Fallout: Lavender Wastelander

Clang.

Celestia grunted as the blow crashed into her sword, and her armored hooves started sliding back across the concrete floor. Reacting quickly, she adjusted her stance to put the weight of her plate mail behind holding her rival's blade at bay and stop her slide.

The rules were simple. Don’t get hit, don’t get pushed out of the circle. The friendly competition reminded her of participating in tournaments long ago. The familiar cheer of the crowds on the sidelines, the clinking and crashing of metal on metal. Even the smells were the same. Alcohol and sweat. They lingered in the air as thick as fog.

Yet, one familiar scent was out of place in the medley of odors. One that didn't belong on competition grounds. The faint scent of death wafted up from the bottom of the twin metro stations of Metro Central, as welcome as an uninvited guest…

"Nice block," Joel—or as most knew him, Deathclaw Joe—said with a smirk, drawing Celestia back to the fight. His blade slid against hers with a tortured screech as he pressed Celestia back one more step towards the edge. The royal guards on the sidelines started booing. Joel was gaining leverage, and with his advantage in height and raw strength, Celestia knew she'd lose if she didn't disengage their locked blades. “Did you learn that from fancy tutors, or first-hand experience?”

"I'm over a millennium old," Celestia replied. She forced his blade to the side and leapt past him. She spun around just in time for Joel's blade to miss her breastplate by a hair's breadth. The crowd roared as she parried his follow-through strike. After a few more clashes and parries, they ended up back where they started with locked blades. "My reign wasn't all sunshine and rainbows."

Flaring her horn, Celestia wrapped her blade in an aura of golden light and pushed. Her telekinetically enhanced blade was enough to force Joel back enough that neither of them held the edge, although he wasn’t using his magic. She’d worry about that when she wasn’t worried about her second opponent.

Lisa chose that moment to land off to the side of Celestia. Joel’s first wife had turned into a bat pony, and her new wings matched the scandalous outfit of spiked shoulder pads and leather lingerie that she preferred. She hefted a blunt plank of steel into a two handed grip. The sparring greatsword was about the same size, shape, and ugliness as the ones Celestia and Joel used. They were nothing like the ornate relic sheathed across Celestia's back.

"You’re pretty spry for an old hag," Lisa taunted. Most of the royal guards gasped, and Lisa held her pose, drinking in their reactions with a cocky grin before she chopped at Celestia’s backside like a tree. The coming blow was as obvious as a wine stain on a wedding dress. Celestia dodged, weaving out of the path of Joel's and Lisa’s swords as she drove deeper towards the center of the ring to get away from the edge.

Lisa, unfortunately, stopped her blade from overshooting and hitting Joel. She had skill with controlling a blade that could only come with practice. Celestia had as well, but her training had been on four hooves instead of two. The chance to learn how to fight on two hooves was why Celestia had suggested sparring in the first place.

"I was dodging arrows and spells before your ancestors were in diapers," Celestia said, a bemused chuckle escaping her as she fell into a guard stance. When she was in a good mood, she didn't mind talking about her age. It was a joke that she could laugh along with. With the thrill of friendly competition coursing through her, Celestia could safely say that she was in a good mood, despite the lingering smell in the air.

"Then I'll go easy on you so you don't break a hip," Lisa taunted back, pacing along the border of the circular arena. She lazily swiped her blade in front of her with a limp grip as she walked. Joel moved the opposite direction, the grip of his weapon firm in two hands. They were going to attack Celestia from both flanks.

Celestia recalled the lessons her instructors had drilled into her for fighting multiple opponents. Separate the group from each other and take out the weakest fighters first. Another tactic was to break their concentration and get under their fur. Since the sparring rules prevented them from leaving the ring, breaking their focus to gain the upper hoof was Celestia’s next option.

"I can assure you," Celestia said, adopting a low, sultry tone. Twilight had always talked of how effective Rarity's flirting was. “If my hips were in any danger, the first to discover would be Joel.”

It got the desired effect. Joel jerked in a double take, and Lisa roared with laughter. It was the opening Celestia needed as she telekinetically yanked Lisa's weapon away from her lazy grip, turned the weapon on the former wielder, then smacked Lisa on the thigh with the flat of the blade to knock her out the fight.

Celestia then launched towards Joel with a flap of her wings. She reared back her greatsword to swing…

Her breath exploded out in a sudden gasp as her chest collided with something. Her hooves shot out from under her for a split second before her vision flashed white with pain as the back of her helmeted head slammed into the ground.

It took Celestia a second to spot the sparring sword hovering above her. It was sheathed in a familiar aura of electric-blue light. In her haste, she’d clothesline herself on Joel’s sword. He’d adapted quickly.

"Wow," Lisa said, a smirk audible in her tone. "It doesn't take much for Joel to get you on your back, does it?"

"And you got her started," Joel said with a sarcastic sigh. He recalled the levitating sparring sword back to his hands as he approached Celestia at an even pace. His calm walk still sounded like a rhythm of falling boulders. He was a huge man, easily as large as a super mutant. His lightning-colored eyes and chiseled visage looked tiny from their perch eight feet up in the air.

"You okay?" He asked, genuine concern in his tone as he stooped and held out a hand for her. "I'm still getting used to my alicorn strength… and powers."

"I think you bruised my pride, but I’ll live," Celestia said, grinning sheepishly as she accepted the proffered hand. As Joel pulled Celestia up to her hooves, she added, “Do you think there will be any updates on Twilight's mission yet? I'm not sure how much time has passed down here.”

They'd been teleporting people to and from Metro Central all day, yet Celestia had lost track of time. Thankfully, Joel had lived in Metro Central for so long that he had an uncanny ability to tell time by looking at the hole in the ceiling over his throne. They hadn’t moved his furniture yet, and his gold-plated deathclaw skull was still mounted above the headrest of his throne. Celestia had seen it when there was still daylight out, and the golden skull had shone like a star in the metro station.

“Hmm, we haven't spent too long here,” Joel said, glancing towards the dark hole in the ceiling. “Still, we should get back, I don't want to miss any news about Paradise Falls." He turned to face Lisa, who rubbed at a red mark on her thigh. "Could you round up the last few of our people who are here, please? Tell them this is their last chance to get to Equestria today.”

Lisa grunted an acknowledgement, and Joel headed for his tent. The pavilion-sized dwelling of sewn-together brahmin hides sat atop a concrete balcony overlooking the rest of the upper of Metro Central’s two metro stations.

“Hey,” Lisa said, joining Joel's side as Celestia walked along the other. “I did have a question that’s been bugging me. Now that the Enclave wants Paradise Falls gone, why aren’t we helping? Either of you could teleport us there and we could help—”

“No,” Joel snapped. The outburst sent Lisa and Celestia cringing back. Joel winced at his own outburst, his ears going flat and his voice smoothed out to a calm and even tone. It was as if all playfulness and joy were carved out with a knife. "Sorry, Lisa, but no. I shouldn’t go. I’m trying to think with my brain more than my fists and sword." He shook his head, as if ashamed. "After what I did, I need to do better.”

Celestia saw the pain in his eyes. He hated what he's done at the Knock. She could see the regret in his wide open eyes. Celestia didn't blame him for slaughtering the more violent and unpredictable of the raider gangs. She'd planned on attacking the Metro gangs with Equestrian troops before Joel dealt with the problem for her.

“Knowing myself,” he continued, voice low and strained, “I would see one mistreated slave and go berserk.” He grit his teeth and looked away, visibly frustrated. He vented his frustration with a heavy sigh. “I’m scared of what my new powers would let me do. In Equestria, Celestia and I fought gryphons in power armor, and I won without a scratch." His voice grew frantic as he gestured at Celestia. "For crying out loud, Celestia pulled the sun up from the wrong direction just to mess with their night vision helmets. I have the powers of a god now, I just don't know what they are, and I'm afraid to find out what I can do if I lose my temper.”

Celestia cringed, recalling a teary, private conversation she had with Fluttershy. An alicorn on a true rampage would be a bloody mess. She looked at Joel, a man so massive he eclipsed mountains… and he was afraid.

It was a good thing.

“With great power, comes greater responsibility," Celestia said, rejoining the conversation with a small smile. "But I think you have the right mindset for it. You try to improve yourself, both physically and mentally, and you're holding yourself back from indulging in revenge.”

Jealousy had driven dear sweet Luna down a path of darkness, to the point she had turned into a dark creature ready to slay her own sister. What would the quest for bloody revenge turn an alicorn into? Luckily for everyone involved, Joel was more than a simple barbarian king. The books he preferred, outside of Grognak the Barbarian comic books, were dense reads. Celestia had helped pack up and move his vast collection of epic poems, philosophy, even a few dictionaries. If he’d been born in Equestria and given the chance, he’d probably have graduated college.

Joel took a step back and seemed to consider her words, mulling them over as he worked his jaw.

“Thank you, and sorry that I yelled,” Joel said. With a sigh, he relaxed his shoulders and seemed to grow even bigger as he smiled confidently. He kissed Celestia on the forehead, then had to bend to kiss Lisa’s head, who was two heads shorter than Joel, and a head shorter than Celestia. “You're both right that I would like to take down Paradise Falls, and I’m holding myself back, but I trust that Twilight has it covered. My real revenge lies with The Pitt…” His features darkened again for just a moment, before he forced away the thoughts plaguing him and smiled again. “Sorry.”

“Ey, big guy, no need to sweat it,” Lisa said, smiling softly as she spread her wings. “I was the one who went about asking the question like an asshole. Anyways, I’ll go get the people rounded up now. Are we sleeping in Equestria or the Enclave base tonight?”

Joel looked to Celestia for the answer.

“Equestria,” Celestia said. “The guards on the Equestrian side of the portal have been told to expect us to come through at any time.”

“Cool,” Lisa said. “I can’t wait to see what Samantha and the kids have been up to.”

Lisa ended the conversation with a powerful flap of her wings. She soared up towards the arched roof of the metro, then banked towards where some of Joel’s former subjects were sitting around a barrel fire.

Joel started back on the path towards his tent, and Celestia followed.

“I don’t think I mentioned it earlier,” Celestia said, changing topics away from Paradise Falls. “But nice reaction time with your telekinesis. You reacted faster than I expected.”

“You didn’t do too bad yourself,” Joel said. He worked his jaw, as if considering something, then grinned. “That joke did take me off guard. I still can’t believe you’re over a millennium old.” He then worked his jaw again, humming as he bit his lower lip.

What was he thinking?

“Go ahead,” Celestia said with a smile. They reached the stairs leading to the platform where Joel’s tent rested.

“What?” Joel asked, feigning ignorance and looking away. Celestia kept her eyes on him, narrowing them until she had the proper glare to bore right through him. His lips twitched with a restrained smile, and he relented. “Okay, I have a question about you, but I don’t know if it’s offensive or not. It's related to your age. I’m a barbarian, but I still have manners.”

Celestia rolled her eyes. She didn’t mind questions. Was he blushing?

“Go ahead,” Celestia insisted, smiling ruefully. “I’m so old that I’ve probably already answered the question. You wouldn’t believe what some ponies have asked me in the past. There has been more than one colt or filly who just HAD to know ‘do alicorns need to poop’.”

That got a chortle out of Joel. She was ready for anything he could throw at her.

“How accurate is your memory?” Joel asked with genuine enthusiasm and a smile on his face. “Are you a living history book? I would have loved to have a living primary source from a thousand years ago in human history, just to ask what it was really like back then.”

Celestia drew up with a grimace. Of all the things, it had to be the one topic that made her feel her age.

“Well,” Celestia said, her tone soft. She wasn’t going to dodge the question, she had been insistent that she would answer it, no matter what it was. “My immortality didn’t come with an eidetic memory, and I’ve lived so many mortal lifetimes that I forget details or jumble things up.” Celestia sighed and shook her head. She started up the stairs, trying to work out how to explain it to a recently ascended mortal with only a fraction of her lifetime. Maybe how she had explained it to Twilight would work for Joel.

“It's hard to explain, but looking back at anything under my first two-hundred years or so now, is like… like trying to recall memories of being a child for a mortal. Things are so far back that the details are a smudged oil painting in my mind’s eye, all blended together.” She couldn’t even recall exactly how old she was. “Journaling helps, but it gets to me when I realize that my earlier journals are practically unreadable to a modern Equestrian because of how far the language has drifted. Sometimes, I don’t even feel like I’m the same pony.”

Celestia paused on the steps and turned towards Joel. He stared at her with a hand on his statue-worthy chin as he contemplated her words. She knew an analogy that would get the point across.

“Humans have a myth similar to the Equestrian story of the Carpenter’s House,” Celestia said. “Do you know of the Ship of Theseus?”

“Yes,” Joel said, humming. “But I’m interested in hearing Equestria’s version of the parable.”

“Well” Celestia said, nodding. “The story goes that a young carpenter built a house and moved into it with his family. This was so long ago that it was in the days before pegasi controlled the weather, so a storm blew off his roof. He built a new one, and afterwards, years go by until he eventually passes on. His son—a carpenter following the family trade—and his family are now living in the house.” Celestia slowed their pace so they wouldn’t reach the top of the stairs before she finished the story. “Now, the son has more children than the house was built for, and the house is getting old, so he adds another room and makes repairs all over, replacing many boards here and there.” Celestia waved a hand. “Skipping the parts where the story repeats on and on, the point of it is that after generations of carpenters and stonemasons repairing, renovating, adding and modifying as needs fit, is the house at the end of the story the same house from the start? Even after every board and the foundations themselves have been changed?”

“Centuries of life,” Joel said. “Some forgotten memories here, a traumatic experience there, a mistake or two that you will never forget added in, and moments so wondrous and happy it’ll stick with you forever seasoning the tapestry of your life.”

He understood what she was getting at.

“Hmm,” Joel rumbled contemplatively. He cupped his chin again with a hand. “I hear the story and I think that, in the end, does it even matter? The original builder may be centuries dead, but it doesn’t change the fact that, in the distant past, the house was a house perfect for those that needed it. The house grew, the house changed, but by the end of it all, the house was still a house. No matter what, you are still Celestia, ruler of Equestria. You changed to fit your people’s needs, but the centuries didn’t rob you of being you.”

He smiled, leaned over so he was face to face with her, and tapped the side of her head with a finger.

Celestia threw her arms around the back of his neck and hauled herself into a passionate kiss. It lasted for several moments, before Celestia pulled away, panting for breath. Joel blinked at her, processing it.

“Sorry… just…” she stammered. “That was the best thing you could have said to me.”

“Heh,” Joel grunted, a smile breaking through his bewilderment. “I just said what came natural. Now, let’s go pack up some more things before we get back to Adams.”

That sounded like a wonderful idea. Hopefully Lisa wouldn’t need too long to get the rest of the humans organized, Celestia was looking forward to seeing how Twilight handled the slavers.

<>~<>~<>

Alexander Espinoza peered through the cockpit window at the fast-moving scenery below, a smile hidden behind his flight helmet. What a night it was to fly his vertibird. No clouds, lots of moonlight, and barely any wind.

He spared a glance to VB-991, which flew wingman to him. The other vertibird had drawn in close enough that he could see the faces of the troops letting their legs dangle out of the passenger bay. It was stupid and reckless to hang out of a bird like that. The newer suits of Enclave power armor weren’t made as well as the old stuff back West. If the vertibird had to take evasive action and bank hard, anyone who fell would drop like a stone and make a mess on landing.

“Lawnmower,” Espinoza said, grunting into the microphone embedded into his helmet. VB-991’s pilot, Tobias Clarke, chose a terrible nickname, but he was still a good friend of his, so it was a moot point. “You might want to have your guys keep their legs in the vehicle. Wouldn't want anyone to fall out when the deathclaws start throwing rocks at us.”

Espinoza was well into his sixties and hadn't lost a single passenger to an accident. He hoped to spread that wisdom to the new generation of Enclave pilots. Those that would listen, at the very least.

“Like we’re gonna land that close to Old Olney,” Clarke replied, his voice crackling with static from the speaker in Espinoza’s helmet. Despite the distortion, Espinoza could still make out the humor in Clarke’s voice. “We’re gonna be fine, Gramps, lighten up a little. Your ass is so tight, I could put a piece of coal between your cheeks and get a diamond for my effort.”

“Only way you’re gonna see a diamond,” Espinoza said, preparing for a low blow he knew would trip up his young friend. Their conversations went like that, verbal middle-fingers to each other. Espinoza hoped that each time he one-upped Clarke, the boy would learn from the experience and grow a little. “How long did your last relationship last? Two days? You change girlfriends more than you shower.”

Heaven knew the boy still had a lot of growing to do.

“You laugh, Gramps," Clarke said, still in high spirits, "but I just hit it off with one of the new girls ‘round the base.”

Espinoza wasn’t aware of any transfers. Unless Clarke meant some of the Equestrians. Was the kid that desperate? Of course he was, he was young.

“You’re dating one of the muties, aren’t you?” Espinoza asked with a grimace. It was bad enough that he had to play nice with the brahmin-faced hornheads, and while the President looked human, she was an Equestrian. Didn't matter to him that America owned the plot of land she was born on, it wasn't stateside or the oil rig… but that didn't stop her from shaking his hand personally before he took off for this mission. Bucket-of-Bolts Eden wouldn’t have ever done that.

“Sergeant Emerald looks human enough, if you ignore the fact that you can see through her like she's an empty green cola bottle.”

Espinoza had thought ghosts had come over from the other side when he’d seen a crystal pony for the first time. At least she made the kid happy. Damn the ponies for being too damned likable.

“I’d like to meet her,” Espinoza said, trying to sound as sincere as he could force himself to be. He didn’t like muties, but the Enclave was changing. He could at least try. “Do you know if Equestrian’s drink alcohol? We can take her to—”

The joystick in Espinoza’s hands gave a sudden and violent jerk as the vertibird dropped a few feet in altitude. Espinoza wrenched the yolk back, and his co-pilot, Gavin, swore like a raw-recruit the entire time as he too wrestled the controls. They leveled back out, but the feedback in the joystick was wrong. It wobbled and occasionally jerked, and Espinoza’s palms started to sweat under his gloves as he held the joystick in a death grip.

The shaking lasted a few more seconds, then left as soon as it came.

“You okay, Esp?” Clarke asked in a worried tone. It took Espinoza several moments and Clarke repeating himself before Espinoza finally realized he was being asked a question.

“What happened?” he replied.

“Set that bird down now. Something fell off,” Clarke said. Espinoza knew his friend well, and could tell from the tone that something was wrong. There was a professionally suppressed panic to his voice. “Command wants you to contact them. We’re scrubbing the mission. We can cull the deathclaws on any other night we choose.”

Espinoza scrambled to press the button on his control console to change preset radio channels. The new one linked him back to Adams AFB instead of his wingman.

“Command,” Espinoza said, taking a deep breath and reminding himself what to do in emergencies. He checked over his instruments.

Shit… he was losing oil and hydraulic pressure. Did lines get cut by the debris that fell off?

Seconds passed by, unease building in his gut as he waited on the edge of his seat, his knuckles white under his gloves. The gauges kept falling. He was about to call again, but a woman’s voice finally replied in a calm and composed tone with a heavy country twang.

“Command here, Espinoza,” President Jacklyn said. The honesty in her tone helped calm his racing heart. “Land as far away from Old Olney as you can. We're gonna teleport a repair team out to you. We have a pair of alicorns here, and one of them knows the area.”

Espinoza could see the ruined town miles ahead of his vertibird. The crumbling buildings and rubble-filled streets were painted in shadowy hues by the moonlight. It was enough to see landmarks like a water tower, billboards, and a few crumbling spans of elevated highway. The emergency landing zone should be… there. He spotted it after just a few moments of searching.

As Espinoza pushed his joystick to reorient the vertibird, the aircraft entered a shallow angle down before he heard a sound that would empty the bowels of any pilot. A loud metallic crunch accompanied by a complete lack of feedback in the joystick.

Gavin swore as his joystick went dead as well. Espinoza tried the pedals that controlled yaw… no response. He and Gavin shared haunted looks. They both knew what it meant.

<>~<>~<>

The starry night sky greeted Celestia as she opened her eyes with a groan. The scent of burned mane lingered around her head like a halo, and her wings were trapped between her and the asphalt she lay on.

“Joel, I think you need a few more lessons on teleportation,” Celestia said as she leaned up and dusted off a layer of soot clinging to her armor. She looked around the span of road that she’d appeared on. It was an elevated highway full of rusting cars and concrete barriers, but no Joel.

“Joel?” Celestia asked, raising her voice.

The fur on the back of Celestia’s neck stood on end as the thought crossed her mind. What if they’d been scattered away from each other by Joel’s amateur teleportation?

“Over the median from you,” Joel groaned, crushing her worry like a grape. He appeared as he pulled himself up with the concrete barrier that divided the highway. Celestia almost laughed at his frizzy white mane. It made it look like his head was trapped in a cloud. He blew an errant white strand out of his face, the singed tip still smoking. “And in my defense, that’s the longest I’ve ever had to teleport.”

With a flex of his muscular arms, he vaulted the median, then smoothed out his long hair as he joined where Celestia stood. His deathclaw skin cloak was caked in as much soot as Celestia’s plate mail, turning the green hide a mottled black.

“I’m glad you knew the area so you could teleport us,” Celestia said. They were in the command center talking to Applejack about the ongoing mission to retrieve some technology from Old Olney when the first vertibird had a catastrophic mechanical failure. “Do you think we’ll find survivors?”

Joel was about to say something, but a sound echoed in the distance. It was like the hiss of an alligator fed through concert speakers. Celestia turned around to find that, far below the span of elevated highway were the ruins of Old Olney. Dozens of partially intact buildings were laid out in a grid divided by streets and roads, though many of the asphalt paths were choked by rubble from the collapsed buildings.

As she searched for the source of the noise, her eyes were drawn towards the wreckage of a vertibird that had crash-landed in front of a fire station. The wings had snapped off and the attached engines lay in flaming heaps, but the fuselage itself seemed relatively intact. Several blocks away, the glow of a fire from the second vertibird illuminated the surrounding buildings, but Celestia couldn’t see the crash site itself. Nor whatever had made that sound. She kept her eyes peeled, silently watching the town with Joel, until he suddenly pointed.

A looming mass stalked around the corner of a building far below in the town.

It was the first time Celestia had seen a living deathclaw, and corpses on an autopsy table couldn’t compare to the living thing.

It looked too much like a dragon, but wrong. Wingless, and with a puggish face much shorter than a real dragon, with overlapping teeth so large it couldn’t fully close its lipless jaws. Two massive ram-horns spiraled back from the crown of its head. Its scales were a dirty green and dotted with spikes that ran along the spine. The longer she stared, the less she was sure it was close to a dragon, but a bastardized idea of one instead.

It neared the fire station before it stopped, stretched upwards, then sniffed the air, giving her a better look at the underbelly of the deathclaw, which was a soft tan compared to the dark-green, almost black hide covering the rest of the creature. Its massive arms were so long that, as the creature hunched back down, the machete-length claws nearly scraped the concrete sidewalk.

There was a deceptive grace to the way it stomped. Like the creature perfectly knew its own strength, was in full control of how it walked, and wasn’t a victim of its own gargantuan size as it used its long tail like a counterbalance to keep itself perfectly steady.

It passed a burning hunk of engine and wing to reach the central hull. It sniffed at the door on the side of the craft, then nudged at the metal with the tip of its snout before it backed up.

“Is it confused by the metal?” Celestia whispered. “Maybe it’ll leave—”

The deathclaw reared back a hand, extending its claws, before swiping at the door. Furrows ripped into the metal, and she heard screaming come from inside the craft.

"Get us down there now!" Joel yelled as he drew his sword.

Drawing her own sword from her back, Celestia appeared behind the deathclaw in a burst of golden magic. Dawn’s Ray flashed out towards the creature’s calves in an arc, the enchanted steel of the greatsword’s blade slicing through the hide, then the flesh beneath. It cut just as easily as the day Celestia first used the blade.

The deathclaw howled in pain, and Celestia leapt to the side as it collapsed back like a felled tree. Joel finished the stunned creature off with a stab to the throat. The underbelly was thinner than the rest of the hide, and the only resistance his blade met was a temporary pause at the spine before it, too, was severed by the blade.

The creature let out a final, surprised gurgle, then collapsed.

"That was insane," Celestia gasped, standing beside the corpse and breathing heavily. What they'd done was reckless. It was common knowledge that you fought dragons with spells, not swords. She'd been too hasty to rush in and help.

"Yeah," Joel said, then laughed like they hadn't just taken down one of the most notoriously dangerous wasteland predators with swords. He shifted over a few steps before he knocked on the side of the vertibird.

"Oi, any of you lot still alive in there,” He asked playfully. “Or did the beastie scare you to death?"

Celestia took a moment to breathe. That only let the absurdity of the situation build up in Celestia’s mind before spilling out in peals of laughter. The adrenaline was getting to her, and she couldn't help but laugh. It was like she was an overfilled tankard. Over her laughter, she heard people talking inside the vertibird. She managed to compose herself long enough to catch part of the conversation.

"—wounded. If you people are hornheads, then you can move the whole bird with magic, right? Command said they were teleporting a repair team. Why not teleport the whole bird?"

Joel turned to her, and she realized he was expecting her to answer the question the Enclaver had asked.

"We can't teleport the vertibird, but we can levitate it," Celestia said. Not even her magic was good enough to teleport an entire vertibird's worth of mass. "We’ll try to reach the second crash site after we’re sure you're in a safe spot to treat your wounded."

“Please, save him,” The voice within the vertibird asked. It was an older male’s voice. “He tried to save us. He shouldn’t have to die on my behalf.”

Celestia set her jaw and nodded, despite the fact the fuselage door had no windows for the man to see her. Flaring her horn, she wrapped the vertibird with magic and strained with concentration.

The vertibird was one hefty brick of metal.

“A… little help here,” Celestia grunted, brows furrowed. She could twirl the sun around Equestria like a toy, but the wreck of an aircraft was beyond her. Where was the logic in that?

Electric blue mixed with her gold, and the vertibird shifted until it was off the ground by only a few inches. That would have to do.

Like how paramedics would carry a stretcher, Joel and Celestia hefted the entire vertibird full of wounded towards the edge of town Celestia recalled seeing from atop the elevated highway. There was a crude wall made of wood blocking one of the few rubble-free paths out of town.

Celestia had blown apart the Castle of the Two Sisters when fighting Luna. A wooden wall wouldn’t stop her. She didn’t even have to set the vertibird down as she lashed out with a tight beam of golden light. She aimed for the bases of the wooden posts at the spot where they met the ground. The wooden wall toppled over, the proverbial legs cut out from under it.

Wiping her brow, she huffed for air as she strained to keep the bulk of the vertibird levitating.

“You good, Celly?” Joel asked. Their hooves crunched over the fallen wall.

“Just have to save these people,” Celestia said. She wasn’t going to fail them like she failed Cloudsdale and Canterlot. Dragging in breath like she was a freshly rescued drowning pony, Celestia growled.

Then an overglow enveloped her horn.

She shone like a lighthouse, as bright as a floodlight as she heaved the vertibird higher in the air so it avoided a boulder they would have had to go around. She couldn’t celebrate the tiny victory. She had to keep moving. Save who she could and do better than she had been.

Once they were maybe a hundred paces outside of town, Celestia and Joel gently set the vertibird down onto the wind-swept dirt of the post-apocalyptic desert.

Crying out in victory, Celestia drew her sword once more and turned to Joel.

“Come on,” Celestia cheered. “Let’s rescue the other crew!”

<>~<>~<>

Celestia coughed blood.

She stared down at the deathclaw’s hand, its claws sinking deeper into her breastplate with the sound of ripping metal. Ribs beneath snapped like dry twigs.

The deathclaw dragged her upwards to eye level, her entire sternum shifting under her flesh. Gouts of blood fountained over the dark gray, almost concrete-colored hide of the deathclaw. The gray skin of its hand shifted to a deep maroon, matching the color of the blood covering it. It was like watching a chameleon adapt to its surroundings.

Ambushed by what she thought was a pile of rubble.

Stupid… reckless. Charging in full of arrogance and pride.

Slowly, Celestia managed to drag her sight away from the bloody hand and to the Deathclaw’s beady eyes. There was malicious intelligence within them. She could see it clearly, the glassy, dark eyes of the beast reflecting the light from the burning remains of the second vertibird.

They’d arrived too late to save the crew.

Celestia didn’t get the chance to look into its eyes for long before a rock the size of a wagon flew past to leave behind only a bloody stump in the place where its head had been.

“NOOOO!”

That was Joel’s voice. Distant and faint, but oh so loud somehow. Celestia crashed to the ground as the deathclaw went limp with death. She coughed a mist of blood into the air as she hit what had been a sidewalk. She couldn’t feel anything below her stomach.

Joel slid on his knees, coming to a stop beside her and the dead deathclaw. He cradled her with an arm on the back of her neck. She could read the agony on his face. She was dead for sure.

“I… I can fix this,” Joel said. He was so desperate, so sincere. “I know I can fix this.”

Body spasming, Celestia coughed another gout of blood from her shredded lungs and looked away. She didn’t want Joel to have her bloody coughs to be the last memory he had of her.

A white metal box wrapped in a blue aura clattered to the ground by her hand. It was a faintly singed medical box. Joel flipped the lid open with his magic, cursing as he shuffled through it. A half-dozen syringes flew from the box wrapped in electric-blue light.

He injected her with several stimpacks. That started closing the wounds, but the damage inside of her… it would be too much, even for the miraculous syringes of human-made potions. She wanted to tell him that it would be all right, that she had lived a good life, and that she was sorry that she was so reckless and caused him pain.

Frantically, he injected her with the last syringe. The shot made the rest of her pain go away. Had he seen what she saw? Was he letting her go?

No. He levitated a bottle of pills out the box. Celestia could barely read the label. The darkness was closing in. He opened the bottle of medicine and forced her jaws open.

She reflexively swallowed as the pill was forced down her throat.

Sorry… Celestia thought, closing her eyes. Fading… dying.

She felt another prick in her arm.

<>~<>~<>

Celestia’s eyes shot open.

Joel nearly cried out with joy as they opened. His cheer was cut short as green, somehow cold light shone out of her eyes accompanied by purple and black smoke. He jumped back at the sudden appearance of the foul light, still holding the syringe of psycho that he’d just injected her with.

The terrible green light shone out the tears in her armor, accompanied by the unnatural sound of twigs snapping in reverse. Joel could feel the foulness radiating from the energy. Joel didn’t know much about magic, but this was wrong. He’d read enough Grognak comic books to know foul sorcery when he saw it.

Then Celestia’s body rose like she was being dragged upwards by invisible ropes. Once she was several feet off the ground, she tilted in the air, orienting so her hooves hovered a few inches off the ground.

Did I somehow awaken her version of Nightmare Moon? Joel thought in a panic. He needed to get Twilight.

Then Celestia blinked.

The unnatural light cleared from her eyes and she dropped to the ground on shaky legs. She reached for her chest and came back with a handful of blood.

“Oh my… that’s not good,” Celestia said, voice slurred. Her pupils were as wide as saucers.

“I’m going to see if I can find another stimpack,” Joel said, pushing aside what he’d just seen to deal with later when they weren’t in deathclaw territory.

“No time,” Celestia said. She flared her horn, and Joel heard sizzling come from within her armor, accompanied by Celestia biting her lip and screaming as smoke shot out the tears in her armor like the vents of a grill.

“What did you just do!?” Joel asked in a panic, rushing to her side. He caught the scent of charred meat and burned hair coming off of her.

“I cauterized my own wounds,” Celestia said, her pupils narrowing as she seemed to regain focus. She scowled, reaching out one hand and flaring her horn. Her sword flew into her outstretched hand. “The scarred flesh will heal with time.”

She stomped off like she hadn’t brushed by death.

“Wait,” Joel called as he rushed after her. “What are you doing?”

Celestia spun to face him with a smile that was also somehow a scowl. An expression he’d only seen on people using psycho.

“No one else will have to die to this deathtrap after I’m done with it.”

She spun back around and continued her dramatic march away from the burning wreckage. Joel clenched and unclenched his hand.

For the love of God, I hope the psycho wears off before we get back. It’s going to be awkward explaining this to Applejack.

Mimicking her move, Joel telekinetically pulled his own sword from the corpse of the deathclaw that he’d been distracted with before Celestia was almost killed. Once his sword was firmly in his grasp, Joel raced to catch up with Celestia.

She was heading straight for the Old Olney power station.