Fallout Equestria: The Light Within

by FireOfTheNorth

Chapter 20: Crate City

Chapter Twenty: Crate City

“Today was a good day—nay, a fantastic day. A stallion always secretly wishes his son will grow up to follow in his hoofsteps, and I’ve seen my wish fulfilled. Not that it was any surprise—Golden Saber was always interested in becoming a soldier—but it still feels good to have it confirmed. He officially joined the Equestrian Army today. He’ll have to start from the bottom, but if he keeps his head about him as he has growing up in the Empire, I’m sure he’ll advance quickly. He longs for combat on the front lines, and there’re plenty of opportunities as this seven-year war with the zebras continues, but he’ll be far safer in Canterlot or as part of the National Defense Force. I still have some strings to pull in the Equestrian Army, even if I’m no longer part of it,” Shining Armor spoke through my PipBuck’s speakers.

The recording was of higher quality than the first one (and Shining Armor apparently knew how to work the equipment), but it was still clearly an older recording that had been converted into digital information later. Shining Armor was, apparently, keeping an audio journal, the subject of the first entry he’d chosen to store on this datatape being his son’s acceptance into the Equestrian Army. Golden Saber was likely the stallion I’d seen on the general’s desk in the Flankorage simulation, and it was possible that the photo had been taken the same day as this recording. Some things puzzled me and didn’t fit together, though. Shining Armor had clearly said he was no longer a member of the Equestrian Army, even though I was certain the Flankorage reclamation had taken place later than this recording. Perhaps a later recording would reveal how he had rejoined, but for now it was a mystery.

He’d also mentioned an empire, but the only empire I knew was the zebra empire, and I was sure his son would never have grown up there. Perhaps it had to do with the Crystal Em-something that Twilight had nearly slipped up and mentioned.
The Crystal Empire? I’d never heard of such a place, but I also hadn’t had the opportunity to look at many maps of Equestria other than the one on my PipBuck. There was no Crystal Empire there, no matter where I looked, though it had seemed a secret even back during the War, so the likelihood I would stumble across mention of it today was slim to nil.

“What the Steel Ranger scribes would give to have that recording, and pick through every word searching for knowledge,” Rare Sparks commented from her spot at the end of my bed, “It’s a good thing you didn’t share what was in that box before you took it, or Sagebrush would’ve had another fit.”

It was nearly nightfall when we arrived at Crate City, and ponies were turning in for the night. We wouldn’t have much luck asking about Mr. Bucke when the settlement’s streets were abandoned, so Rare and I found a place to stay for the night.
Unlike in Burnside, she was actually allowed through the city gates, though suspicious looks were still cast upon her everywhere we went. She explained that the Steel Rangers had recently fostered a better relationship with the ponies of Crate City, as it was the closest major settlement to their headquarters, but there was still distrust from back before Elder Manticore’s Fury’s leadership of the contingent.

Crate City was built in Vanhoover’s former harbor, and it was aptly named. Though there were a few existing buildings and ships that ponies inhabited, the majority of the settlement had been constructed from old shipping containers. The hotel Rare Sparks and I booked a room in—The Stacks—was a multilayered maze of the things. The room was just an old shipping container with strung up electric lights, a beat-up tool chest for a dresser, and a bed pushed into the back corner.
One bed was plenty, since Rare Sparks was still unable to leave her armor. I took the remarkably clean mattress while she folded herself into a sitting position at the end of it and locked her Steel Ranger armor down.

“You said the Black Skulls don’t usually operate this far north, right?” I asked, thinking about our run-in with the mercenaries earlier today, “Why do you think they were?”

“No idea. They usually keep south of the river, outside the main city. We Steel Rangers have been fighting them for years over territory; it’s a good thing the MWT Hub is so heavily fortified,” Rare Sparks replied, “If they’ve diverted forces here, there has to have been a doozy of a reason, and for these mercs, it’s got to be one of two things. Either they’ve been offered a prodigious amount of money, or they saw the opportunity to gain substantial power. Either way, this could end badly for the Steel Rangers.”

“Can you contact them and let them know?” I asked, thinking of the helmet radios.

“Unless there’s another Steel Ranger nearby, there’s no way to contact them by radio,” Rare Sparks said with a sigh, “We have drop sites scattered throughout Vanhoover, but none around here. I could leave a message with somepony in town, but it might never find its way to a Steel Ranger, even if I pay for it.”

“Mr. Bucke’s behind it, I’m sure,” I said as I lay back on the bed.

“Maybe,” Rare Sparks said, less convinced than I was, “Tomorrow may prove or disprove it. We should get some sleep.”

***

The next day, Rare Sparks and I set out into the streets of Crate City to dig up some clues. It didn’t prove to be as easy a task as I’d hoped, but I wouldn’t be deterred. Rare Sparks and I soon split up to cover more ground (and so I could ask questions without the townsponies spending the whole time staring anxiously at the Steel Ranger). Still, most of the residents didn’t seem to recognize my description of Mr. Bucke with more than a passing recollection. He probably hadn’t spent a great deal of time here, but it was sill odd that they hadn’t noticed an outsider, given how slowly things seemed to move here and how relatively isolated the town was. A few of the townsponies recalled the shady stallion, but the only information they could give me was that they’d seen him around the settlement, several even pointing me in the direction of the mayor’s residence, as Mr. Bucke had been seen entering and leaving there. Some of the ponies I spoke with nervously excused themselves shortly after I started talking, even without Rare Sparks at my side, and I began to grow suspicious.

Record Breaker had mentioned that he’d seen Mr. Bucke with the town’s leaders, and now residents on the settlement were saying the same thing. I began to wonder if Mr. Bucke and Crate City’s leaders were on friendly terms. If so, then asking around loudly about him in the streets probably wasn’t a wise move. I was considering trying to find Rare Sparks and getting out of here before we ran into trouble, when trouble came to me.Before I knew what was happening, I was surrounded by members of Crate City’s militia, their guns pointed at me.

“No hasty moves now,” a pink earth pony with a desperado hat pinned with a sheriff’s badge said as his associates relieved me of my weapons and saddlebags, “Come on, you’re under arrest.”

“What for?” I asked as I was marched through Crate City’s streets, but I received no answer.

My mind raced as they led me down toward the coast toward a floating shack with guards posted at the door. If these ponies were in league with Mr. Buck, I had to get out of here. There wasn’t much chance of that, though, not when I was both outnumbered and without any of my weapons. The moment to fight back had passed, and I doubted I could’ve made it then anyway. I could try to swim away, but my PipBuck was beginning to click just by being near the water, and I didn’t want to think about what would happen if I took a dip without any Rad-X or RadAway. As they locked me up in the shack, I considered that Rare Sparks was still out there; she could break me out if it came to it.

That idea went up in smoke when the Crate City militia returned a few minutes later with my Steel Ranger companion in tow. The floating shack rocked precariously as she stepped onto it, and the radioactive water splashed around my hooves. I didn’t get a chance to speak to her, as I was pushed out by the guards the moment she was let into the shack. The guards at the door looked incredibly nervous as I was led away, and I probably would have been too in their position. Holding a Steel Ranger as a prisoner, while she was still in fully functional power armor, was amazingly pointless. If she didn’t break out herself, then a small squad of her comrades could easily free her and wipe out the entire town in the process. The fact that the Steel Rangers were trying to patch up relations with the civilized ponies of the Wasteland was probably the only thing keeping her from fighting back and tearing Crate City apart.

Now that I was deprived of my weapons and unable to call for Steel Ranger assistance, a smaller group of ponies escorted me through the town. Led by the sheriff, the trio marched me to the stack of fishing boats that some of the ponies I’d spoken to had pointed out as the mayor’s residence. I was forced into a chair once inside, and a mare in an atrocious periwinkle blue business suit entered the room.

“What’s your relationship with Mr. Bucke?” she asked bluntly as the sheriff watched from nearby.

“Nothing,” I said, surprised and more than a little pleased by how angry the mare seemed to even mention my quarry’s name, “I’m trying to hunt him down for destroying the Republic of Rose.”

“He was behind that? Hmph, not surprising,” the mayor said, though the sheriff seemed plenty surprised, “How would you know that, though, unless you were an accomplice of his, as we suspected?”

“What? No way! He tried to make me part of his plan, but I refused,” I explained, “Why? What did he do here?”

“You know full well what he did!” the mayor said, jabbing me in the chest with a hoof, “Then, to top it all off, he steals our water talisman on the way out!”

“Honestly, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said, trying to put on the most innocent face as possible, “I only met Mr. Bucke once, but I’m trying to find him now to stop him from hurting any more towns.”

“A likely story, and the perfect cover for one of his agents!” the mayor said passionately, getting red in the face and jabbing me more frequently with her hoof.

“Uh, Mayor Ginger Snap,” the sheriff coughed nearby for her attention, “I think maybe he’s telling the truth.”

“Or maybe you’re in cahoots with them!” Ginger Snap said as she wheeled, directing her jabbing hoof at somepony else for a moment.

“Don’t be preposterous,” said the sheriff, patiently redirecting her hoof, “All I’m saying is that it’s possible he’s not an accomplice. We don’t know for sure yet.”

“Of course! We’ll have to test him,” Ginger Snap said excitedly, wheeling back around on me, “Where’s Mr. Bucke’s hideout?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping you’d tell me,” I said.

“Aha! Of course you would deny knowing it!” Ginger Snap said accusatorially.

“This is ridiculous,” I said, becoming fed up with this, “If I’d told you where it was, you’d claim only an accomplice of Mr. Bucke would know. All I want is to find him and put an end to him for what he did to the Republic of Rose. I was hoping for some help here, not the third-degree.”

“Stranger, we don’t know you, and you’re certainly not going to get any help from us until you prove you’ve got nothing to do with Mr. Bucke,” the sheriff said as he stepped in.

“Idea!” the mayor said in a singsong way, “To prove you’re no stooge of Mr. Bucke, you’re going to get our water talisman back from his hideout.”

“So, you do know where his hideout is?” I asked, and the mayor’s expression told me I was pushing my luck.

“We know where it is, all right,” the sheriff said, “We just can’t get in because of all the booby-traps and locked doors. There’s no reason to think that the water talisman is still there, though, and if what he said about the Republic of Rose is true, Mr. Bucke could have taken it across Vanhoover by now.”

“Well then, Aze, you decide when he’s proven himself,” Ginger Snap said dismissively, “You’re going along to make sure he stays out of trouble, though that shouldn’t be a problem while we’ve got his friend captive.”

“I sure hope you’re good with terminals,” the sheriff said, and I grinned.

***

“Goo~ood mo~orning, child~ren! I know you wanna hear those sweet, sweet melodies for the thousandth time since the megaspells fell, but it’s time for a little break. That’s right, it’s time for some … news!” DJ Pon3’s voice wafted out of my PipBuck’s speakers as Aze and I trekked through the ruins of Vanhoover, “Now, there’s plenty of bad in the Wasteland, and it seems lately we’ve had more bad news than good, but that’s no reason to give up. As if to prove so, I’ve got some great news for you today. The Wasteland Doctor has returned, and is fighting the good fight harder than ever! I’ve regaled you with tales of his battles with raiders over the last several weeks, and the tragedy that struck with the destruction of Sundale, and now of the Republic of Rose, but what’s come next truly takes the cake. The slavers of the Mega Cinema near Burnside were permanently put to rest by the former Stable-dweller and all their slaves set free. After that, he moved into south Vanhoover, carving a path through the raiders there and even taking out the faction that had occupied the Final Bridge, opening up trade again. That’s right, all you caravans sitting around in Crate City or Burnside, you can travel between the two settlements again, so make sure you give the Wasteland Doctor your thanks for that. That’s not the most stupendous part of the story, though. The Wasteland Doctor is accompanied by none other than a Steel Ranger! That’s right, one of the very ponies who were chasing him around the ruins of Vanhoover and setting every raider, slaver, and fiend against him, is now traveling at his side! I’d love to hear that story, Wasteland, so I can share it with all of you. If the opportunity arises to do an interview with the Wasteland Doctor, I can assure you I’ll take it, so we can all learn how this bizarre turn of events came to be. Well, that’s quite enough news for one day, I think. I know you love my sweet tones, but let’s get back to the music!”

“That all true?” Aze asked as a song heavy with trumpet came on, and I turned the radio down.

“The part about the slavers and raiders? Yes, and you already know the Steel Ranger part is,” I answered.

“Hmm, maybe you’re not an accomplice of Mr. Bucke, at least if what DJ Pon3 says is true,” Crate City’s sheriff, “I thought he was kiddin’ about the bright yellow doctor’s coat, though. Guess that’s why they call you the Wasteland Doctor.”

That was something to get used to. Sometime while I was in the Flankorage simulation, DJ Pon3 had dubbed me as such, giving me a recognizable name to his listeners instead of just calling me that Stable-dweller in the yellow coat with the PipBuck. Given that the last news he’d had on me was the attack on the Bloodlarks and subsequent capture by the Steel Rangers, it was probably a name to remember me by after my death. Shockingly, I’d survived, and now had a new title that everypony in the Wasteland knew me by (or at least everypony who listened to Radio Free Wasteland).

“What’d they call you before that?” Aze asked as we trotted through more silent streets with boarded-up shops.

“Doc,” I replied, keeping an eye on my EFS and the red tics creeping around us, most likely representing radroaches in the surrounding buildings.

“Nah, I mean what’s your real name? Surely your parents didn’t name you Doc,” Aze laughed, “Imagine being locked into a profession from birth because of a name.”

“I don’t remember what I was called before Doc,” I admitted, “I don’t remember anything before the last couple months, actually. Woke up in a Stable, no memories.”

“Bizarre,” Aze said, though it seemed he doubted I wasn’t just trying to keep information from him.

“What about you? Your parents name you Aze?” I asked, and the stallion flinched.

“No,” he sighed, “My full name is Azalea. Good thing for both of us, our names don’t define what we have to do with our lives, especially since there aren’t any live azaleas around anymore.”

No, our destinies weren’t controlled by our names, they were controlled by the images on our flanks. At least, that was how they were supposed to work, but I think mine was defective. I was supposed to be good with medicine, and while my skills were passable, there was no way that doctoring was my destiny, even if both the names I’d picked up were related to it.

“There it is,” Aze announced as we approached Mr. Bucke’s hideout (the only thing I could think he meant by his statement).

Huddled among decrepit buildings was a remarkably intact structure. Sunny Side Radio read the sign hanging from the front, and a tower covered in transmitters sprouted from the roof. If it was broadcasting anything, it wasn’t anything I hadn’t already picked up on my PipBuck. Radio Free Wasteland and Enclave Radio were the only stations available now that the Steel Rangers had called off their search for me.

Unfortunately, we couldn’t just walk in through the radio station’s front lobby. The floor was covered in mines, turrets squatted in the back corners, and the elevators appeared to have been sabotaged. Surely there were stairs somewhere in the building, but we’d never make it there if the rest of the level was as heavily defended. Mr. Bucke had some secret way in, but the Crate City ponies had never found it. Instead, they’d cleared a path through the minefield on the surrounding street and into an adjacent alleyway overshadowed by a half-collapsed neighboring building. There was a broken turret in this alley, stripped of parts, signs of a struggle, and damage to the radio station’s other entry point. A heavy door was set into the wall, a security terminal with a broken screen next to it.

“We tried everything we could, but the door wouldn’t budge,” Aze said as I examined the door, “You better hope you can do better.”

“Well, it would’ve been easier if you hadn’t tried to destroy the terminal, but I may be able to manage,” I said with a sigh as I plugged my PipBuck into the interface port.

Using the tiny screen on my leg, I hacked into the radio station’s security system, which was surprisingly robust. I soon discovered that is was actually two security systems layered on top of each other. One had been installed during the War (and was still beefy for a small station like this), but another had been installed far later, probably by Mr. Bucke. I noticed that some modifications had been made to the building’s exterior, including security cameras snaking up to the tower. I got the niggling feeling that I’d seen something like this before, but it passed as I broke into the system and the door clicked, signaling its newly unlocked status.

Carefully, I edged the door open with my machete, and jumped back as a turret just inside fired at me. Drawing my SMG, I levitated it around the corner and fired at the turret. Most of my shots bounced off or were ineffective, but enough found their way through to permanently deactivate the turret. Aze and I entered together into a stairwell. A quick peek over the smoking turret into the adjacent hallway proved our suspicions correct, that the entire ground floor of the building was covered with mines.

Up we went, to the second floor. There were several red tics on my EFS within the buildings, two of which I’d identified as the turrets in the lobby downstairs. The remaining marks were a mystery, so we couldn’t just keep pushing upwards without checking the floor first, in case we ended up with Mr. Bucke or an accomplice of his behind us. I mentioned to Aze that if I truly was one of Mr. Bucke’s accomplices, then he’d be outnumbered if we ran into anypony; he didn’t find that very funny.

The second floor of the radio station was fairly empty .There was a recreational area with a pool table covered in dust, but the cues had been taken for weapons years ago, and most of the furniture had also been looted. A break room still had a coffee maker with a smashed pot next to a stack of perfectly preserved coffee mugs. The windows had been barricaded up, probably by Mr. Bucke or whoever’d lived here before him, to keep ponies from entering through the windows by climbing across the rubble of nearby buildings. The few windows that hadn’t been blocked off had tripwires attached to metal apples just inside.

We continued up to the next floor, and I nearly lost my head to a turret placed on the landing at the top of the stairs. Aze went ahead of me, and leaned out so that he could fire his battle saddle at the turret without it registering him as a threat.
A few shotgun blasts later, and the turret was no longer a problem. The third floor was just as abandoned as the second.
We were high enough off the ground now that no thought had been given to barricading the windows, though space had been cleared near them so ponies could fire down into the street in case of an attack. Stacks of records filled the room, or had until somepony (probably a raider) had senselessly destroyed many of them, leaving the pieces scattered on the floor.

One of the red tics on my EFS was moving around, and sounds of movement came from the fourth floor as we finished ascending the stairs. Though the rest of the building seemed abandoned, this area was far from it. Furniture and a kitchen had been set up to allow a pony to live here, and live quite comfortably. Mr. Bucke had lived here, I was sure of it. As I admired the plush couch and chairs, only somewhat faded by time, a loud banging came from the corner of the building. I raised my SMG to point at the moving mark on my EFS and slowly advanced toward it.

Instead of a pony exiting the room, however, a manticore tore the door off its hinges. I cast SATS as it barreled into the room with open maw and fired my submachine gun at its head. Though it was bleeding from multiple wounds, it didn’t let that stop it, and charged me, its wings scraping against the ceiling. I was still recharging when it swatted me across the room like a kitten batting a ball of yarn. Saliva flew as it wheeled on Aze, who was firing his shotgun battle saddle as rapidly as he could. I’d dropped my SMG, but I still had plenty of weapons on my person; I just wasn’t sure how effective they’d be. Aze didn’t have much time, so I grabbed the first readily available weapon and fired my sniper rifle at the manticore without even bothering to aim. The gun jumped in my magical grip, but its bullet tore though the manticore’s thick flesh and tunneled all the way through its brain. Aze fired a couple more shots before he was sure it was dead, then carefully stepped over the massive paws.

I picked myself up off the floor and applied some magical bandages to the sorest parts of my body. Joining Aze, I examined where the manticore had come from. Hidden from our view from the street, this corner of the fourth floor had no wall. The manticore had apparently discovered this, decided this would be a good place for a nest, then proceeded to build one.
Judging by the lack of the remains of a black business suit and hat among the bones laying about the nest, it seemed to have moved in after Mr. Bucke had left. Or, maybe it was what had caused him to pack up and go after the Republic of Rose. So far, he’d left no clues behind as to why he’d moved on.

Up to the top floor we went, and came upon another locked door, this one without a security terminal for me to hack into.
Luckily, I still had my bobby pins, and though the lock was no piece of cake, I soon had it opened. This last floor was home to the station’s control room, where DJs had once used the radio station to broadcast music to Vanhoover, and Mr. Bucke had used the transmitters for Celestia-knows-what. He had clearly used them somehow, given that the terminal hooked into them was well-maintained, free of the dirt and grime typical in the Wasteland.

I wanted to look at the control terminal right away, but Aze insisted that I unlock all the filing cabinets and safes in the room first. I managed to do so, though my attention was still on the terminal, and I lost more than a few bobby pins, though thankfully I never jammed a lock and was forced to give up. Also thankfully, there were more bobby pins in a desk drawer, a whole box of them used by a pony during the War to keep their hair back, and now to be used by me to steal the treasures of the old world. When there was no sign of the water talisman (just some old schedules and bizarre records with only serial numbers and the symbol of the Equestrian Army printed on them), Aze grudgingly let me check out the terminal.

Here too I found the double security layer. It would not be an easy task, though, as the passwords were different here than down below. Eventually, I managed to break in, and was met with a fairly normal control menu for a radio station. I quickly found out that things weren’t as they appeared, as every directory was empty except for one, near the bottom and out of the way, labeled Legal Agreement Addendums 2. There was a long list of files within, though only three had timestamps less than a century-and-a-half old. They weren’t going anywhere, so out of curiosity I checked one of the earlier files first.To my surprise, instead of displaying the text of the file, I was presented with only one line.

Enter Classified Access Password: _

I had no idea whether it would be the same as any of the four passwords I’d entered already today, so I prepared to expose the data matrix, but stopped when an idea came to me. Remembering the Equestrian Army symbols on the bizarre and secured records, I dug the password sheet I’d picked up in Bunker 519 long ago. Checking the date on my PipBuck, I found the correct password and entered it, praying that it would work. I nearly jumped for joy when the password was accepted, and the file’s contents printed out to the screen.

09.13.1350
Report: Experiment 059
Like the previous experiments, 059 has failed to yield the outcomes we desire.However, I am confident in saying that we are making progress.The background signal being broadcast is confirmed to cause nausea in listeners, with a quicker onset than predicted.Unfortunately, we have not yet managed to isolate the signal to affect only zebras, and a recent broadcast caused the unfortunate incident at the beach ice cream stands two days ago.The confirmation that background signals can be used to affect the physical conditions of equines, however, is a valuable first step in our research.Today we can induce nausea in everypony who hears a broadcast, tomorrow we will be able to induce it only in zebras, and the day after we will be able to induce more serious conditions. It’s only a matter of time, now, and I wholeheartedly recommend that this project continue.

-Col. Glorious Blaze

So, that was the reason for the prodigious security. The Equestrian Army had been using this radio station as a front for experiments. I’d like to say that I was surprised that they had been running these experiments on their own citizens, but given what I’d seen from some of the Ministries, it wasn’t all that surprising. I wondered if they’d ever been successful. The highest serial number on the records began with 121-, but there was no guarantee it was a working version. Aze coughed to remind me about getting on with tracking down Mr. Bucke and the missing water talisman, and I moved to the third most recent file.

02.18.1503
Everything is unpacked and moved in, and I’ve finally got this thing working again. Tried to clear everything off of it, but the Equestrian Army’s gone and locked their classified files down, so I can’t delete them. Can’t access them either, not without a password I don’t have. Must’ve been something spooky going on here. I’ll upload the files to LISTENER, maybe LORD can break into them. This should be an ideal spot to plan my campaign in the area. Initial reconnaissance suggests Crate City may be a tough nut to crack, but that’s why we recruit the nutcrackers first, isn’t it? I’ll be delegating most of that work while I continue to set things up here and prepare for connection to LISTENER. I’ll feel better once we’re hooked in again.

Nothing too useful there, though it explained why the Equestrian Army files were still present when everything else had been wiped. It also suggested that Mr. Bucke was not working alone, or even working on his own initiative. LISTENER and LORD were probably code names for something, but I had no idea what. I opened the next file to see if it continued.

02.25.1503
It didn’t take LORD long to break the encryption on those files (especially not with the help of PALADIN). Some weird stuff was going on here, courtesy of the Equestrian government. No surprise there. Apparently, they’d come up with a plan to injure zebras over broadcast, and tested it on the surrounding community, killing several ponies without repercussion. Will there ever come an end to the stuff we dig up? According to LORD, it’ll never end. Better to plow it all under and start anew, I say. Speaking of LORD, he said he’ll be out of contact indefinitely soon, and all communication to LISTENER will go through BARON. Can’t say I’m too thrilled about that, but if that’s what LORD says, that’s how it will be. Recruitment continues to steadily climb, especially as new supplies arrive from LISTENER, but we’ve had to crack down on some infighting. Might be time to start “testing the waters” with Crate City, but I suspect it’s still too soon.

Not much useful there either, at least not from Aze’s perspective. The only talk of Crate City I’d gotten were brief mentions that Mr. Bucke wasn’t ready to move on them yet, or something similar. Aze was tight-lipped about Mr. Bucke’s interactions with the settlement. I’d also picked up several new code words: PALADIN and BARON. I still had no idea what they meant, but I now suspected LORD was in charge, and BARON was his inferior (though still above Mr. Bucke). How large this group was, I still had no clue. I moved on to the final entry, hoping it contained something to mollify Aze as he peered over my shoulder.

04.10.1503
It’s time to pack up and move on.My business in this area is concluded for the moment. Unfortunately, Crate City’s current leadership was not cooperative. Pity. A minor setback at most, which will soon be remedied. I’ve also managed to take their water talisman, which should really put a damper on their future without taking LORD’s offer. We have more than enough at LISTENER, so I’ll stop by Tartarus on my way to Flitterton and sell it. They may not need it, but I’m sure someone there will buy it, and it’ll be out of Crate City’s hooves. All my progress updates should be backed up at LISTENER except for this last one, which I’ll upload before I leave. I managed to figure out how to override the Equestrian Army lock placed on most of the updates I’ve made, but a few remain uneditable and I can’t wipe them. Signing off from this station.

“So, Tartarus then,” Aze said as he ceased his hovering.

“Wait, Tartarus as in the Tartarus?” I asked in disbelief.

“Oh, you mean the place were monsters and tormented souls are sent?” the sheriff asked, and I nodded, “No, but it’s not much better.”

***

The street was swarming with zombies, and Aze and I desperately fended them off. We were nearly at the spot the sheriff had marked on my PipBuck’s map as Tartarus when the ghoulified ponies had appeared. As if they’d been lying in wait, the crowd had poured out of nearby buildings, shedding bits of their rotting flesh as they squeezed through windows and doors. My PipBuck’s radiation gauge began to click madly as we were swarmed.

Aze’s shotgun battle saddle was tearing the zombies apart, but he could only fire and reload so fast. I had started out the fight with my submachinegun, but there were so many enemies that my EFS was a solid bar of red, and my ammunition quickly ran low. I switched to my machete, swinging it wildly back and forth, the freshly sharpened blade cutting easily through the soft flesh and flimsy bone of the ghouls.

One of the zombies charged through the swarm at me, and I swung my machete through its neck, sending the head flying, where it was crushed by the hooves of the other ghouls. I followed Aze as he slowly pushed forward, rotating to place his back to a building that ghouls were no longer pouring from. A zombie nipped at my tail, and I swung my machete down into its skull. When it didn’t die immediately after I pulled the blade from its head, I struck repeatedly. On the backswing as I finally pulled the blade free, I clobbered another ghoul in the head. Spinning the blade around, I finished the job, cutting off the top of its head.

As one jumped at me, I swung my machete through its forelegs, cutting them off. It squirmed as it fell to the ground, lunging out at my foreleg. Its attempts to bite through my salvaged Black Skull armor were futile, and I stabbed my way down into its skull while it broke its teeth. I jerked the blade up and stabbed it into the face of another zombie charging at me. A second tried to rush me from behind before I could pull the machete free, and I kicked it in the face. It wasn’t enough to keep it away completely, but it gave me time to swing my machete into the head of a third zombie, rotate, and strike the one I’d kicked with an armored foreleg, caving its head in.

“Come on!” Aze called as he continued to push forward, and I heeded his warning.

More zombies were coming, climbing over the roof across the street and trickling in through the alleyways. I swung my machete around in a wide arc, causing ichor to ooze as I killed or wounded the undead ponies. My blade became stuck at one point, and a zombie’s mouth nearly reached my head. Before those toothless gums could reach me, though, its head exploded from a blast of Aze’s shotgun. I pulled my machete free, dragging the zombie it’d been embedded in into another, and continued to swing my blade around. We were nearly through the swarm now, but more kept coming.

“Run!” yelled Aze as he broke through.

I followed after him, swinging my machete into a zombie that tried to block my path and clubbing another with my foreleg before I was free. I hastily sheathed my machete without cleaning it and levitated my SMG, firing blindly backwards at anything that was following me. Though most of the zombies no longer appeared where I could see them on my EFS, I could still hear them shambling along behind us. Aze was taking us not toward open ground, but toward a grand stone building with soaring pillars.

“Open up! Open up!” Aze yelled into a speaker mounted next to the door as he nearly crashed into it.

The door opened slightly, but not enough for a pony to squeeze through. The zombies were getting awfully close when a flamethrower’s barrel emerged through the slit.Flames sprayed out into the crowd of zombies, and Aze and I hugged the wall to avoid the fire as the pony controlling it swept it around. Ghouls were incinerated, and the ones in the back decided it wasn’t worth dying for us, scampering off back into the surrounding buildings. After the flamethrower vanished, the door shut, followed by the sound of a chain lock being pulled back.The door opened up enough for us to enter, and we hurried inside.

The entryway was pitch black, and I activated the lamp spell on my PipBuck. Immediately illuminated in front of me was the rotting face of a ghoul. One of them had gotten inside! I hurriedly pointed my SMG at the zombie, forgetting that I was out of ammo until the gun clicked worthlessly.

“Well, that’s some way to greet the pony that saved your life,” the ghoul said, pushing my SMG away from her face.

“Sorry about that,” I said sheepishly, holstering my weapon.

She was just a ghoul, not a feral one like those outside. After that experience, it was a good thing I had been out of ammunition, otherwise I’d have surely blown her brains out.

“I’m surprised to see you here, Aze,” the ghoul addressed my companion.

“Sallow?” Aze asked, squinting in the dim light from my PipBuck, “Hey, you know it wasn’t my idea to expel the ghouls from Crate City.”

“Yeah, but ya didn’t do nothin’ to help when the mayor gave the order, did ya?” Sallow shot back, “You just better be grateful that things worked out for us after all. Apart from the lack of trade, this place is perfect for us. It’s isolated, easily defendable, and surrounded by zombies drawn to a nearby malfunctioning microspark reactor.”

“Well, I am glad to hear things are going well,” Aze said sincerely.

“Uh, uh,” Sallow said, raising a hoof to stop him as he tried to trot deeper into the building, “You’re not goin’ inside. There’s too many others from Crate City who still hold a grudge against you, and nopony’ll bat an eye if they kill an outsider.”

“We need to get in,” I spoke up, “We need to retrieve Crate City’s water talisman.”

“What would somethin’ like that be doin’ here?” Sallow laughed, “We ghouls have no need for purified water, unless we wanted to kill ourselves. The more radiation the better. There’s no way you’ll find a water talisman here.”

“It was stolen from us by a Mr. Bucke, who came here to trade it, about two weeks ago,” Aze explained, “Maybe you saw him? Slim pony, black suit and hat.”

“Yeah, I saw him all right,” Sallow said, “Didn’t like the looks of him, either, but he had goods to trade, and we don’t get many traders comin’ through. Had some food for the zebras, too; maybe one of them bought your water talisman.”

“Zebras?” I asked in surprise.What were zebras doing in Vanhoover?

“Didn’t ya know?Tartarus is home to all kinds of outcasts.If you’re not welcome anywhere else, you’re welcome here as long as ya don’t make trouble,” Sallow said, “Course, we’re mostly ghouls, but we got a few softskins.”

“So, you have no need of a water talisman.Can we go get it?” Aze ventured.

“You can’t, for your own safety as much as anything.Your friend’ll have to do the legwork,” Sallow replied.

“Get the water talisman, or find out where it is, and I’ll consider this job done,” Aze instructed me before I left.

So, with the goal of getting Rare Sparks freed and getting some more information on Mr. Bucke in mind, I headed to Tartarus. It wasn’t hard to find it, once Sallow gave me directions. The power was out in the building’s entryway, hence why it was so dark, but it worked elsewhere. I used my PipBuck to find my way to a set of ticket booths and turnstiles and passed through them and the doors beyond.

The building I was in turned out to be a museum, and the majority of the space had been dedicated to displays on Tartarus.
Not the underworld as I understood it, but as a realm used to imprison monsters and dangerous magical individuals. Stairs lined with fake torches led down to a foreboding gate with a skull carved into it, propped permanently opened.
Passing through, I found myself in the settlement of Tartarus.

It was just like any other settlement I’d been in, really, except that everything looked ominous and cave-like, and ponies were for the most part replaced by ghouls, griffins, and zebras. They acted normally toward each other, from what I observed, but around me they were dismissive and rude. No settlement in the Wasteland was particularly fond of outsiders, but here they were really not fond of outsiders. Maybe that was because they had been outsiders before they’d come here, and wanted nothing to do with those who would typically have kept them out.

I asked around about Mr. Bucke, but the most common response was that, yes, they had traded with him, yes, he seemed shifty, no, he hadn’t sold them a water talisman, go bother somepony else. None of the ghouls seemed to want anything to do with water talismans, since purified water would be toxic to them, so I sought out the “softskins” of the settlement.The griffins refused to talk to me, and nearby shopkeepers informed me they’d been the same way when Mr. Bucke had come through. I approached a group of zebras, hoping for a better response. I noticed, as I neared them, that they were all wearing contraptions strapped to the backs of their necks connected to headphones covering their ears, but brushed it off as something to wonder about later.

“Excuse me, can I ask you some questions?” I asked as I approached the group.

“What do you want?” one asked after a long pause during which lights flashed on their neck contraptions.

“I’m looking for a water talisman, stolen by a pony named Mr. Bucke,” I said, ignoring the odd pause and flashing lights, “He came through here a couple weeks ago, and I was wondering if he traded with you.”

“Ah yes, Mr. Bucke, we did trade with him, but for food, not a water talisman,” the same zebra, apparently the dedicated spokesperson, replied, “He said he had a water talisman, but had already sold it, and to a ghoul at that.”

“Do you know who?” I asked.

“If we knew that, we’d have approached them ourselves and tried to buy it,” the zebra said, “Purified water isn’t easy to get around here.”

“But, you have some now, or I would assume you do,” I said, gesturing to the glasses on the table in front of them.

“It doesn’t come cheap,” another zebra spoke up, “And Hedge is the only one who sells it.”

“How long has this been going on?” I asked.

“Years. Hedge didn’t buy the water talisman to start selling us purified water,” the lead zebra said, giving the other a look, “It’s hard to get it, that’s why it’s so expensive.”

“Where can I find this Hedge?”

“His bar’s on the third level, Tirek’s Taphouse. Look for the giant sculpture of a red and black centaur and you can’t miss it,” the lead zebra directed me.

“Watch out for Zherana, though,” another warned me.

“Who? Why?” I asked, turning back toward the table of zebras.

“She’s a zebra, and a ghoul. Supposedly she’s a waitress at the bar, but Hedge also uses her as a bouncer, and to do any dirty work,” the upstart zebra explained.

“That last part’s all just rumor,” a third zebra objected.

“She used to be an agent for the Zebra Empire back during the War, everyone knows that. Then she went rogue, killed her whole team or something,” the second zebra said, laying it on thick, “Now, Hedge has got her bound to him with some kind of life debt or something. She’s really old-school, grew up in a monastery in the empire where they believe in the inviolability of that kind of thing. You think someone like Hedge wouldn’t take advantage of covert training if he had someone like that sworn to do whatever he said?”

“Hmm, well, it’s true at least that she used to be an agent, and she can kill you quite easily in many ways, so be careful,” the zebra leader advised me.

“Thanks for the warning,” I said, but stuck around in case they had anything else to say, and they did not disappoint.

“Before you go, I know you’ve been wondering this whole time, why we wear these contraptions on our head. Do you want to know?” the lead zebra asked.

“Yes, actually,” I said, glad I hadn’t left yet.

“Have you ever heard of Stable 71?” the zebra asked.

“No, should I have?” I replied.

“Not unless you’ve been in the area long enough to hear warnings to stay away,” he said ominously, “It was an all-zebra Stable, or at least we thought that it was. Stable-Tec actually built it with a secret wing populated by ponies who ran experiments on us. First, they began to use sound to alter our behavior, turn us violently against each other. Then, they found a way to alter us so that this could be accomplished simply by hearing certain patterns in speech. They could sit back and watch us tear each other apart without doing anything. Eventually they slipped up, we took the Stable from them, but the programming in our minds was still there, so we built these. They filter out any of the trigger patterns before we hear the words so that we aren’t shifted into a homicidal rage against our will. Do you understand?The Stable was meant to be a lifeboat, a way for us to survive and start again after the megaspells fell, but instead they turned it into a demented experiment.”

“Seems to be a common problem,” I commented woefully.

“So I’ve heard,” the zebra said sadly, “As they say, the Stables were never meant to save anypony.”

“Thank you for your help,” I said as I excused myself, and pondered how much the ponies of the past had screwed up the world.

Hedge’s bar was right where I’d been directed, just past the giant centaur with outstretched arms, holding up a Tirek’s Taphouse banner. The attitude within was somewhat subdued, the patrons carrying on fairly normally, except for the glances they cast toward a back corner. It didn’t take long for me to figure out what they were looking at. Seated in the corner was a ghoul whose body shape wasn’t quite the same as usual (even considering how a ghoul’s flesh seemed to morph and slough off in unusual ways). It had to be Zherana, the zebra ghoul I’d been warned about. A shudder went down my spine as I saw how unnaturally still and straight she was sitting, and how her cold, piercing eyes still blazed with fire from her rotting face.

“Can I help you?” a raspy voice called from my right, and I turned to face a ghoul behind the bar who I assumed was Hedge.

“I’m looking for a water talisman stolen by a Mr. Bucke,” I went straight to the point.

“Stolen, good heavens, what a terrible crime,” Hedge said sarcastically, “If I was you, I’d talk to Crate City’s militia about this.
I’m sure they’re on the case. Robbery is no joke, you know. Especially when it involves the life or death of a settlement.”

“I never said anything about Crate City,” I pointed out.

“Why, so you didn’t. Drat! I’ve let something slip, haven’t I?” Hedge said, once again sarcastically, “Well, I guess I have no recourse but to confess, and you can take me to justice. Except, wait, Tartarus has no security force. It’s rule by strength here, and …”

Hedge tapped his hoof on the bar and Zherana sprung out of her chair. One of the bar’s patrons fled immediately, and others knocked over their drinks trying to get beneath their tables. Zherana still stood in the corner, doing nothing, but the message was clear.

“Story’s not going how you planned, kid?” Hedge said with a smirk.

“I’m … sure we can work something out,” I said nervously.

“Of course we can; I’m a reasonable ghoul,” Hedge laughed, “Tell you what, I’ll sell you the water talisman, no strings attached, for, let’s say … a hundred thousand caps?”

“A hundred thousand?” I asked, my jaw dropping, “I … I …”

“Don’t have that much?” Hedge said mockingly, “A pity. Guess that’s the end of the line for you.”

“Please, there’s got to be something I can do in exchange for the water talisman,” I said. Favors worked in the Wasteland, but I still feared what he’d want of me. Probably killing a competitor or something.

“Sure, sure, if you can get a combat robot to serve drinks, I’ll give you the water talisman, no charge,” Hedge said with a laugh.

“You’ve got a deal,” I said, shocking the ghoul.

***

“Well, I’ll be,” Hedge said in surprise an hour later.

In his back room (for some reason) Hedge had an old security robot tucked away. It helped that the robot was an older, smaller version of the one from Bunker 519 I’d modified for my attack on the slaver camp. I already had a leg up on navigating its electronic mind, and could focus on modifying its programming. Hedge had no terminal that he’d allow me to use, so I had to plug in my PipBuck and work through it, which made the task difficult, but not impossible. The basics of the robot’s programming would remain unchanged, I just had to tweak personality and a few actions. Now, it was trundling around Tirek’s Taphouse, serving up drinks to wary customers.

“I can’t believe you actually did it. Hey, Zherana, lucky you. Now this thing can do your waitress job for you, and it won’t scare off as many customers, since it probably has more of a personality,” Hedge laughed, though Zherana remained stone-faced.

“So, the water talisman?” I ventured while the ghoul seemed to still be in a good mood.

“Ugh, that’s really going to cut into my profits,” Hedge said with a sneer, “I was making a killing selling that purified water to softskins. Goin’ back to buying it from traders is going to be painful.”

“You wouldn’t go back on our deal?” I said, indignantly, though it seemed that was exactly what Hedge was considering doing.

“Calm down, whatever else I am, I’m a ghoul of my word,” Hedge said, and retrieved the talisman from behind the bar, “Here, take it, and remind me not to crack jokes about modifying robots when you’re around anymore.”

***

After leaving Hedge’s bar, I spent a little more time in Tartarus before returning to Aze. I didn’t know when I’d return here, if ever, and wanted to take in the sights of this bizarre settlement. I also needed to restock on ammunition for my SMG. While buying it at a weapons shop beneath a statue of a raging bugbear, I also purchased a combat shotgun, remembering its usefulness during my brief time with one in the Flankorage simulation and thinking about all the zombies waiting for us outside.

Aze was overjoyed to have the water talisman back, and we immediately headed back to Crate City. Mayor Ginger Snap was also glad that the settlement’s supply of clean water would be restored, but also wanted to know why it had taken us so long to get it, which meant Aze had to go into a long and detailed story of our exploits. I tried to keep my bit in Tartarus short so that we could move on, but the mayor kept asking questions and dragging out the story. At last, she was satisfied, and summoned somepony to return the water talisman to its rightful place.

“I think you owe me some answers now,” I said when it seemed like they’d forgotten about me.

“Do we now?” Ginger Snap said critically, narrowing her eyes and examining me.

“Yes, we do,” Aze said with a sigh, “I’m certain that he’s no spy for Mr. Bucke. He wants to kill that fiend as much as any of us.”

“Well, alright then,” Ginger Snap said, taking a seat across from me, “What did you want to know?”

“What did Mr. Bucke do here? Why did he come here? Why is Crate City still standing when the Republic of Rose isn’t?” I poured out my questions.

“Oh my, that’s a lot to take in,” Ginger Snap said, wiping her forehead, “Well, I’ll start with the first one. He came to talk to us. He wanted Crate City to join him in some organization.”

“The Northern Lights Coalition,” Aze said tentatively.

“Right, something like that,” Ginger Snap said, “He tried to make it sound great. They’d share information, supplies, and technology with us in exchange for oversight and cooperation with anyone else in the coalition. Of course, oversight meant we’d have to submit, no longer be a free settlement. Well, that’s just not acceptable for us, and as bad as demanding we surrender and throw open the gates to an entity we’d never even heard of or met before. We had to refuse.”

“Shortly after that, our settlement was attacked,” Aze continued the story, “It wasn’t just some random raid, either. Raiders attacked us in force, raiders from multiple gangs. We barely threw them back. We don’t have any proof, but it’s likely that these raiders attacked us because of our refusal of Mr. Bucke’s offer.”

“That’s why we had to be so paranoid about you,” Ginger Snap said, “Mr. Bucke may not be done with us, and we can’t have a saboteur on the inside.”

“So, you didn’t manage to capture any raiders and ask them if they were working for Mr. Bucke, or if they knew anything else about him?” I asked.

“We were struggling just to keep them from overwhelming us,” Aze said defensively, “Capture was out of the question.We killed all we could.”

“There was a gang that retreated before they were annihilated,” Ginger Snap pointed out, “The Chainsmokers. They’re probably still around. If you can find them, then maybe you can ask them these questions.”

“Thanks,” I said, “You’ll let Rare Sparks and me go now?”

“Of course,” Aze said, “And if you do find anything, we’d appreciate knowing.”

It was obvious I wasn’t going to learn anything more here than I already had. This detour hadn’t been all bad. At least I’d been able to root around through Mr. Bucke’s private terminal and pick up a few new things, even if I didn’t know what they all meant yet. I still had a trail to follow, even if it was a thin one. Hopefully the Chainsmokers would know more than the leaders of Crate City.

Level Up
New Perk: Back in Black – All attacks at night or in darkened areas do double damage.
New Quest: Follow the Chain – Locate the Chainsmokers and question them about Mr. Bucke.
Barter +2 (22)
Lockpick +3 (50)
Medicine +1 (50)
Melee Weapons +2 (32)
Repair +1 (25)
Science +4 (89)
Small Guns +3 (97)
Speech +2 (38)
Unarmed +2 (27)