Same Shit, Different Wasteland

No Pay, No Gain

The pair walked silently along the monorail, neither eager to start up a discussion. Thomas was still brooding over the slavers and his past, and Moonbeam was a little scared about what she might discover if she pressed him for information. While he had always been serious, he seemed to have fun making little jokes every now and then, and would at least wear a smile. Now, he just looked ahead, his features dark and gloomy.

They had progressed through three stations, each one somehow sealed off by rubble, leaving vending machines untouched. Moonbeam quickly looted each one, only speaking up to inform her silent companion of what she had found. The Courier’s only response was to grunt and nod every time.

“Courier?” Moonbeam eventually asked, looking at the horizon.

“What?”

“We should stop for the night,” she said carefully. “How does the next station sound?”

“Yeah, sure,” he replied listlessly.

Now she was really worried. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

Moonbeam gulped. This was serious. “Courier, please. Are you okay?”

Thomas sighed. “Look, these memories… they’re painful. All I can do is push through them.”

“What if we talk?” the mare suggested. “Keep your mind off of things?”

There was a moment before he answered. “I guess. What do you want to know?”

“Anything, really,” she said, just happy that the human’s thoughts were elsewhere. She still needed a few seconds to think of what to ask. “What’s your actual name?”

“Thomas. ‘The Courier’ is just a title,” he explained. “I’m also known as ‘Courier Six’.”

“How’d you get a title like that?” the mare asked. “Doesn’t exactly sound very… awesome.”

“‘Scavenger’ isn’t exactly very awesome either, but you help keep an entire settlement fed,” the man countered. “In the Mojave, and further out, we keep settlements supplied, deliver guns and medicine, and we do it fast. Met a caravan trader, told me the most important rule she’d ever learnt.”

“What, keep your gun loaded?” Moonbeam asked flatly.

“You don’t learn that, you just do it,” Thomas replied. “She said ‘Do not fuck with the man who delivers your mail’. And you don’t.”

“Why not?”

“A courier wants settlements, because that means work. A settlement needs couriers, because they mean life. You kill a courier, you may as well shoot yourself in the head,” he explained. “And we’re not exactly easy to kill, either,” he said confidently.

“You don’t look that tough under all that padding,” Moonbeam replied skeptically.

“The last job I took, I was ambushed by some Great Khans, the toughest gang in the Mojave. I’ve seen one of those guys take a .308 round to the shoulder and shrug it off.” Thomas looked around, like he had been every ten minutes for the last few hours. “When I woke up, I was bound and gagged. That dick Benny shot me twice in the head and had me buried alive. Look,” he said, taking off his helmet and parting his hair.

Moonbeam looked at the scars and gaped. “Y-you said something before about being shot twice in the head, but I didn’t think you were serious.”

Thomas chuckled. “Neither were the Khans when I caught up with them. Still, that’s old news. Had a lot more happen since that.”

“Like what?”

“Well - wait, when did we get so close?” Thomas asked suddenly, pointing ahead.

Moonbeam followed his finger and saw what he was pointing at. “Huh. How long were we talking for?” she asked, looking at the approaching monorail station with confusion.

“Can’t have been that long,” the man mused.

“We should be ready to clear this place out,” the mare muttered.

“What do you mean? Looks pretty safe to me.”

“The stairs aren’t blocked off, which means someone might be living in there. No guarantee that they’ll be friendly, either.”

“Good point,” Thomas muttered, getting a good grip on his SMG.

They kept silent as they reached the building. The maintenance door was locked up, leaving to Thomas the task of picking it. When the door opened, they were greeted by darkness.

“Guess there was nothing to worry about,” Thomas mumbled, turning up his Pip-Boy’s screen’s brightness all the way. The light revealed nothing but old benches, skeletons, the occasional briefcase and rubbish.

“That’s a relief,” Moonbeam sighed as she holstered her gun. “Had enough fighting in the last few days.”

Thomas ignored her, his head spinning around nervously. “Do you hear that?” he asked quietly.

“Hear what?” the mare asked. She strained her ears, but couldn’t hear anything. “Are you okay?”

“It’s coming from over there,” he whispered.

“What is?” Moonbeam asked, an edge of fear entering into her voice. What had him so nervous?

The man crept over to the source of his discomfort, eyeing it with fear the whole time. Moonbeam lit up her horn and saw what was making him panic like that.

“A radio. You got me worked up over a fucking radio?” she asked loudly.

“I’ve got a very good reason,” Thomas muttered, looking at the static-spewing machine with undisguised fear. “Where’s the off switch on that fucking thing?”

Moonbeam rolled her eyes and turned it off, silencing the radio. “Really?” she asked.

Thomas glared at her, his gaze burning into her with the force of a nuclear furnace. “When you get pushed into a place where breathing will slowly kill you, the inhabitants are nigh-fucking-unkillable, and some fuck stuck a bomb collar around your neck that has a habit of priming the explosives when you get too close to one of the radios, then you can tell me that I’m getting scared about nothing. Okay?” he said viciously.

Moonbeam stared, shocked by the sudden and savage outburst. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Thomas sighed and looked at the floor. “Me too, just… bad memories about that place. Lots of bad memories.”

“Those… seem to be the only kind you have,” Moonbeam said, smiling a little.

Thomas snorted. “I guess it does, but I have plenty of good ones to balance things out. Like walking out of the Ultra-Luxe with fifteen thousand caps. Or saving Bitter Springs.”

Moonbeam gaped. “F-fifteen thousand!?” she yelled.

“Blew a good chunk of that on this gun,” he said, grabbing his Medicine Stick. “Then I may have drank the rest away. Can’t remember much of that night,” he admitted. “I woke up sandwiched between two prostitutes, though, so it must have been good.”

“You spent fifteen thousand caps on drinks and prostitutes?” Moonbeam asked in disbelief.

“That only happened once, and it was closer to six thousand,” Thomas replied. “Every other time I won big I kept hold of the caps, spent it on food, water and ammo.”

The pair fell into silence again, starting a small fire and going about securing the station for the night. As Thomas put it, “I don’t want to wake up some fucker slicing me open.” Moonbeam shared the sentiment.

When they were done, Thomas took the time to look at the old map of the monorail line. It was impossible to make out what the name of the station had once been, but he could tell that they were about two stops away from Tenpony Tower. “Two stops, that’s about… what, three hours?”

“Three and a half. Kinda scary, isn’t it? Look at this timetable. One hour from one end of the line to the other. Wish we had that type of travel time,” Moonbeam muttered angrily, poking at a faded timetable.

“Yeah, takes two hours on foot to get to the gate into the Vegas Strip, or a three-minute monorail ride from Camp McCarran right into the middle,” Thomas added.

The pair lapsed into silence again, not really sure what else to say. “Um…” Moonbeam said, for the sake of saying something.

“Do you reckon you could keep calling me Courier?” Thomas asked.

“What?”

“Not when it’s just us,” he hastily clarified. “But, when we’re in a settlement, or in a fight - ”

“Oh, yeah. Sure, I guess. Why?” she asked.

“Names have power, but titles have more. Any idiot can have the same name as you, but a title, like the Chosen One, or Vault Dweller, or Courier Six, those’re unique. Besides,” he added, “‘Courier’ sounds a bit like a pony name, might catch folks off-guard.”

Moonbeam frowned a little. What he was saying made sense, and he was right about Courier being a perfectly reasonable name for a colt. “Well, I’ll try. I might let it slip but - ”

“That’s all I ask,” he interrupted.

“That minotaur excuse cut it pretty thin last time.”

“Huh?”

The pair had resumed walking along the monorail when the sun rose. At least, they thought the sun rose. To Thomas, the idea of waking up every day to a cloudy sky was an unpleasant one. Still, it was bright enough to see by, and the bloodwings had gone to sleep, so that was good enough for them.

“Before, with those slavers,” Moonbeam said carefully. The last thing she wanted was to set him down into that depressed silence again.

“Oh yeah, I meant to ask about that,” Thomas replied. “Just what is a minotaur?”

Moonbeam opened her mouth to explain, but stopped. “I… really wish you’d asked this at the library,” she said. “I could show you a picture.”

“What’s the problem?”

“How do you describe something to someone, when they have nothing to use as a base for that description? How do you tell someone what a brahmin is when they’ve never seen anything like that, ever?” she asked. “You don’t have a point of reference.”

“Well,” Thomas answered slowly, “one of those slaver bastards said something about horns. Why don’t we start from there?”

“Okay. Uhh… Well, minotaurs have a head with a pair of horns on the side, facing forwards or up. Oh, their head looks like one from a brahmin,” Moonbeam added. “Not as ugly, though.” Thomas raised an eyebrow. “N-not like that! Brahmin are covered in tumours and stuff. Minotaurs aren’t.”

Thomas chuckled. “Relax, I’m just messing with you. So horns,” he mused. “I guess I could find a brahmin skull, snaps the horns off of that.”

“You could use Wonderglue and stick them to your helmet,” Moonbeam added.

“I… wasn’t being serious,” Thomas said warily.

“Well it’s the only thing I can think off,” Moonbeam countered. “And it’s not like you’ll be able to do much else before we get to Tenpony either.”

Thomas wanted to argue, but he knew when he was beat. “Fine,” he conceded. “But we’ll need to find a brahmin skull, and I don’t have any Wonderglue.” He didn’t even bother telling her that they had the same things back home.

“Actually…” Moonbeam levitated something from inside her armour. “I found this in one of the bins at that station. So we just need the skull!”

“... Great.”

“Come on!”

“No.”

“Please?”

“I said no.”

“Just once, I swear!”

Thomas glared at Moonbeam before sighing. “Fine. Moo. You happy now?”

If the way the mare was clutching at her sides, laughing until she couldn’t breathe was any indication, she was indeed very happy. “I-I’m sorry, that was just…” She looked up at him, and her laughing began anew.

“Nice to know one of us is having fun,” Thomas muttered. He took off his helmet and looked at the crudely-placed horns. He was willing to bet that an actual minotaur would have had much bigger horns, not the dinky little things he’d snapped off a rotting brahmin corpse. “And how is this meant to fool anyone?”

Moonbeam took a moment to compose herself. “W-well, we could say that your horns fell off as a calf, or never grew properly.”

“And these are some sort of coping mechanism?” Thomas asked, nearly pushing the helmet right into her face.

“I guess? I don’t really know much about minotaurs,” Moonbeam admitted. “You might want to put your mask on, too.”

“I guess I don’t look much like a minotaur…” Thomas reached into his duster and pulled out the face-concealing mask. “Let’s go,” he said, strapping his helmet back on.

As the pair rounded the corner, they caught their first sight of Tenpony Tower. “Wow,” Moonbeam said.

“Well, what are we waiting for?”

Compared to every building around it, Tenpony Tower was in marvellous shape. Discounting the side that had been patched up with scrap metal, it looked unharmed. On the top was a giant radio antenna, the source of DJ PON3’s broadcasts.

“Wait, how do we even get in?” Moonbeam asked.

“I’d bet the monorail station,” Thomas answered calmly, making sure his helmet and mask were on securely. “It’ll be heavily fortified, and well-guarded.”

“How do you know that?”

The man looked down at the mare. “Logic. Slavers and raiders seem to be a big enough problem out here. Any settlement that can’t hold off those bastards for long doesn’t last.”

“Do you have to keep being so smart?” Moonbeam asked. “This isn’t even your planet!”

“Some things are universal,” Thomas replied, laughing at the mare’s anger. “Now come on, or we’re gonna get - ”

“Get’em!”

“The universe is a bitch,” Thomas muttered angrily, whipping out his revolver and spinning around at a freakishly quick speed. Three unicorn raiders, two armed with pistols, the third wearing what looked like a battle-saddle, were charging at them. Thomas had barely raised his pistol before something slammed into his gut, knocking him back.

Moonbeam’s 10mm barked ten times, putting down one of the raiders. “You fucking bitch!” one of the survivors screamed, ramming into her and knocking her over. “I’m gonna have fun with - ”

The sudden and violent introduction of Thomas’s steel-capped boot to the side of the pony’s head was more than enough to silence him. “You okay?” he asked quietly, leaning over her.

“Yeah, tha - ” The last raider’s battle-saddle fired again, only this time the round caught Thomas in the head.

“No!” Moonbeam yelled as the man stumbled. She didn’t have much to worry about, though, because Thomas let out a grunt, stayed upright and squeezed off a round. The raider was just as shocked, though that state didn’t last long.

“Now I have a headache,” he muttered, holstering his gun.

“But you - I saw - but - how!?” Moonbeam screeched.

“That thing’s low calibre,” Thomas said, sticking a hand under helmet to rub at the forming bruise. “That, and I’m pretty sure it was a hollow-point.”

“Wow.” Moonbeam sighed. “Guess I got worried about nothing.”

“Never think that,” Thomas said quickly, poking the raider he had kicked, making sure he was dead. “He might have gotten lucky, hit me somewhere I’m unarmoured. The shot might have knocked me out, even if it didn’t penetrate. I’m not invincible,” he added, “I just seem like it sometimes.”

“Yeah, you really do.” Moonbeam reloaded her SMG and holstered it. “Well, we’re nearly here, let’s keep moving.”

Thankfully, there were no more raiders attempting to kill them as they made their way to the entrance to Tenpony Tower’s monorail station. “What is this, the Ultra-Luxe?” Thomas asked loudly as he looked at the ridiculously ornate gates.

“Good work taking out those raiders before,” someone called out. It took the pair a few seconds to realise they were being spoken to through an intercom.

“Hello,” Thomas said politely, walking over to the intercom. “We’d like to come inside.” He had to lean down to properly reach it, the whole thing obviously designed with ponies in mind.

The voice on the other side sighed. “I want to, but orders are we can’t let anyone in until - ”

“Come on!” Moonbeam shouted. “We walked two whole days for a ‘no’!?”

“If you’d let me finish, ma’am,” the voice said angrily. “We can’t let anyone in at the moment. The local raiders have gotten a bit too overconfident. Opening the gates is a security risk we can’t take.”

“How much?” Thomas asked.

“Yeah, not happening. I don’t care how much you offer me, I am not opening the gates,” the voice replied, sounding angrier.

“You misunderstand,” Thomas said civilly. “How much will I get paid if I take care of the raiders for you?”

“I… wait, you want to do it?”

“How much?”

“I - Give me a moment.” There was a few moments of silence, which Moonbeam decided to fill.

“Really?” she asked. “You’re gonna go chasing raiders?”

“If it gets us in,” was all Thomas said in response.

The intercom crackled into life again. “So,” a different voice said, “you want to help us with our raider problem? I’m Chief Grim Star, Tenpony’s security chief.”

“Nice to meet you, sir,” Thomas said politely.

“I’ll cut to the chase. Their main base is in what’s left of Manehattan’s train yard, about an hour east of here. That’ll put you close to the blast zone, so if you need Radaways and Rad-X, let us know. We’ll take the cost outta your reward.”

“How much is the reward?” Thomas asked.

“Two thousand, double if you can bring back proof you got their leader.”

Thomas turned back to Moonbeam, who had been pacing in front of the gates. “Well, Moonbeam, what do you think?”

The mare frowned before stepping up to the intercom herself. “What can we expect? How many are there, how well-armed are they?”

“We’re not sure, but definitely more than a hundred,” Grim Star answered. “They attacked an arms caravan a few weeks back, so they’ll have some heavy firepower too.”

“Three thousand,” Thomas said suddenly. “This is starting to sound more and more like something you’d send half a dozen soldiers to do, not a pair of mercs. I expect my payment to match the job and expectations.”

“Nnnng… Fine. Three thousand,” the voice conceded, “but you’d better get their boss.”

“And you’ll let us in?” Moonbeam asked.

“I’ll see if you can get one of the luxury suites, this is a huge favour you’re doing us.”

Thomas nodded. “Mr. Grim Star, you got yourself a deal.”

Author's Note

Like it would be that easy.