Fallout: Equestria - Frozen Skies

by Relentless

Rating: mature
Tags: Adventure, Crossover, Fallout, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe, Original Character
Length: 230792

Two stranded Enclave pegasi need to find a way to survive in Equestria's frozen North, with ponies, circumstances, and the very environment very much set against them.

Just over two centuries ago, the climax of the Great War unleashed the terrible potential of pony kind, bringing forth the ruination of all. Balefire scorched the land of Equestria, and in one fiery instant the bones and hopes of a people mixed with ash and radiation of the newly created wasteland. A calmness swept the land.

Yet it was not to last. In the sky, the shattered remnants of pegasi civilization survived by isolating their cities behind veils of clouds and blinding their people with lies about the surface world. Underground, thousands were spared the ravages of the apocalypse in shelters known as Stables. As the Stables opened and resources began to run short in the skies, ponies set out across the ruined land once again. And war, war followed in their wake.

It did not take long for stories to abound of an area deep in the northern mountains, unscathed by the holocaust that consumed the world. Yet this land was not without scars of its own, dark secrets buried beneath the snow waiting to be unearthed. Remnants of a bygone age.

Set in Kkat's wonderful world of Fallout: Equestria.
Cover art by Pantzar
Embedded art by PencilGuy
Edited by Belmor, Shady, and KylerAdams.
Past editors: PersonalGamer, Plain and Jetwave.

Published 2014-07-10 06:30:05 UTC
Last updated 2018-09-13 15:00:45 UTC

Prologue: Operation Everfree

Prologue: Operation Everfree

Orders:

Situation Enemy: Zebra forward reconnaissance elements have entered Falcon flight’s AO from the north, area grid 25 80 through 55 80, intent unknown. Suspected company strength.

Situation Friendly: Skyhawk flight will be operating parallel of our operation to the east, with Nocturne flight to our west. Radio silence is to be maintained between our respective flights for the duration of this operation.

Mission: Falcon flight will conduct a zone recce of grid 40 65 through 40 80 in order to determine the scale and intent of the incursion no later than 0600 hours today...

—Snap Roll’s Journal

*** *** ***

Luna’s faint light was all that illuminated my team as we quietly flew just above the forest canopy, a trio of winged black shapes against the night sky. The area was tropical with a thick canopy, and it was unlikely we would be spotted by anyone directly below us. Our proximity to the trees meant that any aerial observation or active sensors would have a difficult time picking us out of the backdrop of vegetation. The choice was deliberate – a textbook strategy to use against a ground-based enemy.

It was too dark to make out my team’s faces, though I didn’t need to see them to recognize the familiar silhouettes of my team flying in formation behind me. Nosedive was large for a pegasus, and he was my team’s heavy weapons specialist. The distinctive bulk of the plasma cannon resting on his battlesaddle helped pick him out of the starry sky. My other companion’s lithe form kept pace opposite him, and would have been difficult to spot had I not known she was there. Her name was Tailwind, and she was the technical specialist of my team.

The familiar weight of a night vision monocular covered my left eye, bathing the world in a soft green light. Over my right eye rested a sleek piece of pegasi engineering known as a tactical field display, or TFD for short. It served as a small screen that clipped back behind my right ear, with the computing capacity to provide a myriad of tactical uses; from navigation to communication and targeting, kind of like a pared down eyes-forward-sparkle, but without the added bonus of having automatic enemy identification. The thick foliage of the canopy obscured my view of the ground below, but I couldn’t help but find the scene eerily picturesque as the treetops flashed past us.

Consulting the map on my TFD, I saw that we were approaching the rendezvous point. Motioning to the two pegasi behind me, I gestured for them to hold up. They obeyed quietly and efficiently. With a quick set of hoof signals, I sent Nosedive to scout out the ground below us. He dove beneath the layer of leaves and branches with a dexterity one wouldn’t normally expect from a pony his size.

Moments later, we heard a pair of clicks over the radio, our squad’s nonverbal signal for “clear” or “acknowledged”. With another set of hoof signals, I told Tailwind to breach the canopy. She nodded, and we simultaneously dove for the ground. Landing in a low crouch on the forest floor, I was quiet enough to only be heard by my companions. Sparing a glance back, I found myself envious of Tailwind’s particular gift for stealth. Even I hadn’t heard her land, but there she was.

I could make out Nosedive braced against a nearby tree watching towards where we anticipated the zebra main force to be located. I made my way to his side, whispering almost in his ear “Status?” As I motioned Tailwind forward.

“No stripes in sight commander,” he whispered back, adding “Three clicks from the objective.”

Tailwind arrived silently by my side. My only hint of her presence was when her wingtip brushed against my flank. Turning to address her, I whispered “Tailwind, you take the rear while Nosedive takes point.”

I felt more than heard her nicker in my ear, “Rather forward today, aren’t we Chief? Most mares get me to at least buy them dinner first.”

I smiled, long used to her whimsical attitude. “Well, I’m not exactly ‘most mares’, am I?” I countered, knowing full well she understood me despite the banter. Turning back to the buck beside me, professionalism reasserted itself in my whispered voice. “Nosedive, lead us off.”

With a grunt of acknowledgement, the large buck started off in the direction of our objective. Tailwind and I fell in behind, establishing a spacing of about five paces between us as we moved through the thick foliage of the forest floor.

By the clock of my TFD, ten minutes had ticked by as we grew ever closer to the objective before Nosedive raised a foreleg. I copied the motion, looking back to make sure Tailwind had seen it as well. She raised her own foreleg in acknowledgement as she came to a halt and started scanning the surrounding area. Cantering up to Nosedive, I didn’t have to ask before he indicated the reason for our halt. A tripwire – hardly visible, even with the benefit of night vision – ran from a dead tree to a cluster of bushes at knee height.

“Work your magic, Nosedive.” I whispered, scanning the surrounding area as he nodded and began getting to work. I saw him peel back the bushes around where the wire originated.

Nosedive stiffened, whispering back “Cluster of grenades tied to the tripwire, set to blow.” Without waiting for a response, he got to work carefully disarming the deadly bouquet.

As Nosedive worked on disarming the grenades, my eyes continued scanning our surroundings. I was once again struck by the strange, alien beauty of this area. Trees thicker than the length of a pony grew out of the ground at irregular intervals. The ground was hard and felt strange against my hooves; accustomed as they were to the texture of the clouds I’d always called my home. The green tint of night vision made the already alien environment feel even stranger. The vines dangling from low-hanging tree limbs obscured my vision to a few dozen meters. The smell of the forest floor assailed my nostrils; rot, decay, moss, trees, grass and foliage… it was all so different from what I was used to. However, the aspect of the woods that made me feel the most alienated was the complete absence of sound; which struck me as odd, as the whole forest had been humming with the drone of insects and wildlife only moments before. Belatedly, I realized the implications as thoughts of remedial lectures on surface operations came to mind.

I clicked the radio once. Danger.

Nosedive and I slowly lowered ourselves to the ground, careful to avoid sudden movements in the low light. No sooner had we sank beneath the low foliage when we heard the distinctive sound of large gauge wheels crunching through underbrush. There was no sound of an engine, but I imagined it could very well be muffled by some form of arcane zebra talisman. I could make out more detail on the six-wheeled infantry fighting vehicle as it crunched its way within fifty meters of where we crouched. The wheels were evenly spaced along the boat-shaped hull, which angled sharply back towards a short turret positioned towards the rear of the vehicle. I could make out machine gun mounted on either side of the forward glacis plate, with a third mounted co-axially beside a long barreled autocannon fitted to the turret. Rounding out the nasty little IFV’s armament were a pack of two guided missile tubes affixed just behind the crew commander’s cupola.

The eerily quiet vehicle continued its slow route past. The only sounds I could make out were the crunch of underbrush and the slight whir as the turret traversed side to side, constantly searching for targets. When the vehicle at last disappeared from sight, I waited a minute... two minutes... three minutes, before I slowly rose from the foliage to check up on my team.

Nosedive was exactly where I’d left him. I’d known that he had been in the process of disarming the set of grenades when the IFV appeared. What I hadn’t known was that he had just disconnected the tripwire from the armed grenade pack when he halted where he was. For that entire encounter, Nosedive had held the arming spoon to the live grenade pack with his bare hooves. Looking behind me for Tailwind, I saw nothing – even with the night vision – until a wing appeared from a low-hanging tree limb, waving slowly but deliberately enough to get my attention.

Double click. All clear.

Tailwind materialized from the tree, hovering for a moment before touching down in front of me with a grin on her face. I turned back to Nosedive, who had already wrapped the grenade bouquet with a strip of duct tape to hold the trigger spoon in place. His only comment was a low grunt of satisfaction, though I could see a slight tremor in his hooves as he placed the grenades in his saddlebags. Noting the tremor, I whispered, “Nosedive, I’ll take point the rest of the way. Fall in.”

“Roger that, Snap.” He grumbled.

Taking point, I led us off in the direction of the objective. I watched for anything – moonlight reflected off metal, unusual movement in the quiet jungle, or any indication of traps like we'd just encountered – that might belie the presence of a sentry or patrol. The enemy was out there, and we had to find them before they found us. Unfortunately, that led to me neglecting to watch the ground immediately in front of me.

Unused to having to watch my hoofwork, I lost my balance as I hit a dirt slope hidden by the underbrush. I started sliding down the short slope, my hooves unable to find purchase. Glancing at where I was headed, I saw an equine shaped form wearing combat barding, but I could distinctly make out the white and black stripes of the enemy on his coat. Zebra. An assault rifle’s firing bit was clenched in his mouth, his eyes wide in surprise at a pegasus’ appearance out of what he no doubt considered a secure area. Unable to halt my descent, I flapped my wings to accelerate it, rocketing into the zebra’s side. The impact knocked us both to the dirt and underbrush.

A moment passed, no more than a pregnant instant, in which we realized that one of us wasn’t leaving this situation alive.

Unlucky for him, I reacted first. I used my mouth to draw my laser pistol from its holster on my foreleg, simultaneously pinning the zebra's rifle. I don’t know if it was out of instinct, training, or panic but the buck bit down hard on his weapon’s trigger, sending a burst of rounds hammering past me as I jammed my own weapon into his neck and tongued the firing bit. The bolt of magical energy caused a chain reaction, lethal energies burning through his body and rapidly reducing the zebra to a small pile of glowing pink dust.

I blinked away the sunspots on my vision caused by the muzzle flashes of the zebra’s rifle and the brilliance of his incineration. I heard shouting from further ahead in a language I didn’t understand, replying with a sustained burst of red beams towards the source. I then leapt into the air and flew straight back the way I’d come.

Nosedive saw me coming and I heard the heavy booming of his plasma cannon firing into the night, before he took to the skies and followed me. Finally, I heard Tailwind’s laser rifle pulse out a series of rapid shots before she took the rear of our group. On all our parts, instincts drilled into us through years of training kicked in.

Contact, unknown enemy strength. Disengage, then re-initiate contact.

Assembling briefly, I rapidly conferred orders to my team. “Tailwind, flank wide right. Encircle them, double-click when you’re set to re-engage. I’ll do the same on the left flank.” She nodded, cheerful banter from earlier nonexistent as she slipped into a combat mindset. “Nosedive, wait for us to engage from the flanks, before re-engaging from the front. I want them to start to shift focus on to us before you hit them again.”

“Roger that.” Through the green tint of night vision, I saw a slight shifting of shadows across his face. I knew he was smiling, no doubt looking forward to applying his plasma cannon to the problem. It’s how he was, always eager to fight.

I know I must have worn a wicked grin, myself. Nothing feels the same as combat. It makes the blood sing in my veins, it feels like flying at high speed through clear skies. I’m sure some ponies would be happy to live their lives in peace, the blissful existence of a sheltered life. I’d never really understood the appeal of that kind of life… Well, before everything, that is. At any rate, I was as glad as ever to have a team like them backing me up. “Through the storm…” I began, something of a minor ritual for us.

In unison, my comrades replied with eagerness, completing the ritual. “...and the smoke, to the clear skies beyond!”

We separated, Tailwind flying east as I flew west, keeping behind foliage to maintain the element of surprise. As the trees flashed by, I caught the occasional glimpse of muzzle flash in the darkness, all the more brilliant through the grainy green of the night vision sight. Their fire was in Nosedive’s general direction, but they seemed to think we were hunkered down near where they’d originally seen our energy fire.

Perfect.

I dropped a waypoint where I guessed the center of their line was, transmitting the data to Tailwind and Nosedive through our TFD’s.

The flaps of my wings were indiscernible over the gunfire, and I easily snuck past the edge of their line of fire. Peeking around a particularly large tree, I could make out a section of Zebras, spread out in a rough line and sticking to fireteams of two. They had taken up positions of cover, and were pouring what I could only describe as an enthusiastic amount of firepower downrange. They had a medium machinegun near the center of the line, hammering staccato bursts of fire in support of the rifle teams.

I settled in, training my reticle on one of the peripheral zebs, waiting for Tailwind to be ready on her end. I almost needn’t have waited.

Double-click.

I exploded into action, tonguing the firing bit of my pistol as fast as I could – double, triple, quad-tapping the unlucky bastard in my sights. He didn’t “flash,” the term we use for what happened to the first buck I’d encountered, but he dropped like a sack of cloud-apples. The brilliant red lasers must have done horrendous damage to his insides, but I wasn’t sticking around to find out. I was already in motion by the time his partner responded. Solid rounds tore into the tree I’d taken shelter in not a second before, sending splinters flying. I flew in a wide arc around the rear of their formation, taking positions almost at random to send bursts of laser beams into their increasingly disoriented group.

I could hear the sound of beam rifle fire coming from the opposite end of the line, the harsh cracks barely audible over the more substantial bang of the zebra’s bullets. Sparing a glance towards where Tailwind had to be, I saw that she was making quite the light show on her end. Brilliant orange beams lanced into the vulnerable rear of their formation, doing damage but more importantly causing confusion amongst what had until seconds before been a disciplined firing line. The bursts of tracer fire that responded to her attack were sporadic and uncoordinated, often firing at the dancing shadows of their own muzzle flash in the treetops.

Their response was confused, to say the least. While most of the zebs had continued to shoot towards Nosedive, some had turned to deal with us. With commendable speed, one of the groups to turn on Tailwind and I was the machinegun crew. They managed to reset their position, even getting the gun propped up to fire at our aerial forms. I saw the gunner lying on his back, steadying the weapon’s bipod with his hind legs in preparation to shoot for Tailwind or myself the next time either of us fired. They were good.

But we had a plasma cannon.

Nosedive had obviously laid the MG position in his sights well in advance, simply waiting for them to stop firing. He struck true with his first plasma blast, vaporizing the unfortunate pair (and their gun) in an explosion of savage magical energy.

The blast broke their formation. I couldn’t understand their foreign, zebra tongue; but panicked shouts for orders are practically a universal language. We’d taken down less than a quarter of their troops, and they were in complete chaos. We didn’t let up. At some point in the fight, Tailwind and I met up, picking targets and watching each other's backs. Short minutes later, it was over. Silence reigned… or, it nearly did.

My ears twitched. Somepony– no, some Zebra was speaking. I flew to where the sound was coming from, finding a last survivor huddled a couple dozen paces behind where their line had been set up. He was frantically muttering into a radio.

Skies damn it all.

I snap fired, my shot burning through the guts of the radio. He dropped it, scurrying back against a tree root in fear. He’d lost – or dropped – his rifle at some point. I was pissed, and not about to leave him to report more than what he already had. One final beam pulsed out in the night, just as the sounds of the forest had begun to return.

I spoke quietly into my TFD’s mic, and it automatically converted my voice to text, sending the message to my team’s TFD’s. It was a handy function to be able to still communicate under what was still technically radio silence. “Pull back to Nosedive’s position, treetop height. Orders to follow.”

A pair of double-clicks over the radio were the response.

I breached the canopy and quickly checked for any contacts above the treetops. Mercifully, there was nothing. I spat my laser pistol back into its holster on my right foreleg, turning to see Nosedive and Tailwind already waiting. I didn’t preamble. “Our cover’s blown; we need to get back to friendly lines with what info we have.”

Nosedive was the first to respond, “Snap, what about the mission? You’re not just going to–“

“I am!” I snapped, “The safety of this team is my primary concern. They know we’re here, and we’re pulling out, now!”

Through the green tint of night vision, I saw Tailwind open her mouth to respond when there was a muted crack from the direction we’d come from. Wetness splashed my face as her mane parted around the hole that had just appeared between her eyes. She wore a confused expression for a moment before her wings simply stopped flapping and she fell towards the ground.

Tailwind!

I dove as her body fell through the canopy. Dimly, I heard Nosedive’s shout of “Sniper,” though my concentration was entirely on the mare in front of me as I sped towards her falling body.

No, no no no no NO!

I almost caught her. I also never saw the missile as it slammed into the tree beside us. Blinding light and a wall of pain hit me, throwing me through the air. The night vision monocular was ripped from my head and my TFD’s screen was shattered. Foliage burned freely, green wood producing steadily growing pillars of smoke into the night. My body refused to obey my attempts to stand.

Possible spinal injury, probable broken bones and internal bleeding… And that’s just from what I can still feel. Shit.

Tailwind’s body had fallen a few meters from me in front of the burning tree. I desperately wanted her to respond or to give any sign of life. Her dead eyes stared back, unblinking. Lit by firelight, her ruined features accused me.

Is this what you wanted? Is this why you enlisted? Failure!

I heard the sound of underbrush crushed beneath large gauge tires, and knew what had hit me. The zebra IFV rolled into my field of view. One guided missile tube was smoking and empty. The turret rotated as the guns aimed high as the chassis would allow. Firing repeatedly, the autocannon tore holes in the canopy as the co-ax came to life beside it. Muzzle flash lit the forest with stuttering strobes of light, making shadows dance among the trees.

The armoured vehicle’s fire was returned in kind. Nosedive’s first plasma projectile found its mark in the frontal armour of the turret, slagging the cannon in a devastating green explosion. The vehicle reversed hard, wheels digging deep into the soft jungle earth.

Not fast enough.

The second plasma blast found the thin seal between the turret and hull. There was a muted flash as the projectile burned through the seal. Deadly energies cascaded through the interior of the vehicle. Green flames burst from every vent, viewport and crew hatch as the IFV ground to a halt and began to burn from the inside.

A terrible way to die, for anypony… Yeah, even a zebra.

The driver’s hatch was kicked open and the zebra inside screamed as he fled the vehicle. He fell to the ground and he rolled as he tried to extinguish his burning coat. A black blur tore through the canopy, landing on the zebra’s prone form, hooves first. There was a sickening crunch, and the screaming stopped.

Nosedive steadied himself against the burning IFV, the firelight catching the yellow highlights in his otherwise dark olive mane as he looked around. He frantically shouted, “Commander! Snap, where are you?!”

I tried to respond, but the only noise my throat was willing to produce was an inarticulate gurgle. He didn’t hear me.

Nosedive turned, firing another tightly contained ball of magical energy towards something out of my field of view. Return fire forced him to duck back behind the IFV’s hull, bullets spanging off of the armour plating. Reaching into his saddlebags, he pulled out the grenade bouquet from earlier. He hastily unwrapped the duct tape as return fire increased in intensity. I heard a small ping, and he hoofed the bundle with all his might into the distance.

The explosion was enough to noticeably rock the IFV on its suspension. Though I couldn’t see what he threw the grenades at, I wouldn’t have wanted to be on the receiving end of that much explosive. When he didn’t draw fire by exposing himself beside the IFV, Nosedive turned back to searching for me. “Snap Roll! Answer me!”

Again I tried to respond, only managing to send myself into a coughing fit. My mouth tasted of copper and saw glistening wet on the leaves in front of my face.

Definitely internal bleeding.

Nosedive heard the coughing fit, and I saw relief show itself on his face as he quickly cantered over to me. I saw that relief die in his eyes as he saw the state I was in, as well as Tailwind’s corpse. “It’ll be ok, Snap. Just stay awake, you hear me? Don’t fall asleep!”

I was supposed to be the medical pony of this team…

As he checked me over, I started finding it hard to concentrate on the moment. I knew I was rapidly going into shock. As he ran firm but gentle hooves over my coat in search of injuries, I found my gaze wandering to the trees above, more specifically the canopy separating me from the night sky. The leaves continued swaying gently with what little breeze managed to pierce this low, and were lit from below by the ongoing fires. One section seemed to sway separate from the rest, as though–

Oh no.

I tried to warn Nosedive, only managing to wrack my heavily injured body with another coughing fit. He leaned in, and said “Snap, what’s wrong?” as a thin wire, barely even catching the light of the fires, slipped around his neck and pulled taught. Nosedive’s eyes bulged behind his visor, and he kicked back while flapping his wings, driving both him and his assailant back towards the burning IFV.

I realized then why the zebra had managed to approach so stealthily. He wore shifting, seemingly colourless cloak that, instead of catching light, seemed to blur and shift it around his body. Had he not been moving, he would be near invisible. He also had a long, scoped rifle slung across his back. I can’t imagine it provided much cushion as the large pegasus slammed him into the IFV’s hull.

They continued to tussle, the zebra apparently unfazed by the impact as he clung to the garrote around Nosedive’s neck. Nosedive struggled, bucked, and continued to slam the zebra into the hull, but I could tell he was tiring. Gradually, the struggles slowed and became clumsy. With one final slam backwards, Nosedive collapsed to the ground and the zebra rode him down. He dropped the garotte, wrapping his forehooves around Nosedive’s neck. I heard a sharp snapping sound, and my friend went limp.

Getting up, the zebra walked slowly towards me. I simply glared at him. When he was a couple paces from me, he unlimbered the long rifle from his back. He stood up on his hind legs and held the rifle in his forelegs – a classic zebra shooting stance – as he aimed the rifle at my face. In the dancing light of the fire, I thought I could discern the barest hint of a smile on his foreign features.

No words were exchanged. None needed to be. As I stared down the bore of the sniper rifle, I spat blood at his hooves. as much of a show of defiance as I could muster. He pulled the trigger. There was a muted flash and a ‘phut’ noise. An indescribable pain engulfed my forehead an instant before the world disintegrated before my eyes.

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Author's Note

Hello! I'm Relentless, and this is the start of Fallout: Equestria - Frozen Skies.

This chapter may seem a little jarring, I promise it'll make sense. It is, incidentally, a bit of an homage to Operation Anchorage. I consider the first three chapters to be something of an "intro sequence," to use a not entirely fitting phrase, which is why I uploaded them simultaneously. Future chapters will be individual, and as they are completed. At one point, these were formatted into one massive chapter... which proved to be unwieldly, and stepped on my own toes as much as it simplified things.

Thanks to Kkat for laying the wonderful, wasteland foundations upon which we can play, the world of Fallout: Equestria.

Please, enjoy the ride (and don't be afraid to critique my work, heaven knows I need it. I haven't written anything like this in hella fortnight [read: ever]).

Chapter 01: The Grand Pegasus Enclave

Chapter One: The Grand Pegasus Enclave

Skies above, were those really the last notes I took in this old notebook? It feels like… well, it sure doesn’t feel like a week ago, at any rate.

It occurs to me that I don't have a complete understanding of my desire to write this account. The notion of writing this out of a sense of posterity is appealing... You know, that should the worst happen, there would at least be somepony who knew our story. But that just doesn’t seem entirely right to me. Perhaps this comes from a desire to atone for those I’ve hurt, especially those closest to me... Then again, perhaps it is merely an effort to get my own thoughts on paper.

The other question is whom I intend to be the readers of this account. It would probably be fitting for this to be found in some drawer or another by a scavenger. More immediately, the notion of Enclave Intelligence getting their hooves on this would be rather... Unfortunate. Though were that the case, they’d damn well have to come down here to get it.

Regardless, if I’m to tell this story, context is needed. The context of who I was before coming to the wasteland. I guess I should start by introducing myself and the world I came from. Words alone cannot do it justice, but words will, I suppose, have to suffice.

“I am a pegasus.”

Those words have shaped my life up ‘til now. I could mention my cobalt blue coat, my crimson mane that fades to white at the tips; even the violet eyes I inherited from my mother, or my cutiemark – a shooting star, having just impacted a cloud... but as far as knowing what makes me distinct down here, you really don't need to know more than that: I am a pegasus. I'd lived among my own kind, having only met a couple of the unicorns that live above the clouds in my twenty three years of life. I'd never met an earth pony, griffon, or any of the other myriad of beings living in the wasteland below.

As for the world I come from... imagine a world far above the ground you now tread, above the danger, the deprivation, the violence of the Wasteland. Imagine a world governed by adherence to rules laid down generations before you were even born. It almost seems surreal now, looking back on it all. A world built on a foundation of clouds, sustained by ignorance, and protected by the last remnants of real military might in Equestria. It all seemed so permanent back then...

—Snap Roll’s Journal

*** *** ***

I awoke, coughing up a stream of clear fluid as my head broke the surface of a rapidly draining pod. Roughly egg-shaped and made of an amalgamation of glass and intricate arcane technological wiring, the pod itself was substantial enough to hold a large pony. The fluid that was presently draining was a specially designed oxygenated fluid that filled the pod while the user was put under induced unconsciousness. It tasted like nothing at all at first, but like mucous coming back up – a most unpleasant experience. Carefully removing and setting aside the gem encrusted helmet I’d been wearing, I half-stepped, half-flopped onto the cloud floor next to the pod.

The virtual interface program I’d been immersed in was one of the many marvels of arcane technological advancement made during the Great War. Using the same technology and magic behind the memory orbs that I’ve been told unicorns use, devices which were essentially memory simulators had been created – at the request of the Ministry of Awesome, naturally. Designed to introduce soldiers to combat in a controlled environment with safeguards in place to prevent tangible injury to the user, the VI programs hadn’t seen much in the way of updates or improvements since research had halted with the end of the world, so to speak. Despite the safeguards however, the vividness of the experience is still more than enough to… occasionally leave psychological trauma. A splitting headache of phantom pain was a reminder of the final events of the simulation run I’d violently departed from.

The pony I found myself face-to-face (well, face-to-hooves, considering my less than graceful exit of the pod) exploded in a torrent of anger that was only fully attainable by Drill Sergeants, and the drawl in his voice told me exactly which pony it was, too. “Flight Commander Snap Roll, what in the sky loving fuck are you doing on the floor of my VI chamber?!”

With a hasty flap of wings, I threw myself from my spot on the floor to my hooves, standing stiffly at attention despite the VI fluid still dripping off of me and through the cloud floor. I shouted back, “Won’t happen again, Sergeant!”

The older buck was standing immediately in front of me, his uniform impeccable. Obedience kept my eyes glued directly ahead, staring at the chest of the taller pegasus. My gaze settled on the surface combat medal adorning his breast as his tirade continued. I clenched my teeth, having been verbally jacked up enough times to know not to try and get out of what was coming. It was just going to happen.

“Based on your track record, I wouldn’t count on it!” The Sergeant paused for a moment – just enough for me to begin opening my mouth to respond, when he continued, deliberately cutting me off. “But more importantly, what the fuck was that in there?”

I shouted back, knowing that he’d pounce on any sign of weakness. “Sergeant, my team had a chance close contact, with further hostiles deeper in the woods! In response, we broke contact before re-engaging-”

He cut me off again, “Not what I’m referring to, Flight Commander. Who gave you the right to make the call you did? I know it damn well wasn’t myself, so who was it?”

“Sergeant, with so little information about the area and an alert enemy, preserving the integrity of my team was paramount. I made the call to scrub the mission, Sergeant!”

“That call was not yours to make!” Flecks of spittle flew into my face as the old buck maintained his trademark level of anger. My eyes remained glued on the spot he’d inhabited as he began to pace back in forth in front of me. I couldn’t see it from my perspective, but I knew the look he had in his eyes. It was the same look that intimidated recruits and vets alike when he chose to turn it on. “That mission was of critical importance, and you abandoned it!”

Critical importance? Would we have even cared if some small town called “Ponyville” got hit by a surprise Zebra attack two hundred years ago? And on that note, why are we even training to fight in the Everfree Forest to begin with?

I kept my thoughts to myself, instead replying with logic. “The mission was already a failure, Sergeant! The Zebras had been alerted to our presence, and would be responding to our movements. My goal was to keep my troops alive for the next mission!”

I didn’t address the fact that the Opposing Force had a sniper specialist on site in under ten minutes from their section detecting us. If such an asset was available to regular Zebra forces, I expect we would have done significantly worse during the Great War than we had. Notionally, that was what we had been facing in that fictional scenario – A standard, frontline Zebra Legion, that is. Historically, the Zebras never set foot anywhere near the Everfree Forest, but it was a contingency operation that was programmed into the system when it was a theoretical possibility. That’s how old the scenarios on our system were. Like I said, no updates in two hundred years.

The drill sergeant scowled at me, his tone calmer but still angry. He switched tactics. “What would Havoc have thought of this?” I didn’t break my stance at attention, but I’m sure he saw the anger in my eyes. I bit my cheek to keep from saying something I’d regret. It would seem I wasn’t quite subtle enough, as he continued, his drawl remaining in full swing; “Hit a nerve, did I? Good. I served with him for many good years before he died, and he never showed the same...” He trailed off, seemingly looking for the right word. “Selfish streak you’ve been showing.”

I tasted copper, and realized I’d drawn blood from my cheek at the “selfish” comment. He wasn’t quite done yet.

“...Mission before self is our creed, our way of life!”

I get that he had every right to know the Enclave way of life - he’d fought for it, after all. But my family had served too, we had lost a father to it, with what to show for it? A pay out of his retirement fund, and a wall of “Classified - Need to Know Only” barring us from even knowing how he died. I damn well knew the cost of the “Enclave Way”, and he fucking knew it.

As it turned out, that last caveat was just enough to get me to open my skies-damned mouth. “Sergeant, goes to show that you can’t really know another pony’s family, can you?” I replied with the smooth tone one can only attain when willfully being insubordinate to a superior. I locked eyes with him, past the point of caring about the subtler points of military decorum.

He sputtered, wanting to interrupt me; saying something about having me up on charges. I didn’t care. Right then, I was angry enough to take those charges in exchange for what I had to say. “Your own son left you to be a dashite and killed his squad in the process. Don’t bring my father into this when you have Calamity behind you!” I continued, adding in the “Sergeant,” almost as an afterthought. Anger had brought out a dangerously rebellious side of me.

He glared at me. I hadn’t won the argument, and I almost certainly had repercussions coming for that last comment, but it had given him enough pause to back off. Whatever he was thinking, he kept it to himself. “Dismissed.”

*** *** ***

Warm water cascaded over my head and shoulders as I gently caressed the small cloud hovering over me into producing moderately warm rainwater. The feeling was positively exquisite as I simply stood there, closed my eyes and let the stream of warm water wash away the VI fluid and sweat matting down my coat and mane from the long day of simulator work.

The shower facility was a short trot from the VI chambers, and was one of many rooms formed of the same clouds that constituted most pegasi architecture. A series of smaller clouds formed naturally in the room, hovering slightly above head height. Unlike the civilian shower buildings, the Enclave military had opted for communal showers. Every choice the Enclave military made had a reason behind it, and the communal showers were no exception. The concept, we were told, was to remove the sexuality of seeing your comrades in such an intimate setting by exposing you to them on a regular basis. Most troopers considered the decision dubiously effective at best, but no pony argued.

My reverie was interrupted as the stream of water abruptly turned ice cold. I instinctively curled into a ball with a surprised squeak. I heard laughter, looking up to see Tailwind hopping up and down on the shower cloud as she giggled like a foal.

“Oh Chief, you should have seen your face! You make the cutest noises, you know.” Tailwind said, collapsing into fit of laughter as she came to rest on top of the small cloud.

“Not. Funny.” I replied, grimacing through clenched teeth. Flapping my wings against the flow of the water, I threw myself into an aerial flip, kicking out at the offending cloud with my hind legs as I passed. The cloud disintegrated with a soft “poof”, sending the laughing mare falling from her perch to land in the soft embrace of the cloud floor.

As her fit of laughter wound to an end, Tailwind fluttered back to her hooves. “Worth it,” she nickered, a cheeky grin dominating her features. She’d always had ways of making it impossible for me to stay angry with her.

I heard a second shower cloud start up, and I turned to see Nosedive scrubbing his mane under the flow of rainwater. The scrubbing caused the yellow streaks in his otherwise olive mane to shift and flow, in stark contrast to his onyx coat. The screaming eagle cutiemark on his flank stood out as always, talons outstretched as if it had just spotted something… well, tasty. He simply shook his head and smiled at our antics.

Finding a new shower cloud I gently caressed it into producing warm water, and started scrubbing out my own mane and coat. As I washed myself my eyes wandered, eventually settling on Tailwind. She had found her own shower cloud, and was letting the water cascade from her cream mane down her sky blue coat. Her cutiemark stood out against her slender frame, a black feather sending out gentle ripples as if it had just touched down on the surface of a pool of water. I realized I was staring as I eventually found my way back to her emerald eyes, glinting with mischief back at me.

“Like what you see, Chief?”

I held her gaze and adopted a cocky smile. “I think you already know the answer to that.”

“I’m right here, you two. Get a room.” Nosedive called from my opposite side.

“But we have one,” Tailwind replied smoothly, “Right next to yours.”

Glancing over my shoulder at Nosedive, I replied with a sultry smile and a purr in my voice, “Well it is our last night before our first real mission...” I let the implication sink in long enough for the poor buck to start looking rather uncomfortable, before adding, to Tailwind’s delight and Nosedive’s chagrin “...Which means this is the perfect night for a party!”

*** *** ***

We shot through the skies above the city of Neighvarro without a care in the world, the slate grey clouds that denoted the perimeter of the base flashing beneath us. We flew over the massive Raptor cloud-dock, where the colossal form of the Arcus rested against its moorings. The thunderheads providing lift for the hundred-and-eighty-six meter long vessel crackled idly with stored energy, restrained for the time being. Batteries of anti-air weaponry bristled across the vessel’s surface, overshadowed by the immense anti-dragon cannons mounted on swivel mounts pointed towards the fore. We couldn’t see it from above, but I knew there was also a battery of air-to-ground artillery mounted to the undercarriage. The myriad of rapid deployment hatches for armoured troopers and aerial vehicles such as the Skytank and Vertibuck were open wide, and pegasi clung to the vessel’s surface like one might have imagined the surface ponies clung to life on the poisoned ground.

Maintenance of the Raptor fleet was one of the highest priorities of the Enclave military: We only had so many, and we weren’t going to be making more anytime soon. They were, after all, what had given us the military might to win the pegasi-griffon war, ensuring the Enclave remained the sole curators of the skies. Though there wasn't exactly any danger of our ever so benevolent superiors letting us forget that, not with how often they reminded us.

The Arcus in particular was the Raptor we’d be launching from on our mission the next day, and its crew were going to be putting in a long night's work getting her ready to fly by morning. I didn't envy them. Before transferring to the recce trade, I'd been a part of a Skytank crew long enough to know how much maintenance goes into a ship of that size, and could hardly imagine the amount of work that went into keeping a Raptor in the sky. I didn't envy those with the "cushy" jobs on the Raptors one bit.

We quickly emerged from the grey-tinted clouds to the field of fresh, white cumulous clouds stretching to the horizon and beyond, further than the naked eye could see. The only points to break up the otherwise uniform cloud layer – aside from the cloud buildings of the city itself – were the impossibly tall, pointed towers of the Ministry of Arcane Science Emergency Broadcast System, or MASEBS for the non-eggheads among us. The broadcast system itself was, and always has been a sideshow for the towers’ true purpose. There were fifty two of them spread – not scattered, like it was tempting to believe – across Equestria. Using a combination of pegasus and unicorn magic, it was those towers that created the curtain of clouds spreading over the vast majority of Equestria and the surrounding lands. Each tower had observation devices built in, and though they had originally been intended to allow operators to view the weather status anywhere over Equestria, there was also the fact that they could easily be turned dirtside. Made having to recce the surface only truly needed when things weren’t visible to the towers, reducing the strain on our relatively limited numbers. The MASEBS towers were what made the Enclave viable, though exactly how they did what they did was considered privileged information. All we needed to know was that they were worth protecting with our very lives, and the hub they were controlled from was nestled right here in Neighvarro, protected by the full might of the Enclave military. Were anything to happen to it, or the towers linked to it, the Enclave might never recover. Though, to be honest, I would be more worried if there wasn’t proof that those towers were fully capable of withstanding a direct hit from a megaspell. Not a single one had fallen when balefire bombs rained from the sky, and if that doesn't speak to the durability of earth pony engineering, then nothing will. I might not have met them, but I could still respect their work.

Hundreds of meters below us, cloud farmers were wrapping up another long day of tending the cloud-apple orchards. And cloud-peaches, cloud-pears, cloud-lettuce, cloud-potatoes, cloud-you-name-it; we could grow it all in the clouds. It was how we survived where the surface did not – agriculture. Before the Great War’s end, a technique known as "cloud seeding" was invented, and incorporated into the clouds produced by the MASEBS towers. Oddly enough, the technique was pioneered by the Griffons, but was only capitalized on by the pegasi that would eventually form the Enclave. I’m a little fuzzy on the details, to be honest. Regardless, it allowed us to grow enough food to sustain ourselves, imposing a nigh impenetrable curtain of clouds over the land below.

Further out, near the horizon, I could see the weather monitoring pegasi beginning to call it a day and head back towards the city. While the towers managed to cover most of Equestria fairly thoroughly, it was still a standing job for pegasi to monitor and maintain the cloud cover, reinforcing any sections that end up thinning out, the skies above the Everfree Forest notwithstanding – that forest was untamed before the world went to balefire hell, and had only gotten wilder since. It had even spread to the local weather systems, making it nigh impossible to seal the skies over that particular forest. The winds themselves were wild there.

All across the Enclave, I could imagine similar scenes playing out; ponies worn out from long hours of flying gradually making their way home. Home to a meal of tasteless, cloud-grown produce they might well have helped farm with their own hooves and wings. If they were just a little bit lucky, they might have a foal to care for to take their mind off of how routine the days were. A foal. Singular. There is a population limit to consider, after all – When your entire society is internally self-sufficient, there isn’t much wiggle room with population.

But that wasn’t the only option in an Enclave pegasus’ life. The alternative to that bleak, repetitive existence was the Enclave military. You just had to tough out three years of military education, followed by three months of basic training, and you’d be set for all the benefits of military service – the incentive of having a permit to have an additional child was a big one, to be sure. A funded retirement policy, sparse as it was, was also guaranteed income after a pegasus’ enlistment contract had ended, not to mention the opportunity to be a part of Enclave politics – But it wasn’t exactly that easy. As one of the enlisted, one of thousands forming the bulk of our military, it was neither economical nor practical to take advantage of the incentive to have children. Senior officers and veterans were typically the only ponies to be in a position to retire, or in the case of a certain drill sergeant (though in his case, he was a veteran of the pegasi-griffon war almost two generations ago) have just short of a half-dozen kids while still serving. It irked me that the one pony who really made my life hell on a regular basis had everything I ever really wanted. It sounds kind of cruel, but I was almost happy his wife died giving birth to his last child; it took his quality of life off of its nigh unreachable pedestal of awesomeness, just a little bit. Enough to summon the will not to back talk him… Well, when he didn’t insult my father, anyways.

My father. Havoc. He had never wanted me to join the Enclave military, if you’d believe it. A hero in his own right, fighting hoof and wing to beat back the griffons all those years ago, and he was horrified by the thought of his daughter following in his hoofsteps. He’d married a simple weather maintenance pony and had truly considered himself blessed beyond his stature. He’d been content with siring a single filly. He’d lavished love upon me, taught me how to fly, to love the skies he’d fought for. He believed that he was sparing me from the hardship of his youth. Then… one day he just didn’t come home. An officer – A captain, as I know now – though back then all that filly saw was the crisp black dress uniform, sharply dressed with polished brass… just like dad’s. He was carrying a briefcase, too. I’d known something was wrong when mother had dropped the plate she’d been cleaning, and heard the crash from the other side of the house. The officer said there had been an accident during a routine operation. His body could not be recovered. In the briefcase was more than the total pension my father had earned. As if it would be enough to replace the stallion that had been a part of my entire life. I had graduated from military education not three weeks earlier. I joined the Enclave military the next day. That was seven years ago.

Since then, I had grown up. I learned to fight, learned to obey… I learned to heal too, if that evens anything out in the end. I learned what it was like to be willing to give everything for a cause. Eventually, I even learned to lead. To teach. To pass on what I’d learned, even in the mere seven years I’d been in. There were always new recruits to train – It was simply the way the system worked. Every year some retired, and the youths took up their post. A rejuvenation of blood into the Enclave system. But those empty posts don’t all indicate retirement at a ripe old age, now do they? For years, I tried to get access to the documents – or the ponies – that would tell me why my father died. What it was for, how it happened, even why there was no body would have been something. But there was nothing. Nothing but walls and walls of ‘restricted access’.

But no-pony likes a downer, especially on the eve of a team’s first surface mission. With force of will, I dragged my thoughts back to the present. It wasn’t the time to be ruminating on the past. In fact, it wasn’t the time to really think at all – It was time to have one hell of a party.

*** *** ***

We could hear the beat of the music before we even set hoof in the club, and as we pushed our way through the entryway the sounds of pegasi drinking, dancing, and having fun washed over us. The Buccaneer Blaze was, as with virtually everything in Neighvarro, a military establishment; but unlike the junior ranks mess, the Blaze had no rank restrictions, and all garb that denoted rank or status was left at the door – it was even open to civilians. It was simply a place for ponies to cool off and unwind after long days of serving the Grand Pegasus Enclave. Or, in our case, party it up the night before we went on our first mission to the surface.

The cloud building itself took up a solid amount of airspace, though to divide it into the three “floors” that made up the club itself was something of a misnomer. The only place for a pony to actually rest their hooves was the bottom floor, with the main bar, a modest traditional dance floor, and relatively private tables surrounding it. The second and third floor were entirely airspace, spanning several hundred vertical meters and complete with a total lack of roof at the top. All this resulted in a fantastic view of the starry night directly above our heads, with pegasi performing elaborate (if inebriated) dance moves throughout the air in the club, usually in pairs. When ponies got tired, there were small alcoves in the walls of the building to rest tired wings (and to continue drinking somewhere you weren’t likely to spill your drink on ponies below you). I had to credit the building’s engineers for catering to the needs of their all-pegasi client base. The atmosphere was incomparable with any of the other clubs in Neighvarro. In fact, it was probably the only one of its kind in existence, now that I think of it.

Ours wasn’t the only team headed to the surface. We probably could have found a good dozen or more ponies headed to other operations tomorrow, but my team had a long standing preference towards keeping our own company, and that night was shaping up to continue the trend.

As we stepped inside, Nosedive glanced back and forth. “So... why are we doing this the night before our first surface mission?” He asked, still unsure of whether or not the night out was a good idea or not.

“Why Nosedive, it's tradition.” I replied while heading straight for the bar, my teammates falling in behind me. “Before any team’s first surface mission, they’ve gotta have a proper send off the night before.”

“Tradition?” Tailwind queried from my opposite side. “It's also an excuse for a party and you know it, Chief.”

“Ok, fine. But it still is; a tradition, I mean.” I replied, conceding the point as I ordered a round of drinks. The bartender, having heard at least part of our conversation despite how crowded the place was, shook his head and smiled as he turned to pour the beverages.

As I leaned back against the bar for a moment, I caught a glimpse of yellow and white amidst the crowd. Sure enough, I saw the two pegasi that would be our flight crew for the operation occupying one of the tables near the entrance. Flaps and Aileron were quite the pair, going pretty much everywhere together. At the time, they had an impressive array of potent-looking shot glasses arranged before them.

“See, Nosedive?” I pointed with a forehoof, “Even the pilots are getting into it! You don’t want them to outdo us, do you?” As I spoke, the shots started to disappear as they drank one after another, fully absorbed in each other. It would seem neither of our pilots were in the mood for a slow-burn kind of night.

Retrieving our beverages, I dropped a hoof full of bits into the mug beside the cashier, enough to ensure we didn’t have to worry about paying for drinks for a while, and a decent tip besides.

We found a spot without issue, and soon we were seated around one of the tables on the first floor of the club. A tentative sip at my drink revealed that we had come on a good night – judging from the distinct lack of burning sensation in my throat, Blue Shift had used actual vodka in the drinks, a sure sign that somepony had managed to smuggle some of the good stuff back from a surface recce. The alternative… well… lets just say trying to distill alcohol from cloud-grown foodstuffs typically results in something more along the lines of a solvent than a beverage. I made a mental note to tip him bigtime when we got the next round.

Somewhere, somepony started up a round of song, belting out one of the bawdy Enclave drinking songs that typically made their way around until they basically became common knowledge. That said, nopony ever really seemed able to remember most of the lyrics. Regardless, the singing spread from table to table, til even the ponies wheeling and diving throughout the airspace joined in. I saw some baffled faces; Newbies or civilians that hadn’t hung around off duty troopers long enough, but for every pony who had no idea what was happening, there were two more who joined in and sang, letting voices resound through the club. They reached a certain verse, and I just couldn’t help myself. I gave Nosedive a devilish smile, throwing down the gauntlet as I joined in the song.

“...Now if you fly a Skytank then you drink it all for show,

And if you fly a Raptor then you gotta drink it slow...”

He still looked uncertain, but I could see the waver in his eyes. That last sign of willpower holding out before just giving in and having fun. I kept singing, louder now, with Tailwind joining in. Across from us, I could see Flaps and Aileron raising their last shot glasses in toast as they sang, drinking game evidently taking a side seat to spontaneous song.

“And if you fly for recce then you gotta drink it fast,

Cause this ain't a time to loiter; and we ain't got the gas...”

At long last, it would seem he couldn’t take it any more. He glanced between Tailwind and I one last time, before joining in, adding the bass of his voice to the singing coming from our table, joining with the song that seemed to have engulfed most of the bar as we took the verse towards its end.

“Now if you fly the 'armour then drink it on your own,

And if you fly a chariot then you can't drink it alone...”

We were practically shouting more than singing by the end, more or less trying to outdo the ponies around us in sheer volume. I raised my mug and sang, forgetting the worries of the day, the anxiety of tomorrow. There was only the ever present now; and it had booze, bass, and buddies all around.

“But if you're stuck in Vertibucks then my advice to you;

Is to drink the fucking bottle, mare; there's nothing left to do!”

A cheer rang out throughout the bar, as if we were all proud that we’d finished a song despite the inebriation. Maybe because of the inebriation? Whatever the reason, it was good enough to warrant a toast. We brought our mugs together with a sharp clink of glass before we collectively drained the remainder of our drinks.

I had to give credit to the DJ for being able to read his crowd. He’d faded the ambient volume of the music as we’d sung, indulging the spectacle as it happened. In the wake of our song ending, he didn’t miss a beat, bringing in fast, dancey music to capitalize on the mood of the bar as a whole. Ponies flocked to the dance-space, even Nosedive hardly needed convincing as Tailwind and I each grabbed a forehoof and dragged him up and into the skies, a goofy, wide smile across his face.

We danced. Oh how we danced. If you’ve never seen pegasi dancing, you’re missing out. It’s one part choreography, one part airshow. We flew for the top, weaving around and between ponies in the air around us in a manner as elaborate as we could manage. It was instinctual flying, moving to the beat and picking a path through a crowded airspace. There was always the danger of hitting the ponies around you, but that was all part of the rush, the excitement. It made actually pulling off the moves we did feel that much better. If you weren’t confident in your own flying abilities enough to join in, it was quite the sight just to watch.

When we reached the top, we threw our hooves out as we reached the apex of our flight, as if we were reaching for the starry sky stretching out infinitely above us. We were just above the highest cloud walls of the club, and had a view of the night sky stretching as far as the eye could see in every direction. Celestia’s light was long gone, and Luna dominated the night sky, shining her light down on the ponies below. It was enough to give me just a twinge of pity that she hadn’t lived to see such a night. Princess Luna, I mean.

The moment passed. I wasn’t about to let thoughts of a long dead Princess weigh me down. We dove, through crowds of ponies in the increasingly crowded airspace. Bare meters from the floor, we pulled up and out as if we’d practiced it. Granted, even if somepony hadn’t managed to pull up, it wasn’t like running into a cloud would be dangerous to anything but a pony’s ego. As we pulled up and out, I pretended to fumble a wingbeat, sending myself into what could only have looked like an uncontrolled spin off to the side – Except that it conveniently sent me right towards Nosedive. He caught me as I all but landed in his lap, back first. A look of worry crossed his face, no doubt wondering if I was ok.

I flashed him a devilish little smile over my shoulder, sliding his forehooves down my body until he was holding my flanks just above my cutiemarks. Then I started dancing all over again, grinding against his hips and barrel to the beat of the music. As I said, he was large for a pegasus, and there was hardly any fat on him. The sensation of toned stallion muscles pressed up against me was wonderful, and he wasn’t even moving. To his credit, he only had a dazed expression on his face for a second or two before he caught on and… well, rolled with it.

The thing with dirty dancing as a pegasus is that it takes some serious coordination between partners – We had it in spades, even when Tailwind joined us. I’m sure we were quite the sight. Hell, I could tell that from where I was. Some time between all-too-soon and the entire night later, we found ourselves drifting back to the bar, sweaty and in need of a breather.

Right as I was in the process or ordering another round of drinks, somepony nearly smashed my face into the counter as she bumped into me on her way to the bar.

“Woah, sorry ‘bout that,” The pony quickly apologized. “Blue Shift! I need the girliest, fruitiest drink you’ve got.” She barged up onto the bar, using her forelegs to balance herself as she leaned over further, adding, “And it needs a cherry!”

The bartender chuckled, evidently on relatively familiar terms with the mare. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to get clean, Frosty. One Sangria, coming right up.” I guessed she was a regular the way they bantered easily at one another.

“What?” She replied with a surprised tone of voice, “Oh, it’s not for me. I’ve got a hoof-full of ‘mint-als’ to dispose of in Lightning’s drink.”

A hoof-full of what now? Aren’t those some sort of crazy surface drugs?

“Frooosty,” Blue grunted in a warning tone, leaning towards her as he paused mid-pour. “You know what I–”

“I’m joking,” The offending pony interjected, seemingly exasperated at the bartender’s apparent inability to catch on. He resumed mixing the drinks (ours included, I noted), shaking his head at… well, her. It seemed confrontations like that were a regular occurrence between them.

“You…” I began, interrupting their conversation while still facing away, “You bump into me, then insult the delicious fruity beverage? What do you have to say for yourself?" I spun in place to get a good look at the mare who’d ran into me, accidentally or not.

A teal mare stood before me, her head quirked to one side, causing the blue streak in her otherwise white mane to be highlighted in the dim light of the bar. She had an earring pinned to her right ear, the same green shade as her eyes – eyes that had me fixed with a blank stare. “Did… did you want a mint-al? I mean, it’s not really a drink, but it's all I've got."

Tailwind fluttered up beside me, a mischievous grin on her face. “She wouldn’t take it, but I could probably find a use for it.” She put a forehoof to her chin, as if deep in thought. “Yes, I can think of a variety of uses for one of those.”

“B-but–” I sputtered, caught between anger and Tailwind scheming right before me. I glanced between the pony and Tailwind, horrified at the implications of this turn of events. Not to mention the thought of whom Tailwind’s target would likely be, well, probably me. I settled on glancing at the pony, “Why do you even have those? Who are you, anyway?”

“Relax, I don’t actually have any. Do you even know how much trouble I’d be in if I got caught with a class-three controlled substance? Name’s Frosty. Winds Fro–” The pony groaned and rolled her eyes. “You know what, I don’t care enough right now. I’m tired, annoyed, a little drunk, and on leave.”

“Aww, now isn’t that a shame.” Tailwind grabbed her drink from the bar, glancing from Frosty to me, taking a drink to hide her sarcastic grin. I felt my face flush, and it wasn’t the drink.

Nosedive groaned, sidling up to the bar and retrieving his own drink. I was a little distracted at the time, but I’m pretty sure he took the time to glance at the bottom of the glass before taking a swig. You know, as a precaution.

“Woah, okay. Now we’ve gotten into creepy territory.” Frosty took the opportunity to gnaw the dried cherry off the straw in her drink. He might have gotten a new shipment of booze, but it would seem the garnish was the same as it always was.

“Tell me about it, and you aren’t stuck in a squad with them,” Nosedive rolled his eyes at Tailwind and I.

“Hey! I never said I was okay with this!” I added, to a chorus of raised eyebrows. “Bah, you ponies drive a mare to drink,” I grabbed my own drink, tipping some back and enjoying the sweet, fruity taste. In an attempt to change the tack of the conversation, I turned to the teal mare standing before me. “So Frosty, what brings you to the Buccaneer Blaze? I’ve probably seen you around the base, but I can’t say I recognize you.”

“I usually just hang out in one of the corner booths with my squad if I’m here. Otherwise I spend about eighty percent of my free time sleeping.” Frosty replied between sips. “And you’ve probably seen me around base from time to time. Firing range, mess hall, you know – all over the place.”

Tailwind shot a glance over at me. “If she’s from another recon squad, she’s probably fought you in the VI at some point.”

“Well, lets see about that, shall we.” I glanced over to address Frosty again, “So Frosty, been assigned to any OPFOR lately?”

“VI?” Frosty asked, anger in her tone. “Here I am doing field training with outdated gear and paint rifles, and you’re doing Virtual Interface crap?” She angrily chugged the rest of her drink. “Figures as much, you’re probably all pampered little fillies riding on daddy’s coattails. You get real experience in the field, lying in dirt and mud for hours on end, waiting for somepony to tell you to take the shot. VI’s total bullshit, anyway.”

“Uh–” I glanced down into my drink, taken aback.

Daddy’s coattails? Not exactly.

Frosty blinked, as if surprised at her own response. “Woah, I just got angry there. Huh. Bluey! I need something stronger!”

Blue Shift, having seen this turn of events coming, slid a glass of what appeared to be whiskey on the rocks in front of the slightly discombobulated mare.

Nosedive leaned forward, a serious look on his face. “So miss experienced, what is it like? The surface, that is.”

“It sucks,” She replied, slipping into a more conversational tone, but the hint of anger remained, as if she were patronizing us. “The air smells funny, everything and everypony’s trying to kill you, and there’s a lot of me not being able to tell you anything else before I get in trouble. It’s on a need-to-know basis, and you do not need to know.” Frosty narrowed her eyes at me. “What’s your unit, again?”

“Enclave Surface Recce, Falcon team,” I replied evenly, a hint of pride in my tone as I looked up from my drink.

“Oh, those guys… but you said you’ve never been to the surface? That doesn’t make a lot of sense. The hell do you guys do, anyways?” She glanced off to the side, as if mentally ticking off an invisible checklist. “Item retrieval? Nope, that falls to us. Radiation monitoring? That’s for the eggheads. Escort? Nopony cares about that stuff anyway.” She met my gaze again, “It seems like you don’t really do much, now doesn’t it?”

Pre-empting me, Nosedive interjected. Standing up from the bar and taking a step towards Frosty, he placed himself slightly between her and I. It occurred to me that he was using his size to be intimidating. I was flattered he felt the need to come to my defence. “They bring us out to play when your ponies find a credible threat to the Enclave.” The way he emphasized it, I could tell the mare’s abrasive attitude was getting to him. It was a challenge.

She regarded a forehoof as if it suddenly gained relevance, responding in a bored tone, “Yeah, there’s a credible threat alright. There’s the constant threat of the Council running out of bullshit to feed you guys.” She glanced up, meeting his gaze with a curious look, as if trying to see how he’d take that comment.

Nosedive leaned forward, as if gauging the mare in front of him. He held the stare for a few moments, before finally breaking into a smile. “Well, I guess we can agree about that.”

Her response was to crack a wry grin and gave him a wink. Frosty turned to me, gesturing at Nosedive with her glass. “That one’s a keeper, you know that?” She downed the rest of her alcohol and chuckled. “If only my coltie Thunderclap knew how to pull off such smooth moves like that… Heh, he’s too adorably stupid for that.”

Potential conflict avoided, Nosedive and Frosty seemed to find each other amiable enough to continue the conversation. For my part, I found something about her just a little off… which is why I let my gaze wander, simply engaging in some harmless pony-watching of the various occupants of the now rather crowded bar. Which was exactly when I found one of them staring back. I’m not sure how long she’d been there, but she’d been looking my way long before she managed to catch my gaze. With a mumbled excuse to the ponies around me, something about having to use the fillies room or something, I turned to make my way over to where that mare sat. It would seem she wanted to talk to me.

My thoughts were elsewhere when Frosty put their conversation on hold (mid sentence, if I overheard correctly) to call out in my general direction, “Good luck with that. Have fun and don’t fall in!”

Startled and momentarily taken aback, I called back in surprise and mild horror, “‘In’ what?”

She gave me a knowing look and a sage nod, simply replying, “You’ll know.” A moment later, she put me from her mind me and went back to her conversation with Nosedive; “But really, he tries to get away with the ‘I was just experimenting’ excuse. The third time, though? Come on!”

As Frosty began to ramble, Nosedive glanced my way with an expression I could only describe as “enduring.” Catching my gaze, he mouthed “Save me.” I winked at him and blew him a kiss over my shoulder. Whatever Red Glare was doing here, it wasn’t like her. She didn’t even drink, last I recalled. She was here for a reason, and from her demeanor when I caught her gaze, it would seem it had something to do with me.

Cantering over to her table, I pulled up a seat and made myself comfortable. Sitting across from me, the mare who’d been named for her scarlet eyes kept them locked on me, the rest of the club seemingly forgotten. I felt safe in the assumption that anything we discussed would be drowned out to those around us by the steady beat of the music. “Well this is a surprise,” I began, “Long time no see, Red. Last I heard, you’d managed to get on the bridge crew of the Nimbostratus, quite the feat considering the last time we saw each other was when we graduated basic.”

She smiled at the compliment, “It isn’t all perks, you know. Commander Winters can certainly be..." She paused, obviously conflicted on how she wanted to word her next thought. It looked kind of like the face one would make when swallowing something particularly unpalatable. "Difficult, at times… I hear you’re leading Falcon team now, Snap. Not too bad yourself.”

As she’d said, we’d done basic together. It was how the system worked, and the only instance in which prospective officers and the enlisted undergo the same training. I think its rather obvious which of us was which at the time. Despite the differing career paths, we’d become friends before she was whisked off for the training that would lead to her current standing. I wasn’t envious – I couldn’t see myself filling her horseshoes just as she most likely never would have imagined herself filling mine. We hadn’t kept in touch, but the ties were still there. In the time I’d known her, she never was one to dance around her point: This wasn’t simply a meeting of old friends, and I was eager to cut to the chase.

I leaned forward, folding my forelegs in my lap as I dropped my voice to a more serious tone, “So what is this about? You know what ponies can think, seeing the XO of a Raptor having face-time with a lowly trooper.”

Red Glare’s smile dropped, and she seemed very tired. “I heard about your debrief today. You should know better than to bring up his son at a time like that.”

“I’m not in the mood, Red.” I growled, “He brought my father into it, turnabout is fair play.”

“He also has the connections of a lifetime spent in the military. He instructed on our basic for skies’ sake.” Her curt, chiding tone surprised me, gaining my full attention. “You don’t think his sons got where they are by sheer talent, did you?” She paused for a moment, seemingly in thought, before adding “Well, aside from Calamity, that is. That one pretty much got where he is all on his own.” She shook her head as if to dislodge an unwelcome thought. “At any rate, I just want to tell you to keep on your guard.”

“That’s it?” I raised an eyebrow. “I know how to play the game. A completed surface mission, some asses kissed, should be swept under the rug, right?”

She shook her head, her mane swaying back and forth as she did. “Things are in motion, Snap. There’s a lot going on at the top brass level, and I’d hate for a friend of mine to get caught between the gears.” She glanced around, as if seeing which ponies were actually in earshot of our conversation before leaning forward, almost conspiratorially, “You don’t really believe that assassination attempt on High General Harbinger just happened to kill the mare that was supposed to replace him, do you?” She leaned back in her chair. “This place is far too public to talk plainly. I’ll see if we can’t run into each other again once you get back from your mission. Good luck.”

The hair on my neck stood on end. I could still recall the lockdown we’d been a part of after that… Incident... and that the perpetrator never had been found. The implications of what she’d said disturbed me, to say the least. “I’m not sure what to make of all that, but thanks for the heads up,” I replied.

She smiled back at me. “I do what I can.” She extended a forehoof, “Through the storm…”

A smile made its way across my own face. I returned the hoofbump. It had been just under seven years since we’d last done this.

“...And the smoke, to the clear skies beyond!”

Footnote: Loading, please wait...

Author's Note

This chapter contains a big cameo in the form of Frosty Winds, the protagonist of theBobulator's Fallout: Equestria - Memories, from the days before she got stranded on the surface. A slightly less serious take on the wasteland, with significantly more brain damage. A smaller reference, but one I'm quite fond of is the allusion towards the end of the chapter to Adder1's "Victory", part of The ABC's of Fallout: Equestria project. I heartily recommend it, as well as his full length story, Fallout: Equestria - The Last Sentinel.

Chapter 02: Shattered Skies

Chapter Two: Shattered Skies

I stayed up late the night before my world ended. I don’t remember much, but from what I can recall it was quite the night of alcohol, music and partying, despite everything. Judging from the state of our room and the fact that I woke up beside Tailwind, the party had continued long past when we left the bar. I wish I could remember what I did, or how the night went, just for the sake of having the memories to fall back on... Perhaps its for the best that I don’t, that I can move forward without fully knowing what I’ve left behind.

The morning was no doubt filled with briefings and kit checks, among the myriad of other tasks that needed doing prior to any mission, much less a team’s first surface operation. The amount of effort that went into even something as simple as a three pony deployment to recce an area of the surface is staggering. However, for all the effort that goes into it, it is also very easy for a pony to get through all that with minimal mental investment. After the fact, I found notes in my notepad that I have no recollection of taking. Suspected threat levels, hostile areas of operation and all-too-few friendly callsigns in the area. There is something to be said for the mind’s capacity to function on autopilot… Not that the notes themselves would have helped any, the way things turned out.

At any rate, by mid-afternoon we were in the rear hold of a Vertibuck flying low along the Dragonspine Mountains in northern Equestria. Flaps was maintaining the Vertibuck’s altitude, avoiding the fringe of the approaching storm...

—Snap Roll’s Journal

*** *** ***

With last night’s hangover weighing on my eyes I blinked my self back in the present, glancing out one of the nearby viewports mounted along the Vertibuck’s hull. Driving snow pattered against the reinforced glass, the early signs of what felt like a monster of a storm. Beyond that, the monstrously dark shapes of the mountains around us flashed by with speed that would have alarmed me if I didn't trust our pilots as much as I did. All the same, it was still disconcerting to be as close to the ground as we were... and the brightness didn't help with the hangover any. I withdrew myself from the blinding snow, taking a glance around the interior of the aircraft. I gradually became aware of Tailwind and Nosedive finding varying degrees of amusement in my discomfort.

“Tailwind, what’s with the look?” I asked as I blearily rubbed my sore eyes. She was wearing the same black scout barding as myself, her long mane brushed out of her eyes and off to one side.

“And what ‘look’ would that be, Chief?” Tailwind replied, amusement turning to merriment as her lips curled up into a delightful smile.

“The one that says ‘you missed something, dumbass’,” I sighed overdramatically, rolling my eyes.

Tailwind nickered at me, “You don’t have to try and hide it, Chief. Both Nosedive and I know you slept through another mission briefing.” As she mentioned him I belatedly realized that the buck was kitted out in full Enclave power armour, looking very much like a carapace armoured insect with a scorpion-like tail as he dwarfed the mare sitting next to him. His trademark plasma cannon was, as usual, mounted to his side as he leaned back against the Vertibuck’s hull.

“Well, naturally I knew I could rely on my ever so responsible junior to relay the information to me in a clear, concise manner before we make dirt fall.” I replied as I leaned back on my own bench across from them. “...And why is Nosedive suited up like the griffons are poised for war again?”

“He got direct orders to go in heavy; we lost a patrol out this way a couple days back. Found no sign of what hit ‘em.” She replied, her point accentuated by the muted hum of Nosedive running a power diagnostic on his plasma cannon. “As for the intel, we’re to scout out the possibility of griffons establishing a forward operating base in this mountain range," She gestured vaguely towards a viewport and by implication the area outside the Vertibuck. As she continued her summary, she kept talking with her hooves, a habit of hers. This time, she rested her head on her right forehoof and adopted a mildly puzzled expression, "Oh, and we’re to also look into the presence of ‘Redeye’ forces, whatever that means.”

“You know, I think that Tail should be the one getting the big pay considering she keeps doing your job, Snap.” Nosedive’s voice was quiet and even, but still carried a slight mocking tone. He didn’t actually look up from the prep work he was doing on his weapon of choice, but I could hear the smile in his voice.

“But my dear Nosedive, delegation is one of the core tenets of leadership.” I replied, my tone dripping with sarcasm as I glanced at him sidelong with a cheeky grin. “You’ll learn that if you ever do get selected for a leadership course.”

At that comment, Tailwind piped up again as she cocked her head to the side and raised a questioning eyebrow. “Really, Chief? I seem to recall something about bottom of the class…?”

I’m not gonna defend that one. Though I will say, I probably would have done better grade-wise if I’d concentrated less on… “anatomy,” and more on flight-level combat doctrine. Ahem.

“Yeah, yeah… a ‘C’ is still a ‘pass’ in this mare’s army.” I huffed, crossing my forelegs across my chest and turning away. It was all in good fun, the pointed banter between us. We'd known each other so long it was only natural. All the same, I decided to check up on our progress with the pilots while my friends had themselves a chuckle at my expense.

The forward area of the Vertibuck was the domain of the pilots, and each was ensconced in a bubble-like compartment, pilot in front and co-pilot behind and slightly above. Their wings clipped into a harness that allowed them to control the flight of the aircraft as if it were an extension of their own natural flying prowess. I hooked a foreleg through one of the safety rails as I peered over Aileron’s shoulder. Sensing my presence and anticipating my question, she replied without taking her eyes from the snowy vistas flashing past. “We’re twenty minutes out, Flight Commander. We haven’t been fully briefed on your mission, but we should have you in and out before the worst of the storm hits.”

With her curt response, I could tell I wasn’t going to get the distracting conversation I was hoping for. I nodded, retreating to peer out one of the viewports, doing what I could to familiarize myself with the terrain we’d be dropping into.

The mountains of this region really were picturesque; nothing like the few resource-stripped mountaintops visible above the cloud layer would lead the average pegasus to believe. Beneath the clouds, mountains dominated the landscape, more impressive than any cloud formation I’d ever seen. From the depths of windswept valleys to the heights of the monstrous formations themselves, it was quite literally a whole new world. I tried to take in as much as I could, despite most of the features flashing by as we sped towards our destination.

My reverie was interrupted as we swept past a rocky outcropping. I caught sight of sudden movement down below. A pony emerged from behind a boulder. It was wrapped in layers of white and grey barding, so much that I couldn’t make out any of its coat or mane colour, or for that matter even its gender – the barding provided full body protection, and a hood and goggles obscured any facial features that I might have been able to make out. A hole had been made in the cloak itself to accommodate the pony’s horn. A white cloak billowing out behind it in the strong wind. What really caught my eye was the long, hollow tube levitating beside the pony – a launcher that was pointed straight at our Vertibuck.

Adrenaline shot through my system as I turned to scream “RPG!” towards the pilot’s area. My warning had hardly left my lips when I saw Aileron turn with panic in her eyes to look out the right side of the canopy. A thunderous explosion rocked the side of the Vertibuck. Splinters of armour plating were forced into her bubble by the shaped charge of the warhead, eviscerating her a heartbeat before filling the crew compartment with smoke and bits of shrapnel. The aircraft began a hard yaw to the right, evidently having lost critical control surfaces in the explosion. I was thrown bodily into Nosedive, who caught me as he locked his armour to brace against the wall.

“Brace! We’re gonna hit!” Tailwind screamed as she tried to secure herself with the wall-mounted crash restraints.

Locked in place by Nosedive’s armour, I tried to grab ahold of Tailwind and get her secured as I screamed for her to follow her own advice. I even managed to lock hooves with her… right as the Vertibuck made contact with the mountain face.

Designed to jettison upon impact, the explosive bolts built into the rear ramp fired, detaching it and sending it spinning out into the snowy skies. In the fraction of a second the impact lasted, I locked eyes with Tailwind, seeing terror etched in her features. She flapped desperately, trying to fight against the suction created by the ramp’s explosive departure. She cried out my name, terror in her voice. I tried to get a better hold on her foreleg, maybe even grab the sleeve of her barding… I failed. She slipped through my hooves and was sucked out of the Vertibuck, disappearing into the frozen sky.

I had about a second or two to look in shock at the hooves that had failed to save her before the Vertibuck hit the ground. The blackness of unconsciousness claimed me as my face slammed against Nosedive’s armour.

*** *** ***

I awoke to the pinging noise of the Vertibuck’s superstructure cooling off. Several interior panels had come loose from the frame, exposing the wires beneath. Between the frame damage and loss of control surfaces in the explosion, it was abundantly clear we weren’t going to be salvaging the Vertibuck any time soon. By the same token, despite not being flightworthy the aircraft seemed to have, structurally at least, withstood the impact.

By the clock of my TFD, over half an hour had elapsed, and I was still being gripped by Nosedive. I was bruised and battered, but alive. Likewise, Nosedive’s breathing was steady, forming puffs of mist in the cold air.

“Nose... Nosedive… can you hear me?” I asked, making an effort to keep my voice down.

“I’m fine Snap…” He breathed, “Armour needs to be unlocked.” With his eyes – just about the only thing he was able to move aside from his mouth – he gestured towards the manual unlock set at the base of the neck of the armour. Typically used by medics that needed access to injured troopers, it also allowed ponies to remove a lockdown placed upon the armour by simply turning a small lever, carefully recessed between armour plates.

It wasn’t easy to reach around behind the large buck’s neck while clutched to his chest, but I eventually managed it, turning the lever with a click. With the mechanical sigh of hydraulics unlocking, Nosedive immediately withdrew his hooves, stretching and testing out the range of motion of the recently reset limbs.

As he worked out the kinks in his armour, I moved to check on the pilots. I reached the divider between what was left of the copilot bubble and the crew compartment, grabbing ahold of the safety rails and getting a good look into the pilots’ area. I was… Well, I can’t say “used to” death, as that isn’t really what the VI prepares you for. It was a shock, to be sure, but even as I saw all the blood, I was still able to look at it all with a cold, analytical mindset. My own thoughts on the matter were shunted to the back of my mind, and there they would stay until such a time as I was able to properly feel them all, in safety.

Or at least relative safety.

On the opposite side of the rocket impact, one of Aileron’s two wing attachments was still intact. Her left wing was still clipped in, slowly dripping blood from where it had been severed. It was all that was left of her, aside from the baked on spray of blood that coated what had been her copilot bubble. The smell of burnt flesh, electronics, and explosives permeated the area. It all combined into a sickening mixture that I could practically taste on the roof of my mouth. I had wondered if I'd ever forget the smell... I still haven't. Further forward, I could see Flaps had evidently managed to unclip himself from the harness, scooting all the way to the back of his sealed cockpit before we’d hit the mountainside. Or, it had been a sealed cockpit, at least. Where the nose and most of the cockpit used to exist, the Vertibuck now rested flush against the cliff face. Glass, metal and flesh had been ground away almost instantly as the they impacted uncompromising rock. A trail of deep red gore led from several meters up the mountain face to what was left of Flaps’ upper torso, slowly dripping down the bare rock to pool on his corpse. His eyes, open behind the flight visor, seemed to stare in deadened shock at the point that separated his chest from the mountainside, mouth open as if in an unspoken question that would never be answered.

There was nothing to be done for them. I popped open a small panel set just behind the copilot’s bubble. It had miraculously remained undamaged, but an analytical part of me figured that was kind of the point of its design. Inside sat a small, square device – The aircraft’s black box. Each Enclave vehicle, be it anything from a mighty Raptor to the lowly Skytank or Vertibuck, has information aboard that was considered literally more important than the lives of any given pony within – Information like the current location of the cloud cities. If anypony in the wastes got access to our Vertibuck’s computer logs, they could figure out the exact location of Neighvarro. If the vessel were to lose power for more than a minute or so, they were hardcoded to dump all data to avoid capture. All I had to do was attempt to access it through my TFD to confirm if that had occurred. I discovered we’d been blessed with a stroke of luck – the black box had actually functioned as designed, wiping all relevant data and flight recordings.

Letting out a relieved sigh, I quickly took stock of the area. I called out, “Ok Nosedive, help me strip the Vertibuck… we’ll need everything we can carry out of here; then we’ll find Tailwind and ruin the day of whoever shot us down.” Nosedive grunted an acknowledgement and I heard the whir of his cannon powering up.

Unfortunately, virtually all of the Vertibuck’s salvageable cargo had either been trashed in the landing or jettisoned during the crash – Even the hull-mounted medkit had met the same fate as the rest of the kit we’d had stowed in the aircraft. Disappointed, I followed Nosedive out of the wreck.

The first thing I noticed upon leaving the shelter of the crashed transport was the cold. Severe sub-zero temperatures driven by howling winds cut right through the scout barding I was wearing, sapping what warmth I had. It howled in my ears. There could practically be a battle going on and I wouldn’t have been able to hear it over the screaming winds. Pegasi can sense the minute differences in pressure through our wings and feathers – It’s how we know when the weather will change, and part of how we are able to manipulate it ourselves. Right then, my wings ached to the roots of the feathers. If you’ve ever had a toothache, imagine that kind of pain along the entirety of two extremities. Just from the weather. Everything in my body, biologically and psychologically, was telling me that it was insanity to be outside in this weather. But we had a job to do. “Fly steady,” indeed.

A quick scan of the area showed that we had crashed at the bottom of a small gorge. Pony sized boulders littered the area and provided ample cover. We didn’t emerge into a hail of bullets, nor were there any overt signs of an ambush. Unfortunately, there were also no signs of Tailwind in the gorge we’d crash landed into. Just about anything could be waiting for us above the lip of the depression we’d found ourselves in, and I was eager to leave the wreck behind. There was just one more task to take care of.

The immediate area secure, I turned to address Nosedive. We both knew what needed to be done, but all the same I needed to be the one to say it. “Do it,” I told him, loud enough to be heard over the screaming winds. He nodded, turned, and raised his plasma cannon. Aiming along the dorsal spine of the Vertibuck, he had a clear shot of the pilots’ area. It wasn’t much, but I gave our pilots a crisp salute. Despite everything, they’d gotten us down alive, and given their lives to do it. At that point, it was all I could do for them.

Well, that and remember them.

Nosedive fired. The quasi-physical projectile flew straight and true before exploding, vaporizing much of what was left of the front of the Vertibuck. Steel, aluminum, cloud-tech, plastic... flesh. It all disintegrated when touched by the volatile kiss of his plasma cannon. Green ashes were blown to the winds, and all that was left of Flaps and Aileron returned to the skies they were born in.

I dropped my forehoof from its place at my temple. We spoke no more of what had happened. We needed to move.

Between the two of us, we moved quickly but carefully towards the lip of the gorge, making what use we could of the cover available. Along the way we saw various pieces of ruined gear thrown from the transport, but much had already been covered in a layer of snow. As we approached the mouth of the gorge, Nosedive held me up. He could obviously see something on the EFS built into his armour’s visor. “Contact ahead, alone. Hostile tag.” He all but shouted into my ear, just about the only way I could hear him over the winds around us – they had gotten louder as we left the windbreak of the depression we’d landed in. I wasn’t worried about being overheard. I could barely hear myself think.

“Find a place on the right side of the gorge, I’ll take the left,” I yelled back, “Unless he has an EFS he won’t know we’re still alive. Try to take him alive… enough to talk, anyways!” I added that last bit as an afterthought before heading behind a small boulder to wait for Nosedive to be set. Nosedive just nodded as he moved off to his position.

Once in position, I could faintly make out a limp equine form starting to be covered by a layer of fresh snow. Motioning for Nosedive to stay, I flew to the body, my laser pistol out as I scanned the area ahead of me as I approached.

Once I got closer I couldn't shake the feeling that things were out of place. The corpse belonged to a mare clothed in the same fashion as the pony that shot us down – Grey barding consisting of several overlaid layers of fabric, supplemented with a cloak, hood, and snow goggles with thin horizontal slits to see out of. I couldn't make out any insignia, or nothing I recognized as one at least (certainly nothing that stood out as much as the Enclave insignia pinned above my left breast). It was her wounds that really caught my attention. Nopony could have made the wounds that killed her, that was quite clear. There were deep gashes running down the length of her neck, with her rifle cleft in twain and useless by her side. A few quick swipes at the fresh layer of snow revealed what was essentially a layer of frozen blood beneath her. The way it had sprayed looked like she hadn't just bled out - whatever had done this had done it right here, and not long ago, either. Acting on an impulse I pulled back one of her eyelids, revealing a perfectly normal golden iris. I figured it was worth a shot, considering we don’t have much to go on with this “Redeye” group.

Motioning Nosedive to move up, I watched outward for any sign of movement in the storm.

“Something doesn’t feel right here Snap.” He stopped to give the corpse a look over, “Thank the winds that’s not Tail…”

Gathering up her winterized barding, I noticed her cutiemark was something I actually recognized; a white dove, holding some form of stick in its feet. Nosedive nudged my shoulder with his hoof, interrupting my thoughts on the matter. “Heads up, the contact is still up and moving.”

“How far, do you think it’s seen us?” I asked, squinting into the distance.

“Umm… Oh fuck! Snap, MOVE!” He called out, shouldering me out of the path of what seemed like a greyish blur. I heard the sound of Nosedive hitting the snow behind me, and a yelp of surprise from whatever it was that was attacking us.

As I recovered from the ensuing face plant, I turned to see a large canine creature, slightly larger than a pony – its thick fur was greyish white, blending perfectly with the snowfall of the encroaching storm. In the scuffle Nosedive had pushed me out of, he’d managed to buck the creature away from us by dropping to his back and kicking out with all four legs. He was still recovering from the maneuver, while the beast had landed mostly on all four paws. The creature stalked us, keeping its distance. It was growling, a deep and menacing sound that evoked a feeling of instinctual terror. As it opened its mouth, I saw a row of razor sharp teeth in its maw. It seemed Nosedive had managed to give it enough pause to reconsider how it would attack us, at least.

I took to the air, pistol grip in my mouth as I began to pepper the beast’s hide with beams of magical energy. I was trying to take advantage of the momentary stalemate with a hail of laser fire, to minimal success. The creature’s coat itself appeared to have a diffusing effect on the beams. Seemingly unfazed aside from some small singe marks on its otherwise off-white coat, the creature lunged at Nosedive – who had still been in the process of getting airborne at the time. It bore him to the ground and began tearing at his exposed neck and mouth. Aside from his wings they were the only places it could easily claw at the armoured pegasus, and it dove in with a will for violence. It was going to get a lucky strike in, and sooner rather than later.

I abandoned the thought of taking it down with my pistol. Flapping my wings as hard as I could to give myself some momentum, I dove full force into the side of the creature. Impacting that much mass disoriented me, sending me into a crashing, tumbling roll. But I managed to throw both it and myself far enough away to give Nosedive a chance to get to his hooves.

Coming to the end of my tumbling crash landing, I was on my back and staring straight into the beast’s eyes. Luckily, it had also landed on its back, but staring into that many teeth from at most a meter away was disheartening. I could feel its breath on my face, hot and smelling of blood. It tilted its head, making a confused sounding whimper. I rapidly realized I’d lost my grip on the pistol at some point, and after a second of frantic searching I saw it out of the corner of my eye. Three meters or so away.

Fantastic.

The creature slowly rolled onto its paws, a motion I mimicked, maintaining eye contact as I rolled into a low crouch. The beast was close enough to bear me to the ground if it managed to get a good lunge off, something I had no doubt it was capable of, so I wanted to buy as much time as I could. As much a show of defiance as I could muster, I growled back at it, showing teeth and with as much venom as I could muster. The wolf responded by sniffing twice in my general direction, seemingly confused. A flash in its eyes and a tensing of muscles was my only warning, coming an instant before it lunged at me.

Instead of trying to take off, I let my right legs go limp, flapped my wings and propelling myself into a roll off to my right. The beast lunged towards where it expected me to be, an action that had barely gotten off the ground when its torso detonated in an explosion of violent green energy, bathing the snow for meters around in smoking gore as its hind section came to rest on the spot where I’d just been laying.

“Nice one, Nosedive!” I said as I shook bits of gore out of my mane as best I could, retrieving my pistol and already looking for a nearby high feature to get my bearings on the area from. “Not a moment too soon.”

“‘Ain’t gonna lose you as well Snap,” He replied, adding “...though I don’t think I’ll be flying anytime soon.” He lifted up a bloodied wing. “Had some nasty claws on ‘im.”

I pulled out a roll of magically laced bandage and began wrapping and immobilizing the injured part of his wing, chatting to him as much to reassure him as to keep my mind occupied. “Isn’t but a scratch. You’ll be flying again within the week once we get you back... to base...” I trailed off as I finally had a minute to realize how badly our mission had gone wrong.

“Snap, our radios can’t penetrate this storm, how are we going to send the pickup signal?”

I thought fast, looking for anything we could use. My mind caught on one of the few things that cloudfolk actually know of the surface; The damned DJ that we could pick up if we tuned our radios just right. A plan began to take shape. “Ok, plan B. The mud walkers have their DJ... something or other, and he uses the MASEBS towers to broadcast his tripe across the wasteland, right?" I continued, gaining momentum - the beginnings of a plan were taking shape. "We find one of those, hook one of our radios up to it, convince command to change the landing zone and we're home free. We just need to be quick about it and stay within the mission time constraints."

Nosedive nodded, “Alright, where’s the closest tower?”

My ears drooped in resignation, planning momentum grinding more or less to a halt. I forced a confidence I didn’t feel into my voice and replied, “We're gonna do what we've always trained to do, Nosedive: Recce. First, we need to find a layout of the area. That means locating a settlement of some kind. That’ll be the easiest way to get info on our immediate surroundings. In the meantime, we need to search for Tailwind. She survived... by the winds, she has to be alive.”

Nosedive nodded again, though I could tell he saw the desperation in the plan even if he didn’t comment on it. “Alright, I think I saw a path just a little way up.” He said, gesturing towards the dead mare, “She probably used it to get down here.”

The path Nosedive had spotted lead its winding way up the canyon wall to the top of the gorge, and seemed to have been carved long enough ago to be a construction from pre-war times, especially considering the horsepower required to excavate off of the otherwise steep rock face.

“Nose, make your way to the top and I’ll give you eyes in the sky and some early warning as to what’s up there.” I commanded, gazing up at the formidable rock face. It was not going to be a fun climb for him. Or a fun flight for that matter, but flying is what we do, not climbing. It was… unsettling for that to be an issue, even if it wasn’t pertaining to me.

“Roger that,” Nosedive grunted as he began ascending the pass, leaving deep impressions in the snow. Even so, the snowfall seemed heavy enough to wipe away most traces of our presence in a matter of minutes. The wolf’s corpse had stopped steaming and seemed to have already begun to freeze behind us.

As I flew to the top, the adrenaline from the fight had worn off and I had a chance to realize how cold it was once again. The scout barding I was wearing had some decent protection-to-weight, and it was more than enough for the altitude of the cloud cities... but down here, a single layer of ballistic cloth with integrated armour mesh was quite evidently not enough insulation for a winter storm in the north. I was envious of Nosedive’s near-environmentally sealed power armour.

Reaching the crest of the cliffside, I discovered a mostly barren plateau save for a building that looked to me like it had once served as an observation post, presumably around the time the switchbacks in the cliffside had been cut. Light shone from the windows, wavering and leading me to believe the source was some form of lantern – Which in turn meant the building was occupied.

Nosedive arrived a few scant minutes later, coming to a halt by my side as I crouched just below the crest of the cliff. A plausible scenario had come to mind, and I voiced my thoughts on the matter to Nose. “Whoever’s in there sent the mare to check for survivors from the crash. On her way there, she got caught by that mud walking fur-thing. That means there’s probably too few of them to realistically send pairs out, so there's probably only a small team in there,” I was still looking at the building as I spoke. “We should try and take one of them alive, we need information about this area. Stay low, and lets do this like we trained.” I finished, getting up and moving up to the house at what amounted to a brisk trot, weapon in my mouth and trained on the window the whole time. I tried to keep out of any arcs of fire that would likely be watched, but the window covered most of the area we had to work with.

Under cover of the storm, we made it to what had once been the entryway of the shack. The front door was missing, presumably having been broken into in ages past. Three distinct voices were audible from inside the building, and I listened in for a minute with my back to the wall and energy pistol gripped in my mouth, nosedive arriving shortly after, assuming a similar position on the doorframe opposite me.

“Eh, why can’t we have a little fun with our catch, huh?” A nauseatingly male voice was all but belching from the far side of the room, “Don’t seem right that them wing’ed bitches get ‘er all to ‘emselves.”

“You want to get gutted, Stitch?” A curt, feminine voice replied, “Cause thats what fuckin’ the turkey’ll get you.”

“But I ain’t never had me’self a pegasi before...” He whined back. He whined, about not being allowed to rape a captive. It reinforced what I’d been told of the surface world for the entirety of my adult life – There is nothing worth saving down here. The implication behind his words clicked about a second later.

Tailwind!

“Both of you stow it! I think I heard something...” A decidedly older male voice responded, cutting the conversation short as I heard the sounds of a pistol being drawn from its holster and a weapon’s action being worked.

Good instincts on that one. I know for a fact we didn’t make enough noise to be heard in there.

“It’s probably Dove on her way back... jumpy asshole,” replied the mare, accompanied by the sound of hooves approaching the entryway from inside.

With a quick set of hoof signals, I gestured for Nosedive to move around the side of the house, finishing with a swift motion of clopping one forehoof into the other. I received a wicked grin and a curt nod in response.

As he moved off to the left side of the house, I quietly hovered over to take up a spot directly below the window I’d seen earlier, waiting for Nosedive to initiate.

“Dove... Dove!” The mare called out, evidently having reached the empty entryway. “Where could she have gott-”

The far wall exploded inwards as violence erupted upon the unwary trio. The aspiring rapist was hurled across the room by the blast. I heard Nosedive’s voice booming out over the force of his plasma cannon, “Now for some Enclave diplomacy!”

The older buck near the window I’d picked started unloading on Nosedive with what seemed to be a medium-calibre SMG. He had decent aim, but not enough to instinctively go for weak spots in Nosedive’s armour. Rounds pinged and thudded into the walls as Nosedive’s armour deflected or absorbed his gunfire. The mare simply stood, shocked, in the entryway.

With a flap of wings, I threw myself into the air, bucking the window open and sending a rapid burst of laser bolts into the older buck. He barely had a chance to look surprised before he flashed in a magical chain reaction, disintegrating into a small pile of glowing pink ashes on the shack floor – A pile that was swiftly blown to the four winds as Nosedive finished off the younger buck with a blast of plasma. In an instant, his barding and coat were burnt away. Flesh singed, burnt, and disintegrated in an eyeblink. Once the green blast had faded, all that was left was a broken, blackened skeleton lying in the corner.

The mare panicked, screamed at the top of her lungs, and ran straight out of the building as fast as her hooves could carry her. I’d have probably had a tough time catching her if I only had my hooves to rely on. As it was, I holstered my pistol before taking flight. Wings flapping to get me to moderate speed despite the crosswinds, I handily caught her before she’d gotten fifty meters from the shack.

Either she heard the sound of my wings, or she simply had good instincts. Either way, she turned with terror in her eyes a half second before I tackled her to the ground. “Stop screaming, right now.” I commanded, trying to subdue her without leaving any lasting damage.

Heedless of my instructions, she continued to scream her head off as her four limbs flailed at maximum output in my general direction.

With a sigh, I was suddenly grateful for the storm’s muffling effect, as what I was about to do generally carried further than I’d like in the current situation. I summoned up the voice I’d learned to use when jacking up new recruits as they went through basic. With all the volume of a mare that had just lost two friends, may soon be forsaken from ever returning to the cloud cities, and had just overheard a trio of strangers discussing whether or not to rape her special somepony, I gave her the jacking of a pissed off Enclave Flight Commander.

“Stop screaming!” I shouted, flecks of spittle flying in her face. “Your friends are dead, I get that!” The limbs stopped flailing, and she stared at me as if I’d just slapped her across the face. She looked about to cry, but I kept it up, “If you stop screaming, you’ll live through this. Just answer a few questions or I swear by all the pegasi your ponies have killed, I will end you!”

She curled into a ball and started crying, “Get away! Go, I don’t want to die... please!”

I adopted a calmer expression, having broken through the mare’s initial panic and now being able to reason with her. My voice was soft, not carrying at all with the winds of the storm around us. “I keep my promises, dear. In the shack, you were talking about a pony very special to me. Tell. Me. Where. She. Is.” I continued, making damn sure she understood that I was serious, despite the sudden calm in my tone.

She stopped crying for the moment, answering between hiccuping breaths “She’s, she’s inside. In the back room. Please please don’t kill me!”

“Two more questions, and you are free to go.” I replied, waiting for her to nod in understanding, her eyes glistening as the tears stopped. “First, where is the nearest settlement to here? Second, and I will not judge you based on your answer, are you one of the ‘Redeye’ group?”

“There’s a way stop three miles east of here.” She seemed to choke back her next words before responding, “And yes... But I’m not a slaver! Really I don’t take ponies!”

Slavers? Interesting. That’s something to bear in mind.

I stepped back, leaving her in apparent shock that I really did mean what I said. “Thank you for your honesty. Your friend, ‘Dove’ was it? I think we found her above the crash site, killed by a large furred beast that attacked us shortly after.” Seeing her face fall at the news, she seemed incapable of speech as her mouth tried to form words. “You will not be harmed, and my condolences about Dove. Perhaps you will tell the rest of this ‘Redeye’ gang not to interfere with Enclave business in the future.” I added that last caveat with touch of spite, despite her loss.

Finally able to find the words, her eyes unfocused as she seemed to stare into the distance. She might well not have heard the last bit. “She’s... the wolves... Oh Celestia no, please no...”

I turned and left as she began weeping, anguished sobs wracking her body. I had more important matters to attend to. Entering the shack once again, Nosedive looked up at me from his position next to the window. “You kill her?”

“No. She was too terrified to stab us in the back, and an emotionally scarred survivor will be more of a deterrent to this happening to another patrol than one more corpse.” I replied, before urgency entered my voice, “And she said Tailwind is here, in the rear room!”

We didn't have time to look for a key. With a grunt of acknowledgement, Nosedive threw his full weight, armour and all, into the door. Old wood broke around the deadbolt that had locked the door in place. The door swung wide, with the doorknob hitting and sticking into the drywall behind it. Lying in the back corner was Tailwind.

She was alive, but very much the worse for wear, bound and gagged with lacerations all over her body. The open cuts seemed to have closed, but had not been treated. Her fore and hind legs on her right side both looked fractured. They had removed her barding, and it lay in a pile on the other side of the room, along with her energy rifle and battle saddle. The rifle had a distinct bend in its casing, as if the weapon itself had cushioned her fall at some point. If I hadn't been so preoccupied at the moment, I’m sure the energy weapon lover in me would have been distraught. They had left it in the room, with its ammunition sitting right beside it. They must have been very confident with their bonds, or just lucky that the weapon really was out of action.

“Tailwind! Oh Tailwind, we’re here!” I called out as I galloped the handful of paces to slide to a halt next to her, removing the gag and cutting her bindings as I ran my hooves over her body, doing a rapid survey of her vitals before wrapping her in a quick but happy embrace. She was cold, and had lost more heat than I had despite being in the shelter of the building for an indeterminate amount of time. Her pulse was steady, but fainter than I liked, and I was not exactly helping her breathing with how tightly I held her.

She returned the embrace weakly, only using her right foreleg. “Thought... you’d never... show up... Chief,” she replied, though even the act of speaking seemed to cause her pain.

I turned to include Nosedive in the conversation, “There’s a way stop three miles east of here. It won’t be quick, but we can make it and they might have medical equipment. We’ll have to hide our wings.” I started looking around for additional barding that the Redeye sentries might have left lying around, managing to find one additional set of the same dark grey winter barding I’d taken off of the dead mare.

“Why... why hide ‘em... Kinda like seein’ your wings, Chief...” Tailwind slurred, grimacing in pain immediately after she said it.

“We’ll have time for you to see more than that, Tail…” I assured her before laying out the plan, such as it was. “But first we need to get home. The Vertibuck didn’t make it, and our only shot at getting a signal through this storm is finding a relay tower before they write our team off as MIA.” I began to clothe Tailwind in the winter barding, storing the other gear in the meantime. Her beautiful laser rifle went unceremoniously into a saddlebag. There was no way she’d make a three mile trip without the insulation, she’d die of exposure.

A few short minutes later, I had just gotten her last wing tucked inside the barding and pulled the hood over her head when a voice... no, it sounded more like a thousand voices whispering in unison, paradoxically deafening as they seemed to be whispering directly into my mind, “Oh my dear little ponies, we can’t have you leaving quite yet.”

Nosedive had taken cover beneath the window of the other room. He didn't seem to be phased by the voice, but he had his own indicators of bad things to come – he was still the only one of us with EFS. “Snap, we've got company inbound. Almost twenty contacts.”

Didn't he hear that?

I called back, loud enough that both Nosedive and Tailwind heard me, “We need to leave. Tail, this is going to hurt but we’re going to have to carry you. Nose, think you can do that?” I loaded a fresh magical energy cell into my pistol as I galloped over to peek out the broken window.

I could make out the form of a very tall purple pony with a long horn cantering towards the building at a measured pace, the storm seeming to melt and even warp around her, as if she was the eye of this maelstrom. She stopped about seventy-five meters away and flared out the largest wings I’d seen on a pony, except in the old stories of the Princesses. The ghostly shapes of four griffons emerged from the storm by her side, clad in white and grey combat armour complete with winter wraps. Each had the obscenely large form of an anti-material rifle slung across their backs. Then I picked out the infantry, more ponies outfitted like the ones we’d just faced, a number of them with the large silhouettes of heavy weapons mounted on battlesaddles or levitating by their sides.

Despite everything – the groundpounders, even the griffons with their massive rifles – I found my gaze drawn to what I could only describe as a Goddess in the flesh. Sure, she didn't look like any princess I'd read about, but she had this aura about her... It made my primaries stand on end, as if there were an electrical charge to the air like the heart of a thundercloud. It felt like if she chose to, she could end us all in a maelstrom of elemental magic without even needing the help of her reinforcements. Skies, she could probably take them too... Yet she didn't. Looking back, I still can't fathom the actions of the creature I would come to know as an "alicorn."

I gaped, lost in the dichotomy of majesty and horrific magical potential walking slowly towards us. After a few moments, I forced myself to look away as I desperately tried to think of any way I could get my team out.

We could try and make a stand… No, they’d overrun us.

“Snap...”

We could surrender… They also fired on us the first chance they got. I won’t trust Nose’ and Tail’s lives to that kind of chance.

“Snap.”

I could try and harass them and give the others a chance to escape, then follow by wing… No, one of those griffons would get lucky sooner or later, and Tailwind’s rifle is down anyways. I wouldn't have the firepower to even slow them.

I was still looking out the window, tunnel vision blinding me to anything other than the forces arrayed against us. “Nosedive, get her ready to leave,” I commanded with an unsteady waver to my voice, still thinking of any sort of plan to get my team out of there alive.

I felt a hoof rest on my shoulder. “Snap,” Nosedive repeated himself a third time, more firmly this time. “Get Tail.”

“Wait, what are you going to-” I asked, turning to see what he had planned. There were a dozen questions I wanted to ask all at once… All silenced or forgotten when I saw him simply standing there, tears falling freely beneath his visor. I knew what he had planned before he even said it.

“Snap, take Tail and run... Run as fast as you can.”

“Nose... no... Don’t...” cried Tailwind, leaning unsteadily against the dresser her kit had been sitting on, favouring her uninjured side.

In that heartbeat, I had a choice. I’d known I would have to live the rest of my life knowing I’d made it. Damn me, I did. He’d given me an out, and I took it almost greedily.

“Nosedive, I... I won’t forget you.” I cried, wrapping him in a tight hug, pressing myself against his armour. He returned the embrace, properly holding me in his hooves for the first... and last time. “I won’t ever forget you!”

“Stay safe Snap, please stay... safe. And don’t stop. No matter what.” He released me from the hug, caressing my cheek with an armoured forehoof. I leaned my cheek into his hoof, not wanting it to leave. He let it linger there for just a moment before breaking contact, letting his hoof fall and bracing himself behind the window I’d broken into only short minutes ago.

I could only nod in response, tears already beginning to roll down my cheeks as I backed away. I helped Tailwind up with my body acting as a crutch, using a wing to help stabilize her and hold her close. “We’re... we’re doing this?” Tailwind cried as I led her to the hole Nosedive had blasted earlier. “No, we can’t- we can’t leave him! He’s coming with us!”

Not this time, Tail... I'm so sorry.

Stepping back into the cold of the storm, it once again cut straight through my barding, chilling me to the bone. My face stung, the tears having frozen the instant I stepped outside. Despite her protests, Tailwind was too weak to try and resist me all but forcing her out the door. We ran, with Tailwind leaning heavily on me for support as I kept to a pace she could manage. We headed straight away from the shack, due east by the internal compass of my TFD. I hoped we were running towards shelter. I hoped the mare’s information was good enough, and it didn't cross my mind until later that I had trusted our very lives to info gained under extreme duress. I was desperate.

The sound of Nosedive’s cannonfire cut through the ambient noise of the wind, followed instantaneously by the chatter of small arms as the one-sided battle was joined. I didn't look back. No matter how much I wanted to, he’d made me promise. The sharp, echoing report of an anti-machine rifle made my breath catch in my throat. Nosedive’s cannon was quiet for a few moments, before opening fire again. This time, there was a note of desperation to the speed of fire. He must have been melting down his plasma cannon with the rate he was putting searing blasts downrange. A few seconds later, the valley walls echoed with the overlapping sound of four anti-material rifles firing simultaneously.

Relative quiet descended upon the valley, leaving us with only the screaming of the winds, the tread of our running hooves and both Tailwind’s and my own anguished sobs.

Author's Note

And so ends the "Intro sequence," so to speak. I certainly hope I've grabbed your attention, as was definitely my intent.

If you're interested in continuing to follow this story, just a heads up that I anticipate a slow update schedule. Pre-writing is complete to what I will estimate will become chapter 09, which is roughly the end of the first "Book," "arc" or "act". The term "Book" is most fitting with how things are structured, so that's what I'll stick with in the future. All will become apparent in time as to why that is. I am not even going to attempt to give an estimated time of completion to that point, as what you've read so far took longer than anticipated, and would be nowhere near as good as it is without my wonderful editors and prereaders. Though at this point there is already roughly 30k words written and as of yet un-published, so hopefully things become a tad more streamlined after this initial upload. Particular shoutouts to Belmor and Deeanar for much needed advice, and theBobulator once again for some last-minute touch-ups. Last but certainly not least, thank you to Kkat for creating this incredible, vibrant and beautifully destroyed world of Fallout: Equestria. For my part, I owe it to her for introducing me to one of the greatest fanbases I've ever encountered. You guys are awesome.

Also, critique of any kind is certainly appreciated. This is my first real foray into any sort of writing, and I would very much like to know if I succeeded in getting anything approaching the kind of emotional attachment I feel for these characters.

EDIT: Added a small segment about the Alicorn. Totally missed that even with all the editing passes. Whoops.

Chapter 03: Savagery

Chapter Three: Savagery

I left him.

A rational part of my mind wants to remind me that he volunteered, but that logic is far too much of a lie, even for me. I’m in command of this squad... I have to make the calls, and I picked the easy path. I could have forbidden it, I could have thought of something else, but his offer gave me a chance to save Tailwind and myself. I hate that despite everything I’d thought I stood for, I left him the instant it proved to be the militarily sound decision. Tailwind and I survived, while his sacrifice was “worth” it. We may have lived, but we left behind far more than just a dear friend in that shack.

Had I known he loved me? Of course I knew. So did Tailwind, and in private we’d discussed the thought of maybe, someday…

At any rate, that thought would never come to fruition. We’d flaunted our relationship in front of him, enjoying his awkward moments whenever he saw us being intimate. In the end, we’d simply ran out of time. We took life for granted and played with his feelings. It isn’t fair, he didn’t deserve it, but this is how it turned out, and it is far too late for us to mend those wounds.

It was too soon to properly mourn, the emotional wounds too fresh. Not to mention the immediacy of getting Tailwind to safety. So at the time, I bottled up my thoughts and focused on placing one hoof in front of the other, simply trying to protect the mare who is all I have left of my world...

—Snap Roll’s Journal

*** *** ***

The three mile trek towards the ‘waystation’ was grueling. Had we the option to fly, the trip would have taken almost no time at all, but with the howling crosswinds, unrelenting snow and Tailwind’s injuries we were forced to rely on our hooves to get us there. Somewhere along the way I’d found a cleft in a rock face that shielded us from the wind enough for me to change into the second set of winter wraps we’d stolen. It was… awkward trying to fit my wings in, but I managed. The added insulation helped greatly, but by the time we crested a ridge and came upon a small collection of dilapidated buildings, Tailwind was already edging towards hypothermia, with myself not far behind.

There were two rows of buildings, about eight in all, leading up to what seemed to be a train platform with an ancient rail line stretching off into the distance to the south. The buildings were varied enough to give me the impression that each had once served a distinct purpose in the settlement once upon a time. Had I to guess, I couldn’t imagine more than a couple dozen ponies inhabiting the place even in its heyday. The weather was certainly nothing to brag about.

Were I to hazard another guess, I would say the settlement seemed to have once served as an end-of-the-line train stop. Or perhaps not the end, at least. It did seem that the railway might have continued straight through the small settlement long ago, with the tracks simply having been dismantled in the hundreds of years since it had last been really inhabited. I could imagine the metal in the tracks themselves being considered valuable in the wasteland — we had a similar mindset in the Enclave of re-using available materials.

As we descended the shallow slope into the settlement, I glanced through the map on my TFD. Now, I had expected the map to be out of date — cartography had definitely taken a side-seat to simple survival in the time since the Great War, and that was understandable. What disconcerted me was that despite clearly being from before even the war, the settlement was nowhere to be seen on my TFD’s map. Not even the rail line showed up. I plotted and labeled the spot with an idle glance through the menus, simply naming it “Waystation.” It became the sole point of interest on the otherwise bare map, save for a few hoof-drawn notes from the briefing that morning. I was highly suspect of the validity of even those notes by that point.

There was no movement or light from any of the buildings, not even the telltale darting of shadows in windows. As we entered the settlement, I muttered as much to myself as to keep Tailwind conscious. “Surely even the dirtponies mark their buildings for passersby...”

Tailwind murmured something in response, though her voice was too weak for me to hear over the storm. She leaned into me a bit more, as if trying to warm up through physical contact alone. It was laughably far from enough considering how cold it was, and the temperature was only dropping. We needed to get to shelter, and fast.

Looking for any sort of obvious medical building proved entirely fruitless. One of the first buildings we came upon was a saloon that seemed to have been the site of quite the gun battle once upon a time, judging from the bullet holes coating the exterior and the broken letters above the entryway. I figured it was a possible place to take refuge for the night, and led Tailwind inside. As it turned out, the inside hadn’t fared any better.

Broken tables and smashed chairs littered the interior of the saloon, and not a single window was entirely intact. I could practically smell the reek of alcohol residue emanating from the wreckage of the bar. Peculiarly, a solitary pool table off in the corner seemed perfectly serviceable, though I couldn’t see a trace of any pool cues or most of the balls. I found myself wondering what sort of pony would take a pool cue or an eight ball, but dismissed the thought as irrelevant as I continued searching through the ruined building. A wartime poster was tacked to one of the walls that had apparently managed to stay intact until then. It hung by a single point of adhesive as it flapped in the wind, and it bore the image of a pony I knew well. She had a rainbow coloured mane, cyan coat and defiant magenta eyes. She was wearing a variant of the same powered armour Nosedive had worn, the cloud and lightning bolt of her cutiemark painted on the flank. Transposed beside her, a trio of like armoured pegasi flew in formation as a heading declared, “Keep the skies of Equestria safe, join the Equestrian Air Force Today!” The ministry mares had always been made to strike powerful images for the propaganda posters, and she was no exception. Ministry mare Rainbow Dash, one of the wartime heroes of Equestria. A gust of wind came through the building’s destroyed rear exit, and I realized we would have no shelter there. We might have been able to close off a room deeper into the building, but without a means of heat, we would freeze over the long night. As we moved on, the last of whatever adhesive held the recruiting poster in place finally gave way, and it was borne out of sight by the harsh wind.

Most of the buildings along the strip yielded similar results, though none were as badly shot-up as the saloon. However, a two story building with the words “Sheriff’s Office” emblazoned upon its face below a bronze six-pointed star had a full set of intact windows and doors. The paint even looked like it hadn’t been simply rotting away for two hundred years. I figured it was as good as we were going to get, and we were kind of out of other options at that point. Giving Tailwind a nudge with my muzzle, I commented, “Almost there, Tailwind. Stay awake, you hear me?” I was practically the only thing holding her upright at that point.

“Still here, Chief.” She mumbled back as she glanced up at me. “Gonna turn ourselves in? Heh…” She smiled thinly. It seemed like she wanted to laugh at her own bad joke, but didn’t have the strength for it.

I grimaced at the thought of walking into a sheriff's office dressed as some hooligan gang, but we didn’t really have an alternative. I led Tailwind to the door, considering briefly if I wanted to even try and be stealthy about entering the building. The thought was quickly dismissed in favour of just getting the hell out of the cold, and I shouldered the door open while helping Tailwind inside. The first floor was what I could imagine passed for standard fare for a professional building on the surface, if distinctly less destroyed than I’d expected. A reception desk sat off to one side of the room, with a hallway extending straight away from the entrance. About a dozen paces in, I could see a pair of corridors branching off of the main route, though they were blind corners from my perspective. Sandbags had been liberally used to turn the reception desk into a micro-fortress, and set up to make a shoulder-high barrier beside each of the branching corridors. Somepony had worked quite hard to make the entryway a killzone, and we were standing dead center in it. Surprisingly, the building smelled almost clean, though I could smell a lingering trace of smoke. It was actually warm inside, and Tailwind let out a small, relieved sigh as I helped her lean up against the reception desk. I whispering quietly to her, “Stay here for a minute, seems like it might be uninhabited, but I’ll check it out.”

I gently placed my hoof on her cheek, waiting for her to look up at me. Her beautiful emerald green eyes were unfocused, but she managed to nod and respond, her voice already sounding better now that we were out of the storm. “Yeah... I’ll just hang out here. Don’t worry, Chief.”

I’d hardly taken a few steps when I heard the ominous sound of an action being cocked, the challenge obvious if the owner waited until I was inside to ready their weapon.

They have the drop on me, I don’t know how many there are, and there is categorically no cover in this entryway... time to improvise.

Cursing under my breath, I replied while staying well away from the pistol at my hip. “We don’t mean any harm. We’re just seeking shelter from the storm.”

A mare’s voice responded from deeper into the building, presumably from the corridor down the hall and on the left. “Oh, is that so...?” Her tone was practically dripping with venom. The voice’s owner was an off-white coated unicorn mare dressed in leather barding, levitating a nasty looking bullpup style assault rifle beside her as she emerged from the corridor I’d guessed she was in, moving to stand behind the sandbag barrier. She didn’t take cover, but from her perspective I suppose she could have taken me without needing to. Her black mane was braided in a practical manner that still managed to be attractive. “Don’t mean no harm, that I’m doubtful of.” She couldn’t have been older than her mid-teens, but she magically held her weapon with a confidence that spoke of a deep familiarity with weaponry.

“There’s no need for this to get violent,” I replied as casually as I could, “We’ll move on once we’ve warmed up enough to travel again.”

“Funny how you scouts seem to do that, yet a bigger pack of not-so-friendly ponies always seems to follow don’t they? It would save me and my ilk a lot of trouble to just put you scum down right here.” She accused, leveling the rifle at my chest.

I glanced to my side, fearful that she’d seen my wings, to see only the reassuring white of the barding I was wearing. I rapidly realized several things. First, the mare actually believed I was with the group that previously owned that barding, and second, that the “Redeye” group was both larger than I’d expected and seemed to be rather passionately disliked by other surface dwellers... which would make sense, if what the mare had said about slavers had any truth to it.

That in mind, I feigned surprise at her accusations, “Oh shit, the barding... we’re not Redeyes!” I stammered as I removed the hood and face protector, letting my mane fall free. “We caught a pair of them by surprise and managed to take them out, but got caught out by the storm.” I tried to put as much sincerity as I could into my reply.

“Redeyes...?” She seemed to find the way I’d said it offputting. I found myself wondering where the name actually stemmed from — I had assumed it was just the name of the group. Were they named after an individual? I made a mental note to find out. “What exactly are you then?” The mare asked with a skeptical look.

“They’re down right stupid is what they are!” Yelled an older unicorn with an identical off-white coat as he stepped into view from the corridor opposite the mare’s position, saving me from having to reply without any real answer thought up. “Anypony worth their bit knew a storm was brewing four days prior, yet these dipshits didn’t even have their own barding.” He looked my way, wearing a look I could only describe as displeased. “Had to go an’ steal it from some slavers. Daft.”

“Yeah, that’s ‘bout how I would put it as well, pa.” The mare replied, her rifle still trained on me.

The stallion continued walking closer, passing his daughter and the sandbag position she was behind to come to a halt a couple paces in front of me. “Pretty weak story if you ask me.”

I stammered out a response, the stallion standing above me reminding me all too vividly of a pissed off NCO. “We were on a scavenging run, found a downed Vertibuck and a bit of neat stuff to fence,” I gestured towards my still holstered energy pistol as I mentioned it, “Then started to head back when we ran into the previous owners of this barding.”

The buck paused and a thin smile curled its way up his lip, just a little. “I see...” he concluded, seeming to enjoy letting the declaration remain as vague as possible. A moment later, he straightened up, yelling “All right, that settles it!”

Grimacing as I anticipated the worst, I hopped a half step back into a low crouch, a move that had become muscle memory to ready myself to take flight... a moment before realizing my wings were still trapped within my own disguise.

The stallion, watching this, declared with a smile, “They’re gonna stay with us till this here storm passes!”

What?

“What?!” Stammered the mare, clearly as surprised as I was.

Suppressing my look of bafflement, I straightened up as I replied, “Thank you very much, sir.” I gave a short bow of my head as I did.

The older stallion chuckled, waving a forehoof dismissively. “I ain’t been knighted there, missy.” Turning to his daughter, he added, “Grace, grab a pair of splints and a healing potion for her wounded friend.”

The young mare stumbled back in surprise, her rifle finally pointing somewhere other than my chest, “Whaa? Oh fine, I’m on it, Pa.” She groused, before disappearing into the same corridor that her father had emerged from.

The immediate threat to our lives avoided, I trotted over to help Tailwind to her hooves. As I did, I caught sight of the older stallion looking our way, an unreadable expression on his face. He beckoned us to follow him, and as he turned away I caught a glimpse of a black knight emblazoned on his flank. Catching my gaze, he commented with a smile as he cantered out of sight, “The name’s Chess.”

He didn’t exactly give us a chance to respond in kind, and we hastily followed. He led us to a set of stairs, hidden from view of the entryway. The cleanliness of the building continued to strike me as being an oddity down here. I mean, the entire rest of the town was practically destroyed. Chess apparently wasn’t in the mood to wait around for us to follow, and I caught sight of his tail disappearing around the side of the first switchback of the stairs. We followed at our own pace, Tailwind leaning heavily on my side as we ascended behind him.

The stairs continued zig-zagging upwards — presumably towards an attic — but our destination seemed to be on the second level. As we left the stairwell, we entered what seemed to be a living room of sorts. There was a large hearth blazing happily away, heating up the building so very nicely. A considerable amount of firewood was stacked in a sconce near it, what looked like enough to keep the fire burning for days, at least. Newer-looking rugs and pillows were scattered around the room, and off to one side there was an impromptu kitchen, complete with fridge and an oven. Several doors lead to other areas of the building, presumably bedrooms and storage rooms of some sort. Chess had just entered one of the doors on the far side of the room, leaving it slightly ajar behind him. Tailwind and I waited by the stairs for the moment, unsure whether he wanted us to follow… And because standing by the hearth just felt so damn good. I could feel my feathers again!

The noise of a pony descending the stairs behind us scattered my thoughts on the warmth of the fire. I turned, seeing a midnight blue earth pony with a thick grey mane as he descended the same set of stairs we’d just left. His build was… well, I would come to determine it as “average” for an earth pony, but at the time I’d thought he seemed to be more solidly built than most of the pegasi I’d known, Nosedive excepted. A cutiemark of a hardcover book resting upon a red cloth, closed, with a trio of bits resting upon it decorated his flank. The rifle slung across his back lent credence to my suspicion that they had had a spotter in the attic, presumably using some window or another to keep watch. All in all, he gave off a vibe of being almost overwhelmingly normal... except for his eyes. They were of a soft grey tone and seemed… distant, as if focusing on something I couldn’t see. Without context, I paid his expression no heed for the time being.

Returning from the room wearing a white medical coat, Chess addressed the unusually quiet buck, “Don’t worry, they’re guests. Uninvited, but welcome nonetheless.” To which he received only a nod in response. Turning back to Tailwind and myself, Chess announced, “Got some medical supplies, gonna fix you gals up right and proper.”

Seeing the coat, I piped up with the interest, grasping on to medical knowledge as something we might have in common. “You’re a doctor?”

“Hah, doctor?” He replied as he choked back a laugh, “I ain’t got no schoolin’.”

Oh dear.

I glanced at the earth pony to see his reaction to that, but he’d already disappeared into one of the adjoining rooms without a sound. I managed a light chuckle, “Should I be worried, Chess?”

“Bah, just get yer flanks in here,” Chess tossed his head dismissively.

Following the older stallion into the impromptu clinic, I saw a plush couch along one wall easily big enough for two ponies, with a set of leg braces and a healing potion sitting on a small operating table next to it. Of the mare who’d evidently put them there, there was no sign. Sitting against the far wall was a collection of cabinets holding containers with many medical supplies I recognized — more purple vials of magical healing potions, Med-X with both IV drips and auto-injectors, a decent supply of magical bandage, and a few orange packets of RadAway. However there were other small, glass-fronted containers, filled with a bewildering array of... well, drugs. Vials of hefty looking yellow-orange pills sat beside what seemed to be inhalers of some kind, while another shelf held a mildly terrifying array of large injectors with varying colours of liquid inside, all carefully organized. They were all as meticulously arranged as the mundane supplies I was familiar with, but very much foreign to me. There was a substantial lock on the cabinet, not that I intended to peruse his supplies without invitation anyways.

Before I could take a closer look at the assortment of medical supplies, the grey aura of Chess’ magic encased the door, closing it behind us as the stallion turned to face Tailwind and myself. “So girls, when were you planning on telling us you were Enclave, hmm?”

Were we that obvious? Damn.

My ears drooped. In a few minutes, he would have been doing medical work on Tailwind, and I would have been in a position to control the situation when he did inevitably find out. As it was, it said a lot about his character that he not only hadn’t drawn a weapon but was still willing to hear us out. "Well, the plan had been to find a doctor and bank on patient confidentiality being high on his list of personality traits. We truly don't mean you or yours any harm. My name’s Snap Roll, and she’s Tailwind.” I paused a second before adding, “How did you know?”

He barked a short, humourless laugh. “Almost nopony down here knows what a Vertibuck is, even if they were to see one.” He gestured to the pistol still sheathed on my foreleg, “And that pistol looks far too well cared for to be a salvaged from a wreck.” He took on a more serious tone as he sat down in a chair off to one side of the impromptu operating area. “Tell me then why y’all are down from your pretty perch, can’t imagine what ya would want down here.”

“That would be classified Enclave intelligence you’re asking me to divulge,” I declared, the last of my conviction lending weight to my words, before tiredness at the day’s events caught up with me... not to mention the mild hypothermia. “We were looking for any sign of a griffon forward operating base in the area, as well as any sign of some ‘Redeye’ fellow or his gang.” I sighed, letting my posture slump. I discovered I was almost embarrassed by how bad our information about what we were up against was. “Well, no sign of a griffon FOB, but we found plenty of Redeye. Shot us down. Had griffon support and... everfree winds, something that looked for all the world like one of the Princesses of old, all on our crash site within an hour.” I closed my eyes, “Our... partner bought us time to get out with our lives.”

The old buck’s features grew tired, that of somepony who’d been through much in his life. I’d seen the same look worn by veterans of the Pegasi-Griffon War. “I’ll do what I can for you two, it’s what I do. But you know you can’t go back up there now. You’re stuck in this world you and yours helped make.” Opening his eyes, he stared straight into mine, “And don’t count on anypony else down here givin’ you as much as we have.”

I nodded, quietly absorbing his words. It was unfortunate, but not surprising that we were hated. I helped Tailwind over to the operating table, giving support as she climbed up and laid her head upon a pillow.

Chess stood up from his chair, helping Tailwind get herself situated on the operating table before carefully measuring out a small dose of Med-X and applying it. Despite his assertion as to not having been properly schooled, his movements were confident enough that I figured there was much he could teach me about medical treatment.

No schooling, indeed.

I conversed with him as I lounged on the couch, bundled under a blanket that had been provided. “So about the others here... how would they react if they found out about us? And is there any particularly bad blood towards cloudfolk?” Realization hit me that he might have some information on my actual mission objectives, almost forgotten after the events of the day, “Oh, and who is this Redeye character anyways? Seems to have a fairly well equipped gang with the resources to afford griffons and...” I paused, frowning as I realized I didn’t really have the vocabulary to properly describe what I’d seen. “A… Goddess?” The word made my mouth itch with how uncomfortable it was to admit, but I didn’t exactly have another term of reference for what She was.

“Most everyone hates your type down here. Grace is a good gal, wouldn’t do ya harm, and Bernard is too emotionally scarred to be aggressive towards anypony not trying to kill him.” I made a mental note of the other buck’s name. As Chess spoke, he continued working. His horn lit with its soft grey aura, and I saw the same form over Tailwind, as if outlining her. I didn’t have anything to base it on, but the way he looked at her was as if reading data off an EFS. It struck me that he must have been using a medical diagnostic spell, and I was incredibly jealous. I mean, if I could pick one unicorn trick to be able to do, a diagnostic spell would make my side-role as a medic so much easier. I was so entranced as he worked that it caught me off guard when he continued. “As for Redeye, he runs his own mini empire, complete with munitions factories and the biggest army on the ground since the bombs fell. Them wing’ed ones ain’t no goddesses — they’re monsters.” He dropped his voice low as he closed off his spell and looked me in the eyes. “Cold, heartless monsters, and they’ve allied themselves with Redeye ever since he started spouting somesuch nonsense about ‘Unity,’ and ‘making all ponies equal’.”

Oh. That definitely counts as intel.

He resumed attending Tailwind, content to leave me with that remark. He delicately began removing Tailwind’s barding, starting with the straps across her chest. In response, she whinnied, “Ooooh Chief, a stallion’s undressing me... weeeeee...”

Good to see the Med-X is taking effect.

“Little young ‘fer me there, missy.” He replied with a distracted shake of his head. Her wings popped free as he peeled off the last of her barding, then began applying the set of leg braces.

“Oh no, he’s tying me up... oh nooooo...” Tailwind half heartedly flailed her legs, eliciting an almost paternal frown from Chess.

Wait, that’s not the Med-X. That’s just Tailwind being Tailwind.

“Oh hush, we both know you enjoy being tied up, Tail.” I cooed in her general direction, enjoying her melodramatic discomfort. I took the opportunity to snuggle further into the cushions of the couch. They were nothing like the comfort of cloud pillows, mind you, but I took what I could get after almost dying of exposure. And to be completely honest, they came a close second.

“Now now girls, this be a doctors’ office, not a brothel.” Chess chastened, finishing with the leg braces.

Pouting in his general direction, I resumed lounging as Chess returned to his work in relative silence, humming a soft tune as he did. Minutes passed, with all present seemingly lost in their own thoughts. Finishing up with having Tailwind drink the last of a healing potion, Chess declared "There ya go ma'am. You'll be good in a couple o' days, just don’t do nothin fancy."

In lieu of a reply, I heard soft snoring coming from the operating table as Tailwind hugged the pillow her head had been resting on, already fast asleep. Chess’ horn flared to life once again. He carefully lifted the sleeping mare and set her down on the couch. I admit I was a little entranced at how smoothly he could manipulate… well, her. He then draped a blanket over her with his magic, a wistful smile on his features.

Curious, I inquired in a soft voice as I started gently brushing Tailwind’s mane, “How long do you think this storm will last?”

Setting his instruments down on a side table, Chess turned to me and replied “At worst a week, probably four days now though. Well past your contact time if’n I’m not mistaken.”

I sighed, having feared as much. “When I had heard about this waystation, I had been hoping we’d be able to access one of the...” I paused, considering whether or not the average wastelander would actually know what the MASEBS towers do, before deciding to play it safe; “Broadcasting towers the DJ down here has been using. There isn’t one, is there? It would look like a tall, white tower, reaching into the clouds.”

He shook his head. “No, I’m sorry to say... there isn’t one. Not within a days’ trot at any rate, and you aren’t gonna be flying anywhere with winds like this, no matter how strong a flier you think you are.”

I bet he'd like to see how strong a flier I think I am.

I mentally clamped down on the instinct to snark at that particular comment. He was sheltering us, and he was probably right at any rate. Even if he didn't know me, he knew the environment, and I'd be a fool to disregard that advice... as bruising to my ego as it was.

Another topic had come to mind, a change of conversation direction in order to avoid that particular confrontation. “Well, I hadn’t wanted to think about it, but... we might need a source of bits if we’re gonna be here as long as it looks like we might.” I raised a hoof to my muzzle in thought, before concluding “There isn’t any chance you know of one, is there? A job?”

Chess let out a hearty laugh, “Oh girl, you got some adaptin’ to do. How ‘bouts when morning comes you head out with Bernard? He’s running an errand for me and I’d appreciate you going along.”

*** *** ***

By the time the sun rose above the horizon — that is to say, the wasteland went from pitch black and snowy to a dim, grey light… and snowy — we were already on the road. Needless to say, the storm hadn’t calmed any during the night. As we headed out, Bernard and I had been struck by the continued howling winds, driving snow and fierce cold as we were once again enveloped by the storm’s embrace. Visibility was on average about twenty paces, getting better or worse depending mostly on varying wind speed. I’m sure my eyes would have been hurting a lot more from the brightness if the snow goggles I’d appropriated along with the barding hadn’t proved so useful. Heading out around midday made the weather closer to bearable, or at least not threatening to actively kill us by exposure alone, but that would change once the sun started to set. Of that I had little doubt. We were on our way to fix what Chess had vaguely described as a “surveillance probe” he’d situated in an abandoned bunker complex an hour or so north of the waystation.

My questions about the nature of the probe itself had largely gone unanswered, Chess apparently preferring to let me stew on what little bits of information he gave me. When I asked if it could transmit radio waves, he replied “Nope, it’s a closed circuit, lass. Don’t want nosy turkeys hackin’ my defence works!” I made the connection that “Turkeys” must be the popular slang for pegasus down here, as I recalled one of the Redeye sentries using the term the day before.

I guess it’s fair turnabout considering the names we call them... though ‘dirtponies’ definitely has more of a ring to it.

The “road” we trotted lead straight north out of the settlement before beginning a series of slow bends as it navigated its way through the hills and valleys. Realistically, it was less of a road and more of a built up and hardened route that was moderately easier to traverse than the snow around it... but I’m not exactly the best judge of what does or does not constitute a road, as I had literally not needed one before in my life. It was just so… pedestrian.

My wings were still uncomfortably contained within the Redeye winter wraps, and Bernard had put on a drab coloured winter jacket that looked like it kept out the cold rather effectively. His long rifle was slung over his back, and his lack of a battle saddle led me to believe (correctly, as it turned out) that he hoof fired the rather substantial weapon. Strapped to his foreleg was a pistol I’d managed to determine was of the 10mm variety.

During the trot North, Bernard remained silent, though every now and then he would cast the occasional look in my direction. His body language suggested passive curiosity, but I remained wary of him nonetheless.

Just as Chess had promised, slightly over an hour into our trek we came upon a side path branching off of the main. As we left the main path, my hooves sank into the snow to about mid-fetlock. At the time I had assumed that was simply because the side path was unused, but in hindsight that didn’t make sense to me. I mean, there wouldn’t have been anypony to pack it down since the storm started, and it had been snowing steadily... why would the snow not accumulate? My mind wandered as I put one hoof in front of the other, a monotonous tread of hooves in deep snow.

As it turned out, what managed to break me out of my reverie was a slight break in the wind, revealing a series of concrete buildings through the lull in the storm. The remains of an ancient military outpost loomed, the fortifications themselves appearing to be mostly intact. A series of stakes lined the outside of a short defensive wall separating the courtyard from the outside world. Within, I could make out a smaller bunker and what appeared to be something of a main building further into the complex. Snow covered bulges topping each of the stakes. The sight left me feeling uneasy as we trotted closer to the entryway. The silence between us began to get to me, and I spoke up in an attempt to draw conversation from the reserved buck beside me. “So, any idea how long it’s been since Chess last checked on this probe?”

Bernard’s reply was as monotone as it was uninformative. “At least a week, probably longer.”

Frowning, I cantered over to the nearest of the stakes, curious as to what the bulges were. I moved to brush the fresh snow from the object, wanting to get a clearer view of what it was. “Well, let’s just find this probe and be done with-”

A pony’s head was impaled on the iron spike, her swollen tongue lolling drunkenly from between frozen lips.

Taking a horrified step back, I gasped as I realized the extent of the silent carnage before me. There were an awful lot of stakes before the perimeter wall, each representing the cruel end of a life… it sickened me beyond words, the callous butchery. Nopony deserved that.

“Raiders.” Bernard grumbled, his comment betraying the first real hint of emotion I’d heard from him. There was deep seated anger in his tone.

“You say that as if you’ve seen this before, Bernard,” I replied shakily, still staring wide eyed at the severed head, not realizing the verbal blunder I’d made.

He paused for a moment after my statement and seemed to tense up. “So where are you from exactly,” His voice sounded accusatory, “Because I haven’t met a pony yet who hasn't seen or heard of them before.” His posture adjusted only slightly, but I caught him leaning more to his left — the side of his pistol holster — as he turned his head to gauge my response.

With a sigh, I dropped my gaze. I was tired of lying to him, and there wasn’t going to be a better time to break it to him than when we were alone. “I expect you’d have found out soon enough anyways.” Removing my utility knife from its small holster on my purloined barding, I flipped out the knife attachment and carefully began cutting a strategically placed hole in the left shoulder of the barding, right above where my wing was confined by the thick cloth.

Bernard remained silent, never falling into a defensive stance or pointing a weapon at me, but I knew I was being judged in those quiet moments. After my wing popped out of the barding his features hardened some. He took a long while to respond, but when he did it was a monosyllabic “Why?” The way he said it gave the impression of a demand, rather than a query.

“I wasn’t lying about the crashed Vertibuck,” I muttered just loud enough to be heard over the wind, “We lost three friends yesterday, and I was hesitant to trust anypony. Chess figured it out on his own.”

His gaze remained firmly locked as I finally got my other wing free, “So military then.”

I nodded. “Was supposed to be a scouting mission, quick in-and-out.” I grimaced as I recalled the specifics. “We were supposed to check a zone for any activity on the part of Redeye or Griffons… well, we found ‘em, that’s for sure.”

His response came fairly quickly and was rather blunt. “So now you and your friend are stuck. Good.” He added the caveat without breaking his callous expression, but his tone carried a hint of spite. To my ears, it was a challenge.

I dropped the utility knife, stepping into a fighting crouch. I didn’t move for the pistol still holstered on my foreleg, but I wasn’t about to let that comment go unaddressed. “Fuck you too,” I spat back, “When was it that we pissed in your hay fries, again?”

His response was forthcoming and very cold. “Every day of all of our collective lives,” he paused a breath before continuing. “This storm, the cloud cover — our entire existence in the wastes is dictated by your people's indifference. So excuse me if I don't get teary eyed when a hoof-full of you get shot.” He bit off the end of his statement, revealing ever so briefly a deep hurt before he regained his composure.

“Oh yeah?” I replied, “Our indifference is what gets pegasi killed every other time we try and interact with your world instead of just watching from the clouds. Our ‘indifference’ is what costs our families their mothers, fathers, daughters and sons.” I might have faltered for just a moment when I mentioned fathers. I hoped he hadn’t noticed. I advanced on him, closing to about a pace away. “For what? Are you telling me the benefit to your family outweighs the cost to mine?”

He visually scowled at my intentional use of 'family' but instead of getting even more heated he took a rather unexpected turn and pointed a hoof at the mare's head that seemed to look right at me. “I'm sure she would've.”

I glanced at the impaled head in thought. He had a point, and I’d already made as much of mine as I had the heart for. I could see the current tack of conversation was only hurting both of us, and I was rapidly becoming aware of the fact that having this conversation in the midst of a snowstorm that was only getting worse was not the greatest idea. Letting my body language slump, I dropped out of my fighting posture. “Bernard, do you know what I care about right now? Paying Chess back for taking us in, and keeping Tailwind safe. She’s all I have right now; even if we don’t see eye to eye, I’m sure you can understand that.” Meeting his gaze, I pointed a wing in the direction of the bunker complex. “I won’t do it for you, Chess, or the fucking wasteland; But to keep whoever did this away from Tailwind, I’ll do whatever it takes.” Dropping my wing, I checked the load on my energy pistol, seeing a solid green charge from the spark battery. “Are you gonna help me or not?”

He seemed to soften slightly when I explained myself, “Yeah, I more than understand.” He spoke softly, as if to himself. “And yes, I will help you kill these sadistic animals.” He met my gaze again as he spoke, “You're new to this so I'll give you it straight; you kill them. Don't talk, don't give them any quarter or thought of mercy. Just shoot.”

“I think that can be arranged,” I replied with a smile as I retrieved the utility knife. I stowed it and pulled my TFD from another utility pouch, brushing my mane away from my right ear as I clipped the device back on. It started up just fine, and I quickly saw the reassuring overlay of targeting reticle, compass, and the rest of the display. “I’ll clear the first building, can you cover me from here?”

Bernard nodded in affirmation as he unlimbered the long rifle from his back, using practiced motions to press check the round in the chamber. Satisfied, he gave a quick glance down the sight before replying, “The storm makes it difficult, though.”

I crouched, angling my body towards the smaller bunker. “Good enough for me,” I replied before kicking off the ground and flapping hard against the vicious crosswinds, forcing my way through the storm. I wanted to get a better view of the structures before us. In the end, despite fighting against the sweeping winds, the bird’s eye view was more than worth the effort of sustained flight in a snowstorm. The smaller looking structure was definitely a pillbox, sticking out of the protective wall and obviously having a dominating field of view over the path we’d been traveling along. The pillbox was seemingly unconnected with the main structure, though I wouldn’t be able to tell if there were underground tunnels without clearing the building personally.

Utilizing ground bound ponies’ predisposition not to look up, I started a lazily descending circle, careful to stay out of the lines of view from any visible fire slits on the pillbox. I gently set down on top of the pillbox, looking back to where I knew Bernard was set up. I could barely make out a slightly uncovered hoof wave at me through the snow. Taking heart that I was still covered, I moved quietly along the building’s roof to where I could make out an entrance. There was no door, seemingly letting in the elements freely, though I could make out a dim light from inside.

Mustering my courage, I drew my energy pistol and poked my head down into the building, my mane falling free on its own. Inside, judging from the layers of detritus, garbage, and other items coating the floor, it seemed as if many inhabitants had taken up residence here over the years. Each had left tiny mementos of their lives scattered over the floor. Here the broken, empty bottle of a healing potion. There a discarded injector. Empty cans of food, bandage wrappers… I didn’t even want to know what was in one of the corners. At least it didn’t smell. I saw a tube of wonderglue that wasn’t fully expended, and I stowed it in a pocket. Hey, you never know right? Eventually, my eyes were drawn towards the only light source in the room, the still powered screen of a terminal set against the wall. A series of wires varying in thickness led from the rear of the terminal into a circular device hovering where, once upon a time, the main weapon system of this pillbox would have been mounted.

With a few quick hoof signals, I managed to indicate to Bernard that the way was safe. He began making his way to the pillbox, rifle slung over his back.

As the buck trotted over in what I suppose could almost count as tactical movement, I inspected the small robotic orb hovering near the main weapon’s wall slit. It appeared to be a modified spritebot, one of the old toys once used by the Ministry of Morale to spy on the average citizen’s daily life. A series of additional lenses seemed to have been added, as well as the cluster of cabling linking it to the terminal. The modifications were clearly made using what had been available, but appeared to be fairly well put together, all things considered.

I realized that such a jury rigged setup could only be the probe Chess had spoken of, and moved to take a look at the terminal after covering Bernard’s crossing of the snowy courtyard. It occurred to me that if anypony did still occupy these ruins, they were doing a poor job if they left such an easily defended and monitored point like the pillbox unoccupied.

Terminal operation never was my strong suit. I’d always had Tailwind around, and her particular love of terminals meant I’d never really needed to learn to operate them. Luckily, Chess had left no password. Upon booting up the screen, I was greeted with a crackle of static and a caption typing itself across the top of the screen. “Thanks Mr/Ms/Mrs stranger for helping me get in contact with this terminal! Below will be a diagnostics report of what’s wrong with this here installation!” The portrait of what appeared to be an overjoyed stallion’s disembodied head narrated.

What followed were a series of step by step processes to reconnect the optics wires inside the spritebot. Even with my lack of technical aptitude, I set to work reconnecting the wires. A spliced point in the wires had caused a short, damaging a few wires and leaving the spritebot without power. I managed to find a small collection of spare parts among the detritus lining the floor, and replaced the damaged components without issue.

The task at hand completed, I rejoined Bernard at the entrance. He was sitting contemplatively, but with his rifle close at hoof. There was no mistaking the intensity in which he watched the main building, as if willing whoever had left the stakes in place to still be there. He had hid his emotions pretty much since I’d met him, but I could see a cold anger behind his eyes, gone in a blink as he noticed my presence.

“You still want to do this?” His question hung in the air, giving me an out if I’d truly wanted it. He knew I’d fixed the probe, he knew we’d just completed the job we’d technically been sent on. We could come back later, we could even leave things as they were. Even if we left, we could still inform Chess of the unwanted visitors that were now nesting near his home.

“Yes.” My determined response surprised me. I hadn’t yet settled my thoughts on the matter at hand, but these ponies had done unconscionably monstrous things to those they’d killed, and threatened those who’d taken Tailwind and myself in.

He nodded thoughtfully, the barest hint of an uplift bringing his lips to a tight smile.

We moved up to the main building in the same fashion as the pillbox. The main blast door was ajar enough for a pony to slip through, and seemed to have been slid to that position with raw effort some time since the facility had lost power. It wasn’t closing anytime soon.

The entryway was clear, but a wave of sickly smelling air hit me as we made our way quietly inside. Having caught wind, Bernard commented, “They’re still here,” I replied with a solemn nod.

A “T” intersection seemed to bring our route into the facility into question, but the right hand fork abruptly ended in a metal blast door with a terminal lock, this time requiring a password. I had no desire to fiddle with that, and the level of dust and undisturbed snow accumulated in front of the door led me to believe that way was clear enough to proceed down the other hall. As I did so, I gradually becoming aware that a light emanated from an undefined source probably about twenty meters down the hallway, around a corner.

Continuing with a pony’s length between us, we came upon a dark fluid, reflective in the dim light. It had long since pooled, and originated from the far side of the corner. The smell of copper and less identifiable things assailed my nostrils, almost making me gag. I’d been fully immersed in mass casualty situations through the VI… but that was so much worse.

I rounded the corner.

Dead, swollen eyeballs stared at me, illuminated only by the flickering orange light of a pair of ancient light fixtures, evidently part of the bunker’s emergency lighting system. A pony’s desecrated body hung above a stairwell leading down into the depths of the facility. Its gender was indiscernible due to the sheer level of surgical violence levied upon it. Its limbs had been hewn from its skinned body, which was held in place by a series of chains bolted to its ribcage. The eyelids had been sliced from the corpse, and its jaw was split into four equal segments — they were splayed wide with what looked like surgical twine, then frozen in place by rigor mortis and the cold. The innards had been spilt from the corpse and dangled onto the stairs. The walls themselves had been defiled with foul, bloody graffiti. Chunks of flesh and a generous pool of blood adorned the floor and stairs. It was an abomination.

I felt dizzy and took a faltering step backwards, feeling what had been breakfast rising in my throat. The thought of somepony downstairs having the presence of mind to hear a mare being violently sick on their front door flashed through my head. I took another step back before dropping to cover my mouth with my forehooves.

I heard Bernard’s sharp intake of breath, the same thought surely going through his own mind. I felt his gentle hoof on my back, but it was too late for comfort.

I threw up as quietly as I could in my mouth, tasting Chess’ broth, mixed sickeningly with the taste of carrots. Slowly, disgustingly, I went through one of the operations I’d occasionally teased recruits about when they were going through their gas attack drills for the first time. I ate it back, my throat shuddering in protest. I almost threw up all over again, but I managed to get it back down with only a muffled whimper.

Why is it always carrots?

Bernard glanced down at me with… not-quite concern in his eyes. No, it was more like he was letting me decide for myself what to do. He didn’t say anything, but I knew the question behind his silence.

"Should we continue?"

I wiped my mouth on a sleeve before stating, quiet but firm, “I meant what I said outside, and this only serves to justify that. We need to end this.”

Without waiting for a reply, I started off down the stairs, carefully nudging aside the entrail curtain blocking the stairs with a wingtip. I heard Bernard’s hoofsteps following close behind me, his stance on the matter clear.

As we descended further into the complex, it became clear that a more substantial amount of violence had happened at the top of the stairs than was initially apparent. As a medical pony, I figured there was far too much blood for the solitary corpse to have been the only such victim. Blood and bits of gore coated the entirety of the stairs, leading to the necessity of careful hoofwork for both Bernard and myself; I lacked room to properly hover, the base clearly having been designed for earth ponies. As we approached the end of the stairs, a flickering light threw dancing shadows towards us. It did nothing to calm my nerves. I could make out a few indistinct noises from further into the building.

At the base of the stairs, we discovered that the emergency lighting had failed on this level of the complex, the hallway lit only by the flickering light of burning refuse in a trashcan. The stairway exited into another T intersection. I ignoring the right hand side for now. The now more distinct slapping sound of meat hitting meat, a steady rhythm, emanated from one of the two rooms stemming from the hallway on the left.

The hallway extended about fifty meters from the staircase, branching off into what appeared to be a smaller room about ten meters away, and a larger one about half the length of the hallway from where we stood. The steady noise came from the closer room, though snatches of muted conversation could be heard from the further.

Sneaking our way forward, I edged around to take a look into the closer room. I almost needn’t have wasted the effort, the room’s only occupants were very much indisposed.

The room was about ten meters wide and circular, taller than the hallway by about three meters. A grating-covered vent was on the far wall, higher than was feasible for a pony to reach unaided. The room, however, was not what made my eyes go wide as I threw a forehoof to my mouth to cover a harsh intake of breath. The noise emanated from a mare with her face pressed against the wall being raped by what could only have been one of the raiders Bernard had described. The poor mare was pinned, literally. Her forehooves were nailed just below shoulder height to the concrete wall. I couldn’t quite make out what it was, but a manacle or… something was attached to her right foreleg. A faint green light seemed to come from the device, illuminating the small table beside the two ponies.

Sweat and less wholesome fluids slicked her light green coat to her body, her straw coloured mane matted down and as dirty as the rest of her. As the stallion mounting her continued rutting her against the wall, I could make out a piece of rebar sticking from her hip, extending through her stomach and reaching to the floor. It seemed to be all that held her upright against his violent thrusts. Her eyes were tightly shut, and every thrust seemed to drive the breath from her lungs. Blood and a slurry of sexual fluids ran down her thighs into a disgusting pool of the same already there. Some had already dried.

The stallion behind her appeared to be light brown, though in the dancing firelight and beneath what could easily have been a lifetime of unwashed dirt and grime, it was difficult to be certain. He wore a helmet made from the skull of a wolf, and his body was covered in a coat of flayed pony hides reinforced with pieces of metal. There was no affection to the act he was committing. In fact, it looked like he was deliberately grinding her against the spike of rebar propping her up. He wasn't merely getting himself off in her cunt, he was being cruel about it — as if her pain was all part of what was doing it for him. A nasty looking serrated sword rested on the small table a few feet from the two ponies. I thought I could make out a peculiar, dim red glow given off from the blade itself. Or perhaps it was just the firelight playing tricks on my eyes.

It sickened me, but I didn’t want to blow our cover. Nor did I want to leave a hostile behind us were we to continue further into the building. I waved Bernard forward, indicating for him to keep an eye on the stallion with a pointed wing. He didn’t seem surprised by what he saw, disgust merely curling his frown further into a grimace, the cold anger of earlier surfacing again in his eyes.

Not daring to risk words, I hoped he understood my intent as I carefully made my way past the doorway and on towards what appeared to be a larger room on the opposite side of the hallway, judging in part from the muted voices coming from that direction.

Poking my head around the corner, I discovered that the emergency lighting had failed in this room as well. I also discovered a whole new stench of death than any I’d been exposed to. Six ponies sat and conversed idly around a rather substantial fire, a mixed bag of unicorn and earth ponies of varying colourations. It was the poorly lit corners of the room that drew my eyes, however. Bodies, dozens of them just from what I could make out, were piled at the edge of the light. Dimly, I could make out a series of cages further in. I couldn’t quite see the walls, so the full size of the room remained a mystery. The whole room practically emanated a foreboding aura, but I know that was largely the smell.

It was in that moment that I heard the deafening report of Bernard’s rifle from the doorway behind me, echoing throughout the underground structure and leaving my ears ringing. For a pregnant instant, the underground was silent save for the crackling of the fire and the soft thump of a body hitting the floor. The sound of a rifle bolt being racked broke the silence, following by the soft pinging noise of the ejected casing rolling towards my hooves.

I drew my energy pistol, firing a brace of shots into the chest of a buck who, for the most part, had the misfortune to be the first target I settled my targeting reticule on before pulling the trigger. He staggered back as the mares on either side of him jumped to their feet and started blazing away with mouth-fired ballistic weapons in my direction, not a hint of hesitation or surprise in their response. Bullets pinged off the doorframe and the wall behind me as I was forced back around the corner. As I made to run back towards Bernard, the last I saw of the larger room was that of a huge earth pony, wearing a metal helmet with a trio of huge blades built into it, stand up and bellow a warcry. I turned and ran, the echoing cries of the other ponies in the room lending speed to my hooves. I saw the last of Bernard’s tail disappear into the room I’d hoped he’d be observing right about now.

Ponyfeathers.

I wasn’t about to leave him, so I skidded to a halt in front of the doorway, taking in the carnage Bernard had wrought with a single bullet. I locked eyes with the poor mare, now splattered in gore. I saw no emotion in her eyes, only numbness. The stallion that had been mounting her had fallen limply to the side, his head messily separated at the neck. The wall behind both ponies was now coated in blood. Behind the buck, Bernard was already prone in a firing position, his rifle resting on the corpse as he braced behind it.

I dove out of the line of fire into the room, bare seconds before one of the mares who had fired at me rounded the corner. I caught a glimpse of wild frenzy in her features before the top of her head exploded in a spray of gore as Bernard’s rifle roared again, more deafening than before. He racked the slide back and forth with practiced hoof motions. Hot on the dead pony’s hooves, the next pair of ponies didn’t hesitate for an instant, rounding the corner and sprinting straight at Bernard’s position. Bernard fired again, catching the buck with a blackened chest from my earlier shots, who lost his footing and fell to the floor. In his fall, he sprayed small caliber rounds from the submachinegun clutched in his mouth. I fired on the still standing mare beside him, catching her in the flank with a pair of nasty laser burns. She was thrown off balance, but kept her footing and continued her charge towards Bernard’s position, eyes locked on my companion behind the long gun. Clenched between her teeth was what appeared to be the result of unholy matrimony between a sickle and numerous combat knives, forming a quasi efficient but very demoralizing weapon.

She’ll get to him before he can cycle the action again, and regardless of how the fight goes, the rifle will be down and they’ll overwhelm us. Damn it, this is going to hurt…

I dropped to a crouch, flapped my wings and sprang towards her. Halfway there, I intercepted a pair of rounds from the pony now lying on his side as he continued to spray rounds ineffectively towards Bernard. Despite the blossoming pain in my side, I managed a solid body tackle on the mare, focused on Bernard as she was. On the whole, it worked better than it had with the wolf. Of course, that still left me in hoof to hoof combat with a mare that obviously had experience with the sickle, judging from the dried blood gracing its blade and mouth grip.

We tumbled out of the line of fire, catching our footing on the blood slick concrete. She came at me with a flurry of small cuts, slicing slim lines in my stolen barding, trying to wear me down. As we struggled, I kept my grip on the energy pistol and held my wings to my sides. I banked on her not having fought many pegasi in close combat, which was just about the only thing I had going for me in the situation.

I heard Bernard fire again, and the submachine gun abruptly fell silent. He wouldn’t be able to hit much in the melee I found myself in, and the raider was bearing down on me fast.

The raider was clearly better than me at this range, and quickly overcame my feeble attempts at defending myself with raw strength and rage, forcing me to the ground and cutting a deep gouge into my shoulder. She lifted her sickle-bladed weapon high, and I felt my own blood drip from it to splatter on my face. She clearly intended to bring it down on my neck and end this one-sided fight... but I saw the chance I needed as she stood above me, triumphant. I pincered my wings as the blade fell, biting back the pain as feathers and flesh were cut apart, stopping just short of actually hitting bone. Surprise blossomed on her features as she frantically tried to back off and try again. I didn’t let her, reaching up with my neck and wedging my energy pistol under her chin. I fired a pair of rounds straight through her palette. I felt a familiar burning heat over me as a magical chain reaction tore through the mare, reducing her body to pink dust as her mortal remains disintegrated on top of me.

I think I just breathed in dead mare dust.

I coughed and tried in vain not to remember the taste as it clung to the back of my throat... flash burnt char with a twinge of lingering destructive magic. Frantically, I scrubbed at my tongue with my forehooves. It took me all of a second to remember I’d just walked down the bloody staircase. Even more gross. I spat in disgust at the whole situation, and I was rapidly forced to admit there were bigger problems before me.

A glance at the door showed no movement, and the grounded buck had very much been put out of his misery. I rapidly checked myself for injuries, finding that the pair of bullets I’d taken in the flank had been stopped by the barding. It hurt, but some deep bruises were the worst that would come of those bullets. I quickly pulled a couple lengths of magical bandage from my medical pack, applying solid pressure to my shoulder with a thick pad of gauze enchanted to speed clotting and healing. I felt the soft comfort of the enchanted gauze doing its job, and the throbbing pain in my shoulder dropped off right away. I also tied off a pair of quick bandages on my wings. Wings don’t have terribly much blood flow to the tips, and I wasn’t too worried about them… but it hurt. Oh, northern winds did it hurt.

Still seeing nothing in the doorway, an eerie calm had settled over our little battlefield. I took the opportunity to take stock of the other ponies in the room. Bernard was fine, the corpse he still took cover behind having absorbed a series of bullets and was leaking onto the already bloodstained floor. I glanced at the mare and my heart fell. She hadn’t been doing well before, but she’d taken several stray rounds to her unarmoured side and stomach. She now lay on her side as much as her position allowed, trying futilely to gasp for air. It hadn’t clicked in my earlier glimpse of her, but the metallic form of a pipbuck adorned her right foreleg.

These raiders must have hit a stable, and recently. She couldn’t survive this treatment for long, even before the bullet wounds.

The medical pony in me couldn’t take it. I ignored Bernard’s silent pleas to hold my position, dashing to her side. I noticed her cutiemark was a set of seeds, transposed over what appeared to be a field of dirt.

By the winds, I can’t tell if that’s part of her cutiemark or parallel bruises on her flanks.

As I took her vitals, I came across an even more disturbing discovery. They had given her at least some of a healing potion after pinning her with the rebar. They deliberately healed her around the piece of rusty fucking metal they stabbed into her. Words cannot convey what I felt for them right then.

I saw her eyes flutter open as she felt my hooves upon her, and she shuddered away from me as much as she could. The action caused the rebar sticking out of her to grind into her side — causing obvious pain, but she didn’t seem to care. I had to help her.

“Don’t be afraid, I’m a medical pony. I’m here to help.”

“Help…?” Her eyes were distant and glazed, her voice weak. I knew in my heart we didn’t have the precious medical supplies we’d need to save her. She was steadily bleeding out, we had no way to remove the rebar without massive trauma, and there was almost no way to keep infection out of the injuries on her forelegs. All without taking into account the raiders waiting just down the hall.

“I can make the pain go away.” I said a voice as gentle as I could, “Do you want that?”

She still looked dazed, but there was pleading in her eyes, like I was the only pony who would offer her what she wanted. In a way, I suppose I was. “It hurts… please?”

I dug through the medical kit I carried, removing one of the injectors of Med-X and stabbing it into the her flank. She sighed as it took effect, closing her eyes in what I could only imagine felt like the first bit of relief she’d had since she was captured by these ponies.

A voice carried from around the corner, deep and with a gravel like inflection, but tinged with a spark of wildness that sent shivers down my spine. “I see yer still standin’ then, hehehe!” From the deeper, older tone I hazarded a guess that it came from the armoured stallion I’d glimpsed earlier. “Can’t wait to get me hooves on ‘ye, ya little winged bitch!”

I couldn’t help cringing at that, quite sure what he intended. I mustered the pain, rage and venom I felt at having seen everything these ponies had done, hiding my fear in a far corner of my mind as I replied, “Come here you sky-damned bastard, Enclave Diplomacy’s waiting for you!”

He laughed, a long, mad laugh that echoed through the otherwise quiet underground. “Ha! One with some fight! I’ma enjoy this one, but I can wait. I got m’self satisfied not too long ago on yer new friend in there. Not a bad lay, needed a few ‘props’ though!” He laughed again, uttering the same disturbing noise as before at his own sick joke.

“What made you like this?” I replied in anger and confusion. I just couldn’t wrap my head around the sadistic drive to do the things these ponies had done. “What makes ponies do the things you’ve done?”

Bernard muttered from behind the corpse he still used as cover, quiet and dangerous. “Snap, they aren’t ponies any longer. Once upon a time, they might have been. Not any more.” His eyes flicked to meet mine for a moment. “There is no point in talking to them.”

A reply wafted from the other side of the standoff we’d created. “What made me? Ha! Your good, my fucking ma’ made me ya dumb cunt! T’would really help them honest folks if there were more than a month of growin’ time up here a year. Hell, half the ponies we’ve got strung up here had to risk raiders or die out there in the storm. One that you pegasi could stop if ya cared enough.”

His words brought new context to how I saw the cloud cover. Bernard’s thoughts on the matter had hinted at it, but the Raider’s words brought it home. We weren’t just starving them of sunlight — we were forcing them to live the way they do. To be completely honest, I’d always seen the cloudy skies as a life sustaining thing. It was simply the way my world had always worked. It had been such a constant in my life, something that we relied on so much we never really thought about the consequences to the ponies down below. Well, I’m sure they were thought about, just not by me. But despite that, the fact remains that the cloud cover is why the Enclave is able to exist as it does. I’m sure there could be some sort of compromise that could be reached, but as far as I was concerned, I wouldn’t be the pony doing it. Hell, I just wanted to get home.

Ultimately, my internal turmoil was relevant to the argument at hand. I shunted those thoughts away and grasped on to the counter-arguments I was familiar with; all the ponies we’d lost to the surface,forever. “We would be more inclined to be charitable if our recon teams weren’t shot down and murdered as often as they are. You are the fucking face of the wasteland to us, and up there they don’t know half of how terrible it is!”

“Me?” He asked, incredulously, “The face of the wasteland? I’m fucking honoured! I love it like it is, bitch!” His reply sent a chill through me. “Desperate folks come right to my door… fuck, you make it better ‘fer ponies and they might start having a fucking chance!”

I really didn’t want to think about the accusation that we’d indirectly been aiding the existence of ponies like him. As convinced as I was with my stance on things, that wasn’t to say the thought of what we’d done… what we are still doing didn’t weigh on me. With considerable effort, I did as Bernard suggested and turned my thoughts from the bastard waiting outside our little room. The dieing mare beside me deserved better, and I would give her what I could.

She wasn’t doing well, and I already saw that I could not save her, not with the supplies I had at hoof. I didn’t even have a healing potion left! I could stabilize her — at least, I was fairly sure I could, but regardless, she was going to die. She had lost a lot of blood, and her wounds quite simply would become infected. To top it off, she was in no state for the walk to the waystation.

If I only had a sky damned healing potion I could save her… damn it!

It occurred to me that the Raiders probably had at least one or two of the magical potions kicking around, judging from their willingness to feed her one once they’d pinned her in place. Not that that deduction helped me any; it simply increased the helplessness of the situation.

Her current position was making it harder and harder for her to breathe, her breath coming in short rasping breaths. She stared at me, her eyes conveying a sense of loss I couldn’t begin to fully comprehend. She was free of pain, but the cruel position she’d been nailed in was causing her continued discomfort. They’d nailed her hooves to the wall at a downward angle. In her state, it was impossible to move her body in such a way as to slide off from her own volition, but should they want to they would just lift her off… but then they’d given her some of a healing potion, and changed everything. Moving her from the rebar pinning her in place would force open the wounds on her hooves. I didn’t have the supplies to stop that bleeding, not from both legs.

So either she dies of asphyxiation while nailed to a wall, or from blood loss… damn it.

I moved to her side, speaking in low, caring tones. “I’m going to help you lay down. Do you want that?”

She nodded, but I saw in her eyes the fear of how much it would hurt.

She clearly hasn’t been on Med-X before… fucking hell, she’s from a Stable. She might even have had a normal life before these ponies took her.

“Close your eyes, dear. I’ll help you down. All you’ll feel is a tug on your legs, I swear.” I wrapped a foreleg around her barrel, readying myself to hoist her off the metal stakes.

She nodded again and closed her eyes, still obviously afraid, but with little choice now that it was almost physically impossible for her to breathe.

I pulled her up and away from the wall. It sent incredible waves of pain through my injured wings, but I used them to generate just a bit more lift. With a sickening squelching noise, her legs came free of the wall, blood steadily leaking from the reopened wounds. She groaned, but kept her eyes shut. I laid her down with her injured side facing up, careful to avoid moving or jarring the rebar still sticking through her stomach.

She was now bleeding out even faster than before, and I there was nothing I could do to stop it. Her face was pale beneath her dirty coat. I held her in my hooves, running a foreleg through her matted and tangled mane. A few minutes passed like that, quiet minutes, but with a silent weight behind them. Eventually, she opened her eyes and looked up at me, tears falling from her eyes. Her voice was weak, and all she said was, “I… I don’t want to die.” Each word had a conscious effort behind it, as if it was taking the last of her strength just to say them.

“I know… I know, dear. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry…” Tears ran from my own eyes, leaving wet marks as they fell on her coat. I felt her give a final shuddering sob before going limp in my hooves. I felt wretched as I placed her in what looked to be as much at rest as I could put her, crossing her forelegs over her chest.

Another life I’ve failed to save.

During the operation, Bernard had remained motionless, his eyes occasionally flicking over to see what was happening. I got the impression he agreed with what I had done, but had no intention to comment on the matter. Aside from the occasional taunt from around the bend in the hallway, the raiders seemed content to wait us out. They had food, fire, and time on their side. If night fell before we left we’d be trapped. It would be suicide to attempt the walk back at night, and they knew it.

Between the four dead raiders, the poor mare and my own wounds, a substantial amount of blood was pooling in the small room, slowly trickling into a drainage grate behind Bernard and his macabre piece of cover. I figured the grate was probably intended for dealing with water runoff during the spring and summer, as the snow melted as much as it would this far north.

But why would there be a grate this far into the facility? Surely water wouldn’t be this much of a problem this far from the entryway…

I glanced up at the paired grating set high upon the wall of the room, realization dawning.

If that led to the surface, melt water coming down it might be an issue, hence the drainage grate under it. If the table off in the corner there was a workstation once, it would make sense that this room would need ventilation. Then this vent would lead straight to the surface, with an intake grate probably located in the bigger room…

I got to my hooves and spread my wings, feeling an ever so slight airflow headed upwards, through the vent. It was simply a tickle of airspeed to my sensitive feathers, but that was all I needed. I was long used to telling airspeed during high altitude flight, the direction of prevailing winds. I could predict, sometimes even alter all manner of weather simply through the feeling in my feathers; It’s in my heritage after all, the form of magic innate to all pegasi. Almost imperceptible as it was, that slight trickle of airflow was enough to confirm my suspicions. That grate was a direct line to the surface and open air at last.

From his spot beside me, Bernard was giving me quite the baffled look, no doubt wondering what the hay I was doing all of a sudden. I quietly leaned over, whispered in his ear “The grate is an exhaust vent. It’s a way out, I can feel the airflow.” His eyes went wide in comprehension as he spared another, more thoughtful glance at the grating above us. “We’re getting out of here.”

Despite my comment, there was one more thing to be addressed in the room. The peculiar looking blade, which I could now see clearly did indeed have a dim red glow to its serrated blade. I didn’t want to leave it to the raiders, if for no other reason than I didn’t want to fight that. I tucked it into one of my saddlebags, forming an impromptu sheathe with the grip hanging out in mouth’s reach, should I need it. That finished, I turned back to the vent.

As a test, I gave my wings a few experimental flaps. The cuts hurt something awful, but I could fly. With an anticipatory grimace, I gave a short hop before quietly fluttering over to the grate near the roof. It wasn’t huge, but I figured it should be wide enough for Bernard to squeeze through, if but barely. I fished out my utility knife once again, flipping out the screwdriver attachment and beginning to work on the four rusty screws that bolted the grate to the wall. As I worked, I noted reassuringly that what had been the faint sensation of airflow from floor level was a steady stream of (rather chilly) airflow that I could feel on my cheeks as I carefully worked the screwdriver, carefully depositing each screw in a pocket so as to avoid noise. Preoccupied with holding the grating in place once the last screw was loose, I fumbled the screw itself. It fell!

I watched as if in slow motion as the tiny screw plummeted the short ways towards the hard floor. Terror flooded my system. There was no way I could make it in time... if they heard, they’d try and rush us! Bernard would end up like that corpse in the entryway, and I would-

Bernard’s hoof shot out, deftly catching the little screw. I breathed one of the most heartfelt sighs of relief of my entire life. We were back on track. Removing the grate proved to be comparatively easy, and it even came away without the telltale shriek of metal on metal. The body that Bernard was sheltered behind proved to be the perfect thing to muffle the sound of a grate being placed upon it.

With a few silent hoof signals passed between us, Bernard slung his rifle as I hooked my forelegs under his own from above and behind him, lifting with all I could muster from my injured wings. It was barely enough, the strain almost unbearable as I lifted the earth pony who easily weighed half again my own weight high enough to reach the grating. With a final hoist on my part, he got his forelegs inside, allowing me to grab his waist and lift while he helped pull himself up.

We almost managed to do it quietly.

As his rear legs finally disappeared into the hole, the vent gave a deafeningly loud groan of protest at having a fully loaded earth pony suddenly weighing it down. I gave a final flap of wings, hugging them to my sides as I threw myself into the opening right as I heard sounds of surprise coming from the other room.

The vent itself was tall enough only for us to crawl along at an awkward shamble, but we managed to get far enough up the shaft by the time the raiders searched the room to merely hear the larger buck yell to his subordinates, “Both of you, get up there and find out where they’re comin’ up!” The sound of running hooves met our ears.

“Go, go go Bernard, fast as you can!” I yelped towards the buck ahead of me, thinking back to the armoured raider’s promise, should he get his hooves on me… A shiver ran down my spine as I shuffled as fast as I could behind Bernard. Having lived in the skies literally my entire life, the thought of being trapped, or worse, caught in the claustrophobic venting lent speed to my crawling I hadn't known I possessed.

A mildly irritated grunt wafted my way, but our pace increased.

It took us almost half an hour of steady uphill climbing, on our bellies the whole way. At long last we saw light wafting down through another grate. Not giving me a moment to dread the prospect of the raiders having found our exit already, Bernard bucked the vent off and clambered up.

I didn’t hear the sounds of a struggle, or much of anything other than the howling winds for that matter. At that point, the sound of the storm was actually a comforting reminder that we were almost above ground at last. I pulled myself out of the vent as well, promptly falling a couple meters into the loose snow.

Of course they’d have built the vent not to get snowed in… ugh.

The fading warmth was already making itself known, the icy air finding its way into the slices the mare with the sickle had made in my winter barding. The winds were picking up too, and I could tell it was going to be just as bad as the night before, if not worse.

We had emerged onto a small ledge. The bunker complex was barely visible through the snowstorm below us, slightly over half a click away down the slope of the mountain. Picking myself up, I cantered over to where Bernard had already set up with a pair of patched together-looking binoculars as he watched the complex and courtyard. “They’ll be coming,” I commented as I sat down beside him and pulled out my own sleek black set of Enclave issue binos. “They might not know where that shaft leads, but those two are already looking for us.” As the words left my mouth, we both found our gaze drawn west, towards where the sun had just broken the lower edge of the cloud layer, hushing the winds for a brief period. We had maybe twenty minutes before dark fell upon the wasteland.

“Bernard, what are our chances if we stayed out at night?”

"None." He replied with conviction.

“Alright, we’ll need cover, and I can only think of using the pillbox. We can deal with the Raiders in the morning, but at least we won’t be stuck in the same building with them.” I laid out the plan to Bernard as it formed in my head, beginning to canter towards the complex after shaking off the snow I’d landed in after falling from the vent.

True to form, the plan — like many before it, and no doubt many more to come — didn’t survive contact with the enemy.

I hadn’t gone ten paces before Bernard piped up, once again looking through his binoculars, “Snap, all three of them are set up in the courtyard.”

Fuck.

I dropped low, reaching for my own binoculars and looking through the sights. All three of the remaining raiders were in the courtyard, slowly searching out from the buildings. Now that I had a chance to properly get a look at it, the raider chief’s armour made the already huge pony even bigger. Full, segmented steel armour encased his hide, and the full-face helmet he wore was adorned with a trio of viciously long spikes. I got the distinct impression they weren’t for decoration. If he got into close combat, he would literally tear me apart without even needing the large bore guns he wore on a battlesaddle that was barely big enough to fit around his frame. Though, judging from his previous comment, I suspected were that situation to come about, he would take pains not to kill me. I fucking hate raiders.

It seemed odd to me that they would try and fight us outside when they knew full well we had a rifle, though with all I’d seen thus far their lack of tactical acumen really shouldn’t have surprised me. The continuously dropping and worsening conditions spurred my decision. Night was approaching, and we needed out of that storm. “Bernard, we’re doing this the hard way. See that outcropping of rock about two hundred meters up from them?” I pointed with a wing at the indicated spot, “Think you could lay down fire from there?”

He nodded, packing up his rifle and making best speed towards the indicated spot. If we were gonna get through this, I’d need to be able to fly. I jabbed myself with one of my few remaining Med-X injectors, immediately feeling the cool relief of deadened nerve endings. Taking to the air again, I flew along beside him most of the way. “I’ll do what I can to keep them in the open. Hit ‘em as hard and often as you can!” I yelled in his direction before heading to just below the storm’s heavier slipstream, doing what I could to maintain altitude in the harsh conditions.

By way of response, Bernard slid into position behind the outcropping, steadying his rifle and taking aim at the larger buck. He fired, sending a round hammering into the stallion’s unarmoured hind leg. He was going to take some putting down, considering all that did was slow him.

Well, let’s do this then, shall we…

The raiders scattered towards what cover they could find, two of them headed in the general direction of Bernard. Not on my watch.

I dove, laser pistol clenched between my teeth. The first pony to find herself in my sights was a unicorn levitating a submachine gun at her side, already beginning to return fire at Bernard’s outcropping. I zeroed in, firing as fast as I could pull the pistol’s trigger with my tongue, stitched a line of red across and through her. My line of fire scythed her right leg off at the knee. I followed through the dive, pulling up and away to set up for another run. I heard Bernard fire again and saw the buck that had been running beside her drop to the loose snow.

Time for the big one… that bastard!

I popped the drained energy cell from the pistol, stowing it in my barding as I hoofed through my ammo pouch for another cell. I found I was down to my last one. I loaded it without pause, hearing the reassuring sound of the weapon charging once again. I dove on the raider chief again, stitching rounds towards his unarmoured rear and underbelly as much as I could. The beams that struck his armour only seemed to blacken it, doing no visible damage.

The armoured earth pony brought his guns to bear as I pulled out of my dive. I didn’t really know firearms, but I knew enough to know I didn’t want to get hit by that, dodging to the side as he fired. He was trying to lead a flying pegasus, but I nonetheless got my hindquarters clipped by what felt like pieces of shrapnel. Seeing my own mild injury through the artificial clarity of the Med-X, I got the general idea of how a shotgun worked from the hit.

I dove again, and again, continuing to hammer the raider as he became more and more impaired by his injuries. Bernard repeatedly landed rounds on target as he tried to find weak spots in the buck’s heavy armour. I saw one of Bernard’s bullets impact right along the line of his spine, punching through a damaged segment of armour. The raider chief let out a primal bellow as Bernard apparently hit something vital, and he fell to his stomach as his hindlegs gave out.

Seeing my chance, I dove again, coming up to within fifteen meters of the buck struggling on the ground. I laid into the ammo feed for his twin shotguns with rapid-fire beams of red energy, damaging the intricate mechanisms. With the way conventional weapons work, he had one shot left in the breach, and we both knew it.

He threw himself on to his side, gambling one last time to hit me, this time at close range with the nasty weapons on his back. I wanted him to fire, to waste his shot. I waited, seeing him turn as I faced directly down the large bore guns. There was no time to think, no time for fear. I simply acted. As he fired, I cut the air with my left wing and pushed hard with the right, propelling myself off to the left.

I caught a whiff of buckshot in my tail, but all I felt was the rush of having stared death in the face and won. I knew I had him, that I’d just won our deadly little game of chicken. I recall myself grinning like a madmare as I zeroed in on his unarmoured stomach.

I fired and fired and fired, coherent beams of energy tearing through his belly, a deadly light show that I stitched from his liver to lungs. Each pinprick of deadly light left blackened ruin wherever they hit. I fired until the last of my final energy cell was spent. He didn’t flash, but by the time I was done his insides were wide open along his entire torso, practically crackling with residual destructive energies. The stench of ozone and burnt flesh lingering even with the winds whipping all around us. He finally went still with a gasp as he tried to draw breath through his destroyed lungs.

I settled to the ground, exhausted. I felt the black recede from the edges of my vision, and I knew I’d be sore as soon as the Med-X wore off. All I wanted to do was get to cover and curl up into a ball and try to forget what I’d seen — and done — in the depths of that sky damned complex. I dropped my guard as the adrenaline began to drain from my weary body.

That was a mistake.

My first indication that there was a problem was the unusual feeling of pressure against one of my saddlebags. I turned, seeing the glow of a magical aura around the horn of the mare I’d cut the leg from on my first pass. The same magical glow had wrapped itself around the hilt of the sword still in my pack. I may have been fast enough to dodge a shotgun blast moments before, but at that point my body was all but willing me to just stop. She brought the blade down as I tried to dodge, slicing a thin line along my right foreleg before I was out of range. She laughed. Despite having lost a leg and surely about to die, she cackled as if she’d just won a victory. I heard the retort of Bernard’s rifle one last time. Her head snapped back, frozen in a toothy smile despite the neat hole in her forehead as she collapsed to the ground.

Pain blossoming along my leg was my first indication that something was very wrong about that blade. I was hopped up on Med-X at the time! Ponies have lost limbs and kept fighting while on that stuff — it was one of the core drugs the Steel Rangers used, and was a big part of what made them literally walking tanks. I hadn’t felt the pain in my wings since I injected myself, but that simple knife cut was excruciatingly painful. I drew out the last of my magical bandage, wrapping the wound and waiting for the feeling of flesh knitting back together to start. Except it never did. The wound bled freely, soaking the dressing at a rate that quite frankly horrified me. The size of the wound wasn’t life threatening, but if it kept bleeding like it was, I was going to be in trouble. Thinking fast, I reached through my saddlebags until I found what I was looking for: Wonderglue, pilfered off the floor of the pillbox over an hour before. We had always joked that the stuff could seal anything, and I guess I figured it was time to put that to the test. I popped the cap with my mouth and carefully stitched a thin line across the wound, using my other leg to apply pressure as the incredibly sticky substance took effect, physically sealing the edges of the wound together. The bleeding slowed, then stopped as the glue sealed itself.

I fell to my knees in exhaustion as the last of the adrenaline drained from my system. I felt disoriented as the combat high dropped — my mind and body all felt sluggish. I’d gone in way too deep, and I was experiencing the cost of going that far into the black. ‘Course, knowing what it was didn’t help any... and despite all that, in the back of my mind there was a part of me that wanted back there. Back into the black, the hair trigger of life and death. It scared me.

It still does.

I heard galloping hooves, and it wasn’t long before Bernard reached me, getting me up and moving for the cover of the pillbox. Once we were safely inside, he helped me lay down and made sure I’d be alright. he ran back outside, stripping the bodies of equipment to save it from the cold. The second time he returned, he’d dragged a barrel full of wood and flammable refuse into our shelter, setting it alight after positioning it near the middle of the room. I figured he’d grabbed it from the raiders’ nest, but didn’t ask.

With the need for warmth sated by the slowly growing barrel fire and the pain all over my body becoming more and more of an irritation as the Med-X wore off, I thought of the mare.

I killed her. I wanted to think I’d done her a kindness, I really did. But who was I to make such a decision? To keep her from even having a fighting chance at survival… hell, I never thought we’d actually win the fight with the Raiders. Had I known, we could have stabilized her and left her, coming back once we’d won… but I hadn’t known. Of course, by the same token if we’d lost she would probably still be a... pleasure mare for the raiders, if not dead anyways. The thought still doesn’t comfort me.

Bernard must have known the direction my thoughts were taking when he found me quietly staring at my hooves. He tried his damndest to interrupt my train of thought by dropping the battlesaddle, shotguns still mounted, at my hooves. “You’re out of magical energy ammo, aren’t you?” He inquired, rather bluntly.

I do so love energy weapons. No muss, no fuss, no recoil…

With a sad glance at the unpowered pistol in my foreleg holster, I nodded dejectedly. “How did you guess?” I replied, still looking morosely at my pistol.

He nodded his head back in the general direction of the mare that had cut me with my own damn knife, "Well for starters you didn't shoot her.”

I grimaced, running a hoof over my still bandaged foreleg. A sudden blossom of pain caused me jerking the hoof away. “Don’t remind me, but yeah. Doesn’t look like we’re likely to find any in the raiders’ den, either.”

Bernard smiled, the first time I’d seen him do that. “To put it shortly, no. But it will be a good time I think to get you on something you'll likely be able to find ammo for. Laser weapons aren't too common around here.”

He then proceeded to sit down next to the light of the fire and pull out a small sack of parts from his saddlebags and start to dig through and pull out individual parts and set them aside.

I glanced over his shoulder, confused and quite honestly intrigued by what he intended to to with the collection of… things laid out before him. The pile for the most part consisted of springs, various wires and small metal rods that I figured went to different kinds of firearms. Not that I could say which went where.

I watched over his shoulder for a while as he seemed to pick certain parts out of the collection before him. Eventually, curiosity got the better of me and I asked, “So… what are you doing, exactly?”

"Well you melted the feed system. With luck I should be able to get it to cycle with parts I have here." He paused to think for a second before he continued, "Although I can't fix the casing without proper tools so you'll have to watch that it doesn't get gunged up."

While he spoke he began the process of using a small set of clippers and a set of screwdrivers to repair the damage I’d done to the feed. I watched with genuine interest as he replaced broken components with newer ones, some of which didn’t quite look the same, but in the end it all fit back together.

My mouth was still hanging open in astonishment when he placed the saddle around my shoulders. He coughed discreetly into the crook of a forehoof, and I caught on that he didn’t plan to adjust it himself. Despite having been worn by a pony that probably weighed almost three times as much as I do, the mechanism adjusted to my smaller frame with relative ease. I honestly don’t know how that was possible, but I guess that’s just one of the wasteland’s mysteries. The saddle had some weight to it, but wouldn’t impair my mobility any while flying or in combat. Regardless, I used a rag to heavily wipe down the mouth bit and trigger. Tentatively grasping the bit in my mouth, I gave an experimental swipe of the reload lever, and heard the satisfying whirring and clacking of rounds being fed and chambered to both weapons.

Giving a quick turnabout to show off his work, I struck a pose as I commented, “I’m impressed, Bernard. Where in Equestria did you learn to do that?”

“There haven’t been new parts for any of what you see down here for almost two hundred years,” He replied with a just a hint of irritation. “When just about everything here is in varying states of broken, you pick up the knack for fixing things pretty damn quick.”

Can’t argue with that.

*** *** ***

As the storm’s ferocity increased outside, the warmth of the burning barrel kept the air temperature of the bunker livable. Bernard had fallen asleep curled up across from me as we huddled around the fire. It occurred to me that tonight marked the second night we would have been stranded on the surface. If neither Tailwind nor I made contact by midnight, our entire team would be designated Missing In Action. Taking the portable radio from my saddlebags, I stared at the screen as it pulsed out the signal that should have indicated that we were in need of extraction. Would have, if it wasn’t constantly flashing a warning that it couldn’t connect to any Enclave monitored channel. I kept forcing it to re-attempt a connection for what must have been hours. Silent tears ran down my cheeks as our last chance to contact home slowly slipped through my hooves. At least it wasn’t cold enough inside for them to freeze to my face again.

In desperation, I started manually cycling through radio frequencies, broadcasting the signal in the open. During one such change in frequency, I came upon an already broadcasting station. With a brief fizzle of static, a Stallion’s voice wafted from my radio’s small speaker. It was a deep, rough voice that oozed charisma. And exuberance, incidentally.

“Helloooooooo, Wasteland!”

I grimaced at the abruptness of the statement, turning down the volume out of long established habit.

This must be that “DJ Pon3.” What the hell do they see in this broadcast, anyways?

“Have I ever told you how glad I am every time you listen in to my little station? Because I really, really am, and boy do I have some interesting news for you today.”

I was just about to resume scanning the available channels, when his next statement most certainly caught my interest.

“This one comes straight from the frozen North. You know, with all that white stuff called ‘snow.’ Tell me, how many of you have seen snow before? Because I can tell you, it’s no laughing matter when you’re stuck out in a storm just full of the stuff. A couple of Enclave ponies found that out just the other day — imagine that, kids; An Enclave team coming down from the clouds just to get caught by one hell of a storm. A little bit of irony, that. But wait, there’s more!”

Oh, fantastic. Now not only is our cover blown, but we just got publicized to the entire damned wasteland! Wait, how the hell does he even know about that?

“I’m sure some of my more… ahem, venerable listeners remember back when I brought you the exploits of a pony known as Nemo. For those of you who don’t know, I don’t have the time to recap. Ask some of the older ponies about The Black Knight, just know it makes for quite the bitter tale. But if you do know what became of our old friend Nemo, then you’ll know the significance of what he did last night.

“Folks, I’m sure many of you have rather strong views towards just about any pegasus who doesn’t have a certain brand on their flank; I share many of those views, as a matter of fact. But those two pegasi were lost in that storm and far from home; the same as many of you have been, and I’m sure you can relate. Here’s where it gets real special, folks. Nemo took them in. I don’t know the specifics, but considering his… prior experience with the ponies from the clouds, if you do happen to see those two pegasi — and you’ll know it’s them, don’t worry about that — give ‘em a chance, will ya? If Nemo could bring himself to open his door to them, that’s gotta say something. Granted, I don’t know exactly what that’s saying, and I’m not saying you shouldn’t keep your gun handy; but it says something, and I’m willing to bet you’ll want to know what that is.

“Now, on to the weather! Once again, we’ve got heavy cloud cover over the entirety of-”

I clicked the radio off, my thoughts a jumbled mess of questions. He could only have been referring to Chess, but… what the hell was that? “Nemo”? “The Black Knight”? There was so much there I had no context for, but something apparently profound had happened.

My train of thought was interrupted by a rather urgent beeping from the sprite bot surveillance system. Getting shakily to my hooves, I favoured my uninjured leg as I cantered over to the small screen built into the sprite bot. Visible was an enhanced sight picture of the crossroads just up the path from where we’d diverted to get to the complex we currently resided in, currently being viewed through thermal vision.

In the center of the cross road stood a flowing equine figure, seeming to have no solidly discernible form as its silhouette shifted as if it were in a flag billowing in a slight breeze. I checked the thermal settings and was forced to do a double take as I checked them again. The thermals were working properly, and their report was disturbing: Whatever-it-was was drastically colder than the storm raging around it.

On an automatic loop, the camera cycled to normal optics. Whatever it was remained indistinguishable, a whitish grey shape against a backdrop of blizzard, shifting as if it were made of a multitude of different fabrics. A pair of glowing, ice blue eyes that entirely lacked pupils stared directly at the camera. Through magical cabling, snow, and concrete, that gaze felt like it pierced my very soul. I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the winds outside.

Scared and disoriented, I backed away from the screen. My mouth was open in soundless terror as I bumped into Bernard’s sleeping form. He woke as I turned to him. “B-bernard, what the fuck is that?” I jabbed a wing in the direction of the terminal.

He didn’t hesitate to get up to look through the monitor, but when he turned back to me he simply tilted his head and replied casually “I don't see anything, Snap. You went through a lot today, try to get some sleep.” Behind him, the monitor showed nothing but snow being swept past the crossroads, no sign of… It. He cantered back to the spot he’d been sleeping, and I heard his breathing drop off as he slipped easily back into apparent unconsciousness.

Sleep. Right.

Author's Note

So I would like to preface the Author's Notes by saying, I do not think I did the DJ broadcast justice, but I'd looked it over umpteen times and can't wrap my head around how to go about fixing it, so there it is. There won't be many of them, comparatively speaking.

And I was, ah, debating whether or not to add the *sex* mature content tag, but decided that it was definitely best to stay on the safe side. Ech, means I can be a bit more lewd in good ways to counteract... that. And fuck, I felt dirty writing goddamn raiders. I just want to point that out. All of that.

Additionally, the concept of the level up perks... I don't know if it's just me, but they just don't feel right for my story. I might retroactively add them if inspiration strikes me, but for now they are absent until further notice. I feel it breaks the immersion, and following them for the sake of tradition... doesn't feel right. I honestly don't have anything overarching to DO with them at the moment, and they would be an add on simply for the sake of being added on.

I wish I could say that I could give an update schedule, but to be completely honest there won't be one in the near future. I'll give a three week estimate on the next chapter, but I'm not super confident about that. It needs quite a bit of work done upon it.

Many thanks to the editing team. Belmor decided to show himself on 4chan for the first time in years, so there was that. Big thanks to him and PersonalGamer, this one needed quite a few run-throughs. In hindsight, learning to break up the editing steps a bit more probably needs to happen, but we got 'er done. The response to Frozen Skies as a whole has been superb, and I'd like to thank you guys for the wonderful feedback.

Chapter 04: Stones Best Left Unturned

Chapter Four: Stones Best Left Unturned

"Contaminated."

Only a few days ago, that word had power. Over what I thought… what I believed. You have to understand, Tailwind and I grew up in a society so different from the surface. We were in such a state of constant fear of the surface’s terrors that eventually we became numb to it. “Contamination” is the word used to describe what we all believed was the concept of bringing a terrible contagion of some sort back to the clouds. Radiation? Disease? In hindsight, nopony really knew. All we knew was that we had to keep “contaminated” ponies out of the clouds, at all costs… Even our own kin, should it come to that. No one questioned, because what was the alternative? What if we were wrong, and our way of life was destroyed as a result? No one wanted to be the one to bring it all crashing down.

I was no different. I mean, there were certain restrictions lifted when I joined the military. We learned that the Steel Rangers, for example, had managed to survive on the surface. Hell, that turned out to be one of the few bits of intel that had actually been correct, too. But there was always that worry, that terror of jeopardizing the cloud-cities. It was why we accepted the fact that there were no rescue teams for stranded squads. Why waste the ponies? The rescue teams might not make it back either, and considering the lost team might be “contaminated” anyways, why risk it?

It was fearmongering, but it was all too easy to get caught up in it when the stakes were perceived as high as they were. For that matter, look what I’d just seen: the Raiders certainly gave the impression that many of the stories we were told were actually true. Chess, Grace, and Bernard were decent ponies, but how was I to know there would be more like them down here? For all I knew, “Raider” might have been a disease… a preposterous notion, as I’m sure you’re aware, but it seemed at least plausible to me that we might well have passed the point of no return, that just maybe it would be best if we just... disappeared down here.

In one aspect at least, I was correct: after what we've seen, our government will never willingly let us back above the clouds...

—Snap Roll’s Journal

*** *** ***

When I awoke, Bernard was nowhere to be seen. It bothered me that I hadn’t consciously been aware of going to sleep, and couldn’t point to when it claimed me during the night. I still suspect he’d been keeping one eye open, watching me as much as outside. I know I never would have trusted me to have kept watch in the state I’d been in.

The fire had been stoked before he left, with the last of our fuel beginning to burn low just as what little of Celestia’s light managed to make it to the surface crept through the entryway. We’d just barely had enough fuel to last the night. I shuddered, imagining the possibility of us having run out during the night, and decided action would be the best way to avoid dwelling on that notion. I buckled the battlesaddle back over the Redeye wraps and gathered what meager kit I hadn’t slept with before deciding to venture out into the storm in search of Bernard.

The weather was as dismal as before. I wondered if I’d seen enough snow to fill a lifetime by that point. It was only a little comforting seeing the thoroughly frozen forms of the dead raiders now covered by snowfall, forming little bumps in the otherwise uniform layer of snow covering the courtyard. A trail of partially covered hoofprints led to the bunker’s entrance. Following them led me through the entryway, past the still locked blast door, and around the corner.

I found Bernard sitting at the head of the stairs, staring up at the dissected pony strung above the stairwell, an unreadable expression upon his face. He seemed to sense my presence, but didn’t move to greet me.

I sat beside him, glancing up at the corpse. There was no shock this time, I knew it was coming and it held nothing more to haunt my dreams. Of course, I’d found worse to inhabit those very same dreams by the day’s end, but it still horrifies me that in a mere couple days I’d already started to… well, in a word, change. To adapt, to shield myself from the horrors of the wasteland. I still worry that I’m becoming callous to it all, to be honest.

After a few moments, I was the one to break the silence. I’m not a pony to enjoy the company of my own thoughts for too long, after all. “You’ve seen this sort of thing before.” I phrased it as a statement, though it was more of an open speculation on my part.

He replied softly, perhaps out of a desire for his voice not to travel, but more likely because of the intimacy of the question. “More than once. My… aunt and uncle were caught by a clan when I was fourteen. I went with my pa and some locals, flushed ‘em out. I saw… my cousin done up like the buck here.”

The thought drew a grimace from me. When I was fourteen, I was fooling around and seeing how much I could get away with in military education school.

I found myself at a bit of a loss. I knew how meaningless any apology or condolence on my part would have been, and he definitely seemed to be a pony to appreciate a companionable silence, regardless of the macabre surroundings.

After a minute or so, I switched conversational gears. “So why are you living with Chess and Grace?”

He glanced at me in an appraising manor, studying me for a short while. He finally let out a soft sigh and dropped his gaze, evidently having decided that I was worth confiding in. Or maybe he just wanted to get the story off his chest. Regardless, he started in a soft tone, with a hint of bitterness to his voice. “A stallion ― a mercenary only referred to as ‘the Serpent’ came through and casually took everything from me… from us.” His normally rather stoic expression cracked, and he began to weep softly. “He killed everypony, my brother and his mare, my father. My- my wife…” He took a deep breath before continuing, “He just slaughtered us, like he was cutting chaff. He took my daughter, from my wife’s dying hooves.” He glanced up at me, anger smouldering beneath the tears. “He made me watch. He let me live to tell the story... but he didn’t exactly make it easy.” He gestured to several faint scars, barely visible beneath his dark coat. The anger quieted as he continued, settling back into the calm expression he always wore. “Chess and Grace, they… helped me out. Took me in, gave me shelter and food, much like they did for you.”

So that’s what Chess meant by “It’s what I do.”

Since I’d met him, Bernard had always struck me as being quiet and withdrawn. It occurred to me that it must have taken quite a bit of effort to open up about all that to a stranger… a pegasus, no less. I appreciated it. However, we were still having this conversation in front of the gruesomely mutilated corpse of what was once a pony.

I got to my hooves with only a small hitch in my movements… my injured foreleg was still giving me trouble, even though the glue was still holding. Bernard looked up, raising a questioning eyebrow. I replied as I glanced down the stairs, “We should be getting back to the waystation… but she deserves better than that.”

He grunted an agreement, or at least an acquiescence to my statement. Regardless, we once again headed down the blood slick stairs. The corpses were exactly as we’d left them, scattered throughout the hallway and the small room. The stable mare looked almost peaceful, resting on her back with her forehooves crossed above her chest… amidst a miniature battlefield of dead raiders, and spattered with blood. It occurred to me that I never did learn her name. At the time, I supposed I never would.

We’d have to search the lair eventually, and there might have been other captives left there once the raiders had departed. Readying the shotguns on my battlesaddle, I took the first steps into the larger room, where I’d first seen the Chief and the others. I tried not to breathe in too often, as we cordoned off and methodically searched the room. There were no survivors, raider or otherwise. From what we’d seen at the entrance, similar treatment had been levied upon what had once been ponies that now resided in the cages I’d glimpsed earlier. They had used the contents of a surgical kit, which was thoroughly crusted over with dried blood. I refused to touch it. As much as I wanted medical supplies, I settled for pilfering what little magical bandage there was, the few pressure bandages that weren’t soiled with blood, and a single purple-hued healing potion that wasn’t quite full.

Of the assorted weaponry wielded by the raiders, we managed to salvage one of the submachine guns by butchering a second for parts, with a little over a hundred rounds of ammo to go with it. We found a trio of small, apple-shaped grenades in a box in one corner of the room. I had a suspicion why they hadn't used those when we were trapped, but was glad that they hadn't. That all went into my saddlebags, along with the wolf’s head helmet the first raider had been wearing (Bernard insisted it would be worth something), the remainder of the raider’s kindling, and the enchanted sword. The sickle that the mare who’d tried to cut my head off had been using (which, upon inspecting the hilt, was discovered to be titled “The deadly sickle of deadly deathness”), I broke apart and trampled into matchsticks, storing the combat knives that had been part of it. I know it was petty, but fuck that thing. We also stripped the thoroughly frozen Raider Chief’s corpse of it’s plate armour. It was heavy, but that much metal was guaranteed to be worth the effort. Bernard carried that in his saddlebags ― as it turned out, the armour was designed to fold up rather neatly.

Once we had looted as much as we could, we turned to the dead. With only the two of us, there was nothing to be done about the large room. It just wasn’t feasible to deal with that many corpses quickly. We forced the door closed, and left a warning of what was inside. It didn’t take long to cut down the corpse from the entryway. We cleared off a patch of ground in the parade square. Under Bernard’s guidance, we thawed what ground we could with the fuel available, and dug a pair of graves. I didn’t ask where he’d learned to do that.

Without fanfare, we buried the mutilated corpse and the Stable mare in a pair of shamefully shallow graves. It was the best we could do. As we shoveled dirt and snow on top of her, I asked Bernard if there were any surface traditions that should be abided by. Cremation had always been the way of the pegasi ― even before the war, if the older books are to be believed. We never really saw ties to the land below as being worthwhile, I suppose. It was symbolic of our return to the skies we’d always loved… though as far as symbolism goes, I guess even in death we all settle to the ground eventually.

“Traditions,” he replied with a sigh, slowly shaking his head. “Dead is dead. A decent burial is more than most would grant her.”

With his words, we lapsed into silence as we worked. When we were done, I glanced up at him wearing a somber expression. “C’mmon, Bernard. They’re waiting for us back at the waystation. Lets get away from all this.”

Bernard gave the courtyard one last glance, before nodding in agreement. And so we started off on the road back.

*** *** ***

As we returned to the waystation, through the billowing snow I could make out Grace emerging from one of the smaller buildings. She could very easily have been waiting in that building all day, a good several hours now, watching for us to return. She was completely wrapped up in a warm looking overcoat, seemingly thicker and of a very different design than the stolen Redeye barding I wore. She called out to us as we got closer, “Made me suspect the worst when y’all didn’t show u-” She paused mid-sentence, eyes going wide.

Oh shit, my wings!

She whipped her assault rifle off of its neck strap faster than even I could react, drawing a bead on my breast. There was no doubt she was aiming to kill. There was murder in her eyes, I could feel it from a solid twenty meters away.

“Wait, I can explain!” I stammered, holding up my forehooves in what I hoped against hope looked like a Don’t shoot me! gesture. I pointedly left the battlesaddle’s firing bit undeployed. “I’m sorry, Grace. I wasn’t truthful with you to protect Tailwind and myself. Chess knew, and he knows why we hid it.”

She snapped back at me, “And we’re supposed to believe you?! Pa may’ve forgotten but I sure haven’t, you lot keep commin’ down here, prayin’ on honest folk. Kill and take what ya please then run away back to yer cloud paradise!" She gave a determined stomp of a forehoof for emphasis. "I’ve had enough, life here is hard enough without fucking turkeys acting like the Steel Rangers without even the audacity to claim its for our own good!” Rocked onto my back hooves by the allegations, I was momentarily at a loss for words.

Where did this even come from? What?!

Regaining my composure, I replied shakily, “I don’t know which pegasi you’ve encountered, but every team we send to the surface either finds uninhabitable wasteland or gets attacked. Some-” my voice caught in my throat, but I needed to say it. “Some just disappear down here, and more return with horrifying stories.” I pointed a hoof in the general direction of the complex we’d left that morning, “Stories that I’ve seen the truth of, and that was only last night! From what we’ve been told, most ponies on the surface seem like raiders to the Enclave. Judging by the reactions a lot of our scouts have encountered, we’ve been responding accordingly.” I sighed, slowly closing the gap between myself and the mare still holding the rifle pointed at my chest. “I truly never imagined finding decent ponies beneath the clouds, but you, Chess and Bernard here took us in. I didn’t want to ruin that feeling, and was worried you’d turn on us like the rest of the surface seems to want to do.”

I was not prepared for her rage to only burn hotter. “Turn on you!” She bellowed, as I could see tears in her eyes, “You come down here, steal crops and materials as you want! You deserve any fate you get, even at a raider’s hooves!”

It's personal for her.

Her accusation and verdict hit me like a cloud-applebuck. I’d misjudged what was happening there. I felt like I’d committed a terrible wrong, without even knowing what I did. I didn’t know how to respond, the words just didn’t come. Which was fine, because it wasn’t me who addressed her.

“Grace!” Chess’ voice called from behind her, from the direction of the sheriff's office. He’d approached unnoticed during our argument, dressed in a thick jacket of a similar style to Grace’s. I wondered if he made them himself. “Grace, inside.”

“Pa! No, you know what they done!” She cried over her shoulder. The rifle wavered, but not enough to miss the killshot she had lined up.

“Grace, inside. Now.” Chess’ voice lowered, still carrying over the storm, but in a serious tone I hadn’t heard before.

“Pa…” She whined, a harsh edge of pleading in her tone.

“NOW!” Chess shouted her down, planting his hooves and projecting his voice.

With that, Grace burst into tears as she turned and galloped back to the police station. I let out a long, slow breath as the rifle followed behind her. It was still held in her telekinetic grip, but now safely pointed skyward.

As she left, I approached easy speaking distance with Chess. Bernard, having stayed by my side for the argument, met my gaze with a silent reassurance before following Grace into the building. I could only assume he intended to do what he could to explain to her on my behalf. I didn’t expect she’d hear me out in her current state. Turning back to the elder, I asked with an uncertain waver still plaguing me, “Chess, what has she seen? I don’t understand the hate she holds for us… for me. It seems deeply personal. Was it dashites-”

He held up a hoof, stopping me mid-sentence. He shook his head, closing his eyes and looking towards the ground. At that moment he looked as if the weariness of a lifetime made itself known on his shoulders. It occurred to me that he must be quite old, especially by what I understood of the average wasteland lifetime. “You’re young… so young. Yet the sins of your fathers rest upon your shoulders same as the rest of us.” He paused, seemingly deciding how to go about the wording of what he had to say. “Your ‘Grand Pegasus Enclave’ came down to the surface in force near seven years ago now.” It was a flat statement, but there was no mistaking the dead seriousness of his tone. My ears perked up.

Seven years? It can’t be…

“They caught wind through scouts, such as yourself, that the Steel Rangers had been stockpiling tech in the region. Grace, my son and I were at Trotwynd when they came down. Your people saw everypony as a combatant… In the end, what few of us were left hid in the broken stable, closing the great door to weather the attack. Not two dozen ponies were left alive… amongst the dead was my eldest son, Grace’s brother.”

“Seven years?” I asked, incredulous. “Seven years, when?”

Don’t say in two weeks. Please don’t say in two weeks. That’s… the anniversary of his death.

He looked me right in the eye. “Two weeks from today.”

I was on the verge of laughing and crying all at once. The incredulity, the fucking happenstance! I closed my eyes, pained as I managed to choke out, “Seven years ago… my father died in an operation deemed top secret by the higher ups. Mother didn’t even know…”

“The sins the father,” huh?

“I had never thought…”

“Your whole people never ‘thought’, Snap,” he replied with a hint of venom I wouldn’t have thought the old stallion still had in him. “Its not what you do. But don’t deny your heritage, that of murderers and thieves.” His voiced dropped off again, dangerous and low. “Never deny that. It's part of you.”

He then turned about, making his way back to the station. At least he didn’t leave me alone; I had my thoughts, and they were more than enough company as it was.

*** *** ***

Quietly closing the door to the room Tailwind and I had been lent, I made my way over to where my adorable sky blue pegasus lay, still resting. I placed the battlesaddle against a wall and divested myself of the uncomfortable (and, now that I could appreciate it in the warmth of a building, smelly) Redeye barding. For that matter, I smelled like blood, sweat and the lingering hint of ozone. Not exactly a bunch of cloud roses. Off to the side of the main room I’d entered through, I’d seen Chess making another batch of broth in the attached kitchen. He hadn’t spared me a glance. Of Bernard and Grace there was no sign.

Taking care not to wake Tailwind, I sat on my haunches next to the low table beside her couch, resting my head on my forehooves. I had a lot to think about. The Enclave’s alleged all out attack on civilians and ‘Rangers, what I’d seen in the bunker… what I’d done. But all that could wait. For that moment, I just watched the gentle rise and fall of Tailwind’s chest. She was safe, and by all accounts healing faster than one could reasonably expect. I caught myself thinking of the times we’d shared, the fun ones… the hard ones too, all the shittiness of basic training that was bearable because we had eachother. They all became good memories in the end. I had just started thinking of the other participant in those same memories when she stirred, giving off a quiet groan. I got to my hooves, cantering over to wrap her in a full body hug. That particular ache in my heart would have to be addressed.

Just not right now.

She hugged me back as she meekly opened her eyes. “He… hey chief. Don’t do that again, okay?” Her voice was soft and still quite weak. I wasn’t sure if Chess still had her on anything or not, but it could have been that the healing process was taking a lot out of her. “I was so worried when you didn’t come back last night.”

“Sorry, Tail,” I replied, nuzzling her cheek lightly. “Believe me, if I could stay with you forever, I would. We took longer than expected… found some despicable ponies, those ‘Raiders’ we were briefed about… They weren’t just stories, by the way.” Pre-empting her inevitable question, I continued, “And yes, they’re quite dead.” Glancing back at my exposed wings, I sighed, “Though… Bernard and Grace now know about us being pegasi. Grace took it…” I grimaced, “Poorly.”

“Well… they did say we weren’t welcome amongst the ‘mudwalkers’ hey…” Tail coughed lightly before continuing, “Did… did you get in contact with command…?” My heart sank. I couldn’t tell her. I couldn’t begin to come to terms with it myself, how was I supposed to break the news to her? All the same, I had to be honest with her.

I closed my eyes, biting back tears of frustration. “I spent all of last night trying to connect with one of the radios. There… I wasn’t even able to get an intermittent signal. There was just nothing to send the signal to. All I could pick up was the ‘DJ Pon3’ broadcast that seems to be so endemic down here.” A couple tears formed in my eyes despite my best efforts, falling from my muzzle to make small wet spots on Tailwind’s fur. “I… I think we might be stuck down here for a while, Tail.”

It took a couple seconds for all that to sink in, but I saw it in her eyes when it did. “But… that means… what about our families… my brother and dad, your mom?” She was still taking in the enormity of it all, too shocked to cry.

“We’re contaminated, Tailwind. We’d have to play our cards right just to be allowed back above the clouds.” I kissed her softly on the cheek. “But we’ve still got each other. Thats what has kept us going this long, hasn’t it?” I forced as much of a smile as I could. I did believe what I said, just… it hurt so much to admit it. Like cutting away a tangible part of the pony I was.

“Oh Chief, you always… know what to say,” She began sobbing into my shoulder, anguished at the reality of our situation. I didn’t mind... I was doing the exact same to hers by that point. Sometimes, just having a shoulder to cry on is enough to get through that much more of what the world can throw at you.

We learned that all over again that day.

*** *** ***

Some time later I made my exit from the room, reassuring Tailwind I was just going to get us something to eat.

After quietly closing the door to our room, I cantered over to where Chess was putting the finishing touches on what appeared to be potato and canned carrot stew (hey look, carrots, my old friend). As I approached, he commented, “She should be up and about by tomorrow, heals fast that one.”

“Yeah, that she does,” I remarked wistfully before switching to my relatively monotone debriefing voice. “Your surveillance bot is transmitting again. There were Raiders.” I’m sure he saw the look in my eyes when I mentioned them, a slight waver in my voice. “Between Bernard and I we cleared them out. Though I could use some medical attention... again.”

He nodded a sad affirmation, giving a glance at my bandaged shoulder, wings and foreleg.

“But that night… we… well, I saw something on the probe.”

He stopped what he was doing mid-stir of the pot, turning to look me in the eyes. His expression was dour. “What did you see?”

I recounted as best I could, feeling a chill just trying to remember what it looked like. “Saw it first on the thermals. It looked like a pony, tall, wrapped in rags… but by the readout, it showed up as being colder than the fucking blizzard around it. I double checked the white/black hot settings ― they were working properly.”

Chess listened intently, not showing a hint of emotion.

I continued. “When the ‘bot switched to camera, whatever it was had blue… burning blue eyes that seemed to stare straight through the camera ― through me.”

Chess sighed, putting his chefs hat on the counter. “You weren't seeing things lass. That was a Storm Born. A dark malignant force that seems to follow the winter storms. They say you can’t kill them…” His eyes went deathly serious. “They’re not stories, and there’s a reason ya don’t see no ponies bunking down outside of decent shelter.”

I nodded in acknowledgement. “That would be why we don’t travel at night, in addition to the storm and all.”

“Yeah, that be the gist of ‘er, the damn things only seem to come out when Equestria’s at her coldest. If ya ever feel the air round ya turn colder than sin, hoof it to somewhere with a big fire, and do ‘er quick.”

Changing topics, I commented as I took a sniff of the delicious smelling stew, “There’s gonna be a lot of adjustment for Tailwind and I over the next while. Our check-in time ran out last night, Chess. As far as the Enclave is concerned, we’re ‘contaminated’, a threat to our very home.” I give a soft sigh, “And… could you tell Grace that, for what it’s worth… I find what my brethren ― what my father might have done…” I swallowed hard, “As evil as the raiders we put down last night.” I finished, looking him in the eye with complete honesty.

“You both have a hard road ahead of you,” he replied with a tired sigh, “I know it wasn’t you who did that, and deep down Grace does as well. Give her time, you’re both good ponies.” He gazed down into the stew, levitating a fresh batch of ingredients into the mix. Most were some form of spices that I didn’t recognize, but the wonderful mixture of smells that wafted up from his work was enough to lift my spirits all by itself. He kept talking as he worked, setting his utensils aside and covering the pot with a lid. “Alas, most folks won’t care about ya being decent, all they’ll see is a pair of wings.” He glanced up as he finished his cooking for the time being, meeting my gaze again. “Just be careful now ― the wastes don’t need more dead folk.”

“Thanks, Chess.” I replied, “I’ll pass on the info about the Storm Born when I take Tailwind her dinner.” I took a step towards the pot of stew, a twinge of pain from my injured leg reminding me of my other reason for visiting Chess. With a wince of pain, I added, “But before that, could you take a look at my leg? I got cut by a blade that seems to have a healing negation spell enchanted into it.”

Chess chuckled, “I’ll see what I can do. There might be more enchanted into that blade than just a healing inhibitor, so I’ll give you a look over.” His horn lit up, opening a drawer off to one side of the kitchen and levitating out a set of sewing tools. “I ain’t too bad with a needle and thread, neither.”

*** *** ***

Chess’ work was immaculate. The stitches on my forehoof were of a sort that would apparently be absorbed as the wound healed, speeding the healing process as they did. Between that and his neat surgical stitchery, I felt confident hazarding a guess that it wouldn’t even leave a scar. A minor victory, but it did wonders for my emotional state.

Once Chess was done sewing me back up, he told me that the stew would still take a little while. With a bit of time on my hooves, I decided to see how Bernard was doing. Quietly making my way up the stairs to the attic, it proved to be distinctly more utilitarian than the living room. Bare wooden flooring covered that level, and the roof angled sharply upwards to a point. Windows were spaced with one facing out from each end of the house, and two more were spaced along the sloped length on each side. Each window had heavy shutters beside them, with large deadbolt-style locks that could be drawn shut. A few crates of non-perishable supplies were stacked neatly against one of the walls. Firewood was stacked against another, and litres and litres of water ― clean, pure water ― were organized in plastic yellow crates beside the wood. I found Bernard seated on his haunches facing a window overlooking much of the town, his rifle leaning against the wall.

As I stepped forward, I heard the sound of a faint, sad song in the still air of the attic. I hadn’t noticed it at first, so softly he was singing. I listened quietly, mesmerized by this side of Bernard I hadn’t seen before.

“...But since it falls unto my lot

That I should rise and you should not

I'll gently rise and I'll softly call,

Good night and joy be with you all,

Good night and joy be with you all…”

I had been intending to amiably say “hello”, and see how his talk with Grace had went, but the way he was singing… it stood out to me. It was the pain of a stallion who had lost everything, but it wasn’t with the callousness or bitterness of an old emotional wound. It was fresh enough that I could feel the pain, the frustration in his voice like a bleeding wound. Out of courtesy, and in an attempt not to surprise him I tapped a forehoof upon the wood of the attic floor.

He gave a start anyways, as if just realizing that he wasn’t alone in the attic. “Just me, Bernard,” I reassured him as I slowly made my way towards him.

“Oh, you… you heard that.” He avoided eye contact, glancing away as if ashamed that I’d heard what I had.

I cantered over and sat down beside him in a way that kept pressure off my injured leg, asking in a quiet voice, “Bernard, I know it hurts but I need to know ― for your sake. How long has it been?”

“Two weeks,” was the reply, tentative and cautious.

Losing Nosedive was- IS hard… but we all knew death was a possibility for any of us ― it goes with the job. For him, that would have come out of nowhere. Fucking right it would hurt like this, especially if he was the only one left when they killed his wife and… wait, he said the bastard TOOK his daughter. She might still be…!

My eyes widened in realization, “Oh, Bernard, she’s ― she’s close enough to catch up to, is what you’re saying!” My brain eventually pieced decision he’d made together, and I added, “You mean to go after her.”

He nodded slowly, “I need-” He started, at a bit of a loss for words at first. “I need to find her… she needs her father.”

I put a wing around his shoulders as I replied with conviction, “A filly should never have to be without her father, Bernard.”

I should know.

He looked up, meeting my gaze for the first time in the conversation. “Chess managed to find out that the Serpent was seen moving through Fort Neighson to the North. Once this storm abates, I’m going after her.” He choked out the last bit. I knew his tone ― he didn’t expect to succeed, but if he didn’t try, the knowledge that he’d left her would eventually wear him down. It would kill him as surely as if the “Serpent” had ended him along with his wife and relatives. He was resigned to what he had to do, and committed to his plan.

I surprised even myself when I blurted out, “Tailwind and I will help you.” As instinctively as I’d made the decision, determination settled in my heart, even if my head was still conflicted. If we were going to be stuck down here, we would damn well do something worthwhile. “I don’t know how much help we’ll be, but this is something we can do.” I trailed off, not exactly having had time to iron out a plan. Something about the place’s name rang a bell, but at the time I couldn’t place it.

He glanced up at me, tears glistening in his eyes. “Thank… thank you for that. It means more than you know to me… you’re both good ponies, you and Tailwind. I don’t care what the wasteland thinks of your births.”

The look in his eyes made me feel… good. Like I’d done the right thing for the first time in a while. But more than that, I felt like I had a purpose again. I didn’t know how I was going to get us back above the clouds, and while that thought was always in the back of my mind, getting Bernard’s daughter back was something tangible that could be accomplished. I’m such a straightforward pony… just having a goal ― a quest, if you will ― gave me something to work towards once the storm had passed. Freeloading off of Chess would have eventually worn out its welcome anyways. He took care of those in need ― he wasn’t running a charity, and there was nothing wrong with that. Also, as much as we appreciated the hospitality, recent events made it quite clear that our presence was causing friction, even if it might pass eventually. We were welcome to stay, but Chess’ waystation was no place to call home, as comfortable as it was.

*** *** ***

Balancing a tray with two bowls of stew on my rump, I returned to our room. I found Tailwind with her head and forelegs draped over the side of the couch, her wings and hindlegs splayed out behind her.

"So what's the plan, Chief?" She asked, not getting up from the comfy looking position. Her eyes were still a little red from earlier. We both knew the pain was there, but what would be the point of dwelling on it? It wouldn’t make it any better. I was glad that I did, in fact, have a plan ― bare bones as it was. We both wanted to start working towards improving our situation any way we could, and it was a start.

I paraphrased Bernard's story to her as she listened intently, her expression darkening as I mentioned what happened to his wife, more so when I told her that the bastard had taken his daughter. As I finished, she looked contemplative for a short while, before finally commenting, "We're going after her, aren't we." It wasn't a question. She knew me well enough to know the decision I'd made. More importantly, she agreed.

That's my girl.

I nodded, elaborating, "Bernard was saying this 'Serpent' character would have headed through a place called ‘Fort Neighson,’ about a day and a half to the North."

Canting her head off to the left, she queried, “Fort Neighson, wasn’t that a Steel Ranger training base during the war?” She put her hoof to her chin as she thought.

I clopped a forehoof into the other as the horseshoe finally dropped. “That’s where I’d heard of it! Yeah, that one.” To continue the train of realization, the fact that we’d be walking right into a Ranger base probably wasn’t the best idea. But hey, it wasn’t like we had many other options. I hastily added, “Though I think it’s fair to say they won’t exactly be giving us a warm welcome when we get there.”

She stuck her tongue out to show her opinion of ‘them’, before changing topic to the bowls I’d still been balancing on my back, “So... what’cha got there, Chief?”

“Potato and carrot stew.” I replied, glancing back at the bowls I’d almost forgotten about. “Might not be dandelion sandwiches, but Chess made it and it smells delicious.”

With a cute pout, Tailwind replied, “But I want dandelion sandwiches… they’re nummy.”

If she’s got the energy to be snarky...

“Nummy, hmm?” I purred as I slid the tray off my back and onto the tea table that Tailwind was all but splayed beside. “Hey Tail, there’s a dandelion!”

“What? Where?!” She cried (her voice was still rather weak), making a dramatic show of looking around as much of the room as she could without changing her position, the whole process taking a solid ten seconds or so before she plopped her head back on her forehooves. She blew away a strand of mane that had fallen in front of her face before stating, unimpressed, “I don’t see no dandelions.”

With a cocky smile, I leaned forward and kissed her. She made a surprised "eep" noise, muffled by my lips, before closing her eyes and leaning into me. We took full advantage of the situation as I deepened the kiss, gently cradling her head with my good leg. Our tongues danced, and the world around us simply fell away. We weren’t on the surface, we weren’t stranded, we weren’t cold… we weren’t anything right then. The world was just her and I, and we were going to enjoy it while it lasted. We broke away when we were both in desperate need for air.

Catching her breath for a moment, Tailwind slowly licked all the way around her lips before commenting breathlessly, “Oh… those dandelions.”

Both of her right legs were still encased in the braces, making it difficult for her to move around much. I used that to my advantage, releasing our embrace and slipping behind her while she was powerless to resist.

“Hey!” she called back, unable to do much more than shift her head around in response, “That’s chea- mmmmmfff!”

I’d slid my head between her thighs and given her an exploratory lick ― what I found was that she was more than willing down there, and she bit her lip to stifle a moan of pleasure. As I started swirling my tongue around in earnest, Tailwind deftly positioned her wings to press down on the back of my head, forcing my muzzle deeper into her folds. I loved every second of it, and we were just getting started.

Now, I’m sure Chess had set some sort of ground rules for her while she recovered. For that matter, given my own state at the time those probably should have applied to me as well. Judging by our experiences with the wasteland so far, I have to say I still feel a twinge of empathy for all the doctors of the who have ever tried urged their patients to “Avoid doing anything strenuous while you recover.” Hell, I should be one of the biggest proponents of that advice, being a medical pony in my own right. But right then, the solace of intimacy was the best medicine either of us could ask for. I’ve never been happier to blatantly disregard sound medical advice.

*** *** ***

By the time we’d recovered enough to turn our appetites to Chess’ broth, it was quite cold. Even so, it was absolutely delicious. He must have used some sort of spices or something, because that simple little meal was one of the tastiest things I’d ever had the pleasure of devouring, present company excepted. Ground-grown produce definitely rose a notch in my estimation, though in hindsight living with the bland taste of cloud food your entire life could have that effect.

As cathartic as our… ahem, activities were, Tailwind really was drawing on borrowed energy reserves. As soon as she’d licked her bowl clean, she drifted off into a contented sleep. I set our dishes aside, planning to leave her to her rest. I wasn’t as tired, and there was still time in the day. I quietly made my way to the door and creeped into the living room, softly closing the door behind me. In spite of my (obviously stealthy) exit, I could feel the presence of literally every other pony in the house looking in my direction.

Slowly turning around, I was greeted by the amused looks of Chess, Grace, and Bernard as they lounged variously on some of the many pillows scattered around the room. Quietly closing the door behind me, I flashed them my best we-totally-weren’t-doing-anything smile.

Grace was the one to break the silence between us, commenting with a whimsical voice, as if she had been in deep contemplation, “I hadn’t even thought you could use wings for that.” I caught a flash of mortification on Chess’ face, suggesting that if Grace ended up liking mares, he would probably have some choice words for me.

I was caught between being ecstatic that she was no longer mad at me and embarrassed at what they most likely heard, not to mention mildly worried that Chess might have thought we were corrupting his daughter or something. I settled on flushing as red as my blue coat would go as I stammered out a reply, “Well, um… exercise definitely helps with recovery.” I nodded, certain they’d buy my logic.

Yup. Nailed it. Well, her, but… gah!

Chess’ only response was a cross look that managed convey, “You should know better than that.” He wasn’t mad, but he wasn’t exactly impressed by the feeble attempt at logic.

I sat down on one of the pillows, nice and close to the warmth of the fireplace. In an attempt to change the topic from what we’d been doing in our room, I picked a topic almost at random. “So… how much do you know about Redeye? We were briefed that they might be in the area, but not with anything like the numbers they dropped on us before we made our way here.”

Chess replied, “They have a huge outfit way south o’ here in a city called Fillydelphia. Redeye himself reactivated it, started up the old munitions factories again. He’s using it as an industrial base to equip and supply what amounts to a sizable army of slavers, raiders and talon mercenaries.”

I let out a low whistle as I muttered, “I really didn’t think Enclave intel is bad enough not to have found that out, so why didn’t we hear about this months ago…” A frown crossed my face at the implications.

Chess replied softly, obviously aware that his assessment wouldn’t be popular with me. “Y’all do know hun, ‘s just privileged info.”

I snapped at him reflexively, more out of frustration with the situation we’d found ourselves in than anything else. “Info that might have saved three lives in the past two days!”

Chess adopted a chastising tone. “Do you really think your Enclave gives a rat’s ass about you or your friends? Something about having less mouths to feed? I was under the impression that was a problem up there.”

Well, suppose I did kinda deserve that.

The anger drained from my tone, replaced with weariness. “In truth… last night they would have written us off as either MIA or contaminated. Were we to try to simply fly back, we’d be at least detained, maybe even executed in the name of preventing ‘contamination’ from the surface.” I glanced at the fire, “They might well have already issued new birth permits to replace all five of us.” I finally admitted, to myself as much as them.

Chess sighed, “I know it’s shitty, but you two will work through it. It is possible to make a life for yourselves down here amongst the dirt, and I hope you do, I really do.”

Grace had been looking at her hooves for most of the discussion, conflict written clearly upon her features. It hurts to see ponies you’d always thought of as enemies being just as equine as anypony else.

“Thanks, Chess.” I replied softly, “I needed that.”

He changed tone, I suspect hoping to bring up a happier topic. “So I hear from Bernard that you plan to help him find his daughter.”

I nodded in affirmation, though now that the moment had passed I felt a little anxious over what I’d promised to do.

Chess got to his hooves and made his way over to me, saying “You’re already doing better, I want you to know that.” He stood up on his rear legs, gently placing his hooves on either side of my head before leaning forward and placing a… well… a fatherly kiss on my forehead before dropping back to all fours. “Go to Tail, she needs you there beside her. And know that you’ll always be welcome here at my waystation.” Behind him, Grace nodded her own agreement, a determination in her eyes that hadn’t been there before.

I nodded again, this time at a loss for words. I wanted to cry from the unexpected feelings he’d brought up, and from the sheer kindness he exuded all at once. Not to mention that Grace had managed to see us as separate from what our brethren had done seven years ago. Lost in thought, I made my way back to Tailwind’s side, giving the others a wave of a wing before I closed the door.

It might not have been home, but it felt so good living with those ponies for the time we did.

*** *** ***

Two days passed without any real incident. Tailwind made a full recovery, and got to know the ponies we’d found ourselves with. Chess taught us both a lot about the wasteland ― about some of the common dangerous creatures that stalked the wastes, like the snow wolves we’d encountered previously. He even passed on some medical tricks to me, teaching me how to stitch in a little more detail than I had previously known. At one point, I sat down and had a long chat with Grace, talking with her about what had happened. It ended with tears in both our parts when we were forced to see that we’d both lost ponies that day years ago, but I like to think we grew just a little bit closer for the knowledge.

All too soon, one morning I blinked my eyes open and realized I heard nothing. Not a bad sort of nothing, but rather the distinct lack of howling winds immediately on the other side of our room’s wall. The storm had passed, and we’d be leaving soon.

Rolling out of bed, I looked around, finding it peculiar that Tailwind managed to wake up before me. She was nowhere to be seen, and her stuff was conspicuously absent from our room. Finding something to be just a bit off, I pulled on the (no longer smelly) Redeye barding and gathered the small amount of kit that had yet to be packed and got my saddlebags settled.

Entering the common room, Chess was the only pony there. He had some sort of hot beverage held in the grey aura of his magic, and he was staring into the fireplace.

Cantering over and taking a seat next to him, I remarked, “Storm’s cleared up, we’ll be heading out soon. I take it you’ll be holding down the fort here.”

Chess sighed, “Yeah, I am. I’ve got too many miles on me to do much else.” He glanced over at his drink, giving it a soft stir with a levitated spoon.

There was a melancholy air about him, and I wanted to cheer him up, even if just a bit. “For what its worth, I’m glad you and your daughter were the first ponies we met down here. Both Tail and I owe you our lives, and so much more that we can never repay.”

He let out a hollow laugh as he took a sip of his beverage. I smelled chocolate, and the wondrous scent brought back memories of the last couple days. “Honey, you don’t know how many ponies I’ve seen now walk through here. Most die, some wish they did. The one thing that stands true is I’ve never seen none of ‘em again…”

“Well, in all likelihood we’ll continue the trend one way or another,” I commented with a whimsical smile, as something that felt almost like hope buoyed my spirits. It might have been just the storm having lifted, but I had a feeling… “Just in case, I’ll see you around, you old stallion.” I cantered over and hugged him, holding him with my forehooves and wrapping him with my wings.

He fully embraced me back, his hot chocolate forgotten and placed by his side. There were tears running down his cheeks as he replied, “Please have it be the latter,” he whispered into the crook of my shoulder. Releasing me from his hooves, he dug into a small satchel that had been sitting by his side, levitating out a necklace. On it was a depiction of the sun intertwined with the moon, worked to a brilliant finish.

I took it in my hooves, overawed that he’d give me what was clearly a treasured piece of jewelry. The issue though, was that it depicted the ‘goddesses’ that Chess had told me many of the wastelanders referred to the Princesses as. I started to voice an apology, that it wasn’t a belief I shared. “Chess, you know I don’t-”

He interrupted me with a hoof softly touched to my lips as he replied with a small smile. “But I do.”

His words had made me think, and still do in quiet moments. Simple words, but with such a strength of belief behind them. I wouldn’t wear it for them ― but I could wear it for him. Without further comment I carefully donned the necklace, flushing my mane out from under it. Taking a few moments to gaze at it, I finally stated, “It’s beautiful, Chess.” I glanced up at him. “Make sure to watch out for any Redeye movements now that the storm is down…” Seeing his raised eyebrow, I quickly added, slightly abashed, “Not that you need me to remind you.”

“Don’t you worry ‘bout me lass, I’m too damn old for some two bit pretty pony like him to put me down. Now go out there and do what you need to do.” He made a shooing motion with his hooves. He added almost as an afterthought, “They’re waiting for you.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice not to crack. Turned out, I couldn’t help it. With a hoof on the door, I called back, “We’ll see you again, Chess!”

I turned the knob, stepping out into the snow.

And was promptly pegged in the side of the head with a snowball.

I dove to the left, away from the direction of impact as I heard the distinct voice of Grace, more cheerful than I’d ever heard, “Too slow, Snap!” I rapidly scraped together a snowball of my own, scanning for a target along the grey buildings and snow covered mounds.

...Only to be rewarded with another snowball hit, this time from the opposite direction. I heard Bernard’s voice call out, “We’ve got her Grace!”

I laughed for the first time in days as I took to the skies, hovering a sporting fifteen or so feet in the air, snowball in hoof. I came right upon a very much surprised Bernard on the station roof, desperately readying another snowball.

With a victorious grin, I lined him up, pulled back my hoof and threw, hitting him square in the chest as he ran to take cover, “Oww, that’s a good hoof ya got there girl!”

Scraping along the roof, I pulled together enough loose snow to form another snowball as I spotted Grace crouched down in a makeshift snow bunker beside a long overturned carriage as she called, “Come and get me missy!”

I flew high, dodging most of her initial volley of snowballs, the assisted speed of unicorn magic propelling them as I dove to fire, catching a pair of snowballs to my side in the process. I kept up a routine of dive, scoop, fire, repeat, leaving a steady cadence of snowballs hitting her ‘fort’ from all angles. All the while, she kept up her own steady stream of snowballs, packed and launched with magic at an incredible rate. Every now and then I would score a hit, but it rapidly became clear that she was the winner of this duel.

At the apex of one particular attack, I heard a howling squeal from above and behind as Tailwind dove hard through the sky, forehooves outstretched as she called out, “Look, dandelions!”

“Death from above!” I shouted, snap turning just in time to turn her dive bomb into more of a mid-air grapple. we rocketed towards the ground, though I quickly gained the upper hoof, controlling our descent if only a little.

“Hey, that’s cheating!” Tailwind groused. Then she started tickling me with her pinion feathers instead of flapping, leaving me a giggling, flailing, protesting mess that was no longer interested in attempting to control our descent. “Ahha, I am victor-” Tailwind cheered, but was cut off as we hit a snow bank.

A snow bank that happened to be Grace’s fort. The impact coated all three of us in a thick layer of fluffy snow that had, until recently, resembled an old-style keep with room for a mare behind the short walls. Grace’s head popped out of the snow at about the same time as I did. She made a face, “You ruined my fort!”

Tailwind’s… well, tail end was the only part of her visible above the snow, but we could make out what sounded kinda like a call of “Wooooooorth!” from beneath the snow.

I called out to Bernard as he made his way down from the roof, carefully picking his footing as he descended what I figured was a fire escape. “Ready to go, Bernard?”

“Yeah, I’ve been ready for a while now.” He replied, jumping the last couple feet to the snow.

Tailwind extricated herself from the snow, hovering about ten feet above the rest of us as she asked, “So we’re headed to this ‘Fort Neighson’, right?”

Grace piped up while trotting over, “Rangers still control that place, they’re a nice enough lot though. Not quite like their southern cousins.” She paused, considering. “But yeah, don’t really expect them to like seeing feathers.”

“Speaking of which… Grace, I know it can’t have been easy living with a pair of pegasi after what our race did to your family. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for your hospitality.” I replied, “I do hope to see you and your father again some day.”

She smiled, “No, you’re good folks, I acted unjustly towards y’all. Just don’t get hurt now okay?”

I teared up just a little. Her capacity for forgiveness continued to amaze me. “Will do, keep the old pony company!” The prospect of saying goodbye to the first decent ponies we’d met down here got the better of me as I swept her up in a wing hug.

She returned the embrace fully, “I’ll do that…”

Tailwind swooped down to join in the hug, wrapping her wings around both of us, “There’s no way we’ll be able to repay you for your kindness, Grace.”

After a few moments, Grace broke from the hug, “Alrighty then y’all best be goin, go on now.” She seemed to be putting on a strong face, seeing us go. The abruptness of our departure probably had something to do with that.

“We’ll meet again, Grace." I reassured her with a smile, "I’m sure of it.”

As we began to make our way North, I glanced back towards the dwindling waystation, seeing Grace waving at us until we were out of sight.

We were on the move again.

*** *** ***

With the storm’s end, reasonable weather descended upon the mountains. That is to say, it stopped snowing for once, and we were able to clearly see the full extent of the cloud cover. The only indication that Celestia still existed in the sky was a slightly brighter patch among the thick, grey clouds. Cynicism aside, the change was more than welcome. Having been used to the cold of high altitudes, I actually felt comfortably warm within the winter wraps, far preferable to literally needing them just to not freeze to death.

I was hovering along a couple dozen meters above the ground, thoroughly enjoying being able to fly freely again ― without every wingbeat being a windswept nightmare. For her part, Tailwind was doing a series of whimsical dives, rolls, jukes and climbs in what was, for her, a means to work out her boredom at being confined to walking speed. In Bernard’s defence, he was trotting at what just about any ground-bound pony would consider a reasonable clip ― the issue was that, were Tailwind and I not bound to him, we could have probably reached Neighson in about an hour and a half at flying speed. That said, they would also shoot us out of the sky when we didn’t have a dirtpony to vouch for us, so with Bernard we stayed, and kept any comment on our rate of advance to ourselves.

We were approaching a bend not far from the turnoff to the bunker complex when I caught sight of a most peculiar couple headed towards us, currently out of sight from Bernard around the corner. I only managed to catch sight of them from my high vantage point, and they didn’t seem to notice Tailwind or myself.

The larger… thing seemed to be some form of colossal, two-headed mutant, Its skin was a mottled, sickly pink and tan, and it was easily thrice the size of a pony. One of its heads gazed more or less straight ahead, while the other seemed to be in a permanent state of chewing on apparently nothing at all. Neither head seemed to look at anything in particular. Across their collective back, they were loaded down with all sorts of assorted gear, from cooking supplies to tools, sleeping rolls, to- was that a rifle haphazardly webbed into place? Suffice to say, they took the role of pack beast to heart.

Were I to describe the pony accompanying them (it?) in a single word, I’d have to go with “utilitarian.” He seemed to be a lot closer to what I imagined the average wasteland pony to look. His barding seemed to consist of the remnants of a half dozen outfits, though for all that I couldn’t say it actually looked out of place. It served the purpose of keeping warm ― the lining seemed to be a collection of thicker materials, even incorporating some sort of fur, while the outer was largely coated in pockets. And when I say “coated in pockets,” for reference, my scout barding has enough pockets to store virtually all of the little pieces of gear I’d need for a scouting operation, and his easily put that to shame with raw carrying capacity.

I swooped down, landing near Bernard’s side. He startled, obviously not used to me doing that. “We’ve got company, Bernard. Some mutant sorta thing with a pony for a companion, headed this way.”

He gave a skeptical frown. “‘Mutant sorta thing,’” he parroted, “Can’t say I follow.”

“Two headed, big, carrying a whole ton of gear on its back.” I replied, not knowing what more he was looking for. “Seemed to me like it was on its last legs, didn’t have much of its coat or mane left.”

He smirked back at me, seeming to find some humour in my confusion. He replied, “Ahh,” in an infuriating expression that said, I know what you’re talking about, but you’ll learn soon enough.

As we dithered, the pair eventually did round the corner. Once they saw us - and they had to have seen us, we were standing right in the middle of the road - the creature remained apathetic. The pony however, gave a bit of a start. He nervously glanced behind him, as if looking for the jaws of a trap that simply wasn’t there. He seemed to debate continuing or turning back the way he’d come, but eventually continued in our direction.

I glanced over at Bernard to gauge his reaction to the unusual pair, shamelessly deferring to his superior knowledge of wasteland things. He glanced up, seeming to brighten up a bit once he got a good look at the pair; I gathered that he didn’t consider whatever-it-was a threat. Still, I had to ask. “Hey Bernard… what is that?”

He chuckled, “That isn’t a ‘that.’ She is a brahmin, and her companion is a trader, like I… was.” He sighed at his own admittance, before adding, “At any rate, we should be able to barter for some supplies, depending on what they’ve got at the moment.”

I glanced back, giving a more appraising look over of the two headed towards us. I didn’t ask, but I kind of wanted to know how it was that he knew just from a glance… I suppose that falls under the list of things I still need to get used to down here.

As I mulled over what Bernard had said, the merchant couple continued their steady trek towards us, eventually coming to a halt about a dozen meters away. The earth pony appraised Tailwind and I with an odd look and a frown, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to make of us.

Bernard was the one to call out after the silence between our two groups started to stretch into awkwardness, “Hello friend, are you two open for business?”

Seemingly glad to be addressed by another wastelander, the merchant brightened up, “Always, if you’ve got the goods or caps to spend.”

Bernard nodded, making his way towards the odd pair. “We’re mostly looking for some food for the road, maybe some ammo if you’ve got it.”

The merchant gave a soft tip of his silly-looking hat, before turning to start unlatching several pockets on one of the massive bags that covered most of the brahmin’s back. “Lots of people lookin’ for food right about now, it ain’t gonna be cheap.”

Bernard gave a dismissive wave of his hoof, “We aren’t looking for much. Enough for a couple meals, for three.” The merchant had halted his rummaging through the pack, seemingly holding something beneath the layers of cloth and leather. Bernard continued, his voice taking a slightly more serious edge to it, “We can pay, no worries there.”

The merchant gave off a brittle laugh, shifting his hoof around. He seemed to push something back into the pack, before reaching in at a different angle and pulling out a few small, individually wrapped rations. “Sorry mate, just being cautious. You know how it is.”

Bernard nodded, “Yeah, I know.” He took the wolf bone helmet out of his saddlebags, followed by some of the odds and ends that we’d intended to sell from the bunker, including a small bag of what appeared to be bottlecaps ― you know, the kind that one would get from an ordinary Sparkle~Cola bottle and the like. I was perplexed, but didn’t pipe up. I decided to ask later.

Then they started talking. Just simple conversation, but there was something there that I couldn’t quite place ― a feeling that more than just a conversation was taking place in front of me. The merchant started, “So, two pegasi and an earth pony headed North, huh? Sounds like quite the story there.”

“Nothing too special, I’m afraid.” Bernard replied, “Just going to meet up with an old friend.”

“I see, I see,” the merchant replied, clearly unconvinced. “Well, not too many folk headed North this time of year. If anything, most of us that are on the move are headed South.” He gave the brahmin an affectionate stroke to its- her flank, “We should know, we’ve seen only a couple with tails pointed South in the last little while, I might be able to guide you in the right direction…” He lead off with a sly smile that was meant to claim he knew more than he was letting on. For the right price was left unsaid.

Bernard shook his head slowly, without breaking eye contact. He wasn’t falling for it. “No, I don’t think you’d be able to help with this one, friend. Don’t worry about us, I expect we’ll find him sooner or later.”

“A shame,” the merchant replied, willing to go for one more gambit. “Well, if y’all give me your names, I might be able to give him a heads up that you’re coming. You know, if I see ‘im.”

“I’d much prefer if it were a surprise visit, actually.” Again, Bernard turned him down, a chiding tone to his voice, as if the merchant had just made a faux pas I wasn’t aware of. “You don’t need to know our names, just as we don’t need to know yours.”

The merchant looked at him for a while. I could practically hear the gears turning in that brain of his, trying to puzzle out our rather unusual group’s intent. After a few seconds he came up dry. “Fair enough, lets get down to business then.”

I looked on the ensuing exchange wide-eyed with interest. Info bantering out of the way, they started talking ‘relative values’ and such of the various items we had to offer. After a few back-and-forth rounds of bartering, they finally settled on an exchange. We didn’t manage to get any ammo ― he didn’t have any spark cells, nor did he have the right caliber for Bernard’s rifle, but despite that we still got enough food for the trip to Neighsson, we figured... and our packs were a little lighter for it.

Once items had changed hooves, the merchant gave a soft tip of his hat. In what I suppose was a means of wishing us well, he commented, “Celestia guide your hooves and Luna keep you safe.”

I gave a soft snort of laughter at that. I respected Chess’ views, but that merchant was just so up front with his… religiosity that I just had to laugh, I couldn’t help myself.

He turned on me, evidently not caring how he was perceived now that business was over with. “What the buck do you know, pegasus?” He asked. “You’re one of the ones keeping them from us!”

“Oh, no worries there. We keep the sun and moon above the clouds.” I countered with a smooth tone, not letting the ridiculously dressed pony get to me. “The princesses are long gone, friend.”

“Lies!” He spat back. “The goddesses are alive, and watching over us all!”

I’d gotten under his skin, just a bit. That was enough for me, and I fixed him with a smug, patronizing look. “Whatever you say.”

He scowled at me, but in lieu of a response he grabbed the brahmin’s bridle, which protested with a muted grunt from the more coherent-looking head as he pulled it along, headed South at a fast clip. He didn’t look back.

Bernard gave a soft sigh as he finished stowing the food we’d acquired. Tailwind was surprised by the exchange, but didn’t comment. I remained in that smug mood for the next while as we moved on. In hindsight, I’d completely forgot to ask about the anomaly that was “caps.”

I stayed that way until we ran into a slight hitch to our route plan.

“So, do we know which way we go to get to Neighson?” Tailwind asked all of a sudden, swooping down from where she had been flying to hover above the fork in the path in front of us. I hadn’t even noticed we were approaching it, with how distracted I was.

We’d continued maybe half an hour past the turnoff to the bunker complex Bernard and I had cleared previously, when the path simply split into two. No roadsigns, nothing.

“None at all actually, tried to steer clear of goin’ any more North than I had to, on account of the weather.” Bernard replied with deadpan sincerity as he came to a halt below and beside us.

“Wait, we don’t have a map?” I asked, shocked that such a basic item had been overlooked.

“Anope,” Bernard stated.

I shot him what I hoped was an unimpressed look. “All right Tail, lets take a look see.” I flew up to get a higher vantage point, trying to get a grasp of the local landmarks. All around the mountain range extended, many of the taller peaks piercing the cloud layer, and despite how huge they were, when you were that unfamiliar with the area, one giant rock formation often looked like any other.

The right-hoof path lazily progressed up the side of the same mountain the bunker complex was built into, seemingly coming to a plateau. The other path forked down towards a valley between the series of mountains, quickly obscured from our view by the cliff face it ran beside.

Tailwind let out a soft whinny of irritation as she hovered beside me, “Augh, why can’t they set up… I dunno, road signs; ‘Hey look, food’s thattaway!’ or something.” She slumped, “So what do you think, Chief?”

I put a hoof to my chin, “Well, if we end up having to scavenge, the valley path would probably be the better choice. We’ve only got another couple days worth of rations.” Turning to look up at the plateau I continued, “On the other hoof, depending on how far that plateau goes, we might get a chance to get a commanding view into the valley.”

Tailwind glanced down at the thick layer of snow blanketing the landscape before piping up, “I don’t see what we could forage, not like much grows down here.”

“True…” I trailed off. I realized rather quickly that I was not exactly the most knowledgeable in terms of ground-based navigation. I mean, come on - from the height I would typically look down on it all, it would be in relief. No need to worry about which route to take when we could just fly elsewhere if we got lost. Almost arbitrarily, I finally decided on the route that would give us the most chance of getting a good look at the terrain that lay before us, even if it was the wrong way. It was instinctive, and that proved to be rather hard to kick. “It looks like just under three klicks to the plateau. I’m in favour of that route.”

“Alrighty,” She replied whimsically, “It’s your call Chief.”

I gently dove back down to Bernard’s side as Tailwind stayed up for a little longer before making her own descent.

“See anything interesting?” He asked, real curiosity at what we’d seen evident in his voice.

“So, that one,” I pointed with a forehoof to the left path, “winds down towards the valley, while the other continues to climb before leveling off on a plateau three or so kilometers away. I’m in favour of the plateau, gives us a better chance of seeing what’s ahead of us before it gets here. Not to mention a commanding view of the area.”

Bernard put a hoof to his muzzle in thought, before concluding “If it’s a plateau there might be another waystation, possibly a roof and maybe even some salvage.”

I nodded in agreement as we started off towards the plateau. Tailwind continued floating around in a loose orbit of Bernard’s progress, swerving seemingly at random and generally keeping herself entertained. The path remained wide and more or less straight, leading me to conclude it was once intended for heavy hoof traffic. That would be ages ago, however. It didn’t seem to have been used by more than a handful of ponies at any given time within the last while, as there weren’t any hoofprints in the loose snow.

As we crested up onto the plateau, we found that it started to dig into the cliffside for about fifty meters, and was absolutely strewn with twisted wrecks of what had once been sky wagons. We kept our distance from most, with Tailwind halfheartedly looking through a few before she went very pale as she looked into a certain carriage that had fallen on its side. She didn’t look into any of the other ruined fliers after that.

Up ahead, there was a large grey building built into the far side of the cliff. It was rugged, grey, and despite being three stories tall, gave off the impression that the entire building was more or less a bunker. There were banks of windows along the walls facing us, though I would have been shocked if they weren’t armoured glass - I couldn’t see one broken window in the entire structure, a distinct oddity. Despite the general formidableness of the structure, the vaulted set of double doors in the entryway were cracked open, barely wide enough for a pony to fit through. The interior was dark, but the prospect of seeing inside played wonders with my imagination.

“Hey Bernard, what do you make of that?” I queried as we continued at a leisurely pace towards the structure.

“Looks like Stable-Tec construction to me,” he remarked dryly.

“So… that would be our best bet for salvage, or maybe a roof over our heads? I asked, hastily adding, “Or raiders, but I don’t see any… decorations.” I cringed at the mental image, accurate or not.

Tailwind swooped down, landing beside Bernard. “Does that mean there’s a stable in there? That’s what they did, right?”

He chuckled, “Well, yes and no. Stable-Tec also had other projects they worked on, and some co-ordinated efforts with the ministries every so often.” A few moments later, he added as an afterthought, “Or so go the stories, anyways.”

Tailwind gazed up at the building, wonder in her eyes at the thought of all the potential technological marvels inside, just waiting for her to get her hooves on. “Huh,” was her only response.

“It’s mighty impressive. Seems kinda… dead, I suppose.” I glanced at what I could see of the reinforced windows, noting a complete lack of movement.

As we entered, we were greeted with a wave of dank, old air. Considering the doors had been open for some time at least, the lack of circulation in the building was disconcerting. Snow had piled up on the inside of the threshold. The main plaza consisted of a long hallway, extending about a hundred meters by thirty. Along the length were columns every ten or so meters, holding up a balcony that encircled the third floor. There were many doors on both sides of the hallway, but none caught my interest quite like the one at the very end.

Two huge oaken doors, large enough for at least six ponies to comfortably stand abreast, spanned an arched doorway. They had intricate designs etched in what seemed to have been silver throughout the wood. Considering the utilitarian design of the rest of the building, the vibrancy of that door resonated with me. If I’d had to guess, I would have placed a Stable entrance right behind there. Beside the monumental door sat a reception desk with a solitary terminal resting upon it, the green glow of its screen reflecting upon the back wall.

I glanced at Tailwind, already anticipating that she would want into that terminal. My guess was confirmed, as she seemed to be jittering, prancing quietly on the spot and biting her lower lip, staring intently at the terminal.

Well, if thats how she’s gonna be I’ll do security.

Sweeping the corners of the hallway we’d entered with practiced motions, I swept inwards, keeping low and watching for movement or anything out of place. Anything my eyes swept over, the reticle of my TFD followed, as did the tied-in shotguns on my battlesaddle. They felt a little different than I was used to, but weren’t overly heavy. I’d been assured by Bernard that I’d figure them out pretty quick.

I’ll have to, considering I’ve got just shy of a couple dozen shots.

Aside from odds and ends that seemed to have been casually dropped as many as hundreds of years ago coating the floor, nothing caught my gaze. I kept flicking my eyes around regardless. I couldn’t see anything, but there was a feeling of being watched that made the mane on the back of my neck stand on end.

I motioned Tailwind to follow me as I escorted her to the terminal, taking a route that stuck to the right side of the room, using the pillars for cover. As I did, I continued looking all the places I was sure she wasn’t ― that is to say, everywhere that wasn’t the terminal itself. I whispered back to her, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Tail. I’ll get you into that terminal, but it feels like we’re being watched.”

Functionally oblivious, she commented near my right ear, “Mmm, I wonder what’s in there… weapons plans? Ooooh, is it secrets? Ohhh, I wanna see!” She was prancing from her left to right sets of hooves behind me. I kept up the steady but careful pace forwards, despite her enthusiasm.

Bernard kept close behind, pocketing some of the semi-useful bits of junk we happened across. He had a pistol’s mouth bit clenched in his teeth, the rifle slung across his shoulders.

Not like we'll get much of a chance to use it if we get jumped.

As we reached the reception desk, I hoofed a small pile of bits into my saddlebags as Tailwind flew onwards to the terminal. I knew they weren’t worth as much as I hoped, but they were worth something, at least. The rapid tapping of keys greeted my ears. As I kept watch towards the rest of the building, I heard Bernard stop behind Tailwind, presumably watching over her shoulder as she typed.

Engrossed as they were with the terminal, I was the only one to spot a shape move in one of the balcony doorways, leading further into the building. It was moving fast ― very fast ― but the only sound in the eerie quiet was that of the tapping of keys.

I called out only as loud as I needed to for the other two to hear me, “Movement, balcony level! There’s definitely something here." I swept my targeting reticle across the balcony, too slow to catch a solid glimpse of what it was. It left me feeling cold.

Bernard stepped up beside Tailwind, scanning across the balcony with his pistol, a serious look upon his face.

“What’ve we got on that terminal so far?” I queried, the firing bit of my battlesaddle deployed just off from my lips.

She commented, still sounding like she was perfectly happy being lost in discovering the forgotten secrets of a random terminal. “Shipping manifest, useless… worker schedules, tour and lodging prices… there’s an encrypted layer here, I’m trying to get through it now.”

Bernard piped up, seeing nothing on the balcony, “What did ‘ya see, was it equine, or…?”

“Just a flash of movement going deeper into the building along the balcony, moving fast.” I replied.

Right as I was considering leaving the building to more adventurous souls, Tailwind squee’d, “Ooooh! I’m in!” Switching to a tone that I knew to be her summarizing as she scrolled through whatever she’d found, she continued, “These are residence logs for a Stable 247, its’ status is still active. According to this nearly 400 ponies went underground here when the bombs fell. Apparently it had a fully stocked armory, complete with high explosives… it also says that the door opened five days ago, closing shortly after. It shows this cycle as having happened every couple years at around this time, on a fairly regular basis.”

Bernard commented, “They could be doing periodic sampling of the surface… but the radiation levels have been habitable for generations.” He put a hoof to his chin, “...and even longer this far north. There weren’t many balefire bombs to land around here. Neighson was one of the few populated areas, and it wasn’t even hit.”

“Maybe…” Tailwind wore a look as if she was willing the terminal to give up the secrets it was (obviously) withholding from her.

“In a Stable designed to save ponies from the apocalypse they gave them high explosive weapons? I guess Stable-Tec wasn’t as optimistic about how the world would end up after the bombs fell as I might have thought.” I wore a thoughtful expression as I mulled that over. “Maybe they started having population growth every now and then? It would be pretty easy if they didn’t manage to regulate their populace like the Enclave has.” I thought back to the bunker complex, and the poor mare with the pipbuck on her leg.

Damn it, she might have lived here… Those bastards.

Tailwind gasped at what she no doubt saw as callousness. “What?! Thats horrible, how could anypony do that to their own friends and family? It has to be something else, like a garbage dump… or something?” She sounded hopeful, like she desperately wanted me to be wrong.

Bernard replied, “Not likely. From what I’ve seen of a gutted Stable or two, they recycle literally everything. They were designed to last generations down there, after all.”

I wished I was wrong, for Tailwind’s sake if nothing else. “Considering they would only have their internal store of replacement parts, something in the recycling system could have broken… started working less effectively… maybe even something like a water talisman. Any of those would have required teams to go out to forage for a new one.”

From her tone, I could tell Tailwind was frowning, “I don’t know… hey, look at this! There’s a building map here. It looks like this place had its own security detachment, complete with its own arms room!”

Bernard commented, “Well that’s a stroke of luck. How deep into the facility is it? Can you access it from here?”

My eyes widened.

They might have energy weapons! Ammo!

“Is there a manifest?” I probably betrayed my desperate interest in my tone, but I didn’t care. I hadn’t even used them yet, and the notion of being forced to use conventional weapons was grating on me.

She replied, “No and no, but its on the third floor. At the south-eastern corner.”

Third floor?

I spared a glance towards Bernard, who had apparently had the same thought I did. I shook my head preemptively, “No way am I trying to lift you three whole stories, Bernard. Tail, any chance you could find us a set of… stairs?” The disgust in my voice as I mentioned the dirtpony necessity must have been rather evident, but I didn’t particularly care.

He was heavy!

“For what its worth, I’m not entirely comfortable being flown.” Bernard commented, sounding mildly put off at my assumption.

“Hmm,” Tailwind tapped a few more keys, “There! I’ve uploaded the map to my TFD. The closest staircase is at the far side of the building,” She gestured off towards what my own TFD’s compass told me was the north-east corner of the building.

As Tailwind worked, Bernard queried with a curious expression, “Your TFD’s… those are the eyepieces you both have?”

“It’s Enclave tech." I replied, "Kind of like a pared down version of what I’ve been led to believe pipbucks do, minus the SATS and EFS.” As I said it, the summary left a sour taste.

Why does Stable-Tec have the best stuff? Oh right, because we put that in the magically powered armour and let the recce troops tough it out. Ech, I’d be more angry if we didn’t get other cool stuff, like night vision goggles.

Tailwind elaborated, “Yup, it can give all kinds of visual cues from maps to compass bearings, even advanced zoom and voice-to-text between other TFD’s! They’re great!” She reared up on her hind legs and clopped her forehooves together to punctuate her excitement.

“Times like this I almost wish I was a piece of technology,” I mumbled whimsically, giving a soft sigh before continuing, “Speaking of which, could you upload that map to my eyepiece while you’re poking about in there?”

Tailwind pressed a button and I saw a loading bar appear in the corner of my vision, as Tailwind continued to speak, “Unfortunately, they won’t exactly work for you, Bernard. You see, the neural optic connector incorporates cloud tech, meaning only pegasi and griffons can actually uplink to it properly. To you it might as well be half a set of sunglasses.”

Bernard’s disappointment was palpable, but he said nothing.

Tailwind powered up her battlesaddle-mounted laser rifle, now in working condition thanks to some spare parts from Chess. She made a dramatic show of glancing back over her shoulder as she queried, “So, we ready to go chase some big scary shadows running around, hmm?”

Double checking the load on my shotguns, I consulted the newly added map of the building that my TFD was now displaying, before pointing dramatically towards the doors we’d need to take, “Onwards! Our first conquest shall be the terrifying stairs, followed by… shadows.” The tone of my otherwise grandiose statement dipped a little at the end. It still irked me that whatever-it-was remained out there.

Bernard nodded, snickering at the speech. Tailwind made like she had an air-trumpet with her hooves before making trumpet-like noises to sound her assent to the plan.

I led the way as Tailwind took up the rear guard position as we wound our way through the tight grey corridors, passing many closed or damaged doors. I caught myself wondering how ponies could maintain their sanity in conditions like this… it had to be something similar down in the Stable.

How does one deal with all they grey? They've gotta have murals or something.

At any rate, we eventually got to the staircase that lead to the second floor. I still felt the ominous presence in the building, regardless of the lack of solid proof of its existence. We continued through the floor, the map guiding us towards another staircase.

“This place is beginning to give me the creeps…” Bernard commented as we worked our way through the building.

“I used to say the same about the entire wasteland, Bernard.” I replied without taking my gaze from the corridor ahead of us, “That was last week.”

“I think you’re both paranoid.” Tailwind piped up from the back, “There’s nothing here but dust and memories.”

“From what I’ve seen and heard, rare is it just dust and memories that inhabit old ruins like this.” Bernard replied ominously, “Hopefully it isn’t ghouls.”

“Ghouls?” I snarked, “You believe in those down here?”

“Not believe. I’ve seen ‘em. The good ones still have their sanity intact, but the bad ones… the ferals… they are most certainly real, and very deadly. Especially in packs.”

We came upon a locked blast door blocking our path. Tailwind gave a disgusted grimace when she found the terminal connected to it to be locked, requiring an “authorized” pony’s retinal scan to open. Pretty much all eligible ponies had to be dead by then. We backtracked, finding an adjoining office with a set of doors on the opposite side. A quick reference to the map on my TFD told me we should be able to get back on track through there, though a nagging thought in the back of my mind was leary of investigating the building too far. There was still something off about the whole thing.

The room was full of cubicles. A desk, a terminal and a chair were present at most, and almost all of them were impeccably tidy. Well, tidy before two hundred years of neglect had exacted their toll. The desiccated remains of papers were stacked neatly, chairs were pushed in, and every terminal was powered down and, I would hazard a guess, individually code-locked. Bulletins were still tacked on to notice boards, too faded to read. It was the sort of tidy one would leave a space when they knew they would never visit it again, but had some time to settle their affairs.

All except for one.

Off in a far corner, one cubicle was illuminated by the faint green glow of an active terminal. Tailwind’s gasp of delight was audible, and I had to physically restrain her from going for it with an outstretched wing. I didn’t comment, and she knew why it had to be that way, simply huffing and going back to the rearguard. I carefully led us through the maze of Stable-Tec’s corporate side. Considering the overall neatness of the place, some form of twisted wasteland karma practically dictated that the one exception would be horrifying in some way. I wasn’t disappointed.

The cubicle in question was set up against a wall, and the skeletal corpse of an earth pony was reclined against it. A pistol had fallen from its hooves, now laying upon the floor. It was empty, with the bolt locked back. A single casing had come to rest a ways away on the floor, and a faded bloodstain stemmed from the hole in the corpse’s head, ruining the grey wallpaper.

Well, I had thought it needed a mural. Fucking figures.

The desk had a series of grey scuffs upon its surface, where a pony would typically rest their hooves while seated on the chair provided. Once I was reasonably sure the room as a whole was clear, I set Tailwind loose. Flying into the chair, she almost seemed put out when she discovered that the terminal was still logged in. With only one way any assailants could have come at us, I felt safe letting Bernard watch our backs as I read over her shoulder.

DAY 01

I was late.

By Celestia and Luna, I was late to work on the only day it mattered.

Today, we saw balefire destroy Equestria. There must have been hundreds of warheads, they blotted out the sky itself! Cloudsdale was the first to go, that was the one we all actually saw. It was followed by Fillydephia, Manehattan, Ponyville… Canterlot. I’d gotten the alert on my pipbuck… I’d thought it was another damned drill. I showed up half an hour late, and they’d already closed the Stable door. The thing is, I can’t even say I blame them. Just... what do I do with the ponies who have taken refuge with me?

I suppose I can open up the cafeteria to the ponies here. The food would go bad otherwise, right? The Stable was stocked separately from the building itself, which is why there’s still food in the first place. I guess we kinda lucked out, despite everything.

DAY 03

It rained today.

I thought a lot of ponies had taken shelter here on the first day, but they were nothing compared to the droves that tried to get in once the rain started falling. Thick, rainbow coloured droplets fell from the sky. A mare had been looking up when they started, pointing it out to me. We both got wet, but she got some in her eyes. She’s blind now, and she hasn’t stopped shivering no matter how many blankets we wrap around her. I don’t know why, but my coat feels itchy, all over.

We let quite a few of the nearby villagers inside ― probably more than we should have as it is, considering our food situation ― but when the refugees in skywagons started arriving, we were forced to close the doors. I can still hear their screams as they were trapped in the rain.

We’ve got our own problems in here. That mare who was blinded? Virtually all of the ponies who made it in out of the rain have it worse now. Ponies’ coats are literally rotting off of their bodies! We do not have the medical staff for this. An attractive nurse named Candy Coat, from the waystation down the road, has been helping me run things when she isn’t doing what she can for the injured. I wish I had ten more like her.

Now if only I could get rid of this damn itch that I can’t seem to scratch.

DAY 05

Today one of the villagers died. Virtually all of his coat had rotted away, while he was still alive. The skin had simply sloughed off his body in patches and his mane had fallen out in matted clumps. Inexplicably, he’d lived as long as he had, before he finally breathed what we thought was his last.

When Candy went to check the body, it leaned up and… and it tore her throat out. If that wasn’t enough, it started eating her while we bucking watched!

We subdued whatever it was, but if that’s what awaits those of us who are showing signs already… It worries me. I scratched at an itch today and part of my cutiemark just flaked off down to the muscle of my flank. Which wasn’t half as horrifying as the fact that it didn’t hurt - it felt good, like scratching part of the Celestia damned itch I feel beneath my skin.

Help me.

DAY 10

They left me.

After the dead started to outnumber the living in this hellhole, we had discovered that the “ghouls” kept away from the chamber leading up to the Stable door. Must be some remnant of their former selves thinking they weren’t supposed to be allowed there, or something. Fuck, I don’t know. They kicked me out when they realized I was becoming one of “them.” It’ll only be so long before their pitiful store of food runs out, then they’ll be sorry.

The Others leave me alone. I think they see me as one of them. I know they haven’t lost any of their aggression ― they tore apart a couple of ponies who tried to make a run for the door, just the other day. It feels like they’re just waiting for me to lose it like they have.

I can feel it. I don’t know if any of the rest could, but I think I can feel my mind slipping away.

Damn it, why did I have to be late.

This will be my last journal entry.

Goodbye.

“Well,” I began not really speaking to either of my companions in particular, “That wasn’t what I was expecting.” He’d mentioned having a pipbuck in the messages, but I noted that there wasn’t one on the poor corpse leaning against the wall. On closer inspection, his left foreleg did indeed appear broken, as if somepony had pried the device off of his corpse.

Tailwind hit a button and the messages closed, darkening the screen. “Well, I think we owe Bernard an apology. That’s pretty much how the stories always went.” She glanced sadly down at the corpse.

Bernard commented dryly, “We should get moving. The less time spent here the better.”

We moved on, out the other side of the room and back on track with an arterial pathway. Our route lead us to another staircase, and up we went. The third floor itself seemed to have had its lighting damaged at some point, as most of the lights were either burnt out or flickering intermittently.

“Wow, mood lighting and everything…” Tailwind nickered from behind me.

“Not now, Tail.” I replied, wary as ever of our surroundings.

The armoury was only a short distance away, and it didn’t take long to reach. A large reinforced metal door stood before us all. The terminal that would have opened it effortlessly for us was smashed, hanging limply from the wall next to the door. I picked up on Tailwind’s soft sigh, presumably at the thought of someone wilfully destroying the terminal.

Bernard stepped up to the door, poking around briefly before commenting, “I can pick this, watch my back, will ya?”

“Fly at ‘er, Bernard. We’ve got your back,” I replied, falling into a basic stance to cover the passageway behind us.

He nodded, reaching into his saddlebags and fiddling around for a little while. He quickly found what he was looking for, sliding out a bobby pin and a screw driver.

What. How do you even…? Euch, dirtponies.

A short while and one apparently broken bobby pin later, the lock gave way. The large door starting to slide open. It shuddered and let out an incredibly loud screech as the evidently rusted and broken gears fought to open the door. It came to a very loud halt after opening not quite enough to fit a hoof through. Echoes of the destroyed door resounded through the building, before a deathly quiet fell upon everything.

Tailwind sighed and turned, “Well that was lou-” she was promptly cut off by an unearthly shriek that seemed to reverberate through our very bones. The siren call was instantly echoed by countless other throats from seemingly every direction.

“Bernard, what the fuck is this?!” I shouted over the din, glancing at Bernard.

He straightened up, “Well, we’re in for the shit now.” He paused, double checking the load on his pistol. “Ferals.”

From the other side of the group, Tailwind called out in an even tone, “Contact right!” She fired off a trio of magical energy shots down the hallway. Swinging my shotguns to bear, I rapidly saw that there wasn’t any point. Two of the ‘ghouls’ had rounded the corner, and I was just in time to see second complete its fall. It joined its partner on the ground, though the second was still kicking impotently, trying to get at us despite the right half of its body refusing to cooperate. “Now would be a good time for an evac plan, Chief!”

I spared half a glance towards the hardly open door, an unplundered trove of weaponry no doubt contained inside, unreachable and taunting us. There was no help for it, and we had to move on. Despite the two Tailwind had taken down, between the thundering of sprinting hooves and the near constant shrieking, we hadn’t seen the last of them. Not by a long shot.

“We push through to to the balcony. I’ll lead. Bernard, you’re not gonna like this, but we’re gonna have to fly you down. Tailwind will provide covering fire once we reach the ledge.”

We both caught Bernard’s grimace, but the sound of ghoulish hoofsteps racing up the stairway we’d used to get to the third level was incentive enough to get our rumps in gear.

The first of a new wave of ghouls rounded the corner, all but tripping over each other in their mad rush to get to us, more than I had time to count at the time, but in hindsight there were a little less than twenty.

They were shambling beings, with patches of rotten skin hanging from their bodies where it wasn't anchored by faintly glowing blue crystals. Their eyes were a soulless, unblinking blue, seemingly empty of thought. They reminded me of the Storm Born I'd seen, though it had seemed to possess a... consciousness. A malice that could only come with at least a semblance of self awareness. By contrast, the mindlessness of the ghouls almost scared me more, to be honest. There was no toying around, no posturing. Those things simply wanted us inside them, in the worst possible way. They'd lost a lot more than simply the spark of life as they were trapped in this colossal tomb. I found that just a little bit of me felt pity for them.

Tailwind fired, the first of the new pack flaring as he vaporized into red dust, scattered a moment later by the mad press of bodies. There was no thought of casualties, no consideration given to personal harm. They were possessed by a single, overwhelming urge. They wanted us.

I kicked off into the air hard, going for maximum acceleration towards the mob blocking the way. I bit down on the battlesaddle's firing bit.

I wasn't used to recoil... well, at all, really. Magical energy weapons categorically have none, as they lack moving parts aside from the trigger. Needless to say, firing a pair of linked shotguns in a combat environment as my first introduction to recoil wasn't exactly the best way to learn. Still, the battlesaddle compensated for a lot. My spread of buckshot caught one ghoul's head in the lower edge of the cone, mulching most of its face. It continued on regardless of its own injury.

At my speed, I'd get off one more shot before we hit. Correcting my aim, I fired again. this time, I aimed for just below the breastbone of the lead ghoul, a unicorn as it turned out. The wide cone of fire staggered her, and the ghoulified earth ponies to either side of her, their blackish ichor painting another sickening mural on the grey walls. It was the opening I needed.

I pumped my wings once more to get as much speed as I could before inverting and folding my wings to my side, letting my momentum carry me up and forward. I hugged the roof as I glided narrowly over the sea of gaping maws and rotten teeth that would want nothing more than turkey dinner.

For one intense, perilous second, I was vulnerable over the horde of ghoulified ponies. A few swiped ineffectually at me, just a little too slow ― their hooves and teeth grasped nothing but air. Most just stared, watching as the blue and red pegasus flew past them and started to get away.

The second passed, and I was through. Flipping around, I continued flying towards the balcony while propelling myself backwards, facing the shotguns back the way I'd came. A brief flash of fear that I'd accidentally hit my companions came upon me, quickly dismissed as I saw the vast majority of this wave of ghouls turn to chase me. I don't pretend to know what went through their feral minds, but I suspect they wanted to go for the prey that could, to their minds, conceivably escape their grasp, making me a primary target.

Regardless of the reason, a dozen of the ghoul ponies turned around and started chasing me. I fired again into the seemingly mindless group galloping towards me. The blast staggered a couple of them, who were then shoved aside by the press of bodies. On the far side, I heard Tailwind and Bernard open up, starting to strategically take down the few ghouls that hadn't chased me, as they began to follow the route I'd taken as I drew the macabre horde towards the balcony.

I fired again. A ghoul's front legs had enough ligaments cut to send him face first into a pile of his own gore ― He was trampled underhoof without hesitation. I fired again. A mare with a startlingly intact yellow mane had her face and chest mulched as she found herself dead center between the overlapping cones of fire. I fired again as I continued pumping my wings to keep up the speed, staying out of reach but close enough to remain a tempting target.

At last, the opening to the balcony was before me. A ghoul ran around the corner, but his silhouette on the threshold was an easy target for my shotguns. They shredded him and left him bleeding in his own ichor. I had five shots left.

I flew over the railing and into the vaulted ceiling of the main room. Not a moment too soon, as the momentum of the remaining ghouls behind me caused them to keep trying to keep chase, right off the ledge of the balcony. They fell, and there was a chorus of sharp snapping sounds, their old bones breaking on impact. A pair of double shotgun blasts stilled most of the quivering forms on the bottom level.

I turned. Tailwind was bare seconds behind the wave, aiming to neutralize any stragglers who barred her way with precise shots. She didn’t necessarily kill them ― there were several still flailing around with severed appendages. Disabling them was enough for her. She flew over the balcony before coming to a hover, bracing herself and continuing to place shots in a steady cadence of magical energy beams. Bernard however, had fallen behind in pace. At the current rate, he’d have been caught by the next wave of ghouls that were already massed behind him, making hard chase towards him.

Oh no you don’t!

I banked hard, coming about and heading back the way I’d came. I flew to Bernard’s side ― he was bare meters from the ledge of the balcony ― before flaring my wings and firing at practically point blank into the mass of bodies. One ghoul caught a chunk of the blast in his chest, stopping him in his tracks while a thing that was once a mare’s leg was torn off at the shoulder and she was trampled beneath the stampeding bodies behind her.

The closer range meant my shells had no time to properly spread, and while the overkill most certainly put down the ghouls it hit, I wasn’t inconveniencing as many with each shot. Rapidly attempting to backpedal, I put another twin blast into their ranks as they closed on Bernard and I. This time only a single ghoul fell, right as I felt and heard my left-side shotgun click empty.

I’ve got one shell left.

They were upon us.

I hadn’t been able to reverse fast enough, hadn’t taken out as many as I’d hoped with my shots. I felt grubby, rotten, fleshy hooves grasp my tail, vigorously pulling me out of the air and into their midst. I shielded my face with my forehooves, an instinctive terror gripping me as I felt hooves grabbing all over my body.

All that was nothing compared to when a rotten, decayed set of teeth sank deep into my flank. The ghoul tore at my flesh and ripped furrows in my hide below the cutiemark on my right hind leg. The pain was like nothing I’d felt before, and I’d felt a lot through years of experience in the VI. All at once it burned and stung, as my skin tore and the tissue below was exposed. It made me scream in agony and terror. I felt violated. Dimly, I heard Tailwind scream my name, her own horror evident in her voice.

It all lasted maybe a second before I saw Bernard throw his full earth pony weight into the ghouls crushing onto me, knocking frail bodies back the way they’d come. I contorted my body and fired, taking the ghoul attached to my hindquarters down. I also caught a pair of the ghouls Bernard had knocked back with the particularly lucky spread of shot.

Bernard was bleeding from bite wounds of his own. If he’d screamed in pain, I hadn’t noticed in the haze of my own injury. Having had far more than enough of them, Bernard set himself between the ghouls and myself right as a torrent of magical energy beams sliced into their ranks. Between Tailwind’s storm of fire and a desperate buck from the terrified earth pony, we were dislodged from the melee, hurling our bleeding bodies over the balcony.

As I fell, in a moment of adrenaline-boosted clarity I saw a confused and scared looking unicorn, beige coat and brown mane, wearing a duster over a set of blue Stable barding. He stood in the doorway to the Stable entrance, half in and half out of the massive set of doors, which were now partly open.

The moment passed as the more pressing issue of our companion's imminent arrival at ground level took precedence. Bernard had already gotten a lot of momentum going by the time I wrapped my forelegs around his shoulders and flapped as hard as I could, desperately trying to avoid a fate like that of the ghouls that had chased me earlier. Tailwind managed to dive in time to help alleviate his weight from opposite me. As a result, for Tailwind and I the landing was jarring, but not hard enough to injure. Bernard wasn’t so lucky. The landing was hard enough for us to hear a distinct crunch as Bernard hit the grey, gore-stained floor. He’d landed hard on his front left leg, and it was bent at an odd angle, clearly broken. Didn't help that he probably had no experience in trying to absorb falling impact from height.

Collecting our wits and taking stock of the situation, I realized the duster-wearing Stablepony was still looking at us from the interior door’s threshold. His pistol was still held in his magical aura, and he wore a look on his face like he had no idea whatsoever what was happening. "Not more of you!" He screamed, adjusting the pistol to more or less point in our direction, "You won't take me!"

He fired a pair of shots, seeming surprised as one buried itself in the ground about five meters from me, and the other ricocheted off the wall.

Despite his actions, I couldn't for the life of me sense any hostile intent from him. It looked very much like those might've been the first shots he'd ever fired. And besides all that, I was out of ammo for my battlesaddle anyways.

I called out to him, "Look, I don't think we're who you think we are, but if you want to get out of here alive I suggest you run, buck! They're right behind us!" As quickly as we could, Tailwind and I helped Bernard out of the pile of now-still corpses that we’d more or less landed in. One tried to bite at my hooves ineffectually, only to receive a brutal stomp to the face from one of my hindlegs. Once we’d managed to extricate ourselves, Bernard started hobbling for the door as Tailwind split off to resume suppressing the ghouls on the balcony.

I made my way over to the nearest side passage and threw open one of the doors. I had a suspicion that the ghouls had redirected and started flooding towards the ground floor, and it was confirmed by the steady rumble of hooves up the nearby stairwell. I bit off the arming stem and tossed an apple-shaped grenade in their path. I hoped it would at least slow them down, but I didn't stay to make sure. After I closed the door, the explosion was muffled more than it should have been from just the door, as if the raw press of bodies was enough to mitigate the small explosive's effects. "We're getting the fuck out of here! You coming?" I shouted back towards the pony still struck by indecisiveness.

After a few moments of indecision, the buck decided to throw his lot in with us and raced for the entrance. Tailwind continued laying down covering fire, taking out the odd ghoul still hanging around the balcony level.

Bernard reached the entrance, having to do an improvised hobble while trying to keep his weight off his injured leg, throwing the door open and holding it for the rest of us. The peculiar buck we’d encountered seemed, despite his initial indecision, to be very much in favour of getting the fuck out of the building, galloping as fast as his unicorn legs could carry him. That left Tailwind and I.

I flew for the entrance, grabbing ahold of the door and watching back, shouting to Tailwind, “Everypony clear!” As we shuttled the tan coloured buck out of the door. With a final burst of fire, Tailwind broke off, diving and flying through the doorway scant seconds before Bernard and I slammed the door shut behind her with an echoing clang.

In the frigid northern air around us, silence reigned aside from everypony’s ragged breathing. Bernard and I stayed put, physically holding the doors closed. Mercifully, the ghouls seemed disinclined to follow us outside, and the sounds of shuffling on the other side of the door quickly receded. I couldn’t fathom the reason, but whatever it was, I was grateful.

We were safe. For now, at least.

Author's Note

Whew. So I'd like to say, that chapter ended up being a lot longer than expected. Not bloated, I just initially thought it would be split roundabouts in half, but everything ended up flowing better this way.

This chapter sees Plain becoming part of the editing team, and I've really gotta hand it to him, Belmor, and PersonalGamer. They really busted my balls on this one. (Ok, it wasn't that bad, but seriously without these guys this fic wouldn't be anywhere near where it is)

Thanks for reading, guys!

Chapter 05: Fade

Chapter Five: Fade

We gambled on that building.

We risked a lot, and it cost us ammo, medicine, injuries… and it could have cost a lot more. For what? Old knowledge and the potential for something valuable to scavenge. We saved a life, but his salvation was more of a byproduct of our reckless sprint for the door than any sort of good intentions. The decision to even enter those vaulted doors left an ashen taste in my mouth.

Still, a Stablepony and his pipbuck had the potential to be an asset to our little group… in spite of the fact that he was something of an enigma to us. Despite the questions we could have asked — what kind of pony he was (morally speaking), what skills did he have, why had he stayed in the building infested with ghouls as long as he had — the fact remained that he literally had nowhere else to go. That Stable door was sealed, and whatever had happened to force him out hadn’t exactly been kind to him. Had we left him behind, it would have been a death sentence one way or another.

We still had a long ways to go, and we could use all the help we could get.

—Snap Roll’s Journal

*** *** ***

Bernard and I had just closed the door to that ancient building, sealing in the horrors that lurked within. The noises inside had gone quiet, but none of us were willing to trust our luck at that point. In a blind run, we made our way back up the road, towards the fork. Tailwind and I flew above, occasionally glancing back to make sure the door was still closed, while Bernard and the Stablepony ran along below us. We passed the same wrecked sky-carriages, running until our injuries forced us to stop, Bernard’s in particular. His foreleg was clearly broken, and it would need to be looked to sooner rather than later. It wasn’t his injury that drew our eyes, however.

Our attention was on the one out of place pony among us, the same pony we’d only just found inside the building. Now that I got a closer look at him, he was wearing a duster that seemed to have more years on it than the buck himself. The Stable barding that showed underneath looked like his, as did the pipbuck around his foreleg. He had what appeared to be a sabre sheathed… no, more like strapped to his side. With duct tape. Finally catching his breath enough to speak, he stammered out, “What… what were those?!” His eyes darted questioningly from one pony to another in our small group.

Spitting out through a series of hacking coughs, Bernard replied, “Ghouls.”

“And those are...?” the Stablepony asked, clearly not following Bernard’s attempt at explanation.

“Undead ponies…” Tailwind replied quietly, her eyes downcast. “Those who sought the safety of your Stable when the bombs fell, but were too late.”

“So much for ghost stories,” I added as I started assessing the injuries among our party, figuring we were safe enough to get fixed up where we were. Everypony, even the new buck, had to be checked.

Bernard definitely took the worst of it, his barding having been of little defence against the ghouls. Large areas of his coat had been cut or bitten open. Blood flowed freely from his wounds, slowly seeping into his jacket and robbing his warmth. On top of that, his front left leg had a fracture partway up his calf. Thankfully, it hadn’t broken all the way through, but he’d still be stuck with a limp if we couldn’t do something about it. For my part, the bite marks on my flank throbbed, bleeding freely but otherwise not of serious consequence. Tailwind had stayed safe throughout the fight, and was just tired as the adrenaline wore off of us all.

I moved to run my hooves over the Stablepony, but he shied away from my touch. With a tolerating expression, I reassured him, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. I know medicine, I just want to see if you’re ok after all that.” I gave him a smile which he didn’t return, still looking uncertain. I tried a more personable approach, trying to get him to open up just a bit. “My name’s Snap Roll, what’s yours?”

That managed to draw a response from him at last, and he tentatively replied, “I’m Crafter… Crafter Odds.”

I took a few careful steps towards him. “That’s good, Crafter!” I remarked, glad to be making headway at last. “May I take a look at you? I just want to make sure you’re ok.”

“Just… don’t do anything weird, ok?” He finally relented, though his unease was palpable.

I gently ran my hooves over him. He wasn’t injured, nothing that I could see anyways… but on further inspection, some rather serious questions were raised. He showed obvious signs of dehydration, with early symptoms of starvation evident in his scared features. He was also very obviously uncomfortable with me being so close to him. I made a mental note to bring it up when we had more time, before moving on to treating our physical injuries.

Healing potions are strange things. If you pour it directly on a wound, it’ll only heal the area it touches, but if you have the recipient drink the sweet, purple liquid it’ll spread throughout their system, prioritizing heavily injured areas. With Bernard’s leg broken, if he drank it would heal where it was. Even if I set it beforehand, there was no way I could guarantee it would heal right. I figured our wounds weren't bad enough to warrant using our last one, so instead I went about carefully cleaning our injuries with alcohol swabs, stitching the wounds together with a needle and stitches Chess had given me (I had Tailwind help me with my own), and patching them up with magically imbued bandages.

Then came the unpleasant part, for Bernard at least. I had him lay on his uninjured side I did what I could to set the bone in his foreleg. It took both Tailwind and I to keep him still while I set the bone, without anaesthetic. To say there was screaming on his part would be an understatement, but all things considered... I guess he took it pretty well.

Once it was done with, I tentatively asked in a quiet voice, "Sorry, but it had to happen... are you going to be alright?"

Gasping through the pain, Bernard replied, "I'll... be fine... just give me a bit."

I gave him room to recover, backing of just a bit. In the meantime, I had a moment of inspiration in regards to how I’d immobilize his leg now that we’d gotten the bone back in place. I started unclipping the spent shotguns from my battlesaddle, intending to break them down and use them as an improvised splint.

As I did, I never caught Crafter’s eyes opening wide in some form of comprehension, but I definitely saw him start to back away, drawing the pistol he’d fired at me earlier and using the brown aura of his levitation magic to point the weapon shakily in my direction. “You’re with them, aren’t you?” He shouted, at the edge of losing control. “This was a trap! You just wanted me out of the building!”

Staying firmly where I was and moving my hooves well away from the shotguns, I replied as calmly as I could manage, “Crafter, please put down the gun. With whom?”

Tailwind fluttered to the ground next to me, saying in a soft voice, “Hey hey, come on. We won’t hurt you, just tell us what’s wrong.”

He gave us a look of uncertainty before replying, “The ponies who killed my friends. Haywire… You’re with them, aren’t you?!” He motioned with the pistol’s barrel towards the battlesaddle, before readjusting to point at my chest. Rather, he thought it was pointed at my chest. He was looking through the ironsight wrong, and actually pointing off to the right… I wasn’t about to correct him. “They had that exact thing with them!” With a nod of his head, he indicated the shotguns now lying between us in the snow.

Tailwind wore a look of confusion on her face the same instant I realized what had happened. “But Snap, you got them from…” Realization hitting her, she turned back towards Crafter, “Oh I’m so sorry…”

My expression became part pained and part sympathetic. “We put down the previous bearer of these guns two days ago, along with his group.” I took a hesitant step towards him. “For what it’s worth, I’m very sorry for your friends.”

As he seemed to consider that, he brought the gun up in my direction again. His heart wasn’t in it, there was no malice in his eyes. He was scared, lost, alone… and now even any desire he might have had for revenge would just feel… impotent, I suppose. He was trying to act tough, even if the only pony he convinced was himself. After a few seconds of making his decision he let out a sigh, holstering the gun and slumping down. His half-lidded eyes looked exhausted.

My heart ached for the poor buck. From how malnourished he looked, he might well have left his Stable before Tailwind and I had even reached the surface. I took a few casual steps over, wanting to just reassure him with… a companionable presence, I suppose. He was confused, scared, and had to see himself as being very much alone.

He glanced up at me, though I got the impression he wasn’t comforted like I’d hoped. He was just confused more than anything. However, after a moment of him sitting there, he commented rather abruptly, “I’m hungry…”

I started digging through my pack for the remainder of my Enclave field rations. It wasn’t much, but it would be a good idea to start him off slowly enough to give his stomach a chance to start digesting again. “We’ve got some rations you can have… not exactly dandelion sandwiches,” I chuckled lamely at my own joke, bad as it was, “but it’ll fill you up.”

He glanced from my face to my outstretched hoof to the offered rations for about a split second, before snatching up the ration bars from my hoof and munching on them ravenously. After the second bar, he added almost shyly, “...Thanks.”

Tailwind stepped forward, “Hey, I know how it hurts to lose someone close to you, I really do. But you can trust us. Please, we just want to help you.”

He glanced up at her, eyes wide, “Really? Th-thank you. I thought everypony was like those other ones…” He let out a sigh of relief. “Hey, um, when you ran into those other ponies, did they… Was there somepony else with them?” He asked tentatively.

My blood turned to ice. No. No no… damn it, he can’t be… Tailwind and I shared a quick, pained look. I’m sure I paled visibly as I asked, “What… did she look like?”

“Her name is Spring Breeze. Sh- She has seeds as her mark.” He glanced from Tailwind to me, sensing that something was amiss.

Tailwind’s voice caught as tears started to well in her eyes, “Oh you poor soul…”

He started tearing up, himself. I’m sure deep down he knew what was coming. He asked anyways, “What…?”

My eyes went distant, as if focusing on something far away. In my mind, I was replaying the scene all over again. “We… we found her with them. We ended up getting trapped in a room with her… we fought several of them off, but my wings were injured.” My voice cracked as I tried to find a way to continue.

At my pause, Crafter asked, with tears falling freely down his cheeks, “A-and what happened to her?”

I didn’t cry, not yet. To be honest, I probably wore an expression of mild shock. “She…”

I can’t tell him what they were doing to her. He doesn’t need to know that.

“She was already in a bad way, but she was shot in the fight. I… moving her would have killed her.” I glanced at the brown buck, eyes pleading. For what? To release myself from having to tell him? I don’t know. He deserved to know, and it was barely enough to salve my conscience as it was. “I asked her… We couldn’t take her with… I told her, and… she told me she wanted it to end.” With a moment of perfect clarity, I caught his gaze, before saying, simply, “So I did.”

I never did get around to telling Tailwind exactly what happened down there… Kind of a shitty way to find out, huh.

He started sobbing, “She… She asked for it…?” He got to his hooves, walking a few paces away before slumping to the snow, burying his head in his forehooves and letting himself be wracked by pained sounding sobs.

Tailwind shared another sympathetic look with me, giving me a light kiss on the cheek before heading over to sit beside Crafter, pulling him in close with her wing, attempting to give him some comfort. I was immensely grateful.

It isn’t my place to offer him comfort… Not after what I did.

This time, he accepted the embrace fully, leaning into her and sobbing into her breast, “I told her- I said we’d be fine! We’d survive. All of them. Now…”

Now he’s all alone. Just like I’d be if I’d lost Tailwind…

I felt another twinge of guilt, building upon the mess of emotions already vying for attention.

Or if she’d lost me… So this is what the Wasteland is, huh? Day in, day out of this. I can see why we'd leave it to its fate. To save what we could above the clouds, there are a lot of ponies who would make that decision without a second thought. I can't blame them.

Tailwind slowly stroked his mane with a wing, saying softly, “It’s not your fault, you didn’t make those evil ponies do what they did. You’re…” Her voice choked up for a moment before she found the strength to continue, “You’re a slave to circumstances beyond your control… You can’t hate yourself for what they did.”

“I know,” He replied, face still buried in her coat, “It’s just… Why… I- I need some rest.” He mumbled through his sobs.

Bernard spoke at last, having observed the conversation to this point from an emotional distance. He spoke in a low voice directed to me. “Yet another soul torn by the whims of the wastes… But Snap, it’ll be night soon.”

“Night,” I commented, wiping my teary eyes with a sleeve, “We need to find shelter. We can use the bunker from before. It isn’t too far away. We know the way....” My voice failed me at the end. Circumstances can be cruel, but I have to admit I shared the blame in having to take our new companion there.

Tailwind continued to speak to him in her soft tone, “You should come with us, we’ve all been hurt by this place. We can find strength together, just like in old Equestria before all this hate…”

He sat there clinging to her, thinking for a few moments before concluding, “What else am I gonna do?”

“Hey now,” Tailwind straightened up, “is this what she would’ve wanted, you to fall into misery and remorse? I think she would have wanted you to be strong, to carry on… To be happy.”

“You didn’t know her. How would you know?” He responded, getting his hooves under himself as he wiped away the tears in an attempt to look dignified. He needn’t have bothered — It didn’t really help any, but none of us would have judged him by it.

Tailwind stayed where she was, meeting my gaze and commenting in a soft, faraway voice, “It’s what I would want of Snap.”

*** *** ***

As we trotted along, I kept an eye on our new companion. Not out of suspicion, but out of curiosity. He kept looking up, towards the grey clouds stretching beyond the horizon. But every time he did, he’d glance away, blinking rapidly. As if his eyes were still adjusting to what was to us, a rather dark, overcast day with the perpetual cloud cover. His expression seemed to be that of a pony who had only just realized how small his world had been, and was at once both horrified and enticed by the wide open Wasteland he now found himself navigating.

As I made guesses as to what was going through his head, he misplaced a hoof in the soft snow, sending him sliding down into a slight dip in the side of the road. A few seconds later his face emerged, full of snow as he struggled to regain his footing on the slippery ground.

I flew down to him from my post above, concern on my features. “This is new to you, isn’t it? All of this?” I gestured expansively, indicating I was talking more about the Wasteland in general than simply the snow.

He glanced up at me, shielding his eyes against what little sunlight filtered through the clouds with a hoof, simply giving a nod in response.

“We need to get under cover before dark. The nights are quite cold this far north, and its about an hour’s trot to some shelter. We can see about getting you something a little more filling to eat once we’re there.” I commented while I helped him to his hooves.

Bernard piped upwhile he lent the unicorn a hoof. “You’re gonna need to keep your footing better than that, my friend, lest your bumps out pace you.”

“Thanks, I’ll work on it. It’s just… I’m not used to any of this. The Stable was so simple in comparison.” Back on his hooves, Crafter resumed trotting as Bernard and I kept to our pace.

The older buck smiled back, “Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it.”

As I flew along beside them, I added, “Technically speaking, I believe you’ve actually been on the surface longer than Tailwind and I have.”

Crafter glanced to the front of our group, to where Tailwind was flying forward sentry. “That’s her name then? Tailwind?”

Nodding, I replied as I continued to gaze in her direction. “Yeah, that’s her. We’ve been…” I hesitated, deciding to word it as neutrally as I could. There was no way he knew about the Enclave yet, and I was in no hurry to have that conversation with him. “Down here for about four days now, and it already feels all too familiar.”

As I casually observed her, I noticed none of her usual playfulness in her flying language. That’s not to say that every pegasus doesn’t have certain body language that they express through flight, but once you’ve known a pony as long as I’d known her, the little things practically shout out when something is wrong. Missing were her usual aerial stunts she did as she simply enjoyed being in the air. I’d always thought that it was as if life itself were reason enough for her to rejoice in a constant dance of flight as random yet beautiful as the mare herself. Just then, she simply flew, wings barely fluttering to keep her hovering at an altitude of about ten meters from the ground. A few times, she started sinking towards the earth, before pumping her wings a few times to return to her altitude. The cycle slowly repeated itself a couple times as I watched.

Something is very wrong.

Distractedly, I gave a lame excuse to leave the conversation. “Crafter, Bernard… speaking of which, I’m going to go check up on her.”

I fluttered off, hearing a conversation between the two starting up with Crafter asking something along the lines of, “Bernard, what exactly is a ‘Snap Roll’?”

Flying at a measured pace, I caught up to Tailwind rather quickly. She was only a couple dozen meters away from the pair of dirtponies, just out of earshot of their conversation. As I approached, I sidestepped around whatever she might be thinking, neutrally greeting her with a soft, caring tone. “Hey Tail, easy flying up here?”

“Hey Snap…” Was her monotone response as she avoided eye contact, keeping her head turned away from me.

She didn’t call me Chief…

“Tailwind… What’s wrong?” I asked, concern entering my voice. I had a suspicion, and typical for me, I voiced it without any leadup whatsoever. “Is it about Nosedive?”

She turned to me, making several verbal false-starts, before breaking into tears.

I snatched her up in a hug, clinging to her in an attempt at comfort. “Tailwind, he…” My voice failed me as I teared up as well, the feelings I’d repressed until then spilling out. “He made the choice, for both of us!” I sobbed into her shoulder.

I’d never been good at dealing with loss. I always bottled it up, saying I could deal with it later. I managed for years after my father died, before crumbling into Tailwind’s tender hooves a couple years ago, much as I was right then. We’d always gotten through by sharing the pain, the sorrow… eventually. During training, it had always made the pain, the bad days go by that much easier knowing another pony felt the same way you did. That they were sharing it with you. But this time, it was different.

She continued sobbing, “No… he… you both were only there because of me! ‘Cause I didn’t, couldn’t grab my harness in time. He’s-” She hiccupped, “He’s dead because of me!”

She believed she’d been the one to get him killed. In my selfishness, I’d taken the blame upon myself as the commander on the ground, without even considering that she might have felt she was the reason the choice had to be made in the first place. I was stupid, but it wasn’t too late to fix my mistake… how I’d let her hurt herself without my even realizing it.

I wiped my nose and eyes with the sleeve of the stolen barding, replying, “Tailwind, remember when we enlisted? Do you remember that silly little oath we made?" I pulled back slightly to try and catch her eyes with mine, to get her to focus on me. "We said we'd stand by eachother, giving our last for our friends if we had to. We all stumble, we all fuck up... I got that poor buck's special somepony killed the other day! We... we have to rely on our friends when we do mess up, when we fall."

She met my eyes before hugging back, still sobbing, “Then today… when they grabbed you... I thought I’d lost you as well! I don’t I don’t know what I would do if that happened…”

“I’m so sorry Tail… I thought… Oh, skies above I don’t know what I was thinking, trying to get into that stupid building. We saw the signs, and I was reckless. I’m so, so sorry.” I replied, petting her mane and holding her close.

“I just- I don’t want to lose you too.” She hugged me even tighter, clutching at me as if I were… well… the last shred of hope in her life. She’d lost her team, her home, and her family. I was all she had to show for twenty three years of life, and she desperately clung to me.

“I’m here Tail, and I’ll never stop fighting to stay by your side. No matter what this Wasteland throws at us!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the bucks had caught up to us. From what I caught of their conversation, Bernard was filling him in on some of the mythos of this region. The same stories I’d heard from Chess. The ones I now knew had more than just a kernel of truth to them, and were all the more horrifying for it. It mustn’t have been a pleasant conversation, but the younger buck had to be told sooner or later. I caught Crafter’s gaze as he glanced up at the hugging, sobbing, intertwined mess of mares hovering over his head. I shot him a glance that said, ‘Keep walking. We’re having a moment.’ Much to his credit, he caught the look and snapped his eyes back to Bernard’s, intentionally oblivious to us.

Tailwind nodded, tears still in her eyes. “You’re right, I… I’m sorry. You- I have no right to do that. We need to be strong, for one another… Isn’t that what we said, all those years ago?”

I nodded with conviction. “I don’t intend to belie that, love. For Nosedive’s memory, and for us.” I said, a smile spreading across my face. “That’s a promise.”

She nodded, putting on a half-hearted smile as she wiped her face with a forehoof. “We should probably catch up, seeing as we’re supposed to be flying point.”

“Sounds good,” I nickered, showing no sign of moving until she was ready. She let go, and we both flew towards the front of the group again, continuing the trek towards the bunker.

*** *** ***

We stood before the small grave, fully covered with snow since we’d left it. The pitiful chunk of wood we’d carved her cutiemark into still stood silent vigil over her final resting place, frozen like the rest of this region.

“I’m so sorry, Crafter.”

He dropped to his knees in front of the small headstone. “She’s… she’s really gone…” I saw tears forming in the corners of his eyes, clearly thinking back on memories of a pony I never got the chance to know. It was a lot to take in. “I guess… I still thought that… maybe she was fine, and… and it wasn’t her.” He slumped to the ground, his chest laying upon the all too thin layers of snow and dirt she was buried beneath.

I put a hoof on his shoulder, simply commenting, “Live for her. Her memory lives with you, never forget that.”

He spared a glance up at me, his eyes shimmering behind unshed tears before he whispered as if to the mare buried beneath him, almost too quietly for me to hear, “I’ll be strong… For the both of us. It’s not the same without you, but it’s the best I can do…” He closed his eyes, causing a tear to run down each of his cheeks.

“Take your time,” I added quietly, “Come inside when you’re ready.” I turned, nodding to Tailwind and Bernard. The three of us headed for the bunker, leaving the poor buck to say his final goodbyes to the mare he must have loved very much. I felt wretched.

As we entered, I noted that with the fire in the levels below long since extinguished, the entire complex had to be nearly as cold as the outside, a serious problem with night rapidly approaching. “Tailwind, last time we were here we used up most of the remaining fuel from the second level down. It might be a little difficult to get a fire going for the night.”

Nodding sagely as she stepped into the building, she did a double take as she saw the still-locked terminal on the room’s wall next to the locked door. With a sly smile she replied, “You never did unlock this, did you?”

Oh. Right, that.

“Um…” I glanced at Bernard, who simply shrugged his shoulders. “No. No we didn’t.”

“Seriously Chief, what would you do without me?” She snickered, hacking the terminal in about ten seconds flat.

Well, how about that.

With the sound of gears turning behind the walls (thankfully, without the grinding sound of them destroying themselves this time), the door slid open revealing a room that would comfortably fit all of us. It even had its own ventilation system through the roof. The room was mostly bare, but wooden shelves, cabinets and the like remained. The wood had largely rotted, but it would be more than enough to build a fire for the night. It was patently obvious that the raiders had never managed to get in there, as there wasn’t a hint of the desecration that we’d seen in virtually every other room of the bunker complex. Judging from the placement of the room, its security system and the layout of the shelves, I imagined this would have been an armoury once. The Rangers that once manned it must have pulled out organized like, lending credence to the notion that this facility had never truly saw combat… simply being abandoned, maybe even before the war ended.

“We’ll bunk down here for the night.” I concluded. Not like we had much option anyways, but it needed to be said. “Tailwind, could you get a fire going? I’ll get our bedding set up.”

Bernard piped up from across the room, “Won’t that be a problem? We all have bedrolls, but Crafter’s barely got the barding on his back.” He’d already starting to get wood stacked neatly for once the fire got underway.

“Oh, I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” I replied with a sly smirk.

Crafter quietly made his way inside, head down. Noticing that, Tailwind beckoned him over and started showing him how to replicate what she was doing. His eyes lit up, and he watched intently. I was glad, and it was good to see him showing an active interest in something, even if it was mostly just a distraction. Not one to do things by half-measures, Tail started quoting the text we’d both learned fieldcraft from pretty much verbatim, giving Crafter an impromptu lecture on firestarting.

I sidled up beside Bernard, as the first sparks caught upon dry wood. “He can borrow my bedroll for the night.”

*** *** ***

I awoke to the rhythmic chirp of a female voice that was far too cheery for a winter morning. The suddenness of the noise was enough to send a jolt of adrenaline through my body. I’m sure Tailwind felt it; the sleeping bag we inhabited wasn’t exactly designed for two. ‘Intimate’ is the word I’d use to have described our proximity, in fact. Glancing over, I discovered the noise to be originating from Crafter’s pipbuck.

He had the hood of my sleeping bag up to cover his head. Waking up in an unhurried manner, the buck rubbed the sleep from his eyes with a forehoof, yawned, and then swatted the pipbuck on his leg with a practiced movement from his opposite leg. It seemed to be the morning routine as it had always been for him. Ritual completed, he blinked twice before seeming to snap back to the reality he now inhabited.

“Sorry about that, guys.”

I groaned, beginning to extricate myself from both Tailwind and the sleeping bag. Not an easy task, as she had been using my right foreleg as a pillow, and was rather… attached to it, at the moment. “Crafter, you’re gonna need to turn that off in the future.” I explained in a mildly chiding tone, “There’s always the chance of that alarm going off at a very inconvenient time.”

Tailwind let out a large yawn of her own, briefly letting go of my leg as she stretched out her sore muscles. “Yeah, like when somepony is sleeping…”

Seizing the opportunity, I freed my leg from her warm embrace and started getting my kit together, throwing on my barding and beginning the process of mounting the submachine gun (my only available weapon with ammo, I noted rather morosely) to my battlesaddle. It didn’t even have a mouth-grip, but that didn’t really matter — the saddle had its own mechanisms to connect to. “Come on Tail, up and at ‘em.” I insisted idly.

In protest to the concept of leaving the sleeping bag, Tailwind proceeded to pull it over her head and make humming noises to drown out my words.

“At any rate, if you still want to listen to it, at least turn it down.”

He seemed to consider that for a moment, before punching a few buttons on the pipbuck with his nose, commenting, “No, off is better.” He seemed to frown, squinting at the screen. “Huh, what…?” He mumbled, presumably to himself. “Hey, uh, what’s this number here?” He asked, seemingly to anypony who might be able to answer his quandary with the pipbuck.

Having at least a passing knowledge of the technology behind pipbucks, I cantered over. He seemed to have an inventory sorting spell active, and it listed his (heartbreaking small) collection of worldly possessions. He was pointing his hoof at a trio of items listed beside each other. The “10mm Pistol” he’d fired at me was first on the list, above what seemed to be the sabre he carried — that was listed as “Celestial Riposte," and below that was what it called a “weathered duster.” Beside each of the items was listed a seemingly arbitrary currency called “caps”, with the number twenty-six hundred beside the sword and a measly twenty-four beside the duster.

I couldn’t make much sense of it, but I knew just what to do. A smirk growing across my face, I turned back to look at the sleeping-bagged form of Tailwind. “Oh, whomever would we turn to for an issue with a pipbuck?” I bemoaned in my best damsel in distress voice, totally overemphasized. “I mean, it would be really, really nice to have somepony with an interest in that sort of thing to look it over.”

From the confines of the sleeping bag emerged an overexcited squee of “Pipbuck!” Followed by a teal blur as Tailwind dove out of the sleeping bag in an uncoordinated mess. In a tangle of wings and hooves, she slammed first into the wall, then the roof, before finally landing beside me, right on top of Crafter.

Beneath her, I heard a pained moan of “Such finesse…” coming from Crafter’s mildly crushed form, as Tailwind yanked on his hoof in order to get a better look at the screen. Near instantaneously, she began flying through logs and system files faster than I could ever hope to follow, all the while humming merrily to herself.

Feeling rather good about my solution to getting Tailwind up in the morning, I turned to the last member of our party only to see that Bernard had already finished stowing his gear and had been looking on at the rest of us, amusement plain to see on his features. “Bernard, what is it with Wastelanders’ fascination with bottlecaps?” I asked, a mix of curiosity and mild derision vying for prominence in my tone. “I even found a collection of them on the Red Eye folks we got these winter wraps from.”

“Well, ‘caps’ have been the major form of currency down here in the Wasteland for generations now. It’s simply been that way since long before I was born. Honestly never thought too much of it.” He replied, still watching the tangle that was Tailwind and Crafter.

“What,” I eloquently replied, dumbstruck. We’d left dozens… maybe hundreds of caps behind! If what I saw on Crafter’s pipbuck had any correlation to that, if his duster was worth twenty-four… “You mean… we left…” I whispered, realizing the magnitude of what I quite simply hadn’t had the mind to pick up.

“What, did you think we still used bits down here or something?” Bernard chuckled. “We do, but there isn’t a set exchange rate. After everything went to shit, it turned out that bottlecaps were one of the easiest things to carry and exchange, they were something we could assign a base value to.”

“Well, we still use bits in the Enclave. They never really… well… we kind of assumed there wasn’t enough structure down here to sustain anything other than heavily improvised barter systems.” I replied, still baffled but moving towards confused as to why we hadn’t been briefed on this simple yet obviously essential part of the Wasteland. “At least, I think we didn’t know. Otherwise…” I frowned, trailing off.

Otherwise our superiors simply never planned to tell us about it. They must have assumed we’d never have to interact with surface ponies...

I was, thankfully, interrupted by additional noise from the pair behind me. Crafter had managed to adjust his position such that both he and Tailwind could look at the screen at the same time. “What are you doing? I don’t get it.”

“I’m rebooting the combat systems,” she replied, “They’ve been decommissioned for whatever reason, dumb mudponies not knowing how useful… Aha!” She gave a small cheer, evidently having succeeded.

“What is this?” Crafter asked, “What’d you do to me?” He seemed to be reaching out a hoof to touch something about a foot in front of his face. There was nothing there.

Ahh, Tailwind must have activated his Eyes Forward Sparkle.

I could imagine it being rather disorienting to see an image transposed over your normal vision for the first time. Having an EFS was essentially second nature to me. Pretty much anytime we were doing anything military, Tailwind and I had our TFD’s on. It was simply how we trained, how we fought. Confirming my suspicions, Tailwind piped up happily, “That, my ground-bound friend is your EFS, or Eyes Forward Sparkle. It lets you know when others are nearby. Blue for friendlies, red for baddies.”

Crafter seemed to visibly calm, his eyes no longer darting about looking at all the new symbols that no doubt made his vision hectic the first time he saw them. “Wow… so, do you all have one of these?” he asked, looking around the room and seeming to get gradually better acquainted with the systems that would become integral to the way he lived.

“Well, no. It’s inherent to Stable-Tec systems, such as your pipbuck or the Steel Rangers’ power armour.” Tailwind replied. “Snap and I have different versions incorporated in our TFD’s.” She tapped the eyepiece clipped behind her ear for visual representation.

“Steel Ranger?” He asked curiously, glancing furtively at each of our forelegs, in turn. He seemed to realize that he was singled out by the device on his leg rather quickly.

Tailwind waved a forehoof in derision, “A bunch of backwards tech-worshiping introverts. They’ll bully or kill a pony for something a lot less rare than your pipbuck.”

“Oh,” He replied unsteadily. From the look on his face, I could imagine he was trying to come up with a mental image of what the hell a “Steel Ranger” might look like. “And… they just go around, killing things and stealing their stuff?” He asked it so innocently, like the concept was so far removed from his situation that it was like he was commenting on the weather or something.

Tailwind slipped into the even tone she used when she was actually passing on information as she replied, “Well, they claim to have a moral set or ‘codex,’” She made air quotes with her hooves as she said it. “But it basically outlines that concept. They’re dangerous enough, with nigh impregnable armour and enough ordnance on each of ‘em to level a small town — they pack quite a punch.”

Crafter thought about that for a moment, before glancing over the rest of us, clearly taking in our assorted armaments and gear. “Have you guys ever taken one out?” He asked.

Tailwind shot me a glance. "Not exactly..." She replied vaguely.

I was in no particular rush to have that conversation with him. The one that would have involved the Enclave and Ranger struggle... and my father. “Suffice to say, if at all possible we should avoid fighting them.” Was my equally vague reply.

From the doorway, Bernard gave a polite but firm cough into a forehoof, startling us all from our collective train of thought. “We’d best be going. Still a days’ trot to Neighson and I don’t particularly want to be caught out at night.”

I nodded, glad to leave the topic be. “Quite right. We’re burning… um… ‘daylight’, as it were.” I trailed off, belatedly realizing that yet another of the sayings I was used to pretty much ceased to have the same meaning it used to.

As we left the shelter of the bunker, once again Bernard set the pace. Slightly slower than before, his injury was making its presence known. Tailwind and I accommodated, flying ahead, but maintaining our distance with our ground-bound companions. Every now and then, when I was glancing back I found Crafter staring intently at something, as if aiming at it or potentially looking at a compass direction. He was definitely still getting used to the concept of the EFS.

We passed the fork in the road, headed left this time. The road followed a series of turns, winding down into the valley. In keeping with my suspicions of the road’s previous incarnation as a railway, it avoided tight corners entirely, meandering us lower and lower. As we progressed, the terrain began looking more and more familiar. It took me a minute or so, but I realized I was looking down on the route we’d originally taken to get to Chess’ waystation, days ago now. As we crested yet another rise, the destroyed form of our crashed Vertibuck came into view. It had been picked clean by passersby, Red Eye or otherwise. Even the loose paneling had been dragged away. Anything that could feasibly be removed had been, leaving a stripped, threadbare wreck that was slightly buried under a coating of loose snow.

“Tailwind…” I glanced over at the mare hovering beside me, having come to a halt when the crash site came into view.

She replied with a somber expression. “Yeah Snap… I see it.”

I waved down at the ponies below us, just to indicate I was going to be landing up ahead. Bernard waved back. I angled my wings to take myself into a shallow dive, and Tailwind followed at my wing. Once we got closer, I could make out the silhouettes of both the dead wolf and its unfortunate victim, “Dove,” if memory serves. Aside from the heavy dusting of snow they had each received in the days since, I could make out another form beside the pony.

Once I got low enough to make out details, I realized that the form hunched over Dove’s corpse was the other mare, the one who’d been devastated to learn of her death. Continuing the gentle descent, I flared my wings at the last second, landing easily on my hooves. At about a dozen meters up, Tailwind broke off and covered me from the air.

The dichotomy between the two corpses was… unnerving. There was Dove, who’d been violently ended by the wolf’s claws and teeth — and then there was her… friend? Sister? Lover? I had no idea, but the mare had obviously meant a lot to her. Her body was frozen where she’d lain down beside the corpse. Tears still glistened on her cheeks, which were frozen as solid as the corpse she had been embracing. They were like a sculpture, frozen in time.

How different are we… myself and this pony, willingly frozen to death holding the mare she’d loved? What would happen if I lost Tailwind? How would I react…

Thankfully, it was only a couple minutes before our earthbound companions caught up. Along the way, I caught Crafter staring at the wreck as he passed it. He seemed to be piecing things together in his mind, presumably about Tailwind and myself. I left him to his conclusions.

“Friends of yours?” Bernard asked, breaking my reverie and announcing their arrival. It took me a moment to realize he was referring to the corpses.

“Nah, we’d just met.” I replied distantly. “I spared her life… and she chose to die beside the one she’d loved.”

“Should we… bury them?” Crafter asked hesitantly. He seemed queasy just being around the bodies, as he was actively avoiding looking at them.

“We don’t have time for a burial… but you’re right, something would be nice.” I replied distantly. My thoughts were elsewhere. In my mind’s eye, I could practically see the small shack, just on the other side of the plateau that overlooked where we stood. “Tailwind and I need a minute, there’s… a spot up there we both need to pay our respects to.” Tailwind was already hovering at the lip of the ravine, undoubtedly looking at the shack I knew to be up there. I glanced back at the pair beside me, doing what I could to keep myself together, at least in front of them. “We won’t be long. Be done whatever it is you’re going to do for them by the time we get back.”

As I crested the hill, the scenery I’d recalled from that day had changed. The shack had partially fallen in on itself, the third wall having blown outwards at some point. The melted corners of the blast gave me the disturbing impression of the type of thing I would expect to see if the magical containment gem of a large plasma weapon had been punctured… with catastrophic results.

I fluttered up beside Tailwind, who was still hovering where I’d seen her, shocked and staring at the shack. “I-I don’t want to see him like that, Snap…” she stammered.

My heart went out for her, but… in my own way, I needed to be sure. I owed it to him to see my decision through to the end. I wrapped her in a hug, giving her mane a quick, comforting brush. “I’m not asking you to, dear.” I pulled back, keeping my forehooves on her shoulders to look her in the eyes. “I have to check... I have to know.”

She nodded, and I flew off towards the building, though with how much damage it had taken, I suppose “ruin” was more applicable at that point.

It wasn’t obvious, but along the way there were similarly sized divots punched in the ground, small craters that had since become covered in snow. Most of them were clustered around and in front of where I’d seen the Red Eye forces clustered initially. Nosedive had most certainly not gone quietly.

As I closed with the shed, it was as if the remaining walls were taunting me with what lay behind. I could smell the lingering stench of ozone. I steeled myself for what I knew I was about to see, as I rounded the corner.

Nosedive…

The charred husk of what was once my friend was half melted to the back wall, presumably from the same blast that tore most of the building down. His armour was presumably all that had kept him from being annihilated by the violent release of pent up magical energy. Black ichor had sprayed all around the slope, puddling in places where it had burnt through the snow. His corpse had frozen, but a couple of the small puddles of goop still steamed softly, a testament to the destructive power that was once bound within his weapon of choice.

I dug through my saddlebags until I found my shiny, relatively new Flight Commander rank insignia. I examined it a moment, before placing it upon what was left of his chest. Tradition was that he should be cremated… that wasn’t really an option anymore.

There was simply nothing more to be done.

I turned around, slowly flying back to Tail. I met her gaze. No words needed to be spoken. As I neared, she fluttered forward and wrapped me in a hug as my whole body was wracked with sobs. I let out the pent up emotions I’d stored away, hidden until I’d finally let myself feel them. I let out everything as I cried into her shoulder.

Everything. Even that small, lingering hope that he might have still been alive.

Some minutes later, I pulled myself together enough to wipe away the tears. We both knew there were no words of comfort for what had happened, just a communal outpouring of grief. Sometimes, that’s all there is.

We returned to Crafter and Bernard, who had erected a small cairn around the two bodies using rocks and light debris. I approved of the burial, but I was too distracted to really comment on it. As they looked up, I think my expression quieted any questions they might have had. My voice was still hoarse with emotion. ”There’s nothing left for us here. Lets go.” I stated simply, as I turned to start off down the path again. I didn’t look back.

*** *** ***

It wasn’t overly long… maybe another hour of travel before we came upon a building that had to be Great War era, about a hundred meters past the corner we’d just rounded. It was, all things considered, a rather plain, two story structure made of reinforced concrete. It was square shaped with a slanted roof, but a large tower extended into the skies, seventy-five meters or so tall, all told. Numerous sandbagged walls littered the path at strategic intervals, seemingly placed with the intent for any potential defenders to sally forth and occupy them. In all, the building gave off a rather defensible demeanour.

Crafter looked up. And up. Once he’d properly taken it all in, he commented eloquently, “Huh. Wow.” He seemed to be in a bit of a state of awe.

I turned back to the group. “Looks like it’s definitely an outpost. Anypony know if they’re friendly?” I glanced over the stolen barding Tailwind and I still wore, adding, “Or… potentially friendly with Red Eye forces?” It took me a moment to realize that, realistically, the question was solely directed towards Bernard.

Bernard shrugged, replying, “Never been this far North. Wouldn’t know.”

I gave a soft exhale as I decided on a plan, simple as it was. “Allright, Tailwind and I’ll cover you from the skies. Start making your way towards the tower, and we’ll try and flush out anything before it sees you. Try to move from sandbag to sandbag, don’t make yourselves too visible.

The two ground-bound ponies nodded in unison, taking out their pistols. Crafter levitated his with the brown aura of his magic, while Bernard gripped his between his teeth. I noticed Crafter’s magical glow briefly connected with a rather sizeable wrench, positioned on a tool pouch of his Stable barding. The glow disappeared, as I supposed he thought better of whatever it was he’d planned to do with it.

As we were about to move up, Crafter picked that moment to pipe up with uncertainty clear in his tone, “Hey, uh… guys?” We all turned to look at him. “I see, well, three blue bars by… the building.” He pointed a hoof directly at me, though I don’t think he was consciously aware of that. “And one more… over to the right?” He moved his hoof, pointing towards a snowbank off to the side. He was clearly unsure what to do with the information.

I glanced at the building, seeing nothing… then I realized that he would be seeing would be our blue bars. Though in his defence, that still left the anomaly behind the snow bluff.

“Blue bars, you’re sure?” I was (justifiably) skeptical, considering he still hadn’t realized that the first three represented the ponies immediately around him.

“Uhh, yeah.” He squinted real hard, presumably double checking the info that was literally being projected onto his eyeballs. “Yeah, that’s what I’m seeing.”

I gestured to Tailwind with a quick set of hoof signals, intending for her to flank the unknown target behind the bluff, and we’d try and take it by surprise. I’m sure the signal was completely baffling to Crafter, and I hadn’t educated Bernard on them… but then, the message wasn’t for them.

And that was about the point at which a griffon burst from behind the snow bluff. He wore a faded grey overcoat that might once have been white, with a strange fuzzy hat perched upon his head. A vicious looking rifle was slung along his back, along with a bag hanging off of his left shoulder. The things I really noticed at the time? His talons were splayed, and he was yelling in a language I didn’t understand.

"Turiet to! Nenāk kāds tuvāk! Vēl viens solis varētu pārvērst mūs miglā!"

There were things I could have taken the time to glance over a second time. Perhaps the fact that his talons were splayed rather than clenched, ready to attack. Perhaps the rifle that was still slung over his back. In short, didn’t take the time for that second glance. Combat reflexes had already kicked in.

“Griffon!” I called out before dropping my targeting reticle onto his chest and biting down on the trigger bit of my battlesaddle. I hadn’t fired the submachine gun before then. It didn’t exactly disappoint, but I… kinda forgot to anticipate the recoil. The first shots of my burst stitched a line of bloody impacts across his chest, but the rest went wide, over his shoulder.

The rest of our group replied… well, “individually” is about the only word I can use for it. Tailwind gracefully triple-tapped him center of mass with energy beams, while Crafter started to frantically fire his pistol in the griffon’s general direction. He probably fired more rounds than I did, and his weapon was semi-automatic. The instant his breach clacked open, his immediate response was to telekinetically hurl the spent weapon through the air towards the griffon, followed almost instantly by the large wrench I’d seen on him earlier. Both objects sailed well clear of the griffon, who seemed rather shocked at the sudden violence levied upon him. He stared slack-jawed at his newly acquired injuries before falling to the ground, out of sight behind the snow bank. Bernard, for his part, had ducked behind a sandbag.

All was quiet for a moment. I was surprised our reaction had actually worked. A small curl of steam escaped the barrel of my current weapon.

The brief quiet was interrupted by a series of sequential screeches, the sound rising high into the air before falling upon us, turning the area we stood upon into a controlled inferno of violence. Unguided rockets impacted sandbag barriers, sending shrapnel in all directions. Tailwind fell, diving for cover behind a sandbag bunker. I felt slashes cut across my underbelly and the undersides of my wings.

Crafter had the most eventful reaction of us all. He sat right down and started screaming, loud and long as the rockets landed all around us. It was a scream of confusion and terror, of a pony who had literally no concept of what an “explosion” was. It was the sound of him finding out yet another piece of the Wasteland I’m sure he wished he’d never known.

As quickly as the torrent of fire had started, it came to a sudden halt. A lone figure in polished Steel Ranger armour stood before us all, the backwash of two dozen mini-rockets silhouetting her in front of the entrance to the main building. From the fact that she’d technically missed us, the Ranger’s message was clear. To clear up any potential doubt as to her intentions, she then shouted them through the voice amplification spell built in to her armour. "Lay down your arms or be eviscerated!"

It would seem she is not a pony to mince words.

I glanced over our available armaments in brief consideration. One damaged magical energy rifle, one submachine gun, one long rifle and a ten mil- wait, he’d thrown that. It took me all of about a second to shout back a reply, “Don’t shoot! We’ll drop ‘em!” It took some finagling, but eventually I managed to work the light gun off of its mount on my battlesaddle, semi-carefully dropping it to the snow.

My companions did likewise. Tailwind carefully set her rifle down on a set of sandbags — it just wouldn’t do to get such a fine (if already damaged) weapon wet, now would it? Bernard had already dropped his weapons at some point, and stepped out from behind his cover of choice. I noted that it had taken several direct hits, though the buck thankfully remained unscathed. Crafter called out, “You already have my wrench!” before finally dropping to the ground and covering his head with his forehooves. Long after the barrage had ended. It was comforting, if baffling, but he seemed to have escaped injury during the barrage.

After seeing our combined compliance, the mare nodded, still using her amplified voice to shout at somepony still within the structure, “Twist, get out here. Fade needs help… again.”

The disdain with which she pronounced the word led me to believe such occurrences were not out of the ordinary for that particular griffon. In fact, I was still mulling that over when the pony addressed as “Twist” quickly cantered over to the downed griffon. As I watched, she took a rapid survey of his vitals before determining it was safe to move him. She then unceremoniously hooked a pair of straps from her saddlebags around his back and shoulders, and combat-dragged him into the building and out of sight. She seemed to have a decent medical head on her shoulders, probably the team medic.

Seeing that operation beginning to work itself out, the original Ranger turned her head back to the rest of us. “Alright you lot, get inside. Line up along the far wall for processing. Non-compliance is not an option.” She ordered in a tone that was clearly used to being obeyed, and I wasn’t about to say “no” to that much ordnance pointed our way.

I caught Tailwind’s eye, giving her a curt nod before I started cantering towards the indicated doorway. I figured walking would keep the ground-bound Rangers appeased. Tailwind replied with a subtle nod of her own before falling in behind me, and the others followed suit.

As we passed her, the Ranger — a paladin, if I was reading her rank correctly — didn’t deign to turn her head as we passed by. I did, however, notice a slight tick of her head. Just a slight raise and dip, but having lived around power armour as long as I had, the tell of somepony talking on a closed channel was rather obvious.

Upon entering the building, my eyes took a couple seconds to adjust. Once they had, I caught sight of a third Ranger, this one with an older wooden-stocked rifle and automatic grenade launcher mounted to his armour. Despite the closed helmet he wore, his body language gave me the impression that there was a lot of anger contained within that armour. I couldn’t tell where it was directed at — us, maybe the griffon, hell, maybe whatever it was he ate for breakfast — but it was definitely there, simmering under the cold surface of the armour. I couldn’t see any rank insignia, so I guessed his rank at knight.

The building itself was simple enough. Various pelts were arrayed about the floor, helping seal in the warmth put off by the fireplace in the far left corner. The wall nearest the entryway had several tables set against it, all covered in various tools or laid out to form a reasonably organized workspace. A door was located on the right-hoof wall of the room, presumably leading up to the tower. Off in a corner, the Ranger “Twist” was busily working on the griffon, carefully pouring healing potions down his beak.

The paladin followed us in once the last of us — Bernard — had passed her, closing the door behind her. There were more slight nods of the head, both for her and the knight. There was a conversation happening, and it pointedly didn’t include us. I continued walking to the appointed spot and stood there, keeping my mouth shut and adopting a casual at-ease posture.

At some point, Crafter had ended up between Tailwind and I. He stood beside me, looking me up and down before mimicking my stance. He couldn’t have known my reasoning for it, but it would seem he wanted to blend as best he could. His stance was off and he looked completely ridiculous, but I wasn’t about to correct him in front of the Rangers.

“Who are these guys?” Crafter asked, keeping his voice to a whisper. At a guess, I figured he wasn’t aware that they had sound-amplifying enchantments built into the armour. Still, I didn’t know how good the ones down here actually worked (or if they still had them, for that matter — it had been a long time since the Enclave had access to working Ranger armour).

“Steel Rangers.” I whispered back, “The best armed technology hoarders in the Wasteland.” I was more or less testing the waters with how much of our conversation the Rangers could actually hear, and I kept my eyes glued to the paladin’s helmet as I spoke. Incidentally, at the time she was trotting over to one of the tables on the end, seemingly oblivious to us.

Deciding to continue poking at the topic, I elaborated. “They’re one of the few surviving remnants of Equestria from the Great War, and supposedly the local chapter is around two hundred ponies strong.”

Crafter looked around the room in awe… it seemed like he was trying to imagine two hundred Rangers all in the same place, with the way his jaw dropped just a little. After a few moments to think on that, he concluded, “Are… they’re going to kill us, aren’t they?”

“We’ll see, but they’re definitely going to want to take a look at your pipbuck.” The way I phrased it, I’m pretty sure I gave the poor buck the impression they were going to forcibly remove his leg. I still wasn’t sure if the paladin was intentionally ignoring us, or her hearing was really that bad.

That was about the point that the paladin reached up with her forehooves and removed her helmet, revealing a cherry red coat and a short cut, clean white mane. She sighed heavily before turning around, slowly trotting back towards us. “Oh, I see you’re more than happy to spread slander about us.” Her tone was hard. I had no misconceptions that she cared for our lives in the slightest. “Mind telling your friend here what you do in Fillydelphia? I’m sure it would be a fun story.”

Ahh, she had heard us. She’s just a tough nut to crack.

“Fillydelphia?” I commented, without a single trace of a lie in my voice. “Never been there.”

I heard Crafter whisper in a soft voice, “What’s Fillydelphia?”

Tailwind’s quick attempt to shush him was entirely overruled, as the red-coated mare addressed him directly, “Oh a fun little place. A city of slaves, worked under the harshest conditions till they bleed their last for the glory of Red Eye,” She ended the statement with a definite trace of venom seeping into her tone. “And every day, my brothers and sisters do what they can to combat this menace -- Paying with their lives to try and do better.”

She paused, perhaps catching herself as she let slip more than she intended about her own thoughts on the matter. It took but a moment for her to change the tack of the conversation. “But, it is quite strange to see a Stable dweller in their influence.” I think she suspected weakness, and was probing at what she no doubt saw as the weakest link of our party. “Very odd… unless you’re not affiliated with him at all…” Seemingly coming to a conclusion, she returned her red-eyed gaze directly to me. “So, to whom do you pledge your word?”

Crafter looked my way. I’m sure the conversation to that point was so far over his head he didn’t have the faintest idea what side he was even affiliated with at the time.

“I’m surprised you have to ask, Ranger.” I replied with a moderately dramatic flare of my wings. I carried a slight mocking tone, just enough to get her to clench her teeth together — a slight flexing along her jawline. I wasn’t there to make friends — it was about survival, and if I could enforce as much casual disdain for the thought of being allied with Red Eye as I could through my tone of voice, so much the better. “The Grand Pegasus Enclave was where we-” I gestured towards Tailwind with a wingtip, “-called home, until we found ourselves trapped down here several nights ago.” I kept up the dramatics, letting a trace of bitterness enter my voice. I was hoping that the emotion and manner of speaking would be enough to get her to gloss over the holes in the story. “A Red Eye patrol was the first ponies we encountered. They tried to kill us, so we broke through and made a run for it during the storm. This barding was the warmest we had during the storm, so it’s what we’re wearing.” I returned my wings to my sides and finishing my explanation with, “So, for the time being, the answer to your question is ‘only to each other.’”

Crafter seemed to take a second to think about all that, before shuffling closer to me, nodding sagely, and adopting an expression that… honestly, I had to tear my eyes back to the paladin’s to avoid bursting out laughing. It was like a pony trying to look impressive after he had literally thrown his weapons at the enemy.

Whew… just... think about burning, or something... Great balls of f- NO, not that. That definitely doesn't help right now.

I bit my lip to stifle a chuckle that would definitely have been out of place given the seriousness of the conversation.

I was incredibly grateful when the paladin saved me from my own thoughts as she finally replied, “Oh, I gathered that much.” She looked at what was, realistically, a wall — but the motion wasn’t lost on me. She was looking directly at where the crash site was from here, through wood and stone and snow. “Hard to miss such a graceful landing.” She delivered the statement like a punchline, before glancing back at Crafter, “Did she tell you about her people, new blood? Or did she just regulate her hate for those land-bound to exclude you for the time being… I’m quite sure that her version of ‘each other’ will only include you as long as it takes them to find the first elevator up.”

“Honestly,” I replied easily, “I was content to leave the issue alone. I’m not about to defend what the Enclave has done, but I wouldn’t have taken him with us if I intended to leave him out to dry the second we found a way back to the clouds.” I glanced down morosely, “Besides, does it look to you like we’re going to find this ‘elevator to the skies’ any time soon?”

She let out a humourless laugh, scoffing at me. “Oh spare me the semantics, you honestly expect me to stand here as you judge me on what your intel and rumours have to say? All while trying to take the moral high ground saying you’re ‘not like them.’ Bollocks I say. You’re both scouts, probably trained to operate alone and to use the populace to your advantage.” Her voice had been steadily rising throughout the last rant, reaching yelling levels that made me reminisce of a certain drill sergeant I had the unfortunate opportunity to displease. “I’ve spent my entire life trying to help the ponies here. To save them! I’ve fought and gladly killed a number of your comrades. Why should you and your cunt of a junior be any different than those before!”

I suppose it was a form of gauging the flow of the conversation, but Crafter slowly backed away from both Tailwind and I, seemingly confused by these new allegations. There was some damage from that last statement, and it would need to be repaired if he ended up sticking with us. If he even wanted to stick with us. I can’t say I’d blame him for leaving, after what I did.

I bit my lip harder, this time in frustration. I had no readily available counterargument to most of that. When I did respond, my tone had deflated somewhat, a slightly more humble approach. “I can’t expect any benefit of the doubt, but that intel and rumours were all we’ve ever known.” I let a touch of anger trickle into my voice again, “The Enclave sent us down here to look for a fucking griffon FOB.”

I saw a twitch in her eye, and a slight curl of her lips. She thought the notion was funny. During our stay, Chess had eventually gotten around to explaining how the griffons operated — by hiring out as mercenaries. They categorically, almost without exception operated in small groups, contracted out the bulk of the time. Finding an organized group of griffons the size of which we were looking for would be an effort in futility.

I started to escalate the volume, just as she had. It wasn’t even a conscious verbal gamble — I was just pissed that she saw the events that led to everything we’d gone through as funny. “Aside from Red Eye-aligned ones, the only griffin I’ve seen is the one over there, high on Med-X. We didn’t even know there were Rangers in the region before we dropped, and it took a Wastelander to make us realize that Red Eye is one of the biggest threats to the Wasteland. Hell, maybe even the Enclave itself. So you’ll excuse me if I want to distance myself just a little from the government I used to serve!”

The griffon, apparently having been fed sufficient healing potions to no longer be dying off in the corner coughed hard as he burst into a fit of laughter, sprawling himself out on the floor across from where the paladin and myself were squared off. “A griffon base?! What? The only thing we can stand less than you bloody poniji is each other!” With that, he rolled over and resumed laughing, grabbing on to a foreleg belonging to the Ranger addressed as “Twist.”

Her response was to halfheartedly prod at the claws digging into her armour in an attempt to dislodge them. She replied coyly, “You should be more or less better now. You’ll be coughing up blood for a while though, but that’s perfectly normal.” She definitely seemed cheery enough to be a field medic, and no mistake.

That sideshow apparently over with, the red and white paladin visibly deflated. She stated in a weary tone, “Fuck, let’s just do this then. Name and mark, we need to record anypony moving through this outpost.”

“Snap Roll,” I replied dismissively, just glad that the argument had ended in us not being summarily executed. “Mark is a shooting star, having just impacted a cloud.”

“It’ll be a rainbow bolt soon enough,” she muttered as she moved along our line of ponies, taking down notes as she did.

“We’ll see about that,” I replied under my breath.

Once she had gone down the line, the paladin turned to address us as a whole. “Alright, this building is Fort Neighson Outpost Kilo, you are permitted free access to the lower floor and all it’s commodities. The upper levels are prohibited. You are free to stay as long as you please.” The speech was dry. Rehearsed. She’d made it a thousand times, almost certainly.

“Wait,” Crafter asked, “So this isn’t, uh, Fort Kneesun? And… you aren’t going to steal our stuff and leave us for dead?” He turned his head towards Tailwind, presumably going off of what she’d initially told him about Rangers in general.

Oddly enough, his reply came from the griffon off in the corner. Twist had moved away some time since I’d last glanced at the pair, leaving him to hack a bit of blood into his palm before rolling over, sitting up and jabbing a talon at our group. “Everything but my things! You so rudely perforated me when I was trying to keep us all from being turned to paste! And not the useful kind. The dead kind.” He crossed his arms, glowering as he added, “As for your things, it’s not theft. As far as I’m concerned, you owe me. For the shooting, and all.”

Evidently concluding that the situation would sort itself out reasonably well, the as-yet-unnamed paladin sighed, trotting towards the upper level. As she did, she called out to her subordinates, “Tart, watch them for now. Twist, back up to the eyrie.”

Her orders were met with a groan from the buck, “Tart” and a nod from Twist. The latter had followed her superior out the door, presumably into the upper room of the building.

As the Rangers sorted themselves out, Crafter made a beeline straight for the griffon, presumably to have a more sociable distance between them than shouting across the room. I caught snatches of their conversation, as I listened in… just a bit. “So… you took my wrench? Can I have it back?” He had simultaneously forgotten his previous question and grown enough of a spine to speak up on his own, and was with the intended consequence of retrieving the wrench that he’d thrown. I was torn between being elated and depressed.

“You threw that?” Fade asked, “While the rest used guns? Hmm…” He narrowed his eyes, which, now that I had time to properly get a look at them, were a peculiar magenta colour. They were sort of... pretty, I suppose. He’d evidently come to a conclusion. “I like you, wrench-pony.”

Well that was… not what I was expecting.

“No, I shot you first.” Crafter replied. “You have the wounds to prove it. I’d only had a quick glance at Fade’s injuries before healing potions were poured down his throat, but I was reasonably sure the only hits he took were from my nine-mil and Tailwind’s rifle. He continued, still affecting a tone of misplaced confidence. “The wrench is my back up… and I’d like it back, please.”

Fade scoffed, shaking his head as he replied in a manner that almost seemed… disappointed. “Ah, you still conform… and I had hope for your kind. We shall see.” He glanced down at his attire, still bloody from his wounds. He scrutinized the jacket for a few moments, cringing at the amount of his own blood that had seeped into them. After a short, awkward silence his head snapped back up to stare at Crafter with his odd, predatory stare. “As you just admitted to inclusion in my attempted demise, I should think it fairly obvious that I did not have time to find your hunk of metal while getting to sample my own claret. That being said, it is still outside somewhere with the mine I dropped, and I would appreciate it if you would retrieve it for me. Then I’d call the grievance even. Unlike the two more adept members of your party with whom I would like to have… words.”

As Crafter made his way off towards the entrance, Fade called out to his retreating back, “If you hear beeping, let me know!”

Meanwhile, Tailwind made her way over, presumably eager to make amends. “Oh yeah, um… yeah, that was partly my bad. But hey! You’re such a good looking target, how could I resist, right?” She wore her most sincere smile, a tad strained.

He replied in a perturbed tone, “A good looking target? Yes, I do so enjoy being scorched and having passes made at me by… your kind. Thank you, m’dear. But I don’t want to end up bitter and alone like Tart over there so how about we make a deal…?” As words were exchanged, the griffon didn’t seem to be actively hostile… judging from his body language, at least.

I took that as my cue to make myself scarce (She might have participated in shooting him, but I kinda gave the order), and as Fade had mentioned, the remaining Ranger — “Tart,” apparently — did seem to be quietly staring off into a corner. I quietly approached him, quickstepping past Fade’s field of view. In a businesslike tone, I asked without preamble, “Is there any chance we could trade for medical supplies? Those rockets were awfully… effective.” I cringed, the little shrapnel cuts stinging where they’d broken skin. “We could also use some ammo if you’ve got any to spare.”

He’d watched my approach and listened as I put forward my question. His reply was to bark back a steady stream of profanity in a voice something akin to gravel being run through a drying machine, “Fucking swell! You can’t even properly cap the useless Luna damned avian and now you come asking me for blasted gear like I’m some fucking Sparkle~Cola machine. Fuck.” He then ripped his helmet off with a hoof, revealing a heavily scarred brown coat and very short-cropped dirty tan mane. His left eye was covered by an eyepatch, and looking at his features I assumed it wasn’t just cosmetic. “Hell, I’ll give you a rub and tug if you get me a new fucking eye! That sound good for ya?”

I’d thought I’d sensed some anger coming off of him… yeah, definitely quite the angry equine. Seems like he needs to get laid.

“That wasn’t a ‘no,’” I replied cheekily as I started sauntering towards him, closing the gap between us to a little closer than normal conversational distance. “Maybe if poor little me had something more effective than a submachine gun, I might’ve been able to finish the job.” I’d opted for a bit more… affectionate attempt at persuasion. “And in regards to your eye… believe me, the fillies like battlescars a helluva lot more than any crazy sort of cybernetic bullshit.”

He stared me in the eye as he flipped up his eyepatch, revealing a mass of half healed, pussing scar tissue — it was a sickly green, and pulsed slightly. “Fuck hun, then you must just be ‘bout ready to spread ‘em at this rate.”

I blanched. It didn’t have the look of an old wound, not at all — though the scars on his face spoke of the injury itself being years in the past, at least. “That’s… I’m sorry.” I muttered weakly, completely derailed from my attempt at persuasion. “What happened?”

“Got myself shot, whilst hiding behind a prewar barrel. Got some fucking liquid in the wound. Pretty, ain’t it.” He shed a bit of his hard demeanor as he dropped the patch back in place, moving over to sit down beside the fireplace. “Woulda died if Paladin Rose hadn’t been nearby.”

I sat down beside him, enjoying the warmth and seeing an opening in his otherwise pissed off exterior. “Paladin Rose? I presume she’s the one I had the recent... ah, discourse with?”

“Mmhm,” he replied, looking into the fire. “Paladin Vanilla Rose. She saved me that day. By burning out my eye mind you, but saved me nonetheless. She’s what made me aspire to join the Rangers.” He glanced up, seeming to realize something, “Another thing, Neighson ain’t like the fuckers down South. We don’t give a fuck ‘bout ‘What the Codex Dictates’, we’re here to help the ponies under our charge. As such we’re forced to recruit from outside the family.” He let out a tired sigh, “What with the casualty rate being what it is, we’d die out real quick if not for loosening the recruitment pre-reqs.”

“You got hurt Fighting Red Eye forces?” I asked, glancing over to see his expression. “I still don’t get what they’re after this far north.”

“Heh,” he let out a slow chuckle, like I was missing something. He glanced over at me with a sad, distant smile on his features. “Naw, I wasn’t fighting Red Eye. Back then I ran with one of the local gangs… got shot by another gang.” He chuckled again, a bit more heart in it this time. “Some career change, huh?”

I glanced down. He’d avoided the intent of my question, but I expect he didn’t exactly know either. Maybe the fact that there were ponies up here at all was enough for them? I changed topic again, hoping to breathe a bit more life into the conversation. “I feel I ought to apologize for earlier. Rose seems to be a decent pony. You all do, in fact. It was wrong of me to make the assumptions about you that I did.” I glanced over my shoulder at my wings, a twinge of whimsy in my voice, “Perhaps in another life we could’ve been friends.”

The stallion let out a short laugh that seemed more of a grunt in response. “Apologize for what, words? Ain’t fuckin’ worth shit. The fact that you saved that useless Stable fuck means more than what you could ever say.”

I frowned at his assessment of Crafter. “The ‘useless Stable fuck’ seems to be more confused by the Wasteland than useless. I learned a lot of the same lessons he did in the past couple days.”

His characteristic frown returned. “He knows next to nothing. No context, no skills. He’ll be dead within the fortnight.”

Tailwind sat down beside the two of us. “Oooh, who are we talking about?” She asked as she started rummaging through her saddlebags. “Is it somepony I know?”

I gave a soft chuckle. “Just Crafter, nothing too serious.” I shot a mildly chiding look Tart’s way, which he deflected by means of not actually noticing, as he was still gazing off into the fire. “Anyways, what’d you and Fade talk about?”

She put a hoof to her chin and glanced down, wearing a mildly embarrassed smile on her face. “Well… He’s willing to forgive us if I make him a cup of coffee.”

I canted my head to the side and quizzically raised an eyebrow. “Coffee? The bitter tasting stuff from the ration packs?”

She jabbed a hoof at me, “I know, right? That’s what I said! It’s the weirdest thing.” She resumed digging through her saddlebags. “Apparently the Rangers won’t let him have any… Aha!” She’d found one of the little sachets of dark brown powder, victoriously holding it up before putting some water in a canteen cup and letting it warm up over the fire. That operation that had hardly even begun when we were interrupted by a commotion from the other corner of the room.

Fade had jolted upright at something Bernard had said, leaping forwards and grasping him about the shoulders. He was shouting, “I do? Tell me! What with?! How do I need help?! What do you know about me?!” He seemed to be very concerned, but with the grip he had on Bernard’s shoulders, his talons dug deep into the earth pony’s flesh.

Bernard cried out in pain as he tried to pull away, only causing the razor sharp digits to dig deeper. Blood ran freely down his legs.

Fade released him, seemingly realizing what it was he’d done only after the fact, backing up into a crouch, raising his ho- er, talons up beside his head. He seemed to suppress a glance at the blood running down his arms as his voice took on a note of desperate pleading, “Forgive me! I know not what I do! Please don’t withhold the truth, oh strange, knowledgeable earth pony!”

Bernard had dropped to his knees, trying in vain to stem the blood flowing from either shoulder. He was continuing to cry out in surprise and pain.

Tart was the first to respond, as if this course of events wasn’t as completely surprising and disorienting as it was for the rest of us. He jumped to his armoured hooves and shouted, “FADE! What the fuck did you do!”

Just as quickly, the Ranger Twist appeared out of the door to the “eyrie” at a gallop, headed for the confrontation. She was carrying a heavy bag with the universal insignia of the Fluttershy medical corps stenciled upon it.

Dropping his arms from what I could only assume was some form of position of surrender (I can never tell with griffons), he slowly looked down at the blood upon his talons. In a distant voice, he proclaimed to nopony in particular, “It would seem there has been a drastic communication error.”

Tart cantered over and placed himself directly in front of Fade, “Now you’re fucking attacking travelers? Get your shit together you feathered idiot!”

Simultaneously, Twist came to a sliding halt beside Bernard that did the combat medic in me proud. Tearing out medical bandages and a healing potion, she tended to his wounds with a natural, easy talent. I grimaced at the thought of what the healing potion would do to the bone in his injured leg, but by the time I was in a position to comment, she'd already started getting him to drink.

Tailwind and I took flight, the coffee making forgotten. We dropped down by Bernard’s side as Tailwind called out, “Bernard, oh my are you alright?!” For my part, I dropped down and reflexively reached for my holstered energy pistol, before remembering I still had no ammo for it. I settled for placing myself protectively between Bernard and the griffon.

Fade turned to Tart. “One, I attacked nopony.” He started raising digits as he spoke, as if taking a tally of his points. “They attacked me. In case your steel-encased mind failed to notice. Two, it was an honest accident that I intended to fix until you so rudely interrupted me. Three, shit is not something one should ever have together. That goes without saying; to normal beings, it seems at least.”

Tart gave a swift retort, seemingly unfazed, “Don’t give me your shit Fade, you’re a danger to everyone around you. Get yourself together!”

“Tart!” Twist called out, having finished tying off the last of Bernard’s bandages, “Leave him alone, its not his fault!”

I stood down, not sure what was even happening around me anymore.

Fade stood, moving past Tart as he added flatly, “Yes, thank you Twist. Not all of us are quite so angry all the time, Ranger Tart. Please stop assuming we are.” Sidestepping the Ranger, the griffon approached Bernard. He came to a halt out of arm’s reach before dropping to a crouch, he cleared his throat quietly and asked in an apologetic tone, “Umm… if it’s not too much trouble, might I speak with him Miss Twist? At your permission only, of course.”

Bernard, having mostly recovered (mostly thanks to a healing potion that probably did more for his leg than I’d been able to up ‘til that point), responded in her stead, “As long as there is no further maiming, yes.”

Tail, myself and Tart all moved away to give the two of them room. Tart was still swearing under his breath as he made for the door to the outside. He shouldered aside Crafter, who had happened to be returning at the same time.

“Hey!” Crafter called back out the door, having the guts to snap back at the clearly pissed off Ranger. Seeing a complete lack of response, he muttered under his breath as he walked towards our conglomeration of ponies in the corner, “Whatever did I do to you…” He was carrying our discarded weapons slung across his back, his wrench included. I saw no indication of his pistol. What I did see, however, was a disarmed mine hovering in the brown glow of his magic.

The griffon actually sent him to find a MINE?! Is he crazy? Wait… if recent events are any indication, the answer is a definite “Yes.” ...Well, at least it seems to have turned out alright.

Fade let out a faint sigh of relief as he grinned sheepishly at the downed form of Bernard, not noticing Crafter’s return. “Ah, yes. Sorry about that. Sometimes yo… I forget about these things.” He waved his talons for emphasis. Now that I had a chance to actually watch him, his eyes didn’t seem able to focus for extended periods of time, instead jumping around from one object to another, even as he spoke. “But you see, you said I needed help. Clearly you know more about me than I do, and anything you could tell me would be much appreciated.” He scratched the back of his neck as he glanced up at the ceiling as he muttered, “Rather a bother not knowing yourself.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Bernard replied, seemingly giving the matter some serious thought. “ You’ve lost yourself? I’ve only met a few who can say as such…” He shifted to his haunches, “That path is a long one, I’ve heard that certain ponies might be able to mend whatever damage happened to make you, ah, unhinged… but even then the path to recovery is one only you can take.”

Seeing that conversation beginning to go smoothly, Twist trotted over to me. “Ah, Miss Snap Roll. I believe I overheard that you were asking about trading for some of our medical stores?”

She broke me out of the reverie I’d caught myself in. “Oh, yes. We don’t have much, but I was hoping we could get enough to patch ourselves up with and have enough leftover for the last leg of the trip to Neighson. Your…” I rubbed the back of my head with a forehoof in mild embarrassment, “Heh, ‘deterrent’ was rather effective.” I held up a foreleg with multiple small shrapnel cuts along it.

Twist removed her helmet quickly, attaching it to her saddle. Her light orange coat and white mane were well kempt and unscarred. Those, along with her smaller size led me to believe she was a fair number of years younger than myself… at a guess, sixteen or so. “Oh my, well we don’t have that much.” She replied sheepishly, “But Paladin Rose instructed me to spare some of our stock...”

As she opened up her saddlebags, I started looking through their (admittedly rather sparse) collection. Apparently a roll of medical bandage was on the house, for which I was immensely grateful. I held off on trying to fence the armour or enchanted sword — they were the big ticket items I was hoping to turn into some decent gear once we got to Neighson, and Tart was only doing straight across trades. She didn’t have a supply of caps available, but I couldn’t reasonably expect her to. They weren’t merchants, after all.

As we were quietly bartering, I overheard Crafter calling out once he saw Fade, “Hey, griffon! I found your… thing, that you lost!”

“Wrenchy!” Fade replied, a jubilant announcement judging from his tone. “You found it! And you weren’t blasted into paste! Oh, I was right to put hope on you!”

"Yeah, it was no problem.” Crafter replied, “Found it while I was- wait, blasted? Blasted by what?”

“That!” Fade replied, pointing a talon at the oval, grey piece of metal still hovering in Crafter’s magical grip. “The landmine! You know, kinda their shtick to make ponies blow up.”

He didn't know. He went to find a mine with no idea of what one was. I'm speechless.

Crafter glanced at the mine in horror, dropping it almost instantly and jumping away.

Everypony in the room went deathly quiet as we watched the mine drop. Twist and I stopped bartering mid-sentence. Tailwind dropped the small tin of water she’d been shepherding over the fire. Fade and Bernard just watched, open mouthed in wordless horror. I’m sure some of us were absolutely certain that he’d just sealed our fates. When the mine clanged harmlessly to the floor, we breathed out a collective sigh of relief. Functionally oblivious, Crafter stated, “You had me search for that?!”

Fade took a moment to compose himself, before adopting a cross attitude and bending down to retrieve the small piece of metal. As he moved, he started to explain. “Yes. I had you look for it. That was the deal, remember? You shot-… no, attempted to shoot me, so I had you go and find my very expensive mine in return. Don’t much appreciate you dropping it, but all is forgiven I suppose.”

Crafter stared back at him in disbelief, looking from Fade to the mine and back again before shouting out a belated warning, “Careful griffon! You don’t know what could happen with that thing!” He took another couple steps back, slowly and carefully.

Arching an eyebrow in apparent amusement, Fade glanced to the mine in his hands before holding it up and pointing, “This? I don’t know what could happen with this?” He made a “tsk” noise by clicking his beak before following the retreating unicorn. “Clearly you’ve missed a key fact about this device. One which explains why, after picking it up, dropping it, and having me pick it up, you and I are still very much alive. Can you guess what it is, Wrenchy?”

The poor unicorn continued to back off, trying to keep his distance in the room that was rapidly running out of space to back up into. “It’s Crafter, and what?” His tone was worried… yet curious.

A glint came over the Fade’s eye as he pushed off the floor and did a feline-like leap towards the pony, looping an arm behind his neck as he did, bringing the mine right in front of Crafter’s muzzle. “See this?” He asked, tapping at a small button on top of the mine, “This is the trigger.” He pressed it down so a small “click” was heard, but didn’t stop talking. “If it were going to blast us there would be a lot more angry red right there and a lot more beeping!” He started to snicker as he dropped the disk at Crafter’s feet. “It’s deactivated, Wrenchy!” He stated as he pulled away and started full on laughing, in earnest.

For his part, Crafter had looked like he was about to have a heart attack when the griffon tapped the top of the mine. He started to hyperventilate, staring down at the mine, before unceremoniously flopping over onto his side. He’d fainted.

Fade seemed to come to when he heard the thump of Crafter hitting the floor. His response was to blink once and let out a simple, “Huh,” before rolling the poor unconscious pony onto his side, using the mine as a pillow for his head.

I coughed to clear my throat, bringing Twist’s otherwise enraptured attention back to me. We settled on a trade, and I shook her hoof. I’d managed to acquire a nice, full healing potion, some additional magical bandage, as well as more rubbing alcohol and surgical thread. Nothing as fancy as what Chess had used, but it would do its job if we needed it. “Good doing business with you,” I stated cordially. “Ranger Twist, was it? I’m curious how long you’ve been with the Rangers. Pardon me for saying, but you seem awfully young to be a knight.”

I was wording it nicely, but from what we’d heard in our briefings, the Rangers had a very strict system in place. Being a full knight at her age would have definitely been an oddity, if our intel was any good at all.

Closing up her saddlebags, Twist chuckled lightly before responding, “Yeah, I get that a lot. I passed my initiation though.” The pride was unmistakable in her voice. “Both my parents are paladins, so nopony was very surprised when I did. My name’s Blueberry Twist, sorry for leaving you with a disadvantage there.”

I waved off her apology, “No apologies necessary. Actually, I’m impressed. The Steel Rangers are… well… apparently the only group I think I have a decent understanding of down here in the wastes. Enough of an understanding to know that becoming a knight is no mean feat.”

I managed to piece things together from her age and the fact that Tart was allowed in at all, that the attrition rate this far North must have been positively atrocious. Her parents, already serving, having to deal with their daughter being put in harm’s way because they simply didn’t have enough ponies? That must be rough. ‘Course, I had enough tact to avoid that side of the conversation.

I saw her blush under her orange coat as she replied, “Oh, ah, thanks.” She seemed to take complements in an adorably awkward fashion. “You’re from the Enclave right?”

I dropped my gaze. “Yeah. Both Tailwind and I lived in the clouds a week ago, before our Vertibuck was shot down.”

She looked at me with eyes that were just shy of pleading. “So, you’ve seen the sun?” She asked quietly, almost seeming to regret asking. “Is it what they say it was like?”

She’s way too cute. Kinda makes me wish I had a little sister.

I laid a hoof on her shoulder, my own troubles forgotten. “It’s… it’s warm. Radiant, even.” I wasn’t entirely sure how to elaborate, but I dearly wanted to do the description justice. It was obviously important to the kid, and I thought back to the pendant I wore beneath the barding. “It dominates the sky. From what I’ve seen, a lot of the surface believes in the ‘goddesses.’” I dropped the hoof, meeting her gaze with a soft smile. “From what I’ve seen, the sun and moon still rise and fall each day… their patterns are a little weird, but who knows, maybe they are still out there. Watching over us.”

She seemed to take that in for a few moments, before replying, “Thanks, thanks for that…” She seemed to startle, as if just realizing something. “I’ll go let Paladin Rose know that you’ve been supplied.”

Medical supplies attained, I headed over to where Bernard and Tail were waiting. “So, any idea what’s the deal with the griffon? He seems… a bit touched.” I tossed my mane to indicate my saddlebags, “Oh, and we have some medical supplies. I’d like to take a proper look at both of you while we have the time.”

Tailwind chirped up as she shrugged out of her barding, “He seems nice enough, just unstable.”

Bernard nodded at her appraisal, “He has some sort of mental stint. Either a birth defect, which is unlikely at best, or something happened to him. Either of which means we have to tread carefully around him.”

Bernard was completely fine, as it turned out. He’d picked some decent cover, and got out of that rocket storm completely without injury. Tailwind had taken a series of small cuts, which I delicately wrapped in medical bandage before getting her to put her barding back on. Having finished patching her up, I started to put away the remaining magical bandage. We didn’t have too much, and I wanted to save what was left.

Tailwind’s wing unexpectedly came down to swat at my hoof, and I dropped the medical bandage. “Don’t you think you’re forgetting something?” She stated, leading off in a way that made me think there was something I should remember. Seeing my dumbfounded expression, she let out a soft sigh, picking up the magical dressing in her hooves. “Yourself, Chief. I know you got hurt…”

Oh yeah, that.

As usual, she was right. I wriggled out of my own barding, letting her gentle hooves wrap the bandage over of the worst of the cuts along my legs and wings. Whenever she closed off a wrap, I could feel the light itching of magical healing seep into the wounds. “Don’t get too comfortable,” I stated abruptly, catching Bernard’s attention. “We should do everything we can to get to Neighson tonight, and not only because we don’t have much food left.” I’d left unsaid that every day that escaped us, it was going to be that much harder to pick up the trail of Bernard’s filly. As Tail was finishing up the last of the wraps, Fade started to amble towards us.

Bernard was silent, a hard look in his eyes.

Tailwind saw it, and attempted to cheer him up. “I’m sure somepony like this ‘Serpent’ would be pretty hard to miss. Somepony there will’ve seen him.”

He gave her a glum look and didn’t reply.

I turned to him with confidence in my voice, “Cheer up, buck. You’ve got two pegasus recce specialists helping you now.” I put a comforting hoof on his shoulder. “We’ll find her.”

Finally breaking out into a smile, Bernard quipped back, “And yet our friend here managed to get the drop on us, more or less.”

Surprisingly, Fade was the one to pipe up as he leaned against the wall across from us. “Want to get to the Fort tonight?” He asked, while idly scratching his cheek with a talon, “Then you’ll have to get a move on soon. Nights are cold and you’ll be freezing your tails off before long.” He leaned forward, placing his hands on his knees, fixing us with a blank expression, “It’ll happen too, you know. Saw it myself. Hair snaps like icicles. You ponies look bloody ridiculous without tails.” He paused for a moment in consideration, before belatedly adding, “Well, even more ridiculous than you usually do.”

“‘Ridiculous’ you say,” I replied, turning to address Fade. I let Bernard’s quip hang in the air for the time being — it was enough to see him smile. “Says the one who was bleeding out on the floor half an hour ago. But yes, we need to get to the fort before nightfall.”

He placed a hand on his chest and winced slightly, but waved his other hand in a dismissive fashion. “Aye, that be true. Not of my own volition, of course. However the fact remains that you are ponies, and ponies are simply ridiculous.” He shook his head, as if we should already have been cognizant of that “fact,” before moving on to a new topic, pointing dramatically towards the outpost door, “Then like I said, unless you want to become an ice ornament on the road, you’d best get your pictured flanks moving.”

Behind him, Crafter had approached unnoticed, evidently trying to get caught up on the conversation after his impromptu “nap.”

I saw Fade’s eyes flick back, presumably upon hearing hooves upon wood behind him. Without turning his head, he commented, “Ahh, Wrenchy! Good to see you. All is well, ja?”

The dull clank of the mine Crafter’s head had been placed upon was the only response to greet our ears.

Bernard surreptitiously coughed into the crook of his forehoof before turning to Tail, “My point exactly.” Tailwind, for her part, wore a look of mild shock that Fade would endanger Crafter so idly.

Seeing her look, Fade blinked in surprise, before jumping to his own defence. “He was on good terms! I was fairly certain he wouldn’t blow himself up, and I was right!” He exclaimed, jabbing a talon at the unicorn, “All in all he…” I saw his eyes glance up and down Crafter, settling on the pipbuck adorning his leg, before taking his statement in a completely different direction than he seemed to have intended, “He’s a Stable Pony?”

“Yeah, I’m a ‘Stable pony,’ and what’s it to you, griffon?” Crafter replied, some indignation in his voice. Granted, I’d be pretty pissed if I woke up on top of a mine.

“You’re a Stable pony and not a ghoul?” Fade asked, “My oh my, quite the surprise you are.” His eyes were wide and eager as he asked, “Tell me, what are they like? The not-wrecked, deadly ghoul-filled deathtrap type of Stable, that is.”

Crafter stared at him for a few moments, taken aback by the sudden change in topic about as much as the rest of us. “Uh, what’s a ghoul…” He asked after several seconds of silent thought.

Damn it Crafter, we went over this.

Hoof met face as I replied, “Crafter, those were the things that scared you into tagging along with us. Remember?”

Fade nodded in agreement, adding, “You find heaps of them in Stables. I swear it’s like the things were built to produce them!” Shrugging, he settled his stance into leaning forwards again. “Eh, but you seem alright Wrenchy. Must not have been all of them.”

“No, not at all…” Crafter replied, reverting to a more somber expression, obviously not liking to talk about the Stable. It seemed to be a sore spot for him, and we never had asked what exactly had happened.

He’ll open up to us in his own time, if he wants to.

Changing topics, I glanced over at our griffon companion. “So Fade, you’ve obviously been to the Fort before. How far is it from here? We really do need to get moving.”

I seemed to have caught him in a moment of inattentiveness, as he tapped his talong softly against the floor, glancing up sharply when I called out his name. “Hmm? The Fort?” he asked, looking thoughtful. “We’re about a half-day’s travel from Neighson now. Us flying types can get there faster, especially if you know the air currents, but I doubt you want to leave the less fortunate among you behind.” He turned his head, glancing outside. I assumed he was gauging how much light we had left. “You head out in the next fifteen minutes and don’t stop, not for anything, and you should get there before nightfall. So long as the road isn’t snowed over there shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Leaving are we?” Vanilla Rose interrupted us. I don’t think any of us had noticed her standing at the doorway to the upper level. Her intonation was even, and I couldn’t quite tell whether she was glad to see us leave or just curious.

“Aye, we need to keep moving.” I replied levely.

“Mhmm, that would be wise.” She glanced over our collective group before finally resting her gaze upon Fade. A look passed between them that I couldn’t for the life of me decipher, but he seemed to give a knowing nod in response. “The road should be safe enough, but keep your wits about you. A trader caravan went North a couple days ago, but they never reached Neighson. If you see anything, pass it on.”

“Will do,” I replied. “Keep safe, Rangers.”

Wordlessly, we all got to work collecting the weaponry Crafter had so generously collected for us. Tailwind lovingly clipped her rifle to her battlesaddle, Bernard gave his a quick wipedown before slinging it across his shoulders again. My SMG seemed to be in working order, so I clipped it back into place and hooked up the ammo feed. Crafter gave a dramatic flourish of his wrench before magically dropping it into what I realized must have been a toolbelt attached to his Stable barding — his pistol was nowhere to be seen, but he was in high spirits.

Everything was stored, belted or clipped where we wanted it in short order. I called out as I started making my way towards the door, “Alright everypony, lets get this show on the road.”

“Thanks for everything!” Tailwind called back right before darting out the door, wings unfurling before she was even past the threshold. Still favouring his leg, Bernard took his time, but was out the door not far behind Tailwind and I. Crafter stuck beside him, keeping pace.

As we headed out, I saw Tart still standing off by the sandbags, looking back towards us. A nod was the only sign that he registered our departure. Now that I knew where to look, I could see the silhouette of Twist high upon the watch tower, standing a silent vigil over the pass.

*** *** ***

It didn’t take us long to shake out into the usual formation, with Tailwind and I flying point, finding ways to fly at walking speed. Tailwind was in a good mood, doing her silly dives, loops and rolls as she flew. I flew a slow, lazy pace as my mind was occupied with thoughts of our encounter with the Rangers.

There were inklings that what we’d been told had kernels of truth in it, despite Rose’s denials. Come to think of it, she had avoided commenting on the tech-hoarding issue directly. Still, there were far more things that didn’t line up with what we’d been told. Helping ponies along, providing security for this area… I wondered if they applied to the Rangers as a whole, or if Neighson and the Rangers of the North were the exception. At the time, I supposed those questions would linger until we came to the Fort. In need of another topic to distract myself, I came upon one rather quickly.

Fade.

The griffon was an abnormality among abnormalities. His eyes, never seeming to settle on any one object. They seemed to have a life of their own as they danced around a room, seemingly just focusing on almost arbitrary things as he went about his things. His… peculiar tendency to switch between languages, seemingly unconsciously. Most of all, his interactions with Bernard… There was something there. For all his… eccentricity, there was a sense of loss about him, something I couldn’t quite put a word to.

I was startled by the sound of heavy wings behind us and an accompanying whistle. I spun mid-air, completely caught off guard. The leonine form of Fade had landed by Bernard and Crafter, apparently deciding to follow us. The trio were talking rather animatedly as I caught Tailwind’s eye and tossed my head back towards the group. I then cut speed and banked back the way we’d come.

Tail took another couple seconds to recover from a roll, and another to grasp that we had a new arrival, but upon spotting the griffon she let out a shriek that sounded like what I imagine was a combination of Fade’s name and an incoherent shout of joy, mashed together. She then none-too carefully dove, speeding past me and wrapping him in a hug that practically tackled him to the ground. “I’d hoped you’d come along with us!”

Fade seemed understandably surprised, as he laid flat on his back with a pegasus hugging his chest. “Ah… you did? Well I’m… glad, Miss Tailwind. I think.”

She darted to all fours (still upon his chest), gasping in horrified realization, “I forgot the coffee!”

He blinked a number of times before pushing himself up into a sitting position as much as he could, grinning bemusedly at the sky blue pegasus standing atop him. “It seems you did. I suppose you’ll have to owe me. Consider it another reason for my tagging along.”

I continued my gentle descent, watching the show unfold before me. I was listening idly as I landed lightly on my hooves, on my own time. “To what do we owe the pleasure, mister Fade?”

He turned his head as I landed, thinking for a moment, before answering, “Ah yes. I’m here at Paladin Rose’s request. The Fort might not be far but things can get tricky on the way, not to mention the… odd shift in weather recently. As such, I’ll serve as a guide since I know the area. If you’re not opposed to the idea, that is.”

Tailwind jumped off him, prancing lightly on the spot. It was good to see she had her energy back, despite everything.

“The help’s welcome,” I replied easily. “As is the company. The more the merrier in this band of exiles.” I smiled, offering Fade a hoof up.

I saw a moment’s hesitation as he reached up to take the offered limb. I was fully aware that it was as much a gesture of trust as one of assistance, especially after his previous experience with talon-on-pony contact. With exaggerated care, he delicately wrapped his fingers about my hoof, and pulled himself back to his feet. He released my hoof and started dusting snow off of himself, taking extra care to remove it from his feathers. Satisfied, he responded cheerfully, “Then this’ll be a downright gem of a time! When we get to Neighson, drinks are on Miss Tailwind.” He hiked a thumb back in her direction. “Well, mine is, at least.”

Tailwind’s response was to blow a raspberry before shooting off into the air. Bernard nodded, accepting the new arrival with his usual stoic demeanor before turning to continue down the path, Crafter in tow.

“Hopefully there’s something a little more… ah, filling before we get to the drinks.” I replied in her stead, thinking back to the rations that had kept us going as long as we had. “But I’m looking forward to that, Fade.” I then took to the air, close behind Tailwind.

He gave a nod of affirmation before turning his eyes to the sky, where the soft glow of the sun was starting to drop towards the mountains. “You can have your fill of almost whatever you like at the Fort. I doubt you’ll be disappointed, Miss Roll.” He flapped hard, getting off the ground and keeping in earshot. “So long as we get there before sundown all should be well.”

*** *** ***

An hour or so later saw us traversing across the side of a mountain, with a steep slope off to our right. With the sun in decline, fierce winds had gusted up, forcing those of us with wings to within ten meters or so of the ground. For simplicity’s sake, we walked along beside the ground-bound ponies.

As we rounded a sharp bend in the road, before us were the remains of what I could only assume was the caravan Rose had mentioned. Two carriages were strewn across the path. The first was turned on its side, effectively cutting off our view past the obstacle. I could make out about half of the other carriage, upright about ten meters past its less-intact twin. There was a thick layer of what looked like ice over most of the debris, scattered about the road surrounding the carriages. As far as I was concerned, the entire setup practically screamed “Ambush!”

Taking a moment, I glanced from the wreckage to the surrounding area. The uphill side of the road had a slow, easy slope to it, and lead up to the edge of a forest. On the downhill, the steep slope was close to sheer. No way around, my sense of unease deepened. Beyond, I could see a hill a hundred or so meters past the wreckage, the perfect spot for overwatch on the entire road.

I quickly darted to the corner, reducing my visibility as much as I could, beginning to formulate a plan to make it past the potential killzone. I needed information, and Fade was the easy source for it. I whispered back quietly enough that my voice wouldn’t be carried by the wind, “Did those folks pass by your checkpoint, Fade?”

I knew something was amiss when his response came from in front of me, a sense of dread settling in my stomach. He had kept walking right up to what was the edge of the killzone and, of all things, started picking through pieces of debris scattered around. “Hmm?” He asked, seemingly properly taking in the wreckage before him for the first time. “I do believe they did. Weren’t too talkative, but they should have been well enough off to make the trip. Rather daft to try and do it during a storm, mind you.” He moved up a bit more and prodded at what I realized was a frozen corpse, one of three I could see from my position. “Wonder what happened to the blighters. They seem right proper dead to me.”

Crafter and Bernard had simply continued forwards, completely oblivious to the potential danger. I mentally kicked myself for not laying down… well, I suppose the phrase would be ground rules, for our trip. Tailwind had fallen in behind me when I’d moved for cover, but I forced myself to remember that I was dealing with ponies (and a griffon) who had no formal military training whatsoever… though in Fade’s case, I didn’t know for sure at the time.

They're.... They're headed right into... The Danger Zone!

Despite everything, I still snickered at the thought, hiding it with a cough.

I started making my way forwards. I didn’t want to, but we were already committed, and we needed eyes looking down the road. My eyes were up, battlesaddle trigger bit deployed. If there was a trap, calling out to them would more likely than not have dropped whatever was waiting on them. I thought maybe, just maybe, I could figure out what was going on before anyp- anyone touched something they shouldn’t have.

“Looks like something big attacked them.” Bernard stated as he stood over a second body. As I passed, I noted that it seemed like… as if their flesh had melted, before being flash frozen to the stone beneath them. I couldn’t make out any sort of rationalization for that.

It still disturbs me, now that I think about it.

“Or somepony less interested in loot than in killing folks was waiting for them,” I snapped. “Careful what you touch, there might be some sort of nasty surprise left behind.” I passed Bernard, and once he saw my expression, he wore a look that told me he had just realized mistakes had been made. He started slowly unslinging his rifle.

Up ahead, right behind the upturned carriage, Crafter had stopped and glanced back my way, before slowly backpedaling back towards the rest of us. “You mean…” His voice was shaky, “Like a- a trap?”

I passed him, nearing the edge of the carriage. I was so close to seeing what was past the carriage, my nerves were on edge. I felt so exposed it make me feel nauseous, and only then did I realize that the rest quite simply didn’t feel that, didn’t have that same kind of danger sense. I replied through gritted teeth, “Yeah, something like-”

I rounded the corner.

A huge, angry arctic wolf stood practically muzzle-to-snout with me. Its hackles were up, its teeth were bared, and its eyes were angry. It had a leash made of what looked all too much like woven tendon, magically held by a unicorn mare who seemed way too pleased to be at work. Her dark red coat was covered by interlocking bone and metal plates over a thick fur jacket. A wolfbone helmet adorned her head.

“-That.”

All too late, Crafter yelped out, “Oh, ah! Guys! Red bars!”

“Morre suína do sul!" the mare screamed, the throaty cry ringing out as she released her hold on the leash, simultaneously pulling out a sharpened fire axe. The wolf, released from its bonds, lunged forward, and sank its teeth deep into my right shoulder. It bore me to the ground. As we hit, its jaws clamped down even harder. I felt it when the barding punctured, searing pain shooting through me as I saw the red of my own blood coating its teeth.

Tailwind cried out from somewhere behind me, “Chief, NO!”

I cried out in pain as I did the only thing I really could with it on me — bit down on the battlesaddle’s firing bit and clamped my mouth shut. I could feel the wolf’s teeth chattering in my shoulder as my bullets fired straight into it’s throat, their normally loud reports muffled by the fact that my weapon’s barrel was practically touching the damn thing. I watched the ammo counter tick down inexorably as the chattering shook my teeth.

120.

Huge gashes were torn out of the beast’s tough hide, beginning to shred a hole through its neck, spraying blood across both of us. It’s response was to torque its head side to side, widening the gashes in my shoulder. I would have screamed if I wasn’t already biting as hard as I could.

110.

I could see its eye staring at me, defiant. Despite the clearly fatal damage it was taking, it held on with its literal last breaths.

100.

Finally, rounds found solid purchase. I must have severed its spine or something, because its jaws gave one final jerk, before finally coming to rest… frozen in place. Teeth locked. On top of me.

I released the firing bit and screamed in incoherent pain. I later realized I’d left permanent indents of my teeth in the grip.

Fade had moved up, his body language dropping from his erratic, random movements of before to fluid combat movement that would have made me jealous if I were able to think on it properly at the time. He moved with a deliberate speed, not rushed nor slow, pivot turning around the overturned carriage and with two rapid pulls of the trigger put an aimed burst deep into the mare’s chest. She dropped with an angry, wet yell.

I couldn’t see much past Fade’s legs, but I heard the snappy report of a long rifle aimed our way and Bernard’s instant call of “Sniper!”

I started trying to do what I could to lever the wolf’s mouth off my shoulder. I was in the open, and it was what was keeping me there.

The howling of wolves greeted our ears, and I tilted my head “up,” seeing a quartet of wolves just like the one still lying atop me, sprinting down the slope towards us, headed straight for Crafter. Incidentally, he had his wrench out, levitating it in his magical aura. I don’t know what he intended to do with it, but with the way he dropped it and screamed in terror before running straight for the protection of the rest of our group, I surmised it wasn’t to fight the enemy.

The front wolf was already hot on his heels when Tailwind placed a series of energy bolts into either foreleg. She’d foregone the hope of taking it down entirely, settled for crippling it. It went down hard, sliding face-first along the snow and mewling in agony.

Fade turned to see the advancing wolves. Again with the grace I never would have expected of him, he dropped his rifle, letting it hang on its shoulder strap. With one hand, he reached into the musette bag hanging from his shoulder, pulling out a twin to the mine that Crafter had retrieved for him previously. He adopted a stance with one leg outstretched, slapped the activation switch with his free hand and, using the momentum of his turn, threw the landmine. It spun through the air, passing Crafter and landing in the snow, face-up. Right in the path of the next two wolves far too late for them to halt their pursuit.

The explosion echoed off the sides of the valley, and our backline was painted with gore as the unfortunate pair of wolves found themselves dead center of the mine’s kill radius. The one uninjured wolf decided to rethink its choices in life, fleeing back exactly the way it came, clambering up the rocks and dipping out of sight.

Bernard’s rifle roared as he continued trading rounds with the sniper up in the hills. I got the impression that it wasn’t going well. Return fire forced him to dip his head back below the lip of the carriage.

Tailwind and Fade sprinted for the carriage, taking cover on opposite sides. A slight lull had set in, no one willing to expose themselves to fire, on either side. And I was still trapped under a fucking wolf. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of movement on top of the hill overlooking the battlefield. The rustle of a cloak, camouflaged with snow. On closer look, I could see the faint shine of a sight, catching what little light managed to penetrate the cloud layer. I raised a forehoof to point in his general direction.

A sudden, sharp crack cut through the cold air. Agony cut through my lower body, and I instinctively squeezed my eyes shut. When I finally managed to open them again, there were tears in my eyes as I saw my own fresh blood spattered across the snow. The bullet had left a ragged edged, horrifyingly large exit wound above my hips. I must have screamed, but I still clamped my forehoof down in a vain attempt at putting pressure on the wound.

“Chief!” Tailwind screamed from the direction of the carriage. “Bernard, where is he?”

He spat the rifle’s firing bit out before starting to hoof load rounds into the weapon’s breach. “The rise, about seventy five meters out. Right at the top of the bluff.” He’d seen where I was pointing, evidently.

“Gotcha,” she replied before slowly crawling on her belly to the far edge of the overturned carriage. “I need one good shot…” She muttered.

Fade sidled up against the edge of the overturned carriage, rifle down as he swept the ridge with his eyes. He clacked his beak, evidently having come to a conclusion. “If you want I can try and draw him out for you. Your friend can’t stay out there for long, so it’d give us a chance to take care of the sniper and get her mostly out of harm’s way. Call is yours, Miss Tailwind.”

“Do it!” She hissed back, a note of desperation edging into her voice.

Fade leaned around the corner, brought his weapon up and fired a burst in the general direction Bernard had indicated. Before he’d even finished firing, he dropped with feline agility right as a round passed through the space he’d occupied not a heartbeat before, tearing up snow and dirt behind him.

A single ozone-laced crack sounded out a split second later. Off in the distance, I could swear I saw the hillside briefly illuminated by a flash of light, followed by a victorious shout from Tailwind. “That’s right, fuck you!”

I was starting to see black at the edges of my vision when I felt strong hands pry the wolf’s dead jaws from my shoulder. My vision swam, and I found myself staring straight up, seeing the cloud cover swirling above us… so far away. Fade grabbed me by the collars of my barding and combat-dragged me back into the shelter of the carriage. He laid me face-up, leaning against the wood of the overturned vehicle. I was now looking straight at my belly. I thought it was almost unbearably funny how my right side had a tiny little hole in it, barely even leaking, while my left was a bloody mess. Fade was looking down at me. It felt as if he’d hit an experience wall, completely lost as to what to do. He wrung his hands (covered in my blood, I noted) as he muttered, “Lādēties. Tas ir slikti, ļoti slikti…”

Damn it Fade, I don’t understand griffonic.

That’s what I tried to say, at least. What I said probably included a lot more blubbering. My lips wouldn’t work properly, and I could feel the black creeping in on my vision. In some corner of my mind, I saw the signs of shock setting in, but there was nothing I could do about it, myself.

I felt a sharp prick in my good shoulder. It was far eclipsed by the agony in my midriff, notable only in the fact that I hadn’t felt pain there before. Then, an icy coolness swept through me. It carried away the pain, leaving only a dull ache. When it hit my head, the black receded, replaced by a cool, artificial clarity.

Bernard had jabbed me with Med-X, and saved my life in the process.

I glanced around. Bernard, Tailwind and Fade were all clustered around me, looking down at me with concern and fear in their eyes, all trying to help without knowing how. “Fade, cut away my barding around the holes. Tail, take all the bandages I have, and stop the bleeding.” I had to cough into a hoof, but it was already so bloody I couldn’t tell if I’d coughed up more or not. “Take a healing potion, pour it over my wounds. All of it!” The effort of speaking had taken it out of me, and I slumped down. I just hoped my instructions were good enough.

Practically unnoticed off to my left, Crafter called out, “Hey, there’s one left!” At a glance, he was looking through the carriage, presumably seeing another bar on his EFS. “Kill it!” He looked around, frantically hoping somepony would respond.

The rest of us were quite, ah, busy at the time. Understandably, I like to think.

Crafter seemed to realize this when none of the people around me moved to help. He seemed to grasp for his ever-present wrench, but he’d dropped it at some point. He muttered a curse under his breath. Evidently down to literally the last thing he owned, he drew Celestia’s Riposte from its impromptu sheathe and charged around the corner, out of sight.

Fade moved with a purpose now that he had instruction, slicing through the barding with his razor sharp talons. He dug into my saddlebags and pulled out the twin bottles of purple liquid: our only healing potions. He unstoppered the first, and delicately poured over both entry and exit wounds until a purple-looking sludge had formed over them. For good measure, he poured some over my shoulder as well. Following his lead, Tailwind and Bernard wrapped healing bandages around my midsection as fast as they could, not stopping until the last of the bandages were exhausted and my midriff was practically insulated from the cold by all the layers over it.

Fade then unstoppered the last healing potion and brought it to my lips, tilting my head back and easing the sweet purple liquid down my throat. I hadn’t told him to use the last one… but I wasn’t in a state to protest.

It was probably for the best, anyways.

I felt that familiar itch of healing magic, centered in a warm little bubble between my hind legs, with a similar but far less intense feeling in my shoulder.

From the other side of the carriage, I heard a bellow that sounded a lot like the mare Fade had put down, as if she were speaking through lungs filled with fluid. “Você não vai me matar nanico!”

A bright light appeared on the other side of the carriage, casting a long shadow back towards our side of the vehicle, presumably Crafter’s. We all heard a sickening, wet noise. Crafter screamed. The mare continued yelling, “Sujo vira-lata, onde você foi?”

Sounds of a struggle met our ears as confused shadows danced in the strange, artificial light. At long last, a barely feminine, gurgling sigh came from the other side of the carriage, and Crafter’s yelling continued for a few moments before slowly trailing off into silence.

Quiet descended upon the road. No one was shouting, we all just… in our own ways, came to terms with the fact that all of that had just happened. In all, maybe five minutes had passed since we rounded that fateful corner.

Having stabilized me, Tailwind turned to the other two and started delegating. We’d need a perimeter, and someone would have to clear that sniper’s nest, wherever it was. There was work to be done, and sooner rather than later. Whatever it was that passed between them never did click with me, but they got to work, leaving me safely leaning up against the wagon.

With the three of them occupied, some part of my still mildly shocky brain clicked that Crafter needed help. I started dragging myself along until I came around the side of the carriage, upon a scene doused with a copious amount of blood. Crafter was trapped beneath the motionless body of the mare I’d last seen taking a burst of rifle fire to her chest. I caught sight of a discarded auto-injector that looked very much like some of the drugs Chess had safely locked in his medicine cabinet. Both ponies were covered in blood.

“Crafter!” I called out, pushing the mare’s body (actually dead this time) off of Crafter, I discovered that somehow he’d stabbed her with his sword — now, I didn’t understand sword tactics, but my general understanding is that you don’t stab with something that only has one cutting edge. When that failed to put her down, it seemed he’d resorted to kicking the sword into her, until all that was still visible was the hilt pressed flush against her chest. Crafter was shaking and staring off into the distance, early signs of shock. He was covered in blood.

“Crafter, look at me!” I shouted at him as I ran my hooves over his body, looking for injuries. I’d seen her with a fire axe last, and he could well have been hit by that. “Did she hit you? How much of this blood is yours?”

In the time it took him to register that I was talking to him, I’d found that the only injury on him was a dislocated foreleg, hardly even worth getting worked up over. He glanced down at me, and I flashed him a tired smile. “You’ll be fine, buck,” I murmured dizzily. As the adrenaline wore off, everything seemed to be getting further and further away. “You’ll be… fine…”

For whatever reason, the only thought that went through my head was how oddly comfortable his lap was, and how far away the clouds were right then.

My tired body decided it would be a great time for a little nap, and I was in no state to protest.

Author's Note

Whew, what definitely took a while. This chapter was... rather technical, as I'm sure you've seen if you read this far. I don't anticipate chapter lengths like this to be the norm, but I find that my chapters aren't so much dictated by length as by flow, and especially places for particularly pertinent journal entries. This one... was definitely one of the former.

This chapter sees Jetwave joining the editing team, which now consists of him, Belmor, Plain and PersonalGamer. Those guys are awesome, and a lot of what you see is evidence of their feedback and criticism.

As always, thanks to Kkat for creating a most enjoyable sandbox.

Oh, and if anyone ACTUALLY has conversational knowledge of Latvian or Portuguese, please send me a PM. I'll have some minor work for you if you'd like, along the lines of what you've already seen.

Chapter 06: Misunderstandings

Chapter Six: Misunderstandings

I fucked up.

We were so close to Neighson, I figured we might just be able to make it that night. The thought of rest, resupply and good night’s sleep drove me onwards. I was trying so damn hard to get us there, I got sloppy. We’d joined Bernard, then we’d picked up Crafter, then Fade had tagged along… we’d never properly gone over much of anything, tactics-wise. Never ironed out how we would have to work, as a team.

We paid the price for that, individually and collectively. In our fast-paced attempt to get to the fort, we took some… injuries. Bernard was one more day behind his quarry, I no doubt worried the hell out of Tailwind, and then there was Crafter’s leg. Additionally, while I should have learned my lesson, when I finally came to, I was about to make yet another series of mistakes before things were finally set right...

–Snap Roll’s Journal

*** *** ***

The cold was what finally roused me back to consciousness. It bit at my ears, my wings, and my midriff where Fade had cut away the barding, even with the blanket that somepony had wrapped me in while I was out. Through my wings, I could feel the air pressure had dropped while I’d been out, and it was surely only going to get worse.

I cracked my eyes open, and it was decidedly darker than it had been. We were on the eastern slope of the mountain, and the sun had passed the summit. In the valley below, I could make out the long, vague shadow of the mountain creeping across the land of snow.

We’re running out of time.

I shakily got to my hooves, impeded by a stab of pain from between my hind legs. There wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it, not if our last two healing potions hadn’t done anything to whatever internal injury it was. In the end, I decided I simply couldn’t afford to worry about it right then.

I was rather quickly reminded that I’d taken my impromptu nap in the midst of a great deal of blood from the… Raider? Something struck me as off, referring to the dead mare as such, but at the time I couldn’t quite put my hoof on what; perhaps the feeling that the whole combat had been distinctly different from our previous encounter with Raiders.

A quick glance around the immediate area showed that some progress had been made in righting one of the carriages. It might even be able to roll again with a little more effort. Fade’s feathered form was crouched behind it, using its side for cover from the increasing wind chill as he watched the direction the wolves had come when we’d been attacked. Crafter and Bernard were working together to get some salvageable cargo that hadn’t been picked over stowed. I noticed some blankets, but otherwise not much that I recognized as having value.

Bernard was the first to notice me on my hooves and called out, “How are you feeling, should you even be up?”

“I’ll manage,” I replied with a grimace.

Bernard raised a skeptical eyebrow, but didn’t argue the point.

I gave another look around. Something was missing, and it didn’t take me long to realize.

“Um… Bernard, where’s Tailwind?”

“She left not long after you passed out, said something about ‘wreckey-ing the area,’ right after we found a cave entrance just up the hill.” His mispronunciation, while amusing, didn’t particularly surprise me. She must have been rather terse with him. After a short pause, he hesitantly added, “She seems to have been gone quite a while.”

"She always took to the not-being-seen part of recce more than any of us.” I replied tentatively, “I can't keep up with her when she's trying to be sneaky at the best of times, and that was before I got shot in the stomach." I paused for a moment to consider things. "Though it is odd that she left without saying anything. How long ago was that?"

Bernard replied in an even tone, “Not long after you went out, so about an hour ago.”

I bit my lip.

Not good, she should have been back by now…

“We’re not getting to the fort today,” I declared, “not with this delay and the injuries we’ve taken. We need to hit them where they live, and find us a place out of the cold.”

Not to mention, find Tailwind while we're at it.

I turned to Fade, who seemed mostly content to stay out of the conversation. At the time, he had taken several rounds out of one of his magazines, and was in the process of polishing them, individually. “Fade, you and I are going after her. Yes, in part because you’re the only combat ready member of this group.” I glanced back at Bernard and Crafter, “Bernard, take care of Crafter and finish up salvaging what we can. We should be back soon, but if we aren’t back in half an hour, make best speed back to the ranger outpost, night or not.”

Bernard gave a grim nod, glancing back to the frozen, melted remains of the previous caravan owners. “I certainly hope it doesn’t come to that,” he replied.

Fade slipped the rounds back into his magazine before raising a hand at the end of my orders to interject, “It’s fair enough that I’ll help look for her, but we go too far into that cave and we won’t be coming back out. When the Lobos hole-up they get in deep. We won’t be getting them out and as noble as it is, us dying won’t help anything.” He paused to shift his gear about in preparation for our departure. “Not saying we don’t try mind you, just saying you need to weigh personal involvement against collective, my dear.”

Lobos? I filed away the thought for later. At the time, I guess it just didn’t seem especially important.

“If they’re dug in there, then we’d need to find somewhere else to shelter for the night. We can’t stay exposed-” I clutched a forehoof to my midriff as another twinge of pain made itself known, “Not with these injuries.” I started walking off in the direction Tailwind had allegedly taken, Fade following in behind me. “Would it be wise to try and head back to the Ranger station? You know the area, what would you recommend?”

In reply, he gave a quick shake of his head, stepping up his pace to keep abreast of me. He twitched his wings in a shrug before answering, “Honestly it’s hard to tell. We could get ambushed and horribly ended when we get up there. If that doesn’t happen and we find Miss Tailwind quickly, then it’s a fair trek to either the Fort or the Outpost. Wouldn’t reach them before sundown regardless. Not with so many incapacitated ponies.” He flicked the talons of one hand in agitation as he started to scan the area more thoroughly with his eyes, “My best suggestion would be to take one of the carriages, load you injured lot up, and decide where to head from there. It’s up to you how fast you want to reach the Fort, and if you want to risk coming back past this point with very very angry psychos possibly waiting for us.”

“When you put it that way…” I bit my lip for a moment, glancing from Fade to the opening to the cave up the hill a slight ways, still. “I think biting the proverbial bullet and trudging onward to the Fort could work if this goes sour.”

I started actively looking for tracks, any signs of movement, disturbed ground or anything of the sort, as I continued along the route Tailwind must have followed. There were a whole lot of wolf tracks, but no hoofprints. “Fade, you aren’t familiar with any forms of hoof-erm, hand-signals, are you? That might make this go a lot better, especially if Tailwind managed to get close to them without being seen.”

As we conversed, we had come upon the entrance to the cave. A quick glance inside revealed that it sloped steadily downwards, disappearing around a bend. Fade snapped the safety off of his rifle before glancing down at my snow-covered hooves questioningly. “Hoof signals? What are… how do you even do that with… with those? You ponies are one traks ķekars. Never cease to amaze." He trailed off with an amused smile on his face.

Then he started to hum.

I assumed it was part of a song, but I never did ask. It wasn’t a bad tune – in fact, with that beak of his it was kind of pleasant. The problem was, we were right outside a hostile encampment. It was almost surreal how different he was when he wasn’t reacting instinctively.

My eye twitched as I stared uncomprehendingly at the griffon that was coming so close to blowing what little cover we might have before we even entered the cave. I darted forward, heedless of the spike of pain it sent through me as I grasped his beak in both forehooves, making a “Shh!” noise as I did.

He froze in place, staring down at me for a moment as if trying to grasp what the hell I’d just done. Slowly, he reached up and gently grasped one of my forelegs, removed it from his face, and spoke in a hushed tone, “You could have just told me to be quiet. No need to get touchy-feely Miss. Especially with those frigid things.”

I replied with the same hushed tone, as I removed my other hoof from his face. “Fine. I’ll do that… next time. Anyways, let’s just find Tailwind and get this sorted out, shall we?” With a slightly offput pout, I moved around behind him. “Right behind you, Fade.”

He brushed a hand over his beak, dislodging a lingering dusting of snow. Returning to the task at hand, he sized up the cavern ahead before coming to a decision. He half-turned towards me as he explained, “Alright, there’s no easy way to do this. We don’t know what we’re up against as well as at a…” He glanced down at me, deciding how to word his next statement.

Don’t fucking say it.

“Mobility handicap." he tactfully finished. "Simplest way to proceed is taking either side, I lead in, and you cover me.” He ran a hand down the back of his neck as he let out a sigh, then added, “Let’s just hope she’s not gotten into any trouble. Any more than you ponies naturally attract anyways.” He gave a final nod as he faced the cave, before carefully starting to move off to the left side, stepping with catlike grace in an attempt to reduce noise.

The initial entrance, though small, was wide enough for Fade to fit through without particular issue. It seemed to be a natural cavern, widening evenly as we progressed. It got steadily warmer, too. Not hot, by any means, but between the lack of wind chill and the ground’s natural insulation, it became a lot more livable. By the time we reached an opening to a new, larger cavern, we’d gone maybe a hundred meters in, and the entryway had widened to about four pony lengths across, and a ten meter high ceiling. The new opening was modestly lit by a few wired lights, and the soft bluish glow illuminated the form of a young unicorn mare reading a small book behind a wooden barricade, which extended only a few feet off the ground.

She had winter wraps that seemed to be made from wolf pelts, and yet another wolf’s skull helmet lay upon the barricade beside her. I couldn’t make out the title of whatever it was she was reading. Not wanting to tempt fate, I ducked back around the corner. Tailwind was always an exceptional scout, and I wouldn’t put it past her to be able to sneak past such a pony… but we could hardly do the same, especially in my state. I looked to Fade questioningly, wanting to see how he was going to call it.

He stopped when he saw the guard, crouching low against the wall to keep out of sight. He glanced from the mare, to the cavern walls, to the ceiling, narrowing his eyes in thought. Coming to a conclusion, he dug through his pack until he came up with a coil of rope and a small square headed hammer. He beckoned me over before tying a noose to one end of the line, keeping a watchful eye on the guard the whole while.

I carefully made my way over as Fade finished with the rope. He looped it into a loose coil and slid it up to one shoulder, carrying the hammer in his right hand. He leaned in close to my ear and whispered, “Alright, this might be a bit… risky, but it’s the best I’ve got. Since you’re hurt most of the heavy lifting is mine to do. What I need you to do is get as close to that guard as you can, as quietly as you can. When you’re, say, ten meters away make some noise to get her attention. Keep her distracted for a few minutes.” Reaching back, he pulled out a set of goggles and offered them to me, “Put these on and try to pull some of your barding to cover your face. It’ll obscure you and muffle anything you might have to say.” He glanced down the tunnel once again, swiveling his one visible eye disconcertingly back to mine to meet eye contact, “Think you can do that, cienītā?”

I took the goggles and pulled them over my eyes. They turned out to be a decent fit, and I was rather fond of them... even if I did have to take off my TFD to wear ‘em, which I stowed it in a pouch for the time being. I really don’t know if it was the blood loss or simply my own mistake, but it never even occurred to me that I’d forgotten to check for any received messages. I pulled the hood down, and snugged the neck gator right up over my muzzle. The whole thing probably looked ridiculous. “Minutes?” I asked, slightly incredulous. “I’m willing to trust you, but I’d appreciate not dying today.” Dropping into a serious tone, I finished, “I’ll get you the time you need.”

Plan formed, “disguise” prepped, I set off down the tunnel, keeping to the shadows cast by the lights as best I could. I tried to avoid making noise, but the pain in my abdomen was a constant irritant. I did what I could, slowly progressing towards the mare. I heard the soft sound of feathers, briefly glancing up to see Fade trailing my progress along the roof of the tunnel.

However careful my attempt, it was tripped up pretty quickly when I stumbled onto a piece of loose stone, sending it skittering off down the tunnel. The sentry mare perked up, dropping her book and shouting out, “Olá ... Tem alguém aí?” as she levitated out a pistol.

She’d caught me. Time to play the role. I kept well away from deploying the trigger bit on the battle saddle, as I started mimicking speech by speaking through the thick wraps around my muzzle. Translated out of the gibberish it came out as, I’d said something along the lines of “Your friends outside told me I could join up with your gang if I came this way.” ‘Course, it probably sounded more like “Ymmph fmmpds mmpth mmmth mm…” You get the idea.

With only a small hitch to my movements, I started walking casually, if slowly, towards her with the measured pace of a pony who firmly believes they are not in the wrong with what they’re doing, continuing the stream of near indecipherable gibberish as I did.

She seemed to try and process that for a second, before shaking her head as if to rattle some sense into what I was saying. “Um… merda… you talk old Equestria?”

I nodded my head enthusiastically, still speaking through the wraps, “It’s cold out here, talk inside?” I gestured with a hoof to indicate further inside the cave. This time, I put a bit of an attempt to compensate for the muffling effect of the layer of fabric in front of my mouth.

So she does understand Equestrian…

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Fade. He’d made his way over to roughly above the unsuspecting mare, rope and hammer in hand. He glanced down at me, holding up the noose as if he were asking a question.

The mare seemed relieved to be able to communicate with me, “Yes yes, we have fire inside. Will be night soon, not safe to travel.” She smiled as she talked, even going so far as to holster the firearm.

He’s going to… no! I’m making progress!

I glanced up, giving the barest shake of my head to Fade.

Mercifully, he lowered the noose. Unfortunately, next he raised the hammer, not waiting for another reply before letting fly with a powerful throw, aimed for the mare’s head.

Shit!

In the meantime, the unsuspecting sentry had continued to talk. “You with Red Eye? ‘Cause uncle states we should-” Her question was rudely interrupted by the flying hammer. The tool made a glancing connection with her head, hurling her to her flanks. She screamed something that sounded like a curse on her way back behind her small sentry barricade.

I sprang forward, cursing the pain it caused under my breath, using my wings to propel me into a dash towards the poor mare, giving a swift buck to her temple as I landed. I wasn’t trying to kill her, but I wasn’t exactly holding back either. We’d already blown our cover, but she was more useful to us alive, if quiet.

The mare had been unsteady from the hammer blow, and she went down hard with the solid connection of my hoof. I looked up to Fade, calling out just loud enough for him to hear, “We take her outside the cave, force them to come find us. Mine ten meters past the entrance, then wait.” I gave her a quick medical diagnostic (her breathing was steady, but she had a mighty big pair of welts on her head, and was going to be out of it for a while) before rapidly mare-handled her into position to be picked up by the griffon, stowing away his hammer and the mare’s pistol as I did. With quick glance, I caught the title of the book she’d been reading: "The Winter War." On the cover was a field of snow, broken by a treeline with the implications of a fiery horizon in the background.

Fade swooped down and hog-tied the unconscious mare. Then, between us, we managed to “escort” her outside the cave. As we exited, we heard the sound of yelling ponies and barking wolves from whence we came. I dragged her into position, while Fade laid out a screen of mines in a perimeter around the cave’s entryway. Trap laid and position secure, we took cover underneath a small evergreen tree.

I stayed low, watching the blast zone as I instructed Fade, “Once they hit the mines, go for the ones that get their bearings back first. I’ll lay down fire, you pick your targets. At this point, it’s us or them, and it isn’t going to be us if I have anything to say about it.” I readied my two remaining frag grenades, having them easily accessible in exterior pockets of my barding.

Crouched low beside me, Fade cast his gaze from the cave entrance to me and back again. He must have been thinking something along the lines that I was. Most of us were hurt, including me. Much as I planned for it, this fight wouldn’t go well if we did resort to shooting. He swore under his breath, scratching under his hat with a taloned hand as he thought.

“Listen, Miss,” he concluded, “This won’t end the way you want it. We get these ones and it’ll only anger the rest. These tribals might be just that, but they aren’t entirely crazy.” There was that word again. Tribal. Not Raider, Tribal. It simply hadn’t clicked earlier that there might be a difference. “This might be, though, so stay here and cover me.” He grabbed our immobile guest and headed for a spot maybe fourty meters from the cave entrance and sat back in the snow. He pulled out another mine with one hand, sat the mare up with the other, then slipped the explosive under the bonds between her forelegs. He positioned himself behind her, digging through his pack until he pulled out a thin metal spike that looked like it was intended for mountaineering work. With it in hand, he waited, staring at the tunnel entrance.

Seeing our frantic exit from the tunnel and the rapid preparations, Bernard and Crafter had galloped over in the meantime. Bernard clued in pretty quickly, simply asking, “New friend?” as he unslung his hunting rifle.

Hearing their approach, Fade kept his eyes fixed on the tunnel and his hand on the spike. He answered quickly, “You can say that. Gave her a bit of a headache though. Now things might get a bit loud, so I’d suggest you get somewhere that’s not near me.”

“What’s goin’ on over there?” Crafter asked with obvious confusion as he plopped down in the snow next to me. “Did you find Tailwind?”

“Not quite,” I replied in between breaths of air. “Tried to get inside quietly, only managed to kidnap the sentry. Get ready, but don’t shoot unless things go sour. We’ve got a perimeter of mines around the entrance, but we’re hoping not to need to use ‘em.” I dug out the mare’s pistol, passing it to Crafter. “I know we haven’t given you a proper markspony tutorial, but you’re gonna have to make do for the time being. It’s got fifteen shots left, with one in the tube. Aim by lining up the sightposts, here,” I pointed with the tip of a primary, “with the foresight, here.” Again, I pointed to the parts as I indicated them. “If it stops before firing all fifteen, pull the slide back to eject the last round and load another. Don’t shoot unless they get closer than twenty meters from us, and aim just below center of mass. The recoil will bring the shot up.” I put a hoof to his chin, bringing his eyes up to meet mine. “I know you’re still getting over the shock of killing a pony, but right now we need you, Crafter.”

He probably hadn’t even touched a weapon a couple days ago…

“Oh,” he replied. He seemed to take the instruction well, giving a testing glance down the sights, properly this time. Pointing the weapon down, he nodded to me, a bit of resolution in his features.

For his part, Bernard stopped, glancing around to check the lay of the land, before deciding the previous sniper’s nest would make a suitable spot yet again. “Goin’ to where our sniper friend was perched,” he commented, before picking up his rifle and cantering on to the spot to get settled in.

And so we waited. The brisk northerly wind was the only sound to meet our ears, beyond our own breathing. Everyone was on edge. Thankfully, at least the mare hadn’t come to in the meantime. About five minutes had passed, before I could make out the distinct rapport of hooves upon stone, along with the clicking of what I could only assume were wolf paws.

I crouched down, poking my submachinegun out around the side of the tree, but keeping to cover as much as possible. I called out, hopefully only loud enough for Fade and Crafter to hear, “I hear wolves on the way. Showtime, everybody.”

Fade gave me a nod, hunching himself up behind the tied mare as he maintained his watch of the cave. He seemed to be doing something with his breathing, taking gradually bigger breaths and holding them, before letting them out. It confused me, but I didn’t comment.

The first form to squeeze out of the cave was a large wolf sporting some crudely fashioned armour, covering its chest and the bridge of its head. It stopped at the entrance, sniffing the air. That only lasted a matter of seconds before he glared directly at me and started growling, hackles raised. As it did, a unicorn stallion extricated himself from the cave, wearing similar garb to the other ponies of his group we’d encountered, save for a long, white cloak tied about his neck and a hood covering his face.

Having drawn in a particularly large breath at the appearance of the wolf, Fade tensed as he drew himself up, arching his head back before letting out as loud a roar as he could manage. The mixed physiology of griffons had never been quite so outspoken to me as it was then, a horrifying mixture of hunting cat and bird of prey, roaring at the top of his lungs. I was intimidated, to say nothing of the tribals. The roar obviously startled the wolf, and it glanced curiously at its handler, who seemed impassive to the whole spectacle. Not waiting to see what reaction he garnered, Fade held up his improvised “detonator” in a talon, he called out, “Ne mrdaj! No closer! No shooting! The ground is mined. We talk! You understand?"

The buck held his ground, magically pulling back the hood to reveal an aged stallion with a rough beard, and a great many scars across his features. He turned to Fade, addressing him with a strong, commanding voice, “Você rouba minha sobrinha, matar meu irmão. Tudo para o seu senhor de escravos, e agora você fazer exigências. Não, você deve escutar.” I really, really hoped communication hadn’t just reached its limit, because as he finished, he levitated out a forty-millimeter grenade rifle, sporting a drum magazine and looking to be in excellent condition to turn us into a fine red paste should he so choose.

Fade slowly shook his head and shouted back, “No no, none of that. That’s a nice gun you’ve got but if my hand comes off this trigger, everything goes off and we all die. You, me, and our friend here.” He gestured with a tilt of his head to the mare he still held by the scruff of her neck. “Also, speak Equestrian or we might have a bit of a communication breakdown. Un neviens negrib, ka, labi?"

The stallion’s eye twitched angrily, but other than that he showed no real emotional response. “Fine, we speak in old tongue. First, no frequency in air. Means no command bomb, means you bluff.” He raised his right forehoof, the winter wraps falling back to reveal a pipbuck. “So, like I said before. You listen, worm. Give back my niece, and you walk away.”

Well, shit. I glanced back to Fade, waiting to see how he would react to this development. I kept the firing bit of my battlesaddle deployed.

Fade narrowed his eyes, letting a small grin slip onto his beak as he gave a nod and dropped the spike. He raised the empty hand in acknowledgement as he called back, “Fair enough, you found me out. Wouldn’t do anything drastic though. Whether or not you or your niece gets hurt is up to you and how calmly you want to work this out.” He rested his now empty hand on the mare’s shoulder as he fixed the buck with a stare. Bluff or no, he certainly didn’t lack for confidence. “Honestly, I don’t want to do anything more to her. But, you have something of ours. A lost pegasus. We’d like her back, if you want this one back. Sound fair, Sir?”

The elder pony looked slightly confused as he replied, “You speak lies, we have no winged ones.” He turned to Fade, the grenade rifle bobbing slightly as he continued to speak, “How much have these ones paid you griffon? Is the Red slavers’ caps worth your life?”

As he spoke, Crafter cantered up beside me with a bit of urgency. “Snap, there’s four behind us!” he whispered, raising his pistol and watching our collective backs.

I looked back, swinging the SMG to point back as I did. I was just in time to see a helmed pony leap on Bernard, who had had the leader lined up in his scope. The ensuing struggle was brief, as the tribal’s large club subdued Bernard with a pair of good hits. I could hear the pair of meaty "thwack" noises from where I lay. As I watched, another pony took up the sniper nest, propping up a light machine gun on the impromptu cover.

Shit.

From behind, I heard Fade call back, irritation evident in his voice, “Look, tosh. I don’t know where you get your information but I have nothing to do with Red Eye and would prefer if he just buggered off.” Glancing back to their conversation, I saw him shift his free hand so that his talons lay against the unconscious sentry’s neck, he gestured back with a toss of his head, “Now don’t try to play the slippery eel with me. Not really in the mood for it after your friends tried to butcher us. The pegasus went in your hole in the ground, so you obviously have her. So give her back, call off your boys, and lets not have this end like things did two hundred years ago.”

Oh shit, the barding. He thinks we're with Red Eye because of me!

I rapidly came to the conclusion that misconceptions had been had, and that rectifying them was probably the fastest way to getting around to living through the situation, I took a step away from the tree, into the open. I flared my wings, to make my stake on the topic at hand obvious to all parties. “Her and I fought Red Eye, and got ourselves trapped on the surface for our troubles. The only winterized barding available was theirs when that winter storm hit a couple days ago, so we made do with what we had!”

The elder paused for a moment, before replying, “Then you do not work for Red Slaver… none of you?” He stopped again, confusion obvious. “If this is case then why take Do Vento Luz?”

Fade blinked at that, canting his head to the side as he removed his talons from the mare’s neck, retreating to his haunches. He scratched the feathers on his cheek as he decided how to reply. “No, none of us are in the service of Red Eye. We just came from the Ranger outpost. We’re travelers. As for your ah, niece… we were ambushed by some of your lot then one of ours, the other pegasus, went to find out where the group had come from. She didn’t come back so we came looking for her. We found her,” he pointed down to the mare tied up at his feet, “Acting as a guard and wanted to-” He paused for just long enough for me to worry.

Please don’t tell him we planned to kill her. Please, Fade!

“To… t-take her," he stammered out, "so we could bargain for our missing compatriot. Who we thought you had. But you didn’t. And we don’t. But now we have your niece, and still no Tailwind. Uhm…”

The leader scowled as he replied, “Yes, now we have one. Now we can trade. Release my niece now griffon, or you all die.”

With a scowl, Fade snapped his talons back to the mare’s neck as he pulled her back. I could swear I saw a tiny dribble of blood from the pressure of the razor sharp digit upon her flesh. “Let’s not go back to this. Things were going so well, too. So you don’t have our friend, sorry for assuming. However, three of us are now wounded thanks to you and your ilk. We could only think you took her. So, how about you stop threatening us, I’ll stop threatening your niece, we’ll find our friend and get the hell out of your mane. We want to get to Neighson, nothing to do with you!”

The tribal’s disposition grew even more fierce, “The ones who harmed you are dead, they paid in blood. But that is they, she is not they.”

This is getting out of hoof.

I took another step towards Fade as I spoke up in an attempt to be the voice of reason in the face of a deteriorating situation. “Fade, do as he says. I don’t have a handle on this tribe’s angle on all this, but we won’t gain anything at this rate until we give them a gesture of good faith. Let her go.” My voice was quieter than either party, but in the tense air between our two parties, my words carried more than well enough.

Fade had been about to reply to the tribal when I spoke. He seemed surprised as he glanced back, giving his head an infinitesimal shake and hissed back quietly, “Good faith doesn’t go for much in the wasteland, Miss. This tribe has been causing problems for a long time. Never on the main roads, but that’s apparently changed. I let this one go and we’re all likely to get shot for the trouble. That, and even though he was right about the mines not being remote, they’re still there. Armed. They try and get her and boom. Makes us look bad. Still with no Tailwind.”

I continued, gaining confidence in my standpoint as I did. “There’s that, but judging from his demeanor I suspect he’s getting angry enough to blow us away where we stand. She may be his niece, but he also can’t appear weak to his subordinates. Let her go, Fade.” I paused a moment, before adding with a look that practically pleaded, ‘Trust me!’, “Besides, Tailwind is still nowhere to be seen.”

Fade kept his gaze on me, clicking his beak in thought before he let out a short sigh. “I don’t trust any of this, but I’d like to not die half a day from the Outpost.” He turned his attention back to the stallion on the ridge, "Hei, liels puisis! I let her go, you let us leave. How’s that for a deal? No shooting, no more arguing. That work?"

He stared Fade down for a few seconds, before replying, “Pelo meu sangue. I swear this to you.”

For his part, Fade mulled that over for a moment before finally nodding. “Alright,” he replied as he moved his hand down to retrieve the mine he’d “given” the mare. “Then she’s all yours.” After stowing the mine, he slipped a talon into the knot binding her legs together and jerked it undone. Coiling the line again, he slipped it over one shoulder, then scooped up the mare in his arms. Glancing back to her uncle, he explained, “Alright, I’m going to bring her over to you. Not because I don’t want you here, but because there are live mines very close to you. I’ll bring her over, disarm them, and leave. Okay?”

As he saw Fade release his niece, the tribal lowered his grenade rifle, and I heard the same happening behind us. “Very well, disarm bombs.”

Without further comment, Fade spread his wings and blew away the snow that had been concealing the mines, as he set about disarming them individually.

Wrapping the mare in the soft aura of his magic, the leader gently carried her by his side. He watched the procedure very carefully, before finding satisfaction in the complete removal of the mines. When the last mine was stowed, He turned on his heel and disappeared into the cave.

As Fade returned, Crafter asked in a hushed voice, “How… how do we know they won’t just kill us now?” He glanced towards where Bernard had gone down, worry in his voice. “They’ve probably already killed Bernard n’ started feasting on his flesh…” It sounded like he had a very active imagination. As I glanced over, I saw them simply dismantling the impromptu firebase a couple of them had established up there. Unless they were very, very efficient cannibals, it looked like Bernard was just unconscious.

In reply, Fade seemed to consider Crafter’s suggestion with almost undue reverence, before finally replying, “Wrenchy… he may still kill us, but if we move quickly he might just let us leave. For that we can only hope. As for Bernard, they aren’t ghouls so it’s not likely they’d eat him. They’re tribals, not entirely monsters.” Snapping his head up, he fixed his eyes on Crafter’s, unblinkingly. “Plus. If anyone here was likely to eat a pony, it’d be me.”

Crafter stared at him for a moment, and gave a smile as he chuckled softly. I could practically hear him thinking: It’s a joke, right?

No, Crafter. He’s a griffon. He eats meat. He isn’t joking.

I pushed my way past Crafter, headed towards where Bernard had been ambushed. My thoughts were elsewhere, now that the immediate danger had gone.

Where had she gone?

One of the tribals that had assaulted Bernard had moved down to the wreckage of the caravan, to the site where Crafter’s assailant lay dead. It looked like he was performing what I assumed were their form of last rites.

Behind me, I heard a gradually building chuckle from Fade that rapidly turned into full blown, outright laughter. Once it finally subsided, Fade replied, “Ah, Crafter. Relax. No one here is going to eat you. Especially not me. No no, you’re on my ‘Do Not Eat’ list.” He paused for a moment, before adding, “Not really in the mood for it right now anyways…”

“Wait, there’s a list?” Crafter queried, clearly taken aback by the concept.

“Yes, Wrenchy, there’s a list,” Fade let out a soft sigh, sitting back on his haunches and examining his talons deliberately. Satisfied that they were still in order, he glanced back to Crafter with a cold look in his eyes, clenching his raised talon as he did. “And it’s topped by Red Eye and whatever fucker messed with my head.”

I crested the hill, losing sight of Fade and Crafter’s conversation. Bernard was unconscious, some blood speckling the snow where he’d bitten his lip. As far as injuries went, his jaw was going to be sore for a while, and a pair of ribs felt broken under gentle pressure from my hooves. I couldn’t do anything about it – we didn’t even have any healing potions left, and if I had the chance I’d rather not risk the injury healing wrong.

A topic I’d rather not dwell on.

One of the stallions that had taken Bernard’s position was sitting near the pile of ash that was once another member of his tribe. He didn’t seem especially bothered by that, but he watched me administer to Bernard with interest. As I finished, he piped up with apparent interest, “Where will you go, winged one?” A large club rested by his side, and I presumed he had been the one to injure Bernard.

I stopped what I was doing, hanging my head with a small sigh. “I don’t really know,” I replied. “The Fort is our goal, and we’re helping Bernard here,” I gestured to his still unconscious form, “to find his daughter. Word was, her captor had headed this way, and we’re simply following the trail. Though... I don’t expect a pair of pegasi will get a warm welcome from the inhabitants of a settlement in this area. Not after what our kind has done.” I glanced up, making eye contact with him for the first time. His eyes were a deep green, I noted. “I just want to find us a place down here. A place to live. Maybe even a place to be a part of something, if we’re lucky.”

“You are strong, you kill two of ours. You will find path.” He replied, with the same… peculiar logic of the tribe leader. “But not what I ask, Fort is too far for tonight. Where you go?” He finished with a nod towards the caravan, “They risk night path.”

Ahh. Yes. The immediate question.

“What options do we have?” I replied with a strained chuckle. “Given what we did, I don’t expect we would be welcome with your tribe. For that matter, I don’t know if I could keep our griffon from picking a fight even if we could stay.” I perked up just a tad when I realized he would probably have knowledge of the nearby area. “Surely there are other caves such as yours,” I nodded towards the ‘secret’ entrance, previously hidden until it had been used to flank us. “Are there any on the way to the fort? Anything we could hold up in for the night?”

He thought on my question for a moment, before sighing and shaking his head. “No, I know of no safe holes. Though why griffon make fight if you stay?” He asked, confusion evident in his features.

He legitimately sees us staying as an option… after we killed two of theirs, and kidnapped a third, he really doesn’t hold any enmity for us. I don’t understand these ponies.

“Would… ‘Uncle’ actually let us stay the night?” I asked, incredulity in my tone. “We hurt his niece, took her hostage… under the wrong pretenses, but still… not to mention, these two.” I nodded towards the last rites still being performed down the hill, on the deceased mare. “They may have ambushed us, but we still killed them. Knowing that, would he really let us stay the night under his protection?”

He looked quizzically at me. “What? You fought, they fell. Blood to blood. And Vermelho Lâmina is never glad, but he would not want that death upon you all.” He again nodded at the frozen corpses.

I thought on that for a few moments, before turning and calling down to Fade and Crafter, “Guys, it looks like we might be able to stay here after all. At any rate, we can’t travel with Bernard unconscious like this. Get him ready to move inside, if you please!”

A general affirmative wafted back my way, with Fade tipping me a sarcastic salute as he replied, “Fine. Clear it with the hisponic lunk. Ten to one I’ll get shunted anyways!” He shook his head, disagreement palpable. He could deal with it, I figured.

Turning back to the dark coated buck beside me, I finally got around to actually introducing myself. “Thanks for the info. I’m Snap Roll... previously of the Grand Pegasus Enclave.” There was precious little pride left in how I said my nation’s name. With every passing day, that life felt further and further away…

The buck put a hoof to his chest and spoke proudly, “I am Ossea Disjuntor of the Lobos Carmesim.” He paused to levitate his club back to his shoulder, before adding a question. “You come from above the clouds?” It took me a second, but I realized he was actually posturing. The slight puff of his chest, the way he held the club to emphasize his obvious strength…

I was flattered. Too much on my mind to make anything of it, but it felt kinda good to have… that kind of attention again. Most of the ponies I'd met had been at least wary of me simply because of my wing, if not hostile like Rose had been. It was a pleasant change.

“Aye, I lived above the clouds,” I replied with a soft sigh. “It’s the Enclave’s way to exile anypony who gets themselves stuck on the surface, and my friend and I were unlucky enough to get our ride home shot out from under us.”

Ossea seemed to think on what I said for a moment. “Strange… why were you down from clouds?” His tone carried an earnest curiosity. I wasn’t being interrogated, I wasn’t having to explain myself… he just wanted to know more about me. I found I could reply easily to that.

“The Enclave periodically sends recon patrols to the surface,” I gave him the abridged version. I’d had to relate the story several times since we’d gotten here, and I have no doubt I’ll have to relate it more. For the record, I think that was one of very few times our lives didn’t rest on the outcome of the story. “Sometimes we’re sent to salvage equipment; sometimes we just need to bring back information on the state of the surface. In our case, we were sent to gather information on Griffon and Red Eye activity in the North.”

As I mentioned the master slaver, Ossea growled angrily and spat at his hooves. “Amaldiçoar sua alma, Red Eye is cancer. He gnaws at the land, destroying all.” He practically spat the sentence out, like it was fouled milk.

“Your leader expressed similar feelings. Is the Red Eye presence in this area really that heavy?” I leaned in closer, realizing he might have information I could use. “Any idea where they’re based out of?”

He shook his head slowly, letting himself relax a bit. “You should speak to Vermelho Lâmina about such things. But no, we don’t know where his hole lay. We have sent many to find him. None have returned.”

He motioned towards the entrance to the cave system, “Come inside now, guests should not be left on porch.”

I smiled as I replied, “Oh my, such a gentlecolt. Lead on, Ossea.”

He inflated his chest some at the compliment, and lead the way into the cavern. Like the previous entrance I’d seen, the natural looking cave was only ten or so meters high, lit by small hanging pot lamps powered by portable generators scattered around the walls. Rather quickly, we came upon Vermelho Lâmina, who seemed to have been awaiting my arrival, one way or another. With a nod, Ossea left the two of us alone, heading off into one of the side passages.

I came to a halt in front of Vermelho, giving him a small bow of my head before speaking. “Vermelho, I have a favour to ask. We won’t be able to reach the shelter of Fort Neighson by tonight, and I don’t want my people suffering the same fate as that caravan.”

Here goes nothing.

“I’ve come to ask for shelter for the night, with your clan.”

He responded to my bow with a nod of his head. It was a subtle thing, but I could tell there was a certain gravitas to the nonverbal exchange. It felt like I’d done something right. He waited a short while after I finished my request before replying, “Come girl, walk with me awhile.” he then turned to his left with a slow trot, and waited for me to catch up.

I cantered up to his side, following along. I stayed quiet, wanting to let him commit to a response… and I was also interested in seeing more of the Lobo settlement.

He led me towards the shorter end of the cave, and i could clearly see a pony made wall with a heavy door set into it. To my left, in a small alcove I could see a pair of wolves sleeping on a pile of furs and bones, seemingly quite content. I noted that none of the bones appeared to be equine of origin, though in the state they were in, I couldn’t tell for sure.

Having remained silent thus far, it seemed he intended to add an unspoken weight to the walk. As we neared the door, he abruptly stated, “You left me without my brother’s body, denying him his last rites… you’re aware of this?” He left the question hang by turning his head slightly, gauging my reaction.

I maintained eye contact as I replied, my voice grim but honest. “I am aware. I take responsibility, and sympathize.” I paused a moment, letting that sink in before adding, “However, I am not sorry. It was him or us, and my partner took the shot. What happened is an unfortunate aspect of our energy weapons, but they are a large part of why we’re all still alive.”

He maintained a pause in turn, no real emotion apparent on his face when he finally did reply, “You are in the right, we were in this case the aggressors. And they died to your blade, in a matter of speaking, so yes by the trial of arms you are right. But…” He paused a moment, just a hint of… attachment showing. “He was my brother, blood of my blood. I can’t help but resent you, matter not what the goddesses say.”

What the goddesses say, hmm…

We came to a halt before the door as he turned to me fully, his decision made: “We will shelter you this night, but you will leave in the morn. Regardless of your wounded.”

“I ask no more than that, those terms are more than fair. I will ensure there is no friction between my company and your family while we’re under your roof, so to speak.” I’d thought our dealings were done, and I had just started to turn away to inform the rest when I realized something at least somewhat critical.

We still have no food.

We’d planned to get to the Fort that night. We would have been good, what with the supplementary rations we’d traded from the merchant not long after leaving Chess’ waystation, but with the delays, and with Crafter to feed… we were pretty much out.

I turned back to the older stallion, adding belatedly, “As a separate issue, would we be able to trade with any of your ponies for food or medical supplies? We are desperately short on both.”

He chuckled softly, the ghost of a smile appearing on his face. “I assumed as much, your ponies seemed quite low on supplies. Do not worry, we have some stock enough for your kin.” He then levitated out a key and unlocked the massive door, revealing a storage room full of crates, with a terminal resting upon a desk set against the right-hoof side of the room. What caught my attention however, was the mare at its controls.

Quite surprised at the sudden opening of the door, the sky blue mare took a full second to comprehend firstly that it was me in the doorway, and secondly that I was with the ‘hostile’ leader.

“Um, well. This is awkward.” Tailwind stammered.

“Yup.” I replied.

Standing in the doorway, Vermelho Lâmina’s jaw was hanging slightly open for a number of seconds as the new situation sank in. However, his transition from bewildered to enraged happened in the blink of an eye.

“Pelas deusas, Qual é o significado disso!” He bellowed, seemingly forgetting my inability to understand his tongue.

That, or not caring.

I stammered out, “Vermelho, I sent her!” Before damning the pain in my side as I sprang in front of him, placing my body between the Lobo leader and Tailwind. “After the fight outside, I sent her in here to check out what we’d thought would be a hostile camp. After she didn’t return, we took action, thinking you’d captured her. That led to our… discussion.” Even with the situation as tense as it was, I still danced around pointing out that it was more of a ‘hostage situation.’ I assumed that reminder wouldn’t go over particularly well. “I had hoped to find some way to contact her and sort the situation out, but she went to ground against an apparently hostile force.” I was trying to calm him down, but I was also trying to fill Tailwind in on what had happened since she left.

Vermelho turned his head slightly, looking down at me, then back to Tail. He still looked very displeased, but his voice carried no emotion in it. “What did you steal winged one, what did you see?” He asked flatly. Though there was no venom in his voice, it carried with it the implicit promise of retribution.

Now very worried at the current course of events, Tailwind quickly responded while waving her hooves in front of her defensively, “Nothing, honest! I didn’t take any of your supplies!” Her voice dropped with her hooves as she took on an almost remorseful tone. “I read your tribes history… with what happened to you.”

Vermelho let out a sad sigh, his head and shoulders slumping. In relief? I could only guess. “Promise us this young one, tell no one of what you read there.” Seeing Tailwind nod, he sighed heavily. “Good. Now go with your friend to the far side of the cave, you’ll see living stations. Wait there, rest, do what you will. But do not go to the upper part of the cave, it is our place alone.” He said all that while levitating a large box off the stack and starting to crack it open.

Seeing the situation defused, I let out a soft, almost contented sigh as Tailwind cantered over to my side. We locked gazes, and when she got close enough, I wrapped a foreleg around her and pulled her into a tight hug. She returned the embrace wordlessly, though I could tell she was troubled slightly from recent events.

With no small amount of reluctance, I broke the embrace. A glance towards Vermelho showed that he was definitely waiting for us to go, before confirming the integrity of whatever it was that was in the box. As curious as I was, it wasn’t worth raising his ire for something that honestly didn’t even concern me. “C’mmon, Tailwind, lets go get the others. The thought of lying down next to a fire sounds positively exquisite right about now.”

And so Tailwind and I wound our way back to the entrance, equal parts checking how the others were doing as passing on current events. As I exited the cave, I called out happily, “Good news, boys! We can stay here the night.” As I glanced around, I noted that Crafter was glaring at Fade for some reason, and Fade seemed to be oblivious to whatever had managed to raise his ire. I didn’t ask, barking out some quick commands instead, “Pack up everything that isn’t already frozen in place or wrecked, we’re gonna head inside. Crafter, if you could, ah, help Bernard along if you please.” As they glanced up at myself and Tailwind, whatever disagreement they’d had momentarily forgotten, I added with an abashed tone as I met Tailwind’s gaze, “And I found Tailwind. She wasn’t as lost as… as I’d thought.”

Fade rubbed at his head, massaging away what seemed to be a migraine or headache, before gradually becoming aware of our presence. He rose with a small stretch, hopping off the carriage roof he’d been standing on before plodding his way up the hillside towards us.

Hearing my shout, Crafter wrapped Bernard’s body in his light brown shroud of magic and cantered up towards us, wearing a dour expression. Tailwind moved to greet him, but her cheer felt short as he cantered right past, with Bernard’s still unconscious form floating beside him. He was still walking with a limp, though for some reason it seemed a bit more pronounced than it was when we’d left. “Oh,” Tailwind muttered, “Okay then…”

As Fade made his way towards us, separately, I took an educated guess as to how things had gone. “Fade, did something happen between you two while I was gone?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

He halted mid-step as he approached us. He raised a talon before promptly dropping it, as he turned to look in my direction. “I didn’t attack him, if that’s what you’re asking.” He replied plainly, “We had a discussion about the Wasteland and its practices, and Wrenchy didn’t like the outcome of it.” He shook his head and looked off to the side, seemingly unimpressed, “Things aren’t like his sheltered upbringing and apparently that offends him. Not exactly my problem.” He took a breath, before glancing down at Tailwind, then back to me. “Ahh, the errant member of our merry little band. I see you’re well, Miss Tailwind, that’s good. Can’t imagine where you got off to, but it obviously didn’t end as we’d expected. Must be relieved not to be stuck with just us surface dwellers, hmm Miss Snap Roll?”

I grimaced. That was considerably more… blunt than how I’d hoped to fill her in on how things had gone.

“As you expected…?” Tailwind asked, trailing off. She sounded concerned, and I knew I was the root cause of it.

“Well no, it didn’t.” I replied evasively. I didn’t want to let on too much of how panicked I’d gotten, so I stuck with replying, “We were worried they’d captured you, and that was kind of the assumption we’d been operating under...”

Losing her would have… no. Not thinking about that right now.

“And yes, having her back is quite the relief,” I hastily added, hoping to avoid dwelling on the issue. I tossed my mane as I glanced back to Fade, “Don’t sell yourself short though, you aren’t all bad.”

Nodding, more to Tailwind than to myself, Fade continued, much to my dismay, “Yes, dead or captured, maybe enslaved. You had wandered off in the direction of the Lobos’ hideout and we hadn’t heard from you. Given how they are, we logically assumed something had happened to you. Well, Miss Snap Roll did anyways.” Upon mentioning me, he swung his focus back to me for a moment, “I know. I won’t do half of what the other degenerates down here would to you. As you’ve already seen, I’ve even tried to help you after you reacted so poorly on our first meeting. At worst I’d take some of your feathers if you die. Maybe take some more if the situation was dire enough and food was out.”

I fidgeted as he explained my… um… fine, my panic attack when she wasn’t there when I woke up. At his mention of how he’d respond if either of us died… I’d really, really prefer not to think about that.

Tailwind rubbed the nape of her neck with a forehoof, “Yeah, I did end up taking a smidge longer than expected,” She mumbled noncommittally, before changing her tone to point the same hoof at me. “But still, you don’t give me enough credit, Chief. Thinking these mud-ponies would catch me.” She gave a quasi-verbal “Bah!” as she turned to head inside. Normally, that would be that, but I saw the signs. The slight dip of her chin, the droop of her wings as they rested at her sides, her tail hanging lifelessly as she walked away… She was still at least a little shaken from the events of the day, and taking care to hide it, even from me.

She doesn’t want me to worry… I always will.

Fade shrugged noncommittally, ending the matter as he gazed past us into the cave yawning behind us, as he queried, “So… we’re staying here for the night then? Would be good to get out of the cold before it gets… colder and more freeze-y.”

For once, I was glad for the abrupt change of topic brought on by Fade. “Yeah, their leader seems to have an… interesting view of things. He’ll let us stay the night, on the condition that we’re gone at first light.”

With that, I turned and started making my way back into the cave, with Fade falling in behind me. Idly, I hoped Crafter had figured out which direction to go, but a guard stationed at the first fork we encountered dispelled that fear. I recalled him being the one to point the LMG at us earlier, the same weapon dangling at his side for the time being. He wasn’t exactly in the mood to brook divergence from our prescribed path.

When we finally arrived, we were greeted with an open area. A series of tents lined one wall, and a fire was blazing merrily away in the center of the half-circle of tents. Ossea was laying down beside it, sipping contentedly from a bottle of what looked like some form of alcohol.

As we entered the room, I put a hoof to my chin in thought as I glanced back to Fade. “Come to think of it, I never did give you a look over your wounds after we… ah, met. I’d like to see if we left any lasting damage, if I may.” And considering we just went through a firefight, it would be a pretty good idea anyways.

He had paused at the threshold, gaze locked on the fire in the center of the room. I could practically see the dance and flicker of the flames reflected in his eyes. My question seemed to jar him back to the present. He blinked a few times to clear his head, before turning to me with a curious expression, asking “Kāpēc tā? Not confident in Ranger Twist's abilities are you? Or do you just want to get your hooves on me again?”

I put a hoof to my chin and adopted a smirk. “Hmm, maybe a little of column A, a little of column B,” I casually replied, before switching to a more honest tone. “More than anything, I’d like to take some ownership for my mistake. And who knows, you might have gotten hurt in the last fight without realizing. I know I didn’t exactly check.”

Tailwind went over to the fire, taking a seat closer to where Crafter had picked to lie down than where Ossea sat. As she passed by on the opposite side of Fade, I saw her toss her mane and wink in my direction. I couldn’t help but smile at that.

After a brief pause to think, Fade shrugged and gave a bow of his head in acquiescence. “Alright, if it’ll put your mind at ease then I’m not going to deny you,” He replied, carefully laying his rifle out on the ground out of the way of the transition cavern. “Shows some honour on your part, I can respect that. Will be nice to get all the gear off for once anyways.”

As he dropped his hat, pack, and… what do griffons even call their clothing? Barding? I don’t know. Anyways, I caught sight of a trio of star-shaped scorch marks upon his chest that stood out to me. Singed plumage surrounded them, standing out against the healthy brown feathers around them. Once he’d finished shucking his accoutrements and laying it out on the floor in a surprisingly orderly fashion, he sat up, rolled his shoulders, stretched out his back and shook out his wings.

With his implicit permission, I went through my standard medical checks… admittedly, a bit slower than usual. I didn’t usually have that much time, after all. And griffon physique intrigued me. As a race, they’re bigger than ponies, naturally, and he was no exception. His paws, his talons, his beak – they were foreign to me, but in an exotic, passively dangerous sort of way. At first, as I touched him, he seemed to shy away from my hooves. Just an innocuous muscle twitch, but it was… peculiar.

As I moved to run my hooves along his wings, he unfolded them slightly to accommodate my inspection. Most pegasi are agility fliers to some degree or another, built for speed and precision. His wings were built for strength flying, and no mistake. It was… exciting, honestly, to have such a visceral reminder of how differently our species take to the sky.

Moving on, I traced a hoof along one of the star-shaped scars on his chest as I asked in a soft voice, “These were from us?” I noticed a series of lesser scars, all long faded and covered by re-grown plumage. None of them stood out quite like the magically burnt scars.

He arched a brow at my question, tilting his head to see what exactly I was referring to. “Jā, that’s your hoofwork alright. Made a real mess of the plumage; going to itch like mad as it grows back too. But what’s a couple more for the collection eh? I’m still alive and kicking!”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” I replied, slowly dropping my hoof from its place on his chest. “I know we didn’t exactly get off to a good start, but I’d like to make it up to you – somehow – if I can.” I backed off a bit, giving him some personal space. My examination was over, he seemed to be the model of griffon health as far as I could tell, scars aside. “You’ve already proven yourself a valuable addition to our group, regardless of how long you plan to stay.” I paused for a few moments, before adding, “Though I am curious about that – during the fight, you had some serious combat skills. Where the hell did you learn those?”

Taking the shift in conversation as the natural end of the examination, he reached out to retrieve his coat, holding it up and slipping his free arm through a sleeve. He kept an eye trained on me as he replied, “I’m certain you can think of a way.” He rolled his shoulder and shifted the garment across his back, slipping his other arm in before reaching back and seating it properly under his wings. Partially dressed, he shook himself out before granting me his full attention again, giving his head a slight shake as he continued, “Not that you have to; I was charged with getting you to the Fort and that’s what I’ll do. No extra payment is required. Appreciated on the other hand, well…” He held his hands palm up as he offered an open ended shrug as his words trailed off. It seemed a less than subtle hint, to which I raised an eyebrow.

He let his hands drop as he started to pick at a loose thread on the hem of his coat as he replied, “And to answer your question... well, at least half of it is just natural ability and reflex. Half eagle, half lion, makes for one awesome scrapper,” his eyes darted back up to meet mine, just a tad on the quick side. “The more technical side is tricks of the trade I’d wager. Which trade I’d like to know, but many things are being kept secret. There’s nondisclosure with myself sometimes.”

Now, his comment definitely seemed… off to me, but I didn’t have anything beyond an idle curiosity in the matter. I wasn’t even sure what there was to ask about. ‘What do you mean, which trade?’ Didn’t exactly come off as grateful for his help, at least in my head. I couldn’t think of a way to inquire without digging deeper than I’d otherwise like, so I let it slide – it wasn’t exactly the highest on the priority list regardless.

Hiding my pause for thought with a sultry smile, I replied, “Oh, I’m sure Tailwind and I can think of ways to show our appreciation in the time we’re there.” I flashed him a wink, “You’re certainly in fine physical condition.” After a brief pause, I added a casual afterthought, “At least, for a griffon.”

Having gone back to picking at the loose string, my last comment brought his eyes back to mine again, before something clicked and he glanced down at himself thoughtfully. After a moment, he sat up straight and puffed out his chest a bit, seemingly bolstered by my conclusion. “I’ve no doubt that the two of you can,” he finally replied, with a slight nod and a grin of his own. “Let’s just hope no more incidents occur before we reach the Fort and I have to demonstrate what else a griffon in prime shape is capable of. Wouldn’t want you more indebted, would we Miss?”

“No, we most certainly would not,” I replied as I turned to head towards the fire. I paused after a couple steps to glance back sidelong, “Though I wouldn’t be opposed to a demonstration.”

Leaving Fade to put his barding back on, I cantered over to where Tailwind was already sitting by the fire. I shucked the saddlebags, and with little of my customary grace flopped down beside her, closing my eyes and giving a soft moan of delight as the warmth of the fire began to heat my tired body.

Tail shuffled over, leaning up against me as we shared the warmth of the fire.

Glancing over at Bernard, whom Crafter had unceremoniously deposited near the fire, Tailwind inquired, “So, what happened to Bernard?”

Crafter turned to reply, “He, uh…” Rapidly, he ran out of steam, backpedaling on his explanation, concluding with, “Actually, I don’t remember. He… got shot?”

Fade took a seat on the opposite side of Bernard as he rolled his eyes and let out a chuckle, “Wrenchy, do you even know what ‘shot’ is? The poor sod was clubbed. Did… damage to him. Now he’s out.” To prove his point, he reached out and swatted the unconscious earth pony with the back of a hand. “Courtesy of our lovely hosts,” He added before turning to the unicorn with an excited grin, “Though if you want I can educate you. Can spare one round. Consider it your initiation to the Wasteland. Kind of like a really painful birthday!”

Crafter hesitated for a moment, glancing at Fade with a look that seemed to be gauging whether or not the griffon was serious. “I… think I’ll pass.” He settled on as a reply.

I frowned.

Hadn’t he seen Bernard get hit? He’d informed me of the flanking ponies in the first place…

I turned my head towards where Tailwind was curled up beside me, seeing as the topic was finally broached as to what exactly happened while she was investigating. “Ah, Tailwind… while you were out, we kind of… um… accidentally kidnapped a sentry while we tried to sneak in after you.” I paused, gathering my thoughts. “Then, we got into a bit of a standoff with the ponies here, including Vermelho Lâmina, whom you talked to in the supply room. During the parlay, Bernard had taken up the spot the sniper had been in. Turns out, they have an alternate entrance there, and Ossea over there clocked him pretty bad.” I nodded my head towards the Lobo pony sitting near us.

He raised his mug in acknowledgement. There wasn’t any pride there, but there wasn’t any remorse either. A simple acknowledgement of an action.

Grimacing, I came to the point that was really the issue all along, “They initially fired on us because we were wearing Red Eye barding… it might be the only barding we have that’s winterized, but we’re endangering the entire group by wearing it.” I hung my head as I finished.

Glancing over to Bernard himself, I added, “We can bandage up the area and try to immobilize his broken ribs, but there’s only so much I can do.” I gave a soft sigh before continuing, “He doesn’t have a flail chest, and it isn’t life threatening. For all I love my wings, broken bones really need to be set by healing magic. If we had another potion, I might chance that… but a unicorn healer would be the best medicine available. We should be able to find one at the Fort.”

Tail was also looking at Bernard as I spoke, letting the silence fall for a second, before asking the question most on her mind, “Do you think he’ll wake up?”

“His vitals are stable.” I replied, “He should wake up, though… loss of consciousness is never an exact science. I’m afraid we just have to wait, which is part of why I wanted us under cover. We aren’t getting to the Fort tonight, so we should get some rest while we can.” I tried and failed to keep my tone clinical, concern entering my voice despite my best efforts.

Having listened in idly, Ossea spoke up, “He should be well soon. Hit in jaw, not neck.” He went back to sipping from his bottle, what appeared to be scotch. He was still listening, but not really intending to be a part of the conversation.

Fade nodded his assent to my summary of events, crossing his legs and cradling his rifle in his talons. His eyes stared into the fire, open wide. I could see the dancing flames reflected in his eyes, seeming very lost to the world. Consciously, I knew he was at least passively aware of the conversation, but he seemed quite absorbed.

Seeming to come to a realization, Ossea reached into a saddlebag he wore and pulled out several small packages, individually wrapped in brown paper. He levitated them out to Crafter, Tailwind and Myself, leaving one resting beside Bernard. “Vermelho wanted me to give these to you, no charge.”

I poked into it, curious. As I unwrapped layers of packaging, a… spicy smell wafted out. It didn’t really look like anything I’d eaten, but when he nodded, I tore a strip off of the reddish material. It seemed to have some sort of seasoning on it. I popped the strip into my mouth, chewing thoughtfully for a moment before turning to Ossea and replying, “Hey, this is actually pretty good. What is it?”

“Meat,” was the monotone reply, completely disinterested. As if it was an everyday occurrence that they ate dead things. Thoughts popped into my head. Crafter’s earlier guess that they were eating Bernard…

I saw the same thought snap Fade’s eyes from the fire to the green-eyed unicorn sitting beside it. His talons gripped the stock of his rifle just a bit tighter, and I saw some tension growing in his legs, readying himself to spring if needed. Tailwind’s reaction was similar, but not as visible. She shuffled to the side, moving her energy rifle’s arcs over just enough to swing and fire, if needed. I awkwardly realized I didn’t have my TFD on at the moment, and would definitely regret its absence if things went bad.

Crafter seemed blissfully unaware, as he continued to unwrap the package of meat he’d been passed.

“What kind of meat, Ossea?” I replied evenly despite the strip of meat still in my mouth, surreptitiously glancing down at where my battlesaddle’s firing bit was still undeployed. We might not have wanted a fight, we might not be able to even survive a fight with them, but if we’d been lured in to sleep in the company of ponies who…

At any rate, Ossea took a moment to take a swig from his drink before replying easily, “Is wolf, or caribou, didn’t prepare so don’t know for sure. Why?”

We collectively stood down. Fade released his grip on his rifle’s stock, and Tailwind relaxed into my side, leaning into me. For my part, I felt a little foalish for jumping to conclusions. Now that my conscience was assuaged, I had a chance to appreciate the flavour. It had a spicy taste to it like nothing I’d ever tasted. Even after I swallowed, it left a lingering aftertaste. I stared off into the distance. Dazed, and in a soft, small voice, I mumbled, “I never knew…”

“What did you not know?” Ossea asked, canting his head to the side.

My eyes sparkled as I held up what was left of the strip of jerky between my hooves. “This is delicious! Who knew meat tasted so good?” I commented, glancing around the group to see the reactions to my discovery.

Tailwind poked at her own package, looking skeptically at the atypical meal before her. She still wasn’t so sure about it, but I felt her stomach rumble (a side effect of her snuggled up beside me) and saw her slightly abashed look when she realized I’d noticed. That was evidently enough motivation to at least try it, and she hesitantly took a few careful nibbles of the new foodstuff.

Crafter wasted no time tearing into the paper bag, ravenously popping a strip into his mouth and masticating furiously. He wore an idiot grin the whole time, swallowing, and digging into more of the jerky. His stomach gave a sympathetic gurgle in response that I could hear all the way from where I was. At some point, he must have realized he wore a quasi-orgasmic grin, as he wiped it from his face, returning to his “normal” look before glancing around to see if anypony noticed. “It’s good,” he concluded.

I guess he was still hungry from the time he spent stuck outside his Stable…

Fade looked up from the flames for the first time in a while, commenting, “None for me? That’s fine. I’ve got enough of my own.” He gestured dismissively with a talon, “Prefer to get my food fresh anyways.”

I sighed. I had kind of assumed as much, but still, I hadn’t been very conscious of our group’s newest addition. Eventually, I replied, “Looks like I owe you a drink when we get to the Fort, as well. It’ll probably be quite the night when we finally get that chance…” I trailed off, booze filled thoughts buoying my spirits. Digging in to the ration of jerky, I had enough to satisfy my growling stomach before sealing up the package and stowing it in a saddlebag.

From his spot across from us, Ossea continued to watch the ongoing conversation with idle curiosity, cracking a small smile while continuing to nurse his drink.

“With any luck it’ll be tomorrow night,” Fade replied, tapping a talon lightly on his temple before pointing it at me, “Then you’ll get to sample some of the Wasteland’s finest. Not sure what you have up in your fluffy paradise but we’ve got the real vintage down here. Some of it isn’t even irradiated, too!” He settled back against his pack, resting one hand atop the other before adding with a snicker, “Though I think I’ll have to be buying the drinks this time, Miss. Said it yourself; you’re running out of things to trade. Good stuff isn’t cheap, but you can owe me.”

“Looks like we’re building up quite a debt...” I replied with a bit of trepidation. I wasn’t especially concerned, but the ominous prospect of owing the griffon stuck in the back of my mind. “In the meantime, we should get what rest we can. We’ll move out in the morning.”

Ossea, seeing my confirmatory glance towards him, spoke up. “You all can take those two tents over there,” He gestured towards the two closest. “Bedding is inside. The Lobos Carmesim shall keep watch.”

As if in response to the talk of bedding down, Bernard gave off a soft groan.

Relief spread across my face as he took stock of where he was, gradually realizing that he was no longer out in the freezing cold, and in fact had food and a warm fire awaiting him. “Care to fill me in on what I missed?” He groggily asked, as he carefully felt himself over, grimacing when he reached his ribs.

“Gladly,” I replied, as our group generally started getting ready to bed down.

*** *** ***

I dreamt, that night. The first time since the crash that I hadn’t been plagued by nightmares or simply collapsed from exhaustion. I dreamed of clear skies, of flying beneath the stars… of friends lost, but not forgotten. Escapist, naturally, but my sleeping mind didn’t know that.

I woke up slowly. Pleasantly, even. As I blinked my eyes, it gradually dawned on me that I was in a tent. On the ground. My midriff hurt. I was still in the Wasteland, and the last couple days weren’t actually a dream. Oh, and apparently there was enough ambient light outside to send a few faint shafts of dull, diffused light into the entrance.

Rolling over, I placed a foreleg around Tailwind, who was still snoring peacefully. Shaking her lightly, I spoke softly into her ear, “Reveille, sleepyfeathers.”

Tail grumbled and sleepily whimpered, “But sir I can’t do watch today… I drank too much.” Rolling over, she stubbornly pulled the borrowed covers back over her head in an attempt to ward off the new day.

I continued whispering in her ear, despite the covers now in the way. “If we get to the Fort tonight, you can sample the ‘Wasteland’s Finest’ before the sun sets.” As I spoke, I carefully positioned myself to pull the covers as far off of her as I could in one swift motion if she didn’t wake up.

As per the normal ritual, only noncommittal mumbling was heard from her small fortress of bed sheets.

Well, nothing for it.

I grabbed the covers near her hooves, having learned from long years of experience where the best spots are to pull the covers off of a mare unwilling to face the light… and pulled in a swift motion, using my wings to add some additional momentum.

While it was painful, the maneuver was still fruitful. Bundling up the covers, I left a freshly extricated Tailwind flopped on the floor in a mound. Grumbling, she popped her head up and yawned loudly. “Well, so much for breakfast in bed…”

“The thing about these rations,” I opined as I reached into the small pouch of jerky once again, popping a piece into my mouth for emphasis, “Is that they’re perfect to eat while on the go.”

Having gotten shakily to her hooves, Tailwind let out another yawn before pressing me a little further on the plan. “So what are we expecting in the Fort? The Rangers there probably won’t be as inviting as Paladin Rose was.”

Sobering up, I swallowed the jerky with a soft gulp. “It’ll be bad. I’m hopeful, but I expect we’ll receive a chilly reception.” I grimaced at my own sense of humour. “The Fort is also the only option we have right now for a real settlement. They’re Rangers, but they hate Red Eye’s lackeys as much as we do. I’m gonna try and use that to our advantage, but I can’t make any promises.” I started putting on the Enclave scout barding, which I hadn’t worn since the day we crashed. “Speaking of which, I think our best bet is being upfront about who we were. We don’t have any form of alibi, wearing Red Eye barding will just get us in more trouble like last night, and the Rangers from station Kilo already know our story.” Zipping up the last of the barding, I shook out my mane. “We’ll be putting our faith in ponies we can’t even begin to trust, but I believe this will be for the best.”

Making note of my choice of attire, Tailwind started to don her own set of scout barding. “So we’re going in as Enclave military then? Seems like another good route to being shot. Not that I don’t like seeing you in something more form fitting, Chief.” Her coy smile would have been measures more effective if it wasn’t quickly replaced with yet another yawn.

“Well, we don’t have very much choice otherwise.” I remarked, “Depending on how strict their admittance to the city is, we might be able to get away with using the blankets and the carriage outside. If they do any kind of search on us, they’ll find out we’re pegasi. Being upfront about our situation is probably better in the long run… though the blankets should be enough to get us under the minimal range of whatever artillery they might have watching the entrances and actually able to talk to somepony,” I was still trying to wrack my brain for a better way into the fort, to no avail. “Still, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to have a white flag handy…”

“Well if it comes to it, I’m sure Crafter can strike a convincing surrender.” Tail finished her statement by securing her laser rifle to its battlesaddle and looking at me expectantly.

Strapping my submachine gun to my side and throwing on my saddlebags, I ducked my head outside the tent to get a good look at how Bernard, Crafter and Fade had fared during the night. Admittedly, I was also checking to see if Fade had happened to kill anypony in the immediate area.

Crafter had stumbled out of the tent he’d shared with Bernard, still favouring his uninjured foreleg. He shot me a brief smile before packing up his small store of kit into his bags. Bernard followed, his kit stowed and ready to move. I wondered how long he’d been ready. Still, he too was walking with a pronounced limp.

Unsurprisingly, Fade was sitting next to the smouldering remains of the previous night’s fire, mumbling something to himself. As he saw us moving about, he set to packing away what few pieces of gear he’d unpacked for the night. He was in the process of snapping the upper receiver of his rifle back into place, function testing it towards a generally empty section of cave before seating a magazine and racking the slide. Grinning, he pushed himself into a sitting position, stretching his wings and tossing a nod towards Tailwind and I. “Labrīt, my Pegaz friends. I hope your rest was entirely raider free. Seems to have been but one can never be too sure!"

Taking stock of the goings on in the cave since we’d gone to sleep, I replied in a deadpan, “I’m reasonably sure you’d have heard if we’d had a raider in there, Fade.” Brightening up, I continued, “That said, it was definitely a better sleep than the bunker we were in last night.” Pausing a moment in consideration, I remarked, “Though I don’t think I’d classify these ponies as raiders. They have a moral set, albeit an unusual one.

Slinging his rifle and standing up, Fade shrugged before pacing a bit to get the blood flowing into his feet again. “Can’t ever be too sure,” He replied, “I’ve seen all sorts of raiders and some of them are quiet. Who knows, there could be silent or invisible ones!” At that statement, he blinked and glanced around the cave.

Well, if there are invisible raiders, they sure must like to watch. They certainly don’t do much.

Fade gave his head a shake, before hiking a claw over his shoulder towards the entrance, stating, “Maybe they do have morals but so do I, and mine are the only ones I’m willing to trust. So if it’s all the same, we should probably get a move on for the Fort. If you’ve no objections to that.”

Bernard remarked at that, “I’m kinda excited to see Neighson, actually. I've heard alot about it.”

“No objections from me,” I replied to Fade. “I think it’s well past time we made it to this ‘Fort.’”

Fade nodded, abruptly turning on his heel, pointing towards the dim light of day that filtered down the tunnel. “Then let us be off!” He boldly proclaimed, setting off as he continued talking, “As nice as it was not to freeze to death I’d very much like to get out of this pit that reeks of Tribal ponies.” He padded along without looking back, occasionally waving a talon in some vague gesture or another. “Though that’s not to say anywhere your kind gets doesn’t smell bad. This is just worse. No idea how we tolerated your kind for so long…” Stopping abruptly at the mouth of the cave he turned pack and pointed at Tailwind and I, stating, “Except for you two. Maybe it’s the exposure to clouds or whatnot, but you Enclave ponies aren’t so bad. Not good mind you, but definitely not bad. Average maybe? No... Tolerable! That’s the one! You’re tolerable, scent-wise.”

As he commented on smell, a thought came to me. I lifted a wing, giving myself a curious sniff. I wrinkled my nose as it was assailed by the smell of matted sweat, blood from multiple sources (including my own), and noticing that my feathers were long in need of preening. Falling in behind the griffon, I replied, “Thanks, I think?” I trailed off, unsure if he was hitting on me or simply crazy.

Having listened in as he fell in step behind us, Crafter posited the first question that must have come to his mind. “So, what exactly is the ‘Oncave’?” He glanced from myself to Fade, eagerly awaiting an answer.

Such a curious pony, he is.

In lieu of answering him directly, Tailwind let out a snicker at Crafter’s mispronunciation as she took flight, hovering a few feet off the ground beside Fade.

“When the bombs fell at the end of the Great War, they targeted the Pegasus city of Cloudsdale first, Crafter.” I replied evenly. If he was going to learn, I might as well teach him right. “Seeing the annihilation of one of our precious few cloud cities, the ruling council of the pegasi decided to take drastic measures to keep ourselves alive until such time as the ground was safe enough to live on. The Grand Pegasus Enclave was born of the remaining cloud-city-states banding together to cover the sky in a permanent layer of clouds, with the reconstituted remains of the wartime military for our mutual protection.” I grimaced. This was the… unpleasant part. “The measures were supposed to be temporary… we were under the impression that the surface was an unlivable hellhole to this day, more or less.” I glanced back into the cave, at the ponies eking out a harsh, but very much livable existence. “This,” I said as I gestured with a hoof towards the cave dwellers’ abode, “Makes me wonder how much isn’t known of the surface, and how much just isn’t told to us.”

Thinking on that a moment, Crafter seemed to process that before replying, “So… it’s a sky Stable? Or something like that? And it’s just for the pegasi?” He seemed deep in thought, like he really was trying to wrap his head around the concept.

I could find nothing of his usual comic lack of understanding there, and responded earnestly, nodding as I saw the similarities he was no doubt connecting to his own way of life previously. “Something like that. However, we periodically send recon patrols to the surface to find out if it’s livable or not… often, they don’t return. Judging by what we’ve seen so far, I can see why.”

Though I have to wonder… what effect would what Tailwind and I have seen down here have back in Neighvarro? What if word reached the civilians in the other cloud cities that there were ponies living down here?

I frowned. My train of thought was leading me places I wasn’t sure I wanted to be thinking right now.

Giving that a few moments thought, Crafter eventually replied, “So you’ve all just been ‘living it up’ so to speak, above the clouds while this had been happening? Don’t the clouds, you know, control the weather patterns?”

Tailwind took an interest in the conversation as she piped up, “It’s not that simple. You see, when we retreated to the clouds there was nothing left of Equestria. Manehattan, Fillydelphia, Canterlot… everything and everypony was killed by the balefire bombs. We only saved those few ponies we could, not unlike your Stables did.” Her tone was defensive, contrary to her usual flippant self.

His critique is hitting rather close to home.

Glancing at Tail, Crafter continued, “But you’re the ones who can control the weather… and covering us with a layer of clouds doesn’t exactly help anypony… in fact, I’d say it makes things harder.” He actually put a bit of venom into his tone, something I can’t really say I expected from him.

I wanted to tell him. I wanted to explain, to let him know why… but I couldn’t. Cloud seeding was something I couldn’t just share with a surface pony, no matter how harmless he seemed. So, I got angry instead. I know it wasn’t fair to him, but I defended our stance with anger in my tone, though I don’t expect he ever knew how much of it was directed towards myself.

“Do you realize how often the pegasi we send to the surface are killed for their efforts?!” I asked, “We’ve all lost friends to this Wasteland, and removing the cloud layer would put our entire civilization at the same level of risk our scouting parties face, every time they head to the surface.”

Getting quite heated, Tail flew towards Crafter, looking him right in the eyes. “Those clouds are our homes, Crafter. Without them we die, all of us.” She then jabbed him with a forehoof, “And what of the corpses outside your little paradise, what help did your home provide?”

He glanced between us. I don’t think he’d wanted a fight, but despite everything, he decided to stick to his argument. “I’m not defending my Stable. I was left for the same fate, and…” He trailed off for a moment, a glint of sadness in his eyes. Must have hit a nerve. “But we also didn’t create this frozen desolation of a land. I’m not saying you ought to destroy your home. What I am getting at is why you think your home deserves to be preserved while you’re destroying all these ponies’ homes? What gives you the right?”

Surprisingly, his response came from Bernard, who spoke up from behind Crafter. His voice was quiet, yet it had a firm edge to it, “They have every right to survive, we all do and by any means necessary. If I had the chance I wouldn’t give a second thought to having my family live safe and happy up there. Family will always come first.”

Crafter turned on him, “But did you? Did you get to live up there? Did they come by continuously afterwards searching, offering safety for you? I agree, your family should come first, but what if your family died because of the cold? It can’t have been easy for you out here, just as it isn’t easy for us right now. Imagine if they even lifted some of the cloud layer – not all – but some? When was the last time you saw the sun? I haven’t. I’d like to. But I can’t. And it’s completely in their control.” He finished, pointing a forehoof directly at me.

Bernard stared daggers at Crafter’s back. “My family was murdered, my wife raped and my daughter stolen. Not by the cold, not by clouds, but by a pony. Would you have the same leniency placed upon him? On slavers? Would you have the Enclave help all those who take visceral pleasure in inflicting harm upon others? ‘Cause I do not, and I hope you wouldn’t.”

Crafter turned his head in acknowledgement, but avoided eye contact. In a more level tone, he replied, “I know it wasn’t them who did it… but who’s to say that those ponies wouldn’t have been different if they were given a better chance? What if… what if the Enclave had done more to help, and thus the ones who stole, who killed… maybe they wouldn’t be that way.” He turned on his hoof, beginning to walk off towards the carriage.

Taking a step forwards towards him, I made it clear that I wasn’t going to back down from my argument, calling out at his back, “Crafter, I know you met the same bastards Bernard and I put down. I had a chance to talk with their leader before the end. Everything he did, he wasn’t doing out of desperation, or out of a lack of means to do better. He did what he did because he liked it! Had he another chance, a better chance, he would have chosen the same skies-damned path.” I stomped a hoof for emphasis. “Do I think it is entirely conscionable to keep the cloud layer to ourselves? No. But simply having the clouds lifted will not make everything down here sunshine and fucking rainbows!”

Crafter stopped, half-turning his head. “I didn’t say to just lift the cloud layer, I’ve expressed that. And you don’t know that for certain. We never will, will we?” He jibed back, actively keeping his voice just above a reasonable level. He turned back, and left the conversation at that.

Bernard followed after the departing form of Crafter, both of them quick stepping to catch up with Fade, who I realized hadn’t even stopped when our argument had begun. Tailwind gave me a short, pained look and a nod before flying ahead out of the cave. I followed along, weary and angry at myself for not being able to tell him why, slowly making my way along behind them.

As we got closer to the carriage, we came upon a most unusual sight – Fade sitting upon the intact wagon, having a rather intense conversation, seemingly with himself.

He let out a huff, running a claw over some indentation on the top of the wagon before waving his arm dismissively, “When it comes right down to it the roles have all been turned on their heads. Sparkles at the bottom, dirt on top, feathers in the middle. That I’m more or less fine with really; means less is expected of me and there’s still someone more oppressed. Of course that drastically limits opportunities but who’d honestly want to get involved in that filth? Not I! All you ponies naturally aren’t a surprise but then again, what can one truthfully expect of creatures without thumbs? Can’t trust them any more than… than…” He blinked, opening and closing his beak a number of times, as if at a loss for words.

It was then that I realized that Fade was well and truly crazy.

Pushing himself up in order to make a quick hop to the ground, he spotted us as we collectively plodded up to the wagon. “Nice of you to join me,” he commented, lifting off with a stroke of his wings to land closer to easy speaking range with most of us. “Thought you lot had decided to throw in with the natives. Perhaps you’d found yourselves… what’s the term? Special summer ponies? Eh, something like that.” Raising a talon into the air he briskly followed up, “Anyways, the Fort awaits and we’ve only got so much light. Would be rude to keep it waiting after being there for so long.” He tilted his head to the side as he jabbed a talon over his shoulder and asked, “So who do I get to hook up to this contraption? Harness is only a little bit warped. Probably won’t get stuck.”

I grimaced at the pain still making itself known, piping up as I held a forehoof to my midriff, “Sorry guys, I think I’m out for this one.”

Damn it, I really need to get this looked at…

Crafter glanced down at his injured leg, testing to see how much pressure he could easily put on the limb. With a frown, he added, “Yeah, don’t think I can handle it…”

Tailwind gave a sly glance at Bernard before stretching her wings and taking to the air, “Well I gotta go scout ahead!” She streaked forward, dodging any form of rebuttal.

Bernard scowled, though there wasn’t any real anger behind it. “And I’m betting Fade will spout something about ‘pride’ or ‘tacos’ and refuse… fine, I’ll pull the damn wagon.” He then sulked over to the lead lines and strapped himself in. “Get on kids, time for a wagon ride.”

Fade seemed slightly shocked at the accusations directed his way. Raising a talon to his chest, he shook his head and stared at the earth pony. “Pride? Ta-co’s? It’s no such thing! That last one I’m pretty sure you made up, too!” Now scowling himself, he stepped away from the group to point at the front of the carriage and correct his would-be accuser. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, how about you take a look at the harness in question and explain to me exactly how a device meant to fit a pony would fit me?” striding back to stand beside Bernard, he raised a talon and waved it over his head before comparing to a talon raised over Bernard’s. “As you can see there’s a bit of a size difference. A slight one.”

In an attempt at diplomacy, I piped up as I clambered up onto the wagon, “Thanks, Bernard. It’s much appreciated.”

Bernard shot him a deadpan look for a second, before tossing his head towards the dead brahmin frozen to the side of the road, presumably the original owner of the harness in question. “You gaining weight or something?”

Sighing, Fade pressed a claw to his temple before staring up at the sky. “That’s all well and good but you’re forgetting one difference between a brahmin and a griffon,” He began in a somewhat tired tone, “We have wings, sir. Wings that get in the way of fitting a harness. Underneath, the rig is uncomfortable and above is simply painful.” To emphasize his point, he half-extended his wings and gestured to his sides, where the harness would sit relative to them. Turning a talon palm up, he added as an afterthought, “Also, I know the area and just happen to be one of the most combat-able at the moment. Not to mention one with the heavier weapons.” Grinning, he gestured at the harnessed stallion to pass him, “So, shall we get this trip underway?”

Seeing the anger rising in Bernard’s eyes in response to Fade’s jabs, I commented from the back of the wagon, intending to head off the impending argument by changing the subject. “So guys, I’m not sure about you, but I have no idea what we’re expecting getting into the Fort is going to be like. Any notion of how the Rangers’ higher ups will react to a pair of pegasi literally trotting into their laps? Any sort of heads up would be appreciated.”

Sensing the derailment, Bernard decided to humour me, “Don’t know, could just shoot us for all we know.”

Crafter looked down towards Bernard, “Shoot us? Would they actually do that? They wouldn’t even know if we’re hostile or not.” He chimed in.

“Well, the last Rangers we met launched rockets at us.” I adopted a thoughtful expression before adding, “Though they also didn’t actually kill us, and it was in response to us shooting Fade, who we’ll have with us when we enter the town…”

Hearing his name, Fade jerked his head to the side as he stared at me, before glancing at the ground in thought. After a minute or two silently walking along the road beside us, he shrugged and glanced back up at me. “Eh, probably won’t be too bad. So long as you don’t go spouting off about your cloud kingdom they’ll probably just think you’re another pair of burnt flanks. They really don’t mind them so much.” Hesitating, he placed a fist into the snow. “Right!” He exclaimed, “You might want to cover your marks while we’re there. Don’t ever see pegasi down here without the burns.” Narrowing his eyes, he tilted his head and fixed me with a scrutinous stare, “Except for you and your little miss. Odd…” Turning to Crafter, he responded bluntly, “Oh they’ll shoot just about anyone they don’t like the look of. Doesn’t really matter if you’re friendly or not. They’ll especially shoot you if you’ve got some piece of rare Stable technology that they like.”

Crafter looked at him for a moment, then down towards his pipbuck, making sure his duster fell low enough to conceal it against prying eyes.

I shot an angry look at Fade, brows furrowed at his continued teasing of Crafter… at least, I hoped it was teasing. There were another few moments there before I realized what exactly he was referring to as “burnt flanks.” My expression remained pissed off, but for a completely different reason. “Our saddlebags and armour cover our flanks well enough Fade, but I will not pretend to be a sky-damned Dashite!” I replied, emphasizing that last word with every ounce of venom in my voice that I could manage.

Tilting his head to the side, Fade relaxed onto his haunches and crossed his arms. “What the- you asked what would get you shot by the Rangers. I’m not sure what a Dashite is but being one will get you not shot. I’m not saying you should pretend to be one, just don’t let them know you’re not one unless you wish to be dragged away and tortured.” He let out a breath, then shifted his position before pointing to Crafter and continuing his explanation, “I’m not trying to be mean here, but Wrenchy does need to keep that beeping manacle covered. Otherwise he might lose his leg. It’s not guaranteed but the Rangers can be… grabby.” Raising both talons in submission, he closed his eyes and gave his head a quick shake, “I don’t know what your history is, Miss, but it’s your prerogative if you want to get shot. I for one, do not. Not again, at least.”

Seeing the direction of the conversation shifting, Bernard decided to simply start hauling the wagon along the path, ignoring the argument unfolding behind him. Probably a wise move. At that rate, it would be a long haul regardless.

Conceding Fade’s point with a huff, and a glance of understanding towards Bernard, I concluded, “Let’s just get there. Our other option is starving to death.” I didn’t even have to see him to know that Crafter was looking at me with a confused expression. As I stared at my hooves, I muttered for his benefit, “Ministry Mare Rainbow Dash was the pony to turn the pegasi into Equestria’s finest military force. She led us throughout the war, gave us our powered armour, bled with the troops… and when the balefire bombs dropped, she left us. Wanted to help the surface, when weeks hadn’t even passed since the surface was scorched. It was suicide… but she still left us, when she could have tried to change what she saw as wrong with what was then the proto-Enclave. She abandoned the whole thing, betrayed us.” I glanced at Crafter, adding, “I imagine the Stables didn’t actually know about what happened to her. Those who follow her path are considered traitors, and branded with Dash’s own cutiemark. If they want to follow her, we let them.”

“At least she tried something,” Crafter replied under his breath.

Rolling his shoulder, Fade unslung his rifle and fluttered his wings, preparing to take flight. Glancing at me, he offered some parting thoughts, “Ancient pony history at this point. Though it’s… unfortunate how things turned out. Luckily, you and Tailwind aren’t Dashites, so you shouldn’t have much trouble getting home once you’re done whatever it is you’re doing down here. Pegasus stuff I presume.” That kick to the gut over with (intentional or not), he gave myself and Crafter a quick nod, before taking to the air with a flap of wings, disturbing the soft dusting of snow across the path, veering ahead to catch up with Tailwind.

Fade’s words and abrupt departure left me biting back a response, instead simply dwelling on my own thoughts on the matter. Reaching over, I wrapped myself in one of the (now thawed) blankets, fully intending to wait out the rest of the trip in silence.

*** *** ***

Of course, that stance lasted all of about an hour. Crafter had dozed off in the interim, Bernard was still pulling the wagon. Fade and Tailwind were flying escort, and there I was; stuck in a cart, under a blanket attempting to keep warm. In short, in addition to being miserable, I was also intolerably bored.

Eventually, I decided to clip on the TFD. I’d done it mostly to glance at the integral map function. However… once I clipped it back on and powered it up, the cool blue of the overlay appeared over my vision, with a flashing cloud-shaped speech bubble in one corner. Selecting it with a blink, I suddenly felt incredibly dumb. Tailwind had been leaving me messages. Now that I actually checked the message log, they must have started not long after she left. A couple progress reports, all tersely worded, were probably sent while I was out… they painted a picture of what she’d seen, and her eventual entrapment (as I’d suspected, she had been engrossed in the terminal when somepony decided to seal up the vault, and the door turned out to be hard locked, accessible only from the terminal outside the door), all of which she would have thought I’d have read.

Well… that makes a lot of sense, in hindsight.

Blinking through response menus, I subvocalized a message in reply, the TFD automatically converting my soundless whispering to text.

Hey Tail, how’s it going up there?

I was playing it smooth, a vain attempt not to let on that I’d just remembered that the TFD’s store messages. Startlingly fast, I got a message back.

You totally just remembered that messages are a thing, didn’t you, Chief?

No! I replied, before hastily adding, Well… yes. I caught Bernard glancing back my way. I must have been a tad more audible than I’d thought. At any rate, he didn’t comment.

Oh Snap, what am I going to do with you? She replied, pausing briefly before adding, Though at least it turned out alright.

Yeah, I replied, That definitely could have gone worse.

Yeah… Oh, right. She must have exclaimed it, but the text left something of the tone to be desired.

Regardless, she had my attention. What is it?

While I was looking at that terminal, I found a series of logs dated not long after the bombs fell. I copied them, if you’re interested.

I’ve got nothing better to do. Send ‘em.

I only had a brief wait, before a literal wall of text appeared in the message corner of my vision. With a blink, it dominated the screen and I could actually read the separate entries that Tailwind had sent me.

Day 47: I've found a natural spring in the caves here. That along with the supplies abandoned by the townsfolk nearby should see my through the winter. As for the ponies that were caught out by the storms, or drank standing water... they've began to change. The transformation is purely physical for some at first. Their affliction not destroying their minds as it did their flesh. The majority of the populace… well, the baleful magic of those bombs was quite thorough.

I killed some yesterday as they tried to run down some ponies trying to head North. I kept hidden, the fort doesn’t need to know I'm here...

Day 69: I saw frost this morning, about two months early. I found another cave to the west of here. It has a large mineral spring but it has a lot metals in it, I've started work on a purifier.

I came across some ponies at the base of the gorge today, that was the first time since the war I had to kill someone. I'd spotted them from the crest of the hill; there were four of them that caught a younger couple heading south. The pair looked like they were from a work camp up the tracks. They didn’t even have time to react when they got attacked.

The four assailants were ex-military, I know the signs. The buck died immediately but they had more nefarious plans for his marefriend. It was easy to get close.

The mare made it to the waystation, I never asked her name.

I'm already cold.

Day 80: The few settlements that stayed together are having a hard time. No-pony was stocked for this kind of cold, I'm actually glad for my training now. The folk around here aren’t so lucky.

Some ponies have taken up in one of my caves while I was gone, they can’t get past my security door, I'm glad I put those in.

I dropped off some medicine and a fire-kit near the entrance, they didn't see me. The cloud cover is going to make this a trying time.

The lake froze last week.

The logs ended there. They seemed to be pieces of a larger puzzle, but I couldn’t make sense of them. At the very least, they were a snapshot of a life lived during some terrible times. There was no listing of author, the messages were only text, and I had to wonder at what happened to the narrator. He had to be dead by now, it had simply been such a long time since… but I was curious. I could see some similarities between our own situation and the one he was thrown into. Granted, his world had literally ended, while ours was somewhat less… tangible. Still, that pony long ago had decided to write down what he was experiencing. As a coping mechanism? As a guidepost for future generations?

Simply as a journal?

I still haven’t settled my thoughts on the matter, but he had a purpose for writing it, and those little bits of his life stuck with me.

That’s all of them, then? I asked, thoughts distant.

There were more, but they were mostly in the Lobo’s native tongue... There was a brief pause, before another text came through, quite abruptly. Oh shit.

Tailwind’s text caught me off guard. I hadn’t heard any gunfire, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. I glanced up, frantically scanning the skies to try and see where she was. I didn’t need to search long. Her and Fade had landed a couple hundred meters past our carriage, and were looking out past a bend in the road, into what looked like another valley.

I abandoned the subvocalized texts, vainly calling out to her, “What is it, Tail? We’re coming!” I’m sure the text failed to convey my worried tone, but that was to be expected. Bernard glanced up, before stepping up his pace. He didn’t understand what was going on any more than I did, but something was happening.

Just… just get up here, Chief. You gotta see this.

Crafter startled awake from the combination of the change in our pace and my own voice, blinking rapidly to reorient himself.

It was a quick gallop to where our outriders had landed, but when we got there, I realized why Tailwind was staring forward, mouth open and wide-eyed. As we crested the small rise in the road to stand beside them, we caught our first glimpse of the valley. We had most definitely arrived at Fort Neighson.

It was massive.

The structure that laid in the distance was a monument to the old world, cut deep into the mountain. The ancient city fortress stood a silent vigil over the old road we walked upon. From our vantage point, we could see where the path snaked its way through the valley to the base of the Fort, before following a series of switchbacks up to the gates, all covered by the dominating arcs of fire from the walls. Along its length, I could see a series of gatehouses at the crest of each bend in the road, five in all. Each was about the size of Outpost Kilo, though they lacked the vantage towers. They were absolutely dwarfed by the raw size of Neighson itself.

The city had a large outer wall, at a guess somewhere around fifteen meters tall. Six bastions stood along its length, evenly spaced and with murderous fields of fire into the valley below. A second wall stood inside the perimeter of the first, breaking the city into an inner and outer district. Even from our distance, I could make out hundreds of buildings of various sizes scattered about between the two walls. Most seemed somewhat ramshackle, about what I would expect of Wasteland-grade engineering.

The inner district housed a stark contrast with the outer. Uniform, evenly spaced structures – squat and sturdy looking – populated the smaller inner district. At the far back of the Fort, tucked against the edge of the pony-made plateau stood what could only be a command centre of sorts. A large, intimidating dome had one massive structure piercing its apex, reaching many hundreds of meters above the city proper, looking down on its charge. The clouds weren’t too far above its peak, so high it was.

The entrance to the city had a large set of double doors housed in a gatehouse set into one of the bastions along the wall, and had a dominating view of the approach up the mountainside. For the time being, those doors were retracted. I felt anything but welcomed, regardless.

The valley surrounding the monument to Equestria’s former glory had been cleared, and obviously re-purposed to feed the population, though the fields were bare save for a sporadic few houses and barns that littered the wide stretch of cropland.

I took all that in with a low whistle, a minute or so after I realized my mouth was hanging open in awe of such a marvel of Earth pony engineering. “I’ve gotta admit, I was expecting the ‘Fort’ to house a couple hundred ponies at best…” I trailed off as I realized that by the Enclave’s declaration, there were no remaining settlements of this size, excepting Fillydelphia (which would definitely be considered “hostile”), and possibly the “Friendship City” I’d heard of.

This would easily qualify as civilization beginning to re-establish itself beneath the clouds… exactly what we’re, in theory, waiting for...

Bernard stopped the cart, taking in the view of the city. After a few moments, he commented quietly, “I figure I owe at least two ponies some caps.”

Crafter had scooted right up to the front of the carriage, leaning over the forward guard rail as he stared at the sight in front of us. “Its…” he gave a false start, seemingly losing his words, “Its… its massive!” The awe in his voice was unmistakable.

Standing beside where Bernard had stopped the cart, Tailwind had had a bit more time to acclimatize to the sheer size of what lay before us, commenting, “Wow, that sure is something…”

I dug through my saddlebags until I found my pair of binoculars, bringing them to my eyes as I started to scan the city. I hadn’t been at it long, before I heard the rasp of metal on metal. Lowering my ‘binos, I saw that Fade had copied me, using a battered yet functional looking telescope to observe the Fort. He made a “tsk” noise with his beak, as he muttered to himself, “Right, now which places am I not allowed in again…?”

Raising my binoculars again, I gave the Fort a proper scan. The first tier of buildings seemed to be full of ponies simply going about their lives. A colourful assortment of scavenged materials adorned most every building. As I scanned, I commented, “Tail, the Rangers are letting ponies live within their walls. I see dwellings, what might be kitchens… those fields have seen use, and recently.” Lowering the binoculars, I shared a look with her. “The Enclave knows nothing of this. They can’t… from what they’ve told us, the Rangers never do this.”

To my surprise, Tailwind was looking off to the west as she replied by pointing her wing to indicate a massive, slender white tower that easily pierced the cloud layer, hundreds of meters above even the height of Neighson’s command spire. The tower stood along a road that snaked off to the West, into the distance. I felt my blood run cold, and it had nothing to do with the weather.

An MASEBS tower.

“I don’t know, Snap,” Tailwind replied with an uncertain waver in her voice, “the brass can see this place perfectly.”

Author's Note

Would you believe, once upon a time I estimated this chapter would be 12k words? Hah. Not likely, apparently.

This chapter most certainly wouldn't have been what it is without the editing team. Belmor, Plain, PersonalGamer and Jetwave, with more significant assistance from Cpt Doel than previously. Additionally, big thanks to PencilGuy for the chapter-end art. The concept there, just to reaffirm, is that that picture is a sketch, written into the journal itself. The picture is, in and of itself, canon to the story as being a thing Snap drew.

At an estimate, next chapter might be done by the last week of this year. I have an unusual amount of time available for writing, during a couple weeks coming up.

And where would any of this be without Kkat's original? Nowhere. Well, maybe somewhere, but it certainly wouldn't have the wealth of worldbuilding to draw upon.

Chapter 07: Fort Neighson (part one)

Chapter Seven: Fort Neighson (Part 1)

They knew.

It took me a while to fully accept that, but as I look back, that moment was when I realized we were well and truly stuck down here. A week ago, before all of this… if a certain Red Eye rocketeer hadn’t gotten lucky, we would have flown right through the valley Neighson was nestled in. Our Vertibuck would have been torn to shreds by heavy anti-air fire before we even knew what was happening.

Despite the implications, the mere existence of such an immense fortification made my pulse quicken with excitement. I wanted to see how these ponies lived — stable lives, or as stable as one could expect at any rate. How did they make do? What did they do for work? What were their families like? It enticed me.

My excitement caused me to miss the obvious. I caught on to all the superficial differences, and it took me a while to see things as they truly are.

They are just like us — making do, despite everything that seems set against them.

—Snap Roll’s Journal

*** *** ***

Despite the surreal view before us, the descent into the valley below Neighson was rather uneventful. Tailwind had wrapped herself in the other blanket we’d salvaged, a half-hearted disguise at best but it would pass a cursory inspection. She was napping quietly beside Crafter and I, while Bernard continued pulling the wagon. For the time being, Fade walked along beside us.

We passed farmhouses of various sizes and condition. Some seemed to be made from prefabricated material of some sort — the buildings themselves were not from before the balefire, but they might well have been made with building supplies that were around at that time. Others were clearly made using what was available in more recent times — scavenged parts of destroyed buildings, recycled sheet metal and the like. Pretty much the only thing they had in common were that they seemed sturdy enough to retain heat. Any less and they wouldn’t have been worth the while to construct in the first place.

We passed small families that were simply going about their business. Mothers, fathers, colts and fillies… coherent family units, living in the protective shadow of the Steel Rangers. Some were tending stock animals, others repaired centuries-old farm equipment. Others still were performing rudimentary upgrades to some of the structures. None of them paid us much heed, the few that actually spoke to us didn’t stay long, letting us pass with naught but standard greetings. Several times, I saw ponies usher their children indoors upon spotting Fade, seemingly wary of the griffon.

I caught the eye of a pair of foals, gazing with children’s limitless curiosity at our little caravan. I gave a soft smile and waved. They waved back, smiles wide, before running off to play. Nothing good could come from the Enclave taking an interest in all of this.

Why hadn’t they told us?

The question plagued me, though Crafter thankfully provided a momentary distraction as he gave an abrupt sigh of frustration. He was looking at his PipBuck’s screen, having first glanced around to make sure no Rangers were watching. “I don’t get this thing,” he declared.

Tailwind perked up from her nap at his outburst. “Um… PipBuck problems, I’m guessing?”

“Yeah,” Crafter replied with a slump, “I don’t know what this means.” He turned his forehoof to show her the screen. He seemed to have the map function open, but I couldn’t make out much more than that. “What is it?”

Tail’s expression softened, as any possible worries were dispelled. “Oh, that’s just a location marker. PipBucks seem to have a catalog of all the locations in Equestria — don’t ask me how, but apparently they do. So this area,” she waved her hoof in the air, gesturing towards the currently bare fields, “I would guess is called ‘The Foothills.’”

Crafter took a moment to glance down at the PipBuck, then at the surrounding area. He seemed to be thinking on that as he commented, “you know, you should really show me more of the things I can do with this PipBuck.” He waggled his elaborately manacled hoof for emphasis.

Tail snickered at that before replying, “alright, we should be able to spend a night or two at Neighson. We’ll have the room to properly go over everything. Sound good?”

Looking at Tail, he gave a soft smile. “That’d be good. Maybe I’ll be able to help out with it then, it seems fairly useful.” Hastily, he added, “well, in more ways than I’m used to.” He gazed off, seemingly interested in the equipment that farmponies were trying to variously bludgeon, weld or otherwise put back into working order. For my part, I couldn’t tell what the damn things were supposed to do beyond looking farm-related.

The rest of the ride continued in relative silence as Bernard pulled us along. The old wagon rolled steadily up to the base of the zigzagging ascent up to Neighson, where the opening was protected by a checkpoint, with a blockhouse-like structure off to the side. Such as it was, the point consisted of a pair of slender towers on either side of the base of the winding slope leading up to Neighson, a thin wall about two ponies high spanning the gap between then. A heavy gate stood at its centre, open and inviting save for the armoured Rangers on either side giving us what I could only assume were bored looks.

As familiar as I am with reading body language in power armour, it’s still hard to tell with the helmets.

The guards gave the ragged wagon a glance before catching sight of Fade, upon which one Ranger seemed to noticeably slump and wave us through the gate. All the while, I saw the slight ticks of helmet-based conversation between him and his comrade.

As we passed, Fade flashed a grin at the Ranger, along with a nod. “Paladin Rose and her garrison send their regards from Outpost Kilo,” he said almost amicably before adding in a lower tone, “could use some relief, but don’t hurry yourselves or anything on their account.” That said, he stepped up his pace, passing Bernard and walking at the head of our little procession.

The Ranger didn’t make any real response, simply shaking his head before turning back to his partner.

The ride up was long and steep, but I realized that was pretty much the point. Any attempt at taking the city would have to go up the road, taking fire from above the whole time. Along the way, we passed by the other posts. Unlike the first checkpoint, each of the subsequent points was guarded by a pillbox off to one side. I was absolutely sure there were heavy machine guns pointed in our general direction at any given time. All the points were manned, but none of them stopped us — the presence instilled by the guards was substantial nonetheless. At the last of the five checkpoints, I took note of the first non-power armoured Ranger we’d seen. The charcoal coated unicorn was fiddling with a terminal mounted on a wall. She wore long red robes with the Ranger’s mark emblazoned upon the flank, the same sword, gears and apples design that graced the flanks of her armoured compatriots.

The final rise up to the massive gate of Neighson was a terrifying sight. Recessed panels dotted the walls — no doubt shrouding firing points — while the thick muzzles of fortified batteries extended from the battlements of the bastion that the gatehouse was built into. Of more particular note to me were the quad-gun anti-air emplacements further along the walls. The same guns that once kept the North safe from Zebra incursion were still enough to give the Enclave pause. At least, I suspected as much. The gates themselves were easily large enough to let two main battle tanks through abreast. They were wide open, though ‘inviting’ isn’t exactly the word I’d use. Yet again, a pair of Rangers guarded the doors.

As we passed through the mouth of the city, we were plunged into a whole new world. The streets were alive with more ponies than I’d seen in any one place, save for a few massive Enclave exercises or military parades. The sounds of good natured commerce were inter-spliced with the joyous sound of foals at play running amongst the legs of adults talking with one another as they went about their business. The buildings were as varied as the inhabitants that found shelter in them — ranging in materials used to everything from proper concrete stonework to corrugated steel hammered together. Collectively, it produced a veritable maze of buildings. None appeared to be more than two stories tall (likely deliberate — any higher would have gotten in the way of arcs of fire from the second wall), but they all seemed to be in relatively good repair. They were certainly lively enough.

I spotted a few rangers amongst the crowd, the rather distinct power armour creating little pockets of grey amongst the shifting tide of ponies. A number of ponies wearing the red robes of the scribes were mingling amongst the populace, going about their business as any other pony would.

Our brief sightseeing was cut short by the arrival of a trio of Steel Rangers. The one in the center, presumably a paladin if the elaborate designs on his armour were anything to go by, beckoned us to follow, turning on his heel before waiting for a response.

We hitched the wagon near the entrance and followed on hoof, as the trio weaved our group through the town to a small building tucked against the inner wall, clearly part of the original design of the fort. The two lower ranking Rangers, knights I assumed, stationed themselves at the door as their commander led us inside.

The interior seemed to be some sort of administration building, commanded by an older unicorn behind a table opposite from us all, scribbling away with a quill clutched in his magic. He didn’t deign to look up from his work as we entered. The Paladin, after glancing sidelong at us went to stand at the unicorn’s flank. The only other occupant of the room was a griffon sporting black body armour with a splayed talon stenciled in white upon her breast. She rested with her back to the left-hoof wall.

We kept quiet, collectively waiting to see the tone directed towards us before committing to an approach.

The unicorn continued his incessant scribbling.

The tension in the air grew over the next few minutes as the unicorn continued to write, still not acknowledging our existence. The near-silence in the room continued until at long last he placed his quill in an inkwell, causing everyone’s attention to be drawn to the older buck. He then gave us a look over from his seat, examining us all with a critical eye.

As his eye passed over us, a little bit of muscle memory kicked in, ending up with me standing more or less ‘at ease’ as I decided to break the gradually deepening silence with a question. “Any reason in particular we’ve been detained, sir?”

Crafter fidgeted off to one side, before catching himself and adopting a similar stance to my own. Fade sat back, idly examining his talons before glancing at the female griffon. I couldn’t read his expression, but he seemed to have suddenly became much more aware of the conversation developing as a result.

Having evidently stared us down sufficiently, the buck spoke up, his voice low and gravelly. “You two,” he pointed a hoof directly at Tailwind and I, without preamble. “Show your marks.”

Damn, that was easy for him.

Even Fade cringed, hastily adding, “Just so you know, sir. Paladin Rose from Outpost Kilo sent them up here with myself as a guide.” His comment would help. Give us credence. Just the same, it also maintained his own distance from us. Smart.

The unicorn gave Fade an appraising glance before coming to a conclusion, nodding slightly. “Your stance has been noted.”

“You know, don’t you.” I deadpanned, quite sure that it wasn’t really the cutiemarks he was looking for, considering he didn’t even ask Bernard or Crafter. “Before we show you, just know we aren’t here to fight, if we can get a chance to explain…” I trailed off, biting the knotted blanket I had around my neck. I heard Tailwind take a half step forward, unsure of how good an idea that was. Considering the likelihood that station Kilo had something as simple as a short-wave radio would be enough for the older buck to know we were coming, even without the rather pathetic disguises we had. I made my decision. Pulling off the blanket, I revealed my cutiemark, and more importantly, my wings. “We’re stuck down here, no danger to you or yours.”

Tailwind frowned, but followed suit, giving her wings an experimental flap after having been restricted for the entire ride.

The griffoness gave a hearty chuckle. “Told ya Steam, these two are loyalists.” She then shrugged, “Probably from what happened to Trotwynd.”

I raised a quizzical eyebrow at the ‘loyalists’ comment, but otherwise waited to see their response. The ball was very much in their court, and I wasn’t about to raise their ire by asking. All the same, my interest was most certainly piqued.

The unicorn remained expressionless throughout the proceeding, but after she had finished, he added, “You have one chance to explain yourselves, you’d best make it count.”

The implicit threat was quite clear, even before taking into account the presence of the heavily armed but otherwise silent paladin in the room, not to mention the two ponies outside. Despite the calm of the situation, there were deadly undertones, and they weren’t being subtle about them.

Welp.

Nothing for it, I started to explain, piecing things together that I’d been hesitant to even consider. Wouldn’t have even considered for that matter, had Tailwind’s and my own life not hung on the balance of my explanation. I had suspicions, I had doubts, and I'm still not entirely sure if the theory I told them was in fact the way things had really happened — but I had to sell our story to them, and I did everything I could to make them believe I knew what I was talking about.

“My team was sent to the North to scout out the area for what we were told was a suspected griffon FOB,” I began, my voice in the neutral tone I'd always used in debriefings. That drew a light chuckle from the griffon, which I replied with a glare that suggested I was fully aware after the fact of how silly the notion of griffons concentrating in any one place was. “We were shot down near the southern waystation by what seems to have been a perimeter station the local Red Eye troops had set up. We hit the station, then escaped their fast reaction force, losing our…” I paused, biting my lip to keep my own feelings out of the explanation, “Heavy weapons specialist in the process. Over the course of the last several days, we’ve come to realize a lot about the surface, some of which is quite disconcerting. Foremost among those is that our command knew about all this,” I gestured expansively, as if trying to take in the entire structure around us. I intentionally left out how, exactly, we knew that they knew. “They told us nothing about Rangers being in the area, much less a fully populated fortress, and our flight path would have led us right into the killzone you’ve established in the airspace above this Fort.”

Damn me, I don’t want to be thinking this, but if it’ll save us… I guess I’m ok with being damned.

“They meant for us to die in the skies above your fort,” I gestured towards the scribe with a hoof, my voice dropping to a deadly serious tone. “Then, they would have justified continued operations on the surface to our own populace by saying you shot first. Thanks to Red Eye, that didn’t exactly go as neatly as must have been planned, but Tailwind and myself are the only ponies that are able to say otherwise, and we’ve been down here long enough to be considered ‘contaminated.’ I’m sure you have enough knowledge of the Enclave to know what that means for us.”

The buck nodded in affirmation, “Means you’re labelled as MIA.” He paused for a while, thinking on what I said. At least he seemed to be giving it some proper thought.

During the ensuing silence, the griffon piped up, “Then why the hell’d you come here? Surely you’d want to go somewhere nicer, like Friendship City?” She smirked at that, to which the unicorn shot her a sideways glance.

“Gwynn does bring up a point,” he added, “Why come here?”

“Well,” I replied in a more casual tone, “to be honest, at first the plan was simply to get out of the cold, restock, and figure out a real plan from there… but then we met Bernard here.” I glanced back, making eye contact with the buck standing quietly at the back, “we heard of his daughter being taken by a slaver known as ‘the Serpent,’ and that he headed this way. Put simply, we decided to help him. Nopony deserves what he’s gone through, and we can help.”

The elderly scribe shared a quick glance with the griffon he’d referred to as “Gwynn,” giving the impression that they knew something of the pony I spoke of. The buck then turned back towards us, more casually this time. “Noble intentions then, it would seem.” He stated, seeming to accept our reasoning as he returned to writing something down on the page before him. I could only imagine it was a report on us, of some sort.

“And who is your Stable friend here? Surely he wasn’t one of your ‘recon’ group.”

I glanced back. It was up to Crafter how he wished to be introduced, and he seemed to think on the question for a second, glancing from the scribe to the griffon before deciding on a response. “I’m Crafter. I was… kicked out of the Stable, and they just happened to be outside.” He paused, presumably thinking on how to summarize the events since then. “I didn’t… didn’t really know much about, well, anything out here. It kinda made sense to tag along, and they offered to take me. Whatever huge problem you have with them, they’re good ponies.” He added a smile at the end. Points for style, but it probably didn’t really phase the people before us.

I let his answer speak for me, raising a hoof in his direction as he answered. I had to admit, I was glad that the disagreement between us wasn’t bad enough to colour his overall impression.

The buck eyed him up with a hard stare. “Yes, because your view will be completely unbiased, them having saved you and all.” He sighed and shook his head. “Anyway, Stable 247, was it? Crafter, was that your whole name; And can we take note of your mark please? It’s all for census purposes, an awful lot of you leaving there in recent years.”

Crafter’s smile faded, and his confidence sagged just a bit. Still, he replied evenly, “It’s Crafter Odds… my full name, that is.” He adjusted the duster he wore, and the utility barding beneath it. It wasn’t graceful, but one could hardly expect it to be. Layers were shuffled away, revealing a cutie mark of three screws, a pair of gears, and what seemed to be a metal rod of some sort. I really shouldn’t have been surprised, considering the ubiquitous wrench he always carried easily accessible on the barding.

The older stallion noded, before returning to writing again. After a short while, it became rather clear that he had either forgotten about us, or no longer cared that we were here. He started sorting and filing paperwork. I saw the sheet that our notes were upon buried under a stack just like it.

The griffon, Gwynn, seemed to take note of this as well. She took her leave with naught but a smile and a wink as she quietly made her exit.

Shooting a look between us, Crafter whispered to seemingly anyone who might know, “Umm… what now?”

Noting his irritation, I gave a subtle cough. “So… may we enter the city?” I asked cautiously, making a conscious effort to suppress my own irritation. I’d been ignored by enough clerks to know that every now and then they needed to be jogged back to the moment.

The scribe responded without taking his eyes off his work. “I assume by that you mean Neighson, and yes you may. You’re restricted to the civilian centres for the duration of your stay. And you will be watched, so mind yourselves.”

I maintained eye contact with his forehead despite his continued disinterest. “During our travels, we’ve managed to find some items I believe would be of interest to the Steel Rangers.” I tried to make my comment sound off-hoof, but I realized that the Rangers were probably the only ponies who would be able to pay for the sword and armour we’d found at anything approaching an even trade. “The restriction to the civilian sector makes sense to me, but would we be able to at least organize a trade with a Ranger quartermaster while we’re in the Fort?”

The buck sighed and placed down his pen, clearly despairing at not being able to be rid of us so easily. Tiredly, he replied, “I’ll arrange a meeting with Star Paladin Cheesequake tomorrow afternoon. You have to go through him to gain access to the QM.” He smiled to himself, giving me the impression that he would very much like to inconvenience the Star Paladin. “You can meet with him at the reception office by the inner gate at noon tomorrow. Will that suffice?”

I nodded. We probably couldn’t expect any better. “Much appreciated,” I replied, before turning to the rest of the group. The scribe seemed to not even notice, already engrossed in his work once again. “‘Alright, now let’s find a place to stay for a couple nights… and a doctor who hopefully won’t charge hoof and wing. We could all use the rest.”

Bernard nodded his agreement, “I think I saw a few places on the way that might be an inn, we could check those.”

Fade sat up straight, seeming to have been caught almost off guard. It looked for all the world like he’d been counting the feathers that showed around the edges of his jacket. He spread his talons before him as he announced, “I know a number of places that are respectable as either a place to stay or have your wounds tended, some can do both!” Rolling his eyes up, he leveled a hand and rocked it side to side, adding, “Though it’s, ah… probably best not to mention that you’re in any way associated with or aware of my existence. At least in some of them. If you don’t wish to acquire more injuries… I’ve a bit of a reputation.”

I frowned, once again coming upon our rather dismal cap situation, specifically our distinctive lack thereof. “We’ll take whatever we can afford at this point… which isn’t much, all things considered. Cheap, understanding… anything like that?”

Fade seemed to take a moment to think on that. Rolling his shoulders, he hummed out an answer. “Well, I might know one or two places. They uh… might not be up to your standards but they will work cheap. Relatively. Just make sure you watch them at all times.” Shuffling up he gestured towards the door and asked, “But having internal injuries healed is worth far more than possibly having some less than flattering pictures taken, right? Of course! Now come along.” Without another word, he turned on his heel and headed back into the natural light.

All things considered, that sounded pretty good. I nodded my head at the thought, before realizing Fade had already turned and left. I hurriedly stowed the blanket and cantered off after him, the others falling in behind. I was caught off guard as Tailwind, apparently having overheard the griffon’s statement, cantered up beside me.

“Less than flattering pictures?” She breathed into my ear, just loud enough for me to hear, “We’ll see about that…” She trailed off with a provocative wink, before falling in behind Fade like nothing had happened.

I wore a cocky smile written all over my face as I followed, cantering out the door their wake.

Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

And so we left the Ranger office, with uncovered wings and Enclave insignia for all to see. I can’t say it was the most intelligent move I’d ever made, but what the hell. Ponies were bound to find out, and word spreading about "Enclave infiltrators" was a lot worse than "stranded pegasi."

This time, it was our turn to be the center of attention during while on the streets. Fade went all but unnoticed, as Tailwind and I were the subject of everything from paused conversations, as both parties turned to watch us, to suspicious glances and glares of outright hatred. A mother shooed her filly inside as we passed. Windows were slammed shut around us several times in the rather short trip.

At one point, we returned to one of the arterial roads. The same ponies that had largely ignored us as they went about their day unconcerned with the goings on of four ponies and a griffon suddenly found time in the day to stop and stare at the winged oddities in their midst. Where before we’d been bumped and jostled by the press of bodies along the crowded street, we now found ourselves walking in a bubble of unoccupied space. Like there was something wrong with us.

It wasn’t just the wings that made us different, I realized. We differed from the wastelanders in other, more subtle ways too, all of which only served to accentuate the gap between us and them. We were fit, unsurprising considering the Enclave’s standards in that regard — we also had the benefit of a life without want. A trim, healthy figure was not exactly the norm down here, and it would have drawn attention even if we didn’t have wings. It seemed that Chess and his daughter were something of an exception, in that regard — he must have been better off than even I realized at the time.

The stallions we passed continued to watch long after we had moved on, some with veiled hostility, others with guarded interest. Most didn’t even bother to hide their intent, pointing Tailwind and myself out to their friends as if we were some sort of exotic prize to be won, even while we were still in earshot. I realized Ossea’s reaction probably should have been an early indicator that something like this would happen, but I still wasn’t exactly prepared for it.

The mares’ reactions, on the other hoof, were often outright hostile. I don’t know if we made them feel… threatened, I suppose, or if the attraction element simply wasn’t there. Regardless, we received the most open hatred from the mares of Neighson, usually in the form of dagger-eyed glares.

Word must have been passed electronically, because every Ranger we saw along the way didn’t seem to pay us too much heed, but I knew they saw us — our group wasn’t exactly subtle, after all. However, their implicit acceptance of us being in Neighson was at least enough to placate anypony who might think of acting on their feelings towards us. The Rangers sheltered them, but they also kept them in line when they had to — though their individual feelings towards us were likely as varied as the civilians we encountered.

Having been quiet for the walk, Fade abruptly turned his head to look my way as we neared the wall. “Not much further now,” he affirmed, “end of the street, round a building, in the wall. Then you can get fixed up.” Fade paused for a moment as his eyes strayed. We kept walking, but eventually he looked back and spoke up again. “It's probably best to get out of the public eye for a bit as well. Not sure if you’re exhibitionists, but this is getting rather sordid. The Rangers might tolerate the pair of you, but the rest are less forgiving when public enemy number two appears to be strolling through town."

Well, at least that means Red Eye is hated more than we are. It’s not much, but I’ll take it.

I was relieved at the prospects of both healing and of getting off the street for a while. Even if his tone wasn't exactly appreciated, he had a point — we weren't making any friends walking around in the open. It really hadn’t occurred to me just what sort of reaction we’d get out of the civilians simply from being there. I nodded my assent as I following in his wake, though my thoughts were elsewhere.

The distance bled away quickly. Soon, we wove our way between a pair of buildings and came upon a reinforced steel door at the end of a short alley, built into the outer wall itself. On it was the trio of butterflies, still the most universal indicator of medical care even after the apocalypse. Fade stopped, grinding his beak as he stared at the door, seemingly in thought. Coming to a decision, he turned to me again, this time with instructions. “Knock twice, wait three seconds, knock again. Explain exactly what you need and all should be well.” He shifted where he stood, glancing back at the rusted steel portal before adding, “It’s probably best if I hang back for this.”

Crafter piped up, ever the inquisitive one. “If you hang back? What did you do?” he asked, tilting his head in a quizzical fashion.

I could see the conflict written on the griffon’s face. He didn’t want to tell.

If I let him respond, he’ll just evade the question anyways… best to keep him on our good side, at least.

I stepped forward, placing a cautionary hoof on Crafter’s shoulder. “He’ll tell us if he wants to,” I chided lightly, giving him a pointed look. “And we aren’t going to pry into his private business. He’s earned that much by volunteering to be our guide.” Turning back to Fade, I added, “Though I’m sure he wouldn’t lead us into anything too untowards, considering the trust we’ve placed in him.”

Crafter nodded, slightly abashed. It seemed like it hadn’t particularly occurred to him that it might be a touchy subject.

Having brought up the rear, Bernard had just caught up to the rest of us when he gave Fade a skeptical look and asked, “This is a doctor, right?”

The griffon let out a small sigh before looking back to Bernard and answering, “Yes, this is a doctor. His name is Blood Clot, and his work will suit your needs — it’s not like I’m leading you off to some abattoir.” Continuing, he turned to me, “It might not be as clean and… upstanding as what you’re used to but it will be the best I can offer for what you can afford. You have my word on that.” Still in the same breath, he addressed Crafter finally. “You’d be wise to heed Miss Snap Roll’s advice. You’ll learn far more by listening than asking out here in the Wasteland.” That said, he gestured in the vicinity of behind me and bowed his head, asking, “Now, might I? If you want as little hassle as possible, you’ll let me bring up the rear.”

I replied with a nod, cantering past Fade and rapping a hoof on the rather ominous looking door as he assumed the position at the rear. Two knocks, a pause, one more. I took a half step back, waiting for a response.

For a moment, there was nothing. Just as I was about to assume nopony was home, I could hear a faint shuffling from behind the door. Considering the door’s sturdiness, I had to assume that whatever was going on inside had to be rather loud for us to hear it at all. However, as quickly as the noise started, it stopped again. Silence reigned for a few moments, before the bolts on the door rotated and the whole mechanism swung open to reveal a rather put-out looking unicorn stallion framed by the entryway. He had a blue-grey coat, not unlike aged concrete. A golden mane and tail — both cut short and brushed back stiffly — accentuated a square jaw set below narrowed eyes the colour of rust.

Staring down his muzzle at the assemblage of ponies now outside the door, his scowl deepened. He seemed to be on the fence on whether he wanted to slam the door on us, pick a fight, or actually greet us. In a clipped tone, he asked, “Why are you here?” His tone was put-out, as if we’d interrupted something he obviously considered more important than potential clients.

“Three of us need medical attention,” I replied with a toss of my head towards my companions. “One definitely broken leg, one sprain or possible fracture, two broken ribs, and one set of partially healed-” I grimaced at yet another twinge of pain from my midriff. “-internal injuries. We were recommended to your establishment under the impression that we could come to an… agreement to acquire the medical care we need.” I put an ambiguous inflection on the word. Fade had mentioned ‘unflattering pictures,’ but I still wasn’t sure the connotation of such.

He stared at Tailwind and myself scrutinizingly as I spoke, sparing only a cursory glance at the rest of the party. Visibly shifting his jaw, the stallion flicked his eyes away for a second before returning them to myself, his expression somewhat more relaxed. “Very well. You’ll receive aid on my conditions and price,” he stated. I imagine that would normally be a question, but the way he said it left no opening for discussion. “Treatment is one hundred seventy-five caps down payment. Additionally, you and your lover will provide me with anatomical references of pegasi, prior to any treatment. It’s hard to get accurate images of your kind when they always come to me in varying states of disassembly. Any complications will cost extra. Is this clear?”

I flushed, my voice initially angry, “My-” I caught myself, realizing that his rather asinine assumption was completely correct. “Well… yeah.” I sheepishly glanced back at Tailwind, whom responded only with a playful smile and a flick of her tail.

I don’t even need to ask, do I.

Looking back at the stallion, I asked, “Why do you need the pictures before the operation?”

Giving me a look that made me think I should have known better, he replied, “Because otherwise you could simply try and leave after the treatment. Not that you’d get far, what with the door and all, but I’d rather not go through the hassle.”

“Ahh, right.” I replied. I thought about that for a few seconds before nodding my head. “Your terms are quite clear. We agree.” Reaching into my saddlebags and fishing around for a bit, I pulled out a frag grenade and several of the combat knives that had once been part of a certain ‘Sickle of Deadly Deathness.’ Someone would probably have paid more for it intact, but I still feel no remorse about destroying the weapon. Fuck that thing. “We don’t have any caps, so to speak… are these sufficient down payment?”

The stallion remained motionless for a moment before letting out a slow, almost pained sigh and rubbing his temple with a forehoof. “I should have figured you couldn’t actually pay,” he muttered as he gave his head a shake. “Though I can get a better price for those at sale than you could. Or they might serve useful if any of our arrangements should change.” Glowering for a moment, he then turned and briskly trotted down a narrow passage into the sparse concrete room beyond, calling back, “Last one in, close the hatch. Don’t need any more contaminants getting in than what you’re carrying already.” Once he was in the adjacent room, he stood by yet another hatch, instructing, “Leave all your equipment here. Nothing gets through to the next area.

I followed with a quizzical expression as I began to disrobe and dump my saddlebags and equipment by one of the walls. As the others followed me in, I wasn’t sure if I should have been impressed or worried by the fact that he had an impromptu airlock securing what seemed like a simple medical center. Taking up the rear, Bernard closed the heavy door behind us.

“Huh,” Crafter commented as he started pulling off his layers of clothing. “He likes to keep things clean. He must be good.” He wore a slight smile, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him that there were decent odds that the doctor before us wasn’t… entirely on the level.

I finished pulling the last of my barding over my head, placing it in a neat pile on my saddlebags. “Keeping a clinic properly sanitized seems to be quite the feat on the surface, what with the dirt being everywhere,” I quipped back idly.

Having returned from closing the door, Bernard started disrobing as well. “You get used to it, radiation kills most germs anyways.” He finished by placing his rifle reverently on top of the kit pile. “How much you figure we’ll have left after this? I’d like to get some new springs for the trigger mech.”

Running a hoof over my beloved energy pistol resting on top of my own saddlebags, I replied, “That depends on how much we can manage to get from selling the higher ticket items to the Rangers. Could be a decent amount, could be barely enough to get by. I’m honestly not sure.” Glancing back up at him, I added, “Getting Tailwind’s and my own barding winterized takes priority right behind acquiring food, but I’ll see what we can do about getting everyone a little something while we’re here.”

Tailwind had been content to watch the conversation as she did likewise with her own barding and equipment, giving her long mane a quick swish after she was finished. Having seen Crafter’s eyes light up upon hearing about the acquiring of things, she affirmed, “Yes Crafter, that means you too.”

The tan buck glanced around us, commenting wistfully, “I could use a new screwdriver…” He seemed to give that a few seconds of thought, before adding, “A cross-slotted one, actually.” He gave a nod, as if the entirety of his earthly wants would be satisfied with that purchase. There were no words, and I found myself having to reconsider just what sort of ascetic life Crafter actually lived.

Surprising just about everyone in the room, our griffon companion piped up, “This ‘everyone’ doesn’t happen to include me does it? I’m not exactly getting paid to tote around with you.” All eyes in the room were drawn to Fade, who seemed to realize his error a split second after the words had left his mouth. He slapped a talon over his beak and tried desperately to shrink behind Bernard, who gave him a look that pretty much conveyed, ‘He’s unarmed and I’m much smaller than you.’

Having previously taken to examining one hoof and tapping the other impatiently, the doctor before us sharply turned about as he spotted the least equine member of the party huddled behind Bernard. He rounded on me, anger burning in his gaze as he jabbed a hoof in the direction of our resident cat-bird. “You brought THAT with you?! What’s your real purpose here?! What lies have you told me?!”

I sputtered, glancing from the doctor to Fade a couple times before settling on glaring at Fade. “Everfree winds! What?! He’s… Fade! I thought you were going to… Oh, nevermind.” Turning back to Blood Clot, I pointed a wing directly at his chest, rounding on him in a manner that was slightly more pissed off than actually angry. “I’ll have you know that this griffon recommended you to us for medical care! Of all the establishments he could have sent us to, he suggested you. I don’t know what your prior dealings with him were, but he clearly came out of them with the impression that you do a bang up job at the end of the day!”

Please actually have good judgement and not have solely gone off our price range…

“We’re here for medical care, nothing more. We’ve already agreed on terms, and Tailwind and I will gladly pay up when the time comes. Now lets just keep up your end of the bargain, eh?”

The doctor leaned back some at the wing being brandished at him, splitting his attention between Fade and myself. Once I’d finished, he stepped forwards, seizing the nearest primary feathers in a light magical aura and moving them aside, rebuking in a slightly less angry tone, “What has he done? It goes without saying he wouldn’t have shared that little story! Well let me sum it up for you: the first time I laid eyes on that feathered sod he was being dragged out of a snow storm by Rangers, blathering nonsense and bleeding all over the place! They ordered me to take care of him, and what do I get for my services? He wakes up only to throw a fit and demolish half my equipment!” Taking a breath, he stepped back and let out a slow sigh, turning his eyes to glare at Fade, before continuing almost calmly, “The most important thing, however, is that he ruined a terminal that contained all of the research data I had collected over the past four years. All of it gone in an instant, and he just claimed that ‘He didn’t know who he was, or where he was.’ I figured he was just trying to avoid my fee, so I chased him out of here with a cloud of scalpels.” Looking down, he ran a hoof through his mane and collected himself before looking my way again, steel in his voice. “Despite… this, I will hold to my word and treat you. However, my fee will have to be renegotiated.”

At “cloud of scalpels” a shudder ran through me as I realized that the bloody unicorns could do it, too. How horrifying. Shaking my head to rid myself of the mental image, I replied with a smile, “You did say that the down payment we’ve already given you was worth more than enough to cover the base fee.”

Tailwind looked skeptically at the doctor before sidling up beside me and piping up, “Um, Stable-tec terminals have back up contingencies. So you know, saboteurs couldn’t just smash up a screen…” She trailed off.

I raised an eyebrow. We might have an edge.

Making a ‘tsk’ noise with his mouth, Blood Clot replied as he returned his glare to me, “I also said that any complications would hike the fee. Never did I say they had to be medical in nature.” Rolling his jaw, the stallion nodded towards Fade. “And he most definitely counts as a complication. However, I am reasonable and I’m sure we can work out something.” Not leaving room for a rebuttal, he moved on to addressing Tailwind’s point, giving her an appraising look before responding, “I’m well aware of Stable-tec’s robust designs. However, I highly doubt they counted on a high concentration of medicinal alcohol being doused over the working components. That and fire. The mongrel was rather… inadvertently thorough.” Shooting Fade another venomous look, he took a moment before letting out a sigh and moving to the door. “Might as well get this calamity over with,” the stallion muttered, his horn glowing a pale blue as a series of metallic clangs emanated from the far side of the second door.

Not liking being talked down to, especially by someone who clearly didn’t share her own… ah… lust for mechanical systems, let alone data recovery, Tailwind coughed out a rebuttal, “If a terminal data core can survive a direct hit from a ninety-millimeter rocket, then I think it would survive you spilling your tea on it, Doctor.”

Having followed the discourse to that point, Crafter’s head had been on a swivel during the back-and-forth of the conversation. Curiously, he turned to Fade and asked, “Why’d you destroy half his stuff? Seems unnecessary…” He most certainly had a way of asking Fade questions that clearly made him uncomfortable, I had to give him that.

Swiveling his head, Fade replied as he wrung his talons together. After having his beak open for long enough for it to begin to feel awkward, he simply said, “I don’t know — well, remember. I was panicked, I think. The Doc seems to know more than I do. That whole period is a little… fuzzy.”

Seeing the conversation splitting, I focused on Tailwind and the doctor, speaking in a diplomatic tone. “Doctor, Tailwind here is quite the technical specialist. She could give a shot at getting your data retrieved in exchange for a… discount if she succeeds, perhaps enough to cover any complications? She can’t possibly break it any more than you think it already is. If the terminal turns out as broken as you believe it is-” which I didn’t believe for a second “-we’ll pay in goods and services just the same.” I finished with a confident grin, “Sound like a deal?”

The doctor seemed to be resisting the urge to bang his head against the steel slab. Hissing through his teeth, he seemed desperate to try and push the situation forwards. “Fine! If she can recover the data then payment is square with what we discussed. I may also decide not to hold your flea-bitten guide as a test subject. Now can we please move along or do you have any more surprises for me?!”

Glancing at, in turn, Tailwind, Bernard, Crafter and Fade, I turn back to the doctor before replying, “I think we’re good. No surprises here…” I trailed off with a completely inconspicuous whistle, for added effect.

A curt “good” was his only response. There was another flash of magic, and a mechanical hum emanated from somewhere. A few seconds later, the door began swinging quietly inwards. Now visible, the next space seemed to be a sparsely decorated and not often used waiting room. Multiple hallways branched off of it in cardinal directions. Stepping through the door, the doctor simply stated, “Follow as instructed. I’m going to set up an exam room. Get situated and don’t touch anything. The door will close once you’re in.” With that, he trotted off, leaving the group alone in the nearly empty expanse of concrete, aside from a few benches.

We filed in behind him, making ourselves as comfortable as we could on the benches provided. For my part, I took a seat opposite Bernard as I watched the remainder of the group filter through the door. I waited for my target to cross the threshold, the griffon peering dubiously up at the door frame, as if it were boobie trapped or something, before he scooted inside as the door to swung shut with a hiss and a muffled ‘thud.’ He then tried to cross the room as nonchalantly as possible, getting about three steps before I decided to speak the question pressing on most of our minds.

“So Fade, memory loss?” I asked, having waited until he was, at least somewhat, cornered. “Considering how hard you avoid pissing off anyone too important, I imagine that wasn’t just an excuse for trashing the doctor’s clinic.” I rested my head on a foreleg thoughtfully. “I’m not wanting to pry if you don’t feel comfortable talking about it, but if you would like us to help you’re going to have to be honest with us.”

He cringed, avoiding meeting my eyes, and seated himself beside Tailwind and myself before he spoke up. Wringing his talons together, he started off hesitantly, “Ah. You heard that then? Sūdi, es ceru, lai izvairītos no šo... No use in denying it now it seems... It’s.. ahh...memory loss of a sort, I suppose. I’m no doctor. I don’t know what to call it. Everything is still there, you see. Or, I think it is. Might not be mine but it seems likely it is.” He trailed off, squinting and scratching his cheek as he decided how to properly describe the topic that he clearly wasn’t comfortable with.

I gave him time. I wanted to know if it would be an issue, true, but I might also be able to help shed some light on the situation.

“What seem like all the right pieces are there but they are out of order and not… connected. It’s like riding a conveyor through a hall of moving pictures, all behind glass; no sensation, no sound,” he explained. He hesitated, seemingly surprised at the mental image he’d just provided. He glanced up finally, looking like he was surveying the various reactions around the room.

I nodded thoughtfully as he concluded. “Sounds an awful lot like a form of dissociative amnesia.” Seeing Tailwind’s look of feigned surprise and sharp intake of breath — presumably at my use of big words — I pointed a hoof at her, “Hey! I stayed awake for the medical lectures at least!” Returning to addressing Fade, I continued, “Anyways, in the Enclave, we’ve documented a few cases of a similar nature, occasionally after troopers have gone through the VI system…” I paused for a moment, staring off into space as I tried to recall what I could of the relatively obscure topic.

“Typically, it happens after particularly traumatizing experiences while out of body, so to speak. That, or receiving massive head trauma.” I gave the griffon an appraising glance. “Not to make a dig at your character, but I wouldn’t rule out the trauma, especially considering how you first met the doctor here… but assuming that wasn’t what caused it, might you have encountered some form of mentally altering magic? A memory orb, perhaps?”

Crafter glanced my way. “Memory orb…?” He asked hesitantly, having been following reasonably well to that point.

Tailwind leaned forward, giving Crafter an understanding expression. “Oh, you wouldn’t have encountered those in a Stable, would you? Memory orbs are small, glass-like orbs, about yea big.” She described an object about the size of a small spark cell with her hooves. “They are designed to store and playback specific memories. With the right know how, a unicorn can transfer memories from a host into the orbs themselves, and view them herself by simply reaching out to the orb with magic.” She paused for a moment, before adding, “Though in Fade’s case, or anypony who isn’t a unicorn, he would have needed a device called a ‘recollector’ to do what you can do naturally.” She adopted a mild chiding tone, “Just make sure not to activate one on a whim. The memories themselves playback in real-time, so if it’s a long memory…” She smiled, “Though I’m sure you wouldn’t do that. Just making sure.”

Crafter gave a small nod, eyes widening for a second at the thought of living someone else’s memory. “Yeah, I would never,” he reaffirmed, looking for all the world like he was incredibly grateful someone had told him before he did exactly that.

Fade had been listening intently to my assessment, and had used Crafter’s interruption to settle himself where he sat. He shifted his wings and cleared his throat when he was ready to interject. He raised a talon, regarding me with a small smirk. “No, there wasn’t any head trauma. Though thank you for the vote of confidence in my being smashed on the head.” Pausing for a moment, he rocked his head side to side and stared at the floor before admitting, “Your second guess however, sounds right in theory. At least I think it does — as far as I ‘remember,’” he made air quotes at that, “The Doc mentioned something about magical ‘feedback’ — whatever that is — right after I came to, before my little episode.” Sitting back, he gestured at… well, all of him, then shrugged. “So that’s how we got all of this.”

Taking that in, I nodded in non verbal acknowledgement before frowning just a little. “The downside of it being a mental injury is that there isn’t anything I can do.” I flared my wings just a little, as a subconscious reminder that I couldn’t do the same kind of medical work as a unicorn. Still a little jealous about that. “Though even if I had access to magic, I’d hesitate to try and muddle around in thoughts. What I can suggest though, is that you’re referring to your memories like a puzzle, and I’m sure you’ve tried, but try to find the most recent memories and work backwards. Sort of like forming the borders, or edges, of the puzzle.” As I spoke, my hooves demonstrated the rough construction of a square in the air before me, starting with the outsides. “You need to find a couple memories that you know for a fact are yours, then things can begin falling into place.”

As I spoke, his talons began to intertwine. He was listening more intently than I’d ever seen him, and it was good to see that my insight might be useful. Moving to respond, he glanced down to see that his talons were tangled together. He scowled at their apparent rebellion before freeing them from each other, and setting them on the floor for safekeeping. He replied as if nothing had just happened, “I wouldn’t ask you to try regardless of resources, miss.” He gave his head a slow shake, “Though your suggestion is reasonable. It makes definite sense, though I question it’s effectiveness at this point. Perhaps if I had slotted things right away it would work… but now? It’s been years.” He paused and took a breath, rolling his neck. “What I would like to know,” he started cautiously, “is how you think an orb could do all of this. If you have any idea.”

My frown deepened. That was close to the point at which my admittedly theoretical knowledge pretty much dried up. “Well, when we’ve seen it in the Enclave, like I said has usually been with users of the VI system. Those symptoms were caused by complications when they experienced dying through the not-exactly-perfect system, usually in particularly painful ways.” A slight shudder ran through my hooves. There were some bad memories there. Summing up, I hastily added, “Or something along those lines. To get that from a memory orb…” I raised my forehooves in a shrug, concluding, “I honestly don’t know.”

The griffon leaned back, letting out a short “Ah” of understanding, while drumming his claws on the concrete. Near silence hung for about a minute before he let out a sigh and gave me an appreciative smile, “I couldn’t expect you to know. The advice and insight you’ve given is more affirming than anything I’ve yet had. So for that, I thank you.” Bowing his head low, he placed a talon on his chest and stopped just shy of his beak touching the ground. It seemed a slightly odd maneuver to do while sitting, but he was evidently quite flexible. When he rose again, he grinned at Tailwind and I. “You lot are better than the rest. Might be because you’ve got feathers. Should’ve known when I met you.”

Deliberately sidestepping the implication that Bernard and Crafter weren’t included in that, Tailwind replied happily, “Well, we’re awfully glad to have met you too, Fade.”

I responded simply, “You saved my life. I don’t plan to forget that.”

Not long after our discussion had ended, the doctor returned heralded by the sound of approaching hooves clattering down the hallway. Muttering to himself, he stopped halfway into the room and looked up with what I could only assume was his typical scowl. “All of you with the broken bones, go down to the third door on the right. I’ll see to you shortly,” he instructed with a toss of his head to gesture down the hall. Jabbing a hoof towards me, he followed up with, “You two, pegasi, follow me.” He turned back the way he’d come before apparently remembering Fade’s existence, casting his ireful gaze at the oh-so-innocuous looking griffon. “Don’t touch anything.” Was his only comment.

Crafter and Bernard headed to the indicated room, while Tailwind and I followed him deeper into the wall itself, before stopping in front of a door as nondescript metal-grey as the rest of the doors we’d passed. As the door swished open, we realized that he hadn’t been kidding when he said he wanted pictures for anatomical reference. The room was kitted out for everything from normal cameras to x-ray, and that was just what I could identify. I suspected one of the machines was for thermal mapping, but that was a guess as much as anything.

As the door shut behind us, I had to admit that despite everything, he really did just want anatomical pictures from Tailwind and myself.

Over the course of the next half hour or so, Blood Clot must have taken dozens of pictures of each of us. Wings spread, wings folded, legs, barrel, teeth, and anything else he could think of, it seemed. It felt a little violating when he took more… intimate pictures, but the fact that he maintained the same clinical expression throughout was probably what made me the most uneasy. He took colour photos, black and white, as well as having each of us stand on a full body x-ray machine. He seemed fascinated with our bone structure, and not in the coy way I’d normally say that — but in our bones themselves. I was aware that their composition was different from earth ponies and unicorns, but it had never occurred to me that somepony could be so obsessed with it.

As he finished the last of the x-ray pictures, he gave a long look over a screen, presumably where they were being previewed. WIth a satisfied nod, he finally addressed me. “There, we’re done. That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” The condescension was back in full force. “You, the injured one, come with me. I’ll have to see what kind of a mess you’ve made of yourself before I know how to proceed.” Turning to Tailwind, he added, “Before you say anything, no, you may not join us now. Once we’re done, I will let you in to see your partner.” Finished with his instructions, he moved to the door and glanced back at us impatiently.

I met Tailwind’s gaze with what I hoped passed for a reassuring look, her stance on the matter of being present during the operation quite clear from her expression. Her frown lessened just a little at my reassurance, and I was met with a nod of affirmation. “Lets just get this over with,” I said, giving Tailwind a quick embrace and another reassurance that everything would be fine. Blood Clot responded with an irritated huff, making it quite clear that he considered the reassurances either frivolous or unnecessary.

Fuck him, we’re already paying.

Breaking from the embrace, her worried expression had diminished, but wasn’t gone entirely. “I’ll see what I can do about his stupid terminal in the meantime,” she replied. It was good to see she’d have something to occupy her time, at least. I foresaw Crafter’s en-PipBucked leg being borrowed sometime in the near future.

With a parting glance, I turned to follow Blood Clot into his prepared scanning chamber. I’m not sure what I expected, but what I found myself in was a largely bare, whitewashed room with a set of locked cabinets full of medical supplies. Just off of center of the room sat a chair designed to recline into what would serve as an operating table. The cabinets themselves seemed to have been pressed into service to hold the supplies. Judging from the size and spacing of them, I guessed that this room might once have been a weapons locker, which meant that the entire clinic might well have been an armoury once upon a time. I noted that his supplies were a little below what Chess had, in terms of both quality and quantity.

I fluttered myself onto the chair as the glow of magic surrounded the unicorn’s horn. He closed the door behind us and reclined the chair to a position almost parallel to the ground, and I felt my spine give a few soft pops in sympathy. At least it was comfortable

Without ceremony, Blood Clot leaned over me as his horn once again flared to life, the feeling of magic actively scanning me feeling like a mild itch all over my body. Coming from him, I almost wanted to make an attempt at modesty, though it would be in vain — he wasn’t even interested in that way, though the thought did nothing to dispel my discomfort. Despite the unusual feeling, I found myself feeling envious of the medical applications of unicorn magic. Just a little. I consoled myself with the fact that regardless of magical ability, when it really mattered in combat, speed and skill were the deciding factors of survival. My own recent brush with death reinforced that mindset.

The doctor ran his horn up and down my body, moving his head carefully and deliberately. His personality was abrasive, but he did maintain a professional air about his work, especially with his attention to detail. Abruptly, he listed out a train of notes that made me grimace as he did, “Right upper torso, recently healed bite wound. Lower torso, bullet wound, mostly healed. High calibre. Exit wound…” He moved to my other side, seeing the star-shaped scar, mostly covered by my coat. “Hunting round?” He asked, prompting me to nod in response before he continued his questioning. “What medical care were you given?”

“Med-X, first. Then we stopped the bleeding by topically applying a healing potion and packing the wound with healing bandage while applying direct pressure.” I replied evenly. Clinically. “Then, orally ingested a second healing potion. The bite wound was healed in the latter process.”

He nodded in response, raising a hoof to his chin in thought. “The first aid saved your life, though you need additional treatment. There is still some internal bleeding. I assume you are aware that there is little I can do if there was anything improperly healed by the potion?”

I grimaced again, but nodded.

“Then lets get started…” He said, as a healing potion and a set of surgical instruments levitated themselves over to the operating table. His horn glowed, and I felt as if a bubble burst on my forehead, spreading warmth throughout my body as the anaesthetic spell began to take hold. The world became very fuzzy, and I drifted away into an induced sleep I was all too happy to embrace.

*** *** ***

I blinked my eyes open, and was greeted by the unfortunate sight of waking up to Blood Clot rather than Tailwind, standing over my body as I remained at rest on the operating table.

“Well, I have good news.” He declared, his tone of voice almost disinterested. “The operation was a success. Your internal organs are no longer bleeding all over themselves. Unfortunately, you will have that scar for the rest of your life, however long that may be.” He levitated the last of the instruments he’d used, dropping them into what seemed (from the smell anyways) to be an alcohol immersion, presumably for cleaning and later disinfectant. The now-empty bottle of a healing potion sat off to one side.

“However.”

My heart dropped into my hooves as he continued his assessment, absently looking at a clipboard that had apparently been written on while I’d been out.

No no no…

“The bullet tore through your womb. It had filled with blood and torn tissue, presumably at the time you drank the healing potion.” The blood drained from my face as he continued, not seeming to notice. “While it undoubtedly saved your life, you will not be having foals.” His words dripped with thinly veiled condescension. “Something which I’m sure there was no danger of at any rate, considering your relationship with the unnecessarily worried mare waiting impatiently outside.”

His assumption that because I was in a relationship with Tailwind, I therefore did not want foals was as understandable as it was false — even from a wastelander’s perspective. Many in the Enclave gave up on the notion of having foals, seeing it as too much of an investment of time and effort for the documentation involved. Despite the privilege of having an additional foal granted for military service, most of the Enclave military weren’t able to take advantage of the incentive for a good long while. For Tailwind and I, with our combined salaries we would have been able to afford it — but with the amount of time we’d be forced away with various taskings, building a family simply wasn’t viable for the time being. In part, that was why the Enclave encouraged homosexual relationships. It scratched the itch, while keeping the issue of unwanted pregnancy out of the question. Neat and tidy, as it were.

I had always hoped that one day I would be able to have a foal, even just one. I’d once thought that Nosedive might have made a good father, but I’d come to accept the finality of how that ended, even if I still hadn’t properly mourned his death. Being stranded in the Wasteland, I’d even begun to consider the possibility that maybe, just maybe, I could have had a foal down here — only to have my hopes dashed not a week since finding myself stuck here.

To put it simply, all of that — all of my plans for the future — were forced to be reconciled with the reality I found myself in, all at once.

I basically shut down. On that operating table in some sky-forsaken hole-in-the-wall medical facility, I hugged my forehooves to my chest. My breathing was shallow, and I was probably staring right past Blood Clot. He had ceased to register to me, for the time being. For his part, he paid me no heed — medically, I was just fine, after all. As he finished the menial post-operation clean up, he opened the metal door and stepped out. I heard muted voices from outside, and the mare I wanted — needed — to see the most in the world stepped through the door.

Stepping tentatively through the doorway, Tailwind shot a quick glance at the departing doctor before addressing me. “Hey Snap...” She said, concern evident in her voice. “How'd it go?” She had clearly picked up that all was most certainly not well.

My heart leapt to see her, despite the news I'd have to tell her. “He... he did good,” I replied distantly, “It doesn't hurt anymore.” I lightly pressed a hoof to my stomach. Then I met her eyes. Those big, beautiful emerald orbs, gazing into my own. I felt myself tearing up. “But... h-he said I can't have kids, Tail,” I managed to choke out. “The bullet, it...” I trailed off, unable to finish.

She trotted over as I spoke, and once I brought up the outcome she gasped in shock and surprise. Then, she threw her hooves around me in a tight hug, cradling my head in the nook of her shoulder. “I'm here love, I'm here,” she whispered into my ear, her soft words of comfort washing over me.

As she held me, I felt... safe. Safe enough to soak her sky blue coat with tears. My body was wracked with sobs as I clutched her to me like I'd never let her go. I certainly didn't want to. For a long while, she was there, petting my mane as I let it all out. In between tearful sobs, I found myself asking, “Why us, Tail? Why'd all this have to happen to us?”

Still holding me close, she whispered back, “I don't know. I think everypony asks that of themselves at some point, though.”

“We had a plan...” I sobbed, “Find the right buck, settle down and raise a family... the three of us. It's all gone so wrong!”

“Shh...” she cooed, “We'll figure something out. I know you wanted to be the one but I could still carry our foal. We can still have that family we talked about.”

I backed out of her shoulder, keeping us at hoof's length for the moment. “Sorry, I... you're right.” I wiped my eyes on one of my fetlocks, brushing away the tears still lingering there. “We still can, and we will,” I affirmed, leaning forward to brush our lips together in a light kiss.

She leaned into me, and for a few blissful moments, I managed to forget the troubles that plagued us.

As she released me, I looked up to see Crafter and Bernard, silhouetted in the doorway. I didn’t think they’d heard our conversation, but they were looking inwards wearing expressions of concern. It looked like Blood Clot had found the time to treat them while I was out, too.

The sentiment made me happy, but I most certainly wasn’t looking forward to the inevitable questions.

Speaking of which, there was one left for me to ask. “Hey Tailwind, so what did end up coming of Blood Clot’s research data?

Surprisingly, she glanced away. If I didn’t know better, I might have thought she was ashamed of something. “I recovered it; wasn’t even hard.” She said in a quiet voice. “We’re paid up.”

With more than enough already weighing on my mind, I dismissed the thought. If she didn’t want to talk about it, I probably didn’t want to know. Together, we cantered out the door to rejoin the others.

Crafter spoke up first, his limitless optimism almost bringing a tear to my eye. “How’d it go? Are you all better?”

Not exactly, Crafter…

I resigned myself to the uncomfortable task of explaining my own rather intimate injury with a sad sigh, stepping out of the operating room. “Well, remember when Fade gave me that healing potion?” I began, as the door swished shut behind Tailwind and myself. At least it rid us of the nauseatingly sterile scent of the medical alcohol.

“Some wounds just don’t heal right.”

*** *** ***

True to his word, Blood Clot let us leave unmolested by the dreaded cloud of scalpels he had alluded to before. He even seemed pleased with Tailwind’s work. There was no further talk of payment, and I was perfectly happy to leave it at that. We recovered our gear, and made our way out the airlock and into the open air once again.

I must have been out for a while, because once again the sky was starting to darken and the cold set in. By and large, the streets were cleared except for ponies headed towards warm fires and safe hearths. All except the Rangers, who still stood watch upon the walls. Keeping everypony safe, even us. That got a lot of respect from me.

Despite Tailwind having calmed me down, I was still something of a mess. Bernard took it upon himself to find us a place to sleep, and I followed along in a bit of a fugue. My legs were moving, but my mind was on autopilot. We passed by streets, intersections, alleys -- none of them stuck. For once, I would have been in trouble if I’d had to do something as simple as recount the path we’d taken. Eventually, we came upon a two story building that some part of my brain recognized as having seen earlier. Without ceremony, we went inside, huddled deep into our barding from the cold air.

Not much of the place he ended up choosing registered with me at the time, but it had a warm fire going and a series of private rooms available. Bernard bartered on our behalf, and it was his caps that were parted with. Tailwind and I soon had a room all to ourselves, and it wasn’t long before I found myself snuggled up beside her on an actual mattress. It was old, but compared to where we had been sleeping the last couple nights, it might as well have been a cloud bed for all I cared.

With Tailwind already snoring beside me and the soft sounds of our companions getting settled in on the other side of the wooden wall that separated us, my tired eyes closed on another day in the wasteland. It was, thankfully, a dreamless sleep.

Author's Note

I think I need to start adjusting my time estimates to be more along the lines of a chapter every month and a half. Still, I don't think this one took too long, all things considered. And considering the content of the last quarter, it would have given that time of year an even more... unfortunate air.

Anyways, big thanks to the editing team, or "Legion of Doom" as they've been referred to of late - Belmor, Plain, Personal Gamer, Jetwave and Cpt Doel. There were definitely some fiddly bits in this one.

Comments and/or criticism are always welcome, I always love to hear what you guys think of what I write. I do read every comment, even if sometimes it takes me a long time to respond.

Chapter 08: Fort Neighson (part two)

Chapter Eight: Fort Neighson (Part 2)

The few grey shafts of light that managed to filter through the blinds were what woke me – Not any timing, nor any sense of necessity. Not the need to keep moving or risk running out of food… It had to be the latest I’d slept in months, if not longer. It felt good.

Stretching my legs, I found them wrapped tightly around the pale blue mare I was sharing a blanket with. Careful not to wake her, I nuzzled further into Tailwind’s mane. She smelled of sweat, dirt, and everything else we’d encountered in the last week – but I didn’t care. Beneath it all was the mare who managed to remind me why I still force myself out of bed every morning.

Well, every morning but that one.

Cracking an eye open, I cast an inquisitive gaze around the room. It was a stark affair, with bare metal walls aside from a wooden divider separating our “room” from the rest of the group. Old, musty carpet covered the floor, providing at least one layer of insulation from the bare metal that peeked through in thin spots. We’d apparently arranged to have mattresses, which probably explained why I managed to sleep as long as I did. I relished the slow wake-up, taking the time to bask in the warmth of the building, the blanket… Tailwind.

Naturally, it wasn’t to last.

From the other side of the wall, I could hear Crafter slowly rousing himself. An audible gurgle met my ears, and he let out a sigh. “I’m getting hungry… is it really that late already?”

I glanced around, finding that the divider was designed to slide to the side – it was currently giving Tailwind and I what privacy we had. Pawing at it with a hoof, I managed to get it to slide halfway open. Enough for me to see into the other room, anyways. Crafter had partially extricated himself from his bedsheets, though they still draped about his shoulders like a silly looking, dingy, flower-patterned cape. Fade seemed to be staring at the carpet in the third corner of the room, right where I had slid the divider beside; he didn't seem to be registering the existence of the world around him. Finally, Bernard was leaning up against the far wall, reading a book I hadn't previously seen him with – I assumed he'd acquired it in the past day.

Having gotten my bearings, I replied to Crafter, “I wasn’t all there after…” I grimaced. No, still not good to think about that, not yet. “...the operation,” I shakily finished, eager to change the topic. “Did we actually make plans for breakfast?”

Bernard looked up from his book. “They said breakfast was covered in the tab. Don’t know what’s in it, but he said we’d have enough to hold us over.”

Fade startled me by craning his neck around to look at us, not moving from his position in the corner adjacent to Bernard’s. “‘Not all there’ is a bit of an understatement, miss. You were a bit…” He looked at me for a few seconds, seemingly mulling over his choice of wording. “Disoriented, at the time. As for food, everyone will get something, though how much you can trust it, I can’t say. If anyone is so inclined, I can offer one of you the alternative of trail food. Let me stress one of you.”

I rolled out of Tailwind’s embrace, the wing she had wrapped around me falling limply to the bedspread as I sat up. “Alright Tailwind, it would seem that it’s time to wake up after all.”

She blinked, shielding her eyes from the offending off-light coming from the window. “Why do mornings always have to start with waking up?” She moaned.

With a tolerating sigh, I replied as I brushed the blankets off of the two of us. “Because you need to wake up in order to have breakfast, silly.” Turning to Fade, I addressed his offer. “I’m sure the trail mix is delicious...” There was probably jerky, but I wasn’t going to impose, not after what he’d done for us... for me. “...but we’ll be fine with whatever fare they can provide.”

Flicking his eyes to me, Fade shrugged and waved a talon arily as he replied, “You say that now, but fair enough. The offer’s there for whomever wants it.” Casting a quick grin at me, he hooked a claw towards Crafter, who was still valiantly attempting to dislodge himself from the bedding. “Might wish you had taken it later. For all we know the Stable-colt might beat you to it.” His piece said, he dropped his arm and turned to root around in his bags, presumably looking for the aforementioned foodstuffs.

Now that we’d started talking in earnest about the prospect of food, my own stomach began making its plight known with a gurgle. Glancing down, I commented as much to myself as anything, “Well, right now I really wouldn’t care if it was two hundred year old cereal, so long as it was edible.” At the talk of food, Tailwind gave a defeated sounding sigh, before finally giving in to being awake. She extricated herself from the remains of the bed and we both started packing our gear.

Shrugging out from under his rented blanket, Crafter glanced from Fade to myself, then back again. He seemed to be debating Fade’s offer. Eventually, he decided, “I’ll take some… you know, just in case what they have isn’t all that great.”

Still digging through his gear, Fade waved a talon in response as he continued to search his bags. “I figured you would, Wrenchy.” He called back, “I know the wastes can be a bit unnerving for you Stable Dwellers, especially the cuisine.”

In the meantime, Tailwind and I finished packing before making our way to the door. Bernard quietly stowed his belongings in his saddlebags and followed along behind. Fade and Crafter would catch up eventually – in the meantime, we were hungry.

*** *** ***

To our collective shock, breakfast turned out to be nothing short of hashed potatoes, rolled oats and scrambled eggs (Fade didn't seem particularly bothered by that, so I assumed he either didn't notice, or determined them to be some sort of lesser species). According to our server, Neighson was of such size that scavenging just wasn't a viable means of feeding the populace – it certainly helped, but the fields below Neighson were apparently the primary source of stored food over the long winter. I'd made the mistake of asking why they still needed the scavenging at all. The reply was rather terse: "That would be due to the short growing season and distinct lack of sunlight."

I suppose I should have seen that coming.

After finishing our meal, we made our way back onto the streets. First priority for the day was to get somepony to work on our scout barding. It was well made light armour… it just wasn’t nearly insulated enough for the climate we found ourselves in for the foreseeable future.

It took a while, but eventually we found a shop with a whole selection of barding of all shapes and sizes – leather, composite, steel, you name it. The one constant was that they all had furs or other material added or integrated. They certainly looked warmer than what we were wearing, so we figured we’d found the right place.

Bernard bartered on our behalf… nothing fancy, but it took a lot of convincing to get the shop pony to budge, especially when the hat dropped that he would be working on barding for a pair of pegasi. A sore spot, that. In the end, it cost us both of the shotguns (they were rusted pieces of near scrap at that point anyways, considering I never had bothered to clean them), the submachine gun, most of its ammo, and a good portion of the rest of our accumulated scrap. Bartering is weird, but I think I overheard the equivalent cap value at somewhere around three-hundred for a rush job on winterizing our scout barding, plus seventy-five for the furs involved. Having no frame of reference, all I could think was that it seemed high at the time.

Once the shopkeeper had agreed to do the job, however, his mood improved considerably. He took our measurements and had us leave the barding in his care overnight – we would be able to pick it up some time in the afternoon of the following day. He even threw in a pair of scarves to get us by – striped magenta for myself and emerald green for Tailwind. It was still frigid outside, but we were out of the wind and the population density kept the temperature higher than it was outside the gates. The scarves were enough, for what they were.

They were also… really cute, actually. He might not have liked us, but I appreciated the gesture.

By the time we left, the sun was almost at its’ apex, and our appointment loomed.

*** *** ***

Between Crafter’s Pipbuck and Tailwind’s advice on how to navigate with the HUD, we made good time to the Ranger portion of the city. I'm sure we were all eager to get the meeting over with, one way or another.

The building in question was unassuming at best, a simple door adjacent to the large double door structure leading into the inner compound. A single Steel Ranger stood off to the left side of the office entrance.

I trotted up to the Ranger, stopping a comfortable couple paces in front of him before addressing him. “We’re here to see Star Paladin Cheesequake. I’ve been told he is expecting us…” I trailed off expectantly.

The Knight regarded me for a second before responding. Despite the helmet, I couldn’t help but get the feeling he was glaring at my wings. “Could you state your name and purpose?”

I gave him a mildly unimpressed look. “Snap Roll, Tailwind, Bernard, Crafter Odds, and the griffon Fade. Here to see the Star Paladin regarding trade with a ‘Ranger QM.” I then gave my wings an experimental flutter, taunting him just a little to say something.

It would be preferable to the silent disdain he was giving me, at any rate.

To his credit, he let the taunting slide, simply responding that we were allowed inside the waiting room, and that the Paladin would be with us in about half an hour.

The waiting room was spartan at best, its sole decoration consisting of a single poster on the far wall beside the door I presumed we would be called into when the time came. The poster was of a rearing Steel Ranger amidst a field of evil looking figures with glowing red eyes. A caption in bold stylized font declared, “Keep him fighting -- buy war bonds today!” It seemed to be trying to rally us to a cause a couple centuries too late.

Still, I couldn’t help but appreciate the irony – despite everything, the stylistic purpose of the piece was still relevant… maybe even moreso, now. Red Eyes, indeed.

Finding ourselves seats, we settled in to wait out the last bit of time before our appointment. The benches provided were comfortable enough, and a series of magazines and books on a small coffee table provided some means of distraction. Leafing through their collection of magazines, I idly flipped covers until I happened upon a cover graced by a splash of yellow and vibrant orange. Paging back, the cover story seemed to be an interview with then-captain of the Wonderbolts, the always-stunning Spitfire! I was shocked – the magazine was miraculously intact since even before the war. The spreads were interesting enough – taken with an eye for accentuating her natural curves and athletic build, but didn’t go far enough to be provocative. Still, those pages seemed to be quite a bit more heavily paged through than the rest of the magazine. Flipping past, it turned out that the interview covered flying tips, in enough detail to completely engross my attention. Needless to say, I began reading in earnest.

The time passed quickly, and I had only just put the magazine down when a young mare with a bright orange coat opened the door at the far end of the hall, right at the turning of the hour. Unlike the other Rangers we’d seen, she was wearing a black dress uniform, well pressed but relatively unadorned (at least by Enclave standards). She regarded our group, seemingly to make sure she was addressing the right people. Satisfied, she stated curtly, “Come in.”

Setting the magazine aside, I got to my hooves and made my way towards the indicated door, eager to see how closely this “Star Paladin Cheesequake” resembled the the mental image I’d developed of him.

Behind me, the others stood and followed. Catching up first, Fade commented, “Bit frosty, that one,” He seemed to say, to nopony in particular, “Guess she’s been outside too long. Clothed like that and I can see why.”

Pausing halfway to the door, I turned to reply offhandedly, “Now Fade, be nice. They are willing to deal with us, for the time being at least.”

Crafter came to a halt behind the two of us, “He’ll act fine, I don’t think we should worry too much,” He added, before making sure his duster fell low enough to cover the Pipbuck he wore. Just in case.

Glancing at me with a perplexed slant to his eyes, Fade waved a talon dismissively. “You. They are willing to deal with you,” He corrected, “I’ve got little business here other than making sure you arrived.” Pausing, he tilted his head to the side as a realization struck him. “Which you did, I’m relatively sure. Which begs the question: why am I still here?” He turned his eyes over the rest of the group, as if seeking an answer to his quandary.

I mimicked the tilt of his head as I responded, “Well, I suspect the answer is ‘because you want to be with us.’” I then turned more fully towards him, giving the question the proper address it deserved, even if I couldn’t provide him with a full answer. “For my part, I appreciate what you’ve done for us, and would be happy to see you stay.”

Crafter voiced his assent, “Yeah, I agree! Plus, I could really learn a few things from you yet.”

Tailwind piped up, “And you never know when you’ll find a set of ponies quite like us again, now do you?” She finished with a wide smile.

Bernard was silent. I imagine he might still be a tad ticked off about the whole carriage-pulling incident. It also occurred to me that he had probably ended up paying for Fade’s stay at the inn.

Taken slightly aback, Fade stared silently at Crafter, Tailwind and myself for a moment. Glancing down, he shifted his stance and dragged his claws lightly across the floor. “That… that’s good to hear,” He began, giving a bow of his head as he regarded the three of us. “Though not exactly what I meant.” He raised a taloned hand, palm up, gesturing to the room around us. "I meant more as in, here. Right here in the Ranger base.” Letting that hang for a moment, he hastily added, “You’re the ones who need to trade with them; I’m not terribly short on gear.”

Oh shit, play it cool.

I hastily ran a forehoof through my mane, nonchalantly replying, “Oh, um… in that case… I guess you can wait out here if you want. Seems to me like it would be more interesting for you to come with.”

He eyed me suspiciously, a grin tugging at the corners of his beak as he considered my statement. Nodding soon after, he shrugged and relented. “Fair enough. This room is a bit bland aside from the fascinating reading material.” He hooked a claw at the magazine I had previously been… ah, studying. “Thank you, though,” he remarked. “It’s good to know you appreciate my company. Apparently almost as much as you appreciate two-hundred year old dead-mares.”

He seemed about to move on, when he leaned closer and whispered, “Nice save, also.” He then stepped towards the door, leaving us behind.

I shook my head, smiling as I followed him through the door. My thoughts were far from the impending meeting with the Star Paladin.

The room we’d been invited into had various vanity pieces adorning the desk that dominated the room. Some old pictures and military blueprints were framed and put on the wall as pictures. There was another door off to the left of the rather large conference room. Benches were set out in a semicircle facing the desk, presumably for us to sit in.

Once we were all inside, the attendant followed us, coming to a halt at the rear of the room, just inside the door. “Take a seat,” She beckoned, “Star Paladin Cheesequake will be along shortly.”

Ahh, not necessarily punctual, but has punctual subordinates… or he’s really busy.

Seeing as the Paladin wasn’t actually present, I gave a cursory glance over the blueprints on the walls, before taking a seat as instructed. Power armour diagrams, a layout of the moving parts of their seemingly trademark automatic grenade launcher, and a couple more. They were standard stuff, things the Enclave had probably known for years – But that didn’t mean I had benefitted from that knowledge.

Hey, they left them there. Not my fault.

We all waited around for what couldn’t have been more than a couple minutes, before the other door burst open. The stallion who’d opened it had a greyish white coat with a deep brown mane, neatly cropped. His uniform was sharply pressed, bearing the insignia of his rank. While his appearance was quite proper, his coat showed the scars of many years of duty. A jagged, deep scar took up most of the right side of his face, with his eye on that side seemingly quite dead – it was a consistent, milky white. His other was a deep green, and glanced from one of us to the next with a surety that made me feel like I had erred by not coming to attention when he entered the room. His dead eye tracked just fine, something that made me distinctly uncomfortable. Despite the deformities, he carried himself surely and with a purpose that oozed authority.

“Thank you for waiting,” His voice boomed, a thick bass tone with the subtle rumble of a voice that must have been used to speaking to an assemblage on a parade ground… or in combat. “Cheezit, you’re dismissed.” A note of humour had entered his voice when he said that, before he swiftly took a seat at his desk.

With a sharp salute, she couldn’t quite hide the glare she threw to her superior officer once he could no longer see her eyes. I gathered that there was a story behind that. She turned and left the room without a word. I restrained a giggle, hoping for her sake ‘Cheezit’ was a nickname.

Having had a second to look us over, Cheesequake first addressed the griffon among us. “Ah, Fade. Good to see you again. I heard you had... a bit of an accident since we last spoke.”

Fade had been scrutinizing the pictures on the wall when he was addressed, and it seemed to take a second for him to realize he was expected to reply. He blinked, glancing at the Ranger with an uncomprehending expression. Even his beak hung partly open, before he replied warily, “Ah, did you? Well we… may have some things to discuss later, Star Paladin. If you would allow it.”

Cheesequake nodded, and evidently that was that for the time being. He turned his gaze to me. “Now, Snap Roll, was it? And company. What do you need?” He spoke swiftly, and at an even tone. His voice wasn’t harsh, but it still gave the impression that he would not allow us to waste his time, regardless of our thoughts on the matter.

Not a pony to be trifled with.

“Yes sir,” I replied automatically, “we’re here because we’ve found a couple items that, to my mind, would be considerably more valuable to the Rangers than to the wastelanders living in and around your fort. The first is simply a set of well-maintained steel armor, but the other…” I paused, slowly and carefully drawing the magical blade in as non-threatening a manner as possible, unwrapping the cloth rag I’d wrapped around it to keep it from cutting other things in my bag. “This blade is enchanted to negate magical healing for the wounds caused by it. I won’t insult the the Steel Rangers by assuming everything I’ve been told about your group is actually correct, but from what I’ve gathered, removing items like this from circulation through the wasteland is a fairly high priority. Especially were a group to have the capacity to reverse-engineer this particular enchantment…” I let that sink in for a moment before continuing, dead serious. “Both the Rangers and Enclave would want this out of other hooves, of that I’m sure. And for our part, we would be very appreciative of a finders’ fee for having found and returned such a weapon.” I was fully aware that, as much as we would be sent to the quartermaster should he give the “okay,” it was Cheesequake whom I had to sell it to. And hopefully, the implication that I chose to give it to the Rangers solidified our stance on the issue.

He stared at the blade, contemplation wrought on his face. “You found this… where?”

I raised my head with a bit of justified confidence, replying, “We found it in the possession of a group of now-dead raiders that had holed up in the abandoned bunker complex, a few hours trot from the southern waystation.” I paused, adding as an aside, “We didn’t exactly have a chance to find out where they got it from originally. Things got a little… heated.”

Cheesequake thought on that for a second, leaning back in his chair before responding. “Well good job on that then. That was the bunker that had the surveillance suite in it?” I nodded in reply. “By all means, we’d be more than willing to take that off of your hooves, and yes, you will be compensated. Now, was that all you needed?”

Seeing the opportune time to pipe up, Bernard decided to interject. “Excuse me Star Paladin, but we were also told that you had information on a mercenary known as ‘the Serpent.’” He looked pained to have to bring up his recent past, but continued regardless. “Not two weeks ago, he attacked my family's residence to the south and took my daughter. Any information would help us find him.”

“Ah yes,” Cheesequake nodded, turning and beginning to type onto a computer integrated into his desk. “The bounty hunter contracted out by Red Eye.” After a few seconds of typing, and a few more for his eyes to scan the result, he turned back to us. “He stopped here not a week past. Had a filly with him, got some supplies and left. Went out west, along the railbed and out of our area of influence.”

As Cheesequake was finishing his summary, Bernard interrupted, anger filling his voice, “You mean he was here, with my daughter and you just let him go on his way?!”

The paladin’s response was slow coming, as he fixed his milky-eyed glare firmly on Bernard. “Yes, we did.”

I heard Tail fidget behind me. She had to be uncomfortable with attempting to pick a side here, sympathizing with both points of view.

Seeing Tailwind’s indecision, I came to the conclusion that a mediator was needed before things got out of hoof. I got to my hooves and placed myself between the two ponies, giving Bernard an understanding look. “It isn’t worth it, Bernard. We can’t change the past. At least he told us. “Turning my head to address the Star Paladin, I finished on a relatively curt note. “Thank you for the information.”

Cheesequake just nodded in acknowledgement, when we were interrupted by the door at the side of the room swishing open. A younger mare entered – another earth pony – wearing power armour, sans-helmet. She had an off-white coat that would have almost blended in with the snow perpetually around us if it wasn't for the shock of bluish purple mane that she wore short and out of her eyes. She looked kind of surprised that she had interrupted a meeting. “Ah, Knight Frostfire.” Cheesequake commented, “Here for Paladin Morning Star, I presume?” He spoke kindly to his subordinate, very much contrary to his manner of speech with our group.

The mare paused for a second, her eyes sweeping over the assembled group before she finally spoke. “Yes, sir. I’m here for our radio codes.” She addressed the Star Paladin, but she didn’t seem able to keep her eyes off of Fade.

Now, I didn’t need to make eye contact with Tailwind to know that both of our interests were piqued the instant she said “radio codes” and we weren’t ejected from the room. We did our very best to remain as unnoticeable as possible, all things considered (which wasn’t very).

Needless to say, our hopes crashed when the scarred buck reached into a drawer in his desk and hoofed over a small slip of paper to the young Knight. With a slight chuckle in his voice, he asked, “Never seen a griffon before, Frostfire?”

My disappointment was almost audible. Almost.

“Oh, uh… no, sir.” She stuttered, tearing her eyes off of Fade, a slight blush colouring her pale cheeks. She retrieved the note from his offering hoof and stowed it in the collar of her power armour. The suit’s distinct lack of pockets seemed to be making itself rather apparent. “Thank you, sir.” She finished primly, turning to retreat the way she’d come, the door swishing shut behind her.

“Very good,” Cheesequake replied, “Best of luck.” Turning back to us, his old tone returned the instant the door shut behind her. “Now, where were we?”

Breezing past where he had left off with Bernard, I replied tactfully, “You were setting us up to visit your quartermaster to trade for supplies, I do believe.”

“Ah yes,” He replied, tapping a few keys on his keyboard once again. “I’ve set up an account under your name. If you wish to meet with the QM, I can arrange an escort for you and your… entourage.”

I leaned forward. This was our best shot at getting answers – some of them, anyways – and I wasn't going to let it pass me by. “Actually, there is one more thing,” I added, making an effort to pick my words carefully. “I want to know what really happened at Trotwynd, between the Enclave and the Steel Rangers.”

As soon as I mentioned Trotwynd, the Star Paladin’s face grew dour, and he dropped the papers he had only just picked up. “You'd best watch where you tread with this subject child,” he warned as he leaned forward onto his desk. “My Rangers had a station in that town when your Enclave decided to turn its attention on it. They descended without warning upon us and that town, killing and destroying at will.” He paused, choosing his next words. “I saw no mission plan other than annihilation of the populace. Me and mine made best speed with as many civilians as we could to the shelter of the gutted stable in Trotwynd. Your winged companions found it much harder to fight us in the confines of those hallways.”

I sighed, maintaining eye contact with the older buck. “My father might well have died there. Without condoning what he did, I just want to know... why? There was nothing they would have wanted there? Anything?” It occurred to me that I probably sounded desperate. I backed off a bit, dropping my eyes as I added, slightly abashed, “I'm... I'm sorry. A griffin under your employ – Gwynn – referred to Tailwind and I as 'loyalists.' I thought you might know something I didn't...” I trailed off, looking back up at him.

“There is quite a bit that you do not know,” he replied cryptically, giving me the ghost of a hope that he would just tell me... a hope that was dashed when he added, “And it looks likely that it shall stay that way. I'm not in the position to give out potentially privileged information, nor would I want to even if I was.” His voice darkened further as he continued, “As for your father, your commanders sent fifteen of your troopers into that Stable. I made damn sure not a single one ever saw his precious sky again.” With that said, he turned to type once again, more sustained this time. It seemed for all the world like he had moved on to more mundane office-work. “Now, if that is all I would have to ask you to leave, as I have business to attend to.”

“We’ll wait for the escort outside.” I replied, my voice strained. I had hoped to attempt to barter for the information, maybe with the promise of a full report from our planned expedition to the west… but with that kind of a response, I bit my lip and soldiered on. “Thank you for your time, Star Paladin.” With a nod, I stood and made my way out of the room. As I passed Fade, I caught his gaze and commented, “It seems you two have some catching up to do…” I did what I could to put a hopeful inflection into it, truly hoping he would find out something about his past. “I’m sure our errands would be rather boring for you, anyways.”

Remaining seated as the rest of us filed out of the room, Fade simply nodded in response. He piped up as Crafter passed him by, “Don’t get swindled now, Wrenchy.” His eyes followed us out the room, until the doors closed behind us with an ominous ‘thunk.’

Bernard coughed into his hoof, “If it’s alright with the rest of you, I have some business in town that I could take care of while you’re trading with the Rangers.” It could have been mistaken for a question, but his eyes said otherwise – whatever business it was, he certainly didn't mean to share it.

I didn’t have any issue with his plan, so I nodded my assent as he cantered off towards the exit. Soon it was just Tailwind, Crafter and myself standing in the lobby. We made ourselves comfortable as we waited for our guide.

*** *** ***

It wasn’t long before a young mare came in and greeted us. “Um, Snap Roll is it? I’ve got orders to escort you to the QM…?” She was an earth pony wearing the long robes of the scribes, with an energy pistol strapped on a leg holster much like my own. The way she spoke, it sounded more like a question than anything else, like we should know what her orders where.

“That would be us,” I replied. “The escort is much appreciated, Scribe…?” I glanced down at the pistol holstered on her foreleg, mildly envious of the ammo she evidently had for the excellent little sidearm. I contented myself with the knowledge that she would soon be leading me to a pony with the capacity to rectify that particular situation.

She stammered for a second before replying, “Uh no ma’am, Initiate, and it's just this way.” She led us onward, through the building and out into the inner courtyard. The trip was short, but for a brief time we managed to get a good look at the inner compound. A large parade square and training fields were coupled with the dense number of buildings, most appearing to be administrative or barracks, all lending some grand sense of purpose to the whole area. Like it was meant for bigger things. The few ponies left the place feeling empty. Those fields should have hundreds of troops moving about. Training, drilling, readying themselves… instead, it seemed like the handful of ponies left were simply standing guard over a shell, trying in vain to continue living under the glories of the past.

Or something like that.

Taking in the sights as we walked, I commented to the initiate, “There are so few ponies manning this bastion… is this attrition at work from fighting Red Eye, or have the numbers just declined since the bombs fell?”

She startled slightly, and clearly wasn’t comfortable, but she answered how she could. “Um a bit of both I guess, ma’am. This facility has a capacity of ten thousand ponies of all ranks, but even before the bombs fell, Neighson was undermanned. What with Anti-Material rifles and larger air assets at play, Ranger formations were less of a focus.” I noted that even she avoided commenting on the more recent role Red Eye was playing. I could fill in the blanks, and it didn’t sound good.

I nodded sagely, aware of that particular part of the war being the point at which the venerable Raptor airships saw a great deal of focus placed on them, after the zebras managed to convince a series of dragons to fight for them. The Skyguard saw its fiercest fighting in those late stages of the war. Now that I think about it, must really have sucked for the ground pounders…

Lost in thought, I didn’t notice as Tailwind cantered up to make her presence known in the conversation. “As amusing as it is, you don’t have to call her ‘ma’am.’ We’re both enlisted in a military that may or may not even recognize our ranks if we manage to make our way back.”

Distraught, I replied, “Hey! I was enjoying the feeling of deference for once!”

“Be that as it may,” Tail chuckled, “It isn’t nice to tease the ones that are too new to know better.” She retorted with a smile.

Understandably, the initiate didn’t quite know how to respond to that, so in what I imagine was a moment of clairvoyance she simply decided not to. Instead, she left us to idly bicker for the remainder of the short trip. With a slight cough to catch our attention, she stated, “Um, this is the QM here Miss Snap Roll, Paladin Checker is just inside by the front desk.” She gestured onwards, through the door of a particularly drab-looking building.

“Thank you for the escort, initiate.” I replied amiably, “I’m sure we’re interrupting your busy day. When we’re done we’ll be able to find our way back to the entrance.” After seeing the shy little initiate off, I had to wonder if the quartermaster’s name was in any way indicative of how busy his average day was.

Inside, the floor sloped sharply downwards. The QM itself was a mostly underground building. Nevertheless, the stores area itself spanned the width of the room about six meters in from the door. A larger stallion sat behind one of the terminals reading a magazine. From our distance, I could make out a pegasus splayed across the cover, and could make a guess at the contents.

Seeing the buck fully absorbed in his reading material, I wouldn’t want him to miss out on the real thing. As I casually made my way towards his desk, swaying my hips just so as I did, I commented loudly enough for him to hear, “Oh, so this is the ‘Ranger QM.” I put a bit of wonder into my tone, sure that he would love to educate the little lost pegasus about the wonders of yet another QM. As I approached further, I addressed him directly, “Have we come at a bad time?”

I was laying it on a bit thick, but in my experience dealing with any sort of quartermaster takes a bit of persuasion to get them to see eye-to-eye. That is to say, get them to actually do their job.

The QM took a second or two to gather his wits about him enough to realize he had guests. Quickly stashing the magazine (in the form of tossing it off to the right, where it hit a shelf and slid to the floor), the rather large earth pony cleared his throat and responded. “Oh, um… no, not at all ma’am, how can I help you-” He took note of Tailwind entering after Crafter, “...and your lovely friend there?”

Sauntering up, I rested my forelegs on his desk. “Well that’s great news to hear. You see, we’ve gotten ourselves some credit with the Rangers, courtesy of Star Paladin Cheesequake. We were looking to cash that in and acquire some supplies for the long trip ahead of us.” I maintained eye contact, easily keeping up the act. He wasn’t quite flustered, but I had him on the back hoof, and I intended to keep it that way.

At the word “credit,” I saw him give a soft scowl. I’d come to know supply personnel hated that word above most others. Still, he coughed out a reply quickly enough, “Oh yes, I got a message from him earlier. That must mean you’re Snap Roll then?”

“That’s me,” I replied, inclining my head towards the others. “Tailwind and Crafter Odds are my companions.” Tailwind gave a smile and a wave of her hoof when introduced, right on cue. I dropped into a slightly more businesslike tone as I started listing off things we needed, using the primary feathers on my right wing to count, almost subconsciously. “We’re looking into acquiring energy weapon ammo, micro and small spark cells, as well as recharges for the same; we’ve also got a damaged beam rifle much in need of some TLC…”

As I mentioned it, Tail glanced sadly (almost melodramatically so) at the rifle adorning her battlesaddle. The weapon certainly looked like it had seen better days, what with the still-warped casing… most of the major components were functional, but it would certainly need parts. It was kind of a wonder it had worked for us as long as it did.

“We’re also wanting to acquire a spark battery-to-spark cell charging bridge…” I continued, leading up to the kicker, what I’d really been trying to get my hooves on in the first place. “Oh, and we’ll also be needing magical healing potions, as well as bandages. Both magical and mundane, naturally.” Naturally, like I hadn’t just asked for some of the most high demand supplies they had.

He sighed as he logged into his console. “Looking at your credit, we might be able to work something out here. Although stock is limited and I won’t dig into needed stores for us here.”

As soon as I saw him finish logging in, I gave a quick flutter of wings, hopping over the counter. I settled on hovering slightly off the ground, high enough to look at the screen over his shoulder. I knew QM’s, and I knew he’d lie through his teeth to me if he thought he could get away with it. With each flap of wings, my lowermost primaries brushed against his back, completely by coincidence. I gave a quick scan over the screen. There was a lot there, and I needed to look for what I needed… If I happened to get a sense of what their level of supplies was at simultaneously, so much the better. As I scanned, I commented idly, “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of taking from the needed supplies. I’m aware of the ongoing fight against Red Eye.” I switched back to the ‘pegasus grateful for the protection of the big strong earth pony’ tone, “I’d much rather have you and your bucks keeping them at bay, thank you very much.”

He’d almost catch the sarcasm if I didn’t coat it in so much honey.

The buck seemed to be caught between unfathomable rage at having another pony on his side of the counter… and the rather pleasant feeling of a mare whispering sweet nothings into his ear. In the end, sheer sex appeal won out, for the time being at least. “Well, um… yes! Our boys do well enough against that slavin’ asshole!” He puffed out his chest at that. I knew, because I felt it against my feathers with every downward flap.

Glancing over the series of spreadsheets adorning his terminal, I quickly set about picking out the items I needed, pointing to allotments as I did. I spared a glance at a message titled “Credit for the Turkeys” to quickly check how much our credit actually amounted to. To my immense glee, I discovered that either Cheesequake was quite the generous stallion, or they really didn’t want that weapon staying in the wastes. “These parts here,” I delicately pointed a hoof in the general direction of the relevant spreadsheets as I indicated them.

‘Rainy day weapon parts?’ Yeah, some of those will fix up Tailwind’s rifle nicely.

“A couple of these…”

‘Siege stores?’ If they can’t spare a hoof-full of energy cells from here, things were already going very poorly. Now, for the medical supplies… but from where…

I scanned the terminal screen for a good couple seconds, frowning as I looked for some form of expendable medical supplies, to no avail. Most of what the Rangers had on hoof for medical supplies seemed to be accounted for, and I wasn’t even going to try asking for those. In fact, a decent chunk of what they had once had on hoof had just been picked up by what looked like a presence patrol squad.

He gave a grunt in response to my suggestions. “Yeah, could work I suppose. If it comes to it, we can requisition some kit from the civvies.”

Idea!

I gave him a sly smile, “Sounds like a solid plan. Might I suggest requisitioning the medical supplies from a particularly asinine doctor by the name of Blood Clot? Considering how difficult he is with patients, I’m sure he can spare them.” My expression brightened, and I gave another solid flap of wings and returned to the proper side of the counter. I’d been pushing my luck as it was, but it seemed to have paid off for us. “Thank you ever so much. You’ve been a great help, Paladin… Checker, was it?”

He gave me a smile and an affirmative grunt as he worked away at his terminal to balance stock. Its always a good idea to get into the good books of quartermasters, even if you didn’t plan to see them long. Them and cooks, for that matter.

After he finished, he moved off into the caged area behind him to begin assembling our order. “Come back tomorrow,” He called out, “I’ll have everything in order by then!”

With a nod, I cantered triumphantly back to the pair waiting near the entrance with my head held high, I waited until we’d all turned to leave and had crossed the threshold before sharing a hoof bump with Tailwind. With a very much amused smile, she turned and commented, “Looks like you still know how to deal with supply techs, chief.”

With a victorious chuckle, I replied, “Always have, always will.”

Not long after we’d left the building, Crafter sped up to come abreast of us as we cantered back towards the entrance to the compound. He wore his normal expression – that is to say, one of minor confusion – as he asked, “What are you two talking about? I feel like I missed something… again.” When his eyes met mine, he quickly glanced away, hiding a blush.

Oh, I guess he would have seen that little show I put on, from behind me… Heh, whoops.

Tail caught my smirk as she kept up the pace, and looked briefly conflicted. Almost like she was debating whether or not it was worthwhile to fill Crafter in on the subtle nuances of the relationship between military supply systems and the troops they support – or in our particular case, which is even worse-off, those they would happen to be trading with – but instead, she simply replied with a chuckle, “Oh Crafter, what would we ever do without you?”

Crafter kept up, but his expression dropped at that, his muzzle pointed more or less towards his hooves. “Well, I’d assume you’d do the same thing you’re currently doing, just without me…” That made me want to think of something to try and cheer him up.

However, before either Tailwind or myself could respond, we were interrupted by a shout of “Lenākošais!" from above and behind us, causing me to turn on my heel to see where the ruckus had come from.

What I caught sight of was, for better or worse, probably burned into my memory at this point. A ballistic griffon, now adorned with a red and black scarf, was about a split second from barreling headlong into the lot of us, arms stretched wide. My thoughts on the matter, in the time I had available, were probably along the lines of “Oh, feathers.”

For her part, Tailwind actually managed to cry out in glee, “Fade!” as she snapped around, outstretching her forehooves in a welcoming manner, not making a single attempt to dodge.

The collision must have been spectacular, to say the least. The domino effect caused by the much larger griffon colliding with us lead to a tangle of limbs and lightly moaning bodies. I felt Crafter pressed up against me. I guessed that Tailwind was somewhere on the other side of the fuzzy cannonball that was Fade, due in no small part to her speaking up from somewhere over there, “Fade, if this is how you wanted it to end up, you just had to ask…”

Rubbing my head with a free hoof, I glanced up at the griffon splayed on top of Tail, Crafter and myself. I managed to ask from beneath the press of bodies, “So I take it your talk went… swimmingly, Fade?”

He let out a thoughtful “Hmm,” as he drummed a talon on the nearest available surface (which happened to be my side). “It went fairly well, actually. As it turned out, I wasn’t in trouble, nor did I owe the Rangers anything. It was...”He paused, and I felt the talons lift from where he’d rested them, “More to catch up, I suppose. Turns out Cheesequake and I used to know each other. Not that I know him now.” Again he paused, this time to wave at a pair of scribes giving us some very strange looks, as if two pegasi, a unicorn, and a griffon in a pile didn’t happen everyday in their barracks. Public affairs dealt with, Fade collected himself and carefully extricated himself from our impromptu pony-pile with a short flap of wings, landing a few feet away and already setting about smoothing down his feathers.

The rest of us set about untangling ourselves, and Crafter was the first to speak up. “That was… less than preferable.” It took him a couple tries, but he eventually got his hooves under him. “Did uh, Cheesequake manage to help any?’ He asked.

“The Star Paladin?” Fade replied, “He… wasn’t detrimental, I’ll put it that way. Now I at least know that I knew him, and I know how I came to know him in the first place.” He gave a short pause before adding, “Yes. I suppose he did.”

Having extricated herself from the opposite side, Tail fluttered up behind Fade, running her hooves along the end of his black and red scarf. “It seems he got something out of it,” She chirped.

In response, Fade glanced back to see what she was referring to. “Oh, right.” He replied, almost sounding surprised. He then pulled the scarf away, displaying the design to the rest of us – there was the stylized silhouette of a griffon upon it, but not much else aside from being a very nice scarf. “He also returned some things I had left behind,” Fade added, “A compass, a watch, a scroll, and this scarf. Nothing has struck the proverbial chord of memory up to this point, but who knows with these things.”

There wasn’t much more to be said to that. Still, it was progress for him, at least.

As the excitement of Fade’s arrival and subsequent display died down, Crafter was once again the one to point out that he really didn’t know what we were doing in Neighson. “So, what are we doing next?”

“Next,” I replied, “We’re going to teach you to shoot.”

*** *** ***

The sharp report of Crafter’s pistol echoed off the concrete walls of the courtyard, as a puff of straw plumed into the air from off to the right of the target he was firing at. The firing range was deserted aside from the two of us, and the quiet after his shot was only broken by the tinkle of the shell casing landing in a small pile of its kin.

“I’m just no good at this,” Crafter sighed, lowering the pistol and ejecting the spent magazine with his magic. I noted that he checked the barrel to make sure it was empty, just like I’d taught him in the last half-hour.

After we’d finished shopping, I’d taken Crafter aside to practice his shooting while the others took care of other preparations. Bernard was still out in the market, I honestly had no idea what Fade was doing,, but he was perched on a building on the periphery of the range; and Tailwind was snoozing back in the range control hut. The shooting range itself was set along the northern edge of Neighson, still in the outer ring, but butted right up against the mountain itself.

There was single target set up about twenty meters from us, with a berm of dirt behind it. A smattering of holes dotted the periphery of the paper target, but it would be generous to attempt to call it a grouping at this stage.

“Well, like I said, I don’t know how you unicorns wrap your heads around this.” I gestured with a hoof towards the distinct lack of a bony protrusion on my forehead. “Maybe if I teach you to shoot earth pony style, then you could learn from there, hmm?”

Crafter didn’t seem particularly enthused. “Well, I guess anything could help at this point.”

“Hey now, if you’re gonna be stuck here, you might as well learn to defend yourself,” I replied, nabbing the pistol out of the air with a forehoof. “Open wide!” I coursed, not giving him a chance to reply before shoving the bit into his mouth. It might have been rougher than I strictly needed to be, but he managed to open his mouth in time.

“Mmmph.” He replied once I’d stepped back, his words completely unintelligible around the weapon clutched between his teeth.

“First lesson!” I called out, “Don’t speak. If that had been loaded, I’d be dodging bullets right now.”

He nodded, almost shyly.

Quick learner, that one.

“Second lesson!” I cheerily continued, falling easily into my instructor mindset. “Adopt a stable firing stance. Hooves slightly further than shoulder-width apart, Crafter.”

He adjusted his stance, but it looked awkward. Forced. He wanted to follow the instruction, but lacked the capacity.

Good thing I knew how to help.

I frowned, stepping forwards, right up to him. Then, without warning, I reared up on my hindlegs and gave him a solid shove with my front hooves, right against his shoulders.

He was pushed back a couple hoof-lengths, but he dug his hooves in and crouched, arresting his momentum. He spat the pistol out, catching it in his magic. “What was that for? I did what you asked!”

“Ah, ah ah,” I chided, “Don’t move! Look at that stance. See how your legs are slightly bent? That’s how you shoot. Ready to move, but also ready to hold your ground.” I stepped out of the way, coming to stand beside him, facing the target. He glanced down, surprised at his own instinctual stance. With a smile on my face, I called out, “With a fresh magazine, load!”

Even if he didn’t have his form down, he was still quite good at following orders. Without even glancing away, he’d pulled a new magazine from his saddle with magic, slamming it home into the pistol. He then looked up to me, and I indicated with a hoof towards my own mouth. He caught the hint, and levitated the bit into his own mouth, more gently this time.

“Okay, now that you’re down behind the weapon, I can teach you how I was taught.” I started, sidling up right beside him, leaning in to see where exactly he was looking at the pistol from – up til now, he’d been missing wide right for most of his shots.

“See those two sight posts right up close?”

He nodded.

“Line those up with the third, right in the center.”

He nodded again, closing his left eye.

“A bad habit, that.” I remarked, “Learn to shoot with both eyes open. Means you’ve got a better field of view, don’t get sucked in as much – don’t worry, it’ll make more sense eventually.”

He nodded again, taking a breath through his nose and keeping both eyes open this time.

“Crafter, ready your weapon.”

With a forehoof, he reached up and racked the slide, making sure the round seated properly before aiming at the target again.

I didn’t want to startle him. He just seemed so intent. The barrel wavered, but pointed more accurately at the target than it had. Leaning in close, I whispered in his ear, “Fire.”

His shot rang out in the quiet courtyard. Once he'd recovered from the new experience of recoil, Crafter frantically looked around the target, not having seen the splash of his round against the hay. When he finally found it, he let out a happy little noise.

The hole was to the right of center, just barely breaking the yellow segment of the bullseye. Had that been an enemy, the shot would have been enough to hit, and that's what mattered at this stage.

I gave him a smile and ruffled his mane. “I knew you could do it. Two more magazines, just like that. Then we’ll call it a day.”

He slipped the pistol out of his mouth with his magic. He was staring at the target with a wide smile across his face as he replied, “Will do!”

*** *** ***

We finished our errands for the day not long before we lost the sun’s light, an even shorter day than normal due to the city being in the shadow of the mountain. We’d have to spend at least one more day in the city – it was supposedly a full day’s trot to the next safe haven to the west, and we still had things to pick up, and work to wait on. Since Bernard had met back up with us he seemed antsy, eager to be back on his daughter's trail as fast as possible. Ultimately, he accepted it as a necessity when Tailwind and I pointed out that we weren’t going to be leaving without barding – not this time.

Crafter seemed eager to call it a night, but I had a better plan.

“Fade, I think its about time we sampled those ‘wasteland beverages’ you promised,” I worded it a bit like a challenge, though he didn’t take to it like I would have, had our positions been reversed. Still, he did agree, and we hardly stopped to drop off our gear and lock our room before we headed out again, this time looking for a bit of fun.

As Fade led us to the bar, I was taken aback at first. Before us stood a pair of conical towers, connected at ground level by a rectangular building with a square roof. The towers themselves rose up to slightly below the rim of Neighson’s walls. From the roof, a pony could probably have a view of the entire valley if they were tall enough. The front of the building was adorned with a sign in slapdash wasteland style proclaiming it to be the “Loaded Breech.” I could only assume it was referring to the guns that must once have been mounted in it. I could hear music coming from within, muted by the thickness of the walls.

Without breaking his pace, Fade continued right on into the bar, followed by Bernard and Crafter, who looked distinctly ill-at-ease.

As Tailwind made to follow Bernard in, I reached out a wing, holding her up for a moment. “Hey, can we, um… talk for a minute?” I asked tentatively, as our hesitation gave us a few moments of privacy.

She stopped, cocking her head and replying, “Sure, what about?”

“Well, after… yesterday, when Blood Clot gave us the news,” I started, glancing down at my snow covered hooves. I toyed with the snow for a second, awkwardly, before looking back up at her. “After he said I couldn’t have kids, I’ve been thinking.”

Her eyes grew somber as I brought up the topic. “Oh? About what I said, or…?” She trailed off, urging me to continue.

Well, I’ve gotta say it sometime.

“Tail, I’d like to know if I still work,” I blurted, biting the proverbial bullet and simply saying what had been gnawing at my mind for the last day, even as a blush coloured my cheeks scarlet. “That I can still feel down there, at least. I know it’s sudden, and… a terrible time. But do you think we could, you know...?” I trailed off, gambling on her being able to pick up what I was implying.

“Oh,” She stammered, momentarily taken aback. I could tell I’d surprised her, but I still wasn’t sure how she’d react. It was still so soon since Nosedive had died, but I hoped it might be a good experience, if the opportunity presented itself – for both of us. My fears at how she’d react were quickly quashed as she added with a sultry smile, “Chief, if you wanted us to find a stallion for the night, you know all you had to do was ask.” She paused a second, seemed to consider something, then added with the sweetest tone she could, "...or some griffon." She batted her eyes at me, that innocent little smile gracing her visage the whole time.

Skies above, she's sexy right now.

Unable – and unwilling – to help myself, I pulled her close with a wing. A blush still coloured my cheeks as I leaned in and kissed her. “I love you,” I breathed after we parted.

“I know,” She replied primly, before prancing off towards the entrance, the doors already having swung shut behind the rest of our group. I double timed it to catch up with her, and together we pushed open the doors to the pub.

Our entrance was met with a collective gasp, as if there was a pressure difference between the outside air and inside. That wasn’t the case, but when a rather full pub simultaneously ceases all activity – including the band, with one of the members being a tad slow on the uptake, letting out one last strangled note – it can tend to have that effect. Especially when you know you’re the ones who caused it.

The bar was filled with all manner of earth ponies, unicorns, and the occasional griffon. They all turned to look at the newcomers to their place of relaxation. Fade, Bernard and Crafter stood awkwardly off to one side, seemingly too stunned by the reaction to do anything, really.

“Well I didn’t think you two would literally crash the party, but there you go,” Fade waved a talon dismissively, a little less shocked than I’d given him credit for. “I’m sure it’s the scarves. Those colours just do not work. It’s almost offensive, really.” He was the only noise in the bar, but he was still essentially ignored by the other occupants. It wasn’t the scarves, and he knew it.

The bartender, an aging earth pony with a deep yellow coat – almost the colour of the drinks he served, actually – and a somewhat trimmed beard was the one to break the silence. He placed the glass he had been cleaning on the counter, the clink audible in the near-silence of the bar. When he spoke, it was with a raspy, low voice.. “You two gonna cause me any trouble?” He asked, fixing us with a tired gaze.

We both shook our heads.

He nodded, and asked another. “Your caps good?”

We nodded. After supply costs, there were some extra, enough for one night of entertainment at least. I didn’t imagine we’d be buying anything for a while, and they weren’t enough for much else – Certainly not more medical supplies.

“Then you’re as welcome in the Breach as anybody else.” He turned to the rest of the bar, his voice louder now, carrying his intent for all to hear: “Get that music playin’ again! It’s too damn quiet in here.”

His words broke the oppressive atmosphere. People turned back to their companions, their drinks, their instruments, and all the previous noise crashed around us. In this case, it was a form of acceptance – minimal as it was.

Among the last to turn away was an earth pony, close cropped mane and tail. An oddity in the wasteland, where personal grooming is a luxury… unless you regularly wore a full helmet a lot of the time. He also seemed to have a bit more meat on his bones than most of the ponies I’d seen. Not plump, rather… toned. More mass than just about any pegasus, and he wore it well. It was his eyes, though, that gave him away. I met his gaze and realized he wasn’t staring at my wings like most of the ponies I’d met. Me met my gaze with a stare of his own, an unreadable expression upon his face. All too soon he turned away, back to his half-full mug before I could get a proper read on him. I dismissed it as an oddity for the time being, taking my first uninterrupted look around the place.

I certainly wasn’t disappointed. I mean, it wasn’t the Buccaneer Blitz, but it had its own sort of flare to it. I was also thoroughly convinced (if the name of the place hadn’t been enough of a clue) that we were standing in a refurbished artillery battery. Where shells would once have been stored, large wooden casks now rested – the bartender was already back to pouring drinks from one of them. Where massive guns had once rested at the center of each of the towers, a pair of twin hearths blazed merrily away; chimneys vented the smoke up through the roof. The ammunition elevators had been repurposed as, respectively, a stage for the band and a dance floor – though the latter wasn’t exactly seeing heavy use, especially after our entrance. Oaken benches and tables were spaced all around, though most were already occupied by the time we’d set hoof in the place.

Eager to brush away the awkwardness of our entrance, we made our way to one of the tables at the far end of the establishment, away from most of the other patrons. Bernard offered to grab the first round, and I was all too eager to accept the offer if it meant that much less interaction with the locals.

It wasn't long after we had gotten ourselves settled in that, Bernard returned with a tray of drinks balanced upon his withers, sliding them onto the table with a casual ease. To Crafter, Tailwind and myself, he passed mugs of something smelling very much like apples, with the distinct tang of alcohol. For himself, he had a bottle of whisky and a tumbler with a series of ice cubes. Fade received a Sparkle~Cola, at his own request.

The first to touch her drink, Tailwind wasted no time in picking up her mug and taking a swift draft of the beverage, knocking the glass mug on the table as she finished, a wide smile on her froth-speckled lips. “It’s good! Kinda dry, but good!”

I barked out a laugh at that, “At this point, just having alcohol in the first place is enough for me.” I swirled the clear, golden liquid for a moment, before taking a swig of my own. It had a rough texture to it, not something I was used to, but as I gave it a swallow, I felt warmth spread from my belly. It slowly spread throughout my barrel, til it got all the way to my hooves and wings. I leaned back, letting out a contented sigh.

It wasn’t a safe return from an exercise. We weren’t among peers, we weren’t even welcome… but despite all the reasons not to, I felt more safe than I had in days. It was finally a chance to let off some steam, and I was determined to enjoy it.

Glancing at the others, I saw that Tailwind was in the process of cajoling our wrench-bearing companion. “C’mmon Crafter, you’ll like it!” She said as she took another substantial drink from her own mug.

Glancing down into the mug that had been placed before him, Crafter then looked around our group, seemingly trying to see the other reactions to the beverages. “Umm… I don’t know,” He replied uncertainly, taking the drink in his hooves and giving it a slow swirl before him.

Pouring himself a glass of whisky on the rocks, Bernard quipped back, “Come on, not like it’s gonna kill you. Unless you drink too much, of course.” With a rare smile directed at the younger buck, he leaned back and took a swig.

Seeing Crafter’s continued uncertainty, I raised my mug and took a long, slow sip of my drink, locking eyes with Crafter as I did. Setting the mug down, I used my tongue to lick the foam from my upper lip before commenting, “Gotta hand it to the ‘fort ponies, they make a good brew.”

Finally giving in to peer pressure, Crafter glanced back to his drink as he replied, “Well… here goes, I guess.” He took a hold of his drink, brought it to his lips and tipped back enough for a solid mouthful, swallowing before it stayed in his mouth too long. He grimaced, but seemed to catch himself as he looked back up at us and shot us a fake smile. “Mmm… good.” He said, seemingly trying to convince us as much as he was trying to convince himself.

He didn’t seem to be succeeding on either front, to be honest.

Seeing Crafter’s gallant attempt to convince us he was enjoying himself, I replied as I gave him a knowing look. “It does have a bit of an aftertaste.” Glancing over the crowd populating the rest of the building, true to form most of the people there were firmly entrenched in varying states of intoxication, but just about everyone seemed to be having a good time. I continued with a distant smile, “Though to be honest, it isn’t really the taste that one looks for when turning to alcohol.”

Leaning in towards him, Tail whispered into Crafter’s ear, just loud enough for me to hear. “It lets you forget, just for a while, anything you want to.” She said it as if it were a secret, and a flash of sadness passed her eyes, so fast I almost doubted I even saw it myself, before she was back to her usual – if buzzed – demeanor. “So just relax, and enjoy the moment.”

The buck gave some thought to that for a few moments, before taking the glass in his hooves again, and taking a large gulp, almost forgetting to swallow as he did. Once he finished coughing, he replied, “Still, the taste is less than... desirable.” He put it back on the counter, but within easy reach. Despite what he said, his business clearly wasn’t done with the beverage.

As we all started getting comfortable with our drinks, I judged that it was about time for something I’d had planned for a while. Something of a tradition, from back above the clouds. It had only been relevant the odd once or twice in all my years serving, being more of a remnant from the Pegasi-Griffon war than my own times. From my father's time. In the last week, it had gotten a lot more personal.

I cleared my throat as I got to my hooves, leaving my mug on the table. “I’ve got something I want you all to be a part of. Just don’t finish your drinks, ‘kay?”

With the sounds of slightly confused agreement fading behind me, I cantered over to the bar. I rested my hooves upon the polished wood bar top as I took a seat. The grizzled bartender glanced over. His expression was all but unreadable behind the beard, but I didn’t need any hints to tell that he was barely tolerating us in his establishment as it was. I knew my request wouldn’t help our popularity any, but some things were simply that much more important.

Without preamble, I stated, “I want a double of the best scotch you have.”

He narrowed his eyes. I could follow his train of thought pretty easily: He’d done us a solid, letting us in in the first place. That didn’t give us the right to have access to some of his best stock – likely something a scavenger had to find for him, at some point. He was debating whether letting us in was a mistake. I knew how these things work, but like I said, some things are just simply more important.

I met his gaze without flinching as I continued, “How many caps, barkeep?” He’d said our caps were good, even if I was asking for something he wouldn’t normally offer to just anypony, much less a pegasus. I was banking on his sense of integrity more than anything else.

Luckily, it paid off as he finally settled his thoughts on the matter, replying, “Twenty caps, if you’ve got enough. You’re not getting any more, though – that stuff’s damn hard to find, and with things the way they are, I doubt I’ll be getting more anytime soon.”

The price was outrageous, frankly. The mugs we’d gotten were filled pretty much to the top, and they’d cost us three apiece. Well, cost Bernard, in that case. Nonetheless, I casually dropped thirty on the counter in front of him as I replied with a courteous smile and a nod, “Thank you. I’ll only need the one.”

He shook his head at that, more bemused than anything. “Damn, isn’t that a surprise. The griffon had to buy your drinks, but you’ve still got enough for some of my very best.” As he spoke, he grabbed a rocks glass, and almost reverently pulled out a very old bottle from a shelf under the bar itself, rather than from the line of tall bottles or the casks on prominent display. Despite the obvious lack of use the bottle saw, there wasn’t a speck of dust on it. “How do you want it?” he asked, in a slightly more professional tone now that the issue of price was dismissed.

“Neat,” I replied. “And it isn’t about how much it costs. Some things just need to be done.”

He chuckled lightly at that as he uncorked the bottle, giving it a reverent sniff before delicately pouring the amber coloured liquid into the glass. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” As he finished, he recorked the bottle and stowed it safely behind the bar before passing me the drink. “Well, enjoy. Just do me the favour and don’t fuckin' down it all at once, will ya?”

I gave him a noncommittal smile as I grabbed the precious beverage with a forehoof. I didn’t particularly want to let on what I planned to do with it – I honestly wasn’t sure if he’d approve, or kick us all out.

As I headed back to the table, it would seem our interaction hadn’t gone unnoticed. I caught a couple decently hostile looks, one of them from the stallion I’d guessed to be an off-duty Ranger. I ignored them. For all I cared, they could suck wind. I’d gotten what I needed, and this wasn’t about them.

Of course, I was wrong, but I didn’t realize it at the time.

Returning to the group, I reverently placed the glass of scotch in the space on the empty side of the table – not in front of anyone, but within reach of all. I got a perplexed look from Crafter, one from Bernard that showed he might have an inkling, and Fade didn’t seem to have noticed yet.

Taking my old spot, I retrieved my mug. Tailwind leaned over, brushing a wing against my back. Her comfort, solidarity… I knew what needed to be done. I just needed to get on with it. For him. For them. For all of them.

Clearing my throat, I addressed the table.

“I know we don’t see eye to eye, on a lot of things,” I started. Crafter snapped his eyes up, curious but intent. “We have our differences, we all have our pasts. I’m sure there’s a lot there we’d rather not talk about, for all of us.” Bernard gave a taciturn nod, keeping silent as I spoke. “And while we could just drink the night away, something needs to be done first. Something overdue.” Tailwind smiled encouragingly. “I don’t know if this is a tradition down here on the surface, but I’d like you all to bear with me for a minute or so.” Finally, Fade glanced up, quirking his head to the side. Well, at least I had their attention.

“We’ve all lost something to get here, some of us more than others. Life won’t get easier unless we make it, and all too often that costs lives – futures we’ll never see, and loved ones we will always miss. I don’t mean to say that this in any way makes things better, but in this moment of peace, I think we have something of a duty to them. To remember those who have gone before, who have died for our sakes, or simply, those who have died. Sometimes death is needless, sometimes it’s random. Sometimes we’re left wondering if things wouldn’t have been better if it had been us, in their place.” I let that hang for a moment, considering my next words carefully.

“But that discredits their memory!” I started again, with equal amounts conviction and pain in my voice. “They would want us to go on. To live. To love. To be happy! There’s pain enough in this world with what has been lost. We don’t need to add to that by continuing the cycle of pain. In times like these, we need to remember them. Not as they could have been, but as they were, and as they would want us to be.” If I’d been paying more attention, I would have realized the ambient noise of the bar had dropped dramatically.

“A toast, then,” I declared at last, “To all of those who cannot raise a glass with us this night. To the lost. To the fallen. To the left behind, but never forgotten!”

“To Nosedive,” Tailwind piped up, taking her mug and gently clinking it against the glass in front of the vacant seat.

“To Flaps,” I added, “And Aileron.” I spoke no more, but I held a hoof to my midsection as I clinked my own mug against the glass – I didn’t need any further reminders. I knew what I’d lost, and that was enough.

I was almost afraid it would end there, the message lost to the winds, with too little common ground between the five of us to be brought together in something as simple as remembrance.

I was wrong.

Bernard leaned forward, picking up his own glass as he leaned forward to toast the unclaimed drink. “To Merrygold.”

I met his gaze. He hadn't mentioned his wife by name before, and I could tell he was taking this very seriously.

Hesitantly, Crafter too joined in. He gulped, but when he spoke his voice was steady. “To Spring Breeze.” He hesitated a second, before adding, “A-and Haywire.”

Clink.

A quiet descended upon the table, and all eyes were drawn to the griffon sitting off to the side, unmoving. Finally, he replied, “What, you’re waiting on me? In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve lost my damn memory. I have no one to remember.”

I didn’t hesitate as I leaned forward, placing a hoof on one of his taloned hands. “Fade, don’t you see… you’ve lost just as much as any of us, if not more. You’re right, you don’t remember what you’ve lost. To me, that’s as much reason to mourn as any of us.”

“Ech, fine.” He replied, casually grabbing his Sparkle~Cola and clinking his own toast.

I’d thought that would be the end of it, when I felt a hoof on my shoulder. Turning to look, the near silence of the bar finally dawned on me. The hoof belonged to the earth pony I'd noticed when we first entered the bar. Behind him, it seemed our little table had become quite the focus of attention. From all around, a good portion of the bar had paused their conversations and were watching with interest. All had drinks held in hooves, talons or magic auras.

A dozen thoughts flew through my head. For a second, I thought we were about to be run out of the bar. If I'm honest, socking him in the face and getting the others to make a break for it was one of the options closest to the forefront of my mind. Considering how things ended up, I'm glad I held back and waited to see how things would pan out.

Wordlessly, the stallion leaned forward, taking the mug clutched in his outstretched hoof and gently touched it to the glass sitting on the table. I swear the bar was quiet enough that damn near everyone must have heard the soft clink it made.

As if it were a signal, many of the other patrons raised mugs in salute.

The Ranger must have seen my shocked look, because he gave a humourless chuckle as he glanced at the crowd that had assembled, “We’ve all lost something. Sometimes, we need a reminder that it ain’t all bad. You know?” He turned back to me, nodding his head towards the still unattended glass of scotch sitting on the table. “Finish it.”

I nodded, getting myself back on track.

I met the gaze of each of my companions at our little table, seeing nothing but expectation in every gaze. Picking up the glass of scotch, I reverently held it up for all the bar to see. The amber liquid sparkled in the firelight, as I finally found my voice. “We will remember them,” I stated solemnly.

The reply was echoed back to me in one voice, with all the tones one could imagine comprising it. Pony, griffon, mare, stallion, all as one.

“We will remember them.”

I upended the glass, spilling its precious contents upon the table. Then I placed the empty vessel upside down in the small pool its contents had made on the polished wood.

I didn’t have to tell anyone what to do. I retrieved my mug, and together the collective patrons of the bar took a long, slow swallow of their drinks.

When I lowered my mug, all eyes were drawn to the griffon guitarist of the four piece band on the opposite side of the bar. He’d strummed his talons across his guitar strings, sending clear notes resonating through the quiet bar. Taking it as a signal, the earth pony in front of the mic started to sing.

What started off quietly quickly escalated to include the rest of the band, breaking into an energetic song about the death of a pony who must have been quite beloved. It was irreverent, bawdy, silly and… perfect. It was a song about everything I’d just spoken about – a song about people dealing with grief, having their own way of showing their respect to the dead. Of celebrating life.

It worked. Energy and life bloomed in the bar, and bodies steadily trickled onto the dance floor. Booze flowed freely, and the bartender quickly found himself swept up in a night that had gotten all sorts of busy awfully fast.

I turned to the stallion who’d spoken for what seemed like the entire Wasteland just now – only to find him already gone, the space he’d inhabited occupied only by air. I was baffled for a few seconds, gratitude dying on my lips… he’d certainly helped us out, and I hadn’t even caught his name. It passed quickly – it wasn’t like I could do anything about it.

I turned back to my companions, all seated around the table in a companionable atmosphere. Seated like that, just enjoying the ability to… be, to live... I could almost forget the events that led each of us there.

Fade was the one to catch my attention, for the time being. He seemed to be in his own little world, with his newly acquired watch dangling from the silver chain he clutched in a talon. As it spun, the firelight danced across its casing, while one of its owner’s paws tapped along with the band’s tune. At some unspoken signal, Fade seemed to snap back to reality. He sat up, blinking his eyes and clearing his throat before leaning forward and placing an elbow on the tabletop. With a smug grin, he shot the rest of us a look, and a question. “So, anything like they have cloud-side? Or Stable-side, for that matter?”

Taking another sip of my drink, I replied, “Well, for the most part the ‘best stuff’ in the clouds came from the odd surface recovery team picking up something good.” I glanced thoughtfully back towards the bar, “Vodka has always been a personal favourite of mine, though I’ve heard rumours of some cloud-brewed liquor. Nasty stuff, that – supposedly it can clean the rust right off a skytank’s hull.” I gave a soft sigh, realizing that it was probably for the best that I’d never encountered it. That probably wouldn’t have ended well.

Crafter looked up at Fade when he was asked, then back to the drink. “Not that I was aware of…” he paused, before adding, “At least nothing I frequented.” He took another sip, a little less tentatively this time.

“Would figure you get most of it from down here,” Fade opined as he waved a talon at the lines of bottles behind the bar. “Won’t get more aged than two centuries!” Drumming his claws on tabletop, he leaned forward and gave us what passed for a roguish grin. “Straight is all well and good,” He began as he nodded towards the mugs we were drinking from, “But you really don’t get to experience the finest of the Wastes until you’ve had one of its creations. Mix a few things together, and viola!” Sitting back against the chair’s backrest, he shrugged and added, “Though they do get you in the head a lot harder than the straight stuff. Of course if you’re alright with sharing my mind for a while then go for it.”

Recognizing a challenge when I saw it, I locked eyes with the griffon, a wide grin spread across my muzzle. I drained the rest of my mug before replying, “Alright, Fade. I’m willing to see what the Wasteland has to offer.” Extricating myself from the chair and table, I gave him an expectant look as I added, “I’ll take whatever you suggest.”

Raising an eyebrow, Fade sat back and replied, “Ohoh, feisty are we? Don’t feel that you’ve got to be tough just to impress the missus.” Despite what he said, he still pushed himself from the seat and started heading for the bar.

I followed, but not before giving Tailwind a confident wink. She returned it, before shuffling closer to Crafter and striking up a conversation with the quiet buck. “So Crafter, what do you think of this? The Fort, I mean. All these ponies, finding ways to stay alive on the surface…” Her voice faded away as we departed, their conversation lost in the sheer volume of the crowd.

Sticking behind Fade, we only had to gently push past a few patrons before we found ourselves back at the bar. The bartender finished pouring a drink for another customer, then turned to us. He gave me a sidelong glance. “Not the worst use of my scotch I’ve seen, and I must say you brought me some renewed business for what was promising to be a mediocre night. ‘Lotta people gonna be falling asleep on tables tonight thanks to you.” He paused a second, “But I meant it, you aren’t getting another. On that note, what can I get for you two?” He glanced from Fade to myself.

“My companion here wants to test her mettle so I figured something closer to home; a Lightning Strike, if you’d be so kind.” Fade hooked a thumb in my direction as he spoke, giving the buck a nod of acknowledgement. He gave an affirmative grunt, before turning to mix the drink. I saw vodka going into it, as well as some sort of fruity-coloured mix. Beyond that, I was distracted as Fade turned to whisper to me, “Eh, he might be nipping into a bit of the stuff himself.”

Whatever was being made, it was clearly a complicated process. I fluttered my wings to take a seat at one of the bar-side stools. “A ‘Lightning Strike,’ hmm? Rather lofty name.” I replied, turning the conversation to the drink itself. “Though I can’t help but notice you aren’t really drinking anything aside from that Sparkle~cola. Any particular reason for that?”

Being as large in stature as he was, he chose to forego the stool and rather rest on his haunches beside me. Casting a glance at the progress the bartender was making on the drink, it was apparently not fast enough for him to avoid the question. With a sigh, he turned to focus on me. “There’s a number of reasons but the simplest is this,” He explained, “Most drink to forget. When you’ve lost all the good and the bad, your past as a whole, there’s not a lot more you want to lose. Even if it isn’t always pleasant, it’s better than waking up with another blank spot.” Giving another small shrug, he rolled his neck to work out a kink, before adding, “Plus, the stuff is expensive. After what I learned from Cheesequake I’ll bet at least some of what they’re selling here I brought them, maybe even that scotch you so liberally…” He glanced at me. I know he wanted to say ‘wasted,’ but I appreciated that he didn’t. “...applied to the table. Easier to make caps off of than get hooked. Healthier, too.”

I gave a humourless chuckle, his logic did make sense to me after all. I hadn’t thought of it that way. “I sympathize,” I replied, looking down at my hooves. “But I’ve got my own…” I fidgeted with my hooves, uncertain. Ultimately, I decided to tell him. “Well, I fucked up. I got a good friend killed, in exchange for Tailwind’s and my own life. I don’t know what I could have done differently, but I’ll take a bit of a self destructive habit in exchange for a night in which I’m not seeing him whenever I close my eyes.” I sighed, “And the bastard of it all is that, knowing him, I don’t think he even blames me for it, wherever he is. I deserve to be blamed, but… that just wasn’t how he was, you know?”

Fade said nothing, though he did open his beak as if to respond, before closing it again. Thankfully, what the bartender lacked in speed, he made up for with impeccable timing, sliding the mixed drink in front of me before moving on to help other customers off on the far side of the bar. I gave it an appraising look; It was blue, oddly. I missed a lot of what he’d put into it, but I coulda sworn I saw little tiny bits of particulate matter in there, floating around amidst the ice cubes.

“You know it’s not too late to back out of this, right? It’s quite… potent.” Fade commented.

With a cocky smile, I replied monosyllabically: “Nope!’ as I grabbed the drink and took a rather substantial swig of the peculiar beverage. It might not have been the best idea with something so new, but I saw it as a challenge from him… I basically had to, at that point. It was fruity, with what I would almost describe as… tangy, maybe even going so far as to use the word electric. I could see where it got the name, at any rate. Despite all that, there was practically no trace of the alcohol hidden within. A dangerous combination. The effects, immediate as they were, hit me with all the subtlety of a snow wolf – an allusion I have the misfortune to say I’m familiar with by now. I’d had a drink in me at the time, but this was something else entirely. I felt lighter on my hooves, and the room seemed to have slowed down. The perspiration already beading on my glass, somepony accidentally knocking their drink over across the room from us, almost in slow motion. It occurred to the analytical part of my brain that whatever I’d just drank wasn’t time dilation, but rather my perception being altered, and my reaction time was speeding up to match. That, and whatever else was in the drink was speeding up my metabolism like nopony’s business.

I’d always been one to drink, but that was categorically different. Something chemical. But with the mindset I was in… I didn’t even care. Glancing up at Fade, I commented breathlessly, “Clouds and skies Fade, this is something else.” I took another drink, slightly more conservatively this time – I wanted to make this one last.

Seeing my… enthusiasm for the drink, he grimaced, watching me with a careful eye as he seemed to be gauging the effects. I don’t know what he decided, but after I took the second sip he seemed to relax a bit. He inclined his head as he replied, “Yes, it certainly is. A lot in there your kind would never consume for recreation.”

Coming rapidly to the conclusion that it was gonna be necessary to test out the sensory high I was experiencing, I got to my hooves. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in finding out if dancing was among your repertoire of skills from before your injury, do you?” I asked, beckoned Fade with a wing towards the dance floor. He wasn’t drinking, so I wasn’t really expecting much… but on the other hoof, the invitation was also a gateway to… other activities. Tailwind had certainly brought up that she was open minded enough to experiment.

He gave me a sidelong, unamused gaze before glancing at the dance floor. He sighed. “No, Miss, I can’t say I would be terribly interested,’ He replied with a shake of his head, leaning back against the countertop. Waving a talon towards Tailwind and the others, he continued, “That’s an activity for you’n the missus and, even if I did know how before, I don’t now.” Either he hadn’t caught the implied meaning of my invitation, or he really didn’t care. Either way, I decided to give up on his account – there would be easier prey throughout the night, and if he didn’t want to, he didn’t want to.

Unperturbed, I shot him an almost petulant frown before replying, “Fiiiiine, but don’t come crying to me when you see how much fun we’ll be having.” I turned with a swish of my tail, heading back towards the table. Tailwind was in the middle of explaining something to Crafter, having obviously scooted closer to him in the interim. She was making some rather grand gestures, with a mostly full mug clutched in a hoof.

“...The Ministry of Awesome built those, and they built them to last… officially, the only thing they really did during the war.” She brought the mug to her mouth, taking a drink before continuing, “I don’t think the ‘zebs knew what exactly they were for, but they hit a bunch of them with balefire bombs anyways. Boom!” She suddenly made a wide, sweeping motion with her hooves to emphasize the apparent effects of a direct balefire bomb hit. In the process, some of her drink splashed all the way over to where Bernard was sitting, still nursing his drink. Tailwind didn’t seem to notice, intent on both her drink, and Crafter at the time. “But you know what, they’re still there. Not even a scratch.’ Raising a hoof to her chin, she commented, “Though if the surface ever figured out a way to damage ‘em, that would probably lead to a rather heavy-hoofed response from the Enclave.”

Having been idly listening, Bernard had been forced to suddenly dodge the spray of drink from Tailwind’s direction. “I’d rather not wear the drinks if at all possible, Tail.” He said with a roll of his eyes. I figured he could see what was happening between Tailwind and Crafter. Hell, he probably realized a lot sooner than the poor buck.

Having evidently forgotten Bernard’s continued existence, Tailwind seemed spooked by him speaking up, giving a slight jump even closer to Crafter. She also seemed perfectly content with that, essentially rubbing cutie marks at that point. Staying firmly where she was, she apologized as she put on a winning smile, “Sorry Bernard, won’t happen again.”

In lieu of a response, Bernard just gave her a long, ‘I know what you did there’ look after her ‘accidental’ collision with Crafter. Seeing my approach, he leaned back, presumably holding off to see how the situation would play out before him.

Timing my arrival just right, I arrived all but unnoticed behind the two, throwing my hooves around the shoulders of both Crafter and Tailwind, something that was incredibly easy given their proximity. “And what have you two been up to, hmm?” I teased, mock suspicion in my tone but a devilish smile written upon my face.

Crafter had still been recovering from Tailwind’s invasion of personal space when I exacerbated the problem, and he gave me a surprised, and slightly defensive look. “Oh, uh… we were just discussing your ponies' home is all…”

For her part, Tail seemed legitimately surprised by my appearance. Granted, I don’t normally do that kind of thing, so a little suspicion wasn’t unwarranted.

Just the drink, I suppose…

“Well,” I said without adjusting my position between them at all, “I can’t help but think conversation can wait. We’re here to have fun!” Putting on a big smile, I looked Crafter in the eye, pretty much at intimate distance as I asked, “But while we’re on the topic of where we came from… Tell me Crafter, did you ever dance in that Stable of yours?”

He attempted to lean back a little, and avoided making eye contact. “Uh, well yeah, occasionally we danced at some sort of special occasion, I guess…” He replied uneasily.

“Well, then you already know the steps,” I glanced at his nearly empty mug, “And you’ve got the preparation down. C’mmon Crafter, lets go have some fun!” Tailwind nodded along, in hearty agreement.

Turning his head away, he replied, “Ahh, well no thanks, I’m not really in the mood…”

We might have been a little too forward, so I decided to tone it back a bit, dropping back to having all four hooves on the ground. Tailwind continued for me, “Oh, come on Crafter. You never know when we’ll get another chance like this…” She trailed off, giving him her most adorable set of sad eyes. I could swear I saw a hint of mistiness in those deep green eyes of hers.

Giving the dance floor a look, then back to Tailwind and I, Crafter gave a soft sigh. “Ugh,” he commented, turning and draining the remainder of his mug. “I’ll guess I’ll give ‘er a whirl.”

With a cheer, I took another drink of the Wasteland’s Most Interesting Beverage before setting it down. Then, we headed over to the dance floor, falling in behind Crafter. Tail smiled, the misty eyes turned off the instant Crafter agreed. As we all departed, Fade settled back into his seat beside Bernard. “Here we go…” the older stallion muttered.

As we arrived, Tail and I took the lead, breaking off individually for now. I threw myself into dancing like nopony was watching. Well, actually, dancing as if there were exactly two ponies watching. Crafter was hesitant, I decided to let myself simply be an example, moving to the beat and swaying my flank like I hadn’t done… probably since Tailwind and I joined the military.

It felt different, though. The only variable I could think of was whatever Fade had challenged me to drink, but… there was a feeling of speed, of reaction time, of seeing the ponies moving about me as if they were moving through a thick murk while I was free to move as I pleased. It was, in a word, intoxicating. I could dance like I’d never danced before, and nopony could stop me!

As we danced, I kept tabs on Crafter every now and then. He started off awkwardly, but I think our example managed to get him to loosen up soon enough. By the third song, he was really starting to move his flank. I gradually maneuvered my way back towards him as I called out over the music, “So does this beat sitting and talking, Crafter?”

He nodded, still moving to the beat. “I’d say it’s not too bad. Reminds me a little bit of those times back home when we would dance.” I watched him carefully, then. He’d brought up the Stable again, just as it felt like we were breaking through to him. Unexpectedly, it didn’t seem to faze him this time. He kept dancing, like it had never happened.

I had to wonder if that particular wound might just be starting to heal… just a little.

I was eager to move on from that topic, and my mind clicked onto what was, for me, the next most logical thing…

“So you danced back in the Stable… what else did you do for fun?” I asked, still moving to the music, but now I was deliberately giving Crafter a little more of a… show. A little extra sway, a few strategic flicks of the tail… you know how it goes.

Problem was, he most certainly didn’t catch the hint.

“Well,” He replied, as his eyes tracked back and forth with the sway of my hips, “We didn’t really do too much for fun. I mostly just worked and hung out with… my friends.” He glanced down. “I also enjoyed just tinkering around with things.” He glanced back up, and threw his body into something approaching a spin, mostly in tune with the music. “How about you up there, what’d you do for fun?” He asked.

I saw the opportunity, and went for it. “For fun? Well, lots of things.” I replied, shimmying up next to him. “We’d race, play cloudball… play pranks on some of the younger troopers… heh, some of the NCO’s, if we thought we could get away with it.” There were some good memories there. I sighed, as my mind began to wander before I brought it back on track. “But… Tailwind and I have been together for a while now, and every now and then,” I flicked my tail up, brushing lightly against the base of his chin as I slowly circled around him, almost a predatory motion. “We find somepony we both like…” I licked my lips, tasting a little of the Lighting Strike lingering there. I fixed him with the sexiest gaze I could muster, “And we give him a night he’ll never forget.”

Crafter took a second to let that sink in, backing off and glancing around. “Uhh,” He started awkwardly, “Thanks, but no thanks?”

Having maneuvered herself in behind Crafter, Tailwind replied innocently, “We aren’t going to force you to do something you don’t want to, but we thought you’d like it. You seemed rather down lately, and we thought we might be able to help…” She trailed off, idly flicking her tail across Crafter’s cutie mark.

Crafter continued backing off, dodging her tail as he did. He seemed to be really uncomfortable with the direction we’d taken. “No, I’ll be alright. I think I’m gonna turn in for the night.” He said, as he glanced around for an exit.

I was kinda worried for him. I had thought he’d gotten over… Her more than he had, and what we were doing was causing a lot of friction there. I glanced over at Tailwind – Somepony needed to bring it up… it just couldn’t be me. She caught my gaze and nodded.

Turning back to the retreating form of Crafter, she commented just loud enough to be heard over the music, her tone completely different from before. “Crafter, if this is about Her… you have to come to terms with it in your own way.” She raised a forehoof to her breast, “It hurts too much to hold on to that kind of pain.”

He nodded, but didn’t reply before he scooted between a pair of ponies and escaped out the far side of the dance floor.

We’d misjudged that, rather spectacularly too. Defeated, for now, Tailwind and I slunk back to the table. For my part, I wore a mildly dazed expression. I mean, hey – that totally should have worked. As we sat down, Bernard raised a questioning eyebrow.

“So we both got shot down by Crafter,” Tailwind piped up for the benefit of the other two.

“I think I need something to put out these flames,” I grumbled as I grabbed my neglected drink and took a swig.

Tailwind just glared back at me, unimpressed. Still, she retrieved her own mug and took a drink.

Fade shrugged off our collective disappointment. “Eh, there’s greater things you could have lost. Not to mention if you had 'won' it would have been a tad… sordid. Or sad. Both.” Having watched as I reacquainted myself with my drink, he added with a grin, “So I see you’re liking the groundside swill. Certainly gets the fuzzies out, doesn’t it? Though I can’t help but wonder how much your… cloud sheltered little form can take.”

“Cloud sheltered?!” I gasped, seeing the proverbial horseshoe being thrown down. “Oh, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet, Fade.” I replied. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Tailwind covering her eyes with both of her hooves, slowly shaking her head.

I grabbed the drink (which was still more than half-full. In hindsight, that part probably should have registered a tad more than it did) with both forehooves, draining the remainder in a single long swig, a smug look of satisfaction written all over my face.

What could possibly go wrong, right?

*** *** ***

A splitting headache is the next thing I can remember. That, and a full-body soreness that no amount of tossing and turning in the bed I found myself in could assuage. I blinked my eyes open, only to shut them once more as the first shafts of half-light penetrated the window. Even that was too bright for my sensitive eyes.

I heard a soft giggle from off to my side, and felt hooves softly massaging my back. Tailwind's silky voice whispered in my ear, "Look who's the heavy sleeper now, Chief."

My reply was virtually unintelligible, sort of a nonverbal groan of discomfort as I closed my eyes and leaned into her. As I abandoned my sight for the time being, I hazarded a sniff at the morning air and found it... oddly neutral. In fact, all I was greeted with was the faint smell of, well... Tailwind and I, as well as the ever present, lingering smell of old that seemed to permeate just about every building we'd encountered.

Considering that I had expected a mixture of sweat, booze breath, and who knows what else from last night... it was quite the improvement. We must have found a shower at some point during the night.

...Which meant that at some point we had really needed a shower if it became a priority while we were still drunk.

Also, once I had the time to dwell on some of the particular aches of the morning, there were a few very specific sore spots. Putting two and two together, my eyes shot open in realization. "Tail, did we...? Was it someone we know? Can I...?"

She gave a soft sigh, moving on from massaging to gently brushing my mane. She replied to my barrage of questions with a calm, understanding tone. "Yes, no, and yes, you most certainly can."

"Oh." I replied, relaxing quite a bit at the update, situating myself such that it would be easier for the mare behind me to reach my mane. "Wish I could remember."

Her hoof paused, and I could feel her stiffen a little. I couldn't see her expression, but my first thought was... anger? When she did reply, it was in a quiet voice. "No, you don't. It was fun and all, but… " She sighed, "I just worry about you..."

I gave a soft sigh of my own. There was more to that, but she was being gentle. "It won't happen again," I replied, looking up to meet her gaze. "Not like that, at least. Next time - if there is a next time - I promise we'll make it mean something."

She smiled. A soft smile, one that said she knew I was being honest... but wasn't entirely sure if I could follow through on the promise.

But that was okay – I wasn't exactly sure if could follow through, either.

Moving on from my mane, she gently ran her hooves along one of my wings, sending a delightful tingling feeling of pleasure up my spine. I unfolded the wing and its twin, splaying myself spread-eagle upon the mattress. I closed my eyes, reveling in her gentle ministrations.

After a few minutes like that, I felt her soft lips wrap themselves around the series of feathers at the far point of my wing. Gently, she started to smooth down the fletching there, removing any damaged shafts and letting them slowly fall to the mattress. She moved quickly, but not so fast that I couldn't enjoy the pleasant feeling of being preened. I might have let out a few soft moans of unconscious pleasure, right as she got to the last, downey little feathers right near the joint, and placed a soft kiss on the wing itself before shuffling over to start my other wing.

Which is naturally the point at which Crafter chose to open the door to our room.

He stepped into the room with his eyes downcast, looking for all the world like he’d rather be anywhere else right then. Without being sure what had made him come in, and realizing there might definitely be some… repercussions to our behavior the night before, I chose to let him be the one to initiate conversation. He certainly took his time, and when he did speak up it was hesitant, uncertain. “So… does this change anything? What happened last night?”

I sighed softly. “No, it doesn’t. Not for our part, anyways. We didn’t mean to push you, or to hurt you… But I think we’d both understand if you wanted to find your own way after that.” I glanced down, slightly abashed.

“‘My own way?’ You’re the only ponies I know out here!” He replied, almost… scared, I’d say, of what I’d just suggested. I hadn't thought about it that way, not as much as I should have.

“Okay, I guess that was a bit extreme,” I replied, “I just should have known better than to put you into that position.”

"You were drunk," He replied, the very picture of innocence. "I know you two don't really feel that way, and that's why I declined. So don't worry about it."

I don't know how I would have replied to that. He's just so innocent, it seemed like it would make his head spin if I'd told him we'd planned to do exactly what we did before a drop of alcohol had passed either of our lips. Whatever I might have said, however, was overruled by Tailwind deciding to play her own part in the conversation – namely, by increasing the pressure of her lips on my wing as she ran her smooth tongue across the shafts.

For a pegasus, our wings are essentially our whole world – I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if unicorns felt the same way about their horns. It should go without saying that a level of trust would have to be held with another pony to even think of letting them care for our wings – or preen them, in other words. Typically, any pegasus would consider the act itself to be, to an extent, a very intimate action. A lovers' activity, or the very best of friends. That didn't really click for Crafter, not at first. But once Tailwind really got to work on my wing, he took the hint pretty quickly once the first unconscious moans of approval came from me.

A look of horrified realization dawned on him, and he stumbled backwards a pace. "I, um... just remembered I had something to do," he stammered, looking anywhere but at us.

Tailwind flashed out a wing, shielding her mouth from view, but leaving her eyes to twinkle with mischief as she renewed the movements of her tongue against my plumage. As much as I didn't want to at the time, she drew more instinctive little moans from me as she worked her magic.

Crafter gave one final "Eep!" Before I heard the door to our room close with maybe a bit more force than was strictly necessary.

With our bystander out of our manes, I decided to up the ante on her idle teasing. I wrapped the wing Tail was just finishing up on around her and used it to roll us both over until I was on top of our little mare pile. She let out a noise of irritation at that – she hadn't finished my second wing – but leaned into her and pressed my lips to hers.

Her tongue wasn't unoccupied for long.

*** *** ***

The remainder of today was uneventful, which was probably for the best. We collected the supplies from the Rangers – they even gave us an invoice, of all things. Not a single item was missing or out of place. I was kind of impressed.

Next, we headed to the barding merchant for another pleasant surprise – he'd finished our barding with time to spare on his estimate. My own barding was now adorned with a brownish-grey set of furs, visible at the collar and at the ends of the legs – a cape was made from the same material, and clasped around the neck. Tailwind's had near-identical treatment, with the exception that her furs were a more delicate off-white colour. I leapt at the sight, and it took me all of seconds to buckle on my newly refurbished garment. To my delight, I found that the capes had been cut to accommodate our wings quite nicely – they could cover them entirely, or with the right shifting would fold nicely to allow free range of wing movement. Freshly equipped, we said our goodbyes.

Finally, I worked my way around the battlesaddle until I found a way to get it to mount my energy pistol – after selling the SMG, it was now my only remaining weapon. It mounted without issue, though my old standby felt... lighter than I remembered. Maybe a little less substantial of a weapon, after using the shotguns and the automatic.

No matter. I finally have a decent ammo supply for a weapon, and that's what matters right now.

After that... well, we ate, but otherwise we were in an interesting position: we had nothing left to do, we were all resupplied and good to go... but we didn't have enough time to reach a safe haven before the sun set. We had a dismal hoof-full of caps, and no desire to drink anyways – we'd have to be sharp for the trip.

Ultimately, it was Tailwind's suggestion that stuck with me: To write it out, what we've gone through in the past little over a week. She said it might help put some perspective on things. I don't know about that, but it seemed like a nice way to end our quasi-vacation from the life-or-death of the frozen wastes. To end on a reflective note.

At any rate, before dinnertime had even rolled around, I had a lit candle, a nice hot drink, and Tailwind was curled up beside me. I held a pen in my mouth and delicately began to write the first words of our story in an old notebook I found jammed into the very bottom of my saddlebags.

Skies above, were those really the last notes I took in this old notebook...?

*** *** ***

...And so it was that all of this started, and now here we are. I don’t know who you are, oh reader, but I feel like we’ve… shared something, I suppose. The start of a journey I never planned to undergo, with people I never would have imagined I’d be making it with... Well, except for Tailwind. I probably wouldn’t have made it this far without her.

She’s so cute when she sleeps… she’s got this higher-pitched little snore she sometimes makes, when she's sleeping really soundly. I've never told her, because I always thought it might make her stop. She fell asleep minutes after my pen touched paper, and she's been making that noise ever since. It’s done me a world of good to just… feel her there, leaning against me.

It’s been a good couple days – I think we all needed them, for various reasons. To rest. To recover. To reconnect.

To reload.

Heh, I suppose that last one’s a little dark. I could have said ‘resupply’... but it’s accurate.

I have no illusions about what the dawn will bring. Tomorrow we’re heading into Red Eye territory in search of a filly only one of our party has ever met. It’s a long shot on a target we can’t even see… but then again, I’d be lying if I said that was my only reason for going west. For that matter, I’d be a fool if I assumed for a second that Fade was with us out of the goodness of his heart. Crafter doesn’t know where he stands, and Bernard’s only goal has been quite clear… I do wonder how far he’d go to see it realized. I hope I don’t have to find out.

I’ve had my own reasons to keep going ever since I saw the map the Rangers provided, when I saw where we’re headed. According to Cheesequake, the ‘Serpent’ headed out on the old road due west. The ‘Red Line’ as the locals call it is less than a day in that direction, and not far beyond, a hub of Red military presence based in a place called “Saltpeet Quarry.” But just on the other side of the line, I saw this little town. Just a point on the map, you could almost miss it if it wasn’t so obvious that it was the only real place to rest within a day’s travel from Neighson:

Trotwynd.

Oh yes, I have my own reasons for sticking by Bernard’s side.

Does that make me a bad pony? I don’t know. I do legitimately want to help, but… that isn’t all I want. My father died there, and I need to find out why. Just maybe I’ll find out why we were sent here, too. With how tight-lipped Cheesequake was when I asked, something happened there. Something big, and I feel obligated to find out why it needed to be covered up by both the Enclave and the Rangers.

At any rate, I suppose I should get some sleep. This candle’s burning low, and we’ve got a big day ahead of us. No sleeping in, tomorrow.

We head out at dawn.

—Snap Roll’s Journal

Author's Note

End book one.

So... that took a lot longer than I planned. In many ways. I must have promised release dates to about three different people specifically, and a whole group in general... I apologize for that. So we've finally gotten to this point, a bit of a... plateau, before the rollercoaster hits the next drop. I think it's a good time to do some other things I've been meaning to do. Over the next while, there will be a bit of a delay (not a hiatus - certainly not), but I want to write some other things, I have some ideas. That, as well as a more extended FS canon sidestory (two of them, actually) that I cannot tell from Snap's perspective.

Big thanks to all my editors - Belmor, Plain, PersonalGamer, Jetwave and CptDoel. Oh boy, this one was a bit of a mess of edits, all over the place. Thankfully, there isn't anything like this number of scenes to deal with for a good long while. They found a lot of time in some very busy schedules to work on this, and I'm deeply grateful for it.

For those who don't know, myself along with Tofu (Outlaw), Doctor Ham (Wasteland Economics), Stonershy and Pacce (Anywhere But Here) will be at Everfree Northwest 2015 coming up May 29-31st in Seattle. If you find yourself in that area, we have a panel on Sunday, right near the end of the day. We'd love to see you there! Somber also has a panel - I don't know too much about that one, but it's on the Saturday.

In the meantime, for those of you who are interested in how Frozen Skies gets written, keep an eye on my blog (it'll be my first blog post - those will also increase, now that we've gotten to this point in the story). There will be something of a Q&A, but if you aren't there the time of, I'll still try and make sure to reply to any questions that get posted.

Until then, have a good one, guys!

Paralogue 01: Of the Works of Mice and Mares...

Paralogue One: Of the Works of Mice and Mares...

“Hey Crafter, you never did tell us… how was life in the Stable?”

“‘Tell you?’ There’s so much, I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Well… what if you wrote it out, like a journal or something?”

“I guess it can’t hurt to try. Maybe… maybe it’ll help. Got anything to write on?”

“Well, here’s this old notebook of mine. I don’t think I wrote anything too dangerous in it, so you should be fine. We’ll give you some time, ‘kay? Tail and I will be in the other room if you want to talk about it.”

“No, I think I’ll be okay. Thanks, though.”

… … …

Where the heck do I start?

Well, if I’m going to do this, I suppose I’ll have to let them — or, you, I should say — know how my Stable functioned in the first place.

I don’t know how the other Stables worked, but mine was always very by-the-book. We obeyed rules, protocols, work schedules, designated rest times… It was a communal effort to keep our little piece of civilization alive. To that end, our lives were governed by the six pillars of our society — the Departments, with each having an equal parts vote on the major issues of the Stable.

From early foalhood, the Education Department taught us right from wrong, and started identifying our strengths and weaknesses. Once we were old enough to take the C.A.T. (Cutie-mark Aptitude Test), we were assigned a Department to “Nurture the perpetuation of the Stable,” as the Overmare once put it.

Ponies with an aptitude towards teaching and caring for foals were generally sent right back to the Education department — as prospective teachers, this time. Those with kind hearts and a knack for encouraging plants to grow were typically assigned to the Agriculture department. Strict, physically capable and mature ponies were usually sent towards Security — not a department to be crossed lightly, they enforced Stable law and assigned punishment as needed. Occasionally — and it had only happened once in recent memory — a particularly apt pony (Despite the title, it could be a mare or a stallion) would be selected for grooming into the Overmare’s replacement, in due time.

That left two Departments.

As it was explained to me, the Judicariat was the Department responsible for the “Defense of the Stable and its occupants.” They were the ferociously armoured ponies who solved any dispute Security was unable to, and they did so with uncompromising efficiency. In all my years, I had never seen a pony actually selected to replace a Judicare.

With that in mind, if a pony hadn’t been chosen for any of the others, they were pretty much destined to be assigned to the Engineering Department.

My department.

*** *** ***

I awoke as I always had, to the flamboyant tones of a mare I’ve been told once ran one of the six most powerful institutions of wartime Equestria. Those were dark, violent times... but every time I heard her, she seemed perfectly happy. Despite the fact that her voice meant that I had to get up, I was always just a little happier for hearing it.

Still, I was glad I’d found a way to turn off the song that played along with the “alarm.” That was just too much, in my opinion. Surely nopony needed that much reminding to smile, did they?

Swatting the pipbuck on my hoof with a motion practiced by long years of experience, I silenced the voice of the most happy person I knew — and she’d been dead for almost two hundred years. Fully awake, I glanced around my sparsely furnished room.

It was a spartan affair, now that I have things to compare it to. Small, under-illuminated by long suffering spark bulbs set into the ceiling. A bed, sink, dresser, bed stand and a solitary chair adorned the space. I couldn’t really complain — It wasn’t like I was married, and my job wasn’t the most glamorous in the stable, so I pretty much had to be content with what I had.

Still, I couldn’t help but feel a little envious of the ponies whose bedrooms didn’t have to double as vanity rooms.

The few things I actually owned were laid out neatly on the dresser — a set of Stable utility barding, the same as everypony else’s, except for all the extra pockets; and a small toolbox with my name stenciled on the side, where I’d painted over the name of its previous owner.

As was the normal routine, I crawled out of bed, splashed some water over my face, grabbed my toolbox and pulled on my stable barding with a quick flare of telekinetic magic. Right as I was turning to leave, I heard a knock at the door.

“Crafty! You up yet?” A feminine voice called from the other side of the heavy door, “I’m heading to the chow hall and figured you would want to come along.”

Instead of yelling, I calmly pushed the button to open the door, causing it to slide up into the roof with a gentle swoosh of displaced air and well-oiled machinery.

Before me stood one of my very few friends in the Stable, a mare with a vibrant red mane tied up to keep it out of her eyes as she worked. I’d always thought it accented by her yellow coat quite well, and was probably why her parents had named her “Haywire.” She wore a bored expression until she heard the door slide up into the ceiling, a smile blooming despite the yawn she failed to stifle entirely.

“Sure,” I replied, “I was just about to head on out anyways.”

“That’s the spirit,” She said, “Let's go see if they’ve found any new ways of making something as simple as reprocessed food any more inedible!”

*** *** ***

The meal line was as short as it always was this early in the day. Not many ponies had reasons to be up as early as we did in the Maintenance sector… well, other than Security — I could see the Officer Handout quietly sipping coffee as he paged through what I assumed was either a book, or some sort of work log he’d loaded onto his pipbuck. His black mane, white coat, and security barding stood out against the grey of the cafeteria walls. He didn’t really talk much, but he looked up as Haywire and I entered, giving a polite nod before returning to reading.

Seeing him being about as taciturn as he usually was, we moved on to grab a tray each and head past the line. Those trays soon were filled by Mealcard, the aging mare on the other side of the food counter. “Hay fries,” I commented, “Just what I was hoping for. Thanks again!”

She fixed me with what could almost be called a glare, except for the obvious lack of emotional investment. “Don’t mention it,” She replied, just as she always did. It was always hay fries, after all... but it isn’t like that was her fault. Was it?

To supplement the tasteless latticework of fibre adorning my tray, I grabbed one — and only one, or Mealcard would surely have yelled at me — of the fresh, red-skinned apples, from what must have been the Agriculture section’s newest crop. I was looking forwards to seeing how they’d done.

Weaving our way through rows of empty seats, Haywire and I found our way to our usual spot, not too far from the entrance. Just as usual, the instant we sat down Haywire immediately tried to find something more interesting than the food in front of her. “So, did you hear?” She asked, sounding very excited, but talking in a hushed voice.

“Hear what?” I replied over a mouthful of reprocessed food.

She leaned in close, like something was a secret. I had to glance around the room, frowning. She seemed to be trying to be inconspicuous in an otherwise empty meal hall, aside from the cook and two stallions whom I’d never taken the time to get to know, seated just out of earshot. Well, and Officer Handout off in the corner, still sipping at his coffee. Still, I humoured her and leaned in as she spoke.

“I heard they've done the census.”

I stifled a surprised noise, glad that the meal hall was as empty as it was. It was getting to be that time of year, wasn’t it? I’d kind of lost track since the last time. “Already?” I asked, realization slowly dawning that there were more important questions to be asked. “Are we over?” I almost hissed, eyes wide.

She nodded slowly, “510, from what I heard.”

That wasn’t good. The Stable could only support 500 ponies at a time — the Overseers told us so. Much as we tried to keep to that number as much as possible… accidents happened. Foals were the future of our stable, and we weren’t about to limit our future. So, every year if we’re over the population limit… well, we had to send ponies away. To scout the surface, as our department heads informed us.

I hadn’t heard of any of those sent out returning to the Stable.

Picking up the apple from my tray, I bit into it, hoping it would buoy my spirits a bit. This time of year was a trying one, but we’d always got through it by doing our jobs and avoiding being the focus of attention. This year would be like any other, if we had anything to say about it. Keep quiet, do your job, don’t get noticed, just like always.

Despite how delicious it tasted, the apple really didn’t help any. For some reason, I just couldn’t shake that number from my mind.

510.

Ten of us would leave, and soon. There was some comfort that the ponies chosen to go were at least voted on by the committee, but... the thought did nothing for my appetite.

Returning the apple to my plate with only a single bite out of it, I pushed it away from me.

Haywire nodded. “Yeah, I know the feeling. Lets get to work, hey? Take our minds off things. Castle’s taking the day off, so there’s a bit more to be done.”

Together we stood, deposited our trays and made to leave. Or tried to, anyways.

As we were leaving, another pair of ponies were entering. Wingnut and Boltcutter. The dreadful duo, as Haywire had once called them. The larger of the two, Wingnut was something of the brains of their operation, while Boltcutter was… well, he was the second of them, anyways. Two of the other members of our Engineering shift, and the ones most likely to cause trouble. I glanced at the clock: fifteen minutes til our shift started. They weren’t fast eaters.

“You’ve got the East wing today, you two,” Haywire remarked, “Please be on time. It’s that time of year again, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wingnut replied, “I know what that means.” As they passed by, I just barely heard him add, “Bitch.”

I felt anger rise at the slight, but Haywire shot me a look that told me she didn’t want to make anything of it. “Don’t,” she said through gritted teeth, “If there’s any sort of right in this Stable, maybe we won’t have to deal with them for much longer.”

As grim as the thought was, I couldn’t help but agree.

It would be for the best.

*** *** ***

The “work” Haywire had alluded to, is exactly what led to me crawling through a ventilation duct near the agriculture wing a few hours later. We’d already fixed the lighting in one of the residential hubs of the Stable, as well as one of the food reprocessors that had been on the fritz and helped the elderly miss Crumpets connect her terminal to the Stable network. Again. The day was coming to a close, and one of our few remaining tasks for the day was restoring proper circulation to this corner of the Stable, after it had shorted out the other day. Exciting stuff, I know, but… it’s how my life was, back then.

Things like that happened a lot. It was part of why the maintenance department had three shifts, while most others got by with two during the “day.” Or even one, in the case of the Overmare. Security and Maintenance were the only twenty-four hour rotational sectors in the stable… with the possible addition of the Judicariat. Those ponies scared me, even then, and I wasn’t about to try and ask how exactly they functioned. For that matter, I’d never actually seen more than three of them at any one time. Maybe they were just always on, running on spark batteries or something?

At any rate, even thinking of them sent chills up my spine. Better to get back to work, and put an end to the long day. Thankfully, the task at hoof was complicated enough to quickly distract myself with. My pipbuck beeped at me, informing me I’d shimmied far enough to be near the junction I’d need to work on.

“In position, Haywire,” I called out to her, somewhere below me and standing by a terminal that controlled the whole wing’s ventilation systems. “Make sure it’s all shut down please, I’m about to go in.”

“Done!” I heard her call back from below, simultaneous with the gentle sound of fans running quietly to a halt throughout the ducting I was working on. Not the one nearest me, naturally — it wasn’t working in the first place. But the silence of the others told me that this one wouldn’t start up the instant I got it working again.

Shuffling forward a few inches more, I lit my horn and cast one of my more useful spells for the task at hoof — I liked to call it a “flare,” but Haywire always said it looked more like a lightbulb. Regardless, I could project the little, heatless ball of magic some ways away, and it would light up areas for me to work on. Pipes, vent shafts, all manner of things. I’d gotten pretty good at it, over the years.

I projected the flare off to the side, against one of the walls and out of my field of view; but still close enough to light up the junction in question. As the harsh, white light illuminated the area in flickering rays, the problem was quite clear to see. A nut must have loosened itself off over the many years it had been in place, and one of the fan blades had fallen off. That, in turn, proceeded to jam the others in place, stopping the fan.

A simple enough matter. I levitated my wrench out of its spot on my barding and out in front of me. It was a solid thing, bare metal and flaking red paint, with a rubberized black mouth piece that I had never truly needed to use. Despite its age, it had served me well. Without fanfare, I used it to carefully bludgeon the offending fan blade out of the way before inspecting the damage it had caused. Mostly superficial, there were a few long scratches on the blade’s shaft. Nothing preventing me from simply re-attaching it where it had previously been mounted, at least.

So that’s what I did. Simple problem, simple solution. A new nut, a reattached fan blade, and a tightening of the other nuts on the fan assembly (“Why wait for problems to happen? Be proactive!” as the posters throughout the Stable were wont to remind me), all-in-all a few minutes later I was done. I uttered a soft “Nice!” mostly to myself.

It kind of figured that that was the moment my victorious cheer was accompanied by the dull shriek of tortured metal. Of all the vent screws I’d tightened, the ones that chose to give out right then were the ones securing my section of vent to the roof.

Figures, doesn’t it?

With a completely justified cry of terror, the bottom of the vent gave out on me, and I fell head first towards the Stable corridor floor two meters below. I saw my all-too-brief life flash by my eyes. No! It couldn’t end this way!

Abruptly, my fall ceased. The vent panel continued, crashing to a halt on the floor below me.

Surrounding me was the gentle aura of Haywire’s magic, tingling upon my coat. The mare herself still stood off to the side, away from where the panel had fallen. She was trying, and failing, to hide a smile.

“Crafter,” She said, “Why does this shit always seem to happen to you? I swear, you’ve got the worst luck of any pony I’ve ever met.”

“Well…” I replied, trying to think of a comeback. “You caught me, didn’t you? I’d say that’s pretty good luck, wouldn’t you?”

She didn’t even bother to hide the laughter, losing her concentration for a second, causing me to drop the last meter or so to the Stable floor, completely unharmed. Once she’d recovered, she commented, “If that’s how you want to see it, that’s fine by me.” Turning to the terminal she’d stepped away from to, as it were, save my tail, she simply pressed a single button.

We could both hear the sound of the vent system starting up again, including the fan I’d just been working on. “Well,” Haywire added, “At least you don’t have to go back up there.” She levitated the fallen panel back to its previous position, sliding a pair of welding goggles down over her eyes. “This’ll only take a sec, but you’ll want to look away, Crafty.”

I did as instructed, hearing her lift the panel back into place and magically tack-welding the corners back into place. If any more panels were to fall off the ceiling, that would be the last one to do so after she was done with it.

When the welding flashes had ended, I glanced back. Haywire raised the goggles and flashed me a grin as she said, “Well, that’s just about it for today. Why don’t we swing by the agriculture wing. You know, see how they’re doing over there, what with their shift starting and all?”

“Could we?” I asked, just a bit too enthusiastically. Hastily backtracking, I looked away from her. “I mean, um, if there isn’t anything else we need to do...”

She chuckled at that, but shook her head. “We made good time today. I think we can spare some to go say ‘hi.’” With a smile, she added, “I’m sure Spring will be there, too.”

I certainly wasn’t about to argue with that logic. Even the chance of getting to see Spring Breeze would have been enough to convince me, and soon enough we were packed up and headed through the maze of Stable corridors towards the atrium.

*** *** ***

Haywire was right, as it turned out.

The instant we entered the agricultural wing of the Stable, the unmistakeable smell of foliage — of grass, of trees — greeted us. The door to the atrium itself swooshed open as it detected us, and we were greeted with a stellar sight. More beautiful than the rows of healthy, full apple trees was the mare who was tending them.

Her pale green coat was accented by her straw-coloured mane, long and flowing. Her bright blue eyes were focused on the task at hoof — getting tools and seeds and such together to begin a long shift of encouraging things to grow, to live, to bear fruit... just the seeds that were the marks on her flank suggested. The pipbuck adorning her foreleg and the Stable barding she wore seemed out of sorts with how she lived her life. Like they were blemishes on the sheer amount of nature that seemed to infuse the room.

Stepping past me, Haywire was the first to actually enter the lab, calling out a “Good morning, Spring!” to the mare in the trees.

She turned, initially surprised at being addressed. Her eyes lit up when she realized who it was, however. “Haywire, Crafter,” She nodded at me, holding my gaze before looking back at Haywire. “Good morning to you both. It’s been too long, how have you been?”

“Oh, you know,” Haywire replied easily, “Long days, but Crafter here managed to put us a little bit ahead of schedule so we figured we’d check and make sure everything was okay around here.”

I nodded, wearing a big smile at the praise. “Oh, you don’t have to say that. It was both of us, after all.”

Spring laughed, the clear noise easily breaking through the drudgery of the day. “And still so humble,” She replied, flashing her eyelashes in my direction. “I can see why you keep him close.”

“Yeah,” Haywire replied wistfully. “Oh!” She seemed to catch herself, quickly checking back over her utility belt. “I think I left something back there. Crafter, see what you can do to give Spring a helping hoof, I’ll be right back.” Everything seemed to be in order, but I supposed I had been a little out of it after she’d brought up the prospect of saying “Hi” to Spring.

Some sort of understanding seemed to pass between the mares, but I couldn’t really make heads nor tails of it. At any rate, Haywire turned and left the way she’d come, leaving the two of us alone with the quiet whoosh of the automated door behind her.

“Well,” Spring said as soon as we were alone, “Shall we?” She asked, making very direct eye contact with me once again.

“Um, yes!” I stammered out, “I’d love to help!”

I’d helped in the atrium before, so as per the norm, I went over to a nearby terminal while Spring continued laying out and preparing her tools for the day. For my part, the watering cycles needed to be checked daily, and I knew that having a pony to help make sure nothing was out of the ordinary there would save Spring some time. A few quiet minutes passed, as we were each distracted with our own jobs.

Spring finished before me, and started her routine of setting up a series of faucets over the plants they were intended to water. I almost missed her call out to me, except that she started with “Oh, Crafter.” It took me a second to properly get my thoughts in order, and realize that the rest of her sentence had been “I’ve got a drip-faucet that just doesn’t seem to work here. Would you mind taking a look at it?”

Her voice was so innocent, my mind almost left me behind for a bit. Thankfully, I recovered before she noticed, heading over as I replied, “Sure thing, I’ve pretty much finished over here anyways.”

I settled in beside her — not close enough to touch, but still close enough to work on the tiny little mechanism she was working with. Upon inspection (of the faucet), the problem seemed to be a small pebble lodged in the hose, too small for an earth pony hoof to manipulate out.

Handily, I used my telekinesis to remove the pebble, ensuring there wasn’t anything else lodged in behind. “There,” I stated, “That should do it.” I gave her a friendly smile and levitated the delicate assembly back to her.

She tossed the pebble away, not breaking eye contact. “Thank you Crafter, that would have been a terrible bother if you hadn’t been happening by here when you were,” as she sidled past me, her tail brushed against my flank. She kept walking, clearly not noticing the contact, so absorbed was she in her task. Oblivious, she stood on her hind legs to fill the faucet’s reservoir and return it to its proper place.

I tried not to stare, I really did… But my eyes kind of had a mind of their own.

It figured that Haywire would find that time to return. I was surprised as her voice pulled me out of my stupor. “Why hello you two. Have a nice chat?” she asked, more than a hint of amusement flavouring her tone. I hurriedly glanced away from Spring, only to see Haywire break out into a wide grin.

I fumbled around, turning towards her in response, “Oh! Uh, Haywire, uh what’s… um… what’s up?” I glanced around, unsure if she’d noticed. “You find your, erm, wrench, was it?”

Spring finished what she was doing before returning to all fours and replying more properly than I had, “Crafter was just helping me get one of the faucets working again. Must be nice to have such a hard working stallion as part of your crew.” She was talking to Haywire, but she was looking straight at me as she said it.

I let out a heartfelt sigh. She hadn’t noticed, after all. “It was really no problem…”

“It is nice,” Haywire replied, though her face darkened as her words brought up another unpleasantly relevant topic. “Especially when the rest of your shift is always ‘calling in sick.’” She walked up to the two of us, glancing over at me as she did. “And yeah, found ‘er lying around at the last junction.” She levitated a wrench into the air, spinning it dramatically before returning it to her barding.

I couldn’t be certain, but I could have sworn I’d seen that wrench in the exact same place when she’d left… had she forgotten where she stored it? I decided not to bring it up.

“Well, good. That’s… good, then.” I stood awkwardly for a few seconds more. “I guess we should be off.” I shot a smile towards Spring and motioned to Haywire.

Haywire suppressed another yawn, saying, “Aye, time to clock out.” As she walked between Spring and myself, I couldn’t help but notice a subtle nod pass between the two mares. Odd.

“Well, I daresay I’ll be looking forward to seeing you tomorrow,” Spring commented, waving a hoof as we turned to depart. “Good night, you two.”

Waving back, I replied, “Yeah, you too Spring!” I was looking back, trying to get one last glimpse of her before we headed off.

True to form, it was at that point that somepony decided to put a wall right where I was walking.

Spring hid her mouth with a hoof, chuckling lightly as she realized I wasn’t really hurt. The way I figured it, I’d gotten her to laugh. It was worth the pain in my face.

Hastily making a more dignified exit, I followed Haywire into the hallway leading away from the atrium (rather than the atrium wall, this time). Spring Breeze returned to her work, a smile lingering until I lost sight of her.

Haywire waited until the atrium door had shut behind us before collapsing into helpless, full body laughter. In between gasps of air and giggles, she managed to spit out, “Crafter, you know you’re hopeless, right?”

Glaring back at her, I tried giving it all I had to hide my embarrassment, to no avail. “You… you be quiet. You’d have the same trouble if you were in my spot.”

“Well if a mare like Spring Breeze let me be in the spot you were in when I walked in, I dare say I’d have trouble too!” She finally finished laughing, brushing a few errant tears from her eyes.

The moment was lost entirely when a hoofball slammed into my still sore face.

The mad howling of (unfortunately) all too familiar laughter tipped me off as to the whereabouts of our two co-workers. I ran a hoof over my sore face. Damn it, hadn’t it been a long enough day? I cast a glance over at the two of them: I was pissed, but this wasn’t at all the time of year to be caught causing trouble. True to form, that never seemed to affect their particular brand of stupidity, however.

“Hey Wingnut... Boltcutter.” I nodded to each of them, in turn. “It’d be nice if either of you would show up for a shift every once in awhile.” I tossed the hoofball back towards them casually, trying not to overreact too much. With luck, they’d be gone soon.

Wingnut stepped up and caught the ball with his magic. “Ha! Why would we when we’ve got such a ‘nice, hardworking stallion’ such as yourself to do it for us?” he mocked, his voice edged with a surprising amount of cruelty. “Besides, little miss Spring Breeze might get lonely if she finished the atrium before you got there. That would be just fucking terrible, wouldn’t it?”

Boltcutter stepped in where his partner in crime left off, “It would, boss!” He grinned through a smile missing a few teeth.

“What, you got nothing witty to say, Bolts?” I taunted. Probably not the best idea, but these guys had been poking at my… thing for Spring Breeze for years, and it got under my skin all too easily. “Can’t speak for yourself? Too stupid to think of anything? Why don’t you and your fuck buddy mosey on outta here and do whatever it is you do.” I was trying to avoid the fact that I didn’t really have much of a counterargument.

Luckily, Haywire proved to have a slightly calmer head than my own as she stepped in to back me up, a serious edge to her voice. “No need for that, you two. Just show up every now and then, at least. No need to start drawing attention to our crew so soon after the census was taken, now is there?”

510.

The number popped into my head, like a bad dream I almost forgot I’d had.

With that in mind, I felt almost ashamed of my outburst. Somewhat abashed, I added, “Look, she makes a good point. You can continue your bullshit afterwards, now’s not the time.”

Wingnut seemed to consider that for a moment, before retorting with, “We both know Socket wants his department to stay on the down low. He wouldn’t risk putting himself in the council’s sights, our entire department already does fuck all!” He actually spat on the ground, before turning to leave. In his wake, Boltcutter collected the ball and turned back to me, right as he was rounding the corner. He made a gesture with his forehoof in an “I’m watching you” sort of movement, before following his crony around the corner.

It would have been comical, had that number not been stuck in my head.

510.

“Idiots,” I muttered under my breath.

“Those two will be the death of this shift,” Haywire grumbled, half serious. “Whatever. Come on, let’s have a drink at my place before calling it a night.”

I must have acknowledged her or something, because that’s what we went and did… but the whole time, all I could think of was that damned number. I swear it really did stick with me through my dreams that night.

510.

*** *** ***

The next day began like every day before it. The same singing pink mare, the same sheets, the same cold floor as I rolled out of bed, swatting the mute button on my foreleg as I did.

Like I’d done hundreds of times before, I murmured, “Gotta find a way to change that alarm,” to no one in particular.

I washed, dressed, and was at the door when Haywire called for me.

Just like the day before.

“Hey Crafty. You’re up already, aren’t you?” Her voice came from the other side of the door.

Instead of answering through a block of steel, I opened it and replied, “Yeah, ‘course I am. Who in their right mind could sleep through that pink pony’s prancing?” I gave her a smile, “It’s almost like they did it on purpose…”

She returned the smile, but I could tell the events of yesterday were weighing on her. The way her smile didn’t reach her eyes, the tired slump of her shoulders… we’d been friends long enough for me to pick up on things like that.

“Hey,” She said, bringing my eyes back to hers. “Let’s see if they’ve got any new ways of making reprocessed hay chips seem edible.”

I nodded, “Yeah, by now I’m sure they can figure some way to do it.”

So we went. Got our food from Mealcard, like any other day, and sat in the same spots we usually sat in — you guessed it, like any other day. Foiling our hopes, the hay chips were just as bland as they’d always been. The apples, however, were still quite good. I couldn’t help but think of Spring, and that sprinkler I’d helped unblock… it felt good to help.

And just like any other day, those two stallions I never really knew sat just within earshot. I couldn’t help but overhear their conversation… and once I heard what it was about, I really started to listen in.

“Hey, did you hear?” One of them asked, “Four names out already.”

“Really?” The other replied excitedly, “That’s fast, who is it?”

I saw Haywire’s ears perk up. I know mine did too. I felt my pulse increase, too.

Names out already? That could only mean the council had their eyes on some ponies for a while now.

The first buck lowered his voice, but was still audible to both of us. “Beto Chavez, High Stakes, Wingnut and Boltcutter.”

I leaned forwards, partial distress on my face… mixed with, if I’m honest, a bit of satisfaction towards what those two had coming to them. “There’s still six more. What if they’re lookin’ at our shift?” I asked Haywire, quietly but urgently.

She seemed to relax just a little. “I think we’re safe. They don’t like taking too many from any one shift without good reason — too many rookies running around in a shift means there’s a higher chance of problems, and we’ve already got Castle to watch… seems like he’ll do alright though… not sure about Wingnut and Boltcutter’s replacements.”

I let out a pent-up breath, feeling a little ashamed for the fact that I felt not an ounce of sorrow for the imminent departures. “Well I just hope you’re right. I guess I’ll feel better when it’s all over and done with… again.” I continued to pick at my food til we were almost out of time. My stomach just wasn’t up to eating, at the time.

Haywire seemed to have the same problem. She finished her fruit, but left the hay fries be.

We were out well before our shift would have had to start.

I just wanted that day to be over.

*** *** ***

The day progressed like so many before it. Regular maintenance, replacing the odd pipe seal, nothing that would even remotely count as an “incident”... right until near the end of our shift.

That was when I heard a young voice yelling from down the hallway. “Haywire! Crafter!” As we turned, we saw the clearly frightened form of Castle round the corner, almost tripping over his own hooves as he saw us.

“What?” I called out, “What is it?!”

I felt a tightness in my chest.

Not today! Not today, of all days!

He came to a halt before us, gasping for breath. “Its Wingnut and Boltcutter, they’re in the atrium! I heard Spring scream, that’s when I came looking for you. I d- I didn’t know what to do!” He seemed frightened almost out of his mind, almost hysterical.

I barely took a second to share a glance and a nod with Haywire, before I was off, making towards the atrium at a gallop. Castle tried to match our speed, but he was already tired from the run, and I guess he must have lagged behind.

I was the first to burst through the door to the atrium.

Spring Breeze was lying against one of her beloved apple trees, clutching her middle. Wingnut stood over her with a cruel grin upon his face. Levitating a baseball bat off to one side was Boltcutter. There was fresh blood staining the bat.

Her blood.

I couldn’t control myself. I didn’t want to, for that matter. I charged straight at Boltcutter, trying to distract him enough for me to get to Wingnut. They must not have expected it, because I managed to barrel over Boltcutter and spook Wingnut into jumping back, away from Spring’s motionless form.

Managing to catch himself after the hasty jump, Wingnut called out, “This is what you get for ratting us out, Crafter!”

As my attention was divided, Boltcutter took the chance to hit me in the side of the head with the bat. I staggered and my vision swam, but I managed to keep on my hooves as I called back, “No one ratted you out!”

Concentrating, I visualized the bat in my mind, focusing my magic on briefly overpowering Boltcutter’s own hold on the improvised weapon. All it really did was rotate around the point Boltcutter was holding it at, but it was enough to swing back into his head with enough force to break his telekinetic hold on the bat.

As soon as he lost control, I lunged towards Wingnut, trying to catch him just as equally off-guard as his partner. Unfortunately, he’d always been the more intelligent one. He was ready for it, and grabbed the bat in his own magical field, a sort of magical tug-of-war beginning between his own dark grey magical aura and my own.

“Bullshit!” He yelled, “The council drew our names less than a day after we talked to you! They never draw them that fucking fast!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Spring still slumped under the tree, weeping into her hooves.

Haywire was nowhere to be seen.

I wasn’t playing around any more. Dropping my hold on the bat entirely, Wingnut’s magical grip overbalanced, spinning the weapon off to the side. Grabbing the first thing I could think of, I magically pulled my trusty wrench forwards, swinging it in a vicious arc. Down it came, right across his horn.

He reared back, dropping the bat with a cry of pain.

I saw an opening, and jabbed with the end of the wrench, straight for his face. It caught him in the eye, sending him to the floor with an eye beginning to swell shut. The thought that it would bruise up spectacularly did nothing to abate my anger.

Leaving Wingnut to thrash against the ground, I went to retrieve the bat. Boltcutter was recovering from the earlier swing, and I needed to protect both Spring and myself from anything he might try and pull.

It was all for naught.

In that instant, the hydraulic hiss of the lab door opening met our ears. Standing in it, almost too big for the entrance, was the hulking form of one of the Judicares. Armoured horn to hoof in stylized, sweeping metallic gold armour and holding aloft a massive, enchanted glaive in his magic, he affixed his helmeted stare upon the room. The dark slots in his helm slowly swept across the room, assessing.

Despite the appearance of one of the most fearsome ponies in the Stable… I guess it just didn’t click right away — Spring was hurt, and she needed help. I dropped the bat, and sprinted to her side. “Spring!” I called out, “Are you alright?!”

I swear, the only other sound in the room was Wingnut’s mewls of pain.

Spring didn’t seem to realize it was even me talking to her, she just kept weeping, her delicate, injured body wracked by sobs.

“Spring? Spring! It’s alright, you’re safe now. A Judicare’s here. We’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

After hearing a bit more of my voice, she seemed to calm down a bit, turning to me. Blood ran freely from a gash on her forehead. “C-Crafter? *hic* Crafter, why’d they do this?” She sobbed, throwing her forehooves around me and clinging on as though she’d never let go.

I put a forehoof around her, staying steady as she cried into my shoulder. The first of a series of vicious bruises were already beginning to form beneath her faultless coat.

“I just… I don’t…” I couldn’t find the words to say. Feeling miserable, I glanced over towards the Judicare’s unwavering gaze, completely unsure what he planned to do.

The Judicare simply stood there. Impassive. Cold. Judgemental.

Long seconds ticked by before, finally, he spoke. In a low but very strong, magically amplified voice he stated one word. A command, as much as anything, from a pony used to being obeyed when he spoke — with good reason.

“Come.”

I looked down at Spring, still shaking as she held me. “Sh-she needs h-help…”

The room remained tense for a number of seconds before he spoke again, in the same even tone.

“Now.”

“She shouldn’t walk, I can’t just leave her!” I responded, absolutely terrified.

The Judicare turned his head slowly to regard me fully, looking me in the eye with a hard gaze.

“Bring her.”

With my aid, Spring managed to stand with me carrying most of her weight. It wasn’t easy, but the two of us managed to move, at least. Leading us off, the Judicare turned and slowly walked down the adjacent corridor, wordlessly commanding all to follow after him.

In the hall I saw Security Officer Handout and Haywire. Both were white as ghosts, terrified of the pony they’d probably summoned with intent to help.

“We’ll be alright…” I said to Haywire as we passed.

She nodded a wordless reply, still staring at the retreating form of the Judicare as she fell in behind us, along with Officer Handout, who joined without a word. I’d never seen her so scared.

The procession of ponies trotted quietly down the halls, with Wingnut and Boltcutter taking up the rear. We finally stopped when we reached a room that was, normally, strictly off-limits. The Judicare opened the door with a flare of magic upon a terminal nestled into the wall beside it, and gestured for us to enter. The glaive hovered, menacingly. I think we all felt a sense of dread. We were being herded in there, and there was nothing we could do.

I took the first steps. As much as it felt like my hooves were dragging through muck, how every part of me screamed not to enter that door… the only other option was to test the patience of a Judicare.

I walked, entering the dark room with Spring at my side.

When my eyes adjusted, I found myself in a bare steel room — exposed ducting ran along the ceiling, exposed pipes ran along the walls. A solitary terminal sat off to one side, and set against the far wall was the centrepiece of the room: a great steel cog bearing the numbers “247.”

“What… what’s going on?” I tentatively asked.

The Judicare stopped, and turned around. He said nothing, just turning to sweep his helmeted gaze across our assembled gathering of ponies. A deep, raspy voice emanated from behind us, “I think you know...”

We turned to be greeted by the scarred and burned face of Gold Card, wearing the distinctive Judicare armour, minus the helmet. He was flanked by the one remaining Judicare in the stable. He looked at us, anger practically seeping from what was left of his features.

“You mean... No- no, you can’t! We didn’t do anything! Please, I was just trying to stop them from hurting Spring!” Tears welled in my eyes, all common sense out the door (an unfortunate metaphor, I’m aware), as I trotted right up to the imposing Judicare, attempting to get an audience.

The Judicare in front — the one that had led us here, and said nothing since — lowered his glaive in the blink of an eye, its point stopping bare millimeters from my neck. Needless to say, I stopped in my tracks.

Gold Card let out a dry chuckle, “Child, you just made it easy for us. Why try and deal with this when we can just throw out the trash, as it were.” His glare hardened. “Just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“No, don’t!” I cried, “Please, I beg you! At least let Spring stay! She didn’t do anything!”

Haywire piped up, gaining confidence from my own defiance, “We were trying to help the Stable! You can’t very well help the Stable if you remove everyone involved!”

Gold Card replied, that same even tone, “She’s now a burden, a crying voice. Best to silence the babe.” He gave out a barking laugh, cold and humourless. “As noble as your intentions may be, all you would do now is make others notice. Bring to light things they don’t wish to think about. Your departure will keep them docile.”

The loud grinding of the Stable door began behind us as its ancient mechanisms began to open. I hadn’t heard the sound before, never having been present for other “departure ceremonies,” but I’ll never forget the sound.

Stuck in unmatched horror, the grinding shocked my senses, I gazed at Gold Card, disbelieving. The glaive at my neck didn’t flinch. “This is a dream. A terrible dream…” I muttered to myself, almost in a daze.

“Such a wonderful dream, a peaceful utopia…” His scarred grin mocked our plight.

I knew I would get no more from him. I turned slowly around, keeping my gaze down to the ground as I listened to the door continue to open.

The cog-like door’s slow advance ground forward, every inch seeming to take forever. All at once, it rolled over, sucking air from the outside as the atmospheric seal of the Stable was broken. A most terrible cold washed over us, stripping what warmth we had.

“We have no chance out there! It’s f-freezing!” I stared straight at the door, awaiting what it looks like out there. I could make out a room beyond, perhaps the Stable was built into some old building?

My eyes continued to adjust, and I almost wished they hadn’t. Beyond the door lay the remains of many, many ponies. Several seemed to have broken their hooves pounding upon the door. So many dead, and some more fresh, flesh still clinging to bone, preserved by the cold. The bodies seemed to mock our already dismal chances of survival.

“Oh yes, I’m quite sure you don’t stand a chance.” Gold Card replied, just as evenly as before. “That never seemed to bother you every year other ponies were sent to their deaths. That is exactly what everypony else will do — try to forget. And when they do? You’ll just be another nameless corpse. Like them,” He nodded towards the skeletons outside, “You will soon be.”

I couldn’t restrain the contents of my stomach, heaving my dismal meal upon the metal steps leading towards what seemed like a frozen hellhole. No words or thoughts came to me, other than one thought.

We’re doomed.

The others around us stared in shock at what was in front of them, the horror not quite sinking in.

After a few moments that felt like an eternity, a few thoughts crept into my head.

I have no choice. If we don’t leave, that Judicare will cut us down where we stand.

My choice was made for me, I realized. I attempted to regain my composure, putting on my best face to hide my terror and disgust. I began walking forwards, helping Spring on the way.

“The first steps upon the road…”

I could tell there was a sick smile on Gold Card’s face, but I didn’t look back.

My movement spurred the others to move forwards into the blackness of the wastes. Once the last hoof left the threshold of our home, we heard the metallic creak of the Stable door rolling shut. Only the path ahead was left, and we walked.

Softly, I muttered under my breath, hardly even loud enough for Spring to hear.

“I’ll be back.”

*** *** ***

My show of defiance buoyed my confidence, but as I stood with the cold antechamber before me, the unyielding door behind me, and a collection of friends and enemies standing around me... that time seemed very, very far away.

Spring still leaned against me, but the sight of so many corpses around us seemed to diminish any sort of comfort either of us might have gained from the act. It occurred to me that they didn’t smell, not really — It was too cold. They were frozen.

I swallowed bile nonetheless.

As my eyes began to adjust, I could begin to make out the remainder of the room. It was a large building, with walls that must once have been white, but long since faded with time. A vaulted set of doors stretched almost from one side of the room to the other, made of intricately carved wood that seemed to have stood the test of time better than the building around it. The door was flanked by a pair of black stone columns, stretching all the way up to the roof. I couldn’t tell if they were decorative or functionally load-bearing, but they were certainly impressive.

I couldn’t get caught up in it. It occurred to me that there were ponies relying on me, and I couldn’t afford to waste time staring at architecture.

I helped Spring lay down on a relatively clear patch of ground, making sure she was at least somewhat okay before taking stock of the others. Her tears were beginning to dry, at least, but she didn’t seem to want to talk about what had happened, yet.

Haywire seemed to be in a daze, confusion and slowly dawning horror making its way into her expression. She simply stood there, her eyes unfocused. Castle had retreated into a corner near the Stable door, sobbing and openly staring right into the eyeless sockets of a foal-sized skeleton.

On the other side of the room, Boltcutter sneered at me before beginning to investigate the immediate area, accompanied by Wingnut. Of all the ponies kicked out, those two were the only ones to have a chance to mentally prepare for it.

I decided to go see Castle first. “Hey, hey stay over here, and don’t look at them… or try not to, I mean.” I tried persuading him to move over by Spring. If we were at least together… I don’t know. It seemed like it would be better, at least.

“It’s…” he stuttered, “It’s so small.”

I avoided looking at the corpse. “Castle, there’s nothing we can do about it. All we can do is try to survive right now. I need you to keep your head. At least try, hey?”

“It’s so small, so cold…” He seemed to have gone into shock, violently shivering, and muttering to himself.

I avoided looking at the corpse. It certainly had him in a bit of a trance, and I feared it could well do the same to me at that point. “Castle, look at me! We’ll be okay. Just try and keep calm. Come sit over here with Spring, it’ll help you both keep warm.” I gestured over to where I’d left her, the small area clear of corpses that looked like it might start to be our gathering area, of sorts.

He followed my instructions, but he seemed out of it. Like he wasn’t really there, mentally. Still, it was better than staring at the poor, unfortunate corpse.

Sadly, that was about the point where Haywire snapped out of her trance, so to speak. “These are the ponies we’ve been kicking out every census…” she started to giggle. As I moved around to see her properly, her pupils had gotten very small. The giggles quickly moved on to almost hysterical laughter. “Is this it? Is this all they leave us with?! What ch-”

There was a crack, almost too loud in the otherwise quiet space of the room. Officer Handout had hit her upside the head with his baton. “Get your head about you,” He commented, almost too calmly for the situation. “Most of these ponies don’t have pipbucks, probably ones who wanted in when the bombs fell. Now look, if this building survived then there has to be others which have done the same. We’ll make it through this, just need to work together. As he finished, he calmly loaded a magazine into his pistol, before stowing it back in his security uniform.

I stared at him, awestruck that he would do such a thing. “What did you go hitting her like that for? Don’t you think we’ve been through enough, at this point?” I cried out, outraged that he would do that to my friend.

He trotted up to me, his muzzle not an inch away from my own. “Terror is a disease, Crafter. One that spreads to all those around it. If we are to survive, and I plan to, we must remain calm.” He almost spat the words at me.

But for all his bluster, I could see in his eyes that he was afraid. Very afraid.

“I…” Haywire started, awkwardly brushing her mane to hide her anxiety. “I was… sorry, guys.” She seemed ashamed, and didn’t want to instigate more of an argument. “Won’t happen again.” She tried to put on a smile, despite the circumstances.

I glanced up at her in acknowledgement, dropping the issue as I kept any further thoughts to myself. Instead, I decided to start searching the building for any sort of useful supplies.

The room we were in yielded nothing of worth, forcing me to look elsewhere. I told the others I would be looking around, and Officer Handout even gave me a nod of encouragement. I put my shoulder against one of the ancient wooden doors and pushed. Despite being over three times my height, the door yielded with minimal resistance, gliding silently open enough for me to move into the next room.

That was the point at which I realized we were in no small building. The room opened up around me, being well over a hundred meters from the doors I stood at to another, far less ornate set of doors set along the opposite side. The room was also, roughly, fifty meters across, with huge columns made of the same black stone as before, evenly spaced along the sides of the room. Near the roof, supported by the columns, was an ornate balcony that gave hints of other doorways, leading to what were presumably other rooms in this massive structure. Along each wall, three evenly spaced doorways — normal, pony-sized doors this time — were nestled in gaps between columns. Off to my left sat what appeared to be a reception desk, with a terminal seated upon it. The faint light of the screen illuminated a swathe of the otherwise rather dark room.

Cautiously, I made my way over to the terminal. The place had a… hushed tone to it. Oppressive, like any noise made was out of the ordinary, unwelcome. I could dimly hear the sounds of quiet conversation coming from the others, through the doorway I’d left partially open. Something made me… well, it just felt like a good idea to keep quiet.

When I finally reached the terminal, I was greeted with a screen infuriatingly stuck on a login screen. After several tries, not limited to “stabletec,” “password,” or “12345,” I determined that whoever must have locked it knew what they were doing. The information on there must certainly have been something important, for them to put that much security on it. I was stumped.

Deciding there was nothing for it, I started to head back to report what I’d found to the others. For whatever reason, that was when I felt… well, something. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, though as far as I could tell, there wasn’t anything particularly out of the ordinary about the room… not even up on the shadowy balcony, way up there. “Hello?” I whispered, almost to myself.

Quiet as they were, the words seem to echo in the empty room… a dull sound.

Empty.

I quietly made my way back to the others, closing the large door behind me this time.

Turning to the room, it seemed that everypony was looking at me, the first to venture out of the safety of the antechamber. I cleared my throat. “Um, so there’s a terminal out there. And the building we’re in is actually rather big…” I trailed off. There wasn’t a whole lot more I’d actually discovered, unfortunately.

“Hmm,” Handout commented, “I think we should check it out. Might be some supplies, somewhere. Canned food, blankets maybe.”

I glanced at him, remembering that sinking feeling that there was something going on in that huge room. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” I replied, “I’ve got a bad feeling...”

He let out a sigh, “I don’t think we have the luxury of being superstitious, Crafter.”

I thought about that for a moment before conceding the point.

Handout got to his hooves. “Well, let’s go look around, then.”

I opened the door again, pulling out my wrench… you know, just in case. “Alright, but I’m still uneasy about it.”

He stopped for only a moment to take in the massive room, before deciding to tackle the closest door to us, on the left. Even he seemed disinclined to talk while we were exposed near the massive door. Quietly, he led the way, carefully opening the door as he pointed his pistol through. I could tell there was training in his motions, but it looked like he hadn’t done anything really like it in a long time. Still, I would have simply opened the door — his way was better.

He gave a grim smile, evidently satisfied that the immediate corridor was clear, before moving into the doorway. I followed him in, quietly closing the door behind us.

I hadn’t made it more than a few steps after him before… well, I just got this feeling. Like something was watching me, something I can’t quite explain. It made the hair on the back of my neck stand straight up… something felt wrong, and I said so.

“Oh come on, Crafter.” Handout commented, approaching a bend in the corridor. “What could possib-” He paused for a second, his eyes growing wide, as he seemed to lose his train of thought once he saw what was in the hall. “By Celestia…”

I stutter-stepped, not expecting him to stop so suddenly. Unfortunately, I saw what was waiting for us past the bend in the hall. Before us were the torn remains of a pony. Its bones were shattered, even broken open. Blood had sprayed the walls, coated the floor, as if an immense amount of violence had befallen this poor pony… hopefully, he’d died quickly. The worst part, however, took me a few seconds to realize: Most of the bones bore deep grooves in them… like they’d been gnawed on, by teeth not intended for the purpose.

I backed up a pace, and emptied what remained of my stomach’s contents on the stained tiles. Dimly, I overheard Handout comment, “This can’t be more than a week old…”

“We’re all gonna die,” I whispered, “That’s it, isn’t it? We’re just all gonna die.”

Handout was still examining the body, continuing to speak despite the fact that I was… somewhat out of it. “His gun’s still here… what the hell did this...”

“It doesn’t matter. We’re gonna die. It’s… it’s gonna eat us. We’re done.” I sat down, staring corridor I couldn’t stand to face again.

Handout’s pistol was levitated out in front of him as he backed slowly away from the corner. “No, this body just proves that there are others out there. We need to find them. Find help.”

“What?!” I cried out, louder than I’d intended. “You want to find who — or what — ever did that? You’re out of your mind!”

“Not them you idiot, where he came from!” He jerked his pistol, indicating the body. “He had to come from somewhere. He’s not from our Stable, no Pipbuck.”

I tried to recall, rather than glance at what was once a pony… but ended up taking his word for it. Assuming he was right, that still left another matter: “But that thing… whatever it was that did that… it’s probably still here.”

“Yeah,” He replied, and I was abruptly reminded that he still had his pistol drawn. “I’m willing to bet it is. We need to leave here, and quick.” He started to head back the way we’d come, “But we need to figure out what our surroundings are, first.”

I nodded, still clutching my wrench in a magical grip. I pointed at the far door, “You think it’s that way?”

“Might be,” He replied, “This looks kinda like a fancy atrium, which means the entrance should probably be opposite from the Stable itself.” Again he gestured with the pistol, towards the far set of doors.

Not having any reason to doubt him, I simply nodded in response. Following his lead, we made our way cautiously across the room. I was more paranoid than ever that there was something in the building with us, but for better or worse, we saw nothing new. Taking up positions on opposite sides of the door, he inclined his head towards the door, then towards me. His magic still held fast to his pistol, ready for anything that might be out there. I got the hint, testing my own magic against the door. It didn’t seem locked, so I gave him a nod of acknowledgement.

Mouthing the words, he counted down from three, and I pushed the door open, enough for him to move if necessary. Our caution proved to be pointless, as we were both buffeted by what seemed to be a blinding sheet of white… and cold! I could feel it sapping the warmth from my barding, beginning to form a light sheet of snow and ice on the surface of the fabric.

Handout had to holster his gun to focus, but between the two of us, we managed to force the door shut, seconds after opening it. As it closed at last, Handout muttered a curse under his breath.

A shiver ran down my spine. “I can’t believe it. We’re trapped. We don’t have anything to keep us warm enough in that kind of weather!”

Handout visibly slumped, “This… this can’t be right. Maybe the storm will pass?”

“Yeah, I guess it might,” I replied, “But what if another one hits us when we’re out there? And what if it doesn’t pass?” I put my hoof on the recently closed door. It was cold, freezing even, and this was the warmer side. I felt my hoof adhere slightly, before I pulled away.

“Well, what would you have us do?” Handout replied, visibly frustrated. “I won’t wait here to starve, or worse.”

“Well,” I suggested, “We could check out the rest of the building. There could be food, or something else useful. You never know.”

He turned slowly to face me. “That’s probably what that pony in the hall was thinking when he went in there...”

Another shiver made its way down my spine. Not a positive outlook, there. “Well, I really don’t see any other possibilities here.”

Handout paused a moment, before slowly leading us back to the others. He spoke as we walked, “We give the storm two days, then we go. There has to be some other structures around, this was a Stable after all. Probably a town nearby, or the remains of one, at least.”

“You don’t know that,” I muttered, “No one does…”

He turned on me… I guess he heard me. “Fine then, stay here to die! I won’t though, I have to try. I’ll fight this fate ‘til the very end if I must!”

“I don’t want to die either, just looking at our options.” I replied, relatively evenly. “Besides, we should stick together, regardless… so yeah.”

“Well, that’s what I’m doing. I’d recommend you come as well…” He stopped short of the door back to the Stable antechamber, turning to me. “And I don’t think we should tell the others about what we saw. They’re panicked enough as it is.”

“Yeah… good call.” I replied, “It freaked me out more than enough, nevermind them.”

As we returned, it seemed most of the others had found spots on the floor to settle down, cleared of any immediate mortal remains. Only Wingnut and Boltcutter sat apart.

It hadn’t occurred to me at the time, but later it came to me that the other names we’d heard from the list had somehow escaped their fate — on account of our misfortune, I assumed. It seemed damned unfair that they’d changed things just to make it more… convenient, for them. They’d only sent the seven of us out, too. Not even the full ten that should have gone, according to the census.

I’d agonized over that damned number, and I’d gotten burned by it without even having my name called. Something about that just rankled, felt like we’d been cheated.

At any rate, Haywire was sitting next to Spring, attempting to comfort the other mare with her presence. Castle was sleeping fitfully near the two of them, clutching his barding tight to himself. Haywire noticed our return and looked up, though she stayed seated for the time being. “What’s out there, Crafty?”

I walked over to them, trying not to give any sense that we’d seen something terrible. “A big room,” I explained, “Lots of doors, must be a massive building… the far one leads to, well… a snowstorm. At least, I assume that’s snow.” On the nearer wall, Handout had sat down against it. He took out his pistol and began to maintain it. I saw springs, pieces, all parts of the weapon taken apart and cleaned with a rag. It seemed to calm him a bit, before I tore my eyes away. “How are you all feeling?” I asked, my attention returning to Haywire.

“Well,” She replied, concern evident in her tone. “Spring has calmed down, but still doesn’t want to be touched… she doesn’t seem to want to talk right now, either.” The other mare gave minimal sign that she was even aware she was being talked about, and Haywire gave a soft sigh. Clearly she hadn’t made much progress, there. “The rest of us are dealing with it as much as we can right now. I think my reaction was the worst so far… sorry about that.” She turned back to looking at me. “Wingnut and Boltcutter have been searching corpses for Sisters know what.” Disgust was obvious in her tone… but there was also a hint of fear, probably that they might actually have the right idea. Not a pleasant thought.

I spared the duo a glance. They were whispering by themselves, but I didn’t get the sense that they’d be any sort of a threat. “Don’t worry about them, they’ll get what’s coming to them… eventually.” I returned my gaze to Haywire. “You should try and get some rest,” I suggested, “Everyone should. We’ll wait out the storm, then try to explore our surroundings afterwards.”

She seemed quite willing to agree to that, not trying to suppress a yawn. “Will do,” she affirmed. “And Crafter… I’m glad you’re here, with us. I don’t think I could make it through this without a friend beside me.”

I returned the smile. “Yeah, I’m glad I’m here with you guys, too.” I made eye contact with Spring. I did mean it. As shitty as things were… I was happy to be with them.

I felt a flutter in my chest as Spring nodded in acknowledgement. She still didn’t want to talk, and she pointedly avoided looking in Wingnut and Boltcutter’s direction… but she indicated with a motion of her head that she would be okay with me sleeping beside her, opposite Haywire. I was all too eager to comply — especially if it was what she wanted. As I laid down, my flank brushed against hers. A shudder ran through her body, but once it passed, she moved herself closer, pressing herself against me and even going so far as using one of my forehooves as an improvised pillow. She was warm, and she smelled so good… I wish I could have just stayed there, with her.

Sometimes, I almost wish… nevermind.

We slept for a long while. Or at least, it felt like we did. Huddled together for warmth, against the descending cold. I think Handout might have kept guard, but I was too out of it to really notice.

*** *** ***

When it happened, it all went so fast. One second we were sleeping, and the next, well…

A loud sound broke the silence in the chill air. The slam of a door, followed by the heavy tromping of hooves making no effort to be quiet, reverberating through the building.

No one needed to be woken, we were all so on edge that the noise had everyone up and alert. I drew my wrench, calling out “What is it?” to no one in particular. I had a moment of regret that we never had actually collected the weapons and barding from the corpse in the corridor… I guess we figured we’d have time.

Handout had adopted a shooting stance, aiming his pistol at the doorway. “Don’t know,” he commented, as if I was distracting him with something obvious.

Haywire was a touch slower, jumping to her hooves. “I don’t- I don’t know!” she cried out, rapidly glancing from me, to Handout, and finally to Wingnut and Boltcutter. At the time, I wasn’t sure if them being as surprised as we were was a good thing or not.

Spring and Castle both seemed almost catatonic. She just stared at the door, eyes wide and unblinking, while he couldn’t seem to find words at the time.

In the end, none of us truly did anything. We waited, for whatever it was to either find us or move away.

We heard a number of voices from the larger room, overlapping eachother and rendering individual voices unintelligible… until they were all drowned out by the loudest, most angry voice I’d ever heard. “Stay the fuck out of the hallways, you idiots. We know where they are, for fuck’s sake!”

“There are more,” I commented in Handout’s direction, “You were right, there’s gotta be a town out there!” I glanced around, the beginnings of hope starting to fill me. At the very least, it was better than the sense of dread that had settled deep in my gut, refusing to budge. “We’re gonna be alright! They’ve come for us!”

Handout seemed to lighten up, just a hair. He adjusted his stance to aim at the base of the door, rather than chest height. “Just maybe…” was all he replied with.

Despite my words, Spring shrunk back nonetheless, making herself as small as possible and hiding all but her eyes behind her hooves as she hunkered down.

I looked down at her, trying to be comforting. “It’s alright, they’re here to help…” I took a few shaky steps towards the door, slowly making my way across the room.

Long before I got there, the thudding of hooves stopped just outside the door, when all too agonizingly slowly, the doors were pushed open, revealing the biggest pony I’d ever seen. He was an earth pony, and he stood a full head and shoulders over Handout and myself, the tallest of our group… but for all his size, it was his barding that stood out. Thick, interlocking plates covered the front half of his body, all polished to a high degree of shine, except where lingering frost clung to its surface, confirming, if it was needed, that they hadn’t just come from somewhere else in the building. Upon his head was a wicked helmet, with three large, spiked protrusions jutting forward — one on top of his muzzle and one on either side. Each spike was about the length of one of my forelegs, and finely sharpened. He dominated the doorway, but as he entered another nine ponies moved in to flank him, their movements erratic, jerky. Like there was something wrong with them. I didn’t spare the others much of a look, too distracted by the hulking beast that had just entered.

I stared straight at the pony at the head, fear welling again. “He-hello,” I began, “We uh, we were just kicked out of the Stable, and were, well… we’re wondering if you could help us reach a nearby settlement…?” Cautiously, I took a few steps backwards.

The lead pony let on a dastardly smile, his scarred lips parting disturbingly at the motion. “Oh yes,” he rumbled, “We’re envoys of sorts. Come here just for you…”

I backed up to where Spring was, hiding her from view, as if it made much of a difference. “What do you mean, ‘of sorts’? You’re from a nearby settlement, aren’t you?” I shot Handout a glance, wanting to see his reaction to all this.

Handout’s face was drawn with tension. His gun was still out, unwavering.

“Oh, we’re a very nice close community… nice meat ya got there, by the way,” the stallion replied, causing Spring to glance away when he so much as looked at her. He laughed, deep and humourless. “Seems a bit shy, though.” His eyes narrowed and his grin widened.

“Meat? What do you-” I looked back at Spring, the thought of the gnawed bones in the hallway forcing unwanted conclusions to mind. “Oh, no, she’s not meat! Please, she’s had a rough time.” I magically gripped my wrench, ready to strike if I had to.

He feigned shock while still grinning. “What, had a bit too much fun with her? Not good to overwork ‘em.”

I looked over at Wingnut and Boltcutter. “What? No! She was… abused. I would never do that to her…”

He let out another throaty laugh, “Oh, we would never harm anypony, especially not when they send them out at the same time, every year.” It was then that I noticed the two very wide-barreled guns adorning his sides, hooked up to some sort of mechanical feed system. As he finished his statement, the other ponies moved more fully into the room. Terrible realization hit me, as I realized the coats most of them wore were actually stitched together pony hide. There were even cutiemarks. The furthest forwards carried a short chainsaw-styled blade in his mouth, revving it as if eager to spill blood.

I felt sick, but there was nothing to throw up.

“Please!” I cried, “We don’t want any harm, can’t you leave us be? You can have whatever we have on us, just leave us alone!”

The armoured stallion stared directly into my eyes. “Oh, it’s not what's on you we want…”

Wingnut stepped forward, breaking the trance that seemed to have fallen over most of the Stable ponies. “We’re not afraid of you. You think you can scare us into submission? Hah!” He gave a brittle laugh. I’d known him for years, and I could tell he was bluffing hard, even for him. I’d never hoped his bluster would actually work, until then. “We’ve just been kicked out by the scariest ponies this side of Equestria. We stared down Judicators and came out alive!” He approached the ponies from outside, puffing himself out as he spoke, trying to out-bravado the massive pony.

What happened next seemed as if in slow motion, yet surely only seconds must have passed.

When Wingnut finished his tirade, the armoured stallion just smirked before lunging his head forward, blindingly fast. The spikes on his helmet skewered the poor buck straight through. Then, with a violent whip of his head, the stallion threw the screaming Wingnut across the room into Haywire, knocking her over. It seemed like nothing to him, lifting and even throwing that much weight with only his neck muscles.

The pony with the chain knife dove straight at Boltcutter. Blood and smoke mixed with his scream as I fearfully looked away, already having seen the walls painted with the blood of another of the ponies I grew up with.

Across the room, Handout’s pistol spoke repeatedly. His aim was true, putting three rounds into the skull of one of the aggressor ponies, dropping him in an instant. As the pony fell, Handout swung to fire at the big stallion, pistol rounds bouncing harmlessly off the now bloodstained armor. With a smirk, the armoured stallion’s guns opened up, spitting death, loud and violent. In a spray of gore, Handout dropped unceremoniously.

I quickly helped Spring up, retreating as far as we could towards the Stable door, the bold numbers standing out in vibrant yellow against the carnage being wrought in the room just outside. I willed them to hear, to come… to help.

But they never did.

A mare grabbed the petrified Castle as the Stallion advanced upon us. With a short shriek cut heart wrenchingly short, a cruel knife was driven through the young buck’s temple.

Spring latched on to me, clinging to me as though her very sanity depended on it. Where earlier she couldn’t bear to meet his gaze, now her eyes were wide, fixated on their leader.

Backed right against the Stable door, he loomed over us. To our right, I saw Haywire desperately trying to fight an insane-sounding mare. The mare had a crazy looking sickle that had knives tied, glued and welded on. Surely such a device couldn’t be considered effective, but all I could do was watch in horror as the mare fit it cleanly around Haywire’s neck. “Crafter!” She screamed, desperately, before the blade sunk into the skin of her neck. The mare above her turned her body, wrenching sideways as she did. My best friend’s head was separated from her body with a sickening pop and a spray of blood, before the mare above her kicked it in our direction, bouncing, lifeless, and trailing gore behind it.

I screamed, turning towards the leader and swinging my wrench with all the force I could muster behind it. The Stallion made no move to dodge, and the solid wrench connected with his helmet with a sound much like the ringing of a gong.

His head barely moved at all.

“You’ll regret that,” he said, adjusting the fit of the helmet upon his head. With one leg, he swept my forehooves out from under me. Right as my head hit the ground, he put his massive hoof on it, forcing me to look at Spring, quaking with fear and being advanced on, alone, in the furthest corner of the Stable entrance she could press herself into. “I’ll take her with us,” he said, “And you’ll know that we’re having our fun with her. And that you failed.”

He then swing his hoof, a broad motion that cracked my head against the ground. As I started to black out, I heard Spring being dragged away, screaming my name. My gaze fell on the last thing I’d see before I blacked out — the dead eyes of Haywire, her head having rolled into my field of view. They seemed, heartbreakingly, as if to say, “It’s not your fault,” before darkness overtook me.

*** *** ***

When I awoke, they were gone. The… Raiders, as I would eventually come to know them as, had taken the corpses… all of them, and they’d taken Spring. Handout’s pistol was gone, too. As some sort of sick joke, they’d left Haywire’s severed head… and the skeletons of those who’d died before.

I was alone.

I… I cried, for a long time.

It was the cold that snapped me out of it. I hadn’t experienced a true “night” in the Stable, but I could certainly tell that the temperature was dropping.

The first thing I did was close the exit door, which they had left open. Then, I started to look around the building. The cold eventually got bad enough to overcome my fear of the corridors, and I ventured back to the corpse.

I think I pieced together a lot of what happened to him. Somepony I never knew, who’d simply gotten really unlucky. I found what had killed him, too — you all called them “ghouls,” but I didn’t know that at the time. They must have caught him by surprise. Now that I had a chance to look, he’d taken down several in this section of the corridor alone. Disgusting things, decayed, and with razor-sharp, ice cold crystals protruding in small clumps from their skin.

I took his pistol, wishing I’d had the courage to take it earlier… turns out, it was empty, but there were two full magazines on his body. I guess he didn’t have time to reload. Further in, I passed more ghoul bodies before I found his barding. It was leather, reinforced with fur and fleece on the inside. A garment designed for survival, plain and simple.

He’d been forced to shuck it, when one of the ghouls had gotten ahold of it — I could see the bite marks, the lack of blood. He’d been quick about it, but they’d caught him in the end. It kept me warm, those long days.

His pack was similar. Too loose, one of them must’ve grabbed it. It had food, water… enough for a bit more than a day, probably as long as he planned to be out. I managed to make it last three — it was the fourth, when you all found me in there.

There was one final thing he left behind. A beautiful single-edged sword, where it had stuck into one of the corridor walls after decapitating a ghoul. I didn’t need my pipbuck to tell me its name was “Celestial Riposte” — it was engraved on the handle. I didn’t actually end up making use of it until after you found me… thankfully enough.

I… I guess that’s pretty much it. When I tried venturing any further than where I found the sword, I actually saw them. Huddled in a corner, just… standing there. Those “ghouls” seemed alive, breathing and all, but… they weren’t ponies anymore. It seemed unnatural, and it was enough to convince me to stay away from the deeper parts of the building for good.

After that, I pretty much just held up near the Stable entrance, waiting for the snowstorm to end… and that’s when you all fell into my life… literally.

Author's Note

Well, this chapter has certainly been in the works for a long while. It took no small amount of self-motivation to finally get through this, but here it is — The Infamous Crafter Chapter. I thought this would be a really cool idea, and we built it into the overall scheme of how to release the chapters... and then I got bogged down immensely. Summer happened, life happened, fun stuff. Not enough excuses to be found to actually justify how long this took, sadly.

Anyways, this sets the precedent for similar chapters — one offs, written by other party members, and how they become part of the narrative. Snap remains the primary narrator, but I hope that these provide a sense of context, of character, and some insight into things that Snap doesn't necessarily see, as they go along. Above all, I hope you enjoyed this journey into the mind of Crafter. I can assure you, we're headed back to Snap with the next Chapter, and it promises to be a fun one. Should be written a lot faster, too, but we'll see about that.

At any rate, the final crunch was getting this done before Fallout 4... I can certainly promise, there ain't gonna be anything productive happening after Monday at midnight.

Also, 11:41 totally still counts as "Friday," right?

Chapter 09: Contact

Chapter Nine: Contact

“Ideals are peaceful.”

He told me that before I could possibly have known what he meant.

My father, I mean.

“Ideals are peaceful; History is violent,” is what he’d said when I was old enough to ask about the war against the griffons. I’d been confused, but he hadn’t elaborated. Now that I have a concept of what one pony is capable of doing to another, I can scarcely begin to imagine the horrors his generation went through. The Raptors that are barely functional to this day. The bodies that never made it home. The veterans that never spoke of it.

Ideals. Is that what we’re fighting for?

I seem to be surrounded by them, now. Red Eye and his supposed crusade to create a “Better World” — its only price, the blood of a generation. The Steel Rangers, and their preservation of the Old World, even when it costs so many lives… the Enclave, and keeping their damning secrets even if it means sacrificing everything they claim to hold dear.

Even as I put pen to paper, I hardly know where to begin, all over again.

You’d think I’d get better at this after last time, but… well, let's just say things just got a lot more complicated.

It started the same day we left Neighson…

—Snap Roll’s Journal

*** *** ***

Tailwind and I were still of a mind to show off our refurbished barding — it still had the same familiar fit, but the addition of furs and lining left us feeling actually warm enough for what we were flying into. I’d mounted my recently-rearmed energy pistol on my battle saddle, along with four fully charged spark cells. We were resupplied, our bellies were full, and we were all but broke. It was definitely time to leave, even if we hadn’t enough reason already.

There was no party to see us off — only a disinterested paladin and his squad watching the gate early in the morning.

Still, I spared a glance back towards the command tower, high above Neighson. I wondered what they saw from up there. If somepony was watching through a scope, reporting to unseen ears that we were leaving… one had to wonder.

Did they even care?

We’d been allowed to leave without any hassle at all, and it was making me uneasy. I’d expected something.

At any rate, we quickly fell into a normal march, passing the odd traveler from the North and the farmers around Neighson. It was all so peaceful, it was easy to forget the ponies bleeding their last to preserve that idyllic, if frigid, lifestyle.

But as we traveled, it quickly became evident that there were no travelers from the West — exactly where we were going.

Not a single one.

Most of the day went by without incident. The ponies we passed didn’t pay us much heed, not more than a wave or a nod at best. We made good time, and managed to approach Saltpeet Pass before the day had started to turn.

The area was covered in a sprawling alpine forest — lots of stunted trees, each barely enough for minor cover — intersected by a small hoof trail on the Northern end. Judging by our map, it skirted the edge of a frozen river that once flowed through the gorge, and was a recommended route by the locals. Supposedly, it was less actively fought over by the various factions in the area.

That fateful MASEBS tower kept silent vigil over the South entrance to the pass, stretching ominously into the clouds. I couldn’t help but stare at it, still wondering at the implications.

It wouldn’t be long before we’d be crossing that “Red Line” the locals had spoke of. It wasn’t a tangible object or anything, no formally guarded border… but as we continued West, I decided it was time to slip into tactical mode. We’d had a hard enough time in “friendly” territory, and we were about to cross the line into a potential warzone. We’d been traveling easy — small talk between the five of us, through most of the trip. Much as I enjoyed the banter, it was time to put on a game face.

Making for the small trail, I decided to issue orders — at least in part, to see if they would actually be followed. This was ostensibly Bernard’s mission, but I’d be damned if I was going to let my own training go to waste.

“Fade,” I called out, “I want you to fall back a bit. Watch our rear. If we get bumped, I want you able to move and engage.” Glancing back to Crafter, I continued without waiting for a response. “Crafter, stick with Bernard if we get separated for any reason. If things happen, they might happen fast — focus on that, if they do.” I nodded to Bernard. He knew what he was doing — if we got ambushed, there wasn’t a whole lot of mobility available to him. I didn’t have to spell it out for him. He simply replied with a grim nod of understanding. Finally, I glanced at Tailwind, finishing with, “Tail and I will try and spot anything up ahead before it spots us. I really, really don’t want to have a repeat of the other day.” I grimaced at the thought.

Tail nodded, readying her energy rifle and grinning, “Roger that, chief!”

Her enthusiasm was infectious, and I found myself grinning right along with her, waiting patiently for my words to sink in. I was hoping for acquiescence, but I had to know if they’d really take orders from me.

Crafter was the first to respond. “Will do,” he replied easily, cantering over so that he was closer to Bernard than he had been. I noticed him slightly squinting and looking around. I could have laughed, but he was clearly taking scanning with his EFS very seriously. I wasn’t about to discourage that, of all things.

Bernard simply grunted an affirmative.

I almost held my breath, as Fade took his time rolling my words around in his head. He was still something of a wild card — it remained to be seen if he’d actually take orders from me. He swept his eyes over the local geography. The gorge, the stubbly little trees, the mountains. Eventually, he gave a nod of understanding before rolling his shoulders and stretching his wings. In a very natural movement, he slipped the rifle from its slung position to hang at his chest. “If you think it’s best, Miss, then I’ll hang back. Should relax a bit, though.” He reached up with a talon, idly fiddling with the safety on his rifle, clicking it on and off a few times before adding, “You go spoiling for a fight and it’ll find you. The Wasteland knows, I swear it.”

I started off towards the path, leading the way as I commented over my shoulder, “There’s spoiling for a fight, and there’s just plain being prepared for when you find one. I aim for the latter, but so be it if we end up with the former.”

Looking quite uncomfortable with either alternative, Crafter piped up, “Well, I’d like to avoid both… you know, if we can.”

A grim smile was all I replied with. Would certainly be nice, wouldn’t it?

The winding pass was littered with small jutting rock deposits, an extended copse of trees on the Southern side and a steep, rocky slope on the north. The day was beginning to turn, and the way the light danced off the light fog lent the walk a surreal quality. To my eyes, I couldn’t help but notice that there were many places along our route in which whole groups of ponies could have hidden from prying eyes.

My caution ended up being quite justified.

Our otherwise peaceful walk was interrupted by Crafter stopping in place and raising a hoof. He was pointing off into the forest a little to the right of the direction the path would take us. “Uhh, guys… two of those red bars just popped up.” He spoke quietly, but still loud enough for all of us to hear him.

While I had certainly hoped for an uneventful journey… some part of me had kind of expected this. Everything the locals had said about this area had me on edge. Holding up the group, I turned to him. “Nice catch, Crafter. You, Bernard and Fade, hold up here. Be ready if we call, I want to check this out…” I glanced at Fade, taking his earlier advice into account. “Quietly,” I added.

Not so restrained, Tailwind pumped a forehoof into the air as she commented brightly, “Good job Crafty!” I glanced at her. I know she’d read what he’d written in the journal… she knew what that nickname meant to him.

Regardless of any painful memories, the effect on him was immediate and positive. A massive grin bloomed across his face. He practically seemed to glow, for that matter.

“Tail, you’re with me.” I ordered, not particularly eager to break the look that passed between them… but we were running out of daylight. “Let’s do this by the book, for once.”

She gave me a look like I’d just grown a beak, or something. “Chief, since when have you ever followed ‘the book’?”

Not an unfair assessment, I suppose…

I played off the comment, replying brashly, “I like to keep ‘em guessing every now and then. Makes for a nice change of pace.”

Understanding what was about to happen, Bernard started moving into a defensive position, just off the road. He turned to Crafter, “If anything goes sideways, stick with me and keep down.”

Fade took a seat, idly reached into his jacket and started fiddling with a pocket watch I hadn’t seen before. He cranked the little dial at the top, before setting it twirling by the chain clutched between his talons. It spun in slow circles before his eyes, and he seemed mesmerized for a few seconds. “Alright, I’ll keep an eye on the trail, make sure it doesn’t go anywhere,” He commented evenly. “Will deal with things accordingly if you run afoul of those ‘red bars.’”

I nodded, slipping into a briefing tone as I went over what we were doing — just to be sure. “We’re going to do a proper recce of whatever it is Crafter detected. I’m just taking Tailwind. If we aren’t back in an hour, pull back to the start of this trail. We’ll try and find you there, or back at the last farmhouse we passed if it takes that long. I don’t expect it to, just in case. If we come into contact, we’re headed straight back this way — support us, and we’ll all pull back together, if it comes to that. If you come into contact, do everything you can to break free and pull back. We’ll try and make our way to you. Questions?”

There weren’t any. In my experience, there were rarely questions. But you always asked.

Seeing affirmative nods all around, Tailwind and I left our saddlebags with the group before heading out. We picked a circuitous route, going about a hundred meters into the woods before heading towards where we could get a visual on where Crafter said the readings were coming from. If things didn’t go as planned, I didn’t want to be seen coming from the direction of the others.

Keeping low and quiet, Tailwind and I switched easily into communicating through hoof signals, using what cover the pathetic little trees along the way provided, moving quickly but quietly towards our targets. We drew the hoods of our newly refurbished barding up, covering our heads and blotting out the vibrancy of my own mane.

The only sound was the wind between the trees, and the quiet crunch of snow beneath our hooves.

There was an open area, where the sparse treeline gave way to a rocky plateau. Our targets had to be on there somewhere. I motioned to Tail, and we crawled on our bellies the last of the way. It was cold, don’t get me wrong. Snow stung my hide, somehow managing to get through my layers of clothing in a couple places. It was miserable — crawling, as a pony used to the freedom of the skies. I’d have been mighty peeved if we ended up finding some sort of mutated cockroach or something… but when we finally came to the edge of the treeline, I was more than grateful that we had.

We’d found Crafter’s “Red Bars,” and a whole lot more.

Before us sprawled the site of a fierce battle, no more than a day old. The fresh snow couldn’t hide the scorched ground, craters, bullet casings… and blood, frozen where it fell or flash burnt onto rock faces. We could see the armoured forms of three Steel Rangers from where we hid, all motionless. One seemed to have been ground down by small arms before being finished by a massive hole through his chest. A second had tried to maneuver, but the way the armour across her back had been opened up like a tin can… I guessed some sort of shaped charge had been employed. The third was an oddity. Where the other two bore numerous combat scars beyond those that killed them, the third seemed almost pristine, except for a small pool of blood beneath his helmet, frozen in the snow. Missing were the corpses of their attackers. Also missing, however, was a fourth Ranger. They operated in detachments of four, as I understood — and from the few patrols I’d seen heading out while at the fort, that seemed to be the case with this chapter. I resolved to keep an eye out.

It was clear which side had won, but the surrounding rocks told the other half of the story. The scars of automatic grenade launcher fire, blackened rocks, explosive scarring and pools of blood partially covered in snow told me that the battle had been far from one-sided. Whoever had attacked them had used a lot of bodies to distract them, before managing to bring some sizeable guns to bear with no small amount of maneuvering.

I brought out my binoculars.

A more thorough scan of the area — helped in no small part because we knew where to look, courtesy of Crafter — revealed the last pieces of the puzzle. They were hidden, I’ll grant them that much. If we’d continued along the path, they’d have spotted us long before we caught wind of them. There was no uniformity, but every pony we spotted wore similar, white winter wraps. The same wraps I’d once worn to keep out the cold.

Red Eye.

From our spot, we managed to make out a total of eight ponies, set in positions overlooking where the Rangers had been ambushed — no more than a fireteam in any one position. Some sported bandages and signs of recent first aid, leading me to conclude that they’d been part of the initial ambush, rather than a relief-in-place force. They carried a motley assortment of weaponry, ranging from shotguns and rifles to light machineguns.

No sign of the rifle that put a hoof-sized hole through power armour, though — ditto for the explosives.

I pulled out my journal, taking my trusty pen in my mouth. I made a quick sketch of the locations — including both Red Eye positions and fallen Rangers — before passing it back to Tailwind to copy into her own notebook.

She finished, nodding a confirmation that we hadn’t missed anything the other had seen, and we pulled back into the treeline. Tail looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to call it.

I spoke quietly and deliberately, deciding to risk speech in favour of speed. “There’s enough dead ground to worry me, and we still don’t know where that AM rifle ended up. We’ll cloudburst the area — you take the left, I’ll take the right. We’ll meet up right here in twenty minutes, tee up, and head back to the others. Either of us gets bumped, supporting fire and movement as long as we have to.”

“Gotcha, Chief,” she replied, in her all-business tone. “Stay safe.”

We shared a quick hoof bump, and she was gone. I smiled — I couldn’t even hear her hoof steps, and I was listening for ‘em.

I stepped off alone, beginning to describe a wide, uneven half-circle to the North side of the ambush point. Knowing where their positions were certainly helped — they were huddled up for warmth. No fires that I could see, but they’d certainly been out all day. A miserable task, no doubts there… but if I knew anything, I knew how effective miserable could be. Gave ‘em the edge to take out a squad of Rangers, after all.

I kept to low ground where I could, popping up only to get another angle on their positions and the ambush site. The first such movement didn’t yield much of use — though I did spot another pair of bodies, dressed in wasteland attire; all pockets, not much protection. They seemed like travelers, possibly unintended victims caught in the ambush. I didn’t know what to make of that, but I moved on after adding their position to my sketch.

I let my eyes wander during the next bound. It was quiet, despite the sound of my own heartbeat — deafening only to my own ears. Fog gently drifted across the area, and a few muted patches of sunlight managed to dimly shine through where the cloud cover was a touch thinner. It shone down, illuminating the blanket of powder snow stretching as far as I could see. It was… picturesque, I thought.

It was my distraction that caused me to catch it, actually. Just a glint, off in the distance out of the corner of my eye. I ducked down, taking what cover I could behind a puny tree.

I took out my binoculars again.

Up on the side of the mountain, maybe four hundred meters from where I lay in the snow, was a sniper roost. I’d caught a glimpse of the sight on a powerful looking rifle — probably the one that punched a hole in the Ranger, I figured. It rested against the wall of a hastily-made wooden platform set against the cliffside. Behind the rifle sat a griffon with a bandaged arm and a pony — a unicorn mare. The griffon wore matte black armour with a splayed talon stenciled on the chest, mostly covered with a white overcoat. The mare beside him simply wore the same white wraps as the others. They seemed to be playing some form of card game, killing time.

I took down their position, and keyed my TFD for voice-to-text. “Tail, sniper nest due North-East of the dead Rangers, four-fifty meters, high.” I subvocalized, practically mouthing the words.

A few seconds later, her reply scrolled across my vision.

“Rgr. Seen.”

I moved on, mind back on the mission. Couldn’t afford to be careless like that again.

The third position I took, about fifteen minutes since Tail and I had split up, was the one to bear proverbial fruit.

I’d made my way as far North of their position as I’d be able to go before I ran out of time. As soon as I crested the short hill I was using as cover, I saw what would become the focal point of my plan.

The fourth Ranger of the patrol had ended up in a small gully, just below where the two wastelanders had been cut down. It seemed like she’d been dragged there at some point. Her armour was pristine — and distinctly lacked an execution-style bullet hole through one of the eyes. I watched for long enough to figure that the slight rise-and-fall of certain segments of her armour was an indicator of life.

I could only imagine what the Red Eye troopers had in mind for the hostage, but it couldn’t be good. They must have found some way to disable her armour… hers, and the other pony.

Given how the other one had ended up, I concluded that they only needed one for whatever they had planned…

Or they only needed a mare for it.

I blinked the thought away — whatever they did have planned, it didn’t change what I planned to do about it. They either could not, or would not cut her out of that armour for the time being. That worked just fine for me — the beginnings of a plan were forming, and I had to get back.

The way back was tense, especially alone. Sound traveled far over snow-covered ground. I’d been shocked to hear snippets of muted conversation reaching me, as much as a hundred meters or more away!

It made each step sound deafening to my own ears, which were perked up, alert for any sound at all. I actually had a plan for how to overcome this obstacle, and getting spotted now would have ruined everything.

Not to mention, put everyone left in my life at risk.

I reached the rendezvous point with less than a minute to spare from my estimate. To my relief, Tailwind wasn’t in a mood to show off her skills by hiding from me, too. We wasted no time, comparing notes. While I’d found the sniper nest on the hill and the downed Ranger, she had been anything but idle.

“They’ve got a two-pony hasty observation post set up, Chief,” she was saying, “To the West. It looks like they’re trying to cut off anyone coming into Ranger territory, oddly enough.” As she spoke, she elaborated on what she’d drawn on her copy of the map. Silently, I copied it onto my own. “They have a radio — standard Equestrian Army, pretty beat up looking, but it’s functional. Seemed to be made during the Great War, judging from the serial number.” She had this grin, like she was incredibly pleased with herself as she said it.

Wait.

A flicker of amusement crossed my face, before being replaced with a slight frown and a sigh. That she was capable of getting that close to them wasn’t surprising, but the fact that she actually did it... “Tail, I know I’m the last pony to give this advice, but… be careful, hey?”

She flashed me a grin and bumped her flank against mine reassuringly, “Really Chief, I should be the one worried. We both know what your version of 'stealthy' can turn into.”

Well, she’s got me there. I suppose I did ask for it, too.

Eager to change the topic, I hid my embarrassed smile by going back to what I’d seen, and my plan-in-making. “So… That Ranger is still breathing. Doesn’t even seem wounded, for that matter. Seems like they hit her with some sort of spell matrix disruption grenade or something. They’re using her as bait, but we might just be able to use that. If we could get you to her, unnoticed, could you reboot her armour?”

She rubbed her chin with a forehoof, giving the question some thought. Finally, she asked, “Do we still have that spark battery?”

Startled, I replied, “I think Bernard’s carrying it at the moment… why?”

“I should be able to jump-start her armour’s spell matrix with that, and my TFD,” She postulated. “Might burn out the battery, but it should work.” She paused for a couple seconds before adding, “I think.”

I nodded. It would have to.

We made our way back to the group, following our own hoof prints in the snow and making sure to return the same way we’d come. The others didn’t seem surprised, so one of them must’ve noticed us before we emerged.

Maybe Crafter… he’d be able to see friendly “bars,” too.

At any rate, I spoke up as soon as we’d emerged into the small clearing. “Trouble. Circle up, I’ve got a plan.” I couldn’t see Tailwind roll her eyes as I said those last four fateful words, but I knew she did it. She always did.

Some of them work!

Bernard and Crafter trotted over, as the older stallion spoke up first. “I take it that it’s not just two guys…”

Since we’d left him, Fade had evidently decided to disassemble the watch I’d seen him carrying. Seeing us, he let out a noncommittal grunt, reassembling the device before meandering over to the assemblage. “Did you find trouble, or make it?” He asked, rolling a crick out of his neck and giving us a curious look. “I’ve found there’s a very distinct difference between the two and their resultant severity.”

“He brings up a good point…” Crafter added, quietly.

With a grin, I replied to them both. “We most certainly found it, Fade.” I laid out my sketch of the area, as well as the hard copy of the map that was already scanned onto my TFD, oriented to the lay of the ground. “We’ve got a full Red Eye ambush set up a couple hundred meters down the road. They’ve got a griffon-and-pony sniper nest set up here,” I gestured with a hoof towards the spot, away from the actual killing zone. “They managed to get the drop on a pair of ‘Rangers, killing one and knocking out the armour on the second. When the other half of their patrol went to investigate, the two sides had quite the firefight, with the Rangers eventually going down. I couldn’t tell how many ponies the Reds used to have, but I’m damn sure they’ve got a lot fewer now.”

I pointed a hoof towards the disabled Steel Ranger. “Now, this one seems to still be alive. I’m not sure if they cannot, or will not open up her armour to get at the poor mare, but it presents a unique opportunity that they haven’t. Using the spark battery Bernard’s carrying, Tailwind can reset the spell matrix of her armour, and I’m quite sure she’ll be pissed as all hell when she can move again.” I glanced up. “Fade, I want you to create a distraction.” Letting that sink in a moment, I organized my thoughts before continuing. “I want you to find a defensible spot, lay out some landmines and keep them focused anywhere other than the North side of the road. Once the rest of us are in position, I want you to hit them and fade away if you can, or hunker down in cover, if you can’t. Just make sure to keep up harassing fire to keep them looking your way.

“I don’t care if you hit anything at all,” I continued, “I just need their eyes very much pointed away from the road. Anything else is a bonus. The sniper nest will get taken out ASAP, so all you should have to deal with is ponies with battlesaddles and levitated weapons. I saw mostly rifles, with a couple light machineguns backing them up. There were indications of explosives on the Ranger bodies, but I couldn’t see ‘em. Keep an eye out.

“Once they’re properly distracted, Tailwind’s going to start making for the Ranger.” Seeing Bernard’s pensive look, I turned to him. “That’s where Crafter and Bernard come in. While Fade’s drawing their attention, I need you to be giving him supporting fire. Soon as he starts to engage, he’s going to take a lot of fire. You’re going to have to provide fire support for him, and take out any hostiles in Tailwind’s way.”

Bernard nodded, “So, keep their heads down and try to keep Fade’s intact. Fair enough, I suppose.”

Crafter spoke up next, scrunching his muzzle in confusion. “What about the… Ayy-emm, umm, thing? It sounds bad.”

I sighed, already knowing that Tailwind wasn’t going to like this part of the plan.

“They’re up pretty high on a cliff face,” I replied, “Tailwind and Fade are needed exactly where they are, so that leaves me.” I brought out my remaining apple shaped grenades, running them through my hooves before putting them back in my barding pockets. “I’ve still got some explosives, and if I wait til they’re distracted by the firefight, and… well… trying to kill you guys, it shouldn’t be too hard.”

Just as I had predicted, Tailwind frowned heavily at that. Still, she avoided voicing her objections, simply nodding her assent to her portion of the plan.

Fade peered intently at the layout, seeming to commit locations to memory. Again, I was struck by the duality in him — minutes ago, he’d been absently fiddling with a watch instead of watching for enemies, now he was gazing at a map with the literal intensity of a bird of prey. With a nod, he looked back up at me. “A distraction I can give you, but I’ll need some time first.” Rising to his feet, he began to sort through his possessions. I assumed he was cutting weight, as he started placing things like his sleeping bag, rations, and other worldly possessions in a spare bag. “About twenty minutes, I’d say, before the shooting starts.” He finished, drawing the zipper shut on the bag and leaving it in the snow. “Need someone to watch after that, though. I need to be light for this.”

Crafter levitated the bag over, hooking it to his side and adjusting his saddlebags until the contents were evenly distributed.

Seeing them getting that sorted, I gave a few final orders. “For the lead up, Tailwind, Bernard and Crafter will stick together and find a spot to engage from before Tailwind moves up. I can communicate to her through our TFD’s. Fade, I can give you a radio. I’ve got it tuned to a frequency only we’ll be using, all you have to do is push this button. It incorporates cloud tech, but I do believe griffons can use it. Unless you need to send detail, one click of the radio if you encounter an issue, two clicks for ‘set.’ I’ll send two in response as the signal to start engaging, after consulting with Tailwind’s team. From there, we’ll all respond to your distraction.” I popped open the medical pouch on my saddlebags, pulling out a healing potion and passing it to Fade along with the radio, adding, “Take this… just in case.”

Fade accepted the radio, giving it an exploratory press of the push-to-talk switch, causing a muted squelch from my own radio. He stowed it in easy reach, satisfied. The healing potion he grabbed with no small amount of trepidation, tucking the bottle inside his barding and giving me a grim nod. “Havla. If all goes as hoped I won’t need it. Nonetheless, it’s appreciated.” Turning to gaze down the road, he gave the map one more cursory glance before stretching his joints, then quickly jumping up and down. A few small items clinked, and he made the necessary adjustments. Satisfied, he looked us all over, graced us with a dip of his head, and offered, “I’ll be off then. If you hear shooting before the clicks, please come help me.” That said, he loped off down the road, quickly veering off the side into the snowy bank.

With that, the operation was a go.

I gave Tailwind a quick, reassuring hoof bump and a confident smile as I offered the ritual once again, “Through the storm…”

She sighed, unable to stay frustrated with me when I was as confident as I was about a plan. She returned the hoof bump and finished with conviction, “...And the smoke, to the clear skies beyond!”

I smiled, before turning and galloping away. As soon as I had space, I flared my wings and took to the sky. Just as I was leaving, I heard Tail start issuing her own orders to the others.

“Alright guys, let's save us a Ranger!”

*** *** ***

Flying off in the direction of the griffon’s roost, I felt my trepidation at the plan’s efficacy fading away. There was no longer room for such thoughts, and they were replaced by all that was happening in the now. The feeling of the wind in my mane, the familiar buzz of adrenaline, and the surety of impending combat all served to drive out my thoughts on our uncertain future.

It felt damn good to have targets ahead, allies behind, and a mission to accomplish. It was straight forwards. No Wasteland politics, no scavenging for the supplies to live. We’d fight our way to tomorrow, and face those challenges when they came.

Keeping to treetop level, I made a wide pass, out of any conceivable arcs of fire they might be watching. The others were making their way on hoof and paw — despite the distance involved, I had more than enough time to be careful about it.

When I got closer, I approached the roost from below, flying almost wingtip-to-mountain most of the way. Once I got within a hundred meters or so, it was simply too close to keep flying. I landed in a sheltered crook near the summit, out of sight of the roost. It took me a few minutes of crawling, but I found my way within a stone’s throw of the roost, tucked away behind a cleft in the rock. I had a decent view of the ambush site — if I’d had a rifle, I could have hit several positions of theirs from where I hid. The mare in the roost was talking, not loudly, but sound traveled easily in the open air. She was complaining about cold, the food, seemingly anything any everything about being exactly where she was right then. I almost couldn’t have hoped for better cover as I sneaked forwards.

Naturally, there was a hitch in the plan.

As I settled in to wait, a dry twig snapped off against the mechanisms of my battle saddle with a light ‘pop.’

Shit.

I silently begged Fade to hurry as I halted all movement, ears perked up as much as they’d go.

The mare was silenced by an angry bark from the griffon. “Shut it fuck meat, I heard something!” I heard the distinct sound of the action being cycled on a firearm.

Meekly, I heard her reply, “My name’s Jasmine…”

Her rebuttal was followed by a growl, “I don’t give a fuck what your name is, just get your gun up. I know I heard something. Shit don’t just go an’ make noise all by itself.” As he finished his orders, I hazarded a peek around the side of the rock.

He was looking in my general direction, with a vicious looking carbine in his talons. If the bandages wrapped around his right arm were indicative of a major injury, he sure didn’t seem to be particularly inconvenienced. He didn’t know exactly where I was, but the way he scanned the rock face seemed practiced.

I also caught a better look at the roost itself. It wasn’t much more than a firing position with a bit of light cover on top. They must have scavenged the materials from somewhere — I saw treated wood, corrugated metal, all the sorts of things wasteland shacks were usually made of. Plus, one of the short railings was literally a door that had been bolted to the side.

I doubted the original occupants had been gently evicted.

Dropping back behind the rock, I toggled my TFD. I subvocalized, just loud enough for it to recognize my throat movements as words, “Set. Small snag.” I watched it process and send the message, my heart beating at a steady pace.

“Roger. Set here. Care, Chief.” Flashed across my TFD’s screen in response a few seconds later, drawing a tight smile from me.

Just to be safe, I gave a single click of the radio clipped to my barding, making sure that if there was a reply, the sound was set to a hairsbreadth from muted. Then, I took out a grenade, keeping it close at hoof. I removing the safety tab, but left the pin in place.

I didn’t have to wait long.

I hadn’t heard anything over the radio, but off in the distance I heard a series of cracks — small caliber, probably a pistol firing — from the direction I expected Fade’s distraction to come from. I waited, mildly concerned that there hadn’t been any contact from the griffon over the radio. It didn’t seem to be quite according to plan, as I imagined that any true distraction from Fade would involve either explosions, or-

Over the radio, I heard one click, followed immediately by two more.

Snag, but Operation is ‘go.’

A half second later, the distinct sound of a light machinegun opening up tore through the otherwise quiet mountains. Tracer after tracer round ripped across positions I’d pointed out earlier, nearly point blank. Rounds ricocheted, spinning into the air as they hit rocks or trees, providing a lightshow for anypony stupid enough to be watching somewhere other than where they originated. Now that I had a point of reference, I could make out the form of Fade taking cover behind a rock, a presumably captured light machinegun in his talons. He was firing in sustained, killing bursts of four or more tracers per pull of the trigger. Heavy suppressive fire — the distraction was in full effect.

Return fire was virtually instantaneous.

The Talon opposite my position swore colourfully, screaming at the pony with him to man the AM rifle. Then he spoke, and it took me a moment to realize he was talking to me. “Let’s have us a hunt, little mouse…” I heard the sound of claws on the wooden sides of the perch, and the “crump” of a heavy body landing, braced, in the snow. He was actively searching.

I’d done a lot of simulator work involving griffons. They’d been fighting for money since before the Great War — they were built for it, physiologically speaking. It was only natural they’d been included in that sort of program.

The designers hadn’t shirked on coding in what their talons were capable of, and I had no desire to find out how the experience compared to the real thing.

I pulled out the grenade I’d prepped, weighing it in my hoof before turning and giving it as solid a throw as I could — pin still in — with a trajectory just over his shoulder, towards the roost. No, I didn’t miss a step. I didn’t do it. You see, that griffon was looking for me. He’d certainly see a grenade, of all things, headed towards his position. He’d take cover, and if I made a move — anywhere — I’d be flying into my own shrapnel, or I’d be stuck and he’d know where I was after it went off. So I didn’t pull the pin before I threw it. I waited for the sound of the griffon diving for cover, disturbingly accompanied by an accurate burst of carbine fire, sparking off the rocks I hid behind.

Making my move as he hit the dirt, I leapt from my perch straight into the air, unfurling my wings mid-air and catching the wind. I caught a surprised “Eep!” from the unicorn, as she snagged the grenade in her magic and sent it tumbling down the mountain. That was all I saw before going into a dive, trading altitude for speed as I arced a trajectory below the roost and to the opposite side of the rock face.

In the space of a few seconds, I had to form something of a plan of attack. I didn’t have the surprise I’d hoped for, so I’d have to take them both through skill, on my part. Flapping harder, I started to build up speed — that griffon would be coming, and I had to be that many steps ahead of him if I hoped to live. More than that, I aimed to win.

At my back, I heard the griffon yell, “Jeez you’re just a fucking hatchling ain’t ya, runt?” He must have only caught a hint of movement as I evaded — he thought I was a tiny griffon! “Think you can out fly ol’ uncle Griff, ‘ey?” There was a sort of mirth in his voice, like my attempts at hostile action were amusing to him.

Well, if he wants to dance, let's fucking dance!

I flew close to the cliff before cutting sharply to my right, kicking off from the cliffside with all four hooves. Folding my wings into my body and tucking my head, I let the force of the kick and my own momentum rotate me into a rough one-eighty, watching for the griffon as I did.

As eager as he sounded, “Griff” soared around the corner a bare second or so behind me, bracing his carbine in an assault stance. He managed to fire first, filling the air around me with the sharp crack of incoming rounds. One shot ricocheted off the armoured plate on my flank, just below the cutiemark. I’d later find a bruised welt beneath the plating, but at the time I was so far in the red I didn’t even notice.

Instead, I bit down on the trigger to my battle saddle.

His rounds had been hasty, reactive fire — my own were dead on. Ruby laser beams stitched a series of pockmarks into the breastplate of his armour, which in turn seemed to absorb them like they weren’t even there.

I flapped hard, turning the momentum of my rotation back into speed. After our impromptu head-on, I was trying to angle back towards my initial position, at a lower altitude this time. Disappointing as my own pass was, all he’d need was an instant to bracket me with that carbine. Compact though it was, its rounds seemed… heavy. Something about the way the air moved as they flashed by screamed “High caliber” to me. He’d only need one good shot.

To stop is to die.

I sped towards him, banking up and over at the last possible second. As I flashed by, he cried out in surprise, that same manic-amused tone in his voice. “Skies above it’s a fuckin’ turkey! And a mare to boot!” I could almost hear the sick smile in his voice. “Oooh, this’ll be fun.”

I really, really hate fighting griffons.

He had some pretty serious reaction speed for such a large creature, I had to give him that. As I flew up and over him, he forced his wings to flap up and “forwards.” That sharply cut his forward momentum, even being enough to send him vectoring “backwards” and bleeding altitude, but it allowed him to bring his carbine up towards me. He gripped the weapon in a single outstretched talon, following my trajectory as his injured arm stayed at his side. He had all of a fraction of a second to aim and fire, but he was still a hairsbreadth from ending the fight with a solid hit, and he wasn’t shy about the ammo. Grinning from the very corners of his beak, I saw him pull the trigger with a maniac’s reluctance, aiming jagged bursts of fire at my lightly protected belly.

I did what I could to throw off his aim, but my priority was getting out of his line of sight. My gunnery pass was spent, and the best defense I had was putting the roost itself between him and me. Unfortunately, that meant I was traveling in a lot more of a ballistic trajectory than I’d normally like.

One round skimmed my right wing and another tore through the left-side weapon mount on my battle saddle, sending delicate pieces of machinery scattering down the hillside. It was sheer luck and personal preference that I’d mounted my pistol on the right.

Mercifully, I’d gained enough altitude by that point. A few final rounds embedded themselves in the structure of the roost itself — the same place the griffon’s partner still occupied. As I continued flapping upwards, I’d bought myself a split second to think.

The griffon was proving to be a fight that wasn’t wrapping itself up any time soon, and there was still a pony up there with a heavy rifle pointed at my friends. For all I knew, she could be lining one of them up as we dueled beneath her perch. Or so my train of thought went, anyways.

I flapped hard, cutting through the air as I climbed for altitude, trying to bring myself back above the level of the roost. Above me, the mare was still trying to wrap her head around the verticality of the combat happening around her when I rocketed back into her field of view. Seeing me pop back up, she let off a sporadic burst from a compact SMG held in a shaky magical field. Seeing her aim, all I had to do was drop my legs, increasing resistance and dropping my altitude by a couple feet.

It was enough to send her burst wide over my head, and she had no time for a follow-up.

My energy pistol hadn’t done nearly what I’d hoped, and in the split second I had to make the choice, I decided not to take a chance on it. Taking advantage of her surprise, I arrowed straight for the roost, directly towards a collision course with the mare. Bracing myself for impact, her confused features went from distant to intimate in heartbeats. My body hit her in the chest, sending a very physical shock through both of us. Locking my forehooves with hers, I kept flapping — propelling us both over the other side of the roost.

I don’t think I’ll ever forget her.

I’d decided on my course of action, and there was no room to adjust it at that point… but her big, golden eyes stayed with me. She had a purple coat and was wearing a white toque over her mane, but what stuck with me were those eyes, full of confusion, in the process of morphing into fear. The whole thing must have lasted a few heartbeats at most, but it felt like an eternity as I held her in my hooves, dragging that unicorn away from the solid ground she was desperately trying to cling to.

Now, I can’t carry a pony for extended periods of time. It just ain’t gonna happen, especially not in combat.

But I didn’t have to.

Once past the edge of the roost, I disengaged my hooves from the terrified mare, diving and angling my wings to intentionally begin a hard spin. Perhaps she realized what was about to happen, perhaps not. Regardless, she tried desperately to grab hold of my barding. Centrifugal force won out sooner rather than later, and her hooves were torn from me as she sailed away from the mountainside.

She must have been airborne for almost a full second before she impacted the ground most of the way down the slope. She bounced, the first time… and the second. By the third impact she was unnaturally limp, and slid the remainder of the way to a halt on a much lower plateau.

There was a lot of blood.

The… I’ll go with “brutality,” of what I’d just done hit me. Killing a pony in a firefight, that was one thing. What I’d just done? It horrified me, for a few short moments I couldn’t afford to waste as it was.

I was distracted a moment too long. My trajectory had sent me back down towards the griffon, who hadn’t given chase as I went for his partner. Rather, he’d waited beneath the perch, and greeted me with a combat knife nearly the length of one of my forelegs. His slash caught me right between my wings. I felt the knife point scrape along my spine as he punched it into my back, separated from my flesh only by a thin layer of ballistic cloth and a fur cloak. The sheer impact pulled a surprisingly feminine shriek of pain from my abused lungs.

My barding held, but it was like getting a cloud-buck to the gut — while flying.

Through vision blurred from pain, I saw him stabilize mid-air, powerful wings sending him into a stationary hover as he sent accurate bursts of fire at my descending form.

All the while, he was laughing at the spectacle of the falling mare.

“Ha, looks like they do bounce!”

I didn’t have time to be sickened. Either by what I’d done, or his reaction to it. He had me right where he wanted me, forced to either go full evasive, or give him the straight up fight he’d been trying to force for a while now.

I set my wings at an angle, giving careful correction to my spin and quickly rotating my body. Once I was fully inverted, I flared my wings and traded a sharp dive for a fast, shallow descent — a maneuver known as “wiffling.” The action brought my battle saddle to bear, dropping the reticle over his massive silhouette. I snarled as I bit down on the trigger, fast as I could.

For an instant, the air between us was torn asunder by hard rounds and superheated magical energy. My laser pistol found its mark, lancing a series of steaming holes in his right arm and wing, the one I’d noted that he was favouring in his flying pattern.

I paid for my success, however.

One of his rounds hit my left shoulder, missing the protective plate by dint of the weird angle. Blood spattered the sky, a liquid stream falling towards the forest below. I felt the leg go numb instantly, becoming dead weight even as I flew — it spun me to the side, sending a few errant energy rounds sizzling into the snow.

Neither of us were down for the count, but my shots had compromised his flight capacity.

He tried to correct, flaring his wings and flapping hard but the injured wing refused to catch enough air, folding on him almost immediately. I lost sight of him as he dropped hard to his right, hitting the cliff and skidding down the slope on his wounded side.

I stabilized my own flight, righted, and shakily climbed for the now-empty roost. My teeth were gritted against the pain, and I tasted blood where I must have bitten my cheek.

Soon as I crested the rim of the roost, I collapsed onto my haunches for a few seconds to catch my breath. The edges of my vision softened, and the aches and pains of what I’d just done... had done to me began to wash over me, as my body began to drop out of the high of combat.

My shoulder was numb, and I suspected the round had dislocated it. Blood quickly soaked into the fabric of my barding, steaming in the cold air. As I tentatively prodded the edges of the bloody wound, it became immediately apparent that the sheer size of his round had actually worked against him. It must have been some sort of round intended to pierce armour rather than bloom, because it had overpenetrated my shoulder, leaving a relatively small exit hole. If it had tumbled, I probably would have lost the leg.

Still, it isn’t every day you get to see a half-inch hole through you and think, “It could have been worse.”

I pulled a bandage from my medical pack, tore off the packaging and wrapped my shoulder using my free hoof and teeth. I pulled it taught, til the pain brought tears to my eyes and stole my recently regained breath away.

But I managed to staunch the bleeding.

I took a few seconds to clear my head. I couldn’t have jumped off that ledge more than twenty seconds prior to my landing on the roost. It happened so fast, my brain was just beginning to realize what had happened. In the moment, my body just reacted. Combat instincts.

The same instincts that sent a mare plummeting to her death.

I tried not to think about it. What I’d done was disquieting… but it was combat. I did what I had to to survive, to make it back to Tailwind.

I keep telling myself that.

It didn’t take me long, but I got myself together quickly enough. I then cast my eyes upon the reason for all that effort. The anti-material rifle was a massive construct, with a grip designed for griffon talons. Blue-black steel with a varnished wood stock. I could have tried to fire it, and would only have managed to dislocate my other shoulder for the trouble. It sat, menacingly, braced on a bipod overlooking the killing field down below, where I could see tracer fire ongoing. I’d had no contact with Tailwind, and she would have messaged me if things went too badly… I would have hoped, at least.

I need to get back to them.

Clearing the rifle, I dumped the mag and ejecting the chambered round. The rifle itself was too much dead weight to move in my current shape, so I settled for disarming it, tossing the ammunition in a saddle bag. Then I gave the roost itself a once-over.

They’d cleared away what snow they could, there was a hot plate, a pair of cans of beans and a pair of small field stools — the kind that fold up for transport. There was also a saddle bag with two more magazines for the rifle, a healing potion, some rubbing alcohol and pressure bandages.

Perfect.

I tried to get the rest of those supplies into my saddlebags… with only one working leg, I kind of failed. Ultimately, I swept all but the stools into their saddlebag, and slung that over my back.

Just about set, I spared a glance over the side of the roost, to see where the Griffon had ended up. I didn’t intend to re-engage him, not in the state I was in — and once I caught sight of him, maybe fifty meters West of me, but at the bottom of the cliff… he seemed of similar mind. He was tucked down beside a large rock, still in the process of applying first aid in the form of a potion, and what looked like an injector of Med-X on his wounded side. Despite the potion, his wing was clearly broken from the impact.

I grimaced. He must have gone down harder than I thought, because he had to know the injuries from my pistol wouldn’t heal from a potion.

He wouldn’t be placing accurate rounds at me anytime soon, was what I got from that. With a quick, shaky jump, I leapt off the roost and opened my wings. I bled a bit of altitude to speed my way towards the fight. No longer worried about stealth, I spoke freely as I activated my TFD, on Tailwind’s channel. “Roost neutralized. One contact still active, mobility kill. I’m airbourne, headed your way.” I hesitated, before adding, “I’m… hit. Not life threatening.

“Tailwind, what’s your status?”

For a few moments that seemed to stretch on forever, the chill winds of the North were my only reply...

Author's Note

Hey look, not as much of a wait as last time! Hopefully the trend continues, as I'm sure there's a bit of chafing at being left hanging like that.

This chapter, or, the way it's been recently revised to, the coming series of chapters is an arc I've been looking forwards to writing for a long time. At long last, the party has had a chance to shake things out, and Snap's head is back in the game, as you've seen now for the first time. I suppose there's not much more to say, but I hope my writing manages to properly convey my excitement at writing this sort of thing at last.

Big thanks to the usual suspects, as well as a new Face. Belmor, PersonalGamer and newly, PromptAnon gave me a bit of much-needed feedback. Naturally, it's the holidays and people are busy, so a couple editors were unavailable this time around.

That's pretty much it, and thank you all for sticking with us this long. The ride's far from over, and things are gonna be speeding up a bit in the coming chapters.

Paralogue 02: The Tides of Battle

Paralogue Two: The Tides of Battle

Stardate: June 4th, 2077

Journal of the Honourable Griffon, Fade (Me)

Our illustrious commander has asked me the ever paramount question of “Why.” Or, more accurately, she asked it some time ago, and found my initial explanation lacking. I can’t imagine how — it was succinct, to the point, and informed her of some realities of this world that I’m not entirely sure occurred to her.

But I digress. She asked me to write out what happened on our little frozen-valley soiree, and here we are.

*** *** ***

It was all quite the situation they had stumbled upon. I say “they,” because I had been sitting on the side of the road twirling my newly recovered watch while they had gone on ahead and found the rabble. They — the pegasi, I mean. The two lovebirds, as it were — had just returned. Things were springing into action, and my presence was required.

“Trouble. Circle up, I’ve got a plan,” Snap Roll said without preamble. She and Tailwind had just emerged from the underbrush, the two of them shaking off some snow that had gotten lodged in their barding. Miserable as it seemed, I guessed they must have crawled at least some of the way. How that worked for someone with hooves was beyond me, but their dedication to not being discovered and presumably killed did them credit.

“I take it it isn’t just two guys,” Bernard replied, voicing the somewhat-obvious as he headed towards what was beginning to become a sort of meeting area.

Glancing up from the softly ticking mechanisms of the watch I’d field stripped to search for tracking devices (of which there were none), I let out a noncommittal grunt and reassembled the device before meandering over to the assembling group on the trail. “Did you find trouble, or make it?” I asked, rolling a crick out of my neck and eyeing the pegasi curiously, “I’ve found there’s a very distinct difference between the two, and often their severity.”

With one last glance towards what I imagined were the fateful “Red Bars” that started this whole thing, Crafter turned to follow in my wake. When he spoke, he echoed my own thoughts, saying “He brings up a good point.”

It had been a good point, hadn’t it? Still, I began to wonder if the horn atop his head gave him mind-reading capabilities, before dismissing the thought. Either it didn’t, or it did and he made very poor use of the knowledge. Regardless, it wasn’t something to be worried about.

As for Snap’s plan, well, I’d soon find out what it would entail. It would likely prove interesting to see what proper training by a flight worthy species would look like when not ambushed, attacked by a wolf, or bleeding copiously. Hopefully, it would be far more harm doing, than receiving.

With a grin that showed her teeth, Snap replied to me, “We most certainly found it, Fade.” As she spoke, she laid out what seemed to be a pencil drawing — on a torn-out page from the very notebook I’ve been writing this in. Beside it, she unfolded the hardcopy map she’d acquired back in Neighson. For the time being, I kept quiet about the similar-but-more-detailed one buried in my bag. No need to bring it up, not when I hadn’t had a chance to properly go over it myself.

Dismissing the thought, my attention was drawn to her beginning to pile up a series of rocks, sticks, and piles of snow. It took me a moment, but she was mapping out a very physical representation of what we were facing. In my mind’s eye, the strange assortment of sticks, stones and lines began to make a physical connection.

The line she drew in the snow became the natural progression of the trail we were following, continuing out to the West of where we were. Rocks formed enemy positions, with one distinctly being the closest to our location, with others laid out further to the West. To the South, it seemed like a frozen river came almost all the way up to the road itself, before winding back down the way it had come. Assuming the crossed sticks she placed were hostiles, I got the sense that the majority of their positioning up ahead was watching back towards the Red side of things. Curious. I had to wonder if ponies leaving their territory was that much of an issue.

I slipped the watch back into my jacket before beginning to study the map Miss Snap Roll had laid out before us. It wasn’t an ideal situation, shooting never is, but we had certain advantages (one of which was me) that would help level the playing field. Killing field... snowy road… semantics. As I committed positions and features to memory, Snap began to outline the aforementioned plan.

“We’ve got a full Red Eye ambush set up a couple hundred meters down the road,” She was saying, “They’ve got a griffon-and-pony sniper nest set up here,” she gestured with a hoof towards a spot about four hundred meters away from the ambush. Ahh, so that’s why she’d put a rock there. I supposed it made sense. “They managed to get the drop on a pair of Rangers, killing one and knocking out the armour on the second.” She drew circles in the snow as she outlined the Ranger casualties. “When the other half of their patrol went to investigate, the two sides had quite the firefight, with the Rangers eventually going down. I couldn’t tell how many ponies the Reds used to have, but I’m damn sure they’ve got a lot fewer now.”

I felt a pang of sympathy, but not a whole lot more — Cheesequake had probably known them, more likely than not. For my part, I was more interested in how exactly the good Miss Snap Roll had determined that one still lived. It struck me as odd, to see that from the “Reds,” as she called them. In fact, on that note, she returned to the disabled Ranger. I leaned closer as she jabbed her pointer-stick at the circle North of the road, but on the far side of the ambush site from where we rested.

In point of fact, if one were to walk along the road towards us, I imagined the downed Ranger would be seen before the viewer cottoned on to the realities of the ambush itself.

Perhaps that was the goal?

“Now,” Snap’s voice ripped me out of my thoughts, “This one seems to still be alive. Not sure if they cannot or will not open up her armour to get at the poor mare, but it presents a unique opportunity that they haven’t.” I had questions, such as how she was able to tell that the armoured equine was female — I had a hard enough time when they were standing before me — but it occurred to me that such a question would be decidedly less than helpful. Ultimately, I was willing to concede that she was more of an expert on identifying members of her own species.

It occurred to me that Snap hadn’t stopped talking, and I hastily tried to pretend like I’d been following along. “...Using the spark battery Bernard’s carrying, Tailwind can reset the spell matrix of her armour, and I’m quite sure she’ll be pissed as all hell when she can move again.” Drawing another line on the opposite side of the road, she continued as a vicious smile gave a pleasant curl to her lips. “Fade, I want you to create a distraction.”

Well, she had me. If anything, I can be outstandingly distracting one way or another, if I do say so myself; and I do — say so, that is. Unless someone says it for me, which she did.

“I want you to find a defensible spot, lay out some landmines and keep them focused anywhere other than the North side of the road. Once the rest of us are in position, I want you to hit them and fade away if you can, or hunker down in cover, if you can’t. Just make sure to keep up harassing fire to keep them looking your way.” Her suggestion seemed reasonable enough, and potentially well within my capabilities. Continuing, she added, “I don’t care if you hit anything at all, I just need their eyes very much pointed away from the road. Anything else is a bonus. The sniper nest will get taken out ASAP, so all you should have to deal with is ponies with battlesaddles and levitated weapons. I saw mostly rifles, with a couple light machine guns backing them up. There were indications of explosives on the Ranger bodies, but I couldn’t see ‘em. Keep an eye out.” Well, she certainly didn’t have to remind me about that one, but I supposed she was just being thorough.

“Once they’re properly distracted, Tailwind’s going to start making for the Ranger,” She continued the plan, “That’s where Crafter and Bernard come in. While Fade’s drawing their attention, I need you to be giving him support. Soon as he starts to engage, he’s going to take a lot of fire. You’re going to have to provide fire support for him, and take out any hostiles in Tailwind’s way.”

Bernard nodded his assent, “So, keep their heads down and try to keep Fade’s intact. Fair enough, I suppose.” He would suppose. Because I’m worth it. That said, the whole mutually-not-wanting-me-to-die thing was really starting to grow on me.

Then Crafter spoke up, demonstrating his ignorance, but also highlighting a potential hitch in the plan. “What about the… Ayy-emm, um, thing? It sounds bad.” I guess that evens up his own personal score, after a fashion. For this round, at least.

Snap sighed, “They’re up pretty high on a cliff face. Tailwind and Fade are needed exactly where they are, so that leaves me.” She produced her remaining grenades, running them through her hooves before stowing them again. “I’ve still got some explosives, and if I wait til they’re distracted by the firefight, and… well… trying to kill you guys, it shouldn’t be too hard.”

Clearing my throat after sitting silent through the conversation, I tossed a nod towards the map and commented, “A distraction I can give you, but I’ll need some time first.” Rising to my feet, I began to sort through my possessions, removing all non-essentials to the upcoming engagement and stuffing them into a spare bag. “About twenty minutes, I’d say, before the shooting starts.” To see if any unfortunate piece of kit would have the audacity to give me away at the worst possible time, I jumped up and down a few times, finding that there were a few items which weren’t quite properly stowed. The watch, in particular, needed to be set deeper into a pocket.

Having squared myself away, I shifted what was left of my gear to fit more comfortably before pointing to the bag and saying, “Need someone to watch after that, though. Need to be light for this.” Thankfully, Wrenchy obliged, magically hoisting the bag onto his own shoulders. A decent pony, him. Better than most. I found myself hoping he didn’t die.

“For the lead up,” Snap was saying in conclusion, “Tailwind, Bernard and Crafter will stick together and find a spot to engage from before Tailwind moves up. I can communicate to her through our TFDs.

“Fade, I can give you a radio,” she continued, drawing my full attention. “I’ve got it tuned to a frequency only we’ll be using, all you have to do is push this button.” She indicated with a hoof towards the only noticeable ‘button’ on the thing, which bore a near-identical relation to the device resting in one of her own barding pockets. “It incorporates cloud tech, but I do believe griffons can use it. Unless you need to send detail, one click of the radio if you encounter an issue, two clicks for ‘set.’ I’ll send two in response as the signal to start engaging, after consulting with Tailwind’s team. From there, we’ll all respond to your distraction.”

I accepted the radio as it was given, in turn giving the device’s one notable button an exploratory press, which resulted in the aforementioned “click,” and stowed it in easy reach, clipped in the crook of my shoulder — opposite my shooting side, mind you. I did what I could to memorize her arbitrary-seeming signal code, ultimately deciding that I could improvise if I had to, and leaving it at that.

Then, she passed me one of the more precious things we were carrying with us. Healing potions were valuable, but I didn’t notice any sort of hesitation as she passed it to me, saying “Take this… just in case.” There was a look of… I don’t know. Kindness, maybe? That sounds like a suitably equine trait for it. A look of kindness on her features as she did.

Taking the potion with no small amount of trepidation, I appreciated the thought behind it; I was quite partial to not being dead, and it was good to know it was a mutual sentiment. I tucked the bottle into the inside of my barding and gave a grim nod. “Thanks. If all goes as hoped I won’t need it, but nonetheless.” After casting one last cursory glance at the map, I gave a final check of my gear.

Satisfied with my preparations, I looked over the group, dipped my head in a short bow, and offered in parting, “I’ll be off then. If you hear shooting before the clicks, please come help me.” That said, I headed off down the road, veering over the side into the snowy bank after a short distance. As I went, I mulled over the plan I had formed and hoped that the information the pegasi had provided was still accurate.

Beginning to cut my own trail, I transitioned to walking on all fours, keeping low. I made reasonably quick progress, though the concept is relative, considering that as soon as I left the trail I began to pad through completely unpacked snow — only my quadruped stance kept me from sinking overly deep. For the time being, I had the intermittent woodlands for cover, though the trees were hardly good for all that much. If Snap’s observations were good, I’d be running out of cover just before I reached the first hostile position, which should be enough to let me observe them without committing to an engagement. Naturally, we’d have to see about that.

I felt the elation of being a hunter once again, moving on unsuspecting prey. It felt right, in a sense, almost natural. I’ll have to thank Snap, if I remember by the time I’m done with this: I rather enjoyed the feeling.

Such thoughts aside, I moved forwards in search of my quarry. A distraction was the goal — but surprise, I had always found, could only be lost once. It was best to make the most of it. By the time I caught the first indications of life, maybe fifteen minutes had passed. Soft voices, carried by the slight breeze headed my way, just as expected. Moving so I could get a look at them, I caught sight of a pair of equines maybe thirty or so meters away, right where Snap’s sticks-and-rocks map had indicated.

One of them sported a horn and had a light machine gun resting on its bipod next to her. As far as ponies go, they were almost camouflaged; the unicorn’s green coat stood out a little, but the slate-like blue and grey in her mane came reasonably close to blending in with the rock. Her companion was one of Bernard’s lot, carrying, of all things, a double barreled shotgun. His brown-and-grey colours seemed to match his heritage, looking very much like, well… dirt. I had to wonder if that was something Red Eye gave thought to, when deciding jobs for his underlings — it apparently wasn’t a concern to the Enclave, if our good Miss Roll made it into reconnaissance.

But I digress.

The rock they were nestled behind was hiding them well enough from the road, but they were wide open from my perspective. They must have been trying to glean a bit of cover from the bite of the wind as they waited for something to happen.

Between them and myself, the sparse treeline I’d been traversing gave way to more open steppe, dotted with rocky outcroppings — any number of which could have sheltered enemies, though common sense bid me to have faith in Snap’s number estimates, at least. The thought that they couldn’t overwhelm me with raw bodies was at least somewhat encouraging.

As I scanned the ground past my immediate targets, I caught sight of one particular set of rocks, with a few petty trees forming something of a small copse. The road ran right past it, and two of the dead Rangers were visible nearby. I was quite sure that the spot was occupied, even though I couldn’t actually see any of them. Once things started up in earnest, that was going to be one of the more difficult positions to dislodge, but doing so wasn’t actually my job.

Crouching low, I spent half a minute simply watching the pair of ponies, trying to ascertain their frame of mind and alertness. I had given myself a reasonable window of time, and the others were likely close to, if not already in their positions. Soon, I came to the conclusion that these ponies were more interested in talking and not freezing than being prepared for an ambush.

Gauging the distance, I knew it would be possible to cover in a run, but opted to crawl even closer, pushing my luck just a tad. I drew both my mountaineering hammer and my combat knife as I stopped about twenty meters or so from the duo, remaining still for a few moments to make sure my approach had gone undetected.

Thankfully, despite the crunching I’d made crawling through the snow, the wind seemed to be in my favour — no reaction was forthcoming. Deciding to act, I waited for a decent gust of wind to add additional noise cover before launching myself from hiding, a flap of wings adding velocity.

Now that I think about it, it was probably a rather intimidating sight. A griffon appearing out of nowhere, sprinting forwards with snow cascading off his feathered features, murder in his eyes. At least, I think so.

As I sprinted towards them, I put the natural motions of my arms to use. Putting my weight behind each throw, I whipped each of my drawn weapons in turn — the hammer at the unicorn, and the knife at the earth pony.

Frustratingly, but to her merit, the unicorn acted almost immediately, catching my sudden movement out of the corner of her eye. She had the reflexes to mostly duck out of the way, suffering merely a graze from the hammer. Fortunately, she was still forced to drop the LMG as her magical concentration snapped. Her companion, however, wasn’t so prepared. The knife dug deep into his shoulder, causing him to fall against the rock and cry out in pain.

Instead of trying to reacquire her cumbersome weapon, the unicorn instead drew a pistol, formerly concealed by her wrappings, snap-firing a pair of shots in my direction as she dove to the side.

My course was set, momentum demanding that I continue the charge at the stationary target. As lamentable as the unicorn’s dodge was, it allowed me to focus on her partner. Reaching him, my own superior bulk and the speed of my charge slammed his head into the rock he’d been using for cover from the wind. A simile to the breaking of eggs comes to mind, but I had bigger worries at the time than fussing about the nature of the sticky mess that defiled my talons.

Wrapping my right arm around the corpse’s neck, I shifted my weight to pull him off the rocks and in front of myself. A timely move, as two more pistol rounds tore into the body.

Flicking my eyes to the side, I tracked the pistol wielding mare. I wanted to keep her on the move despite the distance, and used my free hand to wrench the knife from the deceased buck’s shoulder and sent it flying once again, before following up on the rough throw with another charge. I dragged my portable cover with me as I did.

The knife missed, hardly warranting a glance from her. What she did, however, was light her horn in the distinctive overglow of magic. I both saw and felt a wave of force strike the ground between us, showering me in a cloud of snow and dirt.

She was more crafty than I’d expected. I paused my charge, unfurling my wings and bracing behind the buck’s corpse. With three powerful flaps, I kicked up enough of an eddy to blow the aerial debris away and clear my vision to some degree.

My gust of wind was successful enough — I could see the mare hoofing it towards the copse of trees I’d figured would be a hard point of resistance. Damn. I saw another unicorn head pop up, seemingly identical in colouration to the one running towards her. Same hair and everything: maybe Red Eye really did pick them for the camouflage.

In a crass voice, I heard the flighty one call out to her companions, “Got a griffon on my ass Flow, fuck ‘im up!”

She was running for help. Cute. It didn’t make a ton of difference to me; the objective was the same but the game plan was a little different. I had to work fast, because I didn’t have long. In point of fact, I found it odd enough I hadn’t been shot at already. Perhaps it was the oddity of my being a griffon, instead of another canned pony? Whatever it was, I wasn’t going to question that it bought me a few extra seconds of confusion.

Shifting back, I dragged the buck with me and snagged the mare’s abandoned LMG before hunkering down behind their bit of rocky cover. It wasn’t much, but it gave me the time I needed to search the corpse, finding a pistol concealed in his barding. Stowing it, I dumped the body and crawled for his shotgun, lying not far away. Now more heavily armed, I slunk back to the rock and prepped a mine, setting the trigger to proximity but not yet arming it. Setting the explosive and shotgun aside, I reached for the radio and improvised a signal to start: one click, followed by a short pause, then two.

I figured Snap would catch on pretty quick.

That done, I hoisted the LMG onto the flat top of the rock and pulled the trigger, rising behind it a second later to direct the fire towards the stand of trees the mare had run to. The weapon was large — clunky. Not what I was used to, but it certainly had more capacity to put violence downrange than my rifle. That, and I wasn’t against being overzealous with someone else’s ammo.

My rounds were wild, but they forced the ponies across from me to keep their heads down for a moment, enough for me to rise behind the gun and actually look at what I was aiming at. Off to my left, there was a buck that must’ve been trying to outflank me. I adjusted the stream of rounds to send him diving back towards the riverbed for cover.

My victory was short lived, as I was forced back by fire from multiple different positions.

It was becoming quite clear that my position was tenuous at best. Fishing around for another mine, I set it for proximity as well before planting it at the base of a pathetic little tree on the North end of the rock. That flank covered, I crawled back, and began playing a deadly game of “pop up.” I’d shoot at them, they’d shoot at me. My head was kept down more than I’d like, on the whole.

Rudely interrupting our delightful game of “bullet tag,” I heard an explosion from the road side of my rock, accompanied by an equine scream of pain. It could only have been my mine, so I swung my fire in that direction. The burst of bullets chased away a mobile, if injured foe. His friend had lost both forelegs in the blast, and was busy screaming and doing his best to bleed out sooner rather than later.

I figured that was one down and however many to go. Fire still poured in from overhead as I kept low and adjusted my targeting priorities. Knowing there was still a pony somewhere down by the riverbed, I scuttled back and buried the other mine just around the South edge of the rock. That done, I moved back to my previous position, checking my firing lines to either side. Satisfied that I could easily hit anything that decided to pop out around either side of my particular outcropping, I pressed myself as close as I could to the base of the rock and resumed waiting.

I didn’t want to press my luck by sticking to the same place for too long, but I couldn’t move until I removed at least one more threat.

Just then, I heard the distinct sound of hooves landing on the rock above me, followed by a cackling laugh. I honestly hadn’t expected any of them to be crazy enough to run straight up the rock, blocking off their own covering fire as they did. I bit down on my surprise, diving forwards and trying to bring my own weapon to bear, despite knowing it wouldn’t be fast enough — not if one of them was already above me.

Casting something of a shadow down upon me was what appeared to be the nearly-identical version of the pony I’d sent running at the start of all this. She had a light machine gun of her own leveled at my head, suspended in her magic.

Right as I thought I was about to die to some psychotic pony, there was loud crack and an accompanying gush of blood from her side. The mare’s eyes went into shock, pupils tightening to points as her oh-so-clever plan backfired quite spectacularly. Beginning to deal with her own internal situations, she let off an unconscious burst of bullets as her magic dissipated. A trio of rounds slashed through my right thigh, as the gun tumbled from her grip and fell neatly into my lap.

I don’t expect anyone would begrudge me the pained cry that was torn from my throat, but I clamped down on it. Time for that later. Besides the pain, it rapidly occurred to me that the new holes in my leg were going to put a damper on things. Namely, running.

With my beak clenched tight against the pain, I forced myself back to my feet, shouldering the machine gun and watching the sides of my rock. There would be some idiot trying to take advantage of the unicorn’s failed assault, I just knew it. It was just the sort of distraction I would have taken advantage of, in their position. I could take care of my injuries later.

Intuition proved to be correct. The trollop that had escaped my earlier mine was edging around his rock once again, but was violently dissuaded by the final few rounds in my LMG. He dipped back behind the rock and I dropped the gun in the snow, digging out another landmine instead. I slapped the proximity trigger and whipped it towards him, hoping it would land somewhere useful.

The throw landed almost perfectly, sending the shrieking earth pony running to join his comrades, abandoning his thoughts of assaulting my position. Unfortunately for him, Bernard must have still been watching. He caught a round in his side, staggering him — then another punched into his center of mass, sending him to the ground. He wasn’t dead, but there was enough blood and screaming to convince me he wasn’t going to be a threat, at the very least.

Taking the minor victory to heart, I allowed myself a predatory grin, before quickly settling back to a mix of pain and concentration. Pulling myself up against the rock, I set the newly-acquired LMG to face the riverbank. Just in case. That done, I pulled open my barding to retrieve the healing potion Snap had given me earlier. Turning my attention to the holes in my leg, I popped the top of the bottle and proceeded to pour a solid dollop onto the trio of bleeding punctures and drank the rest. I figured they’d only hit meat, so it should heal just fine. I soon felt a sensation that I suppose I can legitimately describe as “magical” work its way through my limb, healing and rebuilding tissue as it went. The leg would be tender for another couple days, but in the current situation it was better than a limiting injury. As the tingling faded, it seemed that the edges hadn’t quite sealed together. Irritating, but not a whole lot I could do about it at this stage.

At least I could run on it, if I had to.

That operation completed, I shouldered the stolen weapon and eyed the frozen river. Things had been surprisingly quiet, though I suppose the Northern flank’s failure might have deterred them. With that side cleared of would-be assailants — or at least those that were moving up on me — any further attacks on my personnage would have to come from the South — the river side. I edged around, beak-first, trying to get a clearer view around my rocky protector.

My poking around was immediately met with a spray of bullets, forcing me back. In my brief glimpse across the nearby body of frozen water, I managed to spot another two ponies sprinting across almost parallel to my own cover. They’d soon have a clear shot where I was crouched, and I couldn’t return fire without them being able to shoot first. They couldn’t have been more than thirty meters away, and they both started firing.

Things were rapidly getting out of hand and into me. My thigh, in this case, but I’d rather keep the rest of me from getting more involved. The limiting factor was not knowing the disposition of anything beyond the rock at my side. While it was a stalwart companion, it did leave a little to be desired in the ways of sitreps. All in all I was fairly sure that standing up would have been a bad idea. Bursts of rounds hit the rock I sheltered behind, keeping my head firmly down and peppering me with rock dust. I couldn’t move for fear of exposure, but while I might have been somewhat exposed to the gunners across the river, they were in turn exposed to me. There was a rather lot of exposure on all accounts and I was by no means a voyeur, so I sought to limit my own. It’s not like I could expect decency from most ponies, let alone ones employed by Red Eye. At any rate, I’d have to return fire before I could even hope to redeploy myself somewhere more advantageous.

I had to wait for my moment. A reload, a stoppage, or-

Smaller caliber rounds started sparking off the area surrounding my attackers. Though woefully inaccurate, they proved adequately distracting, drawing both ponies’ attention further down the frozen creekbed. It was a most welcome sight. One of the pair popped up to let a burst of rounds off. It was short lived, as a better aimed reply caught him in the leg, forcing him to topple to the snow.

Pausing to examine this new development, I found that it was neither a spook nor some other apparition, but in fact Bernard and Wrenchy. It was nice of them to show up, and I mean that most sincerely. They were currently keeping me from further harm and, in the process, doing harm to others whom I was most displeased with. At this point I caught myself nodding in approval and remembering that I was still very much involved with this conflict, and should probably return the aid my comrades lent me. Neither of the hostiles were at the sort of distance one typically needs to aim at, so I gripped my weapon from above to give me a modicum of recoil control as I rose out of cover, firing before I’d even consciously registered a target.

The more mobile of the two had been in the middle of a quick reload when I caught him with a sustained burst that scythed up through his midsection, cutting him nearly in half. Bleeding out was typically a slow process, but he managed to experience it in under a couple seconds. Probably by the time he hit the ground for that matter, what was left of him anyways.

I’d finished off the belt with that burst, and I dropped back in cover. My companions should have an easy enough time with the one remaining, I figured. Dropping the LMG beside its twin, I took a moment to breathe, to finally have a chance to listen to what was going on.

From off towards the base of fire I’d traded bullets with earlier, there was a sound not entirely unlike the ripping of paper — if by “ripping” one could refer to hundreds of bullets, and by “paper” one could refer to a living being. At any rate, a chain gun seemed to be in the process of turning someone into fine little chunks. Or so it sounded. For all I knew, it was firing into the air... typically, however, people firing that sort of weapon have something to aim it at. Bullets aren’t cheap, after all.

Unless they’re someone else’s, naturally.

Anyways, it seemed a safe assumption that Miss Tailwind had succeeded, and we were benefitting from the support of one of the illustriously armoured equines.

What I didn’t expect was the abrupt reappearance of the green coated nuisance I’d originally chased out of the position I'd grown to know so well. She must have vaulted the rock, sprinting away from the source of lead-based violence. She landed on her haunches beside me, as a spray of bullets impacted the far side of my beloved rock. Staring at me blankly for a breath, she managed to comment, “Oh, hey big guy.”

“Back again are we?” I asked dryly, locking gazes with the unicorn. “You ponies just can’t seem to get enough of me.” As I spoke, I lashed out with a taloned hand towards her head. There wasn’t any particular sort of malice to it, but it was reactionary as much as anything. With the amount of ordnance I had scattered around, there was no way I was letting her use magic near me.

She gave me a half smile as she tried to dodge away, “Well you do have a wonderful complexion, bu-” Her quip was cut tragically short as I caught a talon-full of mane, and her head became intimately familiar with my geological friend. She made an “Ack!” noise as I rapped her skull against the rock, but it lacked the sort of force that had done her compatriot in the way it had — the charge certainly added to that one, admittedly. After another two smacks, she went limp in my arms. Suddenly, I had one unconscious (and possibly concussed) unicorn in my possession. Skies help me, if I only knew what I should do with it.

With my unexpected guest out for the foreseeable future, I let out a breath and took a second to clear my head. Aside from my own heart in my ears, I noticed that the shooting had died off drastically since her appearance. In fact, unless my ears were ringing worse than I thought, it seemed to have died off altogether. That was good. Or really bad, but I preferred the implications of my companions surviving in the former. Feeling somewhat assured of my safety, I set about confiscating the mare’s pistol and armour, shredding the cloth with my talons before using it to bind her legs. Having goose tied my captive, I sat up and leaned back against the boulder, trying to determine my next course of action. Realizing a few mines were still armed, I fished about in my barding and thumbed the remote, rendering them inert. I’d sort those out later, if I remembered where they’d went. It would be rather difficult to tell in the snow.

Seeming to have finished the immediate “To Do” list, I turned my attention back to the bound unicorn and propped her upright beside me, draping an arm around her to make sure she stayed put. Toying with her pistol in my free hand, I spoke conversationally. “I do apologize for the headache you’ll have when you wake up, but I couldn’t have you using this on me. Would ruin my complexion which you were so enamoured with.” Pausing, I looked the mare over then leaned in and added, “Though I’m way out of your league sweetheart. I’m sure you’d understand if you were awake.” As I eyed her, I noticed she had some sort of water-themed cutiemark. Something like a pair of waves, feeding into each other in an endless loop. It made my head spin, and I much preferred to look elsewhere.

Having a few moments relatively alone I started to calm down and, as a side effect, began to hurt. All over. An ache brewing just behind my eyes, I groggily looked down at my right arm which seemed to be leaking blood from a number of slightly-closer-than-near misses. Apparently my cover hadn’t been quite as good as I thought, and this was the result. Only just coming to terms with my newfound injuries, A grey blur dashed around the side of the boulder, materializing into a Steel Ranger when it stopped moving. Flicking my eyes from my arm to the spinning chaingun at her side, I largely failed to process what was happening and simply let out a pained sigh.

“Always you damned ponies…”

She quirked her head, seeming to evaluate me for a moment behind that opaque visor of hers (at the time, I was still going off of Snap’s deduction of her gender, not that it mattered overly much. I couldn’t tell a damn thing with them). Seeming to come to some sort of conclusion, she walked over and put an armoured hoof around the ropes binding the unicorn. “I’ll be taking this,” She said matter-of-factly, her voice slightly distorted by the fact that it was coming from a speaker.

I noted that Snap had in fact been right, despite the armour. I also noted that the mare before me was a bitch.

I wasn’t at all sure who she was (or thought she was, for that matter) but she was well on the way to writing herself into my bad books with that remark. They were infinitely less nice than my good books, though I suppose it’s all relative as neither of them were actually “books,” unless you count this retelling as such. But alas, such conundrums are for another time.

Wanting to put the kibosh on Miss Grabby-Hooves as quickly as possible, I tugged my captive (audience) towards myself and draped my arm further across her withers. I let a talon rest on the bindings, should I need to cut them. Making a show of adjusting my sitting position, I put on the most irritated look I could manage — which didn’t take a whole lot of effort, given how poorly the last half-hour had gone for me — and I gave my head a shake. “Nie, I don’t believe you will. Sleepyhead and I have some unfinished business to attend to and I very much doubt she will be in any condition to travel afterwards.” Idly waving my free hand, I dismissively added, “Wasn’t aware the Rangers were collecting Ponies now as well, but I’m sure there’s plenty of injured ones out there you can have that I don’t have a grudge with.”

She seemed to consider that for a moment, her body language relaxing slightly as she quirked her head to the side. “What do you want with her?” She asked in an even but curious tone.

My headache was bad enough before all of this, and now I was having to explain things to a Ranger that we had just saved. Well, Tailwind saved her but I- we provided a distraction. Turning my attention to the unconscious but mostly alive mare tied up next to me I let out a huff. “The better question is what I don’t want to do to her,” I began, giving the unicorn a shake for emphasis, “This one not only didn’t cooperate with me in the first place, but got all of her friends involved as well. That lead to a lot of shooting and unpleasantness which resulted in my injuries. Then she shows up again and has the gall to be coy. Now, I’ve got a headache from the whole thing so there’s a list I’ve got to narrow down. Regardless, it ends with ‘lethal.’” Taking a breath after my slight tirade, I looked back up and jabbed a talon at the Ranger, “What is she to you? You related or something?”

She (finally) opted to back away, replying with a light chuckle, “Looks like we’re on the same page.” Turning to leave, she tossed a final epithet over her shoulder just as she was rounding the corner. “Seems she’s in good… talons.”

I’d been almost ready for another fight, but was pleasantly surprised when the Ranger left jovially. Apparently the promise of violence against a common enemy can bridge all kinds of gaps. Left alone with my “prize” I was left somewhat out of sorts until the overall pain came back again. Heaving out a displeased grunt, I leaned back again, taking a moment to draft and redraft my plans for the immediate future and allow the ache in my head to hopefully diminish.

Not long after, there was a feminine scream of pain. I couldn’t tell from where I drew the knowledge from, but part of me assumed it was the sound a pony would make having a dislocated limb set. An oddly specific intuition, but I was willing to accept it for what it was. At any rate, the noise prompted Wrenchy to rush past my position, towards where the after-action… activities seemed to be occurring. He seemed alright, as did Bernard, who trotted along at a more measured pace behind him.

By my count that put us pretty far into the “winning” category for this particular firefight.

I let my guard slip a bit. Things seemed to be winding down, and I very much desired to wind down with them. Unfortunately, only minute or so passed before I was interrupted once again, though… less rudely this time. I heard the beat of wings before their owner appeared, and figured there were only two ponies they could possibly belong to. From the opposite side of the lovely geological formation I was beginning to think about naming flew none other than Snap Roll, the architect of this whole mess.

Well, I suppose that’s being slightly unkind. It did work out, after all.

She flew in, angling down once she caught sight of me. Flaring for a landing, she seemed to be favouring her front right hoof — judging by the bloody fabric surrounding a hole in her barding, I can’t say I blamed her. Seemed to have caught the receiving end of something nasty, but I supposed it could have been worse. She seemed alright, and the wound had clearly been treated, recently..

She’d hardly even said “Hello,” before she was running her hooves all over. Poking, prodding, arms, legs, body, neck, wings. She checked her hooves after each segment, staying away from the obvious injuries to avoid aggravating them. It didn’t hurt, but I had to clamp down on the instinct to recoil from one of them touching me, no matter the intent.

“Nice work, Fade.” She piped up, offering a much desired distraction from the sudden molestation of my personnage. “Impromptu distraction, but it definitely did the trick. You hit anywhere I’m not seeing?”

Quickly finishing up with her pat-down, she moved on to unwrapping some magical bandage and covering the superficial cuts on my arm. I appreciated the fact that she was treating my wounds, but at the same time I wasn’t really up for being touched. Knowing it was best to not snap on the pony trying to help me, I shoved that complaint down and shifted some so my mostly-healed thigh was visible. “Didn’t go exactly as I’d hoped. Bastards were more alert than I thought,” I responded before nodding down at my leg. “Other than those nicks, I got hit in the leg. Seemed to be through-and-through, so I splashed some of a potion on it to be mobile.” Gazing across the river, I could just make out a red splotch hidden behind the cluster of rocks and commented, “New arrivals up there were set on putting more holes in me so I did what I could. Not sure if it was my best, but I wasn’t going to let some RE trollops get the better of me.” I allowed a devious grin to creep across my beak, leaning towards Snap as I added, “Got one of them too. Turned the fucker to mince; could probably spread some of him on toast.”

The look on her face was priceless, to say the least. It seemed to be mostly centered on “horrified,” but she kept herself busy dressing my injuries instead of replying. Probably for the best, but as far as I was concerned, I’d evened things up in response to her touching me in the first place, and that was a victory in my book.

Soon, she’d finished, and stepped back. She gave me one last look that I couldn’t quite fathom, something in her eyes I couldn’t really place. I’d almost have said “regret,” but I hadn’t the context for something like that. Without a word, she gave a hop, a flap of wings, and was already back into taking care of the rest of the wonderful mess I’d participated in making, starting with checking the mare on top of my rock for signs of life. Confirming my suspicions, I heard her report to Miss Tailwind, whom I assumed was on the other side, “She’s dead, Tail. Let’s move on, check the others.” There was a flapping of wings, and once again I was alone.

I used the precious time alone to clear my aching head. The mare next to me was largely unresponsive and entirely uninteresting. When they’re unconscious they’re a bore, and when they’re awake they’re a nuisance. Ponies; can’t live comfortably with the creatures.

Some time must have passed as I dwelt solely in my own thoughts. Well into my third examination of the patterns in the scrub grass that just barely poked through the trampled snow before me, what sounded like an argument rose somewhere behind me. The raised voices echoed in my head and rattled the dissipating unrest back into a furor which caused me to cringe. Things were just turning around, and now they seemed entirely set to slide back the other way. I’d had just about enough of that at the moment. So, pushing myself to my feet and brushing off some errant snow, I grabbed my bound associate and set off towards the riverbank, away from the brewing trouble. Upon reaching the riverbed a shot rang out, causing me to pause and look back, but after a moment of consideration I continued on my path, prize dragging through the snow beside me. I was sure they could sort out whatever… differences, were being had by the time I returned.

The sounds of disagreement fading behind me, I continued to weave through trees until the only sounds I could hear were the wind and my own footsteps. Coming to a small clearing atop a rise, I surveyed the area for unfriendly locals and, finding none, occupied it. With a brief glance up, I noted that the nearly-impassive expanse of clouds had shifted, ever so slightly. Felt like it was going to snow soon, but for the time being the fog from earlier had mostly blown away, and could almost be considered “nice” by Northern standards.

Dragging my snow covered companion to the middle of the clearing, I let her go and quickly cleaned a space for her with a brush of my wing. Given our prior interactions and relationship, I was aware that she would likely be less than pleased upon awakening, so I set up a little bit of insurance. Placing one of my recently recovered mines in the centre of the patch, unactivated, I brushed some snow back atop it then turned to the unconscious pony and heaved her onto my shoulder. Gently placing the mare atop the lightly covered device, I positioned her just so then began to back up, measuring out twenty feet before sitting down. Everything set, I realized one minor flaw in my plans — the subject of them was still unresponsive. Mulling over this problem, a number of minutes must have ticked by when at last an idea came to me. Scooping up a talonful of snow, I packed it into a loose sphere then tossed it at the unicorn, striking her back with a soft but satisfying “piff.” Given the lack of response, I was naturally inclined to repeat the action a few more times.

Free shots like those don’t come around much, so I was less than surprised when she gave off a muffled groan and began to stir. She shuffled, rolling onto her back, and I could make out her whining about snow being cold and the inherent qualities of it being wet, soon after.

Good, I thought, she was still mostly alive. Surviving. Not overly inhibited in a mental capacity by my prior assault. This was relieving, as having a blithering idiot to deal with is substantially less fun than simply an idiot. One, you can annoy — the other is simply too incapable of basic functions to know why they are annoyed. The movement and grumbles were good, but complete consciousness seemed to still be a hair off. Gathering one final bit of snow into a sphere and packing it as tightly as possible, I took aim at the top of the mare’s cranium and let fly with more force this time. Watching as the white projectile curved along its path, I added a wake up call, “Wakey wakey love, you’ve got some explaining to do.”

Timing it perfectly, the snowball impacted cleanly with her jaw right as I finished my statement, prompting her to belt out a quick “Hey!” in response, as she turned her head to regard me. “So ya take my oh so comfortable apparel, tie me in it and take pot shots at me while I’m laying on… what I guess is a mine, by the feeling of it?”

A perceptive one she seemed to be; what fun. Now that she was fully awake I settled myself in place and kept my expression as neutral as possible. Nodding my head slightly, I replied evenly to the mare. “Consider it recompense for our earlier altercation. You complicated the situation rather thoroughly and I have no doubt you would do the same if our places were reversed.” Flicking my wings to get them comfortably seated I then eased myself forwards until I was laying in the snow. Crossing my forelimbs I set about watching my captive intently and asking, “Now then, down to business. What is Mr. Conjunctivitis to you? Do you buy into the whole ‘Unity’ rubbish or is it simply the power that led you to throw in with such company?”

She gave me a strange half-smile at that. “Oh yeah, I totally buy all the bull those floating murder bitches none so quietly hollar at pretty much everything with a fucking pulse. Yeah, they’re real likeable. Tea parties and shit.”

She then tried to squirm a little to get more comfortable, but seemed to think better of it. “Actually, ya know what, fuck it,” she blurted to no one in particular as her horn lit up and yanked the mine out, punching a hoof into the button on top just as it started to beep. She then looked at me, one eyebrow raised as the inert mine levitated beside her. “Um yeah, you got a counter or something ta’ put this on? Gotta keep my posture an’ all that.”

I sighed inwardly as she successfully disarmed my passively-aggressive measure, managing not to set it off in the process. Pointing lazily at a spot in the snow to her left, I answered, “Just there is fine. No real use for it at the moment.” Rolling a kink out of my neck, I scratched the bandages on my arm while considering her prior statement, before offering a reply, “Hmm, at least you’re not a complete fool.” Taking a deep breath, I let out a somewhat weary sigh. “So it's the power, or illusion thereof. Or the comradery. Or you simply find the pay acceptable and the wardrobe spiffy. Regardless, you signed up, and here we are.” Looking down briefly, I steepled my talons together and queried, “Now, what am I to do with you? I saved you from a rather cross Ranger back there due to your seemingly higher intellect than that of your prior companions. That in mind I’m hoping this little encounter can end without me having your insides for a snack.” Looking up to the mare questioningly I added, “I assume you would prefer that outcome as well?”

“Well, that does sound quite uncomfortable to say the least,” She had the decency to pale at that, before she continued, “As for the steel dipshit, I probably had it coming, kinda blew the fuck outta one of his buddies.” She stopped to chuckle to herself, “Oh yeah. Man, that one’s dumb as hell, never looks up.”

She stopped talking awhile before coming to the realization that she hadn’t really answered my question. “Um, as for me? Uh, I’m kinda making it up as I go here. Didn’t really have a plan for ever wakin’ up. Mighty grateful for that, by the way.”

This one seemed personable at least. Inasmuch as she was talking, not spouting rhetoric, nor trying to threaten me. Her worth I had yet to determine, though I wasn’t particularly inclined to getting touchy-feely at the moment. Blood was hard to wash off, and I was already covered in enough of my own. I had to keep that little bit of information to myself lest she get complacent, however.

Seeming to think over everything she had said, I spoke up after a minute or so had passed, “Yes, well, we’ll see how long it lasts. The Rangers may be a bit shortsighted — what with the helmets and all — but I happen to be rather fond of a few of them.” Gesturing to her with a wave of my talons, I added, “And you lot being around here puts them in jeopardy. Well, at least the possibility. Things will likely change when news of this… encounter gets back.” Shaking my head, I pushed away any further thought on the subject and pressed ahead, fixing her with an intent stare. “That is neither here nor there however, and what is, is you and I. Now considering our past you can understand my leanings towards harm, but I’m also willing to look at different options. That said, I need answers to three questions: What exactly were you doing here? What exactly is Red Eye and his little gang to you? And…” I paused, realizing that I had only actually had two questions. I couldn’t look confused during all of this, and the window for dramatic pause was rapidly closing. Grasping for the closest idea, I reached into my jacket and pulled out the ends of my scarf. Showing them to the mare, I finished with, “How do you think this looks?”

In retrospect, it might have been better to say nothing. In retrospect, I was panicking. In retrospect, I should probably have planned this all out better.

She hardly paused to blink before answering, “Well, by ‘here’ I think you mean ‘big picture.’” Her attempt to emphasize with her bound hooves was rather amusing, but failed to deter her. “We came here to kill those four and really, most anyone round these parts that decided to come this way. Think the word the big bird-man used was ‘destabilize.’ Fuck, whatever though. As for me, well… mostly for the caps and the food. My bro convinced me and my sister to join up with him ‘bout four years back when he just got established. Was more of a guard thing back then, but hey, shit changes.”

She paused for a while to examine my scarf, before finishing with, “Don’t see anything wrong with it, works better than the hat but who am I to talk, I willingly wore this shit.” She finished off by motioning to the tattered barding still adorning her hooves.

It seemed she had either bought my attempted cover up, or was at least humouring me. Point for me for not coming off as crazy, I suppose. Giving a slow nod of approval, I tucked the adornment away. Crossing my forelimbs again, I let out a ‘tsk’ of disappointment before speaking again, “Four years? That’s quite a commitment, regardless of reason. Would certainly be a shame if you proved to be loyal at this point. Fashion sense or no, I can’t let you go running back and letting anypony know things got dismantled.” Thinking for a few moments, I eventually shrugged and let out a sigh, digging in my coat and producing one of my recently pilfered pistols. It didn’t occur to me at the time, but there were better-than-even odds that it had been her pistol to begin with. Funny, that. “Ah well,” I sighed, “I don’t think there’s anything for it. Knowing why you were here, I clearly can’t let you go. Escorting you back to the Fort would be the only option and frankly that’s just too much trouble. Otherwise, what? Keep you? Now that’s just ridiculous. I sincerely doubt you’d be any more willing to come along with us than my compatriots would be to have you along.” Pushing myself back into a sitting position and shaking off some excess snow, I turned the floor back over to the mare. “That said, I think it only fair to let you weigh in on the issue. Any ideas? Propositions? I’m not all bad, I assure you. The bullet spent tying up this loose end could be just as useful elsewhere if you’ve another option.”

She seemed to chuckle, “Hell man, you missed the two of us that had a radio. This shindig’s already been found out. And as for loyalties? I’m probably gonna get shot which ever way I go, your Talon friends ain’t too keen on us surrendering and such. But seriously,” She propped herself into an awkward sitting position. “Ya think there’s an easy out in this business, eh? Just kinda jet in the middle of Red turf and try to make it close to a hundred clicks — on hoof — without much food? Naw, there’s a reason most ponies up here are lifers. Leadership has this weird attachment complex, the bubble erectin’ bitch seems to think wantin’ to leave means y’all are betrayin’ ‘er.” She then straightened herself out, a bit of defiance smouldering in those eyes of hers. “So if yer gonna do it make ‘er fast, and I hope by Celestia’s fiery cunt I shit myself and ruin the meal.”

Resting my chin on a talon, I stared off into space and tapped the side of my beak. So she thought I was a Talon, hmm? And more, she assumed I knew the griffon whom she spoke of. I decided to let her continue that train of thought, if for no other immediate reason than it amused me. In a soft voice, as if to myself I muttered, “Hmm, almost forgot about him. Shame to have to fight within the company but some things can’t be helped.” Of course, I’m not a Talon, but for the purposes of the interaction, that fact didn’t need to be shared.

Considering what I’d been told, and the seemingly — to her — assured fact of her doom, I couldn’t help but wonder if I could get more information out of the mare before we went our separate ways... whatever those may be. The mare had finished speaking a couple minutes before I finally roused myself, tucking the pistol back into the front of my jacket and moving to sit a rough ten or so feet from her. Straightening the front of my coat, I got comfortable again before clearing my throat and continuing our conversation, “Well, given the fact that you’re unlikely to receive a warm welcome wherever you go and that our little scuffle has been reported by now, I’m going to offer you a deal.” Folding my arms over my chest, I fixed the unicorn with a level stare and continued, “You answer a few more questions, and I let you go alive. Finding someplace to go will no doubt be hard, but you’ll have the chance to try. As you said yourself, it’s more than either side is likely to offer — and I don’t necessarily have to do the same.”

She seemed momentarily surprised, before she shrugged and replied, “Fuck. Sure, I’ll play. Whaddaya want to know?”

Either I was substantially better at interrogations than I thought, or this mare had fully resigned herself to the fact that I was going to eat her. Whichever it was, points for me! Clever or scary was equally good at this moment, as I had little idea what I was doing and was just trying to see how long I could drag things out. Quickly deploying the authorities to quell my inner celebration, I switched my mind back on track and pulled together a list of potentially useful information. “Ah good, down to brass tacks,” I began (I’d always wanted to use that phrase), pulling out the mental notepad, “First off, other than the positions we scouted, the ambush, overlook, and OP further on, how many of Red Eye’s forces are in the area? Let’s be honest, you and your gang aren’t much of a destabilizing force in the scope of the North.”

She stopped to think for a second, obviously trying to drudge up information she hadn’t cared for at the time. “Well, us lot got together at Iron Junction, me and Flow were at Trotwynd beforehand. Got moved up by rail to the junction, along with another ten or so ponies from there. That’s where we got saddled up with those two Talon assholes and about another dozen or so ponies. Most of us didn’t survive the initial muck about with the Steel assclowns. They were kinda stupid anyway, so who gives a fuck.” She paused again as a shiver went up her spine. “And uh, other than that, I know Big Red’s been movin’ ponies up from the South through some pass he cleared. Hell of a lot more ‘round here than there used to be.”

That news was disconcerting to say the least. The idea of more Red Eye forces being moved up by the day made me question if there was anywhere in the Equestrian Wasteland that wasn’t being taken over by the morons. The fact that Cheesequake and everypony at Outpost Kilo would be in danger was also a less than pleasant notion. Some Ponies were acceptable beings; nearing personable one could say. Drumming my talons against my elbow, I ground my beak a little as I processed the information, deciding on the next best line of questioning. “Well then, that’s unfortunate,” I stated, pulling myself out of the momentary stupor, “You mentioned a pass and several other locations. I assume some of those are bases of operations. Do you know the locations of any of them? Could you put them on a map?” Now I was wishing I had something to write all of this down in, and with. There was the map Cheesequake had “returned” to me along with the watch and scarf, but that seemed too valuable to scrawl all over. It also seemed like something worth keeping a secret from potentially hostile eyes — Cooperative as they may now be.

The mare shrugged, “Never been out past Cattle Cask, been through Iron Junction, Trotwynd and Saltpeet Quarry though. Most of ‘em are just towns, but Saltpeet is a full-on base, off the main path and all.” She then shrugged again, evidently in need of more direction than I’d managed to give.

I was familiar with most of those locations — at least in passing — and they were far enough away to not be immediately threatening, yet still uncomfortably close. Considering what we had just run up against, the distances were likely shorter. Neighson would need a warning sooner rather than later. Slightly addled and legitimately running out of questions, I shifted my talons down to the front pockets of my coat and carried on, “I’ve not been out that way in a while. I’m sure one can understand how that made running into you a bit of an unpleasant surprise. No offense to parties present intended.” Letting that hang in the air, I eventually broke the silence with a shrug and conclusive, “Well,” Before moving on with the task at hand. “Three more simple questions and you’ll have done your part,” I explained whilst pulling off my rucksack and beginning to fish through it. My talons busy, I fired off questions in no particular order, “Do you know roughly where this new cleared route is? Other than this roadblock, are you aware of any other operations in the area, or a timetable for… whatever it is you’re doing up here? Do you have any other allies besides the Talon Mercs? They’ll only deal with you so long as you have coin — or cap, as it were.” Hopefully that wasn’t too much for the mare to process all at once, so I temporarily stopped my rummaging to glance up at her with one eye. Sometimes these ponies could be easily overwhelmed; I blame it on their equine nature. A bulb went on as I stared at the unicorn, tossing one last question onto the pile, “Oh, and what is your name? I understand you were friends with ‘Flow’ before she was exsanguinated.”

She seemed to have grasped my requests reasonably well, and answered shortly, “No idea where this route is — higher ups are pretty tight lipped about it. I do know that they’re planning on building a train route through, still years outta the way on that one, though. As for allies and operations the small towns have all surrendered to Big Red’s rule a while back, save for a little nut job group that raises wolves and shit. Assholes, them. As for the Mercs, I don’t really know much ‘bout where all these ponies come from. They bicker and shit, and I yell at ‘em.”

I didn’t exactly mention it at the time, but there seemed to be a twinge of pain in her otherwise casual visage when I’d mentioned Flow. As she continued, I realized exactly why.

“Well… yeah. She was my sister.” She paused a second, glancing down at her hooves before meeting my gaze again. “My name’s Ebb, by the way.”

That revelation stopped me in my current task, and I raised my head to properly regard the mare, Ebb, as I had just learned. “Your sister?” I asked, looking somewhat surprised, “Flow was your sister?” My expression rapidly shifted to a scowl and I clucked my tongue, shaking my head, “‘Ebb and Flow’; ponies and their damn fruity names.” Going back to my search, I muttered, “Should thank Bernard for that lovely shot.” Moments later, I sat back up, prize in talon; a length of rope I’d almost forgotten I’d been carting around for who-knows-how long. Keeping the rope in hand, I flipped my bag shut and re-slung it before facing Ebb and speaking with a note of finality, “Well Ebb, I’m Fade, and you’ve — surprisingly — kept to your word. I’m nothing if I don’t honour mine, so you are free to go as soon as I’ve cleared out.” While I spoke, I busied my talons tying a loop in the line, tossing it up over my shoulder once I was done, then pushing myself to my feet. Steering a wide path around the unicorn, I moved to retrieve my spare mine, speaking as I went. “I’m aware you could have removed your restraints at any point here, so I’ve no illusions about your ability to get free, I simply ask you wait until I have departed.” Stowing the explosive, I turned in place to address the pony one last time, “Unless you have any parting requests I shall take my leave. No doubt my company is wondering where I’ve gone off to and what horrible things I’ve done. Sometimes, they lack faith.”

She seemed pleasantly surprised that I’d actually kept my word, which irritated me. I’d been quite clear… hadn’t I?

Anyways, she spoke up tentatively, “Um, if it’s not too much of a bother, I’d love some clothes that are more than just eviscerated cloth?” She paused, shivering, before adding almost as an afterthought, “Even some of those dead guys’ barding would be right helpful.”

I should have just kept my beak shut and left. That, or actually shot her… but then I’d have lied, and if there’s one thing I won’t do is give my word then go back on it. If I had said I intended to eat her, I would have done just that… but I hadn’t, and so there we were. Mulling over the request for a moment, I gave a non-commital shrug and replied, “I’m fresh out and I doubt my stuff will fit you, were I willing to share.” Hiking a thumb over my shoulder towards the forest proper, I continued, “It’s a long way back, not sure I could find my way a second time. Which would mean you’d freeze like I just left you there.” Lifting a talon from the ground I waved it airily and theorized, “That leaves… what? You coming back with me? I’m certain that won’t go over well. Only way it might be possible is if I say you’re a prisoner or some such. Though that can sound vaguely slave-y, don’t you think?”

She gave a barely restrained chuckle, “Does have a certain irony, I must admit.”

I blinked, and stared blankly at the unicorn for a while. Did she actually think I was serious about that? How seriously degenerate were these creatures? I leave her alive and keep to my word, then she just assumes I’d so readily take a prisoner? A… slave? I was… vaguely unsettled by this turn of events. Out of all the things I’d seen and done in the wasteland, being responsible for somepony was something I had consistently stayed away from. Yet now, I had left the opening for requests and been served one, I was almost bound to try and help her lest I seem flakey. Like… like I was almost equine. Which I most certainly was NOT. After what was likely was likely at least a few minutes I sighed, and shifted where I stood, glancing at the rope on my shoulder. “I suppose it does,” I conceded, giving the line a tug and bundling its length in one talon before trudging my way over to the still prone equine. Gazing down at the smaller creature, I lifted my full hand and let the line drop, holding up by the top of the loop. “No trying to stab me with the point, or funny business with its sparkles?” I asked, gesturing to her horn before moving any closer.

She nodded in affirmation, “Don’t worry, I know full well what’ll happen.”

I nodded back, promptly stepping forwards, slipping the line over Ebb’s head, and slid the knot tight enough that it couldn’t be easily removed. Taking a moment to coil the excess in my talon, then reached out and used a claw to slice through her fore, then rear restraints.

Talons: the always sharp, always there, utility knives!

That done, I took a few steps back and gave the mare some time to get up, tilting my head towards the trees, “Whenever you’re ready.”

She got up rather quickly — perhaps too quickly, as she put a hoof to her forehead, no doubt feeling a bit of a headache. I could sympathize. Once she’d somewhat recovered, she stretching out her legs, each in turn before replying, “Yeah, that’s a lot better. Lead on then, I guess.”

Lead-line in talon, I tromped off into the forest, following the track I had made going in, all the while keeping a close eye on Ebb as she followed along behind me. Some time into our trek I looked back over my shoulder and instructed, “When we do get back, do try not to get shot or anything. Pick something that might fit, don’t dally, and try to avoid the Ranger’s line of sight. You’ve been lovely, but that is not a train I will step in front of twice.”

Ebb smiled, her turquoise eyes twinkling as soft flakes of snow began to fall around us. “Don’t worry,” she replied, “Getting shot is pretty high on the list of things I don’t want.”

Author's Note

Another paralogue this time, and I like to hope that after the infamous Crafter Chapter, the concept of these things makes a bit more sense.

The editing team definitely did a number on this one. Massive adjustments throughout, and fuck was this a mess to start with. Big thanks to Belmor, Plain, PersonalGamer, and Captain Doel, along with a few new pre readers — Kylar and Pommel.

Chapter 10: Rules of Engagement

Chapter Ten: Rules of Engagement

War.

I’d trained all of my adult life for it, or at least the concept of it. That isn’t to say I knew what I was getting into, or what it would really be like. In addition to that, our skirmish in the valley wasn’t some brave new thing. We’d seen combat. Fought through pain just to get to Neighson.

But at the same time, it was so very different.

We’d had a chance to get our hooves beneath us once again at Neighson. Instead of a blind, weary trudge towards the next settlement, we’d stepped off rested, alert, and truly ready for the first time since the crash.

That battle was my first taste of a planned engagement. It brought back training, instinct, and I felt myself slipping back into the role of Squad Leader again. For real this time.

But that wasn’t my only role, and both of them were sorely tested that day. I became so very aware that there come times when my duties as a medic and as a leader come into conflict...

—Snap Roll’s Journal

*** *** ***

I’d just taken flight from the recently cleared sniper roost. There was still an injured griffon down below, but with my bandaged shoulder currently acting as dead weight I was forced to admit that even with the flight advantage I had, there was a good chance I still couldn’t take him in a straight fight. Still, he wouldn’t be able to head back to the roost in his condition, so I could safely leave the anti-material rifle for later retrieval. My wings beat, and my thoughts were drawn back to the larger situation.

It occurred to me that I’d gotten “sucked in” to the immediate conflict. Those instincts had been exactly what kept me alive, but no amount of skill and luck would matter if things had ended up going poorly in the valley below. For the moment, my sense of the battlefield as a whole felt as dull as my leg, dead weight as I flew, forcing me to compensate. My only connections to the others, the radio and TFD, were silent even as gunshots continued down below. As such, when I say that I hadn’t heard from Tailwind in a while, my full meaning is that it felt more like missing a limb than simply not having an update.

The feeling of relief was absolutely palpable when Tailwind’s reply finally scrolled across my TFD’s display not half a minute later.

“Ranger’s good to go, we’re currently engaging. No contact with the hostiles from the West.”

It was short, sweet, and to the point. It was also the most welcome message I’d seen all day; things must have been going well if that was all she had to report.

As I flew, the battlefield gradually came into view. Quickly, I saw that Tailwind’s assessment of the Ranger’s status had been… modest. Between Fade’s position to the East and the appearance of the Ranger to the West, most of the remaining combatants had been outflanked or trapped. I saw the massive suit of power armoured pony crush one of the last firing positions with a sustained burst of minigun fire, before lowering her shoulder and charging. Fade was still stubbornly holding out behind a series of rocks, and Bernard and Crafter had clearly been busy — It took me the longest to spot them. They must have covered a good portion of the ground Tailwind and I had tracked beforehand, firing and moving around the edges of the firefight.

As I arrowed in behind the Ranger’s wake of destruction, I started to see more specifics. With the appearance of the Ranger, the tide had clearly turned — the first thing she’d hit had been their firebase, the main effort in keeping Fade’s head down. With it gone, the advancing groups suddenly found themselves without cover.

Crafter and Bernard were engaging a pair of ponies that had moved across the frozen river to get an angle on Fade. The griffon himself was in the process of taking full advantage of the covering fire he was getting. He leaned out of cover and unloaded on one of a pair of ponies just across the frozen creek bed. Blood and tissue painted the snow.

Of the Ranger, I saw that she had… well, she’d deliberately swept that position at knee height with her rotary cannon. One of the soldiers had managed to leap over the rock she’d been using as cover, but the Ranger’s fire had caught her partner. He was screaming in pain, thrashing four mutilated legs against the ground until a deliberately aimed ruby beam mercifully ended his suffering, flashing his body into a small pile of glowing pink dust.

Tail wasn’t with the Ranger, but she wasn’t far behind either.

Another exchange of rounds between Bernard’s fireteam and the remaining combatant across the river sent the last Red Eye pony to the ground. The engagement wasn’t nearly as flashy as the show put on by the others, but after those bullets were fired, a quiet settled across the battlefield.

The Ranger was still stomping around, presumably looking for targets, but as I coasted down, I saw friendly faces begin to poke their heads out to scan for anyone that was missed. Tailwind flagged me down, waving her hooves to catch my attention.

I adjusted course to land near Tailwind, keeping a large rock between myself and the contested area. Despite my best efforts, it wasn’t exactly a graceful landing. My injured leg weighing me down, I ended up ditching into the soft snow — I preferred the inelegance to potentially aggravating the already considerable injury. Managing to hobble over to the rock, I leaned against it as Tailwind galloped towards me.

Really, for being a medical pony I’ve gotta learn not to get shot so much…

Heedless of any remaining combatants, Tailwind sprinted to my side. She took one look at the blood soaked gauze wrapped around my shoulder and began a controlled freak out. “Skies above, Snap!” She cried as she dove into my bag for medical supplies. “Okay what do you need, just tell me what to do!”

I smiled at her attention, but the pain turned it into more of a grimace. “It nicked the bone in my shoulder… I’m gonna need you to set it in place before giving me a healing potion.” I winced as a minor movement renewed the grinding pain. I glanced into her wide eyes, brimming with concern. Why do I do this to her? I thought, before continuing to explain in a shaky voice. “I’ve taken a lot of Med-X lately… I really don’t want to get addicted to that stuff.” I let that sink in. It wasn’t going to be fun, but, in theory, it’d be gone once I downed the healing potion… I took a few deep breaths to prepare myself.

Tail carefully — daintily, even — unwrapped the bindings I’d made, giving a small gasp when she saw the wound. She placed the half-empty healing potion within easy reach, before pressing her hooves to either side of the wound. Despite her efforts, blood began to dribble from between her hooves. She looked me in the eyes, a very clear conflict between how much she wanted to help and how much she didn’t want to hurt me, expressed simply through her gaze.

Nodding, I tried in vain to mentally prepare for what she was about to do. She leaned in, began to press with her hooves.

What followed was… not, it saddens me to say, the most painful experience of my life. Though it certainly wasn’t for lack of trying.

Screaming in agony, my senses were sharp, undiluted by the dulling effects of Med-X. Tears ran down my face as I screwed my eyes shut. I’d figured I would remind myself it was for the best, that this was so much better than risking addiction… but had I known just how much it would hurt, I’d probably have had her hit me up with Med-X in a heartbeat.

I can’t say how long it was before I was coherent again. I might have passed out, but if I did, Tailwind didn’t comment, simply helping me drink the remainder of the healing potion as she gazed on with nothing but care in her bright, green eyes. The feeling of flesh and bone knitting themselves back together was (lamentably) a familiar feeling at that point. The usual itchy feeling permeated my shoulder as the magic did its work, with a tingle of it in my wing and flank. Hesitantly, I glanced away, beginning to gather my senses about me.

As I gradually became aware of my surroundings again, I looked up to see Crafter standing nearby, pistol levitating beside him while he was nearly out of breath. He must have come running at my scream. “You alright?” He asked in between heavy breaths of air.

Meeting his gaze, I gave him a pained, lopsided smile as I collapsed against Tailwind’s chest. “Ask me… later, Crafter. But good work out there.”

“Oh… okay,” he replied awkwardly, glancing away at the show of affection. He lowered the pistol, and started looking outwards — anywhere other than Tail and I.

Despite how good it felt leaning against my partner, there were po… well, people who needed me. Removing myself from the comfort of her chest, I gently took flight, fluttering across what had become quite a respectable battlefield with Tailwind in tow as we headed towards where Fade had made his impromptu stand. There was what sounded like an altercation between Fade and the Ranger, but I couldn’t make it out. There was the vaguely distorted sound of shouting coming from power armour external speakers, but the chill winds stole any meaning from the scattered snatches I heard.

A trio of bodies lay scattered around the immediate area Fade had taken cover in. I noted their locations, but aside from confirming that they wouldn’t be continuing the fight anytime soon, I had to prioritize my own people. As soon as I had a sense of how things had gone, and I started taking control of the scene. “Bernard, Crafter!” I called out, “I’m gonna need you two to watch for reinforcements from the West. There were two more over thattaway with a radio, and there’s a grounded griffon off to the North.”

The battle had been fought, but the area was far from secure. I briefly took flight again, headed towards where I’d heard Fade’s voice coming from. In my haste, I was nearly blindsided by the Steel Ranger as she rounded the corner, heading back towards where her comrades had fallen. She didn’t seem injured, and she certainly didn’t seem to want to talk about it. We would have to have words sooner or later, but I wasn’t going to push the issue when I still had troops to account for.

I came to a halt when I caught sight of Fade. By rights, he’d come away from everything looking better than I had. I was almost jealous. There were a pair of bodies at his feet, one with a head injury that seemed to correspond to the bloodstain upon the rock beside them.

Fade looked up, meeting my eyes for a moment. He hardly had a chance to even look uncomfortable before I all but overwhelmed him with hooves-on medical checks. I ran my eyes, then hooves over him, patting him down and periodically checking my hooves for blood. He’d taken a burst of rounds that clipped him along his left thigh, leaving four or five long, semi-healed gashes going across his leg. They still wept blood, but they weren’t complicated injuries. That, and he was clearly restraining himself from snapping at me for not asking if it was okay to touch him. I spoke as I worked, partially in an attempt to distract him from the invasion of space. “Nice work, Fade. Impromptu distraction, but it definitely did the trick. You hit anywhere I’m not seeing?” Not waiting for a response, I started pulling some of the more valuable magical bandage out of my pack and wrapping it around his wounds. Considering their placement, it was relatively easy to apply consistent pressure. I figured the wounds would finish healing just fine, if he let them.

Fade visibly relaxed when he had a chance to voice a reply. It seemed to distract him from the fact that I was touching him. “Didn’t go exactly as I’d hoped. Kopilad were more alert than I thought.” He nodded down at his leg, “Other than those nicks, I got a solid hit in the leg. Seemed to be through-and-through, so I splashed some of that potion on it. Healed up well enough.” He lifted his gaze to see over his cover, smiling as he caught sight of the pony he’d thoroughly perforated with LMG fire. “New arrivals up there were set on putting more holes in me, so I did what I could. Not sure if it was the best, but I wasn’t about to let some RE trollops get the best of me.” A grin spread across his beak as he leaned towards me. Before he spoke, I wouldn’t have made much of it, but taking in mind what he was about to say, I think it’s worth elaborating: He had this grin, somewhere between conspiratorial and shit-eating. Like he was truly proud of what he was about to tell me.

“Got one of them, too. Turned the jebač to mince; could probably spread some of him on toast.”

He said it so calmly it took a second for his words to even register, how not-okay what he’d just said was.

Fucking… wow. At least morale is… high? I don’t even know.

Not knowing quite how to respond to Fade’s… statement, I’ll call it… I simply didn’t. Finishing up his bandage, I moved on. In my haste, I assumed both the bodies lying near him were dead, and moved on to those I could help.

Now, I imagine it’s quite likely whoever ends up reading this is a wastelander. Or Red Eye. Or Ranger, or what have you. What I did next might seem odd.

But… I tried to help. I really did.

Those ponies we killed, and those we injured… well, Tailwind and I weren’t from the Frozen North. I mean, that’s obvious, but… it really showed, those next couple minutes. Sure, it was Red Eye ponies who’d shot us down, who’d killed Nosedive, Flaps and Aileron. But I guess for all my faults, I couldn’t hold them accountable, not as individuals. The wasteland had shown us a measure of grace, despite our heritage — despite what our society forced upon them every day of their lives. When I fought, there was no hate, just necessity. They were in our way, and they were hostile. The fight between Red Eye and the Steel Rangers had been going on for years. That hate was marrow deep for many, with the most personal kind of scars on both sides. No quarter asked, none given.

That wasn’t me.

I flapped away, beginning to scan the bodies for signs of life.

The closest was the mare immediately above Fade, splayed out on the rock. Her injury wasn’t large, but she’d been shot pretty cleanly in the chest. There was no exit wound, leading me to conclude she had serious internal injuries. I could only imagine what had led to her being there, but that wasn’t really my concern as I leaned down, putting my ear next to her muzzle. There was no hint of breath in my ear, so I rolled her onto her side, attempting to give her a shot at clearing her airway. When I checked again, there was still nothing against my cheek but the chill kiss of the Northern air. Unfortunate, but that was all the time I could spare for an unresponsive casualty.

Rising to my hooves, I spoke to Tailwind as I was already scanning for the next casualty. “She’s gone, Tail. Let’s move on.”

There were two more bodies in the immediate vicinity, the closest being a buck who’d lost both forelegs to what seemed to be a mine. We hardly had the medical supplies to even treat those wounds, so I merely confirmed a lack of vitals before moving on to the final casualty in this area.

The last was an earth pony stallion with a gut shot, only a few meters away. He was clearly injured, and was busy trying to use his hooves to keep his blood inside. Landing beside him, I kicked the feed mechanism on his battlesaddle, forcefully dislodging it from the assault rifle it fed. I wrapped a forehoof around the charging handle and ejected the chambered round. I tossed his ammo pouch into my saddlebags, along with the single round. I ran my hooves over him, finding a pistol, which was likewise discarded. All the while I could see the defeat in his eyes, the resignation. He thought I was looting him before putting a bullet in his head.

I think I surprised him when I spoke, calmly and surely. “Hey. If you wanna live, I need to know if you’re shot anywhere I can’t see. I also need to cut open your barding if I’m going to stop the bleeding, got it?”

He seemed incredulous, but the pain in his eyes ultimately won out. He didn’t indicate any other injuries, but he did nod in what I assumed to be acceptance, and I went to work.

I drew a combat knife — one of the very same that had graced the blade of a certain sickle once upon a time. Had to wonder at the irony of it being used for medical purposes. With the grip carefully held between my teeth, I cut away his winter wraps, leaving him some covering over his barrel but exposing his injured belly. He was a mess, the shot he took had made a particularly large hole in his gut. I didn’t see an exit wound, so the bullet was still inside. It would be a while before he bled out, but he needed medical attention. Despite the obvious injury, I ran my hooves over him just to be sure. He had a thready pulse, rapid breathing (though, part of that must have been my doing. I’m sure the last thing he expected was first aid), and his pupils were tiny. Multiple signs of shock, and it would kill him long before he bled out. Some shrapnel injuries, but they were superficial compared to the gunshot.

All things considered, he was keeping it together rather well.

I figured if we could stabilize him and extract the bullet, a potion might mean he’d live. Considering it worthwhile, I pulled out an injector of Med-X. Tearing the disposable plastic cap off with my teeth, I jabbed him in the shoulder, through the fabric of his uniform. He reached out a bloody hoof, smearing crimson across my cheek. He was cringing at the sudden prick in his shoulder, but as the drug swam through his system, realization settled in. He even smiled and leaned back, relaxing in my hooves. His pulse had stabilized, and his breathing went back to normal. He wasn’t stable yet, but at least he wasn’t fading out on me anymore.

I didn’t want to use the potion unless we could stabilize him. We were low on medical supplies as it was.

Passing Tailwind a couple rolls of mundane bandage, I gave instructions. “He’s a priority one, we might be able to save him if we act fast.” She knelt down beside me, and I positioned her hooves where they’d do the most good. “Keep pressure on his wounds, see if you can get his saddle off so we have room to work. I’m going to triage the others.”

She nodded, tacitly accepting the plan. “Roger that, Chief,” she piped up as she tore open the first bandages and brought them to his belly. I didn’t stick around — she knew what she was doing. With a flap of wings, I was off. I’d seen the two on the opposite side of the river go down, and they were my next stop.

I barely stopped near the first of the pair — that was the stallion who’d caught a broadside from Fade. “Mince” was a bit of an exaggeration, but not entirely off. Even if he was breathing (which, upon inspection, he wasn’t), there was nothing I could do for that sort of massive trauma. His partner — a unicorn — was in the process of holding his forelegs to his neck, blood slowly dribbling from between them. His face was contorted in pain. I could definitely do something about that.

I didn’t fuck around with niceties, dropping in fast beside him. I kicked his rifle away, hopefully out of range of his magic. I patted him down, running my hooves anywhere a weapon could be concealed. Unicorns could be tricky — there was always the possibility of getting a knife out of somewhere without any obvious signs beyond the magic field. A quick check through his barding revealed a holstered pistol and — you guessed it — a short knife, hidden in a pocket. Both were likewise discarded before I moved to begin helping him.

I tried to make eye contact, get him to notice me. I could help with or without his co-operation, but that didn’t mean I wanted to. “Look at me, trooper. I’m here to help you, but your compliance would be most welcome.”

He didn’t seem to register my presence, simply muttering something about his mother as I checked his vitals.

He was cold to the touch, his pulse rapid, and his eyes unfocused. Thing was, though, when I moved his hooves… the bullet, evidently a pistol round from Crafter (which, in and of itself, was rather impressive) had only hit the flesh of his throat, practically a graze. It was bleeding a lot, but it wasn’t life threatening unless you count possible infection in a couple days. Simply put, he was overreacting. Similar symptoms, despite the disparity of injuries relative to his squadmate with the gut wound. Still, the shock could kill him just the same.

He fought me a little, mostly when I tried to move his hooves. I had to use a bit of force, but he wasn’t in the mood to put up much of a struggle, especially once I wrapped his neck in a magical pressure bandage. The gauze reddened, but stopped growing sooner rather than later as the magically-imbued fabric did its work.

Soon as the bleeding stopped, I hooked my forelegs around his shoulders. It wasn’t elegant, but I half-flew, half-dragged his body across the frozen river to the rocks near where Fade had held up in the firefight. I wanted to get back, but I looked him right in the eyes as I laid one of our blankets over his body. “We’re gonna help you, but I don’t wanna see the glow of that horn of yours, got it?” I gave him a grim look. I didn’t have any means of disabling his magic, short of disabling him, so I was hoping he would just go with it.

The fight was out of him. He nodded weakly, and I helped him into a recovery position before flying over to Tailwind again.

She was right where I’d left her, dutifully taking care of the buck with the gut shot when I landed beside her, still with her hooves putting pressure on his stomach. The bandages she had were soaked with blood. His battle saddle and its attached rifle had been removed, and was currently laying a few meters away. “I’m here,” I said, “How’s he doing?”

“Well, he isn’t dead,” She replied without a trace of humour, “He’s gonna bleed out unless he gets a healing potion.” There was concern in her tone.

“I know,” I said, digging out my surgical kit. “But it won’t do him any good in the long run if that bullet’s still in there.” I pulled out a pair of surgical tweezers, nodding to her. “I need you to spread the wound, let's see what we’re working with here…”

As we worked, the hiss of hydraulics and tread of a ton of pony against the frozen ground signalled the approach of the Steel Ranger we’d saved. After coming to a halt, she addressed me for the first time, voice modulated through the speakers built into the helmet. Even with the distortion, she was practically seething. “What the fuck are you doing?”

There was a hint of recognition, something familiar about her voice — but I couldn’t place it at the time. I was somewhat distracted, being hooves-deep in a pony’s insides at the time.

“Caring for the injured,” I retorted, not sparing the Ranger a glance. Instead, I returned to giving instructions to Tailwind. “Hold him down, I’m going for the bullet.” She did, putting gentle but firm hooves on his chest. Surgical tweezers in hoof, I delicately spread the opening of the wound. Blood was already beginning to pool. I would have to be quick.

Our mare-in-shining-armour didn’t seem to like my answer. “Caring for the injured?” She breathed, as if it were shocking to her. “Do you have any idea who these ponies are? What they’ve done to us?!” She was positively fuming at this point. “As the ranking Steel Ranger in this area, I order you to turn him over to me.”

Crafter had headed this way when the shouting started. In the wake of her booming voice, his sounded positively tiny as he spoke up. “Um… she brings up a good point. Why are we helping them? We just shot them up, after all…”

I glanced back at her, mostly because she was continuing to ruin my concentration. “I’m not spending our medical supplies to keep them alive just so you and yours can execute them back at Neighson,” I snarled, before turning to the very confused-looking Stablepony. “Crafter, it’s just the right thing to do,” I spoke more calmly, to him. “If you were in his position…” Tailing off, I left him with a pleading look. If anypony in our group could see my perspective, I hoped it would be him.

Without waiting for a response, I turned back to the pony bleeding at my hooves.

“Who said anything about Neighson…” The Ranger’s voice came as an approximation of a growl, low and seething with anger. I heard the mechanical whir of an autoloader as her minigun began to spin up to speed.

Things escalated quickly.

At the time, I hadn’t comprehended what exactly Bernard was doing, but after the dust settled and we had a chance to sort things out, I came to understand that he’d swapped ammo types in his hunting rifle to a series of blue-banded armour piercing rounds. I’d definitely have to ask him when he was intending of informing us of that particular purchase, but it certainly applied to the situation.

For my own part, instincts from medical courses came right back to me. Typically a combat medic should look after their own well-being first… but even in the military, to a healer, some things were just instinctive. I shouted, “No!” as I tried to dart forwards and shield him with my body.

Of course, there was one pony there who could anticipate those instincts. In a move much like what I’d done to murder a pony minutes before, Tail leaned forwards, catching me under my forelegs. She pushed hard with her wings, tackling me backwards into a snow drift, a few meters from our patient. “Don’t do it!” she shrieked over her shoulder.

I got my first proper look at the Ranger, then. The spinning rotary cannon on her right, and the nozzle-like contraption on her left. It hadn’t clicked, what that other weapon was. I guess part of me didn’t want to believe they actually used those.

It let out a pneumatic “whoosh,” and a jet of pressurized jelly burst forth from the nozzle, ignited by a pilot torch at the tip. Liquid flame washed over the snow, and the poor bastard who was already bleeding out.

The fire danced.

It clung to whatever it touched, burning, engulfing. It burnt through barding in an instant, clinging to flesh that charred and ignited too. Despite being hopped up on Med-X, he screamed. He screamed as his mane burned away. As his coat turned to ash, flesh was burnt through, muscle smouldered, as his fat boiled and popped. His cries were finally cut short as the air in his lungs superheated. The screams were replaced with the dull, hollow sound of his bones cracking and popping in the heat.

Memories rose. Ones I’d thought all but forgotten, buried. I could feel the heat of it all, smell it all, taste the heavy tang of burnt flesh on the roof of my mouth.

I’d felt that pain once. In a simulator. Smelt that smell before. It had been my flesh, then. I’d been a Skytank driver-in-training. The exit hatch had fused when we got hit, and the fuel tank had ruptured... They said it was a “fluke” of the system, that the experience had been as intense as it was. I requested transfer to Recce the day after. It was approved, no questions asked. Despite that... the mental scar had never really gone away.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

Tailwind was the one to tell me how things went from there, after the fact.

As soon as she fired, Bernard put a round through her right foreleg. Tail told me it managed to punch right through.

The Ranger cried out in pain, but barreled towards the rocks Fade had used for cover. She was limping, keeping some weight off her injured foreleg. Another round from Bernard, another thin hole in her leg, higher this time. She cried out in pain.

Tailwind had me backed into a snow drift, about as safe as I could be when she turned her rifle on the Ranger. She’d have opened fire too, if it wasn’t for probably the strangest thing I’ve ever heard.

Crafter, of all ponies, had decided to charge the Ranger, breaking into a full gallop. Her attention was distracted — she was lining up the cannon to hit Bernard where he lay some fifty meters or so away, bracing his rifle against a downed tree. Crafter’s horn lit, and a mote of light, bright as a Raptor’s miniature searchlight, appeared right on the tip of her helmet’s nose. It must have blinded, or at least surprised her, just long enough for Crafter to blindside her with a full body tackle. Unsteady, blinded, and blindsided by the impact, the Ranger toppled to her side, crushing deep into the snow.

It all happened in seconds.

She wasn’t dead. She wasn’t even unconscious. I managed to find my way out of those terrible memories, tearing my eyes away from the corpse. Of all things I expected to see, it certainly wasn’t, of all ponies, Crafter Odds standing victorious over a fallen Steel Ranger, his pistol pointed down at her head. The Ranger in question seemed resigned to slump over and give up the fight. Tailwind was in the air, her rifle trained on the downed Ranger.

Fade was conspicuously absent. It occurred to me then, that he could have been for some time. He wasn’t where I’d left him, and the mare that had been laying beside him was gone, too. He certainly hadn’t come running when he heard shooting.

Needless to say, that peculiar scene was what caused me to ask Tailwind to rationalize things to me after the fact.

The Ranger grumbled something about it “not being worth it,” and reached back with her good hoof, releasing the seals on her helmet. As the hunk of metal and circuitry fell from her head, a violet mane spilled forth, almost hiding her pale white coat.

Her voice finally clicked. That mare, back in Cheesequake’s office. Knight Frostfire, he’d called her… Which meant that she was newly transferred, and had lost her entire squad in the time since we’d seen her.

I flapped over, laying down a couple paces from her. That put my own head at eye level, propped up on a forehoof. It was then that I addressed her properly for the first time. My pose was relaxed, but there was no mistaking the threat of so many guns pointed her way. “So, what are we going to do with you, now that you went and did something like that?” I asked, shielding my dismay at her actions with an honest curiosity at why she’d be willing to risk personal harm just to finish off a wounded enemy.

She craned her neck back to glare at me. “Don’t patronize me. If I live, I’ll hunt and kill every one of those fuckers I see until the day I die. If you sympathize with Red Eye and his kin, I’ll kill you too.”

I raised my head and made a show of investigating my forehoof, as if it suddenly gained significance. “Sympathize is categorically the wrong word.” Glancing back, I made eye contact. “The Enclave,” I gestured towards the patch adorning the shoulder of my scout barding — not quite covered by the fur cloak, “Is not at war with Red Eye. At the very least, not formally. Tailwind and I are…” With an inclination of my head, I drew her attention to the mare very deliberately pointing a large energy weapon at her head, “Well, were scouts. It was, and still is our job to find out information about potential enemies of the Grand Pegasus Enclave, not start wars on its behalf. By the same token, we won’t shirk from engaging them if the need arises. They were blocking our path of advance, killing ponies who are, for the time being, our allies — yourself included. As they were hostile, we fought them without hesitation.

“That pony you killed was far too injured to be a threat, and he still had friends. They had an observation post set up, those ponies never took part in the fight. That means, they either fucked off at the first sign of fighting — and as such don’t know pegasi participated in the first place… or alternatively, they saw Tailwind and I giving medical treatment to their wounded comrades, a sign of decency that I’m sure would have been passed on to their superiors if and when they make it back.” I gave a soft sigh, making a conscious attempt to keep my anger in check. “A plan which your summary incineration of one of their friends has rather…” I made a show of searching for a proper simile for a moment, before glancing at Crafter — who still held the proverbial high ground, his pistol drawn and pointed at her temple.

“...Thrown a wrench into, as it were.”

Crafter looked pleased, giving me a smirk before turning his focus back to the angry, armoured mare beneath him.

Frostfire merely rolled her eyes. “So... what? You kill some of them, and you expect them to give you some sort ‘thank you’ because it wasn’t all of them?”

“As contradictory as it might seem to you,” I replied, “Giving aid to the injured — of both sides — is the duty of the victor.” I looked down at her. Her attitude was bringing out a spiteful side of me, especially after we saved her ass. “Something I doubt you’ve encountered with your dirty, desperate little wars down here.”

“That’s great,” Frostfire outright laughed, a note of what was almost mirth entered her voice, if not for the brittle undertone to it. “Must be nice still living in that idyllic paradise of yours. What, is war clean up there? Sanitary?” Seeming to get herself under control, she spoke low and deliberately. “If you take nothing else from all this, from the deaths of those I loved, fucking listen to me — Every single day out here is struggle. Them, or us,” She gestured with a hoof towards the burnt corpse, followed by the shattered armour and frozen corpses of her squad. “You leave one of them alive, all’s that’s gonna happen is you’re going to fight him tomorrow — more likely than not, he’ll try and put a bullet in your back or a collar around your neck.”

She spat in the snow.

“Let me up,” She finally said, her tone simply tired this time. “I won’t cause you more trouble. Just don’t touch my squad.” She kicked out a steel-shod hoof, catching a Red Eye corpse in the leg. “From them, it's all yours, whatever salvage you want.”

Crafter looked to me for direction.

I nodded. We weren’t about to kill her, after all… and she seemed to have cooled down, somewhat. That, and her words had me thinking. Considering their merit, if for no other reason than the weight of good ponies’ deaths lied with them.

Crafter hopped off, and Knight Frostfire rose from her place in the snow with a hiss of hydraulics and the rasp of steel-on-steel. She didn’t seem to be limping, despite the rounds surely still lodged in her leg. The auto-medical suite onboard Ranger armour outstripped even our own for user survivability, and I wasn’t surprised so much as impressed, now that I had a chance to see it in action. As she seemed true to her word, Bernard and Tailwind lowered their weapons.

Frostfire retrieved her helmet and walked over to her team leader — at least, I assumed that’s who it was. The one with the anti-material hole in his chest. I imagined she was mentally preparing a report of what had happened to send back to Neighson.

Quiet had finally settled back into the valley.

As if some cosmic force decided it wasn’t quite the time for things to end, the still air was broken by the crack of one final gunshot.

A fresh surge of adrenaline pumped through my veins. Hastily, I checked Tailwind, Crafter and Bernard. Each seemed fine, if just as confused as I was. The shot hadn’t come from any of them, and it hadn’t been aimed at them either.

My train of thought rapidly went to the stallion I’d left with the neck injury. I was immediately terrified that he’d found a weapon or something. Breaking into a gallop, I sprinted around the corner, only to be brought up short when I saw what had happened there.

What I found, almost made me wish he had found some sort of firearm… if only because it would have been simpler.

As I rounded the corner of Fade’s defensive rock pile, I came upon the griffon himself already in the process of holstering a smoking pistol. Before him was the cooling corpse of the pony I’d bandaged up, a hole right between his eyes and a fresh spray of blood on the snow beneath him. Beside Fade stood a mare with a green coat and a short, wild mane of slate blue and steel grey. She wasn’t wearing any barding, and was connected to the griffon by an impromptu rope leash, held in the griffon’s left talon. On her flank was an innocuous looking pair of watery swirls, feeding into each other in a fluid cycle. She seemed to be in the process of blowing a raspberry at the corpse when I came upon them.

Catching sight of me, Fade spoke up, perfectly calm. “You know you missed one, eh? Took care of it though. Good to see you’re all still alive. Heard some nasty business on the way out.”

“What the hell, Fade?” I cried out, “We just… just saved him, skies damn it.” My mind caught up to me, just a little, as I made eye contact with the mare he had in tow. She smiled, and gave me a calm wave of her hoof, as if we were neighbors back in the sky, rather than standing in the middle of a battlefield. She had deep turquoise eyes, like pools of water. She seemed… almost bored. I tore my gaze away, back to Fade. I had valid questions, and he’d be the one to answer them. “Who is that? Why is she tied up? And… why is she naked?”

Fade seemed to glance from me to her, to the dead stallion, and back again. Blinking, he raised a talon in a placating gesture, cleared his throat, and began.

“Alright, I’ll take this one at a time.” He pointed to the stallion with the new mouth in the center of his face, “He worked for Red Eye. Be it out of belief or for money, that is a group one can simply not negotiate with. They take the standing worth of Ponies as a whole and manage to devalue it further.” Stepping aside as if to showcase the mare behind him, he gestured to her. “Snap Roll, This is Ebb. Ebb, this is Snap Roll. For all intents she is our prisoner, and has agreed to give me information. The lack of vestments is due to the fact I had to tie her up, but had nothing to do it with at the time. Thus, I shredded her gear and improvised. later on I realized I did have rope, which turned out to be useful anyways as Ebb requested replacement garments in return for her cooperation. Then, I tied her up to ensure adherence to our arrangement and came back here to get aforementioned coverings and relay the information to the concerned parties — those being the Ranger over there and her Fort dwelling friends.” Setting his talon back down, he seemed to give that a second’s thought before nodding, content. “That about sums it up. Not sure what you thought it all pointed to.”

No negotiating with Red Eye? But you just-

“But that doesn’t-” I false-started, realizing there were actually more important things at hoof than puzzling out Fade’s logic. “Wait, information? What kind of information?” I looked back to the mare, wondering what she had in that completely unperforated head of hers… though now that I properly looked at her, she seemed to boast some nasty looking bruises. “What do you know?” I asked, far more cordially than the tone I’d just been using with Fade.

Ebb brought a forehoof to her chin in thought, “Well I guess I know a few things. Don’t know why’d you need me though, can’t y’all see what’s goin’ on from yer cloud house… stuff?” She emphasized the ‘cloud house’ bit by waggling her hooves in front of her.

I glared at Fade, simmering with irritation. My tone dropped back to roughly where it was before, this time spiced with a dash of deadpan. “You picked her for her wit, didn’t you?”

“It was a factor,” Fade replied, offering a desultory shrug. “Her capture was actually rather spontaneous. She literally fell into my lap and I just took advantage of the situation. You might not be aware of this, but Red Eye troops operating this far North is out of the ordinary. Means they found a way to bypass the Fort... Which is bad, by the way.”

“Well, that’s more than a little worrisome,” I replied to Fade’s assessment. Behind me, the others were filtering our way, more than a little interested in how events were going. Even Frostfire had come to see what was up, clanking slowly towards us. I called out to her, “Frostfire, you’ve got some sort of comms with Neighson, right? I think your superiors are gonna want to hear what Fade has to say.”

She nodded, eyes downcast as she passed Tailwind what seemed to be a broadcasting antenna from one of her saddlebags. “Just use the daft one’s Pipbuck, should connect just fine,” she replied, monotone.

Her tone worried me, for her sake as much as anything else. I knew the signs of early onset combat stress disorder, and she was exhibiting more than enough of them. I wanted to sit down, talk to her about what happened… but unfortunately, we didn’t have anything like the time for that, and I was sure she wouldn’t have wanted to hear it from me anyhow.

At any rate, it buoyed my spirits to see Tailwind’s reaction to being passed a piece of Ranger comms tech. She daintily plucked it from Frostfire’s outstretched hoof before examining it from multiple different angles. Satisfied, she advanced on Crafter with a look in her eyes that said, “I’m going to need your foreleg again,” and it didn’t seem at all like a request. Fade moved over as well, and they all seemed to be getting around to informing the Rangers of the nature of what they faced.

With that out of the way, I turned to address our sole surviving captive. “And while informing them is a fairly high priority, there’s still a griffon off to the North. Unless I’m right out to lunch, he was more or less in command here, wasn’t he, Ebb?” I doubt she expected the question, but I had to confirm my suspicion before we wasted time hunting him.

Ebb quirked her head to the side, seemingly curious that my question was directed at her. "Heh, you can say that I guess. If fucking and yelling count as 'command.'" She snickered before continuing, "There was another prick with him, but that one left this morning — he was more or less the real boss." She gave a defeated shrug, seemingly at a loss as to what sort of embellishment I might be looking for.

Most of what she said made sense. The senior commander having left them in the care of a junior once the ambush position was in place. There was just one thing that didn't quite register the first time she said it…

"Fucking?" I asked, incredulous.

Ebb raised an eyebrow, "Yeah you know the sex thing? Ya'll do that up there still right?"

I could have facehoofed, but I just couldn't leave well enough alone. Something about the way she'd said it made the small hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Trying to press past her attitude, I kept asking, a knot growing in the pit of my stomach at what her answer might be. "Well, yeah, but... like, a griffon, with ponies? And you, er, they... let him?"

For a fleeting moment, I caught a small twinge from her, almost a crack in the blasé attitude she was putting up. Like she was trying to steer from the subject. "Well, let him isn't exactly the words I'd use… He's got a temper and kinda has the authority to execute folks for sedition."

There it was. I can’t say it was right in front of me or anything, I don’t think it would be fair to myself to even have clued in on that one beforehand. That said, now I knew. What he’d called the mare I killed, the nature of their existence. I realized many of my assumptions had been premature, so based on my own experiences. Who’d have thought basic fucking dignity would have been a thing to take for granted, huh?

The way I see it, the choice that lay before me was no choice at all.

I looked her dead in the eyes, those pale blue orbs of hers. It occurred to me that she seemed young, so young for what she must have been doing for years by now. She was thin too, with her coat stretched almost tight over wiry muscle, like she’d been undernourished for virtually her entire life. She shifted awkwardly under my gaze, as if she thought she’d said something she shouldn’t have. Without another word, I turned on my heel, headed straight for our griffon companion.

“Fade,” I called, heedless of the fact that he seemed to still be in the process of wrapping up his conversation with Ranger command. Hell, maybe he’d gotten in contact with Cheesequake directly. Right then, I hardly cared. “Finish up, we’re heading out.”

Holding the antennae mic to one side of his head, he asked me curiously, “‘Out,’ is all well and good, but where exactly are we going?”

I gave him an aggressive grin as I replied, “To kill a griffon.”

Author's Note

Well, this has probably been the chapter with the most... interesting development cycle, with none of it related to the chapter itself. So I started an army leadership course this week (the same course, allowing for universe translation, that was Snap's most recent major career course, incidentally), and on top of that, over on Reddit this story managed to make it into the three stories that are up for prereaders to vote on for an EQD post. Given the competition that's up there, well... I'm fully expecting MN7 to win. But it would be a nice surprise to come back from the field to find that happened.

Anyways, I've been wanting to show this side of Snap for a long time now, and here it is. Big thanks to the editors/prereaders; Belmor and Kyler (writer of Stable Scout - go give it a read if you're lookin for some reading material! I've done some prereader work for him along the way, too).

Anyways, I hope this segment hasn't drawn on too long. I know timeline wise things are going quite slow, but I really do feel that there are stories worth telling within the nitty gritty little bits of a firefight. I'd love to hear what you think in the comments, as we head into the conclusion for this sub-arc. I've got a thick skin, and there's nothing better than seeing feedback on a chapter that forces me to think about something I maybe hadn't given as much thought to as I might've ought to.

Anyways, til next time, thanks for reading!

Chapter 11: Pursuit

Chapter Eleven: Pursuit

War isn’t tidy.

It might belie the experience itself, but in reality, combat is essentially simple: Kill the fuckers that are trying to kill you. Once the shooting stops, however, things get complicated. All the messy loose ends need tying up, and I can certainly see the… allure of not caring. The “Kill ‘em all, let the Sisters sort them out” mindset, as it were. It would have been so easy not to care about Ebb or her situation. About the others, who died while under my care. I guess for all the preparation in the world, I wanted reassurance that my morals were intact, and Ebb was the perfect candidate.

Of course that wasn’t what I told the others. I rationalised until I almost believed myself, but ultimately, I’d forged into combat completely by design for the first time… and my actions both scared and excited me.

Ebb’s situation provided a diversion, at once an ethical and strategic outlet for the emotions I was only beginning to come to terms with — anger, at the group who stranded us here; professional pride, at seeing the fruits of the training, the effort Tailwind and I had invested in becoming what we were; the sheer ecstatic feeling of martial triumph over another. It was a melting pot of things I had no desire to face head on. Even then, I knew I’d need time to come to terms with what had happened, but I couldn’t afford to.

All of which stemmed from, for the first time, taking life by choice rather than necessity.

My body was headed steadily towards exhaustion, while still being so amped up I couldn’t possibly force myself to be still. I had to move, had to… make ‘progress,’ as vague as that sounds. I knew we had to salvage what we could from the battlefield, but my mind was so far from able to focus on something so menial, it almost made me sick just thinking about it.

So I made the decision I did, to take Fade and Tailwind on a griffon hunt, ostensibly to eliminate a thorn in our side before he really became an issue.

Some part of me remained rational enough to ensure the necessary consolidation would happen while we were away, detailing Bernard and Crafter for the duty. Simultaneously, Fade gave his own instructions to Ebb — he instructed her to begin digging a hole, one large enough to bury a pony in; and to have it done by the time he returned.

If he wasn’t already coming with, I might have said something about how ominous that sounded… but it would keep her busy, and I could deal with whatever Fade had planned upon our return.

I had decided that I wasn’t going to let Fade kill her, whatever happened. Part of me was worried even then, that my desire to kill the griffon might’ve been clouding my better judgement… but not her, too. As arbitrary as it seems (and it was)... her life was the line I’d drawn for myself. Something I could point to even for just myself, to remind myself I was still true to my own beliefs.

Sometimes, that’s all you’ve got.

–Snap Roll’s Journal

*** *** ***

Celestia’s faint light painted our wings and drew long shadows from the scrub forest below us — the most colour you could typically hope see beneath the cloud layer. Neatly wedged in the dips between mountain ranges, she was managing to illuminate our our world for the brief twilight period.

Ordinarily, the sight would have been enough to swell my breast and bring a smile to my lips.

Right then, all I could meet it with was a scowl.

As beautiful as those few, fleeting minutes of light were, they heralded an increase in wind speed, and from the ache in my wings I could already tell that it was going to be another rough night, to say nothing of the dropping temperature. Even Tailwind’s normally fanciful flying was quite muted, holding an even formation at my wing.

Opposite her, I cast my eyes to Fade, though he didn’t return my gaze. He seemed focused, gazing intently for any spoor our prey might have left behind. He knew as well as I that we were already on borrowed time. There certainly wasn’t time to address the situation we’d left Ebb in.

It wasn’t long before we reached our stepping off point, the roost where I’d last exchanged fire with our griffonic prey. Unsurprisingly, it was deserted and untouched since I’d flown off. The anti-material rifle still rested where I’d left it, perched against one of the makeshift walls of the structure.

“Fade,” I spoke, breaking the silence of our twilight flight, “grab the rifle and meet us at the base of the mountain. He crashed there, if he left any tracks, that’ll be where we’ll find ‘em.” It was a terse, short order, called out without giving him a chance to reply before I banked away, cutting speed and descending.

I couldn’t quite keep myself from glancing towards the corpse spread out far beneath the roost, some sort of sick, guilty fascination drawing my eyes to a sight that really didn’t need to be seen right then. Consoling myself with the thought that her death had at least been quick, I tore my eyes back to our mission. Landing in the soft snow with only a slight stumble, my injured body gave its silent reminder of how hard I’d already pushed it that day.

Just a bit more, then I can rest.

Getting down to business, I quickly found the disturbed ground where the griffon had crashed. I hadn’t seen the impact itself, but from the minor snow-crater he’d left it had probably been worse than initially expected. There were a few smears of blood on the rocks where he’d hit, along with an empty auto-injector of Med-X and a smashed bottle with a few purple streaks remaining of the healing potion it had probably contained. The path he’d evidently followed was clear enough, marked by vibrant drops of scarlet against the white snow. Talon marks on the rocks and trees were another dead giveaway.

It wouldn’t be a hard trail to follow, at least as long as he’d been freely bleeding. Confident that we at least knew the way, I glanced back at the others. Tailwind had landed behind me, and I’d caught her glancing back in the direction of the mare I’d killed, a mix of worry and sadness in her eyes, but her mouth set in a determined line. I wouldn’t have objected to her judging me for my actions, probably the only one I’d have allowed… but she stayed silent. Whether from worry or understanding, I never knew. I didn’t ask, either.

Saving both of us from the awkwardness, Fade made a heavy landing, AM rifle clutched in his talons. His assault rifle was slung behind his back, between his wings. I gave him a moment to collect himself before I began to lay out the plan. “You can follow this.” I voiced it as a statement — I knew better than to insult his skills. Even I could probably track this, but time was of the essence, and this was as close to his specialty as we were likely to get. With the lingering pain of my recent injury an idle reminder to perhaps tone down my own proximity to danger, I continued; “I would very much appreciate you taking the lead on this one. How would you like us to help?”

He dropped the butt of the heavy rifle into the snow, half supporting himself on it as he gave my words some thought. Idly, he scratched at the feathers on his cheek before coming to a conclusion. Clearing his throat, he dropped his claw back to the rifle’s casing and spoke up, “I can most definitely track him. From what I see here I’d almost wager you could; stealth doesn’t seem to be his priority.” His conclusion mirrored my own, but I waited, allowing him to continue with his train of thought. “Tracking I can and will do,” he restated, fiddling idly with the safety of the rifle. “Engaging him once found… well, that’s a different story.”

And therein lied my view of things. That hesitation. I knew I could rely on him to fight ponies, or realistically any of the monsters we found in these frozen wastes… but other griffons? That, I still wasn’t sure of. As such, though this was, I figured, the path of least resistance… it might just reveal something of our griffon companion’s character. I wanted to see what he’d do, when given the lead on this one.

My thoughts aside, he’d already begun to lay out his plan. “The only two routes I can see are engaging him myself — and hoping the wound he’s taken is enough of an advantage for me to take the upper claw, as it were… or, once again, being a diversion while Tailwind and yourself try and make with the multi-directional stealth assault. Or whatever the term may be.”

As he spoke, I dug through my saddlebags, coming up with the dozen or so bullets I’d originally purloined from the rifle. Hoofing them over, I commented, “Hopefully this’ll help even the odds a bit. He’s got some decent armour, but one good shot should be more than enough to take care of that.” Glancing back at my shoulder, still itchy from the recent magical healing, I added, “I’d like to avoid getting shot again, and we’ve got the tools to make this work. Tailwind and I will be there to back you up the whole time, however you want to play it once we find him.”

Demonstrating remarkable aptitude despite never (to my knowledge) having used anything as large as the massive rifle, Fade deftly slotted what rounds he could into place, closing and locking the bolt in place. He stashed the remainder in one of the many pockets adorning his jacket, within easy reach should he have to. Finally, he shouldered the rifle and gave a quick test of the sights. That complete, he reached down, scooping up a small claw-full of bloody snow and giving it a sniff, inhaling the no doubt still fresh smell of blood. Letting it fall from his claws, he absently wiped them off against a nearby tree, staring off in the direction the griffon had fled.

Nodding in conclusion, Fade looked back over his shoulder to Tail and I, giving orders of his own. “Best that you two hang back while I go. Try and stay to the sides and keep sight of me at all times; utilize that high falutin’ training of yours, no doubt.” A strange turn of phrase, but it seemed self explanatory enough, even if it made me feel like we might’ve just been insulted, but couldn’t call him on it. “I’ll be the main attraction,” he continued, “but I’d greatly prefer it not be my last show, if you catch my drift.”

It seemed that that was all he had to say on the matter, for he turned and headed off, following the trail, with Tailwind and I falling dutifully in behind. But before we’d gone more than a few steps, or spread out overly much, he turned back to comment, “And eyes to yourselves. Let’s not have a repeat of Kilo, hmm?”

And what’s that supposed to mean...?

*** *** ***

It wasn’t long before we found ourselves standing at the outskirts of a large field of boulders, with his tracks leading straight into them — practically an invitation. We couldn’t have been more than a kilometer from where we’d picked up his trail. The whole time I couldn’t shake the feeling like we were being led, rather than tracking. Reaching a spot like that was what clinched it, in my mind. Either he’d lucked out, or this had been at least a fall-back plan of his. On top of everything else, Celestia was in the very last minutes of daylight. Low enough to be in our eyes if we took to the air, but we’d be entirely in shadow if we kept to the boulders, with our eyes having a hell of a time adjusting.

It wasn’t like we could afford to wait him out, either.

Cantering up to where Fade had paused to look out over the boulder field, I posited my thoughts on the predicament before us; “He’s set a trap,” I stated bluntly. “He knows we’ve got at least one pegasus, and he wants to either catch us in the maze of rocks, or get the first shot off if we search from the air…” Glancing up at Fade, I added, “Thoughts?”

Fade drew his gaze across the landscape before us, clicked his beak, and nodded. “Yes, many.” He replied, in time, “Many many thoughts.” He finished his scan, turning to address the two of us as he continued to speak, “More than is likely considered healthy, or perhaps just enough that the powers that be are displeased.”

I quirked my head, no idea whatsoever what he was getting at, but it was far from enough to dissuade him.

“Thoughts about life, thoughts about snow, thoughts about how you think I didn’t see you checking me out, thoughts about how the other one still owes me a drink, thoughts about how I’m probably still about to get myself shot. Only the last one is important right about now, admittedly… but yes, I do have them.” He nodded, clearly satisfied with the, ah, insight he’d just imparted to us, because his train of thought went in a completely different direction immediately afterwards. Turning his head back to the boulderscape before us, he seemed to pick a decidedly large one and broke out into a grin. “Ah, that’ll do nicely,” he announced, before turning back to us, completely left behind by where his mind was going, but listening nonetheless. “You and Tailwind had best take sides and get to the best spots you can. Do try and be quiet about it. Clever bugger is trying to force us to play his game. Well, joke’s on him! I only ever play my game. Tend to win it, too.” With that apparently being enough information for us, he flashed us what seemed like a completely manic grin, winked, and immediately set off for the boulder he’d marked out just before.

I made a mental note never to ask for his “thoughts” again. That was… decidedly disturbing.

Tailwind clopped one forehoof into the other, commenting, “That’s right, I did owe him coffee, didn’t I?”

Absently, I nodded in reply, “Yeah, that sounds about right.” Glancing back to the rocks, I continued, “And he’s completely crazy, but I think for whatever he actually plans to do, we should probably do as he said — at this rate, whatever’s about to happen could very well start without us.”

She chuckled softly, “Well it would be rude to leave a pair of gents to make things happen all on their own, now wouldn’t it?”

With that, we went our separate ways, carefully taking up positions on opposite sides of Fade’s chosen rock, keeping low on the off chance he was near the entrance to the rock maze. We lost sight of each other immediately. I felt that same trepidation coming back, the feeling of being under someone’s gunsights. He knew we were coming, and we’d have to dig him out like a tick.

As we moved up, snow lightly crunching beneath our hooves, Fade took that as his cue to scramble up to the top of the rock, no doubt silhouetting himself against the treeline behind us. I really hoped he had a notion of what he was doing. Glancing back, I noticed the strangest thing. He was dropping his weapons beside him. Still on the rock, but the massive AM rifle was resting on its bypod, then his rifle was unslung and deposited right next to it. He shifted, then lowered himself to a more comfortable position, squatting on the tip of the rock. Finally, he drew a breath and whistled, a harsh, loud tone. “Hey! Hello!” He dragged out the ‘o,’ far longer than any normal person normally would. “Mr Talon… Merc? Sorry, don’t know your name! You out there? Vi govorite maternji jezik? Hteo bih da porazgovaramo i ostaviti metke is nje.”

He’d just given away his position! Was he trying to get killed? For a few seconds, I stood stock still, battlesaddle bit deployed and scanning the boulders immediately before me for any sign of movement.

Off in the distance, carried by the winds, we heard a reply. It was twisted, bouncing and echoing off the terrain, virtually impossible to judge direction or distance from. The only determinant factor was that it was clearly the same voice I’d heard earlier, this time speaking in the same guttural language I’d occasionally heard Fade speak. “Nije dobro, otac me nikada nije mnogo naučio. On je previše popio!” The shouted reply was shaky, as if straining at the translation. His addendum, “Nosite li crne?” seemed to come almost as an afterthought.

I began to creep forwards. He was being a distraction, then. Fine by me, but he could have just said as much.

Still, I’d kill to know what they’re saying right now…

Fade’s reply seemed to have some hesitation, as if he was surprised the other griffon was actually willing to exchange words. Again, he spoke exclusively what I had always assumed to be griffonic, or something like that, "Jā! Melnā un sarkanā krāsā. Ne šeit, lai cīnītos, tikai gribu runāt. Strādāt kaut kas, jā?"

There was a pregnant pause before the opposing griffon responded, “Bet jums lidot ar debesīm zirgu? Man nav to iegādāties, jūs esat ārštata nekas vairāk.” He seemed to spit out the words, like they were something distasteful. I didn’t know anything about that, but after listening a little harder this time, I was beginning to get a bearing on his position.

Tailwind and I kept in touch with our TFD’s as we began to circle wide of where I suspected he was, slowly adjusting the sides of the trap we were hoping to close around him. It was tense, every soft crunch of snow reminded me that we’d never particularly practiced this sort of thing, not in these conditions. Each step felt deafening to my ears, like he might hear us at any given point. But we both plodded on, checking our corners and gradually moving forwards.

Meanwhile, Fade kept right on spouting his incomprehensible language, giving us what cover he could with sheer volume. "Strādāt viņu labā? Jūs esat man visu nepareizi draugs. Call to aizsargāt investīcijas. Vai jums ir kāda ideja, ko viens no šiem spārnoto muļķiem ir vērts ar pareizajiem cilvēkiem, nemaz nerunājot par pāris no viņiem? Tikko esat kļuvuši mērķi viņu uzmanību tieši tagad, žēl, jo tas ir. Tātad, strādāt ar mani tagad. Ļaujiet viņiem spēlēt savu maz spēli un izkļūt ar savu ādu."

As we closed in, Tail and I stopped communicating entirely, potentially too close to even risk subvocal speech. Based on where I’d last heard him, he couldn’t have been more than twenty meters away, by my estimation.

Things were set for the final stretch, as I rounded a boulder just as unassuming as any other. Past the large rock, I noticed a thin trip wire, barely a hoof’s width above the snow line — leading into a small bluff of snow wedged under a separate boulder.

Doing the intelligent thing and leaving it the fuck alone, I quietly took to the air — just a low hover, mind you — enough to clear the wire, at least.

Breaking the near-silence of the cold air, Tailwind screamed “Snap, down!” Her cry was shrill enough for me to hear before the TFD had even scrolled the message across my eyepiece.

I didn’t think, just acted. Snapping my wings up and back, I used all my strength to propel me out of whatever harm she must have spotted.

A heartbeat later, a burst of high-velocity lead hammered through the space my head and neck used to be. Rock shrapnel from the boulder they hit instead rained down on me, even as I ran face first into the undisturbed snow in front of me.

Recovering, I glanced back to the wire, finding that the moving snow had dislodged it, and the simple rock it was tied to.

A false trap? Bastard!

I rolled left around the boulder I’d almost ran into, trying to get a visual on where those shots might’ve come from. Abandoning stealth entirely, I called out into my TFD, “You see him?”

The sharp ozone crack of Tailwind’s rifle firing in quick succession was her immediate reply, followed by text through my TFD. “He was about twenty meters up the ridge, he had a clear shot on the other side of the tripwire.” She paused, firing off another pair of shots before repositioning. “Damnit! He got away back into the rocks, headed West. He had the route planned out.”

I keyed the radio to Fade, but left my TFD’s channel open. “We’re engaging,” I called out, “Fade, we’ll move in and flush him out, hit ‘im if you can. He’s currently on the move from twenty meters up the boulder ridgeline, headed West.” Not waiting for a response, I took flight and began to circle around, maybe catch sight of the area Tailwind had described.

Looking from a different angle, I could now see where I’d walked through had been a beautiful kill zone. The path I’d been following plateaued up ahead, on the top of a rather large rock structure. Further up the hill, through a zigzagging trench of boulders lay his ambush point. He’d had a clean shot. Tailwind’s warning was all I had — a sobering thought.

What really got me was that from where we’d been, the way the crest worked, there was no way of having known that this area opened up as much as it did until after I’d rounded the corner. It was a damn intelligent spot, and it reinforced my urgency at wanting to take him down.

Pausing a second, I re-evaluated things. He was retreating back, and we didn’t have eyes on him. First things first, we had to know where he was, or there was no telling what else he was trying to lead us into. Beating my wings, I traded the concealment of the boulder field for the wide open skies. From my new perspective, I could see just about everything. Tailwind moving up maybe thirty meters to the right of where I’d been, Fade dragging up the AM rifle and watching for a shot… and a glimpse of that moving mass of armour and feathers that was our target. For an injured griffon, he was moving fast. He’d seen me almost immediately, and was taking great pains to keep out of sight as much as he could.

Still, better than nothing.

The other thing I gathered was that he seemed to be running towards something, rather than simply away. My first thoughts were another firing position or maybe even a weapon cache of some sort. We had so little info, all I could figure was that we couldn’t let him get there.

Accessing the TFD, I dropped a waypoint just past where I’d last seen him. “Tail, fly past the point I just dropped, then double back. He’s moving deliberately, we need to disrupt his plan. Get him to double back, if you can.” Then I switched to the radio. “Fade, Tail is gonna try and get him to double back. See that one…” I strained my eyes, trying to spot something worth calling out in the field of irregular, but unassuming boulders. “The bigger rock to your eleven o’clock, looks kinda like a brahmin? If she does get him to double back, he’ll go right past that.”

A few seconds passed, then Fade’s reply crackled over the radio, “Got it, bring him on in.”

Everything seemed to be in place. Tailwind was moving into position, Fade’s shot seemed lined up, and I was in position to guide the others and follow his movements.

Too bad no one let him in on the plan.

Just as I’d imagined, Tailwind managed to get ahead of him as she dove in, firing off a series of bursts from her energy rifle. Then, instead of continuing to divert as I’d planned, he decided to push straight through her beams, answering with a trio of short bursts from his SMG. I could hear Tailwind cry out in pain and dive hard to the right. It looked like she’d been hit in the shoulder, but I couldn’t be sure.

Shit!

Suddenly we’d lost our cohesion. If we left him, he could very well go after her as she was down!

Hammering on the radio’s PTT switch, I shouted out, “Fade, new plan!” As I spoke, I deployed my saddle’s firing bit and flapped my wings to get into position. I caught another glimpse. Not heading for Tailwind after all, but at that point all I saw was tinged with red. “Search and destroy!” I cried out, drawing my wings in and diving, flapping to accelerate and make corrections as he moved. It was easier to follow this time, he seemed to be moving slower, possibly hindered by more injuries.

Soon as I entered firing range, I opened up with my energy pistol, peppering him and the rocks around him with ruby red beams of destructive magic. Part of me hoped Fade would zero in on the light show, but that griffon needed to die five minutes ago, and I wasn’t waiting for anyone.

My shots hit home near the base of his uninjured wing, all but maiming it. He reacted too fast for me to follow up — vaulting back once he’d determined my angle of approach. Clumsily falling to his left side, he still managed an ineffectual burst of fire in my direction. From his movements, his right leg seemed beyond saving, damage he could only have taken from Tail’s rifle. The last thing I saw of him was that he’d slouched against a boulder, presumably to use it as cover.

Ineffective as his return fire was, his dodge put him under my angle of gun-run, unless I planned to ditch into the rocks. I much preferred remaining un-splattered, so I pulled up at the last second, whizzing past at just under max dive speed. Instead of bleeding speed, I traded it right back for altitude. My legs grew heavy as blood rushed from my head, grey fuzzing the edges of my vision. Immediately, I started a hard pitch turn to the right, praying my recovering body could take the strain. The manoeuvre pulled me through a lateral hundred-and-eighty degree half-loop before I rolled back to level flight. Meters below me, snow and rocks flashed past almost too fast to track, but it put me exactly where I wanted to be.

The direction also happened to put me over Tailwind’s position. I didn’t think he’d try to go after her at that point, but I wasn’t ruling anything out.

My aerial maneuver, taxing as it was, drew no return fire, and I looped around at a much flatter angle of attack, ready for one last pass. I caught a brief glimpse of Tail crawling towards the cover of the rocks near her, and while I was glad she was safe, now wasn’t the time to help. I guessed he was waiting for me to line up a pass to exchange shots — just like our first duel, when he’d landed the hit on my shoulder.

Not this time, motherfucker.

I steeled myself for having sore legs come the following day, and aimed my dive over the very same boulder he’d used for cover. Angling in low and fast — too shallow for the dive itself to result in a decent gun run, as the boulders confused vision altogether too much, and I wouldn’t have an angle once I flashed past his cover. Concentrating on flying, drawing on every scrap of flight knowledge I possessed, I planned my route and hoped the impact wouldn’t shatter my legs instantly. Feeling the air currents in my feathers, a single rogue gust of wind could have been catastrophic at that point. Timing the perfect air currents right as I crossed the point of no return — immediately before crossing over the threshold of the boulder. At high speed and a shallow angle, I lowered my legs and kicked out, much like I had back at the sniper nest. Only this time, it wasn’t to arrest my momentum — it was to drastically change my angle of attack.

The impact rocked all the way up my legs, straining every bone to the very breaking point. It worked, drastically desyncing my spatial movement from my initial trajectory. I pulled my legs and wings in, continuing the motion in its natural direction, nailing an unpowered loop even as my forward momentum carried me up and over the boulder. The only course corrections I even dreamed of doing were minute adjustments of my tail to keep me centered on the axis of flight.

As I flipped around, looking “up” relative to my current orientation, my maneuver meant I was moving in a fast arc above him and through his plane of vision. By the time my shot actually lined up with where I’d determined him to be, I was pointing almost straight down. I started firing before I even saw him, fully intending to stitch fire all the way through his location. I wasn’t going to miss this chance!

For a split second, as energy bolts were already burning their way towards him, I made eye contact with the bastard. In that instant, realization dawned on his features as he cracked a half grin, his gun pointing the wrong direction to be brought to bear in time. That grin was as much a compliment as I’d ever get.

Searing bolts of raw magic lanced through his shoulder, collarbone and head, as many as I could pump into him in the fraction of a second my gun was lined up.

Then it was over. The inevitable momentum of my maneuver left me completely unable to see the lasting effects of my strafing run. I finished the loop, unfurling my wings and frantically flapping to bleed speed and avoid my own untimely rendezvous with a boulder. It wasn’t pretty, far from even a coherent flying maneuver, but I swung around, bleeding speed until I was virtually hovering. Advancing slowly, I trained my weapon on his position.

Cresting the final series of boulders, my accomplishment was laid bare before me. The griffon had collapsed to his left, leaning with his back braced against the boulder he’d tried to take cover behind. To my surprise, the stubborn ass was still alive, however pyrrhically. His right arm was dead, the nerves and tendons having been cut through at the shoulder, with the remainder being so much raw meat. Both his wings were a twisted mess, and his right leg was charred, limp at an unnatural angle. The part that really stuck with me though, was that his right eye and most of the right side of his face were ruined, charred and blackened to indistinguishable levels.

His breath was short and erratic. The hits to his shoulder must have punched through his armour’s shoulder straps and vaporized a lung, I guessed. His gun had fallen from his ruined arm, and his huge knife lay useless, sheathed at his side.

As he noticed my re-approach, he chuckled lightly, murmuring something unintelligible.

Seeing his weapon out of easy reach, I fluttered down, gingerly landing on my hooves. My reticle never left his chest, even with my exhausted breathing. “Was it… worth it… asshole?” I asked between breaths, keeping my distance. I wasn’t about to step within reach — I’d tempted fate far more than enough for one day. “You wanted to die standing… some bullshit like that?”

He spat blood as he chuckled, “Heh, trust egg breakers? Min’aswell die fighting rather than bound and gagged.” Breaking into a coughing fit that seemed like it might just be the end of him, he managed to pull out of it — though he spat out what I might have guessed was a piece of charred lung. “Damn,” he said, “Feels weird, my body’s gone all to hell, but I barely feel it.” He leaned back and looked at the sky, still uttering that damnable chuckle, like it was all some sort of fucked up game. Not deigning to look me in the eye, he asked, “So, ya gonna finish it?”

“You killed those ‘Rangers, and those ponies on the road. I’m not asking about that specifically, I’m sure there were orders or some shit. Why do you do it? Serve Red Eye, all this.” I did want to know — if I could get some info from him, so much the better… but if I’m really honest with myself, I wanted to drag it out just a bit. “What the hell did you gain from it?” I asked, venom and confusion nearly equal in my tone. “Money? Subordinates who can’t say no? The fuck was in it for you that you were willing to die for?”

The griffon spat blood again, letting out a slow, wheezing laugh, “Loyalty to the contract, cloudy. Not that you’d understand. Ponies never do…” He coughed again, harder this time. It was almost over, and he knew it. “So what,” he asked, “ya gonna watch me go?”

I glanced down at the pistol mounted on my side, slowly shaking my head. Almost to myself, I whispered, “You know, as fucked up as it is, Fade might just be right after all.”

Then I brought my aim up, and snapped off one last shot. I couldn’t miss.

The shot hadn’t even had time to finish echoing off the suddenly still air, when none other than Fade dropped down off the boulder beside me. Skies above, I didn’t even have the energy to be surprised. He gave a desultory nod towards the smoking hole in the griffon’s forehead, “Yep, always honour the contract. Your word is all you’ve got down here.” Turning his gaze back to me, he broke out in a grin. “Good show on all that, I’m proud. Always takes a lot to admit I’m right; though I usually am.” The final straw was when he unfolded a wing and draped it lazily across my back, leaning in and asking after a pause just long enough to be awkward, “What was I right about this time? Shooting dissidents?”

My posture was beyond slumped. Right then, I couldn’t even summon the will to care about Fade’s attitude, though I was sure I’d regret it later… Tailwind’s well being was worth far more to me than the ribbing I’d receive from one damaged griffon. I shrugged off his attentions and his wing, kicking off and flying straight back towards my partner.

By the time I arrived, I found Tail desperately trying to tie off a bandage on her shoulder while trying to apply pressure to the wound at the same time. With the very last of my energy, I slit to a halt beside her, breathing a soft sigh of relief when I saw her injury was comparatively superficial, having hit meat, and exited cleanly.

Fuck, I can’t believe I just wrote that…

Opening the stopper on our very last healing potion, I helped her drink it all — every last drop. Then, I gave her a long hug, whispering breathless apologies into her good shoulder as I buried my face in her mane.

Slowly, she hugged me back with her good leg, cautiously asking, “Did ya get him, chief?”

Having her there, I felt the adrenaline finally burn off, for good this time. I realized my legs were shivering, completely aside from the cold. “Yeah,” I finally managed, shakily. “Yeah, I got ‘im.” Releasing her from the hug, I looked her right in her deep green eyes, “You took out his leg for me, kept him right where I needed him.”

She shook her head as if to clear the shadow of a thought, “But why though — why did he fight? He must’ve known he would die…” She sighed as she slowly started to stand. “I can’t wrap my head around it.”

Letting out a long, low sigh, I’d finally slowed my breathing down to normal. “In the end, he said something about ‘loyalty to the contract,’ and that I wouldn’t understand… I don’t know. I kinda wish I did.” Glancing up at the sky, just how long things had taken was finally hitting home. While we’d talked, Celestia had finally slipped below the horizon. Seconds ago I was shivering from adrenaline drop, now the Cold was beginning to become a very real worry.

It was time to leave.

Author's Note

Well, this has certainly been an arc. I don't think I'll ever forget it, if nothing else because of the major life events that have happened along its creation. Might post a blog about that later in the week, but suffice to say, for everyone still with us, thank you all for your patience, and your continued interest in our humble story.

Housekeeping-wise, I can't promise the next chapter will be "soon," but it won't be the same sort of wait. After all the little technical details I've been agonising over for this (including purchasing and reading a treatise on aerial combat, something I certainly hope to bring into play in the future), a... simpler chapter... will be a nice change of pace.

Much as these chapters have been a 100% integral part of Frozen Skies, it's been something of a foray into the full breadth of a combat encounter, something I feel is often... under-represented. For one thing, a series of plot points lined up perfectly with concepts I wanted to introduce — every combat won't be this detailed, though I'll neither make promises nor let things slip simply to reassure, in that regard. If nothing else, no story can sustain something as simple as combat taking as much wordcount as these chapters have, simply for its own merit.

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 12: Consolidation

Chapter Twelve: Consolidation

They’d always beaten the lessons learned in this stage of the fight into our heads in battle school. The final stage was always the most dangerous, they’d said. You were tired, adrenaline was flushing out of your system, and everyone gets a tendency to be caught up in what had just happened, that they lose track of what still needs to be done.

It’s all too easy to fall prey to a counter attack, or in more industrious times, an artillery strike. Not an asset I anticipated Red Eye having, but it was quite clear that the tech still existed - I was willing to bet the guns of Neighson were for more than just show, and it set the precedent for expecting the unexpected. Who knew what trump card Red Eye might be holding back at this stage?

In our case, sitting still would mean a miserably cold night at best, and at worst, would leave us open to whatever force those two survivors ended up getting in contact with.

On top of that, thoughts of the quick reaction force that had caught us after the crash were more than an idle concern. Looking back, and comparing that group to what we’d just faced… there was no competition. In our state, they’d wipe the floor with us if they caught us.

The game was still on. There were matters that needed attending to, but at the forefront of my mind was the nagging desire to move on, to get things back on track, to get away from here.

We’d spent enough time dealing with this group, and it was time to leave.

–Snap Roll’s Journal

*** *** ***

Tailwind and I gave a quick flap back to where the mercenary’s body lay. Fade was there, and if I didn’t know him, I’d have thought he was performing last rites on the griffon – instead, he was merely looting the body, having already strapped the massive knife at his side (if the weapon stretching the length of my entire leg could still be termed such). I touched down just as he laid his claws on the dead griffon’s carbine. Without preamble, I stated “That’s mine, Fade.”

Fade stopped what he was doing, letting the statement hang in the air for a moment before turning and hooking a thumb back towards the corpse. “Him?” He asked, incredulous, “I’m not certain why you’d want a corpse, but I doubt the reasons would be acceptable in the wastes, let alone your Enclave. Also, I’d like to remind you that the Talon is a he, and not a thing despite being dead. We do have genders, thank you very much.”

Cocking my head to the side and blinking, it seemed my (rather abrupt) statement had led to a degree of confusion. “I mean the gun, Fade. I’ve taken all day trying to kill this bastard; I’m taking what I want of his stuff.” Finishing with a nod, I was quite content with my logic. It was, admittedly, based on assumptions I’d made regarding wasteland “etiquette” on such things. To accentuate my point, I gestured with a hoof at the various weapons adorning his body – rifle, light machinegun, multiple pistols and a skies damn sword strapped, slung, holstered and sheathed on his body – not to mention the Anti-material rifle resting on the ground beside him. “Or do you seriously not have enough at this point? I mean, there’s being prepared, and then there’s whatever this is.”

The griffon turned an eye to the small armoury adorning his body and made a scornful “tsk” noise with his beak. “This, my dear,” Fade replied as he turned back to us, raising a talon skyward, “Is what the Wastes call economics. You can’t get something for nothing and weapons go for a premium - one that only grows the farther from population centres you get.” He gestured expansively, allowing his weaponry to hang freely, “While it might look excessive, what I’m carrying here is a fair bargaining chip should we need it.”

Fade tossed a nod back, towards the mercenary and his rifle, “As for first pick; there is no such thing down here. Unless you’re a raider boss or something similar, finder’s rule goes. You passed off the take so it was fair claim. On top of that, how would you even use it? The gun was built for a creature with digits, as are all griffon-built arms… Unless you intend to roll about in some Taint and pray your flesh doesn’t melt off, I fail to see how you would operate it.”

I gave off a subvocal growl when he insisted that going to help Tailwind constituted passing off the right to a perfectly good firearm, potentially suited perfectly to how I fought – relatively small, possibly easy enough to control once it was mounted to a battlesaddle; but with enough punch to reliably cut through armour at least as good as my own. In all, a solid weapon.

As he finished his explication on Wasteland Economics, I saw an opening and went for it. “Aha, but I’ve got a battlesaddle, with more to be salvaged from the combat earlier. The SMG I had when we met didn’t even have a grip, but it could still be mounted and fired. We could do the same with that carbine, easily enough.” Pausing a moment, I amended, “Well, Bernard could, anyways.” With a shake of my head, I returned to the topic at hoof. “At any rate, yes I can find a use for it. May I have it, Fade?”

Fade shifted his weight and airily waved my argument off with a taloned hand. “I’ll concede that you could mount and utilize the gun. However, as I stated this is a matter of economics; your having a use for it doesn’t say what’s in the trade for me.”

Well, we’re on to the negotiation stage. I suppose that’s progress… maybe I can get something out of this.

Sauntering towards the griffon, I cockily swayed my hips and batted my eyes in his direction. “See anything you like?” I asked huskily.

Now, I wasn’t really expecting the tactic to work, but I was rather low on bargaining material at the time. “Material” in the tangible sense – most of the sellable kit had been sold back in Neighson to get us food, ammo, medical supplies and such.

His unimpressed look was all I needed to conclude that line of reasoning wouldn’t fly. I dug deep, thinking of everything I had available – and for that matter, anything I was somewhat likely to come across.

Finally, I decided.

“I’ll get you a hat,” I started, putting on my most sincere smile, “A fancy hat…?”

In hindsight, Fade had never been particularly vulnerable to cajoling.

“What?” the griffon replied as if offended, straightening the slightly askewed fur covering his head, “You think there’s something wrong with what I’ve got? I’ll have you know I pulled this out of an abandoned military outpost! It’s in near perfect condition!”

That’s what it’s supposed to look like? Everfree winds, that poor fashion accessory…

Seeing my bargaining position rapidly slipping away from me, I thought as hard and as… abstractly as I could. What would Fade actually want?

I had an idea.

“I will find you a thing, Fade,” I stated with conviction. “I don’t know what it is yet, but when I see it I’ll know. There won’t be another thing like it, unlike that carbine there. What’cha say to that?”

The possibilities running through Fade’s mind were positively writ across his face, as his hands idly tied themselves in knots. I caught a sense of delight dancing through those constantly shifting eyes of his. He clamped down, focusing on me again. “A thing, you say?” He replied, “Sounds awfully vague. How can I be sure you’ll actually follow through or it’ll be of equal value? Will it be big? Small? Shiny? You’ve left a lot of questions here.” He leaned forwards. “You’ll be indebted; are you sure you want to deal with that?”

This was the one, I thought – but I had to play it up. To sink the bait, as it were.

I gave him a soft smile, “Oh, I’ll pay. But you’re gonna have to stick around ‘til I do. And no mistake, it might be hard, but on my honour as a fellow flier, I will make certain to get you a thing. Not necessarily a big thing, nor a small thing, but a remarkable thing.”

The whole argument was so much less logical than I’d ever argued before, but I could see what looked like the beginnings of acceptance in his body language. I let him wait, not offering any more, simply letting the offer sit there, tempting in a way I couldn’t empathise with, but was perfectly willing to exploit. Finally, Fade raised a talon in a conciliatory fashion and began to speak, “Well, the offer is far less solid than I would usually go for, very few would accept a promise as payment in the Wasteland, but I’m willing to go along with it as I can make sure you follow through on it. It’s also probably in my best interest that you have something more powerful than your bugzapper when we get into another scuffle.” He took a breath just as I held my own, optimistically.

“However.”

Of course there’s a condition. There was always a condition.

“I will accept with one additional term; that you assist me in laying our Talon friend to rest. We might have been on opposite sides, but I would be remiss to not see him properly interred.” He fixed me with a level stare and offered an open talon, “Do we have an agreement?”

His request surprised me, causing my wings to give a soft flutter. Glancing at the corpse, I gave a soft sigh. He’d pissed me off, he’d hurt Tailwind… but at the end of the day, he’d fought for his own cause, his own beliefs… just as I had. “Agreed,” I nodded my assent to the conditions, turning back to Fade, “I’ll lend a hoof.” I reached forwards with a forehoof, letting his talon clasp around it. I knew he’d be gentle, but I guess there was simply a degree of trust inherent to a griffon-pony handshake in the first place. “What sort of last rites were you thinking of?”

Fade seemed momentarily taken aback by my acceptance. Coming to terms with my response, he gave a terse single shake of my hoof, taking deliberate care with the talons as he did. “Nothing fancy or overly involved,” He replied, glancing over at the mercenary, “I want to get him up on top of one of these boulders, give him a sky burial. There’s… a lack of birds, not to mention sky for that matter, but it’ll have to do.” Stepping to it, he stepped over to the corpse and shifted the body so he could lift his end. “I’ll go from the shoulders if you’ll take his legs. Do mind the wings also, liable to be a bit loose at this point...”

Following Fade’s lead, we set to picking up the corpse and moving him to the top of the boulder. The whole operation was… surreal. I’d now participated in one more ritual for the dead. It wasn’t particularly involved, there wasn’t anything special said or done… but there was a certain reverence, something I can’t quite put words to about the whole scene. Not the least of which was the oddity that was Fade seeming to care for the dead… though I suppose him caring more for his own kind shouldn’t have surprised me.

At any rate, between Fade, Tailwind and myself, the task was completed easily enough. Once we’d lifted him onto the boulder, Fade took a moment to compose the corpse - folding his talons atop his chest, and straightening out his posture. Taking a step back to appraise his work, he ultimately let out a small sigh.

Tailwind stepped up beside him. “Pardon me for saying, Fade, but I wouldn’t have expected something like this from you.”

Fade reached up to remove his hat, raking the claws of his opposite hand through his crest briefly before replying, “Kin is kin. We honour our own, regardless of side.” Pausing a moment as if to think, he added, “Not exactly many of us around. If we don’t do things such as this for each other, who will?” He then replaced his headdress without further explanation.

Taking that in for a moment, Tailwind seemed unsatisfied with the answer. It didn’t explain the side of things that was Fade, and his very… unique personality. In the end, she turned away, unwilling to press the issue.

Fade brushed away any lingering snow from his person, then turned to Tailwind and I. “Well then, should we not be getting back before the others start to worry?”

*** *** ***

By the time we returned, the sun was down. Dropping temperatures brought about an increase in the winds, which had been threatening to do exactly that since earlier in the day. The falling snow had continued, but the gale whipped it against our faces and sapped heat from any tears in our barding - in particular my injured shoulder and Tailwind’s foreleg. Flight expedited our return, but it was clear that by the time we were ready to move out with the others, we’d be ground-bound like everyone else.

Gliding back, we made our approach as obvious as we could, coming in slow and shallow. After the day we’d had, getting shot by our own seemed like the ultimate bad joke.

Below, we could see Ebb continuing to plug away at the grave while Crafter dutifully watched her. Across from them, Frostfire was still being an obvious sentinel over her comrades, though I suppose we could be grateful for the degree of overwatch she was granting - if anyone were to shoot at us, they’d probably go for her first. Finally, Bernard was more difficult to spot than the others - but as we came in on approach, he made his presence known by leaning out of cover behind one of the small knots of trees.

I settled in to land beside Crafter, descending and eventually touching down at a quick trot. As I came up next to him, I casually asked, “Did we miss anything good?”

It hadn’t been my intent to spook him, but whatever thoughts had occupied him, they had apparently been neither keeping an eye on Ebb (who, incidentally, continued to work regardless), nor watching for our approach. I swear he jumped a foot into the air, frantically fumbling with whatever radio station he’d managed to pick up on his pipbuck, shutting it off and making an attempt at monitoring the mare in what was steadily becoming a shallow grave. “Uh- um, nope!” He replied, “She hasn’t run. See?” He pointed towards Ebb.

She flashed me an unamused glare, probably warranted, before returning to work, using her magic to blast another piece of frozen dirt into tiny earthen fragments.

“Excellent,” I replied easily, brushing past describing what went down on our little expedition. “We’ll see what Fade has planned for the, ah, hole, then get the hell out of here.” As I finished, I’d already started cantering towards Bernard without waiting for a reply.

The older stallion was standing off to one side, using a tree for cover from the wind and watching out into the deepening gloom. A ground sheet had been laid out near him, with the weapons, food and equipment taken from the dead mostly organized upon it. Even still, snow was beginning to accumulate on the gear such that it would need to be cleared away before we packed up. Tailwind and Fade were just finishing their own landings, and I could just hear quiet greetings as they met up with Crafter back near the pit.

Fifty some-odd meters away, Frostfire hadn’t moved from what was left of her team. She hardly even spared a look in our direction, probably just checking on movement reported by her EFS. I was entirely willing to respect her request not to touch her friends’ equipment, but she seemed to not entirely trust my word on the matter; She certainly didn’t seem to want to talk about it.

Can’t be helped, I suppose.

“Bernard,” I called out as finished my approach, “Think you might be able to rig up a griffon weapon to fit one of the captured battlesaddles? Mine’s… a little shot up, figure it’s about time for an upgrade.”

He gave a quick glance at the weapon, currently strapped to my saddlebags, “Yeah, I think so,” he replied, “I’ll need some tools, spare parts and such. Might need to scrap some of the Red Eye guns to get it to shoot right, though.” Leaning close, he added quietly, “Do you know why she’s here?” Bernard asked, inclining his head towards where Ebb was continuing to blast dirt clods into the air.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” I replied, “For now, let's humour Fade and… keep her around, I guess. I certainly don’t plan to kill her, or let him kill her for that matter, and leaving her at the mercy of the Ranger over there would be the same.” I cocked my head in the direction of Frostfire.

Bernard seemed to dwell on my words for a moment before giving a small nod. “Do you know where we’re gonna bed down for the night?” He asked, glancing anxiously into the dark.

“Good question,” I replied, “We’ll see what Ebb has to say. They had to have somewhere they could get to if the weather had turned sour while they were out here.”

Glancing at the wide selection of weapons that had been assembled over the ground sheet, I gave a soft whistle. “What’s the tally?”

He gave a soft grunt before rattling off what I could mostly see for myself, “They had already had a couple fights, so what we’re seeing is what they had left before they would have had to pull back. It’s a mixed bag of conditions, too. Two automatic rifles - one of which took a round through the upper receiver, it’s parts at this point; one lever action carbine, four bolt action rifles and the twin machinegun to the one Fade’s carrying.” He paused a moment, seeming to do a quick mental tally, “Plus five pistols and, naturally, the AM rifle that Fade also has.” He shook his head, as if clearing his thoughts of how much the griffon could comfortably carry. “Far as ammo commonality goes, the autos and the machineguns share an ammo type - of which we have quite a bit - but we’ve only got so much link for the ‘guns. We scraped up as much as we could from where Fade was firing, so we can link up a bit more to give them another belt or two, if we get the time.”

Bernard paused, “The Carbine had its own ammo, guess the owner actually owned his own gun or some such, but it’s well maintained.” He tossed his head towards Crafter, oblivious of our conversation and conversing quietly with Tailwind, “Might suggest he gets that. He could use something a bit more deadly than his peashooter, and he proved he can use a piece safely, at the very least.”

I nodded thoughtfully.

“Aside from that,” Bernard continued, “The bolt actions are pretty beat up. They use the same ammo as Fade’s rifle, so most of that should probably go to him.” He paused, sighting his rifle and doing a quick sweep of the far treelines, looking for movement in the dark. Content, he went on to finish his report, “As for kit and such, we’ve got two battlesaddles in better condition than your own, a bunch of bedrolls and enough assorted food to last maybe a week on top of what we have, if we don’t take on any more mouths.” He nodded pointedly towards where Ebb continued to methodically work on digging a hole through the frozen dirt.

“I’ll look into that,” I replied, referring to Ebb, “But I’m not telling her ‘no’ if it comes down to it. We’ll deal with it, simple as that.”

He nodded, seemingly content that he’d said his piece.

“As for the equipment, we’ll take it all. Tail and I will be walking, especially in this weather. Portion out what we’ll be carrying proportionately.” With that, I turned on my hoof and headed for the others, leaving Bernard to do some final, minor adjustments to how exactly we’d carry all that.

The hole, such as it was, had expanded considerably since we’d left on our griffon hunt. It now measured just over the length and width of the average pony, and about two feet down. As I trotted over, I saw the edges of the hole lit with teal overglow, before a muffled “crack” not unlike an energy weapon discharging met my ears, as Ebb showered the area in a spray of frozen dirt.

It seemed to be a process that had been repeated just about countless times since we’d left - a necessity, with the frozen ground making it incredibly difficult to dig.

Approaching, I knelt at the edge of the hole, placing myself nearly at eye level with Ebb. Either not noticing, or not particularly caring one way or another, Ebb continued her work - blasting another hole in the ground, and sending a wave of dirt into my face. I figured I might’ve set myself up for that one. The sea green mare in the hole didn’t look up, simply staring down at the earth she was slowly but steadily boring into. Her mane, barding and coat were thoroughly dusted in dirt fragments, ice chunks and freshly fallen snow. “So, Ebb,” I led off, more than anything intending to preempt any further barrages of soil while we spoke. “Do you happen to know any waystations nearby, or places to shelter for the night?”

She looked up, fixing me with her turquoise gaze as she sat down with a hoof on her chin in contemplation. Her attitude was casual, but she seemed more than happy for an excuse to take a break - despite the temperature, her mane was matted with sweat. I made a mental note to stop this, even if the hole wasn’t yet to Fade’s liking. Much more and she’d be the first to freeze to death if we took too long finding shelter, a fact she was most likely well aware of.

At any rate, she made a contemplative “Hmm,” noise. “Well, we kinda blew most of those up when we moved in a while back. Both Rangers and the locals have a tendency to try and ‘hole up’-” She said, accentuating the words with hoof quotes, “-and rooting them out usually leaves the building worse for wear.”

Without particularly trying, she confirmed several suspicions I’d harboured as to the nature of Red Eye’s stance on taking territory. But that wasn’t what was going to keep us from freezing, so I didn’t comment.

She paused a moment in thought before continuing, “And I figure you don’t wanna get cozy in a ‘Red camp, so that narrows options a mite.” She put her forehoof down in realization, “Well, we did clear out some of those crazy wolf-head bastards from a cave near here a few months back, that could work for a place to bed down.”

“Sounds decent enough,” I replied, idly shaking a bit of loose dirt from my mane. It wasn’t like my mane was exactly clean - to say nothing for the rest of me - but it helped a bit. “Once we’re done here, that’s where we’re headed, if you’d be so kind as to lead us.”

Ebb shrugged, “Yeah, no problem. I think I can remember where it was for the most part.” Getting back to work, she stood up, gathered a charge in her horn, and fired off another blast of magic into the dirt, even as she continued to converse, “So um, I’m going to assume this is for somepony else then? I, ah, seem to be needed.”

With a shrug of my shoulders, I sent a light cascade of loose dirt back into the hole. My mane was pretty much a write off for the time being. “That seems to be the question of the hour,” I replied as I glanced over to where Fade and Crafter seemed to be having a similar conversation some ten meters away. “He never struck me as the type to take prisoners in the first place, but as far as I’m concerned you’re under my authority now.”

Her expression was neutral as she deadpanned, “Cool,” before letting off another blast of magic.

As we’d spoken, Crafter and Fade had ambled closer, the latter gamely leaning against the former like a crutch - or an armchair - while the former seemed to be making every possible attempt to get out of the situation he’d found himself in, efforts which so far had proved futile. The two of them had entered earshot mid-conversation, and I only caught the final bits.

Fade reached down and gave Crafter an idle prod in his barrel as he spoke, “Hey Wrenchy, think you could be a gentlecolt and give the mare a hand? The sooner it’s done, the sooner we head out. That, and I’m sure it’ll score you some points with her. Put those sparkles to use, eh?”

For his part, Crafter seemed equal parts baffled and confused as he… well, not so much replied as obliquely asked, “Umm, what’s the hole for, anyways?” He glanced back at Fade, quickly adding, “And I’m not looking for any ‘points’ or whatever.” I could only wonder if he’d been tuning the griffon out for their entire chat, or was simply oblivious.

Throwing an arm fully around his equine walking stick, leaning in and “whispering” in a voice that lacked none of its previous volume, “That, my good Wrenchy, is not simply a hole. Oh no. This excavation of ours has a much greater purpose than that. For you see, this humble pit is actually a grave. One that can only be completed for its future occupant with your help. So what do you say? Help the cause?”

Abandoning the griffon to the effects of gravity, Crafter’s horn lit briefly, lifting Fade off of his back just enough for him to slip away. “Why do you need to dig her a grave?” He asked, oblivious to the griffon staggering to regain balance behind him. “I mean, we haven’t dug one for any of her friends…” Turning back, he asked more directly, “Why do we need to kill her? What was the point of taking her here then?”

Finding his balance at last, Fade dramatically pressed a clawed hand to his chest and attempted to put up a verbal defence, “Oh ye of little faith and foresight! Simply because I have her digging a grave doesn’t mean I intend to shoot her. For that matter, one does not even have to have been shot in order to fill a grave. They can still be alive, for instance.”

My stomach turned at that. He wouldn’t!

But he continued, instead, “Also, if not her then who do you think we would get to dig said graves, hmm? I certainly wouldn’t, nor would any of our companions. I didn’t see you volunteering, after all. As for why I’ve brought her along, that is none of your concern - just know that I have my reasons.” Having said his bit, he relaxed his posture, no longer bracing himself against the unicorn, as he followed up plainly, “So, will you help or not? It’s already dark, and we’ll need every minute traveling, unless you’re particularly fond of turning into a uni-cicle, that is.”

Seeming like he wanted to argue, but ultimately thinking better of it, Crafter started to move towards the hole. “So… do you want me to start digging holes for everyone? It seems like that’s what you’re implying.”

Caught off-guard, Fade was left staring at the spot Crafter had left behind. Only when the unicorn spoke up did Fade tear his gaze back to him. Even then, he stared blankly for another moment, before replying, “No no, just help finish the one. Don’t need any more; besides, it would take far too long.” His piece said, he immediately crouched down and began drawing shapes in the snow with his talons.

As strange as the interaction was, and much as Crafter had just agreed to help out, I felt the need to pipe up. Just as Fade had said, we needed every minute, and I wasn’t about to sit and watch as we burned another ten minutes or more digging, and freezing our tails off. “Fade, this is more than enough for one pony, and we clearly aren’t making more. Is there something you’re getting at here, or can we move on?”

Giving me an exasperated sigh (I assumed, at being interrupted at whatever it was he was drawing with his talons), he replied, “It’s actually deep enough as it is. Doesn’t need to fit the whole lot of them, I only intended it to hold one.” Gesturing to the the pair in the hole, he snapped a quick order, “Right, that’s it you two. Time to come out, unless you want to stay there as well.”

As Ebb and Crafter exited the hole, the mare stumbled as she climbed out, and quickly laid down beside her handiwork. She was clearly exhausted by the tremendous magical effort, but was only letting it show once the task was complete.

Gazing over at her from where he was standing sentry, Bernard quietly grumbled, “Give me a shovel any day…”

For our part, Tailwind and I simply loitered, sharing a quick glance. She was still aloft, keeping herself occupied by “pacing” side to side while hovering a few feet off the ground. Helped to keep warm.

Hopefully this whole charade will be over with soon.

Even Fade seemed to have enough compassion to notice that Ebb was absolutely exhausted, and gave her a minute to catch her breath before plodding over to where she lay. Eventually, he spoke up. Quietly, clearly intended for her, but still loud enough that the sound carried to all present. “It’s good that you’re still here, and you did well enough on the work. For that, I thank you. I realize you’re tired, but there’s a few more things that need to get done before you can rest, though none of them are nearly as difficult.” Pausing, he tossed his head in the direction of the impromptu morgue where we’d collected the bodies. “If you’d follow me, we can get everything sorted quickly and be off.”

Ebb gave him a skeptical look, but got to her hooves and followed the griffon’s lead.

With a soft flutter of wings, Tailwind fluttered down beside me and spoke up in a curious but hopeful tone, “Anything we can do to help?” As she spoke, she fell in step with the rest of us.

“Not at the moment,” Fade replied, sparing a quick glance back to meet her gaze, “but we shall see.” After after his cryptic reply, he came to a halt just before the first of the Red Eye corpses.

In training, we’d been taught that dead bodies often shit themselves. Muscles relax, leaving the body limp for a time, before rigour mortis takes over. Thanks to the cold, on our particular battlefield the stench of blood and shit wasn’t as bad as it could have been… but battlefields the world over, I imagine, have something of a similar smell. I sincerely hope I never get used to it.

It was the most foul thing I’d ever smelt.

Fade studied the scene, as if appraising the corpses. He let out a soft “Hmm” in thought, as his eyes scanned back and forth. Eventually, he leaned towards Ebb and spoke arily, “Awful lot of trouble for such an insignificant spot don’t you think? Allegiances aside, this is a lot of death for next to no reason…” Letting the statement trail off, he took one more moment to look over the bodies before apparently seeing what he’d been looking for, and resumed speaking, now in a more instructive tone. “Now, I didn’t have you spend all that time and energy for nothing. I’m sure you’re aware I had you digging a grave, and I’m sure that you’re wondering if it was for you. It is not. It’s for one of them.” He jabbed a talon at the bodies. “I don’t care whom you choose but if there’s anypony you held particular fondness for, now is the chance to give them a proper burial. A friend, lover, kin… whichever you prefer, make your choice.” He directed his gaze back to Ebb expectantly, awaiting her decision.

The mare hung her head low, realization dawning. “Do…” she started hesitantly, the first signs of any sort of emotion tugging at her inflection. “Do you know what happened to Jasmine? She was up with the Talon bugger on the cliffside.”

Having overheard, I stepped up beside her. It took every ounce of effort to meet her gaze, but I wouldn’t pile on the shame of being dishonest about my actions. “She’s dead,” I stated solemnly. “Near the sniper roost, I know where.”

Tail glanced over to me with a faint, sad look, then dropped her gaze back to the ground. I guess she’d seen the body after all.

With a light scoff, Fade turned away and shook his head, muttering just loudly enough to be heard, “Dead is an understatement. More like spread down half the mountainside.”

His assessment was harsh, but accurate.

Ebb recoiled slightly at the description, as if physically ill from the news. “I’ll pick Flo then,” she stated simply, as she walked towards her late sister’s body.

Fade arched an eyebrow before turning to follow Ebb. “I had figured she would have been your first choice,” he mused, “Kin is kin after all. What makes this Jasmine so special?”

As sick as the spectacle made me, I couldn’t help but listen. It seemed like dragging her feelings out in front of us… but maybe, just maybe, all this could help her with some sort of closure. I can’t fathom Fade at the best of times, but some part of me judged that it was best to stay quiet, and let him draw her into talking.

“Well,” She began, “Me and Flo knew what we were getting into here, knew the cost. Jasmine though… well, she didn’t have a choice, not really. She joined to give her family the right to keep their settlement West of here.” She came to a halt before her sister’s corpse. “She did it to save her family, and she did her damndest to make sure we were all cared for.” She turned back to us, and I realized this was, to an extent, an eulogy, as much as it could be given the circumstances. “Her compassion made her a target for that Talon merc, Griff. As far as I’m concerned she’s the only one outta the lot of us that didn’t deserve what happened here.”

I bit my lip and glanced away.

This isn’t something I can afford to forget. Not now, not ever. The cost of conflict has always been measured in suffering. It hurts, even to be on the inflicting side. This is what it means to be the willing aggressor.

I had a lot to think about, but now wasn’t the time.

Ebb made an initial attempt to levitate her sister’s body, but after a few unsuccessful fizzles of her horn, she abandoned the notion and simply bit her tail and started to drag her through the snow.

My body made a motion to move forwards, to help. An unconscious instinct, almost without thinking about it. Fade fixed me in place with a glare, and an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

It had to be her.

Speaking up, Fade seemed to have overlooked my unintentional gaffe. “In the wasteland, compassion is a target,” he commented as he trod along beside Ebb, opposite the corpse. “If it’s not a show of strength, it’s perceived as weakness and it will be preyed upon eventually.” He took a few more steps in silence, casting his eyes to the cloud layer and sniffing, as if testing the air, before adding plainly, “Sad fact, that. But a fact it is regardless.”

We arrived at the edge of the shallow grave, as Crafter felt the need to reply, “It wasn’t her fault there wasn’t compassion there for her. If we all had a bit more compassion, maybe we wouldn’t have made as much of a mess of the world as we did.”

Without ceremony, Ebb pushed her sister’s corpse into the grave. “I don’t care,” She stated, and by her tone, I could tell she was trying to believe it. “She’s dead, and so is my sister. By all accounts, I probably will be soon as well.” She gazed down into the pit for a short while in thought, before adding, “Nothing but dirt and memories…”

She turned to Crafter after shaking her head, as if to clear her thoughts. “The wastes don’t owe us shit, short stuff. Least of all compassion. You of all ponies should know our forbears used up the last reserves of that a long time ago.”

Fade nodded his agreement, clicking his beak and adding cryptically, “Burned off in the fires of the megaspells. A harsh world after a harsh, blind end.”

His statement caught me off guard, a surprisingly insightful glimpse into the griffon’s worldview. He’d never offered any particular opinion on the violent end to the war, I’d somewhat assumed it simply wasn’t a matter that concerned him overly much. That certainly seemed to be in error, though I hardly had the time to give the revelations proper consideration.

Crafter turned away from Fade with a frustrated shake of his head, his own thoughts on the matter abbreviated to a bitter sounding statement: “Obviously not.” Without further comment, he lit his horn and began to help Ebb fill in the hole.

Tailwind wrung her hooves together behind me, glancing from one party to another. She was clearly ill at ease with the way things had gone down, but couldn’t find words to weigh in either way.

I could sympathize.

As the pair of unicorns filled the shallow grave with loose earth and snow, I buried my own tumultuous thoughts on the world’s end. “We’re still here,” I stated, in an attempt to break the current tack of the conversation. “And we aren’t dying tonight; none of us.” I pointedly met Ebb’s eyes. I still didn’t understand her outlook on life, but I wanted to reinforce my own stance on the matter: that she’d live long enough to sort things out, if I had any say about it. Turning to the rest of the group, I began issuing new orders. “Bernard’s already sorted out the gear and supply situation; we just need to pack it up, then Ebb will be leading the way to a cave her group cleared out some time ago.” I nodded to the mare as I mentioned her, prompting a blink but not much else.

I cast my gaze over the group. It was the first I’d mentioned of the cave, and I expected at least some push-back on the idea, especially the part where I was placing Ebb in a position to direct us. Bernard seemed to accept the course of events with his usual taciturn expression, with a bit of a smile lightening his features - the prospect of not sleeping in the elements can have that sort of effect, I suppose. Fade merely nodded.

Surprisingly, it was from Crafter that resistance materialized. “Wait a second,” He opined, “How come we’re letting her lead? She could march us into… well, a trap or something.” For her part, Ebb seemed to regard the statement as being, objectively, a fairly reasonable fear.

“Yeah,” I replied, walking right up to his nose, uncomfortably close I imagine. “She could. But honestly, at the end of the day she’d rather not freeze to death, a sentiment I’m sure you can agree with. Right now, we’re trusting her just as much as we need to.” I kept my expression relatively neutral.

“But…” He cringed, glancing Ebb’s way awkwardly.

“I’m not telling you to like it, Crafter,” I allowed a harsher tone enter my voice. It had been a long day, and while Crafter probably didn’t deserve it, I was done pissing around in that particular frozen, desolate shithole. “I’m telling you to do it.”

Crafter backed off, looking confused, and a little hurt. But he didn’t press the issue. Seeing the exchange, Bernard met my gaze and gave me a small nod, almost imperceptible. Fade seemed pensive, glancing over at Ebb and wringing his talons together idly, but didn’t speak up.

Tailwind gave me a sad look, a hint of pity in her deep green eyes.

That look seemed to hurt more than the rest of the day combined, but I wasn’t willing to let that show in front of the others. I could deal with it on my own time, I figured.

“Keep your spacing on the move,” I finished, as if my orders hadn’t been entirely sidetracked by Crafter. I hardly even thought about what I was saying, operating more or less on past repetition and muscle memory. My thoughts were elsewhere. “Don’t switch off just because we won a fight - who knows what might still be out there.

“We step off in five.”

Author's Note

Well, no more promises on Chapter release dates I suppose. They happen when they happen.

Thank you all for sticking around. Finding time to make progress on stuff like this has been a slog lately, but the effort always feels very worthwhile once it's done - getting there's always the tough bit.

Journal entry to follow. A lot of things relevant to this story have happened recently, and while I'll go into it in a bit more detail later, in summary we're looking to get things back in motion on the writing front, more than already has been done.

Until then, thanks again readers!

Chapter 13: Reprieve

Chapter 13: Reprieve

Looking back, it blows my mind that all that happened in only a few short hours. Our first steps out of Neighson, and they led straight into what felt like one of the longest days of my life.

All that work though, and we weren’t out of danger yet. It makes for a poor story, but the evening trek from the ambush site proved every bit as physically and emotionally draining as the combat before it.

Worn out, tired, hurt and hungry. Freezing our rumps off while marching towards a tenuous shelter, all the while relying on the word of a mare who had been our enemy mere hours before. On top of that, there was the constant threat of the unknown enemy, exacerbated by the conditions.

The snow had stopped as the temperature fell, and every snow-crunching footstep was deafening in the still air. Visibility was good, but the lack of a moon overhead lent the world a low contrast that tired the eyes just trying to make sense of it.

Words alone can’t do it justice, but that trek was a wake up call for what navigating the Northern nights was all about.

–Snap Roll’s Journal

*** *** ***

It was a few hours after we’d left the ambush site. Our halfway-frozen and variously injured forms were forcing our way up the Southern slope of the valley, moving steadily, if not particularly quickly towards the haven Ebb had promised us. One hoof in front of the other, we slogged our way through the snow.

The wound in my shoulder had faded to a dull ache, but I was pretty sure blood had frozen into the fabric. I felt my hooves more from the impact of punching through a crusty layer of snow than any real sensory input. On top of that, the tips of my mane had frozen into icy little needles that weighed heavily on my head, and frost had formed a crust on just about every exposed bit of cloth or steel.

The group as a whole wasn’t faring much better, but aside from some initial griping, a sense of inevitability seemed to have fallen over us all. If anyone had spoken in the last hour, I hadn’t noticed.

My cold-fatigued brain was just beginning to wonder how long it would be until Fade started calling me a “peg-icicle” when we caught our first glimpse of our destination. It wasn’t much to look at, but that pair of boulders lodged against the rock face was the best thing I’d seen all day.

Ebb had led us true, and we’d found the Lobos cave just as she described it. We might have even missed it had it not been for the scorch marks against the rocks, or the shell casings our hooves disturbed as we made our way forwards through a thick layer of undisturbed snow. It seemed like nopony had been there since the battle, but I wasn’t about to take chances.

With a wave of my wing I motioned Crafter and Tailwind up, then signalled for the others to hold position while we cleared the cavern. Fade and Bernard took up firing positions, while keeping Ebb close at hoof.

“Call it, Chief,” Tailwind whispered once the two of them formed up behind me. I could see her shivering under her barding, but she managed to keep it from her voice.

I nodded. “I’ll lead, Tail you take second. Crafter, follow in right behind us, scanning with EFS. Let's get this over with, and get out of the cold.”

Tailwind’s reply was a curt nod, as she slipped into position behind me.

Crafter looked around, presumably giving a preparatory scan on his EFS. He quickly nodded, ready. His lips were beginning to look blue, and his movements were sluggish.

With comparatively fluid movements, Tail and I moved in, with Crafter not far behind us once he adjusted to our speed. Not to put too fine a point on it, but Crafter was there as EFS-based early warning and magical support… Fair, I think, as this was his first exposure to something like building clearance, much less having the training to do it.

It became immediately apparent that there weren’t any light sources left in the cave, and no smoke funneling out the entrance meant there probably wasn’t a covered fire or something inside, either. I glanced back, giving a slight nod to Crafter once I managed to catch his gaze. “Crafter, light it up, but stay quiet.”

He nodded back, then lit his horn and created a magical flare on the tip of a stalactite visible from the entrance.

The light threw the area into harsh, flickering contrast as it revealed branches left and right almost immediately after entering the cavern. The light also revealed a grisly sight, if somewhat dated. There was a body laying just inside of the entrance, clearly one of the Lobos judging from the spiral tattoos running from his muzzle down beneath his barding of furs. He’d died from a series of gunshot wounds, his lifeblood long ago bled out and frozen against the wall and floor. I knelt down briefly, pressing a hoof to the side of his cheek – His corpse didn’t even give way, frozen solid where he’d fallen. Virtually impossible to tell how long it had been, but for all I could tell, it could have been a month ago, or yesterday. Evidence so far seemed to back up Ebb’s story, and I didn’t really believe she was in a position to lie… but I’d trained to be thorough, when time allowed.

Getting to my hooves again, I resumed the advance with only a quick nod to the others.

It was far from the last body we passed. Corpses laid where they’d fallen trying to hold this place, and as we moved to the fork in the cave, we could see the main settlement – a spitting image of the locale we’d stayed the night in only a few days before, aside from the wreckage of tents, frozen bodies and evidence of ransacked equipment. By contrast, the path off to the right led to a small pool of water, rippling gently on some unknown current, with soft wisps of condensation emanating from the room. On that side of the cave, there were no obvious signs of destruction.

Seeing what I needed to, I moved us off to the left. We’d check the unusual pool later. I wasn’t expecting survivors, but I wanted to see what we had to work with before making the call to move the others into the cave.

The Lobos had fought to the death, that much was certain once we moved into what had been the living area. Hasty barricades, pools of blood and frozen bodies spoke of a hold-out scenario that only ever had one outcome. The weapons, equipment, and the wolf-skull helmets were missing – I’d expected the former, but the latter seemed to me that they were sending a message to any other tribes that happened upon the cave.

The interior of the cave was frozen, but only just. I got the impression that it was simply from a lack of heat – even a small fire would gradually warm the area, and the maze-like entrance seemed to act as something of a naturally insulated barrier.

Near the very back of the cave, I spotted a small alcove nestled against the rock face, with ruined tents positioned such that their bulk partially blocked the small sub-cavern.

I motioned with a wing towards the alcove, getting a pair of nods in response. Moving in, I kept my gaze and weapon up.

Ultimately, the effort was for naught.

As I rounded the corner, the flickering light of Crafter’s spell cast shadows upon the scene before me. The alcove was small, no more than a couple square meters hidden from view by a stalactite structure and the pair of tents near its entrance. I saw four tiny bodies huddled in the corner, guarded even in death by an elderly stallion.

The bullet casings and blood told the grim ending to that story.

Glancing down, I set my lips in a tight line and gave a soft nod of respect to the dead stallion. Turning my body sideways, I intentionally placed myself between the others and the sad scene that had played out its bitter conclusion. I think it still showed in my eyes – the pain I tried, perhaps in vain, to shield them from.

“We’re done here,” I stated, “It’s clear.” I was eager to change topics and get the hell away from there, adding, “Let’s check back with the others, this place will do. We’ll check that pool near the entrance afterwards.”

As we trotted back out, postures relaxed, the others seemed relieved. Bernard and Ebb were both hunched up in their barding, trying to eke out what warmth they could. Fade seemed almost disinterested, brushing flakes of frost off of his wingtips with a talon as he scanned the valley behind us for any sort of movement. Bernard caught my eye, and I guess my emotions from back in the cave showed pretty clearly – Softly, he simply asked, “Foals?”

“Yeah… foals,” I replied distantly. “The cave’s clear. Looks like there’s some sort of pool off to one side, we’ll have to check that out. Otherwise, we’ll have to find a place for the bodies before starting a fire. We don’t need them thawing out on us.” Finding my voice, I called out to the remainder of the group, “Fade, Ebb. The cave’s clear, at least the living area. Come on in.”

The others filed in, Fade sticking close to Ebb, with Crafter and Bernard following in behind. Once everyone was out of the elements, I finally let myself breathe a sigh of relief. That agonizingly long day was coming to an end. All that was left, was sorting out what exactly we’d found in that cave.

First things first, I decided to check out the peculiar water system, trotting over to the right hand side of the cave, and the pool of water at its center. As I moved in, I noticed a pathway continuing this side of the cave, maybe three meters wide and hidden from the entrance by the natural curve of the rock. I’m no geologist, but I figure the pool was probably the source of the cave itself, gradually carving its way through solid rock, and creating the tunnels we were taking shelter in. The generally smooth sides and floor of the cave supported the theory. The air on this side was actually warm (rather than simply not cold, like the living area), above freezing even. Soft wisps of steam curled from the water, and Despite a few lingering reservations about interacting with untreated surface water, I decided to dip the tip of a forehoof beneath the water.

The water wasn’t too hot, nor cold. In fact, it was quite a pleasant temperature, making my hoof begin to tingle with warmth almost immediately. It was only reluctantly that I pulled my hoof back, mindful that we hadn’t actually tested the water for anything harmful. “Hey Crafter,” I called back, to where he and the others were still shaking the snow and frost out of their barding and kit. “Could you come here with that Pipbuck for a sec? I want to see just how irradiated this water is.” Now, my hoof didn’t feel tingly or anything, but from my (admittedly limited, and most certainly biased) knowledge of balefire radiation, that didn’t necessarily mean anything.

With a simple nod, he cantered over to the edge of the pool, leaned over and put his forehoof near the surface, keeping an eye on the readout. After a few seconds, he seemed to be satisfied, and summarized his findings as he glanced back to me. “Well, it looks to be free of radiation, aside from normal background levels.” As an afterthought, he added, “It’s got a really high mineral content though. I dunno what that means, but it seemed notable.”

I raised an eyebrow at that, deciding that this had to be the cave that the terminal back in the other lobos cave had referred to. If that was the case, then there had to be another storage-type room, like the one a certain teal mare had gotten trapped in a couple days ago. At length, I replied, “Well, there’s a stroke of luck. Let’s scout out this side passage, then we can start looking at getting set up for the night.” As I spoke, I started to move towards the side passageway, with Tailwind again falling into step beside me. Surprisingly, so did Crafter, leaving the others to their own devices for the time being.

The small path quickly narrowed even further to about a meter and a half across, and led at a slight upwards angle – probably formed by some sort of runoff, back when this area actually thawed for a portion of the year. We’d hardly gone around the first bend when we came up short at the foot of a very heavy set door with a terminal built into the left side. Not unlike what I’d been led to believe Stable doors looked like, this one seemed… smaller in scale, more like a blast door on a Raptor than an apocalypse shelter.

Scorch marks and blast scarring across the door’s surface and the surrounding walls spoke of serious attempts to force entry, ultimately abandoned.

Crafter immediately trotted up to the terminal mounted on the wall. Blast fragments had severed a few of the cables connecting to the terminal. Its screen cover was spiderwebbed with cracks, presumably from the explosions, and the screen was dead.

Without prompting, Crafter immediately set to the task, rooting around in his packs for a few seconds before finding what he needed – a few standard power and data cords, probably still there from his last day of work in the Stable. He stripped the old wiring back from the damaged parts, and spliced what he could see. The whole process took maybe a minute, and left me quietly impressed with his magical dexterity.

As he connected the very last few strands of the power wires, an electric crackle filled the quiet air and a few small sparks leapt from the connection. Crafter stumbled back, probably as surprised as we were. We all watched for a few moments, before the soft glow of the terminal’s boot-up filled the mostly dark tunnel.

Cantering over, I gave Crafter a comradely slap on the back as I asked innocently back in Tailwind’s direction, “Think it still works?” I’d be lying if there wasn’t a hint of challenge in my tone.

Tailwind stepped to work in a flash, giving the keys a few experimental pokes with her wingtips. “Yeah, seems to have reconnected just fine. Surprising that it works at all, all things considered.” She sidled up to the console and started to dig through subroutines and backdoor access codes. It took only a few moments before her muzzle scrunched up and she let out a low whistle, “This is… pretty substantial encryption here. Somepony knew what they were doing when they locked this thing.”

“Seems like this is the second cave from that report you found,” I idly commented as she typed away, “What with the mineral spring and all.” The message had mentioned that the ponies back then hadn’t been able to get past the writer’s security, but almost two hundred years had passed since then. Anything could have happened, and I wasn’t about to take chances.

“Yeah… it would seem so,” Tailwind replied distantly, her attention focused on the console as she backed out and reset the log-in counter for the second time.

Seeing that the process might take a while, I commented quietly, to avoid distracting her, “I’ll leave you to this. If you need a hoof, just give me a shout.” I hesitated just a second, feeling awkward just standing there when there were still things that needed attending to in the other cave. I turned on my heel, and headed back towards the others, and the mineral spring.

Crafter stayed behind, quietly watching her work.

*** *** ***

Returning to the others, I caught the tail end of a conversation between Ebb and Fade. The mare was standing at the edge of the pool, gazing down into it as she asked, “So does the… uh, ‘mineral level’ mean we can’t drink it? How does that work?”

Fade seemed to have been staring off into nothing again, as his gaze snapped back to her, then the pond, then back to her before he let out a contemplative “Hmm.” He shrugged his shoulders and leaned forwards, swirling a talon in the softly steaming liquid, offering in reply, “Considering the Tribals took up residence in this wretched hive, I’d guess it’s fine. Minerals just come from rocks, or are rocks, I think.” He removed his talon, gazing contemplatively at the liquid that clung to the surface of his talon. “Kind of hard to avoid in this instance, or ever really. Water’s always on the ground, and the ground is mostly rocks…” He let his sentence trail off as he once again stared back into the pond. A few moments went by, before he flicked his eyes back to Ebb, asking, “So… gonna try it? If Wrenchy says it’s okay, it probably won’t kill you. Well, his Pipbuck at least. He doesn’t know much about anything to be honest… including his Pipbuck.”

With merely a shrug in response, Ebb leaned down to the pool and took a long draught of the water. After her drink she leaned back, wiping residue from her muzzle with a forehoof and wearing a disgusted look, “Eww, oh my goddesses that tastes awful!” She shook her head and spat towards the side of the cave, “Ugh, I forgot what warm water tasted like, too.”

Fade watched her with what might have been trepidation, though it’s hard to tell with him. When she was clearly not permanently harmed by the experience, he let out a held breath, reaching back to retrieve his waterskin from a pouch in his jacket. He drained the remainder of the skin, and refilled it from the non-fatal source of water that stood before us. Grinning slightly, he sat back and replaced the plug, giving the container a shake for emphasis. “And now you remember,” he replied, “but more importantly, you’ve confirmed that the water is drinkable. A noble service if ever there was one.”

Seeing Ebb’s reaction to the water from where he’d sat down between a pair of stalactites, Bernard piped up, “Is there any way to make the water more palatable at all?”

Seeing the potential to join in on the conversation, I gave a quiet cough, and all three looked up to see me. “There’s a sealed blast door, looks like it’s been that way for a while. Tailwind and Crafter are looking to get it open.” I wasn’t sure how much it added to their conversation, but it might direct it somewhere, at least.

“Ahh,” Fade replied, looking up at me. “Might explain the clean water then. The area is filled with caves, a fair number of them stuffed to bursting with pre-war technology and such. Lots of research installations from what I’ve found. Makes sense with Neighson being close by.” Following his moment of surprising lucidity, he seemed to do a double take as he spotted Bernard sitting off in the corner. The griffon wheeled around and going into a crouch. It seemed… well, typical of him, is the best I can describe it as.

Deciding to ignore the fact that Fade lost track of one of our party members, I decided to throw Bernard a bone, giving a non-verbal “Umm,” as I rifled through the pouches on my saddlebags, I finally found what I was looking for, deep in one of the pockets that had once held rations, back when we still had some Enclave-issue food. Producing a pair of small packets, I held them up. “Until then, we’ve got drink mix, ‘purple’ flavour, and ‘instant coffee’ if anyone is brave enough to attempt that,” I offered helpfully.

Fade snapped out of his daze as soon as I finished speaking, holding up a talon to interject, “The last one is mine, if you do recall, miss. Something I’m owed by your other half, but I’ll accept it from you, in her stead.” Dropping his hand, he peered back over his shoulder at Bernard, adding, “This so called ‘purple’ drink is all yours if you’d like it. Given the title I do question if it will improve the quality of the water, or deteriorate it further. Choice is yours; best of luck.”

Seeing the small packets and Fade’s indignation, Bernard shot me a skeptical look. “What does ‘purple’ even taste like?” He asked.

“Oh, it’s all yours,” I replied to Fade, tossing the packet of coffee to him, neatly caught in his taloned grip, as he set off to presumably begin brewing the foul concoction. I’d tried the bitter drink on too many occasions already, and honestly I didn’t know what he saw in it, aside from bludgeoning your brain into waking up by being simply terrible.

Come to think of it, maybe I’ve just stumbled upon why he fixated on the stuff.

Regardless, if it paid a debt, I was all for it.

Cantering over to Bernard and leaving Fade to inspect his treat, I replied, “They made it taste… sweet, I suppose. Like somepony who had never tasted a grape attempting to emulate the flavour and failing.”

“Well,” Bernard replied with a sigh, “I can’t say I’ve ever had a grape before, so I guess the memory isn’t there to disappoint me.” Reluctantly retrieving the packet I passed him, he trotted over to the pool to fill his own canteen.

Fade seemed momentarily content to examine his prize, turning the packet over in his talons this way and that, reading the “Instant Coffee” printed on both sides of the small packet in seeming every direction he was capable of, then giving the whole thing an exploratory shake.

He glanced over to me, as close to pleading as I’d ever seen him. “Now what?” He asked.

It was a trial to keep the smile off my face, one I ultimately failed. Fade, hardened griffon merc Fade, was completely at a loss when it came to a humble coffee packet. “Well,” I replied, “I’m not gonna pretend to be an expert, but I believe you need boiling water. You’ll need a fire, which is fantastic because we need one of those anyways.” I paused, shifting my weight from hoof to hoof before I added, “The living area is an abattoir, but there’s shelter enough for us. We could make a fire there.”

After having filled up his cup and poured his packet into the drink, Bernard trotted over to where he’d left his saddlebags, sitting down to favour his drink. He gave it a quick shake to mix it around, then gave a tentative sip. “Well it’s not bad…” He took another. “Or good really, for that matter.” He concluded. Despite that, he continued to drink, so I’d chalk that one up as a success.

Glancing from Bernard, to the coffee packet, to myself, Fade seemed to come to his own conclusion. “A fire it is, then,” he stated in affirmation, adding on an emphatic nod for good measure. Stepping off at a brisk pace, he came up short beside me, speaking in a soft tone with a sad smile on his beak, “I heard about the previous residents. Their young. I said you can’t reason with Red Eye, now maybe you see.” Not waiting for a response, he returned to his previous pace, turning the corner to the living quarters and disappearing from view.

Surprisingly, Ebb dutifully followed him. I wasn’t sure if she also wanted the warmth of a fire, or if she was operating under the assumption that she was all but tethered to Fade for the time being.

Bernard gave me a glance, before stoppering his canteen and following the others. Was it sympathy in his eyes? Was there something on my face?

As he rounded the corner, I reached up with a hoof to touch my cheek, and found wetness there, as tears fell unbidden from my eyes.

The world seemed to close in around me. A detached part of me realized it was because I’d finally slipped out of being “in control,” finally let myself relax, and now I was paying for the experiences I’d had, so much in so short a time.

I stumbled back, back back… just uncomprehending, at once letting it happen and powerless to stop it, I backed up until my flank hit the smoothed rock of the wall. I slumped down until I was sitting, my legs unwilling to hold me up.

It wasn’t any single thing, I feel just about anything that had happened that day I could have weathered… but all of it, that so very long day, left its mark, and my body had only just caught up with what it had experienced. Thoughts of the day flashed through my mind. Bodies, burials, bullets… death, killing, the frantic firefights of the day and seeing the corpses of those tiny little foals. It was all too much.

For the first time since we’d left the main road what felt like ages ago, I just slumped down and took a moment to not be in charge of anything, much less anyone.

It wasn’t that it felt “good,” but rather, it felt like if I didn’t at that point, something would just… break. I just needed some time.

Of course, while I sat there, things quieted down. The sounds of Bernard and the others faded into the other side of the cave, and the only noise was from the pair on the other side of the cavern wall I leaned against, around the corner.

I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, honest… but just the same, I heard just about everything that passed between them.

“...Well, I had a lot of practice and professional tutoring, so I hope I’d be good at using terminals by now.” Tailwind’s voice carried in the still air, and the acoustics of the cave. I guess Crafter had asked her something about what she was doing to the wall mounted terminal. “As for those symbols, it’s just nonsense mostly, jumps in the code that the program can’t or won’t display properly. It’s a byproduct of the backdoor I’m using.”

There was a pause, and I could faintly hear the soft clack-clack of the keyboard.

“I can show you the basics one of these days if you’d like,” She continued, “It’s kinda nice to see somepony interested in it.”

Ouch.

“That’d be awesome!” Crafter replied excitedly.

“Well it’s a date then!” Tail declared, with more levity in her voice than I’d heard in awhile, before she weakly finished with, “For… some point in the future.” The soft clack of the keyboard once again overtook the air, before Tailwind spoke up again a few seconds later, “I’m sure there’s quite a bit you could teach me in return. You were a maintenance pony, right?” She seemed legitimately intrigued.

“Yes I was!” The excitement in the Stable pony’s voice was palpable. “Back in the Stable I was one of the best if I do say so myself!”

I could practically see him puffing out his chest as he said it.

Tailwind gave a soft laugh in response, replying, “So what did you fix in the Stable? It must’ve been some rather complex machinery.” Before Crafter even had a chance to reply, she suddenly yelled out, “Fuck!” and it sounded like she’d just kicked the terminal with a forehoof, if I had to guess. “Sorry,” She added, slightly abashed, “I’m just rather close to getting it.”

Her cry would have been enough for me to have heard even if I hadn’t been listening in, and had caused me to wince in sympathy. I wanted to check, but a part of me also felt somehow kind of hollow, hearing the way they conversed when I wasn’t there. I didn’t want to keep listening to that, to be honest.

Getting to my hooves, I had to brace myself after a short stutter-step nearly caused my legs to buckle. I gave a frustrated sigh, wiping my face of any remnants of my breakdown before trying again. Following a more careful second attempt, I cantered around the corner. “Everything alright over here, you two?” I asked in a level tone.

Tailwind gave me a glance over her shoulder. “Hey Chief, the terminal’s just playing hard to get. Crafter here was just keeping me company, telling me about how he had all the mares just lining up for him while he was growing up.” She shot him a playful grin as she finished.

For his part, Crafter picked up on the story a touch slow, replying, “Um, yeah, they were all trying to get uh, some of this…” He gave me what must have felt like a proud smile. “I, uh, see the way you look at me too, Snap.”

He finished with the single most ridiculous rolling of his eyebrows I’d ever seen. I guess he was going for “alluringly,” but… well, he didn’t quite manage it.

For my part, it seemed only logical to play that conversation out to its conclusion. “Oooh, Crafter,” I gasped demurely, fanning a wing to cover the lower half of my face. “One good fight under your barding and you already know how to make a mare blush.” I fanned myself dramatically, wearing a sly smile behind the obscuring wing. “If I didn’t know better…” I trailed off, shooting him a wink as I drew abreast of the pair.

Tailwind gave him a playful hip bump as she purred, “Where was that attitude a couple of nights ago, hmm?”

“Oh, uh,” Crafter stammered, backtracking as quickly as his confidence had appeared, “I uh, was just playing hard to get...” He trailed off, clearly feeling backed into a conversational corner. Thinking fast, he opted to divert the tack of the conversation. “Say Tail, how’s this uh, door coming along?”

She gave him a snicker, but humoured him by dropping back to a businesslike tone. “I should be through soon, hopefully. Whomever made these doors really knew what they were doing.”

I brought my wing back to my side, dropping my own playful voice as well. “If it managed to last through all the attempts Ebb and her company put into opening it, whatever’s inside is probably of use to us. We can wait if we have to.”

Having gone back to giving the terminal her full attention, Tailwind’s reply was rather curt; “Yeah, hopefully there’ll be some food and other supplies.”

Crafter stepped back a pace, glancing at the explosive indicators around the door. “Ebb’s group?” He asked, “I can’t think of them having any real smarts to get in there. Not like Tail- uh, I mean, us.” He stammered out that last bit.

Aww, he’s still flustered from earlier.

Glancing over at him, a whimsical smile played across my features in response to both his unease with… us, and what he’d actually said. “No, Most certainly not like us.”

He let out a small sigh. I wasn’t sure what was going on in that head of his, but he seemed to be thinking in overdrive, and had just taken a second to clear his thoughts. “So what do you figure’s in there?” He asked at length, as Tailwind continued to tap away at the keyboard. “I mean, other than the hope for food and such. A door like this has got to have treasure in it.”

“Treasure?” I asked with a quizzical twinge to my voice. Honestly, I simply hadn’t thought of it in that light. “Some maps of the area, if we’re lucky. Weapons, armour, ammo… information.” I let that last word practically drip off my tongue. We were still flying so blind down here, just about anything would help. I thought about that for a few seconds, before nodding thoughtfully to myself. “Maybe you’re right, maybe there is some sort of treasure in here.”

Crafter let that sink in for a moment, giving off a huge smile when I affirmed his “treasure” terminology. “Yeah, that’d be great,” he stated whimsically, sitting down and idly watching Tail continue her work. “What kind of information are you talkin’ about, anyways?” He asked, seeming like he wanted to pass the time more than anything.

I gave a soft sigh, deciding I didn’t want to breeze over my response. Giving the concept some thought, I finally replied, “Well, I don’t… know, specifically. Locations of other Lobo encampments, Red Eye troop dispositions, trade routes, hunting tips… you often don’t know what you’re looking for until you find it.” I looked him in the eye. As vague as it all was, I had a point, and I was in my element. “Anything we can sell, trade, report or use. Anything to give us an edge. Information is often more important than ammunition, and it doesn’t weigh us down.” I glanced at Tailwind, a soft smile playing across my features. “It’s what we did… what we still do.”

Tail stopped typing for a moment to share a glance with me, and a smile. Nothing more needed to be said. It felt… good.

Crafter noticed, and his curiosity immediately got the better of him. “What was with the look?” He asked, quizzically.

I looked over at him, seeing in his eyes an honest curiosity. He was serious. Despite the appeal of replying with a degree of snark, for whatever reason I decided to answer him straight. “Remember that whole thing we did earlier today, finding out those Red Eye positions like we did – after you spotted those first ones for us? That’s a part of it.” I paused a moment, letting that sink in. “That was our job, Crafter. That was what Tailwind and I have spent years training to do, for real. What we…” I paused again, covering up a twinge of emotion as if I needed to clear my throat. “What we originally came down here to do. As much as we tease you… and flirt with you… this isn’t that. This is just that close to what we actually thought we were going to be doing down here.

“I guess… I guess it just feels like we’re finally doing something worthwhile.”

Crafter gave me a long look, then cast his eyes to Tail. “What exactly do you mean, ‘originally came here to do-”

He was abruptly cut off by Tailwind’s cry of “I got it!” Accompanied as it was by her pumping her forehoof into the air. “The password was ‘through the flames of dawn,’ with numbers and capital letters thrown in for good measure.” She shook her head lightly, “Like hell anyone would have ever guessed that.”

“That’s a messed up level of security,” I replied holding off on answering Crafter’s question for a moment, “How the hell does somepony even remember that?”

Turning back to the buck, who’d shrunk back a bit in surprise at how animated Tailwind was, I replied to him in turn, “What we’ve been telling the Rangers, Crafter… it’s the truth. All we were told was to report on any indications that the griffins were establishing a base in the region… and we found all this. Neighson, the Rangers, Red Eye… the Lobos, the civilians living up here… you, and the Stable you came from.” I gave a soft sigh, “We have no ties here, you included. If we can provide a service for some of the bigger groups – the Rangers, maybe, maybe not – we might be that much closer to finding a place to live, more permanently.”

“All good, Chief?” Tail asked, glancing between us as her hoof hovered over the key to finally open the sealed door.

“Yeah, we’re good,” I replied, “hit it.”

With an exaggerated motion, she swung her hoof down and tapped the key to open the colossal door.

After a short pause, the door yielded a series of loud, hollow sounding thuds as the large tumblers built into its sides retracted. By the time the door finished making noise, the locks had seemingly disengaged, leaving the three of us staring at it for a moment.

“Wow, all that and it isn’t even automatic?” Tail bemoaned, “We just don’t get any breaks, do we Chief?”

“Blegh,” I replied with the taciturn wit befitting a mare of my stature. “Well, good thing you’re here, Crafter. We could use a good set of stallion muscles to give us a hoof with the door.”

With a grin, Crafter hopped to, setting his shoulder against the massive edifice like he had a point to prove – which, I suppose, is just about the story of his life.

The door had a degree of resistance, but the three of us didn’t have much trouble getting things started. Its hinges were both protected from the elements and well designed in the first place, and the door swung open comparatively easy. What we saw was… well, decidedly not what I had expected. Another small pool of water inhabited the left side of the cave, probably either feeding to or from the one we’d seen earlier, but the water wasn’t what drew my eyes. Protruding from it was a set of haphazard looking, but seemingly well thought-out machinery, leading to a large drum. I could see a siphon sticking out of the water, and a series of filters along the way, plus a series of devices I could only hazard a guess at their purpose.

Around the edge of the room were a series of raised workbenches made of steel and wood. Each served its own purpose, and housed machinery that seemed to be designed to fold and cut metal. Tools and toolboxes were all neatly organized and stacked on or beside the tables for ease of use. Beside those sat a series of machineworks. I could recognize a hydraulic press, bandsaw, lathe and milling machine, and a series that I hadn’t the faintest clue.

Aside from the relatively heavy machinery, there sat a single solitary bunk beside a small desk, equipped with a terminal. In turn, a moderately sized refrigerator sat beside the desk.

It wasn’t a huge chamber, but the layout was impressively ergonomic, and effective – every piece of machinery was close to each other, without interfering with the other’s use, and there was just enough room for a bit of a living space besides.

There wasn’t a clear indication of what was generating power for the room, but a series of lights illuminated the area, allowing us to turn Crafter’s pipbuck light off for the time being. We could only assume the same power supply allowed the operation of the machinery.

I let out a low whistle as I stepped past the threshold, giving the assemblage of equipment an appraising scan. “This must be the water purifier the Lobo terminal mentioned,” I commented off-hoofedly. “We could stay the night in here. The door even locks, and we wouldn’t have to post a watch.”

“Anypony- anyone here?” Crafter called out as he stepped inside behind me, speaking to the room itself, to a degree.

For her part, Tailwind let out a light “Oh, wow.” as she scanned over the assorted equipment. Naturally, she migrated towards the terminal, but for once her gaze was drawn elsewhere, at least for now. “Whomever lived here had a very strong grasp on things. It looks like he made most of that door in-house,” She said with mild awe as she glanced at the precision tools and machinery.

I glanced over at Crafter with a smile, gesturing towards the interior of the room with a forehoof. “See, Crafter? This is exactly what I was talking about – information. Even if we can’t use this, the Rangers would pay well for details of what’s in this cave.” I glanced down. “A shame about the previous occupants, but there isn’t much to be done there. Their loss might just help us survive.”

He nodded, clearly not understanding entirely, but I suppose he was willing to accept that at face value as he turned back to marveling at the reality of what we’d found. Ultimately, he turned back towards Tailwind and the small, desk-mounted Terminal she was poring over. “What’s in this? Could be more information. You know, for selling and such.”

As we’d been ogling the technology in the room, Tailwind had gone straight for the terminal. If it had been secured at all, she had cracked this one before I even registered that she was even working on it. She paused a moment as she scrolled through readouts on the screen. “Yeah, you can say that. What I actually found is more text files from the buck who set up this place.” She fixed me with a look, uncertainty on her features, “Although I’m not sure how comfortable I am just giving all this over to the Rangers…” She trailed off, leaving the statement hanging in the air.

I placed a comforting hoof over her shoulders, glancing at her rather than the display. “It’s an option, nothing more.” Giving her what I hoped was a comforting squeeze, the words felt strangely hollow. I believed them, but… it felt like I’d already made the decision, in her eyes.

I hope I’m wrong.

From behind us, there was a light shuffling noise, and Fade called out from around the bulkhead door, “Everything alright in here? Any need for rescuing or shooting?”

Glad for the distraction, I let go of Tailwind and turned to face the griffon. “No, we’re good, Fade.” With a smile, I gestured with a wing towards the room as a whole, “We found a place to sleep, though – purified water, too!”

Fade took a step through a doorway, having to hunch over only slightly, “Wh- really?” He asked, taken slightly aback by the sight that awaited him, “No as-of-yet unseen horrors hidden away? No monsters left from the war?”

Crafter, currently in mid-investigation of the refrigerator, replied in my stead, “Not unless you count two hundred year old beans.” Behind him, I could only just make out a series of cans of food, all ergonomically packaged with the same sort of military adornment I could sympathize with – a flat yellow wrapper with black text proclaiming each can’s contents.

Blinking, I embellished, “Besides the beans, there’s a full machine shop in here, plus a water purifier.”

Moving completely inside and beginning to look around, Fade replied absently, “Now this I have to see… And thank you Wrenchy, your assurance inspires much confidence.” The sarcasm practically dripped from his tone, but nonetheless he slung his rifle with the rest of the firearms strewn across his person.

The casual sarcasm drained from his tone entirely as he took a good look around, eyes flitting from one piece of equipment to another."It looks almost like a homemade vault. A resourceful one made this – a wonder it was still locked." He paused a moment before begrudgingly conceding, “Maybe you ponies aren’t the worst at spelunking after all. Who knew?”

*** *** ***

At length, once the novelty of the tech we’d found wore off, we set about getting ready to bed down for the night. You see, by this point in the year the sun was setting by what I would have normally considered mid-afternoon. We’d finished sorting out the cave by early evening, and easily had almost a ten or so hours before sunrise. Plenty of time, plus with the door and the weather outside keeping just about anyone from trying to follow us, it promised to be a long, relatively safe night.

After we refilled our water supplies, everyone pretty much split off to their own ends. Fade was cleaning his veritable armoury, having laid out a small towel to hold the smaller pieces of the various weapons he was taking care of. Crafter had the trail carbine disassembled before him, and Bernard was walking him through how it worked as he tended a small cooking fire, beginning to get dinner heated up. Tailwind was working on the terminal, and had promised to transfer anything of note she found to my TFD for later.

I was fiddling around with one of the battlesaddles we’d taken from the ‘Reds, trying to get it to mount the heavy carbine opposite the one functional assault rifle.

Ebb was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling and generally looking very bored.

Things seemed to be proceeding smoothly towards eventually bedding down, when a thought occurred to me. I figured we might as well make use of the mineral spring – pure drinking water was a gift, no doubts about it… but a real spring? I was quite frankly baffled that water even worked like that, what with natural heating and all. I mean sure, us pegasi could make clouds do similar for us whenever we wanted a warm shower… but the natural occurrence was a treat I wasn’t about to let slip by, especially given the circumstances.

I decided to speak up, a smile making its way across my face as I did. “So, I was thinking. It would be a real waste not to make use of the spring out there. In the interest of fairness, I think the mares should have our turn first, don’t you agree, Tail?”

Catching on immediately, Tailwind left the terminal halfway through some sort of data entry, got to her hooves and started all but bouncing towards the spring. “Oooh,” she called out, “an all-mare bath break. Better make sure Crafter doesn’t peak on us!” She threw him an obvious wink before slipping out of sight around the corner.

Given the suddenness of it all, Crafter seemed like he’d choked on nothing at all, on top of turning a shade of red that nearly put my own mane to shame. Bernard gave him a knowing smile, and a comradely pat on the back.

“Erm, I don’t think I follow,” Ebb commented, seeing she was being included but also somewhat suspicious of the “why.”

I replied in the same tone I’d been using, with a healthy dose of levity. “It’s been a long day – A bath would be a perfect way to warm up!” Then I dropped to a quieter tone of voice as I leaned closer to her, just loud enough for her and myself. I held on to the smile, but I’m sure it didn’t reach my eyes. “And besides that, you and I need to talk – privately.”

“Ahh, an informal interrogation, got it.” She blithely replied, getting to her hooves and following Tailwind’s lead. It seemed that confirming her suspicions was easier than telling her I really just wanted to let loose a little, a fact I filed away for later.

Pushing himself up into a sitting position, Fade cleared his throat after it became clear that Ebb was coming with Tail and I. Giving me a determined stare, he commented, “Anything ‘private’ concerning our bezmaz draugs concerns me as well. It’s a parcel deal, you understand.” With a few snap motions, he slapped his rifle back together and re-inserted its magazine. He then waved a talon dismissively in Crafter’s direction, “Unlike certain company, I won’t violate your trust; I’m no voyeur. I’ll simply be nearby.” He rose to his feet and slung the rifle behind his back. He seemed determined, and I didn’t suppose this was an issue I could dissuade him from.

For that matter, it wasn’t like I actually cared if any of them peeked. I really just wanted a chance to talk to Ebb while she was, ostensibly, a bit more relaxed.

Deciding not to press the issue, I shucked my saddlebags and battlesaddle, leaving them just inside the blast door, next to where Tailwind had left her own kit. “Oh, I suppose that’ll be fine,” I replied, “Don’t get too bored though, wouldn’t want you falling asleep on us.” With that, I turned and walked out. If he wanted to follow, he could damn well catch up!

As I turned to leave, I just barely caught a look expressing something along the lines of, “Oh, so you actually agree with me this time?” coming off Fade. Following me out, he called at my back, “Oh, don’t worry about me. You all might be dull, but I’ll make do. Just try not to drown or something, hmm? I’d rather not have to fish your putniņiem out of the water!”

Mostly ignoring him, I rounded the corner to see Tailwind already happily floating around in the hotspring belly-up, her barding thrown haphazardly off to the side. Likewise, I stripped off my own barding, grimacing as dry blood stuck the fabric to my shoulder and leg, only letting go with a disgusting sucking noise. I folded and placed the barding neatly at the side of the cave, making a mental note to give it a wash when I got the chance. Then, I followed my better half and stepped into the water, and oh skies did it feel delightful.

We’d managed to warm up the cave to the point of relative comfort, but the hotspring (it truly did live up to the name) was a whole ‘nother level. I’d had showers – warm, cold, long and short – from some of the finest rain clouds the sky had to offer. I’d even had the chance to avail myself of Neighson’s relatively primitive, but at least warm facilities as well. To say those experiences paled in comparison to the mineral spring I stepped into would be an understatement of epic proportions.

A tingling warmth spread through my hooves, then my belly, barrel and wings in turn, until only my head was out of the water. It felt slightly uncomfortable at very first, but within moments my body adjusted to the temperature, and it felt simply heavenly.

If the day’s events weren’t weighing on my thoughts, I could almost have jumped around in glee at the feeling, as the water slowly flowed around me, moving on a gentle current all its own. I held my breath and dunked my head, closing my eyes and fully submerging myself in the soothing pool. A few seconds later, I breached the water across from where Tailwind was floating, her wings spread-eagled on top of the water and her mane forming a messy halo around her head. Finishing looking around, I brushed my mane out of my face and turned to glance at the sea-green mare standing at the entrance as I casually beckoned, “Come on in, the water’s nice.”

“Um, I guess…” She stammered, clearly not comfortable with the whole situation. As she shucked her barding, I noticed that she undid most of the clasps with her mouth and hooves, only making use of magic to assist her ever so sparingly. She piled it in the corner beside the other two sets.

Having a chance to get a good look at her, her coat showed clear signs of a hard life lived. Scars and old wounds speckled her body, telling more of her past than I suspected she would ever willingly voice. Her ribs stood out against her coat, otherwise taught over wiry muscle, evidence enough of insufficient nutritional balance. Her cutiemark’s gentle, looping waves caught my eye. It was sobering, the reminder that in a shallow grave a few kilometers away lay its twin.

If not for all that, she would have been conventionally attractive. As it was, she had an aura of perseverance around her that quietly took my breath away, especially in a mare who was looked younger than Tailwind or myself, probably Crafter too.

Awkwardly doing her best to stare at her hooves, she tentatively stepped into the water, giving only a slight hesitation after putting her first hoof in. She didn’t come in far, just enough to sit down, leaving most of her body above the water.

For a while, we all quietly floated there, steam gently rising around us, lending a surreal air to the whole situation. Dimly, heavily suppressed by the contours of the cavern, we could hear the far away wail of the winds outside. I submerged my head again, letting the water soak into all of me, mane, wings, feathers and all.

From below, I could see a corona of pinkish red surrounding each of us as the water gently washed the blood away. Tailwind’s foreleg, my shoulder, and Ebb seemed to have had a nasty cut hidden in her hairline. Untouched for months, as close to pure as things get on the surface, and we brought the blood and dirt of the battlefield to that wellspring.

I let out the breath I was holding, and resurfaced, brushing my mane clear once again. Despite the time that had passed, Ebb still seemed ill at ease. Deciding to do what I could to alleviate that, I spoke up. “Don’t worry, unlike certain members of this little group, we don’t bite.” Dropping the sarcasm, I looked her in the eyes as I continued, “I wanted to talk to you – not interrogate, talk. As far as I’m concerned, any real intel value you might have on us would be near identical to what your observation post would have managed to relay already. That doesn’t concern me. What does, is that you’ve lived on the other side of the line in the North, for as well as I can guess, a long time. We intend to keep going West, and I imagine we’ll be bringing you with us. At length, I’d like to know what we’re walking into.” I paused a moment to let that sink in, before continuing, “Trotwynd is our next point of call, and I’d prefer not to go in blind. If we get lit up before we even get to the gates, you’ll be right there with us.”

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, the feeling was somewhat muted by Tailwind floating between the two of us, using her wings like a pair of paddles to propel herself along.

Ebb took her time thinking about what I’d said before responding, and I got the feeling that she didn’t… understand me, and it was making her uncomfortable. When she did speak up, it was in a measured tone. “Well, Trotwynd is kind of a small town – used to be bigger before it got toasted. Most of the ponies who resettled there afterwards got caught up in Red Eye’s net after the Rangers pulled out.” She gave an exasperated shrug, “I don’t really know what info you’re looking for. If you’re planning on using me as a hostage you’d probably be better off just shooting me. Reds won’t care to trade for me.”

I let out a soft sigh, my breath sending a puff of condensation into the air. While I could hardly blame her skepticism, it was beginning to wear on me. “Look Ebb, if we were going to shoot you for who you are, we would have by now. I want to make things clear to you – we’re stranded down here. Tailwind and myself, I mean. Our government won’t be searching for us, and odds are if we tried to go home, we’d be quarantined just for having been here as long as we have. If others hadn’t been lenient towards us where we’d done nothing to deserve it, we’d both be dead by now. More than you could possibly know, we sympathize with your situation.” Collecting my thoughts, I added, “you aren’t a hostage, and you certainly aren’t a slave – Fade seems to consider you his responsibility, but I don’t honestly think he sees you as his. It isn’t how he works. To me, you’re a potential asset to our team.”

That said, I leaned back, closed my eyes and let my head rest against the edge of the pool. “And besides all that, I’ve had enough killing for one day. I killed a griffon who probably deserved it, a pony who probably didn’t, and I orchestrated the killing of more people than I ever have. I saw Fade execute a prisoner of war, and I don’t even know if he was wrong. In the balance of things, I just don’t want to kill you. Some shitty form of penance, maybe, but it is what it is.”

From the other side of the pool, I heard Ebb quietly moving water around with her hoof, fidgeting more than anything before she eventually spoke up. “Well, I still don’t understand, but I guess that’s not the point.” She sighed, and spoke a little softer, with something like a note of honesty entering her voice. “For what it’s worth, thank you… for not killing me, that is.”

I smiled. Perhaps I’d said a bit more than I had intended to, but I seemed to have been able to get through to her at last. She didn’t seem to expect us to shoot her as soon as it became convenient, so I’d count that as progress. “Why I asked about Trotwynd,” I started again after a few moments, recalling our earlier conversation, “Is because you’ll probably be the one of us that will fit in the best when we’re there. Fade would probably be next up, but I’d rather avoid having him speak for us, to be honest.”

From around the corner, an irritated “huff” emanated our way. It was pretty easy to imagine the mock-hurt look on Fade’s face right about then.

“Oh, you wouldn’t want to anyways!” I called back, before continuing to explain, “Now, on top of that, Tailwind and I managed to accidentally convince a few too many ponies that we were affiliated with Red Eye, but I have a suspicion that we wouldn’t have the same effect on the ponies of Trotwynd.” Opening my eyes, I looked her way as I gradually got around to her part in my still-tentative plan. “Not without somepony who knows how things work on your side of the line, so to speak. I suspect it might well lead to a lot more survival, for all involved.” I trailed off, realizing I’d gone on long enough. “So what are your thoughts there? I believe you have the capacity to help us, but I can’t tell if you would have the desire to do so. I can’t say I’d blame you if you don’t.”

Ebb seemed to mull her situation over in her head before speaking again, and when she did it was with that same honest tone as earlier, “Trotwynd is still locally controlled, they’ve got a mayor and all, but their whole setup is under the watchful eye of some of Red’s slavers. I…” She seemed to falter a touch, losing a bit of confidence. “I don’t know how well I’d be able to convince them. They’re not army so I wouldn’t know any of them. I also don’t see how we could pass off as a patrol either – the warden has a tight grip on the teams going in and out, specifically so something like this doesn’t happen.”

Nodding in response, I tipped my head back, dipping my mane and all but the tip of my muzzle under the water, breathing through my nose.

Things were both better and worse than I’d imagined. It would seem we couldn’t go dressed as ‘Reds – not that I was particularly fond of the idea anyways, not after we’d just finished refurbishing our scout barding. Free agents it is, then. Even if Trotwynd wasn’t under military control, they would probably still be aware that one of the field teams got hit, but – if my gamble paid off – they might not be on as high alert as their military counterparts. We wouldn’t be able to sell everything when we stop there – certainly not the AM rifle – but the small arms and ammo… we could probably liquidate those. More importantly, we might be able to get a lead on the Serpent while we’re there.

There were still issues. Not least of which was that Tailwind and myself would have to go as we were – as pegasi, in a town our kind had glassed seven short years ago. Can’t say I was looking forwards to seeing how that was going to go.

Bringing my head back above the surface with a light splash, I blinked water out of my eyes as I broke my silence. “I’ve got a plan. I’ll explain in full when we’re with the others.”

*** *** ***

“...And so, we’ll be going as free agents. Ebb will do most of the talking if we can manage it, and we’ll keep as vague as we can manage as to our destination.” It was some time later. We’d dried off and rejoined the others, and I was just wrapping up issuing orders for the next day. “They’re civvies, so a group as heavily armed as us should be able to buy ourselves some breathing room from the locals simply because they won’t want to mess with us.”

We were all sitting in a rough circle around a fire that had been kindled since we left. Bernard was overseeing a set of canned meals cooking over a small fire. The rest listened with varying degrees of attentiveness.

“Any questions?” I asked.

Bernard piped up, “So they’re supposed to assume we’re a group of mercs or some such?”

I nodded. “I don’t expect them to press the issue, but if it comes to it our story’s going to be that we’re looking to join up further down the line, Salty…”

“Peet,” Ebb spoke up, somewhat hesitant, “Saltpeet Quarry, the nearby Red Eye garrison.”

“Right, that one. Supposedly, there aren’t any slaves there anyways, all Red troops and support staff.” I met gazes all around the room as I spoke, making sure what I was saying was sinking in. Crafter seemed to snap to when I got around to him. Honestly, he might have actually dozed off at one point, but even I was too tired to ride him for it at that point. “Unless we find a big lead on the Serpent or any major slave movements, we’ll probably bypass that particular stop.”

Ebb in particular seemed somewhat relieved by that, course all I had to go by was a gentle sigh and a slight upturn in the corner of her mouth. The rest of the group took it in stride, simply listening intently. Bernard seemed to turn in on himself for a moment, no doubt wanting to be sure we didn’t end up missing his daughter along the way. If he disagreed with my assessment, he didn’t voice it.

It occurred to me that they were, as a group, really starting to trust me with these sort of decisions. It served as a reminder of the weight of my task.

To not get these people killed.

“We’ll have a better idea of where we’re going once we get to Trotwynd. Depending on how things go, we might not get a chance like tonight for a while, so make it count. Get some grub in you, take care of what you all need to, and we’ll get some rest. We’ll lock the door, no watch tonight – I want everybody one hundred percent when we roll out of here tomorrow morning.”

As if in consciously aware of my mention of food, Crafter’s stomach let out an audible rumble. He glanced sheepishly around, clearly feeling like he’d made some sort of gaffe while I was talking.

I gave him a smirk, “If there’s nothing else, lets all take a cue from Crafter’s ever reliable stomach.” Turning to the older stallion, I asked, “Bernard, how are we doing for grub?”

“Ready whenever, boss,” he replied, giving me a start as the normally taciturn buck actually used a nickname. “Got some ‘vintage’ canned food all heated up, figured it’d go well with the few expirables we’ve got left from Neighson.”

“Mmm,” I snarked, “Sounds… delicious.”

“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it,” Bernard chided as he tossed me a can, hot and fresh from the fire. The packaging was faded and yellow, some sort of off-brand without any fancy pictures, simple black text on yellow background proclaiming dinner was going to be “Potatoes with Gravy.” The bottom edges had blackened where flames had licked at the bottom, but the can itself wasn’t quite too hot to hold. Just right, as expected of Bernard.

In turn, he reached over and tossed each of the rest a can, to go with our small assortment of veggies and a bit of jerky from Neighson. Tailwind hopped up and snagged hers right out of the air, while Crafter simply captured his in a telekinetic field as it came his way.

Fade held up a taloned hand and gently shook his head as Bernard made to toss him a can, instead reaching into his own pack for a sachet of jerky and a Sparkle Cola. “Thanks, but for now I think I’ll stick with something with some meat on it.”

With a shrug, Bernard tossed Fade’s can to Ebb, who caught it with her forehooves. It seemed more like a reflex than anything, because her expression was one of genuine confusion. With a soft smile, Bernard commented, “What, you’ve gotta eat too, don’t you?”

Getting her wits about her, Ebb replied, “Well, thanks. I just wish we knew what the hell was in these, you know?” She nervously laughed off her initial reaction.

The rest of the group was very quiet. The sort where everyone else in the room just realized something that the speaker was entirely oblivious to. Tailwind paused for a moment, halfway through using a utility knife to open her own can of what seemed to be some sort of corned hash. Crafter, usually the oblivious one, even he seemed to pick up that something was amiss.

Clearly labeled on the side of her can was the black-on-yellow word “Beans,” and she was clearly able to see it too.

She just couldn’t read it.

“Ebb…” Bernard started, realization in his eyes.

Ebb glanced back at the can, her eyes going wide as she realized what had happened. She got to her hooves, placing the can on the ground as she did. “You know what, I’m actually not that hungry,” She declared, immediately turning and striding out the open security door.

My mouth hung open as she left. I wanted to say something, but all those years of military experience, training, discipline… the world I’d known, the life I’d lived hadn’t prepared me for something like this. For the crushing realization that some- no, many people down here must have gone their entire lives not having something as simple as an understanding of how to read. Quite frankly, I had no idea how to react to that. The concept that somepony her age, someone who had lived in territory controlled by one of the major factions down here on the surface… it had taken until then for it to truly sink in that referring to any group down here as “Civilization” was, definitively, a misnomer.

Don’t get me wrong, I’d seen far too much to dismiss the absence of what I’d call civilization as a lack of basic decency, I suppose. The wasteland was just missing so much I’d taken for granted my whole life, and its absence was… well, something of a watershed event for me, if I’m to be completely honest.

To say I categorically failed to respond to her was an understatement.

Luckily, we had just the stallion to do something about it.

Bernard got to his hooves, an expression I hadn’t seen him wear before written all over his face. A heartbroken determination blazed behind his normally cool eyes. The instant his gaze caught mine, I saw the resolve there; The look of someone who’d seen a fault in the way the world was, and taken it upon himself to correct it.

The look only a father can wear.

As he scooped up the can in a forehoof and cantered off after her, I had every confidence in the world that she was in good hooves.

Author's Note

Well, it's my birthday, and this is my present to y'all. Hope you enjoyed it! Also hoping to continue a more reasonable editing schedule, but we'll see how that goes.

Got some updates to the team. Shady, BasicJasioh and KylieAdams (go read her story, it's a more down to earth story 'bout a Stable Security Captain and her squad:
Stable Scout) have hopped aboard. Many thanks to them for how fast they and Belmor all managed to turn this chapter around editing-wise.

Chapter 14: Trotwynd

Chapter 14: Trotwynd

We’d won a battle, and we’d gotten away clean.

We even found a veritable oasis, hidden in the North. Sure it was hard, but things were falling our way for once. We started looking towards the future, and what it might bring. We started thinking of what life might look like once we’d rescued Bernard’s daughter. Sure, some of us would probably go our separate ways, but the group we were beginning to put together was looking like we might just stick it out that way.

Fade might not hang around, and we had no idea how Ebb might fit into everything, if she could live with existing around the people who had killed her sister… but for Crafter, our fledgling group was all he had. Bernard, too, had been travelling in solitude until he ran into us.

It was only natural that we’d start to think of the future, and how the pieces might fall once we’d finished what we’d set out to do.

Our heads were up in the clouds, riding high on the progress we’d made.

If the Wasteland has taught me anything, it’s that this damn place is an expert on bringing even the flightiest down to earth.

That was a lesson I should have heeded.

–Snap Roll’s Journal

*** *** ***

After some discussion, the consensus was to make the cave our own, as much as we could. None of us knew if, much less when, we’d be back, but we left a small stash of weapons, ammo and food behind, and shared the terminal password. If there ever came a time that we returned, any one of us would be able to do as we saw fit with the cave’s contents.

It seemed only fair.

Gear from the battle was scavenged, divvied out or stored as needed. The bolt action rifles and a pair of pistols were left behind along with enough ammo to hunt, or defend oneself. In the end, we brought the anti-material rifle with us. It was big, it was iconic, but it was also something that groups like ours could conceivably have found on our own. All things considered, it was probably less conspicuous than the pegasi in our group.

Bernard spent the evening with Ebb. There was an unspoken agreement to leave them alone for as long as they needed. I had planned to ask him to help me figure out how to mount the griffon carbine, but the loadout we’d found on one of the battlesaddles suited me just fine for the time being; a rugged but functional assault rifle was mounted to the side, along with a simple but effective feed mechanism that fed straight from the saddle’s ammunition hopper.

I left the raider saddle behind as soon as I’d retrieved my pistol from it, without a hint of remorse. The pistol was strapped once again on my foreleg, just in case.

When we finally left the cavern, I couldn’t help but notice a few things that hadn’t been there the night before — an empty can of beans, and a rough alphabet scrawled in charcoal on one of the wrecked tarps of the Lobos camp.

*** *** ***

There was some initial apprehension when we first left the cave, but in the absence of any ambush laid for us in the night, we simply pressed on. By the updated map on my TFD and Ebb’s guidance, we set a course for Trotwynd at a steady, but sustainable pace. Odds were that if we had aerial scouts out it would only draw attention, so Tail, Fade and myself stayed grounded, walking along with the others.

It was quiet, for the most part. There wasn’t much to talk about, and everyone was either on edge or outwardly apathetic towards the current situation. Ebb was leading the way, her light machine gun hanging at her side from a small frame for exactly that purpose — I’d told her I trusted her, and the first step in backing up that statement was to prove that to her, at least the way I figured it.

She seemed relatively carefree, and I could only wonder at her mental state. With the notable exception of dinner last night, she was a remarkably difficult pony to read.

Gradually, I found my attention slipping. Between opting to walk and having quite frankly had a long day yesterday, it was difficult to focus on just about anything. Blinking through a few menus of my TFD, I decided to pull up the text logs Tailwind had recovered from the terminal in the cave.

It would give me something to think about, at the very least.

Day 90: The North is a ghost town. I’ve walked through so many places, once crawling with activity, work camps, small towns. Now all as frozen as the ground. Early on I had to be selective with my scavenging, taking great pains to not be seen by other survivors.

Now though? I walk freely among the abandoned industry of old.

Though I fear this will not always be the case — Neighson seems to be preparing to spread its influence over the few souls stubbornly sticking together. It’s coal and food for now. I doubt it will always be so benign.

One text log in, and it confirmed the suspicion of mine that the Neighson Ranger chapter really was the direct descendants of the original garrison. I had to dredge through my recollection of ancient history, but I recalled something along the lines of The Day happening in mid-Spring. If that was “Day Zero” for him, then that would put this entry at mid to late summer.

I opened the next one.

Day 129: I was right to be anxious.

These storms from the north are like nothing I’ve ever seen, lasting weeks on end. I was ready, to an extent, but the poor souls in the valley were not so lucky.

I’ve been leaving supplies for the ponies that have stayed in my other cave, I led a few others to them using lanterns, they should be safe.

I find the winds oddly calming.

Somewhere around October or November, based on the date... and the storms were already bad enough for all that? I shivered at the thought. It was late November, and we’d already weathered one such storm, thanks entirely to Chess.

The last line truly had me shaking my head at this crazy bastard — though I guess living through the apocalypse would mess up just about anybody.

I brought up the last entry.

Day 225: I’ve decided to build a library, I don’t know where yet but I feel like it’s my responsibility. Seeing my efforts bear fruit in the little family group I’ve been caring for has shown me how much I take my knowledge for granted.

I’d like to have them be able to learn and grow, maybe make something of this oblivion we’ve dealt ourselves. That is if this winter ever ends.

I saw something in the storm, an ethereal figure wrapped in wisps, never had I felt such a cold. Despite it all, I could not bring myself to be afraid, this… thing simply stared at me, like a child would observe a new bird outside. That stare will haunt me.

Don’t test the storm.

We’d been traveling for most of a day before before we caught sight of smoke over the far side of a small crest. The smoke of cooking fires, campfires and fireplaces. The smoke of life, sheltered from the frozen wasteland.

As we got closer and closer, Fade was becoming increasingly anxious. I hadn’t brought it up, but his usual tics and eccentricities had been increasing as we’d been walking. By the time we caught sight of the first signs of habitation, he was just about constantly wringing his talons together. He slowed his pace and spoke up as we reached the last treeline before the town. “Perhaps Ebb should lead us in? She should know the town best, after all.”

Ebb, for her part, hadn’t slowed her pace at all, and just kept on trotting past, humming a vaguely familiar tune to herself as she went.

I fell in behind the sea green mare, idly wondering at Fade’s mental state. We’d gone over the plan in some detail, and we’d already reconciled the fact that there was a degree of risk, and every possibility that we’d be seen through. Honestly, we were committed by that point. Why bother worrying at this stage? Naturally, I kept those thoughts to myself. I don’t think Fade would actually be bothered, but it might dishearten the others to a degree… and I was already worried about what Tailwind thought of my current decision making.

The mare herself landed beside me, giving a quick stretch of her tired wings. “Time to see what all the fuss was about, hmm?” She commented.

“Huh? Yeah, something like that…” I replied absently, caught somewhat off guard.

Tailwind gave me a long look, the levity in her voice belied by the concern in her green eyes. She wanted to ask if I was ok. If I was ready to face the town that might well have been where my father died.

It was just as well that she didn’t voice the question; I didn’t have an answer for her. Still, I appreciated the thought, and it really was reassuring that I wasn’t the only one thinking of what might have been. I shimmied up beside her, giving her a quick nuzzle, which she readily returned. A smile made its way onto her face, and I couldn’t help but find the same on my own. We’d figure this out together.

As one, we parted the last set of trees, and the town of Trotwynd opened up before us.

Trotwynd had been a workers’ camp in times immemorial. There was a cluster of standing buildings huddled around the skeletal remains of the stripped out railway — once upon a time, it had probably connected all the way to Chess’ waystation. Most of the standing structures were of relatively recent construction, along with a few repair-jobs of older buildings — sheet metal, cobbled together siding and a whole lot of salvaged brickwork were the hallmarks of these, each with a chimney giving off a slow trickle of smoke.

Yet the thirty or so lived-in buildings could not hide the nature of the town’s violent past.

The loading crane which once would have loaded trains full of cargo now lay half-slagged across glassy, scarred ground. Melted and burnt out structures and foundations stood as a grim reminder that the Enclave had visited the area in the past.

I knew the signs. I’d been instructed on their application, for skies’ sake. I could spot the scars left by a Raptor’s main cannons. The slagged steel and concrete where plasma teams had gone to work on building after building, not content to simply root out resistance — but to burn homes down to their foundations.

My emotions were complicated. My heart went out to the victims, the poor souls who had this come upon them. A critical eye saw a clinical effectiveness to the damage, professional hooves at work rather than any sort of random horror raiders might have managed. And the part of my soul that still ached for the loss of my father wondered what they’d done to deserve such a fate. It wasn’t for nothing that the Enclave left the clouds, after all — certainly not with heavy hardware like a Raptor.

For all that, the town seemed to have recovered to a degree, the survivors and those who had resettled there scraping out a life in the shadow of one of the world’s lesser apocalypses.

A meter-high wall had once protected the town, and upon its slagged foundations, a more recent construction had been built. Considering we didn’t want to immediately come off as hostile to this little town, it restricted our route of entry down to an approach through the old railbed, with a pair of guards standing watch.

Casting a closer look over the obvious entrance to Trotwynd, the pair manning cardinal points of a gate sited at the old railhead seemed alert, but not particularly concerned. They consisted of a bearded Earth pony and a hawkish looking unicorn. Both wore more of a uniform than the winter wraps we’d seen prior, with the stylized scarlet eye showing their allegiance beyond any shadow of a doubt. Unlike the soldiers in the pass, their rifles were relatively new, and of an identical style.

Those very same rifles raised as we approached, coming to point at Ebb at the head of our group. “What brings you lot out this way?” The brutish Earth pony called out as we entered shouting range.

I glanced at Ebb. We really were banking a lot on her sense of self preservation, and it was now or never. I felt my pulse quicken with adrenaline.

Without batting an eyelash, Ebb replied calmly, “We came up from the South lookin’ for work. The Rangers didn’t seem to have any, so we figured we’d come ‘round to see if Red Eye had work.”

Coming to a halt a few paces behind her, I did what I could to reinforce the notion that she was running the show, glancing across the town with an air of casualness that belied the turmoil I felt and the pulse hammering in my ears. I was unsure how much we were really committing with her story, but it was still better than just about anything I would have thought of, to say nothing of the fact that I’m one of the race that glassed this town.

Musclehead seemed skeptical, but not outright hostile. “And what exactly do y’all do?” He drawled.

Again with an ease that belied the situation at hoof, Ebb replied casually, “We were a hired group of escorts and mercs for a pair of ponies out of Friendship City. They paid caps up front for what they called an ‘expedition,’” she emphasized with her right hoof while rolling her eyes. “Turns out we were goin’ to try a dig or some shit at Maripony. Needless to say we weren’t too fond of that proposition, and our grif’ friend here-” she motioned over her shoulder at Fade, “-gave ‘em a couple of rounds and we parted ways. One thing lead to another and we decided we’d try our luck somewhere ponies weren’t so eager to get themselves killed.”

Morbid, but potentially effective. I’ll have to ask about “Maripony” sometime. The name seems distantly familiar; probably from some briefing or another, but I can’t for the life of me recall the context.

As she mentioned him, Fade stepped up and added, "Jā. Jā, es pilnīgi nebija kāds viņa teica." I suspected it was as gibberish to them as it was to me, but it seemed to add a level of credence to at least have a second voice speaking for our sakes.

A certain amount of skepticism was maintained between the guards, but between Ebb’s tale and Fade’s… well, I’ll go with supportive presence, they seemed at least passingly convinced. “Yeah, well you’ll still have to clear in with Grassknot at the ‘racks.” Meathead tipped his head towards the only remaining two story building in the town.

Ebb nodded, maintaining her role as the “leader” of our group. “Is now a good time, or should we come by in the morning?”

Muscles gave a shrug. “I s’pose you could go in the morning, he’s less likely to be in a foul mood that way. As fer lodging, there’s a little tavern that might have a room or somethin’.”

Now that seemed like a plan I could get behind. Breaking my silence, I spoke up in a tone I couched to sound like a suggestion, “That sounds great! We can get sorted, have a few drinks…” I cast a deliberate glance back towards Bernard, meeting his eyes before returning to Ebb’s, “We can see who’s been this way, too.”

Now that certainly brought Muscles’ head around. “Yeah,” he replied sardonically, “Keep your heads down, ‘specially you lot,” he nodded at Tail and myself. “I don’t mind diggin’ holes in the morning.”

I flipped my mane dismissively at him as I replied in a deadpan, “Oh, we know. Rough and tumble, hates turkeys, all that jazz.” Without waiting for a response, I started forwards, letting the others fall in behind.

Tail just stuck her tongue out at him as we passed by, giving a pretty clear impression of which hole she figured he could fill foremost.

We passed by without issue and the two guards closed the gate behind us, speaking quietly to each other once we were out of immediate earshot. Whatever, we were in, I figured.

The town itself didn’t look a whole lot different up close, but as always the devil was in the details. It was getting dark, and the only ponies left out were a few quiet souls moving from building to building on some errand or another, or Red Eye liveried goons with weapons carried openly.

It was a short trek to a building that seemed to be a heavily reworked steel train car built into the remains of what was probably a pre-war bank. To be honest, I was kind of surprised some Raptor gunner hadn’t seen fit to slag the place years ago. Steel plates, wood and spray insulation served to protect the building from the elements. It didn’t look pretty, but I supposed people paid for shelter all the same.

Pulling back the sliding train car door that acted as the primary entrance revealed that the interior was mostly lit with coal lamps, leaving the inside heavy with shadows and a thick, smoky air to the building. Six improvised tables crowded the room despite being pushed against the walls, each of them either composed of re-purposed supply boxes acting as tables, or heavily damaged old hardwood. The place was deserted aside from an old earth pony seated behind a steel counter, presumably a bartender and innkeeper all in one. The old Earth pony was playing a card game with himself and nursing a glass of what looked like whiskey. He looked up as we entered, nonplussed even when he saw the wings.

I walked right up to the bar. Something about the place irked me. I was aware that there was most likely a degree of personal bias at play, but… well, I had felt a desire to associate with the ponies of Neighson. I subconsciously wanted to fit in, even if it was mostly superficial. Here… I didn’t give a fuck. I put my hooves on the counter, all business. I wasn’t expecting any courtesy. “We’d like a room,” I stated, straight to the point. “Preferably something with a lock — we’ll pay in salvage.” It wasn’t a question.

The buck continued playing his game, not really giving me much notice. “Mmhm, bet you will,” he replied sardonically.

He pissed me off, but it wasn’t like I didn’t expect it. Instead of getting angry, I just got slightly irritated. “Unless you’d rather we freeload at one of those empty tables all night,” I tossed my mane towards the tables for emphasis, “Yes. We will.”

He gave a sigh as he put his cards down and actually sat up to look at me. “Girl, I don’t think ya rightly know how cold it gets in the main room without the lamps on — and the way I figure, there ain’t nothin’ more you could do to ward off honest folk than y’all’ve already done,” that last was accompanied by him motioning towards my wings with his snout.

I gave a soft sigh at that, reflexively ruffling my feathers in acknowledgement. When I did speak, it was in a… less irritated tone, more so just tired. “Yeah, I’m aware. I don’t suppose a sob story about us being stuck down here would help any, huh?”

He gave me the most deadpan stare I’d ever received. “No.”

Evidently seeing that my method of negotiation had rapidly broken down, Bernard stepped up and addressed the buck. “Look sir, I won’t pretend to know what you and yours have gone through, but all we want is to get out of your mane as smoothly as possible. We don’t want to cause any trouble.”

The bartender gave another sigh. “Yeah… sure thing big guy. I got one room for ya. 90 caps for the night, my only offer.”

Bernard gave me a quick glance before turning back to the buck. “We’ll take it. Thank you.”

What? I would’ve gotten there eventually.

He started to pull out weapon parts, and I quickly lost interest in the interaction. He had far more of an eye for the cap value of random weaponry than I did, and my mind was already on the mess of things that would have to happen tomorrow. Talking to the garrison commander, seeing about talking to some townsfolk, maybe turning a bit more of our assorted weaponry into caps, and moving on towards wherever the Serpent might have headed.

Our plates were pretty full, and we were only just starting to make decent time in our trek West.

Before long, they’d decided on a fair trade, getting rid of some of the rifles and less useful ammo. I figured we were still getting grifted considering it was for a single night, but stayed silent. I didn’t want him to actually call my bluff about freeloading in the common room.

We took our key, which had been tack welded to the handle of a hoof-long spatula, and headed towards where the old pony indicated. An interior door led to the remains of a hallway, passing by where the original building began, with a layer of slagged rubble mended by a variety of creative means to form a seal with the tailing end of the traincar. The room we were in was the third in, and appeared to have been a printer room in a past life. Now, it was mostly gutted with a single lamp sitting on an end table between two makeshift beds.

We filed inside, coming close to filling the small room. Taking up the rear, Fade closed and locked the door behind us, letting out a soft sigh as he slumped back against the wall beside the door.

I hazarded a guess that once we settled in, there’d be just enough room not to have to step over each other’s sleeping bags. Crafter took a look around and gave a soft, whimsical smile. “Hey, it’s better than some of the places we’ve been…” At a guess, it seemed like the place reminded him of his Stable.

Biting back a comment about how claustrophobic the place was making me, instead I replied a touch more tactly, “Cozy as it might be, I don’t plan on us staying long.” Sitting down, I started rolling out my sleeping gear as I posed a question to the group; “So how should we go about this? There’s a good chance somepony knows where the hell the Serpent went from here, but I don’t imagine they’ll be particularly forthcoming with that info. Certainly not to Tailwind or myself.”

Fade leaned forwards into a standing position, using the momentum to walk over to the far side of the room, straight to the corner furthest from the door and tossed his sleeping kit in a somewhat organized pile. “No idea,” he called back over his shoulder, “Especially since everyone in this town either holds a grudge against you pegasi, works for Red Eye — who primarily deals in slaves — or both.” Turning around to face us, he raised a talon and quickly added, “And, considering the fact that the guards are going to pass on word of your arrival, the less time we spend here poking about, the better. Don’t want to be around when their Boss rolls into town.”

“Oh goood,” I purred sarcastically. “Well, we definitely don’t want to stay more than one night then, so we gotta be smart about this. We can fence some of the guns and salvage tomorrow, but I’m open to suggestions otherwise.”

Until that point, Ebb had simply watched quietly as things progressed — now, she spoke up, “Um, so what’s the deal with this Serpent guy? You guys following a hit or something?”

The room went quiet.

I decided to speak up, to break the tension her question had unknowingly brought forth. “He killed Bernard’s family and took his daughter,” I stated evenly, glancing sidelong towards Bernard as I did. “We’re trying to get her back.”

Nodding to me, Bernard elaborated, “I was following him North when I met Snap and Tail,” he inclined his head towards each of us, “They then offered to accompany me on getting her back.” There was emotion welling in his voice. Obviously bringing up his daughter wasn’t easy.

I reached out, placing a comforting hoof on his shoulder. For a moment, he looked up, meeting my gaze. There was pain in his eyes, but also a glimmer of hope, a shared thought that we’re finally getting closer, I imagined.

“Oh,” Ebb deadpanned, “Well if he’s taking…” she faltered for a moment, at loss for a name.

“Rosemary,” Bernard filled in helpfully.

Ebb nodded in thanks as she continued, “Then I’d figure he’s going to Iron Junction. That’s the only large stop I can remember hearing a name of when we came North.”

After a thoughtful pause, I replied,“Then Iron Junction is where we’re headed next. We’ll offload what we can and head out early — the sooner we’re out of here the better."

Ebb simply nodded, presumably not having anything else to add.

The conversation had hardly finished before my train of thought was interrupted by Fade leveling what seemed to be a protective wooden tube of some sort at my chest and declaring, “Miss Roll, I need to speak with you,” he stated with a degree of finality. With no further context, he simply stared at me, unblinking.

He must have taken the thing out while we were talking, and I assumed at some point in the conversation he had more or less tuned us out. “I, um- okay?” I replied, having an abrupt false start at his comment out of the blue. He also seemed… both specific, and urgent. Confused but willing to play along, I shucked my saddlebags, leaving them with Tailwind for the time being. “Just me?” I asked, tipping my head towards the others who were currently obliged to listen in, giving the intimate quarters of the tiny room. I didn’t voice the question, but if he wanted it to be a private discussion, we’d have to find somewhere else.

His initial decisiveness rapidly gave way to him wringing his talons around the small wooden case, leaving a few small nicks in its otherwise smooth surface. As if realizing he’d just done that, he adjusted, looking for all the world like he was trying not to fidget with the damn thing. Nodding a quick affirmative, he tipped the tube towards the door and replied, “Yes, just you. And me. Us. We’ll go out to the lobby. Or another room. I doubt we’ll be bothered.” As if to reinforce that assurance, he reached back and reclaimed his rifle from the kit pile, slinging it and tucking his protective tube under his arm, gesturing for me to lead the way out of the door.

I gave a slightly confused frown, but turned to make my way out of the room. Pausing a moment as I opened the door, I turned to call back, “I don’t think we’ll be long, but could you get a watch list set up, Tail? For… insurance.”

Dramatically, my pale blue lover flopped back onto one of the two beds, “Okaaaay, but you’re getting third watch!”

Grinning, I turned to leave with Fade following close behind. He closed the door behind him, and I immediately perked my ears up with curiosity. “I assume this isn’t because you’ve suddenly fallen for my equine wiles. What’s up?”

Fade seemed taken aback for a moment, so I chalked that up as a point in my favour. “Wha-? Ahh, no. Not yet. Just need your mind right now.” He hooked a thumb back towards the lobby, adding, “I’ll explain in a minute. Need a table.”

Seeing that whatever it was was clearly going to happen at Fade’s pace, I simply nodded, and followed as he led us back to the common area, picking a table off in the corner furthest from the bartender — who eyed us briefly, before returning to his solo card game, seemingly disinterested. He’d brought out an old radio, and it was quietly playing an old violin piece, a soothing ambience that lilted through the still air of the lobby.

What was far more interesting to me was Fade’s body language. He was as tense as I’d ever seen him. Hell, I’d seen him less tense when we’d been hunting that griffon just the day before. As he walked, his eyes twitched from shadow to shadow and his talons ground together at nothing.

It was putting me on edge, and I wasn’t even sure what I was seeing, exactly.

Fade wasted no time. As soon as he sat down, he gave the wooden tube a twist, removing the cap and carefully revealing a simple, off-white roll of parchment, setting the tube aside and placing the paper in the centre of the table. Keeping it rolled for the moment, he explained, “Alright. This is why I wished to speak with you: given where we are and where we’re going, a route out is something that should be addressed. Up until now it hasn’t.” Using the thumb from one talon, he unfurled what was quite evidently a map, smoothing it with a gentle whisper of paper as he deftly brushed it down with his palm, delicately keeping his talons safely away from damaging it. Gesturing with a toss of his head for me to get in close for a better view, he continued, “That in mind, I thought it might be prudent to make you privy to this.” He gestured expansively at the finely preserved map, then shrugged, as if in afterthought, “Also, seeing as you’re nominally in the lead and all.”

The full significance of what he’d unrolled before me was apparent from the moment I laid eyes on the precious artifact. I was obviously aware that a map, more importantly an accurate map was of very high value both financially and strategically. I leaned forwards almost before he’d beckoned me, eyes scanning over the topography. I was more than eager to figure out even a fraction of what we were trotting into in the coming days.

The map itself was clearly of prewar construction, judging from the Stable-Tec cog toothed logo in the bottom right corner. Attached to the document’s flip side were a series of quick, hoof-written notes — some of which were certified by Ministry of Arcane Sciences seals, stamped with an ink that seemed to shimmer and alter its colour even as I watched. The map itself had to be magically protected to some degree, as it seemed to have hardly aged a day, much less two hundred some odd years.

I cast my eyes over. Most, if not all of the geographical features were virtually identical to the map still stored on my TFD, though by now I was far from surprised when the level of detail was completely different. As I was figuring out exactly where we were, I located a series of places we’d already been, all noted by names known to ponies before the apocalypse. Chess’ waystation had a simple note, with rail tracks running through it and continuing right through Neighson, past Stable 248, the Foothills… Trotwynd, with the notorious Stable 245 just to the South of where we sat right then. To our immediate North, the imposing-looking waypoint dubbed “Saltpeet Quarry.” Considering the Rangers hadn’t managed to raze the place, I could only imagine it had quite the reach over the surrounding area.

Following the winding road South and West, tomorrow’s goal of Iron Junction stood out. Beyond that, what seemed to be more towns, places I’d never even heard the names of — they didn’t concern me. Of course there were settlements, all spaced at strategic day travel intervals. What did concern me, however, was the tiny little tag labelled “M.A.S. Site 303,” to the North of Neighson and a series of numbered sites labelled only “X-1” and “X-2” respectively.

Still staring down at the map, willing as hard as I could for it to divulge its secrets to me, and ingraining its very details as much as I could into my brain, I asked, “Fade, what is this? What are all these?” I glanced up, “What the hell sort of interest did the Ministries have this far North?”

For all the questions that burned in my mind, fate itself seemed to have other plans.

Before Fade could reply, the radio crackled with a hiss of transmission, and over the gentle violin music came a curt, gruff voice. The sort I’d heard countless times before.

“...Confirm target’s location, over.”

“Strike five, Saltpeet Control. You have the go ahead, location is Train Wreck tavern. Six targets in total. One of them is a Griffon; unaffiliated, over.”

“Strike five, acknowledged Saltpeet Control, executing now — out.”

I looked up, making very, very deliberate eye contact with the bartender. Iknow exactly what that was, and whether or not the bartender was going to survive the next thirty seconds depended on how he reacted right then. I felt the familiar weight of my pistol holstered on my leg, the muscles in my jaw already tense at the thought of having to use it.

The old buck looked up from the radio and met my gaze without flinching or turning away. “You need to leave. Now.” A statement, not a question.

Fade pushed himself up away from the table, his eyes blazing with a fury I hadn’t seen from him before. He slammed a palm on the table with a wooden smack, gesturing vehemently to the radio with the other. “THIS is why I wanted an exit strategy! Fucking Red Eye! Always when I’m about to get one step ahead!” Rolling up the map without ceremony, he shunted it back into its carry tube, tucking it back into his jacket, and with an eye on the door stormed back towards our room spouting a continuous stream of curses that switched fluidly between Equestrian and Griffonic.

Hot on his heels, I bolted from the table, following Fade’s impressive hurricane of profanity. My mind was moving a mile a minute. Planning. Weighing odds. We had minutes at best.

If there was one thing Enclave Recce had taught me better than anything else it was that if you didn’t act, you died.

Calling at our backs, the bartender shouted out, “There’s a door out the back, leads South!”

Just before we reached the door, Ebb threw it open and only just managed to avoid being bowled over by Fade. She seemed to debate whether to address that or not, before glancing my way a heartbeat later. We shared a look, and without missing a beat, she stated, “I’m to pass on that we have contact incoming.” I was reminded that despite everything, she’d been a soldier just as much as I had.

“Noted,” I replied, glancing into the room to check on the others.

Fade had been in the room for mere moments, his kit was already on his back and he was racking the bolt on his rifle. “...And it’s always the FUCKING SAME WITH YOU PONIES!” he roared, bringing his tirade to a momentary halt. Beside him, Crafter had his caravan rifle held ready in his magic, Tail’s energy rifle gave its distinctive energized hum as it powered up and Bernard had his pistol held in his mouth.

Tailwind turned and with a practiced motion, tossed me my bags, already re-packed and strapped tight. Catching them with my hooves, I strapped them on, feeling a deadly smile already begin to spread across my lips. Adrenaline had already begun to burn through my veins. They’d caught us, but far from flat footed. I deployed my battlesaddle’s firing bit and kicked the charging lever into battery with the satisfying clack of a round chambering meeting my ears.

“There’s a door at the back,” I explained, “And we’re leaving right fucking now!”

Crafter glanced back and forth, scanning hard as he brought a hoof to his temple. “Uhh, guys we’re being surrounded I think.” He stopped looking for a moment and glanced my way, “What do we do?”

Poking her head out into the hallway, Ebb gave him a glance back, “How can you be sure?” She asked, dead serious but totally confused.

“Well,” Crafter replied, “The red bars have yet to be wrong.”

Ebb fixed him with a look that told me she was quite convinced he’d just jumped off the deep end. “Uhh…”

Snapping them both out of it, I spoke up as I started to dig through my saddlebags, “He’s got EFS on that Pipbuck of his, Ebb. Full threat assessment overlay, same as the Rangers.”

Digging deep in my saddlebags, I found my night vision monocular, unused since we first dropped. Quite simply, we hadn’t needed to fight in the dark yet — being in that environment in the first place was just short of a death sentence, and so the piece of kit had stayed, nearly forgotten. I drew the strap over my head and tightened it into place. Once I was satisfied I could use it as soon as I had to, I folded it back away from my head — it was still too light in the building, and I’d only risk burning the delicate device out if I tried using it while we were still in the settlement. That done, I pulled the hood of my barding up, over my head. It would be dark outside by now, and it was gonna be cold.

As I quickly prepped, I spoke up. “Here’s the plan, in case we get separated.” I glanced at the others, in turn, making sure they were following along. I made sure to lock eyes with Ebb, still acting as our door guard for the moment. She was in this as much as we were, and whatever was coming wasn’t making any special exception for her — hell, the only one they’d mentioned specifically was Fade. “We’re leaving to the South, the same direction as the gutted Stable.” I shook my head, “That’s a happy coincidence, as that’s where we’re headed. Fade, Ebb, I want you two to lead as we force our way out of the settlement. Your guns are the best we have for close range, and you’re our toughest fighters. Once we’re out of the perimeter, you’ll stay on close protection for the group. Eyes out, you’re the primary defense we’ll have as we move. Tailwind will take the lead from there,” I met her eyes as I spoke, “Pick a route that looks safest and fastest, and get to that Stable. Crafter, you’re with her. Back her up with SATS, watch her back. Bernard, your rifle is practically unusable here. Do what you can, stick with them, and I want you carrying my medical bag. Someone goes down, I need you to pony up and get them to the Stable, one way or another.” I shucked my medic satchel, along with some of the other gear I was carrying. I needed to be light for what I had planned anyways, and I passed them to the older buck.

Tailwind, evidently, saw the one thing I’d left out. “...What about you, Chief?” She asked, frowning. She probably had an idea of what I had in mind. She certainly knew me after all this time, and I was about to confirm it. Besides, I didn’t want to bring it up, but she had had an identical night vision piece to my own… hers was just smashed, ever since we landed. That’s just the way it is.

“I’ll have top-cover,” I replied. “I’m the only one with night vision, and I’ll be sending Tail and Fade updates via TFD and radio. If I can-” I saw Tail wince. Damn, of course she knew me. Still, I persisted. “-I’ll try and disrupt them, slow them down. I’ve still got some grenades left, and odds are they’ll be having just as hard a time as we are, with the dark and cold.”

Bernard spat out the pistol for a moment as he shouldered my bag. “Couldn’t’a waited ‘til morning…” he lamented.

Ebb seemed to have grasped her role in the plan for the most part, though I saw her mouth ‘EFS’ in confusion as she turned away.

Crafter surrendered a faint nod as he listened to the plan, a look steeling across his face. He redoubled his attempts to track the bars scrolling across his vision.

Fade steadied himself for a moment before squeezing out into the hallway, leaning up against the far wall, rifle raised and pointed back towards the lobby, he spared a glance back to me and nodded, “Alright, fine. I’ll do what I can, but let’s just move quickly. Don’t want to be in this damned town any longer than I have to. Can hold up again in that Stable well enough.”

Again?

“Fade, Ebb, whenever you’re ready, let’s do this.” I felt my pulse quickening. The feeling was getting more and more familiar. If I’d been asked, I probably wouldn’t have been aware I was doing it; but I was wearing a wicked, humourless smile.

This was what we trained for. Tail, Nose, Me.

Crafter spoke up, “There’s five coming to the front door right now!”

I set myself at the back of the group, rifle set to auto and levelled in the direction of the lobby. I didn’t want to fight inside the settlement, much less this lodging, but if they came through, I wouldn’t waste a second to fill the air between us with steel jacketed lead. “Go!” I hissed behind me, just loud enough for the others to hear.

On my order, Fade and Ebb shared a look, then moved as one, sidling down opposite sides of the hall, guns up and pointed at the far door, stacking up on either side, then checking back to make sure the others were ready.

Crafter, Tail and Bernard caught up, with me moving quick on their hooves. Crafter called out, “There’s two just outside, either side of the door!”

Fade gave a few quick, unmistakeable hand signals towards Ebb’s horn and the doorknob, intending for her to magic it open for him to clear.

Ebb nodded, before taking a few steps back and charging straight towards the wall beside the door. An overglow built around her horn as she charged. When she was right about to impact, she took a running leap and let out a detonation of force from her horn.

The blast of force sent dust and mortar chips flying down the hallway; explosive overpressure had most of us covering our faces against debris.

Needless to say, the wall was not up to the task of sustaining that much raw magical force, and a pile of brick, mortar and leaping unicorn blasted through the door frame that one unfortunate motherfucker had decided to hide behind.

Ebb’s descent to the ground was neither graceful nor uneventful. She physically bowled over the first pony, going down in a tangle of limbs and pieces of building. Keeping a magical hold of her weapon, she fired blindly in the direction of the second trooper, a sustained burst that set our ears ringing, and made any attempt at communication impossible within the confines of the building.

I saw Bernard’s eyes go wide with shock as he silently mouthed ‘What the fuck!’ around his pistol before moving to cover the new point of entry into the building.

Through the shower of concrete dust, snow and smoke that followed Ebb’s destructive outburst, Fade alone seemed nonplussed. With a casual efficiency, he placed a strategic kick to the door. Lacking building on the hinge side, the door went flying into the night as Fade calmly rounded the corner, weapon up. He fired a pair of shots, point blank. He literally couldn’t miss.

By the time Fade exited the building, Ebb had somewhat recovered, more or less getting her bearings while Fade was putting rounds into the other trooper. Rolling until she was sitting on the pony underneath her, she had to be damn near deaf, blind and confused, but still she shouted out “Eat shit Brahmin fucker!” as she fired off a sustained burst into the pony underneath her.

Seeing she was occupied, Fade called back, “Clear!”

With the sound of violence from our side dipping for a moment, we could hear a distinct crash from the lobby and a trio of gunshots sounded off. We were about to have company.

I felt a twinge, not of regret, but anger. They’d just killed the bartender! That was… excessive. Unprofessional. He was one of theirs! One of their own civilians! If anything, I’d have assumed he might be used as a hostage… fuck.

Seeing the door cleared, Tailwind nodded to Crafter and Bernard. “Moving now!” she called out, loud enough for me to hear before she dashed through the door, picking a route across the open ground and setting off at a gallop.

Only a few steps behind, Bernard fell into a sprint behind her, making good time despite the limp in his leg. Crafter was caught slightly off guard, and was quickly forced to catch up.

They’d just started to move when Ebb called out, “Two, right side, in the alley!” immediately before she began to engage, her LMG blasting out a stuttering rattle of heavy suppression fire as she took cover behind the rubble and corpse she’d created.

Fade turned, firing off a series of single shots in the direction indicated, before he took off in the wake of Tailwind and the others.

The breaching team would be around the corner any moment now. I bit the trigger bit and held it down as the light rifle at my side roared to life with a hammer of hard rounds, spalling off the hallway and sending rounds into the visible wall of the lobby. The engagement outside was escalating, and that was all the time I could spare. I turned and galloped out the door, passing by the pair that Ebb and Fade had made short work of. I hardly spared a glance, flaring my wings as soon as I was clear of the building and kicking off into the air at a full sprint, keeping a low altitude and arrowing towards where the others, currently sans-Ebb, were headed.

As I passed, I saw Ebb spare me a glance, and I just barely heard her say, “Cool,” with a twinge of what seemed like genuine admiration in her voice, before returning to pouring fire on the pair engaging from our flank.

Crafter must have indicated a target to his group, because as I swooped over, I heard Tailwind shout, “Engaging!” as she let off a series of blazing red shots at a roofless building towards the edge of the town’s perimeter. Crafter, Fade and Bernard joined in, laying down suppression fire on an enemy only Crafter could see.

The building in question rapidly became pocked with holes, but aside from keeping whoever was within’s head down, their rounds didn’t seem to have much effect. It was a good spot, and as soon as someone had to reload, the pony inside would have a broad field of fire to lay into my squad as they moved through the open.

Not on my watch!

I banked up, arrowing over the building as I drew a frag, bit off the stem and looked down as I passed the wall of the building. Sure enough, I saw a pony in red armour leaning against the side wall, heavy rifle mounted to his side and ready to use as soon as our fire slackened. I dropped the grenade straight down and maintained speed, putting the building’s remaining walls between myself and any fragments from my own grenade.

I heard a scream, then a crump as the grenade sent the wall of the building crumpling inwards. Soon as I saw it fall, I pressed the talk button on my radio — the one Fade was still carrying the twin to. “Building clear,” I stated, all business.

Fade had reached the far side of the street, and he turned, crouched, and started placing fire on the pair engaging Ebb from the side. “Covering!” he shouted.

Ebb got up from her cover and dashed towards — and past — Fade, making good use of the covering fire he was providing. After she passed, he laid down one last burst before he turned and took up the rear.

My run complete and the squad clear for the moment, I beat my wings hard as I passed the perimeter of the town, banking left and increasing altitude as I started to move into an overwatch flight pattern.

Away from the burning lamps and electrical lights of the town, nightfall had fully encroached. As we reached a momentary lull, I became increasingly aware of the chill air currents that sought to sap whatever warmth they could through the insulated barding. It banished any lingering possibility of simply making a run for it — we needed shelter, and the Red Eye kill team was probably counting on it.

With a deft flick of a forehoof, I flipped the night vision monocle down over my right eye, interfacing directly with the TFD’s HUD as the device powered up. After a brief start-up, the world before me became bathed in an overlay of varying shades of green, putting everything into stark contrast and digital image distortion. As it always did, it took a moment for my eyes to adjust, causing me to blink hard for a couple seconds. Soon enough, I was able to spot the others moving at ground level. Using them as a reference point, I started to scan the area. Our intel on the Stable’s position was probably good, but I wanted to make absolutely certain.

I quickly spotted the Stable entrance — it wasn’t exactly hidden, but it was nestled into a short defilade against the mountain face about five hundred or so meters from the town, roughly on the bearing Tail was leading our group.

With a glance back at Trotwynd, a brief scan of movement turned up a worrying number of hostiles moving through the town. Far as I could tell, they had lost sight of us when we pushed through their blocking force, and their advance was forced to clear building-to-building along the route we’d taken. By comparison, our group was managing a controlled sprint towards the Stable.

One thing of note was that their direction seemed not particularly worried about finding our destination. Most likely, whoever was in charge on their side had figured out, just like we had, that the Stable was our best bet.

It could very well be our tomb, if it comes to that.

I pressed the PTT button on the radio right as I toggled voice-to-text over my TFD. No time for fancy radio procedure, I picked something Fade would immediately recognize. “Packet, this is Skyhorse. Contact: eleven — one-one — contacts moving through the structures to your six. Moving cautiously, but they know where you’re headed, over.” Message sent, I returned to slowly circling the area. I still had two more grenades, but there were too many variables to deal with if I did decide to engage them directly. For one thing, I’d be of absolutely zero use to the others if they ended up catching me. Even if they didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to give proper intel if I was dodging bullets.

Tailwind’s reply scrolled across my screen a second later: ‘Packet acknowledges, out.’

I turned into a slow circle, fighting crosswinds but keeping level enough to monitor the situation. A few slow minutes ticked by on my TFD as I watched the two groups progress — a tense situation, and I watched keenly for any major developments. Once, Fade turned on his heel and raised his rifle, the sort of reaction I’d usually see from someone who’d just been shot at. It threw me off for a moment, and I thought I’d missed something, but as far as I could see, the only developments on the ‘Red side were that they were beginning to filter into the buildings on the edge of town, and no further.

Glancing back to our group with no small amount of confusion, I saw Ebb exchange a few quick words with the griffon, as they’d both fallen behind the rest by a few paces. Fade gave her some sort of reply, then they both turned to catch up.

Back in town, it quickly became clear that their orders were to hold at the edge of town, as I could see a series of buildings had been occupied and each turned into a firebase with guns pointed into the night. Some still had smoke coming from chimneys, but any that had been lit had had their lights doused or shuttered.

“So What?”

It was something of a mental tactics exercise I’d learned. So, they’re abandoning immediate pursuit. So, they don’t plan to try and catch us before we reach the Stable. So, either they’ve given up — unlikely — or they’re waiting for reinforcements. Therefore… they believe they can either bottle us up in there until we run out of food, or they believe they have enough force available to storm the place with a degree of confidence.

I’d put good money on the latter, though it boded ill.

Making the call, I abandoned my overwatch and arrowed towards our group of figures, just a series of faint green shapes against a plain of snow to my enhanced vision. I anticipated arriving right near the entrance to the Stable. They were right on target, no need to guide them in.

“Packet, Skyhorse,” I radioed in, “Coming up on your six, ten seconds.”

‘Roger’ scrolled across my TFD from Tailwind.

Nothing from Fade, though I assume he heard.

The group held up a moment, and I flared in for a landing amongst them. My hooves had barely crunched onto the hard snow before I was speaking. “They’re pausing at the town walls, looking for us. Pretty quick, they’ll realize what our plan is. We’ve gotta get dug in inside the Stable, maybe see if we can shut the door on ‘em. We’ll figure out a better plan once we’re in there.”

As I spoke, I glanced around, making eye contact with everyone, giving a quick appraisal of where they were at. Tailwind was fully engaged, her eyes alert. As was Ebb, though she threw a couple glances towards Fade as I gave my update. Bernard was steady, his pistol in his mouth and a resigned expression on his face, and Crafter had his rifle out, his eyes flitting across a hud that only he could see.

Fade, however, was a whole new level of… Fade. I couldn’t actually make eye contact with him, for one thing. He was half-turned away from me, watching back towards the town with his rifle raised. At one point, he flinched, as if to an impact that only he had heard.

He was our most capable fighter for the time being. I didn’t want to think about what would happen if he was going through some sort of mental breakdown, and I certainly didn’t have time to deal with it if he was, not here.

Seeing a chorus of nods (almost) all around, I motioned for Tail to take the lead for the last leg to the Stable, falling in behind her as I did. The terrain broke into a soft slope, dug out of the mountainside. I could make out the remains of what might have been some sort of ski lift, probably one of the only attractions towards this place back before the War.

As we crested the final rise before the land dipped down into a bowl-like depression and a cave entrance blasted into solid rock, we saw the wide open door of a Stable, illuminated by a few dim electrical lights built into the door’s housing. The first thing that struck me was that while we’d successfully reached our destination, certain assumptions were immediately challenged.

Such as there being a door in the first place.

There was a cog-toothed opening, for sure, but where the door should have been, there was just… nothing. Not even an arm left to move it into place.

Of course it couldn’t be as easy as locking the damn thing behind us.

It looked like we were going to have to keep them out by force of arms, rather than technology. Ushering the others to follow Tailwind as she made her way inside, I took one last look back at the town, just in time to see a single red flare shoot into the sky before bursting, making a slow, burning descent before fading entirely.

That was a signal, probably for follow-on forces to find the leading edge. We were short on time, and more were coming.

I turned off the night vision monocle and stowed it, cantering off after the others.

I saw Tailwind poke her head inside, scanning the entrance before waving that the first room seemed clear. I caught up with the rest just in time to hear Crafter speak up, “Where’s the door? How’re we supposed to keep them out now?”

Tail turned back to flash him a grin, “Well, I don’t think putting up some ministry ‘Do Not Enter’ tape will do, they don’t seem like the law abiding type.” She motioned him forwards, “Try to find some desks or something, we just need to bottle them here, Crafter.” She then caught my gaze and tossed her head further inside, beckoning me to follow.

As I headed inside, I noticed Fade glancing around, his beak slightly open. “Here we go again…” he muttered, as if to himself. As he passed Crafter, he stated flatly, without context and without stopping, “It’s long gone. Didn’t help before, it won’t now…”

Before?

Entering the cog-toothed opening, I saw my first glimpse inside the Stable. It seemed vaguely familiar, in the same sense that “utilitarian” and “military” design styles often reach similar conclusions. It felt a lot like the inside of a Raptor, and I immediately started to feel claustrophobic. Grey walls and galvanized steel, the entryway had a few decent firing positions amongst the minor maze of stairs, equipment, gantries and a slightly elevated platform. Dead ahead, there was a corridor that rapidly took a hard turn to the left, leaving the rest to imagination for the time being.

I followed after Tail, who had ducked inside what seemed to be the door operation control room, off to the right. Not that it served a purpose any longer, without the door itself. Coming around the corner, I asked “How’s it look? I don’t imagine they’ve got a spare door lying around.”

Despite everything, she still cracked a grin at the bad joke, “Yeah, and a whole robot army that hates iris infections!” She turned back to me, her face dropping. “Do we have a plan, Chief? Cause it’s very apparent to me that the former inhabitants stripped anything not absolutely essential from this place a long time ago.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but was abruptly interrupted by Ebb bursting into the control room, abruptly shoving her LMG sideways against me. “Bullets,” she stated bluntly. She had an earnestness in her eyes, like her actions were the most normal thing she could think of, given her situation.

Well, she was eager, I guess. Still, I couldn’t help her — Fade was carrying the rest of the belted ammo, which I voiced, “What? Fade’s got the ammo, go see him for more.”

She persisted, glancing awkwardly back into the room, “Uh, he seems…” she trailed off. She had something she didn’t feel comfortable voicing, and it was probably related to how particularly crazy Fade was acting.

I stepped back out of the control room right as the griffon in question was voicing his tactical opinion as he stood half-in, half-out of the cog-toothed main entrance. “...I can mine the entranceway and seed some further back. This place is like a maze, but we can use that to create choke points. Mostly worked last time. I’m still here, anyways.” He clapped a taloned hand around his beak, realizing what he’d said and wearing a look on his face that seemed as shocked at his own statement as we were at its content. He blinked, glancing around at us for the first time, his eyes hovering on Ebb’s empty machine gun, and he asked, “Wait. What’s going on here?”

He’d been here when the Enclave attacked, and this is the first I hear of it? Shit!

I clamped down on my thoughts. Not the time. If we lived, he was getting a barrage of questions. For now, I focused on the present. “Fade, you’ve got the ammo to top her up, right? Give her everything you can spare, she’ll need it.” Addressing the group, I continued, “He’s right though. We hold this entrance. Just as they did, seven years ago. We bloody their noses, force ‘em to wait us out. We can last the night in here — they’ll have to pull back to the town eventually, then we’ve got all night to figure this out.”

“Um.” Ebb vocalized, speaking up for the first time, “I think we need a more narrow avenue than this. Smoke, frags, and a screen rush will route us out of here quick.” She shrugged her shoulders, “Unless they have some useless slaver in charge instead of a lieutenant or something.”

Fade, still hung up on the ammo, dug a talon into one of his bags, pulled out a belt and tossed it towards the green unicorn. Under his breath, he muttered, “I shouldn’t even give you this, but take it, make it last. When this is over we’re talking about trigger discipline, or I’m taking the machine gun away.” Taking a breath, he turned back to me, inclining his head towards the open door and followed up with, “She’s right though. This place won’t last long even with a door. We can hold out for a time, but then the front needs to be narrowed. Give them only one route in. Now that is much easier to hold, and I can make things especially interesting for our unwanted tagalongs.” He ducked suddenly, as if to some blast from above.

I ignored it. It was pretty clear by now he was going through some pretty serious memory relapse, or something like it, to the last time he’d apparently fought here. “Then we go deeper,” I declared. “Still, mine the entrance — slow them, buy us time.” Much as it… worried me, scared me, to be blunt about my thoughts of going deeper, they had valid points. “We look for a defensive position. We go deeper, clearing this damn place as we go, see what we’re working with.” Though it pained me to admit, I added, “Thoughts? I’m flying by wire here — if you’ve got any ideas, speak up.”

Ebb took her newly acquired ammo, feeding it into her gun, slamming the feed cover and cocking the action back. “We probably got close to an hour or two. The response team they’ll have called was probably stationed at the command hub a couple clicks North of town. They have a little building where they keep a combat team for these sort of things.”

An hour or two. That… that helped. I took a few deep breaths, letting out the last in a bit of a sigh of relief. I took a moment to compose myself before replying. “Okay, that’s… more than I expected. Fade, Ebb, Bernard, I want you all to set up here. Tailwind and I will take Crafter, scout this place and find us a spot to hole up. We won’t be as bunched up, and if you guys get bumped, you can stage an organized retreat to us if we’re not back yet. We’ll send a guide to get you when we find somewhere suitable. Until then, keep any opportunistic probes out — we need to know where we can afford to let them get to. I certainly don’t want to have to go back and clear this deathtrap after we’ve forced them back. Any questions?”

“Shoot nosey bucks and sit tight,” Ebb replied, “Got it.” She took to eyeing up the room, trying to see where the best arcs of fire would be.

Giving a quick nod, Bernard went to set himself up as far back into the room as possible, unlimbering his rifle and beginning to stare out into the dark, watching for movement.

Fade set about inventorying his stock of weapons and ammo, and doing a bit of quick maintenance on his primary rifle, his movements robotic, even if his talons were shaking.

Seeing the three getting to work at the entrance, it was time for the rest of us to get to work. Turning to Tail, I commented, “Lets get this done. Finding what might not be there, with a time limit.” I gave her a grim look. “Nothing we haven’t done before, right?”

She gave a strained laugh, but there wasn’t any humour left in it.

We both knew this plan was banking on a whole lot of luck, and ours hadn’t exactly been stellar in the last two weeks.

“Crafter, fall in behind. I don’t want you running point, but I’d like to hear any thoughts you might have for how we can defend this place. You’d be the most familiar with this sort of place, besides Fade, apparently. That, and keep an eye on that EFS as usual — there’s no telling what might have taken up residence here what with the door gone.”

That said, I stepped off, beginning the task of clearing the Stable.

It really does figure. I swear on the skies above that there’s a cosmic sense of irony.

I followed the hallway straight out of the room, turning the sharp corner and immediately came up short.

Before me, just beside a set of stairs leading up above the entrance room was a stone propped up against the wall, meaningfully set into the existing structure of the Stable. On its grey-white surface, names, ranks and cutie marks were carefully, delicately etched. Where a heading might have been was simply a deliberately blank space. Sitting just in front was a solitary mast from a long ago broken flagpole, its base set in a hole drilled in the floor. Upon the mast rested a Ranger helm, worn and scarred from energy weapon fire.

The thing that drew my eyes, and a gasp of surprise from my lips, was the looped bands of identity tags hanging from the pole. Enclave issue, the very same style Tailwind and I were wearing.

The same kind my father wore.

Author's Note

Thanks a whole bunch to the editing team, which now includes Belmor, Shady, KylerAdams and BasicJasioh.

Chapter 15: Stable 245

Chapter 15: Stable 245

Trapped.

They had us, the very same way the Enclave had trapped the survivors of Trotwynd here seven years ago.

The irony of the situation was not lost on me.

As I rifled through the service tags hanging from the monument, saw the names of ponies who died down here…I felt a part of my heart harden. I saw the mother of a mare I grew up with, her story of the “lost parent” achingly similar to my own - I’ll probably never see her again, but I had the answer she’d been searching for. I saw the name of one of Dad’s drinking buddies - “Uncle” Thunderbolt wasn’t related to us, but he’d always gone out of his way to be friendly towards me, perhaps because he never had any foals of his own. He’d felt like family in his own way.

Flipping through the names that were, in effect, the only true list of the dead down here...every name had a story. Most were names I didn’t recognize, but every one of them carried a painful story and a brutal end. Every name I passed as I searched was another kick to the gut. Every name that wasn’t his left my mind further in doubt.

Before I even reached the end, I came to a realization.

I realized how much I would fight, how much I would sacrifice to avoid my own name being added to that Skies forsaken list; to not be forgotten down here.

I would see this place drowned in blood once again before I let them take us.

–Snap Roll’s Journal

Crafter Odds

“What’s all that about?” I asked in a hushed voice as Tailwind ushered me up the stairs. I’d only had a chance to glance at the monument the previous inhabitants had left, but if it was enough to make Snap drop to her haunches and stare at it like that…

“Crafter,” She replied evenly (which, for her, was pretty much dead serious), “We’ve talked a bit about how our kind - the Grand Pegasus Enclave, that is - attacked this place in the past, right?”

I frowned. The topic had come up, but it seemed like a touchy subject so I’d mostly left it alone. Besides, that was all in the past, right?

She was waiting for a reply though. “Um, it came up a couple times,” I replied hesitantly, “But I don’t see what that has to do with us getting out of here…”

She gave off a tired sigh. “Crafter, Snap’s father was probably a part of that operation. He never returned.” She reached into the collar of her barding, grasping a utilitarian-looking necklace with a cloud-shaped disk attached to it. It had a series of indentations cut into it, as if the two halves were meant to separate if needed. “Look familiar?”

On it was written her name, blood type, “GPE”, and a letter followed by a series of seemingly random numbers.

I finally put two and two together.

The tags hanging off of that monument…they belonged to ponies - pegasi, that is - that fought here. That means…

“She’s looking for his, is what's happening there?” I asked. “To see if he died here?”

“Yeah,” She replied with downcast eyes. “A lot of why she joined up was to find out what happened to him.” She paused, glancing around, as if looking for something else to talk about.

The room we’d found at the top of the stairs reminded me more than anything of my own accomodation back in the stable, except that there was more area in general, in addition to a lavish terminal set up against the far wall and a space big enough that the Stable’s council (if they had one, I had to remind myself) might have met to discuss…Stable things.

I shook my head. Now wasn’t the time to reminisce.

“So isn’t it a good thing? She’ll finally get her answer, won’t she?” I asked, not really seeing what was causing Tailwind’s discomfort with the topic.

“Well, that’s kind of the problem, not that I’d say as much to her.” She replied, “I don’t know if I’m more worried about her finding her father’s tags there…or of her not finding them.” Looking up, she met my eyes. “We all need her to lead us out of this, and I have absolutely no idea how she’d handle coming all this way…and not finding them.”

Leaving things at that, she turned to the terminal, booting it up. With her skills, she had it unlocked in moments. The screen flickered green, opening up to a “Welcome, Overmare Fresh Start” message before flicking to a series of menus. Paging through them faster than I could track, Tailwind began her hunt in earnest.

Sitting on my haunches behind her, I watched on in quiet admiration. She wasn’t just trained, nor was she merely “good” at what she did - when she really set her mind to something, it was something else entirely. While her partner exuded an infectious cockiness, Tailwind had more of a quiet drive that I was really seeing for the first time.

It made me self conscious about just sitting there as she worked, so I leaned in to try and see if I could make any sort of sense of what she was paging through.

At one point I saw her briefly bring up the very last piece of inter-Stable correspondence - a Stable-wide email congratulating the inhabitants on reaching the end of their time in the Stable, with their real journey about to begin on the surface. The date tagged to the email was nearly one hundred and fifty years ago.

While I was certainly interested, she quickly dismissed the fancily decorated digital greeting card.

A few more windows opened and closed, with Tailwind letting out a soft huff of irritation before her mouth curled into a smile. “Bingo,” she said victoriously as she very deliberately tapped one last key. A three dimensional map of the Stable sprung to life before my eyes. Glancing back, she gave me a triumphant smirk before commenting, “See anything you recognize? Anything that’ll help?”

I gave it a long look. It actually looked shockingly similar to layouts I’d grown quite used to using - among other things, it was absolutely perfect when you had to hunt down electrical connections and piping! Much…no, most of it was quite similar. Just like what I’d already seen of the entrance, it was like somepony had taken the same set of basic pieces of building, and assembled them mostly the same.

They had the same sort of gallery, atrium, identical passages…the same maze-like housing districts that wouldn’t really help us in the long run - tactics aren’t exactly my thing, but even I could figure out we didn’t want to get stuck in that sort of area.

It occurred to me that my Stable most certainly did not have anything like a “hold out point” or an alternate exit of any sort - unless they didn’t give us the full schematics to work with, which I kind of doubted. Not that they’d withhold information (they would, and they had), but rather that I had been just about everywhere in the Stable to fix something or another.

At any rate, it certainly proved easier to identify differences than to try and reason out similarities. A few caught my eye right away - little things mostly, but there was one passageway near the bottom was different enough to be conspicuous. “Uh, Tail, could you zoom in on this bit?” I indicated with a hoof.

She obliged easily, zooming and rotating the digital map until the corridor in question was filling the screen, as well as some that had clipped outside the edge of the visible area. It was massive. It almost wouldn’t have shown up at all from a top-down view, but from the side the corridor I’d singled out led to what was unmistakably an elevator, and a massive one at that! In my Stable, there had been a single elevator in the gallery, merely big enough for four or five ponies, depending on how friendly they were - this one could easily hold five times that number, or more!

“That’s it!” I cried, completely forgetting the circumstances of our situation for one glorious moment.

Then I remembered we were in mortal peril.

Tailwind glanced back at me, a smile on her lips but a skeptical expression on her face.

“The…the elevator, there!” I stated, pushing forwards and indicating with a forehoof.

She turned back to the terminal, typing out a few quick commands. The elevator separated itself from the schematic and began rotating in the three dimensional view, with descriptive text appearing beside it. Tailwind gave a soft “hum” of appreciation before commenting brightly, “Says here this is an emergency exit in case of a cave-in or avalanche at the main entrance.” She turned around and threw her hooves around me, pulling me tight to her chest.

I gave out a startled “Eep!” that was quickly silenced by her shoulder. I meant to say something, but…well, her mane just smelled so nice I kind of forgot what it was and just accepted the hug. Before I knew it, my hooves were around her, too, pulling her tight against me.

It took me a few moments before I realized what I was doing. Stupid me, especially with her special somepony not ten meters from us…I released the hug, backing away to give us both some space for a moment.

She was just happy, but I didn’t want to do anything that could be misconstrued. Especially not when her other half was the mare in charge of keeping us all alive.

Not to mention particularly proficient at…ah…killing people.

Tailwind gave me an amused look, but didn’t comment in particular on her actions.

Probably for the best I figured, so I moved right along to brush over the awkwardness. “So now we know where we’re headed. That sort of thing would have an on-site interface, this terminal probably just has information on it. That’s the way most things were in my Stable, anyways.”

Tail turned back to the monitor for a moment, tapping a few quick keys. “Yeah, seems that way. Still, best not to leave this sort of info for them, just in case.” She logged out, then booted up the same backdoor program as before. I was confused, then I saw her rapidly type in multiple wrong passwords all in a row. The terminal flashed, and a message popped up indicating that it was locked until serviced by a “registered user.”

That would do it, wouldn’t it?

Tailwind smiled happily, clearly pleased with herself. “Well then, shall we?”

“We shall.” I replied, letting her lead the way back down the stairs.

Back towards…oh. Right.

We returned just in time to see Snap finish storing the whole bunch of service tags in one of her saddlebags. I wondered if the jingling of all those thin metal disks would be a problem for stealth stuff, but decided against commenting.

Snap Roll looked up at us - well, at Tailwind, really - and commented with an air of someone…lost, if I were to put a word to it. “He’s not here.”

Tail stepped down, wordlessly wrapping her partner in a hug. I let a faint smile cross my features. I knew the feeling, the comfort Snap must be feeling right now…the promise that things would be okay.

The two of them shared a few words, too quietly for me to hear, but they seemed to carry an air of reassurance. Afterwards, Snap nodded, and they parted.

When they did, Snap was our leader again.

“Find anything useful in there?” She asked, all business.

“Just the way out of this underground deathtrap,” Tail replied easily. “Crafter found an emergency elevator to the top of the mountain in the schematics.”

“Did he, now?” Snap replied with a smile, looking up at me approvingly.

Behind her, Tail flashed me a wink.

“It was-” I started, intending to give credit to its proper owner…but I caught myself when Tail just shook her head, gesturing for me to go on. “I mean, uh, yeah, I found it in the schematics. It’s at the bottom of the gallery, furthest corner from where we’re standing.”

“Alright Crafter,” Snap replied, a plan coming to life behind those violet eyes of hers; “You’ll be our navigator, while Tail and I will clear our route there. We need to see what sort of shape that elevator’s in, but we also need to make sure there aren’t any surprises left in this Stable. The last thing we need is some squatter with a grudge taking pot shots at us from behind.”

Seemed to make sense. I nodded, commenting, “Well, uh, it’s that way.”

Despite the situation, Tailwind gave off a little chuckle. Snap shook her head back and forth, but I noticed a smile on her face.

And you know, sometimes that’s enough. Even if it did seem like a perfectly reasonable thing to say at the time.

Without another word, Snap slipped into “tactical mode,” and Tailwind followed suit. In all honesty, it’s tough to describe it as anything other than a switch they can flip at will. One second she’ll think I’m funny, or crack jokes or stuff like that, and the next, her body posture changes. I’d hesitate to use the phrase “tenses up,” because it’s quite the opposite - more like her movements actually become more fluid and instinctive, kind of like I’d seen those wolves move…that one time.

Tailwind, by comparison, moves a lot like she does normally, not the same drastic change as Snap…but the normal, random sort of mannerisms that she normally affects disappear entirely, and the look in those green eyes of hers loses any hint of her normal humour.

Watching them makes me realize how far I have to go, or wonder if that’s the sort of thing I’ll ever “catch up to,” or if that’s really a goal I want to set for myself in the first place. For now, it was enough to get me to focus on trying to be of use to them. If I could manage that, to not slow them down…perhaps that would be enough.

They prowled down the corridor towards the gallery, weapons up and eyes constantly scanning, moving very much like a single entity, covering each other’s blind spots perfectly.

We moved onto the balcony level of the gallery and the Stable truly opened up around us. Just a couple weeks ago, an area much like it had seemed like the biggest open space to me. It still had a similar effect on me, now more of a learned habit than any real sense of awe. There were only two floors, the balcony we stood on and the bottom floor some four meters below us, probably the same sort of common area I was familiar with. Along the sides were various rooms, including a few offices and the security room, placed where it could potentially block access to the front entrance, or between invaders and the rest of the Stable.

I’d never thought of it in those terms before, but it seemed relatively natural to me now. It was only common sense, right?

Snap took all that in with a glance over the short, flimsy metal railing, motioning to Tail which room we were heading to first. She didn’t need any input from me, so I kept quiet and tried to keep a sense of where we needed to go in my head, all the while keeping an eye on my EFS - no red bars so far, just the cool blue pips of the two mares.

In turn, and without fanfare, they quickly but effectively cleared room after room. They were quick, quiet, and scanned their weapon barrels across every possible place to hide in each room before declaring it “Clear,” and forming back up outside, where I’d keep watch, and our advance would continue.

Within a couple busy minutes, we reached the ground floor.

“The elevator should be through that corridor,” I pointed out after quietly catching Snap’s attention, finally feeling relevant to our mission.

“Roger,” Snap replied as she zeroed in.

We crossed the gallery, and reached the passageway in question. It branched out just like every other hallway for about four meters from the gallery, then turned ninety degrees - If I’ve managed to internalize any of Snap’s sort of thinking, I’d say it forced an attacker to round the corner before they were able to see any of the room beyond. Smart? Coincidental? Who knows for sure.

Anyways, Snap and Tail treated it just like every other room they’d cleared, stacking up beside the corner. Tailwind reached up and tapped Snap’s shoulder, and as one they stepped out into the open - Snap dropping to a crouch and facing her rifle down the path, Tailwind above her, energy rifle scanning the same arcs, fully prepared to fire over her pair’s head if needed.

I was practically taking notes. They didn’t even have to talk about this stuff, it was just engrained, muscle memory for both of them.

So caught up was I in watching them do their thing I almost missed them step off around the corner, evidently not finding anything worth shooting at. Rounding the corner just behind them, I saw what they had a few seconds before.

The passage branched to the right after about ten meters. Ten heavily scarred meters. Seriously, it seemed like a minor war had been fought in this passageway in particular. I hadn’t taken too much notice earlier, but thinking back there were indicators. Shot out bits of flooring, bullet scars in some of the walls…the odd indistinct stain on the ground.

But nothing like this.

The walls were all but destroyed by some sort of heavier ordinance, and the emergency backup lighting had mostly failed throughout the hallway, resuming once again at the far end of the room. It took my brain a second to register it all. Despite that, all of the debris, the bodies, the explosive shrapnel that must have been there had been cleaned up in the years since. It was…surreal, to me. It was the cleanest but most brutal hallway I’d ever seen.

Almost as an afterthought, there at the end of this hallway of death lied the object of our search - the hollow outcropping that could hold an elevator, with a gently lit terminal (even if it was spiderwebbed with cracks around a melted chunk of screen) set off to the left.

Snap and Tail had already reached another ninety degree corner right where it opened up at the end of the hallway, leading to the right - back towards the entrance, if my internal sense of direction was still accurate. “Clear!” Snap called, and her and Tail immediately relaxed, followed by Snap letting out an inarticulate “Whoop!” of joy.

The route they’d checked was maybe ten meters long, with a maintenance shaft entrance set against the far wall - I knew from experience that it would take an awfully small pony to fit into those. Back in the Stable, Haywire had always…well, been the one to go into those to fix things.

Momentarily distracted as I was, I completely missed Snap’s hoof headed towards my face when I looked up. Instinctively, I brought my forehoof up to defend myself, confused at finding myself suddenly under attack!

Her hoof bounced off the side of my leg harmlessly, and I looked up to see what was going on.

She had me fixed with her violet glare. “I mean, that works too I guess, but have you never hoof bumped before? Let’s try that again.”

She retracted her hoof, and for all the world looked like she was going to slug me if I didn’t do something. So I extended my own, trying to head her off before she made contact with my body.

Her hoof tapped mine, frog-to-frog. It wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t exactly a punch, either. It felt…kinda good, I guess. In a comradely way.

Turning to walk back towards the elevator, she spoke up, back in her usual persona. “You just saved our asses, Crafter - You can celebrate at least a little! With this thing we’ve got an out that doesn’t involve slavery and death, if they’re feeling kind.”

She walked up to the terminal, Tailwind and myself falling in behind her.

The elevator recess was industrial-style - essentially an open bay that quite clearly did not currently house the elevator itself. It had a series of braces set against the floor level, a few feet down - it looked like once an elevator was resting on them, it would probably end up level with the Stable flooring we were standing on.

Black and yellow hazard stripes denoted the area just outside where the elevator would come to rest, presumably warning of the crush hazard for anyone silly enough to be under the elevator as it was descending.

As Snap approached the terminal, I could make out a pretty clear “Call elevator” button. It was big, green, and illuminated, and it stood out right in the center of the console, beneath the cracked screen.

“Care to do the honours?” Snap asked, stepping aside once she’d had her look at it.

Nodding, I stepped forwards. It seemed like an honour, to be the one to save us. I was feeling pretty pleased with myself, all in all.

Flashing her a grin, I held out my hoof and slammed it down on the button, perhaps with just a bit more force than was needed.

It felt good to celebrate, just a little.

The problem became immediately apparent.

Well, I mean, nothing happened.

Reaching back, more delicately this time, I very deliberately pushed the button. It produced the same mechanical “click” it had the first time, and nothing else.

I pushed it again, just to be sure.

Turning to Snap, I commented, “I haven’t fixed one of these before.”

She looked me right in the eyes, all humour gone from her expression; “Well, there’s a first time for everything, right?”

I was hesitant, but she had a point…and I was distinctly the most qualified to sort the situation out.

“I should be able to have it up and running in an hour or two, I think,” I concluded finally. I didn’t know exactly what the problem was, but it didn’t seem like the system was fundamentally broken - something had probably gotten damaged during the fight, and nobody had deemed to spare the time to fix it when the Stable was functionally abandoned.

“You’ve got maybe twenty minutes,” Snap stated.

I gulped.

“Tailwind, stay here and help him out,” She continued, “Whatever he needs. I’ll-”

She was cut off by a fizzle of static coming from the radio stored in one of the pouches on her barding, and the voice of Ebb coming across the line. ≪Commander, you read?≫

Wasn’t Fade carrying the other radio...?

“Go ahead,” Snap replied, pressing a switch to talk back.

≪We’ve…got a problem with Fade.≫

At that, Snap took off at a run, calling back over her shoulder, “I don’t care what you have to do! Get that thing operational!” Then she was around the corner, and presumably already taking off to fly up to the balcony.

I shared a look with Tailwind, who shrugged. “Well, it’s a start,” She commented.

Giving off a soft sigh, I gestured for her to come over. “I’m going to need you to run a diagnostic program through the terminal, while I take a look at some of the insides of this…”

She threw me a jaunty salute and piped up, “Yes, sir!”

Fade

The entrance was crowded.

Of course it was. You couldn’t fit so many Steel Rangers, Trotwynd refugees and us into a room like the entrance to a Stable and have it feel lofty.

Survivors were still filtering past. Villagers still able to walk did so, even as Ranger medics dragged an unconscious, armoured form between them, deeper into the stable. Occasionally, members of the rearguard filtered past, healthy ponies, but low on ammo and hope alike. Some stocked up on ammunition from crates piled in corners. A few, Rangers all, headed back topside, to hold the line a few minutes more.

There was blood on the floor. The injured had left it as they variously proceeded further into the bowels of the earth, as if the Stable itself was in the process of swallowing them whole. It dripped, it pooled, it sluiced into the grating near the entrance, congealing amongst ancient, arcane wiring. Hooves picked it up and trailed it further into the Stable, a wake of gore following what was left of the town we’d condemned to death.

“Fade!”

The voice snapped my gaze back to Paladin Cheesequake, visibly agitated and standing just outside the intermittent flow of ponies. No, I should say the flow of ponies, no matter their hurry, parted around him. He had that kind of “aura,” I suppose.

The fact that he wasn’t wearing his helmet and the fresh, bloody injury across his face probably helped. I guess they never did manage to save that eye of his.

“Yes?”

“I said,” he growled, “We should never have done it. We shouldn’t have fucked with what we didn’t understand, and this is what came of it!”

“What we did is in the past,” The heavily wrapped form of Chess replied, his deadly calm voice cutting into the conversation like winter wind. His gasmask hung from his neck and his furs were stained with the blood of his son. “We have to do what we can to ensure some of these ponies live to see morning. Incriminations can come then, if at all.”

I nodded in agreement. “On that note, I’ll start laying some surprises. Should be an interesting irony for winged rats to have to deal with landmines.” I set about the task before anyone had a chance to respond. I knew we had to dissuade them from heading down the service corridor behind the control room, though at its narrowest, I suppose no pony in power armour could manage to fit anyways.

Cheesequake nodded, but the voice that replied wasn’t his.

“Fade?”

I blinked, and found myself staring into the violet eyes of miss Snap Roll. It briefly occurred to me that I’d said something she would probably consider incredibly offensive. No matter, she had it coming after what her race put me through.

“As I was saying,” Snap continued, glancing around to Bernard and Ebb. “We’ve found an elevator, looks like it was once an escape route should the main entrance suffer a cave in. Tailwind and Crafter are working on getting it operational.”

“Ahh, you found it.” I replied, “Getting it to work would be something of a feat. Last I recall, we did quite the number on it.”

She seemed to be having a bit of a time, the way she clenched her teeth and gave me a look fierce enough to chill a soul.

The joke’s on her, I sold mine for eternal fortune long ago. If only I could find it, now…

Through gritted teeth, she continued, “Anyways, Bernard, this won’t be a long-gun fight. Find your way to them, down the stairs and through the gallery. Help them out however you can.”

The stalwart earth pony glanced around, grimacing, but ultimately nodded, and began hobbling his way down the hallway.

And then there were three of us…to hold an entrance that thrice that number hadn’t managed.

Odds of survival were not good.

I realized the flow of people had stopped. All that remained in the entrance were the four of us, plus another four Rangers and a pair of wastelanders - weapons pointed at the night.

I glanced at the entrance. There should have been two more Rangers out there. I knew, because I’d counted them before I’d entered, and only six of the rearguard had returned since then.

The quiet, winter-wrapped earth pony in the corner pointed a forehoof out into the dark. She-

Ebb spoke up, the same words She had said seven years ago.

“They’re coming.”

Snap Roll

It started with the popping hiss of smoke grenades.

Smoke billowed, cloying, choking. Some of it white, some orange, some green, all blending into a blinding cloud that drifted slowly from beyond what we could see of the approach. Following the natural flow of air into the Stable, it was drawn straight towards us, and we soon found ourselves breathing the foul smell of chemically produced clouds.

“Cover!” Ebb screamed, her voice sounding raw from breathing the fumes.

I braced my shoulder further against the panel I was using for cover. It would have to be enough. Beside me, Ebb did the same, covering her mouth with a barding-wrapped foreleg as her light machine gun levitated behind the very same piece of old world technology. The way I figured, it had survived round one, so we were probably good, right?

Last I’d seen him, Fade was using the control room for cover from the forewarned volley of frag grenades.

In the relative quiet of the smoke grenades burning, a part of me wanted to believe I heard the sound of grenades landing inside the entrance.

Then I didn’t hear anything at all.

The world became a flash of heat, light and a concussive force I felt with my insides. It left my ears ringing, but I saw Ebb get to her hooves, brace her machine gun and begin firing into the smoke. I saw her yelling, the words incomprehensible, but their meaning clear as day. I could feel the concussion of her bullets as she laid down suppressing fire.

It was time to do what I can do.

I leapt into the air, flapping my wings til I managed to grab hold of one of the pipes running underneath the ceiling. I had no idea what its purpose was, but it was steel, and solid enough for my purposes.

I’d grown up on stories of pegasus wingpower bending nature to our will. I’d trained, drilling my body to peak efficiency for years. I’d stood out, I’d excelled despite my own tendencies and my family’s history, and gotten promoted to squad command. None of it would be worth a damn if I let myself die down there, in some shitty underground cage!

Grabbing hold of that pipe like a skies damned lifeline, I flapped as hard as I could, away, the thrust of my wingbeats going back towards the entrance. I felt the strain in my legs, holding myself in place against my own locomotion.

At first, it seemed to be futile, but as I saw the first back-eddies begin to form in the smoke, I grit my teeth and beat my wings faster, harder, at maximum extension, pushing as much air as my frame physically could.

It produced results.

Smoke parted, reversing course as the natural air currents were disrupted. Air was now being forced out of the Stable, back into the faces of the ponies Ebb was entirely certain were advancing on our position.

The looks on their faces when they emerged, choking and vulnerable, from the smoke cloud was almost worth it as my wings burned with overexertion and my lungs drew in air contaminated with the lingering stench of smoke.

These first groups were wearing a hodgepodge of barding, seemingly whatever was available and sufficiently warm, rather than the more militant-looking uniforms those like Ebb had worn. They were formed up in fireteams, and sent in two teams at a time. The first pony - the first two to emerge from the smoke - carried a heavy shield mounted to a battle saddle-like mount that distributed the weight across their body. The second carried a close range weapon clutched in their teeth or levitated beside them, and followed hot on the hooves of the first. The tactic was as brutal as it was effective. The shield-ponies enabled those that followed them to flood into the smoke-filled enclosure, filling the area with bodies and confusion, blocking lines of fire and swamping the defenders in meat.

The problem was when the defenders had clear lines of fire.

Ebb’s bursts went from speculative to killing, the flashing muzzle strobes illuminating the gunner beneath me as she took full advantage of the momentary respite from the smoke. At first her rounds had no effect, but after rounds began pinging from the front of shields she had a chance to correct. She stitched rounds downwards, hitting the first shieldpony in his hoof, causing him to stumble and fall - his shield swinging to the side as he lost balance. The remainder of her burst stuttered through his torso before continuing into his fireteam partner. She barely had a chance to look surprised before she was perforated with a dozen or more small caliber rounds, ripping right through her barding and shredding the mare.

No time for remorse or second thoughts, Ebb swapped targets to the second team. The shieldpony must have seen his compatriot fall, and dropped to a knee, planting his shield in the snow just outside the entryway, his partner snugging up behind him and spraying the interior with submachine gun rounds.

The intent was to keep our heads down, but with them bottlenecked just at the edge of the smoke screen, his muzzle flash also served to highlight his position. Fade took advantage of that by leaning out of cover and placing a hurricane of single shots into the immobile pair. I saw their combined silhouette fall in the fog.

Seconds had passed, and four ponies lay dead or injured in the entryway, but still they pressed on. The next group was heartbeats behind the first, shadows moving in the smoke until the coalesced into another pair of shields forcing their way through the cloying, magical mist.

After the success of the first salvo, Ebb did the same with the second, winging a shieldbearer and managing to catch his partner with the brunt of the second killing burst. This time they were close enough for me to see blood spray against the churned up snow, already dyed orange and green from the smoke.

Despite our efforts, they were pushing forwards.

As the second team crossed the threshold bare meters from us, the chatter of Ebb’s machine gun abruptly cut out. I felt this more than anything else, as the sensory overload of grenades followed by heavy gunfire meant I was in a state of auditory overload, I couldn’t even hear the ringing in my ears over the sheer amount of noise in the enclosed space of the entryway.

Fade must have noticed it too, as he pushed off of the wall, rifle clutched in one talon. As the remaining shieldpony sped past him, he stepped into the space the pony had only just vacated, poleaxing his fireteam partner with a burst of fire. He continued the motion, a fluid innovation amidst the chaotic battle as he dug his talons into the throat of the shieldpony from behind.

He must have squeezed, as the buck’s eyes bulged before he was bodily hauled sideways. Not a moment too soon, as rounds from further outside out little bunker found their place in the shieldpony’s torso on their way to Fade. I saw a few nicks, spattering drops of griffon blood on the cold steel grating of the entryway, but he hardly seemed to notice as he continued his pivot of the body until the shield was pointed back towards the entryway and he was kneeling behind it, firing into the gloom as rounds began to spang off of his impromptu cover.

In the seconds he bought, Ebb cleared the misfired casing, firing a short burst off to Fade’s right.

Getting the hint, the griffon let off one last burst before falling back to the control room to reload. He also ducked down, presumably to set some sort of nasty surprise.

Ebb let rip, trading fire with our unseen assailants. Her rate of fire wasn’t what it was when she had visible targets, but it would keep heads down. Despite the continued fire, I was starting to be able to hear again, even though it was dominated by gunfire and frantic ricochets on the steel around us.

It was time. They’d start to adapt, find some way to put us on our toes. Besides, we were expending too much ammunition for how much time was being bought. If we maintained this rate, Ebb would run out and we’d be swamped.

I cut my wingspeed to a holding pattern, merely keeping the smoke at bay rather than pushing it back. It gave me a second to free a forehoof to wave at Fade. Catching his gaze, I yelled “Pull back!” as I beckoned him back with the same hoof.

He caught on, making a sprint backwards, past Ebb as he clapped a hand on her shoulder as he passed. I couldn’t hear, but if his training was anything like ours, he would have said “One more,” telling her she was still our hoof on the ground for the moment.

As soon as he passed her by, I cut my wings to my side and let go of the pipe. Immediately, smoke began to press back into the entrance. We had seconds, but that was all we needed if we did this right.

I dropped to Ebb’s side, catching myself on my hooves in a braced firing stance. I bit down on my trigger bit, sending a burst of rounds into the fog of war before clapping her on the shoulder. “Last one!” I shouted, just about in her ear. She needed to hear me, and I moved as soon as I saw a nod from her, before she put her head back down to put another burst downrange.

Turning, I galloped further into the Stable. I caught a glimpse of Fade having taken cover in the cutout stairway leading to the overmare’s office. That left-

Damn it. Damn it all!

I hadn’t thought about it, but in hindsight it was just about perfect. I skidded to a stop beside the monument to my race’s sins, the empty Ranger helmet staring down accusingly. I put my shoulder against the monument, with its names etched in an inches thick granite slab. I pushed. It wasn’t like I had to carry it. No, it had probably been placed by multiple armoured Rangers, or a series of unicorns carrying it. I just had to shift it. And shift it did, moving to the side before tipping, its fall as inevitable as it was impossible to stop. It fell, smashing the perfect finish and denting the Stabletec plates, obliterating carefully chiseled names as it butted up against the steel pole set into the floor. I set my shoulder against the solid, unmoving granite slab and drew a breath into my lungs.

“Move now!”

I shouted loud, not a suggestion or request, but an order, and issued as such - with force behind it. Even over her own suppressive fire, Ebb heard me. Without a moment’s hesitation, she turned and ran, her weapon levitating beside her as she passed by me with a telekinetic slap on my shoulder and the words “One more!” on her lips. With Fade and I where we were, her next position would be the corner before the gallery itself. Fade took up the slack, firing suppressive into the once again encroaching smoke.

The enemy wasted no time.

As soon as they saw the fire slacken and its pitch change, they advanced. Once again, a group of shields pushed forwards. This time, with smoke obscuring their advance, they were free to spill into the room and take up positions of cover that we’d only just abandoned.

One pair split into the control room, followed moments later by an explosion of smoke and fire, devastating in the close quarters of the small room. The rest pushed towards the direct route into the Stable, channeling their aggression towards us.

As vague shapes in the smoke took up firing positions on Fade and myself, I felt the first impacts hit the granite surface of the monument. As the griffon leaned out to reply in turn, I took a steadying breath then rolled sideways, adding my firepower to his.

Crafter Odds

I was neck deep in circuitry when they started shooting.

Tailwind was at the terminal running continuous diagnostics, while I was in the elevator well, checking circuit boards and connections. I’d discovered a surprising affinity for, well…elevators over the last few minutes, though my actual knowledge base on the topic thus far was rather limited.

What I had figured out was that this elevator in particular used a series of magnets set into the right- and left-side walls to impel the elevator up or down, rather than a pulley system. The system itself included inherent failsafes should power fail - if no power could reach the magnets on either side of the elevator car, the magnets would revert to an “on” state, and lock the elevator in place.

As near as I could tell, that was the current issue.

We hadn’t had any contact with Snap, though I guess that wasn’t exactly surprising - we knew the enemy were on the way, and it wasn’t like they would simply wait us out either. Still, it came as a surprise when we first heard gunfire from the direction of the entrance. It was dampened by all the turns and walls of the Stable, but once it started, it didn’t stop. It was a virtually constant barrage that left us counting the seconds in our heads.

If they were our bullets, it meant we were running out of what I knew quite well to be a relatively limited supply…and if they were enemy bullets, it meant we were slowly losing the fight.

Either way, every second mattered.

“Try it again!” I called out, my light spell illuminating the electrical terminal I’d been working on. Somepony had managed to hit just the right switchboard with a spark explosion or something, because most of the wiring was fried. I’d spent the last several minutes improvising a workaround to bypass the terminal altogether.

“Roger!” Tailwind’s reply came back.

I didn’t see, or even hear her push the button, but I immediately felt the effects, as a distinctive hum filled the air, along with a tangible, bass-ey vibration that resonated in my bones. It was working!

I was positively ecstatic.

“That did it!” I cried.

Crawling out from where the elevator would soon come to rest, I was just in time to see Bernard round the corner, hobbling our way. “You two okay? Snap sent me to help any way I could,” he declared. He seemed…mildly defensive, but I guess that made sense. The two fights we’d gotten in today simply hadn’t been the sort his skillset could contribute to, and I could understand that sort of frustration.

“We’re just about good to go here,” I replied, “The elevator’s on its way, all we’ve gotta do is wait.”

Tailwind looked over at me, a smile positively beaming on her face.

It felt pretty good, like I’d really accomplished something to help out our group. We were getting out of here after all.

That’s when an ear piercing shriek of tortured metal reached our ears, coming from the elevator shaft behind us.

The elevator had ground to a halt.

Towards the entrance, the sound of gunfire was getting closer by the minute.

Snap Roll

They had a heavy machine gun.

We’d managed a momentary stalemate as they’d flooded the entryway only to find us fully prepared to keep lead going downrange. We traded fire for what felt like hours, but according to my TFD’s chronometer was less than two minutes.

Calling out to Fade, I ordered him to pull back. He let off at a sprint after a brief parting burst, and that’s when they set up. Through the vague shapes of the smoke, I saw something large moving around. Having the benefit of hindsight to think on it, I suspect it was a two pony team lugging the gun, and they set it up against the opposite side of the terminal Ebb had used for cover.

The next thing I knew, instead of chipping away at my cover, rounds were chewing it to pieces.

I didn’t have time to prep, suppress, or do much other than pounce straight into the air, lighting off with wings that practically touched the sides of the corridor as I flapped to propel myself straight backwards, like a long, drawn out backflip.

A heartbeat had passed between the moment I left the monument and the burst of rounds completely demolishing the long-standing record of the fallen, priceless pieces of marble shattered and strewn across the hallway.

Rounds stitched the walls, trying to chase me. I could feel the disturbed air currents as the rounds flashed past. With that sort of caliber, all they’d need to do is hit and I’d be out of the fight.

Thankfully their gun wasn’t particularly high rate of fire - more of a steady chug-chug-chug sort of cadence. In other words, it was conceivable to move faster than the gunners could track, instead of flying through a hallway filled with lead-based death.

There was no room for fancy maneuvers. I flew as hard as I could, and kicked off from the left-side wall as soon as I emerged onto the balcony level, sending my body into the open air of the gallery itself.

The maneuver had gotten me out of that situation, but it had cost me precious situational awareness. I corrected my flight pattern, bringing myself about until I was hovering just out of sight of the doorway, as I quickly tried to figure out where our group had ended up.

Fade had taken cover in the doorway to the Stable’s security detachment, and was laying down covering fire for Ebb to move back towards us. Gone were the single shots from before, now he already had a small carpet of brass beginning to form beneath his feet.

He called out to Ebb, “Pāriet, mazais!” and beckoned with his free hand.

I couldn’t see from my position, but it seemed like she either heard him, or decided on her own that it was time to pull back.

She was a few meters from the transition to the gallery’s balcony when the heavy MG started up again.

Maybe they were good. Maybe they missed what they were actually aiming for…hell, maybe they just got lucky.

At any rate, whatever the cause, the stuttering chug of machine gun fire tore pieces out of the doorway around Fade before I saw a splash of blood and heard a griffonic roar of pain as he was thrown back into the doorway.

Ebb had been running in his direction, miraculously intact, but saw the griffon - and her source of covering fire - fall with that burst. She made a split second decision that was enough to have me convinced that I’m a terrible influence on those around me.

Turning towards the gallery and its four-meter drop to the floor she leapt, kicking off the safety rail for good measure.

Locking eyes with me, I saw a terrifying combination of trust and resignation on Ebb’s features as she flew towards me with hooves outstretched.

I did the only thing I could, realistically. I practically didn’t have to move, but I extended my forehooves, rotated so her weight wouldn’t be hitting me straight out of the air, and let physics take its course.

She hit, hard enough to punch the air from my lungs. She locked her hooves around my neck just as I wrapped my own around her back. Her momentum caused us both to begin a counter-clockwise spin. I flapped hard. I wasn’t going to prevent our arrival on the bottom floor, but I could damn well try to slow it enough not to cause injury.

Not having much sense of space with the aqua eyes of a frantic unicorn filling most of my field of view, I braced myself as much as I could before yelling, “Go limp!”

I trusted her to figure out what I meant, but that’s all the time I had for warning.

We touched down, landing in a loose pile of bodies. I managed to roll the landing and avoid the worst of it, but Ebb’s body skidded further, coming to a halt a few meters away.

“Looks easier when you do it,” Ebb groaned from her position on the floor.

Well, she was good enough to bitch, so I took that as a good sign - I had bigger things to worry about. I kicked off and took flight again. They’d seen that! There’s no way they didn’t know most of our guns were down for the moment.

I flew low, barely off the ground and parallel to the balcony, until I was almost at the point where the hallway exited onto the balcony itself. I flared up, climbing vertical for the few scant meters I needed. Then, I pulled back hard, inverted, and flapped to reverse course back across the axis of the balcony.

As I’d suspected, there were a good four of them sprinting towards where Fade had fallen, all other considerations cast aside for the moment. If they could take him out, we’d lose a huge chunk of our combat potential.

Right as I stopped flapping, I flared my right wing while holding the left tight to my body. The air resistance was enough to decouple my bearing from the trajectory my body was headed on. The action sent me inverted, sideways, across the breadth of the balcony.

As soon as I started to turn, I simply bit down on the trigger bit and trusted my execution to hit my targets; there was no way for me to correct for something as pedestrian as aim right then.

Like it was happening to someone else, I felt and heard and saw it all at once. The kick of the rifle at my side. The once-still air, disturbed by my insane maneuvering through it. The blood on the Stable’s walls and floor.

The shocked looks on the Red Eye troopers’ faces as a manic pegasus did an aerial backflip, sideways, while spraying a hurricane of low-caliber rounds along their line.

I saw rounds make contact and heard cries of pain, but before I had a chance to process any of what I’d seen, my maneuver had already carried me past, the recoil of firing accelerating my spin until I was facing “backwards.” I knew the wall was coming even if I couldn’t see it. I also knew I wasn’t going fast enough to splatter myself against it - I hadn’t gotten that much speed in such a short distance.

Stretching out my hind legs, I braced myself once again for impact.

It came, just as promised.

I absorbed the impact, feeling the strain in my hinds as they absorbed in a way my body wasn’t normally supposed to, crouching down until I was “standing” against wall just beneath the balcony, my butt pressed right up against it and my knees pushed up under me.

The instant my momentum was completely arrested, I was off, kicking away from the wall and flapping my wings again. I made a swift loop around the gallery, rotated until I was right-side-up again, and flapped straight across the arc of fire that had been established down the balcony.

As I zeroed in on the door to the security room, I noted dispassionately that the line of bullet holes had stitched across their line right at knee height, leaving two of the assault group writhing in pain, clutching at horrible looking leg injuries.

Not enough!

At the last second, I snapped my wings to my sides, letting my momentum carry me through the bloodstained threshold of the security room. Either I managed to catch the MG team off-guard, or they weren’t entirely heartless enough to open fire with injured friendlies in the way.

Preoccupied as I was with getting out of the danger zone, I wasn’t truly thinking of what I might find in the security room. In the couple seconds I’d had to parse the information, I’d figured I’d end up having to fight the pair who’d made their way into the room, and was fully prepared for combat when I entered.

I wasn’t prepared for…Fade.

The first trooper to enter hadn’t stood a chance. His corpse was just inside the door, with the hilt and about half a hoof’s length of Fade’s sword jutting from his collar bone.

Fade himself was in the process of tackling the second trooper into the far wall when I entered the room.

He stood there, mostly hunched over the poor bastard as he stabbed both sets of talons into the trooper’s belly. I could see the raw meat of his left bicep flexing with strain as Fade let out a feline roar of anger and pulled.

With a scream of equal parts horror and pain, the pony…came apart.

Blood sprayed the dimly lit room as Fade whipped part of the corpse in my direction. Blood splashed my face, my mane, my coat and barding. I could feel it in my wings, could taste the bitter copper taste of it on my tongue.

I retched, coughing and spitting out blood as I looked away. Even for someone like me, that was…too much.

Letting my guard down for a second, I missed Fade lunging from the far side of the room.

I certainly wasn’t expecting his talons to wrap around my neck.

Fade grabbed me, hard enough to restrict airflow, and lifted, his momentum forcing me backwards until I was pinned against the wall. My hooves left the floor and I was raised up to stare straight into his cold magenta eyes, the irises narrowed to tiny pricks. The whole maneuver seemed effortless on his part. I kicked, I flapped and hammered on his arm, but it was no use. His talons tightened, and I felt blood - my blood, this time - trickle down my neck.

He reached back with his bad arm, tearing his sword from the corpse it was embedded in and levelled it with my eye.

Blood dripped from the blade as neither of us moved for a long moment.

The radio in my barding crackled.

≪There are more on the way!≫Ebb’s distorted voice carried across the still air between Fade and myself.

I saw the change come over him. Fade’s eyes defocused, and his irises widened from the thin points they’d contracted to, and his beak opened in confusion. He lowered his injured arm and released the talons around my throat.

With nothing holding me up, I fell hard on my rump, shaken by what had just happened and coughing as air returned to my lungs. My neck stung from the set of claw marks Fade had left.

On the other side of the wall, gunfire had resumed. Over the rattle of Ebb’s lighter rounds hitting the armoured wall behind us, I could hear a couple louder reports. It sounded like Bernard had joined up with the unicorn. The fire quickly died down, but it was clear that we were on borrowed time.

Fade had recoiled, and was staring at the hand he’d wrapped around my throat - at my blood. His sword clattered nervelessly to the ground as he relaxed his injured arm, hanging it at his side.

He opened his beak, “Snap, I-”

I preempted him, shoving our last healing potion into his bloody grip. “I know,” I coughed, still getting my breath back, “-or at least, I get it. We’ll talk later, but right now we don’t have time for you to not be okay.”

Biting the stopper off with his beak, he drained the potion in two swift gulps. The magic quickly went to work. The bleeding stopped, and before our eyes muscle knitted back together, new tissue connecting where none had before. Within a couple seconds, the magic had finished, leaving a hairless, mottled pink and red area. The potion hadn’t completely healed him, and there were still areas of exposed muscle, where skin had yet to fully form. He looked like he was in the latter stages of recovering from a burn injury, all told.

“Hold still,” I commanded, and for once he had no quip in reply. Tightly, but not so tight as to restrict circulation, I wrapped the wound in one of our remaining magical dressings, tying a neat knot when I finished. I didn’t want to give him Med-x, not when I had no idea how it would interact with whatever was going on inside his head.

He’d just have to deal with it.

As he collected his discarded gear and checked the corpses for equipment, I quickly poked my head around the corner, just enough to get a sense of what was out there.

The next push had stymied at the threshold of the gallery, another body had joined the two from earlier clutching at injuries and groaning in pain.

I ducked back as the ponies stacked up against the wall caught sight of me and started shooting at the doorway.

Fade had finished in the meantime, his sword back in its sheath and his rifle in his arms. He’d also picked up a shotgun, some ammo, and he handed me a small medical kit. I quickly sorted through it, and it happily contained a single full healing potion, a few more bandages and some minor supplies - tape, gauze, tweezers and scissors.

I stowed the whole thing in my medical pouch. I’d sort that out later, if there was a later.

“Fade, you’re going first,” I instructed, “As soon as they’re suppressed, head for the elevator. We’ll set up a final line of defence there.”

He simply nodded, settling into something of a sprinter’s stance, ready to spring into action.

Pushing the talk switch on my radio, I spoke into it, “Ebb, covering fire, on your mark.”

She acknowledged with lead, peppering the gallery entrance.

I leaned out of cover enough to give my rifle an angle, biting down on the trigger and sweeping side to side, just above the bodies of the wounded. The recoil rattled my body, but was reasonably controllable as I watched my TFD’s ammunition counter tick down in the corner of my vision.

Soon as I started to shoot, Fade was off, vaulting the railing by the time I’d dropped to thirty rounds left.

There were hits - in particular the unlucky bastard at the front of the group stacked up in the corridor - but at some point the ponies behind him simply held up his corpse. From that point, most of my rounds that did hit simply minced dead meat.

The counter ticked relentlessly, as brass ricocheted off the wall and joined the pile at my feet.

20.

10.

Click, as the hammer fell on an empty chamber.

I sprinted the two steps to the ledge and leapt into the open. One of the wounded had a pistol held in a weak magical field before him, lining up a shot, but the crack of Bernard’s rifle put him down for good, the field disappearing harmlessly and the weapon clattering to the floor.

Fade had already met up with Ebb and Bernard. As I headed down towards the elevator, I had to acknowledge that the fight had reached its final, desperate stage.

I hoped Crafter was having a better time of things than we were.

Crafter Odds

“You need me to what?” Tailwind replied incredulously.

I glanced around sheepishly. “I need you to fly me up to the elevator,” I stated a little louder than I just had. “I think one of the, ah, magnets must be damaged, and the elevator got hung up on it.”

“And you need to go up there-” She indicated with a wing up…yeah, way up there, where the elevator had come to a halt, “-to fix it?”

I nodded. That was about the sum of it.

“Oh, for the love of…” She seemed pretty against it, but in the end, she looked up, having made her decision. “Drop your saddlebags and rifle…I guess you’ll need your tools?”

I nodded again, “I think so, yeah.”

“Then drop everything else in the corner, and thank the skies you’re pretty light for a stallion!” As she spoke, she seemed to be doing some quick wing stretches.

Moving to obey, I carefully placed my saddlebags down, then the rifle on top. Removing the old reinforced duster, I folded that and put it beside the rest. That pretty much left me with my toolbelt and barding, so I turned back to Tailwind.

She glanced at me sidelong, narrowing her eyes. “You…anticipate needing the sword while you’re up there?” She asked, incredulous.

Oh yeah, that!

I’d almost forgotten.

Without ceremony, I unbuckled the belt that held it on and placed the weapon beside the rest. It had been there so long it felt like I’d simply gotten attached to it.

Ready to go, I stepped up to the open edge of the elevator landing and looked up. It sure was a long way up there, wasn’t it…

Tailwind came up behind me and I heard the beat of wings. A moment later, I felt her loop her forelegs under mine, grasping me around my barrel. “I’ve still got a bad feeling about this,” she griped, but nonetheless, she started flapping harder. I felt her hooves pinch against my front, then felt my hooves slowly leave the ground.

We were rising!

I took a quick look at the magnets set against the walls, seeing what they were supposed to look like.

Behind me, I could hear Tailwind’s laboured breathing as she strained to lift us both into the air. Each beat of her wings seemed like an effort. I wanted to make things easier for her, but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out how. If I shifted around, it might just cause her to drop me by accident, or throw off her balance.

So I just hung there, trusting her to get me where I needed to go.

Higher and higher we climbed, as the platform dwindled below us, our way lit by simple orange emergency lights set into the walls every floor or so. Based on that, we passed more than six floors before we finally reached the elevator itself.

The problem was pretty clear when I got there. A rocket of some sort had been fired into the elevator shaft. It had hit the wall, shattering the magnet there and forcing part of the large device towards the elevator well. When the elevator itself had descended, it had hit what remained of the magnet, and was currently jammed against it.

Seriously? How much fighting could they possibly have managed this deep into the Stable?

“Bring me right up to the elevator, please,” I asked, “I’ve got a safety harness on the belt, I should be able to latch on and get out of your hooves.”

Tailwind let out a nonverbal grunt, and we rose higher.

Grasping my tether harness, I picked a spot on the damaged side - a reinforcement beam was positioned just right to wrap around, and I did so as soon as we were close enough. “Okay, lower me slowly,” I commented.

She did, and gradually the harness took my weight, until she was hovering beside me, and I was, well…hanging there.

Tailwind took a moment to catch her breath, and wiped her brow with a forehoof. Must’ve been difficult...

“Whew,” She commented, “Need anything else? Sorry, but I ain’t bringing Bernard up here too.”

Shimming my way over to the damaged panel, I cast my light spell on the underside of the elevator. I was trying to figure out a way to sort this out, and as comforting as her presence was, I didn’t expect there would be much for her to do up there. “No, I think I’m good,” I replied, “So long as I don’t look down things’ll be fine.”

She nodded, smirking slightly despite the situation.

“What I need from you, er, I mean, if you would…” I stumbled, “Is if you could go back down and tell me if anything changes on the terminal’s readout while I’m working.”

“Can do, boss. I’ll try not to leave you hanging.” She winked, then cut her wings to her sides, dropping and opening her wings just before reaching ground level.

Of course following her with my eyes led directly to me looking down. It ah…well, it’s quite a ways, isn’t it?

I tried not to think about what would happen if my harness failed, reminding myself that Snap and the others were risking their lives to buy us the time we needed.

With that in mind, I set to task. I shimmied as close to the wall (and the damaged panel) as I could, moving the light spell closer to give me a clear view of the damage.

The rocket or whatever had hit had cut the panel roughly in half, and the elevator’s descent had snagged everything right up against the elevator car itself. I wasn’t entirely sure, but it seemed like the whole assembly was under a degree of stress from the speed at which the elevator had been descending. I pulled out a ratchet and started removing what bolts I could. Luckily, it seemed that the panels themselves were modular, and able to be removed individually. Each bolt I removed, I placed carefully in a pouch on my tool belt - who knew when heavy structural bolts might come in handy?

It was reasonably fast work, but every second felt like forever. The work was also comparatively quiet aside from the ratcheting. I could hear the gunfire getting closer and closer.

I had to stop a couple times to wipe sweat out of my eyes.

Before too long, I had removed all but what seemed to be the very last bolt holding the bottom half of the panel pressed against the elevator. Try as I might, I couldn’t get enough weight behind either leaning my weight on the ratchet, or pressing down with my magic to try and start the bolt moving. It must have been seized pretty good.

I focused on a spell I hadn’t used in a while. Framing the bolt in my mind, concentrated on its outside, using magic to apply a coat of liquid penetrant. I gave it as long as I dared to let it work its way into the teeth of the bolt, before once again yarding on it with the ratchet. The stupid thing didn’t budge an inch. I could feel it though, the feeling that I just needed a little bit more.

It was time for desperate measures.

Pulling out my trusty wrench, I weighed it in my magic as I steadied myself against the elevator and the wall. I didn’t want to slip and miss my chance, or have to get Tailwind to retrieve a simple ratchet.

With careful aim, I put all my magical might behind using the wrench like a hammer to jar the bolt free. Simultaneously, I leaned hard on the ratchet, using my body weight to put tension against the bolt.

Wham!

I felt the concussion through my physical connection to the ratchet. It was only the tiniest bit, but I felt the ratchet turn, perhaps only a couple degrees or so, but the bolt was beginning to turn. Prepping again, I swung the wrench a second time.

Wham!

The ratchet moved a bit more. I felt confidence rising. One more hit and it should start turning freely!

Wham!

Several things happened all at once. The bolt, long since fixed in place, and placed under immense stress from the weight of the elevator pressing sidelong against it, sheared. No longer held in place by the bolts, the magnetic panel slammed back against the wall, inexorably pressed back into place by the mass of the elevator. Finally, the elevator - still answering the call of the terminal down below - resumed its descent with another shriek of tortured metal, as the impetus of the elevator finally overcame the resistance of the wall panel.

The sudden shock of movement immediately caused the elevator to shear the ratchet off of the wall, the now useless tool falling all the way to the bottom. I kept hold of my wrench, but the shock caused me to lose my grip on the elevator itself. For a moment, I felt bowel loosening terror as my body fell free, only to be abruptly arrested by my harness connecting me to the elevator frame.

Well, on the whole I figured things were working out. The elevator was moving again! Unfortunately, I had to figure out how to get out from under it before I was crushed.

Tailwind’s head poked out into the shaft, trying to see what had happened, a worried expression on her face.

I waved, trying to show that things were going mostly according to plan. She seemed relieved, and it brought a smile to my face.

Then I saw the red bar, not far to the side of Tailwind’s blue one. I thought of the vents that her and Snap had cleared earlier.

“Tail, behind you!” I screamed.

Her head disappeared back around the corner. The flash of her beam rifle and the sound of gunshots filled the small (and getting smaller) space of the elevator shaft, as the elevator continued its relentless descent.

Struggling with my connection to the elevator, I could only conclude that I was in a bind. If I disconnected the harness entirely, all that would happen is that I’d fall - I didn’t have the sort of timing or dexterity to somehow swing myself out of the way right as the elevator touched down, nor did I feel like breaking my legs before being crushed by an elevator.

I felt…a sense of peace, I think, wash over me. I’d gotten this thing working, and I’d managed to warn Tailwind of an assailant. Maybe that would be enough, you know? It felt like I’d accomplished something, at least. That maybe I’d finally managed to be of use to the ponies who had saved me, even a little bit.

I closed my eyes.

I expected to think of Spring in my final moments, to be honest. Of how I’d failed her, of how I’d never said anything back when our lives were normal. But as hard as I tried in those seconds, I couldn’t even bring her face to mind. Maybe even Haywire, my best friend for years, probably the pony who I would say I was closest to in my time beneath the ground.

The only thing I could think of was-

“Let go, Crafter!”

Tailwind’s voice broke me out of my reverie, snapping my eyes open as I glanced down. There she was, hovering upside down in the elevator shaft, the elevator and myself coming closer and closer to crushing her against the elevator platform!

I couldn’t believe she’d managed to take out that red bar so fast! It was surreal.

But there was no time. She had to go, or we’d both...

“Go!” I cried, waving at her with my hooves, “It’s fine, you need to-”

“You idiot!” She cried, “Cut your harness! I’ll catch you!”

I blinked. She could do that?

Drawing my utility knife with my magic, I drew it across the safety harness tying me to the elevator. My weight was enough to compromise it, and with barely a thought for how bad an idea that was, I was falling, back-first, towards the platform with an elevator right behind me.

Just as I thought for sure I’d feel my spine snapping against the floor, or one of the cradles the elevator would rest on, instead I felt hooves catch me. With a beat of Tailwind’s wings, both of us were shunted back into the room as the elevator came to a rest in the space we had just occupied.

The fact that I was alive crashed into me all of a sudden. I flipped over, realizing my full weight was now pressing down on Tailwind. She had a bit of a grimace on her face, and I could imagine we’d skidded along the ground a bit before coming to a halt. I offered her a hoof up.

She took it, and as she came up, her vivid green eyes locked with mine and I felt her lips on my cheek.

Pulling away with a smile on her face, she commented, “Nice work with the elevator!”

Had she just-

Not one to wait around,Tailwind was already in motion. I caught my rifle as she tossed it to me, along with my duster and sword.

“Now we’ve just gotta live to use it!”

Fade

It was a path I’d walked before.

I was hesitant to act, ever since I’d nearly killed Snap...but as we went deeper into the facility, the (memories? Ghosts?) were more vivid with every step. I knew not everything I was seeing was currently happening, but simply knowing did nothing to dispel the (hallucinations?).

The Enclave had pushed hard, forcing their way into the gallery in the manner their race is most known for. From the gallery, they attempted to spread into the surrounding areas - the living spaces, engineering, food production, the reactor. They had expected a fast victory, to crush the defenders and use the mobility afforded them in the gallery to their advantage.

It would prove to be their undoing.

If one were to wax poetic, it was very much the wartime mindsets of the two equine forces that dictated the battle. The Enclave had wished for a lightning victory, while the Steel Rangers had prepared a defense in depth for their unwanted guests.

The counterattack had caught the Enclave off guard.

Instead of consolidating the defense, Ranger detachments were sent under their own commands to each of the corners of the Stable. The Enclave lost the initiative when every route out of the gallery came under attack from those Ranger and allied wastelander forces inside the Stable. They were forced back into the gallery, when their commander ordered a retreat into one of the far tunnels.

I stood once again in that tunnel, simultaneously seeing the carnage occurring and its ultimate aftermath. On one side of the bend I saw my current comrades in arms - Bernard, Ebb and Snap; while on the other, the all-too-convincing shapes of Enclave power armour laid down a vicious pattern of suppressing fire coming from the side passageway.

Cheesequake shouldered his way into a firing position, setting his hooves against the Stable floor and opened up with dual grenade machine guns, eviscerating the point-pony and forcing the rest back behind the corner. He fired until the walls of the Stable shook and rubble cascaded into the corridor. He stopped, the rattle of massive brass casings falling to the ground around him, and waved us forwards.

We took advantage of his opening, my companion and I, the familiarity of it felt so natural as we charged into the gap with the few remaining abled bodied ponies - two Rangers and a clawfull of wastelanders. We steeled ourselves for the last dance of this harrowing ordeal.

Violence exploded the instant we rounded the corner.

Our best chance was to close the gap with them, get right up in their faces and turn the fight into a brawl - it would neutralize much of the advantage of their weaponry and mobility. So we sprinted headlong towards them, firing as we forced our way through their storm of return fire.

One of the rangers fell, his head a molten ruin. No one stopped - we couldn’t, and he was gone anyways. A moment later and we were in them, then the true brutality of melee was joined.

There was no coordination, no sort of squaring off with an opponent, but rather a swirling melee made all the more mad by the insane maneuverability of our foes.

I caught a scorpion-like stinger tail andheld it away from myself as I fired point blank into the base of its owner’s wing, where the armour was thin. The pony fell with a grunt, of frustration and pain, even auto-injected med-x not able to stop massive trauma from putting her down.

Beside me, one of the wastelanders wasn’t so lucky - he died with a gurgling cry as his opponent’s razor sharp tail spike found its place in his neck.

The offender didn’t have time to celebrate, as my enshrouded friend was already upon him, Her multiple cloaks obscured movement as they billowed even in the dank Stable air. It took remarkable skill for an earth pony to wield a weapon like the griffon warpick, and I’ve never seen a pony even attempt to wield it like She did. Clutching it with both forehooves, She brought the point down in a vicious arc that stabbed deep into the pegasus’ torso. It was a griffon weapon, after all, and in its natural habitat. The carnage it wreaked was tremendous.

We found ourselves through their defensive line, seeing the very last of the cowards make a retreat into the elevator shaft, less than a clawful of them left. Bastards; they must have gotten the door open somehow!

I fired, as much on instinct as anything.

Or, I remembered firing, anyways. In my mind’s eye, I…recalled, firing. This time I forced the urge down, catching a glimpse of Tailwind and Crafter covering our retreat, very much surprised at my pointing a weapon in their direction. I wasn’t going to make a mistake, like I had previously, but nonetheless, I found my consciousness wavering back to the memory even as I forced myself forwards.

The bullets continued, regardless of my restraint in the now. It caught one of the bastards in the wing, but he was quickly grabbed by his comrades and hoisted into the air, disappearing up into the shaft.

The very last one, a spry one with a vivid scarlet and white streaked mane, locked eyes with me, a curse on his lips as he punched the elevator button. The solid weight of the platform rose cover their retreat, as he flew off into the abyss above.

The otherRanger that had come in with us sprinted for the elevator shaft. I called for her to stop - something didn’t feel right.

She ignored me, firing a rocket up at the retreating car. A heartbeat later, the timed explosive the Enclave had left went off. The Ranger jerked, twitched, then fell and lay very still on the elevator platform. The stench of cooked meat assailed our nostrils, pungent even over the noxious smell of ozone, cordite and blood.

I blinked, and reality reasserted itself, for the moment at least.

The smell lingered, and I suspected it had never truly gone away - but maybe that was just my mind playing tricks on me.

Regardless, the elevator was now resting on its intended spot, with Crafter and Tailwind beckoning us onwards.

Those were easy enough instructions to follow. I turned to pass the word and saw Ebb, Bernard and Snap Roll run past me - the latter had her energy pistol out, clutched between her teeth as she ran for the exit.

I followed suit, finding myself at the back of the pack.

The ghost of Chess appeared beside me, his apparition materializing as if from thin air, just as surprising now as it had been then - I ducked, the natural response to something being where it shouldn’t.

A burst of gunfire sailed over my head.

The thought occurred to me that Chess might have just saved my life, seven years later.

It had come from the right, so I turned and replied with rounds of my own, forcing my assailant to take cover behind a corpse already in the hallway. It seemed they had found some ponies small enough to fit through the maintenance tunnel after all.

There was no time to dawdle. Everyone else was already onboard the elevator, so with a flourish, I turned and gave the exterior terminal a decisive burst, shattering the already damaged screen and destroying the electronics behind it.

Then I stepped into the elevator, the clatter of hooves in the corridor behind us causing me to turn as Tailwind hammered the “ascend” button.

In front of me stood the ghostly spectres of my comrades, but it was Her that I focused on, that shade from seven years ago drawing forth feelings of a loss at once so profound that it seemed impossible that I’d ever forgotten…yet so vague that I just couldn’t seem to remember.

I left them there, along with all the other fucking memories, buried where I hoped I’d never have to return to them.

Snap Roll

I collapsed onto my back on the cold, beautiful steel of the elevator. It felt like I finally had a chance to catch my breath and get my bearings on what was happening.

“Tailwind,” I asked, one detail of our escape concerning me, “Any chance they can just fix the call button to bring us right back down?”

“Nope!” Came her tired, but enthusiastic reply, “I re-coded the bottom terminal while Crafter was fixing the elevator - even before Fade shot it, that terminal was locked out of the system.”

We collectively let out a variety of noises of relief, and proceeded to take a moment to decompress.

Fade sat alone, slowly loading fresh rounds from his bandolier into emptied magazines. I saw him let out a breath after the first couple rounds had been refilled, pause, then take a good look at his talons. They were shaking lightly and blood soaked, just like the grip of his rifle and portions of his barding. He set the weapon down and began to wash the blood from his hands with some water from his canteen and a rag.

Ebb had gotten through the fight without any major injuries, most likely just some bruises from the assisted landing. She lowered the light machine gun, letting it rest on the floor of the elevator for the time being. Five rounds dangled precariously from the feed pawls, the very last of our belted ammo.

Tailwind and Crafter were talking quietly. It seemed the elevator repair wasn’t without perils of its own, but they’d both come through in a big way for us all.

Lastly, Bernard sat alone. My orders had kept him from the worst of the fighting, but the look on his face told a different story - we’d missed a chance to pick up any sort of info on our quarry; The Serpent, and Bernard’s daughter Rosemary. We had one last shot with the lead on Iron Junction, and if that didn’t pan out our quest might just come to an end.

I tried to distract myself from those thoughts, instead focusing on sorting out post-battle administration.

Aside from the small sounds of relief, sorting out kit and the like, the elevator was quiet. There wasn’t even any sort of mechanical noise aside from a low hum signalling that the elevator was moving - the visual indicator of the emergency lights was reassuring as we passed them one by one on our way to the top.

Still on my back, I spoke up, “I want to know about any injuries I haven’t already treated by the time we get to the top. Get someone else to look you over, and don’t tough it out - tell me. Additionally, I want everyone to report where you’re at for ammo before we bed down for the night.” I opened my eyes and glanced around. “Everybody got that?”

A chorus of tired sounding affirmatives greeted my ears.

Good.

Forcing myself to my hooves, I checked myself over and belatedly realized I was still slowly bleeding from the cuts of Fade’s talons. I sighed. They weren’t especially deep, it just hadn’t even been five minutes since I’d gotten them.

A very long five minutes.

Tailwind must have noticed, because she came over with a look of concern in her eyes. She took a bandage from my medical pouch and delicately started unrolling it. “What happened out there?” She asked at length.

“Just some shrapnel,” I lied, avoiding her gaze. “Some grenade fragments almost got lucky.”

She didn’t believe me. I could tell, but…she didn’t ask any further. She just went about delicately swabbing away the worst of the blood before wrapping the healing bandage around my neck, snipping it off once she’d managed a sufficient wrap.

After that, Tailwind collated the ammo count for me on a piece of paper, which I placed in one of my pouches. I’d take a look at it later, once we got settled in. In all, the trip up was long and quiet. It only took maybe ten minutes, but it felt like a lifetime, compared to the last hour or so.

As we got closer, I didn’t need to tell anyone - there was a palpable anxiety as to what we might find up there, and by the time we could see the end of the line approaching, everyone had their weapons out and at the ready.

With the same gentle electrical noises, the elevator reached the top of the shaft at long last.

The room was built like an observatory as much as it was an evacuation point. At most, the room measured about ten meters square, with windows along the far side, a series of empty lockers on the right, and a heavy door - not quite Stable door-grade, but heavy enough to stop just about any scavenger that managed to make it this far up the mountain. Beyond the thick glass windows, we had a breathtaking view of the valley beneath, though even then, only the suggestion of the furthest mountains could be seen in the dark.

That wasn’t what held our collective gaze, however.

The room was illuminated by a single orange emergency light, still shining after all these years. Its light illuminated the long frozen corpse of an Enclave trooper.

I carefully made my way to its side. It was so out of place, so…I just didn’t know what to think. Carefully checking for traps, I found none - only that his armour had long since burnt out its power source, presumably left running long after its owner had perished. Without the heavy spark cell to operate it, the armour was so much frozen junk.

The owner himself was frozen where he’d died, largely preserved these long seven years. He had an unassuming off-white coat and blonde mane, and the expression he died in seemed…well, if I were to put words to it, it seemed like “resignation” is what I’d pick. Not terror, not pain…he simply accepted that his life was over, I guess. It was pretty evident why - his right wing was shot right through, hanging on by scraps of skin and cartilage. He’d been seen to by someone with medical experience - a tourniquet had been applied at the base of the wing, but with no medical support to follow up, it was a futile effort. A small pool of blood had frozen around him.

I snaked out a connection from my TFD to his visor port. It wouldn’t power the armour, but it would potentially be enough to access any logs he’d left before he died.

As soon as power returned, his armour’s speakers immediately began to playback the audio files recorded on it.

“Mission abort,” the voice of the long dead trooper came through the speakers. Despite the distortion, his voice sounded painfully young. “-acting OIC Sergeant Havoc called it; all the officers are dead. Only four of us made it up here, myself included. Private Stinger managed to get us into an access lift, and we fried the workings with a power cell bundle as we escaped. Fucking Rangers won’t get us up here.” He let out an audible sigh, “Skies above know I won’t be flying any time soon, though...

“Unit log two, I guess,” playback continued, moving seamlessly to the second file. “This is Corporal Sky Skimmer. This will be my final entry.” He laughed, a single bitter noise, interrupted by a fit of coughing. “It’s funny, always thought it would be cool to say that, and now that I actually am, it just sounds dumb.” He paused a few moments. Something that sounded like movement came over the speakers, but it was indistinct. The voice returned, “Skies above its fucking cold here, kind of regret sticking around this shit hole now, hey? But a broken wing and no medical supplies except this tourniquet and some Med-x kinda forced that issue. Well, this is Skimmer, signing off.”

There was a pregnant silence in the emergency shelter, broken only by the dull howling of the wind outside the windows.

The recording picked up one last time, “Well, so much for final entry. Freezing takes too fucking long and talking into this thing gives me some piece of mind I guess. I’ve started to get delirious and I guess I’m just too damn stubborn to end it myself.

“What the hell am I even waiting for? Sergeant Havoc to come swooping back? No, I know damn well I’m dead up here. I hope the others manage to find somewhere to hide out. There might be some place that’ll take them in or something…ahh, who am I kidding. Doesn’t matter.”

Dad...he was alive?

The recording paused again, before another sigh filtered through the speakers. “Still, would you look at that? Celestia’s rising over the mountains, just for me.” He coughed, a vicious, wet noise that sounded like death itself. “I guess you could call it a view worth dying for. I suppose it's as fitting an end as any, down here…”

Author's Note

Thanks to everyone on the team! Belmor, Shady, Kylie and Doel. It's been a long time coming, but we've reached the point at which we've fully left behind every last bit of the RP that Frozen Skies originated with. Not to worry, the multi-perspectives in-chapter are not going to be the new norm - In part this is a trial run for critical future chapters, for when paralogue-like segments are needed, but too short or not self-contained enough for chapters of their own

Big thanks for being featured in the discord group Post Apocalyptic Emporium's Book Club! It's a huge honour. To those of you coming from the book club, welcome aboard, I appreciate yall sticking with it this long - to those of you catching up otherwise, if yall want to talk about the story with other readers and vote on future stories, the club could always use more activity. PM me for an invite if you need one.