Same Shit, Different Wasteland

Under Contract

“I never got your name,” Thomas said calmly, wiping away the blood caking his clothes as a pony treated his leg.

The Steel Ranger stared at him. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she said cautiously

“What, because of those assholes in Manehattan?” the man asked.

“If the reports they sent are true, you murdered an Initiate while she was unable to fight back,” the Ranger replied. “As the branch in Manehattan is one of the most influential, most of our other branches have you designated as K.O.S.”

“K.O.S?”

“Kill On Sight,” she explained. “The only reason we haven’t done the same yet is that we know the Manehattanites are a bunch of self-righteous morons.”

“Huh. The only reason I killed that one was to prove a point. Guess I should have realised it would backfire,” Thomas conceded. “Still, when people keep threatening to kill me every time I run into them, I’m gonna retaliate.”

“The Elder here thought that was the case, but the report only mentioned that you attacked them. Good to know you had some justification,” the Ranger said. “Still, not justification enough.”

“You won’t kill me,” Thomas stated, smirking under his mask. “And your Elder won’t allow anyone else to either.”

“Why do you think that?”

“You need me,” he said. “I can fight. The locals? They probably know how to handle themselves against raiders or wildlife,” he conceded. “But against another fighting force, outgunned and outnumbered? They don’t have a chance. No offense,” he added to the pony tightening his bandages.

“None taken, you’re completely right,” the mare admitted.

“And you don’t have enough Rangers, or enough power armour for all of them.”

The Ranger sighed angrily. “You’re completely right. We had to leave a lot of our best gear behind in the attack. We don’t have enough armour or guns to go around, our ammo stockpiles are low, and we need every edge we can get.” She stared at him. “Fine. You’ve bought yourself some time. I guess if you help us reclaim Dodge the Elder will let you go.”

“So I’m a prisoner now?” Thomas asked. “Trust me, you don’t want to do that.”

“Not a prisoner,” the Ranger said hastily. “More like… under contract.”

“Merc work?” the man asked. When the armoured pony nodded, he nodded back. “Okay, that I can live with.”

“Done,” the pony doing his bandages said, stepping away.

“Thanks,” he said, digging into his duster as he stood up. “This should cover it.” The mare’s eyes went wide at the small pile of bottlecaps.

“Th-thanks!”

As the mare rushed out to grab something to hold his payment, Thomas and the Ranger stepped outside of the tent being used as a general surgery. “How bad is the situation?”

The Ranger turned to him. “Why should I tell you?” she asked warily, leading him through the small collection of campfires and mats.

“You want my help, right?” he asked. “Then I’m going to need a bit more information. Surely you’ve been keeping an eye on those assholes, right?”

She sighed. “From what we’ve managed to discover, most if not all of them seem to be unicorns. Energy weapons seem to be the norm, mostly laser. There was some plasma in the initial attack, but we haven’t seen any since. Limited numbers is my guess,” she added with a shrug. “As for their armour, it appears to be a variant of power armour, but unlike anything we have records of. For all we know, they manufacture it themselves, though where is anyone’s guess.”

She pushed open the door to the farmhouse before continuing. “If I had to guess, I’d say they attacked Dodge to get at the Ministry warehouses. Lots of things in there we can’t risk letting somepony like Red Eye getting.”

“Red Eye,” Thomas growled quietly as he was led into a small office.

“Have you been living under a rock?” the Ranger asked incredulously, mistaking his tone for confusion. “The Slaver King of Fillydelphia?”

“I know who he is,” he growled. “I’ve heard enough. And I swear, if I ever meet him I will rip off his face.”

“O… kay then?” she replied cautiously, his reaction catching her off guard. “Anyway, this is the Elder’s office. Temporary office, anyway.”

“Right,” Thomas said, taking a moment to compose himself. “So, where is he? Or she,” he added hastily.

The Ranger walked behind the desk and removed her helmet, revealing a soft pink coat and a cropped, cherry-red mane with brighter highlights. Her left eye glowed blue, while her right was a dull green. “I am Elder Cherry Blossom,” she stated calmly. “I am in charge of the the Steel Rangers in the region . And you, Courier Six, are going to help us reclaim Dodge.” Her helmet hit the wood with a solid thunk.

Thomas blinked. “This was your plan, wasn’t it?” he asked. “To see how I would act around you.”

“The best way to see what somepony is like is to be around them,” Cherry Blossom explained with a small smile. “And you seem like a decent enough stallion. Or whatever you’re called.”

“Man.”

“I’m not sure I can trust you,” she continued, “but I am willing to take the risk. You were right, we need your help.”

“The only reason I’m willing to help is because I need to get into one of the warehouses,” Thomas explained.

“Help us reclaim Dodge and you can take whatever you want,” she offered. “We can write it off as lost in the attack.”

Thomas smirked under his mask. It was clear this mare was desperate. She had said that the Rangers were relied upon to protect the town. The fact that they had failed was clearly weighing heavily on her, and she wanted to make things right.

“Ma’am, you have a deal,” he said, putting his hand out in front of him.

“Thank you!” she exclaimed as she leaned over the desk, grabbing his hand with both forehooves and shaking it vigorously. The power armour-augmented hoofshake left his entire arm numb, something she noticed. “Sorry,” she said as he rubbed his arm to get the feeling back. “It’s just nice to have something go right for a change.”

“Just… don’t tear my arm off, okay?” he asked. “Not gonna be much good without it.”

“Of course,” she said, smiling at him gently. “Now, follow me,” she ordered, leaving the room.

“Where are we going?”he asked as he followed.

“I have a meeting with several of my senior Paladins and Scribes about the situation,” Elder Cherry Blossom explained. “Since you’re helping us now, it only feels right that you get to join. What’s more, you have some experience fighting them yourself, if what I saw a few hours ago is any proof.”

“They’re a bunch of fanatic assholes, not the first time I’ve seen folk like that. And if this world keeps its record going…” he muttered to himself.

“Anyway,” the Elder said, deciding not to ask whatever he meant by ‘record’, “here we are.” She opened the door, revealing a large room with a large table. Around it were several robed ponies and two in armour, who turned and began to prepare their weapons to fire.

“Stand down!” Cherry Blossom yelled. “He is working with us, and he only attacked the Manehattan Rangers because they attacked him first.”

“Sorry,” one of the armoured Rangers said, his missile launcher ejecting the missile back into the loading mechanism. “I’m Paladin Jacket Potato, and this is Paladin Potato Bake.”

“Nice to meet you,” Potato Bake said, nodding at Thomas as his miniguns spun down. “Sorry about that, we’re all on edge.”

“No problem,” Thomas replied calmly. “You two brothers? Your voices sound the same.”

Jacket Potato laughed. “Yeah, we are. Not that hard to figure out, especially with the armour off.”

Cherry Blossom cleared her throat loudly. “If we could get on with why I called you here…?”

“Right,” Potato Bake said, nudging his brother out of the way. “Apart from the initial attack on Dodge, we haven’t seen any of them approach the farm. “

“None?”

“None,” Jacket Potato repeated.

“The entire time, they haven’t sent any scouts or raiding parties or anyone to harass you?” Thomas asked in disbelief. “And that doesn’t strike you as odd?”

“Oh it does,” the Elder replied. “Those seven that attacked you? First time we’ve seen any of those horned bastards outside the town that wasn’t part of one of their patrols.”

“I guess I’m Kill On Sight for them as well,” he muttered. “Do you have any idea who’s in charge?”

“We’re still working on that,” a robed unicorn said. “The only thing we can say with any certainty is that they are not Unity cultists. Otherwise we’d be dealing with alicorns as well.”

“Hooray for small mercies,” one of the Paladins muttered, Thomas couldn’t tell which. “Who’s in charge doesn’t really matter. What I’m more interested in is their tech.”

“Of course you are.” Thomas muttered.

The pony glared at him. “I mean that they appear to have power armour of their own. All our armour is hand-me-downs and whatever we can scavenge from old stockpiles.”

“Don’t forget those magical energy weapons,” one of the Scribes butted in. “It turns out that they have an internal battery that is recharged by a small spell talisman in the armour. But we should be able to modify them to take spark batteries.”

“That’s our weapon shortage figured out,” the second Paladin said. “At least for now. But I’m not putting any of our Rangers in their armour. No telling what surprises they might have.”

“We haven’t found anything,” a different Scribe said, “but it wouldn’t surprise us. The spell matrix is a lot more advanced than anything we use.”

“How tough is it?”

“Not much tougher than sheet metal, without the matrix. With it, large calibre rounds and FMJs are our best bet.”

“What weapons do you have, anyway?” Thomas asked.

“Most of our armaments consists of miniguns,” Jacket Potato said. “We also managed to bring along a few missile launchers and grenade machine guns, and for some reason Knight Close had a Balefire Egg Launcher rigged up to his saddle.”

“We are not letting him use that,” Potato Bake said flatly. “The collateral damage will be intolerable.”

“And we only have the one Balefire Egg anyway. All the rest, we had to leave behind.”

Thomas didn’t know what a Balefire Egg was, but he did know that balefire weapons were used instead of nuclear weapons in this world. “Okay, so no weapons of mass destruction,” he muttered.

“Until we have a better idea of their fortifications, we can’t even launch an attack. We’re stretched thin enough as it is,” one of the brothers said.

“Unless we know we can wipe them out in a single attack, we can’t do anything,” the other said.

The elder looked between the two Paladins. “Great,” she sighed. “So we’re stuck here until we can get more information.”

“So, send out a scouting party or two,” Thomas suggested.

“Do you really think we haven’t tried?” Potato Bake asked. “We can only get so close to Dodge before we get shot at. The civilian volunteers aren’t having much better luck.”

“You don’t have binoculars?” Thomas asked incredulously.

“In the evacuation, we barely had time to grab what we needed,” one of the Scribes said. “We’re low on ammo, food and medical supplies.”

“Those merchants you were with? We were about ready to shower them with caps,” Cherry Blossom said sadly. “Now, though…”

Thomas sighed. “Look, I’ve got some experience with performing recon. Learned from a professional. That, and I know ways to go unseen and unheard. You need information about their fortifications, right?”

“Are you volunteering?” the Elder asked.

“Sure. We’ll call it the first part of my contract with you,” he suggested. “I’m not going alone, though. I’ll need someone who knows their way around.”

“How did I get roped into this?”

“Shut up, you’ll give us away,” Thomas muttered back.

He and the pegasus Busy Bee, who had been volunteered to perform recon, kept close to the boulder they had walked to.

“Yeah, like they’re gonna hear us from half a mile away,” the pegasus muttered, rolling his eyes.

“Just get ready to fly back to the farm if you need to,” the man replied, looking down the scope of his sniper rifle. “Their patrols will be too busy focusing on me if they find us.”

As the pair waited for something to happen, Thomas decided to ask something that had been puzzling him for a while. “You’re a pegasus, right?”

“And?” he asked, hostility filling the pony’s tone.

“I just heard stories about how most pegasuses live above the clouds,” the man clarified. “Didn’t mean to offend.”

The stallion snorted. “I’m a Wasteland pegasus. We weren’t all lucky enough to get up there before they closed the cloud barrier. My grandparents were in a Stable, though, Stable 38. Something to do with altering plants to grow without pollination or something.”

Thomas’s focus on Dodge wavered momentarily as he had a few flashbacks to the verdant claustrophobic nightmare that had been Vault 22. “Did anything bad happen in there?” he asked, fighting back the images of fungus-covered corpses rising up to kill.

“What? No, they just abandoned the place after the reactor died. Hell, it’s why Dodge is actually a place where ponies live. Everypony moved in there and fixed the place up,” the pony explained airily. “The Rangers moved in about five years after that.”

Thomas nodded slightly. “And you were born there… twenty years ago? Twenty-five?”

“Twenty-four,” Bee corrected. “How’d you guess that?”

“Luck. Hmmm,” he muttered, “that’s strange.”

“What is it?”

“Tell me what you see,” the man said, passing the rifle to the pony.

The stallion looked through the scope for a few seconds before talking. “Three of those unicorns, one of them pulling a cart. So?”

“Didn’t the Rangers say they only left the town to patrol the area?”

Busy Bee blinked. “Huh,” he responded as he lowered the rifle. “That is strange. What do you think’s in the cart?”

“Something worth investigating,” Thomas muttered. “You think we should take a look?”

Busy Bee looked conflicted. While a part of him did agree with the Courier, that something like this had to be looked at, he didn’t want to put himself too far into harm’s way. He certainly didn’t want to end up like those traders had. “Stay here. I’ll get a few Rangers, see what we can do then.”

“By the time you get back it’ll be too late,” the man pointed out. “We either move now or lose the opportunity.”

Busy Bee let out a whine. “This is a bad idea…”

“It could be an even worse one to let them get away with whatever the hell they’re moving.” He pulled his rifle out of the pony’s grip and looked down the sights. “Your call. I can make the shot, take out the one pulling it.”

Bee glanced around as he tried to think of the best course of action. “Do it,” he said eventually.

“Taking the shot,” Thomas muttered before pulling the trigger. “Right in the neck,” he boasted as the rifle ejected the spent bullet. He kept quiet as he pulled trigger twice more, lowering the gun when he was done. “They’re all down. Come on, before more of them show up.”

Thomas and Busy Bee ran as fast as they dared towards the now-abandoned cart. “What do you think’s in there?” the stallion asked.

“No idea,” Thomas panted. “Weapons, ammo, food. Hell, maybe even be something that’ll give us an edge.”

“I hope so, we need it.”

Before long, the pair had made it. “Looks clear.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” Thomas muttered, looking around nervously. “What’s in there?”

“Gimme a sec,” Bee muttered, ripping off the thin cloth cover. “Uhh…”

“What is it?” the man asked.

“It’s a unicorn. A mare.”

“What?” Thomas turned away from his vigil for a moment. “You sure?”

“Yeah, stallions don’t look this pretty.” the pegasus replied. “Usually.”

“Anything else in there?”

“A battle saddle, a few ammo boxes, nothing much.” Busy Bee turned to face Thomas. “Why the hell are they moving this mare like this?” he asked.

“No idea. Reckon you can pull it back to the farm?” Thomas asked back.

“Yeah, shouldn’t be a problem.” Busy Bee got to unhitching the dead unicorn. As he shoved the corpse out of the way, he turned to the man again. “Hitch me up, then jump in.”

“You sure you can manage?” the man asked as he quickly did up the straps.

“Yeah, just get ready to shoot if you have to,” the pegasus said as the man hopped in.

As they left the scene, Thomas glanced at their cargo. He looked again when he realised he knew who he was looking at. “Ah shit.”

“What is it!?” Bee asked panickedly. “They here already!?” The pegasus picked up his pace.

“No, it’s just - woah!” The man was interrupted when the cart went over a large hole, jostling the cargo and knocking the mare awake.

Moonbeam blinked a few times as she tried to remember what had happened. When she looked up, it was to see the familiar form of the Courier. “Oh you’re fucking with me.”

“Moonbeam?”

“I fucking hate you,” she muttered.

Author's Note

Look, it's Thomas's favourite gun-horse!