Fallout: Equestria - Echoes

Fallout: Equestria

Echoes

Chapter 5: Shadows and Dreams

The sky was overcast. A single pair of wings fluttered now and then. A flash and a shine emitted from my horn, and a floating, glowing mare came closer and closer to life. Sunlight struggled to breach the clouds along the horizon while soft classical music, a cover of an Octavia original, had been playing on the radio for at least the last hour.

No words were said.

I worked the healing spells I knew in every way I could think of, restoring bruised muscle, mending broken bones, restoring ruptured organs. Honestly, the silence was good. I wouldn't have been able to concentrate on saving this mare's life if Cashew or Dust had me busy questioning my morality. Saving a victim, that was a good thing. Killing a criminal, wasn't that good in this hellish version of my world? I did not know Dust well enough to understand where his judgment lay, but he seemed unconcerned with the specifics of the battle, only happy that we, or at least he, was unharmed. Cashew, however, was not so casual. Maybe it was hope? Perhaps she had a dream or a goal; something to believe in. I think the only thing keeping her quiet was my efforts to heal the mare.

With Station's light coming into sight, I realized that it was all I knew of this Equestria. Were there other settlements like this, where ponies lived free to their means and not stomped on for being weaker than another pony? Or was that also a lie, and Station was another hovel for good ponies to hide from under the hooves of others? If the heavily armed ponies leaving Station's gate for the south were any indication, then even the ponies of Station were crawling in the dirt of freedom.

Dust had trotted ahead to get a look at the departing group, and was waiting for us to reach him. “Those are Rust Rebels, and from the look of it their leader is with them.”

I scoffed, “Sorry, who?” I need a good break to scour the Wasteland Guide. Maybe then I wouldn’t be so clueless.

Cashew eyed them, her furrowed brow looking strange on her face. “A bandit gang. Surely here to muscle the good ponies away from their caps.”

“Reckon' so. Anyhow, looks like we missed 'em, which is lucky for them I'd say. Don't imagine miss battlemage here will suffer fools to live.” There it was.

Cashew turned to confront me, but I walked past her. “Ruby Moon, we have to talk about what you've done.”

“What I've done is none of your concern,” I spat. “This mare is still on the brink of death. Just because we can see the yellow of her coat doesn't mean it's sunshine and daisies for her.”

Cashew wouldn't let up. “Hiding behind a good deed does nothing. You executed those ponies without a second thought.”

“Killin' raiders?” Dust snapped a bitter laugh. “Sounds fine to me when I say it like that.”

Cashew's glare did it's best to shoot me. “They were prisoners! And that colt-

I stopped. Pouring magic into a spell, the overglow on my horn lit us up light a beacon in the early night. “Rapists and murderers!” I spent the energy, the healing glow covering the floating mare's entire body. “Kill them, or leave them be! Those are my options. I can’t imprison anypony; there isn’t a prison to put them in. Anypony with a gun is the law, isn’t that the way things are here? I killed them, on the spot, and if I hadn’t they might be hunting us down even now.”

Her jaw clenched tight. “All ponies deserve a chance.” It was frustrating that we saw so close to eye to eye, but she just didn't understand my rage. If only things hadn't ended up this way.

“Now now, everypony needs to take a deep breath and calm down. Ruby's first point is right; this mare is still in the woods. Lets get on into Station and give her to a medical pony to nest up and then we can discuss our differences.”

Shaking her head, Cashew resumed walking toward Station. “I don't think so. After we see to the mare, I'm giving you your barding and we're going our separate ways.”

I marched up next to her in silent agreement. After a moment's consideration, I floated the mare onto my back. I realized that she was heavier than she looked, and almost tall enough for her hooves to brush the ground. Dust followed with a huff. The music from his radio faded into static.

Cashew shouted, “Something’s coming-”

Dirt burst up before me, a black claw snapping just a moment too early, the point of the pincer pushing into the barding. I fell away, floating the mare off me and into the sky while I rolled and brought my weapons up at the creature. It spun to face me and charged. I unloaded my small arsenal onto it.

Targeting the tail with the pistols, I hoped to damage or dismember that terrifying stinger. I had the shotgun put blast after blast into what I thought was the creature's face. That distraction allowed me to duck and dodge the panicked swipes and snaps of the giant claws. While stepping away, a rock caught my hoof and I stumbled. A wild snap came at me and I ducked under, stumbling in toward the creature, and stomped a hoof on the mush of it's face so it wouldn't bowl me over. That poor decision let it know where I was, and the battered stinger struck at me, barely missing my diving body, and buried in the dirt.

The radscorpion must have taken some brain damage because it continued walking forward despite the buried tail, and up-ended itself. Now laying on it's back, the beast just flicked it's legs around like it was still trying to walk.

Dust's rifle cracked. I turned to see Cashew yelling and running from another radscorpion. Dust, hovering above, slid the bolt into place and fired another round. The giant bug stopped chasing Cashew to defend itself but only found me. Thanks, Dust. This bug didn’t reach me before our combined fire rendered it unmoving.

No more words were said. We ran to the nearest gate and, luckily, the watch let us in without a question. I checked the mare again before returning her to my back as Dust asked the guardspony if somepony named Patch was still the town doc. Receiving a confirmation, Dust led us down into the town. Down a street and a single corner and we were entering a comparatively well off shack. Once inside, which fit the four of us with little room to spare, we were not greeted by a petite earth pony stallion who seemed to be dazing off. The rest of the shack was filled with shelves lightly packed with various chems, stims, and vials. There were some that I recognized, but plenty that looked hoofmade.

Dust tapped the bell on the counter next to Patch's head. “You got customers.”

Snapping up to quickly, the young stallion let out a surprised whinny before he fell back off his stool. “Sorry, business has been light today, everypony been on their hooves with the Rust Rebels paying us a visit and all. How can I- Sweet Celestia what happened to her?” Having actually looked at us, he rushed to my side to look at the mare on my back.

Dust's voice was low. “Saved her from a Pony Joes.”

The young stallion gave a surprisingly dark look. “That's terrible, but she doesn't look that bad, considering.” He looked at me, or rather, my horn. “You know some healing spells?”

I nodded. “I learned that lesson long ago. I can't be sure, but I believe I stopped any internal bleeding. At this point she might just need time to recuperate.”

Patch went to the back of the room and opened a metal door. Realizing that all of the metal in the room had smooth, rounded edges I decided this stallion was more attentive than his impression made him out to be. “Bring her back here. Sorry, the rest of you wait here.”

I followed him in, and despite being a surgery room, it was tight. He shut the door behind me while I walked up to the gurney, which was on some sort of slide rail. There was just enough room for a pony to stand beside it, and the rail went under a gap in the wall- which was actually a door. A tool box and a surgical tray were in the corner, and all of this was lit from a single overhead lamp.

“Could you put her there?” I did as he asked, laying her gently on the stained bedding. “Any idea who she is?” He asked as he began studying her in earnest.

“No. She's been unconscious since we found her, which was earlier today.” At this point, she's not really my concern anymore. “I haven't any connection to her, and she was the only pony left alive.”

“I take it you killed the monsters who did this?” His voice was too casual, like he had this sort of thing happen too often.

After a moment I said, “Yes.”

A few minutes passed while he examined her. I watched, content to let my mind wander rather than push the issue of leaving her in his care, or even less desirable thoughts such as payment.

In a day, I had watched the end of my Equestria, blinked through who knows how many years, and woken up to find all the ponies left had become monsters. Some were better than others, like Dust and Cashew. I didn't understand how the three of us had such different philosophies of 'good'. There were also slavers. Ghouls. Raiders.

I wondered how quickly the society of ponies had fallen. Meadow had lived for a time while I slept. Was it filled with violence and misery? Or had she found solace, or even hope?

“She's a Mustang,” Patch said, matter of factly, while facing me. I stared at him with raised eyebrows. “You don't know what a Mustang is?”

“Sorry, no. I'm new here. To the wasteland, that is.” He returned my look. “I was in a stasis pod in Stable 45. I lived in Equestria before the war.”

He ever widening eyes had reached their limit. “You don't happen to be a doctor, right?”

“Again, sorry, no. Any medical expertise I have is limited to how I can apply magic to it.”

He grinned. “I have a unicorn friend, she's pretty good with spells, I think. Could you teach her?” That actually sounded pretty good. It would be rather therapeutic to help a good pony out.

“Yes, I could.” He extended a hoof, and I shook it with mine.

“Deal then. I take care of this mare, who looks stable by the way, and you teach Blossom healing magic.” I blinked. I hadn't expected this to be free. Well, free enough. “I've got to take care of the Mustang, but catch up with me later and I'll introduce you to Blossom. You should ask your friends who a Mustang is.” He opened the door over the rails; it led to a series of waiting rooms with curtains to separate them. I was quite impressed with the setup. While he rolled the Mustang mare through the door, I returned to the storefront.

Dust was perusing the wares while Cashew was stewing near the door. When I came out, Dust sighed and put a hoof to the bag of caps at his chest.

“How much do we owe?” I chose to believe his callousness was confidence in my healing.

“Nothing. I agreed to teach a friend of his some healing spells.” Dust let the tension out of his shoulders a little too much over saving some caps. “Who, or what, is a Mustang? The mare is apparently one.”

Cashew spat, “We rescued a ganger? Fantastic.” Dust bristled at that.

“Mustangs are no more gangers than Steel Rangers,” his wings flared, almost knocking a cup of vials over.

Cashew stomped a hoof into the metal floor. “We are not gangers. Mustangs have attacked Steel Rangers for no reason-”

“And Steel Rangers have killed ponies for no good reason. I'm surprised ya haven't tried to shoot Ruby in the back for her pipbuck. Mustangs act like gangers so the gangers don't mess with em, but they don't hurt good folk just tryin' ta live. Heck, I believe it if every time a Mustang attacked a Steel Ranger was cause he knew somepony close by had something the ranger would kill em for.”

The two stood their ground, jaws clenched and brows furrowed. I didn't know anything about how Steel Rangers acted outside of Cashews standoffishness, and no idea of Mustangs outside of what Dust had just said. There was nothing I could add or interject with. Dust had made his point, and Cashew seemed to be unable to refute it.

The door of the shop opened and a dark green mare walked in.

“Ah, just the group I was looking for,” Ivy said. She glanced between Dust and Cashew, handily ignored the obvious dispute, and settled on me. “That gang that was just here, the Rust Rebels- the leader took your sword.”

My jaw clenched. With a quickly look between Ivy and myself, Dust shook off his previous frustration for disappointment. “We're gonna go after 'em, aren't we.”

Cashew was still scowling. “Rust Rebels?” She glared at me and sighed. “Ruby, I'll help you get your sword if you help me take the Rust Rebel base. I can even call in reinforcements.”

I frowned. “You threaten to leave only to offer additional assistance?”

“The Rust Rebels inhabit the Ironshod Armory. We Steel Rangers have been trying to take it for months, but the gangers have managed to jury rig enough of the facility to produce basic firearms and ammunition. We need the facility operational, but we don't have the equipment or training to take on that many ponies without laying waste to the facility.”

I smiled. “You need someone who can kill without heavy ordnance. You can't just swap out rocket launchers for machine guns? I know ranger armor is capable of that.”

Cashew shrugged and shook her head. “Then we run into the other problem; there are a lot of Rust Rebels. We don't have the numbers to assault them on equal hoofing like that. We've been fighting them openly to thin the herd, but their numbers don't go down, while we can't replace our losses.”

Dust smirked. “Should you really be telling us all this?”

She glared at him. “We aren't in a position of weakness. It's only that theirs is a position of strength.” She looked back at me. “I'll help you do this and then we're done.”

Ivy was frowning by this point. “You plan on attacking Ironhoof?”

I raised an eyebrow at the tone. “If he is the leader, then yes. Unless he’s willing to return my sword.”

Her face scrunched up. “They left not even an hour ago. Filly Fairweather Park is a Rust Rebel outpost between their base and Station; Ironhoof will stop there, probably for a few hours. You can catch him there.”

I eyed Cashew, who was removing my barding in a hurry. “Were you going to mention this?”

“Of course,” she said brusquely. “I want them weakened in any way possible. Killing Ironhoof? Perfect. He's a strong and intelligent leader. Take out their park outpost? Excellent. Allows us to start cutting off Ironshod from their supply lines. I would love for you to help us take Ironshod, but I have nothing to offer you.” She had finished removing the barding; she was quite familiar with combat barding to have removed it that quickly. “Here; this is yours. Now since we are in a hurry, lets just go buy the best barding we see with your reward for the hydra.”

I didn't have a chance to ask how she knew about the reward before Dust had started, “Wait, reward? Are you saying you killed that monster?”

Ivy's slightly open jaw held for a moment before giving way to a crooked smile. “Why, I have your reward all right here. 300 caps.” She hoofed out a bag from her belt, which I took in my magic. I swear there was no possible way that bag held that ridiculous number of bottlecaps.

Dust stomped in disbelief. “300 caps for killing a hydra? What nonsense is that?”

I nodded and looked at Ivy. “The deal was that I would get ten percent of the reward and my sword. Since you are unable to give me my sword…”

She was quite stiff for a moment, but smiled a bit too widely and said, “I’ll give you a note good for twenty seven hundred.” She pulled out a paper and pencil from her saddlebag and began writing. “But only good in Station. I’m sorry, but it’s the best I can do.”

I floated the bag to my companion. “Dust, can you take those caps and buy Cashew whatever barding she wants?” Once in his hooves he opened the bag and started fishing through it, murmuring to himself. I can't imagine he was actually counting them.

He immediately paused, looking up at me with a accusing glare. “Anything else you'd like?”

I gestured to my guns as I placed them gently on the ground. “10 mil, 12 gauge, .38, whatever ammo you need, maybe a couple healing potions for each of us. And a bit of food. I daresay fresh fruit or vegetables if they exist.” I shuddered, pausing my efforts to remove the light security barding. Once I removed the holsters and emptied the pockets, I floated the barding to him. “You can sell this.” He flung it over his back with a smile. “And Dust? Thank you.”

He tipped his hat with a wing and said “Yes, milady,” and stepped out the door, Cashew right behind him. I started the familiar process of putting on my barding.

Ivy watched me for a moment before saying anything. “What brought you to my best doctors office?”

“I stopped by a Pony Joes on the way back.” She responded with a slight gasp. “Found a victim alive and rescued her. She’s in the back with the doctor.”

“That’s… I admit, I wasn’t expecting that. I’m not sure what to think of you, Ruby Moon.” In response to my silence she entered the back room.

I finished settling my weapons over the familiar barding just as another pony walked in. This time, it was Trashbin with a small box nestled on his back.

“Ruby, glad I caught ya. Heard you might be off again quicker than a sunny day in the wasteland? Anywho, I found just about everything was found in yer mansion. Not much, I gotta say. If I remember right, they were hounded by ghouls before they really got to grabbing', but I guess they got enough?”

I floated the box off his back and set it on the ground between us. He continued, “Everything that was still in town is in there. I can tell you what left, but I think the only bit of it you'll care about is your gun.” I paused looking in the bags to meet his eyes. “Somepony bought it right away. Don't have the feller's name, but I can tell you he's a merc workin' for Big Boss down south.”

Really? “Big Boss related to Big Shot?”

He let out a raspy guffaw. “Naw, I doubt it.” I rummaged through the box while he went on. “Big Shot don't play it like he is, but he don't deny it neither. There's a rumor they and another feller named Big Daddy, famous out round Manehattan, are all brothers, but I figure they all think being named Big sounds imposing or something like.”

“What's Big Boss all about?” There wasn’t much I valued in here. There were random bits from mansions all around the block mine was on, but nothing in it interested me so far.

“Big Boss is the big power on the south side of the blast zone.” Something still buried caught my eye. It looked like a unicorn horn. I pulled out everything on top of it.

Trashbin continued, “Big Boss took control of the biggest gang and turned 'em into mercs.” It was a skull. A fake one, as it was too small for an adult but the wrong proportions for a foal. I picked it up with my magic.

“He started absorbing the other gangs-” A familiar feeling came from the skull and I tried to let it go, but it was too late. The world was a flush of sensation for long enough to be replaced with another.

ooO Ooo

The skull was a memory orb.

I know full well the kinds of things that can be done with memory orbs, and I didn’t like accidentally getting into one with a skull motif. When I get out of this, Trashbin had better have had no knowledge of this or we’ll have words. Harsh ones.

With mixed feelings I realized that I was inside the memory of a unicorn stallion. We were standing inside a very dark room, lit only by a pair of candles near a door. We were across the room from the light, and I couldn’t make out any features of the pony. The door and candlesticks were both exquisite, something a pony would find in my family mansion or any of the mansions around it.

Pain jolted across my skin! No, it was in my horn and my hoof and everywhere else. Lightning and fire and ice tore me apart, ripping apart my skin but there was nothing. My host sat still as a statue. He did not shift or flinch. I could feel that his bones were not broken but they felt like a glass teardrop as it shatters into uncountable pieces. Yet in all of this my host was still. I couldn’t even scream.

Hours or minutes or days of torment went on before, in a blessed distraction, the door opened and a pony I recognized hardly stepped in before my host spoke. His voice was chilling, a deep raspy rumble that dripped of total hatred. “You have kept me waiting, Jet Set.”

“My apologies, my lord. I will-”

“I am not here for your excuses.” Jet Set, a unicorn who did indeed have a mansion in Hollow Shades, seemed physically injured by the voice of my host.

“You will do my bidding and you will do it without error. I have rewarded you well for your success, and I will reward you just as well for your failure.”

The magic that reached through the horn of my host was unlike anything I had ever experienced. Just as Princess Celestia was light and noble and wholesome, this was dark and hateful and impure. I wanted to feel sick, wanted to dispel the magic and destroy it, but I could do nothing. A dozen candles in a circle lit on the desk before me. In the center was the very memory orb I was watching.

“This is your reward. When you forget what the punishment for failure is, watch this memory orb. It will remind you to succeed.” Lightning streaked from the horn of my host and into Jet Set, sending him writhing to the ground. No sound came from his body despite his gaping mouth. His skin smoked from the heat. The pain in my own body intensified, cutting into my thoughts and blinding my mind. I barely felt the next spell go through the horn. It was a memory copy spell, to put this very memory into the orb. But it was wrong. He was altering it.

The world and the pain washed away, replaced by the the wall of Patch’s surgery room. I bolted out of the chair and into the front room. Wide eyes from Trashbin and Patch stared at me.

“What the fuck was that, Trashbin?” The agony fresh in my mind and I was heaving air into and out of my lungs. I saw counters and doors and counters and stumbled into the doorframe though I tried to stand still.

I heard a pony jump to his hooves and saw something get close, filling my sight with the doctor pony, what was his name? “Was that a bad memory orb? You look faint-”

I put my hoof on his shoulder and pushed him aside. “Did you know?” I held my eyes wide, finding for Trashbin amidst the circling walls.

Shapes stirred and jingled, shaking about. “I didn’t know nothing about no memory orb. I didn’t exactly search through that box. Only got everything from anypony found in the place you asked.”

I slid to the floor. I didn’t have anything to rage against. I could only relish that the pain was gone. “How- how long have I been out?”

My eyes closed on their own, the weight stronger than my fading will. I heard somepony say five minutes, but that seemed absurd. There was no way it had been so short.

v^V^v

Wracking coughs woke me into a hellish inferno. I rolled onto my hooves and crawled under the smoke, trying to gather my bearings. I was on a wooden floor, but I could not see my surroundings. Crawling forward, I reached what seemed to be a door. Reaching a hoof up for a handle, I found and pulled to open the door.

The smoke billowed into the room and cleared before my eyes, revealing a growling ghoul before me. I recognized her and stumbled away from the feral remains of my mother. I turned and ran, rounding a corner to see a bloody diner, filled with mangled chunks of ponies. One ravaged mare stirred, and I rushed to her side. Her head turned and Meadowsweet’s mauve eyes pleaded for a merciful end. I tried to scream, but I could do nothing.

I woke with a yell, sitting up and staring at the scrap metal wall before me. My breathing was heavy, and I stared at nothing..

Finally glancing around the room, the first thing I saw was a reinforced ponnican wearing my barding. The general clutter around it told me that I was in Trashbin’s house. Across the room was the pony himself, flanked by Cashew and Dust Devil. All three were quietly staring at me.

I’m certain I didn’t look nice. “Can I help you?”

They all looked a little pained. Cashew opened up first. “I think we should be asking you that.”

Ignoring her, I stood and began putting on my barding. “How long was I out?”

The old pony answered, regret clear in his voice. “About two hours from when you first picked up that orb.”

“Where is it?” He reached into a pocket, carefully pulling out the white skull. With the proper twist in my magic, I pulled the orb to me and looked at it closely.

My action drew a start from all three of them, followed by collective frowns. Cashew approached me, looking at the orb as well.

Dust said, “How’re you holdin’ that? I thought you watched those by picking them up with your magic.”

I gave him a dismissive sigh. “You just have to adjust your- well, my magic a little. If I know I’m handling an orb, than it’s no issue, but I’ve never seen an orb with this sort of shell around it.”

Cashew went to take it in her hoof but I floated it away and into my bags. “What was in it?” She asked.

“Torture. The unicorn who created this knew dark magic and deliberately mishandled the spell to cause the viewer intense pain while watching the orb. In the actual memory, he tortured the very pony that he made the orb for as a penalty for failure.”

A mixture of surprise and revulsion looked back at me. Cashew and Trashbin both started at the same time, but the elder bowed slightly to the younger.

“Where did it come from? And is there any chance the dark unicorn behind it is still around?”

I shrugged. “I only know that the victim in the memory was a resident of Hollow Shades. I don’t know what he did to occupy his time. As for him being around, any of you would know more than I.”

The short silence after was ended by Trashbin. “Why do you want to keep it?”

I stared at him until I stared past him. I hadn’t considered a reason. I know that I didn’t want any other pony to come across it like I did, but why not destroy it? No, it was a question. The orb was an enigma that did nothing but give me the need to answer it.

“I want to know more.” That seemed to satisfy him, though my companions looked like they felt the response was lackluster. “However, now is not the time for it. Am I correct to assume you are both ready to depart?”

“We are, but are you?” Cashew was looking me over. I took a moment to do the same to her. While not better than mine, she and Dust had managed to find what I suspected was the best suit of barding in Station; a cobbled together combat barding. Unlike mine, the pieces did not all fit together due to differing sizes, and the coloring was not uniform. Regardless, it would protect her from bullets and pool cues.

Dust sighed and shook his head. I suspected he wasn’t at all interested in picking a fight with these ‘Rust Rebels’. I wondered how far he would go to carry out his mission.

“Ah bought some of everything you asked for, but ah figured you’d need some caps on hand for later. It’s all in your bags, and I’m sure that pip buck of yours will sort it out for you.”

I frowned. “What- no, I don’t use it for that. Thank you, though, for you assistance. I promise it won’t be long before I visit Tower.”

Strapping on my saddlebag, I motioned for everyone to start moving. Trashbin once again led me to the same gate, though this time a mare opened the door for us. Cashew and Dust started walking out but stopped when I paused.

I waved them off, “I’ll catch up in a moment. Just a parting word with Trashbin.”

Cashew eyed me a moment, but they both continued into the night.

The old stallion smiled. “A word with me?”

“I spoke with him. Your sprite bot friend.” I stared at him, hoping to glimpse a secret.

Gentle friendliness turned to surprise. “Watcher? Hardly a day in the wasteland and you’ve already talked to him?”

“Who is he?” He didn’t look so cheerful now. I suspect he didn’t like my tone.

“No pony knows. He just floats around, talking to ponies from time to time. Likes to lead them to do good things, so I like him, but some would say he gets ponies killed.”

I didn’t need to ask how. If he sent a poor, inexperienced pony into a raider haven like he sent me, I think the Mustang would have had a replacement.

“That Mustang in the doctor’s office, with Patch - she’s alive because Watcher sent me there. Her friends are not because Watcher didn’t tell me why.”

His expression drooped but he said nothing more. I turned away from him and followed my companions into the night.

Without the light of Equestria’s cities and the shine from Luna’s moon and all the stars blocked by the still overcast sky, the night was darker than any I had seen. Station behind me was like a lighthouse in a storm, and I was walking away from it, out into the unknown. At least, this time, I wasn’t alone.

“Are either of you trackers?” I looked at Cashew who quickly waved a hoof. My eyes went to Dust. He only shrugged and sighed before flying off ahead of us. With him gone, I realized that I was in prime position to have an unfortunate confrontation.

Cashew’s voice was softer than I expected. “You said the memory was torture? Like the dark unicorn intended the orb to be that way?”

“Yes,” was all I could say. It had been the most intense physical pain of my life, and it hadn’t even been mine.

“I didn’t know they could be used like that.”

“They weren’t, normally.” Never, to my knowledge. “The practical uses varied, but the war brought out the more extreme ones. Ministry of Peace technicians would attempt to help troubled ponies by manipulating or removing the troubling memories. Ministry of Morale agents would often rip the guilty memories from conspirators, and I can say I’ve done something similar. I even heard some rumors that ponies would pay for memory orbs of intense events so that they may experience them in safety.”

“I can’t believe I found a pony like you. A survivor outside of time.”

Every waking moment was now a reminder of how that defined me. Trotting along the half buried train tracks leading to Trottingham, I watched the dark figure that was Dust land, inspect something, look back to ensure we were following, then fly up again and search for more from the sky.

“So you plan to turn me in to your leaders like some kind of treasure?” That was the feeling Dust had given me.

The amount of steps before she responded did nothing but encourage that feeling.

“I want to, yes. I can't say for sure what Elder Split Pea would do with you, but I do believe the best place for a pony in your situation is under the care and guidance of the Steel Rangers.” There was a baited breath where she wanted to say more but held back.

“I haven't heard much to their favor. If that doesn't change then my response to any proposal of theirs will be negative.”

“I think you're right to do that.” I blinked and looked at her. She was avoiding my eyes but I could still see something in her pained face that had my attention. “The rangers... we need somepony to show us how foolish we are. Everything Dust said is right. We've become no better than raiders.”

Her poor arguments before made sense now. She had lost her faith in her faction, though not her love. “What convinced you to believe that?”

Her answer was quick. “It's classified.” Stubborn mare.

“Secrets never stay buried. Try to bury it, Cashew, and you'll get burned. Just like Equestria.”

It was not an awkward silence. It was a tense, deafening silence that sent echoes into the wasteland.

Footnote: Updated Perk List. Added Perk: Living Anatomy -- You can tell precisely how wounded ponies are. +3 damage versus non-mutated equines.