Fallout: Equestria: Counting Stars

Counting Stars 1-3: On Big-Ass Armoured Tanks

"I, hey, yeah, want to travel south this year. I, oh, yeah, won't prevent safe passage here." -Layne Staley, I Stay Away.

*** *** ***

“AAH!”

I woke with a hangover, and I hadn’t even been drinking. The hangover came not from staying up all night dancing and drinking too much bourbon, or partying for a straight 48 hours. This one came from lying awake for half the night with only a few pints of blood left in my severely deprived veins.

A few hours ago, I had awoken, alone, in the back of this vehicle, light headed and delusional as ever. (Actually, not nearly as much as I had been right before I had gotten inside, so I guess I was better off than before, but I SO did not feel it). I had eventually fallen asleep, and had paid for it by dreaming that a horse was chasing a carrot on a stick in circles, round and round, until I had eventually become more dizzy and lightheaded in the dream than I had been in real life. Which,  come to think of it, doesn’t seem possible. What, was my head fucking itself up?

Damn, that must sound weird to you guys. I wish I could be more descriptive about those few hours, but there really wasn't much to tell. A dream like that was common for me, actually. Considering all the kinds of things I did, those dreams weren’t really all that surprising anymore.

Oh yeah, the tank. I should probably describe the tank. Well, the inside of the thing (Which I assumed was a tank at the time of my nearly passing out, and of which I was correct) was clearly designed for tactical, not medical, use. The bed that I now laid upon had been hastily stationed inside the vehicle, as around me I could see rows and rows of seats. The seats were, as I said, of a practical design and did NOT look very comfy. They were merely parallel bars situated off the floor of the vehicle, a base of corrugated iron much like the stuff we’d used to build the huts in Glyphmark.

Glyphmark.

Whoever had taken me had at least partially razed my town. A familiar deep-seated anger swelled up inside of me, much as it had done multiple times in the past few hours.

Pacify yourself, Lanthe.

The voice inside my head served to cool me down, but in this state, I couldn’t help but dwell upon the many questions that had been raised in the past day. Who had foalnapped me? Why would they destroy my town? Why was this happening NOW, of all times -- when Glyphmark actually showed signs of improving after the hell it had been in the past?

And most of all... “Who the hell is Tod?” I said the last line out loud. He was that... voice in one of my recent dreams, but... you know, I usually dreamt about stuff like poker or... horses chasing carrots. Having a dream where something talked me about Roaman crap did NOT seem normal, by my standards at least, especially when my only connection to my ancestral lands lay with my delusional daddy who, as far as I knew, wasn't even IN Roam at the time. This Tod... for all I knew, I was just going bonkers, but knowing the Wasteland it was much more complicated than that. Some necrotic signal broadcasted from the tanks, maybe. Such a thing was common in Canterlot.

“Talking to yourself is a sign of madness, you know.”

“AH!” I reeled with surprise. I hadn’t heard anyone sneaking up on me!

“Shhh. Save your breath. You’re in bad shape.” The voice was feminine, a pony by the sound of it. I heard a hiss, the sound of a door sliding shut. I mentally berated myself for allowing myself to miss that.

My body ached, reminding me of that  last statement’s truth. I had been saved- for now, but I still was in a bad way. The scar on my stomach was still red and fresh, and my light-headedness was still prevalent through my cranium.

“I’m just guessing here, but I’m gonna say that you don’t have any intentions of being my best friend.” I refrained to give the raider satisfaction by looking at it, even acknowledging its presence. My head lolled to the side as I spat on the floor of the vehicle. “Just go. I don’t want your charity.”

The feminine voice laughed, a dry, humorless laugh. “Not to be rude or anything like that, but I don’t think that you have much of a choice. I can just stay here, while you can’t even move.” Then she added smugly, “Why, I could have had some fun while you were out.” Okay, that was just... no. Oh wait... actually, I would have been fine with that. If they weren’t fucking raiders... okay, now I’m confused, I’ll just stop talking about this topic and get back to the point.

I closed my eyes, wishing the mare away. I just wanted to be alone, without these bastards. Whoever they were.

“Like I said, unless you want to talk, there’s no point in staying here. Trash.”

“I-” The voice started, sounding hurt. However, it stopped short, with a tone of understanding. “Oh, I’m sorry. You haven’t seen me, with your head turned and all. Here, let me explain.”

I heard the form get up from the chair, and hoofsteps moving towards my side of the uncomfortable bed.

“Open your eyes,” she said. I did so, much as I didn’t actually want to.

“Woah! nevermind the trash thing!” My mind backpedaled into reverse, scrambling to make amends for my previous statement. Now I would very much have liked her to... well, you know.

It wasn’t a pony, as I had thought.

It was a zebra.

She stood up, giving me a better view. She was small and muscular, like me; lithe in build but seemed like she could kick some flank. Her black-and-grey mane flowed down over her shoulders, cascading like a waterfall to almost halfway down her legs. Her gray stripes conflicted with the white, making her form impossible to follow. But the most important was the jewelry adorning her neck.

“Is that...” My voice trailed off. Hung around her neck was a golden band, fitted with a simple, green gemstone.

“Yes. It is.” Her voice was full of pride.

The Great Amulet was supposed to be an artifact lost in history, thousands of years ago. It was originally wielded by the First Emperor himself, and then passed down to his niece. Generations had passed since then, and it was lost to the sands of time somewhere around the era when bread was invented. Each member of the family, however, had added a spell of their choice, unicorn magic, into the green stone. After it was lost, it remained so until a minor fiasco in which an enchantress, Zecora, found a similar replica, one with only minor powers.

She smiled. “This is the Amulet. Wielded by Julius, Augustus, Theseus, Dimus, Calypso, Kensa, all the way down to Hippolyta before it was lost.” She shook her neck, swinging it around as she did so.

I was shocked. “That means you... You have royal blood.”

“Well...” She frowned, appearing to be musing. “That’s the question. Only members of royal blood can wield it. However, I can, but I am only descended from a cousin of the Caesar. “

“I’m guessing you aren’t a raider, either.” Damn, that’s hot... ride me, please!

“Me? One of them? No! Actually, I was just sent to continue healing you.” She smiled, smugly tapping on her amulet with one hoof. “Royal blood. They can’t take it off.”

“Well,” I said, awed, “It’s an honor to be healed by one so like-minded as you.”

*** *** ***

As the last waves of potent healing magic surged over me, healing my senses, I almost  Immediately felt better. However, the magic had only served to heal my larger wounds, and left my scrapes, bruises, and open sores untended. That left me looking a bit like dessicated mud. Ouch.

I winced as she helped me off the bed, lowering me to the floor in a semi-dignified position. She blew her mane out of her face, seeming to scrutinize her work.

“That should do it for now.” She put her head under my stomach, lifting me up using her neck.

“Damn, you’re pretty strong for someone so small. How old?” I was now on all fours, hobbling around the small compartment.

“Seventeen. You?”

“Fifteen, Sixteen. In there somewhere.”  I groaned as my blood ran down back into my legs, temporarily confusing me as it flowed from my brain.

“You don’t keep track?”

“I would if I could.” I brushed her hooves from out underneath me, waving her off. I could stand well enough without her help now. “My idiot father never told me. Said it wasn’t important.”

Her eyes went wide with shock. “That’s terrible!”

“Yeah, he was never the sentimental type. He taught me ideals, how to fight, a little bit of Roaman history, then left me with the tribe a few years ago.” I cracked my neck, sweet relief coursing through me with each pop. “He still fights for the Roaman legion, somewhere. Always with the ‘honor’ and ‘duty to the Empire’ crap...” Then I glanced at her with a smirk. “Hell, I’m pretty sure that he would be your bitch, with the royal blood and all.” I laughed. “Actually, I’m sure of it. If he’s all fanatical about the emperor and such, why not you?”

“Yeah, why not?” She stepped back, admiring her medical work. Seeing as I now felt MUCH better than before, I thanked her mentally for it and gave her the privilege of feeling some pride at her accomplishment.

Wait, her-

*** *** ***

Team Penegrene, we're seeing some minor radar activity on the horizon to the south. They seem to be equine forms, but we aren't getting a reading on the Dex. Sentries, maybe? Confirm, over.

Team Brat, we cannot confirm your observation. Dust storm's kicked up a bit, instruments are ineffective. Check with Harrier, they're closer to your bogies.

Roger that. Communicating now.

...

Team Penegrene, Harrier is not responding. Maybe due to the dust, over.

Roger that, Brat. Harrier is out of radio contact for us. We're still a good two kilometers from your position. We'll get closer, but stay on the move. Maximum speed and nothing but.

Copy that, Penegrene. Over and out.

Out.

***  *** ***

I lifted a hoof, punching the intercom one last time as the final message went through. The stupid thing had been disrupting my sleep patterns.

Now, when you think of an intercom, you think of one of those little plastic boxes that occasionally beeps, and you hear a lady telling someone to come to some random aisle for a cleanup or customer service.

Well, no. Because it just COULDN'T be that simple. This thing was a military-grade, shockproof, water-resistant, armor-plated, analog behemoth which I was pretty sure was large enough to house its own subwoofer and sentient conscience bent on not letting me rest.  And the universe hated me just enough to have it placed directly above my head. And it sounded like someone had left it on full volume. Every single radio transmission going through the vehicle (which I had inferred, was codenamed the Penegrene) was relayed directly into my skull as I was trying to catch upon sleep.

If only they could play some decent music...

But of course, it didn't. It still spat out chatter -- boring, useless chatter. I began to drift asleep, hoping to just get away from it all.

Penegrene, this is Harrier. We’re gonna make a quick bathroom stop, over.

“This FUCKING-” I lifted my hoof to punch the system again, bored out of my mind and frustrated at the extremely dull and uninteresting banter.

I was interrupted by the sound of a knock on the door.

Well isn’t that nice. Visitors, I thought, not at all happy about it. Maybe if they were calm, civilized ponies (or zebras) who were like the one I had met earlier and NOT psychopathic murderers who wanted to burn down and destroy more towns, then maybe I’d be open to talk.

I strolled my way to the metal door, which I assumed led even farther into the massive vehicle. I put my face to the door. "Who is it?"

"Let me the fuck in before I have your brains blown out of your skull, you ungrateful little sarcastic bastard. The intercom's going off now. No need for you to hear all our tactical communications."

I rolled my eyes and said idly, "Come in then."

The rust on the surface of the door grinded with a large screeching noise as the portal slid to it's resting position. When it was fully open, I saw Shemagh standing at the entrance. He growled.

He had changed out of his gear since I had last seen him in -- the facemask and light armor were now replaced by a pair of aviator-style shades and some heavier, more protective ceramic plated barding. His midnight black coat seemed to absorb the light in the room, drawing my eyes to him.

He motioned for me to move aside, and I did so. He stepped into the room.

"Go."

"I beg your pardon?"

He whinnied. "Escape in the next two hours I'm on watch. I won't hinder you. I'll send in the Willow chick too, if you like."

"What the shi-"

"Just go."

He turned to exit, leaving me bewildered. That happened fast.

I spoke, stopping him short. "What's your name?" I mean, surely a gesture of polite consideration for my... ‘savior’ was a small price to pay for freedom.

"Demetrius."