> Magitank
>  by Broznik
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter 1: Timbers
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Magitank





Chapter 1





Timbers





* * *



I just don’t know what went wrong. Everything used to be so simple. It wasn’t entirely sunshine and rainbows, but it was happier. Better, even. At least until Ponyville. That was the big turning point. It’s funny, really. There wasn’t even anything special or notable about that little town, save for some quality cider, but everything changed after it was destroyed. The Purge started, the war started, and everypony got really good at killing each other. At least we had the Empress. She was probably the only good thing that came from Celestia’s death. Shards, maybe it all started then, when she came into power. She tried so hard to bring peace. Ah well, that’s all been almost thirty years or so in the past. Then the meteors came and wiped out every reason to even care about that history. None of it even matters now. It’s just as well, maybe they were supposed to be some twisted chance at a fresh start. Some excuse to start over and do better this time...

I think we blew it.


* * *




“Please... let me find somepony. Please... just a little big further... please...”

The colt staggered up the hill as best he could. It wasn’t the easiest thing to do with only three good legs, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to try to pull out the jagged bit of shrapnel in his flank. It wasn’t even that big of a hill, but between the dust choking his lungs and rough debris underhoof, he felt like he was trying to climb Mount Everfree.

He looked around at his surroundings. Dust and dirt covered the land, his every step kicking up just enough to see evidence of grass before the wind kicked up and buried it again. The sky was completely dark, and haze concealed the sun. Or maybe the moon. He had no idea whether it was supposed to be day or night. The colt himself was stained grey with grime, and his normally cream-colored coat was indistinguishable from his cadet’s vest. He wiped dust from his eyes, despite having already rubbed his face raw. The wind kicked up and blew more into his face.

Eventually, he reached the top of the hill. He caught himself smiling a bit as he squinted to see through the haze. He should have been able to spot the town of Outer Canterlot from here, but without any visible landmarks, he had no idea where he was. The dust started to clear and the colt’s face fell. The ground was covered in rubble, leaving only skeletal remains of buildings poking from the surface.

The colt, however, worried more with what he saw even further in the distance. Just on the other side of what remained of the town was Canterlot Mountain, with the famed capital city in it’s peaks. At least, it should have been. What he saw was a massive, smouldering crater and a giant pile of rubble.

Not possible, he thought. Then he recognized one of the city’s spires in the dirt. He collapsed to the ground, wincing as the shrapnel in his leg dug deeper. He wasn’t even entirely sure where the injury had come from, other than that it was a piece of the now ruined academy. The pain helped him to take his mind off the sight of the city, and despite being thankful for the distraction, wanted to deal with the immediate problem. He vaguely remembered something from the academy about medical procedure, and resolved to remove the shrapnel before it dug too deep.

The colt twisted onto his side, injured leg up. He focused on the injury and a soft green glow enveloped the shard of metal as he attempted to pull it out. He stopped after a couple of seconds, gasping for breath. After a moment, he shut his eyes, clenched his teeth, and tried once more. With a white flash of pain and a small yelp, it was free.

Satisfied, the colt pushed himself back up, but the pain from his injury made it difficult to do anything more than sit. He looked back over the horizon. The city was still in ruins and Canterlot... Crater was still smoking. He stared for some time, just taking in the sight. He looked for any sign of life, wanting to find some evidence that he wasn’t alone in the wasteland.

What now? he thought. The next closest city was miles away, and he wasn’t even sure if it would still be standing. Canterlot looks even worse than the academy. How could this have happened?!

The colt gave a sigh and thought about how he could get to Fillydelphia, or maybe Dodge Junction. He wasn’t sure which was closer.  Before that, thought, I should probably rest for a minute. Not for long, just a little rest. He continued staring at the ruin that had been home, unable to look away.


* * *


The colt snapped to attention. When he opened his eyes, he noticed a bit of movement in the ruins. It was far off, and it wouldn’t have been the first time that a shimmer in the haze had tricked him. But there it was. In the distance, almost concealed by the smoke, something was moving. Moving fast, and kicking up a lot of dust.

“Too fast to be somepony on foot,” he said to himself. “An engine, maybe? That could mean somepony with the guard. Maybe several someponies!”

He started towards whatever it was that he’d seen, but didn’t get far. His hind leg wasn’t moving, and it felt like it had gone numb.

That’s weird, my leg’s asleep? the colt thought. He shook out his other limbs, then levitated a small black box from a pocket in his vest. He extended a long, silver antennae from it before holding it to his mouth.

“If somepony with the guard is here, then maybe...” He pushed a button on the box’s side. “Hello? Can anypony hear me? Is anyone there? Uh... over.” Silence. Every second that passed felt like an eternity.

“Hello?” a voice said. It was heavily distorted from static. “Who are you? State your name. Over.”

The colt almost dropped the radio from excitement. Fumbling with the button, he responded, “I, er, my name is Greenhorn. I’m a cadet at the Imperial Military Academy. Or... I was. I’ve been wandering for days, can you help me? O-over.” More eternities passed, and the colt started counting his breaths.

“A survivor?” came the reply. “Sure... we’ll help. Can you give us your location?”

“Of course!” Greenhorn replied. He searched frantically for anything that made the hill stick out. Finding nothing, he turned back to his radio. “I’m on a hill overlooking Canterlot... wait, I’ll try to make a beacon! Hold on. Over.” With that, he pocketed his radio and focused on his horn, tiny beads of sweat forming on his brow. After a moment, a billiant ball of light erupted from his horn and soared into the sky. “Did... did you see it? Ov... over,” the colt said, and coughed up a lungful of dust as he tried to catch his breath.

“...Heh,” his radio crackled. “You see that, boys?”

“That we do, boss,” came a different voice.

“That’s your target,” the first voice said. “Find that cadet, and bring me anything he has. He’ll have a head start, so enjoy your chase. Just leave him where he falls. Over.”

“W-what?!” Greenhorn cried out and tried to put distance between himself and his beacon, but only managed to flop over onto the ground. He looked back to see what he’d tripped over.

Nothing, he realized, and noticed his leg bleeding freely. He cursed under his breath and levitated the bad leg. It was awkward, but he managed to walk a good fifteen or so steps downhill before he dropped it in exhaustion. The impact of his leg against the ground sent a shock of pain through him, energizing him like a bucket of water, and he continued. Or attempted to, as putting all his focus into lifting his bad leg left little awareness.

The colt stumbled over a piece of debris and rolled down the hill, stopping abruptly against something hard and metal. He opened his eyes and tried to steady his head to stop the sky from spinning. He looked over to see what he vaguely recognized as tank treads, which belonged to the very much operational vehicle that he just slammed in to.

Is this it, then? he thought. He tried to focus his eyes, but found it much easier to just close them.

“Dess?” the voice sounded far away. “Help me get him in. They’ll be here soon.”

This sucks, he thought. It became difficult to breathe, then he lost awareness completely.


* * *


Greenhorn woke up. I’m alive? he thought. Why didn’t they kill me? He couldn’t see anything, even after he remembered to open his eyes. His surroundings were nearly pitch black, aside from a small sliver of light coming from somewhere to his left. He sat up, trying to get a better look at whatever it was, then realized his mistake. His head spun, temples pounding, and a searing pain shot through his legs. He fell back, wincing, and light flooded his vision.

“Well, now,” a voice said, coming from somewhere towards the light. “You’re awake. There’s thirty bits that I just lost. Like that even matters anymore.”

“W-what?” Greenhorn muttered. He blinked the light from his eyes. After a moment, a figure came into focus. There was a pony standing in front of him and a lantern on the table right behind it.

“I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure if you’d wake up,” it said. It walked a bit closer, letting Greenhorn get a better look. The pony was a stallion, a bit older than himself. He was sporting a dark blue mane with a lighter grey coat. He wore a vest that covered his cutie mark and matched Greenhorn’s own, but had fewer dirt stains.

“If it were me,” he continued, I’m not sure I’d even want to wake up... but that’s life, eh?” He let out a small chuckle. “So, what’s your story? Anypony with your expertise at calling raiders to come and kill you has to be interesting, right?”

Greenhorn blinked, trying to process the question. The stallion asked a second time before the colt found his words. “I was... I was just trying to find somepony. What happened?”

The stallion cracked a smile, then laughed. “What happened,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension, “is that you called a bunch of raiders over to you and then knocked yourself unconscious. Way to go with that, by the way. You’re lucky the captain was there to save you.”

“You mean... You aren’t with those ponies that tried to kill me?”

“Of course not, you silly foal,” he said. We’re... eh... well, the captain explains it better, what with him being a goody-goody and all. Point is, we’re the ones that saved you, and we aren’t looking to kill you. My name’s Fleethoof by the way, since you didn’t ask. I’m the one that treated your injuries.”

“I’m Greenhorn.” The colt winced and rubbed his head. “I’m a cadet at the academy.”

I know that, you dolt,” Fleethoof said. “More ponies than you realize know that. You pretty much broadcasted that everywhere when you used that radio of yours. You should be careful with that thing... you never know who’s listening in. Or rather you do know. Everypony is.”

“So,” Greenhorn started. He gathered his thoughts. “I’m alive, and I’m with ponies that don’t want to kill me?”

“Yup,” Fleethoof said with a chuckle. “That about sums it up.”

“Oh... well that’s... an improvement, then.”

“Yes, this is a vast improvement from bleeding out alone in the wasteland. Arguably.” Fleethoof cocked his head. “You really hit your head hard, didn’t you? Or maybe it was the blood loss. Speaking of which, we should really have a talk about what not to do when you have a bit of sharp metal sticking in you.”

Greenhorn groaned and tried to sit up. It went much better this time, with hardly any head-spinning at all, but his leg still felt like it was on fire. “Why’s it so dark?” he asked.

“Oh, so you can get up. That’s a good thing.” The medic mumbled something under his breath. “And of course it’s dark. What did you expect? The sun isn’t out... I think, and we’re inside a tent. It’s not night, but it isn’t day either. Ever since the meteors hit, it’s been like some kind of eternal dusk.”

“Or eternal dawn, just waiting for somepony to bring the sun back,” a stallion said as he entered the tent. He was much more imposing looking than Fleethoof and looked to be at least two times the colt’s size. At first glance, his coat looked white, but at a second glance, Greenhorn noticed several patches of brown fur on him, including one over his eye. His other eye was covered by a different patch, and had a jagged scar crossing through behind it. The stallion wore a vest as well, but this one was dyed dark blue and had a grime encrusted pin on the front. The stallion smiled when he looked at the injured colt, and extended his hoof.

Fleethoof shook his head. “Were you sitting outside just waiting to say something corny?”

“I’m Captain Pipsqueak, by the way,” he said. He had hints of an accent that the colt didn’t recognize. “Glad to see that you’re awake, cadet. I’m sorry that we didn’t warn you over the radio, but we couldn’t contact you without risking giving ourselves away as well.”

“S-sure,” Greenhorn replied. He accepted the hoofshake. “Wait... Pipsqueak?”

“Yes?”

The colt looked over the huge pony again. “This must be somepony’s idea of a joke...” he mumbled. The captain raised an eyebrow. “Er, you’re a captain?”

“Ah, Fleethoof didn’t tell you?” He looked towards the medical pony.

“Introductions are your strong suit, Captain,” Fleethoof said. “I’m just here to patch up scrapes.”

“And we’re all better off because of it,” the captain said. He patted the medic on the back, then turned back to Greenhorn. “Though to answer your question, I’m captain of the Fourth Battalion, which was brought together by the empress herself. Allow me to formerly welcome you to the temporary new home of Pip’s Timbers. We’ve made it our goal to help anypony we can in the aftermath of this disaster, especially with those raiders stalking around.”

Greenhorn blinked. “That sounds great!” he said, and smiled. “What’s a timber?”

“It’s the unofficial name of the Fourth Battalion,” Pipsqueak said. “We work together to become greater than the sum of our parts, like a timberwolf comprised of chunks of wood. I thought it was fitting.”

“Oh, that’s... urgh...” the colt trailed off. He clutched his stomach and groaned.

“What’s wrong?” the captain asked.

Fleethoof shrugged. “He didn’t like the name, I think.”

“Sorry, I’m fine,” Greenhorn said. “I just haven’t eaten in awhile.”

“Oh, good,” Fleethoof said. “I wouldn’t want to stitch your leg again if you wound up tearing your injury open like an idiot.”

“That was your stomach?” Pipsqueak asked. He shot an aside glare at Fleethoof. “We can take care of that. There’s some spare rations, help yourself to a pouch and a canteen.” He waved at a pair of saddlebags hanging from under the table.

At that, the colt’s face lit up, and Fleethoof scoffed. “Don’t get excited,” he said. “Trust me, all we have to eat is dry oatmeal. It’s hardly appetizing.”



“Sir,” a voice came from outside the tent, and a mare’s head poked inside. “Finish this later, we’ve got raiders mobilizing nearby.”

“Right, let’s get our tanks in position,” the captain said, already leaving the tent. The mare glanced at Greenhorn, then followed. Fleethoof sighed.

“I suppose that’s my cue as well,” he said, but stayed where he was. He thought for a moment, then continued, “Don’t try to stand on that leg. If you open your wound and bleed out, I don’t want to be the one to bury you.” He started outside the tent, but paused again. “I hate digging,” he said, then left.





Greenhorn decided to try getting up once more, despite the advice of the medical pony. He was never good at sitting still anyway. He started climbing out of the cot that he’d been lying in, and tried to balance on three hooves before letting his injured leg touch the ground. His head spun and the corners of his vision blurred, which distorted his balance and threatened to knock him over. He gave his head a good shake, which helped somewhat, then let his left-hind carry its weight. The colt took a few steps, wincing as he put extra weight on his injury, but other than a fair share of soreness, he seemed fine.

I guess it wasn’t as bad as it looked, Greenhorn thought. He paced around in small circles to walk off the pain. The inside of the tent wasn’t anything fancy, he noted, having a chance to look around properly. Aside from a lantern on the table and the saddlebags, the tent was bare. He opened up the bags. Inside were about a dozen small linen pouches, as well as several canteens.

These are the rations? He levitated one of the pouches, then smiled upon seeing the contents. Oatmeal, just as advertised. He put one of the canteens around his shoulder and stepped outside.

Greenhorn blinked as he saw the rest of the camp. He wasn’t really sure what he’d expected, but he’d definitely expected more. The entire operation consisted of only seven tents, including the one the colt just left, and all of them in differing states of disrepair. He saw at least three of the tents at a glance that were mostly patchwork. Towards the edge of the camp was a tent that was about double the size of the others, and a pair of parallel tread tracks led out into the wasteland.

So much for the Fourth Battalion... This place is a dump. He shook his head. That’s not fair to think that. I’m lucky that I ran into them at all!

He trotted around the camp. It felt like the place actually was abandoned. Everypony was gone, presumably to help fend off the raiders. I guess that’s necessary. There can’t be too many ponies living here, and I have no idea how many raiders there are.

The colt heard a loud rumble as his stomach reminded him of his hunger. He levitated the ration pouch from his side and started chewing at the dry grains. It was hardly a meal, but he was happy to have anything edible.

Greenhorn started towards the edge of camp, hoping to catch a glimpse of where everypony went. He followed the tread marks with his eyes, but stopped when he noticed the now familiar crater in the distance. It made sense that they would go to Canterlot, as it was the only major landmark on the horizon, but the colt dismissed the thought. He stomped the ground with his injured leg, and the inevitable jolt of pain told him that he wasn’t dreaming. That Canterlot being gone wasn’t just his imagination.

Everything hit him at once. Outer Canterlot was a ruin, and his home on the second floor of his parent’s sweet shop was demolished. Peers that he’d shared classes with just a week prior were left behind in the ruins of the academy. The capital was gone, along with the mountain that the empress had watched over the land from. It felt like yesterday that she’d given her speech to the academy instructors, thanking them for their contribution to the war effort. Even somepony as powerful as her couldn’t survive what had happened to Canterlot.

His neighbors from home, the fellow students from class, and even the perpetually angry instructor Klaxon, whom he swore had held a grudge against him, they were all gone. He was with a group of complete strangers that he had decided to stay with only because they said that they didn’t want to kill him. He fought back tears, realizing that he had absolutely no idea what he was going to do. It was obvious why that medical pony didn’t think he’d want to wake up.

And this oatmeal tastes terrible, Greenhorn thought with a grimace. He tried his best not to gag, and went for his canteen to wash it down, when the sudden sound of garbled static made him jump. His radio had been on, and it was picking up a signal. The colt felt a chill in his spine. Have I been transmitting this entire time?! No, wait, radios don’t work that way. He exhaled in relief. I’d need to be holding down the transmit button for that. Besides, those raiders only found me before because of my magic. As long as I don’t send any kind of message, I’ll be fine. He levitated the radio in front of him and started fiddling with the dials, causing the static to form into coherent speech.

“...don’t know why you’re bothering, friend,” a voice said. Greenhorn flinched as he recognized it as the pony who’d ordered him dead.

“It’s not hard to understand,” came Captain Pipsqueak’s confident voice. “I’m still a soldier, and it’s still my duty to protect anyone I can. You remember what duty is, right? You must have been with the Imperials, same as me. Unless you’re a rebel, but even they never attacked civilians.”

“Spare me.” The raider’s reply was cold and unemotional. “That all stopped when the meteors fell. Equestria died, and we’re all that’s left. There is no more law, and our only ‘duty’ is to ourselves. That was true even before this all happened.”

“You’re wrong,” the captain said.

“You’re deluded.”

“Maybe.” The captain gave a small laugh. “But if I’m the only one here to keep you from killing survivors, then that makes things simple. We won’t let you attack anyone else. That’s our duty.”

“If you insist.” The raider almost sounded bored. “Captain... Pipsqueak, was it? That’s amusing, your parents must have been very vindictive. My name is Phalanx. If you survive this, I’d look forward to meeting you at least once.”

“That’ll happen sooner than you think. Move out, Dess. Let’s end this quickly.”

Greenhorn scanned the horizon once more, looking for signs of the battle, but became distracted by his radio, which had started playing orchestra music. He tapped it a few times to see if it was working properly.

“What are you doing?” a voice from behind made the colt jump and drop his radio. He turned to see Fleethoof staring at him.

“Didn’t you leave already?” the colt asked, shaking the dirt from his radio and pocketing it.

“And I thought you’d still be lying down,” Fleethoof said. He noticed the empty pouch at Greenhorn’s hooves. “How was the oatmeal?”

“I can’t just sit around when something’s going on,” he replied. “My leg’s feeling better. I don’t think it was as bad as you said.”

“You were bleeding badly,” the medical pony said. “You should be taking it easy, but I guess I can’t blame you for being restless. Hard not to be.”

Fleethoof sighed, then tapped his radio.

“...case he got into trouble. I’d prefer to have you deal with that thing anyway, Dess,” The captain’s voice said. “Since they’re just raiders, they’ll probably stick with their standard tactics, but that ‘Phalanx’ pony worried me. I need to know about any other surprises.”

“Don’t worry, Captain,” Fleethoof said to the box on his chest. “I haven’t left you. I don’t fully approve of using the treetop, but you’ll have friends in high places in just a few minutes. Don’t know how much it’ll help in all this haze, but I guess they won’t see us either.”

“Good,” came the captain’s response, “and I know the risks, but I don’t want to take any chances here.”

“Sure thing,” Fleethoof said. He turned to Greenhorn. “You seem to be walking just fine, so follow me.”

“Yes, sir!” the colt replied.

“Don’t call me sir, it’s creepy.” Fleethoof ran into the camp and ducked into the closest tent. The colt followed, wincing.

By the time he arrived at the tent, Fleethoof was already dragging something heavy out of it. It looked like some kind of giant metal basket on treads. It was painted to look like bark and leaves.

“This,” Fleethoof said, hopping into it, “is what we call a treetop lookout.”

He fiddled with some of the controls inside, then beckoned the colt.

“Get in,” he said.

Greenhorn stepped up, opting to climb rather than jump in for his leg’s sake. As soon as he was settled, the treetop shook and lurched forward. Fleethoof steered toward the edge of the camp, and the colt looked over at the controls trying to figure them out.

It looked simple enough. A steering wheel, a couple of petals, two indicator lines, and a few switches made up the entire front end of the vehicle. There was also a polished red button about the size of Greenhorn’s hoof.

“So...” Greenhorn started. He was transfixed by the button. “What’s this for, anyway? I’ve never seen it before.”

“Makes sense. This is pretty new, so I don’t doubt that they haven’t taught you about it at the academy yet,” Fleethoof said. He saw where Greenhorn was looking and smirked. “It’s just a little something in case there aren’t any pegasi with us.” He made an exaggerated show of looking around. “I don’t see any, so it looks like we’re on our own.”

The treetop slowed to a stop about fifty feet from camp. Fleethoof gave the colt a small nod. With a smile, Greenhorn mashed the red button. Fleethoof started snickering.

“That doesn’t do anything by the way,” he said as the disappointed colt hit the button a few more times for good measure. 

“Why’d the captain say that this was risky to use, exactly?” the colt asked.

“Simple,” Fleethoof said. “This thing gives us the ability to see an entire battlefield, but it’s pretty vulnerable. Plus, if they see us, they’ll have a good idea where our camp is, which is something that I’d rather those raiders not learn.”

“Makes sense.” Greenhorn nodded.

Fleethoof flicked a couple of switches, causing the vehicle to shake again. The treetop started rising off the ground. He stared at the rising indicator lines as Greenhorn looked down at the ground. It stopped at about three stories up in the air. A soft boom came from the distance, almost inaudible over the static from Fleethoof’s radio.

“How’re you holding up, Captain?” he said, talking to his chest once more. “You’ve got eyes.”

“Good,” Pipsqueak’s voice responded. “What’s all around me?”

It was harder to see from higher up due to the higher flying dust clouds, but Greenhorn could make out a few shapes in the distance. A pair of vehicles sat between two huge bits of debris with about a half dozen dots of ponies between them and unorganized waves of raiders rushing towards them. Flashes of light pierced the haze with each shot fired.

“I don’t want to alarm you,” Fleethoof said, producing a pair of binoculars, “but I think there’s raiders nearby.”

“Funny,” the captain said. “What else?”

“Looks like their standard ‘tactics’ to me, captain. They fling themselves at our biggest guns being all sorts of useless and get mowed down until... oh, crap,” Fleethoof said. His face fell.

“What is it?” the captain and Greenhorn said almost simultaneously.

“Uh... Aw, hell,” Fleethoof said. “They got a little smarter. It looks like they parked an artillery cannon about half a klick south of you. You’re densely packed, if that thing manages-”

“I know,” Pipsqueak said.

Greenhorn squinted, leaning over the edge of the treetop to find the cannon. He spotted it near what used to be a copse of trees. Somepony was standing next to it with a binocular, with somepony else on the way.

“...Crap,” the medical pony said. He fidgeted frantically. “I don’t know, maybe if you shoot a topaz or something at the right angle, you can hit it first. I’ll try to figure out an exact distance, just give me a second.”

“By all means, take your time.”

“How can I help?” Greenhorn asked. He felt useless.

“Don’t distract me,” Fleethoof said, making the colt flinch. He muttered numbers under his breath.

“Okay,” he said after a few moments. “It looks like it’s somewhere between fourteen and sixteen hundred feet, so if you-”

A loud boom came from the battlefield. Both ponies in the treetop scrambled to see what had happened. Thick clouds of smoke blocked their view, and only white noise came from the radio.

“Captain?!” Fleethoof yelled. He tapped his radio frantically.

“...Crisis averted,” a mare’s voice said. “Still doing well, sir?”

“Just fine, Dess,” Pipsqueak said. Greenhorn released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Fleethoof just gaped.

The smoke started to clear, revealing that the timbers were safe. The raider’s artillery cannon didn’t fare as well, as a small crater and clusters of scattered wreckage all around showed. Greenhorn whooped.

“What happened?” Fleethoof said. His mouth hung open slightly.

“Was that the only surprise they had for us, medic?” the mare asked. “The artillery has been taken care of.”

“I-I think so.”

“Good,” she said.

“But...”

“Headcount, everypony?” Pipsqueak said.

“All infantry present, Captain,” another voice that Greenhorn didn’t recognize said. “There aren’t even any major injuries.”

“Good,” the captain said. “That’s what I like to hear. I don’t want any of us dying to those parasites if I can help it. Let’s head back. Take a couple hours, then we’ll comb the town for more survivors.”

Fleethoof sighed and pocketed his radio. He lowered the treetop and started driving back to camp. He started to get lost in thought until the colt broke the silence.

“That wasn’t like training at all,” Greenhorn said to himself. “And I wasn’t even directly involved. In a situation like that? If it wasn’t for that mare... I can only imagine what would’ve happened.”

“Here’s a tip,” Fleethoof said. “Don’t try to imagine. It doesn’t help.”

They arrived back at the camp, and by the time Fleethoof parked the treetop back in its tent, the rest of the Timbers were nearly there. Greenhorn watched as they approached. A half dozen infantry all brandishing rifles on their sides were led by two huge vehicles that gave off rhythmic, metallic clicks with each hoof length of distance they travelled. He’d seen them from a distance, but recognized them as magitanks when he had a closer look. He flashed back to a lesson about them in the academy. Each tank was made up of steel armor thick enough to stop bullets without effort and was armed with a pivoting cannon that was capable of firing standard explosives as well as specialized gem rounds. These particular cannons were blackened with soot from heavy use. As they arrived, a soft hiss came from one of them and a hatched clanged open. The captain climbed out.

“S-sir!” Greenhorn said. He gave a hasty salute.

“Heh, good to see you up and about, cadet,” Pipsqueak said. He walked over to him. “How’s your leg?”

Just fine,” he replied, smiling. “But that’s not important. That battle was incredible! What did that mare do to that artillery?”

“You were watching?” The captain gave a confused frown.

He was with me,” Fleethoof said. “When I got back, he was already up and walking, so I let him ride along on the treetop. I didn’t expect there to be a major problem.”

“I see,” the captain said. “Well, it isn’t a big deal as long as nothing came of it. As for that cannon? Ask Dess. She’s right behind you.”

“Huh?” Greenhorn said. He turned around, suddenly faced with an orange-maned unicorn mare. “Gah!” he yelled, nearly falling over backwards.

“Lieutenant Dess, Fourth Battalion,” she said, raising an eyebrow at the colt. “I used a simple force field spell to prevent the artillery round from leaving the cannon’s barrel. You’ll likely want to learn how to make use of that horn of yours if you’re going to stay with us. If you aren’t useful, you might become a liability. We wouldn’t want that.”

“Easy,” Pipsqueak said. “We’re here to help, not to threaten. He’s not a raider.”

“Yes, sir. Just doing my job,” Dess said. “I’ll report back in two hours after I get some rest.” She waked off.

“Don’t mind her too much, she can be a bit blunt,” the captain said. “You’re welcome to stay with us for as long as you need. Once you’re healed up, anything you can do to help would be appreciated. Everypony has to pull their weight in a crisis, so just do what you can when you can.”

“I appreciate it,” Greenhorn said. “I’ll do my best not to be a problem.” He looked past the captain, towards where he knew Canterlot was. He tried once again to wrap his mind around everything that had happened. Nothing had changed, and everypony was still gone, but he was able to take his mind off of it. He looked up at Pipsqueak and smiled. “Thank you.”


* * *

> Chapter 2: Ruins
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Magitank





Chapter 2





Ruins





* * *





Bad stuff happens. You can call it tragic, you can call it unfortunate, and you can even deny it with every fiber of your being, but sometimes you just run a string of bad luck. I call it inevitable. I believe that having that kind of thing happen is unavoidable, and that if at any time in your life you can look around and say ‘Things are pretty alright,’ that you should brace yourself. My earliest memory was one of the worst moments of my life, and I’ve been bracing myself ever since. Bad stuff happens, and bad stuff will always happen. Sometimes, it’ll hit you so hard that you don’t ever feel like getting back up. But sometimes, very rarely, in the middle of the worst moment imaginable, you catch a break. That kid’s an idiot, but he was hurting just as much as any of us. They all saw it, just like I did. He caught his break after he made a foal of himself and almost died.

Thing is, that’s about when his luck ran out.


* * *

“We’re getting ready to search Outer Canterlot for survivors.” Captain Pipsqueak pokes his head into Greenhorn’s tent. “You’re welcome to come along if you feel up to it. We need all the help we can get.”

“Sure!” the colt said, jumping out of his cot. He winced as his injured leg hit the ground, but tried to mask it with a smile. “I’d be happy to help.”

“...Alright,” the captain said. “Lieutenant Dess will be bringing along a tank in case of any trouble. I want to ride along with her so that you don’t have to walk all the way there on that leg. We’ll be leaving soon, so get ready.”

Greenhorn followed the captain out of the tent and into the now-bustling camp. It had only been a few hours since they had all fought raiders, but everypony already seemed to be eager to leave again. He watched as somepony left the captain’s tent.

“Where do you think you’re going?” a voice called from behind. He turned to see Fleethoof stuffing a roll of bandages into his saddlebag. “Did the captain just try to rope you into helping search the ruins?”

“Actually, I wanted to come along,” Greenhorn said. “I want to help out, if I can.”

“Well, you can’t,” Fleethoof said.

“What? Why not?” Greenhorn frowned. “The captain said we need help. I’m helping.”

“Tough. You’re still injured and it’s a long walk on a bad leg. Go lie back down.”

“He said that I’d be riding in the tank with Lieutenant Dess.”

Fleethoof scoffed to hide a scowl. “Fine,” he said. “It’s your leg, but at least go top off your canteen and stay hydrated. There’s a well in the captain’s tent.”

Greenhorn smiled. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me, I’m not doing you a favor,” Fleethoof said. “You might want to hurry. The lieutenant isn’t known for her patience.”

Greenhorn nodded, then trotted over to the captain’s tent. In the few moments he wasn’t looking, everypony had cleared out of the camp, undoubtedly ready for the trek to Canterlot. He poked his head into the tent. Inside, the captain was standing in front of a dilapidated table that took up most of the floor space. He had several maps in front of him, but was staring at a phonograph player that was sitting on the corner of the table. The rest of the tent was taken up by a cot and a small water well. 

“Sir?” the colt said, making the captain jump.

“Oh, hello,” he said, and started shuffling through the papers lying on the table. “I wanted to double check something on a map before we headed out. They aren’t as accurate anymore, but they’re far from useless. What did you need?”

Greenhorn levitated his canteen out of his bag. “I just wanted to get some water. Medic’s orders,” he said. He walked up to the table, but was distracted by the phonograph. “What’s this for?”

“That? It just plays records. It isn’t mission critical, but it has some sentimental value,” the captain said. He cleared his throat and smiled. “Go ahead and take all the water you want. If we find anypony in the ruins, they’ll need it as well.”

The colt returned his smile and stepped over to the well. It was nearly full, and he didn’t have to draw up any water at all to fill the canteen.

“The water’s so clean,” Greenhorn said as he saw a perfect reflection of himself staring back at him. He capped off his canteen. “Wouldn’t there be a bunch of dust in there?”

“There was,” a mare’s voice came from just behind him. Greenhorn turned around and found himself face to face with Lieutenant Dess.

“Gah!” he yelled, dropping the canteen. A blue glow surrounded it just before it would have hit the ground. The lieutenant levitated the canteen to the colt’s side and attached it to a clip on his vest.

“Water’s an important resource now. Don’t waste it,” she said. “As for the well, it was dirty when we found it, so I purified it.” She scoffed when the colt responded with a blank stare. “Are you ready to leave?”

“Sure...” Greenhorn said, then followed her out of the tent.

She cantered around to the other side of the captain’s tent where the tanks were parked. She had to stop every few steps to ensure the colt kept up. He did, for the most part, but his leg felt like it was burning by the time he approached the tanks. He hesitated. Up close, the vehicles seemed so much more imposing. They were each easily three times his height in size, and the treads on their sides were bigger than him.

“Have you ever ridden in a tank before?” Dess asked, watching the colt’s stare.

“Yeah- er, yes, ma’am,” he said, still gazing up at the sight before him.

“Then you know that you need to enter through the hatch on the top, correct?” she asked, gesturing to the top of one of the vehicles. “How much help are you going to need?”

“I won’t need any,” Greenhorn said through clenched teeth. He approached the side of the tank. Starting from the treads, he managed a hoofhold and pulled himself to reach a small ladder near the top. He took it slow, not wanting to aggravate his injury. When he reached the top, a hatch opened with a blue glow. The colt slipped inside.

Wow, this is much more roomy than the little training vehicles at the academy, Greenhorn thought. He could nearly stand up to his full height before feeling his ears brush the ceiling. He squinted, trying to get a decent look at his surroundings through the dark of the tank’s interior. As if on cue, a small light flicked on overhead. Towards the front, he could now see a pair of seats in front of the controls, one of which was occupied. The pony up front turned around.

“Get up here,” Dess said, “then we can get going.”

“Wait,” Greenhorn said. “Weren’t you just outside?”

The lieutenant glared at him for a split second. “I was, but then I thought it might be nice to get out of the dust. Have a seat.”

“I thought that hatch was the only entrance on a tank like this,” the colt said as he climbed into the front.

Dess ignored him and turned her attention towards the tank’s controls. She flipped a few of the many switches that littered the area near the steering wheel, and the vehicle rumbled to life. More dull light flooded the tank as heavy iron blinds angled outwards in front of them, revealing the landscape through a thick layer of glass.

“Get a good look,” she said, fiddling with more controls. “I’ll have to lower that when we arrive. When we’re attacked, I’d rather not be shot.”

“How do you know they’ll attack?” Greenhorn asked, cocking his head.

“Trust me,” Dess said. “They gave us some trouble before we found you, but their last attack was more focused. We’ve riled them up, and they won’t leave us alone if we’re a threat.” The tank shook and lurched forward. A rhythmic, metallic clicking sound came from below.

Oh,” the colt said, and gazed out the window. “Still, you can’t close them all the way. You’ve got to be able to see outside somehow. You can leave one of these gaps open.”

Dess glanced at the colt before returning her attention to the front. “I have my ways. Visibility isn’t an issue.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “You’re familiar with the blind controls?” she asked.

Greenhorn smiled. “Kinda,” he said. “I do have some experience in piloting.”

“Oh, really?” Dess smirked. “You know how to pilot a tank?”

“Of course,” the colt said. “These vests do a great job of covering everypony’s cutie marks, but I got mine when I first drove without an instructor.”

“They let you drive alone at the academy?”

“Not... exactly,” Greenhorn said, rubbing a bit of dust from his vest. “I kind of... took one... one night.”

“Hmm.” Dess blinked. “Interesting.”

“It’s embarrassing,” he said, “but now I know that piloting seems to be my talent.”

“Seems to be.”

Greenhorn stared out of the front window. He chuckled softly to himself.

“I’m not letting you pilot my tank,” Dess said, not taking her eyes from the road ahead.

“I wasn’t, I mean I didn’t want, er-”

“Try using your words.”

The colt twitched in annoyance. “I was just thinking that Equestria’s really changed, isn’t it?”

“Excellent observation,” Dess said in a deadpan. “What tipped you off?”

“We’re making a trip to Outer Canterlot and we have to worry about being attacked. It’s ridiculous. And the landscape. Everything’s just... grey. The sky, the ground, everything’s covered in ash and dust. I could believe it was snow if I didn’t know better.”

Dess sighed. “I know. When the meteors came, the sun was completely blotted out. Who can say when it’ll clear up? Could be in a few weeks. Could be in a few decades.”

“That long?!” Greenhorn said, eyes wide.

“Maybe,” Dess said and shrugged. “If it helps, just remember what the captain’s always saying.”

“What’s that?”

“‘As long as there’s a single life, there’s hope for the future.’ It’s a nice little saying,” she said.

“You really believe that?” the colt asked.

“Of course not,” Dess said. “I think it’s a load of horseapples.”

“What? Then why-”

“It’s a nice saying,” she said. “I might not believe it, but I know that hope can be a powerful motivator, regardless of logic sometimes.”

“So,” Greenhorn said, rubbing his head, “just be optimistic?”

“If it helps, sure,” Dess said. 

The colt looked over at her, but she continued to focus on the tank controls. A noise came from his vest pocket, making him jump. Soft music came from his radio.

“We’re in range of the others now.” She levitated the colt’s radio from his vest pocket. “I need to borrow this.”

“Hey, wait, what are you doing?”

She didn’t respond, but brought the radio up to her horn. A bright blue spark flew into the box, and the radio blared white noise for a few seconds, then fell silent. She then dropped it back into the colt’s seat.

“There,” she said. “Now you can’t cause any more damage with that thing.”

“What did you do?”

“A spell,” she said. “Now, when you use it, only other radios that have that exact same enchantment will pick up a signal. In other words, just the Timbers, and no one else.”

“Oh, thanks,” he said, pocketing the radio. “What was with the music, then?”

“It’s Octavia’s Fourth,” she said. “If anything tries to listen in to the Timber’s chatter without my spell, that’s all they hear.”

Greenhorn blinked. “Octavia’s Fourth?”

“Yes,” she glanced at the colt and met a blank stare. She sighed. “Octavia was an earth pony musician. I happen to enjoy her music. That’s why I used it for the spell.”

“Oh,” the colt said. “Well, what about-”

“Has anypony told you that you ask too many questions?” Dess said.

Greenhorn flinched. “Sorry,” he said.

She flipped a couple of switches, then the tone of the tank’s rumblings lowered. “We’re starting to get close to Canterlot. How’s your head?”

“I can walk just fine,” Greenhorn said, poking his leg gingerly. “Wait, my head?”

“You were hit hard enough to be knocked unconscious,” Dess said. “So, how’s your head?”

“It’s fine, I think,” he said. “Fleethoof looked over me pretty thoroughly.”

“I see,” she said. “So you’d say that he knew what he was doing?”

“Yeah,” Greenhorn said, thinking back. “I mean, I think so. I wasn’t awake. Why?”

Dess hit another switch, and the tank started to slow. “I know everypony in the Timbers,” she said. “I tend to not trust anypony unless I have extensive background information on them.”

The colt blinked. “Why-”

“Fleethoof is new,” the lieutenant said. “I don’t know him, and I don’t know his skillset.”

Greenhorn thought for a moment. “What about me? I’m new too.”

“That’s true, but I know enough about you from the records at the academy.” She smirked. “They failed to mention you stealing a tank, however.”

The colt frowned. “You’ve seen my records?”

The lieutenant scoffed. “I have access to the records of anypony with any kind of affiliation with the Imperial Guard. You included,” she said. “The problem is that Fleethoof doesn’t have any such record. I did know of somepony named Fleethoof before the meteors, but he was far from being a medic. Point is, I want to make sure he knows what he’s doing if he’s going to stick around.”

“Alright,” Greenhorn said with a shrug. “You know, you could always just ask him.”

“Thank you for your insight, cadet,” Dess said, rolling her eyes. She levitated a small crate from somewhere behind her, then produced a gleaming orange gem from it.

“What’s that?” Greenhorn asked. He watched as the lieutenant floated it into an opening in the ceiling.

“It’s a topaz,” she replied. “Firestorm grade.” She slid a cover over the opening, hiding the gem from view. “I enchanted it myself. With luck, we won’t need it.”

Greenhorn opened his mouth to ask another question, but was interrupted by the tank coming to an abrupt stop.

“We’re here,” Dess said. “The others will be here soon, and you’ll need to be present when the captain gathers everypony. I’ve got other preparations to make.”

The colt nodded, then climbed back out through the tank as Dess powered down the engine. He slid out of the exit hatch and took in his surroundings. Outer Canterlot looked different up close. He could clearly see each home and building in ruins. Splintered wooden supports lay broken all around, and assorted bits of roofing and walls peppered the areas that weren’t covered in dust. Rocks ranging from pebble size to boulders bigger than the lieutenant’s tank dotted the landscape. Dess was moving several of the larger rocks with her magic, and Greenhorn tried not to think about how she slipped by him unnoticed again.

The rest of the timbers had gathered around Captain Pipsqueak, and the colt started towards them. He filled in a gap next to Fleethoof, who shot him an annoyed glance before turning his attention to the captain.

“Welcome to the town of Outer Canterlot, everypony,” the captain said to the group. “You all know what to do. This area will be something of a base of operations. If you find any survivors, bring them here. If there’s any trouble from the raiders, fall back to this location. Fortifications are being built as we speak, courtesy of Lieutenant Dess. Also, keep an eye out for any salvageable supplies as well. I don’t care for the idea of scavenging, but we need everything we can get.”

“Sir,” a stallion Greenhorn didn’t recognize said. “With respect, this town was right next to an impact point from a meteor. Do you really think anypony’s still alive here?”

“Of course I do,” Captain Pipsqueak said without hesitation. “Somepony’s alive in this place somewhere, and unless they’re found, they won’t last much longer. We’re the only ones willing and able to try, so it’s our responsibility.”

“You’ve said that before,” came the reply. “It always ends the same way. The only two survivors we’ve found weren’t even in a town.”

The captain sighed, then glanced towards the ruins before turning his attention back to the stallion.

“I’m aware of that, Sergeant Clockwork,” he said,” but until we’ve at least searched, we can’t know that nopony survived. And to die here after living through what’s happened? That’s not something I’d wish on anyone. So, please, if nothing else for the sake of being thorough.”

Pipsqueak looked down at the smaller pony and smiled. The sergeant stared up at his captain for a few moments with a look of disapproval. Eventually, he gave a small grunt of acceptance.

“Excellent,” the captain said, and looked over the rest of the group. “Remember, stay in groups of two in case of any trouble. As much as I’d like to cover ground quickly, safety is a priority.” He looked over at Greenhorn, who returned his smile. “You should stick with Fleethoof. Follow his lead, and retreat if trouble shows up.”

“Yes, sir!” the colt said, and gave a salute. Fleethoof paused for a moment, then did the same.

“Alright then,” Captain Pipsqueak said. “Barring an attack, meet back here if you find anything or anypony. Let’s move out!”

The group of soldiers scattered, all heading into different parts of the city in pairs. Fleethoof beckoned Greenhorn to follow, and they started off in their own direction.

“You know,” Greenhorn heard Lieutenant Dess say in the distance, “you could have just ordered him to search.”

“I know,” the captain said, “but I don’t want to resort to that if I can help it.”


* * *




An hour passed with Greenhorn and Fleethoof searching every nook and cranny they could find. Most of the buildings in Outer Canterlot had been completely demolished, and little more than broken down walls hinted at where a structure once stood. Some basements and cellars were mostly still intact, but despite what the captain had said, no survivors had been found.

“What did we really expect? Fleethoof said. He kicked a stone down the stairs of a ruined cellar. “The captain’s nice, but he can be an idiot sometimes. Nothing could have survived through this.”

Greenhorn shrugged. “We survived through this.”

“We weren’t in a town that was just about hit directly by a meteor,” came the reply. “Or at least I know I wasn’t. I’m willing to bet that you weren’t either, though. Plus, the other Timbers are only alive because they were lucky enough to be stationed in some kind of bunker.”

“Still, we don’t know for sure, right?” the colt said. He shifted a pile of debris with his magic to reveal a set of stairs, then smiled at his partner before descending.

“Yeah, maybe you don’t,” Fleethoof said under his breath.

A sour odor assaulted the colt’s nose, and his face fell as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the cellar. Half the room had collapsed, and rubble had piled up past the ceiling. What was left was relatively undamaged, and looked to be a storeroom of some kind. He saw containers of food behind shattered glass cabinet doors.

His attention, however, was directed towards a pegasus filly lying on the floor. Her hind legs were buried in the mess of debris, and a dark stain pooled beneath her. Her hooves were bruised and raw, and most of her her feathers were scattered on the ground around her. Her cutie mark was that of a parasol and a cloud.

“I figured as much,” came Fleethoof’s voice from behind. “This is the closest we’ll find to a survivor,” he said. “It looks like she was here when Canterlot was hit, then got herself buried in debris. She probably bled out trying to free herself. But, hey!” He continued on a higher note. “Let’s check out this food. It smells pretty bad, but maybe some of it’s still good enough to bring back.”

Greenhorn sighed. This wasn’t the first of such scenes that he’d seen since he arrived at the ruined town, and he didn’t expect it to be the last. He couldn’t tell from a first glance due to the thick layer of dust covering the ground, but the ruins had been littered with corpses. Ponies that looked to be going about their business as normal had died instantly in the destruction.

“Shards,” Fleethoof said, causing the colt to look up. “It’s all perishable stuff. It would have all gone rotten after the refrigeration went out.”

Greenhorn took a deep breath. “It’s alright,” he said, giving a small smile. “We’ll just keep going. We haven’t searched everything yet, right?”

Fleethoof scoffed. “Really? Look, kid, I admire your optimism, but let’s face facts here. This town is empty, save for ponies like little Deadfeather here. There aren’t any survivors. You may as well just accept that. Supplies are going to be the most that we find here, and that’s assuming there’s anything we can salvage in all these ruins.”

The colt clenched his eyes shut and lowered his head. “Not until we know for sure,” he said, cheerfully as he could muster. He turned to Fleethoof and smiled. “Come on, let’s keep going.”

Greenhorn ascended the stairs back to the surface, hearing a heavy sigh behind him. He looked around to get his bearings.

“We came from there,” he said. He could see the fortifications that Lieutenant Dess had been building from rubble in the distance. “So,” he turned and looked the other direction, “we’ll go this way, right?”

“Yeah,” Fleethoof said.

Greenhorn started towards the far side of the ruins with Fleethoof following behind. He cleared the way into several other buried rooms with his magic. The first contained only ruined tables and another body: an earth pony colt with a violin cutie mark. The others weren’t much different. There was an artist’s studio, with an elderly mare lying on the ground in what the colt had hoped was paint, and a hatter’s workshop with a plump, short stallion pinned to the wall. Greenhorn’s stomach turned, and he fought from losing what little food he’d eaten.

“I’m sorry,” Fleethoof said. He patted the colt on the back. “This really isn’t a job for somepony like you.”

“I’ve just never seen... There has to be something here other than more bodies,” Greenhorn said. He took deep breaths to calm his stomach.

“Why don’t we just head back? This is a lost cause anyway. You don’t have to do this.”

Greenhorn sighed. He looked around. “Hold on,” he said. He pointed towards a silhouette in the distance. “What’s that?”

“That’s just... uh... Well, obviously it’s...” Fleethoof scratched his chin and shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

“Let’s get a closer look,” Greenhorn said.

The figure in the distance became more clear as they walked. It looked equine, although very large. When the colt was close enough, he could make out a tall mare with a very long mane.

“Oh, it’s only a statue,” Fleethoof said.

Greenhorn frowned. The huge pony was made of blackened stone, and looked down on the two with a caring gaze. At the foot of the statue was a small plaque, which read, “Our beloved Empress.” Fleethoof scoffed upon noticing this.

“How’s this still standing?” Greenhorn asked. “Everything else is ruined.”

“Some kind of enchanted stone is my guess,” Fleethoof said. “She would have wanted this thing to be built to last.”

“I think I’ve seen it before,” Greenhorn said. He glanced around the area. The space surrounding the statue was clear of debris, and the colt figured it used to be a courtyard of some kind.

“What’s that smell?” Fleethoof asked. He stuck his nose in the air and sniffed a few times. “Is that sugar? Or sweets? You smell that, right?”

“Oh, no.” Greenhorn stepped back a few steps and looked around frantically before running off. “No, no, no!”

Fleethoof blinked. “That’d be a ‘no,’ then?” the colt heard him say just before he ducked down a set of stairs.

Wrecked shelves of various candies were scattered about the room, which was in very good shape, though Greenhorn didn’t care about that. His legs felt heavy as he looked towards the far corner of the room, where the bodies of two mares lay in an embrace. Vines covered in numerous, purple flowers wrapped around them, almost hiding them from view, but the colt instantly recognized them by their respective cutie marks of a lyre and three candies.

“Wow, this place must be pretty sturdy. We might even be able to stay here if we get tired of- wait, who are you?” Fleethoof’s voice felt far away. “What are you doing to him?!”

The sound of a crash from behind pulled the colt from the sight. He turned to see Fleethoof pinning a young mare to the ground. She stared at Greenhorn fearfully.

“Don’t go near them!” she said, pointing towards the bodies. “They were sick. A disease killed them and it’ll kill you too if you get too close!”

Greenhorn felt something tugging him towards the stairs, and only then realized that the mare was trying to move him with her magic.

“They were sick?” Greenhorn asked. He glanced back towards the bodies in the corner. “How could that have happened?

“I don’t know.” The mare shook her head. She was panting hard. “But it’s those flowers. They’re... dangerous.”

“Flowers?” Fleethoof said. He scoffed. “What are they, poison? Plants can’t hurt you just from being close to you.” He started towards the bodies to get a better look, but staggered. The mare strained to hold him back, her horn shining brightly.

“You can’t... go near them!” she said through gritted teeth. Fleethoof pushed against her magic, managing to pull his hoof a few inches off the ground before his knee was pulled to the ground.

“Alright then, fine!” Fleethoof rubbed his leg and winced. “What’s so bad about that stupid plant anyway?”

“It’s not a normal plant,” the mare said. “Those flowers, they... grow inside you, and when they’re ready to bloom, they’ll... they...” she trailed off and pointed at the corner.

Fleethoof sighed. “How about this, then. We can talk about this someplace safer. If you come with us back to our camp, there aren’t any creepy plants there. We’re with a group that can keep you safe.” He looked over towards Greenhorn. “Right?” The colt was staring at the two mares in the corner.

“Greenhorn!” Fleethoof clapped his hooves near the colt’s ear. “What’s wrong with you? Let’s take her back to camp.”

“S-sorry,” the colt said, shaking his head. “Let’s get out of here.” He followed Fleethoof up the stairs to the surface with the mare trailing behind.

“That statue’s a decent landmark,” Fleethoof said, pointing up at the stone empress. “I’d like to get a better look at those flowers, and that room was in good shape. Probably reinforced. It’s worth bringing up to the captain.”
Greenhorn nodded, glancing up at the statue. He saw something move in the corner of his eye. He opened his mouth to say something just as several loud reports split the air.

“You won’t keep us here!” a voice shouted from somewhere close by, followed by a hail of gunfire. Greenhorn ducked into the basement of the sweet shop, pulling the mare down with him. He yelped as something crashed into the dirt in front of him, and it took a moment to realize that it was a hoof from the statue. As the dust cleared, the colt could see a scattered pile of rubble where the statue had been. Three clicks sounded in the distance, followed by a disappointed groan.

“No more bullets?” Something metallic hit the ground with a clatter. “Oh well.”

“That... That there was a statue!” another voice said. Greenhorn could place his accent as Appleloosan. “Y’all just emptied yer gun on a statue!”

“Maybe,” the first voice said, “but they won’t follow us now!”

Greenhorn poked his head from his hiding place to get a look at his assailants. Though the dust, he could see two earth ponies standing side by side. They were staring down at what was left of the empress’ statue.

“Who are they?” the mare asked in a hushed whisper.

“I don’t know,” Greenhorn said, matching her volume. “I guess they’re raiders. They’re definitely not with us, right?” He looked around, but only saw the mare. “Fleethoof?” he said, speaking a little louder than he had intended. The medic was nowhere to be seen.

“They’re coming this way!” the mare said. “Did they see us?”

“I don’t know.” Greenhorn’s mind raced as the two raiders came closer. His eyes fell on the broken stone hoof in front of him. He heard one of the raiders scoff.

“It don’t make a lick of sense why I got paired off with y’all,” the Appleloosan said. “What’s this ‘Phalanx’ feller want from me, anyhow? He could’a grabbed that bauble without mah help.”

“Beats me,” the other raider said, “but if it means never seeing the inside of this hospital again, I don’t really care.”

“Yeah, that’s real helpful. Y’all could at least have the decency to drop this here act. I already know that you-”

“Hey!” the other pony said. He was staring straight at Greenhorn. “Who are you?! Come on out, ya little runt!” He started towards the colt, wearing a crazed grin on his face.

Greenhorn didn’t think. He ran from his hiding spot, scooped up the statue’s hoof with his magic, and lobbed it as hard as he could. The raider ducked and pressed his chest to the ground. He looked up to see the hoof sail harmlessly over his head. The Appleloosan who was standing behind him, however, did not. A sickening crack resonated through the air before he slumped to the ground.

The raider snarled. He spun around and reared up his hind legs. Before Greenhorn could react, a sharp blow to his chest knocked the wind from him. He fell backwards, and for a split second, he was confused when he didn’t feel the ground under him. Then he remembered that he had been standing in front of the staircase.

He grunted as he crashed into the uneven slope, sliding downwards as each step smacked against his back. When he came to a rest against the cold floor, his entire body ached.

Okay, Greenhorn thought, not the best idea I’ve ever had. His eyes snapped open as the sound of heavy hoofbeats followed him into the basement.

“You’ve got some nerve, runt,” the raider said. He took his time walking down the stairs, and emphasized each step with a loud stomp. “You hurt my friend back there, and I’ve got a problem with that.”

Greenhorn tried to think of something, anything that he could do, and it occurred to him just how little he knew about fighting. He saw the mare’s fearful eyes staring at him from behind the stairs, and pulled himself up. A green glow surrounded one of the intact jars of sweets on the wall.

The raider stared into the colt’s eyes. He tilted his head in confusion when he noticed that he wasn’t looking directly back at him. Just as he turned his head to see where the colt was looking, a jar crashed into his head, shattering on impact. He screamed in rage, clutching his face as his mane became matted and damp.

Greenhorn wasted no time. While the raider was recoiling from the jar, the colt spun around, reared up, and kicked out hard. He felt his legs smash into the raider and felt a shock of pain that seared through him. He fell to his side and held his leg. He could feel a warm wetness coming from his injury.

He heard somepony start laughing, and when he looked up, the raider was standing over him. One of his eyes was closed and half his face had been dyed red, but he laughed despite it.

“You’re even dumber than I thought,” the raider said, grinning. “Trying to keep us from escaping on that leg? You’ve got guts, kid, but no brains!” He laughed again.

An idea popped into Greenhorn’s head. He focused, and his horn started to glow. The raider noticed this and braced himself. He glanced around the room, ready to avoid any more flying jars. He looked back down at the colt. Greenhorn smiled, and a flash of light filled the room.

The raider screamed a string of incoherent curses. He staggered around the room, lashing out in every direction and trying to land a blow on the colt. Greenhorn blinked the light from his eyes just in time to dodge a blind swipe from his opponent. He’d closed his eyes in time to avoid the light from his spell, but still couldn’t see correctly. That’s what I get for putting all I could into a light spell, he thought. He ducked another attack. Still, it worked!

The raider reared up and bucked the air. He lost his balance and stumbled across the room, towards the corner where the two mares lay.

“Wait, stop!” Greenhorn said. The raider kept going and crashed into the corner. He shook his head to loosen the stray petals stuck to his mane and growled. By the time Greenhorn realized he could see again, he was already charging at the colt.

Greenhorn braced himself. He stood on his three good legs, keeping his weight off of his injury, and waited for the impact. Another flash of light filled the room, accompanied by the brief sound of rushing wind. When the colt opened his eyes, the raider was gone.

“W-what...?”

“I... I got him!” Heavy panting came from behind the stairs as the mare staggered out from her hiding place. She smiled at Greenhorn before falling to the ground. The colt rushed over to her.

“Are you alright?!” he asked. He gave her a nudge.

“What the-? What happened?!” a voice yelled from above. Greenhorn remembered the second raider and readied himself. A figure came down the stairs, and the colt gave a sigh of relief.

“You look like you were run over by a tank!” Fleethoof said. He noticed the mare laying on the floor and rushed over. He placed his head to her chest. “Well, she’s still breathing,” he said. “Now, tell me what happened.”

“We were attacked,” Greenhorn said. He gave a ragged cough and nearly lost his balance. “Where were you?!”

“I... I ran,” Fleethoof said. He sighed. “As soon as I heard those shots. I thought you two were right behind me. When I stopped to see if you were keeping up, you weren’t there, so I ran back here. When I saw that dead raider up there, I... You’re okay, though.”

“I guess that explains it,” Greenhorn said. “I heard the gunfire and hid, but they found us. I tried to fight them off, but didn’t do so well.” His leg twitched, causing the colt to wince. “She saved me.”

“Let me see that.” Fleethoof nudged the colt and took a look at his leg. “You tore it open,” he said. “I need to restitch this, but I don’t have the proper tools. I only have some basic medical supplies.”

“What about her?” Greenhorn looked down at the mare. “Can’t you help her first? She teleported the raider away and collapsed.”

“I don’t know,” Fleethoof said. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her, and I don’t know how to treat her. The best thing to do is to bring her back to camp and wait until she wakes up.” He opened his saddlebags and sifted through them before pulling out a roll of some kind of cloth and a small bottle. “Lie down on your side and hold still. I’m going to clean this and change out the bandages. I won’t let you leave until I can at least do that.”

Greenhorn complied and rested his head on the floor. Fleethoof unwrapped his leg and revealed his injury, which had started bleeding again. The medical pony slipped a sleeve over his hoof and pressed down on the colt’s leg. He uncapped the bottle, then poured its contents over the wound. Greenhorn winced. It felt like cold water, but burned at the same time. Afterwards, Fleethoof wrapped it with fresh bandages. He pulled the slack on the cloth tight and tied it off.

“There,” Fleethoof said. He pulled the sleeve off his hoof and tossed it aside, then put the bottle and bandages back into his bags. “Now we can leave. Try not to put any weight on that.”

Greenhorn pulled himself up. He could hardly move his leg from under the bandages. Fleethoof pulled the mare on his back and started up the stairs. The colt followed, taking care to walk with only three legs. When he reached the surface, he heard a groan. The Appleloosan was lying near the broken remains of the empress’ statue.

“He’s alive?” Fleehoof said. He held his hoof in front of the raider’s face, then felt his chest. “Wow, he’s pretty lucky.” He turned away and nodded towards the colt. “Let’s get going.”

“Wait, hold on,” Greenhorn said. “Shouldn’t we take him with us?”

Fleethoof bit his lip. “That’s... not a great idea. Didn’t he try to kill you?”

“A survivor’s a survivor, right?” Greenhorn said. “Besides, he might not be all that bad.”

Fleethoof scoffed. “What gives you that idea?” he asked.

“I don’t know. When I overheard them talking, the other raider seemed to be kind of... out of it, but this one sounded more sensible.” The colt shrugged. “Maybe we could reason with him?”

Fleethoof sighed. “Well,” he said,” I guess he wouldn’t be able to do any damage if we keep him restrained before he wakes up. Who knows? We might even be able to question him a bit.” He paused for a moment, then gave Greenhorn an annoyed glare. “How do you expect to carry him?”

“Well, uh...” Greenhorn gave a weak smile. “Can’t you? Earth ponies are strong, right?”

Fleethoof stared at him. “You do know that I’m a medic, right? I’m not some bodybuilder.”

“Well, we can’t just leave him here, right?” Greenhorn said. “I can’t carry him, and I can’t lift him with magic. I can help make him a bit lighter, though.” His horn started to glow, and the raider’s hooves lifted into the air.

Fleethoof groaned. “Fine,” he said. “I guess he doesn’t look that heavy. I can probably get both him and this mare back to the camp.” He took a few deep breaths, then heaved the raider onto his back alongside the mare. He grunted, and his legs shook as he started to walk. Greenhorn followed along, his horn glowing as his magic enveloped the load on Fleethoof’s back.

Fleethoof grumbled. “Today is not a good day.”


* * *


> Chapter 3: Raider
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Magitank





Chapter 3





Raider





* * *


I don’t remember anything about Celestia, save for what ponies have told me. Everything about her rule and what happened with Nightmare Moon happened before my time. It’s unfortunate. I think it would have been nice to have met her. From what I’ve heard, she was so understanding and gentle. The perfect ruler that kept the peace for longer than anypony could remember. Though, I suppose ponies had similar feelings for the empress at first. Before the wars turned her into what she was. What she had to become. So I can’t help but wonder if Celestia could have done anything differently. Could there have been peace, or would she have had to change to deal with the conflict? Maybe, in that kind of situation, changing yourself is inevitable. It’s impossible to hold onto who you are when the world around you demands someone else. Still, you put another pony in that same position, and you can’t help but wonder if things could have changed. If things would have ended better.

Or would it have been too much for them to not lose themselves?


* * *




“So,” Fleethoof said. “This mare saved you, huh?”

“That’s right,” Greenhorn said.

“Well, be sure you thank her.” Fleethoof let out a sigh of relief. He and Greenhorn arrived back at the Timber’s forward camp without incident, and he wasted no time in setting down the two ponies he was carrying onto the ground. He stretched out his limbs, feeling much lighter. Greenhorn dropped to the ground as well.

“...did find some food,” somepony said. Fleethoof looked around the camp and saw one of the others giving the captain a report. “There was a storehouse full of spiced peaches. Dozens of jars of the stuff. Most of them were broken, but there’s definitely plenty to pass around and keep everypony happy for a while. Other than that, nothing of use.”

“Thank you, private,” the captain said. He pulled a roll of paper from his bags and spread it out on the ground. “Mark down where it was and we can focus on retrieving them.”

“Yeah, sure thing,” the private said. “Oh, and this place looks great! I guess the lieutenant liked my design after all. Glad I could help with something other than legwork!” He laughed.

Fleethoof walked over to the nearby tank. He pulled a handle on the back to reveal a small storage compartment, then grabbed a red pouch from within.

“Wow,” Greenhorn said. He followed Fleethoof and looked around the camp. “That guy’s right. This place is like a fortress now.” Fleethoof followed his gaze. The entire area had been surrounded by walls that stretched higher than the tank, save for a single gap big enough to drive through.

“Yeah, it’s impressive, sure,” he said. He waved the pouch at Greenhorn. “Lie down over here beside the tank. This isn’t perfect, but it’ll keep the wind from blowing on us while I restitch that wound. Would’ve been nice if Dess had bothered to make a proper shelter, though.”

“That’s Lieutenant Dess,” a mare’s voice from behind them said. Fleethoof jumped and dropped his suture kit. “And you’re welcome for the defenses.”

Fleethoof turned and stared at her. “Could you not do that when I’m about to focus on something?” he said. He picked up the suture kit and wiped the dust off of it. “These tools are supposed to be kept sterile, you know. But hey, I’m sure having a shaky medic and dirty tools won’t hurt anything!”

Dess looked over at the survivors that Fleethoof carried in. “You could have used help with them,” she said. “Why didn’t you call it in?”

“What?” Fleethoof said. “I didn’t think to until we were already on our way back. It wasn’t exactly a calm situation. They’re here now, though.”

“Not calling that in was a mistake,” Dess said.

“Yeah, I know that now!” he said. “Is bothering me the only thing you have to do right now? I’d like to stitch up this cadet so that he doesn’t die.”

Greenhorn’s ears perked up. “Wait, what?!”

“Shut up, you’re fine,” Fleethoof said.

“If you had found something of interest, you should have informed the rest of us by radio,” Lieutenant Dess said. “Had you done that, then I assure you that somepony close by would have made their way to you, and likely would have been there in time to help with whatever you needed.”

Fleethoof blinked. “Well, I apologize sincerely for not following proper procedure, lieutenant,” he said. “So if that’s all you wanted, would it be too much to ask if I treated my patient now?”

“Not at all,” she said, then walked away.

Ridiculous,” Fleethoof said. He opened up the suture kit and sighed. “Well, this stuff still looks clean, at least.” He unwrapped the bandages on Greenhorn’s leg. “Hm, happy day for you. The bleeding stopped.” He took a deep breath. “Well, let’s get this over with. You were unconscious last time I did this, so I apologize in advance for the next few minutes. This isn’t going to be very much fun.”


* * *




A dozen pokes, six stitches, and a re-bandaging later, Greenhorn was back on his hooves. Three of his hooves, at any rate. He avoided walking on his injury despite Fleethoof telling him that he could if he needed. He wiped his eyes, pulling back moisture that he hadn’t realized was there.

“Cadet,” somepony said. He looked up to see Captain Pipsqueak walking towards him. “Welcome back. I hear you and Fleethoof managed to find survivors?”

“Yes, sir.” Greenhorn said. He gave a salute, then stumbled from trying to stand on two hooves.

“Well, one survivor,” Fleethoof said. “This mare was hiding in one of the cellars we searched, but that stallion’s a raider. We should get him restrained before he wakes up.”

“A raider?” The captain thought for a moment. “Alright. Don’t overdo the restraints though. Just enough to keep him from hurting anypony. Who knows, he may want to join us.”

Fleethoof shot Greenhorn and the captain an incredulous glance. “You two are bigger optimists than I thought,” he said.

“Try to at least have a little faith,” the captain said. “Things don’t always have to turn out badly, you know.”

“Right...” Fleethoof bit his lip.

More importantly,” the captain said. “Why is this the first I’m hearing of a raider? What happened?”

“Well-” Fleethoof started.

“We were attacked during our search,” Greenhorn said. Fleethoof was taken off guard by the lack of emotion in his voice. “There was two of them. This one was knocked out early on, and that mare helped dispatch the other. She was able to teleport him away with her magic. I don’t know where he was sent.”

Fleethoof stared at the colt. It took a few moments to register that both the cadet and the captain were waiting for him to say something. “I-I wasn’t there to help,” he said. “I ran off thinking that him and the mare were following along.” He shook his head. “It was a mistake. Also, the room in which we found the mare was still fully intact. I believe it to have been reinforced. It’s big enough to keep us all under one roof, if we needed to be somewhere else. There was also some kind of flowers there that were growing from a pair of corpses. That mare seemed to think they were dangerous enough to not let anypony near them, so I’m inclined to believe her. They’d need to be dealt with before we could move in.”

Greenhorn nodded and looked back at the captain. “We brought back two survivors,” he said. “The mare and one of the raiders. That’s all we have to report.”

“Right,” Captain Pipsqueak said. “Well, it certainly sounds like you had your fair share of excitement.” He chuckled. “I really only let you join in on this search because I didn’t think there would be any trouble,cadet, but it looks like you can handle yourself pretty well.” He glanced over at the two survivors laying on the ground, then turned to Fleethoof. “Any idea when those two are going to wake up?”

Fleethoof shrugged. “I haven’t the slightest clue,” he said. “The raider was knocked out by blunt force, but it sounds like this mare passed out from either exhaustion or dehydration. Maybe both. There’s really no telling when she’ll-”

A raspy moan came from the mare. She lifted her hoof a few inches off the ground before letting it fall.

“Wow, timing,” Fleethoof said, and trotted over. “Give me your water, will you?” A glowing green canteen floated in front of the medic, and he snatched it out of the air. He uncapped it and held the mare’s head, letting a few drops of water fall into her mouth. “Drink this,” he said, “and don’t try to speak just yet.”

The mare licked the moisture off of her lips. She leaned forward and tried to grab the canteen, but Fleethoof held it steady. “Take small sips,” he said. “You’re probably dehydrated, and you can hurt yourself if you drink too much too fast.” The mare nodded. After a few moments, she sat up.

“How do you feel?” Fleethoof asked.

“F-fine,” she said. She glanced at her surroundings. “W-where am I?”

“Take it easy,” the captain said. “You’ve been through a lot.”

The mare shuffled backwards when she saw him. “Who are you?” she asked.

The captain smiled. “My name’s Pipsqueak. Captain of the imperial army’s fourth battalion, at your service,” he said, and gave a salute. “You’re safe now.”

The mare blinked. “Imperial army?”

“Well, what’s left of it, that is,” the captain said. “I’m glad that I had the chance to welcome you personally. From what I hear, you’re quite capable with magic.”

Greenhorn stepped up. “You saved my life. Thank you.”

“I-I wasn’t really sure of what I was doing.” The mare blushed. “I’m glad I helped.”

“Alright, alright,” Fleethoof said. “Quit crowding her, she hasn’t recovered yet.” He turned to the mare and offered the canteen. “Remember, not too quickly. Drink small mouthfuls at a time.”

She nodded and started to take a sip, but a blue glow pulled the canteen away from her. “I have a few questions, actually,” Lieutenant Dess said as she approached.

“That can wait,” Fleethoof said. Dess stared at him for a moment, then turned towards the mare.

“Outer Canterlot was completely demolished,” the lieutenant said. “Judging from the force that ripped through the city, there shouldn’t have been any survivors. How are you here?”

The mare’s leg twitched. “I don’t know,” she said.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” the lieutenant asked.

“I don’t remember what happened.” The mare shook her head.

“Why does that even matter?” Fleethoof asked. “She’s alive to see the sun, right? Or, to see the the freakishly thick dust clouds, anyway. Call her off, would you captain?”

“Not yet,” Pipsqueak said.

The lieutenant glared. “An entire city burned around you. You have to remember that.”

The mare’s eyes darted around and she started to tremble. “I… I…”

“If you don’t know that, then what do you know?” Dess asked. “How did you get into that cellar? Where were you when the meteors struck?”

“Seriously? Alright, that’s enough!” Fleethoof got between the lieutenant and the mare. “You aren’t even accomplishing anything here, so lay off of her!”

Dess’ horn glowed and Fleethoof disappeared in a flash of light, landing about fifteen feet away. She returned her focus back to the mare. “Well?”

“I don’t know any of that,” the mare said. “I really don’t remember any-”

“Then who are you?” the lieutenant asked. Her horn pulsed blue for a moment.

“I don’t know!” the mare said. She let her head fall into her hooves. “I don’t remember anything before a day or so. All I know is that I woke up in the middle of a ruined city that was half buried in dust. I… I don’t remember…” Moisture began to soak into her hooves.

“Hmph.” The lieutenant glanced towards the captain. “Amnesia then?”

“I-I guess,” the mare said to the ground. “I really don’t remember anything. I don’t even know my own name.”

“I see,” Dess said. She turned to Fleethoof. “Do you believe that dehydration could be the cause of this?”

The medic looked incredulous. “You really have the nerve to ask me that after you just full-on interrogated my patient?”

“Yes,” the lieutenant said, “and I’d like an answer.”

“Uhm, a-actually,” the mare said, looking up at Dess. “I-I think amnesia can happen if the dehydration is extreme enough. But it’s kind of rare.”

Everypony stared at her. Fleethoof blinked. “Yeah, that’s... that’s actually true,” he said.

The lieutenant glared. “That’s a convenient bit of information for an amnesiac to have.”

“Would you just stop?!” Fleethoof said, resisting the urge to swing a hoof. “What are you trying to prove? What magical tidbit of information could she possibly have that would justify this?”

Dess turned towards the captain. “We’ll talk about it later,” She said. Her horn glowed and she disappeared.

Fleethoof gave a frustrated yell. “What was that all about, then?” he asked the captain. “That isn’t how you treat all the ponies you come across, is it? I must have missed the part where she did that to the kid and me.”

The captain sighed. “I apologize,” he said. “I needed to make sure that she wouldn’t be a threat.”

“A threat?” Fleethoof looked back and forth between the mare and the captain. “Empress’ sake, she’s a filly. She doesn’t even look older than Greenhorn!” He let out a defeated laugh. “You know, if this is how your army acts, it’s little wonder that there was a rebellion.”

“Watch it.” The captain scowled. “That isn’t funny.”

“I know, it really isn’t,” Fleethoof said. “I wasn’t joking. We brought her here when she was unconscious. She was just about delirious when we found her. She’s no more threat than any of us. What I just watched was completely ridiculous. This mare has just as much right to be here as us, so what, exactly, was the point of all that?”

Pipsqueak took a deep breath and exhaled. “Please, try to understand,” he said. “Everypony here has been able to prove themselves trustworthy in one way or another. Most of these ponies worked with me before, and I know them.” He gestured to the mare. “Her? We don’t know her, and you know the procedure for if somepony can’t identify themselves.”

“This is a bad joke,” Fleethoof said. “What did you think she was? A changeling? They were wiped out, remember? You can thank the empress and her Purge campaign for that.”

“Be that as it may, it’s impossible to confirm that there aren’t any left,” the captain said. “We were taking necessary precautions. Now that Dess has been able to inspect her, we can take her in properly.”

“Well, whoop de doo!” Fleethoof said. “At least you got that far.” He paused and turned towards Greenhorn. “Actually, where are you in all this? I figured you’d be right here with me, but you’ve been really quiet.”

Greenhorn thought for a moment. “Captain,” he said, “do you think it was necessary to question her like that?”

The captain nodded. “Yes, I do.”

The colt shrugged. “Okay then. I agree.”

Fleethoof gaped. “I can’t believe I’m even hearing this,” he said. He pressed his hoof to his forehead. “Whatever. I’m done with this. Where’s that raider? I get the feeling at least he’ll be more reasonable.”

“Him? Dess took him away,” the captain said. “It’s his turn now.”

Fleethoof looked around. There was no trace of the raider in sight. He sighed. “It’s just one thing after another around here.” He hung his head and grumbled for a moment before looking back towards the captain. “Where’d she take him?”

The captain glared. “He’s a raider. As much as it leaves a bad taste in my mouth to put civilians through interrogation, I’m less sympathetic towards somepony who is at least allied with ponies that have been attacking innocents.”

“Is he back at the camp?” Fleethoof asked.

“She probably didn’t take him that far away. More likely she’s right outside.”

Fleethoof started towards the gap in the wall.

“Why is it that you’re so interested?” Pipsqueak raised an eyebrow.

Fleethoof gave a chuckle. “Because your unending optimism has converted me, captain,” he said. “I think he can be reasoned with, and I want to talk to him.” He kept walking and ignored whatever was said afterwards.

He started to follow the outside of the wall and looked around in search of the lieutenant and the raider. Once he was sure he was out of everypony’s line of sight, he exhaled and his shoulders started to shake. Ugh, not this trembling again, cut that out already, he thought, scolding himself. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.

“...come to this already, then?” a voice in the distance said. The wind was much louder without the walls to block it, but Fleethoof followed the sound to the source. He found Lieutenant Dess looking up at the raider, who was awake, but was hanging from a levitating rope that was tied around his waist.

“Y’all could have at least asked me what ya wanted before stringing me up,” the raider said. “This here’s just humiliatin’.”

“I doubt you would have just told me what I want to know,” the lieutenant said. She levitated a stick and nudged the raider, causing him to swing back and forth.

“Wha’ the- Oh come on!” the raider said. “This is jus’ uncalled for. I ain’t done nothin’ to y’all.”

“You’re affiliated with the raiders that have been attacking survivors,” she said, giving him another nudge. “Talk to me about why you were in the ruins. You couldn’t have thought there were any living ponies there, and you certainly didn’t know that we’re here.”

“Seriously?” The raider laughed. “Y’all think pushin’ me around on a rope is goin’ to make me jus’ start giving out info?”

“Most likely not,” the lieutenant said, “but it’s amusing.”

The raider tried to shrug, which wound up just looking awkward while hanging from a swinging rope. “Boss wanted us to find somethin’ specific that was in Can’erlot.”

“Wait, what?” Fleethoof said, approaching the scene. The lieutenant shot him a bored glance before returning her attention to the raider.

“What? I told y’all that all y’all had to do was ask,” he said. “Phalanx was interested in anythin’ we could find that belonged to the empress. Not that there was much left, mind.”

“You’re uh… you’re giving up information already?” Fleethoof asked.

“Continue,” Dess said.

“Don’t know why yer’ surprised,” the raider said. “That feller ain’t exactly the type to inspire any loyalty. He don’t care about any of us. He probably don’t even care that I’m talkin’ to y’all.”

Another nudge from the lieutenant sent him swaying back and forth again. “Would y’all cut that out?! I already said that I don’t care about Phalanx and I’ll tell y’all all I know. No need to be so rude.”

“Fine,” Dess said. The blue glow around the rope and her horn vanished, and the raider fell to the ground. “Keep talking.”

“Yer companion’s real friendly there, partner,” the raider said to Fleethoof. He picked himself up and dusted himself off.

“Isn’t she, though?” Fleethoof said.

The captain walked up with Greenhorn following along. The lieutenant nodded at them, then turned back towards the raider.

“Talk to me about Phalanx and the other raiders,” she said, “and you’ll be free to go.”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard ya the first time,” the raider said. “All I know about Phalanx is that he’s after anythin’ he can get his hooves on that belonged to the empress. Dunno why, but I get the impression that he ain’t overly fond of her. Can’t really say that I blame him on that point. As fer the others, most of them came from a… specialized hospital down in Hoofington.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” the captain asked.

“Specialized…?” Fleethoof thought for a moment. “No. You’re not talking about the Hoofington Asylum, are you?”

“As a matter of fact, I am,” the raider said. “All the patient rooms are in the basement floors, so just about everypony there survived. Myself included.”

Fleethoof blinked. “You uh… You don’t exactly seem-”

“Nah, I wasn’t there as a patient,” he said. “That place wasn’t full of jus’ crazies. There were more normal folk mixed in as well.”

“Normal folk?” the captain asked. “You mean doctors and the like?”

The raider stared at the captain. “No,” he said. “Y’all are imperials, that I know, so this may come as a shoc, but yer empress wasn’t as great as y’all seem to think. That asylum’s where problematic political prisoners got tossed.”

The captain raised an eyebrow. “And you’re one of these political prisoners, then?”

“Yup.”

“What about Phalanx?”

“Him?” The raider scoffed. “Nah, he came along after them rocks fell. Lots of the folks there were violent most of the time anyway, so he recruited them easy enough. The rest of us didn’t have anywhere else to go anyway.”

“Hold on, then.” Greenhorn stepped forward. “So maybe not all of the ponies working for Phalanx are enemies? Would some of them fight against them if they had the chance?”

“Don’t count on it, kid,” the raider said. “Phalanx ain’t that stupid. He’s been pickin’ through the ranks for us forward thinkin’ types that might want to ditch him. I had a friend who suggested that very thing in front of the wrong ponies. He ain’t around anymore. Even if y’all did find somepony that could help, they wouldn’t talk to y’all.”

“What about you, then?” Captain Pipsqueak asked. “You’re being very cooperative.”

The raider nodded. “I’ve got good reasonin’ for it,” he said. “I wasn’t exactly s’posed to walk out of Can’erlot in good health.” He thought for a moment. “Speakin’ of which, what happened to my partner?”

“He’s out of the picture,” Lieutenant Dess said. “Tell me more about why you were in Canterlot.”

“It’s like I said, Phalanx was lookin’ for anythin’ that belonged to the empress. Don’t rightly know why,” he said. He looked around. “Dunno where y’all stashed my bags, but there’s a letter inside. Found it in what might of been her room.”

“You found the empress’s chambers?” The captain stepped forward. “Was there any clues as to where she might be?”

The raider shrugged. “Dunno,” he said. “I don’t even know for sure that it was her place, but goin’ by how well the room was intact, I’m guessin’ it had some heavy hittin’ spells guardin’ it. Ain’t no other rooms in Can’erlot that look that nice these days.”

Fleethoof thought back to the candy shop basement. He glanced over at Greenhorn, who met his gaze, and shook his head.

“I see,” the captain said. He turned to the lieutenant. “We have this letter?”

“Yes, sir,” she said, then turned back to the raider. “What else did you find?”

The raider blinked. “Why’s everyone so interested?” He stared at Dess, who stared right back. He scoffed. “It didn’t look like she had much in the way of knick-knacks. So unless y’all are interested in ‘the royal pillows,’ I doubt y’all would find much. That there letter was the only thing I found.”

“So,” Fleethoof said. “If you were thinking Phalanx was going to kill you, why were you bothering to look for what he wanted? Seems to me like you could have just ran off and been happy and healthy.”

The raider laughed. “That was the idea, yeah,” he said. “As soon as I found an opportunity to get away from the lunk he had with me, I was gonna run as fast as I could as far as I could. Woulda rather taken my chances in the dust than walk right up to my own funeral.” He sighed. “Though I’ll admit I was kinda hopin’ that I’d find the empress in her room when I found it. I figure she woulda been mad as a stomped anthill, but it would’a been nicer than hangin’ out with Phalanx’s crew. I take it y’all haven’t seen any sign of her?”

The captain opened his mouth to say something, but just bowed his head.

“What we have or haven’t found isn’t your concern,” Lieutenant Dess said. “Keep talking about Phalanx. Where’s his base of operations?”

“Why? Y’all just gonna rush in, guns blazin’?”

Dess held her gaze.

The raider blinked. “Wow, uh, alright,” he said. “Well, Phalanx wanted to get as close to Can’erlot as he could. So rather than stayin’ near the asylum, he had us march up towards the capital. Luckily for him, not so much for y’all, he found himself some military school. It looked pretty busted up, but it was intact enough. There was even a bunch’a weapons and the like that we salvaged.”

“A military school?” Greenhorn gasped. “The Outer Canterlot Academy? He’s hiding out there?!”

“Yep, that’s the one,” the raider said. “Now, y’all should know that even though he’s lost a good few ponies between y’all’s skirmishes and him weedin’ out folk he don’t like, he still has plenty of gun totin’ crazies to throw around. More than y’all do, anyway.”

The lieutenant grunted. “What else can you tell us?”

“Hm, lemme think,” he said. “Other than the fact that y’all are stupid if you think y’all can just bumrush Phalanx and win and that if y’all try, then y’all are gonna get yourselves killed, nothin’.”

Dess glared. “Thank you for your opinion, but I think we can handle ourselves.” She glanced towards the captain and nodded.

Pipsqueak returned the lieutenant’s nod and turned towards the raider. “Thank you for your cooperation,” he said. “We’ll hold you over for another day or so and then you’re free to go.”

Fleethoof nodded, then did a double take at the captain. “Wait, what?”

“We’ve learned plenty from him, and, assuming he’s telling the truth, he can’t very well go back to Phalanx now. Even if he does, it shouldn’t hinder us much.”

The raider chuckled. “Well, shoot, if I’d of known things’d go this nice I’d of come to y’all myself,” he said. He dropped his smile and glared at the captain. “But don’t pretend that y’all’s deal’s merciful. I can’t go back to them raiders and there ain’t nothin’ else to do but wander the dust. If I’m gonna be ‘free to go’ as y’all are sayin’, then I’d just assume stick with y’all.”

“What you do after this isn’t our problem,” the lieutenant said.

The captain hesitated. “Dess, does he check out?” he asked.

“Sir, you aren’t seriously considering-”

“Not sure yet,” Pipsqueak said. “But if you think he checks out, then he might be useful.” He turned to the raider. “What’s your name?”

The raider smiled. “Arlet,” he said. “From Appleloosa. I’m related to the Apples, but don’t worry. I ain’t gonna give y’all any trouble.”

“Arlet…” Dess said to herself. She closed her eyes and focused, then teleported away.

“Uh, bye?” Arlet said. He scratched his chin. “She sure took off in a hurry. Was it somethin’ I said?”

“Don’t worry about her,” Pipsqueak said. “So, you’re related to the Apples? Under normal circumstances, rebels and imperials wouldn’t get along. Maybe we can change that.”

“Well, I’m hardly a rebel anymore if there ain’t no government to rebel against,” Arlet said. “It’s like I said, I don’t plan on givin’ y’all any more problems than y’all already got. There’s no sense in arguin’ old issues when there’s folk out there interested in seein’ us both go down, y’know?”

The captain nodded. “Agreed,” he said, then turned to Fleethoof. “If you’re satisfied, you’re free to leave. I apologize if we scared you earlier, but-”

Fleethoof walked up to Arlet and hugged him, patting the raider on the back a couple times.

“Uhm…” Arlet started. “W-what…?” He looked at the captain, who raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

“The first day in Canterlots always the toughest, right?” Fleethoof asked, not letting the raider out of the embrace.

“I… uh… I guess?” Arlet said.

Fleethoof sighed, let go, and backed off. “Oh well,” he said. “Welcome to the Timbers. I’ll let the captain do the introductions. He’s better at it.”

Everypony stared at him. He scratched his head. “I think I’m going to go check on that mare. See if she’s doing alright.” 

The captain blinked. “As I said, you don’t necessarily need to leave, but there isn’t any real reason for you to be right here,” he said. “I’m sure you have other things that you need to get done.”

“Yep,” Fleethoof said. He started towards the entrance of the wall. Oh yeah, because that went well, he thought.

Once inside, he checked his surroundings. The mare from the ruins looked to be smiling and sleeping. Lieutenant Dess was digging through a case of papers. A few of the other soldiers were sitting in a circle and playing some sort of game involving balancing their guns on their noses. The cadet was following him.

“So, what was that all about?” Greenhorn asked. Fleethoof flinched.

“A little warning next time you decide to follow me all quiet like?” he said.

“Sorry,” the cadet said. “But still…”

Fleethoof shrugged. “Guy looked like he needed a hug.”

Greenhorn cocked his head. “Did he?”

“Of course.” He nodded. “You should learn to recognize when someone needs a hug. It’s an important skill for a medical pony.”

“...Really?”

Fleethoof put a hoof to his forehead. “Of course not,” he said. “I thought he was someone else. Apparently he wasn’t.”

“Oh, really?” a mare’s voice said. “I figured it was something else. Nopony here will judge you, you know.”

Fleethoof turned around and found himself face to face with Lieutenant Dess. He jumped back, then stomped the ground. “Shards! Do you get some kind of sick pleasure from sneaking up on ponies? And what do you mean by-” He stared at her. “No. No, no, and no.”

“It’s quite alright, you know,” the lieutenant said. “Now more than ever, you have complete freedom in-”

“Stop. Talking,” Fleethoof said. “If you’re that nosy, I thought he was my brother. Arlet looks similar, and I haven’t see him in a few years. Satisfied?”

Dess frowned. “Actually, no,” she said. “You don’t have any siblings.”

“Well, he’s not per se-” Fleethoof said. He did a double take and stared at the lieutenant. “How much do you actually know about me, you creepy mule?”

Lieutenant Dess scoffed. “There’s no need to be politically incorrect, you know,” she said. “And I know as much as the the country of Equestria knows about you, Rank 1 Runner Fleethoof.”

Fleethoof sighed. “Seriously? Why? I know I’m not that interesting that you’d feel the need to learn that much about me.”

“I know you used to be a racer,” she said. “I know that you did everything in your power to avoid joining the military, and succeeded until just recently. I know that you dislike the color brown because it’s ‘too bland,’ and, most importantly, I know that you’re an only foal.”

Fleethoof blinked. “Okay,” he said. “I’m going to call you a creepy stalker, then I’m going to say that calling you that makes other creepy stalkers look mild, and I want you to know that you have no right to disagree.”

“There’s also no record-”

“You’re a creepy stalker, and calling you that makes other creepy stalkers look mild.”

The lieutenant stared at him. “There’s also no record of you receiving any kind of medical training, which makes me question your proficiency with medicine.”

“Maybe I didn’t want ponies like you to know my every move.” Fleethoof said. He leaned in close to Dess. “You know, one time I told people that I’d have a lettuce salad for lunch, but I actually had hay fries. So that’s two I’ve pulled over on you.” He grinned and nodded. “Yeah.”

Dess continued to stare. “Where exactly did you learn to be a medic? You don’t have any official certification.”

“Oh, I learned that from the Empress’ School for Gifted Unicorns,” Fleethoof said. “Turns out there’s a great program for earth ponies there.” He shrugged. “I was surprised too. The name is really misleading.”

“You do know that the longer it takes for you to give me a straight answer, the more suspicious I am,” the lieutenant said. “Try one more time.”

“Why does it even matter?!” Fleethoof said. He ran a hoof through his mane, leaving a streak of dust behind. “I’ve been helping out whenever I’ve had a chance. Luckily, there hasn’t been a lot of injuries, but I’ve stitched up this colt. Twice. I’ve agreed to make sure that any other survivors we find are healthy and treated, and I’ve agreed to be a scout and a lookout when needed. Are you really saying that you don’t trust me because you don’t know where I learned basic first aid? Because you can pretty much walk into any hospital and learn that from a nurse with some time on her hooves.”

“Fine,” the lieutenant said. She sighed. “This can wait, then. As it stands, that raider checks out.” She produced a slip of paper from her vest. “I have part of a dossier here. Apparently, he did support the Apples, but disappeared just before the incident at Ponyville. His story checks out, and there’s no reason the files that I have to believe that he’s lying.”

Fleethoof blinked and glanced back and forth between the document and the lieutenant.

“And yes,” she said, “I have similar documents on you as well. As well as a majority of the local population. Don’t take it personally that I know so much about you. Information is my job.”

“You know, this doesn’t help the argument of you being a creepy stalker,” Fleethoof said.

The lieutenant rolled her eyes and pocketed the document. “The point is that Arlet probably isn’t lying about Phalanx being at that school,” she said. “It’s reason enough to scout it out. If nothing else, we could find supplies or survivors.”

“I feel like the supplies and survivors part shouldn’t be a secondary priority,” Fleethoof said. “So you’re trusting Arlet now? I got the impression that you weren’t big on the whole ‘believing what somepony tells you’ thing.”

“I don’t trust him,” Dess said. She shrugged. “Not even close, but I believe he’s telling the truth about this in particular. If it turns out he’s lying…” She thought for a moment. “It could be problematic for him.”

“Fun stuff,” Fleethoof said. “So who all’s getting drafted into scouting out this school?”

“I need to bring it up to the captain first,” she said. “After I get Arlet to tell me exactly where this school is, It’d be ideal if I go alone.”

Greenhorn stepped forward. “W-wait,” he said. “Let me go with.”

The lieutenant’s horn glowed and a briefcase appeared in front of her. “That would defeat the purpose of me going alone,” she said. “Subtlety is also my job.” She slipped the document into the case and teleported it away.

“Yeah,” Fleethoof said. “For once, today, I’m going to have to agree with the lieutenant’s methods. I said you can walk on your injury, but I’m not going to be able to let you walk into what’s probably a raider stronghold with your leg in the shape that it’s in.”

“As long as they don’t see me, I’ll be fine,” Greenhorn said. “Plus, I trained at the Outer Canterlot Military Academy. I practically lived there most of the time. I know where it is, plus I know the layout of the place like my own cutie mark. And I know of at least one janitor’s closet with a tunnel that leads to the armory.”

“Regardless, I don’t think-” Dess paused and thought for a moment. “Actually, I think you could be of some help. If you want to come along, you have my permission. You can bring it up when I talk to the captain. We still need to deal with that raider before we head back to the main camp. You’ll have time.”

“Okay, perfect,” the colt said. He nodded.

“Wait, what just happened?” Fleethoof said. “Because it sounds like you just let the injured rookie come along on what kinda sounds like a thing that’s definitely going to be dangerous. And as the pony that got handed the medkit, also known as the closest thing to a doctor that we have, I’m still against that.”

Dess raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you trust me?” she asked.

Fleethoof pursed his lips and nodded. “Oh, definitely,” he said. “In fact, I trust you exactly as much as you trust me.”

“Funny,” the lieutenant said. “There’s things I need to discuss with the captain. This is your chance to convince him not to allow Greenhorn here to come along with me.” She started off, and the colt followed in suit.

Fleethoof scoffed. “And to think a couple hours ago, I wouldn’t have thought he would need convincing about something like this.” He took a deep breath and followed along. “Everypony’s crazy nowadays. Even the sane ones.”


* * *