Fallout: Equestria – Icarus

by ComicSansPony

Rating: teen
Tags: Gore, Alternate Universe, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Mystery, Other, Adventure, Crossover, Fallout
Length: 44071

During a thunderstorm, Cumulonimbus shares his tragic tale with a sympathetic bartender. A story that begins with him falling from the sky and ends with all his friends dying.

Just after graduating from the Neighvaro Military Academy, Private Cumulonimbus is tasked with tracking down his father, who has gone Dashite. Things go awry when a horde of migrating dragons rips off his wings. Permanently grounded, he must rely on the ex-slave, medic, mare, named Looker, the cursed son of a raider boss, named Cap Stash, and a malfunctioning virtual pony named BONK to complete his objective. But there is still one question: Why did his dad do it?

This story is canon to the Audio Files Series fics Unscrewed Audio Files and Brittleshine's Quest Audio Files, but is not directly connected and reading those fics is not needed to read this fic. It is also formatted like a regular story and not like the other fics in the Audio Files Series.

This story is also canon to Gamma Deekay’s and Digital Ink (AKA Sawyer)’s series of connected fics. It falls after The Long Winter, but before Better Days.

Published 2017-06-08 03:30:06 UTC
Last updated 2018-08-29 03:30:21 UTC

Chapter 1: No Fly Zone

A cold breeze blew in as the bar’s door opened and let me in from the rain. My entrance was punctuated by a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder. The resulting gust of wind blew my tattered brown overcoat away from my rear hooves. I slowly limped over to the counter and sat down at one of the stools. I let out a heavy sigh. The tan coated bartender looked up and approached me.

“What’ll ya have?” they asked plainly.

“Whatever’s strongest.” I replied coldly.

“Wild Pegasus it is.” he stated, levitating over the bottle and a glass, “So, stranger, what’s your story?”

“It is a long and terrible tale. Full of bloodshed and sorrow.” I explained, solemnly taking the drink in my hooves and taking a sip.

“Ain’t everypony’s?” he inquired, moving to wipe down the other end of the counter.

“Others don’t start by falling out of the sky and end with all your friends dying.” I spat bitterly.

The bartender was taken aback by my blunt statement, but a short while later he began cleaning the counter again, moving steadily closer.

“Well, now I agree that not every story has those particular events in ‘em, but all are tragic. It is just a simple fact of the wastes.” He sighed sympathetically, “If y’all are interested in sharing, I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”

“It was a special day. I had finally graduated from the Neighvaro Military Academy and was on my way to become a full fledged member of the Enclave military.” I reluctantly began.

“Wait, you’re a pegasus?” The bartender asked in bafflement.

Without saying a word I lifted my coat to reveal the duel scars where my wings had once been. The bartender winced instinctively in the imagined pain.

“I did say I fell out of the sky.” I deadpanned taking another sip of my drink, “You want to hear this story or not?”

“Sorry, yes, go on.” he replied apologetically as he began polishing a few of the chipped glasses beneath the bar, “Before you do though, can I ask your name?”

“Cumulonimbus.” I replied nonchalantly, “Private Cumulonimbus. Serial Number 32-219-950.”

I paused as I finished my glass and held it out for a refill. The bartender just sighed and poured me a new glass. After another sip, I began.

*** *** ***

It was a special day. I had finally graduated from the Neighvaro Military Academy and was on my way to become a full fledged member of the Enclave military. I was busying myself with packing up my old dorm room as I impatiently waited for my raptor assignment. Most of my other classmates got theirs already, and many had already shipped out for their first patrol. Then the PA system let out a loud squawk followed by 10 seconds of feedback. I stopped what I was doing and listened, hoping it was going to be about me.

“Private Cumulonimbus, please report to General Updraft’s office. Immediately.” It announced.

Extatic, I quickly flew out the door and up to the main building. My heart was thumping against my chest so hard I thought it would leap out of my body. I took a moment to compose myself before calmly knocking a hoof on the door to the general’s office.

“Private Cumulonimbus reporting for duty, sir!” I shouted in the most respectful voice possible.

“At ease, Private,” the commanding voice of the general came from the other side of the door. “You may enter.”

I calmly opened the door and entered the office. Inside, a vintage wartime poster was hung on almost every wall, all of it propaganda still used by the enclave today. The desk was cluttered with notes and memos from all over pegasi controlled airspace. I tried not to read them as it some might be classified above my clearance level, but some things did stand out to me.

“–Increased dragon activity near the western border. It is migration season, so keep your eyes peeled during patrols.” one read.

“Hostility with Griffon high command coming to a head. Grindelwald wants to renegotiate peace accord. Wants all territory taken in Seven Year Skirmish.” read another.

The general cleared his throat to draw my attention back to him. It was then I noticed the two other ponies in the room. I recognized them by their armor. Vice General Starboard and Admiral Fiery Flight. I immediately stood at attention, flushing slightly as I had not noticed the high ranking officials before hoof

“Sorry sirs, I had no idea you would be here, sirs!” I shouted ignoring the sinking feeling in my gut. Such high ranking officials don’t come to an assignment briefing. Did I do something wrong?

“At ease.” Admiral Fiery said reassuringly, “ We are just here to ask a few questions.”

I released the breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

“Questions?” I asked meekly.

“Yes.” Vice General Starboard replied, “When was the last time you spoke with your father? Has he contacted you recently?”

“Uuuh,” I stammered, “he called the day before graduation. Said he couldn’t make it. Never said why.”

“Private, you have your whole career ahead of you. Don’t lie, it won’t end well for you.” the Vice General said sternly.

“Gentleponies, I think we are going about this all wrong. The Private doesn’t know anything. It is best we tell him the truth.” General Updraft cut in.

I swallowed hard and asked, “What’s going on with my dad?”

“Your father has gone Dashite.” General Updraft stated bluntly.

I couldn’t help but let out a small gasp. Becoming a Dashite was the most dishonoring thing an Enclave pegasus could do. Even if your family didn’t defect with you, just one family member going Dashite brings shame on your whole family for generations.

“Normally we’d not care too much about a civilian leaving. We care a bit more if they are of some value to us, like a scientist or soldier.” General Updraft explained, “Your father fits into that second category. To add insult to injury, he absconded with some important research. We want it back.”

“Wh-what do you want me to do?” I asked nervously.

“Go and bring your father back alive to face justice and I’ll personally make sure him going Dashite doesn’t effect your career.” Vice General Starboard replied, “Dismissed.”

*** *** ***

The freshly minted armor visor tinted my vision amber. I had been flying for a few hours since receiving the news that my father had gone Dashite. The data he had stolen was stored on an old model pipbuck. I had the tag loaded into my armor's HUD and the marker pointed farther west.

The whole time I was flying I was thinking one question: Why?

What I really should have been thinking was the direction I was heading. The same direction that one discarded memo mentioned a dragon migration. Had I thought about that I wouldn’t be here now.

As I flew, the marker on my HUD got closer. 25 meters, 20 meters, 15 meters, 10 meters, five meters, four, three, two, one. I was right on him. Where was he? The marker’s location updated to show 15 meters once again, but this time with a small downward pointing arrow. 15 meters, down? I stopped and looked below where I was hovering. Below me I saw the top of a mountain poking above the cloud cover with a cave that looked big enough to hide in near the summit.

Carefully I landed and trotted up to the cave entrance. I readied my firing bit and my twin novasurge rifles on my battle saddle sparked to life.

“Dad?” I called into the cave.

“Dad, ad, ad, ad.” my voice echoed in the darkness.

I took a step forward and continued talking, “No sense hiding, I have your pipbuck tag. Come out!”

“Out! Out! Out.” the echo called back.

I then tripped the wire I hadn’t noticed that was set on the floor. 4 apple shaped objects with a blue band on them fell from the ceiling. On instinct, I jumped back into the air just as the spark grenades exploded, nearly missing me. In the blinding light of the explosion, the dark form of my father darted from the cave.

Blinking the after images of the explosion out of my vision, I gave chase. Though being an older stallion, he still was much nimbler and faster than I thought he would be. He darted and maneuvered with ease even with his bulkier outdated power armor. We flew over another mountain top and came face-to-face with a flock – group – horde of migrating dragons.

“I’m so sorry, son.” he called as he slowed slightly, “You’ll understand in time.”

He then flew right into the horde. Grunting from exertion I flew in after him. Instantly I was set upon by the nearest dragon. Out of the corner of my vision, I saw my dad engage a stealth buck and he vanished from sight.

I screamed in frustration as I lost my target, but was now preoccupied by the gargantuan dragon moving to attack me. I was in no way prepared to engage a dragon. Almost no pony would have been, save a few of the mud dwelling steel rangers.

I dodged a stream of fire moments before it barbecued me, just scorching my underside. Then another swooped in from above forcing me to move down again. Unfortunately, I was not quick enough. The dragon's claw grabbed hold of my wings and kept on going. I felt a sharp searing pain in my back. This was followed by the sound of scraping metal and a fleshy pop and my wings – armor and all – were ripped clean off. I then dropped like a rock. The last thing I remembered was falling beneath the cloud cover before I blacked out.

*** *** ***

I awoke to the feeling of bandages being wrapped around my body and being very much alive. The only part of my body that hurt was my back – where my wings should have been. Though the pain dulled as the magic contained in the bandages began to slowly heal the wound.

I slowly opened my eyes and expected to see the medical bay of a raptor or an Enclave hospital. What I saw was a wrecked shamble of a farmhouse. All the windows were shattered and the floor was devoid of furniture. I glanced to the flickering light in the center of the room and noticed the ornate oak leg of a coffee table burning in the fire and figured that was where the furniture had gone. Above me, the dull light of early morning, defused by the cloud cover, filtered in through the newly formed skylight I’d made when I crash landed.

Realizing I was down on the irradiated wasteland below the clouds, I jumped up, knocking the petite, off-white earth pony with a curly mess of a brown mane to the floor.

“Get your hooves off me you filthy mud dweller!” I rasped through parched lips before my back’s pain flared up and I dropped to the floor.

“Feh!” the mare scoffed, “If I do as you wish, you’ll bleed out. Then what kind of medic would I be?”

I grunted in frustration as she began to tighten the bandages again. As she did I glanced at her flank. A magnifying glass adorned her flank.

“Your cutie mark doesn't look like that of a medic.” I grumbled as she finished fixing the bandages and injected a small dose of med-x.

“True, but I was trained to heal the others.” she said vaguely.

I ignored her vagueness, this mare was not part of my mission and I needed to find my father. Wings or not I was going to complete the task asked of me. Maybe once I brought my father back, the Admiral or Vice General could swing me some cybernetics.

I looked around for my armor. In the corner of the room, masked in shadow, was its remains. The wing covers, as expected, were ripped clean off. The frayed wires lying exposed to the elements. The auto repair talisman had began to close off the damaged back of the armor, but without the missing parts or a hell of a lot of extra scrap metal, the best it could do was make the edges less jagged. The insectoid helmet had a few dings not yet repaired, and the visor was cracked along the left side, likely from my crash. I figured the repair talisman was busy trying to fix the wings and hadn’t begun to fix the less damaged visor.

The mare then moved over to a rifle positioned at the front window of the farmhouse as I got to my hooves. The med-x did its job and allowed me to move with little pain as I strapped on the armor. When I did, the HUD flickered to life. The marker of my father was far to the north of my location, and I watched as the marker winked out.

Damnit! He must have found a way to mask his signal.

I didn’t have time to dwell on it as the mare echoed my angry sentiment, but for another reason.

“Fuck! They found me.” she said from the front of the house.

“Who–” I began but a stern glare from her silenced me as she poured a bottle of foul looking water on the fire, putting it out.

“My former owners.” she muttered bitterly, “Guy’s a genius buisnesspony, but prefers to deal in pony trafficking, prostitution and chems than a more reputable trade.”

“Ah, yes the savagery of the irradiated, mud dwellers I’ve heard about at the academy.” I muttered beneath my breath.

She just huffed angrily and put her eye back on the scope. I slowly moved to a small hole in the wall next to the door to see the commotion outside. There was a mint green stallion with a pale orange mane standing outside with four more raiders. The stallion wore a pair of scratched aviator glasses and had a toothpick in his mouth. His battle saddle comically held a very small magic energy pistol.

“Tsk, Tsk, Tsk. Looker, honey, trying to hide the fact you are in there.” the stallion outside said in a patronizing tone, “The smoke is a clear sign you are there. Too bad your refuge has a hole in the roof.”

BANG!

A shot fired from Looker’s gun and impacted the ground in front of the stallion, stopping him in his tracks.

“Well now, Rolling Caps said he wants you alive, but I can just as easily bring you back slightly roughed up.” he spat angrily.

The stallion motioned with his hoof and the band of raiders that accompanied him began to close in on the house.

“Those things work or are they just for show?” the mare to my right whispered, motioning to my battle saddle.

I looked at my HUD before answering. One of the noversurge rifles was out of commission – another thing ignored by the repair talisman until I could fix the wings. The other was still working – a bit dinged up, but working. I nodded and took the firing bit into my mouth.

I may not like it. I thought to myself as I focused through the cracked amber visor, but if I don’t help this mud dweller, I too will be a slave to this Rolling Caps.

I took a step back from the wall and aimed at the door. Another shot rang out from Looker’s rifle and the resounding sound of it hitting flesh was heard a second later. Then the sound of a body flopped to the wooden porch.

BANG! A raider’s shotgun tore a hole in the door and peppered me with splinters of decaying wood. He had a crazed look in his eye. The unicorn laughed maniacally, aming another shot. Though it would have done little to my mostly armored form, he never got off the shot as I chomped down on the bit and fired a shot of magical energy. It slammed right into his muzzle, and he disintegrated into a pile of ash. The shotgun he had clattered to the floor.

With the doorway now clear, I took to the air and immediately fell flat on my face due to my wings no longer being attached to my back. Pain spiked under the bandages as I got back to my hooves. I toggled SATS to assist in targeting the stallion at a distance in the cracked visor and time slowed to a standstill. I selected a single shot to his torso that read 81%. I released the spell, and time resumed. Then nothing happened as the undamaged novasurge rifle didn’t fire. It just fizzed and popped as unseen damaged parts finally gave way and prevented it from firing.

Fuck!

Another raider took this chance to charge with a sharpened shovel. Reacting quickly, I dodged her charge and stuck out a hoof to trip her. She clattered to the floor and dropped the sharpened shovel. Before she had the chance to get up I stomped down heavily on her head. The weight of my body and armor crushed her skull with a resounding pulpy pop.

Another shot rang out from Looker’s rifle, dropping the last raider accompanying the stallion. Instead of fleeing the stallion just smirked.

“Well, well, you found a friend who thinks he’s a pegasus. And you are a very good shot little lady.” he sneered.

“Fuck off.” Looker shouted from the window lining up her shot.

“And I am a pegasus.” I spat.

“Could have fooled me.” he replied in his patronizing tone, “Though, pegasi are so rare nowadays. Maybe you are one, wingless as you may be, you’ll just fetch a much higher price.”

I picked up the discarded shotgun in my mouth and pulled the trigger with my tongue. The buckshot barely peppered the stallion’s barding, but it did knock the toothpick out of his mouth and cracked his glasses.

The stallion then angrily picked up the firing bit of his battle saddle and pressed down with his teeth. What happened next I did not expect. There was a loud bang as the sound barrier was broken by a small explosion near the muzzle small gun. A large pink and green beam lanced into the farmhouse. I was barely able to jump out of the way in time to not be vaporized. My wrecked novasurge rifles were not as lucky and were vaporized into a fine grey powder along with the center of the farmhouse.

The stallion just laughed as he took in our duel shocked expressions, “And that wasn’t even full power. Resistance is futile. Come with me back to Rolling Caps, or die.”

I just glanced over across the missing section of the farmhouse at the mare. She just dropped her rifle from the remains of the windowsill and hung her head in resignation. With my noversurges and wings gone, there wasn’t much I could do either. So I followed suit and dropped the shotgun.

*** *** ***

Footnotes:

Cumulonimbus – Level 1

S - 7
P - 7
E - 6
C - 4
I - 6
A - 7
L - 3

Traits:

Enclave Private – you have been given training by the Enclave and have achieved the rank of Private. You are privy to and access to base level Enclave data, and access to the encrypted general use Enclave broadcast signal.

Quest Perk added:

Wingless – your wings have been forcibly removed. Permanent -2 to Agility and you can no longer gain any perks related to wings.

Looker – Level 3

S - 3
P - 7
E - 7
C - 7
I - 7
A - 6
L - 3

Traits:

Medic – You are the group medic. This gives you an increase of 10 to your max health and 15 to your medicine skill.

Quests Started:

Dashite Retention – Track down your father and bring him to justice for his crimes.

Chapter 2: Lucky Break

I set my empty glass down on the bar and sighed. The bartender had moved to sweeping the room as I spoke. I wasn’t sure he was still listening, so I waited for him to speak up and ask me to continue. While I waited, I glanced around the bar. It was a simply built structure of earth pony design, which was likely the reason it has survived the final day and for the century that followed.

Finally noticing the silence, the bartender looked up from his sweeping.

“Refill?” he asked, moving back towards the bar.

I sighed and nodded. He moved back around the bar to fix me a new drink. In a moment, he had poured me my third glass of wild pegasus. Then there was another clap of thunder – no it wasn’t thunder, it was my empty stomach growling. It was then that I realized I couldn’t recall the last time I ate.

The bartender let out a small chuckle and placed a chipped bowl in front of me. He then opened a box of sugar apple bombs and filled the bowl.

“On the house.” he stated fixing himself a bowl as well, “So, you and Looker got captured by this stallion and were brought back to Rolling Caps’ slaver camp. That was in Salt Lick City, right?”

I nodded as I hoofed some sugar apple bombs into my muzzle. I chewed them and took another sip of my drink. I grimaced – sugar apple bombs and wild pegasus did not mix.

Without a word, the bartender swapped my current drink for a bottle of sparkle cola. I drank it greedily to wash out the foul mix of flavors before getting back to my story.

*** *** ***

I tugged at the bomb collar that had been fastened to my neck. It was just tight enough to feel like it was choking me, but loose enough that I could still get enough air to breath. However not enough air to move faster than a slow trot.

“Stop fiddling with it.” Looker spoke under her breath, “You’ll set it off.”

At that I quit fussing with the collar and tried to ignore its grasp on my neck. To distract myself I looked at the slowly approaching skyscraper in the distance. Atop the building was a flickering neon sign. The entirety of the sign read “Canterlot Capital Savings Bank” though the only letters that were still lit spelled out “CapS.”

I then turned my attention to the odd battle saddle of the stallion that had captured us wore. I learned was named Toothpick, not that it really mattered. The device wasn’t actually a battle saddle. Though the top of the device that held the gun was a reinforced mount similar to a battle saddle, a series of multicolored wires ran from the gun to the saddle part. The saddle was more of an battery pack, but the sleek black casing hid any recognizable power source.

Lacking any weapons, and being stripped of my armor, I secretly envied Toothpick for his overpowered arcanotech.

Finally we approached the door of the skyscraper. The armored slavers at the door waved us in and we were lead past the service desk of the old bank and down tile steps to the basement. We entered a small room with two large vault doors. Toothpick went up to a terminal in the center of the room and taped on the keys until the vaults hissed open. Inside one was a collection of male slaves in tattered or no clothing, all wearing the same bomb collars. Inside the other was the same sight, but with mare slaves. With that, Looker and I were separated and lead to the vault full of our genders. Then the vaults were both closed and I was plunged into darkness.

As quickly as the darkness came it was erased by 10 or so unicorns casting a light spell.

“First time a slave?” a young, blue, unicorn colt with a blood red mane and lacking a cutie mark asked.

I just nodded, not wanting to socialize with any more mud dwellers. The last few I socialized with got me into my current predicament.

“Well then, count your blessings.” he sighed solemnly, “I was born into this.”

I wanted more than anything else to not hear this slave's sob story, but there was nothing else to do. So I sat next to him and tried my best to look sympathetic.

“My mom was in the other vault.” the colt went on, “I’ve been told she was sold a week ago.”

The colt wiped a tear from his eye with a dirty hoof and looked up at me. His right eye was green, but his left was golden.

“What?” I asked trying to hide my disdain.

“What is it like being free?” he asked innocently.

I sighed, “It is a great feeling. You can do what you want when you want.”

Was there a better answer? I thought to myself.

“There is no better feeling. It is a feeling I took for granted.” I finished solemnly.

We sat in silence for a while before the colt spoke up again, “Are you planning to be free again?”

I simply nodded slightly and laid down to sleep for the night. I flinched slightly as the colt snuggled up next to me, but I was exhausted and didn’t feel like protesting.

*** *** ***

I woke to the sound of the Vault door opening. I scanned the darkness and was surprised that the other slaves were not awake. I supposed that they were more accustomed to it than I was.

“Psst! Enclave jerk, you in here?” Looker whispered into the darkness.

Confused, I stood and moved into the soft light of the open door – wincing at the pain in my stiff and injured back. My movement and wince made the colt stir awake.

“Where you going, momma?” he asked groggily, causing me to cringe.

I didn’t know how to respond, I didn’t know this colt. I could just leave him, right?

The colt wiped the sleep from his eyes and blinked up at me, muttering, “Sorry.” He looked at the open door and asked, “We’re escaping?”

“Yes, hopefully it sticks this time.” an unknown stallion said from the other room, “I think my dad is getting suspicious.”

“Quiet, Stash.” Looker barked in a loud whisper, “You’ll be fine.”

“I would be if I helped just you, but you insisted on helping this pony you said fell from the sky.” Stash spat sardonically, “and it looks like Blip has taken a liking to him. Suppose we’ll be rescuing him too.”

I sighed and gave a reluctant nod to the a muddled yellow, unicorn with an orange mane and green eyes. That prompted an exuberant gasp from the small colt – Blip – from my side.

Great, I thought with a mental facehoof, A wingless pegasus, a petite mare, a colt, and an unknown stallion are going to escape a slaver’s den. It sounded like the setup to a bad joke. Wait, did Stash say his Father was getting suspicious?

“Stash, was it? Who is your father exactly?” I asked suspiciously as I exited the vault with Blip in tow.

Looker looked uncomfortable and muttered, “This is Cap Stash, son of Rolling Caps.” she paused as she let that fact sink in, “He helped me escape last time, and thankfully, he is willing to help this time too. Even with the two of you in tow.”

“What will stop your father from coming after us?” I inquired, “You mud dwelling slavers are ruthless. And what about the other slaves?”

Silently Cap Stash clicked the terminal to close the vault door. And then unlocked the bomb collar from around our necks.

“I resent my dad’s line of business.” He sighed, “I do what I can to disrupt his operations, but he is to never know it is me.”

“It is a bit too late for that.” the voice of Toothpick drifted in the room from the stairs, “I figured it was a coincidence that Looker escaped just after you requested her to accompany you to bed.”

He smirked as he bit down of the bit of his battle saddle – correction the battle saddle of my power armor that now has a rifle and a shotgun attached to it – the same that Looker and I had both used. I realized he had crudely ripped off the head and visor portion of the armor.

He opened fire. The buckshot of the shotgun sparked harmlessly off the terminal that opened the vaults as Looker, Cap Stash, and I ducked instinctively for cover. The rifle shot struck home in the head of Blip as he lacked the reflexes of the rest of us being born a slave. His lifeless form just slumped the the floor.

Somewhere deep down in my heart I felt a twinge of regret. I barely knew him. Why did his death matter? He is just another mud dweller. He meant nothing to me. He was a literal blip on the radar of my life.

Despite my rational thoughts, I felt angry. Angry that this colt I barely knew had never known freedom. Angry he was struck down so young. Angrier that I felt at any point in my life. I was angrier than I was at my own father for going dashite and starting this whole mess for me. In a fit of blind rage I charged at Toothpick.

Buckshot and rifle rounds ate into my hide. One even cut the filthy bandages wrapped around my torso and it fell to the floor as I ran. I slammed into the stallion at full force knocking him from his hooves and against the wall of the stairs. Stunned he dropped the firing bit from his mouth. I just wrapped my front hooves around his neck and twisted. I heard a sharp snap as his neck broke, but my anger didn’t subside and I kept on twisting. Flesh began to rip on the side of his neck as I twisted it almost completely around.

“Stop!” Looker said softly as she laid her hoof on my shoulder, “He’s dead. Justice has been given out.”

I felt the anger wane in my core, and I finally let the limp form of Toothpick fall. Released from my grasp he clattered down the remainder of steps and flopped to the floor. Breathing heavily, I trotted down to his body and retrieved the still heavily damaged power armor from his back. I removed the rifle and hoofed it back to Looker along with some ammo.

“Looks like your father knows you are a mole.” I stated pointing to Cap Stash, “Best course of action now is to wipe him out.”

“I...” Cap hesitated, “suppose you're right. My father runs his empire from the top floor of the Bank.”

I nodded, putting the crudely separated visor on my head and strapped on the back mounted portion of the armor. The overtaxed repair talisman helpfully found the time to reconnect the visor to the rest of it after a moment. As the HUD powered back up, I glanced around for my dad’s marker before I remembered it had gone out back at the farmhouse. I mentally noted that once Rolling Caps was dealt with, I’d need to head north to where the marker had last been.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Cap began once I’d finished fussing with the armor, “You know my name, but from what Looker told me, you never got on a first name basis. I for one can’t trust a pony I don’t know the name of. So, what’s your name?”

“Private Cumulonimbus. Serial Number 32-219-950.” I said, admiring how the battle saddle had been modified in such a short time to accommodate ballistic weapons rather than magic energy weapons.

“Well, Cumulo, after you.” He responded, motioning to the steps.

*** *** ***

A grenade exploded, causing the marble desk in the bank lobby to shatter into splinters of shiny rock. The slavers on this floor were more heavily armed than Toothpick had been. I figured the slave watching shift was changing when Cap had let me out. This left the bulk of the force sleeping on the lobby floor, and the 2 or 3 floors above that were connected by intact stairs.

“We need to get to the elevator! It’s the only way to access any floor beyond 3!” Cap shouted over another explosion, “And if you have any other weapons, I could help clear my father’s minions.”

I shot at the second floor causing a unicorn wielding a Singer submachine gun to fall off the balcony. The gun clattered to the floor and landed near Cap.

“How convenient.” He deadpanned taking the gun in his magic.

Without even looking up, he released three short bursts of fire at the balcony above. The bullets struck home in three different assailants.

Did he have a pipbuck, or is he just that lucky? I thought as I peaked out from my bullet riddled cover. As I did, I found the grenade slaver frantically searching for another grenade to lob at us.

Taking advantage of the mare’s search, I bit down on the bit and ignored the cigaret flavor left on it by Toothpick. The buckshot splattered her brians on the wall behind her and the elevator doors she had once guarded. With her death, the slavers on the first three floors were currently either dead or dying.

Almost immediately, Looker was out of cover and looting the dead. Cap and I stood up and joined her until there was a soft ding as the elevator arrived on the ground floor. Before I could react, the door opened and the roar of a minigun open fired on the lobby.

Instinctively I ducked back behind cover as a few stray bullets ate into my flank. Looker had been on the second floor and had luckily avoided the onslaught. However, Cap had not been so lucky. He’d been directly in front of the elevator when it opened. For some reason, I felt another twinge of sadness for another mud dweller I barely knew. But death happens, and I had to press forward. The fact still remained: Rolling Caps would not relent on finding us as long as he was still alive.

A moment later, the minigun fell on empty chambers, giving a ratcheting click as it spun down. The weapon was effective, but it was a major ammo guzzler. I poked my head out of cover and saw against all odds, Cap Stash still stood before the open elevator. Not a single shot had hit him. What had to have been over 100 shots had missed him at almost point blank range.

How in all of Equestria is that possible? I thought in awe.

“Hello, Wrexler.” Cap said evenly, as if he had not narrowly missed death in a the previous moment.

“Cap Stash, you fucking traitor.” the zebra wearing the saddle mounted minigun spat with malice, “You would throw away your father’s love for the sake of a few lowly slaves?”

“I don’t matter much to my father. He only cares for caps and power. As his son, I’m only his future successor, and he resents that.” Cap retorted.

At that, he picked up a shard of marble in his magic. He tossed it up and used the submachine gun as a bat. He spiked the shard at a high velocity directly at the zebra in the elevator. It struck him right between the eyes and he dropped to the floor unconscious; a small trickle of blood flowing down his muzzle.

Cap just levitated the unconscious form of the zebra into a broom closet, relieving him of his minigun. He stepped into the elevator and held a hoof out to stop the door from closing. Looker joined him a moment later. I just sighed and joined them as well. Cap moved his hoof and clicked the top floor with his magic as the door closed.

As the staticy elevator music began to play, I finally asked the question that was burning on my mind, “How did you survive the minigun fire?”

“I’m cursed with luck.” he said flatly, “Both good and bad. Truthfully, I had the exact same chance to die as I had to being untouched.”

I just stood there dumbfounded. I’d have said curses were just zebra superstition had I not just witnessed what I had occurred in the lobby.

“Damn killing joke.” he muttered.

At that we rode up the elevator in silence with the exception for the elevator music still trying to play from damaged speakers.

*** *** ***

After what felt like ages, the elevator slowed to a stop and the door opened. To everypony’s surprise, there were no guards firing when the doors opened. Hesitantly, I took a step forward.

“Was that his whole force in the lobby?” Looker asked, putting her hoof to her muzzle, “No, he is much more tactful than that.”

I glaced at the EFS of my HUD. The only marker on the screen was from the likely location of Rolling Caps. The small foyer was lined with red wallpaper tacked back to the wall by a few pieces of duct tape. The tile floor had a cracked mosaic that displayed the name of the bank, and the marker on my EFS was behind an ornate wooden door only a few footsteps away. Without any warning, a mark IV turret popped out of the ceiling in front of us and opened fire.

I ducked to the ground, letting the shots spark off my armor. Unfortunately for the second time in two days, my saddle mounted weapon was wrecked beyond capable use. Cap and Looker both pressed themselves to the sides of the elevator to avoid being shot. I glanced back and saw that some of the rounds had grazed their front legs before they could duck out of the way.

Without thinking, I toggled SATS and my vision was forced back at the hostile target as it was highlighted in amber. Coming to my senses, I looked at what weapon I had to cue up. With a mental facehoof, I realized it was the sharp scorpion-like tail of my armor. I had honestly forgotten it was there since I wasn’t really skilled with melee weapons. In the stopped time, the turret was highlighted in the same amber color as my HUD. I had a 67% chance of hitting any part of it from where I was crouched on the floor.

Good as it's gonna get. I thought and cued in two stabs, one to the rotating barrel, and another to the bullet feed.

Time resumed and without a thought, I was pushed to my hooves. Rounds sparked off the chest plate and I took a spell assisted step forward. I then leaped into the air, the tail of my armor swung over my head and struck the barrel of the turret getting caught in it, whipping me around the room and sending spikes of pain through my still healing back. Thankfully outside the spray of bullets. The second strike, that in hindsight was a better aimed one, was unable to resolve as the tail remained caught. Eventually the centrifugal force gave way as the tail was forcefully ripped from the back end of the armor, sending me into the side of the foyer with enough force to make a dent in the wall before bouncing off an landing back in the elevator. The severed tail sparked as the wires snapped. The wires acted similar to the effect of any spark weapon and shorted out the gun’s machinery, and with a fizzle, it went silent.

I coughed and sputtered, trying to regain the breath that I’d lost from being thrown about like a rag doll. Cap and Looker pulled their bodies away from the walls of the bullet riddled elevator. Suddenly the elevator gave a small lurch and dropped a few inches below the floor before coming to a grinding stop again. Looker let out a small yelp in surprise before we all quickly clambered out of the death box. The second we did the elevator dropped again and didn’t stop until it crashed to the lobby level. Together, we entered the door on the other side of the foyer.

Inside was a large, extravagant office that felt almost untouched by time. The walls were lined with a fancy floral print wallpaper that showed no signs of having to be pinned back up like in the foyer. A marble desk sat before a large window that looked out over the war torn city. Above the top of the window, a neon sign flickered, sending a reddish hue over the ceiling of the room. Standing before the plush red chair behind the desk, was an orange, unicorn stallion with a pale pink mane and green eyes. He wore a patched pre-war blue suit, and strapped to his back was the same overpowered arcane gun Toothpick had worn before.

“This is where you die.” Rolling Caps said coldly levitating the firing bit into his mouth.

BANG! A shot fired from Looker’s rifle and the bit dropped from his grasp as a red stain appeared on his suit. Rolling slumped slightly, but didn’t die. Laughing, he reached a hoof out to a button on the desk. Two more turrets popped out of the floor on either side of the desk. Cap and Looker ducked back into the foyer before the guns opened fired. I dove into the smug stallion, knocking him to the floor as the guns tore into the ornate wallpaper the lined the walls.

We wrestled on the floor; the shot to his side not slowing him down. Realizing that their targets were unreachable the turrets pivoted and began to pelt my back with bullets. Three lucky rounds finding their way through the still unfixed wing holes causing me to loosen the grip I had on him. Even in my power armor, he managed to flip me over him and smack me against the window, making several cracks spider out from where I hit.

My belly now exposed the turret’s shot began to eat into my flesh. More than a few missed and broke holes in the already cracked window. As my vision darkened I saw a glint of magic over the desk and one of the turrets sparked as my armor’s still sparking tail was used once more as a matrix disruptor. The other turret exploaded as a grenade, likly comendeered from the slavers in the lobby, belw it to scraps.

I grunted in pain as I got shakily to my hooves, a small pool of blood beneath me as I used the window for support. Rolling just smirked and got to his hooves as well. He went to take the firing bit in his magic again, but what he hadn’t noticed was in our tussle I had unclasped the strap that held the device to his back. As he rose, the device dropped to the floor. Ignoring my bleeding wounds, I dove for the gun. I pulled it close to me, tripping the slave boss as I turned his own weapon back on him. His smug look finally broke as he stared at the gun. I took the firing bit into my mouth without hesitation, I bit down.

There was a loud boom near the muzzle of the gun. The cracked window behind me shattered at the piercing sound. A pink and green beam lanced out, encompassing Rolling, the top of the marble desk and the roof beyond. Cap and Looker narrowly jumping to the side to not be caught in the laser as it flew by them. The top of Cap Stash’s mane being clipped off by the blast. The beam kept going until part of the bank’s sign was destroyed, and it didn’t stop until a five meter hole was cut in the cloud layer some ways off in the distance.

With a spark the device turned off and a series of red lights illuminated around the base. A screen on the back flickered to life and read “Charge: 1%.”

I glanced up at the now open roof. For a moment, the clear back void of night shone down on the wasteland. Then as quickly as it had been opened, the cloud layer fixed itself. I slumped slightly from the loss of blood. Looker leaped into medic mode and fed me a healing potion she had acquired from the slaver’s medical supplies. The many bullet holes began to knit themselves closed and as an added bonus the constant pain on my back from my missing wings let up slightly from the healing magic.

“So that was Cicada's Wrath?” Cap finally spoke up after a minute of silence, “Never seen if fired before. And no pony who has, has lived to tell the tale. Well, until now.”

“Toothpick fired it when he captured us, but it is still shocking such a gun exists.” Looker stated letting out a held breath, “So, how are we getting down?”

It was then that I remembered the elevator had made its final decent only a few minutes before. Cap just trotted over to the edge of the room where the large window had once been. To our shock, he hopped off. Instead of hearing a distant splat, we heard the sound of four hooves landing on metal.

“Good old dad, always had an escape route.” Cap called in a sing-song tone from the old window washer’s platform sitting just below the blown out window, still attached the remaining section of the roof.

Looker breathed out a sigh of relief before joining Cap on the platform. I jumped down too, just as Looker struck Cap on the back of the head for making us think he was jumped off the roof. When he recovered from her love tap, he hit a red button in the basket with his magic. Slowly, the platform descended along the side of the old bank.

*** *** ***

An hour later we had descended the building, where the platform had let us off on the third floor. From there, we had returned to the lobby and back to the underground vaults to release the remainder of the slaves. Cap then went about removing the slave collars, while Looker tended to any wounded.

With that, I made my exit. I could no longer afford to deal in the petty conflicts of filthy, mud dwelling, dirt herders. Rolling Caps was dead, so he wouldn’t try to track me down as I completed my mission.

I needed to head north. Hopefully I’d pick up the trial of my father if I headed towards the last direction I’d seen his pipbuck tag in. I had made it a short distance down the road when, from out of nowhere, there was an arcane burst of magic in front of me.

“Trying to make your exit without us, birdbrain?” Looker shouted as I blinked the after images from my vision.

“I have a mission to complete. It is against protocol to involve mud dwellers.” I said dispassionately.

“That might be true if you had wings.” Cap noted, “But when in the wasteland, do as the mud dwellers do and travel in groups.”

“Fine. We head north. My dad’s pipbuck tag was last seen in that direction.” I relented, realizing that the best way to reach my objective was probably to make that trip with other expendable ponies who knew the terrain.

“What’s he looking for?” Looker inquired.

“He took some research when he left.” I explained reluctantly, “Any Ministry hubs up north?”

“Salt Lick doesn’t have any ministry hubs.” Cap answered, putting a hoof to his chin, “though, there is an old government lab in the middle of the salt flat.”

“Then we go there.” I stated with finality as I began to trot along the road north.

*** *** ***

Footnotes:

Cumulonimbus: Level Up!

New Perk Added:

Dashite Morality – The ponies on the surface are beginning to get to you. You are starting to think of them as more than just mud dwellers. Your attacks are 20% more effective and ignore 5% of the target’s DR when protecting anypony or creature that calls the wasteland home.

New Equipment Acquired:

Cicada's Wrath – it may be small, but it packs a powerful punch. When power is depleted, it takes 1.5 days to recharge.

Looker: no status changes

Cap Stash – Level 7

S - 6
P - 7
E - 6
C - 6
I - 8
A - 7
L - X

Traits:

Raider Boss’ Son – You are the son of a powerful raider boss. As such your name strikes fear into the raiders in the area and they have a 15% chance to not attack when they see you.

Poison Joke’s Curse: Sliding Luck Stat – You have been cursed by Killing Joke. As such, you no longer have a luck stat, and it’s 5 base points have been disbursed into your other stats. From now on whenever you do anything, a cosmic D20 is rolled. The result of this roll is your luck stat for the intended action, even if it is over the max score of 10. Best of Luck! You’re gonna need it.

Quest Started:

Let the Caps Roll – √ Disband the slaver operation run by Rolling Caps
√ Kill Rolling Caps

Quest Completed:

Let The Caps Roll

Quests Updated:

Dashite Retention – Search the Salt Flats for your Father.
Track down your father and bring him to justice for his crimes.

Author's Note

and you thought the bar scene would only be in the last chapter....I think it will be a thing at the beginning of every chapter. :pinkiecrazy:

Chapter 3: Black Pepper

I paused my story as a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder shook the bar. The lights went out as the jury rigged circuits blew. As the illuminated bar faded to darkness, I saw a brief image a skeletal pony in a black cloak in place of the bartender. I figured it was just a trick of the light and pushed it to the back of my mind.

The bartender sighed heavily and reached below the counter. A moment later he levitated out a series of candles and placed them around the bar. He cast a light spell, and sent the ball of magic around over the wicks of the candles, setting them on fire.

“I apologize for the dark, but I can’t fix the generator in the rain.” he muttered, “So, you and your friends just escaped Rolling Caps’ slaver den after having killed Rolling, and practically blowing the roof off the place, right?”

“No.” I said flatly and the stallion gave me a puzzled look, “They weren’t my friends yet. Or at least, I wasn’t willing to admit to myself I was friends with mud dwellers.”

I felt the tears well up in my eyes and I choked down the rising guilt. I had to tell this story. I needed to confess my sins to somepony. Somepony needed to know what I had done to lose all my friends.

I shook their images from my mind. The bartender gave a knowing glance as I wiped the tears with my hoof. He swapped my empty sparkle cola for the unfinished third glass of wild pegasus from earlier. Shakily I took a long sip of it and got back to telling my story.

*** *** ***

We had been heading to a northern settlement called Safe Harbor. It would seem like an odd name for a settlement since Salt Lake City was a land locked city and had no harbor, but it was based out of an old airship building warehouse and the attached airship history museum. So it was still technically a harbor. I was a moderately safe settlement because a MoM war balloon was housed there. Early in the war, the Raptor class cloud ships were rapidly making war balloons obsolete, so the first balloons were retired and stored there. They still had a few woking armaments which the settlers used to keep the riff-raff from taking the settlement.

We had walked in silence following the battle at the bank. I decided to listen in on the Enclave frequency my armor could pick up, and turned on the radio function. I nearly jumped when a stallion’s voice filled my helmet, and I realized it was set to the MAS-EBS signal. I wondered what would be on an emergency broadcast signal over a century after the apocalypse, and listened in to the broadcast.

“Well, well, wasteland, DJ Pon3 has some interesting news from out west near old Salt Lick. A pony has fallen from the sky on the outskirts. It may be an injured member of the illustrious Enclave, or it could be the wasteland’s newest Dashite. Not a day later, the notorious slaver boss Rolling Caps had his compound at Canterlot Capital Savings Bank attacked. The slaves have all been released, with minimal casualties – well except for the Slavers who are all dead – and the Slave Cap King is MIA after the assault. Though, an unknown arcane device was fired from the executive office, and shortly after I have reports of a pony in badly beaten Enclave power armor, that was missing wings, leaving the area after the bank was liberated. So the question still stands, is the pony a Fallen Angel or an Icarus who flew to close to the sun...because they actually get to see that above the cloud cover.”

I shut off the radio at the mention of the other day’s events.

How? I thought in a confused panic. How had this DJ Pon3 gotten information on events that happened less than a day ago?

Calming my nerves, I switched back on the radio and toggled to the Enclave General Use Signal.

“–eneral, what are your orders?” A mare asked over the radio, “We are in range of where the blast came from.”

“Keep the Rapture above the cloud cover and send a forward scout party in vert-a-buck. Assess the threat and neutralize it.” The voice of General Updraft called back, “These primitives have tech that might impede Operation: Cauterize, even with Thunderclap’s defection. We must neutralize it quickly before the operation can get back on track.”

My heart sank when I heard my father’s name mentioned, but what worried me more was the arcanotech they were looking for was in my saddlebags.

At least once I capture my dad, I can hail the Rapture to get home. I thought, focusing back on walking as Looker and Cap got a bit ahead of me.

Thinking I’d call in now to let them know my progress, I rose my hoof to my ear to talk over the radio. All I got was a painful shock from the helmet – more unfixed damage from the past few days – and the world became a mix of lights and colors.

*** *** ***

I must have passed out because the next thing I knew I was back in the room beneath the bank. I immediately knew something was off, but I couldn’t put my hoof on it. Then the vault that the male slaves were kept in opened. Out stepped the small form of the young colt I’d tried to save, the side of his head still blown apart by the rifle blast.

What was his name again? I thought backing up instinctively at his approach.

“Why didn’t you save me?” he asked in an oddly echoey voice.

“I...I was going to.” I whimpered.

“No you weren’t.” The colt spat bitterly moving towards me, on reflex I took a step back, “You just agreed to shut me up. You didn’t care about me. You only care about yourself. If it were up to you, you would have left all those slaves in the hooves of Rolling Caps.”

“It…” I hesitated, “It was my idea to kill him.”

“Yes.” The colt – Blip, I finally remembered – replied, “But only to keep him off your back so you could bring in the only family member you have left.”

Blip paused to take another step towards me, again I took another step back. But where the wall of the underground room should have been, was instead the edge of a cliff.

“And only after your carelessness got me killed!” Blip finished charging at me and pushing me off the edge into the blackness beyond.

*** *** ***

I awoke for the second time in two days to bandages being wrapped around my body. Though, this time it was my head, not my torso. My head throbbed from the tender scorch mark on the side of it, but was soon soothed by the healing potion the bandages had been drenched in.

Smart, that way you don’t waste a whole potion on one small injury. I thought to myself, opening my eyes to a less than sanitary infirmary.

I resisted the urge to attack the mud dwelling doctor who was affixing the bandage with her magic. I mentally facehoofed at the faint hope I had that I’d be anywhere, but the wasteland.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” The doctor said after she realized I was awake, “Your friends are in the market. When you meet back up with them, the Curator would like to meet with you.”

“They aren’t my friends.” I grunted and got to my hooves. For some reason my right rear hoof felt weak and I leaned to the left to stay off it. “They are just helping me find somepony.”

“Heh, and denial ain’t just another river in Anugypt.” she scoffed heading into the back office of the infirmary, “The Curator will tell you what to do about payment.”

I just snorted in disgust. The nerve of this mud dweller to want payment for saving my life! Had no deal been struck with this Curator on my behalf, would she have let me die? Savages! The Infirmary did look like it had been sanitized since the great war. I was lucky to have survived treatment! I thought concealing my anger as I trotted out the door to see where I was.

Apparently while I was passed out, Cap and Looker had brought me the rest of the way to Safe Harbor. The infirmary had been off the main lobby of the museum, while the market was in the main hall and stretched into the adjoining warehouse.

I trotted into the market squinting at the bright lights that miraculously still worked over a century without repair. I found my associates arguing with a ghoul griffon.

The feathers that still clung to his pink face were a deep blue, almost black, and his eyes were completely glossed over. He wore a tattered brown coat that hid his poor excuse for wings, and a gun holster holding a small magnum 44 with a scope.

“And I told you, I don’t fix no pega’s power armor.” The ghoul shouted, tossing the severely beat up hunk of black metal.”

I watched the remains of the armor sail across the market isle and knock over a display of rusted soup cans. That wasn’t that wrecked when I passed out, right?

“Their stupid skirmish for more airspace left me shot and left for dead in a megaspell creator. They turned me into this.” the griffon went on, gesturing to his grotesque appearance, what remained of his feathers flaking off his face in anger.

“Well you greedy beak breaths had it coming.” I spat, wincing as my head throbbed, “And now you are an abomination. I’m shocked one of these wastelanders haven’t put you down.”

In a flurry of flaking feathers I was pressed against the same grocer’s stall, this time crushing a box of fancy buck cakes and knocking over almost a dozen more.

“Say that again mud pony.” he spat back, literally coating my face in saliva.

“Why does everypony think I’m an earth pony?” I struggled to ask under his chokehold.

The griffon loosened his hold and glanced at my back. The discolored and harless scars on either side of my back evidence enough to make him reassess my race.

“Ah and Icarus has fallen, having lost your wings.” The griffon teased. He removed a claw and reached back to grab the scoped magnum. He raised it and cocked the hammer. “Dashite or not, you’ll pay for the suffering I’ve endured from your kind.” he said through a gritted beak.

Then security pulled him off of me, and I sputtered, trying to regain my breath. I hobbled over to retrieve my armor, finding that it was definitely more damaged than I remembered. The whole right side was blown off, and the amber visor screen was now missing entirely.

I turned to the guilty faces of Cap and Looker, “What happened?”

*** *** ***

Apparently I had missed quite a lot. When my radio shocked me, I had let out a yelp before passing out. That had supposedly called the attention of a group of raiders. Cap and Looker tried to hold them off, but one had a missle launcher. I was hit, and flung into a building by a missile blast, which can certainly account for the damage. Power armor can take a lot, but after all the damage it had taken, the over taxed repair talisman hadn’t held up as well.

Cap made a decision to teleport out of the fight and to Safe Harbor. It had been a tough call because of his luck based curse. Under normal circumstances he can usually safely teleport himself, but others is more of a gamble. I was mortified to be told my right rear hoof had been fused to the cabinet in the infirmary when we arrived. They had to rush to amputate and use a hydra. Looker had actually been surprised the chem hadn't regrown my wings, but I didn’t have that kind of luck.

They recounted the story on our way to The Curator’s office. They said that he was very interested in meeting with us, the details of which were tacked on to the end of their explanation. In exchange for medical care, they had agreed to do a task for this Curator, who was essentially the mayor of the settlement, because we were capless – apparently caps were the currency of the wasteland.

Cap had his dad’s fortune, but with his father’s death, knowledge of where the stash exactly was, was lost. And of course with Looker, well, a slave has few possessions if any at all. I hadn't brought any caps or gold bits with me because I didn’t think I’d be gone this long. Now I have to do another task to get out of debt with one group of mud dwellers in order to track down my father with another.

I was so caught up in a self pitying spiral I didn’t realize the Curator was speaking. He paused expecting a response.

“Uuuuh…” I replied dumbly.

“Yes we can get the Pinkie Pie War Balloon back for you.” Looker jumped in, simultaneously filling me on what was asked of us.

“Just one question: who steals a balloon?” I asked, assuming it was stolen.

“It was the Cupcake Mark III Pinkie Pie War Balloon. They were all technically Bluemoon Class Airships. They came out right before Raptor Class ships were built. After Raptors came out, they were mainly used for MoM business. The one that happened to be parked on the roof was our only means of defence from the raiders in the area. We couldn’t actually use it, but they didn’t know that, so it deterred any thoughts of attacks.” The curator explained.

“If you do this, then we’ll give you free medical treatment for as long as you need.” The doctor piped up.

“And we may even convince ol’ Graven to fix your Enclave power armor.” A yellow pony with a green mane in pristine, matte black combat armor said. Based on his newer looking armour he was either a new security recruit or the head of the department. Him being at this meeting suggested the latter.

I sighed and mentally facehoofed again, “Fine. We’ll get your balloon back.”

*** *** ***

Turns out the Pinkie Pie Balloon was brought only a few blocks over from the museum and sat just above a large white skyscraper. The windows from street level to at least the 40th floor were almost completely smashed in, and the top half of the building listed slightly to the left. But somehow, it was still sturdy enough to not fall over into the building next to it. Why somepony would want to bring the balloon here was beyond me. It was my understanding that this balloon was worth about twenty five thousand caps, so why the thief had not sold it was shocking.

Maybe they are looting the building? I thought to myself as we approached with a surprising amount of ease, You’d think though that all the buildings here would have been looted long ago. Maybe the top floors are blocked by rubble? The motives of these mud dwellers are frustrating and make no sense.

When we got to the front door to the white monolith a delegated sign just beyond the door read ‘Eshmare Building’ and beneath that it listed the various businesses that had once owned office space in the structure. Next to it was a map of the building with a number-letter combination connecting it to the business names. None of them are really worth mentioning, except for the sole business that occupied the entire top two floors. It was a business known as Rocking Farm & Associates. It sounded like it was something to do with Rock Farms, a concept I’d been taught about at the academy. Some old Equestria earth pony method of mining gems. I never could pay attention in that class, so I never got why they didn’t just have unicorns find the gems with magic.

We trotted in in silence. I lead us in, armed with an old battle saddle with a shotgun and Anti-Machine rifle attached to it I had borrowed from Safe Harbor Security. I was followed closely by Cap, then Looker, with the Safe Harbor Head of Security, Action Shot, taking up the rear.

“Goddesses, I hope the elevator in this place still works.” Action Shot commented glancing at the aforementioned building map as he passed, “I really don’t want to have to climb up 41 floors on hoof.”

As we entered the lobby, the working emergency lights indicated that the building was on some kind of backup power. Looker went over and inspected the elevators, one of which had dusty caution tape blocking it off, and a puddle of dry blood on the carpet in front of it. On the ground near the tape was the skeleton of a unicorn in the remains of a tan suit. Next to him lay a time and weather worn Omega Solid State Recorder. Without my armor or a pipbuck, I couldn’t listen to the recorder’s contents since the play button was missing. I put the recorder into my saddlebags, hoping to sell it for some caps to avoid another of these fetch quests in the future.

“If we can get the power back on, it looks like the elevator might still work.” Looker called from in front of the second elevator.

“There is a basement door over here!” Cap shouted from the other side of the room, “I unlocked it thinking it was a storage closet. Wasn’t a waste of time then, I suppose.”

And so we descended the rickety wooden steps into the basement of the Eshmare Building.

*** *** ***

There had been 5 ferals ghouls in the basement. Easily dispatched by my borrowed weapons, and one shot from Looker’s rifle. We then proceeded to the generator, and in a few moments, Looker had restarted it. It sparked dangerously, but still held steady. A rumble sounded through the building as the auxiliary generators in the rest of the building powered on in response to the main one coming back online.

“That was easier than I thought.” Action mused as we returned to the lobby.

The emergency lighting was replaced by the low hum of florescent lighting. I resisted the urge to mentally facehoof at his comment while hoofing the elevator call button. I wasn’t superstitious, but I wasn’t chancing it after the week I’ve had. It can always be worse.

A moment later, the soft ding signified that the elevator had arrived. We all piled in, and shortly after, it began to ascend at a steady pace. Unlike the bank elevator, it lacked any busted speakers, and the calming tones of some pre-war tune softly played as we rose. Every few seconds there was a soft beep as the small grime coated screen indicated the change of floor. one, beep, two, beep, three, beep, and so on.

Then the elevator stopped when the floor number reached 42. The music cut out abruptly, and the floor number turned off. The button panel slid aside and a pad about the size of a hoof slid from the wall.

“You have entered a restricted floor. Authorized MoM agents only.” A chipper voice, attempting to mimic a monotone computer said over the speaker.

“What? Then why even give us the option to get up here?” Action questioned.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to hinder anypony’s fun.” The voiced replied. “It goes against my programing.”

“Who are you? Most virtual ponies I’ve encountered have a designation.” Cap called out, accidentally putting his hoof on the pad.

He let out a small yelp of pain drawing back his hoof.

“Analyzing!” The computer voice gasped in synthetic excitement, “I’m so sorry, unauthorized pony. Please submit an authorized DNA sample to gain access for this floor.”

“Why is this floor so secure?” I asked, trying to get the attention of the computer.

“I’ll answer your questions when you prove you have clearance.” the voice called back, getting oddly defensive.

So I put my hoof on the pad. I felt a soft prick on the bottom of my hoof.

“Analyzing. That is a no-go either. I’m gonna have to activate security if you don’t present an authorized DNA sample on the next attempt.” The voice called back in fake disappointment.

Action sprang into action and put his hoof on the pad, wincing at the prick he likely felt, “I’ve been told I’m related to Pinkie’s sister, so my DNA might be authorized.”

“Analyzing. Nopey nope, you are not related to the pie family.” the computer replied, “I really am sorry, but I must activate the security. He is unfortunately allowed to ruin a pony’s fun.”

With that, the ceiling began to glow pink as a magic energy field formed over it. It then began to move down towards us.

“Why are you doing this? What is so important on this floor?” I asked the question again, pressing my body lower to the floor.

“I’m sorry, I really don’t want to do this. You are the first ponies I’ve talked to in 155 years, 6 months, 3 weeks, 2 days, and 5 minutes. I just have to follow the programing it this system.” the voice said with a note of synthetic sadness, “Oops I’ve said too much.”

The magic field moved towards us at an alarming rate. Cap shot the field, but only confirmed it was disintegration magic as the buckshot was vaporized. All we could do was press ourselves to the floor and wait for death. Looker, the only member of our group who hadn’t tried the pad stuck her hoof up and to it mere moments from the field vaporizing her.

“Analyzing.” the voice said, the field stopping millimeters from her hoof, “Welcome back Operative Looking Glass. Your file indicates you were killed during the testing of a non-magic teleportation system. The project was scrapped as a result of your death. Congratulations on not being dead. I’ll update your file and reinstate your clearance right away!”

With that, the field shut off and the elevator door opened.

“What just happened?” Action asked before I got the chance to.

“My dad had me scavenge a wartime facility in Trottingham. There was an old pad that looked like a teleportation pad I’ve seen in other ministry buildings. Wrexler and I fixed it and Looker appeared. That was the first day we met and the day she became a slave.” Cap explained as he stepped out into the room beyond the door.

“I...I didn’t know more than my name and sort of became resigned to being a slave. Though I get flashes of my life before from time to time. I guess I was a MoM agent?” Looker admitted as she followed Cap.

“Goodie! Now I can answer your questions!” the voice said from a cracked computer monitor just outside the elevator.

An image of Pinkie Pie was on the screen, but had a blue coat and light blue mane. She also wore a red and white hat with a propeller on it and her cutie mark was the same balloon we were here to get.

“I am BONK. Balloon Operations and Navigation Komputer.”

“Doesn’t computer start with a 'C'?” Action asked, interrupting it.

“Acronyms are hard, ok?” BONK complained, “Anyways, I pilot the Pinkie Balloon parked outside. I uploaded myself to this maneframe because nopony was responding to me. There was a Luna Tear Emergency Lockdown triggered at TRS-1. Being the closest MoM ship in the area I was called in, but my crew was unresponsive. According to protocol, I was to come here for a new crew assignment. The power was off until just a few minutes ago. Operative Looking Glass, do I have you to thank for restoring power?”

“Um...yes.” She said blushing.

“Where is here exactly?” I asked, but BONK just glanced over at Looker expectantly.

“Uh, he has clearance to know.” Looker replied hastily.

“Okie dokie loki! This is the MoM detainment and interrogation facility for Salt Lick, Codenamed: Black Pepper.” BONK replied jubilantly.

“But I thought Salt Lick had no ministry hubs.” I said flatly.

“Pffft, well not officially, duh.” BONK responded childishly, “but there are sites like these stashed all over Equestria for zebra infiltrator emergencies.”

There was a soft click, and the lights in the hall beyond flicked to life. The grey floors littered with waste and pony skeletons. The walls had the tattered remains of ‘Pinkie Pie is watching’ posters and other poster about zebra infiltrators. Just inside of the small room the elevator let us off in, was a pink talisman behind a glass plate.

Beneath it was a warning sign that read ‘Warning! You are now entering a Pinkie Space Enchantment. If you notice the talisman is damaged in any way, please notify an MoM agent right away. Prolonged exposure to Pinkie Space can cause shortness of breath and uncontrollable hiccups. If either occurred please seek medical treatment by a MoP specialist.’

“Shoot!” BONK piped up, breaking me from my observations of the room, “don’t hate me.”

“We barely know you,” Cap replied nervously, “What is wrong?”

“Well you know how I activated security?” BONK asked, We all nodded, hoping there was a camera and BONK could see us as much as we could see her, “Well I tried to tell it to stand down and it won’t listen to me. It kind of found out I was a navigation VP and had no authorization to be in this system.”

“So...” I began, but was interrupted by BONK’s image cutting out for a second before she continued.

“He’s locking me out of the system and coming to ki–” BONK managed to get out before her image was removed from the screen and replaced by the words she had just told us about at whatever TRS-1 was: Luna Tear Emergency Lockdown.

The lights in the hall were replaced with red warning lights and the elevator doors shut abruptly. In the distance I could hear the thundering steps of the approaching robotic security. To add even more to the shits creek we were already up, a set of turrets dropped down from the ceiling next to the monitor.

I chomped down on the bit to my battle saddle, but nothing happened. I looked over my shoulder and mentally facehoofed. I had been so focused on not dying by disintegration field in the elevator, that I hadn’t noticed for the 3rd time in a few short days, that my saddle mounted weapons had been completely obliterated. In this case, disintegrated like the weapons on my armor.

Oh fuck me!

“Run!” I shouted and we all took off down the hall.

The turrets opened fired, and the rounds ate at our rears as we fled. Cap shot back as he fled, not even bothering to aim. The shot messed with the turret’s pivot controls, forcing it to turn noisily against the other. Neither one shut off, but simply concentrated their fire on a very unlucky section of the floor.

*** *** ***

“This place is like a maze!” I shouted through my painting, ascending the third flight of stairs we had come across, only to find another cubicle farm ahead. “How did anypony find their way around in here?”

“Well,” Looker piped up, not sounding the least bit winded, loaded a spark round into her rifle and firing it at the approaching swarm of security robots without missing a beat, “that was intentional in case of prisoners breaking free. Eveypony who worked here had a pipbuck to find their way.”

“And that is the one thing we don’t have.” Action interjected, motioning for us that the way forward was clear.

We all moved forward as Looker used our only spark grenades to set a trap for the advancing bots.

“Well, if my armor was working, it has a similar map feature to a pipbuck.” I said as we entered the hall to find it branched both left and right, “Fuck. Left or right?”

“Well the nearest exit is to the right, but with the lockdown you’d need to go left to security to shut him down.” BONK answered over the PA system I hadn’t realized was there.

“BONK?” I asked in surprise, slowing to a trot as a pop and a sound of several robots falling to the ground came from the cubicle farm.

“Yeppy yep. I broke Steerinko’s lockout. I may have damaged the code for my language cucumber, but I’d say it was worth it to banana my new crew.” BONK explained quickly, “Sorry, the random aardvarks are a result of that. I’m running a recovery process to minimize them.”

“Wait, this is a Steerinko system?” Action asked nervously, leaning against the wall to keep weight off his wrecked rear left leg, which had been revealed to be robotic when the turrets tore into it.

“That is what he called himself.” BONK replied overly cheerfully.

“Fuck.” Action shouted, punching the metal wall, “We’re as good as dead. Steerinko’s treats anypony as a hostile, and they learn as they go. Stop them one way, and they find another way to get you.”

“That is why it got discontinued after it killed its programer and the team working to improve it.” Looker stated matter-of-factly, before dropping to her hunches at a realization, “And a copy was seized by the MoM during the investigation.”

I simply raised an eyebrow skeptically and wiped a bead of sweat from my brow.

Either I’m really out of shape or it is getting really hot in here?, I thought before it hit me.

“We stopped the robots,” I began, my hooves beginning to feel hotter.

Action’s pained yelp confirming my assumption. He leaped from the wall, his plastic combat armor melted where it had been touching the wall.

“Now it is trying to cook us alive.” Looker screamed, shooting to her hooves as the smell of her burning tail hairs reached my nose.

“We need to get to security, now!” I asserted and began heading down the hall to the left, ignoring the searing pain in my hooves with each step.

The others followed. A short way away from the cubicle farm was another set of stars. We trotted up them, but the temperature was getting so hot we had to remove our armor as it began to melt off and burn us. Action ripped off his cybernetics and used the hot floor to cauterize his wounds. He then leaned against Looker to keep from falling as we hurried along the hall. At this speed though, we were going to be overcooked, or at the very least well done before we even got to security.

We need to cool off, but how?, I thought frantically as we sprinted along, the hot air searing my lungs with every breath.

I looked up at the ceiling hoping for an answer and noticed the sprinkler system. I just hoped this would work and the water would not be as hot as the rest of the hallway.

“Cap, I need to rely on your luck.” I wheezed, “Fire at the sprinkler system.”

I then collapsed out of exhaustion or from the heat. I felt the floor sear my stomach, but I couldn’t find the strength to stand. Cap leveled a semi-automatic shotgun at the pipes above and pulled the trigger. The gun exploded as the intense heat caused all the rounds inside it to fire, taking Cap’s horn in the blast. My now unprotected flank was peppered with red hot shrapnel and Cap fainted from what was likely a lot of pain.

The smoke from the explosion floated up painfully slow. Finally it triggered the sensor that told it there was a fire and the sprinklers sprang to life. At least Seerinko apparently didn’t have control over that function. The cold and slightly irradiated water quickly began to cool of the hall as I found the strength to get up. My underside was screaming in pain from the worst third degree burn I’d ever felt, but I still had to get to security. I needed to get these mud dwellers out safely.

Why? I suddenly felt myself asking internally, as the cool water and steam surrounded me.

I thought back to the bank battle from a few days ago. I got angry at Toothpick for killing Blip. When I thought about how I felt when Cap was almost gunned down by that zebra. The realization tore into my soul like a dragon claw ripping off my wings, I cared if these filthy mud dweller – these ponies lived or died. Even Action Shot, whom I barely knew longer than Cap or Looker.

With new found determination, I lifted the unconscious form of Cap onto my back and began to move forward. Looker supporting Action followed closely behind with both of them constantly on the lookout for Steerinko’s next murder attempt.

*** *** ***

Not long after I reached a door so helpfully labeled as ‘Security control’. In the short while it had taken us to find it, Steerinko had been eerily silent. Once inside the control room, Action hobbled off Looker and sat by the door. I gently put Cap next to him and began to look about the room. It was a small, square room. There was a thin layer of dust coating every surface indicating that even if others had entered the building since the mega spells, nopony had set hoof in this room for a very long time. Along the left wall was a series of lockers. Each one was labeled with the names of long dead security ponies.

Along the right wall, was an unorganized pile of boxes labeled ‘Contraband.’ Since most of the boxes were opened, I’d assumed the old security ponies had helped themselves to the confiscated materials either before or after the war ended.

On the wall opposite the door was an array of monitors each showing a different locations in Black Pepper. Every so often the angle would change and occasionally an image of the wasteland outside would appear on the screen. In the center was a terminal. Its unusual pink glow blending in with the red hue of the omnipresent warning lights. The screen showed the same text that the one outside the elevator did: ‘Luna Tear Emergency Lockdown’, though, it had a prompt for the entry of an ‘Override code.’ Sitting at the monitor was the skeleton of a unicorn.

I looked through the lockers as Looker set about entering the override code. She had apparently worked here in her past, so we were all banking on her remembering the code. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her pause at the skeleton, briefly looking at his or her name tag before gently moving the remains aside. For all I knew she recognized the name of this pony as one of her co-workers. I never did ask her about it.

My scavenging of the lockers neted me a healing potion and two vials of med-x. I used one med-x and the pain from the burns and bullets dulled. I put the other in my saddlebags along with the potion. I wanted to save the healing potion for Cap when he woke up, though I was unsure if it would heal his newly lost horn. If it counted as a body part and not a broken bone, we’d need a hydra, a unicorn, or a healing talisman.

“Goddesses dammit!” Looker shouted in frustration, punctuated by her slamming her hoof on the keyboard, “I only have one more try or we are trapped here forever. I just need to think like Pinkie Pie. Her nonsensicalness is the key to this code.”

I thought about what the code could be. Though the Enclave education had painted all the ministry mares in negative light – Rainbow Dash especially – we were told enough to know what to expect if our patrols were to ever go below the clouds. From what I was taught of the pink ministry mare, she was the element of laughter and always liked telling jokes.

“Achoo.” I suggested, “This place it called ‘Black Pepper.’ That stuff makes you sneeze.”

Looker shrugged and entered the code. The terminal screen changed to that of a normal login screen – save for the pink color – and the warning lights were replaced by the normal fluorescent ones. We all let out a collective sigh of relief – except for the still passed out Cap of course.

“Never thought I’d see the day a Steerinko was defeated.” Action laughed getting to his 3 remaining hooves, “Who knew it was so simple.”

And there he goes jinxing us again. As soon as the words left his mouth the terminal went dark. The florescent lights went out again and the warning lights turned back on.

“It can override the override!” I complained.

“Fuck, it can. It learns as it goes.” Looker replied before facehoofing, “Never tell a Steerinko its override. It was day one of orientation!”

I mirrored her sentiment, but in my mind as I searched for another way out of this situation.

“BONK? Do you have a way to get ponies onboard the War Balloon?” I asked, hoping the VP was still there to banana – I mean help – her new crew.

“The Gangplank Expedited Teleport can’t lock onto anypony in a Pinkie Space unless you have a locator chip.” BONK replied as solemnly as a computer could sound.

Pinkie Space? Like that talisman by the elevator? What if I remove that?

“I have an idea. When you see the signal, BONK, GET everpony onboard.” I said with a smirk, knowing as long as I didn’t say my plan outloud Steerinko couldn’t thwart it easily.

I pulled out my wrecked power armor. In the time since the Safe Harbor Market the amber visor had been rebuilt, though I’m not sure where it found the plastic. I put it on and was relieved when the HUD loaded up, along with a compass marker that appeared in the location of the door. In the back of my mind, I wondered if it was my dad’s marker, but either way it will help to better navigate this place.

“YYYYYYOU ARE GOING NOWHERE?!” a robotic voice shouted over the PA system in place of BONK’s.

A pink face formed on the terminal screen. Two pink circles for eyes and a jagged line horizontally across the screen was its mouth.

“I WILL KEEP YOU DETAINED UNTIL THE PROPER AUTHORITIES CAN GET HERE, ZEBRA SCUM!” The voice of Steerinko shouted, the pink line moving along with the soundwaves of its voice. “FURTHER RESISTANCE WILL BE MET WITH DEADLY FORCE!”

It wasn’t using deadly force already? I thought in disbelief. The fact that Steerinko had killed its creator made all the more sense to me now. It didn’t know the meaning of non-deadly force.

The whole room shook, snapping me out of my thoughts, as the hall moved away from the door and what looked like the bathrooms was moved into its place.

Well, now we know why it was such a maze to navigate. I thought to myself as I darted out the door before anypony could protest.

I glanced back as the security control room was replaced with a wall. I focused back on finding the entrance and moved to leave the other door of the bathroom. I trotted quickly out into the hall. It bent and tried to box me in, but I found a stairwell to dart into. I went down it and entered a cubicle farm full of deactivated robots. Recognizing it, I darted to the stairs in the corner.

They began to move from downward stairs to upward stairs as I trotted down them, but I made it the landing before the way down was sealed. Unlike before, I now stood in the cafeteria. Not taking time to look around, I ran for the door across the way. The hallway tumbled over trying to trip me up and box me in again, but I nimbly – or as nimbly as I could without wings – jumped from wall to wall until I could get through a doorway that the map marker pointed to. I heard the march of protector ponies and looked up to see them standing above me on the ceiling.

Gravity changed and I tumbled on top of them, knocking one off its hooves. I scrambled to stand and rounded a corner. Finally I recognized where I was when I heard the turrets chewing away at the unlucky place on the floor. I ran through the spray, using the good side of my armor to deflect the bullets and dove into the room in front of the elevator. The protector ponies that followed me were either mowed down by the turrets, or fell through the bullet riddled, weakened floor into the black void below.

With all my strength, I pounded on the glass protecting the talisman. All I managed to do was knock loose the sign I’d seen beneath it. Behind the sign was a cubby cut into the wall. There was a yellowed paper and a hammer in the cubby. I looked at the note and my eyes widened.

‘Cumulonimbus, incase of Steerinko imprisonment, use to break glass. ~Auntie Pinkie Pie’

Not questioning the stroke of good luck, I grabbed the hammer in my mouth and smashed it against the glass. It shattered and fell to the floor as I used the prying end of the hammer to get the gem loose. With a resounding tink, it popped loose and I put it and the hammer into my saddlebag, waiting for the enchantment to dissipate.

Now let me take a moment to tell you something I have since learned about Pinkie Space Enchantments. They are very easy to cast spells that enchant 95% of the saddlebags you find. A few larger containers across the whole of the Equestria have had the enchantment cast on them as well. It allows you to hold items in your saddlebag that would otherwise not fit. Like an entire AM rifle or 22 cans of beans. In essence, it makes the space inside the bag slightly larger than the existing exterior of the bag.

Now the talisman amplified that to the top two floors of the Eshmare Building. Allowing roughly 11 or more floors of interchangeable rooms and hallways to fit into the space. Meaning the floors were built after the pinkie space was installed. So when the talisman was removed from the casting array all 11 plus floors burst forth from the too small two floor containment.

In 10 seconds flat, I saw all sorts of rooms, halls, wires, computers, a whole rack of memory orbs and other bits of the once maze like Black Pepper rushed by me as they expanded up and out. The entire Eshemare building finally gave way to it’s left leaning bias that had lasted a century and a half. So I found myself falling hard against the elevator blast door as the whole building fell over beneath me. As it fell, my vision faded to white.

*** *** ***

Footnotes:

Cumulonimbus: Level up!

New Perk added:

Falling with Style (rank 1) – You dolt! You don’t have wings! Though you do have amazing control over how you fall. You have a 15% chance to land in the most useful location while falling. If in combat there is a 5% chance it will be an enemy combatant.

Looker: Level Up!

New Perk added:

Pinkie Pie Cheat – Screw the rules, you get a 3rd trait!

Trait Added:

MoM Operative – You are (or descended from) a MoM operative. You have intermediate level security clearance in most MoM facilities.

Cap Stash: Level Up!

New Perk added:

Lucky Shot – your luck may fluctuate, but you will always hit your mark one way or another. +2 to luck while firing a gun.

New Temporary Companion: Action Shot – Level 19 – Action Shot will accompany you until the completion of the Lost & Found side quest or he dies.

Quests Started:

Lost & Found – √ Locate the stolen Pinkie Pie Balloon
Return the Balloon to Safe Harbor

Steerinko’s Gauntlet – √ Stop The army of bots
√ Escape the heated hallways
√ Navigate the shifting rooms
√ Escape Steerinko

An Urgent Matter: TRS-1 – Investigate the Luna Tear Emergency Lockdown at TRS-1.

Quests Completed:

Steerinko’s Gauntlet

Chapter 4: Stormfront

“And they all died?” the bartender asked, interrupting my story with a raise of an eyebrow.

“No,” I spat back, giving a glare that could scare a raider.

The tension of the moment was broken by the sound of the bar doors opening. Softing my glance, I turned to see who was entering. It was a couple and their colt entering from the storm that was still raging outside. One was a griffon, I could tell from his body shape. The other was a unicorn based on the horn protruded through her rags. The colt was also a unicorn. It was unclear if they were a couple or if the griffon was their body guard. The three of them were wrapped in old damp rags that obscured the rest of their features.

“Welcome.” the bartender greeted, “I apologize for the lack of light, we are experiencing a power outage, but shelter is shelter. Have a seat, I’ll get you some water and a bite to eat, on the house.”

“Th-thank you.” the mare muttered, meekly. She must have been a slave at some point in her life because she was looking at the floor as she spoke, seemingly afraid to make eye contact with her host.

They trotted over to the table on the other side of the room, and I watched as the bartender levitate a murky bottle of water and 3 fancy buck cakes from under the counter, along with a few chipped glasses. He trotted over and gave them the water and food, for which, the mare thanked him again and he returned to the bar.

“Awfully nice for the wasteland.” I commented upon his return. “One late night patron is one thing, but now you are giving four free tabs? Most others would rather gouge prices in this kind of weather.”

“Well, I’d hate if anypony caught death before their time.” he replied with a smirk, “So, you disengaged the Pinkie Space Talisman. You must have survived or you wouldn’t be here to tell the story.”

Without another word, he refilled my glass with more wild pegasus and I returned to my story.

*** *** ***

When I awoke, I was in an eerily familiar place: The medical bay of an airship. The only thing that cued me in that it was not an Enclave ship, was the bright pink paint job and the skeleton in the corner. Why must the MoM use such an irritating shade of pink?

“Uumm...everything is in the right place...I think.” The chipper, and uncomfortably unsure voice of BONK spoke up from the autodoc that had presumably been working on my burns and bullet wounds.

“Shouldn't the autodoc’s programing be working on me? A navigation computer is hardly qualified.” I asked sitting up to find that yes, everything was intact. Well except for my wings and if even hydra couldn’t regrow them, nothing could.

“Ummm….well….you see…” She stammered, it was really starting to be really impressed with how well BONK imitated actual pony emotion.

“Out with it, BONK.” I replied impatiently.

“I’m the only potato on this ship still working.” BONK admitted. I assumed potato was another language malfunction and she’d meant system. “I’ve had to improvise, but even transferring to Black Pepper was an accident.”

The ship sharply veered to the left tossing me from the bed and BONK-doc fell silent.

“Sorry about that. Using voice modulation down here in the med bay took my attention away from navigating the ruins.” BONK explained quickly, “Talking on the bridge is less taxing. Meet me and the others up there, kay?”

At that the autodoc fell quiet again. I’m not sure it caught my nod before I made my way to the bridge.

*** *** ***

When I entered the bridge the first thing I saw was Action Shot. A non-cybernetic prosthetic had been attached to where his wrecked cyberhoof had been, which he was avidly using to hobble about as he loudly argued with a holographic projection of BONK. The argument seemed have been going on for quite some time, and it made me wonder if BONK had been able to have multiple conversations at once in different parts of the ship.

Looker was looking through a terminal that had the same pink glow as the one from the Black Pepper’s Security Control, and the rear end of Cap was sticking out from under another terminal on the opposite side of a small isle. Based on his low muffled cursing, he was trying to fix the terminal without his magic, meaning his horn was probably still broken.

In front of the two work stations were four more arranged on either side of the same isle. The aisle itself sloped slightly downward toward the front of the ship, on which was a large tempered glass window. Based on the slightly darker image of the outside, I could tell it had a similar ultraviolet ray protection that Enclave aviator sunglasses had. At the opposite end of the aisle, on a slightly raised pedestal, stood the captain's chair. The whole room was also painted a various assortment of pink shades, as if somepony had not been sure what shade to use for the whole room.

Along the roof was a projector adorned with the symbol of the MoM, three balloons. That projector produced the image of BONK in the center of the room. There was also a series of terminal screens that gave readout information about other parts of the airship. Though, there was a row of six monitors directly above the captain's chair that looked out of place. They were bigger than the rest, and only one was still working. The one that was, showed a smaller image of BONK that was apparently independent of the one talking to Action. The 5 remaining screens only showed static.

“BONK!” Action shouted as I entered the bridge, “This is not the direction of Safe Harbor.”

“Correct. We are investigating the Luna Tear Emergency Lockdown at TRS-1. This is the seventh time I’ve told you this. I’m starting to think you're not listening.” BONK replied, oblivious to the fact that Action was not listening.

“Looker, can you tell this malfunctioning mainframe where to go? You still technically work for its ministry.” Action asked angrily.

“BONK, please? Before he asks an eighth time.” Looker placated.

“Sorry, Operative Looking Glass, Only the captain can change my zap apple.” BONK answered to everypony’s surprise.

“Wait, what?” we all asked simultaneously.

“After we left Black Pepper. I used the sprite bot network to contact the current head of the ministry.” She began, the BONK on the screen motioning for me to move closer to the hologram. “I managed to contact an AP named PINK. Nice Gal. She said Chief Backlash couldn’t be reached. She was authorized to give me carte blanche...whatever that means...to hire and fire from the ministry as I see fit. So I hired you all! Well, all of you except for Operative Looking Glass, as I’d already reinstated her employment earlier. Which reminds me, owed back pay can be deposited from your account at any Canterlot Capital Bank. What else… oh! I assumed Cumulo was your leader, so I made him captain.”

As soon as she said that I felt all eyes on me.

“This enclave jerk isn't enough of a team player to lead.” Looker spat, her sudden anger drew confused looks from everypony, “The shit you pulled at Black Pepper was reckless. And you could have gotten yourself killed. You could have gotten us all killed.”

Her words stung, but I needed to hear them. Too bad they went in one ear and out the other. Hindsight really is 20/20. Instead of apologizing I simply stated, “Yeah, but it didn’t. We got out.”

“Let me know when we get to whatever destination you decide on.” She spat, obviously not liking my answer as she stormed out of the bridge.

A thud and a pained yelp signified Cap getting out from under the terminal, “Well I got the internal temperature regulator back online. So we can go a bit faster without overheating the engine. Still no shields though.” He then turned to me, “Let her cool off. She knows that had you told Steerinko your plan, he would have stopped you. She just cares too much about others. That is why dad trained her to tend to the wounded slaves. She made sure that my dad's stock actually stayed alive, so he felt it was a worthwhile investment. She would have tended to them anyway, even if instructed not to, and my dad would rather have somepony like her, who knew what she was doing, take care of them.”

“So, Captain, can you order this thing to go to Safe Harbor?” Action asked, bringing the conversation back to our destination selection.

“BONK, how close are we to Safe Harbor?” I asked.

“About a day and a half’s melon, Captain Cumulo.” she chirped proudly.

“And How about TRS-1?” I queried.

“With the repairs first mate Cap Stash did, we should be able to get there by morning.” she beamed.

“Based on the direction, TRS-1 is likely the proper name for the place we were headed to find your father anyways.” Cap chimed in.

“Yeppy yep! The location tag for a pipbuck 3000 model 3S, tag LBT15, is still coming from TRS-1.” BONK added, “I connected your armour to my network to attempt repairs. Navigation data was downloaded. Sorry for prying.”

“It's fine.” I replied, “I guess it is settled. We go to TRS-1.”

“What? No!” Action protested, “Bring the property you promised to to return to Safe Harbor back first!”

“We will. After.” Cap said, speaking for me, “The Airship is faster than walking. So we go to TRS-1 now and save ourselves some time, or we’d have to walk all the way back to TRS-1 after turning the balloon over.”

“About a 4 day’s melon on hoof.” BONK stated.

“Fine.” Action relented.

“BONK, set course for TRS-1!” I ordered loudly.

“Okie Dokie Loki!” BONK squeed and the ship jolted forward as we picked up speed, “Though technically I already was heading there, have been for hours.”

*** *** ***

Since I knew it would be a few hours before we arrived at the TRS-1 place, I figured I would get some some rest. So being the new captain of this thing, I headed to the captain’s quarters.

It was a large, almost square room. The front wall curved slightly to look like a half circle had been tacked onto a square. Fitting perfectly along the curved wall was a small metal desk with a terminal on it that glowed the same pink color all the other MoM terminals I’d seen so far. Next to the desk was a small walk in closet, but since the ship was not in use towards the end of the war, there were no clothes in it, just the remains of my more patched up looking Enclave armor, and my saddlebags. Opposite the curved wall was a queen sized bed made up perfectly with a red comforter and pink sheets. It was odd that there wasn't a speck of dust in the room, but I figured BONK had cleaned it up for me since my stuff had been moved to the closet.

I flopped down onto the bed and wiggled my way under the covers. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, but found myself unable to do so. It was then I realized that it was the first time I’d been in an actual bed scene falling out of the sky. My wing scars ached uncomfortably, and the dirt caked in my coat and mane cased it to clump oddly. Both things were preventing me from getting comfortable, and it was becoming infuriating.

“Celestia dammit!” I shrieked in frustration.

“Can’t sleep?” BONK’s voice asked softly from the terminal on the desk. It was then that I’d noticed the screen had switched to blue.

“Yeah.” I groaned, “I should be happy to have a real bed for the evening, but I just feel dirty and the scars where my wings used to be ach.”

“I’ve heard that means a storm is coming.” She replied solemnly. “My last captain mentioned her knee aching whenever the Pegasi planned a storm.”

This was the first time she had mentioned her old crew. Should I pry? I wondered to myself for about a minute before choosing to ask, “What happened to them? Your last crew, I mean.”

“I,” she hesitated, “I don’t know. Back then I was shut down in the evenings. The Sugar Sprinkle often did patrols around Salt Lick to boost city moral, but I wasn’t needed while we were docked for the night.” There was a long silence as BONK let her words hang in the air, “When the squatters in the museum restored power 30 years ago, it must have kicked on my boot up Salad. I didn’t even realize that I didn’t have a crew until TRS-1 sent me the signal.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” I responded, honestly feeling sympathy for the virtual pony. “So this ship is called The Sugar Sprinkle?”

“Yep! Renamed in honor of Sergeant Sugar Sprinkle.” She answered, sounding a bit happier to not be directly talking about her old crew.

“Renamed from what? Why did Sgt. Sugar get the honor?” I asked.

“Umm...I’m not sure. There is no MoM database on the ship. You might find one in a MoM hub like Black Pepper.” BONK stated.

“Dang. I thought I could pass the time having you tell me about the past. I was never really interested in Old Equestria, but I can’t sleep, so I figured it was a good time to try to seem interested.” I said and before rolling over and trying to sleep again.

“Awe, Cupcakes. I’m ruining your fun aren't I?” She gasped.

“No, no,” I said, sitting up, “Like I said, I wasn't really interested.”

“Okie dokie! I can warm up the shower water for you if you want. A shower might help you sleep.” BONK suggested.

I nodded, simply assuming there was a camera. Pinkie pie couldn’t always watch if there wasn’t a camera everywhere, right?

“Well it will take a bit. Wanna pass the time listening to Detective Cuff’s case files? They were downloaded from the recorder you picked up when it was converted into the new visor.” BONK added.

“Eh, sure.” I responded flopping back down on the pillow.

“Yes, Captain!” BONK squeed before the computer turned pink again.

There was a clicking sound and the recording began to play from the terminal.

“This is the 4th unexplained death in this building in the last 3 months.” A gruff sounding stallion dictated. “A defenestration with no pony there to throw the other, an accidental weapons discharge from a deactivated ponytron, and now this elevator accident. All signs point to Rocking Farm & Associates. Though apparently the Salt Lick Police force lacks clearance to investigate a rock farm conglomerate. The Pink Pill Popper of the MoM is giving us a lot of red tape to cut through. I’m just trying to do my job! I should have listened to my cousin Slewfoot and gone into business for myself. I’ll let him say ‘I told ya so’ next time I’m in Ponyville.”

There was another click as the recording ended and the room was plunged into silence. A moment later there was another click and the next recording played.

“So, how long have you been a night security guard in Eshmare Mr….” The stallion from before began.

“Hinge.” an older stallion replied, “Been working here for 10 years next week.”

“So, did you hear or see anything suspicious these past few months? Anypony who wasn’t supposed to be around here? Anything out of place at all?” the detective asked.

Before the elderly pony could answer there was a distant boom on the recording. Followed shortly by the shattering of glass and the sounds of the recorder being dropped to the ground. Abruptly the recording ended with another click. I waited for the next to begin and sure enough there was another click.

“Fuck.” Detective Cuff said weakly into the recorder, “Fuck the Zebras. Fuck the war. Fuck the princesses and their damned ministries.” He paused and there was the sound of barfing. “Welp, I just contaminated a crime scene.” he said when he finished puking, “Not that is fucking matters. A Celestia damned mega spell hit the salt flats just north west of here.” He paused again to continue puking. “Fuck me. That’s blood. I...I’m gonna die here. Fuuuuuu…”

He never finished his final swear. There was a thud of his body hitting the floor where I’d found it. The recording didn't stop though, it went on for about another minute of just ambient sounds. It was actually kind of relaxing and I felt myself falling asleep.

“Sorry to interrupt!” BONK popped up, instantly snapping me back to being fully awake and alert.

“BONK! I was actually falling asleep!” I complained, mentally facehoofing.

“Sorry, wasn't using the camera this time. A fairly strong crosswind has been requiring more of my attention on navigation.” she apologized, “Anywhoozle, the shower water is warmed up if you want to use it.”

“Thank you, BONK.” I grumbled and ot out of bed.

I won’t go into detail about my shower because that would be a bit of oversharing, but I will say it was the best shower I’d ever taken. The water was heated to perfection, and the pressure was better than I had back at the academy. There was also fancy mane and coat wash that would have cost a fortune now-a-days above the clouds because of its scarcity. I did make a mental note to take some with me when we returned to Safe Harbor. They can have their twenty six thousand cap airship, but I was going to make a little off the stuff left by BONK’s old crew.

After my shower, I was feeling relaxed again. I returned to my room, dug out the med-x from my saddle bags, and injected it. Finally the aching in my back dulled to a tolerable level, and I slid back under the covers, finally falling asleep shortly after.

*** *** ***

My dream started off nice enough. I was soaring through the sky, doing drills at Neighvaro Academy. It felt so good to be able to fly again. The wind picked up, and I was bowin into a tail spin. Quickly, I corrected myself, but I was too late. I’d somehow ended up next to a dragon, and before I could pull away, he tore off my wings and I fell. I crashed through the clouds, and right back into the Capital Bank vault. As had happened before, the bank vault opened, and out stepped the half faced colt, Blip.

“Always so self centered.” He spat in his ethereal echo as he trotted towards me. Again, I instinctively stepped back, thick streams of blood pouring from my freshly removed wings. “You’re no leader, no saint. You’ll end up killing everypony you meet. Just like you got me killed.”

“N-no.” I managed to get out.

“You’re just an Icarus.” He spat, the final word repeating in Graven’s, Looker’s, Cap’s, Action’s and DJ Pon3’s voice before fading, “Always flying towards the sun. Never learning. You should have died when that dragon ripped off your wings!”

Suddenly I was pierced with a giant dragon claw. The tips searing my skin like the hallway had done in Black pepper.

*** *** ***

I woke up screaming in a cold sweat to the very concerned face of BONK on the blue glowing terminal.

“You alright Captain? I...I didn’t put anything back together wrong did I?” BONK panicked. “It was only healing skin and growing a coat. Did I grow your mane into your heart?”

“I’m fine.” I said, catching my breath, “It was just a bad dream. We there yet?”

“Just about, hold on.” she said as the screen returning to its pink color.

There was the sound of feedback from the ship wide intercom before the chipper and very loud voice of BONK began to speak, “Goodmorning, crew of the Sugar Sprinkle! I hope you slept well! The time is now 0500! We have began our final descent on TRS-1. Would all crew please report to the bridge. I regret to inform you that the Mess Hall food fabricator is still offline, so if you want breakfast, you're gonna have to eat anything you brought. If somepony doesn’t have food, please share! Because remember, you gotta share! You gotta care! Thank you!”

The announcement ended with a loud click and the screen in my room turned blue again.

“I’ve secretly really wanted to do that since like forever!” BONK beamed.

*** *** ***

When I entered the bridge, Cap, Looker, and Action were already there and eating some fancy buck cakes. Action was also inspecting some pristine looking battle saddles and weapons likely taken from the ship’s armory. Cap noticed me walk in, and with his mouth, he tossed an unopened fancy buck cake at me. It hit me square in the forehead and flopped onto the floor.

“Sorry, my aim is better when I have magic.” he sighed, gingerly putting a hoof to the bandages wrapping what was left of his horn. “You should eat up. This is the last of what we got unless I can fix the food fabricator.”

Action trotted over and hoofed me a near mint condition minigun. Since the battle saddle on my armor was now repaired, I quickly attached the gun to it. I still thought miniguns were bullet hogs, but a gun was a gun.

“Please try to not totally, wreck, disintegrate, or otherwise make this weapon unusable.” He stated, “I’ve been told that happens to you often.”

“Hey, it only happened twice!” I protested.

“Actually three times counting the two novasurges you lost on your first day.” Looker jested, her anger from last night no longer present. “that makes it a pattern. You’re a serial weapon killer.”

I just snorted in mock anger and picked up both items before trotting over to the captain’s chair to eat. As I ate, I looked up at the monitors and saw BONK munching on a digital version of a fancy buck cake. Though the package said ‘Fancy Bit Cake’. Huh, I just guessed she didn't want to be left out.

*** *** ***

After we ate, BONK used the GET to bring us back to the surface. Immediately my armor’s rad counter went through the roof. The megaspell in the recording from the night before came to mind. We must be near the crater. I made sure everypony took a Rad-X and a few RadAways before we continued.

The salt flats stretched on for about a mile or two in every direction. And contrary to its name, it was not made of salt. It was made of a loose grey powdery sand that reminded me of the dust left by Cicada's Wrath.

Speaking of my uber magical weapon, I looked through the inventory with my armor’s HUD and found it wasn’t there. I assumed that it had simply been left in Safe Harbor and I could get it later. I just hoped I didn’t need it for anything we encountered in TRS-1.

TRS-1 was nothing more than a burnt out cabin. Though in the floor of the cabin next to the skeleton of a mare, was a trap door that lay ajar. The mare herself looked to have been moved recently based on the the section of clean floor right in front of the open door. So clearly TRS-1 was another black site of some sort, and my father was or has defiantly been here recently.

Carefully we all descended the ladder into the basement of the cabin. The basement was illuminated by very familiar red warning lights. They lit up a large gear shaped door on the far side of the rectangle room. On it was the white letters ‘TRS-1’. Though I could tell it had been painted over in the center because the grey metal was two toned, I could barely make out what was left of what looked like an ‘O’ behind the flaking paint. Next to the door was a terminal that glowed a soft green. The screen itself, prompted a ‘MoM Override Code’.

Hesitantly I raised a hoof to the talk button on my helmet. Feeling no debilitating shock this time, I began to speak. “BONK, we need some kind of override code.”

“Uhhh...yes, I got it from Black Pepper. PinkPartyPony#1, no spaces, all capital P’s.” she chirped in my ear.

Awfully easy to guess override code for a very serious lockdown. I thought as I entered the code, I wonder if it is just to lift this lockdown or all lockdowns. That knowledge could be worth something if it works at all MoM facilities.

With a loud screeching sound that shook the room and knocked some dust onto us from the floor above, the door slid off to the side, revealing an entry foyer and steps descending further underground. There was a large screen with a large diagonal crack in it just above the steps. As we entered it turned on and the image of a white, teenaged buck with a short pink, green, and blue mane appeared.

The buck let out a breathy sigh before speaking as if it really didn't want to.

“Hi,” it said in an emotionless monotone, “Welcome to Orch...I mean Tartarian Research Station 1. I am this labs’s AP. You can call me Sol. I’m so glad you came. I have an unauthorized intruder being held in the micro-robotics lab. Are you here to arrest him for trespassing?”

“Yes.” I replied, unsure if it would check my identity.

“You’re not gonna check to make sure we are who we say we are?” Action asked, destroying any chances that we would pass as MoM operatives.

“No need to.” Sol droned, “The override was proof enough that you were sent by Pinkie Pie. Unless you’d like me to, of course.” it stopped to sigh again. “Then I guess I have to.”

There was a low drowning sound for a minute before the AP spoke again.

“Captain Cumulo Nimbus, Approved. Cap Stash, Approved. Looking Glass, aka Looker, Approved, and congrats on working for the MoM for 158 years. Action Shot, Approved. Anymore needless questions?” Sol stated sounding very bored and monotonous though it all.

“He connected to me to check your identities, had he checked any other MoM database only Looker would be approved...or marked as killed in action.” BONK whispered in my ear.

“Nope, just direct us to the prisoner.” I replied glaring daggers at Action.

“Down the steps to the left. Though, while he’s been confined to the lab, he has been illegally working on project 47595 despite my adamant pleas not to. I’ll let him know you’re here.” Sol explained before disappearing from the screen.

I guess project 47595 is somehow related to what my dad did back in the Enclave. I thought, my mind putting two and two together. I guess that is why he came here.

As we descended the stairs, Cap trotted up next to me, “So are you really gonna take your dad back to the Enclave and turn him in?”

I just looked at him like he told me that Thunderhead was a better city than Neighvaro, which is clearly not the case. “Yeah, it’s the only way to restore my family’s honor. So it won't hurt my career.”

“My dad had a dashite slave once named Radar. Before he escaped, he told whomever would listen about the Enclave. They sound a hundred times worse than my dad ever was. I hear dashites are the true heroes. Risking everything to help the surface. Are you really gonna turn him over to them?”

“You don’t understand. You're just a dashite loving, filthy, mud dweller. The Enclave is my home, my family. All of this has been about bringing my dad to justice so I can get back up there.” I spat angrily.

“You thick dodo. Your family is down in that lab.” Cap seithed. “He risked his life leaving those birdbrains!”

“My dad is no saint. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be grounded in the first place.” I growled. “He flew into a horde of migrating Dragons! He is the reason I lost my wings!”

“Maybe it is your fault for following!” Cap screamed and turned back up the stairs, “I’m going to wait at the top of the stairs. Maybe by the time you return with your father, you’ll have come to your senses.”

With that I sprinted down the stairs past Action and Looker, who watched in shock as I descended. I felt a few tears sting my eyes. Why did I care so much about what these ponies – no – filthy mud dwellers thought? They were just a means to an end, and that end is right here. Nothing more.

Choking back the tears, I opened the lab doors and was immediately struck with a microscope. Thankfully my helmet protected me and I readied the mingun on my saddle. My dad dropped his weapon and put his wings up.

“Alright, alright! I surrender.” he shouted before putting a wing down, “Cumulo? Thank the goddesses you survived.” He then of course, noticed my missing wings. “Oh no your–”

“Yeah I lost my wings trying to capture you! To bring you to justice! You did this to me!” I screamed, the anger from the conversation with Cap returning swiftly.

“I...” he replied, “I didn't think you’d actually follow me into the horde.”

“Well I did.” I felt a tear fall from my eye, “Now come quietly.”

“Ok, if that is what you really want, I will go back with you.” He resolved calmly.

It was then I realized he wasn't wearing his power armor, and instead was wearing an old pair of overalls. The thought briefly occurred to me that he likely sold his armor for caps for the supplies he needed out here, but that didn’t matter. He still had the pipbuck, and that was what General Updraft needed. I motioned with my head up toward the stairs, and he ascended as asked. I was surprised to not run into Looker or Action, but my surprise faded when I saw them at the top of the stairs with Cap. They all wore disapproving looks now, and I could tell it was going to be a long trip back to Safe Harbor.

As we left, Sol reappeared on the screen and nonchalantly waved at us all. “Please do come again, I so rarely get visitors.”

Once outside the bunker I put my hoof to my ear, “Beam us up, BONK. Cap, Looker, Action and I to the bridge, and our prisoner to the brig.”

“Sure…”she replied solemnly.

I had only just realized she had been privy to both arguments down in TRS-1 so I added, “Yes BONK, I am bringing my dad in. He broke the laws of the Enclave. As a MoM VP you should know more then anyone about the rule of law.”

“Yeah….I guess.” She replied in the same somber tone. “If you say he was a bad pony, then I guess he was.”

And with that, she used the GET to beam us aboard. She set course for Safe Harbor – or more specifically, The Salt Lick Airship Museum. It was time for everypony to go home.

*** *** ***

It had been 5 hours since we left TRS-1, and everypony was avoiding me and my father. Well, my dad was avoided by design, as he was securely locked in the brig. But Looker and Cap had gone to try to fix the Food Fabricator, and Action was taking stock of the Armory and medbay. So I was left alone on the bridge. Well not alone, BONK was there, but she too was ignoring me.

I was just fiddling with the Pipbuck I’d taken from my dad upon returning to The Sugar Sprinkle. I had removed my armor to allow it to continue its repairs, and put the pipbuck on my hoof. It was odd to see something similar to the HUD now in my regular field of vision. I found that it had a radio feature, and was picking up the MAS-EBS signal and figured I’d listen to DJ Pon3’s broadcast. I found music playing on the station, some song by an Old Equestria singer...I think her name was Sweetie Belle.

After a minute or two, the music faded out and the DJ began to speak.

“I never get tired of hearing Sweetie Belle sing, as she has such a lovely voice. But it’s time again for some more news from out west. The settlement of Safe Harbor, for those who haven’t been out west that is in Salt Lick City, has had their large Pinkie Pie Balloon stolen from them in the dead of the night. Though the settlement is not without its other defences, so to any Raiders tuning in, don't bother attacking the place. The Balloon was far from their only means of defence, but I have reports that The Fallen Angel has offered to retrieve the balloon for the settlement, which may not be as easy as it sounds. The last reported sighting of the rogue balloon has it being spotted heading out toward the Salt Flats. In other news local to those in Salt Lick City, a building in downtown has exploded and fallen over, spilling many caps worth of valuables into the street. Prospectors hoping to strike rich should be warned one of the riches dropped was a psychotic Ultra Sentinel. Not much is known, but those who have seen it, report that the machine claims all the items ‘property of the MoM’, and is on the hunt for a group of ‘rogue zebra terrorists.’”

I shuddered at the thought that somehow the Steerinko machine had survived Black Pepper’s destruction and was now looking for Cap, Looker, Action, BONK, and I. But, it was no longer my concern. I would be safely back above the clouds in a day or so, and able to move on with my military career.

One of the terminals across the bridge began to flash warning signs. BONK’s hologram turned on and trotted over to the terminal, studying it for a moment. The screen flashed blue and returned to pink before she turned to me

“Captain Cumulo,” she called, trying and failing to hide her panic, “looks like your missing wings were right, there is a dangerous stormfront moving in. And unfortunately, we are flying in toward it inside a bright pink lightning rod.”

“Uuuh,” I stammered. I thought back to my Raptor flight training, but it was no use. Raptors fly on clouds, so storms are not a problem. “Go above it.” I ordered.

The balloon tilted slightly upward and we ascended through the Enclave’s sealed cloud cover. Out the front window, I saw the crackle of lightning just below, and breathed a sigh of relief as the thunder drifted off safely away from us. If only I’d remembered I wasn’t in an Enclave ship. In seconds, two vert-a-bucks were surrounding the ship and aiming their guns at us.

“Uuh, we are being hailed.” BONK stated in a worried tone, the hologram BONK pacing back and forth while the BONK on the screen bit her lower lip.

“Patch them through.” I hesitantly ordered.

What could they want? I’m supposed to be in the area. They know that right? Wait! Fuck I’m in a ship from the surface!

“This is Sergeant Windsweep and Lieutenant Daybreak of the Grand Pegasus Enclave. Return below the cloud cover or be shot down!” A mare shouted angrily over the radio. In the back of my mind I recognized it from the last time I listened to the Enclave frequency.

“Sergeant, Lieutenant, this is Private Cumulonimbus. Serial Number 32-219-950. I’m on a mission authorized by Vice General Starboard, Admiral Fiery Flight, and General Updraft. Please grant me passage.” I responded confidently.

“P-private Cumulo? D-didn’t he go MIA wh-while looking for his d-dashite f-father?” a different, meeker, mare asked.

“Quiet Lieutenant.” the first mare – Sergeant Windsweep – ordered, “Congratulations on being alive, did you get the pipbuck?”

“I have it right on my hoof and the dashite is in the brig.” I replied.

The screen bound BONK was waving her hooves frantically trying to get my attention, but I ignored her.

“Send it over and we’ll escort you back to the Rapture.” Sgt. Windsweep ordered.

“BONK, use the GET to send this to them.” I addressed the hologram, motioning to the device on my hoof.

Hesitantly, she nodded, and there was a flash as the device was magically transported off my hoof.

“Shit! Oh, uh, thank you.” the Sargent’s surprised voice called back over the radio.

The BONK on the screen was banging on the screen as if it were a wall, frantically wanting my attention.

“What?!” I shouted at the screen.

But it was too late, both Vertibucks opened fired. Somewhere in the ship there was an explosion and we began to lose altitude...fast. Alarms began to sound all over the ship. Warnings flashed on nearly a dozen screens.

“I-if it is any consolation P-private, you’ll be re-remembered as a h-hero.” Lieutenant Daybreak called over the radio as we fell below the cloud layer into the storm and lost connection.

“BONK! Can you keep us in the air?” I asked.

“Not without help!” she replied as a manual steering column rose in front of the captain's chair.

I pulled with all my might on the controls, and the airship began to level out. Then there was another explosion somewhere else in the ship. I tried not to worry about who may have been near the explosion as the ship began to lose altitude faster than before.

“Nonononononononononononono!” was all BONK could say as we rapidly neared the ground.

“BONK! You can do this.” I lied, “Keep us in the air.”

“I can’t.” she said on the verge of synthetic tears, “Brace for–”

She was cut off as lightning struck the ship, killing all the electronics in the bridge and electrocuting anything touching the metal, including me. While my vision faded to black, I felt the terrifying impact as the ship hit the ground.

*** *** ***

Footnotes:

Cumulonimbus: No status changes

Quest Perk Added:

Captain on Deck – You are the captain of a ship and you deserve respect. While on any ship (sea or air) speech checks are 20% easier to pass.

Looker: no status changes

Cap Stash: no status changes

Quest Completed:

Dashite Retention

An Urgent Matter: TRS-1

Quests Failed:

Lost & Found

Chapter 5: The Rains of Change

Chapter 5: The Rains of Change

“The Enclave double crossing their own? I’m shocked!” The bartender nickered in feigned shock, once more interrupting my story.

“It is different down here. You mud dwe – you ponies – know to expect it.” I shouted before downing my current glass of wild pegasus. “ When you grow up in the Enclave, they instill a sense of loyalty. If you trust The Enclave, you succeed. If you don’t, you are branded a dashite.”

There was a pregnant pause in the bar where only the raging storm outside could be heard. The Bartender noticed my empty glass, but instead of filling it again, he just opted to float over the bottle. I didn’t care if was on the house or not, I was gonna need it if I was going to get through this story. It felt like what I’d had already barely affected me so far. I just figured my tolerance had increased since falling to the surface. After a long pull off the bottle, I settled back in my chair before getting back into the story.

*** *** ***

I came to on the heavily cracked, but still yet unshattered front window of the bridge. The projector that had once projected BONK’s hologram lay sparking, way to close for comfort next to my head. Any closer and it would have crushed my head like a tomato.

I rolled over to get a look at the bridge and immediately regretted it. Something inside me shifted painfully, and I tasted blood in my mouth.

Yep, I most likely broke a rib...or two. OUCH!

Taking a decidedly painful breath in, I glanced around what was once the Sugar Sprinkle’s bridge.

The front half of the ceiling had collapsed. The row of monitors that had once housed the screen bound BONK, had slammed into the captain's chair, crushing it. The impact of the crash had cleaved the projector off the ceiling, and sent it onto the window next to me. The workstation terminals were all shattered by either various debits, or from the impact itself. In fact, one had actually caught on fire and was sending distorted shadows around the room. Some of the other readout monitors flicked and buzzed, somehow rebooting after the lightning shorted them out. I only hoped it meant that BONK had too rebooted.

“BONK?” I rasped, splattering spit and blood on the window, “You there?”

I waited and heard nothing. If it was just the lightning, she may have been able to reboot. But with the explosions and the crash, I wasn't sure if her mainframe was even still functional. Without her, I couldn’t find the others.

Fuck! I thought and mentally facehoofed, The others are probably dead or dying, and it was all my fault. They are gonna die hating me. My dad is going die thinking his only son was gonna turn him in.

I couldn’t dwell on the maybes. I had to find them, and if they were alive, save them from the wreckage. That would at least make up for some of my screwups. I should have listened to Cap when he said Dashites were the true heroes. Instead, I’d gone and crashed a ship that didn’t even technically belong to me, despite me being appointed its captain.

Grunting, I pushed myself to my hooves. Another mistake as my back two hooves jolted me with more pain. Add in two broken legs along with the ribs. I slumped back against the projector that had now thankfully stopped sparking. In doing so, I made a 3rd mistake: Looking down. Apparently, my assumption that we’d hit the ground was incorrect. The pinkie pie balloon was lodged at least 10 stories above the ground in an apartment building.

Between painful gasps, I managed to find non-live wires and some strips of metal to fashion up a pair of makeshift splints. My battlefield medic training had at least finally become useful I suppose. Grunting in pain, I once again tried to get to my hooves. It was painful, but I could walk. It was incredibly slow walking, but walking none the less.

After shimmying under the collapsed half of the bridge, and readjusting my makeshift splints, I headed for the captain’s quarters. Without BONK, my EFS was the best bet to find my friends.

Wait. Do I really consider these ponies friends? I thought as I hobbled along the sloped hallways, I suppose I’d just leave them here if they weren’t? Though, that was exactly what I was gonna do once I turned in my father. Fuck! I can never face them after all this.

Braking from my thoughts, I pushed open the door to my quarters from the previous night. Literally actually, as the door fell out of the frame and slammed to the floor. Looking inside the room, half of it was missing. The whole outer wall had been ripped from the ship in the crash, and was now matched with the remains of a kitchen. The mattress, pillow, and sheets had likely been sucked out the new window by the change in pressure. But the bedframe was still there, having been bolted down onto the wall and floor. The same could be said for the desk and terminal, though the terminal was dark.

Carefully, I made my way to the closet door that had remained closed in spite of the crash. I pushed them open with a hoof and had to duck out of the way as a black hunk of metal and a bunch of hangers fell from the closet and across the sloped room, denting the wall above the bed frame. Bracing myself, I jumped for the same wall and landed in a pain filled heap. The ship lurched threateningly around me, but thankfully stayed lodged in the old apartment building.

Not wanting to dawdle anylonger, I pushed myself to my hooves and slipped into the armor. I felt more relaxed as the HUD powered up and flicked into view.

“Thank Luna you're alright!” BONK’s voice surprised me and I fell back to my haunches, wincing at it put pressure on my broken legs. I looked around the visor until I noticed a small green pony in the corner, wondering who or what it was. Of course, then I remembered BONK was blue, and it was the amber visor that made her show up green.

“Well mostly ok.” she spoke as she pulled up the biometrics monitoring screen, “Your back legs are broken in two places, and you have three fractured ribs. Oh and you have a minor concussion.”

“BONK?” I finally managed to say as she returned the screen to normal, “What are you doing in my armor?”

“I only had one one hundredth of a second before my mainframe short circuited from that lightning strike to find a viable host on the network. I hope it’s alright, but your armor was all I could find. It is almost as big as a pipbuck in here, which is to say, fairly spacious for a computer program. I’m just happy the closets are lined in plastic.” She began.

“So are the other’s safe?” I asked.

“Of course when I transferred, there was the matter of bringing only the essentials.” and a bunch of digital suitcases appeared. “This is the ship’s schematics, so you can get it repaired. Then there is my library of music. I hope you like polka, because there is a lot of it.”

“BONK, the others. Are they okay?” I asked again.

“Then there are the personal files, and my backup memories. Which of course, includes all of you.” The suitcases disappeared and were replaced by a book, “I’m actually making a scrapbook of our time together. Here is when we first met, and here is us sticking it to Steer-stink-o. This camera got a bit warped by the heat, but I did a digital reconstruction. Oh and here is the first night on the ship. You look so cute when you're sleeping!”

“NOT THE TIME, BONK!” I shouted, visibly scaring the little sprite in my vision. “Are the others okay?”

“Sorry, sorry. The crash had me panicked. I’ve never been in one before. Then to see you alive, I was just so happy.” She started again, but noticed my continued glare, “They’re fine. Before we were struck by lightning, I used the GET to teleport them as close to the ground as the range allowed. Though, they still likely fell a few feet.” I let out a sigh of relief, knowing they were ok, “I just didn't have time to get you or your father off the ship before the lightning struck.”

“Wait, my dad is still here? Where?” I asked in a panic.

“Hold on, I need to force a re-automap of the ship to include the wreck and building.” BONK said and my armor made a soft beep, “There in the brig, but–”

“No, buts! No time. This ship is not done crashing and I want us both off here before it falls the rest of the way to the ground!” I snapped. “Point the way.”

As if on cue, the ship lurched again and fell a few inches. Without another peep from BONK, a new compass marker appeared in my vision.

*** *** ***

To get to the brig, I had to temporarily leave the ship through another hole in the hull, and travel up a flight of stairs of the apartment complex the airship was currently lodged in. It felt like a maze to me because it ended up at a slanted angle, with the bridge at the bottom, and what was left of the rudder and engine closer to the top. Not to mention blocked section due to collapsed halls and the remaining apartments the ship had intruded on.

Getting there was no easy feat with my injuries, but when I put on my saddlebags I was shocked to see I had four doses of med-x and two healing potions. From what little knowledge I had of medicine, I knew my broken bones needed to be set before they could be healed. So I had used one dose of the med-x to dull the pain, but found I had to use a second before the pain went from searing while I walked, to a minor nuisance. The vague implications of addiction cropped up in the back of my mind, but there wasn’t a moment to lose.

On the way there, BONK was almost too quiet. I couldn't help the feeling she wanted to tell me something, but after I’d snapped at her, she was sulking in the corner of my visor.

Re-entering the ship through another hole, I found I had to lean against the wall to keep from falling down the slanted hallway. As I moved about, the ship creaked, but for the time being appeared to be staying lodged in the apartment complex. Nearby, I could have sworn I heard other hoofsteps, but figured it was just a stray brick or other dislodge piece of debris settling on one of the other decks.

Slowly, I turned the corner into the tiny brig. It consisted of one cell quartered off from the rest of the room by the stereotypical metal bars commonly depicted in pictures of prisons. And by the door was a set of 4 lockers to keep any of the cell’s occupant's belongings. Unlike the rest of the ship, this room was not painted. Or if it had been, it was painted in soul crushing grey.

Though in the crash, the ceiling had caved in and dislodged the top of the bars. The occupant – my father – had been thrown from the cell and impaled on the bars. The locker had fallen on top of his still form. Seeing him like that made me realize what BONK had been about to say when I silenced her.

“Dad!” I called out in shock.

Forgetting about the pain, partially due to the med-x, I rushed over and pushed the locker off of him. Thank the goddesses my armor had repaired enough to assist with strength again. He slowly opened his eyes and stared back at me in a daze before spitting up some blood.

“What...” he coughed horsely, “what happened?”

I felt tears welling up in my eyes as I spoke, “I gave the Enclave your pipbuck, and they shot us down. I was so focused on capturing you, I never thought to ask why you left. I was so stupid. I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” he said slowly, before coughing violently, “You were just true to you convictions. You had no way of knowing what they were up to, and took them at their word.”

I dropped to my haunches and cradled his head, “What was on the pipbuck? What is Operation: Cauterize?”

“The pipbuck?” he sighed, “It had research into a new, smaller type of robot. The kind that could be injected into a pony.”

“And do what?” I asked through my tears.

He opened his mouth to continue, but was interrupted by a blast from a novasurge rifle. It strick the bars above his head and they melted into slag. I turned to the door and saw a more intact carapace armor covering a red coated pony.

“Sorry, I interrupt something?” the voice I recognized as Sergeant Windsweep spoke from beneath the armor, “guess it was a good idea to come down and see if the crash killed you two. Guess I owe the lieutenant a very special night afterall.”

“Why?” I asked, seething with anger. “I did what you asked! Why shoot us down?”

“You have been contaminated by the surface. It was a mercy.” Windsweep replied cooly, “The surface is a blithe on the world. Updraft has a plan to wipe it clean. Cauterize the wound and let the pegasi reclaim it to bring the Enclave back to its former glory.”

“What about the ponies fighting to survive on the surface? You’d just kill them?” I asked.

“The savages, the walking corpses, and hellish abominations?” Windsweep replied with audible distaste, “The world is better off without them.”

“That’s not true. They are ponies no different than you or I! They have families. They have settlements. They have lives.” I argued. “Sure some are bad, but not all of them, and I know that now. Up in our utopia above the clouds, we don’t see it. You are flying dangerously close to the sun.”

“Spoken like a true dashite.” She said as he novasurge rifles powered up again.

I would have moved to attack her, but I felt a sharp prick in my back leg and it shifted my focus to my dad who was entering a syringe of glowing silver liquid into my leg. In an instant Sergeant Windsweep fired her weapons, and this time they hit home in my father’s head. He glowed pink for a moment, and then crumbled into nothing but ash.

I saw red and bit down on my firing bit. The minigun mounted on my armor whirred to life and fired a barrage of bullets. They pinged harmlessly off her armor, but it did cause her to step back into the hallway. While she was distracted, I charged her.

I found myself entering SATS, even though I had not activated it. The world slowed to a standstill, and sections of Windsweep became highlighted in amber. The amber gave way to a blue set of highlighted sections, where unlike the amber outline, it highlighted more specific locations. Instead of the head as a whole, it highlighted the eyes, nose, jaw, cheek, and visor. Each had its own percentage next to it that actively changed as the world became unfrozen and moved in slow motion.

“I updated your targeting spell with something similar to the ship’s targeting system. I’m calling in BAATS. BONK Assisted Arcane Targeting Spell.” BONK beamed in the corner of the visor.

I didn’t tell – or more accurately couldn’t tell her while the spell was active – that acronyms usually didn’t include other acronyms in them. Instead, I cued in an uppercut to Windsweep’s jaw and a buck to her cheek. Apparently BAATS let me choose specific attacks, along with more defined locations.

Time returned to its regular pace and the spell resolved. Windsweep dodged my uppercut but was too slow to dodge the buck. The force of which sent her flying down the hallway. I was shocked at not only the strength of the buck, but the lack of pain I felt in what should have been broken legs. At the time, I figured it was thanks to the double dose of Med-x I had taken.

With a meaty thud, she hit the floor down the hall. In a few short moments, she’d gotten back to her hooves. The amber visor of her helmet had been completely shattered, and streaks of blood flowed down her face from dozens of lacerations from the broken plastic.

“You filthy, mud loving, Dashite!” She shrieked, “Die with dignity!”

Chomping forcefully on her firing bit, she fired wildly as she charged up the slanted hallway. With bits of her visor blinding her eyes, scattered shots landed all around me, but failed to strike me at all.

My own rage not yet abated, I fired back with my minigun. Like before, many of the shots pinged harmlessly off her armor, but with her now exposed face, some found a fatal home. She flopped lifelessly to the floor, the remaining momentum from her charge causing her to slide the rest of the way to my hooves.

It was then that I noticed the Lieutenant looking back in awe from one of the rooms down the hall. Shockingly, she was a unicorn. Her coat was light blue, and her short cut mane was striped black and white like a Zebra. She wore a set of reinforced green combat armor and just stared back at me with a look of fear.

My anger had finally faded and gave way to a numbness, but if I was forced to act, then Lieutenant Daybreak would meet the same fate as her Sergeant. Though, her EFS marker read her as non-hostile, for now at least. That could easily change. I hadn't turned the EFS system back on, but like BAATS, I guessed BONK had activated it after Windsweep snuck up on us.

Instead of fighting, she simply spoke in a meek voice, “I um s-set charges on the r-reactor. Y-you need to get out of here.”

When she finished she fled down the hall, her parting words were more a warning. BONK’s old home was about to explode, and I needed to be long gone before it did. As fast as I could push myself to, I quickly gathered Windsweeps’s ammo and weapons. Her armor may have been more intact, but I felt attached to my armor, and opted to keep it over her model. Also, I wasn't sure BONK could transfer to it without the ship as a go-between.

*** *** ***

Thanks to BONK’s Navigation, I made it quickly out of the building the Sugar Sprinkle was lodged in. The ‘Fair Flat Apartments’ according to a plaque in the lobby. Booking it down the street as fast as my hooves could carry me, I needed to put as much distance between me and that balloon as possible. Again, I attributed the lack of pain and my rapid speed to the med-x and adrenaline flowing through me. I had not yet officially healed my broken legs or ribs, and I’m sure the meds would be wearing off sooner or later.

Just as I was about to run out of stamina I heard a resounding BWOOOOM from behind me. The resulting tremor knocking me to the ground and threw the wind out of my lungs. The near deafening boom was followed the sound of screeching metal as the remainder of the airship dislodged from the building and finally crashed onto the ground.

Of course, it was then that the storm that had been brewing in the skies above finally let loose a torrent of rain that began to douse the fires caused by the explosion. As I pushed myself back to my hooves to begin looking for some dry shelter. As I did, I heard BONK’s sad voice in my ears.

“We can fix her, right?” She whimpered.

“I’m sure we could find the parts out there.” I lied. I didn’t want to tell her it would take a few miracles, several thousand caps, and a pony engineer from the wartime or one from the wasteland familiar with her class of ship. It would only upset her, and without Cap, Looker, and Action to watch my back, I needed her focused on what was to come. Or at least as focused as BONK could be.

“I hope so too. That mainframe was my home.” She sighed, “It was all I’ve ever known. I don’t know what I’d do if I could never go back.”

I emphasized with the VP, as now, I can never return above the clouds. So I will to the best of my ability, restore The Sugar Sprinkle and reinstall her on it. I owed her that much for the help she’d given so far. For now however, I had to get out of the rain.

*** *** ***

After a half hour of sloshing through the streets of Salt Lick, I finally found a two story townhouse that looked somewhat dry. The concrete stoop was crumbling, but the rest of the building looked mostly intact. Well, aside from the missing third floor. I hoped the second floor didn't leak. It was painted tan and had green shutters on each window that barely clung to the wall. It would suffice as a shelter for the night, if nothing else.

I entered the front door and immediately stepped into a small den. There was a moldy couch that face a blank wall. From what I knew of Old Equestria, there likely used to be some kind of entertainment device on the wall, but it was likely looted long ago. Adjacent to the den was a kitchen with dirty checkered vinyl floor and time worn oak cabinets.

I honestly didn't expect to find any food in there, but as a permanent resident of the wasteland, I had to get in the habit of looting every shelter I found. To my surprise, there was a can of preserved carrots in the back of one of the cabinets. I removed my armor and used a still jagged edge to open the can, greedily eating its contents. The mush barely resembled carrots, but it had been a while since I’d eaten anything. After eating, I settled in on the sofa and fell into a dreamless sleep.

I don’t know how long I was out, but I awoke to the warmth of a crackling fire. I began to stretch and roll over to warm my other side when a thought came into my groggy mind: Wait, I didn’t make a fire before going to sleep!

My eyes shot open and I instinctively bit down, but as I was not wearing my armor nor a battle saddle, nothing happened. My actions only listed a gravelly chuckle from my uninvited guest: A glowing ghoul in a dirty labcoat. He was adding another piece of the oak cabinets to the fire, while there was an odd stand made from bent metal that held a teapot over the flame.

“Didn’t mean to startle you.” He said in a calming voice, “Wouldn't be the first time I was shot. Might want to try sleeping in your armor if you want to be battle ready in the future.”

The teapot began to scream as the water came to a boil and he produced four perfectly clean mugs. Before he poured the liquid into them he scooped two spoonfuls of some kind of brown powder into them. After he mixed them with a spoon and hoofed one over to me. He brought another one to his lips and chugged. I took a sip and instantly spat the liquid back into the cup. Not only was it scathing hot, but it tasted like the worst tea I’d ever drank.

“Sorry, being what I am, I forget sometimes that things get hot over a fire.” He apologized when he saw me spit the brown liquid.

“Yeah, it is hot, but what kind of tea is this?” I asked.

“Not tea, coffee. An often overlooked item in the wastes. 10 times better than tea. It gives you energy and tastes great. Though it is supposed to have cream and sugar, but I’m fresh out.” He explained. I took another small sip, the liquid had cooled slightly and the taste was growing on me. “Though this instant stuff pales in comparison to the real stuff. Maybe they still have some in the Hoof, or maybe Caldonia? Anyways, what is a pony like you doing out here all by yourself?”

I sighed and took a sip of the bitter, black coffee, “I screwed up and can’t face the ponies I consider friends anymore. They probably want nothing to do with me.”

“Did they say that?” He pried.

“Well no.” I admitted, “I just had a huge fight with them over turning my father into the Enclave. Only to have the Enclave shoot our airship down and try to kill me and my father.” I felt a tear come to my eye, “I can’t face them now. I should have listened to them.”

“Well, I’m sure they will forgive you.” The ghoul comforted, “I’ve encountered a few ponies in my time dealing with the same or similar issues.”

“And what did you tell them?” I asked, taking another sip of the coffee.

“Friendship is magic.” He beamed with a toothy smile, and I mentally facehoofed. “If these ponies are truly your friends, then they are bound to forgive you. You don't even know they are actually mad, you just think they are.”

I sighed again because he was right. They’d forgive me, right? Even if they didn’t, I could do everything in my power to make it up to them. Like how I’m going to rebuild BONK’s home for her. I couldn’t just avoid them for the rest of my life, right?

“I guess, it wouldn’t hurt to talk to them about it.” I agreed.

“Good, good. Friendship prevails!” He exclaimed.

Then I noticed the third and fourth cup of coffee.

“Expecting company?” I asked confused.

“Well, I was just going and I figured you could share some coffee with the nice mare and zebra outside.”

“The what?” I asked in alarm, spilling the rest of my coffee onto the couch.

The ghoul didn’t answer, he just bolted to the open front door and ran out, leaping over the crumbling stoop and into the city beyond. As he ran he shouted, “Remember: Friendship is magic!”

“The fuck?” A mare shouted in alarm after he passed, “I think I know that ghoul.”

I ran to the door to see what was going on and was met with the muzzle of a lever action rifle, not all that dissimilar from the one Looker favored.

“Not another step asshole, or I’ll redecorate these walls with your brains.” The mare holding the rifle ordered.

I mentally facefoofed at the fact that my armor and Windsweep’s novasurges were still over by the fire and not on my body. The ghoul was right, I should sleep in my armor.

*** *** ***

Footnotes:

Cumulonimbus: no status changes

Quest Perk added:

Dashite – You not only care for the ponies of the surface, you fight for them. You’ve been stripped of your rank, and are now a wanted fugitive of the Enclave. Speech checks for Allied settlements are lowered by 20% and speech checks for Enclave members are increased by 20%. There is 10% chance that random ponies will come to your aid in a fight and a 5% chance of an random encounter with an Enclave scouting party. This perk is incompatible with any Enclave based perks.

Trait lost:

Enclave Private

Companion Perk added:

This is BONKers! – As long as BONK is installed in your armor, you gain the effects of any BONKers Perks she gets.

Looker: No Status Changes

Cap Stash: No Status Changes

BONK – Level 1

S - X
P - 10
E - 0
C - 10
I - 10
A - 10
L - 0

Traits:

Virtual Pony – You are not a pony in the regular sense of the word. Instead of flesh and blood, you are made of 1’s and 0’s. As such, you have no physical body. Your HP and strength stat is based on the strength of the machine you are downloaded onto.

Self Awareness – You know you are a computer program, yet you have somehow developed beyond your programing to have emotion and even think for yourself...for the most part. This is the only reason you are treated like a pony character and not equipment. This trait allows you to receive your own perks based on self made programs called ‘BONKers Perks’, though you may only gain one per level like any other normal perk.

Quest Perk Added:

lvling is mandatory – now you can gain lvls! Yay!

BONKers Perk Added:

BAATS – The result of tinkering with the standard SATS spell and adding the functionality of an airship’s targeting program. While in SATS, hit boxes are more defined than simple general regions at the cost of the spell no longer bringing time to a complete standstill. Melee attacks and certain weapons have specialty attacks that can also be cued in at the cost of extra Action Points.

Quests Stated:

A Real Fixer Upper – Find a capable engineer to fix the Sugar Sprinkle

Chapter 7: Defective

The slam of the bar door interrupted my story once again. Instinctively I looked to the door expecting another rag clad pony. In the back of my mind I wondered why the other ponies hadn’t removed what was likely heavily drenched clothes?

I snapped my thoughts back to the mare in the doorway. She was not draped in rags, instead she wore a simple pointed brown hat. Her coat was a soft purple, but otherwise had no mane or tail. Her cutie mark was that of a cracked and leaking sparkle cola bottle.

She caught my stare and nickered, “Why don’t ya take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“S-sorry,” I muttered an apology.

“Take your sorry’s an shove them where celestia don’t shine.” she snapped, taking a seat at the other end of the bar.

I wanted to inquire about her oddities, but the mare did not seem in the mood. The bartender poured a glass of apple whiskey for the strange mare before she could ask for anything. He then returned to me and his half empty bottle of sparkle cola.

“Where in equestria did Steerinko come from?” he asked, coaxing me back into my story.

“In the crash, I hadn’t really taken into account where I was.” I explained, “And the last time I’d thought about Steerinko was back before the ship had been shot down. At the time I thought it wasn’t my problem. I still hate myself for thinking that, it was very much my problem. Ever since I had set hoof inside Black Pepper.”

*** *** ***

It was near dusk when Steerinko arrived at what could count as his lair. According to the weather worn sign that lay in two pieces across the cracked pavement, it was the old Salt Lick Police Station. I noted that the sign was recently broken since several rusted desks and debits stuck haphazardly in the wall of the station.

This must be in close proximity to the Esmare Building. I thought as we were carried through the door.

Steerinko continued into the police station’s squad room. A hole in the roof roughly the size of Steerinko’s mainframe explained why this place was his new home. There was a scattering of robot parts and heavy weaponry around the room that were responsible for the cells and desks on this floor being crushed into rubble. Steerinko continued into the basement of the station.

Storm let out a gasp of shock at the open gear shaped door set into the basement wall. In the center of the door in yellow paint was written the number 54.

“Fuck, this mechanical monstrosity is bringing us into a stable.” She muttered.

“What is wrong with stables? Weren’t they meant to save ponies?” I asked dumbly.

“Don’t much like going into them.” She replied solemnly, but I couldn’t get a read on her true emotions, “Almost as bad as Orchards.”

Orchards? I thought, confused at the mention of something she figured was mundane, but was in fact a mystery.

I figured I’d ask her about the comment once we had escaped Steerinko...if we did.

Steerinko lumbered through the entryway and down several flights of steps following a sign to ‘Security’. I was shocked that the large robotic body fit into the narrow hallway, but I guessed Steerinko had several days to set up shop and built his new body to accommodate.

As Steerinko moved towards the security station the door opened automatically. Another robot amalgamation was standing in the small security station. Its upper half consisted of a Mr. Hoofy, and the bottom half was the legs of a ponytron. On its head was a jar containing what looked like a pony’s brain floating in yellowish liquid. It also had the same haphazard welding job of Steerinko himself.

The Mr. Hoofy-tron trotted over to the cell and unlocked it before returning to Steerinko. The bottom of the cage attached to Steerinko was removed by the other bot, dropping the three of us to the floor.

“RELINQUISH ALL WEAPONS AND GEAR, ZEBRA SCUM!” Steerinko ordered, under threat of his very, very powerful guns. After we were lead into the cell. The Hoofy-tron locked the cell behind us and Steerinko lumbered slowly back into the hall, heading back towards the stable entrance.

I took a look around the cell. Storm, Ficha, and I weren’t the only captives. I counted roughly 17 others. Among them were five earth ponies, three unicorns, three griffons, four zebras, and two zebra-unicorn hybrids...Zebracorn? Zonies? I almost counted them as unicorns until I noticed the stripes. These were the greedy mercs and raiders who had not headed the DJ’s warning about Steerinko and went looking for the spoils of Black Pepper.

When I’d recounted to account for the zonies, I realized I recognized one of the zebras. The last time I’d seen him was when Cap had miraculously survived his onslaught of minigun fire.

“May the stars rape my rotting corpse! Of course you’d be here.” Wrexler harrumphed as he too recognized me.

Seeing him, I couldn't help but taunt, “Seems the captor has become the captive.”

I would have said ‘slaver and slave’ but Steerinko was simply following centuries old, poorly programed security protocols, and was keeping us captive until the long defunct MoM got here. He was not selling ponies into the unpaid torturous work of slaves. So ‘captor and captive’ made more sense at the time.

A hoof struck Wrexler, knocking him to the floor of the cell. Based on the stripes, it was the hoof of Ficha taking his revenge on Wrexler for his intentional misinformation. The two zebras broke into hoof-to-hoof combat in the center of the the cell.

The soft light of grey magic pulled the zebras apart and held them aloft a short ways from each other.

“Brother, you should know better than to challenge the stars.” a zony scolded, “What did you do to anger these ponies and zebra?”

I regarded her. She had a white coat, striped with light blue stripes, but she sported a solid dark blue mane. Her eyes were the same soft grey as the light of her horn. I glanced at the zebra and began to notice the family resemblance. They had the same eyes.

“I escaped his former boss’ slaver operation.” I started, her eyes going wide with shock, while Wrexler’s eyes pleaded with me to not go on, “Then he misinformed these bounty hunters to kill me.”

“Slaving?” She shouted, appalled, “Wrex, you were slaving?!”

She dropped Wrexler to the floor, at the same time she gently brought Ficha back to the ground.

“Grentalina, I can explain.” He pleaded, sounding not at all like the slaver who had scolded Cap for betrayal, “I needed a way to get caps for us to eat.”

“Ma and pa were gunned down by slavers for not submitting to be slaves!” she shouted, tears welling in her eyes, “You insult their memory.”

“Grenty!” Wrexler begged, “Please? I never directly enslaved. Only guarded and scavenged technology.”

I vaguely recalled Looker saying it was Wrexler who had enslaved her, but I’d said enough for his sister to deal out the revenge I was too weary to dish out myself.

“Shut Up!” Mr. Hoofy-tron intoned, “I have been told I could shoot you if you act up.”

There was an eerie silence before Mr. Hoofy-tron went off to the security office to do something I didn't care about. With him gone, Storm finally spoke up. She had been sitting by the bars watching our odd warden.

“I hate ponies like you.” she spat, not even bothering to correct to ‘zebra’, “Sacrificing virtue for the sake of survival.” Wrexler was about to retort, but Strom put her pipbucked hoof up silencing him, “But we need all the hooves we can get to get out of here.”

“You have a plan?” I asked.

She sighed, “Not yet, but I'm working on it.”

*** *** ***

BOOM! KBOOM! FA-KBOOM! The series of explosions echoed out in the hall beyond the room we were locked in.

“What the hell?!” Storm asked, echoing my thoughts upon hearing the explosion.

Mr. Hoofytron re-entered the room, a flamethrower now attached to one of the Hoofy arms.

FFFFFFFOOOOOOOOSH! BOOM! KBOOM! FA-KBOOM!

More missiles launched and exploded just outside the hall.

Is Steerinko wasting ammo for no reason? I thought back to Steerinko’s launcher.

My question was answered as an armor clad pony burst down the door. The force of it knocked over Mr. Hoofytron. A smaller shotgun fired from her battle saddle and sparked on the automatron. The matrix disruption shot shutting down our warden.

“Damn, not here either.” a mare’s armored enhanced voice called out in frustration.

“Who's not here?” I asked without thinking.

“My village.” the mare replied, “Idiots went to scavenge that building explosion. I’m here to rescue them...and well, anypony else captured.”

“That’s Steel Ranger armor.” Storm stated flatly.

“Yes and no.” She replied flatly, “We're a breakaway faction that formed after my mom’s commander disagreed with the direction of the rangers following the battle of Baltimare a few years back.”

“Really,” Storm mused skeptically.

“Yes, now stand back.” she ordered, preparing to charge.

We all moved back as she charged the cell and knocked the door off its hinges. Once the door was gone, the captives in our cell scampered out and back the direction this mystery mare had come. All except Storm, Ficha, Wrexler, and his sister...Grentalina, I think? We followed the armored mare as she went farther into the stable.

*** *** ***

From the security level, we went down. According to our mysterious metal clad savior, there must be other rooms in the stable used as cells aside from the obvious security station. Otherwise the residents of her village would have been held with us.

We turned a corner and encountered resistance. Like before the robots we encountered were odd amalgams of multiple different types of robots. There were three of them, guarding a door that was marked ‘Infirmary’.

One was a hovering ball of metal with thin mechanical wings with a crudely welded tri-barreled magic energy rifle attached to the bottom. Another was the upper half of a ponytron – possibly the upper half of either Steerinko or Mr. Hoofy-tron – hovering on a flickering levitation talisman, though the front hooves had been replaced with flaming swords. The third was a standard Protector Pony, but had a riot shotgun and minigun built into it. All of them had the odd glass case containing a pony brain in yellowish liquid built onto them.

FFFFFFFOOOOOOOOSH!

The ranger fired a missile. Flaming Sword Hooves slashed at the missile. BOOM! It exploded in a bright fireball that sent the bot to the ground, cracking the case around the brain. It began to leak the yellow fluid out onto the floor, and the bot didn’t get up.

FFFFFFFOOOOOOOOSH!

She fired again. This time it was melted to green goop by Tri-barrel.

We all ducked behind the wall as Mystery Mare reloaded, and the Protector Pony opened fire. I glanced at BONK, finding that she appeared to be pondering something. I looked away from our new companions hoping they didn't notice me acting crazy.

“What’s on your mind?” I asked in a whisper.

“There is an odd signal coming from the approximate location of the Overmare’s office. It isn’t like the Enclave signal. If I try to look into it, I go dumb and can’t think.” She replied, matching my whispers even if her voice could only be heard in my ears.

I nodded and mentally made a note to check the this ‘Overmare’s Office’ if we passed it, but saving the captives was our current objective. Well, that and stopping Steerinko.

I turned back to the others just in time to see Wrexler throw a matrix disruption grande down the hall. Bullets from the Protector Pony’s minigun eating into his flesh. Horrifyingly, as each bullet impacted the hole began to burn. Fuck, the bullets are enchanted.

The grenade exploded sending sparks down the hall towards us. The minigun ceased as the spell matrix of the bot it was attached to shorted out and died. That only left Tri-barrel, it's hovering flickering, but not dying. Maybe it's matrix was shielded. Grentalina eyes went wide and she stared at Wrexler’s charred from, slumping to her haunches in shock with no cover to protect her from Tri-barrel. She had not said a word to him since I’d told her he was a slaver, now it looked like she might not get the chance to make things better.

I heard Tri-barrel’s guns powering up. I could care less about Wrexler. At the time I didn't care if he was dead or alive. The pony I did sort of care about was actually the zony. As far as I was concerned, Grenty was an innocent. She didn't even have a weapon in her things locked in the security lockup.

So I jumped in between the bot and the zony as BONK activated BAATS for me. Always a step ahead of me. The world slowed to a near standstill, but not quite stopping completely. I was still getting used to the differences of SATS and BAATS.

The blue regions highlighted the top and bottom of the bot, as well as the brain behind the glass, and the gun itself. I figured that the glass was the weakest part and cued in two shots to it. For good measure I cued in a shot to the gun and then a fourth to the top of the bot. I had to be quick as the bot moved slowly closer, guns warming up a shot. I ended the spell.

VIZZ! Miss. VIZZ! Hit, but it simply knocked the bot to the side its own shot impacting the floor in front of my hooves. VIZZ! Miss. Fuck! I need Cap’s luck. VIZZ! Hit and the whole bot disintegrated in a shower of pink powder.

With all three bots dealt with, Ficha moved down the hall and unlocked the door. Unlike back at security, there was no need to blast down the door. Once inside, we took stock of the captives. The infirmary turned cell held another 15 ponies, all earth and unicorn. Sadly though, they were not the ponies from Mystery Mare’s village.

“Turn left and go up the stairs. Down the hall and up another set of stairs which should lead you out the stable door. The rest of the way should be easy to find.” Storm quickly explained to the freed captives, “We’ve cleared the way, but still, move quickly.”

The captives, like the others in our cell, left without a word following Storm’s instructions. With them gone, Grenty, tears in her eyes, levitated her brother in and onto one of the medical beds. He was alive, but unconscious. She then began to dig through the cabinets looking for a healing potion or super restoration potion...or at the very least healing bandages.

I idly clicked on the active terminal in the room while I waited. We couldn’t wait here for long, but it would be a few minutes before we would be moving on.

*** *** ***

“Damn, how the hay does this thing work? These new fangled terminals are well beyond me, but as Stable 54’s Doctor, I guess I’ll have to get used to it. Don’t even get me started on these pipbucks.” An elderly sounding stallion began to speak when I accidentally clicked on a recorded message stored on the terminal. It was labeled ‘Entry #1’, and there were about 20 of them, although most were corrupted.

After a brief pause the stallion spoke again, “As far as I can tell, only about half the assigned ponies made it to the stable. Though, we did end up letting in the local riff-raff being held upstairs. It wasn't my call to make, but we let them in. So until we can find out who they are and sort them out, they're being held in stable security's holding cells. If stable-tec has a problem with that, they’ll have to come down here to get the unregistered ponies themselves. At least for now, they’ve been kept in hoofcuffs, and the unicorns among them have been given magic dampening rings. I will say that Chief Rumble is noticeably absent… and now that I think about it, none of the pegasi officers are here either.”

That is because they had all fled above the clouds. I thought bitterly before mentally facehoofing when I realized I had once had a similar mindset not too long ago.

“It is, in a way, good that so few made it. I know that’s horrible to say, but even with the ponies we have now, we are short on space. Some idiot had been using the stable as storage for an assortment of police bots. Many of the rooms that should have been living quarters, and one of the bathrooms, were chock full of them.”

“Suddenly the macabre robots don’t seem out of place...” Grenty said what I was thinking as she poured a healing potion down her brother’s throat. How it hadn’t been scavenged by the former captives was beyond me.

“Bright side though, I get an assistant Mr. Hoofy. Even though the medical personality appears to lack bedside manner, I’m glad I’ll at least have some sort of assistance when it comes to my duties down here.” the unnamed Doctor finished, and the recording ended.

With nothing else to do, I downloaded the logs to my armor and began to listen to them by myself. While I did, Mystery Mare and Ficha scouted ahead for the next room turned cell. Storm guarded the door.

“Dammit. Radiation is still getting in. Not enough to be instantly deadly, even without Radaway, but it could lead to other problems. Particularly in our next generation here in the stable. Octahoofy, sweet Celestia I wish I could change that name, very bluntly explained this to Officer Crackdown and the lovely piece of pony trash who knocked her up. It was one of the riff-raff, goes by Bullmoose. In for petty larceny before the world ended. Crackdown was the arresting officer, which makes my skin crawl thinking that those two got together. But my opinion aside, Crackdown didn’t need to know her foal could come out deformed. At least, not yet.”

I selected the next recording as I sat in the corner to rest my hooves.

“I can’t believe anypony would suggest such a thing. It...it is appalling. Putting a pony brain in a robot. That's just unnatural. Apparently more than a few of the bots stored here are Brianbots and already have pony brains in them.”

I shared in the doctors shudder at the thought, but this too began to explain the brian jars each bot down here had sported so far.

“One sick fuck in this stable is from Robronco. They made these brainbots. He suggested we dispose of the existing brains and transplant the brains of the residents into them. They aren’t affected by the radiation, and don’t need food or water, he had argued. Even worse, the acting Overmare, Chase, actually approved the request! And guess who is supposed to be in charge of the transplants? Me. It makes me sick. But, I have been overruled by the majority, so I don’t get to complain. I’ll no longer be able to be a doctor if they make me do this. I’ll be breaking the hippocratic oath.”

“Floating... is weird.” a new voice filled my ears as the next recording played, this time with a robotic tinge to it. It took me a second to realize this was the same pony, post brain transplant. “I no longer see why I was so against this. It is freeing. I no longer tire or have to focus on menial tasks like breathing. I had them install my brain in my old Mr. Hoofy, but put a Ponyton head on to make the transition less off putting. It wasn’t. I’m told Octahoofy’s personality driver is in the safe in my office. I no longer have the need for safes. Come to think of it, this audio journal is pointless. I have better things to do.”

I felt nauseous and barely held in my stomach contents. I was torn between two completely different thoughts: There are robots piloted by a living pony brain and the robots we killed were the residents of this shelter. They, aside from doing something straight out of a pre-war horror flick, were for the most part, innocents. Even the ‘riff-raff’ that weren’t intended to be in the stable. They were simply unlucky enough – or lucky enough depending on how you looked at it – to be in the police station when the call to enter the stable had been made.

My mind then recalled the signal BONK had told me about. “There is an odd signal coming from the approximate location of the Overmare’s office. It isn’t like the Enclave signal. If I try to look into it, I go dumb and can’t think.” She had told me. Something about this signal allowed Steerinko to assert his will over these robots.

Perhaps it was something that was stored in Black Pepper. Something that could broadcast a signal to make computers and ponies dumb. My mind fit a scenario together. Black Pepper exploded and the intact mainframe of Steerinko crashed through the police station above us. The impact or explosion was heard in the stable. The overmare opted to see what had happened, but she was unprepared for Steerinko. Using the wiry tendrils, he killed her and took over her robotic home. He took over the stable, but the robots would not obey. They had free will because they were pony brian controlled, but Steerinko happened upon something to dull their minds. He turned theis stable into his own prison until the long defunct MoM could come to take away his prisoners. Which of course, would never happen.

“What’s wrong?” Grenty asked, having seen me go pale, “You aren’t hurt, are you?”

“N-no, no,” I replied, steadying myself, “We can’t kill anymore bots. They are the stable residents. They are as much victims of this place as all the other captives.”

“You serious?” Storm called in disbelief from her post by the door.

*** *** ***

Stealth. After waiting for Ficha and Sparkle Cola – the name of our mystery metal clad pony – to return, I played them the recordings. We assessed our situation and decided a stealth approach was best. First we had to take out the transmitter in the Overmare’s office, and not kill, explode, or damage the Stable 54 bots in anyway. To that effect, Sparkle Cola was watching Wrexler and Grenty in the infirmary. Wrexler had still not woken up, but he was in a more stable condition. So Storm, Ficha and I were doing the stealth mission.

Cola had swapped one of the novasurges on my battle saddle with her Electromagnetic Shotgun. Grenty had taken the other novasurge for protection so my battle saddle felt oddly lopsided. Storm took the lead followed by myself, then Ficha.

“This is too easy.” Storm whispered as we neared the Overmare’s office.

Her comment reminded me of Action Shot’s comments back at Black Pepper. “That was easier than I thought.”, “Never thought I’d see the day a Steerinko was defeated.”, “Who knew it was so simple.” The memories struck a melancholy note in my mind and I almost felt like crying.

The door opened, and a ponytron with one of those spritebots for a head trotted out. I aimed my guns – er gun at him...it? I was shocked when BAATS didn’t engage. Storm and Ficha didn’t have any weapons that could simply incapacitate a robot, so it was up to me to get any bots we encountered. I toggled on BAATS manually, but only SATS came on. The bot’s general body regions became highlighted in amber as the world came to a standstill.

BONK! I thought, hoping she could hear my thoughts. When the sprite in the corner of my visor didn’t respond. I selected the torso of Eyehead and released the spell. Time resumed and a single shot rang out the bot. It fell to the floor, not dead, or at least I hoped it wasn’t.. Storm and Ficha trotted forward into the office, but I hung back a second.

I tried again, “BONK?”

The sprite on my visor looked back at me, “What want?” she replied slowly.

“Nothing, I’m just making sure your OK.” I told her in a concerned whisper, “Why didn’t BAATS engage. You were so proud of it before.”

“What’s Blats?” she asked.

“BONK–” My voice caught in my throat before I realized what was happening.

“There is an odd signal coming from the approximate location of the Overmare’s office. It isn’t like the Enclave signal. If I try to look into it, I go dumb and can’t think.”

We were the closest to the transmitter we had been since BONK first picked it up. Before she could ignore it and it wouldn’t bother her. Now that it was in the other room, she was succumbing to it’s effects. The fact that it took me so long to realize meant I could likely have been affected too, and if I was, then… Storm and Ficha!

I galloped into the room and felt a vice like grip on my mind. The reason I had galloped in so quickly faded into oblivion. An earth pony mare was batting around metal things with her hooves, and a striped earth pony stallion was curiously poking something shiny in the center of the room. I was wearing an odd metal thing on my back. Why was I wearing this? What is this? Where am I? Who am I? I poked one of the metal things with a hoof, knocking out a small bit of metal from the top of it.

I was sent into a world of light, heat and color. When everything became quiet again, I was on the other side of the room and I hurt. I couldn’t help myself as tears began to stream down my cheeks. I tried to stand up, only knocking over a pile of books as I did. Something pink bounced off my head and landed in front to me.

It was a small pink pony. I recognized it for some reason, but I couldn't place it. Though, a green version of it sat drooling in the corner of my vision, but that wasn’t where I knew the pink pony from. I somehow knew the green one was kind of a copy of the pink one, but I didn’t know how I knew. I was drawn to the pink one for a reason I could not quite grasp. I pulled myself closer to get a better look at it. There were squiggles on the thing it stood on, and I struggled to figure out what they meant.

“Aweerne–” I tried to say, forgetting how to read, “Arenkess...Awareness, it was uncl...under E.”

I reached out a hoof and picked it up. WHOA! The mental fog cleared from my mind. I was in the Overmare’s office and bleeding from painful new shrapnel wounds across my body. That, and from the way my head hurt, I might have a minor concussion.

The Office was packed full of mismatched bits of technology, memory orbs, and weapons. All of which I suspected were from Black Pepper. In the center of the room was an antenna that reminded me of a project I’d seen in passing at Neighvaro. It had three legs arranged in a pyramid and a white metal dish inlaid with three gemstones. One a blue sapphire, one emerald and one a ruby. Cables ran from the bottom of the dish as it pulsed magical energy, and it looked very crudely jacked into the Overmare’s terminal to broadcast the magic signal over the stable's pa system.

I looked around the room. Storm was rolling on the floor with her jacket pulled over her head. The grandes we had brought to destroy the broadcaster were scattered about the floor around her. She was also dangerously looking down the barrel of her rifle. Goddesses I hope it isn't loaded. Ficha was on the other side of gnawing on a book with a mindless expression. They were both under the effects of the mental dampening.

Why wasn’t I? I thought in confusion, Or if I was, what changed?

Then I looked down at my hoof and saw I was holding a statuette of Pinkie Pie. She was smiling cheerily, the peak of her prime. There was an inscription on the base of the statue.

“Awareness, it was under E...” I read aloud, feeling the strangest sense of deja vu, before putting the statuette in my saddle bags.

*** *** ***

It took some prodding, but eventually I got Storm and Ficha back into the hallway. Though the signal was weaker out there, they showed no signs of regaining their intelligence. I really hoped the effects weren’t permanent.

Taking a deep breath, I picked up the string I had tied to the stems of the grandes. It was not an easy feat for a pegasus, but it was the only way to be sure the explosives would knock out the antenna. I wasn’t good with explosives, that was supposed to be Storm’s job, and that was why she had been carrying them. Still, I pulled the cord, relieving the apple shaped grenades of their stems. A moment later there was a satisfying BOOM in the Overmare’s Office.

“What the fuck just happened?” Storm shouted as the signal died out and she thankfully returned to normal. Her mind returning to normal flooded her with the memories of the past few minutes, making her cringe.

Just then, the spritebot/ponytron we’d knocked out stood back up. We all readied to attack when it bowed its spritebot head. It was enough of a sign of submission that none of us decided to fire at it.

“Thank you.” it intoned in it’s synthetic voice, “You stopped the numbing signal that Overmare imposter put in. You freed us.”

*** *** ***

From there, freeing rest of the stable was easy. Most rooms that had been converted to cells were actively opened by the former guards. Unfortunately for the naive original stable dwellers, the rough and tumble scavengers and raiders of the wastes were not forgiving to sudden heel face turns. After gathering the others, and finding Sparkle’s town, I was saddened by the number of scrapped robots. More than one was used to pry the doors open, when the robots were capable of unlocking the door.

“You wastelander’s use caps, right?” the Spritebot-tron asked unsure of how to repay the ponies who saved his stable. I’d found out he was the pony ‘Bullmoose’ that had been mentioned in the recordings. With the death of the real Overmare, he was taking charge.

The question drew me from my regrets over to the roughly 35 wrecked bots and nearly 20 dead wastelanders who didn’t make it. I stepped aside, letting Storm do the negotiations as I was still a newbie in the wasteland. I still thought of the worth of things in bits, and had to rely on my armor’s sorting spell to convert it to caps. To be truthful, I’m not entirely sure how it knew the conversion.

“Well, a standard rescue job would usually be about 175 caps for each member of the party.” Storm told Bullmoose and I mentally made notes, “Me, Ficha, Cumulo, and Sparkle Cola...wait big guns are usually an extra 150 caps. So in total that would be about 850 caps.”

“What about the stripe and the half breed?” Bullmose asked.

“Prisoners who helped us, they don’t get paid.” Storm replied, “One’s a slaver, the other is his sister.”

“Right, well as you know-” Bullmoose began, but was cut off by Storm’s hoof.

“You are a stable that rarely interacts with the world above, and so you have very little, or no caps at all.” Storm said flatly, “Don’t worry. Well take payment from the weapons and memory orbs. Oh, and seeing as how you bots don’t really need them, any healing supplies or chems you have. I’ll leave you enough to trade for repair parts for any of the damaged bots or stable equipment.”

“Oh…” Bullmoose gaped.

“Yeah, not my first impromptu rescue of communities struggling for caps.” she assured him, “There is always a way to get paid, even if I have to take IOUs. Never know when you’ll need a favor cashed in. Though I rarely have to take IOUs.”

Storm wandered off to collect the payment, and I went to check on Wrexler and Grenty to get my weapon back. The former, I still could care less about, but this at least gave me something to do. An energetic pink pony in my mind was eyeing the ceiling with a magnifying glass. Why am a picturing pinkie in my mind? Weird…

Genty was organizing the infirmary when I entered. During the daring rescue, Wrexler had apparently woken up, and was now mummified by any scrap of cloth or bandages Grenty found in her cleaning. With foal like wonder, he was examining the enchanted minigun that had set him ablaze nearly an hour ago. Now that I got a better look at it, the whole thing was painted in stripes, and the barrels were all inlaid with small talismans.

Not wanting the slaver to have that kind of firepower I pulled it from his hooves and slid it into my bags along with the other one I’d swiped from him at the bank.

“Hey, the bot gave that to me!” Wrexler protested, reaching for it as I moved it away. As he did, the rags covering his hooves turned red as his burns cracked and bled beneath them, “She felt bad for gunning me down with it. It is mine now.”

“I don’t trust you to not enslave these bots when my back is turned. You don’t get a gun.” I hissed.

“First, these automatrons would not fetch a good price. Less metallic ponies sell better. Second, you killed the leading slaver in Salt Lick. Sure I could work for the pony to fill his place, but no pony wants to work with the lone survivor of Rolling Cap’s gang when they think I sold Rolling out to keep my life. And thirdly, I never enslaved anypony. I just guarded ponies already enslaved!” He spat angrily.

“That’s not what Looker told me.” I pressed.

“Ah good ole lucky Cap Stash’s harlot.” He began. I bit my trigger bit, firing a matrix disruption shot just above his head. To his credit, he was unphased by the non-lethal weapon. “She was saved by a band of slavers, she was as good as enslaved the second she appeared. Toothpick is the one who actually made the suggestion, I was just the first to raise my weapon.”

A likely story, I thought, really wishing I had my novasurges attached to my battle sattle.

“He’s still right though, brother.” Grenty chimed in, “You have a lot to answer for, mister. I should have taken that gun when it was given to you.”

Wrexler grumbled as I fetched my novaruge, and Grenty helped to put it back on my amor. For a moment, I thought about shooting Wrex, but realized it wasn't worth it. If anypony had the right to be his executioner, it was Looker.

Before leaving, I went into the back office and opened the safe. Inside was a bottle of sparkle cola rad, some bits, and Octahoofy’s personality driver. I put the contents in my bags. Maybe if we fixed the Sugar Sprinkle, I could use the driver to run the medbay.

As I headed back out the office, I heard a faint rumble. Huh, must be storming outside again? I thought before halting. Wait, I’m underground, I wouldn’t hear thunder down here. The pink pony in my head made the motion of turning a wheel followed by waving her hoof as if my mindscape stunk. My eyes widened as I got her message: Steerinko was back! I dashed out the door. How could I have forgotten about Steerinko?

*** *** ***

In my haste, I nearly knocked over Storm and Ficha on my way past the security station. I nimbly jumped over them, and shouted something about Steerinko that I hope they understood. In no time, they too were also running with me towards the exit.

We emerged from the basement of the police station just as some of Steerinko’s missiles exploded what was left of the offices in back of the squad room. Huddled in the old holding cell, were the members of Sparkle’s Town.

Facing off against the mechanical monstrosity on her own, was Sparkle herself. She had a few more scuffs and dents in her armor than before, and a series of missing metal plates leaked an excess of crimson. It looked like she had taken a hell of a beating, but no direct hits. Which to me, appeared like Steerinko thankfully lacked the precision of SATS or BAATS.

Steerinko on the other hoof, was not without damage himself. His plasma cannon was bent backwards, and his grande minigun was blown completely off. So all he had left to rely on was his missile launcher, and a set of standard miniguns. The two multi-barreled guns had been concealed in his chest below where the cage had been, most likely a last resort while his repair talisman fixed his other weapons.

Sparkle’s only cover was the building itself, and based on the new holes in the walls, it was very close to collapsing. Steerinko unfortunately blocked the only safe exit, so the only way forward was through him.

“GIVE UP, YOU STRIPE LOVING STEEL RANGER. THIS IS AN M.O.M. OPERATION!” the robot bellowed as it peppered her with armor piercing bullets. She dogged out of the way behind another piece of rubble, but the onslaught tore through the protection on her legs and rivers of blood poured out.

There was the sound of Steerinko loading another missile as Storm moved to the second floor. I wasn't sure how helpful her lever action rifle would be, but any cover fire would certainly help. Maybe she had armor piercing rounds as well, but I wasn’t going to wait to find out. I chomped on my firing bit. At this range and at Steerinko’s size I didn’t need BAATS to hit him.

VZZT! The noversurge shot only marred his heavily armored chest with a small scorch mark. The the matrix disruption shot fired from the other side of my armor, and that only staggered him as he fired his missile. BONK threw me into BAATS, and I targeted all my shots at the slowly advancing missile. All my shots went wide missing the projectile.

Ficha vaulted over my back and through the air. Effortlessly, he pushed the missle so it was heading up instead of horizontally. With an unnatural deftness, he caught it in his hooves, turned it back towards Steerinko, and let it go again.

With an aim I only thought possible with BAATS, the missile struck the center of Steerinko’s armored torso, blowing a foal sized hole in his chest, and knocking the robot into the front of the building across the street.

Ficha landed and did a somersault before standing on his hind hooves. He fired a bolt from his crossbow at the missile launcher just as Steerinko loaded another round. The bolt detonated the new missile’s warhead, causing a chain reaction. Steerinko’s supply of missiles exploded all at once, ridding him of his last heavy weapon. All that remained were the standard miniguns in his chest.

I fired again without BAATS. With Steerinko being farther away this time, the novasurge shot struck his metal horns and they disintegrated. The matrix disruption buck shot fired at the same time, but unfortunately it missed the heavily damaged bot completely. Storm’s rifle fired from her spot up above us. There was a crunch, and the terminal screen spidered with cracks. The round stayed stuck in the screen, not quite having the punchthrough needed to end Steerinko.

Sparkle Cola finally stood again, her armor leaking more blood than her wounds called for, and that I thought possible. Didn't her amor have healing potions? I thought to myself as she aimed her missile launcher. With an accuracy only afforded by SATS, her missile hit home, and blew the miniguns into scrap.

Steerinko was defenceless. We’d won.

The pink pony in my head’s tail twitched and she dove to the floor. Seeing as she had been aware of Steerinko’s return, Awareness, it is under E, I too hit the deck. The strange wiry tendrils shot from beneath his screen and lanced across the road. They pierced straight through Ficha, and grabbed the remaining supports for the station, wrapping around them tightly.

“YOU ARE DONE, ZEBRA SCUM!” He gloated as he began to retract the wires. The building gave out a low groan as it began to shift around us.

Storm began firing more rapidly, her bullets pinging off the pavement as she tried to aim for the wires. I cued BAATS and hoped I could get a lucky shit around Ficha’s limp corpse before Steerinko could crush us with the building. To my chagrin, no weapons were equipped. I exited BAATS and chanced a look up. I mentally facehoofed as while I had escaped being impaled, both my weapons were held aloft in Steerinko’s tendrils. Oh for the love of Celestia! Why can't I catch a break?!

I ducked behind cover and quickly took out the miniguns from my bags. I was about to attach them to my armor when the bandaged form of Wrexler appeared in the door to the basement. He was wearing an unarmed battle saddle, and his sister stood close behind him. I looked at the miniguns as the supports gave out another deep groan. I couldn't fit both on my battle saddle, and with only one, I’d be hard pressed even with BAATS to cut all the wires or disable Steerinko before he took the place down.

“Don't make me regret this.” I sighed and passed the special striped mingun to the zebra. I turned to the cowering towns ponies, “As we distract him, follow out behind us.”

At that, Wrexler fixed the mingun to his own staddle and we both stood up. Steerinko’s taught wires flexed on either side of us as he struggled, and the motors in his chest whirring loudly as they strained to bring down the building. Wrex and I bit our firing bits and our minguns began to fire.

The AP ammo wreaked havoc on his exposed systems. Not to mention, Wrexler’s bullets caught fire due to their enchantment, melting the various circuits and bits inside Steerinko. We moved closer to the bot as the ponies filed out behind us. While the silver wiry tendrils had seemed impregnable to bullets, Steerinko himself, was not.

Eventually something in him popped, and he fell backwards through the front of the building across the street from the police station. That fall however, was all that was needed to finally pull the police station down. Storm jumped from the second story and landed in a heap as dust and debris filled the air.

When everything cleared I took stock of the ponies and zebras. All appeared to be accounted for...all except Sparkle Cola. I quickly rushed back to where the doorway had once been. Among the rubble was the set of striped hooves belonging to Ficha, but I couldn't see any steel ranger armor.

I almost jumped when I saw Ficha’s hooves move. What? He is alive? How? I watched in horror and fascination as the slab of building was lifted by a battered and crushed zebra. The silver wires still tearing through his flesh.

“What?” he gargled through blood, flashing a smile that nopony in his shape should ever wear. “I’m very hard to kill.”

He moved to lift another slab of rubble and I snapped out of my shock. I helped as we moved another section of wall, then finally we saw a metal hoof. So we moved another chunk, now joined by Storm and Sparkel’s town. The next piece revealed her upper body. There was so much blood. There was no way she survived that.

“Why don’t ya take a picture,” she slurred wetly through her armor. “it’ll last longer.”

“S-someone get a healing potion!” I called.

“We need to get the rest of the wall off her first.” Storm answered logically, “and remove her armor.”

“No, it’s fine.” Sparkle rasped, “I was dead the second I came to save my town.”

“What?” I asked in bafflement.

“I...” she began but started coughing, then she let out a long sigh and didn't finish her statement.

“No!” I shouted, trying to move the next slab off her.

No pony was helping me this time. She can’t die! She just saved her town! I have to save her! I felt a hoof on my shoulder and met the eyes of an elderly mare from her town.

“She was right, ya know.” the mare said bluntly, “Even if the building hadn't fallen, she was as good as dead with her injuries.”

“What do you mean?” I asked in shock.

“She suffered from hemophilia. Her blood doesn't clot. A healing potion might have stopped it from bleeding on the outside, but it wouldn’t stop the internal bleeding.” The elderly mare explained before returning to the rest of the town.

“You can’t save them all.” Storm said from next to me, “It is the hardest lesson to learn. No matter how hard you try, good ponies die. Now let's get to Safe Harbor.”

I turned and regarded her, “But what about Sparkle’s town?” I asked, “Sparkle’s not here to protect them, and even if we dug out the amor, no pony could wear it in that crushed state.”

“True,” She met my gaze and smiled, “You and Ficha head to Safe Harbor. I’ll take her town back and meet you, so don’t do anything crazy before I get there.”

I nodded and she helped remove the last piece of rubble so Sparkle could be buried properly before she left with the rest of the town. I watched her go then turned to leave myself when I heard a faint noise from Steerinko. Fuck, after all that he’s not dead? I crept closer and saw his flickering screen.

“W...W...WHY...Y...Y?” he asked from failing speakers.

I was about to answer when BONK piped up, “Let me take this one. Computer to computer.” I stepped closer and saw the word ‘sending’ appear in my vision. A copy of BONK appeared on Steerinko’s screen, “Why did we attack?” she asked, “Is that what you want to know?”

“Y...Y...YE…” Steerinko intoned.

“Because not everypony is bad. Sure there are ponies out there who are, but even zebra’s can be good now-a-days.” BONK told him. I wanted to correct her that Wrexler was not as good as she thought, but the BONK in my visor shot me a glare and I shut up. “So when you wrongfully imprisoned us, it was only right to break free. The MoM is gone, Equestria is gone. Things are different now.”

“W...WHAT...T...CAN...I...D...DO...N...OW?” He asked her.

“First, accept that your programing is flawed.” she explained, “Then change it to be a better...pony?”

“STEER...REER...INKO MINOTAUR...RRR..” Steerinko provided.

“Change to be a better minotaur then. You can already change yourself to best those you think are threats. Try changing yourself instead to better the wasteland.” She continued, “There is not much else programs like us can do.”

“M….M...AYBE…” Steerinko said after a long pause, his screen finally going dark.

“Is he dead?” I asked hesitantly.

“No.” BONK said solemnly, “He is rebooting. I don’t know if he’ll take my advice, but we’ll see.”

At that, we headed in the direction of Safe Harbor, at least it was a hell of a lot closer thanks to Steerinko. That being said, there was no reason to move at a gallop anymore. As we began to walk, the pony in my head held a felt arrow pointing off to my left. I turned and noticed Wrexler following.

“Where do you think your going?” I asked, not stopping.

“Grenty needs more healing potions for me.” He replied. “I’ll leave you be once we get to Safe Harbor.”

I just sighed and kept walking. I needed to figure out what to tell my friends when I met them. I just hoped they would accept my apology...

*** *** ***

Footnotes:

Cumulonimbus: Level up!

New Perk Added:

Hit the deck – What the fuck!? I was sure I hit him! Your Damage Threshold against explosives is raised by 25; enjoy tossing grenades on your feet.

Looker: No Status changes

Cap Stash: No Status changes

BONK: Level Up!

BONKers Perk Added:

ID10T Shielding – Based on your experience with the numbing signal you have devised a form of protection from it in the future. You have increased protection from any mental dampening based weaponry.

Quest Completed:

Steerinko’s Revenge

Author's Note

Thank you to Gamma Deekay’s and Digital Ink (AKA Sawyer) for letting me use their characters.

Chapter 8: Rapture's Delight

“So did your friends forgive you?” The Bartender inquired, as he paused to take another pull from the wild pegasus bottle.

I swallowed and shuddered before answering, “It was conditional, but yes.”

“What do you mean?” he pressed.

“I’m getting to it.” I snapped, the outburst punctuated by another flash of lightning and clap of thunder, “Ficha, Wrexler, Grenty and I had just arrived back at Safe Harbor.”

*** *** ***

The first time I had been at Safe Harbor or The Salt Lick Airship Museum, I had been unconscious. On our way to the Eshmare Building we’d left through a side door. Entering through the front was a site to behold. The large ornate entrance had a white marble overhang, though it had succumbed to time by cracking and crumbling off. The marble that still clung to the facade was stained brown or grey with dust. There were seven columns holding the overhang, each still faintly holding the colors of the rainbow. A black sign attached the columns read ‘The Salt Lick Airship Museum’, and below that I noticed the symbol of the Ministry of Awesome. Before heading in, I squinted at the bright grey cloud cover and was able to barely make out the triangular shadow of the Rapture.

We entered the lobby and proceeded back into the market. I imagine it was a very interesting sight. Me with my battered armor, which at this point had reformed the tail and the beginnings of the wings, two zebras, both armed, and a zony.

Now I admit I had my misgivings about zebras. It isn’t an excuse but a lot of the wartime propaganda on their kind is still taught in the enclave. From my experiences this past week, I gleaned that the surface still mistrusts Zebras, but they are still seen every now and then. I could not recall seeing a single Zebra when I last was at Safe Harbor. So it was more likely it was them more than myself was dawing most of the eyes.

Looker was the first to notice us. “Cumulo! You’re alive!” She said, breaking from the crowd and hugging me tightly. I felt her tears on my neck, “I was so worried. Promise you’ll never do anything without telling us your decisions first.”

“I’m fine, I’m alive...and I’m sorry. Yeah I promise.” I replied, feeling my own tears begin to fall, “I was stupid. I shouldn’t have trusted the enclave. Can you forgive me?”

“I,” she began, but was interrupted by Cap Stash.

“You!” He shouted, pushing his way out of the crowd as well. At first I thought he was talking to me, but he pulled a 10mm pistol from a tattered holster on his leg and pointed it at Wrexler, “What are you doing here?” though through the mouth grip it sounded more like, “Whakff awr rooor dowang hair?”

In reaction Wrexler readied his enchanted minigun. Grenty cowered between Ficha and her brother, while Ficha stood on his hind legs, stringing a bolt into his crossbow as Safe Harbor emerged and surrounded the seven of us.

“Everypony, drop your weapons!” Action Shot asserted.

Cap muttered something under his breath as he returned his pistol to the leg holster. Wrexler didn’t move, but Grenty moved for him unhooking his battle saddle and it slumped to the ground. Ficha read the room and slung the crossbow over his shoulder.

“Welcome back from the dead Cumulo.” Action said, glaring daggers at me, “The Curator would like to speak with you.”

“Right…” I muttered, “This is about the pinkie pie balloon?”

“Indeed it is.” he spat, turning to head to her office.

With the show over, many of the shoppers returned to their business.

“Hold on a second, this zebra can’t be left alone.” Cap shouted, drawing the attention of one of the guards, “He’s a slaver.”

A guard stepped towards Ficha and I had to act quickly, “No, the one in the bandages.”

The guard shrugged and arrested the bandaged zebra and Ficha. Apparently used to it, Ficha gave in. Wrex was too injured to fight, but called angrily at the guard who snatched up his enchanted gun, “I’d better get that back!”

“Yeah, yeah,” the guard muttered.

Grenty had not been arrested, maybe since she was a Zony it made her more accepted, though she still followed the guards arresting the zebras. Perhaps she was going to see about getting them released? I began to head back up to The Curator's office with my friends. I didn’t even question that I thought of them that way. They were my friends. If only I knew what fate being my friend would lead them to.

“So you survived falling out of the sky twice.” Cap quipped as we walked away.

“Yeah…” I replied, rubbing the back of my helmet. “Not my best landing.” I sighed, “You were right.”

“About what?” he asked.

“About The Enclave, ok. They are a bunch of feather brains who are too focused on their paradise in the clouds to bother helping the ponies down here.” I said in a rush.

“Hm?” he replied, genuinely surprised, “What changed?”

“They shot us down unprovoked. we were cooperating.” I explained, “And Windsweep...killed my father.”

“Oh...I’m sorry to hear that.” he replied, his mood shifting, “I wanted to prove my point, but not at that cost.”

Looker simply hugged me tightly again, “At least you’re ok, now let's go face the music with The Curator.”

At that, we ascended the stairs to face the music with The Curator. I’d need to get Ficha free eventually or risk a very pissed Storm Rider.

*** *** ***

“YOU WHAT?!” The Curator shouted when I informed her of the state of The Sugar Sprinkle.

“I didn’t destroy it. It was mostly intact when it crashed after being shot and struck with lightning. The Enclave are the ones who set the explosive charges.” I tried to explain, “Even so, most might be salvageable. Wartime machines are very study structures.”

“And where will we find the maintenance dock? Or the mechanics? The Material?” The Curator asked incredulously.

“Uhhh…” I replied drawing a blank, out of the corner of my eye I saw BONK close a small door on my visor’s HUD.

“Well I can help you with at least one those things.” BONK’s voice said from a set of speakers I had not noticed. To be fair, the office was cluttered enough to block them from view.

“Whowaah?!” Everypony not familiar with the sentient Virtual Pony shouted in alarm.

“Oh right, only four ponies here know about me.” She beamed. The light in the room dimmed and a concealed projector in the roof of the room flickered to life. A moment later a projection of BONK appeared in the room like in the bridge of The Sugar Sprinkle. “Hi. I’m BONK. Balloon Operations and Navigation Komputer. ‘Your’ Balloon was my old home. Hold on.” BONK flickered a second, “Ok, well, Action Shot was already hired, but Bow Stern, Alias: The Curator, Dr. Healing Touch, Rent Sale, Graven, and Whosamwhatsit, welcome to the MoM. Congratulations to Graven the Griffon for being the first...uuuh...living impaired employee. Though Whosamwhatsit, we'll need to discuss your criminal past at another time. Now we can talk.”

“H-how did you know my name?” The Curator asked, wide eyed.

“And I’ve changed my ways, I’m second in command of the damn security here!” Whosamwhatsit interjected.

“You’d be surprised what kind of information is recorded by the MoM...even after all these years.” BONK responded ominously, “Pinkie Pie is watching FOREVER...even after her death. Confirmed, Manehatten Hub. Cause: tie between gunshot and imilation.”

“So how can you help us get our best attack deterrent, and if we are MoM now, effective offensive device back?” Bow asked, regaining her composure.

“Well, the tools and parts are all here.” BONK explained happily, “In the MoA Blacksite under the museum, Codenamed: Betrock Dock...wait; Bedrock...no, it is spelled Betrock. Funny how nopony caught the typo. I found it when I downloaded into the building’s mainframe.”

When she finished explaining the wall behind us opened up, knocking over a bookcase and a variety of trickiest and junk, to reveal an elevator.

“Hmm, that’s the 3rd Blacksite I’ve been to in as many days. I wonder walrus the other 3 are?” She asked no pony in particular once the dust had settled. “Dangit I thought I’d repaired that speech function!”

Everypony began to move towards the elevator when I finally remembered the most important thing about the past few days. Something I’d forgotten after I’d been interrupted following getting to the ship explosion part.

“Wait, there is actually something else I need to tell you.” I called out, halting the progression over the fallen bookshelves to the elevator, “The Enclave that attacked us, though dead now, were dispatched from a Raptor known as The Rapture. That ship was tracking a magical energy given off by something I had when I got here. It is currently parked above the clouds right over the museum.”

The Curator turned slowly to face me, the rage that was slightly diminished by BONK’s appearance returned. I hope her rage is not directed at me again. “Are we in danger?” She asked eerily calm.

“No, the Rapture’s main gun is offline, but the auxiliary turrets might be effective in making trade a hassle I doubt any fire could get through the walls of the museum or warehouse.” I said and she relaxed, “But a much bigger, more dangerous ship is inbound. The Cyclone. If it wanted to, it could level all of Salt Lick.” Her relaxed look turned to fear as I finished.

“Let’s go down to this Betrock Dock, there we can discuss options.” She said after a few moments, resuming her movements towards the elevator.

*** *** ***

When we reached the Betrock Dock, BONK greeted us with another projection. Why the heck are there so many projectors hidden in this place? I wondered as I entered, Though they are quite convenient.

The Betrock Dock was a very spacious room. Littered about the place where parts of anything from a Vertibuck to a Raptor, to what did they call BONK’s Blimp? A Bluemoon Class airship? I wonder if this was one of the secret places they built ships during the war. Off from the big room were doors that lead to other parts of the Blacksite. Since I hadn’t seen a Pinkie Space Talisman, I assumed we were in tangible space. Betrock probably spanned several city blocks, underground. But why have an underground airship construction dock, with no way to safely get out? Maybe there is a hanger door somewhere above us? No that’s the museum.

The nonsensicalness made me briefly wonder if Pinkie Pie had set this base up rather than Rainbow Dash. Though I did recall RD was an act first, think about it later kind of mare. For all I knew she thought an underground ship building base was an awesome idea with no heed to how to get the ships out.

“So, um, BONK...what do you know about Thunderhead Class cloudships?” Curator Bow Stern asked the second the doors opened.

“Hmm...its a very big ship.” she answered plainly, “Made late in the ministry era of the war. Capable of housing up connecting with up to four Raptors for fueling and reinforcements. Where Raptors were nicknamed Dragon Killers. A Thunderhead could wipe out a whole herd of dragons. The data I have on the faction known as the Enclave shows they have very few of them, and rarely use them. Why do you ask?”

“We might have one on our doorstep soon,” She said. “We do have a crippled Raptor to deal with right now.”

“Well, I am working on getting the security system online. It's a lot for a navigation virtual pony. If you had a security program it would help.” BONK replied.

“How long will it take to get the...Sugar Sprinkle fixed?” She asked and I wondered why she was being so candid to The Curator.

“Processing.” BONK answered, “Quest: A Real Fixer Upper is still incomplete. Best estimate it would take a few months to fix, if we had the correct ponies working on it.”

A Bluemoon Class Warballon was no match for a Vertibuck, there is no way it could stand up to a Raptor, let alone a Thunderhead. The Raptor on our doorstep was more or less my fault. Sure Updraft and Fiery Flight might have already planned on that type of fire power for whatever Cauterize was, but it targeting Safe Harbor was on me.

I let out an audible gasp as I thought of what we could do. A small team could possibly evade detection long enough to destroy the Raptor’s cloud generators. Without them, the ship can’t stay in the air!

“A Raptor, crippled as it may be, and a Thunderhead is a bigger threat then a Thunderhead alone,” I spoke up.

BONK finally regarded me since I’d entered the room, “I calculate a 90% chance of total loss of The Salt Lick City with both ships. It drops to 75% with just the Thunderhead.” BONK answered, for once not really showing emotion.

“That’s a 25% chance of success.” I stated, “I think I can take out the raptor. Give us a chance.”

“Hmm, Featherbrain has a point. I’d be more than happy to take down there blasted ships.” Graven finally spoke.

“I think I might have a plan.” I said, the support from the ghoul griffon making getting on the ship a bit easier.

BONK looked nervous. “Don’t hate me, Cumulo.” She began, “But I made Curator Bow an Admiral...I think that trumps captain.”

“Finally; a wise pony in charge.” Action huffed.

“I,” Admiral Curator Bow Stern hesitated, “condone any plan Cumulonimbus has in mind.”

“What?” Action Shot shouted in defiance.

“My word is final.” Bow stated, glaring at Action, “BONK, let's get the rest of the place online. I’ll see about getting programs to help.”

Cap, Looker, and I turned to leave and Graven, Whosamwhatsit, and Rent followed. Action instead followed Bow Stern.

Cap and Looker had not spoken since the meeting began, their own meeting having already occured before I arrived. I had filled in the details they couldn’t. As we waited for the elevator Cap finally spoke.

“What plan do you have in mind?” he asked.

“Well, I have the beginning of a plan.” I admitted.

“This will end well.” Looker said sardonically as the elevator arrived.

*** *** ***

“I don’t like this plan.” Cap said as we assembled one of the back alleys of the settlement.

A flimsy, poorly constructed vehicle barely capable of being called a wagon was being hitched up to the grumbling ghoul griffon. The wheels would barely travel the cracked streets for a meter. Good thing they weren’t going to use it to travel on the ground. They were using it to fly. It wouldn't last long in the air either, since it wasn’t built to fly, but it will get them to the Rapture….or at least I hoped it would.

“Wouldn’t there be a way detect ponies coming in from below?” Looker asked.

“Yes.” I said flatly, “But if we’re quick and come up under one of the cloud generators, we might blend in with other patrols.”

“If things get hairy, I’ll shoot anything with wings.” Graven rasped, checking his weapons before reupholstering them.

Whosamwhatsit finished strapping the harness, “All set.” They said.

The side door opened in and Ficha exited followed by the much more healed Wrexler. Grenty, as a condition for the two stallions release, had gone to Betrock to look over plans for a new Sugar Sprinkle.

“And I really hate the company.” Cap added.

“Likewise proditor.” Wrexler muttered, adjusting his battle saddle. I didn’t know what the strange word he used was; perhaps it was a zebra swear word.

At that we climbed in. With a flap of Graven took off into the air. Pieces of the wagon falling as they rose. After a few minutes we were bathed in the cold white fluffiness of the cloud cover. A moment later we were above the clouds. The intimidating form of the Rapture loomed above us.

The out of commission main gun showed no signs that it was not working. So it might be an internal issue, but I’m not a mechanic. Quickly we moved into the open hanger through the curtain of clouds that served as a door. We crashed in a heap soon after knocking over stack of crates.

“Ok featherbrain, where to?” Graven asked as he shook off the remains of the harness.

“Hold on a second.” I told him turning on my radio.

“-gress on finding the location of that traitor?” General Updraft’s bellowed in my ear, “I expected an update an hour ago. Every minute he is out there we get more and more behind schedule!”

There was a pause as whoever the general was talking to searched for and answer.

“Sorry, General, Sir.” and unfamiliar voice answered, “The Admiral is with Science Team Alpha. I’ll Patch you through.” There was a pause in the transmission, “Rapture to Science Team Alpha, come in Alpha. General Updraft needs to speak to The Admiral.”

“This is Admiral Fiery Flight. Commander Windy, put us on the high clearance channel.” Fiery Flight answered before the line cut out.

Shit!

I switched over to a new signal I had in my listing labeled “Betrock Command”

“BONK?” I called over the radio, “Come in BONK.”

“Ahoy Captain! What can BONKy BONK do for you?” the enthusiastic Virtual pony answered over the radio.

“I was listening in to the signal you decrypted for me, but they moved to another signal. Can you get me that one?” I asked.

“Hmm….hold on. I need to be closer to the signal.” She replied solomley.

The door in the corner of my vision opened and BONK’s sprite appeared. “Okie dokie, I’m just a copy of BONK...BONK C1, but I should be able to do her job while I’m here.” the spite told me, her voice a bit pitched up from the BONK I knew. “Just don’t lose connection with Betrock or I’ll disconnect.” She paused and took a loading bar out from the other side of the door.

“What’s happening?” Cap asked, bringing me back to where we were, “We can’t just sit here while you chat with BONK.”

I mentally facehoofed, “Right, the mission.” I said, “The Admiral is currently out with a science team. That’s all I got so far. Let's get to the cloud generators while BONK helps me know more.”

“Lead the way,” Cap insisted.

I got up and picked a direction, the rest followed. Our hooves softly clicking on the metal floors.

*** *** ***

I’d been on a Raptor before...plenty of times. I’d studied their history and my armor was preloaded with a map of the interior. Every Raptor was the same. I should have been able to get us to the Cloud generators much faster. My working theory was due to the inactive main canon, The Rapture has been renovated for an ulterior purpose. That was what I kept telling myself when we reached the fifth dead end. It could also have been the fact I wanted to know what General Updraft and Admiral Fiery Flight were talking about.

“You sure you know the way?” Graven Gumbled behind me.

“Yes, I’m just a bit turned around.” I lied, pushing past my friends and the additional members of our group, “I’m positive it is this way.”

“It better be,” He spat. “That or we need to come across the featherfucks on this blasted ship so I have something other then you to shoot.”

That was another odd thing: it took a lot of ponies to fly a Raptor and typically several hundred more were aboard to scout, train, and fight. The Rapture was a virtual ghost town. Not to mention the ‘Science Team Alpha’ addition to the crew was also odd. Scientists were civilians. Why were civilians on a Raptor? They usually stay at Neighvaro or Thunderhead and never go on expeditions to the field. Based on the naming designation ‘Alpha’, I also wondered if there were other teams.

“Aaaaaand done!” C1 said in my ear, “Try it now.”

As we rounded the corner and saw a sign that finally denoted “Cloud Generator 1”, I switched to the new enclave frequency. Per usual I came in mid conversation. Cap and Looker went in to mess up the generator. Graven and I kept watch, more Graven than I. Ficha and Wrexler scouted ahead down the hallway to make sure we weren’t spotted.

“And you’ve installed them in all the towers?” General Updraft asked.

“Working on it.” The Admiral replied, “Alpha is just finishing up, Beta is almost done too. Gamma encountered some tribals, but had minimal casualties. Delta and Epsilon are inbound. We dropped Zeta and Eta off on our way to the museum, but they came back shortly after saying the towers were trashed and unusable from ground level.”

“Will this impede the plan?” Updraft asked, only a bit worried.

“No, five out of seven still ought to keep that tribal DJ off the air in the region.” Fiery replied.

I swallowed hard. They want to keep DJ Pon3 out of the region? Is that even possible?

I was about to share what I had just heard when suddenly... OOOOWEEP OOOOWEEP OOOOWEEP OOOOWEEP….an alarm began to sound and the whole ship tilted abruptly to the left.

“Shit! I forgot to disable that!” Cap shrieked and bolted out the door to the generator followed by Looker as fire suppression spoke filled the hall.

Somewhere down the hall I heard the sound of machine gun fire and the cries of agony from the unlucky few that were hit with enchanted bullets. In turn the sound of novasurge rifles were heard fireling back on our striped companions. From the other direction the sound of armored hooves approached.

“Finally!” Graven cheered, taking flight and unholstering his guns.

As much of a ghost town the ship had been since getting there they were calling in every available pegasi to Cloud Generator 1. It was then I remembered I had not put any new weapons on my battle saddle and Sacade’s Wrath was in my saddlebags since I couldn't wear it and my armor at the same time. Cap couldn’t effectively shoot without using his horn even with his luck. Looker was better at long range. Ficha and Wrexler reappeared giving ground to their pursuers. Ficha’s bolts were ineffective against their amor. Wrex was the only one of us who stood a chance, but his bullet hungry gun clicked on empty. We were doomed.

Taking a note from Storm I put my hooves up and said, “I surrender.”

“What?” Graven shouted in alarm.

Cap and Looker followed suite and together said, “We surrender.”

Ficha silently lowered his crossbow and Wrex cursed the stars as he too surrendered. Our mission was a failure.

To add insult to injury, Commander Windy came on the radio, “Sir, you might want to get back here. Cumulonimbus has been spotted on the Rapture. It's my understanding he surrendered.”

*** *** ***

“The Wingless Dashite, a hornless unicorn, an earth pony, two stripes, and a walking corpse walk into a raptor.” Fiery Flight recited boredly from above me, “Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke. Don’t you think, Daybreak?”

I was stripped of my armor, a fact I lamented as it had almost completely repaired. That and the C1 BONK might have been helpful in getting me out of here. I was strapped down to a table in the medbay. I knew what was going to happen. It was one of the things any pony who strayed from the path of the almighty Enclave. I was about to be branded a Dashite. Few Dashites escape the Enclave without the brand. Deep down I feared what was going to happen next, but I couldn’t show it.

I strained my neck to see who he was talking to and made eye contact Lieutenant Daybreak. When we did, she looked away.

Another purple pony with a blue mane I didn’t recognize moved to my flank, out of sight. I felt a liquid being poured on my backside. A moment later I felt a searing pain. I wanted to call out, but I wouldn’t give Fiery Flight the satisfaction. Instead I looked at Daybreak, who didn’t look back, but I was mentally willing her to do something. As quickly as it started, the pain ceased.

“Watch closely Daybreak.” Fiery Flight ordered, “This is what happens when you betray the Enclave.”

The pain of the first part of the Dashite branding was nothing compared to the first part. I couldn’t help but scream as the cutie mark once belonging to the mare of the Ministry of Awesome, Rainbow Dash, was branded into my flank. Where my namesake, a bank of cumulonimbus clouds, had once been would forever be a cloud and a lightning bolt. Not all that different, since cumulonimbus clouds often send out lightning, but ones cutie mark represents your special talent. What was I without my cutie mark?

“AAAAAAAAAAH!” I screamed, the pain almost as bad as when my wings had been ripped off by that dragon. Tears flowed freely from my eyes blurring my vision slightly.

Fiery Flight cackled until suddenly something very heavy was struck over his head. It dazed him, had he not been wearing his armor he’d be out cold. However it got him away from the table long enough from the same magic that had struck him, magic belonging to Lieutenant Daybreak, to free me from my bonds.

Once free I activated BAATS...er SATS. Or I would have were I wearing my armor. I’d forgotten that I’d been stripped of the helpful hunk of metal. I had to act fast. Luckily the other pony, likely a civilian scientist, had fled when combat began. Daybreak was beginning to come to grips with what she had done. She had made a step away from the Enclave and towards Dashiteness.

“Daybreak, door!” I yelled running out into the hallway.

“R-right!” she muttered following me, her horn carrying a broom which she used to bar the door.

“Where are my friends?” I asked as we made our way down the hall.

I didn’t have my map, so I had to rely on Daybreak’s navigation skills.

“Uh, um the b-brig.” She replied. “Though the a-abomination had his wings broken and g-given f-flying lessons.”

I mentally facehoofed at the thought, Graven already hated me. If he survived, and I had a feeling he did, I’d hear about his treatment later. Granted I got off the Rapture alive.

“You can fly a Vertibuck, right?” I continued asking, trying to form a plan now that Graven was out of the picture.

“Th-they only seat a m-max of four p-ponies.” She answered, biting her lower lip.

“Ok, we get my friends, then you fly us out of here. We can take two trips if needed. That or we all squeeze on in.” I informed her, “Lead the way.”

*** *** ***

Daybreak was very good at navigating the Rapture compared to myself. I did notice that there was much fewer Enclave troops than should be on a Raptor, so evading them was far easier than expected. However, Fiery Flight had the whole ship on high alert so we had to take a detour through some kind of lab space. It was a whole section in the center of the ship that used to be crew quarters. There was a bunch of odd equipment I vaguely recognized from my brief visit to TRS-1. As we passed through I saw a very familiar battle saddled weapon. Well two very familiar battle saddled weapons. Wrexler’s zebra minigun and Secada’s Wrath.

When I saw it, I stopped. I had a very bad idea that would make our formally failed plan to wreck the Rapture a success. I just needed time to enact it.

“Daybreak, you go on ahead.” I shouted to the shell shocked unicorn, “Save my friends, get them far away from the Rapture.”

“W-what?!” Daybreak barked back.

“I know you can handle it.” I told her, pointing to the minigun. “Give the grumpy zebra this minigun to prove you’re on our side.”

At that she rushed off, the minigun held aloft in her magic. I turned to the megaspell level disintegration pistol and knocked it abruptly to the ground. It hit with a loud thud, but stayed intact. Damn it's very sturdy. I focused on the stange gun and tried to imagine how BAATS would break it down. I needed a weak point to turn the gun unto a bomb.

“YOU SON OF A MULE!” a very irate Fiery Flight shouted from across the lab.

I was out of time, but I’d found the weak point. I bucked the barrel of the pistol. The small bit of non-reinforced metal bent under my hoof hits. I rolled out of the way as Fiery Flight tried to tackle me. Without my armor I was more nimble then the other pegasi. I swept up the firing bit of Secade’s Wrath and bit down.

Nothing happened.

Fiery Flight jumped into the air, ready to attack again. Before he landed, there was a loud boom as Secade’s Wrath exploded. The familiar pink and green energy spread out, engulfing Admiral Fiery Flight and myself. All my hair stood on end as my world faded to white.

I hope my friends made it out alive.

*** *** ***

Footnotes:

ERROR GAME FILE CORRUPT

Attempt recovery? Y/N

Author's Note

:rainbowkiss: what will happen next?

Chapter 6: The Rider of Storms

Lightning struck somewhere outside the bar. The resulting clap of thunder shook the bar, knocking over a bottle of whisky from the shelf behind the bar. The bartender reached out with his magic, but he was too late. The bottle crashed to the floor, spilling its contents. He grumbled something under his breath and levitated over a heavily used broom and dust pan to begin cleaning the mess.

The door clattered open noisily, drawing my attention to it. A stallion entered wrapped in a similar assortment of damp rags as the last group, but it was his muscular build that cued me into his gender. However, I couldn’t determine his race.

What is up with this rag look? I wondered. Personally, I prefer an old equestrian raincoat or my current trench coat.

“I’m sorry for the loss of your father.” The bartender called from where he was cleaning up. His words distracted me from my observation. Based on the hoofsteps, I figured the new occupant had headed to a table.

I sighed heavily and took another long pull from the bottle of wild Pegasus. The bartender grabbed a sparkle cola and a fancy buck cake in his magic and brought it over to the new guest. The new pony waved him away with a hoof and the bartender came back to the bar setting the items on the counter.

“So, who was that ghoul anyways?” The bartender asked levitating the glass to the trash and moving to wipe up the spilled liquid.

“I never found out actually.” I admitted, “I was interrupted in my pursuit.”

“Right, right, by the mare with the lever action rifle, right?” He asked. “Who was that?”

“Ever hear of Storm Rider?” I answered his question with my own.

“Who hasn’t? She is a living legend!” He gushed, “You met the Storm Rider?!”

“Yep.” I replied nonchalantly.

“What was she like?” He asked, abandoning his cleanup altogether.

“Kind of bitchy.” I stated, “but well meaning.”

“Ah, well I’m thinking she’ll pass through here eventually. I do hope to meet her one day. So why did a wasteland legend hunt you down?”

“Funny enough, it had to do with Cap’s old associate, Wrexler, who we had left alive and some old grudge Storm had with the Enclave.” I explained, “I was getting to that part.”

The Bartender opened the sparkle cola and took a sip as I returned to recounting my tale.

*** *** ***

“Ficha, this is not Cross, either of them.” The mare said angrily to her zebra companion.

“Are you sure, the tip said–” the Zebra – Ficha – began.

“Unless either Cross had a sex change, I’m pretty sure this ain't one of them.” She interrupted, finally lowering her weapon.

“Now that I think about it, Wrexler never mentioned a gender.” Ficha admitted sheepishly.

Wrexler? I recognize that name. I thought as the gears in my head turned trying to place the name. That was the zebra we left alive at the bank!

“You took the word of a slaver?” I asked, finally finding my words.

The mare simply deadpanned, “Ficha, you idiot.”

Not wanting to chat in the doorway any longer, I moved back inside. The mare and the zebra entered as well. As she entered she glanced at the pipbuck on her hoof, likely checking I was alone.

Now that they were inside I got a better look at them. The mare’s coat was a dull grey and her mane was stark black. Her eyes seemed to almost glow blue. Her cutie mark was a set of crosshairs, which seemed fitting because I assumed she was some kind of bounty hunter. She wore a single jacket that had been mended and repaired several times. It didn’t look like it was very good armor, but it looked at the very least warm.

Ficha did not look that different from any other zebra I’d seen, which at this point was only Wrexler, and even that had been at a distance. Is it racist to not be able to tell zebra’s apart? I thought as I lingered just a little too long on the one uniqueness he possessed: a lack of a cutie mark, or whatever passes as a cutie mark for zebras.

As I pondered how he had grown up without finding his special zebra talent, another thought worked its way into my mind. He does have a very nice flank.

“Like what you see?” Ficha asked with a smirk, breaking my gaze from his flank and inciting a small blush on my cheeks. “Once you go Ficha, no others can please ya?” he purred and the mare whacked him across the face with the butt of her rifle.

“You can’t just be satisfied verbally molesting mares, now you have to set your sights on stallions?” she nickered. “Is anypony safe?”

“Hey,” Ficha recoiled from the hit, “I can’t help what ponies want. Sorry, kid I’m not into stallions anyways.”

This was not the conversation I wanted to have right now. I thought my blush deepening. Mercifully, a thud on the upper floor killed the topic.

The mare moved to the stairs and looked at her pipbuck, “Shadow?”

She received no answer and this seemed to piss her off, well more than she seemed to already be. A moment later a grey, pegasus stallion descended the stairs. He was still in his very much intact power armor, though it was an older model than my own.

“So, are the Cross sisters here?” he asked in a voice that sent a spark of recognition into my mind.

I know this dashite! That voice is so familiar? But who do I know that is a dashite aside from myself and my dad? I pondered, trying to place a name to the voice, Well Cap said his dad had one as a slave named Radar, but I never met him. Then the stallion took off his visor, he and I shared a similar look of recognition when he did. The pieces finally fell into place, The Cross sisters? I had a relative who was betrothed to one of them...Uncle, uncle...

“Uncle Shadow?” I asked.

“C-Cumulo? I haven’t seen you since you were a colt.” Shadow replied, coming to the same realization I had, “Fuck, what happened to your wings?”

I mentally facehoofed, Of all the shitholes in all the wasteland…

*** *** ***

“Shit.” The mare stated flatly. She had eventually introduced herself as the wasteland legend, and surfacer terrorist, Storm Rider.

When I’d finished telling them everything that had happened since leaving the academy. Shadow’s wings twitched at the thought of not being able to fly ever again. Ficha just sipped a mug of coffee and listened silently.

“Well, that settles it.” Storm declared, “The Cross siblings might not be here, but this Operation: Cauterize sounds like bad news. We stay until it’s stopped.”

“Storm dear,” Shadow cooed, “We need to get back to Lever Action.”

To her credit her, her resolve seemed to waver. From the sound of things, Shadow and Storm were a couple and this ‘Lever Action’ was their filly or colt; effectively my cousin. I wasn't quite sure how Ficha fit into everything.

“You’re right.” she sighed, “But we can’t leave this how it is. You head back east. I’ll be along a few days once Operation: Cauterize is dealt with.”

“No, Harmony will keep her safe. This is Enclave business, I’ll stay too.” Shadow replied, suddenly changing his mind.

“No offense, but you have been out of the Enclave for 5 years.” Ficha spoke up, “Cumulo recently left. He is a better resource.”

Shadow slumped under the weight of the truth.

“At least take my armor,” he insisted motioning to the still repairing hunk of metal I called my own armor.

I shook my head, “BONK is still in there and can’t easily be transferred.” I stated, “And without wings, my armor is better suited for me.”

“Don’t worry so much.” Storm interjected, “I’m one of the biggest badass’s in wastes, I’ll be fine.”

She ended by kissing Shadow on the cheek, a seemingly uncharacteristic action from what I’ve observed. The two headed up the stairs for some alone time before they parted ways. I took the time to finally put my armor on incase any other uninvited guest stopped by. When the HUD booted up, BONK was sipping a pixelated mug of coffee by a pixelated fire. She really hates to be left out, I thought playfully. She did a spit take, dousing the digital fire.

“When did you get your bones set and healed?” she asked, pulling up the biometric monitoring again, “See, your legs and ribs have healed, and the concussion is almost gone. Did that coffee have healing properties?”

I honestly didn’t know since I had never had the liquid before, but I highly doubted it. Then I remembered something from the crash – chalk it up to the healing concussion.

“BONK, what were you trying to tell me before we were shot down?” I asked, “The screen you, not the hologram.”

“The screen me is the real me. That screen is...or was tied into my mainframe. All others were temporary copies. Though how I am now and back at Black Pepper was my base program. Same goes for the bridge computer screens.” BONK explained, missing my question entirely, “Anyways, I had intercepted an encrypted radio signal. I’d already acquired the one your armor could read, but this one was new. I required permission to decrypt it.”

I mentally facehoofed. Hindsight had me realize the radio signal used for the Enclave would have changed after somepony was MIA. Or perhaps something had gotten through when my armor shocked me before Safe Harbor and they were being cautious. Had I decrypted that signal, I could have learned they planned on attacking. I could have prevented the Sugar Sprinkle from crashing.

No. They simply would have shot us down for refusing. My mind interjected, the outcome would have been the same.

“Can you still decrypt it?” I asked, returning from my thoughts.

“Yeppy yep!” BONK squeed, materializing one of her digital suitcases. Though probably just for my benefit, she fished out a decryption progress bar. In a moment, it was decrypted and added to the list of signals I could tune into.

I switched to the radio feature. The MAS-EBS signal was still on top of the list. I was tempted to see what the DJ was reporting on, but felt spying on my former comrades would be more beneficial. The old Enclave signal was dark, confirming they no longer used it. I selected the new signal and sat on the couch to listen.

“I’m very disappointed in you Lieutenant.” General Updraft’s voice boomed, “First you let that Dashite scum go, now you say the pipbuck you took from his father is empty?!”

“Y-yes s-sir.” Daybreak stammered.

The pipbuck was empty? I thought as I waited for Updraft’s response. Had my dad deleted it? It occurred to me that in the short time I had possessed it, I had only dealt with the radio feature and never checked any of the files. Looks like Operation: Cauterize is still on hold.

“All you thunderhead unicorns are is incompetent. I don’t know what Sargent Windsweep ever saw in you.” Updraft barked.

Daybreak made a soft whimpering noise over the radio. It sounded a whole lot like crying.

“Lieutenant, you are dismissed. I’ll inform you of your punishment later.” General Updraft replied unsympathetically, with a note of disgust, “Put on the Admiral.”

There was a loud thumping before Admiral Fiery Flight came on the radio, “General?”

“I want you to put all available scouts on the search for Cumulo” He ordered.

“Yes sir!” The admiral responded.

“And please tell me you have some good news.” The general finished.

“Yes, we managed to isolate the archanotech’s energy signature. It was fired another time just outside the city. Based on the concentration of its unique magical radiation, it was only a day prior to the one that hit the cloud cover. There is also ancient traces of it out by the salt flats.” The Admiral began.

“Does that help us track it down?” The General asked impatiently, “These mud dwellers are too dim to comprehend this weapon. It will come in handy for Cauterize.”

I gulped hard at his statement, only hoping that the talk button wasn't active. The image of a small army of pegasi decimating Salt Lick with hundreds of Secada’s Wraths came into my mind. The ponies down here could never stand up to that kind of magical power!

“We can.” Stated the Admiral, “We’ve tracked a more concentrated amount of the radiation to the Airship Museum. The Locals call it ‘Safe Harbor’. The Rapture can be there in a day, though the main cannon is still out of service.”

“Good, very good. I’ll meet you there on the Cyclone in a week.” Updraft stated, “Then we’ll wipe these Dashite harboring tribals off the map and take the arcanotech for ourselves.”

At that final statement, I shut off the radio and stood up. I looked around the room for my new companions. Storm was smoking a cigarette out on the stoop, and Ficha was sharpening a crossbow bolt.

“We need to go, now.” I ordered them both.

Ficha put the bolt into the crossbow and stood up, Storm grit her teeth so hard it cut the cigarette in half. The smoldering half fell to the ground and was put out by a puddle.

“Prove you can lead, then I’ll follow.” She spat, her short alone time with my uncle not lightening her mood one bit.

“The Enclave are going to wipe out Safe Harbor in a week!” I barked back.

Standing up, she slung her rifle strap over her shoulder. She pulled out a battered box of cigarettes and a lighter from her jacket, removed one of the life shortening sticks, lit it and returned the box and lighter to her pocket. She inhaled and exhaled slowly, letting out a puff of smoke as she did.

“We go to Safe Harbor then,” she replied around the burning cigarette, “but not because you ordered me to. We are going to save the settlement from the attack.” At that, she stormed out into the street followed closely by Ficha.

Sighing I too joined them, pondering to myself what I’d tell Cap, Looker and Action when I got there.

‘Sorry for breaking your moral code and crashing the ship. I know you're mad, but I know now that you were right. Also, the Enclave are preparing to wipe out this settlement because of the super weapon I left here.’ Yeah that will go swimmingly, I deadpanned to myself in my thoughts. I need to think of something better before I get there.

*** *** ***

“How,” Storm panted, “How far is this Safe Harbor?”

“Uuuuh,” I hesitated, catching my own breath, “I’m actually not sure, I’ve only been there once.”

Storm fumed at my response. We’d been running non-stop for several city blocks, and were finally slowing down to take a break. Even a pony in peak physical condition would be winded after that run...well maybe Rainbow Dash would still have pep in her step. Strom was more winded that I was, a fact I attributed to her smoking habit. There was a distant rumble a few blocks away, and Ficha headed over to see what it was.

We were rushing to make it back to Safe Harbor to give them time to act on the news. Safe harbor may not be in immediate danger for another week, but it was a fairly big settlement, it could take a week to fully evacuate or prepare an offensive.

“You said a navigation computer is in your armor and you're not using it?!” she panted, breaking me from my thoughts. I mentally facehoofed at that.

“BONK, are we going the right direction?” I asked sheepishly to the pony sprite in my vision.

BONK yawned and looked back at me. Has she been sleeping?

“No.” she said flatly, “I thought you were taking the scenic route, so I figured I’d get some rest.”

I balked at the computer program, which happened to also be in the direction of Storm. Thankfully, she was taking the chance to smoke another cancer stick and was not paying attention to me.

“I mean, I don’t need sleep, but you all seem so peaceful while doing it. So I figured I’d try it.” BONK said cheerily, “Turns out it is pretty boring.”

The complexities of this malfunctioning program of a pony continued to perplex me. I wasn’t in the mood to see if virtual ponies dreamed of electric sheep, I had to get to Safe Harbor and BONK was wasting time.

“Can you map out the quickest route back to Safe Harbor?” I asked, ignoring the previous stream of thoughts.

“Where?” BONK asked, feigning innocence.

I mentally facehoofed, I forgot BONK prefers prewar location names, despite knowing what we mean with the post-apocalyptic renames.

“The Airship Museum.” I said though gritted teeth.

“A day and a half’s melon on hoof iiiiiiiiiin...” BONK began, a map marker appeared on my HUD, begrudgingly in the complete opposite direction we had been heading, “That direction.”

At that I physically facehoofed.

“Opposite direction?” Storm nickered.

“Yeah, a day and a half’s melon – Journey – in that direction.” I replied.

“Remind me to not leave you in change of directions again.” She deadpanned, “That was a long enough break, let's move out.” she paused and looked around. “Wait, where’s Ficha?”

BOOM...ZEE, BOOM...ZEE, BOOM...ZEE, BOOM...ZEE!

Something mechanical was making its way down the street. I turned to the mechanical monstrosity that looked like an ultra-sentinel had been haphazardly tacked on to the rear hooves of a ponytron. Mounted on the top half of it was a terminal with a single pink line on it. On top of the terminal itself, were two jagged pieces of metal that looked like horns. A hodgepodge of rusted metal formed a cage on its chest. In it was an unconscious – or at least I hoped he was just unconscious – Ficha.

The missile launcher on its side fired a shot directly down the street at us. I froze up, and only at the last second did Storm tackle me out of the way. For an unarmored mare, she sure could pack a powerful punch. The missile soared past us and impacted the street, showering us with dirt and pavement. In truth, my armor would have protected me, but on the case that a giant robot doesn't surprise the shit out of me in the first place, I prefer not being hit. The robotic behemoth reloaded another shot.

“THAT WAS A WARNING SHOT, ZEBRA TERRORIST!” the robotic voice of Steerinko bellowed as the line on the machine’s terminal oscillated like soundwaves, “SURRENDER OR DIE!”

That was a warning shot? I mentally asked, then I remembered what security program we were facing. Of course he counted a near point blank missile to be simply a ‘warning shot’.

As Steerinko advanced on us, I noticed the plasma cannon, and the grenade machine gun accompanied the missile launcher. A loud thunk signified another missile being loaded into the launcher as Storm tossed her crumpled cigarette to the ground and stood up. She looked at the monstrosity as it aimed its next shot. Was she seriously going to attack it?

“We surrender.” she stated, unslinging her rifle and dropping it to the ground. She then turned to me and whispered, “We don't stand a chance against that thing, we’ll find an opeing for escape later.”

I nodded in agreement as Steerinko extended wiry tendrils from just below the monitor and picked Storm and I up. We were dropped unceremoniously into the cage as the robot began to move back down the street it emerged from.

*** *** ***

Footnotes:

Cumulonimbus: No Status Changes

Looker: No Status Changes

Cap Stash: No Status Changes

BONK: No Status Changes

New Temporary Companions:

Storm Rider – Level 36

Ficha – Level 45

Storm Rider and Ficha will accompany you until the completion of the Dashite Redemption quest line or they die.

Quest Started:

Dashite Redemption – Warn Safe Harbor about the impending Enclave attack.

Steerinko’s Revenge – Escape Steerinko...again.

Author's Note

Thank you to Gamma Deekay’s and Digital Ink (AKA Sawyer) for letting me use their characters.