Secret Navy Installation,
Nuts and Bolts Salvage Yard

“Since when was I a replacement?” Porter asked.

“No your not.” Gramps spat. “You and I can talk later. I need to deal with the loudmouth.”

“Excuse-”

CRACK!

It’s obvious I’ve forgotten a few things about Gramps. Sure he’s a smooth-talker at time and can convince you to do just about anything, but he’s still quick in his old age and he can throw a punch. “Ow…” I groaned as I rubbed my jaw. “That fucking hurt!”

“It’s supposed to hurt!” Gramps yelled. “If you hate my guts why do you even care about the misconception that I replaced you?”

“Because fuck you, that’s why!”

“Did Osman shove a stick up your ass during those experiments? Because you’re acting like one’s there!”

“Hey, cut the crap!” Gramps and I both stopped our growing argument on a dime and turned to Porter, the only probable voice of reason in the room with us. “We’ve got far more important problems to deal with than you two acting like an old married couple.”

“Like what?” I asked.

“Like the platoon of soldiers still in cryo on the lower levels.”

“Did I just hear him right?”

“You did.” Gramps replied. “There’s whole platoon down here?”

“Well it’s not a full platoon.” Said Porter. “We were one short when we went under.”

“But a platoon of what? Homicidal clowns?”

“Marines. Specifically a Fast Reaction Force.” Gramps replied.

“You’re right on Commander.” Porter replied.

"Gramps, care to elaborate a bit?" I asked.

“Long story short when I was in the academy my final project was a thought experiment centered around the establishment of a fully trained naval-based commando unit meant for crisis response.”

“You seriously came up with that?”

“Damn right I did.” He retorted. “After you got kidnapped I took the concept and incorporated aspects of it into the Ranger Corps as an official proof of concept. The Princess gave me the green light to develop the force right after we won at Dodge City, and our Porter was going to head up the unit.”

“What do you mean by ‘was’? I’m already in charge.”

“Not now Porter.” Gramps spat. “The day before you got back the Porter I knew was killed by Enclave saboteurs who were trying to destroy our communications equipment. Inevitably through Porter’s sacrifice we were able catch them and boot them out of the city.”

“...You said official proof.” I muttered. “What was the unofficial proof?”

Gramps offered a simple sigh and he seemed to force himself to relax. “You were. All that training I gave you came right out of that paper I wrote.”

“Which means you replaced me with some schmuck off the street anyway!”

“I did not.”

“Did too!” I spat. “You even just said he was the ‘official proof’ you jackass!”

“Am I missing something?” Porter asked.

“Quite a lot.” Gramps said.

“Now shut the fuck up and let the adults speak.” I said without bothering to give a glimmer of focus to Porter.

“Dusk, Porter was an orphan.” Gramps added. “I’d been keeping tabs on him since before the Changelings grabbed me because I was planning on taking him in. Once I got free there was so much stuff going on I couldn’t find the time to go grab him.”

“And what were you doing that was so important?”

“Remember that De Witt guy? You know, the one Steeljack did a piss-poor job of killing?”

“What do you mean a piss-poor job?” I asked.

“Ya, the fucker is alive.” Gramps said. “Trust me, even after Steeljack took off a chunk of his face I was still dealing with him. And then when Steeljack triggered the beacon spell I left on my pocket watch I came back and for most part ignored De Witt… I didn’t have the time to go deal with him once I was reactivated and promoted.”

“Well fuck, now we’ll have to deal with him too!” I groaned.

“I’m still lost over here.” Porter added.

“And you’ll stay lost!” I yelled. “Gramps, how did you get him under your command?”

“I gave him a job after he washed out of the academy.” He replied. “He was with us at Las Pegasus where he planned out and managed the perimeter around the part of the city that the Enclave irradiated. It wasn’t hard to promote the kid and bring him onto my senior staff after that.”

I could keep arguing… But I still don’t know half of what happened while I got used as a pincushion. “Alright, if you say so.”

“Oh, I get it. Multiverse!”

Gramps and I both exchanged concerned looks and turned to face Porter. “What did you just say?” Gramps asked.

“Multiverse. You two are Dusk and Meteor Shower, but alternate versions of the ones I know… Or is it knew at this point?”

“Probably knew.” I answered. “But where would you get that idea? Don’t get me wrong, you’re right on the money-”

“Did you read a bunch of science fiction books as kid?”

“I never stopped reading them.” Porter replied.

“There you go.” Said Gramps. “Our version of Porter wasn’t much different. Whenever we weren’t doing anything or getting shot at I’d catch him with a book.”

“Alright, that’s great and all but we do have some other things to discuss.”

“What do you mean Porter?” I asked.

Porter walked over to a small computer panel built into the wall and typed away at some keys. “We need to worry about the others.”

“Right… You said there was a platoon down here.” Gramps muttered.

One last key clicked on the panel and the wall itself slowly slid up to reveal a large dark room. One after another a series of fluorescent lights began to click on. The first level was lined with shelves full of guns, ammo and combat armor. The level below that slowly illuminated to reveal hundreds of sets of power armor in various states of repair. And finally, the bottom of the chamber was full of rows upon rows of cryopods, just barely visible in the fog that clouded the floor below.

“Wow.” That’s the only thing I could bring myself to say as I walked out onto the balcony that overlooked the chamber.

“There’s enough equipment in here to arm a platoon of five hundred.” Porter said as he took a spot next to me. “We knew we weren’t going to need everything, so the rest was supposed to be either for spare parts or distribution to friendly factions.”

“What do you mean by friendly factions?” I asked.

“We all went into cryo about a month after the bombs dropped.” Porter explained. “We had minimal radiation fallout here initially, and we were hoping to make contact with the command structure. But there was nothing until an airship put down about two weeks into our watch… It was a navy recon picket that had been out at sea when the bombs fell. After about a week they took the civilian personnel and headed to a research base somewhere in the tundra. And with them they took the other activation key to keep it safe.”

“Activation key?”

“There’s two keys. I have one, but the other went with the airship commander. The plan was for us to go into cryo until such a time where they could return, thaw us all out, and bring us to the research base. Before we could go though they needed to establish that the base was safe and operational, hence the need for us to get in the pods.”

“You didn’t know when they were coming back for you.” Gramps added.

“We didn’t. But those pods were the best way for us to stay alive until the recon picket returned. Mine was wired up to the print scanner topside. If someone with proper clearance triggered the locks, it would wake me up so I could be ready for whoever came down to get us… Although I didn’t count on the locking mechanism sticking”

“And you probably didn’t count on being in a freezer for two centuries either.” I pointed out. “Ugh…”

“What’s wrong Dusk?”

“We can’t leave those guys on ice.” I groaned. “We need soldiers and we’ve got a whole company staring us right in the face.”

“But we can’t thaw them out without the second key.” Gramps muttered. “You want to go looking for the patrol ship.”

“No, I want to go find the research base.” I said pointedly. “Who’d have the time to shoot down an airship right after the apocalypse anyway? I’d wager that at the very least they made it to that base.”

“We don’t even know where the base is.”

Gramps is right… We don’t know where the base is. But we do have access to records that could tell us. “Stay here.” I said as I started heading back for the elevator.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” Gramps asked as I stepped into the elevator car.

“I need to go make a call.” I replied as I hit the up button. As the door finally closed and the car shuddered to the start of its upward journey I let out a breath I had been holding since Gramps socked me.

And in light of what I’m about to push for it might have been wise to hold it…

Three Hours Later

I tried to stay out of the way of the soldiers that were milling about the bunker’s atrium. But my efforts to keep my eye on Kovac, Jericho and Juno as they got the run-down of the bunker from Porter kept me in the way of eavesdropping on the conversation. The best I got was watching a bunch of nodding as Porter kept talking.

“You hear anything interesting?” Gramps asked.

“I wish.” I muttered. “Why the hell would Porter tell us to stay out of their meeting?”

“Kovac can give us resources to try and find the missing key.” Gramps pointed out. “I’d bet that Porter is pleading his case to him in the hope of getting some sort of assistance.”

“Or there’s something he doesn’t want to tell us.” I replied.

After a few more minutes in silence Porter and Kovac made the short walk to join us in the foyer. “We’ve come to an agreement.” Said Kovac.

“What kind of agreement?” Gramps asked.

“A simple one.” Kovac retorted. “If we pick up on the return ping from the naval airship’s homing beacon I’ll allow the three of you to go and attempt to locate the missing key. If not we’ll try to devise a bypass so we can get the other soldiers out of cryostasis.”

“You’re making it sound simple.” I pointed out. “What’s the catch?”

“The catch is actually picking up the beacon’s signal.” Porter replied.

“Dusk, the Northern Wastes is a snow ridden hellhole.” Said Kovac. “We’ve sent patrols into the tundra before. Radio communications up there are spotty even with properly functioning equipment. With that in mind our best chance of picking up the signal is an old base camp we established in the border region.”

“Old base camp?” I asked. “How old are we talking?”

“No one has been there in twenty years.” Jericho added as he joined the conversation. “We abandoned it and the communications equipment after an attack by a bunch of locals.”

“You moved out when some locals attacked?” Gramps asked.

“You haven’t seen ponies like these.” Jericho muttered. “They look emaciated, so you’d think they’re harmless… But I watched two of my subordinates get cut to pieces by those fuckers before we managed to lock down the camp. From there until extraction they were taunting us. The leader cut off one of their faces and wore it like a mask!”

“So we have to fight off crazy locals while we try to ping the beacon? Sounds like a catch to me.” I pointed out.

“We’ll have to make due.” Gramps said. “Kovac, can you spare a lift?”

“There’s a vertibuck already waiting for you topside General.”

“Well ain’t that helpful.” I muttered.

“I would hope it is.” Kovac replied. “Just promise me something.”

“You’re not gonna ask us to do something stupid, are you?” Gramps asked.

“No, not at all.”

“Then spit it out, what do you want?” I asked.

Kovac offered but a soft grin at my demand. “Just come back in one piece.”

***

Four Hours Later…

“You’d figure that the heat would work in this thing…” I muttered as I pulled on a bomber jacket over my armor.

“Its two hundred years old, what did you expect?” Jericho asked.

“Do you really want to know?” I retorted.

“Eh, probably not…”

“Good.”

The cabin went silent aside from the hum of the rotors and the wind whipping past the windows as we flew on through the cold air of the Northern Wastes. “So what’s the plan?” Porter asked a few minutes later.

“Well if we manage to ping the tracker on the airship we’ll radio Kovac and let him know that we have a location.” Jericho replied. “Specter and I will hold the outpost and keep the comms running while the rest of you head for the ship. Assuming it’s still flyable we’ll just fly it out. If it isn’t we raid it for anything of value that we can fit into the Vertibuck, hope the key is somewhere on board, mark the location for future reference and get the hell out of this nightmare.”

“Sounds easy enough.” Porter muttered.

“Keep in mind that all of this only happens if we pick up the beacon.” Jericho added. “If we don’t, we head home and find a way to bypass the cryo lockout.”

“But what about the locals?” I asked. “Will you and Specter be able to keep them out of the outpost?”

Jericho chuckled. “With all of us there it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“So you don’t think we’ll find the airship?”

“Hell no.” He retorted. “Even if one airship survived up here for two centuries untouched we’ve had issues with communication up here for years. It’s something to do with the clouds and snow, assuming you could still call them that. They carry particles fallout and dust that screws with radio signals.”

“What the hell was up here to justify that much firepower getting spent on the region?” I wondered aloud.

“No one knows for sure. Hell, we don’t even have copies of records relating to some of the sites in the northern wastes simply because they were Ministry projects.”

“Why would that matter?” Gramps called from the cockpit.

“Most projects that the ministries ran had entirely separate security clearance from that of the Guard. We only got to see stuff if it was strictly military or if Dusk was involved in the project. It was compartmentalization on a completely different level than any of us are used to.”

“And since the whole world went to hell there’s no way to tell what the Ministries were up to. Ain’t that just peachy?”

“Look, let’s just skip the ancient history.” Gramps yelled from up front. “You said these locals were dangerous. Tell me more about what we’re flying into here.”

“For starters, not all the locals are bloodthirsty killers.” Said Jericho. “The sane ones call them snow furies. They’re the region’s closest analog to raiders, but that’s probably a bit generous.”

“What makes you say that?” I asked.

“For starters they look sickly as all hell.” Jericho explained. “Most sane people would think that they’ve been imprisoned somewhere. They look like they’ve never eaten, they’ve got splotches of fur falling off and every single one I’ve ever seen has fur that's some shade of white. And to top it all off they can move.”

“So they look like death but don’t act like it?” Porter wondered aloud.

“Damn straight. Beyond those few simple facts we don’t have much else on these furies. To our knowledge no one has ever managed to catch a live one and question him or her on the nuances of this loose band of psychos.”

I kept my mouth shut for a few moments as I tried to digest some of this information. From the sounds of it these Furies aren’t normal ponies at all. And of greater concern is their ability to function. If they’re emaciated as Jericho says, then how are they not dropping dead from severe malnutrition? How are they not freezing to death up here? I couldn’t come up with a rational answer to my own question based off of the information that I was trying to sort through. But one single thought kept finding it’s way to the front of my consciousness, one that was admittedly concerning.

We’re fucked.

Author's Note

Finally, about damn time. We're on the way into the frozen wastes of the north in search of our missing key. Will we learn something about this bunch of uglies? Hell if I know! But we're on our way and we'll know for sure by the end of this arc.

In the meantime, anyone got questions? Like what you're seeing so far? Hell, maybe have some gripes? There's a comment section and the Mirrorverse Codex. Read and comment away, because I want to hear from you fellow denizens of this corner of the internet. Until next time gang!
-Striker