tradi—“

“Do not presume to lecture me on tradition!” roared Bad Road. His threw his forehooves on the table, lunging at Brickbat. His eyes wide with righteous anger, baring his teeth, he hissed at the mare. “I cut your father’s head from his body and flayed the flesh from his bones when you were but a child. I lead the raid to reclaim you and your mother from slaver trash. I went back to claim her head when she fell. Do not speak to me of our traditions, child, until you learn just what they truly mean.”

The mare shook. Her eyes, wide as saucers, stared back in shock at the sudden ferocity of Bad Road. She made no reply but to lower her head in silence.

Bad Road backed down, returning to his seated position. He and Big Buck shared a look to one another, solemn and sober. That distant look of understanding that shared pain brings passed from one to the other.

Looking back to Brickbat, I noticed she was chewing on her lip, still looking at the ground. A thin red line had appeared where she gnawed and was starting to stain her amber coat.

“Now then,” Bad Road spoke without emotion, as though the outburst had never happened, though he did so with shake and increased gravel in his voice that served as a constant reminder, “To answer your question, Curtain Call, it is because you are an unknown quantity. When you arrive to speak with the leader of the settlers, you will not be an envoy from us; you will present yourself as a mediator between our two groups. I’m certain you can assure that they have no reason to doubt your self interest over ours.”

I almost missed what Bad Road had said, my attention still on Brickbat. “Let me get this straight, you want me to play up my end of the deal?” the question was purely to buy me time to think.

Bad Road nodded.

“It’s a good idea. A smoke screen. Make them pay attention to my interests instead of yours.” I ran my tongue over my teeth, looking at the air while I drew up verbal battle plans. “I’ve got it. Yeah, this can be done. What do we know about them and their leaders?”

Two of the three around the table smiled at my response. Brickbat was adopting a stone look. She had stopped biting her lip, but the thin cut she made still bled.

“One leader, considers himself some form of mayor. I have my doubts as to their elective policy,” Bad Road explained, “He’s a pegasus named Anvil Crawler. I know, hard to believe. I don’t know his story, and I don’t particularly care. What I can tell you is that he has stonewalled me and any attempts to speak on our behalf in the past. He’s your trouble, not the ponies there. However, they follow his word to the letter, so I doubt you’ll be able to win them over to your side.”

I followed the words with meaningless nods. “Any reason to consider them dangerous?”

“Right now they’re nothing. That’s why we got to just cut them down,” Brickbat spoke up while keeping her hollow eyed look on the table. “No reason to wait until they get dangerous. Fuck it, just kill the mayor, the rest will fall apart.”

I looked over to Big Buck and Bad Road. The flat looks, the nothing response told me that Brickbat had a point to consider after all. “Good to have a back up plan,” I said, letting a grin grow on my face.

“Okay.” I coughed to clear my throat and focus the attention onto myself. “Here’s what I can take away from this. I’ve got a pegasus, which is enough to raise eyebrows as is. He also has a hate on for your, our, tribe and he has a whole settlement that hangs on his word. However, the settlers aren’t a threat so who gives a flying fuck. I think I got this. Anything else you care to give me?”

“Good luck.” grinned Big Buck.

I opted to leave behind a few accessories with my friends before leaving for the settlement. Not wanting to openly cart weapons into a diplomatic situation I left Old Friend and Sharp Retort behind. The radio stayed behind as well, not so much because it was threatening, more that I didn’t want to risk damaging it in case things went wrong. I kept my barding and my helmet since I wasn’t a complete fool. To top off my peaceful, if potentially unscrupulous, intent, I wore a piece of an old white sheet around my neck to serve as a flag.

While I walked through the hills and valleys that I am certain were green a long time ago I played count the tree. More specifically, I played count the dead thing that probably was a tree at one point. When I ran out of those to count, I started counting rocks. There were a lot of rocks. When I ran out of the attention span required to count rocks, I stopped counting altogether and began to think. Thoughts of negotiations, claiming the mechanical doctor, and the cheers of the Bastards upon my return all danced in my head. Cheering, in the Bastards’ case, being accompanied by the high intake of alcohol and a whirlwind night with a certain orange mare.

“You got to get a hold of it first, dipshit.”

I stopped; I closed my eyes, and said, “Radio.”

“Got it in one,” replied the cracking, popping voice of my hallucinatory harasser.

“How are you even here?” I asked, and started to walk. I opted to believe the logic that I could outpace the speaker box.

“Because I have decided to carry him,” explained the quietly insistent tones of a certain spectral zebra.

“Great, are you two going to gang up on me now?” I asked, opening my eyes to see Haki keeping pace with me. He carried Radio on his back. I couldn’t help but notice he was wearing that scarf again and for some reason it still bothered me. “Because if you guys are going to pull that crap, I’ll just make a new guy. I can do that you know.”

“But you would not,” Haki countered, looking at me from the corner of his eye, smiling, “It would not be the right thing to do.”

The radio crackled with a static laugh. “He’s too fucking thick to pull that off. Besides, we’re already here. What’s he need another?”

I looked to my side. The dim radio dial stared back at me. Haki smiled to himself. Together we walked in silence. Two of us walked, Radio just rode.

“Okay,” I broke the silence with a groan. “What’s the deal? I’m going to make a quick deal, done shit like this before. Doing it again.”

“You ain’t going to pull it off, Red. You don’t have it in you. You don’t know what you’re getting into and you’re putting up a fucking screen. And that screen ain’t even for your dupe, it’s for you.”

“Why the hell would I do that?” I challenged Radio’s assertion. “You and I, and I’m willing to bet Haki, know that fooling yourself doesn’t help. What kind of screen would I be setting up against myself? That’s just stupid.”

“He can learn,” Radio’s voice was far too cheery for my liking.

“Lying to yourself, what does it do?” Haki asked.

The zebra’s question struck deeper than the insults. I turned my head from the zebra to hide the building heat in my head. “It keeps you going. You can call it a screen or a lie, I call it hope.”

“You can’t spin us, Red,” Radio snapped, the speakers popping and hissing with the words, “You ain’t going to pull this off. Words won’t work this time.”

“So I just kill him. Get him alone, pound his head in.” The words lacked drive and effort behind them, no meaning. Even as I spoke them, I knew they were worthless. It would never work. There were too many unknowns to contend with to make assassination viable.

“That right, fucko?” Radio pushed harder. “Just like that? Don’t fucking bullshit us, Red. Come on, we all know that’s a bad idea. You won’t win, you won’t kill this guy. So get thinking. Get planning on how you can benefit from this shit. You know that the Bastards are already gearing up to stomp on these ponies. Don’t even fucking bother with their games. You’re sticking your neck out for nothing.”

“You know what, shut up, Radio,” I snapped at the radio, staring daggers at the illusory device. I wasn’t going to take being berated by my own imagination. “I’m going to do this. I’m going to run rings around them. I’ll be walking out of there with two sets of allies. I do enough here, we’ll get Haven up and running again. Then it’s a beeline to the soda, onto the Haystack, and a whole new place of my own.”

I turned my nose up at the Radio and all it stood for. “You just walk me work some magic, and then see if you’re still so damn certain I’ve got this wrong.”

When I looked back, neither the Radio nor Haki were there. I had wanted Haki to hang around. Now I was alone until I found the settlement.

At least I could always go back to counting trees.

I didn’t find the settlement of Conviction so much as I was visually assaulted by it. The settlement wasn’t made out of anything unique, the same junk, rubble, refuse and wreckage that made up any other wasteland town. The difference here was all of the junk had a fresh coat of paint on it. Vibrant yellows, reds, blues, greens and purples bright and lively regardless of the clouded sky above. It all looked so clean. The town was in ruins, but at least it was clean and well-maintained ruins.

As I drew nearer, I saw the ponies. What I saw left me feeling both dirty and yet over dressed. A collection of ponies, a dozen I could see, milled about among the small square ramshackle homes of the township. My jaw dropped when I saw them. Most were unicorn, but more than a few earth ponies to round out the ranks and none of them wore barding. None of them wore helmets. None of them wore radiation suits. None of them were even armed. They were just ponies as ponies should be.

They saw me as much as I saw them. Turns out a red stallion wearing yellow and white does not blend into his surroundings well. I wasn’t to concerned. After all, they were waving to me as I approached. A pale green earth pony approached me out of the group. Her long mane was a darker green streaked with white.

“Hey there,” she said in a voice far too cheery for an unarmored pony in the middle of a blight blasted waste. “Welcome to Conviction, my name’s Sea Breeze. Why don’t you come on in? We’d all love to make your acquaintance.”

I cannot say I expected that sort of a reception. I gave Sea Breeze my name and swept my way with her into the population of Conviction. The initial friendliness shown by Sea Breeze never word down. Pony after pony, earth and unicorn, all of them kind, open, friendly and welcoming. All in all, deeply unsettling.

Sea Breeze made for a competent, if a little bubbly, tour guide. With the kind of civic pride only found in long outdated propaganda, she paraded me past their primary color infrastructure. The town sported a one-mare post office, though I couldn’t imagine there was much business in a town that barely numbered over two dozen and were all localized in a single area. Nevertheless, the mare in charge was kind enough to offer her services should I need them.

Moving on with our tour, Sea Breeze brought me into a general store. The owner, a teal unicorn going by Saltlick, was kind enough. He was a soft bargainer, but I threw the deal in his favor, going high on a bundle of wiring and a partially functioning ward talisman meant for security spells. The extra caps were worth it to ingratiate myself with the public of Conviction. I didn’t have long to pull information out of my new friend before Sea Breeze pulled me away again.

Since I had bought some parts, my tour guide felt I should see their resident repair pony, Redline. Like the rest, she was friendly in that borderline overwhelming manner. Still building a good report, I gave away my equipment for the young mare to take care of. While she worked, she spoke about her love of working with metal even though she expressed disdain over why it was being used in the first place. I found that I couldn’t deny her point.

While Redline was delving into the conundrum of loving working with armor yet hating the reasons behind it, I took a look at her flank. Not in any sexual way, mind, but because I couldn’t help but notice the cutie mark that she had. It was a shotgun. Now, I knew that cutie marks were not always spot on accurate, but I had to think about the other ones I had seen in Conviction. Saltlick had a razor blade, and the postal mare several links of chain. While pondering the matter at hoof, I snuck a look at Sea Breeze while she lead me out of the armory.

When I saw the pair of crossbones on her hide, I was glad for my freshly repaired armor, but I was growing far less comfortable with this town. Too wholesome, too nice, too damn safe seeming, and I had long since started to wonder why it was the Bastards didn’t just stomp them into the dirt for what they needed. I couldn’t make sense of it, and I was growing more desperate to.

“Sea Breeze,” I said to get the pony’s attention. She was midway through a talk about how they were planning for a get together to raise a barn by Tuesday, something about increasing their farm yield. “You have been a wonderful guide, but I was hoping to speak with Anvil Crawler while I was here. If you could be so kind as to let me know where he is?”

Sea Breeze went wide-eyed for a moment. “Oh? Oh! I’m so sorry,” she said in a gasp. “I should have asked you where you wanted to go instead of just dragging you around silly-willy.” She tapped the side of her head, repeating, “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

I laughed shallowly, uncertain and uncomfortable with how easily the mare became upset. “Hey, now, Sea Breeze. It’s not so bad. I, I really liked it. Redline cleaned my armor, I got some good deals. I had a good time. I just need to get on with my business and I’d hate to keep him waiting.”

Sea Breeze took a deep breath and offered me a weak smile. She shook her head, tossing her mane left to right. “Okay. I can do that. I’m sure you have much more important things to talk about than just looking around our little town. Of course I can take you to the mayor. Come on, he’s just over in the old school house. You’re going to like him. He’s the best.”

The schoolhouse was a small affair. A small square building whose only defining feature was the short belfry that stood on the façade roof. Like the rest of the township, it had a fresh coat of paint, in this case violet. The bell up in the tower was didn’t gleam, but that it existed was reason enough to be impressed with what must have been a simple structure before the war. The sign above the entrance said “Conviction School and Town Hall”. Underneath was a second sign stating “Anvil Crawler, Mayor”. Since it wasn’t torn down, burnt, spat at or shot, I had to assume it was new work.

Upon entering, I found the interior was not spared the restorative efforts granted the outside. A small room in the front served as a foyer. The inside was worn, and the wallpaper quite literally patchwork, but clear attention was paid to matching color and design to make for smooth transitions from one to another. A few cushions sat spread about for those having to wait. However, there were no ponies inside to sit.

Sea Breeze did not bother telling me to wait, or even knock on the mayor’s door. Like her namesake, she swept in without warning. “Anvil!” she called out in a sugary tone, eyes a flutter, “I’ve got a pony here and he says he has something to talk to you about. Oh, and he’s from outside, and I already showed him the town.”

The lavender Pegasus sitting behind the large desk and in front of the larger chalk board on the far looked up with a cool nonchalance. He regarded me a moment, looking me over for summary judgment. “Thank you, Sea Breeze. Your hospitality is commendable. If you don’t mind, I’m certain that our guest,” he stopped talking, eyes flitting to the mare beside me.

“Curtain Call,” she answered with an eager smile.

“Well I’m certain Curtain Call would like to speak with me about important matters in private. If you don’t mind, why don’t you go see how the plans for tonight’s story are going. See if anypony has a particular interesting tale to tell. If they don’t wish to tell it, you know what to do.”

“Make them feel brave enough to try?”

“Right on the nose, Sea Breeze.” Anvil Crawler tapped his hoof on the end of his broad muzzle. “See you tonight, then, I’m sure you’ll drum up a good one.”

Not needing any more encouragement, Sea Breeze gave me one last smile, a grin, and zipped out the door in a blink.

“She’s an eager one, Sea Breeze. But an absolutely lovely mare. She’ll make some mare happier than sunshine one of these days, mark my words.” The pegasus stated with a sense of pride as inflated as his chest.

“Please, sit if you’d like,” he invited me by waving his wing at several desks placed in a horseshoe around the room. “Or stand if you’d rather.” He did. He was not a particularly large pony. I was both taller and thicker by a good margin, but he had a swagger and a cocksure posture that made me want to take notes. He took up nearly twice as much space as his size needed, and that was before taking his wings into consideration. Like the others in the little town of Conviction, he wore no armor. A pair of brass colored stars adorned his flank.

He wanted me to take notice of himself, and I wasn’t going to disappoint. However, despite my notation of the mayor, I was more interested in the familiar shape of a mister hoof robot on a dais in the corner. The yellow and pink paint job told me all I needed to know about it.

Anvil Crawler caught me staring. He let out an audible sigh to catch my attention back onto him. “So tell me about my town, Curtain Call. What is your opinion on it all?” He walked around his desk and made it a point to stretch and settle his wings as he did.

“To be honest, I find it hard to believe.” I spoke the truth, no point to bluff yet, but I did refrain from admitting my suspicions. I started to make my own rounds of the office as well, taking care and caution to look as casual as possible.

To my surprise, Anvil Crawler laughed. It was light, condescending, and less a laugh and more chuckle. “I cannot say I blame you. After all, Equestria is hardly the land it once was. To see it alive again must be a shock.”

“You could say that again,” I gave in empty reply. “I didn’t think there was a place that ponies still lived like this. I suppose I’m too used to the blood and bullets line of fashion. I think it might take a little while for pastels to catch on.”

“In time, they will. You’ll see.” The pegasus kept a tight eye on me and our pacing followed a mirrored track until he found himself a position in front of his desk from which to lord over. “A little kindness and a little happiness are all that most ponies need. If they have that, we could all live in peace again.”

“Lofty words and high hopes. What gives you the idea that you can do that?”

“Not me. I may have been granted a great responsibility, but not me. No, no, this is all Stardust’s idea. It’s his vision and his works that can bring Equestria back to its old glory.”

There was that name again. I frowned and thought about the empty town and its little radio station, and my newest gadget. Screw the mechanical doctor, I had information to pump. “Really? How so?” I asked, taking a seat to suggest more comfort than I had in the situation.

“I knew that would get your attention.” He was right for all the wrong reasons. “Stardust’s retreat is the greatest place a pony could find themselves today. Many go in for the relaxation, the calm environment, the thriving community of genuine ponies. After the times they have, and given the knowledge that such a life can be theirs, many wish to join us in encouraging positive growth for the land. We’ve grown so large, I was tasked with taking these ponies you have met today in order to establish a satellite township in connection with the retreat.”

I had trouble telling if Anvil Crawler was giving me a sales pitch or if he had genuine belief in the words he was saying. It struck me as a little more proactive a plan than what was being sold on the radio. I had to admit, somewhere deep inside I was a mixture of interested in living the old world way and skeptical of a blatant impossibility. A third part of me was jealous I didn’t find a way to market the concept myself.

“What about Haven?” I asked, swallowing my suspicion as best I could. “I heard the ponies there recently joined up. Any word on them?”

Anvil Crawler smiled the broadest smile with the most teeth that I had ever seen on a pony. “Yes, yes, many of them stopped here on their migration. Several even helped us with some of the renovations. I suspect many, if not all of them, are currently living the lives they deserve. I do hope to see many of them again.”

That was honest and the thought of it made my stomach churn. “What about the tribe to the South. The Bastards? I see their tags everywhere.”

“You also came here to speak for them.”

I could hear the sound of my hope balloon deflating. There went my being an unknown quantity.

“I saw you watching the mechanical doctor.” Anvil Crawler’s explanation came with a nod to the pink and yellow robot in he corner. “They have sent their numbers here on several occasions. I kept telling them that they and their ways are not welcome here. We refuse to truck with the very murderous thugs that cause the continued suffering of Equestria.”

I needed a spin and fast. “I’m sorry,” I started simple, “I wasn’t aware. I’ve only recently come to dealings with them. Have you tried telling them about the retreat? After all, I spent barely an afternoon in this town and I have to admit I’m interested.” I wanted to figure out the scheme, but interest was interest and what Anvil Crawler didn’t know, didn’t hurt me.

“The very first thing we offered was our hospitality,” Anvil claimed, and from what I had experienced, I had little reason to doubt his honesty. “We told them about the ways of Old Equestria. We told them that if we were to trade with them as they were, that we would be contributing to the problem. If they were to just visit Dancer’s then they would see, but no. They refused.”

The pegasus looked down at the floor, his wings drooping and his head shook. “They claimed their independence and their freedom allowed them to be the way they were.” He lifted his head, tucked his wings in and looked through me when he spoke. “I tried to inform them that their lifestyle was not free. They are at the mercy of others and need to learn to live with society. I can only hope that they will learn their lesson by experiencing the negative repercussions of their behavior.”

“Seems a rather harsh lesson,” I ventured into the realm of ethics with trepidation. Not only wasn’t I the best versed on the subject, word or deed both, but it wouldn’t get me any closer to getting the mechanical doctor.

“Is it?” questioned Anvil Crawler with a confident grin growing. “They murder, fight, coerce, and deal in terrible chemicals when they do bother to trade.” He stood and began to pace. “Now I understand you are new to these Bastards.” He spoke the world with disgust. “You haven’t had the time to see their behavior for yourself. To be honest, I hope you don’t have to.”

We were entering lecture territory at a breakneck pace. I knew I had to put a stop to this if I wanted to get anywhere productive. “Actually, I have,” I pointed out, “I’m only looking to do this to help a friend of mine, you see. The Bastards have taken her captive. I only agreed to broker this deal in order to gain her release.”

Anvil Crawler looked to me, judged me, tried to find the lie in my words. There was enough truth to the statement, and I was sure enough I threw him off. We shared a moment where we both waited for the other to break.

“Then I’m afraid your friend will have to find her freedom another way,” the pegasus finally decided. “We cannot compromise the wasteland by granting an inch to those who would tear it apart. We cannot give ourselves over to those who would coerce us. To do so leads down the same roads that brought destruction in the first place.”

“I don’t think that’s entirely fair. I’m only asking for a little sympathy.”

Anvil Crawler tapped a hoof on his desk, avoiding meeting me eyes. “It isn’t, and I can admit that. I am not saying that this decision comes simply. Growing up in Cloudsdale, at a young age I learned the dangers of giving into bullies regardless of motivation.”

My attention focused with a beam gun like intensity on this new statement. I had read and rooted through the past to know that there was just a teensy-tiny little discrepancy in what Anvil Crawler said.

“Cloudsdale has been destroyed for hundreds of years.”

Anvil Crawler locked his eyes on me. Then he was silent. He stared unblinking for a minute before finally responding, with a shake of his head, “That’s shows what little you know. I distinctly remember the grand columns, the sweeping skies, the rain factory, and my friends. Even my little pet dove, Olive. Who, like I was trying to explain, was the reason I will not brook bullies and thugs. I did so many stupid things as a foal to keep that lovely bird safe, and in the end, they still hurt her. Because that is how those kinds of ponies think.”

“What happened to your friends?” I cut in with a light question, thrown out in a casual way. “Sorry for getting away from track, but how are they? Still in Cloudsdale?”

Once again, the pegasus stared into a blank space that only he could see. This time, I took the momentary lapse in response to go study the mechanical doctor. I learned that I knew nothing about the actual operation of these things and studying it was a waste of time. All I needed was a look to the still in stasis Anvil Crawler to remind myself I wasn’t doing anything but wasting time.

“That’s irrelevant.”

I spun around to look at the pegasus, who was looking back at me. “Where they are has nothing to do with why you’re here. We really should be getting down to brass tacks. I cannot just keep fielding answers about my past. I will not make deals that will continue the decline of Equestria.”

I blinked back at the sudden response. The last moments spent indulging my curiosity put me off my game. I searched for words.

“Repeating yourself won’t help, Curtain Call,” Anvil Crawler spoke up. He started to rub an ear with a hoof. “I will always remember Clousdale. We can never forget. I mean, I can never forget.”

He lowered his head and held his hooves alongside. “I am sorry, Curtain Call. I cannot help those tribals. The very notion is giving me a headache. It will do you well to not fall in with crowds like The Bastards. Good day.”

I stood in shock. I was being stonewalled. “Is there anything I could to change your position?” I asked, pressing the issue. I was fine with doing favors to get favors.

Anvil Crawler looked back at me. One eye was closed and a deep frown was dug into his face. “No. I cannot think of anything you can do to break my principles. Please go and inform your gang that we have no desire or need to assist them. We are always open to more discussions and we hope that some day they will see the error of their ways.”

I raised my head and did my best to look down at the pegasus. Not hard to do physically, but I didn’t feel like I could. I still felt like I lost here. I was beaten by a scatterbrained liar of a pegasus who fabricated his own past to serve his point. I loathed Anvil Crawler and the power he held over me in this situation.

For a moment, I entertained the thought of just beating him until he gave up the mechanical doctor, but I doubted my ability to lug it back alone. I gave in.

“Thank you for your time,” I told Anvil Crawler. I kept my head high and walked out of the classroom with my dignity intact. I carried that dignity and poise past the ponies of Conviction, out of the small town and back into the wasteland.

Then, when I was well and clear of anypony, I allowed myself a self-pitying trudge on my route back to the encampment. The weight bore down on me. I couldn’t broker a deal. Now unless Bad Road’s thief plan came through, there would be a war. The Bastards would stomp a group of genuinely kind ponies just because their differences couldn’t be crossed.

More importantly, I lost. I lost to the leader of a bunch of rubes.

The walk back felt twice as long as going in. I did not count the fucking trees.

My anger had mostly subsided by the time I made it back to The Bastards’ camp. I passed by Shrike and Dozer at the bottleneck of an entrance. A nod from Dozer and a well meaning mock salute from Shrike. Respect and friendship comes in flavors, but I was in still in a rough mood so I ignored them on my way to find Bad Road. He had to know about the misstep and I had to try and finagle something out of our deal.

I found Bad Road in the small circular tent he kept in the roundhouse. The others in charge of The Bastards weren’t there, most likely off “not leading” things. I didn’t bother to question it. I found the pony I was looking for. He was sat on a cushion, looking over a book by the light of a lantern. His back was to the tent’s entrance flap but he greeted my by name when I poked my head inside.

“I’m not surprised you couldn’t succeed in convincing them in cooperation. They adhere to their outmoded ways, stagnant worshippers of the very conceits that ruined them and their kingdom. They continue to pursue a path that leads them into the fire.” Bad Road closed the large book he was reading and looked over his shoulder at me. His eyes looked more sunken than they had earlier. “But you are not here to listen to me philosophize, and I cannot lose the time in doing so. I have to keep trying to avert the coming conflict.”

I stared back at the older pony, watched him stand and walk toward me. Out of a sudden stroke of politeness, I stepped aside, letting him pass. By the time he disappeared, I was left with the distinct impression that he just held a conversation with me, without me.

Not wanting to stand alone in the roundhouse, I left to search out my friends.

Daisy was counting the contents of the medicart. On her hind legs and propped over the side, she rattled numbers off under her breath. Her indigo mane, back in a braid, hung by her neck, the tip swung back and forth as she nodded her head, ticking off our things.

“Good to see you up and running,” I spoke up to get the mare’s attention. “Everything check out?”

“Everything’s good,” Daisy noted, slipping from the side of the cart. “It’ll be good to have some extra room in there now that I’m not stuck on my side.”

She trotted around the side, checking on the wheels. She tapped the hub with a critical hoof. “I’ll pull it from here on out,” she told me, looking back over her shoulder. “You’ve got enough crap on you already. You look like a robopony with all that gear on.” She gave a laugh and went back to looking over the cart.

“That’s a relief. You were getting a little heavy. Think it was too much time off your hooves.” I grinned and leaned against the cart.

“Watch your mouth. I carted your ass to the sawbones after that unicorn smacked you around like a filly.”

“And I thank you very much for that. I’ll keep it in mind the next time I plan on being unconscious,” I told her, looking back into the medicart. Daisy’s gear was laid out inside. The repurposed sports equipment with the spikes reminded me of the general aesthetic of the Bastards.

“So when are we getting back on the track for the soda?”

I looked back over to Daisy. “Not sure,” I admitted. “Didn’t get use of the mechanical doctor.” I snorted and tried not look too suspicious

Hiding my annoyance didn’t go well. Daisy saw right through me and gave me a swift thump on my shoulder. “You’re ticked your words didn’t get through to them?”

“It should have been easy. I could have, should have, talked my way right through them. Not that I’m angry or anything. I just want to watch him fall down a flight of stairs.”

“That’s it?”

“Two flights.”

“Good to know you aren’t vengeful.”

“I am an exemplar of mercy.”

Daisy laughed as she completed her inspection of the medicart. “Looks in good shape,” she rendered her judgment mostly to herself. “Better than my armor, at least. This is going to be a pain to repair.”

My ears perked. “That reminds me,” I told the mare and dug into my saddlebag. I tossed the parts and pieces I picked up in Conviction into the cart. “While I was making friends with the natives, I dropped some caps.”

Daisy nodded with approval. “Good on you for that. I can work with these. “You know, I always felt weird without my gear on. Don’t get how some pony’s go without any.”

“Like Two-Shot?”

“I’ve been with that pony for years, and I knew him longer than that, but in all that time I’ve never seen him in armor.”

“Never worn any at all?”

Daisy shook her head. “He hates armor. It’s one of the few things I can’t budge him on.” She signed and looked up to the clouds. “At least he has his force shield spell.”

I looked around, I had sort of taken it for granted that Two-Shot tended to be around Daisy whenever her could and yet we were sniperless. “Where did he get off to, anyways? He find the Bastards’ drug cache?”

“Nah. He was showing a few of the unicorn foals how to do some of his spells. His amplifier spell if my ears heard right.” Daisy was grinning and looking out at nothing as she spoke.

I could only muster a grunt of surprise at first. When I could find words, I said, “Feel bad for the tribe, can you imagine a gang of foals with loudspeakers at the ready?”

“Psychological warfare at its finest,” Daisy pointed out and we shared a short laugh.

“Oh,” she added, looking at me again, “Fizzy’s off working on some experiment of hers. She’s locked up inside one of the boxcars. I checked on her a while back, but I think she welded the door shut.”

I looked around as though I could pinpoint the exact train Fizzy was in. I figured it would be the one exploding. Unfortunately, none of them seemed particularly volatile for now.

“Cutter’s still in the medical tent. One of the tribals fell off a train and broke her leg. She’s refusing to use magical healing on it to conserving our supplies for the trip. So I think we may actually have the bird on board.”

That was welcome news, but Cutter was still laboring under the idea that I would be back with the mechanical doctor. I had doubts she would be so ready to leave when she found out I came back without the device.

“If you’re looking for Summer Bounty, I think she’s working her own cart.” Daisy’s tone took a noticeable downturn. “She seems a bit self interested, don’t you think?” she asked with suspicion. “I can’t say I trust her.”

“Neither do I,” I agreed, “But aren’t we all?”

Daisy had to take her turn to agree. “Yeah, but mark me here, Call, you get more out of working for a unit than just looking out for yourself.”

“Speak from experience?”

“All too much. Before I took to being a merc, I ran with more a few tumbledown gangs and raiders. I can see the difference between getting something good out of having friends and being friendly to get something good. You get what I’m saying?”

I told her yes.

The next few hours were of little words and even less consequence. Daisy and I sat around and watched the scenery for some time. I grew restless and left to find my gear. It was, as expected, where I left it by where Summer had bed down for the night. She wasn’t there, so I took advantage of the open spot to take a nap.

Once awake and rested, I reattached Old Friend to my foreleg and my broadcaster on my back, I took to wandering the encampment. The light was growing low, and the camp seemed buzzing over something. Several Bastards of various species were flitting about to pile junk for a fire. They were moving much faster than the night before, it was an angry energy that set my teeth on edge. It wasn’t until I passed by one of the furthest away boxcars that I had an inkling why.

“Every time!” A voice inside the closed car raged. “Every fucking time I try to make a change it falls apart! Why?”

I leaned against the wall of the boxcar, pressing my ear against the metal. I listened to the clanging and stomping of hooves. It sounded like a single pony, a single pony that I had seen temperamental earlier today. But, I had to wonder just what and why Bad Road was out here screaming, and at who.

“Is this some kind of cruel joke and I’m the terrible fucking punchline?” Something crashed. “Why show me? Why? What am I to do but stop them? Must I live with seeing everypony I know die twice? What is the purpose of it all and why me?” Glass broke.

My curiosity boiled inside of me. I snuck around the side of the car until I found a big enough hole to peek through. I looked in to see Bad Road, white mane hanging in front of his eyes without his cap to hold it back. He stormed left and right, snorting and stomping in rage and frustration. Unfortunately, I couldn’t see the subject of his wrath, just him.

“I’ve fought, and I’ve fought and I’ve fought for too long already,” Bad Road’s rage took on a pleading tone. “How many will I see die, and how many will I send off to die trying to stop the deaths from happening? You took two more today. You vicious bitch. Two more. I hope you’re happy. Who the fuck am I kidding? You’re always happy.”

The dust brown pony moved out of my line of sight. I struggled to keep him in view, but couldn’t manage it.

“But that’s all it is, isn’t it? Make it a little better, no; we don’t make it really better. We just make it seem better. Give them a smile before knowing we send them off to die. Fine. Fine. You’ve made your point.”

Bad Road crossed into my sights again. He stepped in front of the door out. His tail twitched. “I’m aware of your presence,” he said, eyes closed. “I need to find Shrike and Brickbat, but I think it’s in your best interest to attend the bonfire tonight. I believe it will interest you.” He moved toward the door, but stopped himself again. “And Curtain Call, please do not come in here. There is nothing inside this place worth salvaging.”

I turned around and sat on the dirt. I was embarrassed for having been caught. Stranger still was whether he ranted for or despite me. There was no reason for choosing to shout like a mad pony while being watched. There must have been some purpose behind it all. Maybe to tell me to go see whatever was happening at the bonfire, or maybe to keep me out of the boxcars, maybe nothing at all and he was stark raving mad. All three had a good chance of being right, and not one excluded the others of being also true.

Despite my curiosity, when I left, I left without going into the boxcar.

The light of the ever-hiding sun was long gone but the incandescence of the bonfire stood as good a rival as any. The fire raged at the heavens, clutching for the clouds and sky. It burst and roared with a discordant heat, snapping and lashing about as a demon restrained. Surrounding the flames were the Bastards. In many ways, less kind than the writhing flames they watched.

They stood in loose ranks, brought together through brotherhood and bloodlust. Most were silent, a few murmurs rippled through the crowd. Inner fury and the heat of the flames fueled these rumblings of anticipation. Pony, griffin, buffalo, all the sorts and styles of Bastard in attendance were individual yet gathered as one. All were waiting for one thing.

We, that is, myself, Fizzy, Two-Shot, Daisy, Cutter and Summer Bounty, were as drawn as the Bastards. Both emotions and fire entice and here the tensions where high and the heat intense. Together we watched, amassed as a separate group among a larger group. We watched the fire, but like the others, we were watching for one thing.

A hulking shadow moved in front of the flames. The massive frame was simple to identify as belonging to Big Buck Bastard, the namesake of the tribe he stood to address. As I had noticed, he was simple and unadorned as usual, eschewing the bullets, bones and feathers so common among his followers. Being backlit by the dancing flame, his features were indistinct, but in some way that was the point. Now, when he spoke, he was not a single simple buffalo, he was darkness wreathed in flame, standing in as the very spirit of the tribe.

“Look to your left. Look to your right. What you see are your brothers and sisters. What you see is your family. Those around you, whatever species they may be, are your fellow Bastards. Each of us has endured the whip of those who deny us. Some of us have been called too small, too weak, too dangerous, too angry, or simply just not good enough for them. Some of us have been slaves. Some of us hated for simply surviving as we wished. We have come together, we have stayed together, out of our understanding that there are bonds greater than that of blood and birth. That is why we call ourselves Bastards. We do not care who our fathers are, for what matters is ourselves, and our family. What say you?”

Hoof beats filled the air along with shrill whistles. Whoops joined with screeches and roars.

“Those of you who looked to your family will have noticed that we are less in number than we began the day. Today, two of our own, Mossy and Riveter, have been taken from us while attempting to secure a mechanical doctor for each of you and the tribe. They have been taken by our enemies; the settlers who have the spine to call their town Conviction. These ponies have conviction, that they do. Those convictions are that we are nothing and they are all. Their conviction is that the only way for us to live with them, to live alongside them, is to live as them. Bad Road has spoken on our behalf. Dozer has spoken on our behalf. Our newest brother, Curtain Call, has spoken on our behalf. All three times we have been rebuffed. All three times we have been spat upon and spurned. Now, they take our lives.”

The crowd surged. The beats continued, growing in pitch and lining in rhythm. The shouts, whistles, and whoops had all fallen silent. Focus was on Big Buck. A storm of fury and violence was ready and waiting for direction.

“We cannot allow this to stand any longer. We must, together, stomp out those who wish to do us harm. I ask all of you to stand with your fellow Bastard to take up arms against our aggressors. We have attempted words, we have attempted subtlety, it is now time for us to show them force. The assault I call for is more than our pride at these insults thrown at our way of living. The assault I call for is more than our needs and a mechanical doctor. Now, because of them, they have made the assault I call for about our brothers. It is our task, our duty as a tribe, to reclaim their skulls to add to the Long Road. What we do is not for ourselves, no, this is for our brethren, and all Bastards who watch over the Long Road!”

The crowd erupted along with Big Buck. There was no question of their compliance. The buffalo waited for the cries to die down before he continued.

“As I have in the past, I shall lead this charge to battle. I have never, nor will I ever ask for any of you to risk what I will not. We are all Bastards, and we shall march as one. We shall visit upon this town of Conviction and we shall rain vengeance. Go and rest, my family, for as the light dawns we shall rise, and by the fading of the light, Conviction shall be no more.”

The sounds were deafening. I felt the beating of hooves in my chest. And as I listened to the scream started by Big Buck and continued by the Bastards, I understood just what plagued Bad Road.

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Author's Note:

Thank you to everyone reading this.