Same Shit, Different Wasteland

Heathen

Thomas and Moonbeam had set out shortly after, this time with a map in hand. If the path was clear, it would only take them about eight hours to get there, but the route was dangerously close to the blast zone. It would also place them within view of a Ranger outpost, though Thomas was sure that they wouldn’t be a problem.

A large number of Radaway had been stashed inside Thomas’s duster, and Moonbeam was wearing her saddlebags in addition to her ammo boxes. The pair had no idea what they might find, and wanted to be prepared for anything interesting.

To Thomas, the scenery was beginning to get repetitive. Every ruined building seemed to look the same, every ruined cart and skeleton identical. The only thing that assured him that they weren’t going in a circle was the occasional road sign they passed, which he checked against his map so they would stay on course.

Moonbeam glanced looked up at Thomas. “Who’d you find to fix your thing anyway?”

“Can’t tell,” the man replied calmly. “Part of the agreement. Besides, I know where to find them, and what to do if they break their word.”

“Let me guess,” Moonbeam asked darkly, “the same thing you did to that slaver?”

Thomas sighed. “That was different and you know that. All I’ll do with these assholes is break a few legs, nothing major.”

The mare couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Violence doesn’t solve everything.”

“Violence perceived is violence achieved. If I make them think I’ll hurt them if they don’t cooperate, they’ll cooperate.”

“So you’re going to scare them into doing the right thing?”

“Hey, don’t doubt the power of fear as a motivator. They know that I’m not someone to betray, they’ll keep up their end of the bargain.”

“Right,” Moonbeam said skeptically. “And what are you gonna do if you can’t find the thing you’re looking for?”

“They said I might find it in a place called ‘Dodge Junction’, you know anything about that place?” he asked.

Moonbeam frowned. “The name rings a bell. I think I read somewhere that it was a major supply depot for both the Ministry of Wartime Technology and the Ministry of Arcane Sciences. The MWT and the MAS worked together on power armour, so I guess it makes sense that they’d keep all their things in one place. Sounds like the Rangers’ dreams come true,” she added.

“A place like that, it’ll have been looted by now,” Thomas commented.

“And the shipyard won’t be?”

“They mentioned something about security, turrets and robots. Not something the average scavenger tries to get past,” he said. “That, and some of the ships out in the bay itself - ”

“Woah woah woah. What was that? Did you just say you were gonna go into some of the ships?” Moonbeam asked loudly. “You didn’t say anything about that!”

“I’m not gonna ask you to come along, not if you don’t want to.”

“Hey, you already dragged me this far,” the mare grumbled. “I can’t swim, though.”

“I think swimming is a minor concern next to the possibility of radiation poisoning,” Thomas pointed out. “As long as you stay afloat, though, I should be able to get to you.”

“I don’t see how I can do that if I’m carrying…” She trailed off as she did a few quick calculations. “At least forty pounds of gear.”

“So am I, at least,” the man pointed out.

“But you know how to swim,” Moonbeam retorted.

“Good point,” Thomas conceded. “If it makes you feel safer, you don’t have to go on the ship with me, okay?”

“A little.”

The pair fell into silence again as they trekked through the city. As they walked, Thomas noticed something in the air above them. “What the hell is that?”

Moonbeam looked up. “I dunno. It’s too high up.” She frowned as she shape got closer. “It looks like… a…” Her eyes went wide in panic. “We gotta hide.”

“Is that one of those - ”

“Yes it is, now move before it gets down here!” The mare turned and ran back the way they had come, hoping to escape

“A foolish endeavour!” a booming voice proclaimed, a previously-invisible alicorn revealing herself right in Moonbeam’s path. The mare squealed as she skidded to a stop.

“Oh great, Nightkin,” Thomas commented. “What do you want?” he asked loudly.

“The Goddess does not make known her plans!” the teal alicorn said, sounding like she was shouting through a megaphone.

“What do you want with us?” Thomas asked.

“Her!”

“Oh not this again,” Moonbeam muttered, covering her ears so she wouldn’t go deaf.

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid we’ll have to decline,” Thomas deadpanned. “We have business to attend to, so if you’ll excuse us, we’ll be on our way.”

“One does not simply refuse a request of the Goddess,” an alicorn hissed from behind the man.

“Can I have a name?” he asked. “I don’t want to keep calling you Green and Blue.”

“We have no need for names. We live only for the glory of the Goddess. Names would merely hinder us.”

Thomas turned and found himself eye-to-eye with the dark green alicorn. It was a little odd being able to look a pony in the eyes, so used was he to having to look down. “Look, ma’am, all I want is a name. Is that really so hard?”

“We are the Goddess!”

Thomas rubbed his ears, noting that Moonbeam had backed into his leg. “A name, not a title,” he stated. “I am not calling you by the name your narcissist of a leader gave herself.”

The blue alicorn stared at him for a moment before her horn began to glow. “The Goddess has no time for your prattling! Give us the unicorn or we will obliterate you!”

“No.” The alicorns looked a little shocked by the bluntness of his reply. “You want her, you’ll have to kill me first.”

“Very well,” Green alicorn stated, her horn beginning to glow brighter. Thomas jumped out of the way as a bolt of lightning shot from her horn.

“Not good enough!” Thomas shouted, aiming his Sequoia at the Blue. He pulled the trigger but was kicked in the side before he could tell if he had struck true.

“Your weapons cannot harm us! We are the daughters of the Goddess!” the alicorns roared in unison.

Thomas picked himself up, Moonbeam helping him onto his feet. “Thanks,” he muttered. “Why does your cult want unicorns?” he asked, hoping to buy some time.

“That is none of your concern! The Goddess only wishes to uplift her!” the alicorn Thomas had shot at shouted.

“You’re pissed off because I wiped out that base filled with unicorns near Tenpony, aren’t you?” he asked. “They were some of your cultists, weren’t they?”

“What unicorns do you speak of?” Blue asked. “The Goddess has not heard of them, though those who wish to worship us will always be welcome.”

“Nothing to do with you? Never mind then,” Thomas said.

“Wait,” Moonbeam asked timidly. “If they weren’t with you, then who were they with?”

“We do not know,” Green answered before her horn began to glow again. “The Goddess grows increasingly impatient with your continued prattling. Give us the unicorn!”

“Again, no.” Thomas leveled his revolver at the blue one. “Just leave us alone, and I won’t have to hurt you.”

“We will not leave without the unicorn in our company,” the Blue said. “Your puny weapon means nothing to us!” she boasted.

Thomas fired, and Green’s head exploded. “Huh?”

“What just happened?” Moonbeam asked.

“What trickery is this!?” Blue shouted. She was unable to get any further as her neck exploded, covering the mare and man in gore as her head bounced on the ground.

“What just happened?” Moonbeam repeated.

“Are you okay!?” a voice called out.

The pair looked up and saw a curious mix of bird and cat flying down at them, a huge rifle with a scope in its claws. It was wearing barding similar to Moonbeam’s, though it was darker and better maintained.

“Who are you?” Thomas asked as the griffon touched down, carefully setting his rifle down.

“Well that’s no way to greet your saviour,” the half-bird said in mock-anger, the grubby golden feathers in his face creasing. “If I’d known you’d be like that, I’d have left you to them,” he said, gesturing at the headless alicorns.

“Thanks for saving us,” Moonbeam said gratefully, glancing at the bodies.

“Ah. See?” he asked Thomas. “The lady knows how to show her gratitude. And no, ma’am,” he said, turning to the mare, “the pleasure was all mine. It would have been a shame for a flower as beautiful as you to be corrupted by the Unity.” He took her right forehoof and gently pecked it.

As Moonbeam turned crimson and stammered, Thomas rolled her eyes. “Dinner and a date first, pal, don’t you know the rules?”

“Dinner, I can provide. A date, on the other hand, will be much more difficult,” the griffon said calmly. “Ah, but how inexcusable! I haven’t even given you my name! I am Gallant Goodwing.”

“Well, I’m the Courier, and the stammering mess there is Moonbeam,” Thomas said, pointing at the mare in question. “Why’d you save us?”

“Like I said, it wouldn’t have been right to let those mindless beasts take away such a rare flower.” Moonbeam’s blush intensified. “Besides, you looked like you needed the help.”

“Well, thanks.” Thomas glanced at the griffon’s gun. “Never seen a rifle like that.” That wasn’t strictly true, as he had seen more than his fair share of anti-materiel rifles, but this one had a number of modifications he had never seen before.

“Spiritus?” he asked, scooping up his rifle. Where the barrel met the forestock were a number of light blue crystals, each one glowing with an eerie light. “Found her in an MWT stockpile years ago. The only sound it makes is when you pull back the bolt and reload.

Thomas whistled. “Sounds like a sniper’s dream.”

“That it is,” Gallant said affectionately. “We should move,” he said suddenly, “more might come.”

“Good point,” Thomas muttered. “Moonbeam?”

“Huh?” the mare asked, still flustered.

“You coming?” he asked, sounding concerned.

“Oh. Right.”

“I’m afraid I can’t go with you,” the griffon said politely.

“Why not?” Thomas asked suspiciously.

“Those aren’t the first alicorns I’ve killed, and they certainly won’t be the last. And the only way I can continue is on my own.”

“Awww,” Moonbeam moaned in mild disappointment.

“Fret not, our paths may cross again some day,” Gallant said gallantly before taking to the air.

“You got a crush on him?” Thomas asked.

“W-what!?” Moonbeam spluttered. “No!”

“Right,” Thomas replied cheekily. “Come on, we gotta get moving. Just what was he, anyway?”

The rest of their walk passed uneventfully, something they were both grateful for. They’d had enough excitement for one day, and simply wanted to try and find what Thomas had been sent for.

“What are we looking for?”

“They said it’s likely be on one of the ships,” Thomas answered as they walked through the gate, “but it wouldn’t hurt to check the warehouses while we’re here.” During the walk, he had removed his mask, claiming that it had been affecting his peripheral vision. He still wore his helmet, though, refusing to surrender the protection it offered.

“The warehouses that may have been broken into?” she clarified. “And if they haven’t been, that’s because of robots and turrets?”

“Yep.”

The warehouses could easily be seen from where they were, six great big boxes of concrete and steel. On each of them was a different symbol, which Moonbeam explained as the symbol of each Ministry. He couldn’t help but snort when he saw the MWT’s was almost identical to the Brotherhood of Steel’s, further cementing his belief that they were a pack of Brotherhood wannabes.

“Let’s crack open that one first,” Thomas said, pointing at the warehouse with the symbol of the Ministry of Peace.

“Yeah, we could use some healing potions if things get nasty,” Moonbeam commented.

The warehouse had two doors, a big roller door that stretched up several dozen feet into the air, and a small door next to it. Naturally, Thomas set about picking the lock with Moonbeam keeping watch.

“Isn’t a bit strange?”

“What?” Thomas asked as he tried to find the sweet spot.

“That this place hasn’t been touched once in two hundred years. It doesn’t make sense.”

“It is a bit strange,” Thomas admitted. “Still, I don’t question a good thing like this. I was warned about radigators, though,” he added.

“Radigators?” Moonbeam asked. “You mean the twenty-foot long, armoured, territorial and incredibly dangerous radigators?”

“Sounds like a deathclaw. And we only have to worry about them if we fall in the water.” The lock clicked open. “Moonbeam, get ready.”

The opened slowly on ancient hinges, revealing darkness. Thomas quickly turned up the brightness on his Pip-Boy and walked in, revolver pointed forwards just in case. He didn’t expect anything, but experience had taught him that being paranoid was a practical approach.

Moonbeam did the same, instead using her horn for light, her SMG hovering in front of her. “You see anything?” she hissed.

“Looks like someone beat us here,” Thomas whispered back, gesturing at a damaged crate. “Let’s see if they missed anything.”

The pair stepped through the warehouse carefully, their footsteps echoing through the still building. Every crate they passed had been broken open, leaving no hope of gathering anything useful. At least, until they reached the very back. “Is that crate untouched?”

“Looks like it,” Moonbeam muttered. She approached it and wrenched the lid open. She jumped up and stuck her head in, grabbing some of the contents. She spat a number of flat packets onto the ground. “What are these things?”

“No idea.” Thomas leaned down and picked one up. “‘Extra pleasure’? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Moonbeam shrugged. “I dunno.” She tore one of the packets open, revealing a strange rubbery disc. “Well this is weird,” she commented.

“And useless, come on, let’s get outta here.”

The pair left the box and its mysterious contents behind, leaving the warehouse through the door they entered from. “Is it just me,” Moonbeam asked, “but is it too quiet?”

“Moonbeam, there are a few say you never ask, even as a joke. ‘That was too easy’, ‘it’s too quiet’, ‘it can’t get any worse’, ‘what could possibly go wrong?’... That’s just asking for trouble.” Thomas walked towards the second warehouse, the one bearing the symbol of the MAS. The warehouse seemed to be in worse shape, as though someone had tried to blast their way in.

“That looks promising,” Moonbeam muttered.

“Yeah,” the man nodded, “means there must be something worth taking.”

“You think the thing we’ll be looking for is in there?” she asked, looking up at him.

“Maybe.” Thomas scratched his chin. “Let’s find another way in.”

“How do we know there is another way in? And even if there is, who’s to say we can even use it?”

“I’d rather waste time looking for an entrance that isn’t there than rush blindly in and get torn apart by robots,” he countered. “If nothing else, it’ll give us time to think.”

The pair circled the building but found nothing. True to his word, though, he managed to come up with several ideas about how to get around any security.

“Turrets are a certainty. Robots, no idea. If there are, they’ll be old, which means that they’ll be slow. We might be able to use that to our advantage.”

“What do you mean?” the mare asked.

“They can only track one target. If I run out and draw their fire, you should be able to take them out,” the man explained. “Even if you don’t kill it, it’ll get its attention so I can use a pulse grenade to fry it.”

“If you have pulse grenades, why not just use them straight away?”

“In a dark room?” he asked back. “I’m more likely to overshoot and waste it.”

“True. So, what, wait for it to fire then use a pulse grenade?”

“That, or we find the light switch,” he offered. “Only problem is that throws stealth out the window.”

“The last time we attempted stealth it ended with you get stabbed in the stomach,” Moonbeam pointed out flatly.

Thomas considered her words. “Fuck it, guns blazing it is.”

Thomas carefully opened the door and poked his head around. To his annoyance the burnt husk of a stationary turret was not three feet from him. “Guess someone’s been here first,” he muttered.

“You going first?” Moonbeam asked.

“Get ready to cover me.” Thomas eased the door open and stepped in, his rifle at the ready. He looked around, his mask providing him with the low-light vision to see. “Looks clear,” he whispered as Moonbeam slipped in behind him.

“The turrets will be connected to a terminal,” the mare said as she looked around.

“And if we’re really lucky, any robots will be too.” Thomas stepped forwards carefully, scanning the area in front of him. The warehouse was filled with crates, untouched by the war that had destroyed the world. He stopped when Moonbeam fell over something with a crash.

“Ow…” the mare moaned to his left.

“Dammit Moonbeam,” he growled. He stopped complaining when he saw that she had tripped over a set of Steel Ranger’s power armour, riddled with holes and horrifically dented. “Oh that can’t be good.”

“Intruder detected,” a dull mechanical voice said, the sound drawing their attention. The squeaking of wheels and the dull hum of motors filled the air as the mare picked herself up.

“And it just got worse.”

Author's Note

Speven: Whenever I get Ed to help, we instead go off on random tangents. Somehow a conversation about Fallout 4 turned to discussion about some of the brony R34 artists.

Ed: Blame him, not me. I’ll never think of toothpaste the same way now.