Fallout: Equestria

Echoes

Chapter 6: Botch

Tracking the Rust Rebels was the easiest task I’ve had since I came to the wasteland. Once my eyes adjusted, the path was clear. Pony bandits, it seemed, were so far removed from zebra soldiers that I could see their tracks in the dark.

Both of my companions confirmed that in all likelihood the bandits had already reached their outpost. We would probably reach them in the middle of the night, but Cashew pointed out that their outpost had withstood Steel Ranger attacks. When we found them, resting for the night might be the best option.

I stopped walking when I reached Dust Devil. Cashew was on his other side, and the three of us stared at the dirt. We had followed them southeast, but they had quickly turned east. Dust mentioned avoiding some scrapyard but waved off any questions I had of it. Until now, the tracks had been a bunch of meandering hoof prints that were the very element of carelessness. Here they mashed together in chaos. Something caused the entire group some distress, though there were no signs of struggle or combat.

“What kind of things would spook these ponies?”

Dust just shrugged. “Plenty ‘o things. See if we can find which way they went.”

We split and walked around the edge of the mess. Moments later, Cashew called from the right.

“Here, they went south.”

Dust and I only took a step before we all heard a noise.

Click.

This was not the click of a pipbuck, and I would give up my guns to never hear this click again. To our east was, like every other direction, darkness. I drew out my weapons as quietly as my could, suppressing the light of my magic. I didn’t know just how well they could see in the dark, and I couldn’t ask my companions without letting the creatures hear us. Assuming they could hear. Who knows just what their biology -

Click clickity click.

The tiniest green light appeared, all alone in the black. It moved, bobbing around, clearly on the back of a radscorpion. I wondered, in Twilight’s voice, why in all sense did these things have radios on them? The light didn’t seem too close; maybe this one didn’t know we were here.

Click.

No, not the click of a radscorpion or even the click of a pipbuck. The click of the safety on Dust’s rifle. At least he didn’t swear like I was in my head.

The light faced us and stepped forward, closing half the distance in half a second. I pointed all my weapons, and I could see Dust and Cashew do the same, but then the light stopped cold.

The radio hummed to life, light static fading away to halfway through a gentle Coloratura classic. The light gently swayed with the music.

We all glanced at each other. Cashew spoke. “Is it listening to the music?”

I frowed. “Cover me.”

“Or we could leave well enough alone,” Dust grumbled.

I walked forward anyway. I didn’t get half as far as I thought I would. Bobbing before me was a black carapace, but it was larger than the ones I had seen before. I floated my pistol above it and let the glow around it shine.

My violet glow lit up a monstrous creature. A giant radscorpion, nearly as large as a tank. The stinger, hanging high above the radio, was larger than one of my legs. The carapace was actually the leading edge of one of it’s two great pincers, the smaller one large enough to grasp and probably crush a pony in power armor. If I had ever seen one of these on a battlefield I would have called on my entire team to destroy it with the most destructive spells in our arsenal.

Within pincer’s reach, I found myself at pause. Luckily, the giant radscorpion did not care. It only swayed to the sound of Coloratura. But I knew that song. It was about to end.

Turning to run, I saw my companions in just as much shock as I. While good to see that I wasn’t the only one who had a first this night, I’d rather we all get away alive.

“Run! Follow the tracks. We’ve only got a short time before the music's over.”

We sprinted until the sound of music faded into the night. Cashew and I continued running a while longer, Dust flying low above us. Upon sighting lights in the distance, we finally came to a stop. We were quite relieved to have no signs of being followed by anything, radscorpion or otherwise.

Now we needed to focus on what was ahead of us. I needed some recon. “Dust, what’s up ahead?”

To my surprise, both ponies gave me an odd look. Dust said, “That’s Trottingham. Some of the street lights are still connected to the power grid. Dunno how ya’ll made the spark reactors, but they sure last a long time.”

Again I was caught surprised. The city still had power? If it did, why were only a few street lights all I could see? “How much of the city is still connected?”

Cashew answered. “Less than half. The damage wasn’t universal, though. You just won’t know if a building has power until you enter and try it. This, of course, only refers to the part of the city shielded from the blast.”

“Where did the missile hit?”

Dust flicked a wing as he landed. “You mean the balefire bomb, right? Blew up near the army base, south of Napperly Hill.”

That explained the lack of damage I’d seen around Pony Joes. Any damage north of Napperly Hill, which amounted to almost all of New Trottingham, was limited to after the bombs fell. That meant Old Trottingham was wiped out. Wait; if that were true, then how many ponies survived? It should have been many.

“What happened after the balefire? What happened to all the ponies?” I wasn’t sure if I wanted the answer.

Dust shrugged and shook his head. Cashew sighed before speaking. “The fallout around Trottingham was much more widespread than the direct damage. Old Trottingham was wiped out by the blast and the radiation afterward. North of the hill didn’t get the deadly dose of radiation, but high enough to cause panic. Riots destroyed any building known to have radaway or any other radiation supplies, and those few who managed to get some were saved from the grim fate of everypony else. Have you seen any ghouls yet, Ruby?”

I had. I didn’t want to speak for a moment, though. All those ponies, knowing everything had changed and trying to survive despite it. Meadowsweet, I could only hope, had managed to live and die without giving up her kindness.

“I came out of Stable 45, in Hollow Shades.”

Dust had no reaction, but Cashew shrank slightly. “Was that where you lived before the war?”

“Yes.”

“Everypony there-”

“I know. Was it the same in Trottingham? Nearly everyone who survived was turned into ghouls?”

Cashew lowered her head. “Different, but yes. Practically everypony who was near a balefire bomb and survived became a ghoul.”

I looked at Dust and then at the tracks at our feet. They went into the city. “We still have a trail to follow. Do both of you know where Filly Fairweather park is? I’ve never been there.”

They both nodded. Dust started walking toward the city. “Shouldn’t take us more than an hour to reach it. See that glow, on that building there? That might be it.”

Cashew and I fell into step with him. I said, “How dangerous is the city? Will we run into any other threats?”

Dust chuckled. “All kinds o’ danger. We just have to be cautious, but it’s really no different than in the wastes.”

I thought of how many times I had seen radscorpions so far. I could imagine their scuttling in the wind. “Are they resistant to magic? Radscorpions?” I asked.

“Naw, don't think so. Well, not anymore then bullets, but they're pretty tough 'gainst those.”

Cashew scoffed. “From the basis of magic resembling energy weapons; it’s complicated. The average radscorpion is very resistant to small caliber weapons and, while it's carapace is undamaged, laser fire. Plasma fire, high caliber weapons, and any spell that isn't a variation of the laser spell will penetrate the armor.”

We both looked at her, Dust raising an eyebrow. “Learn all that from ranger school?”

“The key to surviving in the wasteland is understanding the dangers. Radscorpions are tough as nails, quick as lightning, and highly aggressive. The way we’ve seen them around music? They aren't acting right. They're just moping around, not doing anything. Radscorpions are never this docile.”

An interruption appeared. “Red marks on E.F.S. Follow me.” I dashed ahead of Dust, making for the one of the first buildings. It was a two story structure, not a house but a shop of some kind. The E.F.S. indicated targets inside.

I heard Dust say from behind me, “We are avoiding them, right?” Cashew and I did not correct him, but I’m sure he would take our silence for an answer.

The wall we lined up on only had windows near the street. I peeked around one and saw what made the marks. Ghouls. Some even wore long coats and fedoras like my own.

“Dust, when we go in, take the roof. Watch for other threats.”

His head drooped and shook with a huff. Cashew, on the other hoof, readied her shotgun. Kneeling low and using my hoof, I started pushing open the window. It creaked and the glass shattered from cracks I hadn’t seen. Kicking the remains out of the way, I jumped into the window.

I ducked to the side immediately. Raising the shotgun, I put blast after blast at the ghouls to my right. Cashew, from the window, cleared out my left much the same, and after seconds the first floor seemed clear. Red bars remained, and we heard moans and groans from upstairs. I moved along the serving bar to the stairs and waited at the bottom, shotgun ready, for Cashew to catch up to me. She knew enough about fighting to follow me closely, watching the first floor in case we were wrong.

With Cashew at my back, I went up the stair as quickly and quietly as I could. Despite the poor stairs, the little noise I did make was overcome by a shot and a slam from above. Dust’s timing was perfect and all the ghouls who had been running to the stairs down all turned to look at the stairs up. That gave us time to get up far enough for Cashew to get a clear shot as well. We repeated the process from the first floor.

We tried to repeat the process. Two blasts in and the rabid charge managed to accidentally kick a table at us. Despite being a regular old table, it still absorbed a blast from each of us, and the five ghouls remaining managed to close the distance.

I flattened the table on the ground, giving Cashew a clear line to keep firing. The first ghoul managed to get a mouth on my shotgun before I blasted it away, but the corpse still had momentum and barrelled into the gun, pinning it under the dead weight. The next ghoul got my hoof in its jaw, but the flailing forelegs managed a solid hit in my snout, making me see a bit of red. I grabbed his legs with my and twisted and turned, pulling it over me and slamming it into the ground with a nauseating splat. More shotguns blasts gave me the confidence to focus on this one, and I floated it up into perfect bucking height. The entire ghoul flailed while I quickly turned and let out a honest to Applejack applebuck, sending the ghouls out the window into the street below.

Cashew was already checking the ghoul bodies on the floor, apparently making sure none of them were going to get back up. I trotted over to the door to the roof, but it opened just when I reached it. I wasn’t surprised by Dust, but by what he said.

“Steel Rangers outside. I think they saw us before you went-” On cue, a grenade exploded outside. I think it was the ghoul I had kicked outside getting blowed up.

We got low, but Cashew starting back down the stairs. Just before she was out of view, she looked at us, pointed her hoof, then tapped the floor. She wanted us to stay put?

I started to follow but Dust tugged on my tail. “She said stay put, an’ we should. Least till she gives an all clear or something. Steel Rangers don’t always talk before shootin’ other ponies.”

“Do they ignore their E.F.S.?”

“I don’t know much about that, but why don’t you see what color they are on yer fancy E.F.S. 100 caps says it ain’t green.”

If I had taken that bet, I’d be down 100 caps. Three yellow bars were outside, with one green walking up to them. I couldn’t hear their conversation, but after they started talking a fourth yellow bar appeared and joined the others.

The bars turned green.

“I guess we’re safe to leave.” Dust looked confused but followed me anyway, muttering. At the bottom of the stairs I stared out the open front door at four fully armored Steel Rangers, equipped with a wide range of weapons between them. I wanted them with us. Not having to blow up everything myself would make things so much easier.

“-and there they are now. The mare is Ruby Moon and the stallion is Dust Devil.”

One of the rangers locked onto Dust. Her voice was artificially deep. “The Scavenger? Son of a Dashite out of Tower is travelling with a Steel Ranger?”

Yet another thing I didn’t yet know. I need to remember to ask about that before we get to Tower.

Cashew waved it off. “The Tower Witch wants business with Ruby but it doesn’t matter. Right now we’re going after Ironhoof.”

The same ranger from before looked between the three of us quickly while I stepped up to the group. Dust, I noticed, kept back. “Going after Ironhoof? Just the three of you? Am I missing something, Proctor?”

Dust stiffened at the title. I had no idea what their rank structure was, but now I suspected Proctor wasn’t some rank and file everypony.

“No, Paladin. Everything you need to know is right in front of you. Just relay this message to all ranger assets available. Possible attack on Rust Rebels. Aid and assist allied forces in destruction of enemies.”

The paladin stared. She may be sending the message, but there wasn’t a well to tell. She finally said, “What shall we call these allied forces?”

Cashew looked at me. There was something to her eyes. Something between plain sadness and an apology. “Tell Elder Split Pea I found a Battlemage in cold storage.”

Of course. Even she wasn’t confident in the rangers morality and she had just let them know exactly why they might care about me. I didn’t judge her for it. They were her people, after all.

“Elder’s eyes only?” the Paladin asked.

“No,” Cashew said, looking away from me. “Just Stable 26 eyes only.”

I wasn’t sure what the difference was, but it made the paladin hesitate. “Message sent. Do you want our assistance, Proctor?” Yes. Yes we did.

“No,” Cashew said again. “Regroup and prepare for assault on Ironshod. Be ready to move in at a moments notice.”

While I wanted the support, I didn’t know just how fortified Ironshod was. Their concern made me wonder what kind of fight I was about to pick with this Ironhoof stallion. The four rangers turned and trotted off, disappearing down the street to the southeast. I looked at Dust, and he started off to the east.

I stayed close to Cashew. “So what exactly is a Proctor? And a Paladin?”

Cashew almost said something twice before actually getting any words out. “Proctor is a rank for non-combat specialized Steel Rangers. Paladin is for combat.”

“That doesn’t answer my question and you know it.”

She didn’t hesitate so long this time. “Paladin’s are squad leaders, though for us that’s a bit higher than what your used to. We don’t exactly have a lot of rangers.”

“And how high does that make you that they took orders from you?”

Her look wasn’t hostile, but it wasn’t nice, either. “Look, I’ll tell you all about my people after we’re not looking for a fight to start.” While I didn’t enjoy letting her push me off, I accepted her point. I only worried that I would always be looking for a fight.

We spent the rest of the trip, all of an hour, talking about the Rust Rebels and why they were able to stand a chance against power armor. At first the rebels were part of some other raider gang called the Herd. Ironhoof found a cache of armor piercing weapons and decided to pick a fight. He wasn’t dumb, though. He waited until the rangers in Ironshod had left a skeleton crew to defend it while they reclaimed Stable 66, west of here. Since then, they called themselves the Rust Rebels and used the rangers own fortifications and their AP weapons to keep it. Other gangs swarm to their success. The only reason they haven’t taken over all of New Trottingham was because they couldn’t get the weapons portion of the factory running. All they can do is make ammo for the guns they already have.

Flickering light dances between the gaps in sheet metal walls ahead. I sent Dust to scout, and he slunk off into the dark, flying off without a sound. Cashew and I made certain a nearby house was clear while we waited for him to return, which didn’t take long at all. After bringing him to the safety of new shelter, he gave us the info.

“Good news an' bad news. The good news is they ain't got any poor victims in there fer us to risk ourselves over. Bad news is this ain't no reckless raider hangout. They built this place to hold up against Steel Rangers.”

“Relax, Dust. This time we can make a plan.”

“Ya' mean like leave yer sword and go 'bout our way?”

“No.”

Filly Fairweather Park was a foals resort. Parents would send their foals here when they went to work and there wasn't any school to occupy them with. It had a small building which had probably been full of toys and things for foals to try earning their cutie marks. There had been a wooden fort with slides and a climbing wall. A chain link fence had surrounded the grounds.

The Rust Rebels had reinforced the fence with barbed wire and metal sheets, haphazardly blocking sight and bullets. Two sturdy looking towers were at opposite corners, both with a mounted minigun and two ponies. The building had been demolished and most of its remains formed the fence or the fort. The fort was now a bunker, with a roof over the ramparts and a narrow gap for guns to shoot out of. More barbed wire hug wildly about the walls, with evidence of missile explosions at the wire. Over the center of the fort was a heavily armored playground roundabout with a heavy minigun mounted on it.

Within the fence but outside the fort was a camp filled with ponies. While I couldn't see into the fort, I could guess that a maximum of forty ponies could be inside, though it was likely lower. Outside the fort, there were at least a hundred ponies. Some looked to be just shy of their cutie marks, but none were truly foals and every pony had a weapon.

My unit could handle such a fortification with hardly a strained breath. By myself, with no medical or defensive support and only a sniper to cover me and a single pony to back me up? Was I really so arrogant?

“Dust, could you spot anything of interest?”

“They got a minefield.” I knew his pegasus eyes were sharp.

“Cashew, thoughts?” Hopefully she knew something of the defences. Her ponies had apparently attacked this place enough.

“Those wires stop missiles too well, and the gun on the roundabout is armor piercing. It can spin around plenty quick, too.”

Dust struggled to grit out his next words. “Any chance yer friends can help?”

Cashew gave a small shake. “With this many ponies inside? We don't have enough rangers for an assault, plain and simple. Even if we wanted to by the time we gathered, Ironhoof will have left. He never stays out of Ironshod for too long.”

I stared at the fort. “What if I walk in and ask for it?”

“You'll be shot at the gate,” was Cashew's quick response.

“Naw, I think he'll talk before shootin’ ya. Whatch'er plan after that point, though?”

“You actually want negotiate with these brigands?”

I gave her a hard look. “Just because they're on your bad side doesn't mean they deserve to be on mine. Maybe I can get my sword back and walk away without anypony dying. Maybe I take Ironshod.” I looked back at the field of armed ponies. “I do need a backup plan in the likely event they decline my request. Something to disrupt them, allow us to take advantage of some chaos.”

“Sure been nice if we could'a sicced that hydra on 'em.”

I flicked my tail at Dust. “A dragon would be even better, but a sniper will have to do. What sniper tactics do you know?”

With raised eyebrows, he shrugged. “Tactics? I just get up high on buildings or the sky and shoot. Well, I don’t exactly do a lot of shootin’. But I’m a good shot, either way.”

I was growing more and more disappointed in Moondancers choice of wasteland guide. I wasn’t sure if he was overly cautious or just cowardly, but the fact that I had to think about it was bad enough. “Alright, I’ve got something for you. When you’ve got a target like this, an established position, there’s something you can do to cause a lot of confusion in the enemy. You take a shot or two, then fly behind cover to another spot. Keep doing that, over and over, making sure they never see you fly between spots. The enemy thinks they’re surrounded by snipers and are too confused and afraid to fight effectively.”

Both ponies had wide eyes. Cashew smiled first and said, “That’s clever. Where’d you learn a pegasus tactic?”

“Shadowbolt snipers.”

Dust frowned at that. “Like Rainbow Dash?”

I shook my head. “No, not her. She wasn’t a sniper type, but she knew the value of snipers and deception. She came up with the tactic, but I don’t think she ever used it herself. Rainbow was more of a close quarters kinda pony.”

“You knew Rainbow Dash?” He seemed stiff. I wondered why.

“Yes. The Shadowbolts and the Battlemages worked together often. Being able to teleport is especially effective in commando style operations, not to mention our other magical advantages, and flight is always good.”

He went stoic. I could have asked why, but I’d let that wait until another time. If I fought these ponies, I wanted the camp to be sound asleep.

When I started walking toward the door Dust cleared his throat, and I looked at him. We both waited for the other to speak, but I won out. Dust finally said, “So, what’re you gonna do? Just waltz in there and demand tribute?”

I smiled, the same sort of smirk I would give my superiors when they would order to me to do silly things like ‘hold the line’ or ‘maintain position’. “Something like that.”

A soft clop sounded from Cashew’s hoof. “What if they say no? Are we going to have another Pony Joes?”

“They’re not some band of murderous raiders, are they? If they’re just bandits then I see some chance for redemption.”

“How far are you willing to go, then? What are you willing to do for what you believe is right? And when someone says you are wrong, what will you do?”

Things were so easy before the war. The world at peace, Princess Celestia guiding Equestria into an ever brighter future. Princess Luna returned to us. I never had to ask myself what was right or wrong. It was natural. Even during the war I didn’t need to ask. The Princesses guided us. Held our hooves in the hardest of times. Now… and now… they’re… What would Princess Celestia do?

Would she execute a raider?

“Cashew, I will do what is necessary to return Equestria to a peaceful and prosperous land worthy of Princess Celestia’s name.”

Her knowing eyes saw past my facade. “What, then, is necessary?”

I didn’t know. I wouldn’t know until the choice was upon me and I would have to decide in a single moment. Pulling on my long coat over my barding, I looked at her before turning to walk out the door.

I didn’t know what was necessary. I only knew that whatever it was, I was willing to do it.

<==M M==>

I had always wondered what kind of emotions the zebra we faced felt after they knew we had entered the battlefield. Sure, I had witnessed their last moments as I ended their lives with varieties of magic, but I was curious about the trepidation they felt when the report crossed their lines.

The Battlemages had arrived.

For the Equestrian forces, there was an unusual feeling. We did not receive the fanfare and admiration that the Shadowbolts enjoyed. Ours was a much more somber emotion. A guilt that spread across our allies as they felt a fraction of the weight upon our souls. Yet, they rejoiced at our arrival. For we never came quietly, and the enemy never forgot us.

The radio squawked, just loud enough to be heard over the wind whipping through the vertibuck. “Operation Beholder is green, zed easy spotted in sector one three alfa. Shadowbolts will provide cover. Battlemages engage.”

The vertibuck pointed down and dropped toward the earth like a meteor. Indigo Flare, Nebula, and I held tight and waited for Flashpoint, the only unicorn staring out from the vehicle, to teleport us into the fray. I felt the vertibuck level off, the familiar lurching of my stomach a casual non event by now. The near constant gunfire was much louder now, and I felt the vertibuck shift and bank randomly. I wasn’t worried, as Indigo Flare was managing the protection of the vertibuck.

“Three, two, one, go!” Flashpoint’s count precipitated the expected teleport, and now stood beside two of my fellow Battlemages amidst the bodies of dead and dying ponies and zebra. Nebula raised a wide shield around the three of us and a trio of very surprised zebra. I drew my sword and approached them, and they, their ammunition clearly expended, raised their empty rifles like clubs. Well, two did. The third, the one who looked the least afraid, only squared up to me and lowered his stance. This one was the target. I adopted my own fencing stance, and the two others spread to surround me.

They burst into flame. A single spell from Indigo split between them melted their bodies so fast that they couldn’t even scream. For the slightest moment the target was distracted by the sudden immolation of his allies. In that slightest moment I unleashed a stunning spell from my horn that would paralyze an elephant.

His body was frozen. Every muscle held tight in that moment before pouncing the victim. I surely would not have won a fight against this zebra, his hoof to my sword. The pony dead that littered the ground around us had been killed by his very hooves. I sheath my sword and walked up to this zebra, looking into his eyes. I knew that he could still see me. I suspected that, could he move his face, he would show me defiance.

I carefully withdrew from my saddlepack a small metal case, and from within it a white memory orb. I laid it upon the ground, for I would not need it yet. First, before I could take what I needed, I would take his defiance. I put my horn to his head and cast the spell.

Sifting through the memories of a creature is a difficult task when they are willing. Their focus must match yours, and you must work together to not be buried in the sheer magnitude of it all. For an unwilling subject, such as this zebra, getting what you wanted could be impossible. An untrained mind could be conquered through persistence of force of will, but the zebra knew the depths of what our magic could do and, fearing the worst of us, prepared. This mind was a fortress.

Everything he believed I valued was hidden behind a wall, rolling and expanding to defy my every attempt to pass. It was true that what I sought hid behind that wall. However, that was not what I was after just yet. To defeat a prepared and determined mind, one that is, in the end, expendable, you must remove that which makes it determined. I searched for things he did not initially protect, things he thought I didn’t care about.

His family. His childhood. His dream to become a carpenter. The tenderness of his first kiss. The happiness when he made his father proud. The pride when he became a father, only weeks before. I found those memories, shattering the weak wall he attempted to shield them with. I ripped those memories from his mind, tearing them free as I disengaged the spell.

Once again in the real world, my horn glowed a bright violet. The vital memories he once possessed now a fragile mote of magic. I let them scatter in the wind before putting my horn to his head once more.

The wall looked the same, but I knew that to be a lie. He knew how to protect himself but he did not remember why. The defiance, the will, it was all gone. I tapped the wall and it collapsed, revealing all of his protected thoughts. I quickly sought for my true target: his memories of martial arts training. This zebra was an expert of a martial art that allowed zebra soldiers to kill our ponies. By taking his knowledge, our own experts could refine our combat training to counter zebra martial arts, allowing our ponies to win battles at every step.

I finished gathering up the memories and, much gentler this time, pulled them free from his mind. Lifting up the memory orb, I carefully passed the memories into the orb, stitching them together to be sorted later. Sealing the protective case and putting it away, I looked back at the face of the zebra.

He did not know how to fight. He did not know why he was in the middle of this war. He only knew there was something no longer there, something terribly important to him, and it had been taken from him unjustly. Tears began to well in his eyes.

I drew my sword and thrust it into his chest. A small mercy. I pulled out a cloth and wiped the sword clean while I walked back to Indigo.

“Is it done?” She asked, as if referring to a casual lunch.

“Yes. Mission complete.” I sheath my sword and discarded the ruined cloth. A blink, and we were once again in the vertibuck, withdrawing from the battle. The other battlemages were casting spells from the vertibuck doors, spending their magic since our job was done, but Onyx Comet paused. He stared at the orb case in my hooves. I suspected he thought his face a hard mask, but I knew better.

Onyx had a family. He knew what I had done, knew that I had been specifically chosen to do it not because I was the most suited. I had been the most willing. The zebra hadn’t taken from him. They had taken from me.

I would do anything to make them pay.

v^V^v

The gate was rather unimposing. It was a chain-link and sheet metal affair, with a bit of barbed wire adding a touch of violence. None of the gore that the raiders had. There wasn’t much for lighting The flickering lights of a few campfires still burning backlit the walls, and it was easy to see the guards in the makeshift tower next to the gate, even if I hadn’t seen a yellow bar on my compass for each of them.

They couldn’t see me, though. I wasn’t even hiding. “Hello,” I said, lighting myself with my horn.

“Who the hell are you?” said one pony.

“Don’t shoot, it’s just some mare,” said another.

More than one weapon was pointed at me. If they fired a shot, I was quite ready to kill them, but I was trying to avoid that. “I’m looking for a job. Are you ponies in need of a Stable-Tec technician?” I waved Jumpshot’s pipbuck at them.

“Technician? Is that like a mechanic?” Seriously?

The guns were put down. “No, a mechanic fixes mechs, a technician fixes tech.”

“I think they fix machinery and electrical equip-”

“Shut up, Lampshade, nopony asked you.”

The gate opened. “Follow Doublebuck. He’ll take you to the master of quarters.”

“You mean quatermast-”

“SHUT UP, LAMPSHADE!”

I resisted the urge to rub my temples. I couldn’t believe these ponies were giving Steel Rangers any kind of issues.

I take that back. Doublebuck was the largest stallion I’d ever seen. He was easily as tall as Princess Celestia, but with a frame like Big Macintosh. I’d wager if he took to his namesake he could send a tank rolling. His color was some shade of green, but I couldn’t make out much in the low light. He only looked at me for a second before walking down a path between the tents.

The interior of the fort did remind me of the most makeshift of camps during the war. Tents and cooking pots were set about haphazardly, nearly every one surrounded by ponies marked with yellow bars. The best spots were those that stayed dry in the rain. There was even a wagon. Doublebuck walked close to the wagon and I saw him sniff the air. I wondered what these ponies were cooking up-

“Is that meat?” That was definitely the smell of cooking meat. I had spent enough time with griffons to know that smell, but I had certainly not seen a griffon in camp yet. Doublebuck heard me and turned to point at the wagon.

“This Pudge’s meatwagon. He has good food.” The extremely simple voice didn’t distract me from my realization.

“Do you ponies eat meat?” The mere thought made my stomach churn.

“Meat is good. Better than radfruit. Not sick from eating.”

I couldn’t stand for this. Ponies weren’t born to eat meat. “You kill other creatures, cut up their bodies, and cook it on a spit so you can eat their flesh!” The ponies sitting around had started to notice my outburst, but I didn’t care.

A new voice came from inside the wagon. “Hey, is that someone there complainin’ about my choice of business?”

I stomped my hoof into the dirt. “Yes, I am. You’re a craven barbarian if you perpetuate the consumption of other creatures, even in the darkest of times. I’ll not stand for it.”

The wagon door opened and another stallion, as large as Doublebuck but with a thick layer of fat making up for the height difference, stepped out in front of me. “I’ll have you know that I giv this lot a good hot meal to fill their bellies when the land around us don’t provide none. What with your attitude, you’d think you thought of us as cannibals or the like.”

“That’s not two steps away from what I think of you. Sacrificing what makes you a pony is what keeps you from becoming monsters. Eating meat is not what we do.”

Another voice from a stallion, this one stern, interrupted us. “Pudge, go back to your wagon. I’ll handle this stable pup.”

He was, again, an earth pony, but unlike most of the rest who wore little, this stallion had an orange vest over his dark blue coat and a naval officer cap. It looked silly, but I don’t think he thought so. Doublebuck, and the other ponies I could see, gave him the space of an authority figure. I wondered if this was Ironhoof.

“Follow me, little unicorn.” I had half a spell to show him how little I was. That was enough for everypony else, though, as they all melted away into their tents. Doublebuck even began meandering back to the gate. I was already decided on what I thought of these ponies, but maybe Ironhoof would at least show me the sword before I tried to reclaim it.

He led me to the fort. Inside were an uncomfortable amount of armed and awake ponies. They weren’t in ambush formation, but had the distinct feeling they weren’t casually laying about. Ironhoof walked right up to a throne like chair and sat upon it. I couldn’t spot my sword, but next to him was a closed hoof locker. The rest of the room was like a cramped frat house. The guards were camped out on three tables covered in trash and food. Between the tables and the throne was a ladder to an upper level, which was a balcony along the wall. The roof was the roundabout, supported by a web of steel girders. There was a small spark generator attached to the shaft of the roundabout.

I stopped looking around when he cleared his throat. “Here I am, sleeping the night away, when some dipshit comes a callin’, crying about some stable filly to fix all our problems. Now that doesn’t sound at all like a pony who’d pick a fight with Pudge, so why don’t you explain yourself.”

I wondered how far I should play the part. “I came out of Stable 45 in Hollow Shades. I heard you were having a problem with the machinery in the Ironshod Armory.”

“A stable? Ponies don’t usually just wonder out and find jobs from a stable.” Though a statement, he was definitely expecting answers.

“I’m the only survivor of Stable 45. I’d rather not go into details, but I am looking for my place in the wasteland. Since my old life is gone, I need to learn about the world and find something new.” Technically, everything I said was true, but I held back the suspicion that nopony here would like me or my opinions.

He just looked at me for a good minute, but the void was filled with the fake commotion of the other ponies in the room. “So what was your old life? Since you want a job here, I’d like to know what sort of talent I would be getting.”

Well, now was the time for the lies. “I was a Stable-Tec maintenance technician.” I shouldn’t have said -Tec. “I specialized in magical machinery.”

“That’s helpful, but it wasn’t what I meant. What was stable life like? And how long ago did you leave the stable? I’ve never heard of 45.”

I had no idea what stable life was like. Well, fire and death, I guess. And starvation. “I left the stable two days ago. Went to Station and heard about your group. Thought I might get a job.”

His frowned. “Let’s go into the details. What happened in your stable?”

I sighed. I didn’t feel like going through with this lie anymore. It hadn’t really been going anywhere, anyway.

I took a step toward him and squared my hoofing, standing straight and looking ever so slightly down my nose at him. He didn’t like that.

I didn’t care. “I apologize, but I lied to you. I was never an employee of Stable-Tec, and I am not a mechanic of any kind. You have something I want. Let’s negotiate.”

He blinked. Twice. I heard, or rather, stopped hearing the fake commotion. “You came here to negotiate for something you want?” Yes, that is what I said. He looked at me expectantly so I rolled my eyes and nodded.

He burst into laughter. This felt rather typical, and it made me want to open fire, but I was trying to give these guys a chance. Maybe they were just acting bad to keep the other bad guys off them?

“Oh, this is good. Haven’t laughed that good in a while. What is it you want, anyway?”

“My sword.”

That cut him short. “A sword? Like, the sword I got in Station? That sword?”

“Is there another sword you own? Is there some confusion on your part? Do you own many swords?”

“Look, lady, watch your mouth.” He stood and pointed a hoof at me. “You don’t walk in here and disrespect me without getting a bullet in the brain. What kind of negotiating is that? Just what were you planning to offer me?”

Your life. Seriously, that was all I had to offer. Oh, and the location of maybe a thousand caps. “I wasn’t, but perhaps you can change my mind. I don’t know a lot about the wasteland. Fill me in.”

“Who the hell are you? I’m not some random pony on the street, here to answer your questions at your convenience.”

I give up. “My name is Ruby Moon. I was a soldier in the war. Give me my sword.”

“The war? What war?”

This was getting tedious. “The war. I’ve killed more zebra than you’ve seen in your entire life. Give me my sword.”

He shook his head and chuckled while stepping to the hoof locker. “You think being in some war that ruined the world entitles you to something?” He opened the locker and pulled out my sword, still in its sheath. “You’re nothing now. Just another pony about to die.”

“Death is my eternity. Give me my sword.” I was practically snarling at him. He really didn’t like that.

“Death is your right now. I’m going to gut you with your own sword.”

I sighed. “Before we do this, I just want to be sure. You do kill random ponies for their stuff, right? Rob ponies? Take slaves, or some other such really bad thing?”

He drew the sword with his hoof while stepping toward me, a want for blood on his face. “Yes. We do all of those things. And we also kill crazy relics from the past.”

That was good. I would have been rather cross if I had picked such a fight with good ponies. He thrust the sword at my chest. It was obvious he had no experience with a hoof held rapier, and his attack was clumsy and slow. I batted my sword aside with the pipbuck.

“Mors Noster Aeternum.” It was the second part of the Battlemage motto, and it was our sad truth. There was never any other destiny once our path had been chosen.

“Wha-” I slammed his face with the pipbuck, then grabbed his head and flipped him to the ground.

Before I could be shot, I teleported up to the balcony. Since I had no grenades, I dropped a fireball into the group of confused guards. It was small and weak, and did little more than distract the majority of them, but I did not want alert the outside just yet. I’d bet they were entertaining the thought of another random pony being shot for amusement.

Ironhoof was running back to his throne. I watched him sheath my sword and stuff it under a strap on his vest. Was I right to kill him? For the Steel Rangers, for the good of the ponies, or for my sword? Did I even care? Nothing existed to tell me I was wrong, at least as far as I knew. Only my own moral standards.

I cast a lightning spell and let fly, but at the very moment of destiny one of the pitiful guards happened to step in the way. Ironhoof stared past the charred corpse as it fell over to see me frowning. I prepared another spell, but he dipped behind his throne and out a hidden door. If only I hadn’t hesitated. This would all have been over and nopony else would have had to die. Well, these ponies weren’t exactly above my law, so maybe that was hopeful thinking.

Ducking low, I ran along the balcony, getting behind what little cover existed. Many small caliber bullets plinked all around me, drowning out all other sound. I created a grey ball with my horn and flicked it into the room below. Upon hitting the ground, the ball burst into smoke, filling the entire first floor in a moment. The incoming fire was replaced by coughing and yelling.

Now that no fire was distracting me, I found and climbed out of the hatch onto the roof. Standing just beside the turret, I searched past the barbed wire into the camp below, searching for Ironhoof. Yells were spreading and everypony was waking up, but I couldn’t pick him out. I trotted onto the armored turret, finding the hatch open and the seat empty. I cast a familiar spell in a different way, and Cashew blinked in right next to me.

“What the crap! Ruby, don’t do that.”

I pointed at the empty turret seat. “I need you to create some chaos.”

Cashew glanced at the seat, me, then the towers. She hopped in and started flicking switches. I ran back to the hatch and climbed down into the fort. The smoke wasn’t clear but it had thinned, and the guards had left. Sliding down the ladder to the first floor, I saw that every yellow bar on my compass was turning red. I didn’t have any idea how I would find him now. Perhaps it was time to retreat-

Crumpled sheet metal flew across the room, skipping and sparking against the throne. In the hole that now existed in the wall, a pony stepped in that had to be Doublebuck, though he was wearing so much random bits of metal debris that I couldn’t be sure. Regardless, the pony saw me and charged. Not wasting any time, I sent him a lightning bolt, hitting him in the chest and sending sparking shocks across his armor, all of which collected at half of a rubber wheel over his hip. Of course.

Hardly tickled by my spell, he barreled into me. I felt not the floor for a long moment and yelped when I smacked the wall. Wavering on my hooves, I barely looked up at the pony before he reached me. The massive pony hardly lifted his hoof to hook it around my neck, and he did a full spin to slam me into the wall again, this time sending me and large bits of metal out of the building.

Riding part of the wall like a sled, I bounced once and hit a tent, the whole cloth structure collapsing around me. I sit still, decided that recovering my focus was more important than untangling from the mess. I took a deep breath and listened to the yells, the hooves clopping, the minigun firing - oh, Cashew had opened fire. A second later I teleported two feet above me. Despite landing gently, I flinched from the general bruise that was my right side. Nothing felt broken, and I hadn’t hit my head or horn, but that felt like all my luck for the night.

I didn’t see Doublebuck. If I saw him again he was getting enough fire to melt through any amount of rubber and steel. The minigun fired again, hitting the tower behind me. I watched the bullets cut through enough of the support that the tower leaned and fell into the camp, leaving a gaping hole in the wall. As my eyes trailed down I saw a stallion staring right at me from near the base of the tower.

It took half a second for Ironhoof to cut and run, but I realized that had been his plan since I had attacked him. All of the surviving guards and a few other ponies were with him, running out of the gap.

Strafing minigun fire shot into the buildings beyond Ironhoof, and I turned to see Doublebuck pushing against the gun, holding the roundabout in place. Cashew turned it back and forth, but the stallion was stronger than the machinery. Abruptly, the roundabout stopped trying to spin, and Doublebuck started walking toward the hatch.

A small shower of sparks flicked off the stallion’s shoulder plate. Was that Dust? I realized I hadn’t gotten a good enough look at his rifle to see what caliber it used. This stallion was more trouble than he was worth, and I cast teleport twice, once for me and once for Cashew.

Blinking onto the roof of a building near where I thought Dust’s shot had come from, I now had a better view of the entire camp. Cashew, swearing at me this time, had taken out both towers and wrecked the gate I had walked in. With that and the damage done to the roundabout turret, I figured the Steel Rangers wouldn’t have any trouble taking this camp out now.

“Dust Devil,” I called out. Thinking more, I couldn’t think of a reason for the Steel Rangers to have a problem taking this place out. Cashew had mentioned numbers, but just how few Steel Rangers were there?

“Dust- Oh, there you are.” When he landed, I saw that his rifle was actually a modified Bloomberg, only 5.56mm and not designed to be a sniper rifle at all. Still, Doublebuck was lucky for it to have not penetrated the scrap metal he was wearing. “Ironhoof ran out the southern wall. This day will be a lot easier if we reach him before he gets to Ironshod.”

Speaking of day, I glanced at the eastern horizon. The overcast sky hid the sunrise, but the morning light was still chasing away the dark of night. An oddity wrinkled my face into a frown, and I turned fully around, inspecting the entire horizon. An overcast sky, as far as I could see from one of the taller buildings in this part of Trottingham. The cloud cover never ended. It had been this way since I had left Stable 45, three days ago.

My eyes settled on the smokestack of the Ironshod Armory. I had so many questions. Maybe when this business with Ironhoof is over, or when I get to Tower. Maybe then I can ask these questions. Perhaps even get some answers. For now, though, the chase was on.

Footnote: Updated S.P.E.C.I.A.L. Perception: 6. Like an alert coyote, you pay close attention to your surroundings, not only identifying threats but understanding them.

Author's Note

Updates might slow while I'm in the process of moving. I appreciate any thoughts on the story so far.