Chapters Fallout Equestria: Due North
Bleep… Bleep… Bleep.
The alarm clock dragged me back from the abyss. I checked the cheery display; 6:00 am. I hit the off button with a hoof, and disentangled myself from the mess that I'd made of the sheets. I wanted to lie back down and go back to sleep, but I really needed the toilet, and if I went then I'd become too awake to go back to dreaming. After a minute's deliberation I decided to get up. I fumbled to my hooves and trotted into the bathroom.
After a quick bathroom break, I trotted downstairs to where my mother was laying out breakfast. She had put on a brave face, both for me and for the various engineers, technicians, and mechanics who relied on her for moral support when the job became stressful. I had no idea how, but she seemed to be equally good at technology and cheering ponies up. She trotted around, humming March of the Shadowbolts to herself as she placed three plates down onto the table. She stopped for a second, before picking up one and carrying it back over to the cupboard; she was clearly having trouble adjusting to Sky Strider not being home.
Just then the clunk of the mail being pushed through the door echoed into the building. I turned to go and get it and the soft plodding of my hooves on the cloud floor drew her attention. She was clearly in alert mode.
"Cloudy," she began, "Be a dear and fetch that for me, please?" I nodded and trotted to the door; there was very little, but one letter immediately drew my attention. It was a regular envelope, but with the Enclave symbol printed where a stamp should have been. The return address was: Registry office, 32 Firefly Road, Neighvarro AFB, Neighvarro, GPE.
"Mom!" I yelled, "There's a letter here for you. It's from the registry office!" She was on her hooves in seconds, and she quickly galloped over to where I stood. I handed her the letter just my own tired mind worked out why it was such a major thing for her; it had to be to do with Sky Strider. Something major had to have happened for the registry office to send a notice direct to us.
She placed it on the hall table and tore it open, my heart pounding in my chest. The small sheet of paper was one of those notices where they printed the exact same text every time, save for a few details. As Golden Heart read it her face went from worried, to scared, to utterly shocked. Her eyes started to water, and tears ran down her face, leaving dark streaks in her light pink coat. Throughout all of this she said nothing, until finally she began to whisper.
"Oh Polaris, th-this can't be happening," she muttered quietly, "I approached the slip tentatively, trying to prolong the inevitable. At last, the paper came into view. It read:
General Engineer Golden Heart, 20 Stratos Lane, Neighvarro, GPE,
Engineer Golden Heart,
We regret to inform you that your son, Sky Strider (Airpony E1), has been reported killed-in-action after he did not return from operations with the Neighvarro 5th Fighter Squadron C Flight near Junction R-7. Though we understand that this news will be difficult for you, we strongly urge you not to attempt to locate your son's remains on the surface, and would like to remind you that any such actions are punishable by branding and/or exile.
Yours faithfully, The Grand Pegasus Enclave Air Force Register.
"Th-those assholes…" I trailed off, all the rage draining out of me. I wanted to be angry, to hate the Enclave for even daring to bring up the Dashite brand. However, all I could feel was a growing despair in me, I felt lost, alone. I felt hot tears begin to run down my face. Suddenly my mother embraced me, pulling her wings around me as she tried to comfort us both. I tried to do the same, but my wings were far too small, so instead I threw my forelegs around her and buried my face in her coat like I was just a little colt again.
The sadness slowly gave way to emptiness, a gaping hole growing within me. It was worse than the sadness or the rage; I felt hollow, like all of the emotion had drained out of me. I stood up, slowly, silently, and turned to stare out of the window. In my mind's eye I saw him there, standing in the street. I shook my head and he was gone. I began to trot away, leaving my mother to grieve, and headed slowly upstairs.
My breath was still shaky when I entered my room. My dressing gown, as always, was on the back of the door. As it came into view I stopped short, and a new thought came to me; the patch. I had to get it. I practically tore it down from its peg and caught it between my hooves. Like a pony possessed I poured over the fabric, shifting it around with my hooves until I found it. The patch slipped out of a pocket and fell to the floor.
I snatched it up in my teeth, dropping the crumpled mess of dark blue fabric. I looked down at the little watchtower stitched beneath three lightning bolts, the landscape sweeping away into the distance. I felt no less hollow, but suddenly I knew what Sky had wanted; I should sign up. Every squadron had at least one battlefield tech, whose responsibility it was to keep deployment aircraft and squad weaponry maintained. I knew for a fact that the 3rd Reserve only had one technician, with the maximum being four. I suddenly had purpose again. Golden Heart wouldn't like it, that was for certain, but I could persuade her; besides, I didn't need her consent. It was settled then: I was going to follow in my brother's hoofsteps.
I rapidly showered and ate, before galloping out towards the door. On the way out I noticed my mom, sitting at the kitchen table, her head propped up on one foreleg. She was pouring over the old photos, grainy images of me, her and Sky. This was unusual to me, not because she was looking at the photos, but because she had removed them from the album for the first time. In time, I became aware of a faint whisper coming from her direction. She was talking to the photos? I opened the door.
"Uh," I said softly, "Bye mom." She didn't even look up, instead just nodding slightly. I stepped out.
I arrived on base short of breath, having galloped nearly the whole way. I strode around past the hangars, deliberately avoiding the barracks; Crunch Time and his idiot friends would surely have found out by now that the 5th Fighter's C Flight had come back a pony short. As I passed I heard somepony yell.
"Oy, what're ye doin' 'ere so early?". It was Maelstrom. He had clearly been here for quite some time, and he had already stripped several badly scorched and dented armour plates off of a nearby sky-tank.
"Wait," I replied, "What time is it?" Normally in the mornings I took around an hour and a half to eat and get ready, with all the faffing around, and another half to cross the Neighvarro suburbs. Today it seemed like an eternity since I'd gotten up, but I had rushed through my routine and skipped a proper breakfast. He checked his watch.
"Seven, dumbarse." Maelstrom snarled. An hour early; my whole time from waking up to getting on base had taken a single hour. It couldn't be, there was no way. "Y'alright there pal?" he asked. "Ye look a little muddled."
"I'm fine, okay?" I spat, forgetting myself. "I don't wanna talk right now."
"Jeez," he shrugged, "Suit yerself."
I set off for the R&D labs, trotting briskly. Upon arriving, I pushed past several pegasi, ignoring the various protests and complaints, until I reached my desk.
Two photos stared back at me from on top; one of me and Tesla Jolt having the time of our lives, the other of my family… including Sky Strider. I felt my eyes tear up again, the sadness and longing return. A single drop of salty water fell onto the metal surface, followed by another, then another. I stood there for a moment, just crying. From behind me, faint and distant, came the voice of Tesla.
"Y'okay bro?" he asked cautiously. He might as well have been behind a wall of glass for all I heard; just the faintest whisper piercing my bubble of sorrows.
"Y-yea… No," I shook my head slowly. "I-It's Sky Strider. He's dead."
"Fuck… " Jolt trailed off, "Your brother's like, gone? I mean, yeah he could be a total asshole, but he was like-"
"Stop," I said through the lump in my throat, "I just… I just need some space right now." I pulled open one of the drawers on my desk, the rapid movement jolting the contents and sending a ballpoint clattering into the drawer end. I picked it up between my teeth and dropped it onto the desk surface, slamming the drawer shut with a hoof. I wiped away my tears with a foreleg. "Look," I continued, "We need to talk." He nodded.
"Alright, hit me." he said, completely serious.
"I'm going to transfer to battlefield duties, it's what he would have wanted," I said quickly. He just stood there for a second, considering what I had just said.
"You sure? Wouldn't he have wanted you to be safe? The wasteland did kill him, after all."
"Don't talk to me about what Sky would have wanted," I snarled darkly. "Why else would he have given me this?" I pulled out the patch and showed him.
"A-alright mate, my bad." he stammered quickly, "I'm with you all the way. Just… try and stay out of combat, okay? You're an engineer, not a soldier."
"I'll stay safe," I replied dryly, "Thanks for the support."
"No problem bro." he stammered. I turned to leave, picking up the pen again. I was already overdue by my own standards; I had only intended to notify Tesla about my transfer, nothing more. I set off at a rapid pace, almost galloping to the exit.
Outside I did gallop, using my wings to push myself faster. They may have been useless for flying, but, if I could stand the exhaustion, they were great for increasing my speed. I tore past the barracks, narrowly dodging Sergeant Tempest coming out of one door. I increased my pace as I heard him shouting and swearing behind me. When at last I arrived at the administrative complex, I was exhausted. I collapsed into a sprawled heap, dropping the pen and watching it roll away across the cloud flooring.
I snatched up my pen and stopped for a second to compose myself, using a nearby window as a mirror. I was a right state; my eyes were red from crying, my mane a tangled mess, my body hot and sweaty. I tried to get my hair in a decent state for what I was going to do next, but with only my hooves all I could do was push it around a bit. Frustrated, I entered the building.
"Are you alright? You look like a… " the pony behind the desk began.
"I'm fine, alright?" I cut in. "I'm here to transfer." The pony blinked, unsure of what to say. Slowly, he reached below his desk.
"Y-you? You want to transfer?" he stuttered incredulously. "To what?"
"Combat duties. I want to become a battlefield tech." I snarled. He was unfazed.
"You're an aircraft engineer," he said slowly, reading off my ID, "You're not power armour trained, you've only done basic, you're too skinny to use a flight harness, and with wings like those; there's not a hope in Tartarus that you can fly. And you want to be on the front line?"
"Yes, alright?" I nearly yelled at the buck. He rapidly pulled a piece of printed paper up from under the desk.
"Okay! Stars, I'll let you transfer. No need to get emotional," He slid the paper towards me. I pulled the pen I had picked up out of my pocket and began to fill out the various boxes, muttering to myself as I did so. The administrative buck turned back to his terminal, ignoring me. Finishing, I proofread it once;
Voluntary Transfer Application Form
Full Name: Cloudburst
Age (Numerals): 19
Current Rank/Role: Junior Aircraft Technician
Current Unit: Neighvarro AFB R&D Division
Current Posting: Neighvarro AFB
Training Course(s) Completed: Basic Weapons Handling, Basic General Engineering, Advanced Aircraft Engineering
Desired Rank/Role (MUST Be Equivalent): Junior Battlefield Technician
Desired Unit: N/A
Desired Posting: Neighvarro AFB
Reason For Transfer: Desire to follow in the hoofsteps of a deceased sibling
Notes:
Signature: CB
I paused for a second, before writing 'cannot fly' into the notes section. I passed the buck the sheet, and he set to work typing it into his terminal. It was maddening hearing the clicking of the keys as he transferred what I had written into the device. More than once he stopped to squint at my mouthwriting, trying to discern what letter I had intended for. Finally I saw him hit the 'send' key. He sat there for a minute, bored, before the response came across the system. His face turned to one of genuine surprise and I feared the worst. He turned back to me.
"Didn't expect it, but it's gone through," he said, my heart leaping with both nerves and exhilaration. He continued, "You'll get a transfer notice by five this evening, if the delivery service doesn't fuck it up this time." He stared at me expectantly, and I suddenly realised I'd forgotten to thank him.
"Oh, uh, thanks." I said sheepishly, and turned to leave.
I returned to the R&D labs, where the commotion of my earlier arrival had died down. By now queues had built up, and I had to wait in line for entry. Luckily the ponies who had been on duty earlier, at the end of a long night shift, had packed up and the day team had arrived. At least I didn't have the embarrassment of having to apologise to them for pushing through the entire process.
After going through the metal detector and into the labs, I was greeted by a grey pegasus mare with a yellow mane and a lightbulb cutie mark; Bright Spark. She was standing over by my desk, waiting for me, and I felt the anger return. This was the mare who had left me bruised and hung over, and I wasn't going to let her forget it. I had half a mind to plant a hoof in between her eyes.
"Oh, hi Cloudy!" she smiled a little too brightly.
"Don't call me that." I snarled; only close friends were allowed to use my pet name.
"Hey! There's no need to be like that!" she exclaimed. "I was going to invite you to Jetstream's 23rd, but now I think I shan't."
"Good." I replied, indifferent.
"Cloudburst! You must stop being so stars-damned antisocial!" she chided. I ignored her and opened the largest drawer in my desk. The holorifle stared back at me; I had been delaying handing it back ever since I had been given it a few days ago, and now I had a proper excuse. The weapon would be my go-to in the field, and ground pounders would fear me for it. Bright Spark huffed and trotted off, leaving me to contemplate how awesome it was going to be. I was feeling a lot better now, though the pain was still there, and so I trotted off to the armoury.
Once there, I immediately sought out the head quartermaster. A few other techs were queuing outside his office, and I quietly slipped into the line. One by one they entered, coming out with various forms and notifications stuffed into their saddlebags. Requisitioning assets for any purpose was purposefully difficult; otherwise there'd be nothing left in the building. The Council didn't want R&D ponies just experimenting with whatever they wanted, wasting precious technology on failed projects, and so they'd made getting your hooves on resources a paperwork nightmare.
Inside the office it was noticeably cramped, with only the basic necessities: a steel desk similar to mine, a terminal, a fan, a chair, and a couple of trays full of paper. Behind the desk sat a fat buck, wearing a dirty and ill-fitting uniform. He was nearly bald, and what hair he had was cropped short. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark glasses, even though he sat indoors. As I approached, he peered over the top of his sunglasses.
"Ah, Mr Cloudburst. Have you decided to return my holorifle yet?" he said, smiling.
"Nope," I said rapidly, "I'd like to requisition it permanently." His smugness evaporated, replaced by confusion.
"How can you? I cannot release any equipment which I don't have a report on, and last time I checked that was your job." he said, pointing a hoof accusingly. I rummaged around in my pockets for a second before pulling out a hastily folded sheet of paper. I had persuaded Tesla Jolt to write it, since he actually understood how it worked and had finished with the Coilgun project. The buck examined the document for a second, before shoving it aside.
"Alright, fine; you win. But seriously, what in Equestria are you going to need it for?" he asked, still unsure.
"I've transferred. I'm now a battlefield technician," I replied casually, "And I intend to put the Holorifle to good use."
"Okay, here." he sighed, handing me a stack of forms. I tucked them under one wing and trotted off. Passing Bright Spark in the queue, I shot her as smug a look as I could muster and headed back to the main lab.
======
The paperwork took the rest of the day, and I had to skip lunch just to get it finished. Some of the requirements were really stupid, or just plain pointless, like this one sheet I had to sign promising not to use it against any Enclave citizens, as if that wasn't already a capital offence. By the time I was done it was getting dark, and my pack of biscuits was long emptied. I packed my saddlebags with all of the various crap that filled my desk, and headed out.
It took over an hour for the ponies on security to process me, considering I was carrying a weapon, but eventually I was free to go home. Lights glowed from the various windows of the cloud houses lining Stratos Lane as I trotted home, and far above me the stars sparkled. According to legend, the stars and constellations held mystical powers; they were also supposed to hate zebras, but that sounded more to me like government propaganda. I had never understood why ponies were so eager to attach supernatural abilities to things, but then again hadn't it always been that way; hadn't similar beliefs driven the zebras to unleash megaspells upon Equestria?
The house was dark, with only the kitchen lamp on. Golden Heart was exactly where she'd been when I'd left, only now she had emptied the album of any images containing Sky Strider. They were laid out in a vague collage of family photos. She was still whispering to them, and for the first time in my life I actually felt worried for her. She had always been there for me, no matter what the situation, and I wasn't sure if I could do the same for her. No, I was sure I couldn't do the same for her.
"A letter came for you." she said softly, and I turned to see that I'd stepped on it. Picking up the crumpled envelope. The seal of the Enclave presented itself, as did the return address of the registry office. I grimaced; my reassignment notice had arrived. I tore it open with bated breath, excited to see which squadron I had been transferred to. I had forgotten to put the 3rd Reserve under preferred, but I was hopeful nonetheless. The yellow slip unfolded to its full size, it read;
Junior Aircraft Technician Cloudburst, 20 Stratos Lane, Neighvarro, GPE
This is to notify you of your transfer from Neighvarro Research and Development to the Neighvarro 2nd Fighter Squadron, following your transfer request, active from 06:00 tomorrow. Please arrive promptly to the Neighvarro AFB Command Centre for transfer to your new quarters.
Yours faithfully, Colonel Astral.
"What is it?" my mother whispered, barely audible.
"It's a transfer notice," I replied without thinking.
"Y-you're transferring? To where?" her voice became shaky, and she stood up.
"Don't worry mom, I'm not leaving Neighvarro. I've just switched… to battlefield service," I said, suddenly realising that I'd be living on base, since it was an active squadron. Golden Heart turned to face me.
"Battlefield… as in, you're going to fight? No, you can't, it's too dangerous. I won't allow it," she trotted towards me, becoming less sad and more angry.
"Mom," I sighed, "It's my choice. I'm not some young colt anymore."
"But you could get injured, or even killed. What am I supposed to do then? Your brother's already gone. I can't loose you as well," she cried.
"Mum, I'll be fine, okay?" I tried to reassure her. "It's what Sky would have wanted me to do."
"What… what Sky would have wanted?" she almost screamed. "You think Sky Strider would have wanted you to run off and get yourself killed trying to live up to your own skewed expectations?! No. He would have wanted you to be safe. He'd have wanted you to stay out of the line of fire, not dive head first into it!"
"No he wouldn't!" I screamed, pent up anger over Sky's death coming to the front. "And if you can't accept that then I don't care! There's nothing you can do to stop me."
"And what's going to happen then, huh? You're going to become nothing more than a bloody corpse lying abandoned in some radioactive hellhole! What am I supposed to do when a yellow slip comes through that door, telling me you've taken a bullet to the skull?! Think, Cloudburst, please," she retaliated. I turned to head upstairs.
"I'm going, and that's final!" I yelled, forgetting myself entirely. I began to trot up the stairs.
"Don't you dare walk away from me! Do you have any idea what I've put myself through for you?! Nopony wanted you, but I took you in. I had to buy this house while I was still going through advanced training; could I afford it? No, of course not, but I made it work. I have worked my ass off for the last nineteen years building a life for us, and you're just going to abandon it all?!"
I ignored her and galloped up the stairs. Racing into my room, I collapsed onto my bed and let the rage drain out of me. A new thought crept into my mind, as if somepony was whispering in my ear; you're dead to her if you leave, you know . I sat up, tossing my saddlebag to the floor. So what? I'd come back on leave in a few months, a hero of the 2nd. Then she'd see.
I set about packing, taking out all of the half-finished doodles from my bag and putting in a variety of objects; some pyjamas, a few casual clothes, the photos from my desk, a new pack of biscuits, a plastic sky-tank that normally sat on my windowsill, and Sky's patch. I set my alarm for five and threw off my lab coat into a crumpled heap next to my dressing gown.
======
As I lay in the darkness, rolling onto my other side for the umpteenth time, I began to ponder whether this was such a good idea. What would happen to Golden Heart without me? I leaned over and tapped a button on my alarm clock. The display lit up, displaying 4:47. I rolled over once more, pushing my thoughts away into the furthest crevices of my mind; fifteen more minutes.
======
I trotted downstairs quickly, trying not to wake my mother. The house was dark, and I hadn't bothered to turn on the lights. It had been roughly half an hour since I'd woken up, and now my stomach was filled with butterflies. A few lights, from the timers on various appliances, were all I had for navigation. My eyes adjusted pretty quickly to the darkness; I had been a restless sleeper as a colt and wandering the darkened house was nothing new to me. Rapidly, I slipped out of the house.
Outside, I stopped for a second to look at the building one more time. I had lived here for all of my life, and now I was leaving it behind. Sure, I'd come back, but it could be a month or more before then. With one last breath, I walked off into the night.
Arriving on base, I cantered over to the administrative offices. I was quickly directed to the barracks, with my locker numbered as 42. The ponies in the complex were all surprised that a flightless buck could be given a battlefield role, but then again, according to some the 2nd didn't even have a technician, so that would explain it.
After I trotted into the barracks, I found the 2nd relaxing in the rec room. There was 22 of them all told, more bucks than mares. They flopped on beanbags and worn armchairs, and at least one was smoking. A whitish mare with a very dark brown mane, wearing a standard flight jacket, approached me.
"You're Cloudburst, right?" she asked, I nodded, "I'm Captain Red Glare, Neighvarro 2nd Fighter. I'll be your commanding officer. I want you in A Flight with me, clear?"
"Yeah, uh, yes ma'am." I replied, sloppily saluting.
Footnote: Level Up.
Trait(s) Added:
New Perk:
Fallout Equestria: Due North
Neighvarro rose, its great cloud structures gleaming in the morning sun. It was a world away from where I sat, staring at it from the narrow windows of a sky-tank troop bay, the city slowly dwindling behind us as we raced away. Aileron Roll, the 2nd's dedicated pilot, had the engines at maximum, and a pair of dark contrails, quietly thundering, streaked all the way back to the airbase.
With twenty three of us in the troop bay, it was relatively cramped. I sat on one of the bare metal benches, sandwiched between Smoothbore, our sniper, and Red Glare. Across from me sat Crunch Time, loudly discussing our mission with Cream Pie and Snowplough. The turret was manned by Ignition Switch, our resident heavy weapons expert. The others sat or stood, checking their weapons and chatting amongst themselves.
We tore down towards the cloud layer, the billowing carpet of clouds rising to meet us as we plunged. Suddenly the sky-tank nosedived and we all nearly fell off our seats. Somepony yelled "Shit!" as an energy pistol sailed over my head and clattered to the floor. Red Glare snatched it up and threw it back.
"At least try and be professional guys. If that had been a solid ammo somepony could be bleeding out," chided Wishing Well, the squad medic. One of the squad muttered an apology as it was thrown back. I turned back to the window.
We were racing towards an odd structure jutting out of the barren land; it had once been a large hotel, constructed by the Ministry of Morale to serve the attached resort, but around a quarter of it had collapsed. This had left one quarter freestanding, and then the other half nearby. The gap had been bridged with rope bridges and corrugated iron plates. Ponies could be seen within the larger structure, and all of them were armed. On all of the walls a mixture of gang emblems and crude graffiti had been sprayed; hallmarks of raider territory.
Fires burned in old barrels in the rooms, and on the roof snipers peered downwards. Typical, they hadn't bothered to look up. The raiders would sooner or later hear our engines, but by then it would be too late. As we closed on the hotel, my thoughts drifted to the briefing.
======
"Alright ponies, listen up," Red Glare began, "One week ago a Steel Ranger caravan carrying unknown tech was ambushed by raiders near the Fun Factory Resort. It's a fucking raider nest, right on the Manehattan outskirts, and stars know why they didn't just avoid it. Thing is, whatever they were carrying's still in the crate. Only one problem; the bastards have it. They overwhelmed the Rangers' knights and took all the scribes back to their little camp along with just about everything they owned, including this technology R&D is demanding. So, what we're going to do is launch an attack from above. The whole squad this time, not just one or two flights. Got it?
"Aileron, you'll need to get us in close and lay down suppressive fire with the sky-tank, we'll take Peppy since it's packing missile pods. Smoothbore, I'll try and get you the perms for an anti-machine rifle, set yourself up on the top floor and give us covering fire. If these raiders can bring down a Ranger in full armour, we're going to need it. Snowplough, you're going to need some ballistic hooves if you can get 'em, same goes for Crunch. Your integrated power hooves aren't enough if we need to breach.
"I want everypony who's trained in full power armour, and the rest in Kevlar; no flight jackets. If you've got power armour, take Novasurge. Otherwise, Sunbursts'll have to do. Ignition, this one's your call, but I'd recommend taking either a Gatling laser or a plasma cannon. The hotel's unstable, so you'll have to abstain from explosives, but we'll need serious crowd control. Anypony in combat armour should try and get their hooves on a chainsword, okay? Raiders tend to like getting up close and personal. Meet me at the hangars in half an hour, ready to go. Everything alright?"
"Yes ma'am!" chanted the 2nd in unison.
======
A sudden, loud detonation drew my attention back to the present. The telltale dark cloud of an explosion, as well as the black trail of a rocket coming from the building, told me what had happened. One of the ponies on the roof had seen us and fired a missile. The projectile had missed by several feet, exploding off the right side of the aircraft.
"Arr! There be lubbers off the starboard bow!" yelled Aileron Roll, being his usual idiotic self.
"Can it! Professionalism ponies, alright? You're an elite fighting force, in theory at least," Red Glare rolled her eyes. Aileron was lucky; most officers wouldn't tolerate his level of disrespect, both for authority and for seriousness.
"Sure thing Red!" he chirped, not meaning one word of it.
By now the snipers had turned their gaze to the skies, and at least one of them was lining up a shot. We banked hard and dove towards them, still at full speed. A couple of the raiders galloped away, but the others tried shooting the sky-tank's frontal armour. As we closed in on the roof, Aileron suddenly opened up with Peppy 's side-mounted missile pods, raking the rooftop and turning several ponies to red mist. The unicorn mare who had been carrying the missile launcher gave up trying to desperately stuff another rocket into the weapon and dropped both, before turning to gallop away.
The sky-tank suddenly slammed to a halt, throwing me to the floor. I scrambled to my hooves, grateful for the sling attached to the holorifle. Without it the weapon would've been halfway across the troop bay. The rear door lowered suddenly, screams and gunfire ripping into the troop bay. Cream Pie hurled a grenade out onto the roof.
"Shit! Cream Pie! I thought I told all of y-" Red Glare was cut off by the detonation. Anypony who had remained on the roof was there no longer; several mangled corpses lay strewn out away from the aircraft. The door to the stairwell flew open, and several more raiders galloped out; they had regrouped, and the firefight had begun. "C and D flights, take the amusement park! A and B, out there and on me. We take the hotel! Move it!"
I galloped for the ramp, careering off the end and nearly falling over as my hooves hit the concrete. I stumbled over towards the stairwell as the sky-tank lurched upwards and shot overhead, headed for the park. Crunch Time barrelled through the raiders guarding the door, pinning one mare's head to the floor with his hoof and sending a blast of buckshot straight through her brain. He spun and bucked another off the building with his power hooves, sending the poor buck flying into the abyss.
I galloped down after him, following the rest of the flight. I tore blindly down the staircase. As I barrelled into a large open area, I was suddenly grabbed and thrown to the ground. A bullet tore through the air right where my head had been. I glanced up to see Snowplough. I muttered a hurried thanks. She brushed it off.
The squad had taken cover behind what had once been the buffet area of an all-you-can-eat restaurant. On the other side of the great room most of the metal tables where families had originally ate had been piled up in a makeshift barricade around the large archway that lead out of the restaurant, complete with a heavy machine gun emplacement.
Along the walls, thin plastic shapes had been attached, supposed to depict cartoonish pipes and valves; in keeping with the resort's "factory" theme. These had long faded and the raiders had added their own form of decoration; gang markings and vile scenes of rape and murder had been sprayed onto the walls in purple and green. Something was off though; there were no bodies. This was raider territory; there should have been dismembered corpses everywhere. Then it hit me; this was planned. The area had been set up as a trap for attackers, with a permanent barricade for the raiders to hide behind. I glanced behind me and realised that the main staircase ended on this floor, with the hotel's front entrance being on this side of the split.
Cream Pie tore another grenade from his webbing. He went to throw it and before Red Glare could tell him to stop a bullet ripped through his shoulder, spraying the area with blood. He hit the floor, clenching his teeth and breathing shakily. Wishing Well was there in a second. He set to work removing the bullet and dressing the wound.
The rest of the unit began firing back with small arms, it being difficult to bring battle-saddle weaponry to bear while sitting or prone. These were solid ammo; trophy weapons. Not one of them was carrying their energy pistol, the only weapon they actually owned in the first place. Olive Twist pulled out a menacing-looking pistol which somehow fired anti-machine rounds, Crunch Time blew the mare off the machine gun with a sawn-off shotgun, Razor Edge fired off a 9mm. One raider's head turned to a bloody pulp sprayed across the back wall. Another had her foreleg blown off by one of Olive's nightmare bullets. I took aim and fired the holorifle, but the shot went wide.
Suddenly Snowplough nodded to Red Glare, who responded in kind. Snowplough reared up, a couple of bullets bouncing off her armour, and charged. She cleared the buffet and galloped across the room.
"Yeah!" screamed Crunch Time. "That's my girl!" as Snowplough bore down on them. The tables flew aside and she slammed into one of them. She ran into the wall and crushed the screaming buck into a red mess. She turned and beckoned for us to follow, her armor slick with blood. Another raider tried to attack her with a buzz axe and she rammed him with her full body weight, sending the poor bastard flying through the archway and out of the room. She set off in hot pursuit. I heard his screams.
"Shit…" I muttered. I had just witnessed two, no, more than that; four ponies brutally murdered. Red Glare gestured for the squad to move up. I set off at a gallop, past the blood splattered archway. I passed the body of the mare with the missing leg, her head trampled by Snowplough. I stopped as I passed through; whatever had been beyond the arch was long gone, the restaurant lead out into the collapsed section. It was bright, and I squinted as my eyes adjusted.
The ruins of the amusement park were separated from the hotel by a large wagon park. A monorail line swept across it. One end came out of the right side of the hotel, across the gap from me; the other served the park entrance. Along the line a train rattled, sparks flying from its undercarriage, onboard lights flickering, cars shaking violently. I was surprised that it was even running. Out of shattered windows raiders leant or peered. The vehicle had once been white with a pink stripe running down each side, but the raiders had painted numerous red stripes along it. I didn't want to know if it was paint or not.
"Olive! Secure the weapon!" bawled Red Glare. Olive Twist saluted and sat down by the heavy machine gun. She began to fumble with the bolt holding it to the tripod and I tossed her a wrench from my tool kit to help. She nodded to me and I galloped away after the unit. Most of them flew across the gap, but I had to use an improvised bridge. The final raider from the restaurant lay at the edge of the corrugated iron plate, his face pummelled by Snowplough's robotic scorpion tail.
"I'LL RIP YOUR FUCKING HEART OUT!" somepony screamed. A unicorn buck had dodged the squad and was racing down the bridge, levitating a pair of meat cleavers. I panicked and fired. He couldn't have been more than twenty yards away, but the holographic cubes flew right past his head. Suddenly a .50 caliber round turned his head to paste and ripped straight through his body, passing through the corrugated iron bridge. Smoothbore was lying prone on the roof above me, his anti-machine rifle smoking in a similar way to his cigarette.
I dodged around the pair of corpses and reached the other side. I could just see the others down the central corridor when floor began to vibrate. I headed for the corridor just as the monorail train entered the building at far above safe speed. A poor-quality recording of a train whistle played as it crashed through the station wall and across the corridor, falling partially through the floor. It stopped suddenly with a crunch and a squeal of twisting metal.
The front car had passed straight through the corridor and into the hotel rooms on the left, leaving the central car blocking the corridor. At one end it was just above the floor, but the front end of the carriage had about a third of it jutting into the floor below. The ponies on board galloped for the rear of the train, still in the station. I panicked and tore into one of the rooms, slamming the door shut behind me.
I immediately wished I hadn't. The stench of rotting flesh filled my nostrils. I turned to see the body of a Steel Ranger scribe who had been suspended from the ceiling by a noose around her neck. Her body had been sliced open, and her entrails had been pulled out and hung up like bunting around her. The hanging scribe had been used as target practice; bullet holes riddled the corpse, knives jutted out of her at various angles, and faecal matter was splattered across her tattered robe.
My eyes watered, and I had less than a second to react before my lunch surged up my throat. Luckily, it mostly missed my armour, spraying out across the floor instead. I stood there for a second, making sure no more was going to come up. I was physically shaking; I wasn't cut out for this. I had to get out of the room; I could hear raiders arguing outside, but the monorail train had demolished most of the wall between this and the next room. Hitting the wall had forced the front car's nose down, leaving one end resting on the floor below, the other connected to the middle car.
This left a large gap in the wall and the floor, with the only way into the next room to cross the train car's steeply slanting roof. I glanced at my Eyes Forward Sparkle for the first time; I'd never used a combat helmet before and I'd forgotten it. Four raiders outside, great. A single red blip was ahead of me; in the other room? For all the EFS told me, it could've been in the basement, five floors below. I chanced it.
I made it across the metal roof, using my wings to push myself faster. As I stumbled into the next room I felt a bullet graze my neck. I spun to face my attacker. Another bullet tore straight through my wing, punching an ugly hole. The raider mare giggled, nearly dropping her revolver. I swung the holorifle. The butt collided with her muzzle, bloodying her nose and causing her to stagger back. The revolver fell to the floor. Before she could recover I lined up and discharged my weapon, point blank, into her face. Her body dissolved in a blinding flash of blue.
"Cloudburst? Where the fuck are you?!" the voice of Red Glare crackled over the radio. I swore and galloped out into the corridor on the other side of the monorail. I set off at pace, catching up to the squad by the lifts. A large and ominous steel double door, locked, lead into the maintenance areas of the building. The unit had taken defensive up positions around the lift lobby, waiting for me. The scattered ashes and body parts on the carpet told me what had happened. Red Glare nodded to me as I collapsed, exhausted. I was glad for the break.
Snowplough readied herself; as the squad's close-combat specialist breaching was her job. She loaded a pair of 12-gauge shells into each ballistic hoof. She reared up, flaring her armoured wings, and galloped at the door. The simple steel doors flew off their hinges as she collided with them. She barrelled straight into the room beyond. All Tartarus broke loose.
A trio of proximity mines set behind the door detonated, catapulting her back into the lobby. The worn carpet was stained with fresh blood as her mangled body landed near me. A shard of what had been the door ripped through my foreleg. Pain surged up my leg as blood trickled down my hoof. As I called for a medic I heard Ignition Switch's Gatling laser open up. A hail of lasers filled the maintenance area, turning several raiders to dust. Cream Pie screamed and threw another grenade. The others opened fire into the room.
Smoothbore and Olive Twist flew down the corridor, dodging over the monorail train. One of them must have dropped a grenade, because a second later something detonated behind the car. It fell through onto the floor below, dragging the rear car half way into the corridor.
I could hear the clop of raider hooves as more of them raced to investigate the commotion. A few stray bullets cleared the doorway before the raiders were gunned down, but nopony was hit. Olive had brought the machine gun, and before Red Glare could object the weapon was on the other side of Ignition Switch's battle saddle. As he reloaded both weapons, Crunch Time stood up.
He had been crouching by Snowplough's corpse, cradling her between his forelegs as the life faded from her. His armoured hooves were soaked in blood, both the enemies' and hers. His visor was up on his forehead, and he had torn off her helmet. Tears ran down his faceplate: Crunch Time, the pony who had spent the last year trying to make my life hell, the pony who had the longest string of criminal offences in the military on record, was sobbing. He clenched his eyes shut for a second, before loading the shells from Snowplough's ballistic hooves into his own. His wings flared as large as they could go, and his scorpion tail rose up behind his head. With one great wingbeat he was off into the room, screaming obscenities.
"YOU MOTHERFUCKING BASTARDS! I'LL KILL EVERY ONE OF YOU!" he bellowed. What few raiders were still in the vicinity ran. I glanced around; nopony had expected that. Red Glare's jaw was as wide as mine. I didn't even notice Wishing Well patching my wound until he passed me a healing potion.
"Try not to put pressure on it," he chided. I set off into the room, and immediately ground to a screeching halt. The stench was overwhelming; the maintenance room had been turned into an abattoir. The corpse of a lavender mare hung from the ceiling, suspended from meat hooks speared through her limbs. A large, jagged incision ran the length of her body, and the poor mare's entrails dangled out. On one wall a dark blue stallion had been nailed with railway spikes through his forelegs. His hind legs were missing, and his lower jaw had been violently hacked off. Knives had been driven into his eyes.
Several other corpses dotted the room, similarly mangled. I went to throw up, but my stomach was empty. I stood there for a second, retching violently. As I looked around, I caught sight of a shut door, with a sign which read 'Parts & Service', on one side of the back staircase. The rest of the unit was on the floor below, in the wake of Crunch's rampage; I was alone to investigate. Something about it drew my attention, and it hit me; what if the Steel Rangers' cargo was in there?
I crept up to the door, and gave it a push with one hoof. It creaked open; the lock was long gone. Inside a single flickering light illuminated the shape of a vast raider buck. His coat was a darkish green, with a black mane. His cutie mark was a skull, blown completely out of proportion so as to have a massive jaw beyond anything a pony could grow. He wore tattered leather overalls, with metal plates… screwed into his body?! He stank of a bizarre mix of blood and urine, and he hadn't noticed me. He was standing with his back to me talking to something.
"Wot? Yer tellin' me dis 'otel ain't de fanciest in da 'ole world?! Yer wrong!" he shook a hoof violently, prompting something in the darkness to whimper, "See? I told ye ye'd love dis place! Da boyz 'ave put weeks of dere time into makin' it da best fort in da wasteland. Now all da gangz know da Nightmare Moonz are da greatest!"
Nightmare Moons, that was the raiders' gang name? The mountain of a pony continued his little rant; by his speech he was clearly some kind of leader. That made sense, at least for the dog-eat-dog hierarchy of raiders. I glanced upwards, his mane all appeared to come out of one point of his head, as if he had a second tail glued up there, rather than regular hair.
I peered between his legs, trying to see past him. A pair of large blue eyes peered back from the darkness beyond, watching me. A filly? How long had she known I was there? Was she who the raider was talking to? I became aware of a slight shimmer beneath her eyes; the light from the door reflecting off her tears. I felt a surge of righteous anger; the hulking buck was keeping the poor girl captive. My teeth gripped the hilt of my chainsword.
It was an early model; a Ripper-Pattern. The weapon was short and fat, with a blade more akin to a kitchen knife than a sword in shape. Around the blade a toothed chain ran, powered by a clunky motor attached to the hilt. The Enclave's emblem was engraved into the motor housing, along with a few long-irrelevant identification numbers.
I drew the weapon slowly, quietly. How long had I been standing there? Finally, I gripped the ripcord with a hoof and let rip. The weapon revved up, reaching maximum RPM quickly. The monster raider grunted and spun around, much faster than he should have been able to.
"Oi! Wots dis den?" he roared. "Ah, fresh meat!" He rushed me. I swung the Ripper even as his armoured hoof collided with my stomach. I hit the ground, landing on my injured leg. The weapon clattered to the floor next to me. I cried out in pain, he just grinned. A large piece of metal had been shaped into an improvised jaw for him, screwed into his original. He had apparently tried to make himself look more like his cutie mark.
He galloped towards me, threatening to crush me beneath his hooves. I snatched up the Ripper and used my wings to help myself up. I darted out of the way, just as he tore past. I had a stitch, my leg was aching, and he had at least bruised some ribs. There wasn't a chance I could take him head-on. A thought came to me.
I raced for the doorway, galloping straight through. I threw myself against the the door frame, just to the side of the doorway. He barrelled past me. Before he realised I was there I leapt onto his back and drove the Ripper deep into him. The weapon spluttered, fighting to keep running. He kicked and bucked, throwing me off him and across the lobby. My vision blurred and my eyes teared up as I hit a wall and fell to the floor. He reached up with a hoof and pulled the bent chainsword out of his back, grinning.
In desperation, I pumped the Holorifle and tried to get him in my cross-hairs. He got into position, ready to charge. I pulled the trigger. In slow motion the holographic cubes hit his chin, like a buck to the face. His head jerked backwards, half tearing off. He collapsed, dead, next to the broken Ripper.
Without a second thought I stumbled to my hooves, wincing in pain. My whole body was aching, and it felt like needles were being jammed into my leg. I limped back into the maintenance area, to the Parts & Service. The filly was still there, cowering at the back of the room. For the first time I got a proper look at her beyond her bright blue eyes.
Her coat was a light cream colour, with an ugly, blackened patch over her flanks. Her cutie mark was yet to appear; which meant it now couldn't, ever. The area where it was badly burnt, the skin scarred too deeply. Her mane was a darkish brown, relatively messy, although with a straight fringe. A deep cut ran along the length of her right foreleg, roughly from knee to hoof. It was relatively fresh. Her eyes were the most noticeable thing about her; a pair of bright blue orbs which seemed to somehow be taking in everything at once. An old length of rope had been tied loosely around her neck, with the other end connected to a nearby shelf. I reached out to untie it and she flinched.
Another surge of anger washed over me. I hadn't even moved quickly, yet she'd assumed instinctively that I was acting in aggression. I glanced over at the dead raider, lying by the door. In my peripheral vision a pair of displays fizzled, threatening to cut out. I realised that I was still wearing my helmet; the filly only saw a pair of compound eyes, set within a blood-splattered visage. I reached for the clasp and unbuckled the strap. I tore off my helmet, but she didn't move. She was still cowering. Okay, so it wasn't my appearance.
I reached slowly over to her and undid the knot keeping the rope around her neck. She looked up at me, the faintest hope flashing across her tear-stained face. The edges of her mouth curled up in a slight smile, and my heart melted. I had finally lived up to Sky's wishes; I had made the wasteland a better place. In all honesty it wasn't anything in the grand scheme of things, but back then I felt amazing.
The filly froze. I spun around just in time to see a unicorn mare, wearing a bloody apron, run into the maintenance area from the back staircase. She stopped dead; she'd seen the body.
"Speed Freak?! No, no, come on; you've got to be alive," she stuttered. "Okay. I-it's okay. Bone Saw can fix this, can't you?" There was nopony nearby, so who was Bone Saw? The mare continued. "Oh, of course I c-can. It's just a few stitches." So she was Bone Saw? Raiders were crazy. "Wait…" she began, "Where's Sunny? Oh, ha ha, she's where she always is, right?" Bone Saw's voice took on a forceful tone, and she glanced into the Parts & Service. Then it hit me; she was looking for the filly. Instead she saw me.
"Wha- WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!" she screamed, turning to face me properly. From a pocket in her dirty apron she levitated her namesake; a bonesaw. "MURDERER! I-I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!" she bellowed. I leveled the holorifle and pulled the trigger… click. Nothing, it was empty. Four shots: one shot in the restaurant, one on the bridge, one by the monorail, and one at Speed Freak. I readied it in my hooves, I'd have to use it as a club again.
Out of the stairwell shot Crunch Time; his armour was badly scratched, caked in blood. One of his power hooves was damaged, and both of his ballistic hooves were empty. What looked like a chunk of flesh was speared on his scorpion tail. His visor was up, and in his teeth he gripped something. The weapon was long and thin, with a handle on one end. It resembled a fire poker in design, but with a large, flat end instead of a point. He had flown up the staircase, and now he slammed into Bone Saw. She dropped the saw as they careered across the room. I limped to the door.
He gripped her head in between his forehooves and screeched to a halt by one of the fire barrels. Suddenly her head was in the flame, pressed against the burning scraps by a pair of armoured hooves. She screamed and thrashed, desperately trying to escape. She kicked out at him, but only chipped her hoof against his power armour. As her screaming went from violent threats and cursing to unintelligible shrieking, I noticed Sunny standing by my side, peering around the door at the brutal scene. She was crying in fear.
Finally, Crunch Time pulled Bone Saw's head from the fire. He grinned; her head was just a skull with a few scraps of charred flesh clinging to it. He set down the unknown melee weapon, so that the oddly-shaped flat end rested in the flames. He then dumped Bone's corpse into the barrel.
"That's the last of the fuckers," he grunted, "Teach them to fuck with my girlfriend. Hey, hang on, you killed this one?" He pointed a hoof at Speed Freak, I nodded.
"Yup, sure did." I beamed, finally, I was getting some respect from him.
"Nice. Bastard had it coming. How'd he get up here?"
"He was in here all along," I said quickly, "Asleep." I didn't want him to know about Sunny, not now anyway.
"Wouldn't it've been a better idea to kill him in his sleep then, rather than wake him up?" Crunch Time asked.
"Trust me, I tried," I said, "Ripper woke him."
"Ah, gotcha," he grinned, "Welcome to the 2nd. Hey, who's that?" My heart stopped; he'd noticed Sunny.
"The raiders were holding her captive," I blurted out, "I rescued her." He looked me up and down.
"You went out of your way to help a wastelander?! You do know that's grounds for exile, don't you?" he said slowly, glancing over to Speed Freak and back, "Wait, he wasn't asleep, was he? He was a guard. Look at you, you've gone bright red." I tried to utter a response, but none was forthcoming. A lump formed in my throat. Crunch Time spoke again, menacingly. "What if… I were to tell Red, huh? Like the sound of that? What will the squad think when they hear the news? The new tech a closet Dashite. Luckily for you, I'm willing to overlook it."
I knew what he was doing; he wanted dirt on me. In theory, I hadn't violated any laws. The raider buck had been an enemy, and rescuing her had been a by-product of that. But I had undone the rope. I stepped back; okay, I wasn't entirely clean. It didn't matter anyway; I couldn't afford to become ostracised by the unit, not after being friendless for my whole school career. My hoof stole to the holorifle.
"C'mon, let's get outta this shithole," Crunch Time said, feigning friendliness, "C and D've cleared out the park, no sign of the target. Not here either. Still can't believe Snowy died for fuck-all."
"No." I snarled, moving out of the Parts & Service. Internally, I was screaming at myself to stop; I could still salvage this situation. And leave a helpless filly alone in raider territory? Fuck no, I wasn't going back. I'd boarded this crazy train when I'd untied Sunny, and now I was going to see it through. Crunch Time's eyes narrowed.
"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," he snarled, "Now get moving!"
"I. Said. No," I stomped a hoof, pointing to Sunny. "Not without her." He snatched up the weapon from the fire, and as the end glowed I suddenly realized what I was looking at; the familiar lightning bolt and cloud glowing bright red. His face contorted into a smile.
"Aha! That's treason. Article 17; Any pegasus of the Grand Pegasus Enclave who has been found to have put the wellbeing of an inhabitant of the Equestrian Wasteland over the wellbeing of any inhabitant of our fair nation or above the orders of their superiors in any form shall be branded upon their flanks and exiled permanently from the territories of our nation, and forbidden from ever returning . See? I outrank you, and you've disobeyed me to help her," he pointed to Sunny "So, you get the brand. Pretty glad I nabbed this off of Red." He rushed me, leaping on top of me and pinning me to the floor, "You sure you want to do this?"
I tried to push him off, to get up from under him, but he was too strong. He had me right where he wanted. As I tried to throw him off he reached down and undid part of my armour, enough to give him access to my left flank.
"I'm waiting." he chuckled. I twisted around enough to look at him.
"Fuck you." I spat in his face, he just grinned even wider.
"Your call," with that he positioned the brand right above my flank; I could feel the heat radiating off it. Without warning, he pressed it against my flank. My cutie mark evaporated under the hot iron. My flank was on fire, the brand burnt deep into my flesh. Crunch Time chuckled as a I winced in pain, tears forming in my eyes. After several agonising seconds, the pain subsided, leaving a horrible itchy sensation and a dull ache. My cutie mark was gone, forever.
He moved over to my other side, releasing my armour and lining up the brand. No, I couldn't loose my cutie mark entirely. I started to kick and thrash. I knew it was no use; I'd seen a pony far stronger pinned down by the same buck, but I couldn't give up hope. The heat was right above my flank, ready to go, but my struggling and twisting distracted him. He pushed down harder, to the point where it was painful.
A bolt of energy flew out of nowhere, burning a ragged hole in Crunch Time's wing. He grunted in pain and leapt off of me. I rolled into a sitting position. Standing in the Parts & Service doorway was Sunny, an energy pistol, my energy pistol, was gripped in her teeth. I snatched up the holorifle as he walked towards her, slowly.
"Trying to be a hero? That's cute. Too bad; won't do an ounce of good." he grinned. No, this wasn't happening. I fumbled with the Holorifle, trying to fit another microspark cell into it. As I fought with the weapon he was slowly backing Sunny into the Parts & Service, daring her to shoot him. She still had the energy pistol. I should've shouted to her or something, but I wasn't thinking. He entirely obscured her by this point, and I was craning my neck trying to see her.
"AIRPONY CRUNCH TIME!" somepony bawled, and I turned to see Red Glare hovering by the staircase. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?! I could have you out of the Air Force by tomorrow for this!"
"H-he put her," Crunch Time backed away so she could see Sunny, "Before my orders. My actions were entirely justi-"
"I know exactly what happened. Came over the fucking radio. You're lucky the rest of the squad're out of short-range signal distance. As the commanding officer in this unit, I and I alone am permitted to administer disciplinary actions. You won't hear the end of this."
"B-but ma'am-" Crunch Time spluttered.
"No. I want you on the sky-tank, NOW!" she commanded, he scampered off, "Cloudburst? Are you alright?"
"Ugh," I winced in pain as the adrenaline drained from my body, "I'm alright, just about. Not sure about my ass though."
"Don't try and be a smartass," she said half-heartedly, hanging her head, "Unfortunately, this is out of my hooves; you'll never get into Neighvarro with that on your rump. I know it may not seem like it, but you've done the right thing. I'll be honest; I didn't think you would. Hey, put out your hoof for a sec."
"Wait, wha-" I muttered, confused. Then I realised; she was talking to Sunny; Red Glare had moved over to her. She pulled out her emergency first-aid kit and set to work dressing the filly's wounded foreleg. Sunny beamed at her.
"Th-thanks miss." she said softly.
"It's alright, uh…" Red Glare turned to me, probably expecting me to know her name.
"Sunbeam, it's Sunbeam." the filly smiled. How Red Glare was so good with her I'll never know.
"Okay Sunbeam, I want you to go with Cloudburst here. Okay? That's a good girl." she finished. Sunbeam trotted over to me, limping slightly, and I staggered to my hooves. Red Glare looked up at me, "You sure you're gonna be alright? You've taken one hell of a beating."
"I'll be fine, uh, ma'am" I sighed. Great, not even the captain trusted me.
"If you say so," she looked unsure, "I'll make sure your honour stays intact at least; Crunch may soon have to explain to a court martial why he let a certain technician die in the field."
"Thanks," I said, blocking out the part of my brain that screamed about what Golden Heart would think, "Well, I guess it's goodbye."
"Don't sweat it. See you. Too bad we didn't find the crate."
"Wait, you guys are looking for a crate?" Sunbeam asked, "Like, from the Steel Rangers?"
"Yeah."
"C'mon then!" she wore a fake smile, trotting into the Parts & Service once more. Behind where I'd found her was a metal shelf dotted with damaged technology; a Steel Ranger helmet with a large hole through the visor, a battered laser pistol broken into two halves joined only by wires, a pip-buck with the clasp sawn open. I snatched up the last item and tossed it into my saddlebag before the others noticed.
Beneath the shelf was the objective; a large wooden crate with the Ministry of Wartime Technology logo sprayed onto it. Red Glare looked at me expectantly, and I reluctantly pried it open. Inside was a weapon that I'd never seen before. It resembled a Tesla cannon, but the trio of prongs on the front were thicker and larger, and wires and lights were exposed along the outside. In the central chamber eldritch, orange lightning bounced around.
"The Tesla-Buckton prototype, cool huh?" Sunbeam giggled.
"Sure is," I replied, "You'd better take it, ma'am."
"Alright then, good luck to you both." said Red Glare, slinging the weapon across her back. She took off, flying out of the room and up the staircase. I picked up my discarded helmet and wrapped the strap around my saddlebag buckle, gesturing to Sunbeam to follow.
======
I trotted slowly along the cracked road, chatting casually with the filly on my back. The resort was about an hour behind us, though my helmet's internal display wouldn't give me a straight answer. Right now my only plan was reaching civilisation, and the Manehattan suburbs' ruins had seemed as good a place as any to start.
We mostly talked about me, and my life above the cloud layer. Sunbeam was fascinated by the idea of seeing the sun every day, the idea of running water and constantly having food to eat even if it was rationed. She tended, however, to dodge questions about her previous life. She also had a slightly unnerving habit of correctly guessing things. According to her she was just good at it.
"Hey," she asked, "How'd you get your cutie mark?"
"My cutie mark? Must've been, what, ten years ago?" I began. "So, my mum bought us this model plane, for me and Sky Strider to mess with. It had a little electric motor, and you flew it with a remote. All well and good, until Sky Strider managed to fly it into the wall one too many times and broke the wing. Mum glued it back, but we couldn't get it to fly again. Sky was ready just to write it off, but I took the wreckage up to my room after a couple days and managed to get it working again; turns out the broken wing was on backwards. My mum'd just assumed that it was a flat piece of plastic. Thing is; wings only work one way around. So I fixed it and went to bed, and when I woke up my flanks weren't bare any more! Mum made pancakes to celebrate and I ate way to much chocolate afterwards."
"Cool! Your mum must've been awesome!" she giggled.
"Yup. Hey, what were your parents like?" I asked, treading lightly.
"They were… alright, I guess. Yeah."
"Sunbeam," I sighed, "I wasn't born yesterday. If there's something you're not telling me-"
"Finally decided to speak up, huh?" she muttered. "I wasn't fooling you for a second, I know that. Uh, well, okay. You asked for it. I grew up in a stable; Stable 58. It's out in the Vanhoover region, uh, a few days to the west of here. It wasn't too bad really, but the thing is; it wasn't a proper stable. It had been, years ago, but the Steel Rangers moved in way before I was born. The stable ponies got lucky; according to Rocky Road, most Ranger chapters would've slaughtered them, but the Vanhoover chapter was going through some rough times, and they needed a base, so they just settled in with the stable's inhabitants and integrated them into the Rangers."
"Wait," I interjected, "Who's Rocky Road?"
"He was the chapter Elder, an old buck with worlds of knowledge. He seemed to know everything, uh, back then at least. So, yeah, I was born in this stable. The door was open, but I never went outside. At least we had food and water in there. Life was pretty good, I mean, ponies died and all, but yeah. There was one major problem, the vast amount of Stable 58's inhabitants were sterile. It was supposed to have something to do with their 'social experiment', to limit the population. Some enchantment in the water that only targets certain DNA according to the scribes. So you can imagine how big of a thing it was when I was born; 'future of the chapter' and all that stuff, they even gave me a pip-buck before I had my cutie mark."
I stopped walking, my train of thought derailing. The idea of that much pressure on a child was alien to me. As the flightless runt, expectations for me had always been low. I felt a pang of sympathy for her as she continued.
"My parents were supportive, uh, but really pushy, always urging me on even when I didn't want to be. They also had this habit of keeping me in the dark about the real world," she sighed.
"Wait, then how do you know all of this?"
"Eavesdropping," she smiled, a hint of pride creeping into her voice, "If they wouldn't teach me, then I'd find out myself. It's why my knowledge is kinda patchy, I mean, since I only know what I've overheard."
"And I used to think you were innocent," I chuckled, "Seriously though, that's pretty impressive. You're really good at picking up on stuff."
"Thanks!" she beamed. "It's just that, one night, we came under attack. Bean Curd woke me up at, like, two in the morning, saying we had to leave. I asked him what was going on. He just told me not to ask questions. We gathered a bunch of the scribes, and the knights all rushed to the door to try and seal it. Somepony in the atrium was screaming. There's a back entrance, and we went out that way. Came out onto the Mane Street. A few of the knights came up after us, with the Tesla-Buckton. There was three of them, plus Crusader Dandelion. We set out for Manehattan; we were going to join up with the chapter there."
"How many of you were there?" I asked.
"What, in the convoy? There must've been about, uh, a dozen scribes, plus the four knights, me, and Bean Curd. He was the head scribe."
"How'd raiders overcome that? You guys had four ponies in full power armour!" I exclaimed, forgetting myself.
"And they had an AMR! Dandy didn't even know what hit him," she sighed. The Ranger helmet in the Parts & Service came to mind immediately. She spoke up again, "Hey, what'd you take from the shelf?" I stopped a second time; she had noticed that? Moreover, she hadn't realised that something was missing, she'd seen me take an item.
"A pip-buck," I confessed, "With the clasp sawn through." I pulled it out, examining the device while Sunbeam peered past my neck to see. I heard a gasp emanate from her.
"Bu-but that's my pip-buck!" she exclaimed. "Bone Saw cut it off a couple of days ago." So that explained the cut on her leg. I passed it back to her.
"Keep it, it's yours after all," I smiled. She shook her head.
"But you need it more." She pushed my hoof away. I dropped it back into my saddlebag and resumed my trot.
======
That night we slept in a bombed-out cinema foyer in the suburbs. I used my emergency lighter to get a fire going with some old planks and torn-up film posters. I lay down next to it to sleep, and Sunbeam curled up next to me. As I drifted away from reality, the true nature of my situation began to set in; I was trapped down here, forever.
Footnote: Level up.
Companion Perk:
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Fallout Equestria: Due North
Chapter 3: A Different Perspective
When I awoke the fire was nothing but ashes, simmering quietly. Sunlight filtered down through the clouds and streamed in through the shattered windows and doors, illuminating the room less than my fire had the night before. I looked around; several once-backlit posters lined the walls, displaying adverts for films like "Power Ponies 2: The Mane-iac Strikes" and "Daring Do and the Zebra's Bounty". One featured a group of ponies with suspicious similarities to the Ministry Mares, locked in a deadly battle with a mare with ridiculously long hair-tentacles and her army of evil zebra henchmen. The other showed a brown mare with a short greyscale mane, positioned in a fighting stance which showed way too much of her plot to the camera, surrounded on all sides by demonic zebra tribals. I turned away, rolling my eyes at the obvious propaganda.
It was then that I noticed Sunbeam. The filly was sitting a few yards away from me, just… staring at the sky. She was watching the cloud layer through the windows with the utmost fascination, eyes darting across the featureless mass of rolling cloud as if it were the most interesting thing she had ever seen.
"Ugh," I groaned, "Sunbeam? What time is it?"
"Oh, uh, hi Cloudburst," she said, "No idea."
"Alright," I yawned, stretching out, "Let's see." I pulled out the pip-buck, making a mental note to get the clasp fixed. The green display read 7:34, not bad. I stood up slowly and trotted over to sit next to her. "So, what're you doing?"
"Watching for gaps in the clouds," she answered, as if it was perfectly normal.
"Gaps? Good luck. There's almost never any holes in the clouds," I replied without thinking.
"That's what the Enclave told you, huh?" she asked, leaving me unsure of how to respond. "Well they're wrong, or lying; there's a gap every few minutes. Ooh, there's one!"
"What, where?" I looked around, trying to see what she had noticed. Finally I saw it; a tiny circle of blue about a foot in diameter, drifting slowly across the sky. How she had noticed it I would never know. She tracked the hole across the sky until it closed, her eyes darting back once it had disappeared. "Wow. Well, I guess you win." I said, secretly irritated that she'd gotten the better of me.
"Aww, don't be like that," she smiled. "So, where are we going?"
"Uh, civilisation," I replied, trying to think on the spot, "Anywhere there's civilised ponies." Secretly, I was hoping wherever we found would have somepony willing to take in a filly, somepony who had a better idea of how to look after her than some inexperienced Enclave technician who had never even tried babysitting before now.
"There's lights in that statue," Sunbeam pointed to a large structure resembling a mare watching over the city with a raised torch in one hoof, stained green with verdigris, "Or we could head for that tower."
Shadows and lights danced in the windows of a distant tower, as well as through holes rent in the sides of the decaying statue. There was a gap in the skyscrapers between us and the former, a massive open space that could have only been the Manehattan Blast Zone, and that wasn't a place I wanted to visit if the 2nd's tales of it were to be believed. The statue seemed like a better bet.
"We head for that statue," I said, "Hopefully the ponies there'll be friendly." I started to pack up what few items weren't already in my saddlebag, including a few scattered emergency rations from last night and the pip-buck. After doing up my saddlebag I trotted for the exit. Sunbeam limped over, her wounded leg hindering her significantly. I knelt down. "Wanna ride?"
"Sure thing," relief flashed across her features as she scrambled up onto my back, "Thanks."
Outside the area was deserted, save for a few radroaches scurrying across the scorched ground. A large billboard loudly proclaimed; Visit Monument Island and see the fabulous Statue of Friendship! Admittance free for families! A picture of the statue, drawn glowing in the sun with happy families trotting around in front of it, was the central focus. Okay, Monument Island it was then. I set off once more, following the large arrow on the billboard.
The area had once been a large and wealthy shopping destination with glitzy stores selling jewelry and clothes. Designs by Suri Polomare! boasted one dilapidated advertisement; another had Sapphire Shores approved! written in fancy lettering. Most of the stores had glass fronts, many of them long-shattered. Along the centre of the road ran a series of withered hedges, killed off by the balefire. The cinema where we had slept matched the shops; large and glamorous, once anyway.
As I trotted down the street I became more and more uncomfortable; posters everywhere proclaimed the same message: Pinkie Pie is watching you! FOREVER! Each poster was adorned with a picture of a smiling pink pony, her poofy mane arranged in such a way that the grey streaks made it look like a candy cane. The poster had been designed so that the mare's eyes appeared to follow the viewer. With several posters staring at me at once, it sent chills down my spine.
"Wartime Equestria must have been horrible," Sunbeam observed.
"Who can say?" I replied, "Maybe they were used to having the government breathing down their necks; the Enclave's no worse."
"That doesn't mean they liked it," she shot back, "There must have been lots of riots and things too."
"I guess," I shrugged, "It was a troubled time." I looked around again, and suddenly she spoke up once more.
"Hey, what's that sound?"
"What sound?" I stopped, suddenly feeling very vulnerable.
"Shhh!" She chided, and slowly I became aware of a faint grinding noise. It was as if somepony was scraping two pieces of rusty metal together, and it was getting louder. My hoof stole to the holorifle, checking the weapon; it was still empty. Leaving it hanging from the sling, I loaded four microspark cells and pumped the weapon. Okay, I was good if anypony tried to attack.
The noise was coming closer now, slowly, and I could just make out the clop of hooves. On one hoof, whoever it was could be friendly, and travelling in a group would significantly increase our chances of survival; on the other, however, it could be more raiders. After a minute's consideration, I decided I'd prefer not to remain alone out here, and so I set off to find the source.
"Uh, Cloudburst?" Sunbeam asked.
"Yeah?"
"Where are we going?" She asked.
"To find out who's making that noise," I replied. She nodded in acceptance.
As we rounded a corner it came into view; a battered old caravan was rattling down the road towards us at a snail's pace, rear axle grinding against its housing. It had originally been one of those vehicles used for camping, a true caravan in the old sense, but the inside had mostly been ripped out to allow for more space. A large stallion pulled the rusty cart, within which rode a unicorn mare and a younger buck. I cantered towards them.
I half expected the ponies to start shooting at me as I approached, being a pegasus in full Enclave combat armour, but they instead regarded me with measured suspicion. I guess they must've seen Sunbeam. The buck pulling hadn't reacted at all, instead choosing to keep trotting onwards. As I passed him I shot him a sheepish smile; he rolled his eyes. The unicorn mare leaned out of the caravan.
"What're you after?" she asked, her voice tinged with suspicion.
"Not much, just heading to Monument Island," I replied, "And hoping to meet a friendly face."
"Hey, Pistol, hold up a second," she called, and the pony pulling the cart stopped, "Who's the kid?"
"Her name's Sunbeam; I uh, I saved her from raiders," I said quickly. The mare raised an eyebrow, and turned to face Sunbeam.
"Look, kid? Do you know this guy?"
"What, Cloudburst?" she asked in disbelief. "Of course I do." I breathed a sigh of relief.
"Alright then," the mare's distrust lessened just a little, "We're heading to Friendship City as well. You're welcome to come aboard, provided Pistol Grip thinks he can handle the weight."
"Sure," I grinned, "Thanks."
"Ugh, get in," grumbled Pistol Grip.
We set off again, and the duo in the caravan introduced themselves. The unicorn mare, who went by the name of Seaworthy, was the owner of the caravan; she had been born in Baltimare, in a makeshift fishing settlement built up in warehouses on the old docks. Apparently the war hadn't hit the city hard enough to kill off the marine life.
The younger earth pony was a buck from New Appleoosa who went by Steam Rivet. He had been one of the engineers on the trains there, and had been lucky enough to live in the town while a small shipment of coal had come in. Once the stuff had run out they had returned to pony-pulled trains and he'd been out of a job, and maintaining boilers or carrying out repair work hadn't seemed. He'd set out to make his fortune and met Seaworthy our near "Los Saddlos", which he claimed was just south of New Pegasus.
The buck pulling the vehicle was Pistol Grip, a veteran mercenary born and raised in the slave pits of Fillydelphia. He'd kicked his way to the top of the arena, fighting tooth and claw to get out, and now travelled the roads for a living. He'd been on the trails for over ten years, but despite his long history he still maintained a strict code of honour. A large shotgun was his signature weapon; an ancient break-action single shot weapon with a wooden stock. Into the wood various intricate carvings had been inscribed; complex patterns of swirls and lines. The body of the gun was plated with gold, similarly decorated.
The group was headed for Friendship City, the settlement within the statue. Out of the trio, Seaworthy had been the least impressed by my story. Pistol Grip had gone as far as congratulating me for my actions, and Steam Rivet had at least seemed interested, but she had simply rolled her eyes and gone back to stare out of the window at the ruined scenery.
======
For breakfast we ate some Fancy Buck's Snack Cakes which Steam Rivet brought. I initially rejected the idea of eating something which had survived two hundred years down in the wasteland, but eventually relented.
I smiled as I took the first bite; the cakes were delicious, beating out anything the Enclave could offer. I went to pick up the other half out of the package and Sunbeam looked up at me with an irresistible look; she'd finished hers.
"Aww, c'mon Cloudy. Just a little more, please?"
My heart melted; I broke the cake in half and passed some to her.
"Ohmygosh thanks!" she exclaimed, gobbling up the cake. Suddenly it hit me.
"Hey, you called me Cloudy," I said, prompting the others to turn and look at me.
"Yeah, uh, I didn't realise it was an issue. I-"
"Don't worry about it," I smiled, prompting a sigh of relief, "Sunny." Suddenly it hit me, and I stifled a foalish giggle; we were Sunny & Cloudy.
"Are y'all ready?" Steam asked, glancing around the rough circle we'd formed beside the caravan. The smouldering remnants of a couple of radroaches lay scattered a few feet away, sniped with Seaworthy's laser rifle.
It wasn't like anything in the Enclave; while they had the emitter gem on the end of the long conductor rod which protruded from the sleek, black metal body, the entirety of this weapon was contained within a titanium housing, giving it a long and square shape. The beam produced by the weapon was a ruddy pink, which seemed to burn longer yet not as hot with each squeeze of the trigger compared to an E-10 or E-11.
"Yup." I replied. Seaworthy just nodded, and without a word Pistol started packing up the food. After chucking the remaining snack cakes into the group's food bag, he threw it into the caravan and trotted up to the harness up front.
"Climb in back and we'll be off," he grunted, fastening the straps, "Friendship City's not too far from here."
"Fine," said Seaworthy simply, avoiding my gaze. Rivet rolled his eyes jokingly and climbed in after her. I let Sunny go first, before boarding as well. With a grumble from up front we set off once more, travelling down the causeway. By now we were on the waterfront, passing the bombed-out remains of cafes and restaurants.
Out in the bay numerous wrecked boats lay half submerged beneath the dirty water. The stern of one old ferry jutted out above the waters, perched upon by a trio of large, batlike creatures with great leathery wings and blood red skin.
"Bloodwings," Seaworthy said flatly, "Don't shoot at them; you won't live to regret it." The monsters were a good distance away, and didn't seem to have noticed us moving along the road. I was glad that they hadn't; the smallest of them was easily twice my size. Suddenly a loud screech drew my attention; a fourth bloodwing sailed overhead from the city. It had seen us, and was rousing its allies.
A cacophony of shrieks rose from the others, and they clumsily scrambled into the air. Pistol Grip increased his pace, going from a slow trot to a full blown gallop. One of the bloodwings swooped down towards us, leaving a dent as it slammed into the roof and hung on.
"Celestia fuck us all," snarled Seaworthy, levitating her rifle. The creature snapped down at Pistol with its fangs. He veered, and the creature's claws tore through the roof as it held on. She put an energy beam into its backside. The bloodwing screamed and took of, tearing a chunk out of the roof. It flew upwards, howling, and spun around to dive at us again. Two of the others tore towards us, leaving only one hovering further behind.
"Cloudburst, take the right; Steam, get the left; I'll handle the middle one," She barked. I lined up the holorifle and fired. Against all odds the hologram hit the beast, leaving an ugly scorch mark down its side. The creature broke pursuit and flew backwards to recover, the remaing monster swooping in to take its place. I fired a shot into its face as it did so. It glowed bright blue as the energy surged through it. Its ashes were scattered across the road.
"Holy shit!" I yelled. I knew it was powerful, but not like that. I turned to see Steam Rivet level an assault rifle at one of the creatures. It was an old fashioned, drum-fed weapon that looked home built. He took aim and fired. A hail of low-calibre bullets ripped forth, carving a ragged hole into the monster's wing. It dropped into the water, cartwheeling over and over, kicking up great plumes of dirty water as it spun.
Pistol's shotgun flew past my face, enveloped in Seaworthy's magical aura. She pointed it upwards out of the window just as another of the bloodwings flew overhead. With a deafening boom she fired, peppering its body with scattershot. It fell, partially hitting the roof and ending up as a crumpled heap in the road behind us. One left.
"Hey!" yelled Pistol, "Thats mine!"
"Shut it!" retorted Seaworthy. "Ah, fuck."Around half a dozen more bloodwings, attracted by the clamour, rose from the ruins around us. I turned; the statue was right there. Ponies were watching us from the viewing platform, pointing and waving, or screaming. The drawbridge was already halfway down, and the grinding noise from the axle became a hideous squeal as Pistol put on a final burst of speed. We readied our weapons again.
The crackle of laser fire filled my ears as the sky lit up with magical energy. They dodged between our fire, skimming across the sky as we barrelled towards Friendship City. One fell from the sky, its wings burnt away. Another dove for Pistol, and got a shotgun blast to the rear for its efforts. Seaworthy snatched up a pair of submachine guns from the caravan floor, adding to her levitating arsenal. One swooped in towards the hole in the roof. I fired at it and hit it square in the face. It screeched and barrelled away, blinded. The others' combined solid ammo fire ripped it to shreds moments later.
Suddenly we were on the drawbridge, Pistol's hooves clattering across the wooden floor as he skidded to a halt. Several city residents rushed out to help, driving off the bloodwings with various firearms and a grenade rifle. The monsters howled and sailed away, ignoring the corpses of their comrades.
I stepped down out of the wrecked caravan, letting Sunny climb down after me. She struggled significantly with her injured leg, and I made a mental note to get her checked up by a doctor. I trotted over to where Pistol Grip sat. He had released the harness and was slouched on the drawbridge, drinking purified water from an ancient plastic bottle. His white coat and dark green mane were both messy and slick with sweat, and several deep scratches marred his back, blood trickling down onto the wood. The bloodwings must have reached him after all.
Seaworthy trotted over, her large arsenal left in the vehicle. Her purple braids were tangled and fluttered in the wind, but she didn't seem to care.
"Hey, Pistol. Good work out there, kay? I'll get some extra caps through to you sometime soonish."
"Sure," Pistol grumbled in between gulps. One of the townsponies trotted over.
"You should get inside; we can't protect you from everything out here," he said amiably. "You can leave the caravan; that half of the bridge never moves." Seaworthy and I both nodded, and we headed across the drawbridge.
It had once been able to raise and lower to let ships pass, but the residents of Friendship City had disabled the bank side, locking it down. The other half was raised most of the time; lowered only when somepony needed access to the city. Various gaps in both halves had been bridged with old planks and rope bridges, creating a path across the decaying wood.
======
"Alrighty then, what seems to be the issue?" the doctor smiled, glancing between me and Sunny.
"Well, uh, this is Sunbeam, and I'm kinda, uh, worried about her leg," I stammered; something about talking to wasteland ponies was terrifying. Maybe it was just preconceptions caused by my Enclave upbringing; maybe it was because they didn't match those preconceptions: I wasn't sure. The doctor smiled again.
"Okay, well, I could take a look at it for you. Hell, I could run a full check up," he said. I honestly wasn't too comfortable with him examining Sunny, but it was for her own good.
"How much would that, uh, cost me?" I asked slowly.
"First check up is always free," he smiled reassuringly, gesturing to a sign by the door that said as much. At least he hadn't invented that on the spot. I was probably just paranoid.
"What d'you say?" I asked, turning to Sunny.
"Sure!" she smiled after a moment. I couldn't argue with that.
"Okay doc," I sighed. "Take good care of her, okay?"
"Of course! What kind of doctor would I be otherwise? Alright then, Sunbeam, could you come over here…" he began to talk to Sunny. I turned to leave, breathing a sigh of relief.
"Sunny, you be good okay?" I said, "I've gotta go find some supplies."
"You got it!" she grinned. I trotted out of the improvised clinic and into the main market area, built into the center of the vast statue. All around me ponies haggled and traded, swapping items and bottle caps at improvised stalls. I hadn't gone more than a few feet when Seaworthy whispered, out of nowhere.
"Follow me."
I nodded, confused, and followed her as she cantered over to behind a large stack of crates. As I wondered why she had wanted me, I heard the tell-tale sound of a laser powering up. "You'd better start fucking talking." she snarled. I glanced around; she was levitating the weapon behind my head.
"Wait, what?" I exclaimed, my mouth running before I had time to think. "What in Equestria could I know that you need to hear?"
"You think this is a fucking joke?" she spat. "No; you're going to tell me right now why you've got the Vanhoover Prodigy under your wing." Suddenly it clicked; Vanhoover: she was talking about Sunny.
"You mean Sunbeam? I told you already, rescued her from the Nightmare Moons."
"Don't give me that bullshit!" she hissed. "Your horseapples mean nothing. You know as well as I do how valuable she is."
I physically stepped back, scared. I had no idea that Sunny was worth anything. I said as such to her. She looked me dead in the eyes.
"You're for real?" her eyes narrowed. "You have no idea, do you? She never told you anything. Not that she's supposed to know any of it, but I've seen how alert she is."
"She told me she was born in Stable 58," I blurted out. "The water was enchanted to weed out bad genes, but sterilised everypony instead. She was the only child, and lived under intense pressure to perform. Eventually the stable fell under attack and she escaped with some others. They were then captured and killed by raiders, who took her prisoner. You know the rest."
"Alright, fine, I'm sorry. Happy now?" she snarled, rolling her eyes.
"Not until you tell you me why she's special." I demanded.
"Okay," she huffed, "You see, the experiment in 58 was to create the Aryan race of ponies; Celestia knows what those Stable-Tec fucks were thinking. Every generation the water sterilised a couple of ponies, becoming stricter each time. Then the Rangers move in literally as it's reaching the final phase; the ponies living in 58 then were to produce the perfect offspring. Of course, it sterilises all the Rangers at once. With no idea that this was even happening at the time, and being outnumbered ten to one by the new arrivals, only one couple ended up being between two stable ponies. Sunbeam was the result of that.
"Of course, the records were cracked open and the scheme revealed after the old overmare died and Rocky Road took over. So everypony wanted to get their hooves on her; we doubled protection around 58 and set to work training her. She's hyper intelligent, simply cannot have a cutie mark that wouldn't help the stable, physically superior to the average filly in every way, and for some reason she's alert as fuck. Why'd you think 58 got attacked, huh? Somepony with only half an idea as to who she was thought it'd be great to own her."
"Wait," I stopped her, "'We'? You're with the Steel Rangers?"
"I'm an Inquisitor-Paladin," she hissed, "Name's Deep Strike, and I serve the council of Elders, the Steel Circle, as part our 'special forces' branch, if you will. I was born in Baltimare, but as a member of the Rangers. As if you could fish in those waters."
"You're not taking her," I said suddenly, one hoof stealing towards the grip of the holorifle.
"And how exactly are you going to stop me?" she snarled. "An entire chapter died to keep her in our possession; you think I'm going to let some jumped-up wannabe hero make all their sacrifices vain?"
"You sound like a slaver," I said quickly, trying to think on my hooves, "I doubt Pistol would appreciate that." From beyond the crates I could hear hoofsteps approaching.
"He's just a hired gun," she admitted, only to jump at the sound. Her eyes glanced around, betraying the barest hint of fear. I jumped at it.
"He's a good hired gun," I spoke loudly and slowly, and saw the panic rise in her eyes. "He keeps to his honour; he won't appreciate you threatening me, or trying to kidnap a foal."
"Can it!" she demanded, but by now whoever happened to be passing by was almost on top of us. She looked over her shoulder, then back at me, and her horn flared.
She vanished in a flash of magic, a few sparkles of purple energy floating to the floor where she had just stood. I stood there for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. Finally, I stumbled back into the market, still dazed from the encounter.
I sought out the nearest weapon merchant, trying to take my mind off my newfound worries for Sunny. Sure enough, the stall I was looking for sat just across the market. I trotted over briskly.
"How much for this?" I asked, dropping my Enclave-issue laser pistol onto the stall counter. The vendor examined it; like the E-series, it was far more advanced than most wasteland laser pistols, which were literally short versions of the same metal boxes as the rifles.
"Hmm, good condition; how does three hundred caps sound?" he asked. It was probably worth around five, but back then it seemed like a good deal. I was about to accept when a pair of switchblades caught my eye; they weren't in great condition, but were of the same design. I could easily combine them to create a better weapon. The merchant noticed my interest.
"You like those, eh? Tell you what, two hundred caps plus the pair of 'em."
"Sure," I said quickly, taking the weapons and the caps that he dropped into the table from his saddlebags. I trotted away, and headed for the nearest unoccupied bench. There I pulled out my field tool kit and the pip-buck.
I activated the device's repair-aid spell, which began to highlight the best parts of both switchblades once I laid them out in front of it. Using a small screwdriver, I gently undid the screws and teased open the cases. Both cases were a reddish plastic, and the repair spell pointed out that one half of each case was significantly better than the other. By mating the two halves from different blades, I could greatly improve the overall condition. Both of the springs were equally rusted, but one blade was much sharper, and had only around half the notches in it, so I used that one. Finally, I slipped the few intricate parts back together and screwed the assembly back together, placing the remaining screws and spring in my tool kit and dumping the leftovers in a nearby aluminium bin.
The clatter of galloping hooves on the worn, metal floor drew my attention. I turned to see the doctor galloping over, a worried expression on his face. I stood up rapidly, throwing everything into my saddlebag.
"Hey, uh, Cloudburst, is it? There's something you need to see," he panted, trying to catch his breath.
"What is it? Is Sunny alright?" I demanded. He looked away.
"You'd better see for yourself."
He turned and cantered briskly through the market with me in tow, heading back to the clinic. As we arrived I pushed past him and hurried inside to where Sunbeam lay asleep on an old mattress. Her leg had been given a clean dressing, and she had been cleaned up significantly. She stirred slightly as if aware of my presence, and I ran a hoof gently through her mane. The doctor cleared his throat.
"If you'd look over here," he gestured to a grainy image projected onto the wall behind him. It was a diagram of an odd shape I vaguely recognised from biology at school, though unfortunately most of my knowledge on the topic had been overridden by numerous sex jokes and innuendos made by idiotic classmates; the female reproductive organs. The doctor continued. "This is, well, I'm sure you're aware of what it is. The thing is, this is what it should look like." He changed the slide to some kind of medical scan of the same thing, only this time the bottom portion was torn up and mutilated, to the point that I recoiled in horror from the outline.
"This," he sighed slowly, "Belongs to your filly over there." A surge of anger rushed through my body, rage simmering within me. I turned to the doctor. Why would they do this? This was unforgivable. I wanted with all of the energy in my body to go back and kill Speed Freak again.
"I-I rescued her from raiders. Th-they must have done it," my voice quavered, bordering on rage, "I killed the fucking bastards."
"Okay… uh, look, I've done all I could, patched her up as best I could, but there's not much that can be done. These are the wounds of a serrated weapon. I'm sure you're also aware of her flanks?"
"Yes. Serrated, like a bonesaw?" I demanded.
"Y-yes, I mean, but nopony could have got that kind of angle, unless…"
"They were a unicorn? I saw her die. The bitch got what she deserved," I snarled, casting my mind back to the death of Bone Saw, how she had screamed and screamed while her head was burnt beyond recognition.
"Uh, alright," he stepped back. "Look, she's going to be asleep for the next few hours. You should probably get some rest as well."
"Fine," I spat, and strode out without another word.
The anger started to drain from my body, as it had when news of Sky Strider's death had come. I trotted into the market and sat down, confused and worried more than angry. Why hadn't she told me? Even moving her hind legs must have been painful.
As I moped there my thoughts drifted back to the fateful day when Sky had died, how I'd screamed at my mother and ignored her. The thought of how I'd just believed Bone Saw's brutal death to be deserved merged with my regret over the way I'd treated Golden Heart, and it was then that it hit me; I wasn't worth the Dashite brand, I wasn't some hero defying the government to help the wasteland.
While I sat there, unsure of what to think, an elderly pony approached me. He was a pegasus, with the familiar brand burned into his hindquarters. He smiled slightly.
"Hey, uh, yew there. Yew're a Dashite, right? I need t' talk t' yew," he began. I looked up.
"Yes, I am. Not sure if I deserve it though."
"That's dangerous talk," he said, suspicion tinging his words.
"I don't mean that; it's too good for me," I sighed, "I'm a horrible pony."
"What d'yew mean? Why'd yew leave the Enclave?" he asked.
"To save a young filly from raiders, but that's besides the point."
"Seems pretty good, youngin'," he smiled, "Got any family above clouds?"
"How'd you guess?" I sighed, "Yeah, just my mum."
"Erry Dashite I've ever met who's beatin' themselves up has either left ponies behind or failed t' save somepony."
"Hit the nail on the head," I sighed, "Look, last time I spoke to her we had this huge argument as to whether I could go on battlefield service, just over a week ago. Thing is, she wasn't my mother by blood. She adopted me as a baby, took me in, and I just up and left. She was mentally broken after my brother died, and instead of supporting her I abandoned her."
"Yew chose a helpless foal over your own family; that's not 'n easy thing to do. Look, how's about I teach yew a little about the wasteland and the loose network, okay?" he asked. I smiled.
"Alright," I smiled, and he sat down next to me.
"So, yew've probably learnt a lot already," he began, "But one of the first things yew need t' know 'bout is that 'most erry Dashite knows 't least a couple others, and there' more of us than yew'd think; the mean ol' Enclave only makes one example erry few. That way, if somepony needs somethin' found or done, the message can get transferred 'cross the network until it finds the 'ppropriate pony. That's the loose network. Imagine, yew're in a town that needs rapid medical help; yew can send a message 'cross t' somepony good with medicine. Normally takes about a week, travellin' by radio, mail, and word of mouth, but pegasi can cover a lot of ground while flyin', so once it gets t' that medical pony he can be there in a couple days. So, if yew err meet a Dashite in the wasteland yew should try and keep in contact.
"Now, fer survival yew're going t' need a couple of good weapons, enough food, and a few friends. Yew'll want ponies yew can trust watching your back if you're going t' be wandering. Hey, have you got 'nything like a pip-buck?"
"Yeah," I sighed, pulling it out, "But the clasp's busted."
"Here, take this," he said, passing me a small black box with an attached antenna, clearly designed to interface with a pip-buck, "They call it a transmitter, lets yew send radio messages as well as receive em. As for the clasp, just get one of the ponies here t' 'ttach it t' yewr armor; there's plenty of ponies who could…"
======
Sunny yawned, stretching out her forelegs as her eyelids fluttered open. She looked around, her eyes scanning the room until they settled on me. She sat up slowly, almost confusedly. I smiled slightly.
"Morning Sunny," I said softly, "Feel better?"
"Yeah," she yawned, "Much better."
"Good, 'cause we have a lot to talk about," I tried to look reassuring, she looked away.
"You're leaving me here, aren't you?" she asked softly.
"No," I sighed, "I was, but then Dee- Seaworthy told me something."
"What was it?" she asked.
"How to put this…" I spoke slowly, cautiously. "Stable 58 was trying to create the perfect race of pony. Each generation the water enchantment would sterilise the 'undesirable' ponies so that they couldn't 'pollute' the gene pool. When the Rangers moved in that messed up everything since they were all below the current standard. The only child born to two stable ponies was you, and your generation was intended as the Aryan race, the culmination of the project."
"So ponies are after me?" she asked out of the blue.
"Probably," I sighed, "It's why the stable was attacked."
"Uhuh," she sniffed, her eyes welling up with tears.
"Don't blame yourself," I said quietly, approaching her bedside and sitting down next to her, "What happened wasn't your fault." She didn't reply, but instead just started to cry slowly. I gently pulled my forelegs around her and hugged her close, trying to comfort her. She turned so that her face was pressed against my chest, and even under my light armer I could feel the faint warmth of her tears.
After an eternity of sobbing, she stopped and pulled herself away from my chest enough to look up at me with big, bloodshot eyes. Dark patches ran down her face, stained by tears. I didn't know what to say; any words of comfort died on my lips. She wiped her face with a foreleg and tilted her head slightly.
"Why would you want me?" she sniffed.
"Huh?"
"I'm a liability," she explained, "If ponies are going to come after me, you're going to have to constantly fend them off."
"Sunny," I sighed, "I would never leave you behind, especially if you're a target."
"Thanks," she forced a smile, throwing her forelegs around me. I pulled out the switchblade, hoping that it could cheer her up.
"Hey, I've got a couple of things to show you," I laid out my left foreleg, showing the pip-buck welded onto one of the thin metal plates woven into my armour. It certainly wasn't pretty, but the device had recognised me, and a little cartoon pegasus flickered under the cracked screen.
"Cool," she said quietly, wiping her face again. I placed we switchblade down next to her.
"This," I explained, "Is for you." Her face lit up. I reached into my saddlebags again and pulled out a small leather holster I'd bought from the pony who had attached the pip-buck. She slid it onto her foreleg and tightened it to fit comfortably. She slotted the weapon into the holster and smiled at me again.
"Thanks," her smile was earnest this time. She slowly climbed out of bed and stumbled to her hooves. She was still limping slightly, but it was much better than it had been. She looked up at me, and I sighed again.
"Sunbeam," I began, "While you were asleep the doctor did a full medical check. I know about what Bone Saw did…" I trailed off, wishing I hadn't spoken. She turned away.
"I don't want to talk about it," she sighed.
"Okay," I relented, "Sorry."
A sudden calamity outside drew my attention, and I briskly trotted outside with Sunny in tow. In the main area a mysterious pony was demanding something. He was tall, and wore a distinctive black trenchcoat. Across his back, where a saddle might sit, a red stripe, lined in yellow was sewn into his uniform. Similar stripes ran around the outside half of each of his sleeves. A zip ran up the front of his uniform, and I could see the bulge of armour plates underneath.
His helmet consisted of two parts fastened together; a large stereotypical trooper's helmet, painted blue with a red strip just above the rim and a golden shield set into the stripe above the eyes, and a futuristic gas mask with red lenses over his eyes and and advanced rebreather. A large black revolver, decorated with a golden image of a bear, was strapped to one of his forelegs over his barding. Slowly I realised what the stranger was saying;
"-something not clear the last time? I'll ask you once more, where is Zeniba?" he demanded, while one of the security team ponies pointed a 10mm pistol at him. From across the room a zebra woman trotted over. She wore some kind of tribal attire, with several gold rings around her neck and numerous feathers and leather pouches scattered across her barding. Her mane was brushed flat down one side of her head, with the addition of two braids which framed her face. A .45 auto pistol was strapped to her foreleg.
"Is it for me that you seek," she rhymed, "Far out here, where I am weak?"
"Zeniba," the stranger snarled, "You are wanted dead or alive for crimes including murder and arson committed against citizens of the Northern Republic and their properties. As a Ranger of the Republic it is my duty to ensure that you are brought to justice."
"Ten years, since I committed these," she continued, "And yet you still come after me."
"The Republic will pursue any criminal," he spat, reaching for his helmet's clasp, "You're coming with me one way or another." By now a clamour had erupted around him, with several guns trained on the ranger. The zebra mare smiled.
"I will not go with you, fool," she sang, "Unless you best me in a duel."
"Fine," the ranger finally succeeded in removing his helmet, revealing a grizzled grey earth pony with white hair. He stomped towards her. She backed up until they were in the positions the mare wanted. She spoke again.
"Here we shall begin our match; last one standing takes the catch," she rhymed, "Stand back to back and pace we will, then turn and try to the other kill. Choose your weapon wisely, brute; for you must before me shoot."
The ranger nodded, and snatched the revolver from his leg. They both strode to the centre point, the ranger angry, the zebra arrogant. She prepared her pistol, loading it with a fresh clip, and steeled herself for what was to come. The ranger was unfazed, and simply stood in wait. Zeniba spoke one last time.
"On the count of three ten paces we trot, then spin and see who's a faster shot."
"Alright," spat the ranger, "Scum." Without any form of prompting they began to move, counting aloud the steps on their front hooves. I could feel my heart pound against my chest as they walked in slow motion, each one nearing their turn. Several of the security ponies were pointing small arms at the pair, and the entire city was watching, yet neither combatant faltered. Suddenly, they stopped dead, forty feet away from one another.
The ranger reacted faster than anything I'd yet seen. He spun and put a bulled through the side of Zeniba's head while she turned. She fell, dead, to the floor.
"Good riddance." he said, trotting over to the corpse. He sheathed his revolver and pulled out a large knife, which he used to slice off the zebra's head. He then wrapped her head in an old cloth and slipped it into a bag attached to his armer, all to the horror of onlookers. The buck turned and began to head for the exit, without so much as a thank you or goodbye. He had simply trotted into town, killed the zebra, and left again.
I looked around and realised that Sunbeam had shifted away from me and was standing near a couple of townsponies. Her head was tilted slightly, so that the ear towards them was higher, and though she wasn't looking at the pair she was deep in concentration, listening in on their conversation.
"Hey Sunny," I called, "Come over here."
"Okay," she chirped, proud of whatever knowledge she had obtained. I sought out Radar among the crowds.
"Hey, Radar, can I talk to you for a second?" I asked.
"Sure thing, youngin, what can I do yew fer?"
"What's the Northern Republic?" I said.
"Trouble," he snapped, "Nothin' but it. Couple decades back some survivors from Stalliongrad set up their own little republic dedicated t' ol' world values or some horseapples. Started on the east coast, north of Hoofington, but they're two thirds of the way t' the east coast now. Reason why they've got so far is the Republic's a strip, can't stretch north and don't want t' go far south. They just pretty much annex whatever they want, though Firefly won't fall in line."
"Firefly?"
"Firefly AFB," he corrected, "Was the Wonderbolts' base before the war. When they became the 1st Fighter they stayed there, until the 1st became the Shadowbolts an' moved t' Hoofington. Bunch of squads stationed there, 'fore the bombs fell. After the war it was empty, until 'bout fifty years ago. Bunch of pegasi came outta the Manehattan ruins, out in Bucklyn, an' flew there. Ponies call 'em the 'Boomers' 'cause of all the artillery they've got. Their population's kept up by Dashites and wasteland-born pegasi, who travel there t' help. Boomers aren't half bad, they do organised food handouts an' the like, but their own base is off limits to all who ain't their own."
"Alright," I asked, "What's keeping them from going north or south?"
"There's a whole lotta nothin' t' the south, he began, "'part from Hoofington. No point in it. T' the north there's the Crystal Mountains, then the Divide; what's left of Stalliongrad. Was a cold place, back when, but whatever hit it scorched it dry. There's sandstorms that'll rip yewr skin offa yewr body iffin' yew ain't careful. Ponies tend to blame it on the balefire, or the Empire."
"Empire?"
"Yew're tellin' me yew've never heard of the Crystal Empire?!" he exclaimed. "Greatest legend there is. Was a city state, but they turned it t' an MoA research facility. Ponies who's home couldn't be bought were forced out to make way for it. 'Parently got the best tech in the wasteland, but nopony's err come back."
"The MoA didn't do anything." I said flatly. He burst into laughter.
"Tha- that's what they told yew? That the Ministry o' Awesome did nothin'?" he found my ignorance hilarious. "Iffin' it weren't for the MoA, they wouldn't have their precious armour or even any energy weapons. Awesome handled the things the others wouldn't; controversial research, bleedin' edge an' black ops. They also controlled the Air Force, as in the MoA's officials were all generals."
"So some kind of research there caused the erratic weather," I said proudly.
"Eeyup."
======
I sat on the dirty mattress, munching on an apple. Sunny trotted over and sat next to me, leaning against my light blue coat. I had taken off my armour, and I could feel the filly pressing against my side as she sat there, drinking some purified water. The room and had cost the rest of my caps, but it was only for one night; tomorrow we were headed north. Sunny looked up at me.
"She was a healer you know," she sighed, "Zeniba. Helped a lot of ponies the doctor couldn't. Her brews are the only reason Radar's still alive."
"Alright, Sunny, alright," I said. I didn't really want to think about her good side; it made everything more complicated. She was a zebra and a criminal, and that was all I wanted to hear.
"You don't care," she cried, "Do you?"
"Honestly? I'm not sure."
Footnote: Level Up
New Perk:
Fallout Equestria: Due North
Chapter 4: Ghosts and Shadows
I awoke to the sound of rain drumming on the exterior of the statue. The cramped, makeshift room was dark, although a faint light crept in under the door. A quick glance around revealed Sunbeam's location; she was curled up on the other bed, asleep.
I reached down to the floor, picking up my pipbuck and dragging the attached armour over. I held it up, squinting to see the time; 6:54. I rolled over, intending to go back to sleep, and dropped the pipbuck. It clattered to the floor; waking up Sunny.
"Hey Cloudy," she yawned, "What time is it?"
"Six to seven," I grumbled, sitting up.
"So, are we gonna leave?" she smiled.
"Ugh, sure," I muttered, stumbling out of bed. In all honesty, I did want to get moving; after what had happened with Deep Strike, I wasn't sure if this town was really safe for her.
We quickly prepared; I slipped back into my armour while she did up her switchblade's holster. A dirty, cracked mirror hung on one wall, badly in need of cleaning. I cleared a patch of it with a hoof, intending to sort my hair out.
A visage very different to what I was expecting stared back: the forlorn shape of a pony in over his head. It was me; same green eyes, same brown mane, same blue coat, yet I was worlds away from the bright young technician who lived in Stratos Lane. Minor cuts and bruises were scattered across my face, while large bags had formed under my eyes. Yellowing bandages enveloped my injured leg, while a slowly-healing wound scarred my wing.
A faint ache in my chest reminded me of the fight with Speed Freak and its results; I'd given everything for Sunbeam. Was it worth it? I'd probably never see Golden Heart again, and Sky Strider was away in the sunless country.
On a whim I reached into one of my saddlebags, lying against the wall nearby. Inside I found it, beneath the scattered microspark cells and equipment; Sky's patch. The familiar letters stitched in white were still there: Neighvarro 3rd Reserve , as was the old watchtower. I felt a tear fall, then another; I'd never see my family again.
As I sat there, crying quietly, I felt a hoof tap my side.
"Hey, Cloudy?" Sunny's voice sliced through my despair. "Y'alright?"
"Yeah kid, I just…" I muttered, "I just miss them, you know?"
"Your family?" she questioned. "No, uh, not really."
I suddenly remembered our conversation the first night, about how her parents had been pushy and unloving, treating her as more of a tool than a daughter. How different our lives had been; my worst worry had been increases in rationing, hers had been the sudden loss of power or water, as the overtaxed Stable systems had fought to keep running. And all the while she'd had to excel at everything.
I shivered slightly, disgusted at my own self-pity. I reached out and pulled her close, hugging her silently for a second. I would protect her, no matter what, but I needed her too.
"Thanks," she muttered under her breath, so quietly I almost missed it.
I stood up, checking my holorifle; I'd originally taken sixteen microspark cells: a full weapon plus three reloads. Right now only one round was left in the weapon, I'd spent the other three during the chase with the bloodwings. Before that I'd emptied the weapon in the resort… and dropped an additional cell while trying to attack Crunch Time.
Two full reloads used; two left. I suddenly wished I'd bought more cells, instead of a room and a smattering of fresh rations. I loaded three extra cells into my rifle, bringing it up to full.
"Hey, open up!" a muffled voice, accompanied by the tapping of a hoof, called from behind the door. I glanced over to Sunny, who didn't seem at all worried. I trotted over and opened the door. Pistol Grip was standing behind it, already wearing new armour, a look of concern on his face.
"Hey Pistol," I said quickly, "What's, uh, up?"
"What happened with Seaworthy?" he demanded, more worried than angry.
"She was with the Steel Rangers," I said quickly, "Inquisitor-Paladin Deep Strike. She wanted to take Sunbeam."
"Oh," the light in his eyes dimmed just a little, "Damn."
"You didn't know?" Sunny was taken aback for a moment.
"I make a point of not working with those MWT bastards," he admitted, "I shouldn't have agreed to help somebody I knew so little about."
"Where is she now?" I questioned.
"Luna knows," he shrugged. "Haven't seen her since we arrived; all I have is a bag of caps and a note saying to keep the caravan."
"Ah," It made sense; given how she'd spilled the beans to somepony she hadn't intended to and blown her cover.
"I've gotta get going," he said suddenly, "New caravan's leaving soon; just wanted to see if you knew anything."
So he'd found employment again. I thanked him quickly and he turned to leave.
"Hey Cloudy?" Sunbeam called from behind me. "Can you give me a hoof with this?"
I turned to see her sitting beneath the mirror, fumbling with a long strip of light blue cloth she'd found, probably on the floor. She was tearing the strip up into smaller sections, before she used her hooves to bundle her mane into a pair of pigtails. She held out one in my direction, expecting me to tie it?
"Just there," she said, indicating where she wanted it. I wrapped the strand around and tied it off simply, before doing the other in a similar way.
"Thanks!" she grinned, standing up. All in all, the look suited her, and the coloured cloth vaguely matched her eyes.
I stood up myself and turned once more to the door. Pistol was long gone. Sunny trotted up beside me, ready to go.
We headed out through the marketplace, where I bought us a few more rations with the few caps I still could scrounge from my saddlebags. The weapons vendor had a couple of microspark cells, but that was it. I bought them anyway, and Sunny successfully haggled down the prices to ten caps a pop. The greedy vendor was easily convinced by the small filly.
I pocketed the pair of cells and headed for the exit, letting her climb up onto my back as we reached the drawbridge. Outside on the creaking wood a small group of ponies were working on the wreckage of the caravan, cutting off chunks of twisted metal.
"Oh, hey Cloudburst!" called a familiar voice. I looked up to see Steam Rivet sitting atop the stripped chassis, a blowtorch by his hooves and a welding mask atop his head.
"Hi," I replied, "What's up?"
"We're strippin' this old thing fer parts," he shrugged. "Pistol said we could 'ave it."
I nodded in understanding and set off at a trot, waving goodbye as we went. I checked my Eyes Forward Sparkle; we were heading west. I turned, trotting away from the rusting statue and towards what my pipbuck's compass said was north.
I threw one last glance at Friendship City, wondering if Radar or the doctor would notice I'd left. The pony holding the torch looked sad, forlorn; tear-stains of decay formed by centuries of rain. How could a nation such as Equestria, which had been at war for decades, ever justify the presence of a 'Statue of Friendship'. Now it stood, forever gazing over the results of that war.
I shook the thought out of my head; it was just a statue. I had much more pressing things to think about, like where exactly I was going. My only goal was to reach the Northern Republic, and from there the Crystal Empire. It wasn't anything close to a fully fledged plan, but at least I had direction.
"Uh, Cloudy," Sunny poked my back, peering over my shoulder at my leg, "You've picked up a new radio signal."
I stopped and instinctively reached for my helmet, slung by the strap to my saddlebag. Then I remembered the pipbuck, and brought the green display up to my face. Under the radio setting I was surprised to see a trio of radio frequencies.
The first, labelled DJ PON-3 , started playing music at me the moment I switched it on. It was dull; some mare singing slowly about sadness and mistakes. She had a sweet voice, don't get me wrong, it just wasn't my type of music. I switched channels.
A blast of triumphant marching music burst forth, prompting me to jump and Sunny to cover her ears. The station, Fillydelphia Radio , finished playing its song, switching to some kind of announcement, featuring a buck with a soft voice:
"Greetings again, sweet Equestria. It is I, your leader; Red Eye."
I went to turn it off in disgust; I had already heard enough about this particular figure from Pistol. Sunny stopped me, reaching a hoof out to stop me.
"I wanna hear what he has to say."
I rolled my eyes, letting the tinny speakers play out his announcement.
"…often asked; 'How can you justify owning other ponies?' Well, sweet Equestria, I do not own anypony; I simply allow them to serve a higher purpose. What purpose, you ask? Well, dearest Equestria, it is simple; the rebuilding of our once great nation! Together we will fix our ancestors' mistakes-"
I switched channels before he could continue. He'd sounded convincing enough, despite the reality of Fillydelphia, and I found myself wondering how many had arrived at his territory expecting the promised hub of growth, only to be cast into the pits and put to work.
The last channel was simply 101.42 MHz . As I selected it a message began to play.
"…who can hear this; I need help. This is Corporal Crosswind, United-"
The pony broke down into a coughing fit, his raspy voice disappearing for a second amid hacking coughs.
"Ugh, cough up my lungs why don't I," he muttered, "Look, to whoever's out there, it doesn't matter who I am. My mission's failed and I'm running out of food and ammo, ugh-"
He devolved into another coughing fit, before returning.
"Shit! I ain't gonna last much longer out here. The rest of my crew; they're all dead. Anyone willing to help a father in need; I'm in the, ugh, sewers. Can't go anywhere; one of those fucking zombie horse things took a chunk out of my leg. To anybody who can hear this; I nee-"
I switched the radio off; anybody ? What was that supposed to mean? Maybe he wasn't a pony? A marker had already appeared on my pipbuck's map, as well as my EFS compass. Did I follow it through?
"Should we?" I turned to Sunny.
"He said he was a father," she reasoned, "He deserves our help." I was about to tell her that it was probably more complex than that, when she caught on to my expression and spoke up again.
"Okay, so that's a little simplistic," she admitted, shrugging, "I'm trying to be optimistic here." Again, the filly's maturity amazed me.
"We'll follow up on it," I decided, setting off at a trot towards where the pipbuck had marked out our goal; the nearest ponyhole.
The cover was long gone, leaving just a rusted metal ring set above a narrow shaft. After a moment of deliberation I switched on my pipbuck light and peered into the hole. Sunny climbed down off my back to look as well.
Endless disjointed rungs jutted out from the cracked concrete wall, threatening to break free at any moment. I shifted as gently as I could into the hole, testing the first rung with my hind legs. It held. I let out a breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding.
I began the agonising descent, with nothing but the dim, flickering glow of my pipbuck and the tiny circle of light overhead. I heard the first rung creak slightly as Sunny eased onto it, and my heart stopped for a moment, yet still it held.
The terrifying descent was mercifully short; it only took a minute to reach the sewer. Still, each second seemed to stretch on for an eternity as a million different ways this could go wrong flashed across my conscience. When I finally cleared the shaft and scrambled down the sewer wall I decided that there was no way we were ever going back out that way.
Sunny clambered down easily after me, shivering slightly as she did so. I doubted it was due to the temperature. I turned to her as she reached the bottom.
"Never doing that again," I laughed nervously. She just nodded in agreement.
"Well who's a'come down the bóithrín green today?" A cheery, accented voice made me jump. I rapidly spun round and brought the holorifle to bear. The pony, who had leapt into view from around a corner, was unfazed.
He was a lanky, mangy earth pony wearing a hole-ridden flat cap. His coat was a dirty green, and his mane was brown, short and messy, with the first wisps of a beard forming on his unshaven chin. On his front right hoof he wore a power hoof; not a regular pneumatic or magical model, but rather the detached hoof from a suit of T-series power armour with most of the plating stripped away, leaving a mess of pipes running up his foreleg. Around his neck hung a chain, with an unusual shard of some kind of metal slung from it. It was a shimmering pale blue colour unfamiliar to me. Strapped to his other foreleg was some kind of short, fat pistol weapon painted bright pink.
"Oh, top o' the mornin' to ya!" he cried as his eyes settled on me. "I 'aven't introduced meself 'ave I? I'm Septic Tank, nice t'meet ya!"
I took a step back; he smelled like a septic tank. He held out his armoured hoof in greeting, and I reluctantly shook it. He grinned, baring a line of rotten teeth.
"So, what brings ya an' yer fair cailín down here?" he asked suddenly. I glanced around for a second, unsure of what to tell him.
"We're following a distress signal," I explained.
"A distress signal?" he raised a bushy eyebrow. "I can nae say I've seen anypony in distress, but I'd be willin' to help ya look."
"Sure," I shrugged. How bad could he be: he seemed friendly enough, if a little overwhelming.
My pipbuck had already highlighted the location of Crosswind's beacon, and I quickly checked my EFS; Septic Tank and Sunny both showed up green, but at least three red ticks hovered in the dim distance. I shivered slightly; given the state of the tunnel around me, anything living down here was going to be pretty resilient.
I knelt down and felt Sunny scramble up onto my back. She smiled at me, and I forced a smile back. This place gave me the creeps; black bricks, smooth and slippery with ancient water, lined the curved walls. Along the centre of the sewer ran an ankle-deep pool of stagnant water. Had it really sat there for two centuries undisturbed?
A sudden hiss drew my attention. I spun around to see a mutated, reptilian creature come barrelling out of a pipe set into the wall. I bit the holorifle's trigger and wildly fired. I missed, but the flash of the weapon scared the creature and sent it screeching away down the sewer. I watched it go into the darkness, racing away.
I felt Sunbeam shiver, clinging tightly to my back. The thing had spooked her.
"Well ain't that jus' fine n' dandy!" Septic Tank exclaimed, his voice laden with irritation.
"What?" I demanded. "It ran away."
"That there, lad, was a tunneller," he hissed, "If one o' 'em gets away, 'e'll go n' get all 'is friends n' swarm ya." I shrugged in apology; he just scowled.
Fearing an ambush, we set off again at a much slower pace; since I had the only map and light I took point. Septic covered our rear, having drawn his weapon. Up ahead the same trio of red blips sat, joined by the fourth; the tunneller I'd scared off.
The sewer opened out into a large circular cistern with a large pool of rancid water in the centre, led into by multiple tunnels. At first I thought it was empty, until I saw the glimmer of white, glassy eyes in the darkness. Three creatures, three hostile blips. They didn't seem to have noticed us, at least until Septic Tank backed up right past me and into the dim light. I went to switch off my light, but it was too late; they'd seen him.
The things which rushed us were haunting shadows of ponies, shambling corpses animated by dark magic, little more than scraps of flesh clinging to a failing skeleton: feral ghouls. They broke out into a drunken, lurching gallop as they crossed the flagstones towards us.
The chamber was suddenly illuminated. One of the ghouls burst into flames, a nucleus of light and heat, a flare, had become embedded in its flank. It screeched and ran, crashing into another and igniting them both. A pair of bullets from Septic Tank silenced their screaming. The third blindsided me. I raised a wing to protect Sunny and swung the holorifle, breaking its jaw. I rammed the barrel into its open mouth and fired. Its head exploded, showing the walls with rotten flesh.
I wiped off the scraps of ghoul flesh and checked myself; I'd lost a couple of feathers and sustained a few scratches, no more. I turned my head to glance at Sunny, who was shaking.
"Y'alright? They're gone now."
"Uh, yeah," she muttered quickly. I turned to Septic, who was fumbling with his pistol.
It was the first time I got a proper look at the weapon. It was bizarre; a break-action flare gun, with which he'd shot the ghoul, with a ten millimetre pistol attached to the underside. It accepted regular ten millimetre stick magazines, loaded parallel to the barrel with the bottom away from the trigger. The smaller gun barrel and magazine housing were a light blue colour, while the rest of the weapon was a faded light pink. Around both barrels ran curly white decoration, and the words Party Favour had been painstakingly painted onto the flare barrel on both sides. He noticed me staring at it, and held it up so I could see.
"I see ya've noticed ol' Party Favour ," his anger evaporated, replaced by a smug pride, 'Got 'im off a merchant out in Fetlock; genuine Ministry o' Morale tech," he said proudly.
His smugness was cut short by the slapping of a hundred webbed feet of the flagstones. To my horror, a large section of my EFS had turned solid red. The horde was upon us.
I fired at the first creature to come out of the darkness. The tunneller dissolved instantly, scattering hot ash across the floor. Around two dozen more swarmed forth, clamouring for our flesh. Septic Tank put a flare into their midst and the group scattered. They were suddenly everywhere, scratching and clawing at my legs. Without thinking I threw a buck at the horde. My hooves hit one square in the face, splintering its skull. It went down, shrieking unintelligibly. Three more sprung up to replace it, and I was down to my last shot. Terror rose within me; we were overwhelmed, outnumbered massively. We had to move. I checked my compass: go left. I took off, not waiting for Septic Tank. The clamour of the cistern was suddenly left far behind.
Sunny gripped my neck tightly as I gave my wings another beat. The darkened bricks became a blur as we sped. The distant clatter of Septic Tank's power hoof on the sewer floor faded behind me. The claustrophobic, dark tunnels seemed to stretch on for miles. I swung left, then right, then left again. My heart pounded, its beating reaching fever pitch.
The tiny blip marking Crosswind's location grew with every passing second. I pushed my body for all it was worth, though my lungs were on fire and my injured leg threatened to give out. I suddenly saw it, a few scraps of white-yellow bone reflecting the dim light of my pipbuck.
I skidded to a halt, my hooves slipping on the damp flagstones. I overshot, and as I stood there panting Sunbeam scrambled down to go and have a look at the remains.
I heard her gasp, and rapidly joined her. There, lying face up in the stagnant water, was the strangest skeleton I'd ever seen. It was bipedal, with absurdly long and thin hind legs. Its… arms, like those of an ape, were long and spindly, ending in five-fingered claws. The scale of it amazed me; at full height an average stallion's ears would have brushed its chin. Had this thing killed Crosswind? The last scraps of some advanced combat armour clung to the bones, while on its left foreleg, sorry, arm sat a now-dead device resembling a pipbuck, only far more advanced.
It took me a second, but I located a port on the side of the device. To my sheer amazement, it was the same universal port used in Equestria. I gently unrolled my pipbuck's data transfer cable and connected the two, kneeling down as I did so. A long list of files appeared, twenty five in all. Every single one was a sound recording.
Out of all of these, the first was highlighted with an asterisk, as was one in the middle; Day #17 . I downloaded these two as well as the final recording, hoping it would hold some clue as to what this thing was. With nopony else in sight, I set the first one playing.
"Hello, hello hello? Is this thing on? Okay. This is Corporal Crosswind-"
My jaw dropped; this monster, this alien hadn't killed him, it was him. I suddenly caught sight of what had once been bandages around one skeletal leg.
"-Operation Zeta expedition navigator. Me and my crew aboard the recovery vessel UCS Crystal Heart have been dispatched to- ah screw it."
His voice was monotone, tired. He clearly didn't want to be doing this.
"The only reason anyone'll listening to this crap is if I'm dead and they've found the remains; not like anybody back at the centre gives a shit about my log. Look, it's been a month since my daughter disappeared. Now this is gonna sound batshit insane, but according to the eggheads at Canterlot Research Centre there was some kind of space-time anomaly on the night she disappeared. It's a stretch, but they think she could've gotten sucked into this dimension. I signed on immediately."
Some kind of alternate Canterlot where these… things roamed around didn't sound particularly inviting.
"So now we're here; the first manned expedition to whatever this hellhole's called; me, Sergeant Bronze Bolt, and the twins who built this damned thing. It's not the first time we've sent stuff over, at least they aren't that stupid. Firelance probes've gone over before, but at least two never made it back.
"Other problem is that interdimensional travel's kinda finnicky; we've ended up several days south of where they say the anomaly came from-
"Ah shit. What is it this time? Yes ma'am… Gotta run; this is Corporal Crosswind, UCS Crystal Heart , signing off."
I looked down at Sunbeam, who was trying to free something from under Crosswind's half-submerged body. Septic Tank still hadn't caught up with us, and so I played the second entry.
"Shit, shit, shit!"
Sunny cringed at the profanity. The audio quality had dropped significantly, and Crosswind sounded panicked and out of breath.
"The Crystal Heart 's shot to hell, everyone else is dead, and I've no way outta this shithole. When the probes turned up claiming the dominant species here was equines, there was no mention of fucking flying horses in power armour!"
Apparently his expedition had encountered the Enclave, with bloody results.
"The bastards jumped us as we were heading over some ruined suburbs, maybe a dozen of 'em opening up with lasers. Of course, it's like hitting a brick wall with pebbles, but we weren't taking any chances. Bolt had us gun the engines to max and try to break, but those bastards are fast as all hell.
"Then this one asshole flies over, and guess what? He had the mounted blaster off a Firelance bolted to his back like a fucking turret. Went through our shields like fucking tissue paper. Of course, me and Bolt were packing sidearms powerful enough to fry the fucker, but we were inside, and with the way those things were moving around there wasn't a hope in hell we could've brought our nose-mounted Ex-Bs to bear.
"Without shielding their damn flashlights were enough to burn through the hull. The reactor went up in smoke pretty quick and blew the whole fucking thing to oblivion. Bolt was shredded in the explosion, an' so were the twins. I think I've fractured my arm, but the rest's fine enough. Grav-chute did its job.
"A pair of scavengers were under us when we went up, one is a fucking unicorn, with magic and everything, no joke. Didn't let them see me. They found Bolt's blaster and a few cells; I've grabbed as many as I can carry. At least my gun arm's still good. I'm gonna try and reach Songbird on foot."
Who was Songbird? His daughter? I switched over to Day #25 .
"Nobody… responding…"
He panted, clearly on his last legs. He sounded bad, worse even than in his distress call.
"Ammo… gone…"
He broke down into a violent coughing fit, but it didn't finish him off.
"Leg… infected… ugh… Songbird…"
He suddenly became panicked, frenzied even. The volume skyrocketed, presumably from him pulling the microphone close. I turned it down.
"Songbird! Sweetie… if you can hear this… daddy... daddy loves you-"
He broke down one last time, crying even as he started coughing again. The recording ended suddenly, with a splash and the fizzle of electronics frying. I wasn't sure what to say; he'd died trying to save his daughter. Only… the recording was dated to four years ago. There was a pretty high chance she was dead. I sighed, and downloaded the coordinates of his destination. If I couldn't save Songbird, I'd at least bury her; he deserved it.
As I went to unplug the device, I managed to dislodge one of the pouches which had been a part of his ruined gear. A small piece of some kind of plastic fell out and into the dirty water with a faint splash. I snatched it up.
It was a photograph of some description; not one of the grainy, desaturated images that Golden Heart's camera had taken, but something in full colour and incredible definition. There even seemed to be a slight three dimensional effect to the image on the layered plastic. The smiling faces of two... whatever Crosswind was stared back at me.
"Is that him?" Sunbeam's voice made me jump; she had moved next to me to get a look.
The two creatures were probably father and daughter; one was significantly larger and definitely male, with dark green skin, grey eyes and nearly black hair. He sported a thick yet short beard, and wore some kind of military fatigues. The other was much smaller, possibly a child; it certainly looked younger.
It appeared female, with light pink skin and short, creamy blonde hair. She was wearing what appeared to be sports kit, with blue and white vertical stripes. A series of meaningless logos were placed across her clothing, on sleeves and such. Her face was, like her assumed father, giddy with excitement, and she held a trophy.
Was this Songbird? It made sense for Crosswind to carry a picture of him and his daughter, given how much he cared about her. Either way, he looked a lot less menacing in the flesh. Maybe it was because I could actually see his face, rather than just a hollow skull.
"Oh, lookie 'ere!" Septic Tank's jolly voice made me jump, again. I leapt to my hooves; he'd caught up. "What's this yar wee cailín's found?"
The item Sunbeam had pulled away from the corpse was a pistol of some unknown make. The body of the weapon was egg shaped, cracked, and would have once been pale silvery colour. A long barrel with multiple neon blue rings around it projected forth, while an unusual 'fin' rose from the rear of the weapon. The trigger was unusual, resembling that of griffon weaponry, obviously made so that Crosswind's species could use it.
"Ya know what that is, lad?" there was a menace in his voice, one that made me back away slightly.
It was definitely familiar, but why? Suddenly it clicked; it was of the same manufacture as a similar Enclave-owned weapon which was mounted on a turret on somepony's back. There was only one gun I knew of like that; Colonel Autumn's legendary Star Blaster, a gun I had seen demonstrated only once back on base.
It was a Star Blaster; the kind of weapon that could disintegrate an alicorn in one shot. He took a step towards me, raising his power hoof.
"Ya recognise this lil' beauty?" he lifted up the metal slung around his neck, cradling it with uncharacteristic care. "This 'ere metal's only found on asteroids n' the like; outer space basically. It's why they call it Starmetal."
Starmetal; great. The stuff that sent zebras into a frenzy and was prized by anypony who could get their hooves on it. Of course Star Blasters would contain it; it was in the name. He seemed to know it too, and now he wanted Crosswind's, badly.
"Found this lil' scrap in a drained pow'r cell, worthless really, but that," he continued to monologue, pointing to the weapon, "Ya think ponies can make that kinda tech?"
I shook my head; in all honesty, I was ready to let him have it. There was no ammunition for it, it was probably broken, and a fight wasn't what I needed.
"Alright, so y'understand," he readied his power hoof, and I stepped back again. "Now yar gonna gimme that there blaster, and I won't give yar little sister a new face."
Something inside me clicked; nopony threatened Sunny. I rushed him, forgetting my minor aches and pains. His eyes went wide with shock as I managed to send him sprawling. I was lucky he'd been light, probably from not eating if his visible ribs were anything to go by. If he hadn't been severely underweight I would have been the one on the floor.
Before he could recover the wide barrel of my Holorifle was pressed up against his temple. There was a crazed look in his eyes, and he began to sweat profusely.
"Look, lad, I-"
"If you so much as lay a hoof on her," I snarled, forgetting myself, "I'll personally ensure you pay for it."
"Alright, Celestia!" he yelled nervously. I removed the holorifle, and he bolted, cursing the whole way and limping on his armoured leg. I trotted quickly back over to Sunny, who, though a little afraid, had watched him run away intently.
"His right foreleg was fractured," she said matter-of-factly.
"The one in the power hoof?" I asked, genuinely surprised.
"Yup," she forced a smile, feigning proudness at her ability to surprise me. Yet there was something in her eyes that gave it away; something was worrying her all of a sudden.
"Look, Sunbeam," I knelt down once more, "If there's something-"
"He thought I was your sister," she said quickly.
"So?" I shrugged. "That doesn't mean anything. He was just assuming stuff." It wasn't the answer she was hoping for.
"So how do you see me then?" she suddenly demanded. "How would you describe our relationship?"
Honestly; I hadn't thought about it. I'd simply explained the situation to Deep Strike's caravan. In fact, I wasn't sure I could say "she's my…" to describe Sunbeam at all.
I looked at her and shrugged, unsure of what to say. She looked away disappointed, and stood up, picking up the broken Star Blaster. Then it hit me. I wanted to curse my own stupidity; why hadn't I thought of this before. It was obvious why she'd asked me.
"Would you like it if we were siblings?" I asked. The blaster clattered to the floor; I'd taken her by surprise. She turned to look at me with those great blue eyes of hers. The dim light of my pipbuck twinkled off the water pooling under her eyes; she was on the verge of tears.
"Well I, uh, yeah," she stammered, trying not to mess up, "I guess, I just want a real family, uh, you know?"
Again, I felt a pang of sympathy. Her parents had been so… detached, distant from her, that she no longer considered them real family. Then again, given what I'd been told, I doubted they were still alive following Stable 58.
"Kid," I said seriously, "We are family. It doesn't matter what we call it; if you want us to be siblings then that's fine by me."
I pulled an undersized wing around her. She smiled up at me with that same hope I'd seen in her when I'd released her.
"Thanks," she muttered.
I stood up slowly, packing the Star Blaster into my saddlebag. Sunny scrambled up onto my back, getting comfortable. She curled up with her head resting against my neck, her two pigtails drooped over the side of my saddlebag.
I set off at a slow trot down the dark tunnel. I had a little sister now, not that it changed much. It just made explaining things a bit easier and made her happy, so I didn't mind.
======
I scrambled quickly up the bare steel staircase, hooves clattering on the steps, trying not to dislodge the sleeping filly on my back. All around me the empty husks of centuries-old machines sat, locked in place with rust or looted for scrap metal. The place had one been a treatment plant for sewer water; the sewer had ended at a twisted and broken grate behind which sat a mostly empty concrete tank.
The narrow staircase led out of this, rising up to an observation deck. I reached it quickly, and was unpleasantly surprised; the yellowing bones of a dead mare hung limply over the controls for the tank, wearing a cracked hard hat and a rotting high-vis. The entire thing was illuminated by the sunlight filtering in through shattered windows. The sickly pale glow that penetrated the cloud layer was brighter than the sewers, but nothing like the sun in Neighvarro. The dark tunnels had made me miss that sunlight, hidden beyond the cloud barrier
I moved slowly through the building, with nothing but the sound of my breathing and Sunbeam's to keep me company. It was a sorry sight; sections of the floor above had collapsed, terminals sat dead on dusk-caked desks, discarded clipboards and paperweights were strewn about. The place had been abandoned in a hurry, presumably after Manehattan had been hit.
The front door of the building was somehow still intact; a worn, blue door. The lock was long destroyed, its housing rusted and useless. I pushed it open.
Sunbeam stirred, waking from her little nap. She yawned and scrambled up to that she was balanced precariously on my back, peering past my head.
I strode slowly outside onto the suburban street. The treatment plant sat at one end of an otherwise residential road. The ruined shells of detached houses lined the cracked street, and the abandoned shells of vehicles littered the sidewalk.
I pulled up my pipbuck and checked the map; Songbird's location was highlighted on the outskirts of Hoofington, a few miles to the north. I scrolled out, getting a full view of the northern wasteland. Beyond Hoofington, a long mountain range marked the wastes' northern border. Among the foothills of these were scattered numerous small towns and villages; the Northern Republic?
There was one gap through the mountains; a wide stretch of jumbled shapes on the map. I zoomed in on it; I could clearly make out the remains of roads and buildings, their square outlines set at bizarre angles to each other and contrasting with the rocky, broken outlines that cut across the area; the Divide? Beyond that there was a single line, a narrow road or railway, running up to a… blank circle?
It was plain to see, a blank, perfect circle highlighted in green on the cracked screen. No data appeared to exist for it; was this the Crystal Empire? It stuck out like a sore thumb against the ruins of the Divide and the jagged mountains.
"So that empty circle's the Empire?" Sunny asked. "It must be shielded from whatever they use to generate the maps."
That made sense, although I suddenly realised I had no idea how the pipbuck created its maps. Magic? A satellite? I shrugged, prompting Sunny to shift her position.
I set off once more; we now had a clear goal. A distant tick mark pointed to our destination, and so I oriented myself towards this as we headed off. It seemed things were looking up for us; I just hoped that the same could be said for Songbird.
======
A huge white tower rose out of the cracked earth, rising skywards. The clouds clung to the top, particularly thick and solid; an S.P.P tower. Against the base the rusting chassis of a pegasus-pulled passenger wagon lay, reinforced with sections of corrugated iron and old chain link fence. Streaks of rust ran down the sides, the mark of years of rain.
On the horizon behind us, the ruins of Manehattan loomed. Ahead, Hoofington was visible; a vast, dark metropolis. It was a good half a day's travel away on hoof, and it looked like we'd just found where we were going to sleep tonight, provided it wasn't already occupied.
There was nothing on my EFS; the place was deserted. Why would somepony go to the effort of building this if they were just going to leave? I approached with trepidation, moving as quickly as I dared. Sunbeam gently clambered down, before scampering off to investigate. A rather loud gasp echoed from the wreck before I had a chance to call her back. I was there in a second.
The corpse of a wastelander buck lay on its back in the entranceway. He'd taken a single bullet through the front of the skull at close range, splattering his improvised armour with his own blood. I looked around the rest of the bus; a medical box and an ammunition case were both present. A somewhat dirty mattress and soiled bucket were the only furnishings. It didn't appear to have been looted. Which made the dead owner even more confusing.
Reluctantly, I grabbed the corpse by a hind leg and hauled it out of the way. Sunbeam trotted in warily, heading for the medical box.
"Hey, uh, Cloudy?" she asked. "Can I borrow a screwdriver?"
"Uh, sure." I reached into my saddlebag, finding the tool kit issued to me as squad technician. Inside the all-weather plastic container I found the flathead screwdriver. I tossed it to her.
"Thanks!" she smiled, "Now, just gimme a second and…"
She inserted the screwdriver into the box's lock as well as a bobby pin she'd picked out of a small pile left by the box. The previous owner had clearly been trying to do the same thing Sunny was. I approached, and all of a sudden there was a clunk. The box popped open, revealing a healing potion, some magically-laced healing bandages and a small plastic inhaler.
"Where'd you learn to do that?" I was genuinely surprised.
"Holotapes," she shrugged, "Back in Vanhoover, I, uh, managed to persuade Dandy to look the other way if I borrowed from the stable library. My family never allowed it."
She was talking about Crusader Dandelion, the one who had been sniped by raiders. The way she said "family" though; there was a loathing there, a hatred that was deep-seated.
She'd already moved on to the ammunition box, attempting to tease it open. The pin snapped.
"Crap," she muttered. I looked over at her, and she froze.
I blinked in surprise, confused; she had frozen in place, a wild terror in her eyes. It was pure instinct, possibly due to her time spent in raider captivity? But that had only lasted a week. Then it hit me, like a runaway wagon; the reason why she'd had such resentment towards her family; they'd been more than pushy.
I sat down next to her, gently wrapping a wing around her small frame.
"It's alright," I said as softly as I could, "I'm not going to hurt you, or scream at you or anything. We're siblings now, remember?"
"Yeah, I uh…" she looked up at me, embarrassed that she'd been scared at all.
"Don't worry about it," I smiled, "Little sis."
Footnote: Level Up
New Perk:
Fallout Equestria: Due North
The dawn sunlight streamed in through the rusted window frames of the sky wagon, dragging me back from the abyss of sleep. I rolled over; Sunbeam was awake. Not entirely unexpected, though still unusual.
"Watching the clouds again?" I chuckled slightly.
"Oh, morning Cloudy," she looked over at me, "Nah, just wondering what's going on over there."
"Huh?" I sat up; she was pointing at a series of great plumes of smoke and steam rising from the horizon, leaving the cloud layer heavy and discoloured.
"It's some kinda factory or something," I explained. It seemed somepony had restarted the industry in a nearby city.
"I know that," she rolled her eyes, "I just wanna know what they're using them for. Fillydelphia maybe?"
"Probably," I shrugged.
It looked further away than Manehattan, but not by much; Fillydelphia made sense. It was a place spoken about in hushed whispers and rumours in the 2nd Fighter, a city of slaves and their masters. I'd never heard of it before enlisting, mainly because the Enclave Council discouraged the idea of ponies living on the surface.
According to the Pistol Grip, that was Red Eye's seat of power, the city from which his empire grew. His propaganda broadcast came to mind immediately. I took one last look at the rising smoke, before turning away.
I stood up, heading over to the two boxes set at one end of the wagon. Sunny had picked both locks, though the ammunition box had taken a few tries. I'd propped by saddlebag up against this, although most of its contents were scattered around on the floor. I threw everything back into the bag, including the new medical supplies. The ammo box had contained a couple of frag grenades and a full clip of 5.56 rounds, which were completely useless to me. I packed it all anyway.
The only thing I didn't pack was the plastic inhaler, which had been placed alongside the medical supplies in the first aid box. The tattered paper sticker on the side labelled it as 'Dash'; a combat drug.
I'd never tried the stuff myself, and didn't intend to. Like many ponies in the Enclave, it'd been drilled into my head from adolescence that such substances were dangerous and evil, and it still disgusted me that ponies would actually use this stuff. The real question was whether I should take it to sell or leave it.
I picked up the little inhaler; it couldn't be that bad, could it? I raised it up, inspecting the packaging. What did it taste like?
I stopped myself. What was I doing? I wasn't going to try it!
I hurled it out of the wagon with all my strength. I turned to Sunny, who had gone all tense again. Had my anger scared her, or did she think I was going to take it?
"So, we, uh, going then?" She quickly relaxed, smiling sheepishly as I slipped back into my armour. Songbird's approximate location was shown on my EFS, telling me where to head next; towards the dark spires of Hoofington.
"Sure."
I knelt down to allow her to get onto my back. She winced slightly as she trotted over, casting my mind back to the doctor's clinic and the revelations brought there. I sighed, once again wondering why she hadn't told me about what had happened.
I felt her climb up, and cast the thought from my mind. She got comfortable, and I set off.
======
It was nearly noon by the time we reached the outskirts. Beyond a curving highway streaking off into the distance rose the darkened husks of ancient skyscrapers. Amongst these was a dark, scorched purple structure that climbed high enough to pierce the cloud barrier; Shadowbolt Tower.
The highway seemed to skirt around the edge of the city, making it our best bet for reaching Songbird. It rose away from us, balancing precariously on a series of concrete pillars. A junction lay ahead, giving us a way up onto the road.
"Hey Cloudy?"
"Uh huh?" I replied simply.
"Have you ever, y'know, liked anypony?" Sunbeam asked.
I thought for a second; should I tell her about Astral? I guess it couldn't hurt; I was probably never going to see the colonel, or anypony from Neighvarro, again.
"Well, yeah," I began, "There was this one mare, her name was Astral; Colonel Astral. She was the B.C. up in Neighvarro-"
"B.C?"
"Base Commander," I replied.
"And?" she asked innocently.
"What?" I shrugged. "There wasn't anything between us. It was more of a kinda crush thing."
"So, uh, you met her when you joined up then?" she questioned.
"Something like that," I explained, "I first saw her a year ago, give or take."
"A whole year? You sure it was just a crush?" she teased.
"What? It wasn't like I wanted to do anything with her-"
"Nothing at all?" she pressed, a wry smile creeping onto her face.
"Sunny, not everypony's as obsessed with breeding as stable ponies."
It was meant as a simple tease, although, of course, it was in poor taste. I immediately regretted speaking. Sunbeam let out a sigh and turned her head away, readjusting her position on my back.
"Sorry," I offered. She didn't reply.
By now we'd reached the junction, and so I set off up one of the slip roads onto the shaky highway. The rusting shells of pony-drawn carriages littered the cracked asphalt, interspersed with the occasional autowagon or cargo vehicle.
I approached one of the autowagon wrecks out of curiosity. In the Enclave anything with an engine was owned by the military or government, which were almost on and the same anyway; pegasi's natural stamina mostly negated the need for powered civilian vehicles. The idea of actually getting to see one up close had as such never occurred to me, however the engineer within me desperately wanted to know how it worked.
My flight school history teacher had said that such vehicles were privilege of the rich, powered first by magically-generated steam and later electricity. That had been pretty much all I'd been told, and so with trepidation I approached the rusting hulk.
It had once been a resplendent vehicle, with brass fittings and plating. A plaque on the side of the engine labelled the manufacturer as Flam & Sons , with a logo depicting the name in tall, narrow letters within an apple with the teeth of a gear around its outside. It was shaped like a regular carriage, except with a large and bulky electrical engine unit on the back. A flap on the side hung open, revealing the rusting coils of a spark battery slot. The vehicle had been looted for parts, and several other panels had been torn away.
I guessed it was vaguely similar to a Vertibuck; the Enclave's rarely-used rapid assault aircraft had electrically driven rotors that couldn't have been too different from this craft's engine. The major difference was the scale. I'd seen Vertibuck engines up close, and the vast cylindrical motors hadn't a hope in Tartarus of fitting within the autowagon's compact engine block.
I moved along the wreck, but there didn't seem to be anything else of note. I turned to move on, glancing back at Sunny.
"I just don't get it," she said softly.
"Huh?" I replied, setting off at a slow trot.
"Why I'm special," she sniffed, verging on tears, "All my life I've been told I'm important, better than others, perfect even. And then there's this whole 'Aryan pony' thing and I just don't understand; what makes me so different? I feel like I'm being punished for something I don't even have."
It suddenly hit me that while I'd been investigating the autowagon, she'd been contemplating her past. I mentally cursed myself for not noticing. What she'd said slowly sank in, and I suddenly picked up on her words.
"Punished?" I was genuinely taken aback. "By who? Look, it doesn't matter whether you're some kind of super-pony or not, you're still my little sister." I felt a sense of pride in those words, but worry had formed a pit in my stomach; who had hurt her, and why?
"Back when I was with the raiders, uh, Bone Saw, she… she wanted to stop me from having foals!"
She broke down into violent sobs, and I gently lifted her from my back down onto the road. I pulled her close, sitting down as she cried into me. Just like Golden Heart had done for me.
I forced the thought from my head: I had more to be concerned about.
"But, why?" I asked, as gently as I could.
"I don't know," she struggled to speak through the tears. I just hugged her, the gears in my head running overtime to formulate a comforting response. It was just so much to take in at once.
"We'll find a way to fix this," I said slowly, "I promise." Was that even possible?
"Uh huh," she sniffed, "I-I'm sorry about this, I just-"
"Don't be," I sighed, "Sunny, you never need to apologise for being upset, or for needing to cry. It's okay, really."
"Thanks," she dried her eyes. I stood back up, and she scrambled up to sit on my back. I set off once more, yet what she'd said kept bouncing around inside my head. Why would the raiders have been scared of Sunny reproducing? It just didn't add up.
"Hey, Enclave!" a gruff, unfamiliar voice growled. I spun round, my wings unfurling in irritation. The source of the noise was a griffon, hovering aloft on a pair of great wings. Just perfect; my race's mortal enemy had decided to show up, while I still hadn't reloaded.
He swooped in low, touching down on the cracked road. He was comparatively old, with his hindquarters a faded brown and his feathers the colour of sand. Thick bushy eyebrows sat above dark, wide eyes, and a narrow, jagged beak jutted out from his face, its yellow hue stark in contrast with his muted colours. He wore black combat armour, on the breast of which was the remains of a mostly scraped-off white symbol. Atop his head perched a tin plate helmet, and slung across his body on a fraying strap was an ancient bolt-action rifle. Some kind of mercenary?
"What do you want?" I shot back.
"Who's the kid?" he pointed at me with a claw.
"This is Sunbeam; she's my sister," I scowled at him. "Adoptive."
"A pegasus taking in a foal? So you're a Dashite then?" he rasped, his voice thick with suspicion.
"Just about," I shrugged.
"So where are you headed?" he demanded, raising a clenched claw.
"We're delivering a package to some coordinates up the highway just north of here," I lied; it was better if I didn't go into advanced aliens and alternate dimensions.
"And then?" he asked. I had half a mind to tell him to mind his own business.
"North," I relented.
"What're you going up there for? There's nothing to be had, 'less you go to Ponestown."
"'Huh?" I stuttered. He responded with an eye roll.
"Ponestown," Sunbeam parroted.
"Smart one, she is," he pointed again to the filly. "It's the northern capital, second biggest village in the Republic."
"Second?" I asked; shouldn't the capital of the Northern Republic have been the largest or most important settlement?
"Biggest's old Rainbow Falls," he explained. "It's still not much, but they've an artillery base there an' some kinda missile silo. That's what I've heard anyway."
"So," I interjected, "What about you, where are you going?"
"None o' your damn business," he spat, "But for now I'm following the highway, same as you."
"Uh, you could travel with us," Sunbeam suggested. I wanted to glare at her, but checked myself; I knew how fragile she was at the moment.
"Fine," he scowled, "But don't you start spouting any of your Celestia-damned 'we can make the wastes a better place' Dashite bullshit."
I was about to tell him to stop being stupid when I realised that most Dashites did want to make the wasteland a better place, and I was the exception rather than the rule. I was suddenly painfully aware of the brand on my flank, as it seemed to faintly throb. How much had I done, really, to change things? Not a whole lot.
"Hey, Equestria to pegasus!" the griffon barked, wrenching me from my thoughts. "We going or what?"
"Huh, oh, sure," I stuttered, turning to head onwards.
"Hold up!" he suddenly yelled. "If we're gonna be travelling together, I'm gonna need your name."
"Cloudburst," I grumbled. "What's yours?"
"Silas Goldenclaw," he retorted. "Can we get moving now?"
I ignored him and set off, trotting away as I heard him take to the skies behind me. He swept down past me, sailing on his vast wings, and banked around to halt just down the road.
"Are you going to fly or what?" he snarled impatiently.
"I can't, okay," I growled, my face flushed with embarrassment.
"Can't fly?" he chuckled. "Not much good then, are you?"
"Ah fuck off," I waved a hoof in irritation, while Sunny cringed.
He didn't say anything, but rolled his eyes and flew off ahead. I jogged after him, trying and failing to keep up.
The highway swept off into the distance, surprisingly intact given the circumstances. I quickly exhausted myself chasing Silas, and to my irritation I was forced to rely solely on my rather sluggish normal running speed.
After a short while of this the griffon swept to a halt, touching down on the roof of a rusting carriage. Beyond him a section of the road had collapsed, creating a cracked and broken ramp down to the ground below. A few wrecked wagons lay on the ground, surrounded by half a dozen traffic cones.
The highway rose again beyond this, back up to the proper height. I stopped just before the drop, testing the down ramp with a hoof. It seemed sturdy enough. The griffon took off, flying high above the collapsed section.
"Hurry up!" he yelled. I shifted my weight onto the sloping highway; it held. I set off slowly down, avoiding the several large cracks in the road.
"Uh, Cloudy?" Sunny whispered, poking the back of my neck with a hoof.
"Yeah," I whispered back, "What's up?" Something was clearly worrying her.
"Check your compass," she replied quietly. I stopped and pulled up my EFS. Three red blips, directly ahead. An ambush?
I definitely couldn't see anypony among the wrecked wagons and traffic cones. The only place they could have been was behind the other ramp. I spun round, there were two more behind us, beneath the highway.
I needed to tell Silas, before he went and got himself killed. I whispered a thanks to Sunbeam, and turned to him.
"Hey, what's keeping you!?" he bawled. I pointed downwards, indicating something was beneath the ramp, and mouthed hiding .
He nodded, and snatched up the rifle dangling from his body. I checked on the two behind us; one was moving.
He fired. I jumped, one of the blips on my pipbuck winking out. The other galloped out into the sunlight.
I grabbed three microspark cells from my saddlebag, hastily shoving them into my holorifle. Our attacker opened up at Silas with a submachine gun. I fired, ripping one of her legs off.
The other three scattered: a gang of small time raiders. I ducked behind a carriage, letting Sunny scramble off. Bullets slammed into the vehicle, prompting her to curl up in fear.
"Everything's gonna be fine," I reassured her, leaning out to get a look. A round from Silas ripped through one of the raider's heads, splattering the ground with blood and brain. Two left. I lined up a shot, and sent another to an early grave. The last panicked. Silas rammed his gun's bolt forward. The raider ducked and ran, leaping over a wrecked cart. A vast explosion ripped through the area, evicerating the raider and splattering the area with his guts. The roar rolled outwards, sending debris cascading. The last raider's body was splattered across the dirt and concrete. There'd been mines under the traffic cones.
I moved back over to Sunbeam, wrapping an undersized wing around her to reassure her. She was visibly shaking.
"Thanks," she said softly. I shifted to let her climb onto my back, before standing back up. Silas spun round and let his weapon drop so that it dangled from its sling.
"We should get mov- Ack!" He dropped like a stone; a spear had gone straight through his back. The tip had broken off and the jagged wooden end was jutting out through his chest. He landed with a sickening crunch amid the carnage, a river of hot blood pouring from the wound.
I scanned for the aggressor; for a second there was nothing. Out of the blue a buck materialised, casting off some kind of tattered cloak. Stealth magic? He looked straight at me, gripping a second spear in his teeth. I fired off the holorifle. He ducked out of the way, but the holographic cubes slammed into his flank. He stumbled backwards, collapsing into a crumpled heap.
I galloped out into the open, skidding down the ramp. I reached Goldenclaw quickly, but he was clearly already dead.
"Cloudy!" Sunny leapt clear just as somepony slammed into me. Up and down blurred into one as they landed on top of me. I kicked out wildly.
A hoof collided painfully with my shoulder. Another rammed into my cheek, sending my vision swimming for a second. Pain surged through me, and I fought to keep from yelling as I planted my own hoof into my assailant's flank. He cried out and rolled off me, recovering rapidly. I scrambled up to face him, blinking back tears.
The pony opposite me was a dark grey buck, with a ruddy brown mane. The jagged remnants of a broken horn jutted from his head. His armour had all been dyed a bloody red, and bent street signs had been used for plating.
By far the most terrifying thing about him was that he appeared to have some kind of horrific disease. His coat was patchy, and his skin was dry and cracked, covered with lesions. Several large areas had cracked off entirely, leaving bare flesh that was rubbed raw.
I froze; this was the same pony who'd killed Silas. His flank where I'd punched him was horrifically burnt and scarred from the holorifle shot. He'd taken the hit and kept going, somehow.
He rushed me, and in a panic I swung my weapon butt first. It collided with his muzzle, bloodying his nose. He swung, knocking out my injured leg. I fell backwards, trying to bring the holorifle to bear. He staggered forwards, looking for the kill. I fired before he got the chance. He fell, chest scorched by the blast yet still rising and falling with breath. I stumbled to my hooves, wincing as pain shot up my leg.
"You think," he growled, "That this is over? That you can just take me! No, this ends on my terms: Procella Aeternum !" He shifted a hoof weakly, revealing a grenade without a pin. I leapt back, stumbling over as the blast ripped him to shreds and splattered blood across my armour.
I stumbled over to where Sunbeam had been hiding, the blast still ringing in my ears. She had stumbled out over to where the griffon had fallen from behind a blood splattered carriage.
"I-It's no good," she sniffed, crouching down beside his corpse. "The tip's lodged in his spine, a-and I think the shaft's pierced a lung."
"Look, little sis, you need to calm down," I gently placed a foreleg across her shaking shoulders. "I'm here, everything's going to be alright." Okay, so that probably wasn't true, but I was trying to be reassuring.
"Uh huh?" she looked up at me with those great blue eyes.
"Yeah," I forced a smile.
I moved over to the corpse, pulling the rifle away from it. One of his pouches was full of .303 rounds, and so I took this as well. I could at least sell these for some caps.
I placed it all within my saddlebag and stood up slowly. Sunny tried to climb up, and I gently helped her onto my back with a foreleg.
"C'mon kid, let's get outta here."
======
"Hey, look!"
I glanced around; Sunbeam was pointing to a road sign hanging from a partially-collapsed gantry. Straight on for Stalliongrad, this exit for central Hoofington and the Stable-Tec Regional Distribution Centre . More importantly, somepony had sprayed a new message beneath these two, marking this junction as the one for the Lyra Heartstrings Memorial Museum . The writing was accompanied by a little illustration of a gear shape; a stable door maybe?
I checked my map; we'd arrived. I set off at a canter down the exit ramp and onto the street below. Just along the road was some kind of outer-city industrial park, dominated by a rust-stained blueish building with a large fenced-off area around it.
The little arrow on my pipbuck pointed to this structure, and so I rapidly made my way there. The decaying building had a large parking lot, with a surprisingly large number of autowagons marked with the logo of Stable-Tec. Above the main doors was a huge replica stable door, to the front of which had been attached a corrugated iron sign marking this out as the aforementioned museum, revealing the meaning of the illustration on the sign.
With trepidation I trotted up to the door. The old screen doors had been reinforced with chain link fence, cut down to the size of the door. I raised a hoof and tapped against it, prompting these to rattle.
The door flew open, revealing an elderly earth mare with a light creamish coat and a dark blue and red mane. Her cutie mark was a yellow star, next to a red fire brick; whatever that meant. Her face was wide and grinning, and she stepped away quickly in order to let me past.
"Welcome! Welcome!" she chuckled. "To the greatest museum in all of Equestria!"
A sudden roar prompted me to jump. A wolf, a fucking wolf , ran to the door. It dropped to its haunches and snarled, filling up the doorway and completely obscuring its owner.
"Gibson!" the elderly mare scolded. "You're scaring our guests. Heel! Oh, don't mind him, he's just suspicious, y'know?"
The wolf wimpered and moved out of the way, sitting down next to the mare. How in Equestria could she control that thing?
"So, what brings you two out here?" she shoved her face up close so that it filled up my view and prompted me to step back.
"Now this in gonna sound off-the-hook crazy," I admitted, more than a little embarrassed, "But we're looking for this creature that like, walks on two legs and has claws, kinda like a diamond dog, but they're smarter and have manes and really advanced technology. You know anything about that?"
"You've seen a human!" she leapt three feet skywards. "Well you've come to the right damn place! You betcha I've seen one! You wouldn't happen to have any of their tech or anything would you? Ill pay for it, in caps, up front. Oh, did you hear that Gibson, they know about the humans!" I was taken aback by her outburst. At least we were in the right place; maybe this pony had encountered the same anomaly Songbird had fallen through.
"Oh, do come in. I'll get us some tea and you can tell me all about your encounter," she skipped off into the building, and I quickly followed.
The building had once been the Stable-Tec regional HQ, with a few offices up front leading into a vast warehouse. A six-foot corrugated iron wall separated the front quarter of this from the rest. This area had been converted into a living space, with old armchairs and office chairs around a battered metal desk serving as a coffee table.
One large door in the improvised wall had a sprayed sign above it, with a large arrow marking This way to the museum! I picked a seat next to this, shucking my saddlebag off onto the floor, and she sat opposite me. Sunbeam ended up sitting on my lap, learning into me.
"So, who're you two then?" the mare asked.
"Oh, I'm Cloudburst, and this is my little sister Sunbeam," I explained.
"Little sister?" she croaked. Of course she'd be suspicious; I was a Dashite in Enclave armour with an earth pony sibling.
"Adopted," I replied flatly, trying not to dwell on the issue.
"Ah, okay," she smiled again, "I'm Pearl Gleam, but you can call me Granny Pearl."
She got up and walked over to the door. She threw it open with surprising ferocity, and started yelling into the warehouse while banging on the corrugated iron.
"Hey! Gemme a coffee!" she turned to me. "Want anything?"
"No thanks," I said quickly; I couldn't stand the stuff. How could anypony like something so bitter?
"And make it quick!" she thumped on the wall a few more times for good measure, before slamming the museum door shut.
"Sorry 'bout that dearie," she smiled, returning to her seat. "Now, can you tell me all you know 'bout the humans."
"Sure," I shrugged. "They've been sending probes over here for years, and four years ago there was a manned expedition. The Enclave killed them all, well, one survived, but he died soon after. They left some stuff behind though, like the Star Blasters."
"An expedition!" she leapt up again. "Please tell me you found the remains?!"
"Some of them," I admitted, pulling out the broken Star Blaster. Pearl's eyes lit up, and she went to snatch the gun.
"Nope," a hint of smugness crept into my voice, "Not until I see the caps."
She nodded, and was about to get up when the corrugated iron door opened again, creaking on seized hinges. I turned to get a look, and the blaster fell from my hooves in surprise.
In the doorway was a bizarre figure; it, no, she was maybe two inches taller than me, with spindly, wiry arms and legs. 'Gaunt' was the best word to describe her. Her head was pretty large though. Her mane, if that was the right term, was a flaxen blonde, sprinkled with dirt and dust. She had bare skin, as opposed to fur like a pony, which was a pale pink colour. Her clothing was threadbare, to the point where any intelligent pony would have thrown it away, yet she seemed determined to cover up. Her eyes were a dull grey, like her father's, rapidly darting between me and Pearl.
A battered metal tray was gripped in her shuddering claws, with a mug full of dark coffee sitting atop it. She set this down between us on the table, before giving the mug to Granny Pearl. She eyed it suspiciously, before taking a cautious sip. It passed her test, and she waved a hoof at our visitor, who turned to leave.
"Songbird?!" I blurted out, unable to hold my silence any longer. She froze, staring straight at me.
"Y-you know my name?" she stammered.
"Yeah, uh, we found the remains of an expedition sent from your world," I let out a long sigh. "They were trying to find you, but they didn't make it."
"Who did they send?!" her eyes began to well up.
"'Bronze Bolt', I think, uh, 'the twins', and, well; your father."
She dropped to her knees, covering her face with her claws and crying. Sunbeam leapt down to the floor and made a beeline for my saddlebag. She reached in, rummaging through until she found what she was looking for: the little rectangle of plastic we'd found on Crosswind's body. She gently passed it to Songbird, who wiped away her tears just enough to look at the picture. She sat back, holding it up to the light.
"I-I miss him," she sniffed, "So much. I-"
Her words disappeared amid a second deluge of tears. I stood up and moved to comfort her, surprised by the miffed expression Granny Pearl shot me. I gently placed a stunted wing across her heaving shoulders, while Sunbeam quietly whispered some kind of consolation.
Songbird sniffed, wiping away her tears once more. She stumbled to her feet, a look of sadness still frozen in her eyes.
"I-I'm okay," she whispered, even through she clearly wasn't. "Th-thanks, uh…"
"Cloudburst," I forced myself to smile, "And this is Sunbeam."
"How's about a tour of the museum?" Pearl interrupted, pouting in irritation. I scowled back at her; the suggestion was completely out of place. Songbird needed comfort and care, not-
"That s-sounds great."
Wait, what? I glanced around just as Pearl swigged her coffee and leapt up. A sudden jolt of pain raced up my leg, prompting me to pull it away and glare down at whoever had touched my injury.
Sunbeam froze, her hoof still outstretched. The wave of fear washed over her again, and I quickly hid my anger. She swallowed, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. I knelt down to try and reassure her. She just looked over to the door and muttered something about waiting. Just great; she'd been trying to tell me something and I'd missed my chance because I'd managed to scare her.
"Are we doing this or what?" Pearl grumbled. I headed over to where she stood, shooting a passing glance of confusion at Songbird. I'd been through the loss of a loved one; you didn't simply get over it after a few minutes of crying. She just looked away, fidgeting with her claws. A slight blush crept across her tear-stained face, barely perceptible with the pink shade of her skin.
Pearl opened the door, stepping through and into the warehouse beyond. I trotted quickly through after her. Inside numerous shelves had been moved into a rough semicircle, laden with mysterious and confusing artifacts. Against the far wall somepony had pushed the office coffee machine, surrounded by centuries-old packets of instant coffee and bottles of purified water.
The items proudly displayed ranged hugely in type; from a shelf covered in small, blue-glowing power cells to a display of clothing so oddly-shaped it could have only fitted members of Crosswind's species, the 'humans' as Pearl had called them.
The centrepiece wasn't on any of the shelves though, a vast construct dangling precariously from the ceiling on wires. It was huge, cylindrical in shape, over ten feet long, and suspended so that the ends of the cylinder pointed to the floor and ceiling. A wide ring of metal ran around it, about three quarters of the way to the top, from which dangled numerous limp robotic arms bearing various tools.
On the top end of the body sat a domed section inset with several dark 'eyes' of varying sizes. On the bottom end a turret had been mounted, carrying a weapon I'd seen before. A perfect replica of Colonel Autumn's Star Blaster, save for a flexible tube running down from the body of the probe which plugged into the ammo port, presumably allowing the weapon to use the main power source. It was manufactured from the same pale silvery metal that all human military constructs used, and there was little doubt in my mind that Starmetal was used somewhere in its construction. Several panels and vents were missing, leaving exposed wiring and scorched ventilation tunnels.
It was a human probe, a 'Firelance' as Crosswind had called it. The roof bars creaked slightly under the weight, but the building seemed to be holding.
"Look at anything you like dearie," Pearl gave an unsettling smile. I moved over to the first shelf, laden with glowing power cells. They were clearly designed to be used with a Star Blaster. Each one cast a pale blue glow across the shelf, presumably due to the magical energy contained within. Was it magical though? Humans didn't appear to have magic; maybe they had advanced far enough to replicate its effects with pure science.
The next shelf had little devices with large screens. Few had any buttons, although several had colourful plastic cases. They were clearly more advanced than what ponies used, simply due to the much more compact scale they were built to. All the necessary spell matrices simply wouldn't fit into that small a container even with the most advanced prewar Equestrian technology.
The shelf beyond this had only one item; a circular purple pendant. The top of the device was made up of some kind of screen divided into segments, which was beaten and cracked in several places. Beneath this all kinds of tiny wires and switches were visible, all slaves to some unknown purpose.
Next up was the display of clothing. Various articles lay scattered around, from tops and jeans to belts and even socks. The centrepiece of this shelf was a black faux leather jacket, slightly battered and scratched up, with metal studs set into the collar.
Lastly, over by the coffee machine, was a collection of photographs. Some of them were old print-outs; a brown-haired girl and her father, a pair of twins grinning wildly while sporting matching purple uniforms, three humans with absurdly long hair singing on a stage, and a group of seven. Wait a second, were those the Ministry Mares? I looked again, and sure enough the famous six were all there, albeit probably in their younger years. Had they traveled across, or were those some kind of alternate universe counterparts?
The seventh girl was unfamiliar to me, but she did appear to be wearing the leather jacket from the clothing display. I leant in closer, trying to make out if they were same or not.
"Interesting, ain't it?" Granny Pearl trumpeted. "I found that one in the pocket of this."
She was pointing to the jacket. I moved over to the second collection, nodding to her in response.
The rest of the photos were of the kind which Crosswind's had been, with layered plastic. They all depicted goings-on in and around some kind of school; the front of the apparently antiquated brick building, surrounded by new glass-and-steel wings, a sports team in blue and yellow garb, some kind of party in the gym, a school marching band performing; that kind of stuff.
I scanned across each one quickly, not expecting much, until I noticed a familiar flaxen-haired girl in the corner of one. She was playing with some friends, chasing after a dog on the grass in front of the school. I took another look at the whole image; the sunlight bathed everything in a bright glow, and everyone was happy and carefree. For the first time I comprehended just how much Songbird had lost.
It was a sobering thought, and it completely derailed my train of thought. I turned away, looking over to where the girl stood. She was stooped low, engaged in serious conversation with Sunbeam about something. She looked up at me, blushing slightly once more. I gave a false smile and she turned back to my sister to continue her discussion.
"Will that be all then dearie?" Pearl was standing by the door, gesturing back into the living area. I had a few questions though.
"Who was Lyra Heartstrings?" I questioned.
"The greatest mare to ever live!" she did another three-foot leap. "Half of the stuff here is from her personal collection; she kept it all up in Canterlot. Died when the megaspells hit, sadly, but at least her legacy will not be forgotten. Any other questions?"
Her voice took on a sour tone at the end. Of course, Lyra was only remembered by a crazy old mare who didn't really appear to understand her collection setting up a museum in the middle of nowhere; her legacy seemed long-forgotten to me.
"How did you meet Songbird?" I pressed.
"I rescued her from some slavers," she explained slowly, "Those imbeciles thought she was just some taint-born abomination! Because obviously the creature that fell out of a portal when you fiddled with the weird pendant is a common mutant!" She scoffed, turning to point to the pendant on the shelf. "You shoulda seen their faces when me an' Gibson cleared them outta this building!"
I paused; trying to visualise the elderly mare taking this place by force. Her wolf wasn't so hard to picture tearing through slavers, but still, it seemed odd that the pair had seized the building.
"Well, if that's all your questions," Pearl said quickly, looking a little uncomfortable, "Then you're free to head out."
"Sure, c'mon sis," I agreed, "Hey, uh, Pearl? Are you going to buy the Star Blaster or whatever."
It was slightly over-acted, but Granny Pearl bought it. She darted off with a cry of "Be right back", leaving me to my thoughts. I looked down at Sunny, a questioning look on my face. She just shook her head; not yet.
I sought out Songbird, who'd picked up the Star Blaster. She quickly looked away, and I noticed a shiver run through her body; something was now worrying her as well.
"Here you go dearie," Pearl dragged me back to reality, thrusting a bag of caps at me. "Now, where's that weapon?". I accepted the offer, not really caring how much she'd given me.
"Hey! Gimme that!"
She trotted over to where Songbird was examining the weapon, before snatching it away with uncharacteristic force. I turned to her.
"Hey, uh, thanks for showing us your collection," I pretended to smile. "I guess we'd better go. C'mon Sunny."
I set off for the door, snatching up my saddlebag as I went. Sunny glanced back at Songbird, before heading off to join me. I tried to sneak an inconspicuous glance back, but without turning my head I couldn't see anything.
We passed Gibson on the way out, patrolling the doorway should any intruders attempt to get in. He gave a deep-throated growl as we passed; a warning of sorts. I ignored the wolf, moving straight past him and out into the world.
I pulled the door shut behind us, causing the chain-link reinforcement to rattle. I looked down at Sunbeam, seeking answers, and she just darted off across the cracked asphalt of the parking lot. She ran around the side of the building, freezing over by the corner. I watched as she forced down her own racing nerves, and for the first time I realised that something serious was about to happen.
"C'mon!" she whispered urgently.
"What's going on?" I replied quietly, joining her.
"I, uh," she faltered, stepping back, "Just trust me."
She ran off down the side of the building until she reached a window. I caught up rapidly, just as she leapt up and caught the window ledge with her forelegs. I reached out with a wing to boost her up until she was precariously balancing on the ledge, one ear pressed against the glass. I wiped an area free of grime and followed suit, watching events unfold within.
"…with him ?" Granny Pearl exclaimed, her voice muffled by the glass. "You think he'll want an alien like you following him around? No, of course he won't! Nopony wants you, nopony except me."
"I-I want to go," Songbird choked out, tears starting to roll down her face. "I-I'm sick o-"
"You wouldn't last a day out there," Pearl took on a cruel, mocking tone. "You're useless; can't do anything right. You should be grateful I've had the charity to let you stay here, when I could have just left you to slavery."
Were they talking about me? Who else could 'he' be? I had no idea what I had been expecting, but it certainly hadn't been for her to want to join us.
It occurred to me then; I was in effect listening to a twisted version of the argument that me and my mother'd had that fateful night. But Pearl's words were different, darker, and I finally realised what had been troubling Sunbeam; she'd encountered somepony in an apparently similar situation to her own experiences and had tried to do something about it.
The clunk of metal on metal snapped me back to reality. I peered through the dirt-caked window; Songbird was grasping a firearm. It was an ancient wood-and-steel bolt-action I distinctly recognised, a gun I was certain had been in my saddlebag; Silas' rifle. A quick check revealed it wasn't in my bag, but when had she taken it? It could only have been while we were leaving. Had Sunbeam noticed? Probably, considering she'd had a hoof in the rapid organisation of this.
"Y-yeah, well; maybe I just moved from one slave-driver to another!"
She rammed the bolt forwards and down, reaching for a small lever beside the bolt. It was still loaded; she'd just chambered a round. She found the lever and pushed it forwards. Was that the safety?
Sunny was starting to panic, shivers running through her small body as the situation collapsed. She hadn't planned this.
"You wouldn't," Pearl gave a wicked smile, "You can't, because you know that I'm the only pony who even remotely cares about you. Kill me and you'd be left alone with nothing but the wastes for company."
"Y-you don't care," Songbird was crying profusely, "I, I'm just another part of your collection!"
Pearl realised the gig was up. She stepped back, bewildered, trying to figure out how to escape this mess. I saw an idea bloom in her eyes.
A shrill whistle split the air. The paws of Gibson pounded on the floor as he raced to the scene. He saw the stand-off, and quickly dropped to his haunches, hackles raised.
"Put that silly thing away this instant!" Pearl stamped her hoof. "Or I'll ensure you won't be able to sit down for the next month."
Songbird didn't obey. She just kept aiming the weapon. Her breathing settled into a regular pattern, and she shifted so that one finger was on the trigger.
"That's it!" Pearl marched towards the girl, indignant. Her last mistake.
The 'crack' of a gunshot echoed through the glass as the window was splattered with the blood of Pearl Gleam. She slumped, dead, halfway to a stunned Songbird. Gibson snarled, baring a row of glinting teeth, stalking forwards.
"E-easy Gibson," Songbird stammered, operating the bolt on her rifle, "Easy. I-I know you're upset, but it's for the best. I-"
The wolf let out another deep growl, stepping aggressively towards her.
"I know, I know, it's just-" The beast leapt, teeth gnashing and eyes wild. She fired again, the crack of the firearm rolling outwards. He went down with a whimper.
I grabbed Sunny and sprinted for the door, a bubbling mass of emotions fighting for precedence within me. I slammed it open, rattling the chain-link. Beyond the offices Songbird stood, standing in shock. Pearl lay motionless by the wall, while Gibson's corpse was nearly at her feet.
Out off all my warring feelings, anger won out. This child had just stolen from me, provoked a fight, and murdered what my whirring brain declared was an innocent pony.
"What the fuck were you thinking?!" I bawled, not stopping to think. She blinked in surprise. Then her eyes filled with tears. She turned and ran, sobbing her eyes out. I picked up the dropped rifle and angrily threw it into my saddlebag.
At that moment I was ready to simply storm out, leaving this whole disaster behind. But something stopped me, and my anger drained away faster than I'd have thought possible. The realisation of what I'd done hit me like a brick; I couldn't just leave her alone here with her regrets and fears.
It was then I noticed that Sunny had disappeared. She must have gone after Songbird. I mentally cursed myself for shouting; what had I been thinking?
With trepidation I opened the door to the museum, creaking on rusty hinges; no sign of either of them. I crept on, past the exhibits and into the rest of the warehouse.
Shelves lay deserted or weighted with junk, gathering dust. Pallet jacks and forklifts lay deserted in the aisles, abandoned with the building. Nopony appeared to have disturbed the place for a long while, save for a path of less-dusty flooring leading to a small office in the back.
I brought up my EFS; two green tick marks pointed in the direction of this office. I hurried over to this. The door hung ajar, and I peered inside.
The walls of the cramped room were plastered with drawings. Stylised depictions of the school from the earlier photos were mixed in with scenes of ponies in spiked armour clashing violently amid ruins and other images besides. More than one showed a familiar girl in a forest, alone or with her father, sometimes equipped with hunting rifles. In the midst of all this sat Songbird atop a hole-ridden mattress, with my sister at her side. She was still sniffing and rubbing her eyes, sore from her tears. She looked up at me with bloodshot eyes.
"What do you want?" she sniffed.
"To apologise," I took a deep breath. Then the stench hit me and I immediately regretted it; the place reeked of pony waste. One corner of the room was a toilet of sorts, saturated with excrement.
Everything suddenly fell into place; she had to live in this rancid place despite all the facilities up front, she was dressed in rags clinging to her gaunt form despite Pearly owning multiple human clothes, and the mare had acted towards her with only anger and irritation, even while she'd been grieving for Crosswind. Pearl wasn't innocent. Sunbeam had been right, painfully so. As if I could have felt any worse at that moment.
"You understand now, don't you?"
It wasn't Songbird's voice. I looked over to Sunny, who nodded gently. Then I remembered why the fatal argument with Granny Pearl had started.
"Yeah," I sighed, turning back to the girl and offering a hoof, "Look, Songbird, I… I'm sorry, really. You're welcome to come with us if you want."
"Really?" she tried to smile, honestly, despite the pain. There it was again, that same glimmer of hope that I had before seen in Sunny. It was in the eyes of someone else this time, but it was undeniably the same.
"Sure," I genuinely smiled this time, "But first we should get you cleaned up. How's that sound?"
"H-how?"
"We'll use the stuff up front," I gestured to the door, "Take anything you want from the museum."
"But- Oh yeah," the implications of this washed over her, and she leapt to her feet only to pause for a second. She looked to me, as if seeking approval.
"I've already said it's fine."
She let out a gasp of delight and jogged off, straight into the museum area. Sunny stood up and trotted out through the door, stopping just inside the warehouse. I moved up next to her.
"I worry for her," the filly sighed, "She's just so, uh, sheltered I guess. I mean, I've seen what the wasteland's like; it's horrific." A shiver ran down her spine. For all her maturity she was still a kid, and the sights of the wastes were getting to her. Songbird would probably be the same way.
"Don't worry," I put on a brave face, "I'll keep both of you safe."
By the time we reached the museum she had already raided the clothing and photo exhibits. I singled out the pendant; if we could get it to work again maybe we could get Songbird home. It was human tech though; I'd need parts. I scooped all of the little screen-devices into my saddlebag and retrieved the Star Blaster, hoping they'd be of some use.
After about ten minutes Songbird returned. She'd cleaned herself up massively; her flaxen hair was still wet from washing it. She'd chosen a pair of slightly baggy jeans and a white t-shirt, some blue trainers, and the leather jacket from the display for warmth. It was notably large on her, but not the point where it was unwearable.
"Hey, you look great," I smiled. She was clearly quite self-conscious, shying away from my gaze.
"Thanks," she mumbled, "I used Granny Pearl's shower."
"There's a working shower here?" I was genuinely surprised; not even Pearl had been particularly clean.
"The previous owner hooked up some of the replacement water and heating talismans stored here," she explained, "The whole place has running water."
And yet she'd been forced to use the floor as a bathroom. I felt nothing but disgust for Pearl.
"Cool," I tried not to sound sour, "Hey, I've got something for you."
It was spur-of-the-moment, but she didn't seem to notice. I reached into my saddlebag and found Silas' rifle. I handed it over to her, and she smiled in response. She took the weapon off me, examining the wood and steel.
"Short Magazine Lee-Hooffield Mark III ," she read off the weapon, "Cool."
We all showered and I raided Granny Pearl's food store for lunch. Songbird ate vociferously, easily devouring the equivalent of half of our previous rations. We had a lot more now though, enough to last a month or more in preserved wartime condiments.
We ate outside in the dim sunlight. I glanced across at Songbird, who looked away and slowed down somewhat, before resuming her ravenous eating the moment she thought I wasn't looking. That worried me, that she had somehow acquired the idea that I was constantly judging her.
"Hey, Cloudburst?" she inquired suddenly, having finished an entire box of Buckco Mac N' Cheese, "How old are you? If you don't mind me asking, that is."
"Nineteen," I said calmly, "How about you?"
"Thirteen, just turned," she gave a nervous laugh, "I'd be in seventh grade back home, I guess. Sunbeam?"
"Nine," the filly shrugged. At least I now had an age for her. I shoved my half-finished box of crackers into my saddlebag.
"So, Songbird," she continued, "Where are you from anyway?"
"Well, I was born in a place called Downtown," Songbird explained, "But me and my dad moved to Canterlot City when I was a baby. It's great, really, with everything you could want in a city…"
She let out a long sigh, turning away. I looked at Sunbeam, seeking an explanation as to her killing the mood, but none was forecoming.
"Finish up," I forced a smile, "And then we'll hit the road."
======
"Uh, Songbird?" Sunbeam chirped.
"Yup?"
"Y'know, uh, back at the museum," the filly began, "With Gibson, could you, uh, understand him?"
"How'd you guess?" Songbird asked incredulously.
"He growled," Sunny explained, "And you, uh, you responded with 'I know'"
"It started after I arrived here," she admitted. "I could just pick up on what animals and stuff meant. It's not like I hear them talking or whatever, I just sorta get what they're saying. Cool huh?"
She looked at me for the last part, ever seeking approval. I just nodded.
A bleep from my pipbuck informed me that the automap had picked out a new location. I glanced down, switching the battered device to map view. Apparently the dilapidated building in front of us was the Red Racer Factory .
I stopped, letting Sunny leap down off of my back to stand with Songbird. It was a largish place, with multiple concrete chimneys soaring skywards. Now they stood silent, monuments to pony industry in days past.
We were on cheap industrial land; large places like the distribution centre and this factory were remarkably common. The only things that distinguished this building were the automap's decision to mark it out and the burnt-out husks of a pair of laser turrets outside; the place had once possessed magical energy security. I approached the door, giving it an experimental push; locked. I was about to turn away when Sunny ran over, her switchblade drawn.
"Gimme a boost," she mumbled, pulling a bobby pin from her holster. She'd taken many from the sky-wagon the night before, carrying them clipped over the leather straps.
The blade worked as a good substitute for my screwdriver, acting as a leverage tool. Within a few a seconds there was a series of clicks and the lock disengaged. The scratched and battered blue doors swung open loosely, and I stood up and trotted inside.
Songbird caught up in the lobby. It was a barren, businesslike place with no room for frills. Perhaps that was why it was so well preserved; nothing was here which could significantly decay. Behind a grimy glass window the factory floor was visible, but there appeared to be nothing of interest that way unless you wanted a two-century old foal's scooter.
One the left side of the lobby however was something notable; an elevator. A terminal protruded from the wall by the door, still glowing monochrome green. I trotted over; it had been locked down, requiring a four-letter password. I was about to turn around and leave when a thought came to me; if I could re-code a flight harness and mod a computer game then I could hack a terminal.
I brought up the debug console and set about weaselling my way in. It wasn't particularly tough security, and soon I was easily skimming through lines of code. Sunbeam watched with great interest as I fiddled with values and edited lines of script, trying to learn for herself maybe?
In the end, the password was 'Oats'. Not the most original. I returned to the login screen and entered it, and a little menu popped up which read;
Destination Floor:
Floor 2 - Supervisor
Floor 1 - Lobby (Current)
Floor 0 - Maintenance
Floor -1 [AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY]
My interest piqued, I selected Floor -1. While I doubted that whatever they kept down there would help our situation much, at least it would probably be interesting. The doors to the elevator opened with a pneumatic hiss, and we stepped inside.
The descent only took a few seconds, and was far less heart-stopping than the climb into the sewers. The elevator jerked to a halt, prompting my stomach to perform a somersault, and the doors slid open to reveal a corridor.
The architecture didn't match anything I'd yet seen in the wasteland, although I was sure I'd seen similar tech somewhere else. The floor was a metal platform suspended just above an actual floor covered in bundles of cabling. Blue lights bathed everything in a cool glow from under the walkway, and the ceiling was low and arching.
Sunny dismounted as I trotted into the hallway, walking alongside Songbird. I glanced this way and that, but still couldn't put my hoof on why this was familiar.
The corridor opened out into a cramped server room filled with long-dead computer terminals bearing markings from Stable-Tec, Robronco, and the Ministry of Wartime Technology. Past this the corridor bent out of sight.
As we passed along it I suddenly remembered; my fifth grade flight school field trip. They'd taken us aboard the Glorious Dawn Thunderhead-Class in hopes of encouraging us to enlist as adults. The interiors of the vessel had greatly resembled this, with really cool three part doors where the top circular part had gone upwards and the bottom split in half whenever they opened…
"Cloudy!" Sunbeam called out, stepping on my tail. I stopped inches from smacking my face into a shimmering dark blue wall of light; an energy shield. There was no visible terminal this side of the shield, though there was one on the other side.
I reached out a hoof to touch it. It tingled slightly, and there was certainly some resistance, yet to my utter surprise it wasn't solid. I took an experimental step, pulling my body through the energy field. It was seemingly harmless, and so I shrugged and moved through.
It was only when I turned around and saw Sunny's face and hooves pressed against it as if it was a glass plane that my blood turned to ice; it was completely solid to her. Songbird had similar difficulty, pressing a claw up to it. I quickly reached over to the terminal and deactivated it, bewildered.
"What was that?" I thought aloud as the others rejoined me.
"No idea," Sunny whispered in reply.
Beyond this was a staircase leading further down into the earth. At the end of this another energy shield blocked access to a cramped room inhabited mostly by a large terminal connected to a bundle of cabling running up through the ceiling.
Was this some clandestine government facility? Had this place been used during the war? What if the zebras had used this facility to conspire against Equestria? Questions bombarded my psyche from all corners of my brain, and I had to calm myself before proceeding.
Once again I could pass through the field, and once again my companions couldn't. I deactivated it as quickly as I could, granting them access to the room. I went to switch on the computer mainframe, when a tape lying on the floor next to one of its ports caught my eye. I inserted it into my pipbuck and reached for the play button, unsure of what to expect. The crackling of a recorded radio broadcast started to play.
"To all Equestrian military assets listening on this frequency," an audibly military mare began, "This is Acting Command, NorFront Instillation Alpha, Stalliongrad, broadcasting on behalf of Supreme Commander Shining Armour. We have received confirmed reports of megaspell detonations within our borders; Cloudsdale and Manehattan have gone dark. Contact with Canterlot has been lost and Princess Luna is presumed dead. A Celestia-Tier state of emergency has been declared.
"All megaspell installations are hereby ordered to initiate Operation Windigo. I repeat; all megaspell installations are ordered to initiate Operation Windigo. All available balefire warheads of covered by this order are to be targeted at major population centres or known military installations on the Zebrica continent.
"Celestia One; you are clear for launch. Orders are to target all known enemy silos along the Zebrican coastline. Full power is authorised.
"The Trottenheimer-Hurricane and McColt-Barding orbital platforms are to commit all warheads to known or suspected enemy positions along the northern border. Damage to civilian properties is not to be factored into target selection."
The mare paused for a second, swallowing a lump in her throat. Given that she'd just told two orbital weapons platforms to ignore the prospect of civilian casualties, whatever was coming next couldn't have been good.
"Starfall is clear for activation," she genuinely sounded worried now. "I repeat; Starfall is clear for activation. You have your orders. Acting Command out."
I stood there in stunned silence for a moment, with nothing but my companions' breathing audible. We'd just heard the end of the world; Equestria had been hit, and had retaliated with everything. Whatever the 'Starfall' megaspell had been, it couldn't have been good.
I gently shuffled over to the central terminal. I flicked the switch to activate it, and a pixelated image of a winged lightning bolt striking down from a cloud filled the screen as it booted up. I recognised it of course; the emblem of the Ministry of Awesome. Had this facility been built for the MoA? It would certainly explain the Enclave-style construction, given that all Enclave tech was modified from MoA stuff. An eight-bit tone informed me that the boot was finished, and the device began a diagnostic spell. A series of errors filled the screen, which read;
************************Listening Post A113 Backup OS V2.3************************
Diagnostic: Operating @ 32.2% Capacity
Mainframe: Error
Backup CPU: Operational
Long Range Communicator: Error
Zebra Decryption Drivers: Error
Memory: Error
Auxiliary Memory: Partial Error
Stable-Tec Network: Error
Equestria Military Radio: Error
MoA Secure Radio: Operational
Available Frequencies:
640MHz
There was only one working radio frequency, which I selected. Immediately the room filled with the background chatter of a military radio channel.
"Railroad 2-1 this is Firefly Actual," somepony barked, "Please respond."
"Reading you loud and clear Actual," came the reply from an unknown mare, "We've mopped up the slavers and we're prepping for return. Zero casualties were suffered, sir."
"What about the slaves, 2-1?"
"One casualty, Actual," she said dryly, "Four injured. We escorted them to the nearest settlement."
Who were these guys? They were military, using Enclave radio protocol, yet they weren't using the normal Enclave frequencies. It could have been Steel Rangers, but they weren't exactly known for going out of their way to free slaves.
"Who then?" I thought aloud, unaware that the microphone for the device was on.
"Who the fuck are you?" 'Actual' demanded. "This is an secure military frequency; how in Equestria did you get on here?"
"I- look, my name's Cloudburst," I explained hurriedly, "And there's a terminal under the Red Racer factory picking up your 'secure radio'."
"Red Racer, in Hoofington?" 'Railroad' butted in. "Sir, doesn't that have two-layer bypass?"
"Not sure 2-1, will confirm." The radio went silent for a second, save for the omnipresent background static.
"This is Firefly Actual," the stallion resumed. "I can confirm that Listening Post A113 should have bypass shielding active. Look kid, Cloudburst or whatever; when you entered this place, were there any energy fields up?"
"Yeah, two, why?" I replied.
"How did you get past them?" Actual's voice was tinged with suspicion.
"Walked straight through them," I replied, hoping they could explain it, "Although the others with me couldn't. Any idea why?"
"Straight through? Shit," he went silent for a second, "Okay, I'm going to divert a unit to your location. Railroad 2-1, I want you to head over to the Red Racer factory in Hoofington. Get to the bottom of this."
"Copy that Actual," 2-1 responded, "We'll touch down outside; meet us there."
"Hold up," I demanded, "How will I know it's you?"
"You'll know it when you see it," she replied, "Look for the number 34."
Footnote: Level up.
Companion Perk:
New Perk:
Fallout Equestria: Due North
The elevator returned to the ground floor, shuddering to a halt. My stomach lurched as it did so, and I made a mental note to prepare myself next time. The rusted doors hissed open, creating a pathway through into the lobby.
I stepped through, past the dust-caked desk and grimy windows of the factory. The door was still hanging open, and I quickly trotted through. Sunbeam was the first to follow, although Songbird wasn't far behind. They joined me quickly, and we all stood there for a second, watching the sky.
The air was suddenly split by distant explosions. I jumped, glancing left and right. A thick plume of black smoke was rising in the north, carried up and away by the air. The blasts echoed across to us, shaking the ground and rattling the factory windows.
The bombardment lasted several seconds, before the sound died down to a whisper. It had surprised Sunny, but she'd seemingly realised it wasn't a threat. Songbird was a different story though. She was crouched slightly, eyes darting from side to side. Her rifle shook, clutched in her claws. The blasts had spooked her.
"It's gonna be fine," I tried to sound reassuring, "That was pretty far away."
"Oh yeah, I-I uh…" she stammered, trying to hide her fear. I just rolled my eyes and turned away, staring out into the distance.
The area was barren; a few large warehouses and factories lying by a collapsed section of the highway. In the other direction the darkened husks of Hoofington's skyscrapers soared upwards towards the cloud barrier.
Who exactly were we supposed to be meeting? I took a step back, scanning the horizon for some clue as to the mysterious ponies on the radio.
Realisation smacked into me like a train; the callsigns! They'd been using 'Railroad 2-1', clearly a military unit of some kind, and 'Firefly Actual'. If this was anything like the Enclave then Actual meant either ground control or some kind of higher command. But why 'Firefly'? It had to either that it was the overarching callsign for a larger unit, which was unlikely given the regulars were using 'Railroad' instead, or it was the location where the command was housed. Was there a facility called Firefly?
Of course; Firefly AFB. Radar had described the place as belonging to the 'Boomers' back in Friendship City, a pegasus group who helped the citizens of the wastes with 'organised food handouts and the like.' They'd originated from a stable; Stable 34. Suddenly the demand that I look for the number 34 made a lot more sense.
"It's the Boomers," I proclaimed, rather proud of myself. Sunbeam nodded in agreement, turning back to watch the sky.
"Who?" Songbird asked quietly, embarrassed by her lack of knowledge.
"They're a group of pegasi who help the wasteland," I explained.
"Okay," she looked away, her face flushed.
A distant echo drew my attention. It was a sound not entirely alien to me, yet not one I'd been expecting to hear. It was the sound of blades beating the air; the drone of an approaching aircraft..
From the horizon near the rising smoke a tiny dot hovered into view. At first it was hard to make out, but as it neared its nature became increasingly obvious. It was an inbound A/CV-2 Vertibuck, coming low and fast.
The cloud-filtered sunlight glinted off of the two glass bubbles making up the canopy, while the two great four-bladed rotors stirred up the dust and dirt from the earth beneath. It swooped up over the highway and past us, only to bank around and come in for a landing.
The two great engines swung upwards, jerking the vehicle to a halt. I raised a hoof to protect my eyes from the storm of dust it kicked up.
It landed with a loud thud, and the engines wound down. I blinked the dust from my eyes and looked it up and down. It was dark blue with yellow and white markings; a far cry from the black and grey of Enclave vehicles. On the doors and tail a peculiar symbol had been painted; a crossed musket and lightning bolt surrounded by three stars. Beneath this the number 34 had been stencilled on the doors.
It'd been a long while since I'd seen one of these running. They predated the cloud generator technology used on sky-tanks, and as a result were marginally less efficient. The reason for their lack of use was more the fact that they had a six-pony transport bay. Being able to carry two flights at a stretch, as opposed to the sky-tank's full squadron, had relegated the aircraft to a life of rare usage.
Their main role in the Enclave was for situations where there formidable speed gave them an advantage over the sky-tank, like rapid insertions and medivac operations. Once in a while a high-ranking general or council official would also requisition one to take the place of their personal chariot for transport.
The rear ramp dropped on pneumatic pistons, hitting the ground with a faint clunk. A dark green pegasus mare with a brown, braided mane stepped out.
She was wearing a flight jacket, but instead of the brown of those worn in the Enclave it was a pale grey. The fur lining was thicker too. On her left shoulder, where the unit emblem went on all Enclave units, was a solid black depiction of a lantern. On the other shoulder the musket-and-bolt emblem was stitched in yellow. On both of her sleeves was a series of chevrons; she was an E-9 Sergeant.
Over her jacket she wore the standard Enclave combined webbing/battle saddle designed to be worn with flight jackets or the combat armour I was wearing. It had the same universal weapon mount as all power armour and non-integrated weapon battle saddles, although unlike the wartime infantry version or that of T-Series power armour there wasn't an autoloader variant.
On her foreleg she sported a pipbuck. It was a shiny silver-grey, as opposed to the normal worn brown, with a blue screen that gave out a steady cool glow. On the side of her face she carried an earpiece with attached microphone, coloured the same gunmetal hue as her pipbuck.
"You're Cloudburst right?" she asked. "I'm Sergeant Major Evergreen, of the Firefly Homeland Militia."
"Yup," I nodded
"Alright, now, where are these bypass shields?" she trotted up to me.
"The listening post's in the basement," I explained quickly, "I'll show you."
"Alright," she turned back to the aircraft, "Snap Roll, Tailwind; you two guard the Vertibuck. Firing Pin, you're on me."
Three pegasi trotted out of the aircraft. One had full Enclave power armour, personalised and bearing the markings of the Boomers. Out of the other pair, one had combat armour and a battle saddle while the other sported only a flight jacket.
"Aww, sarge," the mare in the flight jacket pouted, doing her best puppy eyes, "Why can't I come?"
"Ugh," Evergreen rolled her eyes, "This is exactly why I don't want you in there; this is a serious mission."
"Huh, figures," the mare turned her head away, nose high in indignation.
The stallion in combat gear joined us, while the other two stayed behind to keep watch. A four-pony flight, possibly plus a pilot; about average for the Enclave. That combined with the ranks meant that either they were basing their organisation off of the Enclave or wartime Air Force.
"Hey, one thing?" Firing Pin asked as we headed for the doors. "What exactly is she ?"
He was pointing to Songbird, who gave a sheepish look to me.
"It's called a 'human'," I explained, "They come from a far away land."
Okay, so it was a little clichéd, but at least it was better than 'they come from an alternate dimension'. He just nodded and turned away.
I lead them through the ancient lobby, up to the elevator I'd hacked. Evergreen eyed me suspiciously as I hit the button for the basement level.
"Hold up," she stared me down, "Was this operational when you came here?"
"It was password locked," I offered, "I had to hack it."
"Alright," she strode straight into the elevator. The rest of us piled in, squeezing up just as the doors slid shut. The elevator started to drop, and I tensed up in preparation for the landing. It came sooner than expected, but at least I was prepared for the jolt.
I lead the group through the basement compound, past the server room and on until we reached the place where the first shield had been.
"This is the place where the energy field was," I turned to Evergreen, "D'you want me to turn it back on?"
"Go ahead," she rolled her eyes, "Everypony stand clear."
I hit the button on the control terminal, and a shimmering dark blue wall of magical energy fizzled into existence. The smell of ozone wafted off it, filling my nostrils.
Evergreen reached out a tenative hoof, pressing against the barrier. It refused to budge, even when she shifted her entire weight against it.
"It's solid alright," she turned to Firing Pin. "Helmet-cam picking this all up?"
"Yes, sergeant," he barked.
"Good," she looked over at me, "Go ahead then; walk through it."
I stepped forwards, keeping my gaze firmly centred on the energy shield and trying not to look afraid. What if something went wrong? What if I couldn't pass through?
At a snail's pace I approached, reaching forwards with a hoof. A tingle shot up my foreleg, but it still wasn't solid. I pressed on, forcing my nerves down, and passed cleanly through. I spun round, my confidence soaring, and strode right back through.
"Shit," Evergreen muttered, "Are you seeing this?"
Firing Pin just nodded. I turned to the sergeant.
"D'you wanna go further, or-"
"Let's go," she rolled her eyes, heading deeper into the facility. I followed, pausing momentarily to disable the shield.
Down the staircase was the arch where the other energy shield had been. The others walked straight into the room, but Evergreen held out a hoof to block me. She withdrew it right as the shield reformed between us, activated by Firing Pin. They wanted me to show them again.
All eyes were on me. Apparently sound couldn't pass through, so I had no idea what they were saying when they spoke. I looked over at Songbird, who was just watching intently. Come on; I'd done this before and I could do it again. But what if I couldn't? I shot a worried glance at Sunny, who gave a reassuring smile and nod.
I took a deep breath and strode forth, straight through the shield. A now-familiar tingle ran down my spine as I did so.
Evergreen moved over to the central terminal without saying anything. She activated it, and switched on the secure radio. Presumably her normal communication device, most likely her pipbuck, wouldn't have signal down here.
"This is Railroad 2-1 to Firefly Actual," she spoke into the device, "Please respond."
"Reading you loud and clear," the stallion on the other end replied.
"Actual, I can confirm it," she began, "He can walk straight through the bypass shields. You are aware of the implications of this?"
"Yes, sergeant, I am," a verbal eye roll came through the radio. "Now; we've had some mildly unusual orders come in from above. You're still in the listening post, correct?"
"Yes, go on," Evergreen tapped a hoof impatiently.
"There should be a tape somewhere in there," he explained, "The General wants it brought back."
She looked around, searching for the tape which was no longer there.
"Please repeat Actual," she barked, "A tape?"
"Yes, 2-1, a tape," he said, "It should be there."
"Do you mean the recording of Operation Windigo?" I asked, butting in and recieving a frosty glare from Evergreen.
"I don't give a damn what's on it," he responded. "All I know is high command want to get their greasy hooves on it."
"You have it?" Evergreen was staring straight at me.
"Yeah," I lifted up my leg with the pipbuck attached, hitting a button to open the tape slot. The recording popped half out, and I passed it over to her.
"This it?" she eyed it with caution, but accepted. "Good. We'll leave immediately."
She swung around, hit the button to disable the shield, and strode off back up the stairs to the server room. I followed, along with the others, as we returned to the elevator.
Great, another ride in the damn jolt machine. I squeezed up against the back wall as the doors shut with a hiss and a dull thud. The elevator jerked to life, rattling upwards. It stopped quickly, sending my insides into weightlessness once more. I found myself fighting minor nausea as I staggered out, determined that I was done with elevators for the foreseeable future.
We were lead briskly through the dusty lobby and out onto the cracked and dry earth. The Vertibuck was still there, as were the two other pegasi. The mare in the flight jacket turned to greet us, giving a cheery wave.
"So is it true then sarge?" she stared at me, wide eyes, "Can he do it?"
"Yes, Snap Roll," she gave an eye roll, "I've seen it myself; he trots right through them."
"Who were they configured fo-" a glance from Evergreen shut her right up. "Oh, okay, later then."
"Alright, I want everypony on board ASAP," the sergeant looked straight at me, "That includes you three. Any objections?"
"If they're fine with it," I gestured to the girls, "Little sis?"
"Uh, I'm good," she shrugged, distracted.
"Songbird?"
"I-I-, yeah, it's fine," she sighed, looking away. I smiled, and headed for the rear ramp.
"If there's no more to discuss, then let's move," Evergreen gestured to the troop bay.
"Yes sarge!" Snap Roll yelled, skipping off up through the troop bay and into the cockpit. I followed up into the vehicle, picking a seat up next to the cockpit. She slipped into the flight harness and fired up the pilot's interface.
The engines spun up to full speed just as Sunbeam sat down against my side. Great waves of dust cascaded up the ramp, whipped up by the rotor blades. Songbird was the first to climb up through this, shielding her eyes with her arm. She joined me in sitting down, just as the rest of the Boomers entered the aircraft.
The trio took up seats opposite me, keeping a wary eye on me and my companions.
"Alright," Evergreen shouted over the din, "Let's move."
"Sure thing sarge!" Snap Roll giggled, raising the rear ramp. "Hey, remind me to thank the new engineer for running a full check on this thing, she's running better than ever!"
We rose upwards rapidly, the flight harness converting Snap Roll's wing and body motions into commands to the engines. They tilted forwards, just as she gave a great wingbeat. The craft jerked into forwards flight, and we sailed way over the ruins of the past.
After a few minutes we passed over the ruins of a large building. It had taken it significantly worse than the surrounding area, with huge blackened craters and a few scattered corpses lying around, at least one of which was still bleeding. This was recent. The blasts on the horizon earlier came to mind. I turned to Evergreen just as Sunbeam spoke up.
"Hey, uh, what happened here?"
"Zone call," Firing Pin shrugged, "We relay the coordinates to the Artillery Corps back at Firefly and all available howitzers open up on the target."
"What was here before?" the filly asked innocently.
"Highway gang encampment," Evergreen butted in, "They've been harassing caravans for years, swarming all over the roads north of Hoofington. Mostly they're outlaws running from the Republic biding their time before the rangers hunt 'em down."
"Okay," Sunny smiled, turning back to watch the darkened towers of Hoofington's core disappear over the southern horizon.
I shifted my gaze back to watching Snap Roll manipulate the flight harness. She was a cute little mare, with a navy blue coat and a curly grey-white mane. I watched the rise and fall of her flanks, trying to make out her cutie mark. It was a little collection of white arrows forming a loop, or some similar shape.
A giggle from Sunny snapped me back to reality. The realisation that I'd been staring at our pilot's backside for the past few minutes hit me like a brick, and I looked away as embarrassment turned my face bright red. Why, of all times, did I have to start checking out mares while I was trying to make a good impression?
I glanced across the troop bay; Tailwind was silent and emotionless as ever, Evergreen looked completely uninterested, as if she'd expected me to act as I was. Sunny was faintly smiling, looking up at me with playful eyes. Songbird, though, wasn't so happy; she looked upset, irritated even.
"Hey Songbird," I said softly, "You okay?"
No reply, yet she didn't seem sad. Was she sulking then? Sunny laughed again, further confusing me.
We didn't talk much after that. The Vertibuck skimmed low and fast above the snaking roads and scorched earth, turning a journey of days into less than an hour. After a while I bored of watching the ground and turned back to the interior of the craft.
A sudden jerk nearly threw me off my seat, and a faint creak of protest ran through the airframe. Sunny was suddenly clutching my foreleg, unused to the experience of flight. I gave her a reassuring hug with one foreleg. She looked more than a little embarrassed, now that it was clear we were safe, but at least she'd relaxed.
We were gaining altitude, fast. The engines had swung back and were now pointing nearly straight up, towards the ever-present barrier of rolling cloud that blanketed the wasteland. We weren't going through it were we? That was Enclave airspace.
With a faint shudder the aircraft breached the layer, our rotors shredding the fluffy clouds. The downdraft buffeted the edges the gap we'd formed, widening it. Pure, unfiltered sunlight poured through the windows, giving a golden hue to everything. It was the kind of sunlight where you could see all the particles of dust in the beams as our motions swirled then around, the kind of sunlight I'd not realised I'd been missing.
Sunbeam's eyes were wide now that she could finally see her namesake. She darted to the window, blue eyes scanning the white cloud layer and infinite blue skies. She let out a squeal of delight, trying to take it all in. It occurred to me that she'd never seen the sun before, and I suddenly felt an inner warmth as I realised it had been me who'd given her that chance.
All of a sudden we were moving again. The sudden motion dislodged Sunny, and she lost her footing and rolled into Songbird. She gave a sheepish apology and hurried back to the window. I smiled, glad to see her so eager.
I suddenly froze, my joy turning to cold-blooded fear as I remembered; we were in Enclave airspace.
"Hey," I turned to Evergreen, "Isn't this Enclave territory?"
"No silly," Snap Roll answered, stealing any words the sergeant could have given, "The Enclave doesn't have any control this far north. We're just out of Thunderhead's radar range, and- oh look, there it is!"
I peered past her and out of the canopy; we were closing fast on a little collection of hangars and buildings clustered around a mountaintop plateau. There was only one notable problem; they were all made of cloud, and I knew that earth ponies definitely couldn't stand on clouds. I doubted humans could either.
As we neared I made out a dark shape rising away from the airfield. Twin dark contrails streaked away behind it as the aircraft banked hard and raced towards our own. It was an A/CV-1 sky-tank, painted in the dark blue, yellow, and white of the Boomers. It was an early war model, like Peppy , sporting twin missile pods on the sides and a rear-loading troop bay. It roared past our Vertibuck, going fast, sure, but not as fast as us.
"Alright ponies," Snap Roll grinned, "Here we are; Firefly AFB. One more successful mission, woohoo!"
The aircraft gave another slight groan as we jerked to a halt a second time. We were directly above a short paved airstrip now, built on clouds, surrounded by cloud buildings. Across from this, behind a row of buildings, was a second, longer asphalt runway built on the actual mountaintop, running on a small bridge over a river of rainbow liquid that drained from a cloud high above, bisecting the plateau. Halfway along this blurred into regular water as it mixed with a second stream, some of which was siphoned off and fed into a hydroponic array.
On the plateau pegasi moved this way and that. A group of school-age foals played with a ball, a flight of pegasi were practicing drill on the runway, a group of mechanics had dragged a Vertibuck out into the sunlight and were working on it, and the Howitzer teams were cleaning or calibrating their guns.
We dropped suddenly, and the main airstrip disappeared behind the row of buildings. I glanced around the rest of the visible area, noticing a tall command building rising above the surrounding structures, with two cloud statues of soaring pegasi guarding the door.
Atop a nearby flagpole two flags flapped in the high-altitude wind; one was dark blue and displayed the musket-and-bolt logo of the Boomers in yellow above the number 34 done to look like a military stencil. The other was purple, and displayed the cutie mark of Rainbow Dash set within a ring, flanked by two stylised wings; the emblem of the Ministry of Awesome.
The Vertibuck landed with a thud, and Snap Roll dropped the rear ramp before disentangling herself from the flight harness. She pulled on a light grey flight cap that matched her jacket, as did Evergreen. We were now on base after all.
Sunny raced past me, down the ramp and onto the runway. A least she wouldn't fall straight through that.
"Oh my gosh!" she spun around, taking in all of the sights at once, "This is amazing!"
"Sure is little sis," I smiled, my heart warmed by her antics, "I told you the sun was awesome."
"'Little sis'?" Evergreen looked at me suspiciously.
"Adoptive," I shrugged, turning back to the kid. She was standing next to Songbird, who had dropped to her knees on the edge of the runway and was poking the cloud in bewilderment. I chuckled, and she leapt to her feet, hiding her claws behind her back and looking embarrassed. Apparently Sunbeam drew some amusement from this, since it brought a giggle to her face.
Evergreen engaged in conversation with another pegasus, similarly dressed through lacking a battle saddle and wearing the chevrons to mark an E-3, an Airpony First Class. She passed him the tape of Operation Windigo, before he flew off into the command building.
He returned a few minutes later, soaring overhead and landing next to the girls. From his pocket he produced a pair of sapphire-blue gems, glistening in the sunlight. I'd seen such gems before; Bella, the Neighvarro R&D pet swan, had carried one on a necklace. They were cloudstepping talismans, one for Sunny and one for Songbird. They were both suspended on thin metal chains, designed to be slung around the neck.
He offered them out, giving a brief explanation as to their purpose. Both were eagerly accepted, and the buck flew away, his job done. Sunny took a timid step onto the clouds. She clearly enjoyed it, because she immediately recognised that clouds were pretty bouncy and started jumping up and down. Songbird rapidly joined her, and soon the pair were bouncing high and turning a few heads.
"Aww," Snap Roll smiled, "They're having so much fun! Oh, and the general wants to see you."
"That's in the command building right?" I turned to head inside. "Alright you two, c'mon. You can play on the cloud later."
I trotted up the stairs into the command building, glancing back to make sure they were following me. Sunny bounced along, still over the moon, but Songbird was walking briskly across the cloud, trying not to fall over on the lumpy material. She looked more than a little embarrassed at her antics, and once again I worried for how much she thought I was judging her.
I shook the though from my head and headed inside, slightly disappointed to be out of the sun so quickly. Still, it felt good to be back on cloud. Finding the office wouldn't be hard either; I knew what to look for.
The words Base Commander etched into a blue-grey cloud door were a sight which I'd previously cherished, back when seeing them had meant seeing the Colonel. Now though, I had apprehensions; I had no idea who this pony was, other than they commanded the 'Firefly Homeland Militia', had probably served at some point, and were some form of general. I tentatively knocked on the door with a hoof.
"Come in." It was the voice of a mare, and she sounded to be at least middle aged. Something about it wasn't right; her words had a gravelly quality that didn't match any accent I had encountered.
I pushed the door open, and was greeted by the sight of a pair of amber eyes staring back at me from within a darkened room. The next thing to hit was the smell; the room stank of bad meat.
The others joined us, and Songbird had the sense to shut the door. The general switched a desk light on. I tasted bile; her face was fine, but the sections of her legs that her uniform left visible appeared to be actively rotting, as if dead.
"Never seen a ghoul before?" she raised an eyebrow. She wasn't angry, acting like this was par for the course.
I had seen ghouls before, back in the sewers, and I'd heard a lot in the Enclave. The Council always liked to make a point out of the mutated creatures of the wasteland to discourage would-be Dashites. The idea of 'magical radiation zombies' wasn't unknown to me, but I'd never heard of them looking remotely alive, or being sentient for that matter.
"I have," I gave an apologetic shrug, "Just… not like you."
"Ferals?" she tilted her head to one side. "Figures."
I looked her up and down; she was a turquoise mare who had been on the wrong side of her forties before her transformation. What of her mane was left was cropped quite short, and was a golden amber. She wore a variant of the Equestrian Air Force officer uniform, coloured black and purple with yellow markings. She was a four-star general, though whether she'd actually obtained this rank or given it to herself when setting this militia up I wasn't sure.
"So, on to business then?" she asked. I nodded. "Alright. I understand you're Cloudburst?"
"Yes, uh, ma'am," I said quickly.
"Who are these two?" she pointed to my companions.
"Well, this is Sunbeam," I explained. "She's my adopted little sister; right kid?"
"Yup," she smiled.
"And who's she," the general demanded, pointing a rotting hoof at Songbird, "With the big head?"
"This is Songbird," I began, while she gave a bashful wave, "Her species; it's called a human."
"Alright then," the mare smiled, unfurling her wings, "I'm General Lightning Dust, Master-at-Arms for the Firefly Homeland. Now; I've heard you can walk through some energy shields?"
"Yeah," I shrugged, "I don't understand it either."
"But I do," Lightning Dust gave a coy smile. "Have you ever heard of bypass spells?" I shook my head. "They're a type of shield that's only configured to let certain ponies through," she explained, "But they're kind of imprecise; they'll let through all close relatives like siblings, and their descendants."
"So I'm descended from somepony important?" I asked, incredulous.
"Maybe," she shrugged. "You found a listening post. Those places were built for two reasons; to intercept zebra transmissions over there, and, more importantly; to communicate with MoA black-ops agents undercover in Zebrica. Considering how 'deep-cover' all of this was, those shields were probably only configured for three ponies; Rainbow Dash, Scootaloo, and the pony who actually operated the damn terminal."
"And the last one's the most likely," I said dejectedly; it was often repeated in the Enclave that neither of the most famous Dashites had any surviving family.
"Perhaps," Lightning Dust wasn't so easily convinced, "Enclave registration only started after the megaspells hit, so there's a pretty good chance there's some siblings in there we don't know about."
I sighed, wishing she'd just come out and say I wasn't anything special.
"Look, kid," she stared straight at me, "I'll try and call in some favours with the Volunteer Corps to get somepony in Thunderhead to check the database; maybe something'll turn up."
"No good," I gave a shrug of disappointment. "You won't turn up anything; I was adopted. I even had mom check the records once, but there wasn't anything."
"Shit," Dust thumped her desk with a hoof, and for a second looked ready to throw something. Suddenly an idea seemed to hit her, because her face lit up and she started to fiddle with the terminal on her desk, rapidly tapping at the keys.
"Of course!" she smiled, proud of her new idea. "There's a post in Ponestown; you can try there."
"So you want me to go to another one of these places and try and walk through the bypass shields there?" I asked.
"Exactly; it's in the basement of the bakery," she explained. "We'll send you out on a Vertibuck tomorrow sometime."
"Okay," I said slowly, "So what do I do in the meantime?"
"Evening mess is at seven; try and be there for it," she offered. "Other than that; I want you to go and talk to the quartermaster. He'll get you fixed up with some proper gear and ammo. There's a Vertibuck on the main airstrip that needs fixing; I've got the new guy working on it, you'll probably get on well. All three of you have free reign over where you go, just don't touch anything sensitive. I'll try and get you billeted for the night."
"Thanks ma'am," I smiled, "Mind if I ask a question?"
"Fire away," the ghoul replied.
"How common are Dashites, really?" I asked.
"Thin on the ground, that's for sure," she sighed, "But it's more than just Radar and Calamity and whoever this recon buck is that the loose network's blowing up about, a lot more. The Council makes a big deal outta them only if they can make 'em look like criminals or they're actually dangerous.
"Take Deadshot Calamity; he told a massive crowd of ponies about the true state of the wastes. The Enclave doesn't take too kindly to that, of course, and so they fabricate a story about him killing his flight and throw him out. They would've done the same to Ardent Vortex if they could have captured him. But of course some ponies are going to believe him, or at least have doubts as to whether it is truly inhospitable down there.
"So you get a ripple effect as more ponies go AWOL because the first one did. That's why they always make 'em seem like they're criminals and murderers and stuff, so that others are less likely to follow them. If they can't do that then they keep it hush-hush so that others don't get the same idea.
"So they don't tell you when a rebellious teen runs away beneath the clouds, or an active flight gets sick of inaction and deserts mid-mission, or a minor criminal dips below to escape the cops and doesn't come back up. If they published every one, then they'd start up a vicious cycle of ponies packing up and heading down. They keep it all under wraps to prevent exodus or war.
"Why d'you think they stopped doing the twice annual sweep?"
"So they didn't have to get the reserves involved?" I offered, bewildered by this sudden tangent she'd gone off on.
"Exactly," Lightning Dust smiled, "The fighter squadrons are already considered a security risk since they go beneath regularly; that's why they keep 'em on base and rarely let 'em transfer. Getting the reserve squads in as well just complicated things, and two active squads per city just isn't enough to cover all of Equestria in the time available, even with the extra ones Neighvarro has operating outta the cloudships. So they replaced them with a single squadron who went under every night."
"Alright, well, thanks," I shrugged.
"No problem," she sighed. "Anything else you want to ask?" I was about to turn down her offer when a thought came to me.
"How did you end up, y'know, as a ghoul?" I asked slowly.
"Was in Cloudsdale when it was hit, serving with the 'Bolts," she let out a wistful sigh. "I woke up in the debris field, and started freaking the fuck out. I'd thought myself dead; incinerated by the blast. Waking up amid charred corpses and wrecked wagons came as a pretty huge shock.
"Then I started… rotting. It's not like you'd expect; you don't notice it until you look down, since you lose feeling before the area falls off, and it takes a damn long time before it actually does. Trust me; you don't want to ever have to feel this."
"Erm, okay," I turned to leave, shifting in discomfort. "I'd better be going then ma'am."
"Shut the door on your way out," she croaked. I gladly obliged.
I moved quickly through the complex and out into the sunlight. The statues on this side were even larger, towering over me as I stepped out.
The entire airbase was basically a large horseshoe shape, wrapping around the edge of the mountain plateau. The second runway and hangars had been grafted onto the back of this, behind the command building. A stretch of cloud connected the crescent to the mountain itself, which was coated in real, living grass.
I strode quickly down onto the plateau, heading for the under-maintenance Vertibuck. A dark grey stallion with a navy blue mane and yellow eyes was working on one of the engines, a buck I knew from Neighvarro. My jaw dropped as I realised that I recognised the pony.
"Hey!" I called, waving my hoof, "Over here! Maelstrom!"
"Who the bloody 'ell?" he spun round, only to notice me. "Well, if't ain't the kid from R an' D! What brings ye out 'ere then? 'Ow long's it been, a couple weeks?"
"Yeah," I smiled, "I switched to battlefield tech, then went Dashite. I've been heading north for the past few days."
"Y' ain't goin' fer the Crystal Empire or somethin', are ye?" he asked.
"Well, yeah," I shrugged, "What about you?"
"I finally got off me arse an' did somethin' with me life," he explained, wiping his brow. "Took a runnin' jump an' look where I ended up."
"Alright," I smirked, "Need any help with that?"
"We can always use an extra 'oof," now it was his turn to smile. "Gerr over 'ere!"
I nodded and turned quickly to my companions.
"You two can go wherever you're allowed," I explained, grinning as the excitement crossed their faces. Sunbeam made a beeline for the group of school-age ponies, while Songbird meandered away nervously.
"Oy!" Maelstrom yelled. "Git yer arse over 'ere!"
I galloped over to join him, skittering over the ancient asphalt. The more I saw of this place, the more awesome it got.
======
I knocked on the door, waiting for a response. None was forecoming.
The armoury was a large building, with few windows. There was no way for me to see inside without moving around the side or flying up to reach the higher apertures. I glanced left and right; I had been told to come here, and with the Vertibuck now repaired I had nothing else to do.
I went to knock again, and accidentally pushed the door open. It swung open slowly, casting a square of light into a darkened corridor. I stepped inside, looking around for any signs of life, but nopony seemed to be present.
"Hello?" I called out.
"Yeah?" came a distant reply, echoing off the cloud walls.
"Where are you?" I asked.
"Come through into the main bit," the voice replied. I followed the source, and came out into a large open area dotted with workbenches and weapon racks. The whole place was lit by low-energy lighting, bathing the room in a yellow glow.
In the centre a suit of Enclave power armour was being dangled from a yellow crane. An orange stallion with an indigo mane was lying beneath it, trying to reattach a damaged leg. As I entered he dropped his tools and stood up, turning to look at me.
"Oh, hello there!" he galloped over, offering his hoof in greeting. I grasped it, and he shook vigorously.
"Hi," I mumbled, feeling pretty put-out by him. "So yeah, uh; I was told to come here to get outfitted?"
"Oh, you're the new colt everypony's talking about!" he smiled. "Come with me."
He lead me through the building to a back corner where several suits of armour lay folded on shelves alongside a myriad of weapons and equipment.
"So, what can I do you for?" he smiled. "Uhh…"
"Cloudburst," I filled him in. "Well, I'm here for gear, so what are my options?"
"Sure thing," he gave a wide, sweeping wave of his foreleg across the shelve. "First things first. What'll it be; light or medium?"
"Armour?" I asked, confused. "Isn't there a heavy option as well?" I could see at least three suits of seemingly unused power armour.
"Ain't never existed," he shrugged, before he noticed my expression. "Ah, you mean the power armour doncha? Well according to this doohickey," -he raised up his foreleg to show off his pipbuck- "It's medium armour. All lightweight 'aerated' alloy and Kevlar. Don't get me wrong; it'll block a bullet better than most, but it's hardly a T-51."
"I think I'll just stick with light armour thanks," I smiled, and he took one look at me before plucking a folded suit from the shelf. He thrust it into my hooves, encouraging me to try it on.
"Hey," he picked out another item, "Since you're going light, you get one of these."
He passed me the device just as I tossed my new armour over my back, and I recognised it immediately; it was a pipbuck. It was one of the sleek silver and black ones with a blue screen though, like Evergreen's. I'd never even heard of this model, yet all the Boomers had them.
Etched into the metal next to the screen were the words PIP-BUCK DELTA , above the model number designating it as a 3000. Beneath the device name the MoA emblem had been machine-etched, the metal glinting in the light. These must have been somewhat rare, designed specially for the Air Force or something.
"That's a 3000R Delta," the buck said proudly, "Made specially for the Shadowbolts. It's got special drivers and everything, same as in our power armour."
An idea occurred to me, and I quickly looked back at him.
"Have you got any books on coding or pipbucks?" I asked.
"Why, sure," he grinned from ear to ear. "Planning some customisation then?"
"Yup," I smiled, "Mind if I use your equipment?"
"No problem mate," he smiled, "Just don't touch anything unless you know what it is. I'll be back in a sec with those books."
"Thanks," I rolled my eyes and set off for the nearest workbench. I placed the device in the centre and set to work removing the casing. Beneath were the spell matrices; I gently extracted the motherboard and disconnected the CPU, before doing the same for the RAM and memory.
The buck returned, passing me two volumes entitled Pip-Bucks and You and A Beginner's Guide to Scripting . I gratefully accepted both. He though for a second, clearly having forgotten something.
"Oh, and this is for you," he reached up to one of the shelves and produced an earpiece with microphone, dropping it on top of the stack of books.
"Thanks," I replied. I placed the books down on the workbench, propping them up against the wall so that I could read and work. I placed the earpiece to one side, and emptied the little human screen-devices I'd taken from the museum onto the desk.
I plucked one up, gently prying open the case with a small screwdriver. Laying out the device's guts next to that of my new pipbuck, I activated my older pipbuck's repair-aid spell for a good idea of what parts were and their condition.
The human components were just so tiny though. They'd made up for a lack of magic with significantly improved science, and it showed. Connecting these was going to be challenge indeed.
======
Fighting the urge to thump my head on the table, I reached for the power button. Almost praying that the damn thing would work, I gave it a light press.
The screen lit up a pale blue. The new holodisplay I'd fitted to the right edge of the screen, taken from one of the newer human machines, started to glow, but it didn't display anything yet. It'd only start working once I'd set the device to recognise it. The screen read;
******************** PIP-OS[R] V7.1.0.0. SHADOWBOLT ********************
BOOTSTRAP STARTED… COPYRIGHT STABLE-TEC LTD LOADER V1.1 EXEC VERSION 41.10 4GB RAM SYSTEM 63.89GB STORAGE FREE NO HOLOTAPE FOUND LOAD ROM[1]: DEITRIX 303
A loading screen appeared, filling the screen with a little cartoon pegasus wearing a flight jacket. A bar rapidly filled beneath him, until it reached completion and the device booted up. I let out a breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding; it was working.
It registered that nopony was wearing it, but other than that all the menus were working. Little wings flanked each section title, and the MoA logo was visible in the background. The whole thing was in comparative HD, lacking the usual pixelation of Stable-Tec devices.
After several hours of working, my masterpiece was finished, physically at least. Coding it to work with the holodisplay and other new features would take a while. With an exasperated sigh, I screwed the casing shut and set to work.
======
The device booted once more, new and different menus appearing across the screen. It seemed to be stable, and I experimentally navigated the options. For the first time in hours, it didn't crash; it was done. Finally, the pipbuck was working. I wiped the moisture from my brow, going to admire my handiwork. Admittedly most of it was repurposed from the books' tutorials and my experience messing with video games, but it worked, and that was the important thing.
The lens of a small camera glinted in the top left of the screen, while a little holodisplay projected from the right, displaying additional information. The whole thing supported full-colour video and image files, as well as simplistic 3D renders in place of the normal icons. The main improvement though was the increased storage and processing power; it had gone from having sixty-four kilobytes of RAM to four gigabytes. How exactly they managed to squeeze so much storage onto such small matrices, or what you could need that much storage for, I'd never understand.
It was a similar story with the ROM; it'd been increased from 40 kilobytes to 64 gigabytes. The idea I could need that much storage, even with the new functions, was absurd. I was starting to wonder if the humans had somehow bypassed the invention of data compression.
The last new function was combining the Delta's inbuilt radio equipment with the transmitter Radar had given me and one of the human devices' communications device. The whole assembly now supported receiving multiple broadcasts at once, and could decrypt secure frequencies it wasn't configured for.
My work done, I slipped out of my old armour and into the new. It was a modified version of Enclave combat armour, replacing the metal plates with some kind of space-age composite. Additional protection was provided by segmented plates forming bracers and greaves, and the suit also featured braces on the upper foreleg.
The whole thing was a little better fitting than my old gear, and it was certainly in better shape than the brown heap I'd just thrown off. I clasped my new pipbuck into place and pulled my saddlebag on, leaving my old armour and helmet on a shelf.
I checked the time on my pipbuck; it was quarter to seven, almost time for evening mess. I strode out of the armoury, skipping along with pride in myself. Most of the base's personnel was either heading to the mess or already inside, evidenced by the shadows dancing in the windows.
I was halfway to the place when a pegasus mare swooped down, landing with a muffled thud on the clouds. She looked to be in her late thirties, with an off-white coat and ginger mane. Her cutie mark was a scales and a scroll; law maybe? I was sure I'd seen her somewhere, although the reason why eluded me. She had clearly sought me out, since she immediately struck up a conversation.
"Oh, hello," she began, "You're Sunbeam's brother right; Cloudburst?"
"That's me," I raised an eyebrow. "What's up?"
"My name is Windbreaker," she explained, "I teach the foals here." I stopped dead in my tracks; this mare was the Governor Windbreaker. No wonder I'd recognised her; she'd been all over the news a few years ago.
"You're Windbreaker?!" I jumped in surprise.
"It appears my reputation precedes me," she chuckled.
"Well, yeah," I blurted out, "It would; you were everywhere a few years ago. How did you end up out here?"
"After the 'disaster' that was my governorship of New Zephyr," she let out a wistful sigh, "I moved to Thunderhead to get away from it all and ended up signing up for the Volunteer Corps, putting my negotiation skills to good use."
I knew the events she was talking about well enough. She'd been elected as governor by a hair, and her rather radical views had not sat well with the wider Enclave. Apparently wanting demilitarisation and the creation of a nation focused on development rather than war is enough to be labelled as a Dashite by the masses.
She'd resigned a year early and faded into the background after some incidents involving death threats. Her joining the Corps made sense though. The organisation was a pretty good example of what she'd wanted our military to be like; centred around trading with others rather than trying to seize resources like we'd done with Aldorna.
"We were out on an operation I first ran into the Boomers," she explained, "We were in a tight spot, given we weren't prepared for combat whatsoever, after we had a 'misunderstanding' with one of the local gangs. They came down on top of us, and wiped the floor with our attackers. After that I didn't really feel like going into danger zones anymore, and ponies had already tracked down my new address to continue harassing me about New Zephyr, so I took up an offer of employment.
"Turns out that I'm pretty good with kids, what with my talent for speaking and all," she admitted, "Although settling in was a challenge, given how, well, military everything is I guess. Still, hopefully one day that'll change."
"Oh yeah?" I asked.
"The young ones are hoping that one day Firefly will become a fully-fledged town," she chuckled, "Maybe one day. Anyway, that's not what I came to talk to you about."
"Go on," I gestured with a hoof.
"Your sister's an excellent filly," she smiled, prompting another eyebrow raise from me. "I had the pleasure of her joining my class for the afternoon. She's very mature for her age."
"But," I anticipated.
"I'm worried about her, honestly," Windbreaker sighed. "I'm guessing her situation was… less than pleasant when you found her?
"She came straight out of a borderline abusive household and into the waiting forelegs of a raider pack," I explained, suddenly feeling the urge to punch something in some kind of hollow retaliation for what had been done to her. "I, well, I went Dashite to save her, became the older brother she'd never had."
"Oh," she looked away, "I had no idea it was that bad. Still, you seem to helping greatly with her recovery; she spoke nothing but praise of you. She cares a great deal about you, Cloudburst; she needs you."
"I know," I let out a long sigh, still shaking with rage at Bone Saw and Speed Freak, "I try my best for her. Hey, how did you guess, y'know, about her past?"
"I can see it in her," the mare offered, "The way she freezes when she thinks she's in trouble, the way she can get another foal's entire life story without ever mentioning herself, the way she always sticks close to other ponies, and gets nervous if she's being left behind. I'm worried she may have some form of mild monophobia."
"Monophobia?" I asked, starting to panic.
"Fear of being alone," she explained. "I will admit that I initially forgot to account for her when I called my class back in for the afternoon. They can all fly you see, and reached me rather quickly. But she was just cantering across the plateau as fast as she could without galloping, glancing all over the place nervously. I flew over and carried her back in the end.
"You're a great prop for her at the moment, and one of the few elements of her past she'll actually talk about is the last few days with you. You haven't known her for very long though, have you?"
"A few days," I admitted.
"And yet you care enough about her to agree to be her sibling," she continued. "Why?"
"Because it made her happy," I shrugged, "And as you say, I care about her. At first I just wanted to get her to safety, like in a town or something, but I guess she grew on me after I learnt about what had happened to her."
"I'm glad she did," Windbreaker smiled, "You've done well for her. Now, I think we're needed in the mess hall."
I nodded in agreement with her and set off, arriving in good time. Through the doors and past a small lobby area a corridor stretched, with counters for collecting food along the left wall. The kitchens were behind these, echoing with the sounds of boiling water and knives on chopping boards. Along the right wall several double doors lead into the mess itself, where ponies sat to eat.
I picked a tray and joined the queue of hungry personnel, moving quickly along the counters. My tray was rapidly laden with food, and I filled a glass of water from the watercooler at the end of the counters. From there it was through the last set of double doors and into the mess while clenching a tray between my teeth.
"Hey Cloudy!" a small yet familiar voice called. "Over here!"
Sunbeam was sitting with the school ponies, chatting freely with her new friends. I approached, taking a seat next to her.
"Everypony," she waved a hoof across the assembled fillies and colts, "This is my awesome older brother, uh, Cloudburst."
"Hi," I greeted, giving a cheery wave.
"And this is Songbird," Sunny pointed to the approaching girl, who sat down next to me.
"Hey, is it true that she-" the colt on her other side leant in close, whispering into the filly's ear.
"Yes," Sunny rolled her eyes playfully, "But don't talk about it right now."
I hoped that somepony hadn't been spreading rumors about Songbird. I looked to my sister, hoping that she'd tell me something. Not getting any answers from her, I turned to Songbird in the vain hope of getting some answers. She just pretended to be looking anywhere but at me. Feeling a little irritated, I returned to my food.
======
The cool tap water ran down my throat, soothing the dry feeling in my mouth. This was what; the fifth time I'd gone to the toilet or gotten a drink? I couldn't sleep; lying on a cloud matress was reminding me too much of Neighvarro.
I missed that little three-bed house on Stratos Lane, where I'd grown up. I missed the R&D, with Tesla Jolt and others like Snow Blast and Stormchaser and even Bright Spark to an extent. But what I really missed was my family; Golden Heart and Sky Strider.
It'd been nearly a fortnight since I'd last seen either of them, including my four days in the wastes. I let out a quiet sigh; what had I done?
I'd saved Sunbeam, that was what. I needed to remember her. Without me she'd still probably be in that raider camp with Speed Freak, or else alone in the wastes.
A sudden gasp from the opposite room prompted me to turn off the tap and move out from under it. I shifted so that I could just see across the hall and through the slightly ajar door.
A little cream filly was sitting in her bed, tail curled around defensively. Her mane was hot and sticky, slick with sweat, and her chest heaved with great, panicked gasps for air. A few loose tears ran down her face, but she composed herself rapidly. She looked left and right, not noticing her older brother watching, and shifted her position so that she was sitting normally, looking out of the window.
It was the exact position I'd found her in on our first morning, and this very morning in the sky-wagon. Had she been having nightmares and not telling me, pretending everything was fine when it wasn't? It was just past four in the morning; maybe she did intend to spend the next three hours watching the sky. Either way I wasn't having it.
I strode carefully across the clouds. Sunny didn't notice at first, but I saw her scoot away slightly as she picked up on the faint sounds of my approach.
"Sunbeam?" I was in the doorway now, pushing the door open. She looked straight at me, eyes wide with dread and realisation.
"Oh, uh, Cloudy," she stammered, raising her foreleg as if to protect herself, "I, uh, I was just-"
"Sunny," I let out a sigh, "I saw what happened, I know that you had a nightmare."
She was silent for a second looking me up and down as if I was somehow a threat to her.
"I'm sorry, I just, uh, I was scared if I woke you then, uh, you'd be angry at me," she was crying now, tiny glistening droplets falling onto the cloud bed. "I know it's stupid, a-and irrational, uh, but I-"
She broke down, sobbing quietly. I was at her side in an instant, pulling her into what I hoped was a loving embrace. She looked up at me, seeking comfort.
"Sis, I want to help you," I said slowly, "But if you don't tell me about these things then I can't. I won't get angry or anything, I promise."
"Uh huh," she looked away, ashamed.
"D'you want to sleep with me for the rest of the night?" I offered, watching as her fear dissolved.
"Yes, uh, thanks," the edges of her mouth curled up into a faint smile, and she hugged me. I disentangled myself from her and led her back to my room. The filly climbed up onto my bed, and I bedded down next to her, wrapping my wing around her tiny form.
She let out a content sigh and drifted away to sleep. She was my sister now, and I'd take care of her. My desertion had been worth it; I just needed to remember her.
Footnote: Level up.
New Perk:
Fallout Equestria: Due North
Chapter 7: Freedom's Lantern
"Alright ponies!" Snap Roll giggled. "Prepare for landing!"
I turned to peer out of the window, catching sight of a small village nestled in the next ravine. It consisted of a single street flanked by dull, identical houses. A single dirt road ran down the middle of this, interrupted halfway by some kind of bizarre red structure I didn't recognise.
Before I could get a good look at it the settlement disappeared behind a tall, jagged mountain. We were dropping, fast, towards a stretch of railway line running straight through a tunnel into the rock. I turned to Sunbeam, who was looking out at the jagged mountains rising to the north.
Songbird was sitting next to her, keeping a firm grip on her rifle and shooting furtive glances at me every time she thought I wasn't looking. She'd found a small notepad somewhere, and was doodling something I was yet to see with a battered pencil. She'd deliberately shifted so that I couldn't see her page without craning my neck, and it didn't seem worth the effort.
"You two excited to see Ponestown?" I asked casually.
"Uh huh," Sunny nodded, distracted by the sights.
"Yeah, sure," Songbird shrugged, distracted.
By now we were almost to the ground, our rotors stirring up a whirlpool of dust and dirt. Just great, my second clean day after four without a shower and I was about to be covered in dust. I rolled my eyes; just perfect.
"Cloudburst?" Evergreen called from across the cramped troop bay. "Try not to take too long. It's the basement of the bakery according to Actual, so that's your target. Just be careful; you may have to break in. The Northern Republic really doesn't like us, and they tend to be pretty suspicious of strangers."
"Alright," I nodded, standing up onto the shaking metal floor. "C'mon you guys."
My companions joined me just as the troop ramp dropped, the bay filling with the cacophony of the engines.
"One more thing," the sergeant added, "Don't radio for evac until you're out of their territory. It's a no-fly zone thanks to the artillery at Rainbow Falls."
"I'll remember that," I yelled over the din.
I set off down the ramp, stepping out into the filtered light. It was still pretty early, and there was a faint chill in the air as the Vertibuck took off. I turned to the others to make sure they were following, then set off into the tunnel, stumbling over railway slats.
The tunnel was short, hewn from the rock with bare hooves and iron tools. The ceiling was scorched black from the soot and smoke of steam-powered locomotives, but given how rusty the rails were I doubted any trains had been through here in a long while.
It opened out onto a wide plateau where the line curved to an abrupt halt, marked only by a yellow buffer. There was no station or anything, not even a goods platform. A dirt track snaked away up through a narrow pass, heading in the direction of our destination. I was about to follow it when I felt a hoof tap my hind leg.
"Hey, uh, Cloudy?" Sunny said nervously, "Would you mind, y'know, uh, giving me a lift?"
"Oh, sorry," I knelt down, silently cursing myself for forgetting her difficulties, "Sure."
She scrambled up, prompting a confused look from Songbird. I shot the girl a look that told her not to ask, and set off once more. The path led on, between the jagged rock faces of two mountainsides.
The sound of buzzing wings suddenly filled the narrow pass, echoing off the rising walls. I called a halt, holding out my foreleg to stop Songbird from walking past me. Something was approaching. The buzzing was loud enough that it scared me; whatever was generating that sound couldn't have been good. I checked my holorifle, filled with some of the many fresh cells I'd requisitioned from the armoury in exchange for the assault ammo I'd picked up in the sky-wagon; we were good.
Around a corner up ahead floated a bizarre device. It had a spherical metal body, about the size of a foal's skull, with a few miscellaneous sensors jutting out beneath a grill that formed its 'face'. Quad wings kept it aloft, buzzing incessantly. It was a Sprite-Bot, a war-era device built by the Ministry of Morale. I checked my EFS; blue. Lowering my weapon, I approached it just as it gave a faint pop.
"Hello?" an unfamiliar voice crackled. The machine tilted up and down, as if taking in my features.
"Hi?" I raised an eyebrow. "And you are?"
"You can call me Watcher," the voice said cryptically. "Who are you?"
"Cloudburst," I said bluntly. "I'm a Dashite."
"So I see," the little robot flew backwards, "And working for the Boomers. What brings you to the North?"
I let out a sigh; should I tell him? As far as I could tell this was a pony behind a terminal somewhere, spying on ponies with this flying robot.
"I'm heading to the MoA listening post in Ponestown," I hissed, my voice low lest somepony nearby hear.
"Those places have bypass spells protecting them," he explained, "You won't get in."
"I've already been into one," I rolled my eyes, still keeping my voice to a whisper, "Trotted straight through the bypass shields. I'm just here to make sure that wasn't a fluke."
It looked me up and down again, noting both my small wings and the filly perched on my back.
"I see you've found a friend already," he changed the subject, sounding vaguely impressed. "Normally I have to tell ponies to do that."
"Adopted little sister," I corrected.
"Alright," the bot turned, swinging around to get a look at Songbird, "And who's-"
The sound cut out for a second, while the girl blushed and tried to hide the fact she'd been staring at me during my conversation with Watcher.
"A human?!" the voice spluttered. "I haven't seen one of you in a long time." I could easily imagine the pony's eyes narrowing behind his terminal screen
"You-you've been to our world?" Songbird blurted out.
"A few times," he admitted, "A long time ago. Is CHS still there?"
"C-Canterlot High you mean?" the girl was in complete amazement, "Yup, and we're still doing the Friendship Games every four years."
"Really?!" Watcher sounded genuinely surprised. How much time had passed since his last visit?
"Yup," she smiled, "And we won last time. Well, I wasn't old enough to attend high school but I'm going to since my school feeds into it so I support Canterlot but I'm going to compete in the twenty-first… if I can get back in time." A thought came to me.
"If you've been there," I demanded, "How did you do it?"
"There's a mirror," Watcher said slowly, "In the Crystal Empire. It's a portal between the worlds; they keep it in the castle."
"Alright; that's where we're headed," I grimaced. All the more reason to head for the Empire.
"One more thing," he asked. "Did you say the next event was the twenty-first? It's still every four years right?"
"Y-yeah," she stammered. "The twentieth would've been two years ago now, why?"
"Was there ever a famous incident involving magic?" there was a sudden force to his voice, "Where someone turned into a demon?"
"Y-yeah," she stepped back slightly. "I mean, there was the Midnight Incident like seventy years ago-"
"Wait, what?" he spluttered. "That's not possible. I went there literally days after that incident, and that was forty years before the megaspe-"
The transmission cut off with a pop and an electronic fizzle. Watcher's last words had been mysterious; Before the megaspells, before the war ended? That would make it two-hundred and forty years since this 'Midnight Incident', but in Songbird's world it had been only seventy.
"Time must flow differently between the two," Sunny whispered.
I thought for a second, trying to work out the difference. So seven into twenty-four was…
"Three years there is ten years here," I blurted out, "Provided Watcher, whatever he is, was telling the truth."
"So I've only been missing for…" Songbird tilted her head to one side in thought, struggling to work out the problem.
"Four by three over ten," I explained, "One-point-two years, which is good. That way the twentieth Games hasn't happened yet, and it's far less likely they've given up looking for you."
She just looked confused, but seemed to accept my answer. The hovering robot abruptly resumed its regular broadcast of patriotic marching music, buzzing away down the narrow pass. I checked to make sure Songbird was okay, but she just looked away bashfully. Feeling a little confused, I set off once more.
The path led out onto a second plateau, divided in half by a wide and steep ravine. A tattered rope bridge, reinforced and rebuilt several times by the look of it, was suspended across as a way of crossing. At the near end a corrugated iron shack sat, protected by two ponies in dirty dark blue uniforms and field caps.
On the front of the shack an unfamiliar symbol had been painted. It consisted of what appeared to be a two pronged staff crossed over a sickle beneath an eight-pointed star, four of the points of which were curved. This was all painted in black on a background of vertical stripes; blue, yellow, and red from left to right.
Both of the guards had near-identical automatic rifles mounted on wartime webbing/battle saddles, the designation IF-89 Sidewinder visible on the side of one. I'd seen one such gun before; one of the bucks on base in Neighvarro had carried one. They looked more like bipod weapons than battle saddle equipment, and had probably been chosen to look intimidating. One of the two battle saddles had an intact autoloader, with a second belt of rounds ready to be fed into the gun.
As we approached the pair they watched Songbird with suspicious eyes. One gave a hearty cough, beating his chest with a hoof to clear his throat of phlegm.
"Ugh," he grunted, "Welcome to the Equalist Republic of Northern Equestria. Trading for any goods is not permitted, unless you intend to apply for citizenship. I'd advise against it. Any form of antagonism towards agents of the government is prohibited. That means no shooting. Are you in possession of a passport?"
"Huh?" I asked. Why would we have a passport; this was the wasteland.
"D'you have a passport mate?" he dropped the pretence, scowling at me.
"No," I replied, "Why would I?"
"You need one for the Northern Republic," he explained, "So you can either get one issued here or fuck off. It'll set you back two hundred caps; put you all on one."
"This sounds like a shakedown," I snarled, not about to let a pair of troopers get the better of me.
"Shakedown?!" his parter, a rather tall earth mare, shook with rage, "I'll show you a fucking shakedown!"
"Leave it, Celestia-dammit," the stallion hissed, halting his partner. "Look, it ain't our choice. With the blight ongoing we need a way to track the arrivals and departures."
On one hoof, the price seemed pretty steep. On the other, I would need to come through here again once I'd reported to Lightning Dust. I reached into my saddlebag and pulled out the larger bag of caps.
I quickly counted out a couple hundred bottle caps, made easier by Pearl Gleam having organised them into stacks of fifty held together with string. I held out my hoof containing four of these, while the more experienced trooper pulled an unusual device from his webbing. He approached, brandishing the item in one hoof. It was shaped to be held like this, with a large metal block attached to the top end of the handle. A pair of antennae stuck out from the sides, pointing forwards, while on the top a large dial flickered.
The device let out a series of clicks and beeps as he waved it over me, keeping his gaze firmly centred on the dial. He moved on to Sunny, before finally covering Songbird.
"You're all clear," he sighed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a little leather-bound book. He snatched a pen in his teeth from another pocket, before spitting it out into the booklet.
"Alright, you're the guardian here?" he pointed a hoof at me, in response to which I nodded. "Okay, names?"
"Cloudburst."
"Sunbeam, uh, yeah."
"Songbird, Songbird Ba-"
"Species?" the trooper asked, cutting the girl off.
"Oh, well, human." she shrugged.
"Human?" he tilted his head to one side, before writing it down. Taking a second to admire his mouthwriting, he produced a stamp and planted it on the paper.
Content with the document, he passed it across to me. I examined the yellowed pages slowly; everything appeared to be official, with the staff and sickle printed in golden yellow on the cover of the booklet. My name had been written under 'Passport Holder', while the girls were under 'Accompanied By'. Songbird's name had a little asterisk, marking her out as an exotic species.
I thanked him quickly and set off at a trot, not wanting to get caught up any longer with the pair.
"Hey, uh, what were you scanning us for?" Sunny asked suddenly, prompting me to stop.
"TDC and raider disease," the buck explained. "Raider goes for your frontal lobe, turns you mad, hence the name; best guess says half of all the loony gangs and tribes have it. TDC's its bigger, uglier cousin. It'll still cause inhibition loss and a shit-ton of anger, but you can still think pretty clearly. The reason it's worse is 'cause of what it does to yours skin; it breaks out in fucking awful lesions and whole sections dry up and just rip off.
"Some one in four loses their lobe like with raider, only they're much tougher and less pony than raiders. You see 'em on the borders sometimes; batshit insane and starving things more terrifying than ghouls. Even the Marked run screaming from 'em.
"Biggest problem though is that infants' immune systems can't take it. If a baby picks up the shit, it's fifty-fifty they'll die. We'd like to keep a steady population up here, so infected aren't tolerated in the Northern Republic. Happy now? Good."
He lit a cigarette, leaving me with more questions than answers. Where had it come from? Where was this 'border'? Who were the Marked?
The stallion returned to his post, leaving me to ponder. I resumed my trot; I had more pressing questions regarding my ancestry. I took my first step onto the creaking bridge, following the marker on my EFS; Ponestown lay ahead.
The path led onwards through the mountains, coming to an abrupt halt at a steep cliff face. In the valley beneath lay our target; a little collection of simple, generic houses organised into two opposite rows, with a small apple orchard filled with weedy little trees off to one side.
The place resembled a concentration camp more than a town, with every house being the same pale pink brick and timber roof affair. The only distinguishing feature for most of the buildings was their coloured doors. Out of all the buildings, only four stood out; one housed a bakery, another some kind of general store. The third had been converted into a barracks or command centre, and an area in front of it had been cordoned off with concrete crash barriers.
At the far end of the street sat a larger, more elaborate house which appeared to be serving as town hall. Four soldiers, wearing black riot gear over their blue fatigues, stood guard outside. On a flagpole rising from the storm-battered roof flew the flag of the Republic, although the stripes were horizontal this time, with red at the top and blue at the bottom.
Far more interesting than this though was the contraption seated in the centre of town, facing away from the town hall. It was painted a dilapidated red, the once-resplendent coat ruined by streaks of rust from two centuries of rain. The machine resembled a steam locomotive, with large piston-driven front wheels and a cowcatcher on the front. This projected significantly forwards from the machine, creating a platform atop which a podium sat, behind which a stone-faced soldier stood.
The remainder of the device was split in half; the front portion was taken up by a large wooden barrel-like contraption connected to a brass funnel pointing skywards. A large red engine block took up the rear half, from which protruded a trio of vacuum tubes, a pair of steel funnels, and a second smaller barrel with a curling, patched up rubber tube running from the top of it back down into the machine. Beneath the engine block there had once been a rear axle, but only the bent and warped mounts were left.
Scaffolding surrounded the contraption, shoring up the battered components and providing access to the funnel. A queue line to the front had been created with more crash barriers. Five ponies stood, at least a couple of whom had foals with them. As they waited another soldier climbed the scaffold, emptying a saddlebag full of sickly apples into the funnel.
The contraption began to rattle and hiss, threatening to shake itself apart. The barrels began to spin, and dark, murky clouds of smoke belched forth from the chimneys. Lights on the sides of the machine flickered, and sparks flew within the vacuum tubes.
The device wound down, producing a rusty oil drum from the rear. A trooper collected it and hoisted it up onto his back. He carried the drum along to the front, where it was connected to a cider tap next to the podium. Was this a cider machine?
I suddenly remembered our mission, and tore my gaze away from the cider press. A narrow staircase had been carved out of the cliff face before us, and so I gently eased my way down into the valley.
The floor was dusty and dirty, worn with two centuries of ponies passing by. The dust was stirred up all throughout the town as ponies milled around, trying to avoid eye contact with each other or the surprising number of gun-toting military ponies. One passed me by with a scanner in hoof, searching presumably for infected residents.
A sudden clamour caused me to stop and watch; from out behind the cider machine a pair of soldiers were dragging a young buck, who was kicking and yelling. Nopony else seemed to think anything of this, trying to ignore it and continue their business.
He was thrown face first into the restricted area in front of the barracks, landing with a thud on the baked earth. He scrambled up to his hooves, receiving a gun barrel against his temple and the order to sit down as a reward for his efforts. The soldier threatening him moved until she was behind him, keeping the weapon trained on him.
He wasn't alone; three other ponies sat alongside him in the form of a couple and an elderly stallion. The mare from the couple continually shot sidelong glances at her other half, who was trying his best to appear reassuring.
As I trotted into town I became aware that all eyes were on us. The numerous soldiers stared daggers at us and the few others in town who seemed not to be natives. The notably impoverished residents kept glancing up at us with weary eyes.
They were far from well off, with sack-cloth cloaks clinging to their starving frames. You could see the ribs on half of them; were resources that scarce? I shivered, put off by the shuffling passers-by.
I turned back to watching the mare in the restricted area. By now she'd moved on to the buck from the couple, waving another TDC scanner over him while keeping a pistol gripped firmly in her teeth. The little device clicked and beeped, and the soldier's eyes went wide.
She rammed her gun's barrel against the back of his head. He started to sweat, muttering something incomprehensible. His partner cried out, starting to cry.
The crash of the gunshot swept through the crowd, leaving silence in its wake. I jumped. The citizens lowered their heads and returned to their business, leaving me standing in the street. I was still stunned; I'd seen death by now, but not like that. Even if the stallion was infected, they shouldn't have just…
I felt a surge of righteous anger. I gripped my holorifle, ready to put a holographic blast into a soldier's face. For a second all was forgotten, but then I felt a small hoof tap my neck.
"Uhh, Cloudy?"
I looked around; half the town garrison, easily a dozen ponies, had guns trained on us. I let go of the weapon, letting it dangle from its sling. I was in over my head; there was no way I could even try anything without getting shot. Irritated at my inability to act, I stomped quickly over to the bakery.
I pushed the painted door open slowly, still throbbing with rage. It was deserted within, save for a tired brown mare sitting behind a wooden counter, heavy. She just sighed and soundlessly pointed towards a heavy oak bookshelf beside her, with a lone lantern flickering atop it, surrounded by breadcrumbs.
There was flour everywhere, forming a thick off-white layer across the room. It hung in the air too, filling my nostrils and lungs as I tried to breathe. I fell about coughing, trying to clear the damn stuff from my airways. What in Equestria could they need this much for?
"I need to, ugh, get to the basement," I managed to splutter amid the assault, "Please?"
The mare just rolled her eyes, as if she was used to this. She pointed to the bookcase again.
"It opens," she said flatly. I nodded slowly; was this a secret door or something? I trotted over, stirring up more coarse flour from the floor.
Applying gentle pressure to the bookcase caused it to swing open, revealing a narrow wooden staircase down into the earth. Had I just entered a black market? If trading was banned then such a place would probably exist.
"Hurry up," the baker demanded, and I stepped into the narrow stairwell. Songbird joined me, and I pushed the bookcase back into place with a hind leg. As I did so the shop owner picked up a half-empty bag of flour in her hooves and threw it across the room, covering our hoofprints.
A flickering light could be seen at the bottom, bathing the lower steps in a warm glow. I made for this, easing slowly down the weathered stairs. At the bottom we came up against a heavy oak door, a lantern dangling from a hook screwed into it. From beyond echoed sounds of… singing?
I pushed it gently, and it swung away on rusted hinges, revealing the last thing I'd expected. They'd built a whole bar in the basement, complete with a live band. They'd even managed to salvage a violin and an accordion, while a crate was used to tap out the beat.
I stepped into the warmth, and Sunny climbed down off my back just as Songbird came up behind me. She shut the door, and I took a quick look around.
The bar was served by a robot, which hovered above the cobbled floor on some kind of rocket booster. Rugs were strewn everywhere, covering the cobblestone floor. The band's lead singer was an ageing unicorn buck, who's current song concerned a young mare using a disguise to sneak into the navy, to get revenge on a cheating fiancé.
Slowly I trotted up and sat at the bar, just as the robot floated over, a bottle of beer clutched in a mechanical claw.
"'Ello," he greeted in a cheery yet artificial voice, "Welcome to the Shop, mate. Can I get y'a beer?"
"Uh, d'you have anything else?" I asked, not really wanting to try alcohol again after last time.
"Sparkle Cola fine?" he said flatly.
"Yeah sure," I shrugged, "Two please."
He served up, one for me and one for Songbird, who sat down next to me. Sunbeam had decided to skirt around the half a dozen drifters in the bar, listening out for information. I kept an eye on her as I tossed a few caps at the bartender.
The song finished up, and the singer leant in towards the old stage microphone in front of him.
"Now fer all of ye who're down on yer luck, 'ere's an old favourite of mine," he smiled, pulling an old chair close and sitting down. "It's the tale of the HMLS Cadence ."
He picked up a guitar from the floor and started to sing, the band picking up his tune. It was an inspirational story, a tale about the former crew of a sunken ship working to restore her. Soon I found myself tapping along with my hooves.
"Why hello there," somepony, standing behind me, slurred an attempt at smoothness,. "We don't get many pegasi 'round here." I turned to look at the stallion, who had a sly smile on his face.
"Do I know you?" I asked bluntly, not particularly impressed.
"Holy shit, you're a guy?!" he yelled, rearing up and toppling over in surprise. I was taken aback; I'd been told many times I had the snout of a filly, but never been mistaken for one.
"Don't mind 'im mate," the bartender robot gave a mechanical sigh, "'e's drunk."
The unfortunate buck staggered to his hooves, rubbing his forehead where it'd smacked the cobbles.
"I am not," he shot back, "Tell me he doesn't look like a mare."
"Sure thing," the robot shrugged its spindly arms, "'e looks like a bloke."
"C'mon Whitetale," the stallion gave an exaggerated eye roll, "Some friend you are."
"Now since when 'ave we been mates?" the bartender's iris apertures narrowed. "Last time I checked we've a hundred-cap tab 'ere in the name of 'Lamplight'. Now until you pick that up we ain't chums."
"Fine," Lamplight pouted, sitting down on the stool next to me. "Look, I'm sorry I though you were a mare, happy?"
I shrugged and picked up my cola, taking a swig of the mostly-flat carrotty liquid. It was good, there was no doubting that.
"Can I at least get a name or something?" he asked. I rolled my eyes.
"It's Cloudburst," I said.
"Alright," he shrugged, "I'm Lamplight, but y'can just call me Feather; everyone does."
He was a tawny brown colt, with thin, gangly limbs and a dark brown mane that formed a messy clump on his head. He wore a thin brown jacket over a green shirt, with an ammunition belt slung across his shoulders. His cutie mark was a lamp, glowing with a small flame.
"It's 'cause he's got feathers for brains," Whitetale explained before I had the chance to ask why.
"Pretty much," Feather admitted. "Hey, nice gun."
He was looking at Songbird's rifle, currently propped against her stool, black metal glinting in the flickering light of the Shop. She got up, proudly picking up the weapon to show it off.
"SMLH right?" he asked, a self-assured grin plastered across his face, "Griffon variant. It's been a long time since I've seen one of these."
He reached a hoof across me to touch it. He was grinning like a foal in a candy store, an expression I'd last really seen in Tesla Jolt. I shook my head; I wasn't thinking about that now.
"There's not that many of these left," he continued, "Mostly decommissioned early on in the war. When I first came up here with the caravan one of the guards had one; he could hit a bullseye at eighty yards."
"You travelled with a caravan?" It was Sunbeam; she'd taken Songbird's seat while nopony was looking and was now looking at Feather with a great deal of interest.
"Eight years ago," he gave a wistful sigh, "Back when the war with the Marked was in its infancy. My mum, her name's Lifegiver, signed on to a caravan when they stopped off in our home of Dodge Junction."
"War?" I asked, hoping to finally get some answers.
"Y'aint heard?" he spluttered. "Been going on for nearly a decade. The inhabitants of the Divide all united under one guy, calls himself 'Hurricane'. They've taken the name the 'Marked Legion' and've been trying to invade the Republic ever since.
"Anyway, in the caravan there was us two, Straight Silver, Iron Curtain, old Greasy; he owned the whole thing, his niece Sonnet, and the two guards; Pistol and Silas." I felt my mouth drop open.
"As in Pistol Grip?" I asked quickly. "The merc from Fillydelphia?"
"The one and only," he smiled, "Small wasteland huh?"
"I guess," I shrugged, "Did you say the other was called Silas?"
"Yeah," he replied, "Silas Goldenclaw."
"He was the one with the rifle right?" I asked. "A brown griffon?"
"You've met him too?" Feather's eyes went wide. "Where?"
"Outskirts of Hoofington," I explained, "He… died in a raider ambush."
"Is that his rifle then?" he asked.
"Yeah," I admitted, "Seemed a waste just to leave it."
"Well you've found use for it at least," he sighed, "What with whatever-your-friend is here having claws."
"My name's Songbird," the girl shot back, "And they're called hands, not claws." She sounded almost offended, withdrawing the gun from his reach. I turned away from them both, glancing around the bar, exploiting his distraction to refocus on our mission. There was no sign of the facility that was supposed to be present anywhere.
"Hey, Whitetale," I called out. He floated over.
"Whaddaya want mate?" he asked.
"Is there like, a prewar facility down here?" I asked, keeping somewhat quiet.
"Y'mean switchboard?" he asked. "MoA-MoM project? It's here alright, an' I can let you in, for a fee."
"How much?" I asked, rather annoyed. It seemed everypony wanted my caps today.
"Hundred and fifty," he said flatly, "An' don't try and haggle."
"Fine," I rolled my eyes, fishing the caps from my saddlebag. I tossed them his way, and he expertly caught them in a mug grasped in a mechanical claw.
He hovered out from behind the bar and across the basement. I got down and gestured to my companions to follow. He approached a section of boarded-up wall, raising a mechanical arm bearing a saw blade. A few of the patrons gave confused glances as he cut free the wood, revealing a narrow doorway.
"There you go mate," he gave a slight chuckle and hovered away with an air of superiority. It took me a second to figure it out; he knew about the bypass shields, and though I'd just payed a sizable fee to access an inaccessible facility.
Well, I was going to prove him wrong. I pushed open the doorway, revealing a claustrophobic stairway leading deeper into the earth. Taking a deep breath I stepped over the fallen boards, and into the abyss.
The stairs led down into a cramped room which greatly resembled the one from the Red Racer factory. Shattered terminals and rotting stacks of paper sat on tiny desks and filing cabinets, probably holding data that could've won or lost the war. The only difference between this place and the last was the logos; the Ministry of Morale had stamped their emblem into the floor.
At the far end of the room was our target, a shimmering wall of translucent blue energy. I approached slowly, ignoring the mountains of documents and broken technology. It smelled, as expected, faintly of ozone, and provided most of the light in the room.
I approached, trying to calm my racing nerves. There was a high chance it wouldn't work, that I'd be stuck on this side, but all I could think was 'there's still a chance'. At a snail's pace I brought a front hoof up to it.
It wasn't solid. I felt my heart soar as the realisation hit me. I pressed on, passing cleanly through; I'd done it.
That could only mean one thing; I was related to one of the two original Dashites. Shaking with excitement, I deactivated the shield and trotted inside.
The next room was only slightly larger, and bore the markings of the Ministry of Awesome. A single central terminal unit connected to a single bundle of thick cables running up through the ceiling. The screen glowed a steady blue, indicating it was powered.
I trotted up to it, and was surprised to see two internal messages, one sent and one received. I opened the first out of interest. It read:
From: Lance Corporal Ballad [HUB_Switchboard] To: Corporal Eclipse [POST_A216] Re: Just wondering
Hey, Eclipse? It's Ballad; just wondering if you knew why the general's kid's been given Vermilion-Level clearance? Hoping you might have some idea, given you're related and all that? Thanks.
Who exactly was 'the general's kid', and why would they be given clearance? If both them and Eclipse had been awarded such status it would make sense, given they were both related to the general, but for some reason only the kid had clearance. Maybe the reply would hold more information:
From: Corporal Eclipse [POST_A216] To: Lance Corporal Ballad [HUB_Switchboard] Re: Just wondering
Look, Ballad, I haven't spoken to her in years. The general's more of an older sibling to her than I am; I could've taken custody, but instead I gave her up. Still, at least half these listening posts are built on her land, so I'm pretty sure she's got something worked out with the general. From now on can we keep these discussions off the network? Blossomforth'll flip if she catches us discussing her CO like this.
An estranged family, where the older brother had decided against taking in his younger sister in lieu of their parents. Instead presumably the general had adopted her, granting her status above her brother.
Suddenly it all fell into place; post A113 had been built under a Red Racer facility, and Red Racer was owned by Scootaloo. Surely other posts could have been the same? If the general referred to Rainbow Dash, head of the MoA, then it all made sense. But that would mean that Scootaloo had a brother: my ancestor.
If I could walk through the shields in two separate locations, then I had to be distantly related to either Dash or Scootaloo. If the latter had a brother, then he, Corporal Eclipse, was almost certainly who I was descended from.
I turned to my companions, unable to contain my excitement any longer.
"I've worked it out," I declared, my voice still barely above a whisper, "Scootaloo had a brother."
Sunny beamed, leaping up to hug me. I caught her with a foreleg and pulled her close to my chest for a second, before gently dropping her to the floor.
"So, uh, you're related to one of the founding members of Stable-Tec?" she asked, to which I nodded in response.
"I-I guess that's pretty important huh?" Songbird stammered, her face flushed again.
"Yup," I smiled.
I unrolled my data transfer cable and jacked into the mainframe, downloading all the data I could. The Boomers would hopefully have use for at least some of it.
"Now c'mon," I turned to leave, "Let's get back to Firefly."
The trot up to the Shop was without incident, and soon I found myself within the confines of the underground bar. Feather was waiting, his amber eyes wide.
"What did you find in there?" he asked eagerly.
"Just some data," I shrugged.
"About what?"
"Nothing really," I gave a false sigh, not really wanting another long conversation. It was enough to convince him. He moved away slowly, disappointed.
With that out of the way I headed back upstairs, into the sea of flour that was the bakery. The owner was as disinterested as ever, and simply gave the floor a fresh sprinkling once we'd passed through.
Outside a sense of despair hung in the air as the great cider machine rattled and heaved. The citizens ambling this way and that didn't bother to look at us; they knew our group by now. We were just more of the visitors who drifted in and out of their lives, turning a blind eye to their struggles.
As hopeless as the situation was, I knew that I wasn't just going to sit back and do nothing. I'd get the help of the Boomers, and then we could distribute food or something. These ponies looked like they'd be grateful for any charity at all.
With a heavy heart I turned to leave, only to feel a tugging at my fetlocks. I turned in irritation, only to be greeted by the sight of a literally starving mare, desperation in her eyes, clutching at my barding.
"Please," she wheezed from a parched throat, "Any food you can spare; I have a filly-"
She never got to finish that sentence. The butt of an assault rifle was telekinetically smashed into the side of her head, sending her sprawling. Her broken form hit the ground, staining the dirt red with blood, her pupils dilating to irregular sizes.
The unicorn soldier who'd assaulted her swung his weapon around in a wide arc, bringing the barrel into line with her head. He didn't need to fire though; the life faded from her eyes of its own accord.
"Are you hurt?" he asked flatly, without a hint of actual concern.
"No," I replied, "I'm fine."
"Then move along," he snarled. I obliged, feeling sick with worry. Was this normal? Nopony else had reacted. What would become of her foal?
"Uh, Cloudy, we should probably go," Sunny encouraged, and I wholeheartedly agreed. I set off at a slow canter, allowing Songbird to keep pace. We didn't look back until the rope bridge and checkpoint were behind us.
"This is Cloudburst to Firefly Actual," I switched on my radio, "Requesting evac. We're at the drop-off point."
"Roger that," replied the stallion on the other end, "Railroad 1-2, divert to intercept. Actual out."
It was a few more minutes of uncomfortable silence before an A/CV-2 sky-tank swept down from the sky, engines trailing storm cloud. The aircraft came to a halt in front of us, and the rear ramp dropped to allow us access.
We sat in stony silence for the duration of the return journey. The incident had shaken us all to the bone, most notably Songbird. She looked ready to burst into tears at any moment, but ultimately stayed quiet. Any joy I'd obtained from the discovery of my ancestry had been erased in that moment, seeing that helpless mare be bludgeoned to death. It just wasn't right, and from that moment on I wasn't going to let it be.
Footnote: Level up.
New Perk:
Fallout Equestria: Due North
The world was nothing but murky darkness, pierced occasionally by the orange glow of houses. The lights did little to relieve the blackness brought about by Luna's night. They flashed by, disappearing into the abyss as quickly as they'd appeared.
I turned back into the troop bay; the emergency lighting cast a cool blue glow over everything. It illuminated the weary faces of my companions, a couple of whom would rather be in bed. The rest fumbled with equipment, attaching flashlights to their weapons.
There was a grim silence in the air; we were entering into Tartarus. The only sound was the low rumble of the cloud generators and the slow, deep breaths of the vehicle's occupants. A shudder ran through the airframe as we descended, and I looked around at the others.
"There's one more thing," Evergreen spoke up. "Our contact won't do jack shit for us unless we give them the proper sign. Right now if you suspect somepony's a 'Mite you challenge them; 'Do you have a Geiger Counter?' and if they are then they'll respond with 'Mine is in the Shop'."
We all nodded in understanding; nopony really wanted to speak. The sergeant rolled her eyes and went back to checking her weapon.
The rest of the squad had outfitted with silenced submachine guns, and were in the process of loading clips of .45 rounds. Evergreen had instead chosen a 'spec-ops' shortened version of the military standard-issue R-91 assault rifle, sprayed matte black.
She rammed a full clip of 5.56 rounds into place, seating it with a click. The weapon was quickly strapped onto her battle saddle. She was ready, and so was everypony else. We were on final approach.
As I tried to get a better look at our destination the horizon lit up. Great balls of fire rose towards the blanket of clouds, billowing skywards. Were those detonations within the Divide?
"Rainbow Falls again," Firing Pin shrugged, "They're using that damned 914mm gun to shell the Marked. Happens every few days, not sure if they hit anything."
The thought of a stray artillery shell wiping us all out was not a comforting thought, distant though the blasts were. We were going into there after all.
Suddenly the earth beneath was illuminated stark white. The little ridges and stones beneath us cast tiny shadows as our ranging lights flared. We were low, dangerously so, the ground rising up to meet us.
I gripped tightly to my overhead hoofhold as the sky-tank decelerated. Songbird followed suit, and Sunny held tightly to my side. I doubted she'd ever adjust to flying, but given we were proceeding on the ground from here on out it probably didn't matter.
Behind us our contrails snaked away into the blackness, here and there illuminated momentarily by lightning. Beyond that an area of the cloud barrier glowed a faint bluish-white, betraying the moon's location. The mountain of Firefly was out of sight, masked by the dark.
"Brace for landing," the pilot droned. The aircraft jerked violently. We'd come to a halt, low to the ground, amongst a few mountain trees. The troop ramp lowered, and cool outside air wafted in.
Evergreen stood up, switching on the tiny lamp attached to her earpiece. Snap Roll followed suite, and I did the same. Firing Pin and Tailwind's helmet lights came on, slicing through the murky darkness with narrow white beams.
Tailwind was the first out, his armoured hooves marring the muddy ground. Snap Roll leapt from the ramp, landing with a satisfying squelch. Songbird was next, using both hands to ease herself down. I stepped easily down, and Sunny leapt from the ramp onto my back.
My breath turned to mist in the cool air, illuminated by my light. Sunny shivered slightly; one of the school ponies had offered her a coat, which she'd gladly accepted, but the cold was still getting to her.
"This is Railroad 2-1 to Firefly Actual," Evergreen whispered into her microphone. "We've landed south of Ponyat; no resistance so far. Any information you can give?"
"Our contact's got two patrols this side, plus a penal on the other," the response crackled through my earpiece, magically synced with my pipbuck, "Plus air support. From now on maintain full radio silence; we don't know if the NR is capable of decrypting this frequency. Actual out."
"Air support?" I whispered. How did they have aircraft?
"There was a mountain tour company in Rainbow Falls pre-war," Evergreen said quietly, "Operated dirigibles and sky-wagons. With the help of griffon mercs they've got some of 'em airborne again, as sniper platforms and artillery spotters."
"Shit!" Firing Pin hissed.
"Keep it down," the NCO chided. "Let's move."
The sky-tank's lights switched off in tandem with the cloud generators. I suddenly felt very alone; we were here, enemy territory, with no support and at most a couple of allies ahead.
She set off at a slow trot, keeping low, and the rest of the squad followed. We quickly picked our way down the muddy bank and onto a narrow mountain road, where signs pointed onwards to Ponyat. The charred husks of wagons littered our path, rusting away.
A light drizzle pattered on the battered asphalt. It trickled down the street, providing a white noise backdrop to our expedition. We pressed on through it.
The first building we encountered was mostly intact; a small roadside restaurant converted into an NR checkpoint. Their emblem was dilapidated though, half washed away. There were no lights beyond the shattered windows, but we took cover behind a large cargo wagon nonetheless.
A chain-link fence, reinforced with concrete crash barriers, blocked the entire road. There was a gate in it within the restaurant's surrounding wagon park. Presumably once caravans would have passed through there, and ponies on hoof would've been directed through the restaurant.
"EFS looks clear," Evergreen murmured. I checked; she was right. "Firing Pin," she commanded, "Move up."
"Yes, sergeant," he whispered. He crept up the side of the wagon, until he reached the edge of the wagon park. He crouched behind a boulder and shone his helmet lamp through the windows; nothing.
Gesturing his combat-armoured hoof, he crept closer. I moved up to where he'd previously been, Sunny clinging to my back all the while. The others took up positions nearby, weapons trained. Firing Pin looked around, but nothing was visible.
I cantered quickly over to the restaurant, followed closely by Songbird. The other three came after in single file.
The inside was deserted, and had long been stripped of anything valuable. I swung my head around, casting a circle of white light across the large room. Nothing… except a sign painted onto the counter. It was a simple emblem, one of several lines around a square.
One of the Twittermites' signs. Box meant cache, right? I crept around the counter, and sure enough, on a shelf within the counter, was a large, worn suitcase. I opened it slowly, just as Snap Roll trotted over.
"What's in there?" she asked, slightly too loud for comfort.
"No idea," I whispered, "But we're about to find out."
I peered inside, my light glancing off of a tape lying atop a pile of rotting clothing. I picked it up and stood back up, before passing it over to Evergreen.
"Huh?" she slipped it into her pipbuck, and it began to play over our local radio.
"This is Tourist," it was the hushed voice of a mare, speaking quickly, "To R two one. The window is open to make contact. Follow Glimmer's valley."
That was it? Nothing else except a cryptic message. I looked to the sergeant for answers.
"'Tourist'; that's our contact," she whispered. "No idea where 'Glimmer's valley' is. We'll have to move on."
Tailwind nodded his armoured head in agreement. He was first out of the restaurant's other door, followed by Firing Pin. Each covered one side of the road, and the rest of the unit split between the two. Me and Songbird took the left, Evergreen and Snap Roll the right.
The shadows of ruined buildings loomed ahead, tilting at jaunty angles. Amid the ruins beams of torchlight swept, searching for hostiles. The sergeant called a halt.
"Lights down," she ordered, and one by one our flashlights winked out. I followed suite, plunging the area around us into pitch blackness.
The other lights momentarily swung our way, and I held my breath as the autowagon in front of me lit up. They didn't see us though, and continued their patrol. I checked my Eyes Forward Sparkle; six hostiles, moving slowly west.
I suddenly realised that my back was empty. Where could Sunbeam have gone; had she been left behind? I looked around rapidly in a panic. Evergreen noticed my worry and darted over to my side of the road. She gave me a questioning glare, and I was about to respond when my sister darted around the side of the wagon in front of me.
Her cream fur and 'borrowed' coat were speckled with mud. She was out of breath, white mist pouring from her mouth as she panted.
"Six, uh, all in riot gear," she ignored me, turning instead to the sergeant, "All have flashlights. Two heavy weapons; an IF-89 and uh, a 'Viper' or something."
I blinked in surprise; had she just scouted out the patrol? With a sigh of resignation I lifted her up onto my back.
"An IF-89 Sidewinder and an IF-90 Pit Viper?" Evergreen mumbled into her microphone, before noticing my confused expression "Not good. The Viper's the 'Winder's bigger, uglier brother; not something you want pointed at you."
"Oh," Sunny piped up again, "And there's a sign on that building."
She was pointing to a crumbling two-storey on the near edge of town. The roof was entirely gone, and one corner of the building had broken away and was tilting scarily. Evergreen nodded in understanding.
She turned to the others and pointed with a hoof to the building. Firing Pin nodded back and crept forwards, belly low to the ground. He reached the doorway, and was about to enter when the patrol returned.
I held my breath as the beans of light sliced through the rain, glinting off each droplet in turn. Firing Pin pressed up against the doorway, hoping for the best. For a second it seemed as if he'd be seen. Then they were gone, heading off to continue their search.
"Move," the sergeant hissed, "Now."
I moved up to the doorway. Beside it a sign had been painted, this one with an upwards arrow in the centre of the lines. Above the door a rain-soaked sign read; Starlight Glimmer's home for wayward foal s. Of course; Glimmer's valley.
I darted inside. The upper floor was in tatters, and the ground floor had partially collapsed. What had once been a nice communal area with a large rug and bookshelves had given way to a muddy sinkhole.
A tunnel ran from the sinkhole out under the building, where it opened out into a wide gulley, maybe seven feet deep; the valley. Firing Pin was already halfway down, and the rest of the squad had reached the building. I eased myself down backwards, Sunny holding on tight, getting mud all over my armour.
Songbird skittered down next to me, and I had to grab her jacket to stop her from running out into the gulley. Several bridges crossed this, and the whole thing was littered with broken pipes and sections of collapsed building. Was this a scar left by the shelling, or something else?
We separated again, half to each side of the valley. I took right with the girls and Firing Pin. There was an overhang on both sides that gave us some cover. We moved along slowly, trudging across the muddy floor.
"Hello Bravo One Zero. This is Zero," crackled my earpiece; Evergreen was intercepting their radio and broadcasting it across our local network. "Movement spotted over by the foals' home. Move now. Over."
Shit; they'd seen us somehow. I looked up, the rain stinging my face, and caught sight of a dark mass overhead. It was a blimp of some kind, with fore and aft searchlights. The air support.
"Bravo One Zero, roger," came the reply, "Out."
Just ahead a rusting red sewer pipe jutted out of both sides of the ravine, the middle section missing or destroyed. We'd have to hide inside it. I shot a sidelong glance at Evergreen, then made a break for it.
My hooves pounded the mud and stones. Brown water flew. Galloping hooves overhead stirred me on. Then I was inside the pipe, my heart thumping against my ribs.
Sunny scrambled down into the stagnant water, just as Songbird and Firing Pin joined us. Across I could see Evergreen and Tailwind huddled inside the pipe. Hang on, where was Snap Roll?
Then I saw her. She was still galloping for it, almost to the pipe. Her wings were flared and beating, he chest heaving. She was going to make it.
"Contact!"
A wide beam of light lanced into the ravine. Bullets flew, punching into her belly and flank. Blood stained the muddy water. She went limp mid-leap. Tailwind leant out and caught her as she fell.
He yanked her into the pipe. The sergeant pulled out a first-aid kit and handed her a healing potion. She drank it down, before passing out. Evergreen fought to staunch the flow, deaf to the yelling of the soldiers above.
"I hit one!" somepony bawled. "Where'd she go?"
"Fucking great!" another declared. "Hostiles this side of the fucking wall!"
"Hello Zero. This is Bravo One Zero," the radio crackled. "Confirmed enemy contact; advise. Over."
Suddenly a high-beam searchlight illuminated the trench, full glare. The pipes just barely provided enough shadow to hide us. The damned airship was directly overhead.
"Zero. Fan out and search. Out."
By now they'd managed to bind Snap Roll's wounds, and Evergreen had loaded her onto Tailwind's back. He was taking her back? Or were they going to bring her along?
Tailwind got into position, ready to make a gallop for the foals' home. With the searchlight however, there was no way he'd make it. We needed a distraction, and a fucking huge one.
I peered down the pipe, away from the ravine. It opened out into another trench or shell-hole. That gave me an idea. I reached into my saddlebag, looking for a little something I'd requisitioned from Cross Halving.
My hoof encountered a cold metal sphere, and I yanked it out. A grenade presented itself, glinting in the searchlights' glow. I could hear the hooves above us now; it was now or never.
I gripped the pin in my teeth just as Firing Pin turned to me, eyes wide beneath his compound visor.
"What're you-" he never got the chance to finish. I pulled the pin free and threw the explosive, sending it clattering down the pipe. It landed in the mud beyond.
"Hey!" one of the troopers above called. "There's somethi-"
The grenade detonated. A vast pillar of mud cascaded skywards. There was yelling, and the patrol galloped towards the blast. The searchlight swept away, looking for hostiles that weren't there. Tailwind set off back at full gallop, reaching the building in seconds.
We were now down two ponies, including our only power armour unit. This was bad, very bad. I looked around; we'd have to move any second now.
"This is Railroad 2-1 to Firefly Actual," Evergreen's panicked voice came over the radio, "We've suffered one casualty; badly injured. I've had to send Tailwind to evac. Have a medical team ready when the sky-tank comes in. Any support would be greatly appreciated."
"Negative 2-1," Actual sounded genuinely worried, "We can't risk drawing additional attention. If any of them know it's us, then you'll have to take them out. Actual out."
"Stars fucking dammit!" Evergreen swore. "Okay, it's okay. We just need to move, now."
"Y'okay?" I asked as Sunbeam scrambled up onto my back. She and Songbird both just nodded, too scared to speak. I tensed up, flaring my wings, ready to gallop.
There was an area ahead where a collapsed wall formed a roof over the trench. That would be our best bet for escape, surely. I waited only a second, then galloped.
The muddy ravine became a blur. My hooves splashed in the mud and rainwater. For a second a flashlight swung down into the trench, but I was already long gone. Then I was in the shadow of the crumbling roof and out of the rain.
"Hello Zer… is Bravo One One…" the silence on the radio broke for a second, the noise switching between static and a panicked voice, "-Backup. I say again send bac… -una fuck us with the moon! It's a fucking he-"
The transmission cut out abruptly. I looked up to see the blimp, tossing in the storm winds, begin heading towards the northeast of the village. It was an old tourist vehicle, with floor-to-ceiling windows, all of which were now shattered or covered with corrugated iron. The logo of the operator had been painted over with the stripes of the Republic; red, yellow, and blue from the top down.
It rose and fell, battered by a fierce crosswind. Suddenly it found its target and swung sideways, aiming the bow-mounted spotlight into the ruins. I tried, but I couldn't manouvre enough to make out exactly what they were tracking.
"Holy shit…" a whisper came from the radio. "Hello Bravo One One. This is Zero; radio check. Over."
There was a moment of silence.
"Zero," the voice from the airship began again, "Bravo One One; nothing heard. Out."
I felt a tap on my shoulder, and turned to see Evergreen. She looked significantly worse for wear, with large bags forming under her eyes and her brown braid soaked through. She was silent, looking to me for… what exactly?
"What now?" she demanded, barely a whisper. I froze; she was deferring to me? Why me? I had no idea what to do.
"We keep following the ravine," I said quickly, "Until we find our contact."
She nodded in confirmation, as did Firing Pin. I peered out beyond our improvised shelter just as the radio burst to life.
"Hello Bravo One Zero. This is Zero. We have an unknown hostile moving your way; Starlight tier threat level. One One is wiped out; be on full alert. Over."
"Bravo One Zero," the response came. "Roger that. Out."
The patrol ponies sounded genuinely spooked. A whole squad had just been wiped out; the blimp must've seen the remains from above. Neither us nor the Republic troops were alone anymore, and their dirigible didn't seem to be doing much good.
By now it was bucketing down, the omnipresent pitter-patter of the driving rain disguising the movements of our enemies. The thick, muddy water in the ravine had formed a river, swollen by the torrent. It was flowing away from the home, down the centre of the gulley.
That meant it was downhill ahead, and the Twittermites' access to the Divide was underground. So this was the right direction. Good to know.
I crept forwards; the next cover, half of a house leaning at forty-five degrees over the right side of the trench, was a few yards away. It was going to be another case of galloping for it, and hoping for the best. I readied myself, while Sunbeam adjusted her position on my back.
Three… two… one… go! My wings beat the air, pushing my slight frame faster. My destination drew near, closing with every second.
Suddenly the rain stopped, blocked by the tilting walls. I leant against the trench side directly beneath, panting from exertion. My sister slipped from my back, landing with a slight splash in the mud.
Songbird was the next to make the crossing, arriving as out of breath as I was. Evergreen came after, choosing to fly just above the floor rather than risk another run. I found myself wishing I could do the same, and rapidly escape any threat.
A tremor ran through the ground. Something exploded above to the right, showering the surrounding area in soggy earth. A new red blip had formed on my EFS, advancing rapidly. Suddenly the night was illuminated with muzzle flares and the rain drowned out by gunfire.
Wild cursing and screaming filled the radio. Firing Pin froze, halfway to our hiding place. He took one look back, and yelled.
"RUN!"
The next thing I saw was the upper half of an NR soldier arcing overhead, entrails flying out behind it. It hit the trench in front of us, staining the mud a crimson hue. The girls screamed in unison.
I practically grabbed Sunbeam with a foreleg and tossed her onto my back. She buried her face in the back of my mane, unable to watch. My body kicked up a gear, and I bolted down the trench like I'd never run before. The thing bellowed, unleashing a pure, animalistic roar.
I made the mistake of looking back. Whatever it was it at least twice my size, easily picking up another soldier and ripping his head off. Then it saw us.
Some kind of twisted curiosity overtook me as I ran. I grabbed my holorifle, still dangling from its sling, and activated the scope's night vision. Peering past Sunny, I could just make out the beast's features.
It was running, fast, towards us. Massive front legs pounded the earth, ending in claws over a foot long. Droplets of water flew, shaken free from a shaggy brown coat. Huge canine teeth gnashed, eager to tear into our flesh. Wide eyes burned with unspeakable rage.
I dropped my weapon, letting it dangle. Putting all four hooves on the ground gave me a burst of speed. I caught up to the others, forging a path through the mud.
The roof we'd been under moments ago exploded in a shower of bricks and dust. It was in the trench; we were all dead. It sent up a great wave of muddy water, showering everything in a fresh coat of earth.
I could feel my over exerted body failing. Each step sent fire up my injured leg, and my lungs were fit to burst. My whole frame was shaking, and I was sure that adrenaline was the only thing still keeping me going. I couldn't keep this up much more.
Firing Pin seemed to realise our sorry state. He spread his grey wings, catching the wind. He rose fast, orange tail trailing out behind. He flew into the winds, pulling a wide loop overhead. He decelerated at the top, only to dive nearly straight down.
The monster didn't see him coming. He bit the trigger on his battle saddle, spraying the creature with .45 rounds. The muzzle flares cast a harsh yellow glow across his features. A hundred little blossoms of blood grew from its back. It wasn't enough to stop it.
As he came down the creature slowed. It leapt onto the trench wall, then pushed off upwards. For a second it looked as if he's make it past. Then a massive claw swept him from the sky and smashed him into the mud. The monster came down on top of him, raining blow after blow with bloody claws.
I tore my eyes away from the evisceration. The trench ended just ahead, with a length of pipe jutting from the wall. If we could make it to there, it wouldn't be able to get inside.
"There!" I yelled. Evergreen nodded, practically scooping Songbird up in her forelegs and flying to the pipe. I barrelled into it, feeling my legs give way as I reached relative safety. Sunbeam slid off my back, hiding behind me from the monster.
Everypony was shaking, even Evergreen. Firing Pin was dead, torn to pieces by the monster. I pulled out my holorifle, sighting out of the pipe down the scope. It reared up, spreading its claws wide, and howled.
It was splattered with the blood of allies and enemies alike. Bullet wounds peppered its fur, and its own blood ran in a hundred streams of crimson down its rain-matted fur. It was only then that I finally worked out what it was.
A fucking hellhound. The most dangerous creature in the wasteland had just attacked us, and if what I'd heard was true was probably planning how to get at us. It stalked across the trench, twin jets of mist blowing from its nostrils.
Suddenly it spun around, prompting me to jump. It sniffed the air, turning to look upwards. The fur on its back stood on end; it could tell something was about to happen.
An explosion took out the trench wall in front of it. The blast shook our hiding spot, causing scraps of rust to fall from the ceiling. The hellhound staggered backwards, a fresh brown coat splattered over the crimson. It roared, searching left and right for whatever had injured it.
A unicorn mare leapt over the beast, still gripping the pin from a grenade in her teeth. A pump-action shotgun levitated at her side. She fired, sending a wave of white-hot particles of lead into the creature.
It howled and spun to meet her, getting another blast to the face for its efforts. It staggered backwards, swinging wildly with massive claws, until it hit the trench wall.
I gripped my weapon, lining up a shot… wait, of course! I placed its spindly hind legs in my reticle and fired. It fell forwards, still wildly lashing out.
The hellhound started dragging itself forwards with surprising speed. It made a beeline for our pipe, desperate for some kind of revenge. I moved away from the entrance, lining up another shot. I didn't need it.
A sniper round tore through its head, splattering the mud with white brain and red blood. It was dead, finally. I peered from the tunnel, looking for our new ally, but she'd vanished. Slowly I stepped out of the pipe.
It was only then that I noticed the sign painted onto the rusting metal. It was one of the Twittermites' with a plus in the centre. A plus denoted an ally; the unicorn mare with the shotgun?
"D'you have a Geiger counter?" somepony said behind me. It was the same as the voice from the restaurant tape. I spun on the spot, just as the mare materialised in front of me, levitating a sniper rifle as well as her shotgun.
"Ours is in the Shop," Sunbeam responded quickly, prompting the mare to crack a smile.
"Alright," she said quickly. "We need to get moving 'fore those fuckers manage to bring the blimp around. It's down there."
She pointed into the pipe, and we wordlessly proceeded inside. It was pitch black beyond, and even though my eyes had long adjusted to the night outside I was forced to activate my earpiece lamp.
The pipe led downwards, coming out into a large underground room with high stone walls. The mare came out behind us, bringing up the rear.
She had a stark white coat, partially hidden under a brown leather jacket. Her mane was mostly blue, with a few pale purple stripes and highlights. She'd shaved the right side mostly off, and the rest had been pushed so that it fell over her left eye. Her eyes were a deep magenta, and seemed to be constantly judging us all. Her cutie mark was a trio of musical notes, two pink and one cobalt.
"How did you disappear like that?" Songbird asked.
"Stealthbuck," she proudly held up her foreleg, displaying a compact little device that appeared to be of the same make as a pipbuck, "Agent's best friend. Now, would you mind telling me how you ended up down two ponies before the hellhound attacked?"
"They saw one of mine," Evergreen admitted, "Shot her up bad. I had to send another to carry her out."
"You were careless," the mare sighed.
"We were unprepared!" Evergreen shot back.
"Exactly," the mare poked the sergeant's chest. "You waltzed into a war zone before you knew where you were."
"Calm down!" Sunbeam cut in. "Arguing is only going to make things worse. Can't you see that."
"The kid's right," the agent admitted. "We need to keep moving, or we'll have an armoured group on top of us. It's this way."
"Hold up," Evergreen demanded; couldn't she just give it a rest? "I get that you rebel types are secretive, but can we at least get a name to call you?"
"Fine," the mare grunted, "Sergeant Major . I'm Sonnet."
I stopped; Sonnet? She'd been a member of the same caravan as Feather, Pistol Grip, and Silas.
"Did you, uh, ever meet a pony called 'Feather'," Sunny asked, "Or Lamplight?"
"You've run into him then?" Sonnet set off at a slow trot. "He still a massive idiot?"
"He thought I was a mare," I replied. "We ran into Pistol and Silas as well."
"Typical Feather," she chuckled. "He spent the whole caravan journey oohing and ahhing at the simplest things. That and drooling over my plot. Didn't tell you that, did he?"
I shook my head, falling into step beside her as she trotted. She led us out of the cellar and along a dingy corridor, forcing us to move into single file. We passed a couple of alcoves, both filled with dust-caked barrels of something. The smell of alcohol hung in the air, giving away their contents.
"This place, uh, used to be a brewery?" my sister suggested.
"Yup," Sonnet shrugged, "Furthest place south you could get authentic Crystal Berry Ale. Was a town secret during Ponyat's trading days, but nowadays we use it to reach base."
She lead onwards, our lights glancing off the damp stones which formed the walls. Our hoofsteps echoed along the narrow passage, tricking me into looking around more than once. Beyond the corridor was a large room, containing several massive wooden barrels.
A faint light crept into the room from under a large wooden door. It wasn't much, but it allowed me to switch off my lamp again. Sonnet trotted up to the door and tapped three times on the creaking wood. A slot, cut into the door at eye level, slid open, revealing a pair of dark green eyes.
"D'you have a Geiger counter?" a laid-back stallion asked from the other side.
"Mine's in the Shop," Sonnet rolled her eyes, "Let us in, Beacon."
Beacon gladly obliged, pulling the door open to reveal an earth buck with a pale brown coat and a gel'd-up black mane, wearing military combat armour. He grinned, leaning against the wall of the corridor we were in.
The hallway was only a few feet, before it opened into the side of a subway tunnel. A wooden staircase ran down to an improvised platform, at which a train was parked. Presumably we'd be walking past it.
Beacon set off down the stairs, followed by Sonnet and then me. He reached the platform, but instead of heading down onto the tracks he entered the train. Surely it didn't still work?
It was a battered yellow thing with red stripes, dangling from a surprisingly clean rail built into the ceiling. What the normal tracks were for was anypony's guess, since the logo on the vehicle marked it out as a standard carriage of the Stalliongrad Metro . Sonnet trotted aboard without a second thought.
With trepidation I boarded the train. It creaked and swung slightly, but held firm. Sunny was up next, followed closely by Songbird. Evergreen boarded last, looking rather frazzled and more than a little angry.
"Alright ponies," Beacon grinned, "It's choo choo time!"
He was standing in the driver's cabin, fumbling with the controls. We were letting him drive the monorail? He yanked a large lever forwards, and the train started with a heart stopping jolt.
We rolled slowly away from the improvised station, leaving the brewery behind. Lightning Dust had been right about the rail tunnels, but she'd never mentioned usable subway trains. How was this even still working, after two hundred years of decay?
The train picked up speed, swaying on the overhead rail. The red tiles of the side walls became a blur, and the tunnel air whipped through the shattered windows. I found myself hanging on to one of the hoofrails for dear life, terrified that any second the car would leap the track and smash into the ground below.
"You'll get used to it," Sonnet said in response to my fear. "It's nearly perfectly safe."
I'd have much preferred it to be completely safe, but this was the wasteland. I doubted anything, even places like Firefly, was truly safe. It wasn't a comforting thought.
A ring of lights, built into the walls of the tunnel, bloomed to life ahead. They were approaching fast; was that our destination? We didn't seem to be decelerating, unless…
I was thrown to the metal floor, landing painfully on top of my holorifle. We'd stopped, somehow, without hitting anything. Considering how fast we'd been going, it was an absolute miracle that we'd stopped at all.
I staggered to my hooves, feeling a little dizzy. A quick glance over at my companions revealed that they mostly felt the same way. A pair of agents were waiting at the door, on another scratch-built platform. They beckoned me towards them, and I quickly stumbled off the train.
The 'station' only existed because the tunnel ahead was solid with rubble. Had we stopped even a moment later we would've rear-ended another car, derailed and buried in dirt. The walls were the same red tiles the whole way, although a service corridor had been cut into one, behind the platform. The lights were old floodlights, screwed into the walls to mark the station's position.
Sonnet trotted around me, taking point. She headed into the narrow corridor, by the entrance of which the Twittermites' logo had been painted.
"Hey!" Evergreen called out, prompting us all to stop. "How am I supposed to get back?"
"We'll send you back tomorrow," Sonnet said firmly, "Your aircraft already knows."
"What?!" the sergeant's wings flared in irritation.
"You're in no state to travel," the unicorn pointed out, "And landing another Boomer cloudship near Ponyat would only arouse suspicion."
"You do need rest," Sunny pointed out.
Evergreen let out a sigh of frustration, still silently fuming. The situation was well and truly out of her control, and she greatly resented that fact. She was silent as we entered the maintenance hallway, scowling all the while.
The maintenance corridor ran on for longer than it should've. Bundles of cabling ran along the walls and roof, frayed and sparking. A few halogen lights cast an icy glow across everything, sending long shadows stretching down and behind us. At the end there was simply a door, marked Restricted Area: No Unauthorised Ponies .
Sonnet pushed it open telekinetically, revealing some kind of maintenance room. A series of targets had been set up opposite a second door to the left, and upended tables formed improvised barricades. A firing range; we were in the base.
We made our way around the edge of the range, through the other door. From there a short, wide staircase led up into a large, square room full of ponies. Floor-to-ceiling windows opposite looked into some kind of silo, with a missile leaning over inside it. The entire facility had a slight tilt, as if dislodged from its foundations.
The place was clearly military in construction, with deactivated turrets on the ceilings and treadplate flooring. Desks and terminals had been hauled into positions all around, alongside workshop equipment.
The rebels who had assembled to meet us varied greatly. A rather serious doctor stood to the far right, next to a mare with a robotic leg, then a zebra. On the other side were a couple of agents, as well as a… diamond dog?
It was a very dark brown, wearing a denim jacket and a flying cap with several different flip-down lenses attached. It was staring intently at Songbird, an enthusiastic grin on its face. Sonnet went over and stood next to the creature, just as the crowd parted.
A mare strode through. She was maybe two inches taller than me, with a nearly-white pink coat. Her mane, which was styled as a few large curls, was a pale purple gradient with a light blue stripe running through it. Her eyes were a piercing turquoise, as bright as crystals. She was a unicorn, her horn protruding through her neatly-combed mane.
She wore a purple saddlebag on her left side, and carried some kind of advanced magical axe strapped to her right, pulsating with purple energy. Over this she wore a simple yet large brown cloak, which concealed her cutie mark completely.
"Done staring?" she asked, shoving me out of my thoughts. Something else filled my mind immediately though; she sounded young, younger than me maybe.
"You must be Cloudburst," she said flatly. "And what exactly is your friend here?" She was pointing at Songbird.
"I thought it was one of Tinker's aliens," Sonnet sniggered, interrupting me.
"Aliens are real!" the diamond dog, Tinker, declared. I quickly made eye contact with Songbird; we were thinking the same. Maybe he'd encountered humans.
"How d'you know?" I asked, ignoring the murderous look the young mare shot me.
"I've seen them probes," he exclaimed, "The long, tube thingies with all them robotic arms. And- and- and they crashed that saucer downtown."
"Describe it," I demanded; he'd mentioned Firelances, we were onto something.
"Don't encourage him," the doctor moaned, to no avail.
"It was a saucer," he continued, "So it was round. But it had these big yellow windows, and like, a tesla coil on the back."
"Blue with yellow markings?" Songbird demanded.
"Well how 'bout that," Tinker was genuinely impressed, "She's right."
"Ugh," the doctor rolled his eyes, "This is ridiculous! It was just an Enclave experiment or something. You let him go on like that and he'll inject us all with battery acid or something! Fleur, can you please put a stop to this?"
"Tinker's right," I said, before anypony else could speak, "Aliens do exist; you're looking at one." -I gestured to Songbird- "They built those probes, they're called Firelances, and they probably built that aircraft too. They don't come from outer space though."
By now the Twittermites were all looking at me like I was completely insane. A small voice in my head was screaming at me for saying that so openly, but the chance was too great to pass up.
"Where'd they come from then?" Tinker asked. I took a deep breath.
"An alternate dimension," I said slowly, "Where there's parallel versions of some stuff here. The only 'natural' way there is through a mirror in the Crystal Empire."
"Starswirl's mirror?" the unicorn mare whispered, disbelief frozen on her face.
"Fleur!" the doctor stamped his hoof. "This has gone too far as it is!"
"No," Fleur shot back, a surprising amount of authority in her young voice, "I've seen it, in the Empire. I read the fucking research notes for Project Sunset; this alternate dimension exists, with an alternate Canterlot and everything. What I didn't realise was that Tinker's crackpot theories were correct.
"The thing's a masterpiece of magic. There's even some kind of transformation or illusion enchantment on it so you don't come out looking like an unheard of magical creature."
So Project Sunset was the mirror then, or at least research into it. She'd called it "Starswirl's"; had Starswirl the Bearded created it?
The doctor made an unintelligible sound of irritation and stormed off, leaving the rest of us behind. Fleur rolled her eyes.
"Don't mind Painkiller," she shrugged, "I would've done the same."
"So you're Fleur then?" I asked.
"The one and only," she cracked a slight smile. "The filly who's seen the empire. Welcome to Twittermite Alpha."
"This silo's your base?" Evergreen demanded.
"Yup," she shrugged, "MWT NorFront Instillation Epsilon. That's what the signs say anyway. Now, Cloudburst, you'll be staying here tonight. Tomorrow there'll be a briefing, and then it'll be off, into the Divide."
"Understood," I nodded, "So, who's my escort?"
"You're not getting one," Fleur burst my bubble. Wait, what? I was going across the Divide alone? That didn't make any sense; even if I did make it unaided I'd be unable to carry much back. This had to be a joke.
"What?!" I asked, wings flaring in surprise.
"Calm down," she said calmly, "We aren't stupid enough to try and send you alone. No; I'm coming with you."
A collective gasp erupted from the gaggle of freedom fighters. Nopony had been expecting that.
"What're we supposed t'do without ya Fleur?" Tinker questioned.
"You could send me," Sonnet suggested, "Or Beacon, or Drummer, Celestia; even Painkiller's available."
"You're all needed here," Fleur's voice sliced through the commotion, "You all do as much, if not more, than I do. In my absence Sonnet will take command of operations, and Painkiller will deal with domestic affairs. Any queries will have to be brought up during the briefing tomorrow, which I expect you all to attend. Have I made myself clear?"
There were affirmatives all round, although many were unsure or confused. As the group slowly filtered away, Painkiller approached, having been drawn back by the commotion at Fleur's departure.
"I hope you understand the importance of all this," he said sternly.
"Sure," I reassured him, though in reality I really wasn't.
Footnote: Level up.
New Perk:
Fallout Equestria: Due North
Prologue: The Morning After
I opened my eyes groggily, and the shape of Sky Strider standing over me became obvious. I glanced down at myself, and recoiled at the sight of several large, ugly bruises, the dark purple stark in comparison to my light blue coat. I reached up and touched my forehead, cringing at the spike of pain from yet another bruise, this one above my left eye. I groaned as I became aware of a faint headache. I turned to look at the clock, the cheerful display reading 11:23. Eleven? Now that was odd; I always set my alarm to six, no exceptions. I turned to Sky.
"What the hell happened?" I asked. "I feel like shit."
"Ya finally agreed to go out drinking with Bright Spark," he stifled a laugh. "Ya had so much whiskey ya couldn't stay on your feet! I thought ya could use a lie-in bro."
Bright Spark, great. The mare was one of a few ponies like me, junior technicians who acted almost as apprentices at Neighvarro R&D. I had been part of the Enclave's military for a year now, working as an aircraft tech. Since I was younger than literally everyone else there, and less experienced, I tended to drift between projects, helping as I was needed. Bright Spark was another of these ponies, and by far the worst. While most of the development team knew I liked to be left alone, she insisted that I be involved in everything. No matter how many times I told her that I didn't want a conversation while I'm working, or that I wasn't interested in the next party, she couldn't give up. At least she meant well, I guess.
"So how'd I get like this?" I asked, "There's no way falling over bruised me this bad." This time he actually had the nerve to laugh.
"Ya kinda started saying things,"
"How bad?" I demanded.
"Ya said ya 'wanted a piece of' the B.C!" He burst out laughing. My blood ran cold; my crush on the base commander was one of my deepest secrets. Ever since I had caught sight of her on base I'd had had feelings for her. As far as I remembered I had only even said 'hi' once, back in the last year of flight school. She hadn't noticed.
"You're fucking kidding me, how many heard?" I demanded.
"Half the base knows, and her brother was not happy! He went for ya like nothing, and then, then he just flies off like nothing happened! Doubt he'll even remember it!" Sky was rolling around on the floor with laughter; I didn't get it.
"Ugh, shut up. I need to eat," I suddenly became aware of the emptiness of my stomach.
"Got ya covered little bro, there's croissants in the oven."
I stumbled downstairs after him, following the scent of warm bread. There were some times I still couldn't believe he was my brother, then again, he really wasn't. The fact that I was adopted lurked in the back of my mind, refusing to be erased. It had never really bothered me, since I had been with my adoptive family since birth, but the truth was there. The major side effect of this was my name; I had a picture of a propeller within a gear in my flank, and a special talent in aeronautical engineering, and yet I was named after a weather phenomenon. Normally when pegasi were in this situation it meant that their parents were particularly traditional, and my mum was anything but that. It had something to do with the mother always instinctively knowing vaguely their baby's special talent at birth and since my adoptive mother had chosen my name, she wouldn't have had that advantage. I pushed the various thoughts to the back of my mind; I had bigger worries. I sat down to eat.
After breakfast, I set off for the base. A few pegasi still flew overhead, none of which I recognized. I really didn't need an encounter right now; I was late enough as it was. Trotting briskly, I set off for the base. It was at times like these that I really wished I could fly: to race along above the buildings of Neighvarro would have cut my journey time in half, but I was painfully aware of my stunted wings, which I hid beneath my lab coat rather than have them visible to all.
I rounded another corner and suddenly I was on base, the sweeping cloud layer dotted with barracks and hangars rather than houses.
I headed straight for the R&D labs, set at the South end of the complex, ignoring all the ponies yelling at me as I trotted past the barracks. I really should have gone the other way around, past the hangars, but I had been so preoccupied with my own thoughts that I hadn't realized.
"Hey mareface!"
I stopped short, my irritation turning to anger. Nopony was allowed to call me that, ever . I spun on the spot, turning to face the pony who had yelled. Staring back at me, a goofy grin plastered across his muzzle, was Crunch Time, his unruly dark blue mane a tangled mess, his light green coat marred by numerous minor scars from numerous bar brawls. The buck was a third rank Airpony, who was constantly going on about how he was on the verge of promotion, even though he had been spouting the same bullshit for months. He was constantly getting in trouble for all kinds of offences, from dealing Buck to stealing an experimental Novasurge back before the design had been reproduced correctly. His uncle, as he was constantly reminding everyone, was an ex-council member who kept pulling strings and reducing his punishments.
"Fuck. Off," I spat, seething with fury. He just went on grinning.
"So… I hear you're into Ast-"
"I thought I told you to fuck off," I butted in, before increasing my trotting speed and almost galloping away. 'Mareface' was a childhood nickname still used by some in attempts to irritate me, which I will admit often worked. It stemmed from the fact that my muzzle was shaped like that of a stereotypical mare rather than a stallion; another product of my seemingly flawed genes.
Arriving at the R&D labs, I stopped for a second to brush my short light brown mane over my forehead bruise with a hoof before hurrying through security as fast as the security ponies would let me. Word of last night's incident had spread here too, and more than once somepony tried to strike up a conversation about it, only to be rudely told to mind their own business. By the time I had finally got through the various checkpoints I was exhausted and hungry, though my headache had cleared a little.
Inside the labs everything was as expected, with ponies constantly rushing left and right carrying blueprints and important components. A few of the other junior techs sniggered behind my back, but I pretended not to notice; I didn't have time to bother with them. Finally I ran into General Engineer Golden Heart. She was, in theory, my direct superior, however she was also my adoptive mother, which only complicated affairs. She was a tall and slender mare, with a pale pink coat and a curly yellow mane she kept pulled back into a loose ponytail. Her cutie mark was a pair of hammers, back to back in such a way that the gap between them formed a heart shape.
"Cloudburst?" She said, clearly surprised to see me, "I thought you weren't going to be in today, you know, after last night. I've already got Snow Blast working on redrafting the pitch documents for the new Raptor weaponry." I rolled my eyes in irritation. I had gone to all the effort to drag myself out of bed and get down here, only to be told that my only task for the day had been given to somepony else. She just smiled at me, in that irresistible way that made even the most serious of visiting officials lighten up. "Well," she began, "Maelstrom is looking at fixing the steering issues with Colonel Astral's sky-tank, but that'll have to wait until the replacement parts come in…"
"So?" I butted in, "What am I supposed to do?"
"Ah, I know," she smiled, "I need somepony to take a look at something one of the retrieval teams dragged up, some kind of 'energy shotgun' I think." I thought about it for a second; I was an aircraft tech after all, but the idea of unknown weaponry sounded relatively attractive.
"I'll take it," I replied, and she passed me the necessary clearance pass. I said a hurried goodbye and galloped off, honestly unsure as to whether I had addressed her as 'ma'am' or 'mom'.
======
The security buck examined the plastic card closely, squinting at the printed letters as if they might somehow yield additional information. He looked at me incredulously.
"So you're telling me they sent a mechanic to look at this thing?" he snorted. "They must be short staffed."
"It's Junior Aircraft Technician, alright? And yes, they did send me to examine this weapon of yours, just look at the card," I shot back. He sighed and opened the door to the armoury. One of the quartermasters greeted me inside and led me through the building. The armoury was basically a warehouse which housed all of the Enclave's various weaponry and equipment, as well as anything brought back from the surface.
After passing through the redistribution centre, where various recovered items such as medicine and ammunition were packed up and shipped to wherever they were needed, I was led through a thick steel door and into the heart of the building. The cramped room was lined with old plastic drawers full of broken terminals and other assorted technological components, and on a table in the centre lay a weapon I had never seen before.
It had once been a 40mm grenade launcher, however numerous parts had been added around the barrel. Multiple exposed wires and tubes ran the length of the weapon. A scope, a heavily modified version that mounted on Enclave laser rifles, was attached to the top. Like most weapons, it had a mouth trigger, but the pump action rendered it incompatible with any battle saddle. On the side a little orange sticker had been placed that read; WARNING. POTENTIALLY DANGEROUS WEAPONRY. DO NOT TOUCH . I turned to the quartermaster.
"Mind if I…"
"Oh, oh sure," said the buck, "Be my guest." I picked up the weapon, feeling the weight of it. It was lighter than I expected, and I had a hunch that the stock was hollowed out to hold the electrical components. My escort spoke up again.
"We call it a 'Holorifle'. It takes microspark cells, one per shot I'm afraid. You load it like a regular grenade launcher, internal magazine takes four cells at once. Just make sure you load 'em with the positive end towards the barrel." He passed me a few cells, one of the things that the Enclave still manufactured, and I went to load it.
"Wait!" he yelled. "Sorry, it's just, you aren't allowed armed weapons in here due to the explosives, and it's got no safety." I nodded slowly and dropped the microspark cells into a pocket, picking up the weapon and trotting out of the room.
After filling out a couple of forms, the Holorifle was mine, at least to test. I trotted excitedly back into the lab, narrowly dodging Bella, the lab's resident swan, and headed to the firing range. It consisted of a long corridor, with a rail on the ceiling to hang targets off of. Here weapons built in the labs or recovered from beneath were tested. Over the past few months it had seen significantly increased use as various projects had been completed. There I hung a target on the rail, crouched down with the bit gripped between my teeth, and rested the foregrip on my left hoof, lining up the bull’s-eye with my cross-hairs and bracing for the recoil.
I pulled the trigger, and was surprised as the anticipated kick never came. Suddenly I realised that such energy weapons had no recoil and cursed my own stupidity; I had missed the both the target and my chance to observe the projectile. I swore and lined up the weapon again, this time ignoring the prospect of bullet drop or recoil. I pumped the foregrip and watched as a drained microspark flew out and onto the floor, as if it were a spent shell. Now that was cool, designing the reloading mechanism to treat the cells like solid ammo casings. It made the Holorifle feel less like the clean, precise E-series energy rifles used by the Enclave, and more like the kind of rugged, jury rigged, stereotypical wasteland guns that were normally not energy weapons.
My thoughts returned to the range, and I adjusted my position in order to put the centre of the target paper in my reticule. The scope had pretty good magnification, and a little button on the side toggled the integrated night vision. An additional spell matrix had apparently been hard wired into the device, which was supposed to apply some kind of additional enchantment at a button press, only the switch didn't seem to have any effect at the moment.
Steadying my excited breathing as best I could, I squeezed the trigger much more precisely. I felt a great surge of excitement as I saw a glowing blue hologram, shaped like several smaller cubes orbiting a larger cube, form just inside the barrel and fly out, missing the target by about three inches and hitting the cloud wall behind, which was already scorched black from years of misfires and bad aiming. The spot where it impacted glowed blue for a second as the magical energy dissipated through it.
"So. Fucking. Cool," I practically whispered to myself. My head had pretty much cleared, I had forgotten my hunger, and I was feeling very optimistic about the next few days, even if I couldn't hit my target at fifteen yards with a scope. The Holorifle was clearly a force to be reckoned with, and with any luck the story of a junior aircraft tech being entrusted with a hugely valuable military asset would surpass the one about a junior tech who got his ass kicked a drunken brawl with the Colonel's brother.
I hurried back as fast as my legs would carry me and sat down at my own workstation, feeling much more like myself. Gripping a screwdriver in my mouth, I carefully opened up the weapon to expose its inner workings. As I had expected, the stock was hollow, but the myriad of components it contained was nothing like any weapon I had yet seen. Then again, aircraft were my speciality, as my cutie mark showed, and it was very possible that a dedicated weapons technician would have easily worked out what the parts were.
Realising I was wasting my time, I moved on to the scope. The casing came away easily, and a pair of spell matrices, nestled in a bed of improvised wiring, presented themselves. One was familiar to me; a common sight in heads up displays and weapon scopes, I had seen the night vision enchantment matrix a thousand times before. The other however, was unfamiliar. I hadn't been wrong, it was clearly designed to apply an enchantment, but it was far more complex than anything I'd ever seen. So what was it? The only thing which immediately came to mind was Eyes Forward Sparkle, but even that required a less complicated set up than this. Perplexed, I decided that the best course of action was to take the matrix to somepony who knew about these things.
Tesla Jolt was the closest friend I had; the buck was a couple of years older than me, though you wouldn't notice, and a real gun nut. While I could recalibrate a flight harness in minutes, and knew the technical specifications of sky-tanks and Raptors off by heart; he could have an E-10 working like brand new even after years of disuse by wastelanders, or tell you the calibre of any common solid ammo weapon just by looking at it. He was noticeably short, only coming up to my forehead at full height, and he always carried a brown satchel slung over one shoulder. He had a sandy brown coat and a jet black mane that for reasons best known to him was always shiny, as well as a constant layer of stubble. He was also, like me, a huge fan of tabletop games, and every weekend we would meet up and pitch my tiny Enclave soldiers against his Steel Rangers. He noticed me coming.
"Hey, Cloudy! What's up?" he called without taking his eyes off of his work, wisely deciding not to bring up my escapades the night before. I approached, replying,
"Not much, but you'll never guess what project my mum let me take."
"Uh, I've got no idea," he admitted, "Tell me."
"I'm evaluating some weapon dragged up from the ground to see if it's any use to the Enclave. They call it; the holorifle."
"Energy or solid ammo?" he asked.
"It's energy," I replied, "But not like any I've ever seen. Shoots holographic cubes, so when they hit you you've got all that magical energy dissipating through you."
"Weaponised holograms?!" he exclaimed. "I've been saying the Enclave should do this for years! If only the tech wasn't so rare. You have to let me take a look."
"Sure thing buddy," I smiled, and gestured to my desk. He had been in the process of dismantling an E-10, and the weapon's innards were already laid out in a perfect order on his own table. The outer casing of the gun had been removed and the conducting rod with its gemstone tip had been removed. The focusing array, still within its housing, lay to one side of the open casing, but the wiring and spell matrices were still within the weapon.
I glanced quickly over at the two photos he kept on the table, half hidden behind the rifle. One I had seen a hundred times before; I had the same exact image framed on my own desk. It was of the pair of us on the day we graduated from training, giddy with excitement and grinning like idiots, my foreleg draped across his shoulders. The other was of him with his family; his father, a moderately well-known Major in the Air Force; his mother, a fiercely patriotic ex-marine who lost an eye to the Griffins; and him, several years younger than now, clutching a Wonderbolt plush in between his forelegs.
He followed me back to my desk, and the moment he saw the Holorifle his grey eyes lit up like a foal who's just been given three scoops of ice cream. He broke into a gallop and raced over to the table where it lay. He picked up my screwdriver, peeled the warning sticker off the casing, and began to further dismantle the various components, laying the whole thing out in a similarly orderly fashion to his E-10. The unknown matrix immediately drew his attention and he expertly unplugged it, holding up to the light from a nearby window. He squinted, trying to read the tiny letters etched into its surface. He suddenly sighed and dropped it, the matrix clattering to the floor. The filly-in-a-candy-store look had faded from his face, and he was clearly in a bad mood.
"That," he began, pointing to the matrix, "is a Larkin Matrix. It lets you see through all forms of cloaking and illusion magic through a clever series of spells, enchantments, and other tricks. They only ever made a few, since they're damn expensive. That thing's probably worth more than the entire rest of the weapon, or it would be, if it wasn't burnt out," he grumbled, setting it down and rolling his eyes.
"That sucks, I know, but you've still got the rest of the Holorifle to look at, and there's got to be some cool stuff there, right?" He seemed to cheer up.
"Yeah, I guess so," he conceded
"Don't sweat it," I replied, glad to see him getting back to work.
He picked up the screwdriver and set to work, dismantling the holographic array housing and laying out the parts with his trademark neatness. The main element appeared to be a large blue crystal, fused into a gray metal housing which connected the gem to the rest of the weapon's electronics.
"So that's how they do it," Jolt muttered to himself as he extricated the crystal from the weapon's barrel.
"Do what?" I asked, genuinely curious. He replied,
"Produce the projectile, it's pretty much the same as the magical energy bolts that unicorns can shoot. Hang on a second, you do realise that this thing's still loaded right?" I suddenly realised that I hadn't unloaded it in my excitement, only to realise it was harmless anyway, and nodded.
"Yup, but you'd have to pump it before you could fire it; the cell in the chamber's drained."
"So what!" he exclaimed, "Would you ever attempt maintenance on a sky-tank with the fuel tank full, even if the engines were off?"
"Always ensure that the fuel tank is drained and the battery chamber is empty before accessing any maintenance panels or attempting to service the aircraft ." I parroted, straight from the academy textbooks. He just rolled his eyes and shot back,
"Never begin maintenance or authorized modification on any firearm without first making sure that there is no potentially live ammunition in the magazine or chamber . The first rule of weapon engineering."
He had a point.
"Alright, you win. I should have emptied it first, okay?" I conceded. He smiled, and one by one lifted the three microspark cells out of the magazine. He moved back over to the barrel again, fiddling with the various parts.
"No use," he said, mildly dejected. "It's that crystal; it's a one-of-a-kind model, hoof built. The Enclave can't even produce one, let alone enough to make the weapon feasible."
"Ah,"
That was all I had to say; because that meant they'd take the weapon away, and leave it to rot in some ancient cabinet in the armoury. Then again, I could always try and convince my mother to let me keep it.
======
I trotted back to the house through the darkness of the late evening, having eaten lunch in the mess hall with Tesla and spent the rest of the day dreaming and fiddling with the Holorifle. Golden Heart was already home, and she greeted me at the door. I ate dinner greedily, and I was looking forward to an evening playing For the Enclave: Wonderbolts , when Sky Strider returned from his posting at the airbase with a letter in between his teeth. He placed it on the table and opened up the envelope, revealing the precisely printed typeface of an Enclave notice. It read:
Mr Sky Strider, 20 Stratos Lane, Neighvarro, GPE.
This is a notification by the Grand Pegasus Enclave Air Force of your transfer from the Neighvarro 3rd Reserve Squadron to the Neighvarro 5th Fighter Squadron, following casualties incurred by the latter unit, active from tomorrow morning. Please arrive promptly to your new post at 06:00 at the Neighvarro AFB Command Center for transfer to aboard the Raptor-class cloudship Silver Lining.
Yours Faithfully, Colonel Astral.
======
I awoke to the sound of my mother softly talking, the noise slowly becoming more defined as I drifted into consciousness.
"Time to get up, sweetheart, we have to wave goodbye to Sky; remember?" she said, shaking me slightly with one hoof.
"Alright, alright," I mumbled, stumbling to my hooves. The curtains in my room had been opened, but it was still dark outside so that the yellowish glow of the lights in the corridor outside my room and the soft blue light coming from my clock were the only sources of light. The clock display read 5:34, and slowly I remembered; he had come back yesterday with a reassignment notice from the Colonel. He had to be at the base by six, and was beginning active duty for several months, so we had to do our goodbyes now. From out in the hallway Sky Strider called.
"Mom, I'm ready! Is my little bro up yet?"
"Gimme a second!" I yelled back, interrupting my mom's reply. I grabbed my dressing gown and rushed out into the hall, where he was waiting. He was a good deal taller than me, with a bright bluish-white coat and a dark blue mane that was perpetually spiked up, even today. He wore his standard flight jacket, a fleece-lined brown garment with the emblem of the 3rd reserve on the shoulders; three lightning bolts striking down towards a medieval watchtower with a fire lit in the turret. It dated back to the Great War, when the 3rd Reserve had been the 601st Fighter Squadron, Equestria's primary border defence squadron.
As I approached him, he suddenly tore one of the patches of his jacket with a hoof and passed it to me, grinning as always.
"Keep it, it's yours," he smirked. I rolled my eyes.
"This had better not be one of your practical jokes."
"Now why would I do that?" he replied. "My best bro's gotta have something to remember me by while I'm away."
"But, won't you need it?" I protested. He just smiled.
"Nah, they'll get replaced once I get there anyway. I'll just say I lost it or something."
"Thanks Sky," I smiled, and playfully punched his shoulder with a pale blue hoof. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my mom set up the old camera and set the timer.
"Alright, smile!" she said, trotting over to stand behind us. "Cloudy, wings out." I rolled my eyes and unfurled my wings. Just before the flash went off, Sky Strider's hoof darted across and turned my mane into a ruffled mess. The photo slid out of the device; it wasn't particularly flattering; Golden Heart and I in our pyjamas, and my mane a huge tangle, but it was something. "Okay, now just you Sky," she said. I shuffled out of the way as he turned so that the shoulder with a unit patch faced the camera. This photo looked much better, since I wasn't in it.
My mother collected it from the slot at the front of the camera and placed it within the family photo album, an idea she'd originally had when she was just a young mare, going through the complicated adoption process for Sky Strider without any prior knowledge. She had begun the album as a way of both showing her achievement and reminding herself about what happened. All of the important events from our life were chronicled within, and this was no exception.
Sky hugged me one last time, before doing the same to my mother. Finally, he put on his saddlebags and trotted down the stairs with us in tow. At the front door he said one last goodbye, before turning and taking off. Slowly he climbed, weighed down by his saddlebags, until he was just one of millions of white specks in the sky, indistinguishable from the stars. I looked down at the patch he had given me; "Neighvarro 3rd Reserve" stitched around the edges. My only reminder of him besides photos.
======
I arrived to the base promptly, and was pleasantly surprised to discover that the shipment of spare parts due in from Thunderhead had arrived a day early, meaning that I could now help with the repairs on Astral's sky-tank. I met up with Maelstrom outside the aircraft hangars, where he had already begun to remove the vehicle's maintenance panels and armour plating. He was one of the older mechanics who worked alongside us R&D techs, and he scowled at me as I approached.
"So," he spat, "Yer th' engineer they sent, eh?"
"Yup," I replied, a little apprehensive, "That'd be me. What's up?"
"What? Yer sayin' them egg'eads didn't give ye no information as to what we're doin'?" he growled.
"Oh, no." I said hurriedly, "You just seemed upset is all. I was asking why"
"Ugh, look: Yer less than 'aff me age, ye've got yer 'ole life left, an' yer in R an' D, so ye can become pretty much any kinda technician ye want, 'ell, ye could even switch to weapons if ye wants. Me 'owever, I'm stuck in a dead end. I failed th' academy tests 'cause I thought it'd be a breeze, an' they stuck me 'ere. That's the difference 'tween us; yer an engineer, I'm a mechanic," he finished. I stood still for a moment, trying to process the sudden recital of his life story.
"Oh, sorry," I muttered, he just grumbled.
"Don' git yer mane in a tangle; I'm jus' an old sod who fucked up 'is life in the formative years," he said, dropping down onto his belly and opening one of the many hatches on the side of the aircraft. "So, ye know a lot 'bout sky-tanks kid?"
"Yup," I replied; sky-tanks were my passion, the main reason (besides my mom) that I'd signed up. The old buck seemed to scowl just a little less.
"Right then, what's the first rule of aircraft maintenance?"
"Always drain the fuel tank and remove any spark batteries," I said rapidly.
"Smartarse," he spat. "You're right though, so get to it." He gestured to the fuel valve. Typical, he was saddling me with all the menial tasks, while I was supposed to handle all of the planning and digital stuff. Then again, in theory I outranked him, even though there wasn't a hope in Tartarus he'd take orders from a junior tech.
I hooked up a rubber pipe and connected the other end to a nearby tank. Without hesitation, I opened the valve; and a high pressure jet of fuel shot out of the joint between the pipe and the sky-tank, splattering dark sticky liquid across my coat. Thankfully, I had changed into overalls before I came outside, so my lab coat wasn't ruined. Rapidly, I shut the valve and refastened the pipe, properly this time. Glancing over at Maelstrom, I felt a surge of embarrassment as I realized that the buck found my antics funny. Opening the valve a second time, I let the fuel tank drain. His face returned to a scowl as he passed me a maintenance PDA for the pilot interface.
"There, now go do yer fing while I do mine."
He meant for me to recalibrate the Gatling lasers and reboot the pilot interface, and so I hit the manual release on the rear door. It opened slowly on specially designed pistons, but we would have to start her engines in order to close it. I stepped inside, my hooves clattering up the troop ramp, and headed for the cockpit. Inside I first opened the battery container and removed all six batteries; the PDA would provide power to the circuitry. I pulled out a screwdriver from my overalls and set to work removing the top of the control panel. Beneath, the sky-tank's central matrix revealed itself, connected both to the emergency joystick and the flight harness. As carefully as I could, I separated one length of cable that wasn't connected to anything with my teeth and plugged it into the PDA.
Line after line of blue text appeared on the little screen, as the device ran an automatic diagnostic spell. They wayward segment of scripting appeared in the centre, and I rapidly re-typed it. Recalibrating the sky-tank's weaponry proved equally simple, and so I ran a full system reboot and replaced the cover.
"'Ey, kid, ger out 'ere," Maelstrom suddenly yelled. I trotted briskly out, only to see him lying on his back, everything except his hind legs under the aircraft, covered in grease. He had removed all of the armour plates around the right cloud generator, leaving it exposed, and was fiddling with some pipes attached to it. "Gimme that 1 inch bolt o'er there." I obliged.
"What are you doing?" I asked, hoofing it to him, "They didn't report any problems with the cloud generators."
"So?" he snarled. "If yer gonna do anythin', ye better do it right. There's no point doin' an 'aff-arsed job. If I 'adn't checked this 'ere pipe, she'd 'ave been leakin' cloud fluid all the way from 'ere to New Zephyr."
Cloud fluid: the same sticky black substance that currently speckled my entire body. The sky-tank ran on spark batteries, but its engines were built using standard earth pony and pegasus tech, rather than arcano-tech built by unicorn magic like the Raptors and Thunderheads had. This meant that a specially formulated fluid had to be used as fuel to be converted into clouds. For regular clouds this stuff was pretty much just water, but for building-grade clouds you needed a special, thicker fuel. For cloudships extra ingredients were added to create dark storm clouds, as both a statement to those below and a guard against magical attacks to the engines.
"Check th' old flap servos, will ye?" called the old buck from under the engine. I nodded, even though he probably couldn't see me, and opened up the access hatch. With just my head and forehooves inside, I quickly noticed that a bolt connecting the motor to the chain drive that controlled the wing flap had worked itself loose, and set about tightening it, getting grease all over me in the process. Just then a soldier from Recon trotted past, a lieutenant according to his rank badge. I waved a cheery hello, and Maelstrom slid out from under the vehicle to do the same. The buck smiled, and spoke.
"Hey guys, how's it going? Is that Astral's sky-tank you're working on?"
"Yes, sir," I said, leaning out of the hatch to get a better look at the buck. He wasn't a pony I knew, but I was sure I'd seen him somewhere before. "There were some problems with the pilot's interface causing her to pull to the right, and the Gatling laser turrets were due for recalibration, so we figured we'd take care of any other problems we could find while we were at it. Sir." There was something I didn't like about him, even though he was perfectly friendly, and I made sure to make it clear that he was my superior. He turned to leave.
"All right," he said, "I won't tie you up any longer. Take good care of that thing, huh? Wouldn't want anything to happen to the Colonel." He placed a great deal of emphasis on the last sentence, and I suddenly placed it; fuzzy memories of a blurred dark red shape jumping on top of me and pressing up against my muzzle filled my vision.
The Colonel's brother, the pony who had beaten my sorry ass half to death like it was nothing, had just walked straight past and not recognised me. Then it occurred to me; he didn't remember, hell, I hadn't remembered. I breathed a sigh of relief; it seemed to have blown over. "O-of course not, sir," I stammered, hoping he didn't suddenly work it out, "We'll have her flying as well as the day she rolled off the assembly line."
With him gone, I threw glance skywards and the dark shape of a Raptor drifted across my vision. That was odd; she was clearly heading towards the city; but no cloudships were due for docking. I squinted, trying to make out the yellow letters printed onto her. I was secretly hoping it would be the Silver Lining , but it was the Midnight Run . Still, General Silver Bolt's cloudship wasn't due back for ages, so what was it doing heading for the Neighvarro skyport? "'Ey, ger yer 'ead outta yer arse an' ger over 'ere." Maelstrom's call pulled me from my thoughts, and I hurried over to where he was working.
"How come you're so cheery towards him then?" I asked.
"Cause, ye see, 'e's somepony who's made sommat of 'is life, an' 'e ain't anypony I could 'ave been," he said in an almost patronizing way, as if it were obvious. I just rolled my eyes.
That evening, I was trotting home through the base in a relatively good mood, when several other pegasi galloped past me, rushing towards the base's command buildings. I picked up my pace, breaking into a gallop and unfurling my wings; while they weren't good for flying, they were handy when I needed to run.
Outside the command center several ponies had gathered. The same buck from earlier was standing outside the offices, talking to the colonel. They were both a complete mess; he was fumbling with a battle saddle, trying desperately to get all of his gear on, and she had been crying. A commotion among the gathered ponies drew my attention; a power-armored buck was pushing his way through the spectators.
"Olly, olly, oxen free! Ready or not, Lieutenant, here I come!" a loud, heavily modulated voice suddenly came from within the building, just before the trooper finally reached the colonel's brother. Out of the command complex strode an armoured pony, wearing a pattern of Advanced Power Armour that I didn't recognise. He tilted his head back slightly and began to talk, though I could no longer make out the words.
Suddenly the recon buck grabbed a pulse grenade from the soldier's webbing, shoved the armoured buck towards the stranger, and threw a pulse grenade between them, deactivating both of their suits.
He took off, tearing away into the night sky even as a flight of Enclave soldiers raced out of the building in pursuit. I watched them as they flew into the distance, tracking them by the orange flashes of Sunburst and Novasurge rifles firing until they were out of sight
======
It was only later, when I finally returned home, that I learnt of why he'd been running. I switched on the radio in our kitchen to hear the local news and from the device came a government broadcast:
All loyal citizens of the Enclave are encouraged to be on the look out for the outlaw known as 2nd Air Lieutenant Mach, wanted for crimes against our glorious nation including accessing restricted information, assault, desertion, insubordination, refusal to cooperate with authority, resisting arrest, theft of government property, and high treason. He has been described as tall, with a blood red coat and brown mane, and is believed to be armed and dangerous. Citizens are advised not to approach the outlaw, and instead should contact the authorities immediately should they believe to have seen him. A reward is being offered for any information leading to his capture.
I wondered how much they'd inflated his crimes, as was often the case for such incidents. I highly doubted he'd actually committed treason; that was normally just a label the Enclave slapped on ponies they didn't like.
"I worry about him, you know," a voice said softly. I spun around; Golden Heart was slumped in a chair at the kitchen table, head buried in her forehooves.
"Huh?"
"It's Sky Strider," she just sighed, "They've got his squad going after the outlaw. What happens if they run into him, or get attacked by Steel Rangers, or…"
"Mom," I interjected, "He can handle himself. I'm sure he's having the time of his life right now, down there on the surface." I just hoped my words sounded sure enough, because inside I was as scared as she was.
Fallout Equestria: Due North
Chapter 8: Getting Some Answers
Our ride shuddered to a halt, the cloud generators shutting down. I peered out of the narrow viewport behind me, catching sight of a rotting turquoise mare cantering over. The troop ramp dropped onto the asphalt, and in silence I disembarked the sky-tank.
Lightning Dust noticed my expression just as the others caught up with me. She gave a worried frown and increased her pace.
"Cloudburst," she called out, her voice like sandpaper, "What happened down there?"
"I did it," I replied simply, not in the mood for conversation.
"You did what?" she raised an eyebrow for a second. "Does that mean you got inside?"
"Yeah," I deadpanned.
"That's great news," she looked genuinely surprised, "Then what went wrong?"
I stood there for a second, unsure of what to say. Did she really not know about the state of the north? Or did she expect me not to be affected by it?
"The Republic…" Sunbeam piped up before I could think of what to say, "It was awful."
"You didn't know?!" Lightning's wings unfurled in surprise. "Shit; I wouldn't have dumped you in there if I'd known."
"Too late now," I shrugged.
"Anyway, you said you passed through the shields?" she asked. Of course she would want results.
"Yup, got into Switchboard," I explained, "Turns out I have 'Vermillion-Level' MoA clearance. And I may have worked out why."
A dash of pride crept into my voice at that last point. Being related to Scootaloo was a pretty cool idea.
"Good," she said quickly, "Get some rest, then meet me in my office."
"Yes ma'am," I tried and failed miserably to salute.
With her satisfied for the moment, I turned towards the barracks. I set off silently, and the others followed as I cantered across the mountaintop and onto the cloud.
From there it wasn't far until I found my room, first on the left. Inside I just dropped my saddlebag and threw myself into the cloud matress, tired out by the day's events. Why weren't the Boomers doing anything about the Republic?
I'm not sure how long I lay there, just contemplating everything that had happened up until that point. The Enclave had always said the wasteland was a lawless expanse, filled with chaos and ruin. Raiders had pretty much proved that point for me, but there had also been civilised groups in towns and cities, places like Friendship City and Firefly.
What I'd never expected was for the ponies in those civilisations to be just as bad. The way that soldier had just beaten that mare to death without a second thought, all because she'd dared to ask for charity. It made me sick to my stomach, all of it, and if Lightning Dust's militia weren't doing anything about it now, then they damn well would be.
"We've got the music in our hearts; we're here to blow this thing apart, "
I sat up; someone was singing, and singing well, their voice dragging me from my thoughts. Was that Songbird? I stumbled to my hooves, peering out of my door and across the narrow hallway.
Sure enough, the girl was sitting on her bed, pencil in hand, drawing something while singing to herself. I trotted slowly over, the cloud muffling each hoofstep down to a soft 'fwoomp'.
"We're here to sing our song out loud, get you dancing with the crowd, "
She continued her song, unaware that she had a single-pony audience. I moved closer again, as silently as possible, until I was literally in the doorway. She finished up her drawing, cheeks reddening slightly as she held it up to the light.
With a faint giggle of delight she placed it down on the bed, tearing the page from her notepad. She folded the paper up and went to put it in her pocket, and saw me.
"Oh, h-hi Cloudburst," she was blushing, a lot, "I-I was just, erm,"
"Your voice is amazing," I offered, trying to be reassuring.
"Y-you really think so?" she stammered, embarrassed.
"Yup," I smiled warmly.
"Thanks,"
"Can I see your drawing?" I asked, prompting her to shy away defensively.
"I-it's not very good," she sighed, "You probably wouldn't like i-"
"Don't be so hard on yourself," I sat down next to her, "I'm sure it's great." I was starting to sound like Golden Heart.
"O-okay," she took a deep breath and stiffened up, fidgeting nervously with the paper as she unfolded it.
I studied the paper. She'd drawn a human, wearing some kind of armour, carrying an advanced weapon that I was sure I'd seen somewhere.
Where had I… wait; that was a holorifle. I suddenly noticed the segmented plates on the arms and legs, and the faint stripes in the hair. This was me, drawn as a human. No wonder she'd been staring at me that morning.
"It's great," I said in total honesty, "It's me, right?"
"I, yeah, it is," she let out a deep sigh. "You really like it?"
"Sure I do kiddo," I admitted, taking another look at the cross-hatch shaded pencil shapes. It was only then that I noticed; she'd sketched a little heart in the bottom left of the page. A heart? Why would she…
Suddenly everything fell into place; the staring, the embarrassment, the way she was always self-conscious around me, perhaps even the whispering in the mess hall. I'd been exactly the same way once, on-and-off for five years; Songbird had a crush on me.
"Hey," I said softly.
"Uh huh?" she looked up from her next drawing.
"You know," I began; careful now, "I do notice when you're staring at me."
She looked down at her feet, swinging off the edge of the bed. Her entire face went from a pale pink to a reddish hue, and for a second an awkward silence hung in the air.
"I-I'm sorry," she muttered, "I d-didn't mean to, I was just-"
"Songbird," I reassured, "It's okay. I'm not going to think any less of you for this, or anything else. You need to stop worrying around me."
"O-okay, it's j-just," she stuttered, unsure of what to say.
"Nothing you can do is going to make me hate you," I reassured, wrapping her affectionately in an undersized wing. "I like you a lot, Songbird, just not in that way."
"Thanks," she sighed, "Again."
"No problem," I smiled, when a thought came to me. "Hey, where's that song from?"
"The one I was singing?" she asked. "It's really old, like, pre-Midnight Incident originally. It's the Rainbooms debut release; The Music of our Friendship . It's been covered so many times, but I still really like the original."
"The Rainbooms huh?" I asked, glad to have found something she was interested in.
"Yup," she smiled, picking up her jacket, "There were seven; highschool friends who got together every so often to sing songs."
"Cool," I replied, "D'you know of any of the members?"
"W-well, you see, that's the thing," she reverted to her earlier shyness, "I told Granny Pearl about them once, a-and she told me to stop being stupid. Apparently they're l-like government figures over here."
I suddenly remembered the photo of the human Ministry Mares, alongside the owner of the jacket she was now wearing. Had that been an image of the Rainbooms?
"Did one of them own your jacket?" I asked slyly.
"Yeah, yes one did!" her face lit up, and she came out of her shell once again. "Sunset Shimmer, guitar and part-time lead vocals. How did you guess?"
"I saw that photo of them in the museum and recognised the other six," I admitted, "They're a big deal over here for a different reason. During the war they were major political figures."
"So, there were like, parallel versions of them here?" she asked, eyes wide with interest.
"Probably," I shrugged, "Hey, you know you said they got together before the Midnight Incident seventy years ago?"
"Yup?"
"Well in this world, at least according to Enclave history, they met around forty years before the war in something called the 'Nightmare Crisis'," I explained.
"And if those two happened at around the same time," Songbird caught on, "Then Watcher was right!"
"Exactly," I grinned. Suddenly I froze; I was supposed to be seeing Lightning Dust. With that thought I launched myself to my hooves.
"Where are you going?" she asked, disappointment clear in her voice.
"I have to see the general," I admitted, before conceding at the sight of her crestfallen expression. "Alright, you can come if you want."
She leapt up from the bed, delighted at my suggestion. She pulled on her jacket and stuffed her drawing equipment into the pockets. I set off slowly down the hallway, and she fell into step beside me.
She seemed a lot more comfortable now that the cat was out of the bag. She'd probably expected me to react badly, and my more accepting response to her feelings was no doubt reassuring. I could hardly blame her; she was a young teen, who as far as I could tell had never had a boyfriend. That was, of course, assuming that eight-year-old humans didn't form romantic relationships.
The walk to the command building was short, although I paused for a second to see if Sunny was with the rest of the foals. I caught sight of her sitting on the grassy plateau in the centre of a circle of children under Windbreaker's watchful gaze. Whatever she was telling them they were completely invested, and her pigtails fluttered as she rapidly turned to each kid in turn.
Tearing my eyes away, I continued to head for the main building. Songbird followed suite, a slight spring present in her step as she followed me closely. The trot was quick, and soon we were through the door and out of the sun, past the guarding statues.
Lightning Dust's room was, as usual, shut. As I approached I found myself wondering if she was averse to light in some way, given how her room had been dark when I'd entered. Then again, she had come out to meet our aircraft.
I raised a hoof and rapt on the door quickly; no response. I tried again, but was once again greeted with silence. It was only when I gave up that I became aware of voices on the other side of the cloud wall, talking about me.
"Vermillion?"
"Yes," it was the general's voice, "Vermillion. That's half the reason I'm letting him go north; he'll have access to more of the empire than anyone else here."
"We don't have the aircraft to send him up," the other pony observed, "Are you suggesting he go on hoof?"
"I'll have Fleur get him an escort," Lightning explained. "It's not ideal but it's the best we can do."
"Alright," the other voice seemed satisfied. "Hold up a second. What's the clearance on the hub?"
There was a moment of silence, before somepony spoke once more.
"Well Vermillion's the highest," Lightning said slowly, "But there's a high chance only the general herself had access. Besides, we both know there's no chance he'd agree to that."
If Dust was talking about 'the general', then she was probably referring to Rainbow Dash. This 'hub' was somewhere possibly only she had access to, ergo a facility of the highest importance.
"Still," the other said, "It's something to think about. Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe you have company."
My heart skipped a beat; they knew I was here. Hang on; I'd knocked on the door. They'd probably just heard that.
I stepped back as somepony approached the door, their hooffalls too heavy to be Lightning Dust. The door swung open, and a large stallion strode through. He and I brushed shoulders, yet he didn't even spare me a glance. He just trotted past, away down the halls.
"What's his problem?" I muttered under my breath as I entered the darkened room. Lightning looked up.
"Who, Tailwind?" she let out a long, raspy sigh. "The Enclave put him through a lot of shit."
He'd been in the Vertibuck that had picked up up at the factory, and again when we'd been dropped off in Ponestown. On neither journey had he spoken, instead choosing to sit in total silence. My old flight school teachers would've loved him.
Songbird entered the room, closing the door behind her. Lightning's discoloured eyes narrowed.
"You remember when I told you about Dashites, about Calamity?"
"The Enclave invented a load of shit about him killing his flight?" I suggested.
"Exactly," she thumped the desk with her hoof for emphasis. "He was one of the ponies in that flight. Now, from the council's point of view that's five ponies who need to disappear, or else their little story doesn't hold up."
"The Enclave had them killed?" I blurted out, prompting her to nod sadly.
"That's horrible!" Songbird exclaimed.
"That's the Grand Pegasus Enclave," Lighting shrugged. "They set the fucking Wraithwing on them."
"Who?" I raised an eyebrow.
"The Enclave Inquisition picks some lucky soldier to be the council's personal knife," she explained, "They're technically a member of the 'Bolts, but they don't fly with 'em. There's a special suit of armour and everything from what I've heard."
I suddenly remembered the day when me and Maelstrom had been working on Astral's sky-tank, when that armoured pony had strode laughing out of the command building. Had that been the Wraithwing?
"So he just dives on this squad while they're out on ops," Dust continued, "And starts slaughtering them. Tailwind's ponies were murdered so the council could forge their own version of events. He's only alive because he played dead.
"He took a fucking power hoof to the chest, fractured three ribs, and didn't flinch. The Wraithwing thinks he's dead and flies off. He gets up, limps to the nearest town, and says he'll work for medical aid."
"So your guys recruited him?" I asked.
"Yup; he's a damn good soldier," Dust said proudly. "Now, let's get down to brass tacks; you want answers, I want information."
"I was able to enter the post in the basement," I began, "It's some hub called Switchboard. That's not all that's down there though; they've built an underground bar."
"You mean The Shop?" she asked, prompting me to nod. "So that's where it is. So you said you discovered why you have clearance?"
"Scootaloo had a brother," I smirked, "One Corporal Eclipse. Worked at a listening post"
"Eclipse?" she asked. "If he's MoA then he's Air Force; in other words he's probably a pegasus. I'll have somepony in Thunderhead run that through the records, see what turns up. Anything else you found?"
"All the data's on here," -I placed my pipbuck onto the table- "I downloaded it all."
"Good work," she smiled, "Take it over to Cross Halving, in the armoury. He'll get it extracted. Now, I promised you answers, so ask away."
"What's really going on in the Northern Republic?" I demanded.
"Going on?" she raised an eyebrow. "What's going on is everypony's desperate to get to the top, and those at the bottom are being crushed under the weight. It used to be better, back when Stalliongrad first became the Divide, but that was two decades ago."
"What happened to Stalliongrad?" I asked.
"There was a missile base there, with balefire warheads," she explained. "They were low-yield though, designed to be used to bombard the enemy in case of invasion. As a result they weren't covered by Operation Windigo, and never fired.
"Twenty years ago somepony found a way into the silos, managed to set off two thirds of the fucking megaspells underground. The ground cracked and broke, and a bunch of stuff collapsed. Some of the survivors made it to places like Ponestown and those villages banded together as the Republic."
"But it didn't last," I cut in.
"Like every good thing in this Celestia-forsaken wasteland," she shot back. "All the radiation and shit in the Divide created TDC, y'know, the disease. The problem got so bad that they had to close the border, stop accepting refugees. That went down well.
"The Marked Legion rose up, and the whole NR turned to war. Rainbow Falls used to be a thriving town; now it's just barracks and guns. It's the kind of thinking that caused the Great War, but what's the alternative?"
"There's one thing I don't get," I sighed, "Why've they banned trading?"
"It's part of their 'Equalism' policies," she explained, "Which, despite the name, are about keeping the rulers on top and everypony else down. Nopony, at least nopony poor, owns anything in the Republic, it all belongs to the government."
"If citizens can then buy things, then they can get their own property. So instead the ponies on top blanket ban commerce and pay their citizens in self-printed 'ration tokens' valid for food only within the Republic. Then they hoard the food as well, and so there's never enough of anything to go around."
"Why would they do that?" Songbird cut in.
"For their own gain," Lightning Dust shrugged, "They blame it all on the disease; 'the blight' they call it, but really they're just trying to be better off than everypony else. Doesn't help that ration tokens are allocated on how much the government likes you or finds you useful."
"Why doesn't anybody fight back?" Songbird asked.
"They do," Lighting retaliated, "We do. There's a group dedicated to fighting the government; the Twittermites. They take out key Republic figures and smuggle refugees out of the Divide into land under our protection, where we can best treat the disease. We provide them with weapons and ammo, and on occasion air support."
I breathed a sigh of relief; the Boomers were helping after all. A thought suddenly hit me.
"Hey, if TDC kills half of all foals who catch it," I asked, "How come there are still Marked after eight years?"
"They breed like rabbits," she looked away. "They have mares whose sole purpose is to pump out children. They're the ones we rescue most often, alongside the kids. I've seen girls as young as thirteen used like that, it's horrific."
The thought of somepony Songbird's age being used as a sex slave was truly sickening. I felt the urge to punch something, but nothing disposable was in range.
"My thoughts exactly," Lightning Dust noticed my outraged expression. "It gets worse. The mountain passes to the west are controlled by a raider group called the White Hooves. They worked out that the Legion would give them weapons and positions of honour if they delivered captives with all four limbs. So they raid to the southwest, towards Baltimare, and sell slaves to the Legion once they're done torturing them."
My urge to pummel something doubled. This had to stop, as soon as possible, and I wasn't going to sit back and wait for it to.
"I want to help," I blurted out, "There's got to be something-"
"I'm sending you into the Divide," she said slowly. "We'll get you a Twittermite agent as an escort. I'd expect you to put any Marked out of their misery, but that's not why you're going."
"The Crystal Empire," I said sombrely.
"Exactly," she thumped the cloud desk again, "The joint research facility there was MoA lead; if anypony can get it it's you."
"The other ministries were involved?" I asked.
"Yup," she explained, "Officialy Arcane Sciences owned it, although we know better. They still did a major project on crystal weaponry there alongside Wartime Technology. Energy weapons came out of that. MAS had two other operations there; Project Sunset and Project Starfall."
"Starfall was a megaspell," I asked, "Right?"
"You've listened to that tape from A113," she observed, "All the posts were ordered to tape that order, just in case. That's why I wanted it; to see if they actually fired Starfall. Nopony except those who built it and Twilight herself know what it actually is, but judging from everything I've heard it's bad news."
"Any idea about Sunset?"
"Nope," she shrugged, "But hopefully you're going to find out."
"I have MoA clearance," I pointed out, "Not MAS."
"And I know somepony who's been to the Empire," she shot back, "Somepony who came back with a load of information. Her name's Fleur, a high-ranking member of the Twittermites. What we're all hoping is that with your DNA and her info you'll have unrivalled access."
"Alright," I conceded, "I'll do it… on one condition,"
"What?" she snapped.
"Her," -I gestured to Songbird- "And my sister get to come too."
"Why?" Dust asked, "You'd just be putting them in danger."
"The only way for her to get home is in the Empire," I retorted, "And Sunny's family, where she goes I go."
"Fine," Lightning let out a long, deep sigh, "Fine. You'll be departing with Railroad 2-1, so I expect you to be at the briefing tomorrow at eight."
"Yes ma'am," I said quickly, turning to leave.
"Dismissed," she said simply.
I trotted briskly away, Songbird in tow. She skipped along as we passed back out into the light. Once again I looked for my sister, but by now Windbreaker had called the foals in for the afternoon.
The armoury was a short ways away, and we arrived within a few seconds. It was as large and imposing as last time, and, now that I thought about it, was probably a repurposed aircraft hangar. I knocked on the door.
As expected, nopony replied. I gave the door a gentle push, and it swung open slowly. Songbird shot a furtive glance at me, then looked back at the dark hallway beyond. I just smiled reassuringly and trotted inside.
As I headed along the cloud corridor the sounds of machinery could be heard. Somepony, probably Cross Halving, was using a metal lathe. What exactly he was working on I couldn't tell, but I was about to find out.
I entered the main workshop, and wasn't at all surprised to see an orange stallion leaning over a lathe. It was a bulky green thing, drawing power from a rubber cable snaking across the floor. The buck moved one of the inbuilt tools in, and aluminium shavings flew everywhere.
He hit the stop button, stepping back from the machine. He pulled up his goggles onto his forehead, muttering all the while.
"No, no, this won't do at all," he turned towards me. "Oh, hiya mate!" He gave a cheery wave, trotting up to me. "What can I do you for?"
"You're Cross Halving, right?" I asked. "I've got the data from the MoA facility in Ponestown."
"Ah, right this way," he set off at a canter, heading into a side room. Inside was a large terminal, with red lights blinking on the sides of advanced databanks. It wasn't as futuristic as the ones in the listening posts, but it was certainly not civilian equipment.
"Just plug 'er in there," he gestured to a universal port on the side of the device. I unrolled my data transfer cable and connected, while he sat down at the terminal screen.
There was a moment of silence, with only the click of the terminal keys audible. Then Cross stood up and trotted over, disconnecting my cable.
"It's done," he grinned, "I'll go over this with the general later. Anything else you needed?"
I didn't think so, unless… the recordings! I had three audio logs of Songbird's father, one of which was directly addressed to her. She deserved to hear them.
"Is my old pipbuck still here?" I asked.
"Yup," Cross nodded cheerfully, "Over there. Forget to take something off it?"
He pointed into the main area, to the shelf where I'd left my equipment the previous day. Apparently he hadn't gotten around to it yet. I cantered over.
I linked the two pipbucks and located the trio of audio files, downloading them all. Songbird shot me a confused look, but I just nodded. This was going to be a surprise. I quickly thanked Cross Halving and headed for the door, not really sure what I intended to do next.
Outside everything was soaked in the warm glow of Celestia's sun. The light glinted on the windows, on the rushing water, and on the barrels of the multiple howitzers stationed around the peak.
The 'krump' of a cannon going off shook me out of my reverie. Smoke was wafting from the barrel of one of the guns, rising away on the gentle breeze. That could only mean one thing: zone call.
I never got the chance to warn Songbird. Anything I could have said was smothered by the roar of an artillery barrage. The sound rolled across the plateau, blowing the grass over and rattling the base's windows.
The shells arced over, trailing smoke, until the punctured they cloud layer and fell out of sight. As they flew they converged, all heading to one unlucky point beneath the clouds. Whatever was down there wasn't going to last much longer.
The howitzers' fury died down, replaced with the distant rumble of the shells 'landing'. The orange flashes lit up the clouds, like some kind of inverse lightning. I looked over at Songbird, who was shuddering with a mixture of fear and excitement.
"Woah," she muttered, breathtaken.
"I know," I replied simply. "Hey, c'mon; there's something I want to show you."
I lead her quickly across the cloud to the barracks, past the great statues of the command building. She skipped alongside me, eager to find out what this surprise was. I was worried though; this would undoubtedly end in tears.
======
"Songbird! Sweetie… if you can hear this… daddy… daddy loves you-"
Crosswind's voice gave way to a mixture of sobs and hacking coughs, before the recording abruptly cut out. I looked over at Songbird.
She was sitting next to me on the edge of my bed. Her eyes were reddened from crying, tear-stains running down her face. For a second she quavered, as if unsure as to whether to burst into sobs again. Then the floodgates opened and a fresh deluge of sorrows began.
I pulled her close. She gratefully accepted my embrace, throwing her spindly arms around me and placing her chin on my shoulder. She hugged, hard, until she nearly forced the wind out of me.
"It's okay," I whispered, as gently as possible, "Let it all out."
"I-I-I miss him," she stammered, "I m-miss them all; my family, and f-friends, and-"
"You'll see them again," I reassured, "I'm getting you home, no matter what."
She was silent, letting her emotions flow free. Slowly but surely her shudders grew less and less pronounced, until all of her sadness was spent and the tears receded.
"I feel so…" she hesitated, "Empty, I mean…"
"It's alright," I continued my embrace, "I felt the same after my brother died."
"Y-your brother?"
"Yeah," I let out a long sigh, "Died out on operations, hunting an outlaw. That's why I enlisted, to try and make him proud."
"Did you?" she asked.
"Yeah, I guess," I gave an empty shrug. "And I'm sure you've made your dad proud too."
"Thanks," she released her grip on me, prompting me to do the same, "For everything. For letting me come with you, for being so nice to me, for not getting mad at me for having feelings for you, and for letting me hear him one last time."
"It's fine," I smiled warmly, "I know Pearl was pretty awful, but that doesn't mean I'm going to be. I care about you kid."
A faint redness crept into her cheeks, beneath the tear marks. The edges of her mouth twitched upwards in a slight smile.
======
"Cloudburst!" Sunbeam called across the mess hall, prompting me to take my tray of boiled carrots over. I stood next to her, sitting on a table populated entirely by children, and Songbird sat down beside her. She was acting with more confidence, and it didn't go unnoticed by my sister.
"Did something happen between you two?" she asked, only somewhat serious. Songbird nodded bashfully, prompting Sunny to turn to me. "Did she tell you?"
"I worked it out," I shrugged, "We went over things, talked about music mostly. She showed me her drawing. I also showed her Crosswind's audio logs."
"So you two are just closer friends now?" one of the foals, the colt who'd whispered yesterday, asked.
"Pretty much," I smiled, turning to Sunny. "So, how was your afternoon sis?"
"Great!" she beamed. "Miss Windbreaker told us all about the history of the Air Force, from the Wonderbolts in the EUP to the Skyguard and then the MoA. It was awesome!"
I suddenly caught sight of somepony in my peripheral vision, gesturing to me with a hoof. I turned
"Hey," I said quickly, "I've gotta run. I'll meet you in the barracks after dinner, alright?"
"Okay," Sunny smiled, while Songbird nodded. I cantered briskly away, over to where Lightning Dust was sitting.
"Ah," she rasped, "Cloudburst. I wanted to talk to you, outside of my capacity as general."
I sat down, trying not to gag at the smell of rotting flesh. She gave an apologetic look.
"You're loyal to your family," she observed.
"Yes," I replied.
"It's good; the wasteland needs more loyalty," she let out a long, gravelly sigh. "Most ponies I meet are just in it for themselves, not caring who they trample over. I used to be like that once."
"Really?" I found it hard to believe that a mare who'd set up an entire militia dedicated to helping ponies would ever have been selfish.
"All throughout my teen years," she admitted. "At seventeen I enlisted into the EUP 1st Pegasus; the Wonderbolts. As far as my youthful self was concerned all I had to do was be better than everypony else; I got thrown out on my ass for that.
"I'll never get used to running this place; they held the academy here. That office used to be the scariest place in Equestria, back when Captain Spitfire ran the place. After I was given the hoof I never expected to find myself sitting in that chair."
"Why'd you set all this up?" I asked, unable to hold my silence any longer.
"An old friend gave me a second chance," she mused, "I wanted to honour her. For the first century and a half of my immortality I became a soldier of fortune, helping wherever I could while hiding from the Enclave. Then I remembered 34."
"As in Stable 34?" I questioned. This 'friend' was probably Rainbow Dash, given the second flag on the command facility.
"The fabled 'MoA black-ops stable'," she let out a chuckle. "It's nothing of the sorts. Apparently Scootaloo decided that her sister needed her own stable. They'd already booked ponies into it, so they just left 35 empty and planned to redirect everypony.
"Dash didn't know what the fuck to do with it, pretty much left it empty. I thought it'd make a pretty good base of operations, so I headed over. Turns out somepony else had found a use for it."
"Huh?" I quickly swallowed the carrot in my mouth, turning my attention back to her.
"When Cloudsdale was hit," she explained, "The remaining members of the 'Bolts gathered up as many survivors as they could and fled. The bastards in Neighvarro wouldn't let 'em in, called 'em 'unclean' or whatever, so they headed to the only facility they knew was still intact."
"And you missed out?"
"I was lying unconscious in the debris field near New Appleoosa," she deadpanned. "Anyway, I arrived, opened the stable door, and used my old rank to convince the inhabitants to follow me."
"You weren't a general though," I said, "Were you?"
"Colonel," she corrected, "I moved up after setting up here so I could promote ponies to pretty much any other position. Okay, so maybe it was a little narcissistic, but it doesn't matter now."
"You've done a lot, from what I've heard," I offered.
"We've got allies in Thunderhead and the Divide, eight flights flying 'round the clock, artillery to spare, better quartermastery than the NR, and enough personnel to run this place at nearly full capacity," she sighed, "And yet it still feels like I'm not doing enough. I just hope Dash, wherever she is, isn't disappointed."
"She's… dead, right?" I tilted my head in confusion.
"Ponies like her don't just fade from history," Lightning said firmly, "So either nopony's found her legacy yet, or she's still out there forging it."
======
Evergreen paced in front of the chalkboard, dark green wings flared. Her brown eyes were narrowed, and she was a picture of seriousness.
On the board she'd drawn a series of symbols. All except one consisted of a series of lines, like spokes of a wheel, around a different shape. The other was notably different; it consisted of a crescent, upended so that the points faced upwards. From each side of this protruded a pair of insect wings, and a lightning bolt arced straight down from it. The whole thing was solid colour, bisected by a wide vertical gap.
"Now," the sergeant began, "I know some of you've worked with the Twittermites before, but for the benefit of those who haven't," -she looked directly at me- "I'm going to go over this again. If you see one of these symbols, and undoubtedly you will, then you need to know the meanings.
"If there's an arrow in the centre, you follow it. If there's a box then there's a cache or dead drop nearby. A cross means there's danger; you might be on a Republic patrol route or something. The plus sign means an ally is nearby, in this case our contact.
"This one here is the Twittermites' emblem. If you see this then something's either gone very right and you're in one of their facilities or very wrong. Understood?"
"Yes ma'am," we barked in unison.
"Good," she continued. "Now for this operation we're doing something a little different; 1-2's going to drop us off since they have a sky-tank. We'll proceed on hoof until we reach the drop-off point, swap Cloudburst and co. for whoever they've rescued this time, then retreat and fly back to base."
"Aww," Snap Roll pouted, "I don't get to be pilot?"
"No," Evergreen deadpanned, "And there's more; the Republic cannot be allowed to know that the Boomers are involved. As a result no E series or AER/P weapons may be used; that's no lasers in laycolt's terms. Unless it's an emergency you're not allowed to fly above the buildings either."
She pulled down a screen over the chalkboard. Right on queue Firing Pin activated the briefing room's projector, displaying a map of the Crystal Mountains.
"Here," she pointed to the largest village save for Rainbow Falls, "Is the ruins of Ponyat. Used to be the trade capital of the north, before they banned it and everything went to shit. The highway to Stalliongrad runs out of here, so it's the main point of access to the Divide.
"When they closed the border they shelled this place to oblivion, then built the wall," -she gestured to a thick curved line on the map, bisecting the town and connecting to the mountains on both sides- "To keep the Marked out. It's eight yards up, solid concrete, with turret posts. Watchtowers have been built on the mountainsides either side and regular patrols run both sides, however those on the northern side tend to be the penal units."
"So how do we get through?" Firing Pin spoke up.
"According to the 'Mites," Evergreen continued, "The Stalliongrad monorail/subway system had a stop in Ponyat for commuters. The station's caved in, but they've found other ways into the tunnels, south of the wall. It's the only way in and out that isn't owned by the White Hooves or the NR.
"We'll depart at twenty-two hundred hours; this is a night-time operation. You'll have all day to prepare, so I want you all to be ready by then. Have I made myself clear?"
Footnote: Level up.
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