> Fallout Equestria: Crimson Tide
>  by El Mutanto
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Intro
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"Indeed, history is nothing more than a tableau of crimes and misfortunes." 

~Voltaire 





War. War never changes. 

When magical flames shattered the world, the citizens of Equestria found refuge in the special survival bunkers, the Stables. 




When the Stables finally opened, their inhabitants met the desolated world, ready to rebuild it. New towns, settlements ,and tribes were formed. They were led neither by hope nor by the dreams of the superequine power of Friendship. They simply wanted to live. 




Decades passed and the remains of the once beautiful and proud Prance, united under the flag of New Prance Republic, and subscribed to the idea of democracy, an idea alien to the pre-war world. The New Prance Republic grew and sent their scouts to distant regions such as the Capital Wasteland around Canterlot, through the almost impassable Great Chasm, or the faraway mountains of the former Griffon Kingdoms. However, the growing Republic needed more and more resources to feed its citizens. As these resources were depleted, they sent the scouts south of the hostile Capital Wasteland. 




Soon, the first reports came. Messengers warned that in the far south a city that never stopped fighting the war still existed. A city almost untouched by the magical flames of the Old World’s terminal breath. 




Stalliongrad, the Pearl of the South. Undefeated and proud, it stood powered by still-working pre-war reactors. 




In the east, a new country was born bearing a different banner. The Dog Tsardom. Isolated for many years it had finally found a way to get across the desolated country dubbed the Great Void. Hungry for everything they found on their way and uncaring for anything holy, the canine armies never ceased to fight for Stalliongrad and for salvation of their country, forever frozen by the unnatural winter. 




The NPR sent its soldiers to capture the city and after eight years of bloody fighting, Stalliongrad, the Town of Steel, finally opened. Not because of a military defeat, but rather because it saw a chance for rescue. The leader of Stalliongrad proposed a solution – if the NPR defeated the dogs, they’d join their cause. 




Four years have passed since the Republic gained access to the outer districts of Stalliongrad. They fight the bloodiest battle in their history, the battle to capture the so needed last relics of the Old World. 




Throughout this time, Stalliongrad gradually opened its doors for civilians. The Steel Square, given to the NPR, has attracted many ponies who’d soon influence the vision of the new world order. Nevertheless, no one was prepared for the fact that the Spark Bearer was among them – the child of Stable 69, who lit the world on fire, changing it entirely. 



> The Wasteland
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Original, unaltered chapter.



Q: What the Wasteland ever give to me?
A: And what did you give to the Wasteland?


One’d think my life was fine. I had good grades, I looked good; I managed to catch the eye of many stallions and I had a wonderful partner. Recently I turned eighteen and I couldn’t believe that this time had come. Finally I was an adult, although I’d still have to go to school for a few years, just like in the pre-war Equestria. That was a good time. However, it started to change, due to the tests associated with my ritual of adulthood.

I was just sitting at the history lesson for my age group. In accordance with laws and customs of Stable 69, our teacher, Mrs. Heartbottom, had to finish our preparation process and officially end the history lessons by repetition of all the facts we learned over the course of education. I have to shamefully admit that I had fallen asleep in the middle of the lesson and I’d probably sleep tight had Mrs. Heartbottom not notice that. She woke me up by knocking her hoof against my desk and told me to walk to the centre of the class like a little filly, to tell the class about the basic rules of life in Stable 69.

“So, Sparkplug… Tell us, what is the Law of Fertility,” she said harshly.

I swallowed hard and looked at the students. Coldbrew, my partner, looked at me calmly and what I saw in his gaze was the same pang of joke and lewdness that made me so soft every night since we reached the age of consent. It filled me with courage, just like the fact that we were supposed to spend night in his room after school.

Blushing slightly, I started to talk, “The Law of Fertility says that everyone who reaches the Age of Consent has to pass the Fertility Test.”

I gave Coldbrew a stealth look. He was just talking with one of his friends, but the memory of our test was still vivid. Not even six months had passed, but after that period the second part of the test would come.

“During the Fertility Test, the stallion has to impregnate the mare and if they do that and after the initial period a pregnancy is confirmed, it means they passed the test. If they fail, they both undergo preventive euthanasia,” I recited. Now I was calm, happy that Coldbrew was my partner.

I remembered that the initial genetic tests were very promising and my parents were happy that they could apply for the right to pair me with him. I liked him since the first day and we got very close, especially after my parents left me.

“Now, tell us what’s the origin of the Law of Fertility?”

This time I didn’t stutter, getting straight to the point. “The Law of Fertility was established after the closing of Stable 69 when its population stabilised. Due to the administrative errors and chaos of the dying country, only ten stallions and nine-hundred ninety mares were locked in Stable 69. It was created to accelerate the natural course of evolution and to prepare better to conditions after the Stable’s opening, when the highest fertility will bring the rapid repopulation after it opens, no matter when that happens.”

Cold looked at me again. He had so beautiful, almond-yellow eyes, pretty rare among the Stable ponies.

After a while, I continued, “The Law of Fertility also regulates the DNA banks, storing the data on who is related to who to decrease the risk of genetic diseases. The Law doesn’t involve ponies working in Technical and Medical positions, as well as Overmare/Overstallion. The Law is to be abolished if the population of young ponies drops below an optimal number, meaning that we didn’t reach the proper genetic preparation level yet. Everything is supervised by the medical personnel and the Overmare, with the help of the central computer, H.A.C.”

“That’s enough, Sparkplug. You’ve learned well. Try not to sleep during my classes again, though.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I sat back at my desk, sending Coldbrew a warm smile. I didn’t know yet that the repetition of the law will soon lead to hard times.


***


I stood in front of the mirror in my flat. It was rather large, but I was allowed to keep it after my parents’ death. I looked into the pane of silver-line glass and I couldn’t help but wonder. I only recently hit a growth spurt, but everyone were always saying that I looked pretty nice. I just had a bath and my mane and tail barely had time to dry, but I could brush them nevertheless. I liked my peach-coloured coat and navy blue mane. I dreamed about the day when I give birth so we could bring our baby up together.

I wanted to be clean and nice-smelling as today was supposed to be the last check-up, finishing the second part of the test. It was a big day and Coldbrew really wanted to see doctor Safe Life examine me. I guess he was getting mentally ready to become a father; I always found it amusing, but it also caused my heart to flutter and my soul to warm up. Perhaps aside from a successful pairing, we managed to fall in love with each other. That was… good.

We went across the corridors of Stable 69. I had been released off my duties today. One could say that repairing of personal terminals wasn’t a very ambitious task, but I felt really well and I regretted not going to work today a bit. There were so many ponies having problems with their terminals… Unfortunately, Stable-Tec hadn’t given us the best personal equipment and frequent repairs were a must.

Cold was just checking out the mailbox of his PipColt. I didn’t have such a problem – the only messages I was receiving were either work-related or from Coldbrew.

We ate a good diner in the canteen at the atrium level. Coldbrew decided to make use of his hard-earned food stamps to make it romantic. He looked so happy. I was nervous, but I was trying not to show that. Although I believed I’d soon receive special stamps for pregnant mares, there was still a grim thought at the back of my head that soon it’d end being so good. Generally, according to the law, it wouldn’t be bad. It simply wouldn’t… I was slightly scared of that, but… Well, it had to go that way. The Stable has to function… I started to pray in my mind for everything to work.

Cold was talking to me. At first I didn’t understand a word due to stress, but then I realised he was showing me something on his PipColt. A lot of text, often badly-formatted, but each entry bore a date. A diary.

“Buckare said that thanks to your firewall-resetting algorithm it’d be possible to break in everywhere. Would you believe he broke into our lovely doctor’s terminal just yesterday? He downloaded the patients’ data and her personal notes, but he says it’s just the tip of an iceberg.”

I couldn’t believe his words. Covering the screen of his PipColt with my hoof, I looked deep into his eyes. He had been excited, but now I saw anxiety and wonder in them.

“Buckfare keeps getting arrested, Coldbrew… And since he rewrites my programs to break the law, you have to stop talking to him. That’s evil. I don’t want us to be the part of it.”

He looked at me with a mix of sadness, shock, and disappointment. After a moment, he turned off the text app of his PipColt. Smiling at me despite his confusion, he kissed me gently. I immediately stopped being angry. He knew well how to calm me down and always found a way to use it.


***


I couldn’t catch my breath. His wings slammed against my sides as he pushed me towards the locker. Bliss flown across my body as I waited for Coldbrew’s climax. Streams of hot water from the shower ran down the wall and the floor tiles, steam teasing my nostrils and warming my legs. I felt hot and I wasn’t sure whether it was because of love we’d just made or the water itself.

He knew we shouldn’t have had sex before the test in order not to mess up the results, but we just couldn’t stop ourselves from indulging into a short moment of pleasure. My love soon moaned and embraced me, his loins quivering. His warmth flown into me. I turned my head and kissed him gently, still panting as if after running a marathon.

“Doctor Safe Life will yell at us,” I whispered.

“She can yell all she wants…”

After a while, he got off of me and started to wipe sweat from his feathers. My lovely pegasus was unusually rebellious and cocky. According to H.A.C., it was the effect of gene selection and that my dear was a born leader. The adults kept laughing that with his behaviour, those were actually genes of a dissident rather than a leader. 

We quickly cleaned the showers and left the bathroom before someone would come and catch us red-hoofed.

That was the last time we were so close.


***


Doctor Safe Life wasn’t happy. She said that we were very irresponsible, but at this stage, the results of the examination were unlikely to be distorted. I could see Coldbrew staring at her, but I couldn’t blame him. He was a stallion, he was interested in mares and our dear doctor had a reputation of a harlot. She was a lean unicorn with purple coat with darker patches and beetroot-coloured mane. Even though I wasn’t much into mares I always though she looked pretty sexy in a labcoat.

I was lying on the table when she collected the smear and a blood sample. The stinging sensation seemed far away when Coldbrew was standing by my side, proud and smiling. I hissed when I felt the first needle and he kissed my horn soothingly.

“That’s, among other things, why you can’t do that before the examination. You’re now sensitive like hell,” the doctor said. She slapped me, as if she was teasing me, causing me to jump. Cold only smiled, stifling a chuckle. The examination continued when Doctor Safe Life kept feeding the samples to the machine.

I was still on the table, but Coldbrew hugged me, laying his head down on mine. He liked to do that as our manes were intertwined then, the navy blue of mine and the white of his hair. He kept saying that it was like a pre-war sky we could see in the pictures and movies in the library.

“Coldbrew? How will we name him?” I asked him, love in my eyes. He gave me an amused look.

“How do you know it’ll be a colt?” he asked, smiling. His eyes were shining, little sparks hiding in them. I gave him a short and proper kiss.

“I have a feeling.”

Doctor Safe Life moved awkwardly on her armchair and muttered something, staring at the machine.

“What’s going on? Some mechanical failure?” I asked. The doctor turned back and looked at us, her green eyes full of sadness. Her horn shone and she showed us a piece of printed paper from the machine. At the end of a very long list I could see two words: “Result: Negative”.

My heart nearly stood still as I felt my world was over. Negative? How? But my initial results were so good before we started… Same with Coldbrew.

“That must be an error! Do the test once again! Maybe it’s because of the sex earlier? It distorted the results after all!” Coldbrew stood on all four, yelling at the unicorn mare. I loved him for his faith.

“Unfortunately, Coldbrew… The result is correct. I checked it twice… Listen… I’m really sorry.” She put her hoof on my love’s arm, but he pushed it away with a strong swing of his wing.

“NO! IT CAN’T BE TRUE! DO THE TEST AGAIN!” he yelled, full of anger and despair. I knew he was fighting with himself, trying not to cry. I stood up and walked to him, trying to hug him, calm him down. He pushed me away with his wings. It felt like a stab to the heart.

“Coldbrew…”

“Coldbrew, calm down.” Safe Life moved away from him, apparently afraid of his fit of rage. He was almost boiling, so unlike his name.

“CALM DOWN!? IT’S NOT YOU WHO’S GONNA BE KILLED, FOR FUCK’S SAKE!”  He completely lost his mind. I couldn’t understand what was going on. I wanted him to calm down. If it was all over, I wanted him to pass away with me in peace.

“You’re medical personnel! You don’t care about laws! You sentenced us to death!”

With the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of doctor Safe Life pushing some key on her terminal. A second later, two earth ponies clad in security’s armours ran into the office.

“Calm down and surrender!” the stallion demanded.

That was enough. Panicked, Coldbrew took off as high as the ceiling let him and tried to attack him. The guard swung his head,  hitting Cold’s stomach and knocking the wind out of him. The security mare didn’t wait long, grabbing a collapsible baton and striking his side. My love hit the floor, screaming in pain. His wing bent at a weird angle as he started to thrash on the tiles, like a struck fly. Scared, I tried to run to him, but an earth pony stood between us and glared at me.

“Stand by the wall and no one gets hurt. You have to calm down!”

I stood still, struck by his voice. The security meant authority. They were in charge of enforcing law and taking care of our safety. I gave up and sat down, covering my face with my hooves and crying. Doctor Safe Life was taking care of Cold, trying to fix his sprained wing. My heart was racing, my head hurt, and my vision darkened. I don’t remember exactly when I passed out.


***


I woke up on some hard tiles. It was dark. Was I already dead? Was that how afterlife looked like?

“Goddesses…”

Yeah. Coldbrew believed in them; I just believed they existed, not that they were true goddesses…

Who said that!? Startled, I stood on my hooves and it turned out darkness wasn’t as impenetrable as I thought. The white screen of PipColt 3000 was still shining on my leg and I could see a similar, yellow screen in the darkness nearby. Coldbrew’s display was yellow! The pegasus was lying in the dimness, calling goddesses in his sleep.

I stood up and turned on the torch of my PipColt. Coldbrew was lying next to me on the metal floor, slightly dirty but typical for the Stable. We were still alive. My love’s wing was stretched and fixed like that. It didn’t look like it was broken, but it was covered in plaster anyway.

Crying, I started to poke him. I couldn’t understand what was going on. Where were we? Why it was dark there? Why were we still alive?

Cold finally woke up. As he regained consciousness, the pain came back. He gritted his teeth and hissed, looking at his wing. The beautiful little wing of my pegasus that patted me gently only a few hours ago. When he calmed down a bit, I hugged him. He didn’t want to stay like that and immediately turned on his torch, almost knocking me off of himself. My heart ached every time he was doing that. I wept quietly and only then he noticed me.

“Get up, Sparkplug! We’re alive! We’ll get out of here, somehow…”

The lights went on. The blinding shine and buzzing of the light bulbs caused us to cover our eyes, hissing in pain. A while later we heard the sound of iron door opening, as well as hoofsteps of a couple of ponies.

When our eyes got used to the light, we saw the Overmare and doctor Safe Life, assisted by two security ponies clad in full armours. The doctor levitated some plastic crate. She put it in front of us and gave us a sad look, focusing especially on Coldbrew’s wing.

“When we close the door behind you, you’ll take what is in this crate. That’s all you’ll get from us, then you’ll be on your own,” the Overmare said and glared at my love (her gaze could kill a dragon). “Try to hold your nerves. It may get useful…”

After that, they left. Safe Life put some pack on the crate and disappeared as quickly as the Overmare and her bodyguards. The door screeched and then I felt there was no way back for us. But… But what did it mean that we’d be on our own? I didn’t understand that back then. Just like the fact that we were still alive. A part of me wanted to scream to come back, to life. Another part wanted to die. Even if I did come back, what kind of life would that be? I imagined other ponies pointing their hooves at me because I had no child. I so wanted it to be a colt…

Coldbrew reacted faster than me, keeping it together and fighting numbness despite the incoming tears. He was stronger than me, both physically and mentally. He caught the lid of the crate with his teeth and opened it, throwing Safe Life’s pack on the ground.

“Weapons… Ammo… Some medicines… Some book. Containers with water, two sleeping bags, two pairs of saddlebags… Some food… Pocket knives…”

I looked at it over his fixed wing. He kept listing the contents of the crate.

“Coldbrew?” I asked quietly, approaching him. My stallion froze, looking inside the box. I trotted behind the crate to check what Safe Life had given us. It was a book too, a pocket edition. I levitated it and read the title. The Wasteland Survival Guide by Ditzy Doo… I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. Where did Safe Life get it if we were closed in the Stable and isolated from the Wasteland. The Stable would never dare… How?

Coldbrew began to fill his saddlebags with the contents of the crate. I looked at him, surprised. Did the tables turn and now he got used to the fact that the unknown was awaiting us, while I couldn’t understand that? He shared the items more or less evenly between our bags, leaving the Safe Life’s guide to me. Then he gave me one of the guns from the crate.

“Take it. Hang the holthter on your chetht and put the magathine in,” he said, giving me a gun, holding it so the barrel was off to the side.

I embraced it with my magic and, just as he told me, I put the holster around my chest. Then I loaded the gun. The bullets were already in the magazine. Apart from that, I didn’t know anything about guns. I didn’t know how to clean them, put them apart, take care of them… I didn’t even shoot in my life, I just know how it was done. Coldbrew, on the other hoof, once wanted to join the security and then climb up the social ladder, hoping to become the next Overstallion. His cutie mark, a roll of parchment wrapped in blue ribbon—meaning the government papers—could say a lot about his leadership skills. That’s why he had been trained to use many weapons so he could become a guard.

I put the gun in the holster while he did the same and put the saddlebags on. Then he approached and kissed me.

“We can do this, Sparkplug. We have to,” he said, looking into my eyes. Without further ado, he put the second pair of saddlebags on me. I watched my cutie mark—a QR code—being covered by the leather pouches.

I was just going to ask him how we’d do this, but the speakers, hidden somewhere in the caves turned on, warning us. One of the walls raised, uncovering a dark cave, while the wall on the other side moved toward us, pushing us out of the room. We had no choice but to jump out ourselves, finding the path with the torches of our PipColts. It was cold; we were in cold rush and something was moving in the darkness. Immediately, I stood by Coldbrew’s side while he embraced me with his wing. Finally, he showed some compassion!

“Something is moving here, Coldbrew.”

I trembled. Perhaps my fear spoke to his stallion pride and ego, as he perked up and started to listen… while checking his holster.

“Chill out, it’s probably a rat…”

Then why are you looking at the gun? I thought, almost loudly. Nevertheless, I stayed close to him. Cold licked the tip of his wing and lifted it.

“Let’s follow the rush. The fresh air has to come from somewhere,” he ordered before we started to walk.

Long minutes spent in the stone surroundings of the cave were giving me creeps. Something kept tapping, screeching, hissing… There were so many sounds there, each scarier than the other. Nothing was like the Stable with it hum of the fans, occasional rustling of water, or sparking of a wire when insulating tape wore off. This place was different, frightening. Alien. I couldn’t focus on anything but following Coldbrew. I was so afraid that something was lurking in the shadows that I didn’t even dare to open the holster, scared that the sound would prompt some creature to attack.

Coldbrew was tense, his good wing perking up just like the broken one. I could smell his sweat. He was just as stressed as me, just trying not to lose it.

With a rustle, something touched my hind leg. Scared, I knocked into Cold, squealing. I must say he kept calm and didn’t shoot even once when the beacon of his torch fixed on the old, plastic six-pack of Sparkle Cola cans.

“Chill out, Sparkplug… It’s just rubbish…”

When the next time he stomped on something that cracked under his hooves, it wasn’t so good. It was some old, carious skeleton of a pegasus. Poor guy, he died here all alone…

We looked at it, fear grabbing our throats. It wasn’t normal. We had seen skeletons before in class, but they were whitened and most likely artificial, not yellowish, rotten, and decayed bones of an actual pony.

“We have to get outta here… Quick… I’m sick of this darkness,” Cold said, swallowing hard. We went forward unhurriedly. Nothing could be done for the old guy. We were advancing slowly, still not seeing anything further than our torches could reach, when I got an idea.

“Coldbrew, wait! We have PipColts!” I exclaimed. He rubbed his face with his hoof, showing his bafflement over not coming with it himself.

I turned on the mapping app of my PipColt and my heart warmed up a bit, seeing that the device had already managed to measure the cave complex sonographically and create the map of them. It got easier now, although Coldbrew took his gun and held it in his mouth, just in case. Guess my previous fit only worsened his stress.

Finally, we saw a lighter patch, adorned with something that looked like some weak diodes. When we carefully approached it, we found ourselves in a large room where we couldn’t see the ceiling. Or rather, as I quickly realised, there was no ceiling. It didn’t take me long to get that we weren’t locked anymore but that we were outside. A gust of cold wind brought air smelling completely different than in the Stable. The feeling was completely alien; I almost lost myself in it.

“Wow…”

Cold dropped the gun, staring at the sky, his mouth agape. He couldn’t understand what he was seeing. I looked with him, straight at the large, silvery, and round shield that must’ve been the moon. It was so beautiful, almost hypnotising. The stars around it were also blinking wonderfully. There were also darker patches in the sky. They must’ve been clouds, the former kingdom of pegasi, such as my love.

A stronger gust of cold air woke us up. We looked around. We were on a rather tall hill; somewhere below us, we could see the lights.

“Ponies? But… But nothing was supposed to have survived here…” Cold pondered. Without much thinking, he grabbed the gun and we trotted slowly in that direction. We didn’t expect to see something on the way, something strange enough for us to not realise what it was.  

We stood in front of a concrete wall with twisted metal grating. The area behind it was full of dead trees and stone tables with some inscriptions of them. The entrance was nearby, adorned with two columns with a roof that had collapsed, covering the gate – now just a rusty metal bars. On the remains of the roof, there was a metal table saying, “Cloppingham Cemetery”.

“Cold… Is that a graveyard?” I asked unsurely. He looked around carefully and checked the compass of his PipColt. I also looked at mine – it didn’t tell me anything, but the map confirmed that the inscription on the table was indeed the place’s name.

We searched for a safe entrance, not keen on getting through dirty, old, and twisted bars of the fence. Soon, we found an asphalt road parallel to the wall, full of wrecks of pedal and self-driving  carriages. I’ve never seen any of those before, but I remembered that they were quite popular soon before the great war and there were many of them.

While we were walking, we saw another skeleton, this time belonging to an earth pony. It was lying by the wall, its hooves spread, one of them cradling a large bottle labelled “Whiskey”. It was empty. The skeleton was wearing something that looked like remains of a suit. There was a green, leather wallet hanging from his neck. Inside, there was a metal badge saying, “Trottingham Police Department” and “Officer Pain” below that. My heart fluttered sadly. This policepony had to be here when the bombs fell. Was he drinking because he survived and wanted the pain to stop? Or was he drinking earlier and the bombs surprised him when he was drunk already?

Near his head there were large boxes of painkillers. On his chest there was a holster with a rather rusty submachine gun Cold immediately untied and hid in his saddlebags.

“Coldbrew!” I exclaimed, appalled by the blatant corpse looting. He looked at me, surprised, and one of his ears drooped.

“What!? He’s dead anyway. He won’t need it and we don’t know what awaits us here!” he replied harshly and I lowered my ears. He was right, but robbing a dead pony was… was bad. I looked to the side…

Near the hapless policepony there was a very old wooden board. “Pain Family Reunion”. Another pain… He came to a family reunion and when he got there, the world ended…

I wept. Tears were streaming down my face; I couldn’t stop them anymore. It was all weird, sick, not as what I had been told. I felt cheated, even though they cheated me about my death. Was it some test? Some sick exam one is not told about in order not to tamper with the outcome? Cold looked at me, surprised, and trotted to stand by my side and hug me with his good wing.

“There there, Sparkplug… I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have shouted. We’ll survive, somehow. We’re alive, that’s what matters. Remember how your parents died? You didn’t know what to do either, but you somehow survived. Now you’ll do well too. It’ll just be different.”

I finally calmed down. I was fed up with it all, but he was right. Life went on as usual.


***


Cemetery… Was it a cemetery? Cold didn’t know either… When we found the entrance, we walked inside, looking around unsurely.

Many of the stone tablets were broken or fallen; there were things that looked like stone beds in front of some of them, but most of them didn’t have them. There were also several bigger stone buildings there, resembling large doghouses from the pre-war photos we had in the Stable.

In the middle of the cemetery there was a big, stone arbour. We went there, thinking it was the best shelter. As we dropped out saddlebags inside, I looked at Coldbrew who opened his “Guide…” and read it quickly.

“Wait here, Sparkplug. We must get warm,” he told me and went off to check the neighbourhood.

He collected the old branches of dead trees and a lot of sticks. He tripped a few times in the darkness, but he came back soon, smiling.

“Look how much I got! We can light a fire! This guide is a good thing… It tells you everything.

I smiled despite a foul mood. He seemed to be happy as he knew what to do and because he finally could do something.

“Sparkplug, take the opener and open some canned food for us, okay? We need to save it, but we have to eat some supper. Tomorrow we’ll go towards those lights and see if it’s some civilisation.”

Now I was glad too. His optimism was infectious and now I knew what to do too. I reached to his saddlebags with my telekinesis and took two cans and a pocket knife. With an opener, I opened both of them and looked at Cold. He’d found a lighter somewhere and was just lighting dry wood on fire.

When it finally went ablaze, I felt the real warmth, first time since we left the Stable 69. I sat close to the fire, watching Cold putting some stones together to make a table. The stone blocks nearby, especially the broken ones, were ideal for that. I immediately understood that he made some imitation of an oven. We put the cans on the stones and waited, in tight embrace, until they cooked.

I don’t remember the last time cooked pea tasted so good to me. And when I last ate only as much… Slowly, I pictured life where the food would be scarce and we’d be on our own, without the Stable 69’s self-sufficiency.

After the meal, Cold took our sleeping bags and joined them together with the zippers so we could both sleep inside and warm ourselves with our bodies. I guess he was right. The past life had ended and I didn’t know why, but Coldbrew was with me and it was the only thing that mattered. When I lay down, hugging him, he kept reading something on his PipColt. He kissed the tip of my horn gently and let me sleep, saying that he had to look after the fire. I was tired as if I ran a marathon, so I agreed to his proposal. Soon, I drifted off into Princess Luna’s domain.
> The Crimson Tide
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Original, unaltered chapter.




There are many things the enemies of Tsar are afraid of.


They’re afraid of being discovered. They’re afraid of war. They’re afraid of death, suffering, and defeat. But there’s nothing they fear more than the wrath of the Crimson Tide.


 


*               *               *


                I felt cold. Very cold. I opened my eyes and looked around unsurely. It was bright day, but everything around was terribly grey. A navy blue spot appeared in front of me. I rubbed my eyes with my hooves and saw Coldbrew, sitting nearby and poking the fireplace with a stick. He waved his good wing at it to light the fire again.




                “Good morning, Sparkplug. It’s cold, huh?” he said gently and went back to digging in the fire.



                I stood up, wrapping myself in our sleeping bag and trembling. Of course… We were outside. I still couldn't believe that. I could hear some strange mix of sounds. Only after a while my senses awoke and I could understand the words of the song coming from Coldbrew’s PipColt. It was sung by some stallion with a chorus of mares murmuring in the background, almost a capella.


 


...the snappiest, the folks the happiest



                I started to cry. Everything that happened yesterday came back to me in the morning. No more breakfasts in the canteen, no more working with terminals every day… No child. I wanted one so much. I wanted to create a home for it; a family just like mine, before my parents died. I wanted Coldbrew to be a proud dad. We’d have a colt and his first word would be “daddy”. I planned to give him some cute name that’d fit his appearance and define him. I realised he would never exist. He wouldn’t get a small Stable Suit for younglings or his own PipColt when he grows up. That was so sad.


 


                Coldbrew walked to me and lay at my side, hugging my sleeping bag-wrapped self with his wing. Now I was weeping loudly. I embraced him firmly and stained the dark blue fur on his chest with my tears. We stayed like that for long, until the sun finally pierced through the clouds on the far east, or maybe north. Soon, it hid behind the clouds again, though. I couldn’t understand why there were so many grey clouds over the horizon while only few of them were here, mostly white. Prior to the war, pegasi were managing the weather, but now? The weather went wild. Generally, everything was wrong.


 


                In the Stable, we were taught that the world outside was over and that the radiation level was so big that for the next thousand years no one would be able to live there.


 


                “Coldbrew… Why is everything wrong?” I asked him when I finally calmed down and ran out of tears.


 


                He wiped my snouted and licked my tears. He had so beautiful, sad almond eyes. He ruffled my mane with his nose and got up to put two open cans of corn on our improvised oven.


 


	“Because it’s all lies, Sparkplug,” he said after a while with a heavy sigh, mixing the contents of the cans slowly. He looked calmer than yesterday, as if he came to terms with everything. “I’ve read the logs Buckfare had stolen from the Doctor’s terminal… Everything we were told is lies. Safe Lie wasn’t born in Stable 69, Sparkplug. She comes from here… From the Wasteland.”


 


                I needed a while to realise what he’s just said. He lowered the volume of his PipColt radio and looked at me.


 


                “What do you mean from the Wasteland?”


 


                “Normally. She was born here, in the Wasteland, in a place she referred to in her notes as the Republic of Germaneigh.” He gave a long sigh and poked the fire with a stick. “The Overmare sends one of her confidants to the surface to trade and get whatever the Stable needs. According to what Safe Life wrote, her father was a doctor, a heart surgeon who came from this whole Republic. Our Stable just needed a cardio surgeon; apparently somepony important had a heart problem. Might Will traded the chance to stay with his daughter in the Stable for his services.”


 


                Doctor Safe Life hadn’t been born in the Stable, then. But she wasn’t an old mare either, so it couldn’t have taken place too long ago; maybe a few years before I was born. That’d explain many things. For starters, where did she get that book about surviving in the Wasteland.


 


                Cold seemed very upset when talking about what he’d read in the personal files stolen from the doctor, but it seemed that he’d came to terms with those data.


 


                Why weren’t we told about that? Yeah, probably not to stir panic… or hope for living outside. It was probably a dream of every pony locked in the Stable. I had to admit that the dream immediately faded in contrast to what we saw outside with Coldbrew.


 


                “So… What are we gonna do now, Coldbrew?”


 


                “Now? Now we’ll eat. And after that, we’ll take a look at the neighbourhood. The Guide… says to always check both the new places and the old ones we come back to. Just to make sure one doesn’t find something they can trade or consume themselves, like meds, food…” He smiled warmly, trusting the book.


 


                “But… The food would spoil after two hundred years… Unless we find something local.”


 


                I looked around. Grey stone blocks and dead trees in the place called the Cemetery didn’t look promising. Generally, the whole place looked like those trees. Dead.


                


                “Actually, that’s not a problem. Of course, a lot of the food is now completely rotten, but as far as I remember we used to have canned food that old back in the Stable. I’ve once asked Mr. Rightdate why we’re given so old food and he told me that shortly before the end of the war, Ministry of Arcane Sciences started to prepare ponies for every possibility, which also included the preservation of the food.”


 


                Oh, how I hated him scrunch his nose like that while being a smartass.


 


                “The packages of newly-produced food, as well as the stocks of the government and Stable-Tec were enchanted so they’d last long enough in case they were needed. That’s what I recall,” he explained calmly and wisely.


 


                His knowledge was really deep and I always wondered why he’d preferred to become a politician rather than a teacher or an instructor. We ate in peace, feeling warmed up by first the food and then the sun that managed to pierce the clouds north from us.


 


                “The weather is weird. The sky on the east and north is almost completely overcast, but here it’s only a few clouds. In the photos and movies the sky is usually blue and almost clear,” he wondered, chewing the food at the same time.


 


                I preferred not to look at the sky so much. It was like an exceptionally tall ceiling, but I had an impression that I’d suddenly get off the ground and fall into it like it was water. It was fine when I was looking at the horizon, but as soon as I raised my head a bit higher I felt that sucking in my stomach and had to turn my gaze somewhere else.


 


                We finished eating, packed our provisional camp and started to look around the cemetery. There weren’t many things to take from there. There were remains of clothes and metal bits on the skeletons of some ponies, like in case of Officer Pain. I found a metal hip flask; it was open so the whole alcohol from it vapourised over the years. I hid it in my bag and was satisfied to see that the sorting spell of my PipColt worked, registering the new item in them.


 


                Coldbrew either had more luck or just grabbed whatever he found, since his bags looked stuffed. For a moment I thought that he took too much and was overloaded,  but it turned out he could walk quite well.






                “Now we have to go to the place where we’ve seen those lights. The Guide… says that trade is the best way of surviving in the Wasteland. The lights mean that the pony settlements do exist and maybe we’ll be able to trade with the ponies from there.”


 


*               *               *


                


                We walked and walked, but the town didn’t seem to get any closer at all. The music from Coldbrew’s PipColt was playing pleasantly entertaining us on the long way. I was just about to ask where he’d gotten those songs from—I’ve never heard them before—when a voice of some unknown stallion flown from the speaker.


 


                “Good mooooooorning Wasteland! How did you sleep? I didn’t sleep well. Why didn’t I? Well, how to sleep well with so much evil around? I’m telling you, the recent deeds of Crimson Tide made a bloody mark on the whole coast. Apparently the Dogs are looking for a hideout to lay low for the winter. No wonder, they do that every year since they besieged Stalliongrad. But I’m telling you, we have to stand against them. If you are sick of ponies, don’t let them steal your stock and murder your relatives.”


 


                His voice was firm, clear and trained, as if he got used to making public speeches. He had a strange accent, very elegant, slightly snobbish, but not arrogant. I stopped in my tracks, pulling Coldbrew’s PipColt to my eyes to take a look. I couldn’t believe the display. Someone was broadcasting over the radio channels. The RDS information told me that the station was called Free Stalliongrad Radio and that it was Monday, 11:12 AM. The bit about month and year was garbled.


 


                The voice from the PipColt continued the monologue. “In other bad, but slightly less upsetting news, our entertainment offer this week will also experience technical difficulties. Due to our terminals malfunctioning, we have to find a way to record the new material for you, dear listeners. Most definitely, today at noon you can listen to the rerun of the last week’s ‘Incredible Adventures of Daring Do’ and at 3 PM we invite you to listen to ‘Wasteland Cuisine’. Today, the exclusive recipe for a gecko salad by the chef Whitesabre. Don’t forget to join us for the daily Boomstick Overview with Private Rainheart right after Whitesabre’s program. I won’t forget about our talks about the Old World and a new good-night story for the younger Wasteland dwellers. Remember, you listen to the Free Stalliongrad Radio. Hard times were never so fun before. And now, some music – I present you Sunset Sky and her ‘If I Were a Colt’. Have you ever wondered how is it to be a stallion?”


                


                After a while his voice was cut off, as if the broadcast ended, but then a melody flown from the speaker. RDS informed us in a bit glitchy way about the title of the song. Coldbrew only gave me a warm smile and kissed my forehead.


 


                “I’ve been listening a bit of his audition in the morning, darling. He sounds like a reasonable stallion and has a lot of positive vibrations. He’s broadcasting from a place called Stalliongrad and encourages the listeners to visit the Steel Square there. I think that after we reach the town with the lights and assess our situation and chances, we should go just there. Apparently they always need ponies to work and NPR pays well.”


 


                “NPR?” I asked, a bit dumbfounded.


 


                “NPR. New Prance Republic. Too bad he didn’t tell much about it, except that they probably don’t come from here and that they fight with this whole Crimson Tide. He mostly talked about them in superlatives.”


 


                I thought that I’d have to pay more attention to that radio if Coldbrew had such a good opinion on it. I had to admit myself that the speaker’s words sounded rational and that he had a nice voice. In fact… Another name and information: New Prance Republic. Probably weeks will pass before I get used to discovering the world again. I hope there are ponies in the place we’re going to.


                


 


 


*               *               *


 


                I thought finding an even (as even as two hundred years of disrepair allowed), paved road was an unbelievable thing, but it couldn’t compare to what we saw after about an hour of walking: someone was walking towards us. Two someones, even. They were walking slowly, but it seemed that they’d seen us from the distance. I could see that the smaller silhouette was leaning against a bigger one, holding their hoof by their muzzle. Soon, however, they continued to pace to us.


 


                When they came close enough to see more details in the sunlight, it turned out that only one of them was a pony; and an earth pony to boot. The other creature looked like cows from picture books for younglings, but it seemed more like a nightmarish version of meek bovines drawn for foals’ entertainment. It had large, swollen udders and a sun-bleached coat that looked like it had been eaten or simply fell off in some places. The most unimaginable thing, though, was that it had two heads. One of them was looking at us, seemingly intelligent, while the other was throwing hungry glances around. The cow-strosity was wearing a large thing resembling saddlebags, but full of large pockets, with the bulk of its mass perched on the creature’s back.


 


                The pony had grass-coloured coat, with a blond mane. He was incredibly dirty, wearing the weirdest outfit I’ve ever seen in my life. There was a cap on his head that used to be white but now it had a colour of greasy paper put under a pizza. He was also wearing clothes that seemed to be sewn together out of an old leather jacket and a bleached brown sweater full of holes. There were saddlebags on his back, with some long firearm hanging from there. He had a scarf around his neck, dangling together with a telescope on a leather belt. I thought that he probably used it to look at us from afar.


 


                He gave us a conspicuous look, his gaze wandering. First he looked at our holsters, but since they were closed, he calmed down a bit. Then he gave my body a stare pretty far from conspicuousness, which made me cling to Coldbrew’s side.


 


                “Hello! I’m Piggybank!” he said suddenly, causing me to stiffen. Coldbrew also looked like he was about to have a heart attack. “What brings two lonely ponies to The Long Seventeen? No Brahmins and no bodyguards, so you probably aren’t from any caravan…” He paused and looked at us. Guess he got interested by our suits as he started to think. “You’re from the Stable, right? The Sixty-Nine?”


 


                He knew about the Stable! How did he knew? It was well-hidden! We were kicked out of it, but not via the main entrance. Coldbrew clenched his muscles and looked at him. I could see his jaw muscles stiffening when he gritted his teeth. That moment felt like minutes, although it probably didn’t take longer than a second.


 


                “Umm… How do you know about this?” Coldbrew asked, calming down.


 


                The earth pony looked at Coldbrew’s wing, still sticking it the plaster cover. “Oh, I’m older than I look.” He bared his teeth, revealing brown stumps of old dental caps. They were hideous. Did he ever hear about oral hygiene? I hid behind Coldbrew and Piggybank laughed loudly.


 


“No need to be scared, lady. I know you’re from Sixty-Nine from your outfits and you two as well. You’re healthy, nice, generally unsoiled, wearing blue Stable-Tec suits with huge, yellow 69 on each side. Hard to mistake you for someone else.”


 


I smacked myself in the forehead. Of course our suits were a dead giveaway!


 


“Especially since a few years ago, me daddy helped one doc and his foal to find your Stable.”


 


                He was talkative. Very talkative. But at least we learned that the ponies in the Wasteland are looking for the Stable. And that his father helped doctor Safe Life to get into the shelter.


 


                “Yeah, we’re from there. Could you help us? Is it worth it to go to that place over there? We’ve seen the lights there at night,” Coldbrew asked.


 


                He seemed to have calmed down a bit. Piggybank appeared to know lot and his smile was bright and honest. He reached to his saddlebags and produced some old roadmap. Well… If I recall correctly, those didn’t show all the roads, but they greatly helped the earth ponies and unicorns using self-powered vehicles – the ground-based version of the pegasi’s air carriages.


 


                Piggybank opened the map, which took a lot of space on the crushed asphalt, and started to circle his hoof over it. The whole map was marked with flamboyantly-coloured sharpies with various notes and symbols, probably drawn by Piggybank himself. Finally, his hoof stopped over a long, black line hidden between the others. This one went across about half of the map.


 


                “This here is a road we’re on. The Long Seventeen. Used to be one of main cargo routes, but there are other ones too. Now… Well, in recent years it’s rather decrepit and hardly anyone goes there. Mostly the Bandits and the Invaders; recently a lot of the Tide too,” he explained, pointing at the place where we were. I recognised it from the Cemetery marked nearby in pre-war print rather than the merchant’s notes.


 


                “The Tide? You mean, Crimson Tide?” I asked, leaning shyly from behind Coldbrew. The earth pony smirked.


 


                “I was just thinking you wouldn’t know. Crimson Tide is a bunch of large, intelligent dogs from a country way beyond the Great Emptiness, a great wasteland, even more wasted than what you see here.” He waved his hoof as if he wanted to show us the whole world. “There’s literally nothing in there. The dogs and their wolf chiefs managed to get across this emptiness and they turned their eyes on Stalliongrad. When you see an enormous dog, you’d better avoid it. The smaller, pony-sized too. Not a good bone in them, they’re smart, vicious, and they don’t give a damn about what the others feel. Easy to recognise them, they always wear something red.”


 


                Coldbrew studied the map carefully for a long time, before he finally patted it with his hoof, pointing at the green spot labelled with an arrow and the name “Wellsprings”.


                            


                “How far is that Wellsprings? Can you tell us something about it, Piggybank?” he asked the merchant, who looked at him askew. He didn’t like something.


 


                “Not far. At a calm pace, about half of a day. Shorter if you gallop, but it ain’t a good idea. The air is cold and if you get sweaty, you may freeze and get sick. Not a good idea in the Wasteland in winter…”


*               *               *


 


                We left Piggybank not long later. He gave us a few pieces of information about the neighbourhood, shared a few useful details (I couldn’t wrap my head around using bottle caps and can tabs as money!), and warned us of the wild creatures roaming in this area. The tales of large, mutated scorpions, bears, and rats seemed a bit tall, but it was better to trust those warnings.


 


                The earth around was weird. It was mostly dirt or yellow-tinted lifeless soil, although we could see some small bushes and twisted plants from time to time; despite the sick yellow tint, they seemed to grow and flourish in these conditions.


 


                Some two hours after we left the merchant, we stumbled upon the ruins of a small town. Strange that no one lived there, as many houses seemed to be in a good shape. My PipColt beeped and the map informed us that we were in Cedar Knoll.


 


                We looked around the area. The town was small, just ten houses. I’d call it a village, but we couldn’t see any silos, barns, fences, anything. All that was there was a small, decaying playground, a large building labelled “Hotel” but with its name sun-bleached beyond comprehension, and a big store with a petrol station.


 


                The station was the first thing that interested us. We checked our Eyes-Forward Sparkle in search of other ponies or animals. When it revealed that the neighbourhood was deserted, we slowly went towards the building adorned with a large sign reading “Oilfarm”.


 


                In the front, there were battered pumps. I tried to remember what they were for… Self-propelling vehicles used to stop here… But why? What was pumped into them? I grabbed the rotting hose with my magic and looked at the controls. The gauge wasn’t zeroed and the numbers still showed the price to pay. I could only imagine someone who ran away from certain doom, forgetting to pay or simply stole the contents when everything started to fall apart. Upsetting.


 


                I was absolutely surprised when after pushing the trigger at the end of the hose, a stream of some liquid shot out of it and nearly splatted on me. I squealed, dropping the hose. Coldbrew ran to me immediately, looking at my deed.


 


                “Honey…”


 


                “WHAT?!” I shouted, scared and unnerved. His ears drooped for a moment, but then a smirk adorned his face.


 


                “You’re so great you can make even a pump shoot…” He laughed loudly lowering his head. Dick jokes… Okay, I found it funny too. We laughed together, ending it with a kiss. Maybe it wasn’t that bad after all? As long as there’s place for laughter in life, it’s worth living.


 


                When we calmed down, we entered the building. It wasn’t that big. From the front, it had an exceptionally dirty glass wall. On the right, there was a big, open garage with remains of a small self-propelled vehicle inside. Coldbrew took the gun out of the holster and searched the garage holding it in his teeth. I levitated my weapon and sneaked to the main entrance. The door was slightly ajar; I could only see the darkness inside, but my EFS didn’t show anything but Cold’s blue line. I turned on the torch in my PipColt and slowly walked into the dim interior of the petrol station.


 


                It wasn’t much. It seemed that many before us already visited this place and took everything that wasn’t attached to the floor. The shelves were almost empty; the floor was littered with empty cans and bottles of alcohol and other drinks such as Sparkle Cola. To my surprise I noticed that there were some untouched bottles with it left. Looking around to see if no one was watching, I started to pack them into my saddlebags. I was packing the fifth when…


 


                “Hey, what do you have there?”


 


                I jumped, startled, and aimed my gun at the source of the voice, the bottle of Sparkle Cola breaking on the ground. Hearing that sound, I squeezed the trigger with my magic and… I only heard a click of the trigger.


 


                Coldbrew looked at me, scared, but he relaxed after a while. He put his hoof on his chest, breathing heavily. I dropped the gun and started to cry. I almost shot my love.


 


                “I’m sorry! I didn’t want to!” I cried loudly, sitting on the ground and covering my eyes with my hooves. The spilt, sticky drink was barely important now, even if it glued to the fur on my bum. “I got scared!”


 


                After a while he walked to me unsurely and cautiously took my gun. He spun it in his mouth and gave it to me. “You’ww know bettew,” he lisped through the handle. “And tuwn the safety off next time.”


 


                My ears low, I took the gun from him and hid it in the holster. I was afraid of it now, but his firmness was calming me down. He didn’t take my gun from me, giving me a second chance even if I failed completely. Maybe he loved me, or maybe he simply believed in me?


*               *               *


                Colbrew was more quiet and grumpy afterwards, but he didn’t let me feel that he was mad at me in any other way. We gathered loads of bottlecaps from the station’s premises and we were about to go and check the houses. We were standing on the main street leading to the centre of the settlement, when we heard something like rustling or scraping. Our ears perked up; we also checked our EFS radars. There was Cold’s blue line there, but there was another one next to it. We followed it and saw this.


                


                It was slim and covered in bleached fur. One of its eyes was covered with a red sash, wrapped around its head in such a way that it kept its rather long ears permanently perked up. It has a large, black nose, and a pair of black eyes, staring back at us. Meanwhile, it was sniffing the ground, drooling. We couldn’t see the rest of its body, as it was behind the building. Only after a while we realised how big it must’ve been.


 


	“It’s easy to recognise them, they always wear something red.”


	 


	“Sparkplug, get back and go to the road… I’ll cover you. Then gallop to Wellsprings. I’ll be right behind you,” Coldbrew muttered through gritted teeth, looking around and turning to his EFS from time to time. “Now!”


	 


	I ran.


*               *               *


                We were running as fast as we could. At first we thought the dog wasn’t chasing us, but not even a ten minutes later, it followed us down the trail, together with two others; one of them was incredibly large, with quite pronounced muscles, while the other one looked like the first one we’d seen back in Cedar Knoll, but it was grey, with longer snout and somewhat weird eyes. This one was even stranger, as it wore some clothes with a red sash around his chest. They were shouting something in an unknown canine language, barking loudly while were ran until we were almost out of breath. We weren’t used to such running, but it seemed like the fear kept making our aching legs move.


 


                Soon, we drifted off on uneven terrain, the road turning between some cliffs and spiralling somewhere below. The marker showing an approximate location of Wellsprings indicated that we’d have to go around, as running straight could end up in running across an even rougher terrain. And the dogs seemed not to get tired while getting closer.


 


                “Leave us alone! We didn’t do anything to you!” I shouted behind me, risking running out of breath. I was sick and afraid of them. “We just want to go away!”


 


                I heard a guttural, pronounced cry. I’ve never heard such a voice before. Still running, Coldbrew and I looked at each other.


 


                “Freeze! Or I’ll shoot!”


 


                Of course we didn’t stop, even though the command sounded like it was yelled by security forces. We heard a shot and, with a puff of dust something made a hole in the cobblestone between us. For a moment we stood still and looked behind us. The grey dog in a uniform stood on its hind legs, holding a long weapon I recognised as a rifle in his paws. He was aiming at us while two other dogs ran towards us.


 


                We didn’t stood there for long, immediately rushing forward in panic, finding new strength to run for our lives. We ran down the winding road, zig-zagging down the enormous rock shelf almost like stairs. The twisted metal barriers put there for vehicles’ safety seemed too tall too jump over it safely, especially with Coldbrew’s injured wing, so we kept following the road, to our peril.


                


                The clothed dog with a rifle stood atop the hill, firing single shots at us. He either wasn’t a very good shot, or he had trouble aiming at us while we were running, as the bullets were whistling past us. On the third turn, the two other dogs jumped at us. The smaller one definitely overshot, jumping above me and hitting the metal barrier with his head, staggering away. And then, I heard Cold’s scream.


 


                The slower and larger dog nailed him to the floor with his body, squashing his injured wing. I heard the plaster crack (I hoped it was just the plaster) and screamed loudly in fear, standing still. I heard barking and rattling of the weapon. The grey wolf in clothes also jumped above the cliff and ran down the road much faster than we did.


 


                “Run, Sparkplug! Run! I’ll make it!” Coldbrew shouted from under the dog, tears of pain welling in his wide eyes. “RUN!”


 


                I was afraid. I was so afraid. So I did what he told, crying and not paying attention to any obstacles. I only knew the direction. To Wellsprings. Towards ponieś. Down there, I could see the faint outline of the town.


                


*               *               *


                The grey dog didn’t give up. His two companions weren’t after me anymore, but he hung his rifle on his back and followed me, hardly exhausted. I was out of energy; my legs and lungs were burning as if someone pierced them with red hot nails; I couldn’t see anything through tears and my heart almost broke in half.


 


                He got me on one of the turns when I couldn’t see him, trying to catch a breath. He charged at me, hitting my snout causing my vision to blur. I hit a wrecked vehicle and he was already on my back. I regained consciousness right in time to cover myself with my hooves, not letting him land on the top of me. I don’t know what he wanted, but he hit me again; this time, he hit my PipColt, causing something in his arm to crunch. In panic, I used my magic and levitated my gun, shaking and struggling against a much stronger dog. I turned off the safety and put the gun against his head.


 


                He jumped back, letting me go and at the very moment I heard a shout from the cliff above me.


 


                “Use the SATS!”


 


                The wolf and I raised our heads and followed the voice from nowhere until we saw a mare. She was tall, wearing a trench coat and an old fedora. Her snout and neck were covered in bandages. Guided by instinct, I aimed the gun at the dog, turning on the Stable-Tec Arcane Targeting Spell. The world stood still, or rather skid to a crawl. The wolf froze in a weird position, staring at me and reaching for the rifle on his back.


 


                An official message flashed before my eyes – the license agreement I was (allegedly) making with Barn Industries company. What Barn Industries? Who cares?! I just wanted to get out of there right now! The time slowed down, yet I was still as scared as before. I clicked on the confirmation and agreement and my sight seemed to lock on the dog.


 


                The matrix of the spell let me focus on the vital points of the creature referred to by EFS as “Wolf Scout”, as well as predicted damage I could do with my gun. I didn’t know how, but the program calculated that I needed four headshots. It allowed me to add five of them to the queue so I did just that and released the spell.


 


                I heard the shots of two guns and a rifle and the Mysterious Mare quickly disappeared behind the edge of the cliff.


                







 


> Wellsprings
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 3



“Wellsprings”


 


Ponies! How noble they are! How quick to sacrifice… someone else!





*           *           *


“Hello, Wasteland! It’s Cloud Waker, your host. You’re listening to Free Stalliongrad Radio. The weather forecast isn’t very promising today, guys. Our wondrous celestial hosts from Enclave are probably happy as winter is coming, which means that more wild clouds will wander over our lovely Wasteland. A large cluster of storm clouds is approaching the Long Seventeen. Settlements such as Wellsprings and Goodwill should get ready for cold rain. Put the barrels outside as the clouds seem to be healthy. Remember to always check it, though. You can never be sure of what comes from the sky.




*           *           *




           When I lived in the Stable, I never expected that I’d have to take a life. I dreamed about becoming a mother, raising my foal with Coldbrew. I was a technician, repairing terminals and I didn’t need anything to be happy other than my love and my child.



           I felt like my dream had been turned inside-out and left to dry like an old sock. I didn’t become a mother. I didn’t feel life growing in me and I didn’t give the world another creation. Instead, I killed. Instead of giving life, I took it from an unfamiliar, sapient being.



           I stood over the still-warm body of the wolf, having no idea what was happening around me. Only after a while that seemed to last forever, I realised what I’d done. I started to cry; my whole body hurt and I could barely breathe, staggering. I sat next to the wolf and poked him with my hooves. Maybe he wasn’t dead and I could help him? Too bad, he didn’t react; the hole in his forehead and three more in his side were bleeding, although I still couldn’t wrap my head around it.



           I’d only hit him once, with my last shot, at nearly point-blank range. The mare from the cliff hit him three times in the said, but it was my shot that killed him while his momentum allowed him to grab my neck by accident. He slid off of me and then it was just crying and fear.



I’m not sure how much time I spent by the corpse, but finally I managed to get up and walk. I felt dirty, tired, thirsty and hungry. The dirt was what hurt me the most, aside from the shock. I felt dirty in body and mind, as if I tarnished my very soul. I was just fed up with this day. Even that mysterious mare in a trench coat from the cliff vanished and wouldn’t appear even when I called after her. I was alone.



I focused on the last thing that Coldbrew said to me: running. It wasn’t a real gallop, nor even a trot because my muscles burned as if set aflame, but I strolled forward, tripping and sniffing at that. The target on PipColt’s map wasn’t far away… I will find help there.




*           *           *



 


I didn’t know what to expect from Wellsprings, or any other village on the surface for that matter. I imagined it as a Stable, just without the corridors or a roof. In some sense, it was exactly that, though I didn’t expect brick walls around it and two gates. Both gates had guard houses above them, their roofs made of wood and rusty corrugated sheets. The whole town was built in the middle of the road, or more like, on the sides of it. The buildings were wooden and brick with the same metal sheet roofs as the guard houses. There was a big tent field within the wall and an oval market place in the middle of it all, creating a sort of a crossed out circle.



           I rested a bit and trotted down the road as fast as I could. Not even an hour later I was standing by the gate. Locked. I looked up, at the guardhouse. The sky was growing darker; the first sign that the night was close. Ugly clouds were gathering above the town. They were dark, almost black.



           “Hey! Is there anypony there?!” I shouted towards the guardhouse.



           After a while, I heard some shuffling, as if someone moved a chair, and a brown earth stallion in a cowpony hat leaned over from the window, yawning. A barrel of a carbine stuck from behind his back.



           “What?” he asked in annoyed voice, apparently woken up from a nap. “Business? Where are ya from?”



           I lay my ears flat against my head. I didn’t like the way he was talking to me. Besides, I only needed help.



           “Please! My coltfriend and I were kicked out of the Stable! He was kidnapped!” I cried as woefully as I could, trying to make him feel remorse. He only looked at me and kept staring from the tower. “Please!”



           “Show me your left hoof and your side!”



           His command surprised me, but I did what he wanted. The sight of my PipColt and the yellow 69 emblazoned on my dark blue stable suit seemed to interest him the most.



“By Celestia and Luna in the heavens above, take a look at that!” He exclaimed, suddenly more energetic. “ It’s been ages since someone from 69 came! Keychain! Open the damned doors! Whitesabre has a new client!” He yelled to somepony inside and the metal gates made of the same corrugated metal that the rest of the town used started opening with a loud whine.



“Thanks!” I shouted to him and trotted inside, trusting the safety of the town’s walls.



Keychain started to close the gates after I walked through them. He was a very muscular pink earth pony with blue mane and a keyhole as his cutie mark. The brown pony walked out of the guardhouse and went downstairs, sending Keychain there. Then he stood by me, correcting the position of the rifle on his saddle. I’d never seen someone without the security uniform wearing a battle saddle, but apparently there were different rules here.



He stood close to me, waiting until I got used to the new views. There were many colourful ponies walking along the street from one building to another; some of them walked towards a large structure near the circle I’d seen from the mountain. Most of them wore some clothes: coats, hats, aprons, scarves… When I was looking at them, I felt cold despite my suit. To be honest, the town stank. From all the places, I smelled cigarette smoke, spoilt food, and gutters.



“Let’s go. Whitesabre will talk with you. She has a sentiment for stable ponies.” He was rough and he obviously didn’t see me as anything more than a nuisance. He even eyed me with hunger in his eyes, which made me afraid of him; but he didn’t do anything to make me feel like running away.



           We started to walk as he said. After a while we trotted across that strange circle I’d seen before. When I asked him what was that, he said that it was a market place and urged me not to stop, as there was nothing interesting in there. He was very rude.



           We stood before a big, wooden building. It was very long with a terrace in front of it, and it had a thatched roof, making it completely different from the rest of the town. It had a second floor, and many of windows with glass in them, stained with dirt. A gravel path led to the entrance, which was topped with a big banner with a sign saying Wellsprings Motel.

 

The guard went inside, leaving the door wide open. I felt a wave of warmth from the inside and I heard muffled sounds of conversations. It wasn’t that loud but it made me remember how the corridors of the Stable sounded in the rush hours. I almost shed a tear for the memory of a place where I was never supposed to come back to.



           The guard yelled out to a white mare with black mane that stood behind the counter, that someone from a Stable has business with her, pointing his hoof at her for me to follow. He told me the mare was called Whitesabre and that she would take care of me. He left immediately after that, going back to the gate.



           I moved forwards, the door slamming behind me. The ponies went silent, watching me with curious looks on their faces. Most of them didn’t seem very nice. I was surprised that the majority of this population were stallions, with only a hoofful of mares. In my Stable, there always were almost the same amount of mares and stallions for it to be… well, stable.

 

            Whitesabre was a milky-white unicorn, but her mane, at first appearing to be black, turned out to be of a very dark shade of green. She had a short, stallion-like tail and a long, straight mane covering her right eye and flowing down onto her neck with little curls suggesting the use of hair rollers. She was quite a looker, even if she didn’t seem to use any tricks to make herself prettier, aside from the her.



           When I approached her, she showed me an empty stool to sit on. The place was a bar; there were rows upon rows of different alcohol brands on shelves behind her.



           “Hello there,” she said. Her voice betrayed her age; a lot more than it showed at first. ”What’s your name?”



           “I’m Sparkplug” I said, weighing my words for a bit. “That guard said something about you taking care of me, right?”



           She sighed aloud and passed me a glass she filled with some Sparkle Cola from a bottle.



           “I’m Whitesabre. I can’t really help you that much, dear. I can give you a job here, or direct you in a place where you can find one. How old are you?” she asked with care in her voice.



           “Almost sixteen,” I answered. “But I’m not looking for a job, I… I need help! My coltfriend and I were… kicked out of the Stable. We met the Crimson Tide on the way here… And they kidnapped Coldbrew!” My emotions filled my voice at this point.



           All the conversations in the bar died own, as if they all suddenly ran out of topics. Whitesabre jumped over the counter to land beside me with grace and grabbed the Sparkle-Cola bottle with her purple magic placing her hoof on my lips.

           “Barracuda! Come to the bar, will you?!” she shouted to a black mare with a neon pink heart for a cutie mark who’d just served a client. Then she came back to me, “We should talk privately. Come.” She pointed at the stairs leading up and moved towards them, looking back only once, to check if I was following.

           Only now I could see two things about her. Her cutie mark was a chef’s hat (something was awfully familiar about it) and on her left hoof there was a PipColt! PipColt! I trotted quickly after her.

           Once we were on the second floor, she walked down the corridor and unlocked the last door with her keys. She went inside, inviting me and closing them again behind me. She did it very gently, as if not to scare me.



           She sat on an armchair near the window and gestured me to sit on her bed. It was clean, although the sheets were completely bleached out of colour by their considerate age, and the pillows were patched together multiple times. There was an old radio on the dresser, which chimed quietly with the Free Stalliongrad Radio waves.



           I sat down and she levitated me my glass with Sparkle Cola, and placed the bottle on the night stand beside her. Her violet eyes drilled through me, as if she wanted to glare inside of my very soul.



“Darling, please, do tell me, what happened? From the beginning.”



           I told her. Everything. To my astonishment, she knew what the Fertility Law was. She listened intently when I told her about that strange cemetery place and how we found the earthly remains of that poor policepony. I told her how we searched the fuel station and how we met our first dog. I cried when I told her about how Coldbrew was caught, and she sat beside me to give me a firm embrace. I kept weeping like that and she remained with me whole the time and hugged me.



           “Listen, darling… I’m very sorry to say that, but no one ever leaves the shackles of Crimson Tide. You can only be sure that he’s alive. They need Stable ponies. Or rather, our PipBucks.”



           What PipBucks? Aren’t those called PipColt? Something seemed wrong.



           “To use them correctly, they need Stable ponies. You can’t get him back on your own and if they’d kidnapped him, he’s already on the way to their camp near Stalliongrad.”



           I didn’t want to accept it. I wanted to run after those dogs and throw myself into their slavery just to see Coldbrew. She seemed to guess what I was thinking because she took my face in her hooves and raised my muzzle to her eye-level. Those pretty, tired, violet eyes. She had to have seen a lot in her life.



           “Don’t even think about it! Coldbrew had sacrificed himself so you could be free! You won’t help him by letting them catch you. You won’t be able to do anything alone. And while we’re at it, you killed a wolf, and trust me, they will search for you for that. I can give you shelter here – they respect me, but you can’t ever be seen. You must be free and live, that’s what he would’ve wanted!



           How could she?! How could she say what Coldbrew wanted, if she never met him?! I was enraged and devastated. And the worst part was that deep down at the bottom of my heart I knew Whitesabre was right. Cold would have wanted me to be free and happy, even without him. I knew, because I would do the same, if I wasn’t so afraid and if I was caught by them.



I wanted to hit her. Instead, I hugged her and let the tears flow.




*           *           *




I had to admit, her being there for me while I was crying helped me a lot. I remembered that Coldbrew had done the same thing when my parents died. He didn’t tell me it would be okay, because he knew it wouldn’t. He just was there and I could confide in him, like in this stranger mare now.



When the well of my tears dried out, it was my turn to ask questions. She listened to me intently and answered each and every question, like a patient mother.



“Why are you helping me?”



“Silly. What do you think was the number on my Stable Barding when I left the Stable?

“Sixty Nine?”

“Bingo! You just won another round of Sparkle Cola!” She poured me another cup.



The outside grew louder with thunders but they were so muffled I paid any attention to them only once. The water seemed to drip from the clouds as if an anti-fire system in the corridors had a malfunction.



“This is called rain,” she explained to me. “It happens sometimes on the wastelands. There isn’t that much rainfall around here, but it pours like crazy over Hoofington since the Enclave has that sky in its grasp. Sometimes, a lighting  will strike. It looks similar to the discharges that happen on Trotsla coils in the Generator on level six, unless they finally fixed it. I remember that it constantly burnt through electronic circuits in devices.”



”They didn’t fix it. The discharges are still there,” I said calmly and looked at her in puzzlement. “So… Coldbrew and I weren’t the only ones who got thrown out of the Stable?”



Whitesabre only sighed and levitated a cut crystal drinking glass from her drawer. I saw glasses like that only in the Overmare’s office before; it sure did surprise me to see something like this outside of the Stable. She poured herself half a glass of cola and filled the rest with whiskey. She tasted her drink for a bit, cherishing its aroma, and finally turned her attention back to me, looking at me with hurt in her eyes.



“No, not just you two… But, unlike you, I wasn’t thrown out with somepony. The Law of Fertility is a lie. The mares and stallions in 69 are as fertile as they possibly can. Me and you… We were tricked. I doubt that you’d have any problems with getting pregnant,” she said with a hint of anger in her voice. It wasn’t directed towards me, at least.



“From time to time they implant some mares. Usually once in five to ten years, but it isn’t regular. The implant prevents them from becoming pregnant, and then they say it’s some kind of disorder and they remove the pair under the pretense of euthanasia. All that just to make ponies think that it’s the right thing and that only fertility is a guarantee of survival. That those who can’t have children are not worthy of living.”



After she was done, she downed her drink and sighed, her cheeks red. It looked like she needed to get something off her chest too.



“You were kicked out all alone, huh?” I asked eventually.



“Yeah…My coltfriend, Baton Bash was in security and the Fertility Law didn’t apply to him.”



“Baton Bash?” My memory started rolling. I knew this name from somewhere. Yes, I did! “When we were… kicked out, he was the Chief of Security. He has no family.”



“Oh… So we are both cursed to remain like this...?” she asked absentmindedly. “Anyway, if you ever want to have a foal, the local doctor successfully removed implants from 69’s mares twice. His name is Killerdose. If you want my advice, however… You should keep the implant. At least for now.” She said with almost deadpan seriousness.

           “Why is that?”

           “For a couple of reasons… First of all: a child is a hindrance in the Wasteland. Pregnancy is even more of a hindrance. Secondly, you may encounter raiders… If they don’t kill you, they will rape you at best. You wouldn’t want to be their slave broodmare and bear their children, trust me. Death is much better than their slavery.”

           I shivered. The very name of those raiders was scary. Now I was afraid to even look at the walls of the town without anypony close to me.

           While we sat there in silence, the music in the radio died down, replaced by the familiar DJ’s voice.



”Howdy there, my little ponies! This is Cloud Waker, your’s truly and one and only! While many of you feel the storm on their hides, I hope that our relays are fighting that pesky white noise away! Take that, White noise, HA! Yes yes, my little ponies, when I’m here, talking to you in your homes, adventurers travel the Wasteland with their glorious task of erecting our relays all over the place! Remember, any brave adventurer who is willing to help, will be awarded for their effort by the Free Stalliongrad Radio. All you need to do is come to the studio on the Steel Market in Stalliongrad, and we will equip you with all you need and a couple of caps for the road!”



           By the sound of his voice, he was excited like a kindergartener who was promised some pudding. It was heartwarming that someone was so eager to just give somepony else a job.



”And now, some music, but don’t turn your radios off, for after that, we will return with another episode of ‘Cuisine Wasteland’ with our mistress of field cookin’, Whitesabre!”



For a long time did I stared at her with astonishment in my eyes and she became more and more embarrassed with each passing moment. The radio boomed with the lyrics of “Dear Hearts and Gentle Ponies”.



           “You’re that Whitesabre from the Radio? But… He… You…” She didn’t want me to finish and she silenced me with her hoof put over my mouth.




I love those dear hearts and gentle ponies



Who live in my home town



Because those dear hearts and gentle ponies



Will never ever let you down



...




           She didn’t wait for the song to end. “Yes, it’s me. About six months ago I went to Stalliongrad to make a deal with local traders. I needed a few more caps to finalise it and I heard that someone from the Radio founded an award for someone who could cook something good for a banquet. Since cooking is my special talent and I used to work in the canteen back in Sixty-Nine…” She paused for a moment and released me; she was still petting me, though, to calm me down. It was nice, almost motherly.



           “Well… My cuisine was received so well that the director, Cloud Waker asked me to record a couple of programs and that he’d pay greatly for all of them. One never has too many caps and it was an easy job, so I agreed. And boom!” She smacked one of her hooves against the other. “They broadcast three programs a week. If I recall correctly, we recorded a bit more than a couple, so he still has a lot of stuff to broadcast.”



It was fun to meet someone who could pass for a celebrity. The Stable had only a few ponies like that, and they normally kept that to themselves. And here? Look! I was being cheered up by one. Despite my sorrow it was something funny to me and it bolstered my spirits. Something, however, came back to my mind and I had to ask.



           “You said, that the Dogs need PipBucks… The devices we are wearing are called PipColt’s… What’s the difference?”



           She only sighed gently. She smiled as if she remembered something nice.



           “I have a PipBuck, you have a PipColt. I lost mine long ago. You can’t imagine how hard it was for me to find a technician pony capable of maintaining a PipBuck to set it up for me. I even had to talk to the Trottingham Steel Rangers and dance around them so they’d let me keep it. Techno-Dickheads!” The swear in her pretty mouth sounded really bitter and out of place. “Well, Sparkplug, PipColts are knockoffs. Very good, almost as good as the original, but still, knockoffs. I don’t really know why but that’s what the Rangers said to me. Before the bombs, Stable-Tec had monopolized the innovative technology market, but not all companies were satisfied with that state of the market.”



She’s a good storyteller, I must say that.



“There were other companies in the technological field, and many of them tried to replicate the success of Stable-Tec. The rangers said that Barn Industries was a megacorporation based on Germaneigh Commonwealth that became famous because aside from a few really good technologies of their own, all the other assets of theirs were the effect of corporate espionage and tech-thievery. They reproduced those technologies without a license. They didn’t tell me much more but my advice is this: if you’ll ever come upon a working PipBuck, ditch the PipColt. They are faster and a hundred times more resilient. My PipColt just cracked in the jaws of a Radigator.”



“Radigator?”




*           *           *




           Stories about the monsters and creatures that lived in the Wasteland were a plenty. We talked for a very long time as she recounted her numerous tales of far and wide travels – and that apparently wasn’t even a quarter of the pre-war Equestria. She told me that she’d decided to help everypony who had been banished from the Stable This helped me forget about my miserable situation for a while. I still had to come to terms with the loss of my beloved and the fact that my  life would never be the same again.  When she started another one of her tales, her culinary audition was abruptly cut off, like if someone just stopped the record. We stared at the radio in anticipation.

  ”My dear listeners, it’s something that had never happened before! We have a caller!”

           Cloud Waker’s voice was excited and there were sounds of movement and excited voices in the background as well as a bit of feedback.

         ”We’re listening, Who are you and why are you calling?”

            It was strange to hear the voice ask a question in the air. After a while, another voice, deep and sophisticated, begun flowing from the radio, interrupted by gunshots of a high caliber rifle.

”My name is Black Gallant. About two months ago I volunteered to…”

He was interrupted for a moment by the sound of a shooting rifle.

 

”Scoundrels… Well, I was supposed to fix your radio’s relays in Stableditch. I just finished on this one I’m using now. I used my CB-Radio to boost the signal… I saw a big gang of Megapones. Looks like they’re marching towards Wellsprings. I am keeping them at bay for now, but they will get to me eventually… Can you warn Wellsprings? I’m in Stableditch and the Megapones will probably move on with their plan when they finish me off...”

           There was a pregnant silence for a moment, only to be cut short by rushed voices, screeching of chairs and the sound of broken glass from the floor below us. Whitesabre dashed out of the room and I followed her. Something bad was going on.

           We stood on the stairs, perplexed. The sight was… odd. Ten ponies of different breed and age stood in the middle of the bar, checking their weapons. I saw carbines on battle saddles, pistols, silver apples with different stripes in the middle, sometimes a blade, a sword, or a nightstick. Some of them carried CB Radio sets on their saddlebags. They looked like an un-uniformed security team during a raid in Stable.

           “What the buck are you ponies doing?!” Whitesabre shouted at the top of her lungs. “If this is another hostile takeover I will throw your dumb asses outside!”

           A pony of a crimson coat and white mane stepped forward. He wore an old duster; his battle saddle had a sniper rifle attached to it, his mouthgrip lowered.

           “Haven’t you heard the radio? Megapones are comin’ to town! Stableditch is an hour of gallop away from here. If we canter, we will be there much faster!” He quickly finished a drink he was balancing on his front hoof. “As long as this Gallant fella keeps them busy, we have a chance to flank them and take them by surprise!” He turned to the crowd and stomped loudly. “C’mon everypony! Let’s kick some megaflanks!”

           Whitesabre just stood there with her mouth agape from the shock of the view of over a dozen ponies leaving her bar. The main hall was almost empty now. My host growled under her breath and shuffled to the bar, to sit down and rub her temples.

           “They’re impossible...” She looked very grumpy when she used her magic to levitate one of the still not emptied bottles to herself and sipped the drink from it.

I sat beside her and the radio behind the counter still transmitted the conversation between the two stallions.

”I’m really sorry, Gallant. Is there anything I can do for you?”

            There was a bit of silence interrupted by some shots. Cloud Waker was legitimately sad about the buck on the other side of the radio.

           ”Actually, there is… My good friend once told me: If you must die, do so with music… There was this one song by Sweetie Belle, from before the bombs… “Why don’t you do right”... Do you have it?”

           His voice was almost cracking when he spoke of his friend, but it also carried a note of hope.

           ”Yes! Yes, of course! I will play it for you. But don’t lose hope, okay? I sure won’t.”

            There was the sound of a record being taken out of its box and inserted into a player.

           ”Yeah… Thanks. Gallant Out.”

           There was a brief moment of white noise before the radio begun playing the music. I recognized a cello and a bass but there were more instruments.

            “Now, let any of you tell me there are no more heroes in the Wasteland. People of Wellsprings, beware: Megapones are a clear and present threat to your town and lives. They may be on your porch soon if your defender fails. We keep our hooves crossed for him and let’s sing him together at homes “Why don’t you do right”.

           I recognized the cello and double bass, but I could hear more instruments there; but what dominated the song was the sensual voice of Sweetie Belle, the best singer from back before the Last Day. It was amazing, even crystal clear, despite the radio.




You had plenty loving, nothing to be true



You let another mare make a fool of you



Why don't you do right, like some other bucks do?



Get over here and give me some lovin’ too





You're sittin' there and wonderin' what it's all about



You ain't got no lovin’, but it didn’t put you out



Why don't you do right, like some other bucks do?



Get over here and give me some lovin’ too



...





           The rain on the other side of the window started anew, as if readying itself to wash out the blood of Wellsprings’ defenders.






*           *           *




           When the first wave of Whitesabre’s grumpiness subsided, she decided to give me a quick course of Wasteland Economics and living out there. I still couldn’t understand the nature of money more – well, more like the bottle caps and ring pulls from soda cans. I could understand the basics though: I give something in exchange for something; but it was way over my head as to why caps and pulls and their worth: one cap was worth four ring pulls. In the Stable we were using stamps and each of them corresponded to a certain good. We also had barter, but it was mostly something for particular something. Whitesabre told me that ponies would like to have a said amount of caps for many things and that they are universal. It blew my mind!

My first response was to take off he caps off my Sparkle-Colas, but when Whitesabre realized that I wanted to open the second one without drinking the first one she stopped me.

“What are you doing?! They are worth more unopened than their caps!”

“But… But how was I supposed to know?”

           “Ask your PipBu… PipColt!” she said and took my forehoof by magic, pulling it up so I could see the device’s screen. She clicked some buttons and turned the knobs and my eyes saw something which was called the Sorting App.

           She couldn’t explain to me how my PipColt knew the current prices or why suddenly they were displayed measured in caps (but not in pull rings!). If the currency blew my mind, this one shattered the brain itself. It told the prices in gold bits and stamps before!

           The waitress said goodbye to the last patron and sat beside us. The rain still ruled outside and beat up on the glass, but inside it was warm and dry.

           “Barracuda, get yourself a drink and tell us how you got here. Sparkplug needs some varied tales of how life is in this world,” Whitesabre told her and brought a bottle.

           Whiskey and cola poured down my throat and the world became a much happier place.




...oooOOOooo...



 


           I walked and walked, but the road didn’t seem to end. The path kept going and going and I didn’t even know why I continued to walk. The only thing pushing me forward was Coldbrew’s presence and his firm smile. The path turned, spiralling downwards like a snake. I didn’t reach the half of it when it suddenly turned towards an old, rotten, and twisted forest and paved road changed into a muddy tract. Soon, it wasn’t even a path, just empty space between dead trees.



           It was getting harder and harder to advance through the bog. I saw a giant moon and heard a howl. When I looked back, terrified, I heard thunder. I saw a lightning strike the ground right next to me. Giant wolves stood by and their paws held rifles that shot lightning bolts. I grabbed my pistol in magical grip and shot them. Each and one of them died, letting out a haunting howl full with pain, sorrow and accusation.



“You killed them…”



I turned to see that Coldbrew was talking to me. I wanted to hug him, cry my eyes out to him, tell that I didn’t want to. But my hooves were wolf claws now; they grabbed his throat and started to strangle him.



“It’s your fault…” he choked, getting pale. “It’s all your fault… Why did you leave me?”



I screamed.




...oooOOOooo...




“Gooooooooood morning Wastelands! This is your beloved DJ, Cloud Waker! I’ve got some good news for you! Our transmitters around Stableditch not only survived, but the storm seems to have a good effect on them! We are loud and clear now!



           The radio spat out the words of Cloud Waker, and I got up, half laying on a table in the corner of the room. My head hurt a bit but I didn’t remember blacking out last night. Whitesabre and Barracuda were already working at the bar, getting everything ready to start the day.



           “Long sleep ya ‘ad, princess! And a heavy one, at that. Gotta learn to sleep lighter, or some Raider will give ya a shag and ya  ain’t even gonna feel nothin’ in the morning.”



           I don’t know how, but Barracuda’s laughter seemed a bit slimy to me.



           “And generally, before the day kicks off, there’s a fine breakfast for ya. The boss is already cookin’ somethin’ in the back and told me to tell ya the first breakfast is on the house ‘ere.”

            She seemed fresh and ready for anything that the world could throw against her. I wasn’t like her. I cried quietly to myself, resting my forehead on the table and hiding my muzzle in the safety of my stable barding’s cuffs.

           Why hadn’t I come back for Coldbrew? It seemed obvious: he wanted me to run. But why didn’t I come back for him after I killed that wolf? I was afraid, that’s why. I wanted help from the town, but here I heard that it’d be senseless to try to rescue him.

           No! I wasn’t going to give up! The problem was, not giving up was really hard. To cry and sob was way easier, especially if you weren’t chased by someone with a loaded gun.

           Something knocked in front of me and I immediately raised my head. There was a plate before me with something strange. It smelled delicious and made my tummy growl. I only recognized one thing on the plate, which was a dark, dense dough which was called a bread, but on the other hoof, the round, white thingy with an orange dome on it and some tape strips that were crispy and in brown and yellowish vertical stripes…



           I even got a glass which emitted the wonderful aroma of apple juice which was familiar, as we often drank juice from our underground apple tree orchards.



“What’s this? It smells yummy!” I asked.



“It’s fried egg, chicken ones, and bacon. From piggies.” Whitesabre said and sat on the opposite of me and gave me a beckoning look.



“From… From piggies? But…”



“Don’t even start that note. Ponies eat meat too, even from the times before the war. And here, on the Wasteland, you won’t find any better source of proteins and carbohydrates. Eat, don’t cry, and you’ll see it will be tasty.



The white mare seemed to be the type that doesn’t take refusal lightly. She smiled at that and as she showed me nothing but kindness since yesterday, I decided to chow down.



           “Besides.” Barracuda cut in, sweeping the floor by the table. “When a pony belly had plenty, her mouth is full and happy!”



           That was enough for me. Sad or not, I didn’t want to be that way. I wouldn’t manage to do anything by being sad. Not-sad, I’d surely find means to save Coldbrew. Surely… Princesses in heavens! How tasty that breakfast was!

           

           Whitesabre laughed and covered herself with a hoof as if to hide from the debris of the breakfast I kept devouring. Even the bacon, so strangely crispy and spicy seemed otherworldy yummy!

           “Just remember Sparkplug, Hunger is your best cook… Right after me of course.” My host giggled in delight as I drank the juice after I finished the meal.

The image of Coldbrew left my mind for a time. It wasn’t that I forgot about him, but the mares were right. With a full tummy, the world seemed a lot better than it really was.



Not long after that I noticed a pony sitting by the bar, who was drinking something through a straw. He was dressed in a black, armoured trench coat like in old noir movies and he had a very unhealthy, bleak blonde mane matching his short, bushy tail that peaked from under the rim of his cloak. I could not yet determine what his coat color was, but he was the only other patron now.



Barracuda walked up to him and stood behind the counter. She looked really sourly at him. It was strange; she didn’t act like this around any of the patrons last night.



“Wanna somethin’ else?” her voice sounded, like she wanted to drop a stream of abuse on him, but Whitesabre’s stare stopped her in her tracks.



“One more Bloody Maripony…” he said in an incredibly raspy voice; as if it came from an old box.



This voice! I knew it! It was him!  I stood up and quickly walked to the bar. I sat next to him and looked at him. As I did, he looked back at me and  nearly fell off my chair in fear, even forgetting to scream.



The pony’s nose was flattened, as if there was no cartilage under his skin, which was dry and spread on his cheekbones; dark fur on his snout was bleached and falling out, revealing blue skin underneath. His eyes were glassy and jaundiced, with a net of red veins and ice-blue irises. With his whitened and decaying blonde mane he looked like a corpse or a mummy. The only thing showing that he was alive were his eyes and slightly dry lips. I didn’t pay attention back then, but he didn’t smell like a corpse; more like cologne.



Necro-pony sighed raspily, causing me to shiver, and went back to his drink.



“Biased furries everywhere around me…” With each of his words something was crawling up my spine, but he seemed otherwise calm and didn’t pay attention to me, focusing on his drink.



I got up unsurely and came back to the same chair. What kind of monstrous accident had happened to him? I’ve never seen such an emaciated pony, even at the retirement ward in our Stable. I couldn’t think of any words, standing there and both feeling the urge to look at him and run away.



“Are you done watching? Get out, then,” he spoke, snapping me out of my trance.



“I– I’m sorry, I just… Simply… I didn’t want to. I’m sorry, but… What happened to you?”



The pony sighed again and downed his drink, ignoring the straw. He was pretty annoyed, causing me to cower even more. He looked at me again, checking me out, and his stare mellowed a bit.



“Ah, you’re from a Stable? I’m sorry. Thought you to be another ‘wise’ furry who wanted to laugh at the Ghoul.”



“Ghoul?” I finally managed to blurt out.



“Yeah… A Ghoul… You’ve probably never met one before, huh? A Ghoul is a pony who got irradiated and wasn’t lucky enough to die. Radiation changed us. We don’t get old, but our bodies aren’t immortal. Many of us went feral, changing into mindless monstrosities. The others are like me.”



“I’m sorry… Does… Does it hurt?”



“It doesn’t, now. But at first, the pain was incredible. Now it only hurts here.” He patted his head with his hoof, then his heart. “And sometimes here too…”



I lowered my head; after a moment, Whitesabre walked behind the bar. She seemed to look at the Ghoul without any prejudice.



“Do you want to eat something? Or do you want something more to drink?” she asked with kindness in her voice.



“Thanks, but no. Just pour me some more of that, please,” he answered; after a while he was sipping his freshly poured drink.

“You’re Black Gallant, right? “I inquired.” We heard you last night on the radio. You saved Wellsprings.”

“Yeah yeah, keep your shirt on… I only gave out a warning. I didn’t expect ponies to stage a counter attack, that’s for sure…“ he took a sip and grumbled for a bit. “ Those Megapones would get me for sure if not for it…”

“You’re a hero! You saved the whole town!” Whitesabre exclaimed to his modesty.

“I’m not. Ask anypony from those who came to ‘rescue’ me last night. I’m just a plain, old ghoul. If they took heed of my warning, that’s mighty fine… I’m no hero…”

When I sat beside him like that, I had to admit he was quite a nice person. I made the mistake of judging him by his appearance, that wasn’t really that bad once you got accustomed to the sight. He was very modest… Or sour.


*    *    *




Gallant opened up to us a bit when Whitesabre got him a bottle of Mad Stallion Bourbon, on the house; he had been eyeing it from time to time like it was a treat. She just said that in her eyes, he earned himself the bottle.



He told me that he was a very old ghoul, and that others like him don’t age at all. He said that he remembered the times when the Princesses were alive. He was a tailor before the war. Looking at his neat and well-maintained trenchcoat, I could tell he didn’t lie one bit. The thing that made me feel bad for him was that he was so old and that probably everyone he knew has died or passed away. I could relate to that.



He offered me sympathies to my situation and even said that he himself once had a place booked in a Stable, but he didn’t make it in time before the Balefire Megaspells rained down.

“So… The wolves took your coltfriend, huh? That’s bad. If the lad can’t cooperate with them he will have a tough time with them. But then again, I heard that the Wolven Tsardom needs ponies with PipBucks and that they buy slaves like them for good money. I don’t know what they need them for, but his usefulness will probably mandate him safety. Don’t worry too much, he should be fine.” His smile was ghastly but I could feel his kindness and warmth through it.

“Do… Do you think he can be bought back?”

    He weighed my words for a long time, looking into the bottom of his still half-filled glass.

    “No. You won’t be able to buy him back.”

My face probably became the image of the very essence of sorrow, but after just a second he took another sip and smiled again, with a wide grin. Ghastly.

“But… You could steal him back.” A big smile came across my face at those words. It just came and didn’t want to go away. It was the most wonderful thing I heard for the last two days!

“You need to organize yourself a team, and you’ll need money for that, Lassie, so don’t get your tail riled up yet. I won’t lie, the safest bet would be taking a job here, at Whitesabre’s, but if you’re not afraid and you are ready to take risks, start foraging and scavenging, like most ponies around the wastelands. Later on, you will have to locate him, and that will cost you more, both time and caps. But for starters, you should take off that blue jumpsuit and buy yourself something that will hide your PipBuck.”

I hugged him. From this close, he smelled of old parchment, but it wasn’t a stench. It was more like a delicate haze. The ghoul got quiet and stiffened for a long time before he relaxed enough to just let out a joke.

    “Hey… Hey… Don’t be like that… You’re too young for me!” He giggled. “Unlike the beautiful Barmare here,” He winked at Whitesabre. She shuddered at that and so did I. “Can an old, troubled ghoul like me woo you over with his fancy words and gallantry so he could know your otherworldly beauty better?” he added with a sultry tone.

I thought that Whitesabre would hit him for that… To my surprise, it didn’t happen at all. She just took his empty glass into her magic and started to clean it with her cloth.



    “Not a chance, lover boy. You’re sweet and the town owes you, but my stable is not the one you’ll find solace in.” She responded to him with the same tone of voice that he used.

“Touché, as they said in Prance in the olden days!” He responded with putting his hooves where his heart should be. “Please, forgive this old stallion for his feeble attempt at capturing your heart!”

It was fun watching them. They both were polite to each other and after the last sentence Gallant spoke, the harsh expression on Whitesabre’s muzzle softened a bit and turned into a warm smile in appreciation of his compliment. She didn’t let him realize she liked him, but I had to admit: he had his way with words.




*    *    *




Barracuda was tasked with taking me to the local tailor and then to Doc Killerdose, so I could buy myself some useful meds, while Whitesabre worked behind the counter. She bought everything except of my weapons from me and gave me lots of caps and ring pulls. I felt bad as she was paying me one and a half times more than she should, according to my PipColt, but she didn’t let me talk her out of it. She left me my weapons as well, saying that a mare should have the means to protect herself in the Wastelands, even in settlements. I thought that she realized that I wasn’t planning on waiting until I get enough caps. It could take me years and I wanted to act fast.



    The little shop was a nice wooden house with intact glass in the front. The windows looked like the rain was the only thing that cleaned it from time to time. They were only a little bit cleaner than the glass windows that were on that fuel station from yesterday.



    Inside, a mare resided. She was orange with darker spots, quite similar to those that doctor Safe Life sported, which made me wonder if they weren’t some distant relatives.



           „Welcome to Le Chik! We offer clothes, caparisons and bardings and other items of passive defense! We also have special offers on our winter caparisons and hats: Buy a caparison, you’ll get one hat as bonus!”



           The shop’s stocks were quite impressive. It was full of thick clothes, made, as I was told, from brahmins’ hide. So that’s how those two-headed cow-things Piggybank had travelled with were called. I learned that caravans of them were pretty popular as they could effortlessly carry more than their weight was, they were committed, and that their feces were used to make a drug called Dash. I didn’t want to know that last one.



The mare had some barding in the store. Without any qualms, Barracuda grabbed a metal coat and threw it on me. My hooves bent under its weight and I fell to the ground with a rumble.



“Yeah… Now we know bardings ain’t for ya.” Barracuda chuckled. “Prosperity, give ‘er some good caparison. I remember you ‘ad that leather one with steel plates in it.”





           Prosperity, the earth pony shop owner, dived under the counter and resurfaced, carrying a black, bleached leather jacket that seemed rather heavy. It wasn’t as heavy after putting it on, though. It had belts to regulate its size and make it fit on me; also, it looked rather threatening.     



           “Now, listen to Barracuda carefully, for I shall say this only once: the armour doesn’t make ya immortal. Boom, headshot, ya’re toast. Most of bullets can easily pierce those plates so don’t think ya’d get a cap in the chest and keep running.”



           “Actually, that used to be a road guard’s jacket. There’s hoovelar sewn inside, so most of small calibers shouldn’t penetrate it.”



           “Yeah… Hoovelar…” Barracuda seemed annoyed. “Sure, shouldn’t penetrate… But if she gets a bullet to ‘er chest, the ribs will break anyway. So, Sparkplug, remember, no matter how awesome, fucking space cowboys you think you and your barding are, ya ain’t no Steel Ranger and you’d better duck when shot at, right?”



           “Umm… Yeah… I get it. I’ll be careful.” I said, a bit more sure than my voice would indicate.



           I felt even more sure when it came to paying. Barracuda managed to lower the price by a quarter, but it ate a half of my caps anyway. And I still had a visit at doctor Killerdose awaiting me.






*           *           *



 


Doc’s house was… different. It was built in Appleoosian style that I remembered from my history book back in the stable. It had walls painted white and it was incredibly tidy from the outside (even if the garden was potted with wrecks of different junk and machines. And it had crystal clear windows!



A sour green mare in a cowpony hat sat on the patio in a rocking chair and observed us intently. She got up once we approached the door, letting her blanket fall to the floor. She cocked her hat and stood in front of us.



“Howdy! I’m Ashtray, assistant of this here… Doc. Y’all have some business?” she spoke.



Barracuda trotted up between us as I winced at the Ashtray’s horrid accent  Her parents didn’t love her or something?



“Ash, we know! You say that every time somepony comes, no matter if they’re from here or a stranger! How’s doc? I hope he didn’t complain after my last visit.”



There was a sudden tension between the two mares and they eyed each other in heavy silence. Barracuda looked viciously satisfied, which probably offended Ashtray who looked furious. I didn’t fully understand what they talked about but I did get that they didn’t like each other.



           “Ashtray! How many timez did I tell you not zu pick up on our klients?

           The sudden voice interrupted the mares, although Barracuda smiled in a very dirty way. From inside the house came out a gray unicorn stallion. He had a light gray mane with stripes of the color of coagulated blood. He wore round glasses covering his crimson eyes and a snow-white lab coat. A half of his right ear was missing, but he seemed very sympathetic for someone who had such a grim sounding name. His horrid hard accent however made him sound like someone who’s not to be trifled with.

           Killerdose was the town’s doctor for twenty years and even though he looked well, he was slowly approaching the end of his prime. He somewhat resembled my dad: stoic, mature, someone who always knew what to do and if not, he knew what to think about to come with a conclusion.



           When he heard that I was from Stable 69, he offered me a full checkup to make sure if I was alright. I didn’t trust doctors after what happened with Safe Life in Stable 69, but after Barracuda sent me a reassuring glance I allowed him to do that.



           I was surprised that he didn’t order me to lay down or do anything but instead he grabbed my Pipcolt and he used the display to check my vitals. He was able to unlock the diagnostic program with ease and left it that way.



           “Pipbuckz und Pipkolts are amazing devices, Zparkplug. I zee zat you vill neet zat program. You are dresset like a zeazoned adventurer!” I was slowly getting used to his heavy accent. “If zomething hurtz you, check zis program for information. It’z uzefull for ze doktor az vell!” He tapped the screen on my foreleg and sat behind his desk. “You are healthy, but should eat more regularly.”



           When he stopped explaining how much exactly should I gain weight to be 100% healthy, we turned to haggling. Barracuda was a great help this time as well, but Killerdose seemed very straightforward and fair as he didn’t propose anything to rip me off even once. Although he did offer me some recreational drugs. Barracuda advised me that I should have as little of those as I could.



           In the end we bought a set of five healing potions, some magical bandages with magic charges, six packs of orange colored RadAways, a drug that purged Taint from the organism.



           Killerdose gave me a short lecture about drugs that can be addictive and how they work. They all had a modicum of negative effects on the body but some of them also gave good, short-term perks. He managed to convince me to buy one Hydra from him. He said that grenades and mines weren’t a rarity in the Wasteland and that the potion, apart from containing a high amount of Taint–the source of all mutations and hormonal dysfunctions–let you regenerate a recently lost limb. This was my most expensive transaction but I decided it was better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it.



Killerdose–after paying him of course–taught me what to do after being shot so I wouldn’t bleed out, and in what situations I shouldn’t use healing potions. I had to admit, he was a good doctor, a lot more likeable than Safe Life or any other in the Stable.



From the outside came words barked by dogs. They found me.






*           *           *



 


The dog was small – smaller than me and very hairy. He wore a tight gray uniform with a red belt across his chest. He barked his words loudly. His hair was brown and it formed a kind of ‘moustache’ under his nose. He didn’t seem dangerous, despite the holster with a gun on his chest.



His two companions, however, looked terrifying. Big gray dogs with short coats. They resembled that giant dog who had caught Coldbrew, but they were much more scary. They carried modified carbines on their backs, huge and unfit for them. Their clothes consisted only of a set of red bandana for one and a right red sleeve for the other, rather than the smaller dog’s uniform.



When the two big dog enforcers looked around the town, warily, the little one gained the attention of ponies with his ruckus. His accent was even more bizzare than the one that Killerdose utilized, like if some of the syllables resonated in his throat.



“Hearry, hearry, ponies of Wellsprings! Ataman Wildblood has dis to say: we seek a pony! Orange she is and of mane in the color of midnight! She wears a Pipbuck on her leg and she’s wearing a Stable suit!”



I froze in fear. They knew how I looked like! They were looking for me! Whitesabre said they would come but I didn’t think it would be this fast!



“Guilty she is for da murder of da Crimson Tide’s officer, a high-born wolf! Her trail lead us here and towards Goodwill! Ataman promises ye a reward in caps or the one who brings her tu Derbyshire. If she’s alive: two thousand caps and a week of food or caps and ring pulls. Hiding her will be met with da Crimson Tide’s repercussions!”

           Killerdose walked towards me at the window and he pushed me aside so I can hide behind a wall. He put his hoof on his mouth so I remain silent and then somepony begun shouting. Ashtray trotted towards the dogs and she pointed her hoof at Doc’s house.

           “Thar’ she is! She came and went to the doctor’s house! She didn’t have her suit!”

           “Dummkopf!” He cursed under his nose. ”Zparkplug, go up ze ztairz und hide zere! “ He pointed his hoof towards the stairs.” I vill zay zu them zat you escaped by ze kitchen vindow! Barrakuda! Go break it!”

           I did as I was told. I went into his room and I silently trotted up to the window with curtains. I peeked out carefully just to see that the dogs were running towards the house and  the doctor going out to meet them. I heard how he tried to tell them that I ran away but they broke inside anyways.

           “She ran through ze vindow, Schweinehunde!” Killerdose yelled after he entered the house with them. I slowly moved to the doorframe to get a better hearing of what was going down the stairs. There was a small balcony overlooking the ground floor outside so I was hidden from view by it but could hear them well. “Scram! Go Away! RAUS!”

           I could hear their heavy breaths. I was terrified to the bone. I opened my holster and took out my gun with a shaking magic field. The safety mechanism clicked and then I heard a short growl from the dog herald downstairs; some foreign words. I heard quick, heavy steps on the wooden stairs and I pointed my gun at the doorway, moving away from it, towards the window.

           The doctor yelled and a big gray form obscured my view. I wanted to run my SATS spell but before it started I was knocked away with a big, hard shoulder bash. The gun fired into the air and it flew before me, breaking the window. I heard glass breaking and I saw a light accompanied by a searing pain.

The time slowed it’s flow with the SATS in place and I could see my surroundings better now. The gray dog threw me out of the window and the pistol just broke it before me. I was hurting in my head and in my sides; probably from the broken glass. I was slowly falling down, towards earth. A strangely serene note rang in my ears… Is this how dying is supposed to feel like?

I decided not to give up and do something before I’d inevitably hit the ground. I focused my spell on the big dog. He froze in a moment before he jumped out the window after me and he was grasping for his carbine. I queued five shots to his head. It took a moment of hesitation before I accepted the line-up, but the ‘Soldat-Dog’ seemed like a danger I couldn’t stop with my words. With a wavy heart I triggered the spell.

Time started to flow faster. The gun turned in my magic grip and pointed it’s barrel right onto the jumping dog. The muzzle flash made him open his eyes widely. The first bullet missed, only grazing his hunched back. The second one hit his eye, the third his ear. The fourth one caught his nose. In slow motion I could see the bullet tearing his muzzle and lodging itself between his eyes in a bloody explosion. His eyes popped out of the sockets when his forehead cracked. SATS turned off.

           I closed my eyes but the moment I hit the ground a flash of pain flooded my vision with a light as strong as a thousand suns. I bounced off and flew forwards, only stopping on one of the trashed machines that littered Killerdose’s lawn. My back and head hurt; my vision was blurred.



I stood up on my hooves. My EFS signaled that one of my legs was damaged but I didn’t care that much in my daze. This was my undoing. My leg exploded with pain when I put it down and applied some weight I just keeled over with a scream. I heard muffled, watery voices that came from afar but they were almost completely drawn out by the white noise in my ears. Laying on my side and writhing in the pain I saw that the herald and his other enforcer ran towards me. A big gray blob of color laid next to me.



           I heard a loud noise. My sight was coming back slowly. The ground before the dogs erupted with small craters of gunfire. I couldn’t move my head but a black and yellow stain entered my vision. The dogs looked surprised and I saw the doctor backing away to his house, in hurry, like he forgot something.



           The new stain begun walking towards the dogs and I felt that my consciousness was drowning in the white noise and darkness. Then, the world exploded with colorful motes. The sand beneath me and the mane of the black stain became sickly green. My PipColt started to click like crazy and flashed a warning I couldn’t read in my state. Then, the world became white and I ceased to be.


*           *           *




           The world hurt. Looking at him was also painful. I came to in Whitesabre’s room, which I only recognized by her sitting by the window and looking through it with worry. Besides her there was Black Gallant, leaning back in a chair. A gray cowpony hat with a wide rim covered his eyes and his mouth sported a cigarette holder with a burned out stump of a cig. It was dark behind the window and the room was lit with an oil lamp.



           I tried to speak to them but my lips only voiced a raving ‘something’ that sounded like a growl that Gallant would utter. Whitesabre was the first to jump up and come to me. She quickly checked my forehead, probably to decide if I had a fever and then she looked at my PipColt.



           Black slowly rose the rim of his hat and looked at me. His irises glowed icy blue in the dark. It was terrifying and beautiful at the same time. And it was topped with a dangerous aura.



           Whitesabre hugged me as Gallant lowered his hat again. She looked like she cried a lot not long ago.



           “It’s so good you’re awake, Sparkplug!” she cried out.

           I hugged her wih my one good, weak front hoof and I patted her back. Something was not right.

           “What happened?” I asked in a raspy voice. ”I only remember a bright glow.”

           “Gallant came to rescue you as fast as he heard that Ashtray is calling the dogs. Killerdose took you here and gave you first aid. “ she was visibly shaken. “Doc was furious! I thought he will beat Ashtray to death with his bare hooves! You were very lucky… But you can’t stay here any longer.” She flipped her ears down and looked at me sadly. “The dogs will come back when they notice their herald missing, and after what Black has done… It wouldn’t be good to stay here. Everypony is afraid of him.”

           The stallion only nodded and hid his muzzle under the hat. He saved me and the ponies feared him for that?

           “He’s a good pony… But he is scary. You must leave here, Sparkplug. I’m sorry...”

           Her voice hit me as hard as when I had hit the ground before. I tried to get up and even succeeded, but the scarred wounds of the glass shards in my back still hurt.

           “Winter is coming, Sparkplug,” he said slowly, not raising his eyes to meet mine. “You need a place to wait it out. I know one safe place where the Tide won’t get you during winter but we need to move out tomorrow morning. You said you want to rescue your coltfriend from the Tide’s paws?”

           “Yes…” My voice didn’t seem that convincing to me. “I do.”

           The silence fell for a long moment. Whitesabre got up and passed me a glass of Sparkle-Cola to drink, this time a soft drink. The ghoul stallion fished out another cigarette and put it in his holder, lighting it up with a lighter. He let out a puff of smoke and finally stared at me with those glowing eyes of his.

           “I’m willing to work for you,” he said finally. “In exchange for a share in food that we find and eventual loot that we find in the ruins or on killed enemies. You are alone and on the run. You are a good pony and need all the help. What’s your answer?”

           The question hung in the air like the smoke from his cig. Whitesabre looked at me with a stare that told me that she wanted me to take up on that offer. Black was still drilling me with his eyes. He waited, not even once blinking.

           “You’re hired, Black Gallant…” I finally spoke and tried to get up. The bandage on my right leg was red now but I didn’t feel any pain in it anymore. My head got a bit dizzy but I managed to stand tall. I trotted to him and shook his hoof in acceptance. “We leave first thing in the morning.”








> Gladstone
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


CHAPTER 4


“Gladstone”



Where is Uncertainty, I shall bring Enlightenment


Where is Doubt, I shall sow Faith


Where is Disgrace, I shall show Atonement


Where is Rage, I shall point the Target


My Word in spirit shall be like a Sword in a battle


I will not yield!



*    *    *


    The morning didn’t bring anything good. There was no hope. There was just throbbing pain in patched wounds and sobbing. I didn’t even know exactly why I was crying. I just had to get this whole mental bile out of my system. I kept crying and sobbing quietly. Because of longing for Coldbrew, because of another living being I killed, because of pain and the smell of the town.

    The sun outside slowly pierced through grey clouds. I heard some ruckus somewhere below, but I subconsciously tuned it out. I heard rumbling in my stomach, my wounds itched and I was dirty. I couldn’t do much about the last one, but one of the pills bought from Killerdose and called De-agonizers wast quite fine for the former. I hoped to do something about the first thing by ordering a breakfast from Whitesabre.

    The white unicorn wasn’t in her room; same for my ghoul saviour from yesterday. I was all alone and it was bringing me down unbelievably. I don’t know how I managed to get out of bed, but I somehow forced myself to do that, as well as clean after myself. I checked my luggage with the sorting app and realised that I couldn’t get myself any more ready now. I put on my barding and looked at my reflection in a cracked mirror.

    The metal plates were silver in colour, slightly eaten by rust. They seemed sturdy, despite being in worse shape than me. I found a bent plate right below my chest. Must’ve been done by this grey dog when he threw me out of the window…

    I swallowed loudly, feeling a bit nauseous. The falling sensation wasn’t pleasant and hitting the ground was even worse. I felt like throwing up just by remembering the dog’s exploding head and his eyes popping out of their sockets. So much blood…

    There went the painkillers. I spent the next ten minutes throwing up and crying. When I calmed down, it turned out that there was next to nothing in my stomach and I simply kept spitting bile. The nasty stench of ammonia in my mouth didn’t help. After the nausea faded, I grabbed a mop and washed the floor as well as I could. It still smelled of vomit, though.

    Going downstairs was a bad idea. Or at least doing it so late was. I really should’ve gotten up earlier. Whitesabre was arguing with a red pony with white mane who had organised the counterattack yesterday. Behind his back, there was a herd of other ponies of various race, gender, and age. Whitesabre changed diametrally during this argument. Her mane was frazzled, her eyes focused and evil, stomping her hoof angrily. Gallant was there too, sitting by the bar with his face hidden by the brim of his hat, drinking bourbon. Barracuda sat behind the counter, apparently afraid of getting out. Next to her, Killerdose sat, looking a bit dazed, as if he drank well too much yesterday.



    “Let’s give her to the Tide, maybe they’ll leave us alone!” There was a hint of desperation in the red stallion’s voice. “Whitesabre! Do you want to doom the whole settlement for one unicorn?”

    “She’ll leave in a few hours! When she’s gone, we’ll think of something. None of the dogs survived. We’ll give them the bodies and tell them they were attacked on their way.”

    “They won’t believe us! Also, if we turn her in, maybe we’ll get the prize? Think! It’s SO MUCH  caps! We’d be able to buy equipment from Hoofington’s Collegiate! Maybe even hire a specialist! We’d have crops! Independence! We could–”

“NO! I won’t agree!” Whitesabre interrupted him. “We won’t sell ponies, Raw Snowball! We’re not slave drivers! If you even try to catch her, I’ll rip your head off and feed it to radscorpions! We won’t, I say it twice, we won’t be getting independence at the cost of somepony’s freedom! No matter the profits!”

    The red stallion seemed like he was ready to battle, just like the crowd behind him. The conversation was suddenly cut when everypony saw me.

    “It’s her! Seize her!”

    I froze, unable to run, scream or do anything. There was no way out anyway. Ponies produced ropes and chains, approaching me, surely to catch me. Then Black stood in their way, raising his hat. Everybody looked at him, their eyes wide, and moved away as if afraid of him.

    “Exactly. Now you’ll move away, sit down and order any drink you fancy from beautiful Whitesabre. Sparky and I will now get out in peace and you’ll forget about us.”

    The ponies were scared. I didn’t know what Black did, but his stare was keeping them away. Well. He gave me a nickname. I preferred “kiddo”, myself. I walked down the stairs and stood by him.

    “Sparkplug, go to the exit, I’ll be right behind you.”

    Suddenly, Killerdose looked at us as if he woke up from shock. He stood up, finished his drink and walked to Gallant. Now when I went past the ghoul, I could see the blue light in his eyes, like a heated steel. It was weird, but not scary. Was it what those ponies were afraid of?

    The doctor stood next to Black and looked at everyone around. His gaze could kill.

    “You are all Schweinehunde! Foul Schweinehunde! Hov could you!? Iz zis vhat I cured you for? Helping wiz your births? You aren’t vorth null! I’m leaving!”

    The ponies trembled as the doctor walked towards the entrance. Whitesabre smiled at me and mouthed “good luck” wordlessly. I nodded and walked out with Black.

    Nopony stopped us at the gate. I was sad because I didn’t have time to say goodbye to Whitesabre and Barracuda, but there was no choice. When we trotted somewhat away from the town, someone behind us started calling us. I reached for my gun with my magic while Black did something strange. He stood on his hind legs and held his rifle in his hooves in and odd way. My brain couldn’t get how he was doing that? Without the battle saddle?

    He didn’t shoot, however, but looked at me with one eye. He still kept aiming at the incoming pony, though.

    “It’s doctor Killerdose,” he said without much of na emotion. “He’s running like a fat foal chasing an ice cream cart. Should I shoot him?”

    “No! He’s a good pony!” I said, hiding my gun. He put down the rifle too and nodded, landing back on all four.

    “What was that? It was… strange.”

    “I will tell you one day…”

    Then the doctor reached us. He was wearing large saddlebags and pulled a small wagon attached to them, with more luggage. He was panting, barely standing on his hooves.

“Ugh... Ich bin zu alt für diese Scheiße… Göttinnen!”

“Doctor… In pony, please?”

    “Huff… It’z a pony language too! Germaneigh! Eh… But zen… Can I go with you? I can’t ztand zat tovn any longer!”

    I waited for the doctor to catch his breath. I looked at Black, who only now calmed down a bit. He was looking at the unicorn with a mixture of compassion and condescending.

    “How do you think, Black? Is it a good idea?” I asked my first companion.

    “It’s your choice, Sparky,” he stated emotionlessly. “We will need more food and water, but he’s still a doctor. It’s better to have someone to patch you up and stitch you back together when someone shoots you.” He turned to Killerdose. “Can you fight, doctor?”

“Of courze! I had to get here from Germaneigh, after all!”

    “Any weapons you have?”

    “Jawohl! I have ze gun vith four normatives and mein ovn cannon! It doez vonderz!”

    I looked at my ghoul companion who nodded. “Welcome to the party, Doctor.”

    “I’m glad… Call me Killerdose, pleaze.”


*    *    *


    The first night after leaving Wellsprings was cold. Shortly before the twilight Black and Killerdose showed me how to set up a tent and how to keep ants out. They both had dome-shaped tents—tourist tents as they explained—and sleeping bags. I didn’t have one, but Black let me sleep in his tent and gave me one of his two (!) sleeping bags. So he even bought an additional sleeping bag? When the doctor put together a small pile of firewood from the branches he’d gathered, Black sat next to me, producing a knife. I froze for a moment, but he gave me a reassuring look and pointed at the flat stone in front of him.

    “I got to shorten your mane, kiddo,” he said in a professional, if a bit condescending tone. “Sooner or later you’ll have to fight hoof-to-hoof and the last thing you’d want would be someone grabbing your mane and pulling back. You should also consider shortening the tail, but pulling it isn’t as painful.”

    I sat in front of him and felt him grabbing my hair with his teeth and pulling them slightly. Then I heard a rustle, a slight yank and ringing of the blade. My head was free while Black spat out the rest of my mane. Then he shortened the sides of my mane, keeping about five centimetres. I felt weird. Ponies were always envious of my mane.

    After a while, he gave me a silver-covered bowl and let me look at my reflection. The top of my head still looked like before, but Black cut it at an angle, so it resembled a helmet made of hair. It didn’t look bad, just… very different.

I looked a bit more adult and less like a mare. I also felt strangely light, even though my head hadn’t been much heavier before. A bit as if some of my worries disappeared. Killerdose looked at me and said something in his language with a smile. Black joined him, smiling in his own, creepy way.

When it came to lighting a bonfire, I was given a knife and a flint. Killerdose showed me how to ignite a spark and Black instructed me how to light a fire. I couldn’t do it even after the third time, but when I managed to light the flame I got praised.
    “Our Sparky is growing,” Black muttered, apparently content. “And she conquered other sparks! Before we notice, she’s going to rule the whole Wasteland!”

    They both laughed and I joined them. Their praises and the opportunity to spend time together made me feel great. Back in the Stable I had a few pals, just like Colbrew, but not as many of them; not even a true bestie. I was considered a bore and the only pony I could call my friend was Coldbrew. Those two… I couldn’t call them friends yet, just someone I knew well, maybe colleagues. But even back then I knew I’d love them both and that they were there for me. The nice, old doctor and slightly rough, but in general a good Ghoul. They were my companions and that was all I cared about at the moment.

The supper was humble. Killerdose said he couldn’t really cook, but it didn’t take much skill to fry a few bits of pork on a stick, add some vegetables and make it taste well. He showed me how to check if the meat was edible and not too old, how to look for herbs and plant or chemicals to fight food poisoning. He was pretty awesome in that. He even carried a thick notebook with sketches of plants and animals living in the Wasteland; he showed them to me, teaching me their names. A real scientist with years of experience in field research. Unlike the scientists back in the Stable.

During the break, while waiting for another batch of shashliks to fry, I checked out the contents of my PipColt. I discovered the “Diary” application where I could take notes. I remembered being told about it back in the Stable, but I never used it there. I preferred to take notes on paper. I looked through the local files and found two of them, called “Memories of an Exile” and “From Whitesabre”.

Without hesitation, missing the first friendly pony in the Wasteland, I opened her file. It wasn’t long, apparently written in a hurry, but I wanted to read it anyway.

Text Message from ‘Whitesabre’
To: ‘Sparkplug’
Date: ‘Error’
Topic: ‘From Whitesabre’

“Hello.
I’m writing that in case I couldn’t tell it to you in the morning. The life in the Wasteland is hard and horrific. Everyone who came out of the Stable learns about it sooner or later. Don’t trust anyone and never believe the strangers completely.
Survival in the Wasteland sometimes means sacrificing someone else. Choose your friends wisely. I think Black is a good pony, but don’t put all your trust in him. What he did in front of Killerdose’s clinic was horrible.
I uploaded a text file to your PipColt. It’s long, almost like a book. It’s the description of life after leaving Stable 69 by the first exile. It helped me how to understand; how not to lose myself. I guess you’ll need it too. It’s given to everyone who leaves the Stable 69, so I couldn’t not give it to you. Do with it what you want.
-Whitesabre”

    I felt a strange warmth in my heart. So, someone like me and Whitesabre decided to write something from themselves to make the life of future generations easier? I couldn’t wait to open this file. But before I managed to, Black took a small metal thing from his saddlebags and started to blow into it, pushing it against his muzzle with his hooves.

I didn’t expect a metal box to be a musical instrument able to produce such wondrous sounds an a... melody. Killerdose and I both listened carefully. My heart was racing, but it was nice, as if it wanted to travel with the melody. The doctor was a bit more overwhelmed; he took the shashliks from the fire before they burned and shared them among us, sticking the stick with the ghoul’s portion in the ground in front of him so he could take it after he stopped playing.

When Black finally stopped, the doctor and I started to stomp our hooves against the ground. The ghoul didn’t seem to look for applause, but he smiled in his peculiar way. Did I mention that his smile was creepy?

The sunset came and the clouds above us formed a thin layer of fluff. The night was starless, but the moon’s light pierced through the veil of the night. Killerdose threw some wood into the fire and wrapped himself in a white, furry barding he produced from his cart.

“It’z time to sleep, ve’re setting off early in ze morning. I vill take ze first vatch and vake up Black in drei hourz. You’ll guard last. Ve have to look after ourselves out in ze open.”

I was slowly getting used to the Doctor’s accent. Black went to his tent and I joined him soon. Without a word, the ghoul wrapped himself in his sleeping bag, zipping it up almost to his nose.

    “Goodnight,” I whispered to him. He only looked at me with his shiny eyes and nodded, turning back. After a while, I heard his quiet snoring.

    I slipped into my sleeping back, thinking that it could’ve smelled better than paint remover, but after a while inside, I felt warm and the smell stopped disturbing me. Killerdose was humming something outside and I tried to sleep.

    Unfortunately, Luna didn’t want to visit me quickly that night. Unable to sleep, I raised my forehoof to my face and opened the text file Whitesabre had given me. I saw a well-redacted and adjusted text.


~- - ± ± ± ­­­- -~


    Welcome. If you read that, you may have met one of my compatriots. I hope it was a nice meeting, although if it wasn’t, I won’t be mad. The Wasteland is not a place to throw tantrums.

    My name is Blue Cobble, though I was called different names, including vulgar ones and ones expressing fear or affection. I learned about nearly every aspect of the Wasteland and I hope to share it with you and give you some perspective.

    I was born and raised in Stable 69. I apologise for not including its localisation; even though they’d hurt me, I don’t mean to make them live in this nightmare. Life in Stable 69 is a paradise. Ponies do their jobs, take care of the functions of our shelter and worry about only one thing: whether they’re fertile.

    Yes. Your whole life depends on whether you can give life to a foal at the first attempt. This is, of course, a lie; I really learned about it many years later.

    I think I can start my story by saying that first weeks were an unimaginable nightmare; owning only an old gun and a few bullets I had to quickly learn how to survive in the wild. I was wandering along the Long Seventeen for almost a month before I met another pony and that was the bane of me. The ponies I met happened to be the slave raiders, led by a humongous minotaur. I was too afraid to fight them alone. That was the first lesson the Wasteland gave to me. Fear is a good thing.

    The memories of those days blur in my mind. They were full of blood, fear, and pain. The slavers made us do literally everything from drinking urine to murdering each other and worse. It was a miracle I managed to avoid most of those monstrosities. Ironically, in the middle of this Tartarus I med Acute Senses.

    Acute Senses was a prisoner functionary. She was keeping an eye on other slaves while being one of them and living in better conditions than us. She always found a way to help us. That was love at a first whip snap. Believe me or not, that’s how it was.

    I’ll spare you further memories in order not to offend Acute Senses’ memory. My love and I organised the slave rebellion. We managed to get some arms and prepare to escape when we were driven to our winter camp. For the first time I killed a pony. It was such a big shock for me that I almost forgot to run away. Unfortunately, Slavers had a plan in case of such an event...


~- - ± ± ± ­­­- -~


    I didn’t even know when I fell asleep. Black woke me up patting me gently with his hooves. I opened my crusty eyes and unglued my drooled muzzle from the screen of my PipColt. Just great, I also drooled like a foal. I wiped my eyes and muzzle, cleaned the screen from my saliva, and got up, yawning. With sadness, I realised that I was looking for Coldbrew. I didn’t find him, which finally woke me up, sniffing as I remembered what happened. I managed not to cry, though.

    Gallant pointed at the fireplace and went to sleep. When I was alone, I could let my emotions go and quietly cry. I missed him so much. Gallant and Killerdose were good companions and I appreciated them, but they weren’t Cold. They weren’t able to replace him.

    When my sadness was gone, I saw the slowly rising sun. On the border of our camp, near Killerdose’s cart, I noticed something. “Something” was a quick-moving hairy creature with red eyes, the size of a dog. A normal, domesticated dog, that is. I stood in attention, scared but determined not to wake up my companions too early, and took out my gun. When I aimed at the thing, it looked into my eyes, scared, and ran away dragging a long, bald tail behind it. So that was a rat? It was probably looking for our supplies! I managed to fight my urge to follow and hunt it. Besides, I was too afraid to get too far from the camp. What a nice start of the day.


*    *    *


    Struggling to concentrate, I managed to prepare a simple breakfast for us all. Apparently hooves of pegasi and unicorns tremble when they’re nervous and so does telekinesis… I learned about how true it was.

    It turned out that Gallant and Killerdose brought some of their supplies, adding to our stocks in both number and variability. I prepared sandwiches with pea and corn as well as thin slices of cheese. The cheese itself was awesome. I didn’t know where it was from, but if it was made the same way as the pre-war cheese, it must’ve been made from Brahmin milk. It was incredibly hard, spicy and aromatic, completely unlike dull synthetic cheese we had back in the Stable. I cut off a piece to taste it and enjoy its wondrous, unique taste.

    My companions woke up soon after. Killerdose was saying something in his language, which sounded like a typical morning argument with oneself. Gallant walked out of his tent and started a horrible process of cracking almost every single joint of his body, causing his limbs, head, jaw, and even tail to contort at unnatural angles. The sound caused me and Killerdose to shiver.

    While eating breakfast, I told them about the creature I had seen. They both looked at each other, surprised before turning to me.

    “Zat vas a rat pig! If it vas really here, you vere incredibly lucky! Zey are aghressive and zey bite like Schweinehunde!”

    Great! What could be better than learning that you’d brushed with death! We finished our breakfast in silence, but both stallions were in good moods. Gallant finished first, as if he didn’t want to waste time dining any longer. Full of energy, he went to the tents to clean and dismantle them, while Killerdose and I watched the sun, slowly hiding behind the clouds above the horizon. I still couldn’t get it.

    “Doctor?” I still couldn’t refer to him by his name; there was just that aura of authority around him. “How it goes in general? Since… I left the Stable, there are always clouds there, above the horizon and the sky never clears, unlike here. Do you know why, doctor?”

    He winced a bit when I called him a doctor, but he put down his sandwich for a moment and smiled. “In ze Germaneigh Commonwealth, ve call it Equestria’s Shroud,” he said calmly and wiped his glasses.

    “A shroud? What is it?”

    “Ah! Entschuldigung!” he apologised. “A shroud iz a kind of veil. A piece of cloth a pony’s body vas vrapped in before putting in in ze grave or a coffin at ze cemetery. Zese cloudz are called Equestria’s Shroud becauze zey covered it vhen it died.”

    Death of Equestria… So that’s how they call it? In Stable 69, we called it The Last Day. But Killerdose told me what each of our Overstallions and Overmares denied: Equestria ceased to exist. It died together with the old world. And me, Killerdose, and Gallant, even Coldbrew, were treading on its grave. So that’s what was the place where we’d found Officer Pain? I felt my heart quiver. So his family reunion took place where ponies embarked on their last journey? That must have been a really unlucky police pony.

    “Vhen ze fihrst Balefire Megaspell struck,” the doctor continued, “it viped ze pegasus capital, Cloudsdale, out of ze sky. In response, to save Equestria, ze pegasi took ze sky avay from ponies. But for some reason, zey couldn’t do it here…”

So pegasi really lived there, at this large cloud… The shroud… That sounded more sublime than it really was. Soon, we finished breakfast and after gathering our equipment, we took off, led by Black.


*    *    *


    We managed to find the ruins of some little town my PipColt identified as Gladstone. The town wasn’t big; it consisted of the main street with small houses scattered around it, that used to be pretty nice. It was locate near a forest on the other side of the road, slowly taking the town over. From afar, I could see the signboard of a grocery store and a pharmacy on the other side of the street. The street pronged at some point, getting Y-shaped. In the middle, there was a church with a belfry and a square with a fountain.

    For the first time in my life I saw the church of the Goddesses; two stone monuments depicting the princesses standing on both sides of the entrance were a dead giveaway. Dead, twisted trees didn’t make it any less noble; neither did a second, collapsed tower, most likely another belfry. Mr. Rightdate and Chaplain Heartstring said that all the churches, except those few ones devoted to only one Goddess had two belfries, symbolising the divine sisters. Each of the bells rang twice a day. Celestia’s bell called for the morning and evening services, while Luna’s bell, respectively quieter, rang before midnight and early morning.

The town was desolated, but Gallant told us to walk carefully anyway, avoiding the middle of the street and constantly watch for threats. We did as he told, heading to the grocery store and the pharmacy.

“Doc, watch out for Sparky and don’t split. I’ll do some deeper scouting.”

Oh, it seems Doc and Sparky became our permanent nicknames. Well, I preferred that over “Kiddo” and Killerdose didn’t seem to care about this either.

“Jawohl!” he confirmed. How weird this language was. Why weren’t we taught other languages back in the Stable? Did they think that when it opens, ponies would still speak in the same dialect or even language?

    Gallant walked somewhere between the buildings, but before he disappeared, I managed to see him checking if his rifle was still in his saddlebags. I checked my gun just in case and levitated it out of the holster.

    The doctor only pulled his cart, not reaching for his weapons. Only now I realised it was almost as big as the unicorn himself and seemed heavy. It was an old, revamped two-wheeler with four smaller wheels attached to the front and the back to help crossing the rough terrain and add stability during stops. It was made of metal, well-preserved, without any dents or rust, covered with yellowish-grey tarpaulin.

    “What do you have there, Doctor?”

    “Das is meine Kannon. And medical suppliez.”

    “What kind of cannon it is?”

    “Machine cannon, Spahrplug.” He smiled warmly. “Maschine.”

“I understand. Would you like to see the pharmacy or the shop first?”

“Let’s see ze shop.”

“Fine.” Well, conversations with him were rather to the point. “Let’s go.”

    We crossed the street, trotting quickly and ducking as low as we could. Luckily, no one shot at us. At the edge of my vision I saw Gallant’s black, balding ass disappearing in the gate leading to the church’s square. He could sneak and hide well; I only caught a glimpse and I wouldn’t recognise him if it wasn’t for his distinctive tail.

    I opened the door of the store and swept the interior with my gaze and the barrel of the gun. A lot of dust, though still less than back in that… Cedar Knoll. Yes. That was where I first saw any real store, other than those few stalls we had in the 69. And that was where I saw a Dog for the first time.

    I shook off the urge to cry because of Coldbrew. There was no time for that now. Now there was a time to watch out.

    “Clear.” I walked inside with my gun up and looked around, this time to search through what was in the room.

    Perhaps a lot of ponies had visited this store in the past, even after the bombs fell. Rubbish was scattered everywhere; at least once someone had made it their lair. Empty cans, cigarette boxes, remains of clothes; that was all that the postapocalyptic design of this interior consisted of. At the opposite wall there stood the counter with a terminal connected to the cash register with a thick wire. Behind it, there was a door, leading to some backroom or social room.

    Killerdose found another door and opened it unceremoniously, which scared me a bit. Several brooms fell out; due to the cart he didn’t want to leave anywhere, he was unable to run. Muffled banging against his head and his dignified reaction, consisting only of silent “ow” when he got hit caused me to feel rising energy in my chest. He looked at me, surprised his glasses askew, and I nearly started to choke. Finally, I couldn’t hold it and I exploded with laughter.

    “I’m sorry… But…” I said between the fits of laughter muffled with my hoof. “But your expression, doctor… Priceless.”

    He smiled and started to laugh too; maybe not as vigorously as I did, but still gracefully. Apparently he didn’t take himself as seriously as I though. Lucky me – I didn’t want to offend him.

    “Spahrplug,” he said when we calmed down. “Maybe you vill call me ‘Killerdose’, after all?”

    “Okay… Sorry if I sometimes forget. It’s out of respect,” I replied, wiping the tears of laughter. He only smiled and went back to searching the store.

    After a few whiles, we found a lot of cleaning supplies no one had wanted to take from here for some reason; Killerdose immediately put them in his cart. Luckily, after the brooms incident he unhooked himself from the cart, but still kept relatively close to it. Meanwhile, I found a bag of salty potato chips. We sat on the counter. I put my gun in its holster and the doctor opened the bag with a scalpel he produced from his pocket. The wonderful smell of potatoes mixed with salt filled the air, removing the smell of dust and rot. We took one crisp at a time, savouring every bite.

    “To think zat zere vere times vhen everysing was a plenty and ponies didn’t have to look for it in the ruins.” He sighed with a bit of nostalgia.

    “Those must’ve been beautiful times. We were told during history lessons that it was the Golden Age of Equestria, but zebras destroyed everything.”

    “Phew! Spahrplug, please…” He looked like someone who heard something dumb while knowing the matter better. “Zey keep teaching propaganda in ze Stables? It vasn’t zebras vho destroyed ze vorld. Zey just helped. “Ponies, zebras, volves vith zeir Hunds, dragons… Horses from Saddle Arabia and eldeers from Cervidas too. Ze vhole vorld is guilty of zis.”

“How do you know that, doc–” I paused, remembering that he wanted to call him by his name. “How do you know?”

    What he said was interesting. He told me that he came from Germaneigh where he lived in a society thriving in government shelters, different from Stable-Tech. Germaneigh was always a part of Equestria, but long before the Great War, it tried to keep its autonomy, with their own treasury and trade. Their independence and strong economy often rivaled the rest of Equestria. There was also a strange competition between their main industrial complex in the town of Bearlin and Hoofington and Stalliongrad.

The society where Killerdose grew in was one of the first three that were established in Germaneigh after the Last Day. It was called “The University”, the codename given to it by the government, as well as its location, that is Rainland University of Technology.

    I kept listening, fascinated by his story while we munched on chips. It turned out the University as such wasn’t hit by any bomb and only suffered the side effects of bombing the country as a whole. Due to that, the initial fallout destroyed anything that could corrupt the things like paper or tapes and when the radiation level dropped enough for the citizens of the Bunker to get rid of it, they retrieved a lot of scientific sources, plans, and prototypes. The University became the technological centre of Germaneigh.

    I folded the bag of chips, leaving about a third of them inside. I explained to the good doctor that it was for Black, to which he smiled warmly.

    “Never change, Spahrplug.”

    He couldn’t continue his story for one more reason. We heard some rustling upstairs and we both looked at the ceiling. My EFS displayed a red line.

    “There’s someone upstairs,” I said quietly.

    “Let’z see…” he decided. I preferred to run, myself, but a part of me trusted the stallion’s reason.

    We approached the door behind the counter and he opened it quietly. It wasn’t locked, which I thought was a bad sign. Killerdose produced a gun from under his lab coat and embraced it with his magic. I don’t know why, but it was nice to see this red glow again.

    As we sneaked up the stairs, I had an occasion to take a closer look at my companion. He wasn’t a very old stallion, but it could be seen that he’d be past his prime soon. He still walked straight and proud, but in a calm rather than cocky way. I was ashamed to admit that, but he had both that fatherly aura and the charm of a handsome old stallion; I even thought that if I hadn’t met Coldbrew, I’d be much more intimidated by him.

    His grey coat contrasted with darker mane and tail interwoven with blood-red stripes. I was wondering whether his name was a pseudonym or did his parents actually name him that. It clashed in my mind with his impression of a good doctor trying to help as much as he could in the Wasteland.

    We approached another door at the top of the stairs. The red line was running around the room on the other side. We undid the safety on our weapons and his focused magin turned the knob and pushed the door.

    In the middle of a ruined living room, next to an upturned couch, an enormous rat was sniffing the air. The door didn’t even creak, so it didn’t notice us at first. Killerdose gestured to me to lower my gun and sneaked to the creature. I didn’t know what he was trying to achieve, but I listened to him, keeping the weapon at ready.

    Unfortunately, he stepped on an old lighter that gave out a hellish crunch, alarming the rat of our presence. It immediately turned its head and with a terrifying squeak it charged at the doctor. I was about to scream, when Killerdose raised his hoof at an incredible speed. Like in slow-motion I saw the rat being impaled on a knife resting against the stallion’s limb.

    The rat didn’t even fall to the ground when Killerdose grabbed its tail with his magic and took the knife out of its blood-stained head.

    “Spahrplug, can you lend me your PipBuck?” he asked, watching the dripping blood with fascination. A bit nauseated by this sight, I walked to him, extending my left hoof.

    Killerdose turned something on my PipColt and looked at his trophy with a smile.

    “Barely rhadiated. Nothing zat vould harm us too much. I’ll add a kleine bit of Rad-Away and it vill be gut,” he stated with a professional expression.

“B– But… doc– you want to eat that?” My surprise was as big as my dizziness. “It’s a rat!”

“A healthy rat. Hardly irrhadiated. An exzellent source of proteins and fats. Ve can make black pudding out of ze blood.”

    I felt the chips coming back to me. I covered my mouth with my hoof and inhaled the air. After a while, I managed to stop the gag reflex.

    “Killerdose, please! I just ate.”

    “Vhatever you vant. A good rat ain’t bad.”

    After a while, we were done searching through the floor. It was a small flat with two rooms. The living room filled all the roles except of the bathroom – which was the other room. We managed to find the first-aid kit no one had raided before and got medicines such as De-Agonisers, Mintals, and a lot of gauze, bandages, and bandaids. We also found hydrogen peroxide and two healing potions. Unfortunately, aside from that (and we wondered why just that), the whole flat was ravaged.

Soon, we gathered what we could and walked outside. In horror, I watched Killerdose beheading the rat with a knife and throwing it into a metal bucket. Luckily, I managed not to throw up like a cat, even though I felt weak seeing that.

When we got out, a strong light hit our eyes, as if someone aimed the sun at us. We looked around and saw that it was someone from the tower. Just to be sure, I turned on SATS for a while to confirm the “someone”’s identity.

It was, of course, Black, flashing the mirror he’d found somewhere at us. He had a worried expression waving at us with his hoof, prompting us to hurry.

“Killerdose, it’s Black,” I said after turning off SATS. “I think something’s wrong. We’d better go there.”

The church was a big building with a very tall ceiling. When we trotted to the entrance, Black was already awaiting us downstairs, closing the ornamented metal door with smashed windows behind us. I didn’t have time to watch the interior, though.

“What’s going on?” the doctor asked.

“We’re in trouble,” the Ghoul replied. “I’ve seen the Tide’s scouts. Let’s go.”

He lead us up the stairs, to the top of the uncollapsed tower. The bell had fallen down anyway, damaging a lot of stories and flights of stairs, to eventually get buried halfway in the floor on the ground floor. Nevertheless, with some caution, one could still reach the top. We walked past inscriptions on the walls, where curses and swears intertwined with pleas to Goddesses.

When we finally reached the top, I noticed that our Ghoul had managed to make himself comfortable with his rifle. The scope was covered with a piece of cloth and the rifle was propped on a tripod and an ammo case. I didn’t remember him having it, so probably someone else had put it here.

    Gallant lay down by the rifle and started to scan the area with it. Finally, he fixed the sights on some point, moved aside and gestured me to look there myself.

    “There, near the bus stop, remember? We went by,” he said when I lay behind the weapon to look.

    Indeed, they were there by the bus stop, as Gallant said. A large, yellow dog with a red collar and a full plate armour sat on the bench, cleaning his weapon while three smaller dogs – one of them was brown, wearing a jacket, the other, white, had a bandana on his head while the third, black, wore a baseball cap. They were, of course, dressed in red bardings similar to mine. All of them had long rifles on their backs, but none of them were sniper rifles like Black’s.

“They have a fourth scout,” the Ghoul explained patiently. “When you were in the store, he reached the town. He didn’t go too deep, but he sniffed for quite a while and went back. Soon he’ll get to them. I’d shoot him, but I couldn’t muffle the shot and if they heard me, that’d be the end of playtime.”

    I kept watching. The fourth scout came back, which I announced quietly, as if I was afraid the dogs would hear me through the scope.

    “What now?” I asked.

    “We have an advantage  here. We’re hidden and have a good position to shoot. Also, they come from the same place as we did, so we know the area.”

    “Ve can make an ambush,” Killerdose stated, surprising me and Black. While I’d seen what he was able to do, I didn’t expect him to be so into fighting.

    “I’m listening. What do you mean, doc?”

    I really didn’t like the smile that appeared on Killerdose’s face… Neither the fact that soon, Black’s smile joined it.


*    *    *


    I sat hidden under the cover of old bushes and leaves, just behind the wall next to the gate leading to the church’s square. Killerdose was sitting on the porch, slowly and systematically skinning the rat he’d caught. His cart stood next to him, covered with a tarpaulin. I kept looking up at the belfry where our Guardian Ghoul awaited.

    It was a long wait and I nearly drowned in warmth of the sunbeams. And according to Black, winter was coming and it was cold. Apparently I didn’t get used to the sun and I felt the temperature more, even under the thick layer of the bushes.

    Finally, it happened. I heard calm steps and growled words in a foreign language. After a while, the large dog came into my vision field, along with the four scouts. They held their weapons ready, but they didn’t aim it at the doctor. The scouts started to sniff the air, but they kept turning their noses on the skinned rat. Black was right: they have a good olfaction, but the smell of blood distracts them. That’s how they didn’t find my hideout.

    “Hey, pony!” The large dog’s voice was frighteningly low.

    “Yes?”

    “Have you seen a Ghoul and an orange filly with a purple mane walking here? She had a computer on her left forearm.”

    So, they didn’t even know how my equipment was called? And what exactly is a “forearm”?

    “I’m just a travelling doctor and I’m preparing some food,” the stallion said calmly and stood up, throwing the rat’s carcass to the bucket. “I haven’t seen zem. But maybe I can help you? Are you vounded or sick?”

    The leader of the gang scratched his huge, flat head. He didn’t look very intelligent; more like that grey dog that had thrown me out of the doctor’ window. Meanwhile, Killerdose put his snout under the tarpaulin, looking for something. His nonchalant willingness to help confused the dog leader even more.

    “Umm... “ he eventually muttered. “No… Well, Rexy has, like, sciatica…” He pointed at the white dog. It turned out he also had a spot on his left eye, giving the impression of it being permanently black.

“Ah! Sehr Gut! I have ze Medizine for him!” The unicorn smiled. “For free, even!”

I clenched my magic on the gun and focused, ready to slip into SATS at any moment. The dogs were visibly excited about getting something for free, although their leader seemed more lost than happy.

Killerdose yanked a flat pole out of his cart. It rung on the ground while his “Kannon” slid out of the cart. A huge, blued block of metal shone in the sun, unraveling itself with a rattle. The cylindrical set of revolving barrels pointed at the dogs almost accusingly. I’ve never seen such a large weapon in my life. As soon as they appeared, the barrels started to spin with a terrifying wail. A shot was fired. One shot.

Rexy’s head exploded into a bloody geyser in place of his left eye. Gallant fired a shot from the watchtower, getting rid of one of the dogs. That caused me to shake off the stupor and turn on SATS.

The time slowed down and I had an occasion to look around the battlefield. My EFS marked the enemies. I aimed at the leader of the whole bunch; according to the program, it was easier to hit his torso rather than head, so naturally I queued five shots straight in his chest...

    Was it right? If only I confirmed the command, the gun would shoot without any effort from me. I looked into the scared eyes of the pack’s leader. Did he want to hurt me or only did what he was told to? Killerdose and Black said that if the dogs caught me, I’d dream about death.

    With my heart torn, I confirmed the attack. Time sped up. The first bullet missed, but the next went into the dog’s chest. I saw his eyes widening in pain. Then I saw the alien glow from the side. Killerdose’s cannon wound up, spewing large amounts of lead. It ran across the dogs like a fan and mowed down the scouts trying to jump away. I saw the rain of bullets cutting the wall and the brown dog trying to take cover behind it. The eruption of blood from the victims of the rotary cannon made my head spin.

    SATS switched off, running out targets. Killerdose mowed down everyone. The air smelled of gunpowder and the floor was covered in spent cases.

    “Everyone! I’m going down!” the Ghoul informed from the upstairs.

    I stood dazzled; I couldn’t stop staring at the Rexy’s massacred body. He was the only one to avoid being mowed down, though it didn’t help him much. His only eye was closed while the other one became a bloody hole. I wanted to run, to turn back, but I still looked at him like I was hypnotised. Only when Killerdose poked him to see if he was alive, I turned away and threw up everything that was in my stomach.

    Tears flown from my eyes like crazy as I sat in the middle of the churchyard, raising my head to the sky. Only after a while I felt someone hugging me.

    “There, there, Sparkplug.” It was Black’s voice. He sat next to me and hugged me tightly. “It’s okay.”

    “It’s not! Why this slaughter?!” I tried to push him away, but he held me tightly. “Why did they have to die?!”

    “Because they wanted to hurt you,” he explained calmly. I felt him pressing my head against his chest. I returned the hug. It was very warm, making me feel safer. “They wanted to kill you. You or them. It’s the law of the Wasteland.”

    “It’s a bad law! Unfair! Who am I to kill others?”

    “You’re yourself. No one will justify it but you.” He patted me and I felt I was gonna stain his coat with my tears. “You have to learn to live with that or it’ll swallow you.”

    “I don’t want to live like that.” I was totally resigned.

    “You want to live. That’s why you’re here.” He lifted my snout and wiped my tears with his hooves. “Come with me. I have to show you something. Doctor, if you’d be so nice and take care of that somehow…” The last words were directed at Killerdose, who was wandering somewhere where I couldn’t see him.

    He led me inside, to the church. We walked along the rows of destroyed wooden benches, passing by the columns with peeled-off facade. The temple was ruined, but some of the stained glass was still in a good shape. The light passing through colourful windows made sophisticated patterns on our way. Despite my sadness, I couldn’t miss such a beauty.

    We reached the altar, ruined by time and vandals. We stood in front of it; him, steady and strong, and me, broken and upset. He reached for my chin with his hoof and looked into my eyes.

    “Do you believe?”

    “No. Not in their divinity. Why–” He interrupted me by placing his hoof on my mouth.

    “I don’t. I consider this cult an offence for the Princesses,” he said grumpily, making me feel awkward. “But I remember all of them and I had an honour to meet each of them. Majestic Celestia, Warrior Luna, and Loving Cadance. Each of them loved all the Little Ponies and wanted their good.”

    He lifted my muzzle even higher and backed off, letting me look at the large stained glass window towering over the altar. More than a half of it was broken, making Luna headless, but half of Celestia’s face was still intact. Her gaze pierced me as if the dead goddess Coldbrew followed wanted to look into my soul. I felt she could manage that.

    “Look at her. Celestia loved all of her subjects. She wasn’t afraid to defend them or even start a war with Zebras when she believed it was necessary to save us. Do you think she’d want you to die because you don’t want to hurt anyone while defending yourself, Her Little Pony, from evil of what this country became?”

    He spoke calmly and rationally, but I still couldn’t come to terms with the slaughter outside. He walked to the stone altar and sat on it. Then he took a cigarette case from under his coat, put a cigarette in his mouth, and inhaled the smoke.

    “You’re very similar to her, Sparkplug,” he said mysteriously.

    “Who? Not the Princess, I guess…”

    “Precisely her. You resemble Celestia to me.” He smiled, blowing the smoke out of his nose. The air was filled with a slightly jarring but pleasant smell of tobacco.

    “How? I’m no one exceptional, unlike her.”

    “You resemble her more than you can imagine.” He made another pause. “What do you know about history? Have you heard of Massacre of Littlehorn?”

    Surprised by this history question, I started to think. The name of the event sounded very serious, but it escaped me whether Mr. Rightdate ever told us about it.

    “I don’t remember being taught about it,” I replied honestly. He only exhaled the smoke slowly.

    “In Littlehorn there was Princess Luna’s School for Gifted Unicorns, the sister school of the one ran by Celestia,” he explained, seemingly weighing every word. “The school was a gift from the older sister to the younger. A few years after the start of the war, a disaster took place.”

    I swallowed loudly. The words “school” and “massacre” gave me an idea of what could’ve happened.

    “No one exactly know what happened; what caused such a tragedy. A convoy of zebra refugees asked the school for an asylum during Princess Luna’s absence. But when they got inside, something went wrong. Someone fired at the convoy and zebras’ defender detonated a Pink Cloud bomb. Only one teacher survived. No one else but him. All the children, ponies, and zebras, gone.

    Silence came. He seemed restless. For a moment he turned his gaze away from me and looked at one of the undamaged stained glass windows, depicting the triumph of the Heroes over the evil Discord. We had photos of a similar window back in the Stable, in the book with the sermons and prayers of our Chaplains; only because of that I knew what was going on. I slowly realised what had to be the Littlehorn Massacre for both Princesses.

    “Celestia was heartbroken,” my ghoul companion eventually continued. “Feeling she was no longer able to rule the country and protect her citizens enough, she abdicated in favour of her younger sister.” He inhaled the smoke and shook the ash off on the altar. “She was never passive, though, and when she shook off shock and mourning, she started to work towards ending the war quicker. She was still politically active, although she never went openly against her sister’s willingness to fight.”

    I lowered my head. An urge to leave fought in me with willingness to listen to him. He spoke about the princess with such a dedication and pathos. I could see the corners of his lips going up anytime he said her name.

    “Celestia started to call for peace. She wanted the war she’d started herself to end as quick and bloodless as possible. She had enough of killing and decided to put her own life at the stake.” He turned his gaze at me, as if he wanted to tell that he was referring to me. “Zebras proposed a diplomatic meeting. Everyone knew it was a ruse, but Celestia wasn’t convinced. A misfortune happened.” He paused to finish the cigarette and throw the  but into the corner. “Shots were fired. An assassin tried to kill Celestia, but the war hero, Big Macintosh, stood in the way of the bullet that was supposed to kill her. He was a veteran and one of the greatest soldiers born in Equestria.”

    “Black… But what do I have to do with that?”

    “Can’t you see? You want the killing to end so no one would have to suffer anymore. You even consider—I can see what trail your thoughts wander on—if it wouldn’t be better to sacrifice, to give yourself to the Tide, so they wouldn’t have to die, even though they’re your enemies. Right?”

I nodded. He was right, reading me like an open book.

“But just like Celestia eventually understood that, you also have to understand: your surrender won’t stop them.” He jumped off the altar and walked to me, looking into my eyes. There was warmth and understanding in his look.

    He put his hoof on my shoulder and raised my snout, bringing my attention to the stained glass window. The artist had achieved an incredible effect that wasn’t tarnished even despite the destruction of the picture. Celestia’s likeness had a soft and sensitive showing care, but also joy, as if she enjoyed the fact that one were here, looking at her. Was I really similar to her? Not in appearance, surely. 

Black, meanwhile, continued. “Your enemies came from the distant lands and they have their agenda and you’re but a grain of sand in the desert full of death. Your death will not stop the killing, but your life can fight against it. I know that taking life from the others isn’t  easy or pleasant, but maybe one day you’ll find the way to oppose killing. And if you don’t, maybe you’ll manage to at least lighten up this dark place?” He smiled warmly and poked my shoulder with his nose.

    Now I understood what he had in mind. I couldn’t get myself killed. Death wouldn’t change anything. Life could change everything.

    “We’ll wait for you outside. Come to us when you’re ready,” he said in his raspy voice and walked towards the exit. I then knew he was my friend.

    When I lowered my gaze, I saw a marble lying in front of me. It was black like night, interwoven with some yellow lines. Did he put it in front of me? What was it? Questions. I reached it with my magic and my senses ran away somewhere.



<-=======ooOOOoo=======->


    What?! How?! Why?! What’s going on?! Questions! Questions no one wanted to answer.

    The feeling of suspension and darkness soon passed and I felt that I was standing on all four. Except the legs didn’t want to listen to me! I tried to move, see whether no one was going on with them, but it didn’t work. Only after a while I realised I didn’t have control over my body… And that it was different. It was well-built, subtly muscular, wearing a perfectly-made tailcoat and a top hat. I didn’t know how I knew my clothes, but this weird body seemed to “remember it” and passed this feeling to me. The biggest shock was, however, that I not only was lacking a horn, but also… I was a stallion! And an earth pony!

    “Truly, you are a real fountain of wit today,” said some jovial, vanilla unicorn mare holding a martini glass in her magic grasp. Two of her friends, another unicorn mare and a stallion laughed. They were both blue, wearing sophisticated clothes.

    “If you think that helping those who want to run away from war and are looking for an asylum here is funny, you have to think about yourself, Brass Bosom,” my lips said angrily.

    Now I knew I was looking at the world with someone else’s eyes and I was only a kind of a viewer. I had a weird impression that it was a movie. The colours were slightly blurred and even though I could focus my gaze on different details than my “host”, I couldn’t do the same with my hearing. The background voices were exactly that: background.

    “Oh, really, why do you even care so much about those dirty zebras?! They’re just uncultured filth.”

“The only uncultured filth in this world are souls of you lot.” My host seemed annoyed. He put down the unfinished drink he was balancing on his hoof and turned away from the mare with a snort.

    I could still hear angry voices and quiet swears, including a “Zebra lover” uttered as if it was the worst curse.


    My host galloped to the middle of the ballroom where many ponies were still dancing to the classical music. I couldn’t help but marvel at his grace when he went between the dancing ponies. His gaze rested on the white unicorn with a navy blue mane and his pale pink partner whose body was so perfectly sculpted that she could be mistaken for a princess. When the stallion made her spin in a pirouette, the pony I “rode” grabbed her at the waist, taking her in a smooth, charming style.

    “You don’t have anything against me cutting in, Fancy Pants, right?” He laughed cheerfully.

    “Touche, my friend, perfect takeover,” replied the smiling unicorn. I didn’t know whether it was to cover his annoyance or he really didn’t mind. “Just give her back in the same state, Gallant!”

    Gallant? I’m in Black? It was just too much for my head. Was it some hallucination? A dream? How in the world I could see and feel the same things as him?

    “Oh, that only depends on beautiful Fleur!” Gallant smiled at the mare impishly and she responded with a giggle. It didn’t leave a good impression on me.

    She seemed to be a dumb bimbo whose only purpose was to look good next to a handsome stallion. To my horror, I felt that Black was pretty excited. I wanted to shrink into myself from shame. That was a really weird feeling. How do stallions deal with it? Mares are less noticeable when they “enjoy themselves” and nothing rubs against their bellies!

    Fleur seemed to be happy with the attention he was giving her. Just when I thought I was gonna get offended by such a behaviour, the two started to whisper into each other’s ears during the close and tactful dance. After a while, they made me feel ignored, even if I had to do that with them, in some way. They started to talk in a different language. It sounded familiar; smooth and melodic, not like hard and rhythmic bark of the tide. It also seemed to consist solely of funny-sounding words.

“Fleur, si vous étiez en mesure d'accomplir quelque chose de cette aide pour les réfugiés?” Black asked in an unusually serious but begging tone. I could understand that he didn’t ask her for any favours. The words were similar… réfugiés… Refugees?

“Pas encore,” she refused, albeit not sharply. I wondered how much I’d get from this conversation, not knowing the language at all. “Je comprends combien cela signifie pour vous, mais Fancy Pants est très têtu.”

Oh, she said the name of her companion! He surely didn’t want to agree for something.

“Eh bien, j'aurais pu faire plus pour convaincre quelqu'un.” The ghoul’s voice, sounding incredibly different when it wasn’t raspy, seemed a bit resigned. His voice is totally… I realised what I was thinking and I yelled at myself mentally. “Il est dommage que la noblesse est si petits poneys comme lui.”

“Ou essayez avec toute cette Goldenblood?” she said a bit more amused, as if she’d gotten a good idea on how to cheer him up. I was ashamed now because now, even though I didn’t understand her, she didn’t make such an impression as before. Quite the opposite; she seemed to know well how she was seen, but hid that knowledge from the others. That name she mentioned; Goldenblood… Was it someone important who could help Black in what he wanted from her?  “Beaucoup de temps a été passé avec les zèbres.” Moment… Zebras? I want to know more! “Pratiquement grandi avec elles, il peut en quelque sorte d'aide?”

“Je vais devoir essayer…” Gallant’s voice seemed tired but still thankful for the conversation. “Bien sûr, si cette bite, son père n'a pas lancé de nouveau et commence à le frapper. En effet, le pauvre garçon.”

The music soon stopped and Gallant brought the blushing Fleur back to her companion. She sticked to him again and started to babble, pretending to be an idiot. Meanwhile, she winked at my ghoul friend.

I really wanted to know what they talked about. The first shock caused by entering Black’s body passed a long time ago, replaced by an unbridled curiosity. I wondered if he’d tell me what was that conversation about if I asked him.

His body didn’t seem wrinkled and his hooves weren’t cracked. I wondered how he looked like, but to my frustration, he just didn’t want to fulfill my request to look in the mirror.

My host soon walked towards the table and grabbed some fish skewers. So Whitesabre was right and ponies ate meat even before the war. I couldn’t feel the taste of the dish, though. Apparently sensory feedback was limited during that show.

“Could you come with me, sir?” I heard someone talking behind him. “Someone wants to talk to you in private…”

When Black turned towards the pony, I saw a white pegasus in a gilded armour with a blue panache on his helmet. Gallant seemed surprised at first, but then he nodded and followed the guard.

Walking past two other guards watching the stairs, we were led across a corridor to the guest chambers. The guard left us by a door flanked with two more guards, this time brown unicorns, who let Gallant it.

“Please, behave properly, don’t raise your voice, and follow the etiquette,” he warned him while searching him with a familiar spell before guiding him inside. I didn’t know a searching spell used by Stable 69’s security forces had its beginnings in the magic of unicorn Royal Guards.

The chamber was well-lit, drowning in ornaments. The pictures of unfamiliar ponies hanged from the walls and the candelabras were burning a yellow fire. My attention, however, focused on two mares standing in the room. Despite her otherworldly beauty, one of them looked pale and uninteresting when compared to the other.

Princess Celestia looked unearthly. Her multi-coloured mane and tail seemed to wave on their own, as if they were alive. I felt Black’s legs became wobbly, but after a while he got himself together, stepped into the middle of the chamber and bowed before the Princess.

    “Your Highness…”

    Then I heard the most beautiful voice I have ever heard in my life. It didn’t carry any melody or sexuality in it, but it was bringing attention and was unable to ignore while making all the worries go away. Did she always have such an influence of ponies if even just a memory of her works that way?

    “Get up, please, sir. In this position, it’d be hard for you to talk with us on the topic we would like to cover with you.”

Black stood on all four and the princess pointed at the seat in front of her.

“My companion recommended you as someone who will take the matter seriously and will be trustworthy enough for this task.”

Black shifted his attention to the other mare. The white unicorn with a violet mane and tail (styled and curled in a sophisticated way) looked at him with her incisive, cornflower eyes.

“Do you remember me by any chance, Gallant?” Her voice wasn’t as sophisticated as the princess’, but I couldn’t tell anything wrong about the charm of fancy accent and correct, well-learned elocution.

    “How could I forget?” He smiled. “Madame Rarity, the rising star on the sky of fashion. I’d like to note that it’s brighter than mine. Your beauty flourished even more since we last saw each other during the Fashion Fair in Detrot.”

    Rarity?! This Rarity? The Minister of Image Rarity? It couldn’t wrap it around my head (currently shared with Black). Did Gallant really know so many important ponies before the Last Day?

     “You’re flattering, but Her Highness called you for another reason,” Rarity replied with a hint of flirt. This mare could modulate her voice. I was surprised  to hear someone speaking so smoothly. “Although I’m ashamed to admit that you’re here because of my failure.”

    “How so?”

    “Her Highness wanted to do me a favour and asked me to design the uniforms for the Army that is currently mobilised and trained. Unfortunately, no matter what I do, the soldiers consider my ideas… ‘impractical’.” Rarity seemed upset, as if she couldn’t get what’s wrong about her designs. And of course she let it all out a while later. “I guess they’re just biased about my designs and they can’t be convinced. That’s why, not wanting to waste the Princess’ gift, I proposed to relay this matter to you.” She smiled subtly and closed her eyes. It brought my host’s full attention to her. “When it comes to ‘male’ fashion and emphasizing the stallion traits, only Hoovo Boss can be as good as you, but his designs look more like an executioner rather than a defender, so I chose you.”

    The silence that ensued was long and awkward. Black kept shifting his gaze from one mare to another, trying to find or read something in their eyes.

    “I… I’m not sure…” He swallowed loudly an lowered his eyes. “Your Highness… I’m not a right pony for this job. I… I’m against this whole ‘war’.” He spoke as if the word “war” was new to him and he didn’t get used to using it yet. “I’m against killing…”

    Rarity sighed loudly, but Celestia went silent for a moment. I heard her standing up, her golden horseshoes knocking against the ground. Two of her hooves came into Black’s view. He raised his head, daring to look into Celestia’s eyes.

    “That was a tough decision.” Her voice was full of sadness and hurt. I wanted to cheer her up somehow, even though she was just my vision. “I’m not proud of it, but I made it because I can’t let my Little Ponies suffer. But if you accept this task, you’ll be able to lower the death count.”

    “But how? How my clothes can save ponies?” Black was clearly afraid. Maybe of her rage or of letting her down?

    “When an animal wants to avoid death, it uses mimicry.” The Princess spoke calmly, without stuttering. “It tries to blend in with the environment, hoping the predators don’t notice it. Ponies lost that ability long ago and that’s why they have to deal with it differently. If you manage to create something that’d let them hide from the zebras, less of them will die.” She looked into his eyes with the same expression I remembered from the stained glass window. I knew what he had to feel.

    “Less casualties means bigger success and, consequently, sooner end of the war. We all want it to end quickly.” She sat back down and went silent for a moment. “No one wants to die. Death doesn’t stop killing, but life can fight against it.”

So those words… Were her words?

“Will you do that to save lives of My Little Ponies?” she spoke with a plea in her voice. I was surprised that such a powerful creature could just ask for something, even though she was surely powerful enough to turn him into dust.

    The silence was incredibly long. Black seemed to weigh all the options. Finally, he nodded, relaxing slightly. “I’ll do that. Let’s hope they won’t be used for long…”

    The image of the Princess smiling slightly drifted away and I felt being sucked into something again.



<-=======ooO Ooo=======->


    I woke up on the tiles in the same place where I was sitting before the vision. I had my hooves, head, tail, everything mine, including clothes. Nothing between my legs. Whoo..! I shook off the numbness and saw a familiar black and yellow orb in front of me. I wanted to grab it with my magic, but then I remembered how it ended up last time.

    I reached for the orb carefully with my hoof and poked it, shrinking into myself. It rolled harmlessly and the visions didn’t come back. I grabbed it with my hooves and hid it  in my saddlebag. So much happened today. The rat pig, Killerdose and the rat, massacre of the dogs and finally, that. I was tired, but I knew there was no time for resting.

    I stood up and gave one final look at the stained glass window depicting Celestia. Now I understood who she was. What she meant. I wasn’t as majestic as her, but I had to find a bit of her strength in myself. Nothing will change death. Standing up against it could change everything. I walked outside.

Killerdose and Black took away the bodies; only bloody spots were an indication of what had happened there. It still made me nauseous, but it was easier to get on with now. Their death, although cruel and unwanted, was needed. Doctor was just packing ammo and rations of the dog scouts to his cart while Black was sitting on a half-destroyed wall and playing harmonica. When I walked out, they both looked at me. Killerdose’s gaze bore an expression of guilt, as if he wanted to apologise, but I smiled at him, telling him that it was nothing.

With a gentle blow, the ghoul stopped playing and jumped down from his seat. I walked to him and hugged him, much to his surprise.

“Thanks… But what is that marble?” I asked when he recovered and returned the hug. He smelled like old parchment and cologne.

“It’s a Memory Orb,” he said calmly, gently freeing himself from my grasp. Perhaps he wasn’t into hugging, but I knew he was just feeling awkward. “You can keep it. It’s a gift. It contains my memories from the Great Galloping Gala, a year after the war started.”

We stood like this for a while, Killerdose looking at us as if we spoke in some foreign language. Which reminded me of one thing.

“Will you tell me what have you talked about with Fleur?” I asked, trying to make the most innocent expression I could muster.

    “That, my dear, is a mystery for you to solve later,” my friend replied, fixing the gun on his back. “If you can, eat some field ration and get ready to the march, doctor and you. I’m going scouting. Also, cheer up!” He ruffled my mane and went off. I kept looking at him for quite a long while before deciding to eat something.



*    *    *


    We soon left Gladstone and took the road going south. We were walking up the hill, trotting on the old, crumbling asphalt. Gallant guided us through a small forest full of old, rotting trees standing like the monuments of the life of old, despite being dead.

    I was scared and anxious about this road. It looked a bit like the one from my nightmare when I was killing the Tide. Luckily, there was no swamp here; everything was rather dry, the road wasn’t changing much and there were no lightnings striking. After visiting the church, it was easier for me to overcome my fear. I felt, better, stronger, and I knew that I had to live.

    The setting sun finally pierced through the Shroud and the stick-like tree branches. To cheer myself up and stop thinking of this view, I put the PipColt’s headphone in my ear and turned on the radio.

    Cloud Waker wasn’t talking, but the piano music and Sapphire Shores’ voice were quite uplifting.


When you're alone and life is making you lonely


You can always go downtown


When you've got worries, all the noise and the hurry


Seems to help, I know, downtown



Just listen to the music of the traffic in the city


Linger on the sidewalk where the neon signs are pretty


How can you lose?



The lights are much brighter there


You can forget all your troubles, forget all your cares


So go downtown


    The music kept playing while we walked until we reached the top of the hill, where the forest ended as if it was cut. There were still trees there, but they stood in a lane around a large, concrete building standing below. It was enormous and I was pretty sure the whole Gladstone could fit into it and there’d still be some place left. On its roof, there was a large, decrepit inscription saying “Great Apple Mall”. One “P” and one “L” fell off for some reason; the “L” was half-buried in the ground in front of the buiding while the collapsed “P” lay on the roof.

    The walls were painted dull peach and red, with a couple of windows; however, they were mostly covered in adverts of products remembering the Old World. Sparkle Cola with its mascot Fluttershy, Autowagon showroom Highwaymare, Starbucked, Mr. Bean’s Java’s Cup...

    Most of the space in front of the building was occupied by an asphalt square with white lines, blurred by time. The wrecks of autowagons and regular wagons littered the place and it could be seen that the building wasn’t destroyed in an attack (although there was some small damage), but just two hundred years of no repairs. Gallant pointed at the small gate under a roof nearby. Above it, someone painted on the wall a symbol depicting a wide-open red eye.

    “There are two guards there. They have battle saddles.” My companion had a good sight, I had to admit. Only when he showed me them, I realised they were ponies, not, dunno, trash cans. “We’d better walk around this place. There’s no use getting into a fight.”

    Although I thought he was right, soon it turned out the Wasteland didn’t think so.


Things will be great when you're downtown


No finer place for sure, downtown


Everything's waiting for you


Don't hang around and let your problems surround you


There are movie shows downtown


Maybe you know some little places to go to


Where they never close downtown


Just listen to the rhythm of a gentle bossa nova


You'll be dancing with 'em too before the night is over


Happy again


The lights are much brighter there


You can forget all your troubles, forget all your cares


So go downtown


Where all the lights are bright, downtown


Waiting for you tonight, downtown


You're gonna be alright now, downtown


Downtown


“GRANATEN!” Killerdose’s voice made me stand in place rapidly with eyes wide open. 

Something knocked under my hooves and when I looked down I saw two metal apples with light blue stripes painted in the middle. My eyes widened (I wasn’t sure how it was possible) even more.

“GET THE HELL DOWN!” I heard Black’s voice before something hit me, throwing me on the ground.

The grenades started to spark and exploded in white light. I lay down, numb, my mind slowly drifting away. I looked into the white sky and after a moment I saw two black silhouettes leaning over me… Then I fainted.


Things will be great when you're downtown


No finer place for sure, downtown


Everything's waiting for you