Fallout: Equestria - Zero Hour

3.                                                                                                                                          Into the Stable

“When you laugh, the world laughs with you...”

The afterlife could use a mural.

The drab gray ceiling was outlined with drawn faces, one of them striped, and each starkly wide eyed. “By Celestia, he's up,” the beaked one said to the Zebra. “Is this normal?”

“No,” she said after rolling her eyes, “is it normal for Ponies?”

“How would I– Oh, fuck you.”

The Zebra recoiled and lifted her foreleg between herself and the Gryphon. “Is that a threat?” Her voice was high and urgent, but an eyebrow teased from behind her buffer.

“Ah shit,” a voice called from the other side of the room; empty but for a hooful of doctors, a table of implements, and whatever equipment the doctors turned towards. A bright horn made up for the lack of light coming through two, thickly shaded windows. The room shook, my heart skipped about in my chest, and my sweat felt like crawling droplets of ice. “He's got an irregular heartbeat here.”

My field of vision shrank to a sliver then retreated into my skull.

“And he's convulsing. It looks like we overdosed him.”

“How?” a voice droned and warbled. “Look at the size of him.”

“He's a mutant or something. I don't know.”

“We're just gonna have to flush his system and re-dose him,” another doctor said through a spinning fan while gargling syrup. “Slap a PipBuck on him already, we need to measure this real...”

I struggled for a breath. The rifle felt so heavy in my tiny hooves. Our pursuers had been reduced to dust by rays of light from above. Armoured figures descended on black, metal wings. They lifted their visors and mouthed words. My sister fiercely bellowed in silence before collapsing to the ground; I, likewise, fell from her back. Her legs shook, and her ribs remained gaunt throughout her heaving. One of our saviours reared their head back and exhaled in short spasms, as the other averted their eyes.

I sat up and lifted our rifle as I mouthed demands for food and water. The laughing one looked down at me and bared her teeth. Eyes narrowed and a neon bolt scorched the earth beside me as the figure was shoved by their fellow. They turned on each other, snapping their jaws at strong words. I took up the rifle again, kicked the trigger, and fire flared from one muzzle to another. The offending figure fell– and I pointed the rifle at the other, blood-splattered one. Fearful eyes locked with mine, and we stilled. I fired again and again, even after they fell, until the eyes were gone. Warm shreds stuck to my face, hung over my rifle, and wet the metal around my neck. We were still. I was unable to move a fraction, pulled taut between disappointment and amusement by some unknown force.

With a start, I collided with reality.

“Aagh,” the Unicorn grunted before her luminous, telekinetic grasp released a syringe. A syringe that was stuck in my chest.

My heart filled with red hot adrenaline. I howled like a Lunatic as each torturous heartbeat spread fire through my veins, and it was beating a mile a minute. I thrashed about within the restriction of several heated blankets and yanked over a chain of I.V.s into waiting hooves.

“Somebody sedate him before he spills half his circulatory system,” an Earth Pony hissed, as he threw himself over my forelegs and barrel. “Genevra, you do it. You have the most experience here.”

“It. Was. Consensual,” said the Gryphon, laying her talons and weight over my shoulders. “They just didn't remember–”

“That liver's about to fail any minute now,” said the voice monitoring the equipment.

“What!?” the Zebra and–

“We'll handle it!” – a not visible doctor exclaimed.

“Why are we spending so much time on this anyway?” asked Genevra, as she gripped my skull. She jabbed a needle into my neck and I soon felt at ease, despite the sharp pain penetrating my chest.

“Because I didn't spend my childhood learning medicine just so I could lose my first, real patient.”

“Uh, we're gonna have to cut him open anyway,” said the Unicorn, as she displayed a needleless syringe to the others. “I kinda just noticed...”

I fished through their bags for food or water. I found a healing potion and figured it was liquid enough. As I turned towards my sister, my hoof splashed in something warm and viscous. No, she wasn't hurt. I looked down at my red reflection then up at the– now colourless– wastes.

It was the Goddessdamned dream.

My sister's corpse rose like a marionette, and her hollow eyes stared past me. I knew the next lines by heart. In total silence she said, “We are the foundation under your hooves; its origin, its end, its revival.” Wake up now. “We are the winds; of seas, of dust, of change.” Wake up, please. She began drifting ever closer and her mouth twisted into a vacant, paper smile. “We are the eyes in the sky; piercing your heavens, your veils, your minds.” Her eyes, if they could so be called, loomed inches from my own. I could turn and run but, even if I could get past the two faceless sets of armour gurgling down the back of my neck, she would catch me. Wake the fuck up. “For it is yours for the taking but not for you alone. We are ever at your side, from the first tribute...”

The world shook and wobbled.

“The anesthetic is wearing off, again,” said a doctor.

I opened an eye and glanced down into my chest cavity, a change of scenery I gladly accepted.

The Gryphon's neck sank between her shoulders. *HIC* “I think I'm gonna be sick,” she said.

“Stick him already then.”

They sedated me through the I.V. this time. I felt like gritting my teeth, but my desire could neither move me nor keep me awake.

“... to the last waste.” With those final words, the ground beneath my hooves cracked open like a great maw ready to devour me whole. I screamed and kicked, but the three pairs of hooves above pushed me into my grave. Tongues, blood, and pale bits spilt from the hollowed visors. As did tears from the mocking face of my only family. Gore stuck to my fur, and soil to it, as I tried to clamber up crumbly walls. The Moon floated in vigil high above, and I reached for it in vain. No amount of struggle could unearth me now. I sank to where I would scream away the worse of the dream. Wake up.

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The NCR has no tolerance for slavers, at least in their territory. The Zebra lands, like the Zebras themselves, are mysterious and unwelcoming to bandits. The Badlands are barren wastes ill-suited for life, and the sea is full of taint. In the middle of it all, is San Palomino.

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“Why?” I groaned, as somepony rocked me side to side. From the hoarseness of my voice, I'd guess I had been screaming a while. I wish they'd have woke me sooner.

“You're awake.”

“I am. Whom I speaking to? Yer voice, yeh don't sound familiar.”

“I could say the same to you, Booster. Why don' you try opening your eyes.”

“Oi, that might help.” I took a tentative peek through narrow eyelids. The lights were dim, from age it seemed, and Serene loomed overhead; obstructing the light further. “Huh, I guess I expected something blindingly bright.” My voice cracked; like the rest of me, it was still digging its way out of the sand.

Olive stepped into view across from Serene, and I turned my head left towards him. My eyes trailed from his somber mug to the rails of the hospital bed I was glued to. Behind him, Bitter lay asleep on my bedroll. The radigator quietly chomped on the Brahmin femur nearby her. Olive made reluctant motions, as if to speak, that were too fragile to survive and sighed.

“I gave up on you, Booster,” Olive said. His words sounded from somewhere neither near nor far, much like Serene's, and hung in the air as if it was thick enough to swim in. “I counted you dead. I'm sorry.”

“No harm in that,” I said. “After all, so did I.”

“Shut the fuck up. After the times you, against better judgment, came back for me. Just if Bitter there–” He grunted. “I would have just left you there, if not for Bitter.”

I tried a smile. “I never was a good judge of– ”

“I'm not arguing that, Booster, but what you are is a friend– and I labeled you 'dead weight' too soon.”

“I guess you'd prefer if I found your lack of faith... disgruntling, but since I told ya to leave me– ” My  eyelids grew heavy, and I made an exercise out of lifting them. “I did ask ya to leave me, right?”

There was a pause. “Yeah.”

“Aye. Then I'll simply blame the usual culprit; my lack of leadership skills.” I tried to squirm onto my other side but my sweaty back held fast to the sheets (likely still the cleanest bedding I've ever been on). “Aaaagh.” Bitter stirred as I fought my discomfort. A numbness ran the length of my torso, and my splinted hoof itched terribly. “They couldn't even fix my leg?”

“Look down,” Serene said, but my eyes were already fixed on what she meant to make me aware of.

“Oi, Nelly, that looks expensive.” The splint and bandages had been replaced by a sleek gunmetal cylinder; a rectangle– no, a widely stretched pentagram was mounted on the forward face of the device.

“Actually, it's the cheapest piece of shit they could find.”

*KER-tshh* went a stable door, as it retreated into the ceiling. A milky Pegasus in a white coat slid into the room. “And one of the latest models ever built,” she said. “It was a personal belonging of one of our first residents.” She smiled at Olive then Serene. “Just checking on my patient and I'll be on my way.”

She bit down on a clipboard she carried under a wing and set it on the rail at the end of the bed. She walked around the bed, forced Olive aside, and lifted the PipBuck with both forehooves– as if weighing it. Then, with a wing, she flicked open the pentagram; a bright green screen sprang to life as she did.

“How long do I have, doctor?” I asked, and had a harsh laugh.

“Crazy...” Her grin curled into her cheeks, almost disturbingly so. “Your size and metabolism are a little uncommon, but this! Your chemistry is so... welcoming.” Identical, green lines waved steadily in each of her dewy eyes. “It just loves and tolerates anything introduced to your system.” She closed the PipBuck, bit a pencil, and marked something on the clipboard. After a short chuckle she exited as she had entered, leaving the door open.

Bitter rose from the bedroll with closed eyes and twitching ears. She let out a yawn that infected the rest of us with a false dreariness.

I sighed. “This is going to take some getting used to. I'm afraid.”

“Maybe we can get it removed,” Serene said, as she placed a comforting hoof on my shoulder.

“No, I mean: This is going to take getting used to.” I paused. “I'm afraid.” Tears ran from the corners of my eyes into my ears and mane.  “Bitter, I have to tell you something.”

“Not yet,” Olive said, and then raised his voice. “You NEED to eat.”

Bitter's eyes shot open, and she hopped in place a moment. Her eyelids fluttered as she walked to the left side of the bed and hung her forelegs over the rail. Olive turned slightly to nod at Bitter as she sat with her head on her forelegs.

“I don't exactly have an appetite at the moment, OJ.”

“Which is why we're all going to sit down,” he planted himself on his haunches, “and talk about food.” His features were stern.

“Wh–”

“It doesn't matter whether your a slave, a Queen, a waster, or a stable dweller; everyone eats. One thing that equalizes us all in conversation, is our individual palettes. Most of all, the simple comparison of tastes. So we're all just going to take some time– to appreciate the simpler things in life.”

With a sigh, I stopped my (new and improved?) foreleg mid-air on its course around Bitter's mane. I opened it– the bright viridian glow was harsh at the distance– and pushed it further from my eyes. I began stumbling through the controls and happened upon my inventory. “I– I have a can of apple slices. I always found the syrup tasted more like apples then the slices themselves.”

“What? The syrup is just sugar; it doesn't even smell much like apples.”

“So? Scent isn't flavour.”

“Actually, scent is a part of flavour,” Serene said.

“How?” me and Bitter blurted together.

“I never liked apples anyway.” Serene scratched her mane through her hood.

“How do you NOT like apples?” Olive asked; his brow was a curvy ridge of bewilderment.

“I've... just always been a bigger fan of oranges.”

“My favorite fruit is apples– hooves down.”

“What fruit do you like, Booster?” asked Bitter.

She canted her head around the PipBuck (her bright eyes rivaled the screen) and mouthed something I couldn't read. I stumbled onto a few colour options: white, cyan, and green. I looked again to Bitter's soft blue mane and cyan coat. With several taps of a hoof, I changed the colour setting to ''Bitter.''

“I've fancied  prickly pears,” I said, and then cracked a smile. “And any sort of raspberries.”

Bitter raised her brows. “But they're so sour and... prickly.”

“Yes but there's this sense of,” I closed my (huh, my) PipBuck and pushed back a wavy lock of Bitter's mane, letting my hoof rest on her shoulder as I searched my mind for the right word, “achievement from eating one. And the flowers that grow on them at times– they're the sweetest I've known.”

“Oh, Ponies,” Olive shook his head as he spoke. “A daisy, daffodil sandwich with some mustard seeds. I can't get enough of that stuff.”

“Probably 'cause there isn't enough of it,” Bitter said, and then scrunched up her muzzle. “Only flowers there are plenty of grow on tumbleweeds.”

“Tumbleweeds aren't bad, you just got to clean them or roast them. It's what I steam with the vegetables for that spicy stew.”

“Oi, hate that spicy stew but I've been partial to chewing on a stick of tumbleweed.” I looked to the  ceiling, its dull gray somehow reminded me of the bed's discomforting state. I missed the sky, the dirt, even the sand so long as it was underhoof. “The wildflowers are my favourite.”

“Stir fry pie, with cinnamon and apple shavings baked into the crust.”

“Spaghetti and sugarcubes,” Bitter said before yawning and nuzzling closer against my hoof.

“Pineapple and orange juice over a salt lick,” Serene said, as she took off her hood and scratched some more.

“Alright,” I said. With some effort, I peeled myself off the mattress. “I've an appetite now.”

“I'll find a doctor.” Serene slinked out.

I arched my back until I heard a series of snaps and felt a corresponding release of pressure. “I don't imagine they'll have anything we discussed on the menu, do you?”

Before Olive or Bitter could answer, Serene reentered with a food-tray-toting Unicorn. The Unicorn's red, puffy cheek stood out against her hot pink coat. Her grin was so wide it forced her left eye closed, but her brow crinkled as if it was hastily sewn to her forehead.

She set down a tray of dried apple and orange slices with a side of some kind of greens. Her grin shrank to a smile, and she said, “We didn't know if you preferred Pony or Zebra food so we served you both.”

“I wouldn't know.” I nibbled some of the greens. They tasted like they smelled, like lemons and onions. “Oi, can ya bring some more of this for my friends?”

“Sure.”

I addressed the gang, but mostly Olive, “You have to try this.”

I took a big bite of the pungent, Zebra grass and started chewing; flavour exploded with every full oscillation of my jaw. The Unicorn stared at me while a solution of grass juice and saliva escaped the corner of my open mouth. Her face twisted as it attempted to retreat down her neck. I made as little effort fix the leak as she did to conceal her disgust. She turned towards RG and unscrunched her face.

“Interesting, uh, pet you have there.” She pointed to the radigator. “What's that she's chewing on.”

“Brahmin femur.” I received a look consisting of a furrowed brow and an askew jaw, and then realized she was trying to look surprised. “It's like a– is a mutant cow. I treated the bone with something to keep the little mess O'teeth's attention, and keep them clean in the process.”

“How- How did you manage that?”

“Bones are porous, it's just a matter of what liquid you're pouring in them.”

“Oh, so did you go to school and everything? Are you some kind of dentist?”

“What? No.” I raised a brow. “Haven't ya seen a broken bone up close before?”

“Would you excuse us please?” Bitter asked. With a stretch and a huff, she got to her hooves and began walking towards the pink mare.

“I can find my way out, thank you,” she said, and backpedaled to the doorway, “and I need to get more of that Zebra grass for you.” She chuckled through her display of teeth and bolted out the door.

“Okay, Booster.” Bitter turned to address me. “Let's talk.”

“I expected a bigger reaction from ya, Bits,” I teased. “When you saw I was awake, I mean.”

“You woke up earlier and I got it out of my system.” She whinnied. “You must have forgotten.”

“I guess so.”

“But listen.” The gang made grave faces. “We have got to get a plan in order if we're going to survive this place.”

“Wait, is this one of those Stables– with pointless killing, division of classes, and-slash-or outright dangerous policies?”

“WORSE; it's politics!”

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The pink Unicorn returned with her forced grin and three more trays in tow. She set them down on the foot of the bed then left without a word. The gang filled me in on the situation as we ate, and soon enough I realized the sorry state we were in. Bitter spoke of our NCR status as if it were true, just in case one of the doctors came barging in– as with the puffy cheeked Unicorn– which was quite often.

“So we have to wait,” Bitter opened my PipBuck and squinted at the– now white– screen, “twelve and a half hours to get this over with and report our findings to–”

“Hello again,” said the perky, Pegasus doctor as she pranced through the door. “Sorry to interrupt. I need to check on a few things.”

“Not a problem, doctor,” I said, and stretched my forelegs to either side. I lifted the empty tray off my lap and set it on the far end of the bed with a yawn.

“Doctor Keratin, pleased to meet you.” She held out a hoof.

“I wasn't asking but whatever– call me Booster.” I reached over the foot of the bed and shook the hoof. “So, can I get out of here yet? I'm in fierce need of stretching my legs.”

“Oh, you can get out of bed of course.”

She disappeared into a closet in the left corner of the room, while I lurched out of bed. I had three hooves on the ground when she reappeared, pushing some contraption. It was a rectangular piece of canvas suspended between four, fastened poles– each of which ended with a wheel on a swivel.

“Oi, what's that?”

“Every patient has to leave in one; its our policy.”

“That didn't really answer–”

“But you can't need to leave quite yet!” She kicked wheeled hammock past me and towards the door. “I need to ask you about the outside, namely the prominent species.”

“Is that plural or–” I raised a brow at the gang but received only shrugs. “Just make it quick, please.”

“Uh,” her eyes stared a thousands yards behind me, “okay I can summarize, I guess.” She produced her clipboard and a pencil. “So, what is your government like?”

“Pass.” I got a kick in the fetlock for that answer. Bitter was scowling, but I just shrugged at her.

“What?” Doctor Keratin looked bemused.

“We're in the model of an old Gryphon Senate and the biggest presence in the wastes. That's all ya–”

“Wastes?”

“It isn't quite as bad as it sounds...”

“So, is it full of other mutants?” Her eyes gleamed at the notion.

“What do ya mean by that?”

Her eyes lost their sparkle in an instant. “I didn't mean any offense.”

I let out a sigh. “Me neither.”

“Well, how extreme of an environment is it?”

“It's San Palomino, it's always been an extreme environment.” I blinked twice. “I'm pretty sure.”

“Are there more creatures like the scorpions? You know, I'm so surprised that anti-venom worked.”

“Yeah, thanks.” I was beginning to feel anxious to ride that hammock contraption if it would get me out of here faster. “Anyway, there's plenty of big bugs and oddities if that's what ya mean.”

“And the weather? Are the Sun and Moon just sporadically drifting through the sky?” She squeaked.

“There... seems to be a pattern to them. Some think it's limited to night and day but others, especially the tribals, think it goes beyond that. Either way, there isn't exactly an abundance of astrologists about; so most every theory is pure speculation.”

“Tribals?”

“Some of the best and worst you'll meet in San Palomino; they're just... very free spirited.”

“Uh huh.”

She scratched something onto her clipboard, and my legs started begging for a run. Olive must have picked up on that because he decided that was the time to hoof me my flak vest and... blade.

“Oi, I think I'll be going now.” I said, and slid the razor into a vest pocket with an unfamiliar clink.

“What?” She looked up and nearly dropped her pencil; it hung on her lip like a cigarette.

I scratched my mane and averted my eyes. They fell on a mirror; the kind mounted on medicine cabinets and referenced in horror flicks. I had never seen myself so clearly. Apparently they had given me a wash. My base coat was coloured something like a piece of foggy quartz that had picked up smoking. I had blamed the hue on the sand. I took a step towards the mirror and ducked my head into view.

“Me and my friends need to get to work.” My mane remained thick, matted, and upright. Light orange-brown splotches on either side of my crown met the ones that streaked between its blonde, like copper wires midst unpolished gold. My features were world weary with plenty of thin lines, natural and otherwise. A pair of parallel, vertical lines was branded over my right eye. My red eyes, those of my mother, perhaps would have been those of my offspring. “And I need to speak to Bitter here,” I put a hoof around my mare, and turned to the doctor, “now.”

“Okay.”

“In private.”

“Oh,” she stumbled over a couple expressions, which rippled through her brow and mouth, before her face settled on disbelief. “Wait, are you sleeping with your subordinate?”

“Not that it's any of your business,” Bitter said, snidely, “but we're in a serious relationship– have been for a long time.”

“Really?” The doctor's eyes darted incredulously between Bitter's face and my own. Apparently, we weren't the cutest couple she had seen.

“Yes, really.” Bitter leaned affectionately close. “I want to have a family with this stallion.”

“How? He can't produce children.” She facehoofed. “Sorry. When are you adopting?”

“Excuse me.” Bitter placed a forehoof on my chest. “H-How can you just say that?”

“Wait.” Keratin's eyes went wide and she took a half-step back. “You don't know?”

“That was kind of what I needed to speak to her about,” I said, as I gave the doctor a scowl fierce enough– I hoped– to warrant the recoil. I turned to Bitter, who was on the verge of tears.

Bitter pushed away from me and asked, “You knew?”

“How could you not know?” Keratin spat at the air.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and said, “Yes.”

“I mean, are there fertile Zonies that you're aware of?” At this point, the doctor was speaking as much to herself as to us.

“Since when?” Bitter asked, and began slowly pedaling her forelegs against my chest. “For how long?” A tear escaped the inner corner of Bitter's left eye and ran along the contours of her face, ending its trail at the corner of her down turned mouth.

I pushed Bitter's unmotivated hooves aside with my own and said, “Two days. Summer told me.”

I might have cried as well, but Bitter remained stable. She shed no more tears, made no assault, nor softened her expression. The doctor said something I didn't hear, but it caught Bitter's attention.

“I specialize in genealogy; I can easily test fertility,” the doctor offered, along with a big grin.

“We never met any other Zonies,” Bitter told me, and looked at the floor. “Maybe you're different.”

“Two hundred years is a long time, just saying,” Keratin just said

“Maybe there's a drug or something that can help. Maybe... I'm the one who's infertile.”

“Okay,” I said before putting my foreleg around her. I held her close with her head against my chest.

“Maybe there's a magical solution. We have to make sure–”

“Okay, Bitter. I said okay.” I gave her a nuzzle and turned to the doctor. “When can you test us?”

“Well, immediately.” The Pegasus glided through and hung beyond the doorway. “Right this way.”

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With the intention of optimizing both the transportation of troops over river and civilians to and from Las Pegasus, a new “Long” 80 was paved. While the old “Straight” 80 was refurbished for an experimental train.

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The Pegasus doctor's room was much like the previous one, but had no windows and a couch where the other had the bed. Atop a coffee table, a short stack of magazines was neatly placed next to an empty flower vase at the table's center. Serene and Olive had been told to wait in the common room between the offices, and Bitter that she would be tested in another room shortly.

“Just be patient, dear,” Doctor Keratin called out the doorway to a slouched, heavy browed Bitter. “I'm not going to hurt him.” She pressed the panel and called down the Stable door. *hss-KRRT*

“Do you still have that clipboard?” I asked, thinking of her earlier statement. “I'm unaware of all that was done to me still.”

“You don't remember? You woke up in the middle of it often enough.” She chuckled as she tossed the clipboard on the table. She stepped on the brass clamp and, with the flick of a wing, slid paper my way.

I read the sheet, I fell on my haunches, and read it again. I had died twice, and a piece of me stayed dead. “Replace-d?”

I searched my drab green vest for a place to stuff the page and settled on a book that had found its way into a pocket. The page, as well as the book, made me uncomfortable– but so would being without them. I hoped that, in time, at least one of these would change.

I felt alien in my own skin. My eyes darted from my upgraded foreleg to my downgraded hindleg, and then to the back of my eyelids. I focused on the numb length of belly, a thin line from my diaphragm to just beneath my ribs, and wondered if I would ever feel it again.

“It's not so bad. Just think how much healthier you'll be.” I opened my eyes to the sight of her teeth. “Were you a drinker?”

“No, I never touch the stuff.”

“Then what're you missing out on, huh?”

“A choice.”

She lifted my muzzle with her wing. “Chin up now. If we're gonna get a sample out of you– the easy way– I need you thinking happy thoughts.”

“Sample?”

“You seem like a smart enough colt. What do you think I'll need a sample of for a fertility test?”

“Uhh,” I looked about the windowless room, in this isolated society, beneath mountains of rock. “I'm not exactly comfortable.”

“That's what the magazines are for.” She pointed, and I followed her hoof to a provocative image.

I stared past the glossy mare on the glossy cover and wondered how far below the ground the floor was. I certainly didn't know what it was like to feel at home somewhere but the ambiance I felt here was as far from the feeling as I'd ever been. “I just don't see this working.”

*SNAP* I flinched at the sound then turned to see Keratin stretching a plastic glove just past her knee.

“That's very common. We have medical procedures to accommodate you.”

“You know, I think I'll manage without it.”

“You sure? I could invite your marefriend perform it, if you're more comfortable with that.”

“Uhm...” I thought about that a moment then shook my head. “No, that wont be necessary.”

“Okay.” She slipped off her glove a hit the door panel in one motion. *KER-tshh* “I'll get your mare set up– her test will be a bit more invasive– so just take your time and find me whenever you're done. Oh, and that table has a drawer in it. Make sure to dig around in there– doctor's orders.” She winked. *hss-KRRT*

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*KER-tshh* “That noise isn't getting old at all,” I said as the door retreated upwards into its frame.

The gang awaited me on the other side and chatted amongst themselves. Keratin had her back to the door and an ophthalmoscope to Bitter's eyes.

“... how did I not notice that before?” Keratin asked. “This is just the kind of thing I'm studying– wanting to study, I mean. Most of what I do around here is make sure foals comes out  male or female, depending on our population requirements. But I have a breadth of research on innate magic–”

I cleared my throat and said, “Excuse me.”

“Oh, all finished up?” Keratin turned and grinned. “You certainly took your time, I already finished with Bitter a while ago.”

“Really,” I raised a brow, “how was she?”

“Ha ha.” She kneed a laugh out of Bitter. “You didn't tell me he had jokes.”

“Just a couple.” I cleared my throat again as I stepped out of the doorway. “Oi, uh... was I supposed to use that flower vase?”

“What? No.” She facehoofed then sighed as she began walking into her office. “It's fine, just the third damn time. When I find out who tried to eat that plastic flower...” *hss-KRRT*

“Booster, what did you do with a flower vase?” Bitter asked.

“Nothing, there were plastic cup things in the table drawer.”

“Well, I'm glad you're in a good mood. My tests were nowhere near natural and not any fun either.” Bitter sat on her haunches and struck a playful pose, crossing her forelegs and pouting at the ceiling.

As she shifted her weight to one side, I witnessed a spasm pass through her brows. It lasted a fraction of a second, but I saw real sorrow rattle the gates of its chipper prison. I forced a smile of my own, and wrapped a foreleg around her shoulders in a tender embrace. I didn't know what else to do, but at least it felt right to play along.

*KER-tshh* “Ha! You bastard,” Keratin said between laughs. “You got me again. Anyway, I need to run a few tests. Results will be ready in a couple hours or so. I'll send another doctor to get you then.”

“Another doctor?” Serene asked. “Don't you have nurses available for relaying messages?”

“What's a nurse?”

“Uh.,” Serene blinked, “it's a doctor's assistant.”

“What Stable do you think this is?” Keratin swelled with pride. “We only have leaders around here.”

“Shite,” I whispered. I didn't like the sound of that one bit. “Oi, we better be on our way then. And thank you, doctor.”

She grinned mischievously. “Oh, don't thank me just yet.”

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Surgin' Orange was a popular, but short lived, energy drink pre-wastes. Collectors will pay top bit for any surviving bottles.

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I stepped over the stupid, wheeled hammock that I never learned the proper name of. Let's call it the piece o' shite. The stupid piece o' shite was far too short at first but Keratin assured me its legs were adjustable. We adjusted it to maximum height, and the shoddy piece o' shite was a bit short still. I had to bend my knees if I was to keep from tripping over it. In the end I was scooting out the hospital wing in long, gliding steps like I was leaping forward slowly– on the dumbest, fucking piece o' shite ever.

“Did I mention I HATE this thing?” I spat during a glide.

“Oh, really?” Olive asked as he enveloped the piece o' shite in his orange, glowing grasp. “Maybe we can make it work for ya.”

“OJ, you'd better–” He began rolling me down the halls and swerving me around not quite recklessly. “OJ!”

“Vroom, vroom.” He sped us past the end of the hospital wing and a wide eyed Unicorn behind the reception desk.

“Okay, OJ, that's enough,” Serene said. Her voice faded as I was pushed ever ahead of it.

The orange light dissipated, but the piece o' shite had already gained speed. I stamped my feet against the smooth floor and nearly toppled over. Then retracted my forehooves as if from hot coals. After a moment of dragging my hindlegs, I began to slow down.

I passed through another hallway and heard voices, those of younger Stable dwellers. When I came to the end of my trek, and into yet another hallway, I had slowed enough to stop myself on the oncoming wall with a foreleg. I heard more voices, this time from the opposite direction, but I was more concerned with figuring out how to readjust the piece o' shite's legs so I could be rid of it.

Galloping hooves sounded on the solid tiles behind me. “Oi, one of ya help me out this thing,” I said, and haphazardly turned in the stubborn piece o' shite to address my loyal gang. “I can't quite reach the,” I waved a hoof at the adjustable legs, “mechanism.”

“Whoa now.” Olive's ears perked and jerked in either direction. “Do you hear that?”

“Yeah,” Bitter said, as she stared down the hall where a rhythmic clopping of hooves rose in decibel and tempo, “it sounds like hooves. Maybe... dancing?”

“Goddess, I hope not,” I said. “And can somepony GET ME OUT OF THIS?”

“... won't ever get laaaaame, when IIIII'm running the show!” A wailing Zebra in a blue and yellow Letterpony's jacket skidded into view, soon followed by a– mostly striped– dancing posse.

“Fool,” said a guttural voice from the other side of the hall.

My loyal gang immediately turned their attention towards the voice, while I turned– slow and squeaky– on my wheels. A square shouldered Gryphon with smart, oval glasses stood before a proud group of Earth Ponies and at least a head below them. If not for her stature, she might have been intimidating.

A large mare with a heavy brow and a thick, auburn mane sauntered ahead of the group but remained steadfast behind the Gryphon. “Tell 'em boss,” she said, and began stamping a steady beat.

The birdkitten looked past us as easily as the frames of her glasses, and they all drew a single breath.

“Competition is the fuel, for stabilizing my rule, nothing's as productive as greed,” sang the Gryphon.

“Ooo, ooo, ooooo ooo,” her Earth Pony chorus reverberated in deep contrast to her sharp sing-talking.

“When I reform all the schools, to produce more worthy tools, acting for single minded need.”

“It's for our oooown good.”

“I'll run a very strict game, you will know who to blaaaaame, when IIIII'm running the show!”

“Now that's just wrong,” said a shrill voice with a light southern draw, once again, from behind us.

I rolled back at an angle and positioned myself so I could turn my head down either side of the hall.

A string of Pegasi led by an orange mare with a curly, green mane flew in over the Zebra and his dancers. The lead mare stamped a hoof, shook her head, and continued, “I'm not gonna stand for it.”

The Gryphon scoffed as she adjusted her glasses and rolled her eyes. “Oh, and you have a better idea?”

“No, and you know that because...” The orange mare gasped.

“Of course,” the little Gryphon said over the Pegasus' breath.

“Our parents knew it better, won't change in any weather, I'll make the others see the liiight!”

“Their heads need a soak,” the feathered quartet sang in eerily perfect harmony.

“I'll follow to the letter, compromising NEVER, my wings flock only to the riiight!”

“Don't fix what ain’t–” each sang a lyric before echoing, “NEVER,” and joining voices for,“broke.”

“It will be a classic game, the one we know by nAaAaame, when IIiiI'm running the show!” Her voice cracked and sputtered like a train with bad brakes.

“Everyone, please listen,” said the sweetest voice yet, from the hall leading towards the hospital wing.

I turned sideways into the threshold of the hall and craned my neck.

A spotlight shone on a young Unicorn mare with a peach coat; short, yellow mane; and hopeful, amber eyes. I followed the light upwards to its source, a Unicorn levitated by... yet another Unicorn. No one spoke a word, nor uttered, nor stomped a hoof. The last words of some machine echoed into the hall. A moment later, the mare raised her head high and sang,

“There must be another way, each may have an equal say, in a better ge...ner..ation.”

“Ahhh-our homecoming queeeeen,” her chorus' harmony suffered due to a tone deaf member.

“We can redistribute hay, leave sleep-ing dogs where they lay, with just a little... regulation.”

“It's yet to be seeeeeEEEEeeeen.” They were determined to compensate with technique.

“It will be anyone's game, nothing will be the saaaaame, Oh! When IIIIIIIIII...”

“When IIIIIIIIII-” sang the Gryphon after brushing past the canvas beneath me to hog the spotlight.

“When IIIIIIIIII-” sang the Zebra, as he lept over me and slid into the expanding spotlight.

“When IIiiiIIIi-” sang the following trainwreck. As she careened by, she clipped my muzzle and sent the entire hallway into a rotation.

“When WEEEEE'RE,” they harmonized just as hooves brought me to a stop facing in their direction, “RUNNING... THE... SHOOOOOOOW!”

The Zebra broke away from the chorus, drew a short breath, and began a note. The spotlight–  dripping sweat while maintaining a circle large enough for three and a half Equines– finally blew a fuse. She sent a rogue beam into the eye of the buck levitating her and, subsequently, herself to the floor. The peach mare and a few others rushed to their aid.

“Wow,” I said. I stamped a hoof in applause then turned to my gang. “Out. Now.”

“I gotcha, buddy,” said the Zebra as he slid to my side and, with four swift kicks, dislodged the buttons locking the hammock's legs at length. “You must be that new addition I heard about.”

I felt his eyes on my splotches as I stepped over and bucked the hammock back up the hallway leading to the medical whatever.

“Oi, addition to what?”

“The Orphanage.”

“Arf'enage?” I received quite a few looks, even from my gang, at that colloquial outburst.

“So,” the Zebra's muzzle quivered as the edges of his lips curled towards his ears, *snort* “where are you from?”

“Outside.”

“But where–”

“JUST,” I wiped my brow, rubbed a temple, and tousled my mane in one motion, “outside. We– I was an or...phan.” I enunciated each syllable. “I'm surprised such a thing can happen that often in a Stable.”

Zepp stared motionless for a moment, and then snapped back to his chipper self. “Oh, it's just a name.” He looked up and to the right then licked his teeth. “You see, we all go to the Orphanage as foals– when we start school. It's to give us all an equal chance and to keep our parents' ethos from determining our own, but it kinda still does because we still have our parents; we just don't live with them.”

“What are you schooled in?” I motioned the gang over to the conversation.

“Politics, science, political science, philosophy, history, and law. On top of the usual maths, music, and poetry.”

“That makes sense.” My friends hooves settled nearby. I looked over my shoulder at Bitter and nodded.

“So what kinda setup do you have in this place?” Bitter asked sweetly. “Does it run smoothly?”

“Better than anything!” said the Zebra. He cleared his throat. “I imagine...”

“And your name is?”

“I'm Zepp.” He rubbed a hoof on his jacket before offering it to Bitter. “Pleased to meet'cha.”

She slapped a pastern around his then shook it. “Bitter Shores.”

“Sores?”

“Shores.” She nodded at each of us respectively. “This is my sister, Serene; Booster; and Olive Juice.”

“Hi.” He turned his hoof towards his chest. “Zepp– ya know that. Sorry.”

“I noticed you recanted earlier a bit. May I ask why?”

“Oh, well, you see we haven't had anyone arrive from outside– not even our own scouts– in over half a century.” He cleared his throat again and reached inside his jacket. He produced a blue-gray canteen with a faded, yellow ''15'' centered on it. His hoof wringed the canteen's rope-loop as his teeth raked at his lower lip. He lifted the canteen to his muzzle– and his eyes to the ceiling– then drank. “Ahh, uh, but they claimed the outside was uninhabitable. I guess things have changed in fifty years huh?”

“More than we'd know.”

“Yeah, I was expecting someone older–”

“Watch it, Zeeb dweeb,” said the Gryphon as she pushed past Zepp with ease. It was a funny sight considering her size and that of her overzealous bodyguard, the brawny mare with a permanent scowl.

“You watch it, Turnabout!” he called after her. “Or I might confuse you with the ball next game,” He chuckled before turning back to us. “Don't mind her; just a bit of endearment between hoofballers.”

“Uhm, you mentioned scouts,” Bitter said in a hushed voice. “Were those the ones piled out front?”

“Yeah, you see, those scorpions have been putting a damper on our politics and exploration for... well, since before I was born.”

“Politics?”

“Sorry, you're... new.” Zepp took another long drink from his canteen. “Okay. So we grow up in the Orphanage, where we develop our individual platforms. Then, if we are nominated, we campaign to scout out the area outside. The winner is determined by a vote in the Council. The winner goes and tries to make contact with the outside. If they come back, we crown them Homecoming Queen or King and there's a big dance and they become the new Overmare. Other nominees are shoe-ins for the Council.”

“So you have a problem with the current Overmare?”

“What? No,” he scoffed, “I respect Overmare Sweetgum but she's getting on in years. I mean, what would we do if she dies without anyone to succeed her? I just have the Stable's best interests in mind–  we all do,” he scratched his mane, “for the most part.”

“For the most part? Are you referring to the Council,” her voice rose an octave, “or the nominees?”

“Uhm. You see, for a while, it's been pretty much expected that being voted scout is a death sentence.” He took a breath and held it. “And the Council has adapted accordingly. They vote on strong nominees of opposing parties. Naturally, they'd prefer if their own nominees made it to the Council alive.”

“And if the opposition never makes it at all? No skin off their teeth, right?”

“I can't really blame them.” He pointed a hoof at another leading vocalists, who was discussing something with her mob. “The lovely peach that was center spotlight is Hard Candy, the granddaughter of Sweetgum and the favourite for actually making it back– though her brother wasn't so lucky. I'm a favourite too, but I'm only really given a chance because of my athletic ability.” His ear flicked away some invisible pest. “Also, I don't think West wing wants to break from tradition.”

Bitter nodded in the opposite direction; where a pair of winged, junior politicians were in the process of biting each other's heads off. “How about those two?”

“The orange one who can't hold a note is Pumpkin Eater. The tiny puff of feathers and sunshine– that's Roundabout. They're the other two nominees. I'm really not sure about their platforms and neither are their opposing wings– I mean, have you heard–”

“We heard the song,” Bitter said, and tossed a  lock of mane out of her eyes.

“Yeah, sorry– just stop me if I'm repeating anything. Anyway, those Councilors have been voting on each other's nominees in the hopes that they don't make it back. I think it's caused a pretty messed up situation. The Council only votes for a scout once a year but, for some reason or another, they've yet to reach a ruling in the last sixteen meetings.” He furrowed his brow. “Everyone is getting restless.”

“So that's why they're so desperate.” Bitter stomped in exclamation. “They just want to forget about all this till next year. Before it starts trouble.”

“Wait, what?” Zepp's left eyebrow shot up like a rocket then descended like a parachute. “Of course, of course.” He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “You know, you don't have to vote their way.”

“Oh really?” Bitter grinned. “What way would you have us vote?” she asked through her teeth.

“Well, I don't think I know more than the Councilors but I don't see why we can't have multiple scouts. I mean, sure, we might have multiple Overmares but so what? The more the merrier, right?”

“Uh.” Apart from her overactive eyelids, Bitter's face was made of stone. “Of course.”

“I guess you've never heard the saying, 'Too many cooks spoil the broth.' Have you?” Olive asked. He flared the reddish-brown square of Brahmin hide he called his cape, just enough to give a clear glimpse of his cutie-mark.

“No,” Zepp said, and rubbed his chin. “I'm not sure if anyone here has. I'll have to remember that one.” He matched Bitter's grin. “But to answer your question, I would have you vote for Candy. She has a real chance, especially if you accompanied her.”

“Aye, perhaps,” I said. “But what would it matter if I voted for her, if I still get all the other votes? That's the deal we were offered.”

“As if.” He chuckled and snorted. “Problem is, for the both of us, you'll be receiving plenty of new offers before lights out.”

“Lights out... ?”

“Even if they wanted to, some Councilors hate each others' guts too much to vote the same way. I'm sure most of them are still planning to vote on their candidate. It's just a matter of time before they speak to you. And then there's the Fillers and Pre–”

“Lights out!?”

“Yeah,” Zepp's grin dimmed, “you know, night time. It's dark; everyone sleeps.”

“Yeah, just, when is that?” My breathing grew frequent and shallow as my eyes scanned the ceiling for cracks. It was seamless: airtight.

“Oh, in like,” he angled his foreleg and looked down at his PipBuck, “three hours twenty-six minutes.”

I brought my sleek PipBuck to my face then flicked up the cover with my nose, spilling green light over top my muzzle. I cycled twice through all of the screens, and then found ''18:35'' on the far left panel– just over the dials. I glanced at the ceiling again, in an effort to imagine the twilight sky, before the intercom interrupted my pursuit.

*Buh-WEEP* “Attention Stable Fifteen. The Homecoming Dance has been rescheduled for tonight, proceedings will be pushed forward two hours. There will be a mock ballet deciding the–”

“Whaaaat?” somepony cried over both the intercom and a wave of murmurs. “What are we, foals?”

“...grettable, but we ask that you remain courteous and optimistic for the duration of the night.” *Bwm*

“Oh uh, you know, I need to go get ready,” said Zepp. He quaked fitfully in his Letterpony's jacket as he took two, pronounced steps backward. He waved goodbye, turned, and trotted off.

From his retreat stirred a ripple of anxious Equines through the hallway, even where I stood. Everyone suddenly had a place to be, and each made their own getaways in either direction. As Zepp trotted off, my legs grew more restless than ever.

“Booster, are you okay?”

“Huh, what are ya talking about?” I asked, as I turned to see which of my gang had spoken to me.

Serene and Olive had been looking down the hallway before I got their attention. Bitter cleared her throat. She drew close, lifted her brow, and said, “Hmm, I didn't say anything.” She swept a hanging lock of mane from my face with the back of her hoof. Then felt my forehead and cheek.

“Your leg is shaking,” Olive said.

I dropped my gaze to the limbs beneath me. The hind right one was a swollen, transparent mirage of itself. “Oi, that's new,” I said. But it felt fine.

Unfortunately, it wasn't the only new problem. I still had to deal with the mountain overhead and on all sides, the lack of Stars or Sky, and confining spaces... coffin-wide and full of the artificial noises of machinery. I'd have wagered it was as silent as the grave otherwise, and the air as still.

“Booster!” They cried with one voice.

“I said I was fine.” The fur across my forehead and around my fetlocks was growing damp.

“No, you didn't,” said Serene. She turned to Olive. “Get the wheels.”

“Don't ya dare.” I grit my teeth in an attempt to catch or restrain my fleeting breaths.

“STOP!” Bitter wailed, and the underworld froze to hear her. “Just tell us what's wrong. Why are you freaking out?” I stared deep into her eyes, or perhaps hers arrested mine.

“I-I'm freaking out 'bout how deep underground we are,” I said, as a moist bead ran between my eyes and onto my muzzle. “There's no sky, nor wind, nor space; only tons and tons of... Earth.” I licked the sweat off my nose, and was struck by the salt a second later. “And I desperately need a run.”

“Just freak out then.” I blinked. “We'll be here at least eleven more hours, so just get it out of your system. Besides,” she fell to her haunches and smiled meekly, “I think a run might do us all some good.” Her cheek twitched as she stared, not at me but directly ahead. “We'll catch up with you.”

Olive scratched his dome with both forehooves; his eyes clenched into one, wrinkled band. Serene was her usual self, but breathing in and out of her paper bag. Perhaps my words had gotten to Serene a tiny bit, but the others were just trying to make me feel better. I'd have believed Bitter if I didn't know her.

“If you say so, love.”

I galloped down the hallway with my eyes closed and gained speed with each gait. I opened my eyes– WALL. I braked on my heels, turned around, and continued at an amble. I gained speed, changed action, and sped by the gang. My legs propelled me farther and faster towards relief until an oncoming wall threatened to cut me off. I slowed to a canter as I debated going right or left. I chose left, and followed a sign I skimmed as ''M – – ce-Floor'' wherever it might take me.

This hallway was an empty, drab stretch of gray. With the extra track, I was only too eager to push my legs harder. So I ducked my head and lunged farther forward with each gait. Just a few more seconds of acceleration and... the world slowed to a crawl. My hooves trembled as they struck the floor in rough progression. I closed my eyes and changed to a more rhythmic pace. I glided forward, reveling in how each hoof fell and launched, and–

STAIRS. I hopped, skipped, jumped, and stomped; skidding on my heels off each step. “Ah ah Ah ah AHahAHahAH–” The steps slid out from under me, and I careened headlong towards a wall. I turned my muzzle away in time to bounce my crown off of it instead. My eyes shut as I tumbled backwards. I rolled once and a half over a series of hard edges before I flopped onto a cold, metal grate.

I opened an eye. The room at the foot of the stairs was dimly lit by hazy, pill-shaped lights enclosed in form-fitting cages. The walls were close together as well as lined with various pipes. At a far corner, a cylindrical tank shook and bubbled sporadically behind a square fence. Cool air and moisture crowded the space as well. It covered pipes, filled my lungs, and fell through the grate beneath me. I grunted as I got to my feet. The blow to my noggin either kept me limp during the fall or dulled my senses; I was in far less pain than I had right to be. I shook my head and noticed a map on the right wall.

*clink* The noise coincided with a blur that retracted from my peripheral, somewhere behind the tank.

I took a few wobbly steps forward, steadied myself against a sweaty pipe, and then continued onward; leaning periodically against the walls. At the other end, I turned the corner into a stretch of corridors. The faint echo of a door closing reached my ears. I ventured a step; the soft clink of a shifting metal grate resonated down the hall and back again.

With a shove, I propelled myself off the wall and down the dark corridor. I trotted as quickly as caution would allow until I reached an open doorway. Through it, aisles formed an "L" and my breath formed vapor. Thick glass– clouded with condensation– was fixed into the walls on either side and straight ahead. These windows were each paired with a door, and together they created a welcome illusion of open space. I slowed to a crawl and peered through the side windows. Various cabinets and storage containers filled both rooms. In the room on the right, I could almost make out a door on the far left. I wiped the glass with a forehoof but the moisture was concentrated on the other side.

Something blue swept by that door, and then past the far window. I drew a sharp breath, but let the call die in my throat. My eyes retraced themselves to the door, and then to my hoof upon the glass. I trotted around the window and into the room. Vents spat cold air as I trotted to and through the other door.

The next room was much larger and colder than its window had led on. Tables littered the room, and refrigerators hummed along the back wall as far as I could see. In the darkness loomed a pair of glowing green eyes– the kind that adorned the door panels. I walked across the room then glanced left at yet another door; I had taken the long way around. I pressed the wall panel and sighed a small cloud of vapor, *KER-tshh* which was whisked away with the door.

I stepped into the dark and, after a dozen or so paces, kicked something metal and quite solid.

A cascade of lights blinked into being across a wide panel and a large, red button glared beneath a series of glass monitors. I laid my hoof on the button, and the screens disappeared with it. I pressed it and the monitors flickered to life, each with its own whine or complaint. Blank, blank, static, a... water fountain, static with a wobbly band, a Stable door–

“Huh?” I asked, pressing my face to the screen just to make sure. It was open. “That can't be right.”

“Define right,” said a sweet, and not entirely familiar, voice. An oblong silhouette lurked in the curved glass of a blank screen. It patiently awaited an answer to its moral non-question.

I'd bite. “It's... what's just for... it depends on the situation, I guess. It's a case by case sort of thing.”

I turned around. A peach-coated mare sat in the shadowed corner of the room. Light from the doorway spilled over her left cheek and shoulder as she quoted, “Giving to each what they are due.”

“Yeah, that sounds fair.”

“It's a definition of justice. But what's fair to you? Is it the same as justice?”

“Fair is,” I sat on my haunches and stuffed a hoof in my pocket– the one with my heirloom, “fair. By the book. It's following the rules.”

She took a step closer and brought to light a trio of blue, circular shields each with a white gear at their center. “So, are fairness and justice the same thing?”

“No– Not always. It depends on the rules mostly.”

“If fair is following the rules then what does justice follow?”

“Nothing. They don't have to share that, uh, property or quality.” I scratched my mane with the other hoof. “What is it– you think?”

“I don't know what justice is, but I think it deals chiefly with rights.” She smiled. “Turnabout says rights are an illusion born from a combination of entitlement, precedent, and compromise. That what are called rights are merely luxuries afforded by strong government.”

“Oi, I wouldn't say all that. There's plenty afforded by governments, but they aren't the sole nor original source of them all.”

“What is this original source?”

“Nature, I guess. Maybe the Goddesses or our ancestors.” I noticed a subtle rise of her brows. “I wouldn't exactly say everything has– is born with them either.”

“What do you mean?”

“Aye, well, it's sort of earned... shite– by just bein' alive.” I scratched my mane.

“Ahh,” she nodded somewhat to one side, “might makes right.”

“I guess so, but there's more to it than that.”

“Wouldn't that mean that the powerless have no rights?”

“Yes, and that's true, but nothing's powerless. Just look at your dinner. Plants can grow and break rocks, but they can't really complain. And sometimes animals that don't usually have the capacity for speech... just up and have one that talks. They're treated better– are expected to be treated better.”

“But wasn't any creature that can speak, like us, simply born with that capacity?”

“Nothin's born clever.” I snickered. “Every living creature has power, to feel or to inflict, but even when something just has potential... it's worthwhile. And when they're gone, sometimes they're more powerful than ever.” I paused. “Sorry, I don't really know how to say it. Maybe I just don't know the word.”

“Zepp loses words too– from time to time. Would you prefer it if we continued in Zebra tongue?”

“Ha, I'd love to but I don't know it.” I fixed my keepsake in my hoof. “Oi, mind telling me what exactly it is we would be continuing.” I locked eyes with her a moment. “What's this all about?”

“You're with an outside government, and this Stable was made of and for the greatest politicians.”

I bit my gums, and nodded.

She stepped up to the panel and continued, “Speaking of which, I'm sure you're curious about this door.” She held down a button and the Stable door shifted downwards, just enough to present the ''13'' at it's center. She released the button and the door rose again. “The button that opens it is stuck.”

“Which one is that?”

“We don't know. I might be the only one who knows that button that closes it. Our Stable was tasked with governing over Stable Thirteen, and these buttons all correspond to some device in there.”

“Why don't you just try them all?”

“One of them sets the reactor to explode.”

“Oh.” I studied the screens for a second each. “Well, what happened?”

“They all left one day– about fifteen years ago.” She sighed and made pained eyes at some far shadow. “There were losses. We've been on secondary protocols ever since.”

“I imagine things were a bit more complicated back then.”

“I was just a foal, but it seemed much simpler. Granny Sweetgum's had the longest term in history. And she says that, back then, we weren't as... passionate. That we only got heated over how to handle Stable Thirteen. Our own policies were fair and objective; a model of what we wanted Thirteen to be.”

“You know– Well, ya probably don't 'cause ya live in one.” I drew a breath and started over. “Stables were built with ethically questionable experiments that were meant to help figure out where Equestria went wrong, or something like that, but mostly just serve as examples of why Equine experiments are ethically questionable.”

“W-What?” Her mouth couldn't decide whether to smirk or snarl. “Is that some sort of joke?”

“Aye.” I nodded at the monitors and continued in a jovial tone. “That Stable can be manipulated by design, but your own? Crazy, right?” I cleared my throat. “Listen, most Stables start out innocent enough but... few stay that way.”

“Excuse–” Her eyes fell to her PipBuck before drifting sidelong, as if recalling something.

“That's what I feared.” I leaned against the panel. “So, who gets put down regularly around here?”

“No one!” Her face flushed red, and a vein on her left temple struggled to supply whatever thoughts occupied her mind. “Except, perhaps, the scouts.”

“No, that's just a coincidence. It's always something official sounding like recycled, treated, codified, return... postage.” I glanced around the room.

“Retired?” she offered meekly.

“Does it involve completely arbitrary Stable procedures?”

“The Overmare is retired whenever a new one is named... to avoid schisms.”

It was my turn to raise a brow. “To avoid schisms in your four-parted, political Stable?”

“We didn't always retire. There was a war.” She shook “It's just a coincidence. How else would we have gotten along all this time?” She scowled. “I'm sorry, but what reason do I have to trust you?”

“The fact that in all this time you've never heard word from Stable... No, give me a sec.” I pondered a moment. “Any other time I'd have an answer for ya.” Moments passed, and I simply couldn't find the right response to her question; the harder I tried to grasp it, the farther it seemed from my reach. “What do I have to gain from fibbing, really?”

“You could be trying to destabilize us, in order to more easily force your interests on us.”

“Ha ha, you know, I don't find it hard to imagine the NCR pulling something like that.” I cleared my throat. “Sorry, that doesn't help does it?” She glared at me without emotion. I averted my eyes, and they fell to the panel. “Oi, how about this.” I began pressing every button as fast as I could.

“What are you doing!? One of those–” She reached out with her hooves and blue light, but my hooves tore out of her grip whenever they couldn't avoid it altogether.

I pressed all the buttons– some twice. Nothing; not a noise, nor fire, nor a dead feed.

“Does jack shite?”

Her eyes darted between the various screens, and again but faster. “This... doesn't make any sense.”

“Aye, and a Stable that's controlled by their neighbors does?” I shrugged. “I mean, opening the front door is something but a kill switch? That's just irresponsible.”

I instantly regretted the last few moments when I saw her face. Her eyes fought to escape from under her heavy brow, which muddled the line between concern and anger. Her jaw hung slack, as did her ears, under what I assumed was the weight of a two century old lie. She reminded me of a dog that had once made the mistake of letting me and my sister guard over its food, of innocence defeated.

She sprang to her feet with her ears perked. “W-Wait. Did you feel that?”

“Feel what?”

She pointed her nose at the ground and shut her eyes. “Just my imagination,” she said under her breath. “How many Stables did you say were,” her lips and eyelids clenched into thin lines, “experiments?”

“Quite a few– nearly every Stable I've heard of,” I said, prancing absently over buttons. “Do ya... wanna try this? It might help.”

*Sigh* She opened her eyes, rested her forehooves on the panel, and began lightly pressing random buttons.

“Name's Booster by the way.”

“Hard Candy.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Already?” She let out a quiet snort. “I guess I owe that to Granny.”

“Zepp, actually.”

“Booster,” called a familiar, feminine voice from somewhere in the corridor. “You down here?”

“AYE,” I called back over my shoulder. “Sure am, by Nelly.”

Candy continued pressing buttons as she asked, “Zepp? Really?”

“Yeah, shut up a second though would ya?” I didn't pay her raised brow any mind; I had a few puzzle pieces clicking together. “You said old Overmares get retired-slash-offed,” I made a slashing motion with a forehoof, “and Sweetgum has been Overmare for over fifty years– ever since she came back from her scout. And the anti-venom had to be almost as old...”

“What are you suggesting?”

*Ping* went my PipBuck. “Listen, I need access to the Stable's medical storage.”

“What for?”

Three, familiar silhouettes appeared in the doorway, and I beckoned them. “Oi, meet Hard Candy.”

________________________________________________▼▼▼________________________________________________

“But aren't Gryphons half cat?” – Unicorn Mercenary

_________________▲________________________________________________________________▲_________________

I explained the importance of ousting her granny for fifty counts of indirect murder but Hard Candy wasn't hearing it. She fell back to the accusations of destabilization. I had to respect her for that at least; perhaps her Stable would fair well when the real NCR comes a' knockin'. But at that time her stubborn rationale was only getting in the way. Fortunately, Bitter was here to tell her... basically the exact same thing I had– with one small addition.

“The NCR exists and they are just as we've described them,” Bitter laid a hoof on Candy's shoulder, “but we aren't actually with them. We're just a bunch of wasters, hoodlums, a gang to be perfectly honest. We were just worried how your Stable would react.”

“That makes sense,” Candy said, as she scratched behind her ear, “considering the apparent reputation of Stables.”

“So you know we have nothing to gain from this– just the opposite, we already have our ticket out.”

Candy slipped from under Bitter's hoof and walked to the doorway. She looked out into the corridor for nearly a minute, sighing all the while, and then sat on her haunches.

“Psst,” Serene whispered just over the decibel level of an air vent; me and the rest of the gang leaned close. “Why exactly do we care?”

“I don't know.” Bitter pointed a hoof in my direction. “I was just following his lead.”

I shrugged and said, “I didn't think to think that far ahead.”

*Ping* Light flared into my peripheral vision like a white hot ring threatening to brand my eyes. I clenched them shut, but various shapes lingered and cooled into sky blue then cyan.

“What's up with your PipBuck?” Olive said, and shook me by the shoulders. “And your eyes?”

I opened my eyes. I could see but lights danced at the edges of my vision. I closed my eyes again. At the top was a... compass with three, green dots and one white. At the bottom left was a meter of some kind. Another meter mirrored it on the right, and was missing a dozen or so of its many pegs. Above that ran a message: Just 'Cause We Care - Uncover the truth behind the radscorpions' origin.

*P-ing* Just as they had appeared, the lights flared and died.

“Check your PipBuck already,” Serene hissed.

I brought up my foreleg terminal and nosed it open. It dialed itself over to the ''Quest Log'' where a shiny ''NEW'' blinked at the top of the list.

The PipBuck had three dials. One cycled through the screen selection and would bring up options if pressed like a button. Another cycled through the screens within those screens and had varying uses unique to each screen if pressed. And the third worked more closely to a joystick and made very little sense as selections could be made on-screen with a hoof-tap.

I tapped the top-listed item, and a map projected itself onto the back casing. There was a white triangle over in the medical wing as well as two dots, one green and one red. Another green dot wandered about the halls. I tried tapping over the map but, of course, the projection lacked any interactivity. I tried the joystick-dial instead, and said, “Oi, now that makes sense.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” I moved the dial about and studied the scrolling of the map, “this map dial thingamajig.” I turned the dial clockwise, and it zoomed. “Okay.” I pressed it like a button, with some difficulty, and a cursor appeared. I turned the dial, and it recentered the cursor to the screen; I turned it the other way... and it recentered the cursor to the screen. “Alright, I can see that getting annoying.”

“Alright,” Candy said solemnly, and the white dot on my compass turned green. She rose and turned our way. Her face was placid as a lake teeming with fish. “But we are gonna need a plan.”

A series of prompts– and three more green dots– sparked across the map. “I've an idea where to start.”

________________________________________________▼▼▼________________________________________________

_________________▲________________________________________________________________▲_________________

After occupying ourselves with the old run-around– finding lost items and the like– for the better part of two hours, we finally had everything in place. Winning the trust and support of the locals, even that of Zepp, was tedious work. Despite Candy's guidance, every odd-job was made more difficult by a maze of political procedures. I was surprised every cutie-mark wasn't of red tape.

Me and Bitter had just finished collecting the pieces to Dr. Keratin's journal when a doctor delivered a note to us from Keratin herself.

“What does it say, Booster?” Bitter asked.

“Just that the results are ready,” I said. “Let's hurry over, love.”

“Booster, wait.” She tugged on my vest. “Whatever happens, I still want us... you know.”

I wanted to tell her she deserved better, and more of it. “Me too.”

“Good.”

She nuzzled close, and we strolled like that– without a word– to Keratin's office. We stood at the door for a moment; I dreaded the thought of breaking our silence with its retreat into the ceiling.

*Tap* *Tap*  I struck the thick, metal door with a forehoof. *TAP* *TAP*

*KER-tshh* “Hi,” Keratin said, and beckoned us through the doorway. “What are you doing knocking? Remember, I told you to just come in when you got here?”

I shook my head as we entered and said, “No, I don't remember.”

She stood motionless by the doorway for a second then cocked her head. “Fair enough.” She smiled a great, white smile that made me self conscious about my own. “So, which of us is going first?”

I licked my teeth. “Uhm, you first.”

“We need to hear it plain,” Bitter said before wrapping her foreleg around mine.

“You're completely sterile, Booster,” Keratin delivered it with a practiced lack of variation. “And Bitter, you're not the most fertile mare I've ever seen either.”

“I-I was expecting that,” I said in an attempt to match her tone. “You know, I think I was just hoping to be pleasantly surprised is all.”

“And I already told you how I feel,” Bitter said.

“So... I guess I don't need to go grab any fertility drugs then?” Keratin asked, smiling still.

Bitter shook her head.

*Ping* According to my E.F.S. (as Candy called it), we missed an opportunity at the medical storage.

“Well,” I said with a sigh, as I took out the journal pages and hoofed them over to Dr. Keratin, “I believe they're all there.”

“Ohmygosh!” She held them close to her chest as she fluttered mid-air. “You don't even– This is, like, my life's work. I’m gonna put this someplace safe. Right. Now.” She flew out the door... and back in. “I'll be right back.” She left again.

Anxiety passed from my hoof to the floor via a steady beat. I cleared my throat and scratched my mane. “Bits, listen–”

“Okay, I'm back.” Keratin landed then emoted with her wings. “Now, what can I do for you?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but a yawn fought its way out of my throat.

“We need access to the medical storage, please,” Bitter said. Her stars beamed with purpose.

“Wait,” Keratin punched the door panel. *hss-KRRT* She raised a brow nearly to her maneline. yer hoof lay on the panel still. Her eyes darted between us. “Are you two looking to party?”

“What?” Bitter's brows jumped up her forehead. “No.”

“I mean, I'm cool but I gotta write a plausible prescription–”

“We don't want DRUGS!” Bitter's forehooves shot to her mouth. After a slight pause she continued in a hushed voice. “We need to see the radscorpion glands you made the anti-venom from.”

“What do you need that for?”

“Please.”

“Sure, fine.” Keratin beckoned with a wing. “But if somepony asks, I didn't let you in anywhere.”

Keratin led us to the storage undetected; luckily, there wasn't much traffic in the medical wing at that hour. Once inside, she swiped a plastic card under the door panel and its green lights turned red. She gestured with a wing at various cabinets and a refrigerated trunk.

*Ping* Once again, lights burned emblems in my vision. A diamond took the place of the triangle within the overhead compass while a matching diamond floated over the trunk.

I fluttered my eyelids as I stepped to and lifted the trunk's heavy, metal lid. Amidst the rolling fog, chunks of ice, and blood-packs were three poison glands. I stepped halfway into the trunk, punched through the tightly packed ice, and burrowed for the diamond on my E.F.S. My efforts uncovered a stiff, but elastic, orb full of murky yellow fluid. I extracted it along with my shivering feet.

*Ping* The diamond was momentarily replaced by a check mark before it too faded away. Somewhere behind me, the compass pointed out a new diamond. I felt a bit... accomplished.

“What is that?” asked Bitter, examining the orb in my hooves. “Doesn't look quite like a poison gland.”

“This,” I shut the trunk, turned around, and held the orb at their eye level, “is a pheromone gland.”

“So?” asked Keratin. “Is that what we're looking for?”

Bitter explained our suspicions of the Overmare's half-century term, and her probable connection to the radscorpions.

“Say what?” Keratin spat. “But scorpions don't even– do they?”

“Desert scorpions do,” I said, as I passed the orb between my forehooves. “Even a gland as old as this could be used to attract male radscorpions. Just bust it open and smear it against the walls.”

“Speaking of which, that would have been decades ago. Shouldn't it have worn off or something?”

“Male scorpions have extremely sensitive chemoreceptors, and the caves around here are dry. So that would attract them for quite a while– maybe a year– and keep 'em in pre-courtship behavior, which would get the attention of nearby females.” I dexterously rolled the orb from one hoof to the other. “A few generations of that, and any cave would become a common nesting ground.”

“Ah,” Keratin leaned on the trunk with a forehoof on her hip, “but that one isn't busted.”

“Aye, but they got more than one of these.” I balanced the orb on the edge of my hoof, flicked it into the air, and caught it in a vest pocket. “I'll be needing this soon.”

“I won't, so knock yourself out.”

“Aren't you supposed to be a doctor?” Bitter asked out of the side of her mouth.

“Yes, not a entomologist.” Dr. Keratin drew a breath, as if to add something, but just held it a while.

“Uh,” I said, as I gestured at the door– towards the new arrival in my E.F.S., “I got a red dot.”

“Huh?”

*TAP* *TAP* *TAP* *TAP* *TAP* “Why is this door locked?” asked a heated, baritone voice. “Who else is in there?”

“Hide.” Keratin shoved us around a corner, and out of sight from the door.  *KER-tshh* “Hi.”

“What is he doing in here?” A shadow on the ground peeked around Keratin's, alternating over either shoulder. I didn't see a horn nor wings on the silhouette.

“Dr. Gelatin, what a surprise.” Keratin followed that with a cracking laugh.

Against the wishes of Bitter's eyebrows; I rose on my hindlegs, leaned against the wall, and scooted as close the edge of the corner as possible. I kept my eye trained on the compass, which was difficult considering it was on my eye.

“Really?” Gelatin sounded bemused. “Just let me through.”

“WAIT.”

There was a long pause. Bitter tugged on my vest then shrugged. I shrugged back.

“Let me through.” He stomped, I think, or pushed past Keratin. I pulled out my razor. “What the f– He just went hostile!”

“Who?” Keratin was laying it on thick.

“Stop that. I put the PipBuck on him, remember? I know his tag.”

“Hmm, I didn't catch that,” Keratin said over a faint rustling. “Can you speak up?”

“I said–” *Cough* *COUGH*

Me and Bitter's ears perked the familiar sound of a struggle.

“Now, now. Just calm down.”

“Mhhn Hmeh HMEH.” *gulp* *GASP* “Stop that; your feathers tickle.” *giggle* “NO! What in Tartarus has gotten into you?”

“I'd be more worried about what just got into you.”

“What did you give me?” He whimpered. “Tell me it wasn't the stuff from the Nightmare Night party.”

“No, I exhausted my– Nevermind. But in six minutes you are not gonna wanna go anywhere.”

“How could you? I can't feel my legs... and he's gonna come back to hurt me.”

Keratin scoffed. “Stop spazzing, Berry; you're embarrassing yourself. Now I'm gonna take you to my office, lock the door, and keep you company so no one can hurt you... or vice versa. Speaking of which, mind telling me why you're a red dot on his E.F.S?”

I listened as closely as possible though, at this point, I wasn't sure why we were hiding.

“Uh... no.”

“Fair enough.” She backpedaled into view. “You can leave now–” She recoiled into the cabinet behind her. I could hear the muffled clatter of falling pill bottles as she laid a forehoof over her heart. “Whoa, buddy.” She turned her head towards the door. “I might have just saved your life, Gelly.”

“Sorry,” I said, and put the blade away.

“I don't how you got that through– Nevermind.” She pointed a wing at the both of us. “You owe me.”

“Fair enough,” replied Bitter.

________________________________________________▼▼▼________________________________________________

The Patriarch of the Star Eaters, Nelly, was a hedonistic stallion with the virtue of laughter.

_________________▲________________________________________________________________▲_________________

“So the gang's all here– and Candy,” I said. Nods abounded. “Alright, what do we have going for us?”

“I managed to spike all but one dish and drink for tonight,” Olive said with a smirk. “It's going to be a real rowdy party. And I made spaghetti and sugarcubes, and a variety of juiced salt licks.”

“Great,” Serene said meekly. “I couldn't help with the lighting, so we won't have air support. Sorry.”

“Oi, don't worry about it,” I said, scratching around my PipBuck. “I spoke with the patrol. If anything, I've made them more suspicions. Watch out for that chipper Unicorn; she's just lookin' for a reason.”

“Zepp and I are ready to give up the stage whenever you give the signal,” Candy spoke soberly, and with determination. “Zepp is sure to be named MVP and his only competition for Homecoming King are other athletes. Oh– and Game Knight, but I wouldn't worry about him.”

“Did ya talk Zepp into swaying some votes your way?”

“He refused.” Candy futilely huffed at her short bangs, while a smirk teased at the corner of her mouth. “Said I wouldn't need any.”

“Alright, the dance is on in twenty. Let's go.” I felt like I was forgetting something. “We have one shot at all this so... try to live a little.” I smiled. “How many parties do we get to crash in the Wasteland?”

We were fifteen minutes early, but so was everyone else. Candy had offered to share her wardrobe but,  despite our refusal, me and the gang weren’t terribly underdressed. In this Stable, formal meant your best blue and yellow jumpsuit– with the addition of jackets, sashes, and other accessories. Candy, for example, wore sparkling sapphire earrings and a white sash bearing her cutie-mark on either end.

Everypony had, however, made use of Candy's bath at some point; much to the dismay of her cousin and roommate, Bubble Gum. The light pink mare complained about the leftover grime for what felt like thirty minutes. I didn't blame her; I hadn't realized how filthy the gang was till I saw them clean.

“I don't think I've ever looked this good,” Olive said, as we walked down the hall in a casual line. The low hum of excited voices grew as we neared the door to the party ground– apparently a gymnasium.

“Ugh, really?” Bubble scoffed as a brush– enveloped in red light– ran through her long, grape purple mane. I wasn't sure why she bothered; it was the straightest mane I had ever seen.

“The Wasteland's an ugly place,” Bitter said through a cheery grin, “you'd fit in fine.”

“Heh heh, at least you wretches have a sense of humour. As uptight as everypony is around here, one would think they had something internally facilitating the behavior.” She raised a brow behind the curtain of her uniform bangs– visible between strokes of her brush. “If you know what I mean.”

“But I kinda like this place; the vast majority of the wastes can't afford peace for long,” Serene said, as she gave another pack of party-goers a wide berth. “Besides, boredom is good for your health.”

“That must be why People avoid it,” I said, and turned my attention to Bubble. “The Wasteland is many things, BG, but boring isn't one of them. My advice is that you visit before judging it... or your Stable.”

A smarmy smile stretched across her muzzle as she said, “Hmmpf, I'll simply hold my judgment indefinitely. Thank you.” She dropped the smile as quickly as she threw her brush into her saddlebag.

“By the way, do you cut your own bangs?”

“Why, yes, I do.” Her voice sweetened, and she put on a smirk. For once, Bubble seemed bubbly.

“How do ya get your horn through the bowl?” A moment or three later, I was laughing– contagiously, it seemed. And we sighed on our way through the gym's double doors and into the party.

The room was an enormous court for some Gryphon/Pegasi sport. It had a high ceiling and a single balcony wrapping about the center. From its edges poured lights and streamers, and I could make out the top of a sound system over the railing. At the center of the room stood a large pool (perhaps for emergency landings), which was enclosed by plexiglass that was to serve as the dance floor.

More laughs and smiles followed as people arrived, especially after a few visits to the snack tables.

“I'm parched,” Bubble said. “Care to accompany me to the punchbowl, cousin?” She fanned herself with a hoof, rattling her many bracelets.

“Here, I have water,” Candy said, as she produced then offered her canteen.

“I'm sorry, but I didn't arrive at a party with the intention to abstain from it.” She began prancing in short, deliberate steps towards the tables. “My offer stands.”

“That grape-black cherry at the far left table is really good,” Olive hinted.

“That sounds delightful,” Candy said, as she trotted after her cousin. “Doesn't it, Bubble?”.

The party grew louder and wilder by the minute, and not entirely due to our efforts. A series of freak occurrences and foolishness erupted in the crowd every five minutes, like clockwork. As in scheduled, not like the Pony I used to know.

“Is it just me, or is all that... shit following Zepp around?” Olive asked over a glass of cranberry punch.

“I'm not sure, OJ,” I said, squinting through the crowd. Zepp spoke with some fellows in Letterpony's jackets. A Gryphon tapped Zepp on the shoulder and, just as he turned towards her, a pink-goop balloon fell from on high and splattered against the ground. The conversation must've been interesting; Zepp didn't even turn an ear. “Ya have better eyes than me, Olive, even sloshed.”

“Yeah, like, have you noticed Bubble Gum's... ass.”

“What?” I glanced at Bitter. “Ya mean that patchy red colouring, or birthmark, under her cutie-mark?”

“Nah, it's just really nice.” He took a sip. “Mm, but that's interesting too.” Olive blinked–  not quite in sync. “Makes that heart-bubble cutie-mark more visible.”

“I think she works out,” Serene said.

“Oi, I'm gonna go see who's been tailing Zepp,” I said. “Be ready for the whistle.” I gave Bitter a nuzzle then trotted over to the jacketed mob. I was just about to infiltrate their hive when a striped face emerged before my own. “Gah!”

“Excuse me,” the aged mare said, and backed away a fraction, “I must speak with you a moment–”

“Booster,” Zepp called, as he climbed over a few Ponies to welcome me with outstretched forelegs. “So glad you made it.” He shot an awkward wink and a smile at the mare before addressing her. “I have this under control, Auntie.”

“Thanks for the save,” I said, as he led me into the crowd while resting a cannon high on my shoulder. “Would ya quit leaning on me though?”

“Oh, no problem at all.” He smacked his lips. “Ya know, I can't save you from all of them.” He slipped something into my pocket as he broke contact. “Or can I?” He grinned. “Open it later.”

“Thanks again. And, since we're helping each other, I gotta ask: Have you noticed that–”

“Somepony is trying extremely hard to prank me? Yes, I did notice. It's just Game Knight; he's all sore about me taking his chess trophy and now he wants to be Homecoming King for some reason.”

I raised a brow, and my voice a little. “Why haven't you confronted him?”

“Because I don't like confrontation. Besides, that's what he wants: to make himself out as a victim and myself as some kind of ass. Best to just ignore him.”

Midst the shallow sea of voices was a snap like Keratin's glove. I grabbed Zepp by his jacket and pulled him aside; a kind of pellet whizzed by our ears. I heard glass break and Olive wail.

“I'm not so sure about that policy.” I took my forehoof off of Zepp's collar and glanced at my gang.

Olive lamented over a red puddle staining the ground, and then said, “Oh, yeah, I have telekinesis.”

“OJ, that has glass and– well, it's powder now– in it,” said Serene.

“I got the glass out.” *gulp*

I made no friends as I waded through the crowd, following the pellet's course. People gave me what space they could, but it wasn't much. I stood on my hindlegs then spotted a Unicorn with a knight piece cutie-mark and a slingshot. He felt my eyes on him and turned to meet them. I shot him a wink, fell to my hooves, and trotted to him. He dashed behind a scowling, Earth Pony mare; Turnabout's lackey.

“Great idea, Sis,” he said. “Now one of the stallions from outside has it out for me.”

“My fault, really,” she spat. “The plan relied on you being a decent shot with something. Regardless, I didn't foresee this turn of events.”

“You hit my friend's glass,” I spat back.

“Only because you moved Zepp.” She spat, literally, at my feet.

I tilted my head until my matted mane tugged at my scalp, and met eyes with the colt cowering behind her. “Oi, does she speak for you?”

“Yes,” the mare said without a moment's hesitation.

“Just making sure.” I righted my head and sat on my haunches. “Mind telling me what this is about?”

“Yes, I do. But I’ll tell you anyway.” She drew a breath. “Three weeks ago–”

“Nevermind, I'm already bored. Just skip to the end.”

“Zepp took his trophy, so we're taking this night from Zepp.” She glanced behind me; I glanced as well. A crowd had formed out of my gang, a few tipsy people, and the Letterponies (Zepp included).

“And he cheated at Monopony,” Knight said, emphasizing his words with an accusing hoof.

“You're still mad about that?” Zepp asked. “It went on for two hours. I just wanted it to end.”

*cough* “Hoowaghh,” Olive chimed in, hoarsely. “My throat's kinda scratchy.”

I kept my eyes trained on Knight and his sister as I nodded towards Olive. “His throat's scratchy,” I said. “What're you gonna do about that?”

“It's getting worse...”

“Uh, I don't know,” said Knight, as he scratched his auburn mane. “Who drinks itching powder?”

“Itching pow– Booster, these pranks are like Clockwork. Not as in scheduling, but like that Pony we used to know. What,” *cough* “happened to her again?” *COUGH*

“We left her after she started on that robot,” I said. “But nevermind that.” I bared my teeth and raised my voice at Knight. “You caused my friend some discomfort. How are you going to fix it?”

“We aren't,” said the brawny mare. “We're going to ignore you until you leave.” She raised a brow. “Wanna fight about it?”

“Yeah. I. Do.”

The mare recoiled after I bolted to my hooves, but so did I. My knees and eyes shriveled as excess blood rushed up the sides of my head. I dropped back onto my haunches and spent a moment there.

The brawny mare made an attempt to swat my nose off my muzzle, a damn fine attempt.

I threw a blind left that touched somewhere above her jaw. Then a right that she swept aside with her left forehoof as the other scraped upside my chin. As she brought down her forehooves, I lept into the space beside her then bucked her in the ribs. She threw herself from my hooves, and rolled to her feet as soon as she touched ground.

Her brother shook beneath his own forelegs, and scooted away once he realized he was exposed.

She charged at me, and I galloped to meet her. She kicked out with both forelegs. I ducked my head, rammed my shoulder into her barrel, and kept running. Despite the lungful of air she huffed over my back, she pounded hoofprints along my spine and rump as I carried her forward.

Equines got the fuck out of our way just before I lept and ploughed us through a snack table. Cupcakes, sweetrolls, and hay flew in either direction. Some of them collided in the air and splattered nearby Equines with blue and yellow icing. As I rolled off the pastry tray jutting into my side, my forehooves fell upon a plate and a baguette.

The mare screeched a full second after I shattered the plate over her crown. Then went mute, along with the crowd, as I parted the loaf of bread over the same spot.

“FOOD FIGHT!” I heard Bitter scream in her disguised voice (her regular voice but with a hoof to her mouth). Everything that had landed was airborne again in seconds.

As I rose, Game Knight's sister drove her hoof up my chin; my teeth clattered together. She bucked me square in the chest, but the contoured plates beneath my vest cradled and rocked me. I stumbled backwards off the blue tablecloth and slipped on a cupcake. She seized the opportunity, her bearing, and then a serving ladle.

She bared her teeth around the ladle's handle as she made her advance, huffing hot air and puffing steam through her nose. I put a hoof to my right nostril then blew blob of red snot from the left one.

With each step towards me, she swung the ladle with a ferocity that whipped her mane. Red began to seep from her maneline and was strewn across her forehead as she flailed. I backed away on my haunches but it only bought me a few seconds. She fell upon me. I covered my face with my forelegs, and her wide swings battered lumps into my knees and forearms. I fell back. My right hoof shot to the pocket that held my razor but did nothing further. I refused to let it continue; it refused to retract.

She brought the ladle down on my PipBuck and it rebounded harmlessly.

I began to make use of my megaspell-proof accessory, blocking the next few blows with it. She swung again, and again, and– *THWUMP*

A sweetroll collided against her temple, contouring to it, then sprang upwards. Her eyes rolled back as the ladle slipped out of her mouth. The pastry hit the ground– with the mare and a thud– then rolled, unscathed, into standing position. I pondered whether I should try a bite or carry some as ammunition.

“Shit,” Serene barked midst the ruckus. “Did I kill her?”

I kicked the mare– she groaned– then shook my head. “No, but what the fuck are those made of?”

“I don't– bran and brick dust?” Serene shrugged. “Isn't this a good time to give me the signal?”

I looked around for the Security and found them by the entrance. They were hosing down a crowd of rowdy partygoers armed with pies and wads of hay. I put my hoof to my mouth and whistled.

“Oh.” Serene stopped as she was passing by. “Do you want me to see if I can nab some books too?”

“Yeah.” I rubbed my knees and forearms. “Do that.”

“Okay. I'll be right back.”

In the time it took me to falter onto my legs, Serene slipped out the door. She needed at least fifteen minutes, four per room and one between each of them. If only I could have let her borrow my PipBuck, but she could make due with a map and that removable hoof-drive thing.

I pocketed a few sweetrolls from a nearby pile of pastries, grabbed a tray of cupcakes, and– *SPLAT*

“Heh heh, nailed him,” said a familiar voice. I threw a cupcake in its direction before wiping my face. “Whoa, almost.”

“Oi, BG,” I said between licking icing off my hoof and nose. “I've five more where that–” *SPLAT*

I flicked the cupcake off my shoulder. Just behind Bubble, Candy was reloading a slingshot. I tossed the tray into the air and bucked it, launching a volley of pastries... and a metal tray.

Bubble dodged the tray and walked right into the cluster of cupcakes. “Ahh!.”

Two cupcakes got picked out of Bubble's mane by an orange light. And the pair of pastries proceeded to chase down Candy, who let loose a shot just before they struck her in both eyes.

“Nooooo,” Bitter said in a low, droning voice as she lept through the air. Candy's shot struck her in the barrel, and I caught her in my forelegs. “Booster,” she coughed then spat sprinkles, “it's so cold.”

I winced and said, “Shush now, love.” Then made an agonizing effort out of stroking her mane.

“It's getting dark.” She sprawled and stared aimlessly at the ceiling. “Where are you?”

“I'm right here!” I pressed my lips against hers. Her tongue was covered in semi-melted sprinkles, which was... interesting.

“Pff– Blahh,” she sounded as we disengaged. She went limp and slack jawed, but couldn't quite roll her eyes back. Her tongue, littered with colourful smears, hung from the side of her mouth.

“Nooo! I will avenge you my sweet–”

*FFFFF* *Gargle* *FFFFF* A torrent of water washed over my face and pushed me onto my back. I held Bitter out in front of me like a shield. She squealed and flailed about in my grip.

“Tee hee,” said the cheerful Security Unicorn with the hose. She simply couldn't contain herself. “You can't keep that up forever.”

I thought back– to Feather Duster. “Unfortunately, I know for a fact I can.”

“I. Have. A. Name,” Bitter said between mouthfuls of water. Her struggle shifted from my grip to the oncoming torrent. And she used all four hooves in her attempts to shield herself.

The hose stopped... and then Bitter. I peered around my mare– *FFFFF*

“Security wins,” said the Unicorn, as I tried to expel water from nearly every orifice in my head. Her cheers drowned out Bitter's complaints, who rubbed her crown as she kicked my bruised forelegs.

The party went on like that for a few minutes– until about a third of it was soaked. Security quarantined the snack tables, and a few Unicorns went about magically drying people. It took several more minutes but was well worth the wait, and gave my forelegs time enough to stop throbbing. Then the music started. It was a jazzy show tune number by Sweetie Belle; I can never remember the name.

“Bits,” I said, and reached a hoof out to my mare, “care to dance?”

“Oh, so now you want to throw me around for fun,” Bitter said, as she wringed the last few drops out of her mane. “Call it Hockholm syndrome, but I would love to.”

Bitter took my hoof in hers, and we began a half-pass around the dance floor. Most of the couples traversed side to side with the occasional spin. And some of them looked more like pairs of soloists.

“Wow,” Bitter said, as her eyes cycled through the other couples. “These Ponies can just barely dance.”

“Not their fault, love. They've never seen it done properly.”

Her eyes fixed on something distant. “It seems more like... they're all trying to lead.”

A jazzy brass breakdown started, and we both struck a pose. Then, with no lack of flair, I spun her around. I stepped away a bit wildly. Bitter followed with much more style and grace, and cartwheeled into my waiting hooves. Then I nearly dropped her as I slid through a puddle; heads turned our way.

“We got an audience now,” she said through a practiced smile.

I stared into those green, starry eyes. “I hadn't noticed.”

I swung her over my shoulder, caught her on the other side, and tossed her overhead. She completed two and a half turns before falling into my hooves. I rolled her out like a carpet and spun her around by her left legs (it's a flashy way of softening a catch). I let her go. She spun as she slid across the floor on her back; I had to step lively to keep up. She spun to her feet and into a spread then ducked as I kicked a hindleg over her head, turning my back to hers. Blinded by confidence, I threw my lanky self into a forward flip and landed hard on my rump.

Everyone laughed.

I rose and, to save face, did a back-hoofspring back into position. I reached through our hindlegs and took hold of Bitter's waiting forehooves. I pulled her into a flip, through my legs, and onto her feet.

Light stamping rose from the crowd. Bitter bowed and rubbed her head. “I kinda hit my head against the floor on that last one,” she whispered.

“Sorry, love.” I leaned down and kissed her crown.

*SQUEAL* “Sor–” *KRSHH-poP* Ears drooped or twitched at the offense. “Sorry,” said a Gryphon on the balcony. “Ballots are in, and we are ready to award the... uh, awards.”

“Shit,” Bitter ''whispered'' in my ear. “I knew we were forgetting something.”

I glanced to one side and nodded. I hadn't realized we needed to vote in the first place.

The Gryphon announcer tapped on his mic before clearing his throat and speaking again. “Ahem, so... Perfect Attendance goes to...” *Drumroll* “Everyone. Pat yourselves on the back.”

*cough*

The announcer tugged at his collar. “Ah. And now, Most Valuable Po– Person. Drums?” *Drumroll* “I think we all called this one, Zepp.”

The crowd roared and stamped.

“Woo!” called a Unicorn in a Letterpony's jacket. “He totes deserves it. You see when he broke the backboard with that slam goal-down?”

Zepp started for the stairs but a pair of Gryphons swept over and lifted him to the balcony.

“Wow, ya know, that wasn't necessary,” he said, as the announcer tilted the mic stand towards him.  A Pony hoofed him his award, a bronze Equine in shoulder pads holding a bat and kicking a hoofball. “I want to thank the coaches, my...”

“Psst,” Serene whispered. She hoofed me three books and my PipBuck's hoof-drive. “Here's what I found. It isn't what we expected but it should be more than enough.”

“Psssst,” said a Unicorn. “I'd like to speak with you, momentarily, about your vote–”

“Excuse me,” I said, as I pocketed the books without looking at them. “Which vote?”

“Your vote to determine the next scout.”

“Aye, talk to me later.” He began to protest but I waved it off. “Seriously, just wait fifteen minutes.”

“Fine. Fifteen minutes.” He nodded, and went about his way.

The announcer patted Zepp on the back and mouthed something in his ear. Zepp made his way to a balcony seat as the announcer said, “Now, Best Morale goes to... *Drumroll* Posts Modern, for her inspired sculptures and radio drama.”

A Pony made a mad dash up the stairwell then reappeared over top the balcony and drenched in red.

“Somebody rigged a bucket of paint– I hope– in the stairwell, but I don't CARE,” she said. “This is such an honour.” She gestured with each word, slinging red droplets onto the crowd below.

“Huh, I wonder if that bucket was meant for Zepp,” I said to the mares.

“Alright, and now for the moment you have all been waiting for,” said the announcer, as he held up a pair of crowns in one set of claws. “Homecoming Queen and King.”

“Serene, Bitter; you two ready to perform?”

“We were born ready,” Bitter said with a smile. “Here, hold my saddlebags. Careful, RG is sleeping.”

*Drumroll* “No surprises here,” the announcer started.

A high-pitched squeal pierced the air before an average-looking Unicorn flailed and screeched, “Oh, I can't BELIEVE it!”

“NO,” he threw up an open set of talons and thrust it over the railing a few times as he spoke, “nonono no. I was only saying 'no surprises' not calling you. Sorry.”

The Gryphon’s words deflated the poor mare, and she shrank to the ground with her ears down.

“Ahem, as I was saying, n– Hard Candy and Zepp.”

The crowd stamped, cheered, and whistled as Hard Candy joined Zepp on the balcony. They exchanged a nod and took their places overlooking the crowd. The announcer placed the crowns on their heads then backed away from the mic and into obscurity. I blew two, short whistles as the stamping faded.

“Thank you, for your votes and your trust,” said Candy.

“There is no greater honour than to be chosen to lead by leaders,” said Zepp. “I– We cherish your confidence. Now it may be hard to believe, but Candy and I actually predicted this outcome.”

Laughs.

“Not that there aren't other great candidates who deserve praise and consolation. And it is to that effect that we arranged something for everyone to enjoy.” Candy pointed a hoof in our direction, and I departed for the wall near the stairwell. “We present Serene and Bitter Shores.”

As I waded through the crowd I heard a familiar, guttural voice say, “Losers deserve no consolation.”

“Please clear the dance floor,” said Zepp.

Moments drifted by like the crowd's murmurs. The crowd gravitated to the edges of the room. I stood on my hindlegs and leaned back against the wall, ensuring myself a clear view over their heads.

The sisters took positions on adjacent sides of the pool. Its cover hummed as it parted down the middle and retracted into either side of the floor. Serene stared at her feet as she wiggled out of her hooded robe. The pool of water on her flank mirrored the one on her sister's, save that Serene's had three water drops where Bitter's sported a trio of sharp spires.

The room's life drained away to make room for curious anticipation. The sound of the two, blue Earth Ponies taking a single breath filled the entire room. Bitter leapt high, twisted, and passed through the water's surface as if it were air. Serene scooted straight out, and for a moment– even as she ebbed with the ripple from her sister's dive– it seemed that she would glide across the width of the pool. But she tipped forward and sank.

Bitter shot out and over the water like a dolphin. And Serene emerged from the veil of the water's surface. They turned towards one end of the pool then performed aquabatic movements– side by side and often in mirror of each other. They kicked off the wall and swam back down the length of the pool; Serene swam straight and Bitter in a serpentine pattern. Their speed and grace was awarded applause.

Bitter reached the wall and vanished beneath the water. Serene flipped, kicked, and was lifted above the water by her sister. Serene posed just like a large, fountain statue we'd seen (only she wasn't in pieces). They drifted a while then wheeled into each other's positions. They went on like that to the other end of the pool; posing and carrying, carrying and posing, and back again with added intensity. As they neared the edge, they dived deep. Then the sisters erupted from the water and onto the floor.

The crowd stamped, and someone started a short-lived chant of, “Encore.”

In the excitement, I had forgotten to review the recordings on my PipBuck's hoof-drive. I found the file folder and earblooms easily enough, but not the video. After scouring the green menus, I uncovered a couple of ''NEW'' notes and scratched my mane.

“Wow, thank you,” Bitter gushed. “But that's our longest routine. The rest are much shorter because, well, radiation.”

I noticed Serene had already slinked away, as had her robe.

*Awww* went the crowd.

“Oh.” Bitter shook and tapped the side of her crown against a hoof. “I could do a dive though.”

“Whoa, is that really safe?” asked the announcer.

“From that balcony?” Bitter waved off any doubt with a hoof. “No problem. In fact, you should install a diving board; it's the ideal height for beginners.” She ambled towards the stairs and chuckled as the crowd made way for her.

I rushed to find what information, if any, incriminated Sweetgum. One note read, ''You see a stallion enter the medical storage and retrieve an orb from the cooler.'' I read it again, and once more.

“What?” I let out. “No I don't.”

“Booster, what did you find?” Bitter asked. She froze with her foot on the stairs and her head cocked.

I looked up from my PipBuck. “I'm in need of a little more time, love.”

“Uh, okay, I'll think of something. But hurry.” She strolled up the stairs and addressed the crowd. “Okay, I'm just gonna do a practice dive first– nothing fancy– then I'll get back up here do a real one. That okay with everyone?”

“Woooo, yeah,” said a voice in the crowd. “You know it.”

I brought up the other note and read, ''The same stallion from before,'' I gave up before I even started to question that, ''exits the Stable door. He begins smearing the orb across the door, where you notice a lack of scratches.'' I did notice, somehow, and a message flared on my E.F.S.; it was far too dim to read.

*Splash* *Stamping*

I continued reading, ''After a few minutes, a large radscorpion appears and begins buzzing and vibrating its mandibles. The frightened stallion throws rocks at the creature before it corners and stings him. He throws the orb and the radscorpion chases after it. Soon after, the Stable door opens to reveal a young Sweetgum. She laments as he passes then removes his PipBuck and reenters the Stable.''

Another illegible E.F.S. message cluttered my peripheral and a new entry was added to my Quest Log. I read through the next file on my hoof-drive. It was a list of pipkeys, tags, and registration information.

“Booster,” Bitter said in a rising tone. Water ran from her mane and dripped off her chin.

“One second.” I checked the date on the ''video,'' the list of tags, and the current location. *Ping* My PipBuck labeled the tag as my current objective. A white triangle blinked onto the map practically on top of me. I looked up at the underside if the balcony. “Okay let's go.”

I didn't give her much time to respond as I raced up the stairwell. I exchanged looks with Posts Modern and realized I had a hoof in a pool of red paint. I stepped aside and wiped the red on my vest.

“Didn't we agree to just hoof me the stuff to give to Candy?” Bitter asked, as she hopped over the paint.

“I can't, really, there are... complications.” I nodded towards Candy. “Just send her this way.”

“Okay.” Bitter sauntered towards the edge of the balcony to address the crowd below, and Candy's ears twitched as she passed by. “Sorry for the wait,” Bitter said in a jovial tone. “I'll make it up to you.” She began to stretch, and whoever was in charge of the drumrolls saw fit to deliver one.

A white diamond drew closer as Candy did. “Make it quick,” she said.

“Does your PipBuck have data from the previous owner?” I asked, low and quickly.

“Well, they're built to store lifetimes of information but we usually wipe them before they're re-registered.” She rubbed her neck. “I mean, that data can be restored.”

“Aye, do that.”

“What? That takes time, and I wouldn't know what to look for.” She scratched a knee and glanced over the balcony. “I know a Pony, but they will still need to know what we're–”

I brought up my PipBuck to the far left of her face and tapped the screen. “That second file 'shows' what happened to the last owner of your PipBuck. We just need their Quest Log for that day.”

Her eyes drifted from the drive to her PipBuck then over the balcony again. “Fine, let's move quickly.”

“Not a problem.”

I got down the stairs, waited for Candy, and then let her lead the way. *Ker-Sploosh* I blew a whistle over the crowd as they stamped. Soon after, we came upon Olive and Bubble.

“... see, because I always know what is ready to pop,” Bubble said with a smarmy smile.

“Uh, ya sure it's not just 'cuz you're... pink and named Bubble Gum?” Olive asked, swaying to and fro.

Bubble rolled her eyes, and they fell on Candy. “Oh. Congratulations, cousin,” she said. “Though I voted for myself. Love the crown; looks good on you.”

“Bubble do you have your tools?” Candy asked.

“Of course, cousin.” Her left brow disappeared farther behind her bangs. “One never knows when there might be a big scoop.”

“I need you to take my PipBuck and restore the data of the previous owners. And I need it done now.”

“Excuse you.” She scoffed. “That could take hours. None of the empty memory is labeled–”

A blue light spilled from Bubble's saddlebag and a slim box flew out of it. The box opened, and a peculiar set of keys floated into the air then began lodging themselves in Candy's PipBuck. “Bubble, this may be the biggest story in the history of the Stable and you will hate it. I need you to do this.”

“What a performance,” said the announcer; his voice betrayed fatigue. “Let's give it up for our considerate Homecoming Queen and King, especially since it's time for their dance.”

“Here,” Candy forced her PipBuck into her cousin's hooves. “Booster can help.” She turned towards the pool, which was converting back into a dance floor. “Try not to hate him.”

“Oi, Candy.” I said, as I drew close and placed a hoof on her shoulder. “I'm sorry things turned out this way. I'd have been more than happy to find out I was completely mistaken. I hope I am still.”

“It's okay. I've prepared for the worst outcome.” She forced a weak smile, and walked away.

“Where is she?” asked the announcer, and murmurs rose over the soft hum of the dance floor. “Oh, there she is. Ahead of the curve, as always. Get down there, Zepp, you lucky rascal.”

“Alright then,” Bubble said before she turned to face me. “What can you tell me that might expedite this process by approximately... the entire runtime?”

I explained the situation as best I could without telling Bubble it concerned her grandmother and multiple counts of murder. She would find out herself, and I didn't see much sense in giving her such a distraction. Armed with a date and surprising knowledge of spell matrixes, she managed to narrow her search and reduce her projected runtime to seven minutes. Bitter and Serene found their way to us, and I explained the situation to them in greater detail.

Then the Unicorn reappeared to speak to me about my vote. He was followed by a Pegasus with similar intentions. My PipBuck pinged me about an optional quest for the councilors, which I ignored. As far as I was concerned, every quest was optional.

“W-What is this?” Bubble asked. But I was preoccupied.

“Oi, Bits, please get rid of these politicians,” I said, and then addressed Bubble. “BG, I know this–”

“Sucks totes fierce?” Candy's PipBuck rattled in Bubble's pulsating, red light. She turned her nose up to the ceiling and clenched every muscle in her face. “I love my grandmother.” She went slack onto her haunches, and then met my gaze. “I love grandmother. But all those scouts– a few of which I called friends. They had family too.”

“Uh,” I scratched my mane, “yeah. If you'd rather wait–”

“No.” She perked her ears, and the rest of her followed. “Something like this... the populace needs to know first and foremost. I'm sure Candy will agree.”

Candy and Zepp's dance ended and I blew two, short whistles. She made her way back to us and read her cousin's face. I offered to break the news to everyone but, to my relief, Candy insisted on delivering it herself. She read over the files then ambled up the stairwell. She was as prepared as she had claimed.

People seemed to think it was some kind of joke at first but, as Candy continued, their smiles became thin lines chipped into stony faces. Even the two politicians, whom Bitter had led into an argument with each other, were dead silent. Most curious of all was Sweetgum herself. Among the Councilors' table on the balcony adjacent to Candy, none were more stoic.

Sweetgum took full responsibility even though the Quest Log of Soft Heart, Candy and Bubble's grandfather, revealed she had only consented to the crime after the fact. My guess was she just didn't want him to die in vain. The Council was to determine her fate the following morning.

As Bubble turned over evidence to the Security Unicorn, the one Pony still smiling, I couldn't help but wonder what exactly PipBucks were programmed to record. It seemed silly to commit crime when your agenda was available at the turn of a dial. I became terribly conscious of the manacle on my cannon.

“So,” Bubble asked, “does the NCR wreck homes in the name of justice often?”

Despite everything, I laughed aloud. Then said, “They– We are absolutely notorious for it.”

________________________________________________▼▼▼________________________________________________

Although the Day of Sunshine and Rainbows was initially celebrated all across Equestria, the GoE permanently affected only 36% of the projected area. Today, Western Equestria remains largely unaffected by the presence of the NCR in general.

_________________▲________________________________________________________________▲_________________

Lights out in a metal box under a mountain of rock was as terrifying as I thought it'd be. I was lucky I had Bitter to console me, and apparently she had found the sprinkles interesting as well. There was a time, though, when we were reminded of something and our kisses grew salty with tears.

I had read over the Zepp's note, a list of actions I could call and their uses, several times but still had to take it out during the votes. Sweetgum's punishment was first on the agenda. The votes were so overwhelmingly in favor of retirement I simply withheld my own, as I would for many of the votes. Sweetgum accepted the punishment without question, and Security escorted her out of the room. Her PipBuck lay on a stool and was referred to for tallies, a first in their history. When it came time to vote on the next scout, I called for a...

“Pre– Uh, Pre-Pra...E– es, umpt I O?”

“A Pre-Praesumptio,” said a Zebra, as she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “Listen, I obviously know next to nothing about your politics– save for a song I heard yesterday. But I think I can say, with confidence, that no one trusts this next vote. Many of you have tried to manipulate the situation, and now there isn't a neutral party in power. Well, I'm sure you know how important it is that a decision is reached today.”

“If you can grasp that little, stop explaining and make your amendment,” said a scowling Earth Pony. “We all know the purpose of a Pre-Praesumptio.” He snorted.

“Aye, alright. Every candidate leaves.” Sighs, scoffs, and snorts abounded. I raised a hoof to silence them, but to little effect. “Make it a race, first one back becomes Overmare or stallion.”

“And what's to stop them from arriving at the same time or just camping outside the gate?”

Speed is distance over time, and a race is a contest of speed so... “Take distance into account.”

“That's stupid.”

“But it could work,” said a Gryphon. “Or better yet, we can have them travel as a group then vote amongst themselves when and if they get back. They can otherwise conform to all the scouting norms.”

There were several nods and a few mutterings, mostly of approval.

“So, who should we hold on trail for the four counts of murder tomorrow?” asked a Unicorn.

“Okay, this has been bothering me,” I said. “Why doesn't your security just go shoot the scorpions?”

“It's out of our jurisdiction,” a striped guard said without pause nor inflection.

“Aye... Why don't ya extend their jurisdiction?”

Somepony groaned.

“Our jurisdiction is set by Stable-Tec and their guidelines, not by Overmares.”

“Of course we could just leave the door open and kill them as they enter,” said a Pegasus.

An elderly Unicorn huffed at that statement. “We tried that, and those damned creatures returned,” he said. “Unlike Dew Process. I only hope she ran and never looked back. Better a deserter than a pile of arachnid feces.”

“I can get rid of the radscorpions, permanently,” I said. “I just need access to a lab and chemicals.”

“Hmm, you did make it past them once– just barely– and you uncovered what attracted them in the first place,” said the Gryphon from before. “Is that all you're suggesting? What chemicals and how many?”

“Pretty much. Nothing hazardous. And within reason.”

She rapped a talon against the underside of her beak. “Then I vote in favour.”

After more arguing and a musical number, enough ''ayes'' followed to grant my amendment. They gave me access to a lab under the condition that I was constantly supervised, and I welcomed the help. Together with the Zebra doctor, an Anesthesiologist, we managed to develop a repellent and something of a chem. Both relied heavily on pheromones from the gland and, hopefully, one of them would work.

Bitter convinced them to allow us our weapons and equipment. We were gearing up for our field test/escape when I let out a sigh that awarded me my gang's attention.

“What's wrong, big guy?” Olive asked, as he levitated us our confiscated items.

“It's just, well, this place is safe,” I said, and scratched around my PipBuck. “And despite recent events, they've been pretty hospitable.”

“You want to stay?” Bitter asked with raised brows.

“He wants to know if we want to stay,” Serene answered for me. She patted my shoulder. “They only kinda like us because we're novelties, something they haven't seen. We stay for a week and they'll get tired of us, especially when they find out we don't have anything to offer their society. Besides, it doesn't make sense for our NCR story. Come on, Booster,” her hoof slid off its perch then kicked me level in the chest on its way to the ground, “this isn't like you. Why do think we're still in this gang?”

“Because...”

“Because we like being Wasters. If we didn't, we would've settled somewhere years ago like the others. But we stuck it out with you, a Road-Given from birth, because that's the only kind of company we need.” She mocked a punch across my chin. “Let's go home.”

Once outside, if a cave counts as outside, I took out the vials of repellant and got to work. We ambled towards the cave entrance with our teeth bared. We stopped every six paces or so, and I'd empty a vial on a rock or in a crook. The sun was a welcome sight, but it put a weight on my eyelids as we stepped out of the cave. Heat beat down on my withers, and radiated off black chitin.

“Damn!” Bitter cried. “I owe OJ twenty caps.”

*CHEEETL* The giant radscorpion was scarred, but stood triumphantly midst strewn bits of insect.

“Everypony stand back,” I said, and threw a vial at the arachnid's center mass. It fell a bit short, but shattered all the same against the dry clay. The giant radscorpion froze for a few seconds, and began a disoriented backwards retreat. It stopped at the crest of the slope and scuttled sideways to the ledge.

“How does that stuff work?” Olive asked, as he collected from Bitter and Serene.

I rubbed my eyes. “Old fashioned sensory overload.”

“Well, do you have enough to get us to Redstring?” asked Serene.

“Uh.” The mass of black chitin watched from the ledge like a multi-eyed hawk. Though the repellent proved effective, it had a limited area of effect due to the bonding agents used to keep it from washing away. “The simple answer would be no.”

Olive's lever-action shotgun glowed orange.

“Oi, don't waste your ammo,” I said, and took out a vial of the other concoction. “Let me try this out first.” We moved cautiously fast up the slope, and the radscorpion rotated just as quickly. I passed the vial to Serene and pointed to a small boulder jutting from the ground. “Aim for that piece of granite.”

She placed the vial on her upturned hoof, pulled it close to her shoulder, spun, and pushed out. The vial soared like a dart at the rock and burst into glitter just left and low of center. The arachnid took immediate notice, flinching then vibrating curiously. It scuttled to and over the rock as if it intended to pull it from the ground. It vibe-scuttled in circles around the rock then towards us.

My muscles tensed and my legs threw me back a meter behind my friends. The arachnid unfurled a meter from their hooves; beige puffs of dust escaped between its mess of appendages.

I held my chest, to bar my heart from leaving it, and let out, “What the fuck just happened?”

“Isn't that my line?” Olive asked. He waved a hoof about my vial pocket. “What's that supposed to be?”

“A sedative, mostly, with a caffeine substitute and an anticonvulsant. The whole mix was supposed to make it drowsy and experience mild euphoria. Then make it excitable but inhibit its movement.” I ventured forward a meter. “The plan was to lead it away at a brisk pace.”

The radscorpion was flat as a rug.

“I don't think it works. Remind me to remind you not to mess with the crazy shit they got in Stables.”

“Oi, this stuff's almost completely natural; seventy percent pheromones and ten percent tea leaves. Somehow, the latter stage ingredients activated first. That would explain that... seizure.” I scratched my chin. “Those cAMP levels must be through the roof; leaving the metabolism to-” I sighed. “This has Zebra magic written all over it.”

Bitter spat her pistol into her holster and asked, “Is it dead?”

“No, it's high as Cloudsdale– having some kind of hallucinogenic episode. I can't say why for sure, but my best guess is DPE inhibition followed by a mess of chlorination.” I waved a hoof in its line of sight. Then threw a pebble at it. A few moments later it made an effort to lift its pincers– we recoiled– but hardly moved them a few centimeters. I brushed absent dust off my vest. “Let's move.”

It took about ten minutes to get oriented and back on our way. In another ten minutes, we would be nearing one of my favourite billboards. After that were miles of road– empty but for a few gas stations, which were best avoided. Beyond that were temporary encampments, which were sometimes best avoided. And then Redstring. The mining town was in the Sun's glare, but by twilight we would see her lights when at the crest of hills. I was more than excited; I was longing to see it all again.

As we approached the last and smallest mountain in the the range, Olive spotted a light in a cave and suggested we check it out. We had chuckle at that and kept walking. We passed by the range, and were greeted by a warm breeze with the faintest hint of the sea.

“Wait,” Olive said. He sucked in air for a full second. “That breeze.” He inhaled again. “How's that fresh, San Palomino air?”

I closed my eyes, breathed, and said, “Dry and just a bit acrid.”

We laughed. Then Serene sighed and looked back to where the world's shadow loomed.

“We should at least send Candy a message or something,” Serene said as she let down her hood. “Sorry, we aren't coming back. Hope you understand. P.S. Let your Stable think the NCR are liars or thieves.”

“I'm sure she's realized by now, but maybe we can find a cheap courier somewhere.” I flicked open my PipBuck. An electronic whine reached a zenith then stopped. BASS exploded from it. “Gah!” I tapped the screen until it stopped then turned to the others. “I never was too–”

*CLICK* *CLACK* *whistle* Whatever that floating, golden contraption pressed against my nose was– it shot lead.

“Hiya! You can drop your weapons and valuables now.”

================

Footnote: You're still alive!

Quest Perk Added: Artificial Organ (Liver) – Grants 50% poison resistance, and -1 CHA for attacks against the Soul. For better or worse, you gain immunity to conventional ingested chems. At least you're not losing a drinking contest anytime soon.