Enjoy your Stay (Version 1.0; cancelled)by TheRedBaronChaptersChapter 1: 'Round MidnightChapter 2: Come Fly with MeChapter 3: Black CoffeeChapter 4: That Ain't RightInterlude: Way Back HomeChapter 1: 'Round MidnightChapter 1: ‘Round midnight. “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. I am Mr. New Vegas, here with the latest from the Mojave Wasteland. Sources within the New Vegas Civil Sector report that recent efforts to clean the Mojave of residual radiation have proven fruitful, and say that, now that targets of civil and military importance have been cleansed, the NVCS will continue their work on less heavily populated areas of the Mojave, such as the Devil’s Throat, Jack Rabbit Springs, and the Mesquite Mountains. Additional sources report that the majority of personnel involved in on-site radiation scrubbing were members of the Mojave’s mutant population, including super mutants from the mountain settlement known as Jacobstown. When approached, one super mutant spoke to our reporters: “Boss say that helping remove radiation ‘will help strengthen the bonds between mutant and man.’ Not sure what that mean, but if it mean that humans shoot us less, then I'm happy.” You know, ladies and gentlemen, I feel like now, more than ever, the Mojave Wasteland is more than just a place: it's part of who we are, you know? Well Frank Sinatra does. He knows just how it feels to have something -or someone- under your skin.” “Fascinating. What manner of device is this, Private?” Private Swift Wind turned away from the talking box to face her sovereign, Princess Luna. Ever since she joined the night guard, she dreamed of escorting her princess to exotic lands, defending her from untold terrors. Now that that had come to pass, she had spent much time mentally kicking her younger self for wishing so. “I am unsure, your Highness. Perhaps some form of music box?” “Tis unlikely. Why would a music box play news reports alongside music? Hast thou tried turning that dial?” “All due respect, your holiness, I would not trust myself not to break it in some way. I thought it best to leave it be.” Princess Luna nodded. “Very well, Private. How is Lieutenant Rock Solid holding up?” Swift Wind winced. “Not well, your highness. His fever has not improved, if anything it's gotten worse. Sergeant Field Bandage has managed to slow down the effects of the poison, but he says that it's only a matter of time before…” “No.” “Your Highness?” Princess Luna’s face was set with determination. “Banish such thoughts from your mind. I will not allow any more of my guards to perish under my command. Do you understand?” Two thoughts crossed Swift Wind’s mind as she answered her understanding. They passed for less than an instant, quickly replaced by pure devotion and faith. One thought was the whether she heard a hint of desperation in Princess Luna’s voice. The other was contemplation as to just who She was trying to reassure. “I understand, your Highness.” “Good. You should take the time to rest. We make for the city to the south at the Moon’s peak.” Swift Wind bowed, and moved to the tent they had set up. She moved to raise the flap- “Swift Wind?” Swift looked to her Princess, who held an expression that not even the most pious could mistake for anything other than anguish. “Please give Lock and Barrel my sincerest condolences. I cannot bear to face them myself.” Swift Wind was shocked that her Princess would be afraid to face her subjects. Stock And Key had died in service to his Princess, why would She need to apologize? But her Princess had given her an order, she was duty bound to obey. “At once, your highness.” Swift Wind opened the tent flap, leaving Princess Luna alone, and joined her fellow guards in mourning. 30 miles north of New Vegas, there sat a humble shack in the hills, less than 200 square feet in total space. It was constructed out of empty shipping crates, with military tarps draped over the center where the crates met. It had fresh, running water, electricity, and was connected to the global terminal mainframe, as well as a balcony made of a billboard frame, hanging crop planters, a workshop and storage containers. It was practical, quaint, and isolated. The perfect vacation home for the humbly opulent. Unfortunately for the home’s sole inhabitant, their perfect vacation became less than perfect at exactly 12 AM midnight, when the serene sounds of the desert night were interrupted by the sound of a baritone saxophone bursting from his laptop with the volume and subtlety of a super mutant on Hype. “Jesus#%>{¥~*!<][¥fucking%^]<{£{>] hell is it now?!?” The man, fully awake for better or worse, rose from the floor rubbing the soon-to-be bruise on his cheek. With a huff, he stomped over to his desk and repeatedly smashed his hand on the keyboard in an indignant, sleep-addled attempt to make the music stop. Instead, the screen flickered to life, replaced by a stock-still, artificial smiley face. “Hi there! Good to see you again!” The man wiped the sleep from his eyes with a sigh. “Goddammit, Yes Man. This better be important.” Yes Man gave no indication that he was disheartened by the man’s sour tone. Not that he could have if he wanted to. “You bet it’s super important! Nothing more important than your twelve o’clock status report!” The man fixed the screen with the most deadpan look he could muster. “It’s the middle of the night.” “That’s right! The exact middle of the night, to be exact. Good old 12 AM! So, what would you like to hear about first?” “…” “…” “Fuck it, I'm already awake. Fine. Report.” “Alright! 12 o'clock status report is a go! “First off, now that the NCR are letting us use Bullhead station, trains are moving limestone from Quarry Junction to Boulder City. The first loads of concrete should be shipping out to Vegas for building restoration within the month.” Good. Glad that deal paid off. I'll never forget the look on the NCR ambassador’s face when I said we were willing to share it. “Next, between the Lucky 38’s reactor, Hoover Dam, the reactors from all five vaults, and Helios One, the Mojave Wasteland is now producing over 200,000 Megawatts of power a day! The Mojave Wasteland is now officially the most energy-abundant territory East of the Sierra Nevada mountains! And once we get the Sierra Victor power plant connected to the power grid, we could hold that title all the way to the Pacific! We’re gonna make a fortune selling it to the NCR! “Additionally, our radiation scrubbers in Vault 34 have discovered something amazing: not only did the vault have an extra 3 rooms worth of munitions stored, it also had manufacturing equipment! Projections show that our ballistic weapons manufacturing capability is expected to triple in the next month!” The man cracked a wry smile. “So everything’s coming up sunshine and Santa Claus, then?” Yes Man’s chuckling suddenly turned slightly nervous. “Weeeellllll… not everything, per se. There are a few, ahem, situations developing that may need your attention soon. Nothing that can’t wait, though! That is, unless you don't want another civil war in the first eighteen months of your regime. Oh! Did I say ‘regime’? That’s not a nice word.” The man sighed and ran his hand through his short, blonde hair. Rule #26 of the wasteland, he thought. If something sounds too good to be true, it usually is.“Alright, then. Hit me.” “Yeeeeaaah, I’m sorry sir, but that would be physically impossible, seeing as I’m currently talking to you through a computer, I have no way of physically striking you. I can get a securitron to your location within 30 minutes, if you’re really-” “Stop! Stop it now! You know exactly what I meant, you cheeky motherfucker. Just give me the bad news.” Yes Man continued, with no outward indication of the satisfaction he felt from getting a rise out of his master. “First, the Boomers are running low on munitions. They say their current stock should last them another 3 years, barring any major military campaigns in the near future.” The man hummed in understanding. “Yeah, Raquel mentioned something like that last time I was in Nellis. How much surplus crops do they have stockpiled?” “Enough to trade for ammunition with the Gun Runners.” The man chuckled. “Great minds, Yes Man. Great minds. What’s number two on the docket?” “The Enclave. General Jamison had some concerns about their use of deathclaw mind-control headsets and how they conflict with the Constitution’s “Sanctity of the mind” clause. If we aren't careful, they might withdrawal from the defense agreement! And that's terrible!” This genuinely worried the man. Jamison’s Enclave was a critical member of the Mojave Alliance Defence Agreement. Without them, the Confederacy’s Air Force and power armor divisions would take significant hits. He began to panic. He had to find a solution, or everything he worked for would collapse. EVERYTHING. A spark. A flash. An idea. An insane idea, but one that could work, if handled properly. “Yes Man, get me a sitrep on former Enclave scientists working in Big MT, and any intel we have on any remaining Enclave safekeeps within Vertibird range. And, while you're at it, investigate the status of a citizen living to the north of Novac. Name’s Arthur Ribben.” “Done! But before I deal with that, you should probably deal with the third and final item on the docket.” “Oh? What’s that, then?” “The five unidentified bogeys that just flew into New Vegas airspace.” “…” “…” “What.” “Yup! They flew in from the North about 3.7 minutes ago. You should probably deal with that soon. Or not! You’re the boss, Boss!” Yes Man’s encouragement fell upon deaf ears, as the man had shot up from his chair and was desperately rooting through his storage lockers for his equipment. Panic faded to the back of his mind as instinct and habit took over. Vest, longcoat, pants, boots, hat, gas mask, sunglasses, duffel, and Atomic-valence tri-radii-oscillator. Everything in place. Revolver in right holster. .45 in left holster. Ammo along belt. Rifle across the back. Shotgun in its holster, plasma disruptor in lower right pouch. AK next to rifle, ammo in vest. Canteen, MRE, stims, knives, knuckle dusters, .38 in left boot. What else, what else, what el- throwing knifes. Throwing knives go under right forearm guard. Throwing. Throwing hatchets, hatchets are important. Those go into the belt loops, hatchets go- hatchet. Hatchet, next to bowie knife. Good. Time to meet the Boomers to make the intruders go boom. Boom. Idea. The man reached into the largest locker, brushed the Tesla Cannon and PGM Hécate aside and pondered over the final weapon. Isn't it a bit overkill at this point? Mercy was a drum-fed, 40mm grenade machine gun he had found in a cave, and as magnificent a weapon it was, it seemed like a bit of a letdown at the time, considering the 20ish deathclaws he had to kill to get it. Still, seeing as it had likely saved his life at FOB Omega, it would be remiss if him to discard it. But with how many weapons he already had, it seemed like too much. And yet… Fuck it. Better to be overprepared. Alright, if you say so. He lugged the weapon out of the locker with it’s ammo backpack and set it down in the foyer with a dull thud. “So, what should we do about those pesky invaders, sir?” The man looked at the terminal with a start, having forgotten that Yes Man was still there. “Scramble two vertis from Camp Mccarran. Bring them to the ground for questioning, one way or another.” “Sure thing! And I wouldn't worry about hostilities. If anyone can make friends with a previously unknown and potentially hostile third party, it’s you!” The man briefly entertained the idea of telling the A.I. to shut up, but he knew Yes Man would probably take it literally. He sighed and moved to the workbench, approaching a small, round, metal ball. It’s underbelly was folded outward to expose multiple manipulator arms, and had a sort of weapon barrel sticking out it's front. Above it's “gun” was its face, if one could call it that. It was more of a grate containing facial and topographical scanners. It had multiple antennae jutting out it’s back, and a port connected to a small fission battery. The man did not pause to take these features in, as he was well acquainted with them. Instead he unplugged the machine from the battery, pressed a small button on it’s side, and slapped its chassis for good measure. “ED-E, get up. It's time to go to work.” The previously dormant robot awoke with a shudder, it’s small magnetic propulsors sputtering on and elevating it above the table. “” “I know it’s early. Trust me, I'm tired too. We have to go to Nellis.” “” “Several unidentified bogeys just crossed the northern border. Now, do we need anything else?” “” “I’m gonna pretend I didn't hear that. Let’s roll.” With that, the man and his robot flew out of the shack to the waiting van outside. He put Mercy in the back next to a set of custom power armor, closed the door and ran to the driver's seat. With a roar of the engine and a song from the radio, The Courier sped to Nellis to greet the visitors to his domain. Princess Luna flew alongside her guard over the mountains towards the city of lights, and prayed to whatever gods ruled this realm that she was not too late. She flew south with her remaining guards as fast as their wings allowed, with Sergeant Rock Solid on a stretcher suspended between Flatline and Swift Wind. Rock Solid’s condition had gotten worse instead of better, and Sergeant Flatline, despite her best efforts, had been unable to stop the venom. Even moving him was risky, but between potential death during the flight to the city, and certain death should they stay put, Luna decided to risk moving him. She could only hope that the city's inhabitants were able and willing to help them. They will be able to help. They must have access to extremely powerful magic, for how else could their city be so bright? They can help him. They must hel- “Your Highness! We have incoming!” Shook out of her reverie, she finally heard the sound of engines in the air. She reached out with her mind and felt- What in Equestria? Two very loud, very large, and very fast objects coming from the south; and flying right towards them. Private Swift Wind shouted over the din, “I think we’ve been noticed!” “It appears that we have,” Luna responded. Let us hope they are hospitable. “... Run that by me again?” “Blue, flying, bipedal horses, sir.” Of all the things The Courier expected Delta 1 to report, this was not one of them. “Blue?” “Well,” Delta 2 chimed in, “only the big one is blue. The rest are more a light gray.” The Courier set the transceiver on his lap. “Goddammit, it’s too early for this shit,” he muttered. ED-E rocked his chassis, as if to indicate nodding.“” “Alright, give me details. Specifics.” “Well, they're fairly similar to humans as far as build goes. They've got two arms, two legs, hands, feet, and the females have two mammaries. “Besides that, their heads are equine; pointy ears and a muzzle. Pretty sure they have fur too, but that color might be skin, can't tell from here. About half of them have wings, the others either have a horn or neither. The big blue one has both. The flyers are carrying the others with harnesses.” The Courier buried his head in his hand, “ED-E? Thoughts?” “” “Yeah, I got nothing either.” … “Sir? How do we respond?” The Courier brought up the radio again“What else can we discern? Tech, leadership, disposition, anything?” A slight pause. “Well, the blue one looks like the leader, judging by how the little ones are looking at her.” Delta 2 keyed in, “That, and the crown on her head. Could be a tribal thing? Warchief headdress?" “They seem pretty primitive in terms of weaponry. Spears, crossbows, plate mail, stuff like that. You see the same thing, Delta 2?” “Affirmative, Delta 1. They aren't panicking, though. That suggests a level of military discipline. Or curiosity; bet they've never seen a vertibird before.” Courier Six nodded. “I'm approaching Nellis now, anything else you can tell me?” “They're carrying one of the small ones in a stretcher. Can't tell how bad he’s messed up, but i can see the sweat on his fur from in here.” Hmmm… The Courier thought for a moment. They carry 450 year old weapons, aren't running or attacking our response team on sight, and are carrying wounded. “What do you think, ED-E? Should we risk it, or turn them away? Better safe than sorry?” “” “Yeah, there isn't much choice, is there? Alright, Delta 1, escort them to Nellis. We can figu-” The radio screeched to life. “Holy Mother of God!” “Delta 1, what’s going on?” Status?!?” “Sir, these things are speaking English!” “...pardon?” “Halt.” “But, your highness, we mus-” “I said halt!” Princess Luna halted all protests with a shout. “We cannot hope to outfly these creatures, we must be diplomatic if we wish to seek their asylum.” Princess Luna waited with her guard as the flying metal creatures approached. The VB-02 VTOL craft, A.K.A ‘vertibird’ was and is a marvel of pre-war aeronautical engineering. With a dual-rotor elevation system, 12 ton carrying capacity, onboard radar systems, nose mounted gatling laser, side mounted miniguns, missile racks, and a mini-nuke bomb rack, the vertibird is capable of fulfilling virtually any role on the battlefield and engaging both airborne and ground-based hostiles with frightening effectiveness. While the Equestrians were largely ignorant of these facts, the simple fact was that two very heavy-looking hunks of metal were flying on their own power, and whatever could accomplish that was not to be trifled with. Silence filled the air for several moments, both sides either unable or unwilling to speak first. Finally, after several tense moments, Princess Luna finally gathered her wits and spoke. “Greetings, denizens of this realm. I am known as Princess Luna, ruler of the night and avatar of the Moon. I appear before you as a humble traveler, seeking refuge within your territory. We wish no harm upon you or yours; only your aid and clemency. Please, I beseech thou; do not turn us away in our time of need.” “Well, that certainly simplifies things, doesn't it?” “” “Goddamn right this will change the world. Might even change two, if my hunch is correct.” “” “Something I discussed with Mobius a few weeks ago. No reason to jump to conclusions yet.” The Courier keyed the radio, “Delta 1, you copy?” “Solid copy, Joker 1. Orders?” “Alright, Delta 1, repeat this message exactly:” Princess Luna was beginning to get nervous. She made her appeal about 2 minutes ago, and the flying creatures had yet to react in any way. Her guards were getting jumpy, and she mentally debated the merits of turning away before- Shreereeeeeech Luna’s ears folded back as the piercing screech cut through her train of thought. And then, the creatures began to speak. “Attention, ‘Princess Luna of Equestria’, our leader has seen fit to grant you asylum within our territories. You will follow us to a landing zone outside the city, where we can begin negotiations regarding the terms of your stay. You will remain within 100 yards of us at all times, or you will be treated as a threat to the Confederacy, and you will be neutralized with extreme prejudice.” With that, the one of the creatures turned and flew toward the city. The other expectantly hovered in place. Private Swift Wind tentatively flew to her Princess's side. “Your Holiness? What should we do?” Princess Luna deliberated for a brief moment, before shaking her head. “We must follow. It is time we met our hosts.” Author's Note Behold! A fallout fan fiction! With horses! Colorful ones! But, in all seriousness, this is the first story I've ever published, so please be gentle. Chapter 2: Come Fly with MeChapter 2: Come fly with me Excerpt from “How the Mojave was won”; Lucky 38 Museum Just under 10 miles to the Northeast of Vegas stands Nellis Air Force Base, home to the eccentric clan of former vault dwellers known as the Boomers, and cornerstone of the Mojave Alliance Defence Agreement. At the beginning of the war, Nellis Air Force Base scrambled an enormous number of fighters and bombers to respond to the missile launch. None of those planes ever returned. Additionally, despite the best efforts of the late Robert Edwin House, some of the missiles that struck the greater Las Vegas area impacted near Nellis. As a result, the area was not an attractive site for salvagers after the war. A little over fifty years before the Second battle of Hoover Dam, a group of dissidents from Vault 34 struck out on their own and started using Nellis as a base. After a long time, they eventually decided to call Nellis their home. They learned a great deal of information from the records at Nellis and used the information to open the weapons storehouses at Area 2 and the Hawthorne Army Depot. The result of their efforts was an enormous stockpile of heavy ordnance, artillery, and small nuclear weapons. Due to the tribe’s paranoia, hostility, and excessive reverence for explosives, the New Vegas locals started calling them “Boomers”. The Boomers didn’t mind the name as long as it meant people kept their distance. No matter who approaches them, the Boomers have the same response: artillery. While the Boomers’ attitude kept away trouble, all of the major players around New Vegas want to get on the tribe’s good side. The Boomers have a clean water supply from Lake Mead, power from solar panels inside the base, and thriving farms that they’ve learned to develop “the hard way” over the decades they’ve been in the base. Once, the NCR attempted to shut off the Boomers’ water supply. The Boomers’ response was to shell sections of the NCR’s water pipeline in eastern New Vegas. The NCR promptly restored the flow. After that experiment, no one would attempt to approach Nellis until 2281, when The Courier successfully evaded the Boomer’s howitzer barrage and approached the gates of the base. After talking his way out of being obliterated, The Courier earned their trust by, among other things, supplying them with a B-29 bomber. After the Second Battle of Hoover Dam, The Boomers entered talks with the newly minted Republic of Vegas, formally entering MADA on January 27, 2283. While Searchlight Airport, Camp Mccarran, and Henderson Bunker all possess vertibird launching capabilities, Nellis possesses the only fully usable airstrip in the Mojave: Searchlight has yet to be fully repaired, and the walls surrounding Camp Mccarran have yet to be expanded to allow airstrip access. This makes Nellis one of the most important, and heavily defended, military bases in the entire Mojave, second only to Hoover Dam itself. This also makes the Boomers one of the most influential members of the Mojave Alliance Defense Agreement. Nellis AFB houses the majority of the Mojave Alliance Air Force, containing multiple truck planes, fighter jets and, of course, the infamous B-29 Superfortress, now dubbed ‘The Lady of the Lake’. In addition to the Air Force, the Boomers possess a significant portion of the Mojave's long-range artillery and heavy ordinance. Princess Luna was already apprehensive about following the flying monstrosities that greeted them over the mountains. She became even more nervous when she realized they were leading them away from the city. “Excuse me?” They did not respond. She cleared her throat, raising her voice to just under Royal Canterlot Voice levels of volume “EXCUSE ME?” Shreereeeeeech “Yes?” “Where are we going? Why are you leading us away from the city?” “We are flying to a landing zone 10 miles from the city. From there we will negotiate the terms of you stay. This is to minimize potential risks to the citizens of New Vegas.” “Please,” Princess Luna pleaded, “We wish no harm upon you, we are no risk to your little ponies. We must get to the city, or my guard will surely perish!” “There will be medical facilities at the LZ. We will provide aid and shelter for your injured.” Princess Luna allowed herself a sigh of relief. She would not lose any of her guard. Not again. “No, Raquel, we aren't going to blow the outsiders up! Not again!” Raquel scoffed. “Worked out fine last time…” “No, Raquel, it did not work out fine last time. Do you have any idea how close we got to a war with the NCR after that? We’re lucky he turned out to be a Frumentarius! Not to mention how long it took us to clean the mess off the vertibirds.” Raquel let a small grin slip onto her face. “The affairs of the NCR doesn't concern Nellis, and neither do Vegas’s. Last I checked, Mother Pearl is in charge, not you,” she said, with a hint of smugness in her voice. The Courier did not respond. Raquel smiled internally. She had finally beaten him. That silver-tongued outsider finally had nothing to say! Maybe now she could convince Mother Pearl to withdraw from that stupid allian- “What if…” Dammit Dammit Dammit Dammit Dammit! “What if we made a deal?” Raquel pushed down her frustration and spat out, “Well?” “How about this: you stop blowing up foreign diplomats, and I solve your munitions shortages. Permanently.” Raquel’s eyes widened under her T-57c power armored helmet. She thought, for a moment, that that would be impossible, but she knew better. She hadn't believed it when he said he would clear out an entire colony of exploding fire ants, but then he did it. She hadn't believed that he could get Loyal functioning solar panels for the generator building, but then he did it. She hadn't believed it when he said he would raise The Lady from the Lake, but he did it. When The Courier said he was going to do something, he would do it. And worst of all, she knew it was a fair deal. He would get them a reliable supply of ammunition and explosives, and all they had to do was stop blowing up his visitors. It was a very good deal: one where everyone got what they wanted and walked away satisfied. There was no way she could turn it down. And it infuriated her. Still, to her credit, she went down swinging. “And how exactly do you plan to make good on that?” She growled through gritted teeth. If The Courier noticed her tone, (and she knew almost for a fact that he did) he didn't show it. “Simple. You produce a lot of surplus crops, correct?” Raquel nodded. “Wonderful. There’s an organization called the Gun Runners with a branch just north of Vegas. They will be willing to trade munitions for your extra crops. And don't worry about quality, the Gun Runners take pride in producing quality ammunition and weapons.” Raquel sighed. She knew she had been beaten. “I'll talk to Mother Pearl about it. You talk to these ‘Gun Runners’ about- Ringringring The ringing caught her off guard, and she whirled around to find it’s source: a small, flying metal ball. Raquel blinked. She recognized the robot, The Courier had brought it to Nellis before, but she didn't even notice it approach. Ringringring The Courier sighed, and held up a finger. “Hang on. I gotta take this.” As he approached the eyebot, a panel dropped out from its ‘belly’ and presented a telephone. A particularly boxy telephone with an exposed wire connecting to the robot, but a telephone nonetheless. “Yeah?” Raquel leaned forward, straining to hear the voice on the other end. She couldn't make out the words, but it sounded remarkably cheery. “Did they? … When do they start? Thursday? … Magnificent. Thanks, Yes Man.” The Courier gave his robot the phone back and turned back to Raquel. She immediately straightened, attempting to regain some form of composure. “So… who was that?” “That was… my assistant. He was just speaking to the Gun Runners about our deal. They say they're ready and willing to begin dealing with you.” “…” “…” “You planned this entire conversation, didn't you?” The Courier chuckled. It was a smug, satisfied chuckle that stopped just short of becoming sleazy. “Well, now that would be telling, wouldn't it?” With that, The Courier turned on his heel and, robot by his side, casually strode to the airstrip, to meet the guests he had just ensured would survive to see the sunrise. “We are approaching the landing zone now. Please remain calm and do not make any sudden moves. The personnel are a bit jumpy around outsiders.” Swift Wind flinched at their escort’s voice. Despite the metal monster’s assurances that they would be taken cared for, she hardly trusted them as far as she could throw them. And, considering how much they had to weigh, couldn't be very far. But her Princess trusted them, and if She commanded, Swift Wind would obey. As they ascended over the hill, she saw the aforementioned ‘el zee’. It didn't look impressive at first glance, but then she noticed the large figures pacing along the ground. She couldn't make out exact shapes, but thought that they must be fairly large up close. The thought made her nervous, but not as nervous as the emplacements surrounding the facility that looked suspiciously like cannon emplacements. Memories rushed to the front of her mind. Memories of her time in the Royal Navy. Of splintered wood and sails on fire. And of screams. Sweet Celestia, the screams... A savage, three way war waged within Swift Wind’s mind; her fear on one side, self-preservation on another side, and devotion to her Princess on the third. Her fear urged her to fly away as far and as fast she could, and to take her chances on her own. Her duty to her Princess commanded her to stay: she had sworn an oath to protect and serve Princess Luna, and she had meant it. Her self-preservation was no help either, reminding her that, no matter what she chose, she would probably be shot down anyways. Her breathing got heavier and faster and her eyes raced across the horizon because she had to get away. Have to get away havetogetawayhavetogetawAYHAVETOGETAWAYHAVETOGETAW- “Swift Wind?” The world stopped spinning. Swift flinched away as she felt a hand on her shoulder. It belonged to 1st Sergeant Barrel And Key. “Are you alright?” “Swift Wind jerked away from Barrel, and she realized that she had nearly veered off-course during her freakout. If Barrel hadn't nudged me, I might've- Swift ended that train of thought before it could reach its logical conclusion. She didn't want to think about how many pieces she would be in if those cannon turned- Stop it stop it stop it! Swift Wind took a deep breath, trying to calm down before the panicked again. She realized she never answered Barrel; she still was looking at her, concern and curiosity etched on her face. “I… I’m fine, Ma’am. Thank you.” She gave Barrel a weary smile. Barrel didn't look convinced, and for a moment Swift thought she might grill her for more. But instead, she smiled reassuringly. “Don't worry, soldier. We're all gonna be fine. Just remember your duty, and we'll all come out of this intact.” Swift Wind nodded. “Yes Ma’am. Understood, Ma’am.” Shreereeeeeech “We will be landing shortly. Please remain calm. An official will be meeting with you to process your requests.” Swift jumped at the monster’s voice, but calmed herself. Deep breaths, Swift. Deep breaths. Four thestral ponies carrying stretcher, an alicorn princess, and two vertibirds flew through the darkness of the Mojave, and as they approached Nellis AFB, the runway lit up like a Christmas tree, lighting the way for it’s airborne visitors both familiar and exotic. The airstrip, once pocketed and rough, now shone smooth and flawless in the light of the powerful edge lights lining the runway. For Nellis now stood as more than a simple military installation; it stood as a symbol, reflecting the Mojave Wasteland as a whole. Once hostile and riddled with gashes, now restored past its former glory and safe for locals and visitors alike. Well, assuming that said visitors are welcome, that is. The ponies, flanked by their escorts, slowed to a hover over the runway. As the vertibird’s VTOL thrusters activated, the ponies flapped their wings and descended to the airstrip, their armored feet clanking gently onto the pavement. As the ponies looked around the base, the Delta 1 let out a final Screech “Welcome to the Mojave Desert. We hope you enjoy your stay.” Author's Note Roll Credits! And, just in case anyone is confused by certain details, I am basing this story off a heavily modded New Vegas. I have added links in instances where I reference events/objects from a mod, all of which I highly recommend you check out and use on your next play through. Chapter 3: Black CoffeeChapter 3: Black Coffee Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I am Mr. New Vegas, fanning the flames of your passion. Exciting news from the NCR border, as local caravan runners report a dramatic increase in brahmin supply from the NCR border following a successful deal with brahmin baron Heck Gunderson. Beef prices are expected to drop significantly over the next several weeks. In other news, several unidentified objects were detected flying over the hills north of Vegas around midnight. NVR reporters in Outer Vegas reported that two vertibirds were deployed from Camp Mccarran within minutes. Now that’s what I call ‘rapid response time’. That’s all the news for now. This is Mr. New Vegas, reminding you that you're nobody ‘till somebody loves you. And that somebody is me. I love you. “News certainly travels fast around here, doesn't it?” The guard glanced at Luna. “How do you mean, outsider?” Luna raised an eyebrow at the guard. “Not two hours after our arrival, and there’s already a news report about our presence. You don’t find that the least bit impressive?” The guard’s face was unreadable underneath his armor, but his shrug of indifference was exaggerated by his bulk. “Not really. Some of us were impressed by the outsider’s intelligence network at first, but it's not so amazing now.” Luna hummed, and mulled over the Boomer’s reply. While there were few things that she was better at than her sister, reading between the lines was one of them, and the guard’s statement gave her a lot to read. First, he confirmed her theory about these ‘radios’; they were not regarded with any sort of value beyond a common household item, meaning that the level of magical sophistication they required was not seen as exceptional. Either the baseline magical capability of this kingdom was much higher than Equestria, or these ‘humans’ interacted with magic very differently than ponies. Second, his reply confirmed what she had inferred about the Boomers, based on how they referred to anyone who wasn't another Boomer as either ‘savage’ or ‘outsider’: the Boomers weren't just isolationists; they were xenophobic isolationists. Or, at least, they were. They actively cooperated with so-called ‘outsiders’ militarily, meaning they probably used to be even worse. Third: the nation of New Vegas held freedom of information in very high regard. Through Radio New Vegas, the rulers of the land told its citizens about anything and everything going on within its territories, be it active military operations, the status of public works, or economic developments. But RNV also practiced discretion. They never named names or revealed any potentially compromising information. They told the citizens of the Mojave what was going on and with who, but never where, when, or how. It was a subtle line they walked; between transparency and carelessness. She had to admire them for that: it took a careful knowledge of communication and psychology to walk that line effectively. “Princess Luna, I presume?” The question jolted Luna out of her ruminations, and nearly made her leap from her seat. The voice had come from right in front of her, but when she looked, but saw no one. She ran her eyes across the entire hangar, but as far as she could tell, there was no one else in the mess hall besides the two guards the Boomers had assigned to her. Panicking would get her nowhere, so she took a moment to reign in her nerves and decided to play along. “You presume correctly. And to whom am I speaking?” This time, she was able to suppress a startled reaction when another human materialized with an electronic ‘woosh’ right across the table from her. They wore a brown coat over a black vest and a collared shirt with sewn-on circles on his upper arms, sleeves ending just past the elbow. Both their forearms wore a kind of vambrace; the right was made of simple metal, perhaps bronze or iron, but the left one was much more intricate, with several buttons and dials surrounding some sort of crystal display. The human wore a brown fedora (or human equivalent thereof), reflective sunglasses (at night?), and an easygoing smile that almost put her at ease. “Hi. My name’s Isaac. People call me The Courier. I'm in charge around here.” Luna blinked, taking a moment to compose herself. This was the leader of the great city of lights? He didn't look much like a ruler. His casual demeanor was a complete departure from what she remembered from dealing with foreign leaders; instead of the rimrod, no-nonsense posture she was accustomed to, this one leaned onto the table, one hand supporting his head and the other tapping to the new song on the radio. He looked more like a cowpony, or perhaps a sheriff. Or a courier, she speculated. There has to be a story behind that name. “Greetings, sir Isaac,” her tone turned dry, “Do you greet all visitors to your nation like this?” Isaac didn't miss a beat. “Not anymore. The NCR asked me to stop about 3 ambassadors ago. We had to rush the first one to the ER; poor thing nearly had a heart attack.” Despite herself, Luna chuckled lightly. “Really? And what made you think I wouldn't be any different, hmm? For all you know, I could have keeled over at any moment.” “Call it a hunch. From what I’d heard from your guards, I took you as made of tougher stuff than your typical politician. Or typical royalty, for that matter.” Luna barked a laugh. I like this one. “You clearly haven't been introduced to the right royalty.” Luna blinked, and she realized what he had just said. She spoke frantically, as a mother would while searching for her child in a crowded market. “Wait, you have spoken to my guards? Are they well?” Isaac held his hands up palliatively. “Easy there, princess. Don't get that heart attack after all. Let me explain.” His tone was reassuring, but carried another feeling along with it. He seemed… impressed? He probably didn’t expect her to notice his mention of the guards. Luna took a moment to calm down, taking slow, deep breaths. I really must thank Cadance for that technique. “Alright… start from the beginning. Are they well?” “Physically yes, at least as far as we can tell. We aren't exactly familiar with your physiology, but the doctors couldn't detect any fractures or life-threatening injuries. That is, apart from the big one in the stretcher.” Isaac held up a hand before Luna could interject. “And before you ask, he’ll be fine. The doctors were mostly able to stabilize him. He won't die any time soon.” Luna nearly sighed in relief when she, once again, noticed one small, innocuous caveat. “Mostly?” An expression flashed across Isaac’s face for a fraction of a second. Luna hardly noticed it, and couldn't've identified it if she tried. “Mostly, yes. There were some… complications.” Luna was stone-faced, fixing him with a raised eyebrow. “Complications?” Isaac grimaced slightly. “Yes, complications. Nothing serious, mind. Just a minor setback.” “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU DON’T HAVE ANY ANTIVENOM?!?” Isaac had to admit that Argyll was certainly made of sterner stuff than most men. Most men would have been reduced to a terror-stricken, quivering heap of limbs in the face of his vindictive verbal onslaught. Argyll, on the other hand, had the gumption to fire back. “I mean we don’t have any antivenom! Why would we even have any antivenom? There’s nothing venomous even remotely close enough for us to need any!” Who the fuck is this guy, talking to me like that? After all I’ve done for him and his, I oughta- Calm down. We both know he has a point. Besides, it won’t do us any good to lose our temper, especially around the Boomers. The last thing we need is to anger our only bomber squadron. Isaac pushed back the growl in the back of his throat. “Alright,” he exhaled, “how is the patient?” Argyll relaxed slightly, inwardly relieved at the change of subject. “To be honest, his survival so far is nothing short of astounding. Examination shows nine puncture wounds to the arms and torso consistent with cazador stingers, and the stiffness in his limbs and voluntary muscle groups indicates a large amount of venom over a long period. At this point, with this much venom in their system, most people would have experienced cardiac arrest hours ago. But these horse-people are made of tougher stuff, it seems. “His biology, and he is a ‘he’, by the way, is fairly similar to ours, at least as far as the circulatory system goes. We were able to stabilize him with blood packs and regular stims. But as far as the Venom goes, we're only kicking the can down the road.” The Courier did a double take. “Wait, you gave him blood?” “Yup.” “And he didn't die?” “Like I said, their circulatory systems are strikingly similar.” The Courier glanced at the humanoid equine on the mattress, removed his hat and anxiously ran his fingers through his head. His breathing had stabilized, and his body no longer radiated heat at such an alarming rate. To the untrained eye, he could easily be mistaken for asleep. But the individuals present noted the subtle quivering of his muscles, indicating severe tension. His breath came fast and shallow, too fast and shallow to be healthy, and his body was caked with sweat despite being towelled off less than five minutes ago. “If we don’t get that antivenom soon, his heart won’t last long,” said Argyll. The Courier replaced his hat with a huff. What to do, what to do… “So, he hasn’t regained consciousness?” “We’re working on it. We don't have the resources or facilities to treat cazador poisoning of this caliber,” Isaac retrieved a bottle and glass from… somewhere in his coat and filled the cup to the brim. “Thirsty?” Luna eyed the glass with a ounce of suspicion. She knew, at this point, that this human was more than he appeared. The subtle ease with which he subverted and spun her expectations spoke of incredible experience in politics and discourse. He had tried to turn her own first impressions against her to throw her off balance, to get her to reveal details about her character and intentions. And, in a way, she had given something away; her devotion to her guards. That was a weakness he could almost certainly exploit. At the same time, he was clearly much more that a simple politician; there were very few creatures, at least in her world, who could sneak up on her like he had, and all it would have taken was a particularly sharp knife in the right place to… And yet, at the same time, he and his hadn’t been anything but hospitable to them. They sheltered and fed them, asking for nothing in return. If they wanted to dispose of them, they had a dozen easier way to do it before. She supposed there was no harm in taking a small dri- *SNAP* “Wha-What!?! What happened?!?” Luna recoiled; Isaac had just snapped in her face. Her mood soured and she made no effort to hide it. “What is the meaning of this?” To her confusion (and slight frustration), Isaac seemed nonplussed by her reaction. “Oh, good. You’re still with us.” “...What?” “You’ve been sitting there, mumbling to yourself with that blank look on your face for about two minutes.” Her indignation was washed away by a flood of embarrassment, cheeks flushing and eyes taking sudden interest in the polish on her cuisses. “Oh. I-I see. My apologies.” Isaac dispelled her apology with a nonchalant wave. “We’ve all got our own quirks that we would rather do without. “So, about that drink…” Luna saw the opportunity to change the subject and pounced on it. “Please,” She grabbed the glass and downed it with a single gulp. It burned harshly down her throat, the heavy scent overwhelming her nostrils. The drink felt like vinegar in her mouth, and she struggled to not start coughing. With a grimace, she drank it down. Isaac laughed; it was a harsh laugh, not cruel in nature; more the laugh you would give while helping you friend up from an embarrassing fall or humorous failure. “Strong, isn’t it?” Though Luna had only been present for the past 3 years of it, she was confident that that was the understatement of the century. “Strong is one word for it! Why in the name of the maker would anyone in their right mind willingly consume this vile concoction?!?” “Well, I can’t speak for those in their right mind, but I find it quite energizing.” Luna was absolutely incredulous. “You call this energizing? I think you will find find that there are other words that fit this… mixture more accurately. Like ‘vile’. Or ‘repugnant’. Or perhaps ‘odious’.” Isaac found this amusing more than anything else, chuckling as he took a swig of the remains of the drink. “Well, I suppose it’s not for everyone. After all, when you brew a pot of coffee these days, it’s more out of desperation than anything else.” Just as Luna’s incredulity was fading, that last statement brought it right back up. “Sir Isaac, perhaps this is simply an issue of cultural or linguistic confusion, but I can assure you, that,” she indicated to the bottle of black sludge, “is most definitelynot coffee.” Isaac eyed the bottle in his hands, contemplating. “Well, yeah. I suppose it’s not technically coffee, but it’s the closest thing we’ve got these days. Actual coffee beans have been extinct in this part of the world for 200 years, give or take.” He said, polishing off the rest of the drink just as a new song came on the the radio. “Hey, speak of the devil.” “Pardon?” Isaac blinked, realizing his mistake. “Oh, it’s the song; it called “Black Coffee”. Y’know, ‘cause,” he gestured to the bottle in his hand. “And, like…” he gestured vaguely before trailing off. “Never mind.” Luna’s eyed dawned in realization. “No, no. I get it. It’s because of-” Isaac jumped in. “The coffee. Yeah, yeah. Right.” They both sat expectantly, each waiting for the other to contribute something meaningful to the conversation, but eventually realizing that neither of them had any idea whatsoever on how to continue. As the atmosphere careened into an abyss of awkward silence, Luna’s eyes began to wander, eventually taking a keen interest in the arches lining the ceilings. Isaac, concurrently, took an equally rapt interest in a spot of dirt on his boot. “So…” A shrill beeping cut through the air, the awkward climate surrounding the two of them evaporating like dry ice. Isaac groaned in what, at face value, seemed like exasperation. But Luna also heard what sounded like relief at the excuse to change the subject. “Deodamnatus. Sorry, I gotta take this.” He pushed away from the table and stood. Pushing his sunglasses into place (seriously, why was he wearing tose at night?) he strode over to the flying metal ball that had appeared out of thin air and picked up a circular, corded- Wait, what? Luna blinked. The orb was still there. She rubbed her eyes, as if the orb was a trick of the light or something. It wasn’t. She was about to dismiss her failing to notice it until now as a result of her anguish over her soldiers when she heard, “Where did that thing come from?” The guard’s bewilderment confirmed that she was not, in fact, going crazy. At least, not yet. If anything else suddenly appeared out of thin air with no apparent explanation, she might actually consider it. Tartarus, this world might actually see the third coming of Nightm- Luna stopped that particular train of thought before it took her off a cliff. No. I mustn't think of ... such things. That will never happen again. I have ensured that it will never happen again. Perhaps if she thought it hard enough, she might start to believe it. *click* “MATRIS FUTUOR!!” Luna was unfamiliar with the exact meaning behind the explicative. She could make a fairly good guess, though. “Is something wrong?” “I have to take care of something. Opperīta huc.” Luna considered being offended by Isaac’s dismissal. She decided against it on the basis that arguing with an offended pony was never productive, and the offended individual was rarely taken seriously. She did not, however, have any intention of obeying him. “I most certainly will not ‘stay here’,” she said, getting up from her seat. “What happened back there? You looked like you were about to burst a vein!” Luna ducked under the floating sphere (which gave a clipped beep of what she could only assume was surprise) and fell into step next to Isaac. “Something came up.” Isaac spoke calmly; his tone and volume controlled and carefully neutral. She didn’t buy it. “It’s about Sergeant Rock Solid, isn’t it? Has something gone wrong?” He didn’t answer. “If it’s something concerning my soldiers, I have a right to know. You will tell me what the problem is this instant!” “You don’t-” Isaac spun around to face her. His eyes seemed to glow a bright red behind his sunglasses and voice wavered, betraying the violent rage barely suppressed beneath his stoic mask. Luna held her ground, rage quietly rising to meet Isaac’s. But it was gone in a instant; Isaac took a deep breath, and the light in his eyes faded. Perhaps she had imagined it. “... Fine. You’re right.” “Do mean that I’m correct in thinking that I have a right to know, or correct in thinking that it involves Sergeant Rock solid?” “Vero.” “Pardon?” Isaac shook his head, grimacing. “Sorry. I meant ‘yes’” Luna adopted an unamused stare. Ah, yes. The old ‘mathematician’s answer’. “Well, then. Out with it. What news do you have?” Isaac looked over Luna’s shoulder, likely making sure there was no one to eavesdrop on their discussion. “Alright, here’s the deal. Remember when I said there were ‘minor setbacks’ ?” Luna nodded. “Yeah, turns out that by ‘minor setbacks’ I meant ‘we can’t neutralize the poison’.” Before Luna could cry out in either anguish or indignation (she wasn’t sure which one was most appropriate to the situation) Isaac stormed ahead. “What I mean is, we can’t neutralize the poison here. The Boomers don’t have any antivenom in stock, and we can only keep him stabilized for so long before his heart gives out.” “And you intend to take him someplace where you can treat him?” Despite the circumstances, Isaac scoffed. “In his condition? Not a chance. The drugs we’re using to keep him alive have made him so fragile, I wouldn’t risk having the robots move him, much less a truck.” Luna didn’t completely understand all of those words, but pushed aside her confusion for later. “So we can’t move him. Can you bring medicine from elsewhere?” “I did. It was just intercepted by raiders.” Luna froze, flabbergasted. Her mind raced with a dozen questions at breakneck speeds. Questions like, Why would anyone attack a medical caravan? How could such a magically advanced society still have things like raiders? Where did Isaac go? *Blink* That last question snapped her back to reality; Isaac was nowhere to be found. I really should stop getting lost in thought so often. As she looked up and down the hallway, she faintly heard a door close to her left. Luna rushed to the door. It had an exotic, yet simple opening mechanism that she wrestled with for a few moments before it finally slid open. She quickly scanned the concrete field and spotted him approaching a green metal… thing. Is it a box? A box with wheels? Some kind of carriage? Luna internally chastised herself for such an absurd thought. That’s ridiculous. That thing looks too heavy for a carriage. Besides, where are the harnesses? As she approached, Isaac glanced over his shoulder. “Was there something else you needed?” “I-you-” she stumbled over the words, stupefied. “What do you mean ‘is there anything else’? I am coming with you!” Isaac looked her up and down, as if assessing her physique. “No, you aren’t.” “Excuse me? Who are you to tell me what I will and will not do? I’m will accompany you and assist you in vanquishing these ‘raiders’, and there is nothing you can say or do to stop me.” He sighed and shook his head. “Okay, do I need to explain all the ways that’s a bad idea? Because I will if I have to,” annoyance began to creep into his voice. Luna opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off. “Primam, your guards are counting on you for leadership and moral support. If you get killed out there, they’ll have no one to look up to or count on. Diende, your ideas of combat are very different from ours. This isn’t some honorable sword-and-spear engagement where both sides stand in lines and hit each other with pointy sticks. If you go out there with wingspan flared, boasting and challenging those idiots to ‘glorious combat’, you’ll be dead before you can say ‘perforated with extreme prejudice’.” At this point, Luna was quite thoroughly through with all this talk of her supposed inadequacy in combat. She had lived for over three thousand years! (If one took her time in the moon into account) She had fought on battlefields when she was but a youngling of 1300 years, and had been feared by her allies and enemies alike. She had held the line against the hordes of Tartarus. She had held her own against the dread Sombra himself. And she was not about to stand there and let some… some… some mailmare tell her what she could and could not do! “Do you think I am some naive filly, swinging a wooden sword around her head shouting ‘glory to Equestria’? You have no idea who I am. You have no idea what I am.” Isaac silently took a single step forward, cooly meeting her gaze “Please. Do enlighten me.” “I have commanded great armies against hordes of the most horrible monsters ever to walk my world!” Luna took a step forward as well. “So have I, only I left my army behind. They would have slowed me down.” Isaac stepped within arms reach of her. “I stood against the most fearsome warlord in all the world and vanquished him in single combat!” Luna leaned into Isaac’s face. “I looked the most fearsome warlord in all the world dead in the eyes and told him to take his army and walk away.” Isaac leaned closer, until their noses were nearly touching. “He ran. “Now, are we done with our homicidal phallic measuring? I have shit to do, and we aren’t getting anything done standing here, boasting at each other.” No, we aren’t, are we? Luna surveyed the terrain, her eyes finally resting on a short, long wreck of rusted metal laying destitute on the ground. “What would it take to convince you to allow me to accompany you?” Isaac laughed. This time it had a harsh edge. “You’d have to impress me,” she didn’t wait for the rest, and began gathering magical energies in her horn. “Keep in mind, I’ve seen some crazy shit over the years,” Luna cast a discrete shield spell around the three of them. “Shit I would’ve never believed if it hadn’t happened to me. The odds of you actually impressing me are probably slim… to… no…” With a light *whoosh* of a telekinesis spell, Luna slowly raised the wreck off the ground. As Luna effortlessly lifted the hunk of metal into the air, she could only imagine the look on Isaac’s face right then. She decided that it was for the best; whatever face he was making in reality would most likely be less impressive than the one she imagined. The wreck ascended to ten feet. Twenty feet. Thirty feet. Luna decided to stop at thirty, so as not to diminish the effect of her next trick. Isaac chimed in, having finally recovered his wits to the point where speech was possible. “Well, then. That’s… unusual. Do you-” Luna held up an open palm. “Oh, sorry. Should I wait for you to finish, or-” Wordlessly, Luna clenched her hand, and the wreck clenched with it. The sound of tearing metal filled the air as the wreck imploded; a horrible, screeching sound that grated on the ears of anyone within earshot. (i.e. the entire base) Luna let the sphere of twisted metal hang in the air for a few moments, then pulled her arm down to her side. The ball followed her movements and dropped, no, rocketed to the ground with a mighty *crack*, sending jagged bits of stone flying in every direction. Of course, the shield spell she had cast before her display was more than adequate to protect them both. When the dust cleared, Luna turned on her heel and gave Isaac her best ‘I-know-exactly-how-awesome-I-am-and-now-so-do-you’ smile. “Well? Art thou impressed yet?” Luna was too satisfied with herself to care about her lapse in speech. “Or shall We need to demonstrate further?” Isaac was, for the first time in a very long time, completely speechless. Average weight of the Chryslus Corvega: 5995 pounds. Subtract weight of engine, wheels, exhaust, internal components: 1750 pounds. Pressure required to crush steel chassis: approximately 2,000 psi exerted from all sides at once. Requires minute control of force applied and direction of application. Telekinesis indicated psychic abilities. Rare, especially at that level of power and control. Or is it rare? May be common in the other world. Or result of royal blood? Royalty determined by psychic power? Possible meritocracy. Caste system? Possibility of social unrest/discontent; exploitable? Requires further inquiry. Ask other Equestrians about society; royalty unlikely to know about average quality of life. Slipped into early modern english grammar. Decorum? Childhood conditioning? Linguistic dissonance between upper and lower class? Further evidence of caste system; exploitabl- *SNAP* “Wha-What? What happened?”Isaac recoiled; Luna had just snapped in his face. His mood soured and he made no effort to hide it. “The hell was that for?” To his confusion (and slight frustration), Luna seemed nonplussed. “Oh, good. You’re still with us.” “...What?” “You’ve been standing there, mumbling to yourself with that blank look on your face for about two minutes.” Luna smiled in a way that was somehow perfectly innocent and deviously impish at the same time. That cheeky little- Don’t. Isaac kept a straight face as he suppressed the outburst, maintaining eye contact with Luna all the while. He let the atmosphere stew for a moment, and Luna began to squirm under the scrutiny. The old staring contest was a reliable negotiation tactic; it put psychological pressure on the other party to initiate the conversation while simultaneously implying that any sort of remark would be considered inadequate. It worked more often than most would expect; most politicians and grandstanding warlords weren’t used to being put on the back foot so quickly, and Luna, by the looks of it, was both. Sure enough, her smug pride gave way to the usual feelings: confusion, then scorn, then despondency, the- Wait, what? She wasn’t just squirming; she was wilting. Her eyes found their way to the ground, her feet shuffled across the asphalt, her hands began to fidget together. Even her ears wilted, splaying flat across her skull. He could see the hope draining from her eyes, as if her very essence had bled from her body. It was soul-crushing. She’s a liability. Her political importance is to great to risk her traipsing into a landmine. If she dies, so many opportunities disappear. ‘Yup. All the psychic hocus-pocus in the world won’t save her from a bullet to the head or shrapnel to the spinal column. Eeyup. We’re still taking her with us, aren’t we? Yes we are. This’ll be a disaster. We’ve dealt with worse. Resigned, Isaac sighed. “Alright, fine. Welcome aboard.” The effect was immediate. As soon as the words left his mouth, Luna shot up like a meerkat. Her ears perked up, back straightened, and her eyes went from disconsolate resignation to tentative hopefulness. “I-you-truly? I may accompany you?” Isaac turned back to the van and slid the key into the backdoor. “Just do us both a favor and try not to die horribly, okay?” “I… fair enough, I suppose.” Satisfied, Isaac threw the doors open with a flourish and hopped into the van, “Come along, then. Let’s get that antivenom.” He strode to the front of the van and plopped into the driver’s seat. With a huff he removed his hat and placed it on the dashboard, then he reached for his sunglasses before remembering himself. Probably best if we leave those on for the moment. Don’t want to scare her away. He swept his eyes over the dashboard, checking for anything out of place. Fuel was at acceptable levels, the gearshift looked relatively intact, and the snowglobe was sitting peacefully above the map. Lovely. He adjusted the target designator to the shipment’s approximate location and was about to turn the ignition when, “Hey, hey! Cease, you metallic mattoid! I said cease!” Isaac immediately discerned the scene behind him, and did not even glance back to shout, “ED-E, stop antagonizing the pretty pony princess who can kill you with her mind.” There was a ruckus of furred flesh slapping on metal, followed by, “” as Luna stormed into his field of view. “That officious orb tried to corrall me like an animal!” “You were staring, weren’t you?” Luna sputtered, “Well-I-it-” “” Luna threw a glare at ED-E, who floated a few paces back. Isaac quietly moaned in exasperation and turned to face the two. “Listen, you two can work out your differences later. We’re on a time crunch right now, and if we want to get that medicine in time, we need to focus. Sit down and leave each other alone.” Luna immediately sobered and sat down in the passenger seat, “You are correct. My apologies, I forgot myself.” ED-E was even more serious about the whole thing, “” Luna blinked. “...Was that supposed to mean something?” “He says that he is profoundly sorry for antagonizing you and wasting time when the life of one of your soldiers in on the line.” Luna’s expression turned to bewilderment, mixed with an ounce of suspicion. “You got all that from a series of incomprehensible beeps?” “It’s no less incomprehensible than any foreign language. Now,” he turned and met Luna’s gaze, “you have questions. We have time to answer one. Ask away.” Luna raised an eyebrow, “You’re certainly direct. Very well, what exactly is the purpose of us entering this box?” Box? Plate armor, spears, implied royal family. In terms of society/technology they’re at 14th century at best. It would be surprising if they have anything even conceptually resembling an internal combustion engine, much less a fusion reactor. Isaac grinned devilishly. “Well, that’s simple. All you need to do to find the answer is look out the window.” Luna’s eyebrow raised even higher. “Really?” he could practically taste the skepticism coming from her expression. “Really. Just look out that window, and all will be made clear.” “...hmf. Very well,” she turned away to gaze out the side window, “What exactly am I looking fo-” With her back turned, Isaac turned the ignition. The engine roared to life, and Isaac took great pleasure in hearing the startled “eep!” from Luna. “Onwards into the breach!” he shouted, gunning the van forward and away from Nellis. Author's Note Next chapter won't take a year this time. I promise. Chapter 4: That Ain't RightChapter 4: That Ain't Right Passage taken from “The museum of the present,” Lucky 38 MuseumThe Desert Rangers are an ancient order of protectors who operated throughout southern Nevada and Arizona since the end of the Great War, safeguarding the survivors of the War from raiders and preserving old world knowledge of warfare, medicine, and survival. In the mid-23rd century, they held the line against Caesar's Legion for over twenty years, albeit with significant difficulty and heavy losses. In 2271, the Desert Rangers were close to breaking, and likely would have crumbled within months if the NCR had not arrived in the Mojave. In order to protect Nevada from the horrors of the Legion, the Desert Rangers signed the Ranger Unification Treaty on October 7th, 2271. As a result, they were absorbed into the NCR Rangers in exchange for NCR's protection of Hoover Dam and Nevada from Caesar's Legion. If you traveled from NCR territory to the Mojave before the Second Battle of Hoover Dam, you’d’ve seen the giant statue overlooking Mojave Outpost, marking the union of the two organizations for the common good of the Mojave. However, if you have visited the Mojave Outpost after the Second Battle of Hoover Dam, you may have noticed that this statue is conspicuously absent. This is due to the fact that, as the NCR has failed to provide it’s protection to the Mojave in recent years, the Desert Rangers are no longer bound to serve the NCR. As of 2284, every remaining member of the Desert Rangers has left the NCR and returned to the Mojave (all legally and through the official channels, of course). Today, the Desert Rangers serve as the national guard for the New Vegas and it’s foreign territories. Operating alongside the Mojave Alliance Defense Agreement (But outside it’s direct control) the Desert Rangers are the highest authority in matters of justice, second only to The Courier himself. When a Ranger speaks, it is always wise to listen. While Rangers often mediate the law throughout the Mojave, occasionally they must enforce it. And they are more than prepared to do so; their armor is of nearly unrivaled quality, offering protection equal to a suit of T-45 power armor at a fraction of the weight. They wield custom-cast revolvers chambered for .45-70 rifle rounds, as well as bayoneted M1 Garand .308 rifles and as many other weapons as they can operate. So, a word of advice for visitors and residents of the Mojave alike: pray you never need the Rangers. And when you see one, pray you have done no wrong. While Luna recognized that Isaac was, technically, telling the truth, she still felt every right to be angry at him for ‘trolling’ her, as the youth referred to it. She couldn’t bring herself to irritated, though; she was too fascinated by the machine to muster the concentration it would require. She could tell that the box was moved by more than a simple ‘animate object’ spell; the constant rumbling beneath her feet indicated some form of engine, though one much more complex than any ever conceived by Equestrians. The magical power and sophistication such a construct would demand was staggering, especially when moving such a large object. When she first laid eyes on the interior she assumed it was a cottage or some other kind of personal lodgings. It wasn’t an unreasonable assumption; there were certainly all the elements required for a home: a stove, sink, storage cabinets, a workbench, bed, dining table, and something she could only assume was some sort of icebox (though she could only speculate the function of the flat glass panel mounted on the ceiling). She thought perhaps that was simply the style of housing in this world; all the necessities of a home collected in one room. It was certainly efficient, and promoted the tenant to spend more time outdoors. She assumed, initially, that Isaac simply wished to acquire some items from his personal abode and set off as soon as possible. This assumption caused a considerable amount of confusion when sat down near the end of the room and began fiddling with the assorted accoutrements across the window pane. She would have inquired about his intentions when that spherical satrap nudged her into the box. Shaking herself from her reminices, Luna turned to Isaac. “Any idea who would have attacked the shipment?” Isaac brought a hand off the wheel to rub his chin, “Can’t say for certain. The Fiends and Scorpions are extinct, what’s left of the Vipers and Jackals left years ago. The Khans moved to Montana, and even if they hadn’t, they don’t attack caravans,” Isaac bore the van right, driving East, “Could be Legion; sometimes a raiding party gets past the border. NCR is unlikely, but not impossible. Moore has been trying to rile up the brass lately, might have gotten the green light on a sabotage missio- what?” he stopped when he noticed Luna’s nonplussed expression. “You realize that I have absolutely no idea who any of those groups are, don’t you?” After a moment, Isaac chortled, “Figures. The first time we get to discuss regional politics in this story, I’m talking to the alien.” Blink. “Story?” Isaac waved a hand in the air, as if dispersing her question from the air, “Don’t worry about it. Anyways, we’ve got time for the short version. “The Khans, Jackals, and Vipers are ancient raider bands, all originating from an old fallout shelter back west: Vault 15. They all have been dwindling in numbers and power for the past few decades, and their last members took refuge in the Mojave some years ago. By now, the Vipers and Jackals have been all but wiped out, but the Khans traveled North to Montana. I hear they’ve been doing well for themselves. “The Scorpions were a particularly young raider band, and they died as quickly as they were born. Nothing much to note there. The Fiends, however, are a different story. Full of junkies and psychopaths of all stripes, the Fiends were a force to be reckoned around Outer Vegas. With thousands of members, a secure command center in Vault 3, and more drugs that you could shake a stick at, they made life very complicated for the NCR. “But, like any band of insane, drug-addled marauders, all their support and influence came from their leaders. Without them, they had no drive or motivation, making them easy pickings for an organized military. “So I killed them all.” Luna blinked, “You what? Killed all of who?” “Their leaders.” “Personally?” “Basically. The NCR had placed several lucrative bounties on their heads; it was only a matter of time. I just happened to get to them first. Took me the better part of a year, though. It was like killing radroaches: crush one, three more come scurrying out of the shadows.” Luna’s muzzle scrunched up in distaste. Isaac noticed. “You disapprove? From what I remember from our little ‘boast-off’, you didn’t seem to have much of a problem with killing.” Luna shook her head. “Not killing. You make it seem like you… assassinated them.” Isaac shrugged, “Essentially. When I could. Had to storm a few strongholds too, if that makes you feel any better.” It didn’t make her feel better, but she kept silent for the moment. “Anyways, they’re extinct now, so that possibility is out. And I can’t go into any further details, because we’ve arrived.” Luna looked out the windshield. They had stopped right in front of a crossroads/ Across the stretch of asphalt sat a gaggle of ruined buildings; patchwork construction and faded colors a result of centuries of neglect. “What do you mean, ‘We’ve arrived’? I see nothing but desert and ruins.” “Did you think I would drive all the way there without scouting ahead? The last thing I want to do is drive into an ambush. Or a landmine,” he rose from his seat, and Luna followed suit., “Eddie,” he pointed to the floating ball, “stay here. Be ready to bring the van around when I call.” The orb responded with an incomprehensible string of beeps and tones that Luna could only assume translated into some approximation of ‘yes’, as it promptly floated over their heads to rest in front of the control wheel. She had no idea how it intended to operate the machine, but Isaac seemed to trust it. She would have to do the same. That’s one hell of an ambush. Rules out raiders. Too professional. Isaac lay prone on the second floor of a ruined store, overlooking the crash. Moonlight shone above the wreckage, illuminating the shards of twisted steel and rubber. The wreck was strewn about the street, blackened shreds of metal and plastic scattered away from the central chassis. The truck itself was totalled; the chassis has overturned into its side, the windows were broken, and part of the underside was melted away, leaving an enormous hole and exposing the driver’s cab and cargo bay . Looks like plasma. Pre-planted explosives? Possibly. Tread marks lead away from the truck to a small crater, still sizzling with green ooze. Definitely plasma. Someone knew they would come this way. Security breach? Likely. Need to get Yes Man to review cyber security when we get back. “My word,” Luna said, “Whoever did this must have access to powerful magic. It would require a very advanced spell to cause this destruction.” Isaac turned to Luna, slightly confused. Magic? Irrelevant at the moment. We’ll need to ask later. Isaac switched from night vision to infrared and scanned the wreckage for hostiles. Finding none, he returned to night vision and rose to his feet, thanking whatever gods may be for his bionic eyes. “It’s clear, but keep close to me and stay alert,” he whispered, adjusting Medicine Stick on his back as he crept to the edge, “Care for some music?” Luna blinked; likely startled by the seemingly non-sequetorial question, “Umm, certainly. If you think it would not interfere with our efforts.” “Splendid,” he leaned forward and let himself fall off the building, fiddling with his Pip-Boy on the way down. By the time his feet hit the ground, he’d settled on the velvety pipes of Nat King Cole. “You coming?” Completely deadpan, Luna simply unfurled her sizable wingspan in lieu of a response. Oh, right. Those. How are those even able to support her weight? Another question for later. As Luna glided down, Isaac observed a few more details about the crash; the frame was covered with dents and scratches and the front tires were gone, likely incinerated by the plasma. “Definitely a pre-planned ambush. Professional, too,” Isaac circled the truck, meticulously taking in details as he pieced the crash together. After a moment, “Looks like the truck hit a plasma mine and swerved off the road. Rolled a few dozen yards before stopping here,” he peered into the driver’s cab, “No sign of the driver. Keep your eyes peeled; they might’ve crawled away from the crash.” “I doubt it.” “Pardon?” Luna pointed to a hunched figure lying about forty feet away from the crash. The driver's seat was still flush against their backside, slightly melted from the blast. He couldn't see their face from this angle, but he noticed the red trail left in their wake, sprinkled with bits of bone and flesh. “Good eyes. Looks like he was thrown from the crash. Plasma ate through the cab floor, he and the seat flew through the hole when it rolled. Ouch.” Luna winced, “One can hope he died quickly.” “One can hope. Anyways,” He approached the rear doors of the truck, “let’s get what we came for.” As Isaac walked away, Luna considered using a simple medical spell to determine more details about the driver’s death. The cause of death (severe head trauma) was obvious to any casual observer, but she felt compelled to know all the details. She couldn’t exactly place where this urge came from; there were more pressing matters at hand, she had never even seen him before, and she was certainly no stranger to grisly scenes of carnage such as this. Perhaps it was the uniqueness of this particular death that pushed her on. Perhaps it was a subconscious desire to learn more about the biology of humans. Perhaps she simply felt sympathy for the human who died so violently for no reason at all. Nevertheless, she lit her horn and cast the spell. The driver’s biometric information was projected directly into her mind as her aure washed over him. Aside from the obvious head trauma, his arms were shattered (Likely from an attempt to shield himself upon impact) and his legs had been severed at the knees, most likely due to friction against the road. She let the spell continue to carry her into his body; she saw all 67 pieces his knees had shattered into. She saw every inch of shredded muscle and sinew. She saw each individual piece of his brain, scattered across the road like flowers during cherry blossom season. She saw his eyes, each hanging out of their sockets by a- Luna quickly canceled the spell and turned away in disgust before the grotesque images overwhelmed her. The sheer number of horrifying injuries, any one of which she could have dealt with by themselves, made her instantly regret casting that spell. After several seconds she started to take deep breaths. In and out. In and out. With each breath, her nerves settled, and the sensory overload quietly faded. It took her several breaths to relax, and when she finally looked around Isaac was nowhere to be seen. She opened her mouth to call out when a quiet *clang* came out of the truck. There he is. She thought, and swiftly cantered over to the truck, eager to finally finish what they came for. Come on. Where is it where is it whereisitwhereisitwhereis- Panicking won't help us find it faster. I know! I know! Goddammit, the first alien contact our species has and one of them has to get stung by a goddam cazador! Couldn’t he have just been mauled by Yao Guai or something? It’d be a lot easier for us! Easy, Courier. Heartlessness and cold pragmatism is my job. Don’t get smart with me! “What exactly do we seek at the moment?” Isaac shook himself back to reality. “Look for a square white box, about 15 inches on all sides. It’s got chamfered corners and a plus sign in the center.” He heard a quiet thump as Luna hopped into the truck. “Plus sign?” “An addition sign.” Silence. “You know… math.” Luna waved her hand and a dark blue symbol appeared in the air. Lines and circles crisscrossed in a seemingly random pattern. Isaac ran through the math textbooks he could remember, looking for anything familiar. He found nothing. “This is our plus sign.” That’s just needlessly complicated. How to they teach their children math if the symbols are so intricate? That’s not important right now. Focus. “You know what, forget about the plus sign. Just look for-” a sliver of beige white slipped into the corner of his vision. “There it is!” he snatched the box up and threw open the clasps. Inside were two packs of blood (O-), one case of Med-x, and three bottles of Antivenom (one can’t be too careful with cazador stings, especially after so much time has passed). All just as ordered. “It’s all here. Now we just need to get back to the van and hustle back to Nellis.” Luna’s relief was clear as moonlight; her shoulders relaxed and sank several inches. “Thank the Maker. “Wait a moment, what about the assailants responsible for this?” Isaac waved her concerns out of the air. “Not the biggest priority at the moment. Besides, it’s likely some small upstart gang that got lucky. As I said earlier, any major raider factions are either dead or long gone at this point. Which makes sense, considering that nothing appears to have… been… taken…” Wait a minute. “Wait a minute,” Isaac’s eyes darted across the truck, “Find the shipping invoice.” “Shipping invoice?” “It’s a sheet of paper documenting what the transport was carrying.” Luna huffed, “I know very well what a shipping invoice is, why do you need it?” “I have to check something. It’s important.” After several minutes of searching, Luna approached him. “I believe I’ve found it.” Wordlessly, Isaac snatched the document out of her hand, eliciting an miffed yelp. “Well, there’s no need to be rude,” her objections fell on deaf ears as Isaac scanned the paper. “5 crates of mixed artillery munitions, 2 sealed boxes of medicine and one box of tools and utensils. All of which…” his eyes shot across the cargo bay, “are still… here.” His mouth hung open as he trailed off. “So? What does that mean?” Luna prompted. “It means,” Isaac looked her in the eyes, “That whoever attacked the shipment didn’t take anything.” Luna’s muzzle scrunched up in confusion. “I don’t follow.” “Think about it. If they were trying to steal the shipment, none of the cargo would still be here. If they were just sabotaging our supply lines, they would’ve destroyed the cargo, or at least rigged it to explode. “No, no, no. This wasn’t a random attack. Someone wanted to draw attention to themselves. Realization dawned across Luna’s face. “This was not sabotage, it was gathering bait.” Luna finished.“Well, then. If they want to draw some attention to themselves, they've got ours-” she froze, ears twitching. “Something’s outside.” Isaac swept his thermal vision in a circle. Every house and alley was packed to the brim with red blobs. The ones on top floors and ceilings had their heads poked out. Snipers. I can’t believe you just walked in, we’re better than that. “We’ve got company. A lot of it.” He tucked the first-aid box into his duster and hunkered down. “I’m not sure they know we know they’re here. I’ll call reinforcements, but we’ll have to stall them before they get here. Just stay quiet and what the hell are you doing?” Luna stood statuesque, softly mumbling in an alien language under her breath. Her palms were pressed together and her horn softly glowed, brightening subtly with every word out of her mouth. Her eyes shot open glowing pure white. She brought her palms apart and an ebony staff extended between her hands. Her aura faded when the pole reached 5 feet long, and when she gripped it a wicked blade, shaped like a crescent moon, extended out from the top, turning the pole into a fearsome glaive. The blade softly glowed in the night, making her cuirass shine as if in moonlight. “Fear not, Isaac. I shall vanquish these wandoughts in glorious combat, and we shall return to the sergeant's bedside within the hour!” Stop her. “Luna, do you remember what I said before I took you here?” he hissed, “‘Perforated with extreme prejudice’?” Luna scoffed. “Fie on your perforation. I have lived for thousands of years and fought countless battles. Stand back, Courier. The time for talk is over; now you shall observe the might of an alicorn.” Luna strode out into the open, grasping her glaive with her arms spread wide in challenge. Energy ran across her body, sending the surrounding dust and debris into a small whirlwind around her. Her eyes shone pure white with power, and the summoned the Royal Voice in the ancient tongue of the Alicorns: “HWIN SEA SIAN TO SOCKOL SLI-” *pop* *THWACK* Luna’s head jerked sideways. Her aura vanished and her eyes returned to their normal blue. She slowly, imperceptibly tilted sideways, and collapsed like a sack of bricks. An unnatural silence fell upon the road. Not even the crickets dared to make a sound. Well, that was short-lived. Swift and silent, The Courier toggled his stealth nano-bots and crouched down. He dared not make any sudden moves, even with the stealth field, as he slowly, methodically crept towards Luna’s prone form. His arms inched forward, creeping towards her dark purple paldrons. His fingers slowly curled around each paldron, warily keeping her barding from so much as twitching in his grasp. He looked left. He looked right. Shall we begin? Isaac breathed in… Yes we shall … The Courier breathed out. With a firm grip, he summoned all the strength his heavily augmented body could muster, and pulled. When Luna left the ground, bullets came to fill the space left over. The Courier dumped her to the ground away from the hole and crouched next to it. Some of the bullets dented the truck walls. Some didn’t. The Courier toggled his EM vision and looked through the wall. His AR scanner counted around 128 hostiles, some heavily armored and all heavily armed. Some shot from the buildings, others running out of them to surround the truck. He heard he ratatat of automatics, pop-pops of semis and the telltale clicks of bolts and levers. He thought he might have heard buckshot. He decided it didn't matter. “ED-E, be advised,” he drawled into his pip-boy, “I have contact with numerous hostiles at crash site, requesting immediate assistance. Bring Kavacha.” The gunshots tapered off as the soldiers approached the truck. One of them got within arms reach of the hole. It was their last mistake. The Courier grabbed her by the collar (she wore reinforced combat armor. So did her comrades) and slammed the barrel of Light into her face. Her nose went crunch as it folded in on itself. The soldier tried to cradle her face, The Courier’s knee went into her groin first. He pressed her body against his and fired Light around her shoulder. He spent casings fell to the ground, six bodies fell with them. His bullets spent, their bullets went through the body of the soldier, her armor slowing them enough to save him, but not her. The Courier let her body crumple as he retreated into the truck. As he slid the next magazine into Light, he looked around with his EM vision. The soldiers had surrounded the truck, most of them were clustered around the hole. Probably too afraid to come any closer after what happened to the last one. A voice rose above the din, sounding like it came from the top floor of the old stock exchange. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU MORONS DOING?!?” he screamed, distance only slightly reducing his intensity. “GET HIM!!” “But sir!” someone else shouted back, closer: “you saw what happened to the last guy who tried to go in there! We ain't getting near there just to get slaughtered!” A third voice piped up. “Jeoffrey, relax. There’s a solution you all aren’t seeing.” Just as the words reached The Courier’s ears a rock clattered into the truck. He glanced at it. It looked more like a frag grenade than a rock, on reflection. Shit. Luna woke up in agony. The left side of her forehead sent overwhelming pain throbbing through her body. Her vision swam and all noise was muffled as if behind two walls. She faintly heard shouting and saw Isaac crouched next to another human, slotting a small rectangle into an L-shaped tool. The human laying prone wasn’t breathing. A metal sphere bounced into the hole and Isaac lurched back. She reacted on instinct and used as much energy as she could muster (not much, considering the piece of metal lodged in her skull) and erected a shield around the sphere. She was faintly aware of the pops and bangs outside the truck, and only barely noticed the sparks and splinters flying through the air. The sphere exploded with tremendous force; the strain on her magic sent another powerful throb of pain through her skull. The shield nearly shattered, but held. She let it drop almost immediately and cradled her head. “Hello, Luna. Glad you’re still alive.” Luna opened her eyes and blinked as a bright light flashed on and off in front of her face. “Good, you aren't concussed.” “What in the name of the Maker happened out there?” “You got shot in the face.” She shot him a look in between irritation and pain. Her fingers grasped around the projectile lodged in her skull but Isaac swatted her hand away before she could start to pull. “Don’t touch that: you’ll get blood everywhere. Hold still,” he pulled out a small needle, “this will help with the pain.” As Isaac pulled back her glove and pressed the needle into her skin, Luna heard someone screaming outside: “...OUGHTA TEAR YOUR GODDAMN HEAD OFF!” “B-but sir, how else are we gonna-” “BUT NOTHING! NO MORE EXPLOSIVES, GODDAMMIT! THAT TRUCK HAS FIVE CRATES WORTH OF ARTILLERY SHELLS INSIDE! DO YOU WANNA BLOW US ALL TO KINGDOM COME? “AND DON’T ANY ONE OF YOU DARE TRY TO RUN! OR I’LL KILL YOU MYSELF!” “Well, at least we’ve got that going for us.” He muttered. “Alright, here’s the plan: I’ve called for Eddie, once he gets here I can use him to radio for reinforcements. We’ll have to hold out long enough for them to get here, and we’ll have to work together to get through this. How’re you feeling?” “I cannot think with this thing stuck in my head.” “Take this,” he handed her a small pill, “It’ll help stop the bleeding when I take the bullet out.” Luna knocked back the pill with a grimace. She nearly flinched when Isaac started to feel around her scalp, but restrained herself. She felt his fingers wrap around the metallic intruder and wrench in free. She expected more pain, but only felt a dull pressure as it left her skull, as well as a slight trickle down her muzzle. Isaac held the bloody projectile in his palm and let out a low whistle. “Damn, Luna. That’s a .308. Hollow point, looks like. Looks like you are made of tougher stuff after all. How’s the pain?” Luna was confused. “Pain? I barely feel anything now.” Isaac tilted his head, a puzzled expression sat behind his sunglasses. (again, why was he wearing those at night? There had to be a reason) “Med-x is potent, but not that potent. How could… you know what, it’s irrelevant right now. If you’re good to start fighting, you can keep-” Another soldier, clad in identical armor to the one lying dead on the ground, crept into the transport and pointed a weapon at Isaac's back. “Look out!” She drew herself up standing, but Isaac was faster. Near-instantly, his L-shaped tool flew out of its sheath and pointed at the soldier. There was a flash of light and a *pop*, and the wall behind the soldier’s head was suddenly coated red. He collapsed to the side and fell onto his comrade. It had happened so fast that she barely saw it happen, and Isaac hadn’t even turned his head. “Sorry about that, didn’t see that guy. Anyways, are you good to go?” Luna’s eyes shot between Isaac, the corpses on the ground, and the hole in the transport wall. She took a deep breath, scooped up her weapon, and met his eyes, steeled for another go. “I am ready.” “Wonderful. Let’s go fuck their shit up.” Author's Note Sorry for the wait, I got you a present to make up for it. If there are any continuity errors, spelling/grammar mistakes, or stupid plot threads, comment below. Your input gives me life. Side note: If anyone would like to edit/beta read/peer review current or upcoming chapters, PM me and we'll work something out. Interlude: Way Back HomeInterlude: Way back home “Hey Twilight! Any progress on the search?” Twilight looked up from the stack of calculations and records on her desk to see Spike enter the room, carrying several bags from her favorite pizza restaurant in Canterlot. She smiled, despite her exhaustion, that Spike had remembered her favorite restaurant and walked across town to get it for her. “Thank you, Spike. No, I haven’t made any progress yet. I’m starting to wonder if Luna even ended up on the other side of the portal.” Spike put down the bags and hopped onto the bench next to her. “Well, where else could she have ended up?” “I don’t know! It’s been two weeks since the accident, she could have gone anywhere by now. And even if she stayed right next to the entry portal, bridges between dimensions are a totally new concept in Equestria, at least as far as I know. There’s no precedent for this kind of scenario.” “Well, if anypony can figure it out, it’s definitely you. You’re like the smartest, best, most amazing magic user in a thousand years!” Twilight beamed and ruffled Spike’s spines, “Thank you, Spike. That means a lot to me. But I’m starting to wonder if anypony could figure this out.” Spike peered across the assortment of papers and tomes across the desk, “Say, whatcha working on?” “Oh, I’m drawing up a spell diagram that will allow me to scan Dimension P-74 in a 200-mile radius from the exit portal.” “Woah. Is that a lot?” “Relative to the total surface area, it might as well be the size of this book compared to this entire room,” she swept her arm across the bedroom/study. “But it’s as far as I can go without risking sensory overload. If we wanted to scan further, we’d have to physically search the alternate planet’s surface.” Spike’s head tilted, confused, “Well, why can’t we do that?” “We have no idea what’s on the other side. Yes, it looked perfectly safe, but Luna and her honor guard went over specifically to confirm that. And since they went missing, there’s no way to verify that they weren't captured or worse by whatever is on the other side.” Spike shivered, “You don’t think Luna and her guards are…” Twilight sighed, “I don’t know, Spike. I hope not, but there’s no way we can know for sure until we find her, so I really need to get back to work.” “Aww, come on, Twi. You haven't eaten since breakfast! I went all the way to A.P. Indy’s to get dinner.” “I’m sorry Spike, but I need to concentrate. Princess Celestia is counting on me to figure this out and find Luna. She’s already lost her once, I can’t imagine how awful she must feel.” “Twilight, you can’t solve the mysteries of the multiverse on an empty stomach. Come eat!” Twilight hesitated, eyes lingering over the functions strewn across her desk, until eventually, she caved. “You’re right, Spike. I am pretty hungry,” As if on cue, her stomach released an earth-shaking rumble, startling both of them. She sheepishly giggled, blushing. “What would I do without you keeping an eye on me?” “Starve, probably.” the quip earned him a playful shove and a half-hearted reprimand. “Come on. I got extra green pepper slices.” The throne room of Canterlot Castle was nearly as famous as its primary occupant. Stained glass windows holding highlights of Equestrian history cast a kaleidoscope of colors across ancient tapestries, each bearing the ornate patterns woven with the utmost precision. The Gleaming Dawn, Celestia’s elite guard force, named for their hand-crafted armor which shone with unparalleled radiance in the light of their charge, stood vigilant and dignified in their posts, flanking visitors as they walked down the brilliant crimson carpet. At the end of that carpet, flanked by Celestia’s most trusted stallions, sat the throne itself. Cast from the finest metals and gilded in the purest gold along with more heat-protection spells than one could shake a spear at (gold melts very easily) it beautiful on its own. When the mare herself sat upon it, scholars and poets alike were struck dumb by their magnificence. But today, the throne room was different. The sun seemed to shine a bit darker than usual. The guards seemed a little less stately, the tapestries a bit less bright. The room no longer shined with the radiant brilliance that it usually had. And Celestia… Well, to be honest, Celestia was a wreck. Her hair could only manage a shadow of its usual waviness, barely quivering as it hung limply down to Celestia’s hips. Celestia sat glumly looking over a floating stack of papers from the quarterly border report, in a posture that could not be described as hunched, but was certainly on it’s way towards it. She noted, dimly, that the Northern patrol unit had not filed a report. Were she in better spirits, she might have made note of it to her right-hand-mare, Raven, who would have filed an inquiry into their lack of submission to the audit. But she was not, so she did not. She merely sighed and made a mental note to check on it later. Suddenly the double doors burst open and a ragged guard ran into the throne room. As he ran he flashed the door guards a medallion bearing the mark of Hurricane, indicating an urgent message directly for the Princess. “Your highness!” he shouted, “News from Northern Equestria!” Celestia quietly sighed, floated the stack of reports to Raven, and met the guards eyes with a warm, perfectly convincing smile. “Yes?” The guard removed his helmet and knelt before the throne, “I am simply to tell you that… ‘it’ has returned.” Celestia shot upright with a gasp, half-lidded eyes bulging open. She turned to her nearest guard, “Find Princess Cadence and Shining Armor.” The guard gave a curt “Yes your highness,” and shot a gesture to his fellow Praetorians, who rushed out to fetch Celestia’s fellow royals. As they galloped off, she brought up a scroll and began to write: “My dearest Twilight, you must come to the throne room as soon as possible. Something has happened that requires our full attention.” Celestia sent off the letter with a flash and dismissed the rest of her guards. Once she was alone, she cradled her head in her hands. “Oh, Sister. Why did you have to leave me now?” Author's Note Whipped up a little something to keep you updated, and give a little context. If it's shit, let me know. If only parts of it are shit, let me know. I plan to have the next proper chapter out by the 19th. *edit* Whoops, accidentally posted with edit marks still inside. Reposted.
Chapter 1: 'Round MidnightChapter 1: ‘Round midnight. “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. I am Mr. New Vegas, here with the latest from the Mojave Wasteland. Sources within the New Vegas Civil Sector report that recent efforts to clean the Mojave of residual radiation have proven fruitful, and say that, now that targets of civil and military importance have been cleansed, the NVCS will continue their work on less heavily populated areas of the Mojave, such as the Devil’s Throat, Jack Rabbit Springs, and the Mesquite Mountains. Additional sources report that the majority of personnel involved in on-site radiation scrubbing were members of the Mojave’s mutant population, including super mutants from the mountain settlement known as Jacobstown. When approached, one super mutant spoke to our reporters: “Boss say that helping remove radiation ‘will help strengthen the bonds between mutant and man.’ Not sure what that mean, but if it mean that humans shoot us less, then I'm happy.” You know, ladies and gentlemen, I feel like now, more than ever, the Mojave Wasteland is more than just a place: it's part of who we are, you know? Well Frank Sinatra does. He knows just how it feels to have something -or someone- under your skin.” “Fascinating. What manner of device is this, Private?” Private Swift Wind turned away from the talking box to face her sovereign, Princess Luna. Ever since she joined the night guard, she dreamed of escorting her princess to exotic lands, defending her from untold terrors. Now that that had come to pass, she had spent much time mentally kicking her younger self for wishing so. “I am unsure, your Highness. Perhaps some form of music box?” “Tis unlikely. Why would a music box play news reports alongside music? Hast thou tried turning that dial?” “All due respect, your holiness, I would not trust myself not to break it in some way. I thought it best to leave it be.” Princess Luna nodded. “Very well, Private. How is Lieutenant Rock Solid holding up?” Swift Wind winced. “Not well, your highness. His fever has not improved, if anything it's gotten worse. Sergeant Field Bandage has managed to slow down the effects of the poison, but he says that it's only a matter of time before…” “No.” “Your Highness?” Princess Luna’s face was set with determination. “Banish such thoughts from your mind. I will not allow any more of my guards to perish under my command. Do you understand?” Two thoughts crossed Swift Wind’s mind as she answered her understanding. They passed for less than an instant, quickly replaced by pure devotion and faith. One thought was the whether she heard a hint of desperation in Princess Luna’s voice. The other was contemplation as to just who She was trying to reassure. “I understand, your Highness.” “Good. You should take the time to rest. We make for the city to the south at the Moon’s peak.” Swift Wind bowed, and moved to the tent they had set up. She moved to raise the flap- “Swift Wind?” Swift looked to her Princess, who held an expression that not even the most pious could mistake for anything other than anguish. “Please give Lock and Barrel my sincerest condolences. I cannot bear to face them myself.” Swift Wind was shocked that her Princess would be afraid to face her subjects. Stock And Key had died in service to his Princess, why would She need to apologize? But her Princess had given her an order, she was duty bound to obey. “At once, your highness.” Swift Wind opened the tent flap, leaving Princess Luna alone, and joined her fellow guards in mourning. 30 miles north of New Vegas, there sat a humble shack in the hills, less than 200 square feet in total space. It was constructed out of empty shipping crates, with military tarps draped over the center where the crates met. It had fresh, running water, electricity, and was connected to the global terminal mainframe, as well as a balcony made of a billboard frame, hanging crop planters, a workshop and storage containers. It was practical, quaint, and isolated. The perfect vacation home for the humbly opulent. Unfortunately for the home’s sole inhabitant, their perfect vacation became less than perfect at exactly 12 AM midnight, when the serene sounds of the desert night were interrupted by the sound of a baritone saxophone bursting from his laptop with the volume and subtlety of a super mutant on Hype. “Jesus#%>{¥~*!<][¥fucking%^]<{£{>] hell is it now?!?” The man, fully awake for better or worse, rose from the floor rubbing the soon-to-be bruise on his cheek. With a huff, he stomped over to his desk and repeatedly smashed his hand on the keyboard in an indignant, sleep-addled attempt to make the music stop. Instead, the screen flickered to life, replaced by a stock-still, artificial smiley face. “Hi there! Good to see you again!” The man wiped the sleep from his eyes with a sigh. “Goddammit, Yes Man. This better be important.” Yes Man gave no indication that he was disheartened by the man’s sour tone. Not that he could have if he wanted to. “You bet it’s super important! Nothing more important than your twelve o’clock status report!” The man fixed the screen with the most deadpan look he could muster. “It’s the middle of the night.” “That’s right! The exact middle of the night, to be exact. Good old 12 AM! So, what would you like to hear about first?” “…” “…” “Fuck it, I'm already awake. Fine. Report.” “Alright! 12 o'clock status report is a go! “First off, now that the NCR are letting us use Bullhead station, trains are moving limestone from Quarry Junction to Boulder City. The first loads of concrete should be shipping out to Vegas for building restoration within the month.” Good. Glad that deal paid off. I'll never forget the look on the NCR ambassador’s face when I said we were willing to share it. “Next, between the Lucky 38’s reactor, Hoover Dam, the reactors from all five vaults, and Helios One, the Mojave Wasteland is now producing over 200,000 Megawatts of power a day! The Mojave Wasteland is now officially the most energy-abundant territory East of the Sierra Nevada mountains! And once we get the Sierra Victor power plant connected to the power grid, we could hold that title all the way to the Pacific! We’re gonna make a fortune selling it to the NCR! “Additionally, our radiation scrubbers in Vault 34 have discovered something amazing: not only did the vault have an extra 3 rooms worth of munitions stored, it also had manufacturing equipment! Projections show that our ballistic weapons manufacturing capability is expected to triple in the next month!” The man cracked a wry smile. “So everything’s coming up sunshine and Santa Claus, then?” Yes Man’s chuckling suddenly turned slightly nervous. “Weeeellllll… not everything, per se. There are a few, ahem, situations developing that may need your attention soon. Nothing that can’t wait, though! That is, unless you don't want another civil war in the first eighteen months of your regime. Oh! Did I say ‘regime’? That’s not a nice word.” The man sighed and ran his hand through his short, blonde hair. Rule #26 of the wasteland, he thought. If something sounds too good to be true, it usually is.“Alright, then. Hit me.” “Yeeeeaaah, I’m sorry sir, but that would be physically impossible, seeing as I’m currently talking to you through a computer, I have no way of physically striking you. I can get a securitron to your location within 30 minutes, if you’re really-” “Stop! Stop it now! You know exactly what I meant, you cheeky motherfucker. Just give me the bad news.” Yes Man continued, with no outward indication of the satisfaction he felt from getting a rise out of his master. “First, the Boomers are running low on munitions. They say their current stock should last them another 3 years, barring any major military campaigns in the near future.” The man hummed in understanding. “Yeah, Raquel mentioned something like that last time I was in Nellis. How much surplus crops do they have stockpiled?” “Enough to trade for ammunition with the Gun Runners.” The man chuckled. “Great minds, Yes Man. Great minds. What’s number two on the docket?” “The Enclave. General Jamison had some concerns about their use of deathclaw mind-control headsets and how they conflict with the Constitution’s “Sanctity of the mind” clause. If we aren't careful, they might withdrawal from the defense agreement! And that's terrible!” This genuinely worried the man. Jamison’s Enclave was a critical member of the Mojave Alliance Defence Agreement. Without them, the Confederacy’s Air Force and power armor divisions would take significant hits. He began to panic. He had to find a solution, or everything he worked for would collapse. EVERYTHING. A spark. A flash. An idea. An insane idea, but one that could work, if handled properly. “Yes Man, get me a sitrep on former Enclave scientists working in Big MT, and any intel we have on any remaining Enclave safekeeps within Vertibird range. And, while you're at it, investigate the status of a citizen living to the north of Novac. Name’s Arthur Ribben.” “Done! But before I deal with that, you should probably deal with the third and final item on the docket.” “Oh? What’s that, then?” “The five unidentified bogeys that just flew into New Vegas airspace.” “…” “…” “What.” “Yup! They flew in from the North about 3.7 minutes ago. You should probably deal with that soon. Or not! You’re the boss, Boss!” Yes Man’s encouragement fell upon deaf ears, as the man had shot up from his chair and was desperately rooting through his storage lockers for his equipment. Panic faded to the back of his mind as instinct and habit took over. Vest, longcoat, pants, boots, hat, gas mask, sunglasses, duffel, and Atomic-valence tri-radii-oscillator. Everything in place. Revolver in right holster. .45 in left holster. Ammo along belt. Rifle across the back. Shotgun in its holster, plasma disruptor in lower right pouch. AK next to rifle, ammo in vest. Canteen, MRE, stims, knives, knuckle dusters, .38 in left boot. What else, what else, what el- throwing knifes. Throwing knives go under right forearm guard. Throwing. Throwing hatchets, hatchets are important. Those go into the belt loops, hatchets go- hatchet. Hatchet, next to bowie knife. Good. Time to meet the Boomers to make the intruders go boom. Boom. Idea. The man reached into the largest locker, brushed the Tesla Cannon and PGM Hécate aside and pondered over the final weapon. Isn't it a bit overkill at this point? Mercy was a drum-fed, 40mm grenade machine gun he had found in a cave, and as magnificent a weapon it was, it seemed like a bit of a letdown at the time, considering the 20ish deathclaws he had to kill to get it. Still, seeing as it had likely saved his life at FOB Omega, it would be remiss if him to discard it. But with how many weapons he already had, it seemed like too much. And yet… Fuck it. Better to be overprepared. Alright, if you say so. He lugged the weapon out of the locker with it’s ammo backpack and set it down in the foyer with a dull thud. “So, what should we do about those pesky invaders, sir?” The man looked at the terminal with a start, having forgotten that Yes Man was still there. “Scramble two vertis from Camp Mccarran. Bring them to the ground for questioning, one way or another.” “Sure thing! And I wouldn't worry about hostilities. If anyone can make friends with a previously unknown and potentially hostile third party, it’s you!” The man briefly entertained the idea of telling the A.I. to shut up, but he knew Yes Man would probably take it literally. He sighed and moved to the workbench, approaching a small, round, metal ball. It’s underbelly was folded outward to expose multiple manipulator arms, and had a sort of weapon barrel sticking out it's front. Above it's “gun” was its face, if one could call it that. It was more of a grate containing facial and topographical scanners. It had multiple antennae jutting out it’s back, and a port connected to a small fission battery. The man did not pause to take these features in, as he was well acquainted with them. Instead he unplugged the machine from the battery, pressed a small button on it’s side, and slapped its chassis for good measure. “ED-E, get up. It's time to go to work.” The previously dormant robot awoke with a shudder, it’s small magnetic propulsors sputtering on and elevating it above the table. “” “I know it’s early. Trust me, I'm tired too. We have to go to Nellis.” “” “Several unidentified bogeys just crossed the northern border. Now, do we need anything else?” “” “I’m gonna pretend I didn't hear that. Let’s roll.” With that, the man and his robot flew out of the shack to the waiting van outside. He put Mercy in the back next to a set of custom power armor, closed the door and ran to the driver's seat. With a roar of the engine and a song from the radio, The Courier sped to Nellis to greet the visitors to his domain. Princess Luna flew alongside her guard over the mountains towards the city of lights, and prayed to whatever gods ruled this realm that she was not too late. She flew south with her remaining guards as fast as their wings allowed, with Sergeant Rock Solid on a stretcher suspended between Flatline and Swift Wind. Rock Solid’s condition had gotten worse instead of better, and Sergeant Flatline, despite her best efforts, had been unable to stop the venom. Even moving him was risky, but between potential death during the flight to the city, and certain death should they stay put, Luna decided to risk moving him. She could only hope that the city's inhabitants were able and willing to help them. They will be able to help. They must have access to extremely powerful magic, for how else could their city be so bright? They can help him. They must hel- “Your Highness! We have incoming!” Shook out of her reverie, she finally heard the sound of engines in the air. She reached out with her mind and felt- What in Equestria? Two very loud, very large, and very fast objects coming from the south; and flying right towards them. Private Swift Wind shouted over the din, “I think we’ve been noticed!” “It appears that we have,” Luna responded. Let us hope they are hospitable. “... Run that by me again?” “Blue, flying, bipedal horses, sir.” Of all the things The Courier expected Delta 1 to report, this was not one of them. “Blue?” “Well,” Delta 2 chimed in, “only the big one is blue. The rest are more a light gray.” The Courier set the transceiver on his lap. “Goddammit, it’s too early for this shit,” he muttered. ED-E rocked his chassis, as if to indicate nodding.“” “Alright, give me details. Specifics.” “Well, they're fairly similar to humans as far as build goes. They've got two arms, two legs, hands, feet, and the females have two mammaries. “Besides that, their heads are equine; pointy ears and a muzzle. Pretty sure they have fur too, but that color might be skin, can't tell from here. About half of them have wings, the others either have a horn or neither. The big blue one has both. The flyers are carrying the others with harnesses.” The Courier buried his head in his hand, “ED-E? Thoughts?” “” “Yeah, I got nothing either.” … “Sir? How do we respond?” The Courier brought up the radio again“What else can we discern? Tech, leadership, disposition, anything?” A slight pause. “Well, the blue one looks like the leader, judging by how the little ones are looking at her.” Delta 2 keyed in, “That, and the crown on her head. Could be a tribal thing? Warchief headdress?" “They seem pretty primitive in terms of weaponry. Spears, crossbows, plate mail, stuff like that. You see the same thing, Delta 2?” “Affirmative, Delta 1. They aren't panicking, though. That suggests a level of military discipline. Or curiosity; bet they've never seen a vertibird before.” Courier Six nodded. “I'm approaching Nellis now, anything else you can tell me?” “They're carrying one of the small ones in a stretcher. Can't tell how bad he’s messed up, but i can see the sweat on his fur from in here.” Hmmm… The Courier thought for a moment. They carry 450 year old weapons, aren't running or attacking our response team on sight, and are carrying wounded. “What do you think, ED-E? Should we risk it, or turn them away? Better safe than sorry?” “” “Yeah, there isn't much choice, is there? Alright, Delta 1, escort them to Nellis. We can figu-” The radio screeched to life. “Holy Mother of God!” “Delta 1, what’s going on?” Status?!?” “Sir, these things are speaking English!” “...pardon?” “Halt.” “But, your highness, we mus-” “I said halt!” Princess Luna halted all protests with a shout. “We cannot hope to outfly these creatures, we must be diplomatic if we wish to seek their asylum.” Princess Luna waited with her guard as the flying metal creatures approached. The VB-02 VTOL craft, A.K.A ‘vertibird’ was and is a marvel of pre-war aeronautical engineering. With a dual-rotor elevation system, 12 ton carrying capacity, onboard radar systems, nose mounted gatling laser, side mounted miniguns, missile racks, and a mini-nuke bomb rack, the vertibird is capable of fulfilling virtually any role on the battlefield and engaging both airborne and ground-based hostiles with frightening effectiveness. While the Equestrians were largely ignorant of these facts, the simple fact was that two very heavy-looking hunks of metal were flying on their own power, and whatever could accomplish that was not to be trifled with. Silence filled the air for several moments, both sides either unable or unwilling to speak first. Finally, after several tense moments, Princess Luna finally gathered her wits and spoke. “Greetings, denizens of this realm. I am known as Princess Luna, ruler of the night and avatar of the Moon. I appear before you as a humble traveler, seeking refuge within your territory. We wish no harm upon you or yours; only your aid and clemency. Please, I beseech thou; do not turn us away in our time of need.” “Well, that certainly simplifies things, doesn't it?” “” “Goddamn right this will change the world. Might even change two, if my hunch is correct.” “” “Something I discussed with Mobius a few weeks ago. No reason to jump to conclusions yet.” The Courier keyed the radio, “Delta 1, you copy?” “Solid copy, Joker 1. Orders?” “Alright, Delta 1, repeat this message exactly:” Princess Luna was beginning to get nervous. She made her appeal about 2 minutes ago, and the flying creatures had yet to react in any way. Her guards were getting jumpy, and she mentally debated the merits of turning away before- Shreereeeeeech Luna’s ears folded back as the piercing screech cut through her train of thought. And then, the creatures began to speak. “Attention, ‘Princess Luna of Equestria’, our leader has seen fit to grant you asylum within our territories. You will follow us to a landing zone outside the city, where we can begin negotiations regarding the terms of your stay. You will remain within 100 yards of us at all times, or you will be treated as a threat to the Confederacy, and you will be neutralized with extreme prejudice.” With that, the one of the creatures turned and flew toward the city. The other expectantly hovered in place. Private Swift Wind tentatively flew to her Princess's side. “Your Holiness? What should we do?” Princess Luna deliberated for a brief moment, before shaking her head. “We must follow. It is time we met our hosts.” Author's Note Behold! A fallout fan fiction! With horses! Colorful ones! But, in all seriousness, this is the first story I've ever published, so please be gentle.
Chapter 2: Come Fly with MeChapter 2: Come fly with me Excerpt from “How the Mojave was won”; Lucky 38 Museum Just under 10 miles to the Northeast of Vegas stands Nellis Air Force Base, home to the eccentric clan of former vault dwellers known as the Boomers, and cornerstone of the Mojave Alliance Defence Agreement. At the beginning of the war, Nellis Air Force Base scrambled an enormous number of fighters and bombers to respond to the missile launch. None of those planes ever returned. Additionally, despite the best efforts of the late Robert Edwin House, some of the missiles that struck the greater Las Vegas area impacted near Nellis. As a result, the area was not an attractive site for salvagers after the war. A little over fifty years before the Second battle of Hoover Dam, a group of dissidents from Vault 34 struck out on their own and started using Nellis as a base. After a long time, they eventually decided to call Nellis their home. They learned a great deal of information from the records at Nellis and used the information to open the weapons storehouses at Area 2 and the Hawthorne Army Depot. The result of their efforts was an enormous stockpile of heavy ordnance, artillery, and small nuclear weapons. Due to the tribe’s paranoia, hostility, and excessive reverence for explosives, the New Vegas locals started calling them “Boomers”. The Boomers didn’t mind the name as long as it meant people kept their distance. No matter who approaches them, the Boomers have the same response: artillery. While the Boomers’ attitude kept away trouble, all of the major players around New Vegas want to get on the tribe’s good side. The Boomers have a clean water supply from Lake Mead, power from solar panels inside the base, and thriving farms that they’ve learned to develop “the hard way” over the decades they’ve been in the base. Once, the NCR attempted to shut off the Boomers’ water supply. The Boomers’ response was to shell sections of the NCR’s water pipeline in eastern New Vegas. The NCR promptly restored the flow. After that experiment, no one would attempt to approach Nellis until 2281, when The Courier successfully evaded the Boomer’s howitzer barrage and approached the gates of the base. After talking his way out of being obliterated, The Courier earned their trust by, among other things, supplying them with a B-29 bomber. After the Second Battle of Hoover Dam, The Boomers entered talks with the newly minted Republic of Vegas, formally entering MADA on January 27, 2283. While Searchlight Airport, Camp Mccarran, and Henderson Bunker all possess vertibird launching capabilities, Nellis possesses the only fully usable airstrip in the Mojave: Searchlight has yet to be fully repaired, and the walls surrounding Camp Mccarran have yet to be expanded to allow airstrip access. This makes Nellis one of the most important, and heavily defended, military bases in the entire Mojave, second only to Hoover Dam itself. This also makes the Boomers one of the most influential members of the Mojave Alliance Defense Agreement. Nellis AFB houses the majority of the Mojave Alliance Air Force, containing multiple truck planes, fighter jets and, of course, the infamous B-29 Superfortress, now dubbed ‘The Lady of the Lake’. In addition to the Air Force, the Boomers possess a significant portion of the Mojave's long-range artillery and heavy ordinance. Princess Luna was already apprehensive about following the flying monstrosities that greeted them over the mountains. She became even more nervous when she realized they were leading them away from the city. “Excuse me?” They did not respond. She cleared her throat, raising her voice to just under Royal Canterlot Voice levels of volume “EXCUSE ME?” Shreereeeeeech “Yes?” “Where are we going? Why are you leading us away from the city?” “We are flying to a landing zone 10 miles from the city. From there we will negotiate the terms of you stay. This is to minimize potential risks to the citizens of New Vegas.” “Please,” Princess Luna pleaded, “We wish no harm upon you, we are no risk to your little ponies. We must get to the city, or my guard will surely perish!” “There will be medical facilities at the LZ. We will provide aid and shelter for your injured.” Princess Luna allowed herself a sigh of relief. She would not lose any of her guard. Not again. “No, Raquel, we aren't going to blow the outsiders up! Not again!” Raquel scoffed. “Worked out fine last time…” “No, Raquel, it did not work out fine last time. Do you have any idea how close we got to a war with the NCR after that? We’re lucky he turned out to be a Frumentarius! Not to mention how long it took us to clean the mess off the vertibirds.” Raquel let a small grin slip onto her face. “The affairs of the NCR doesn't concern Nellis, and neither do Vegas’s. Last I checked, Mother Pearl is in charge, not you,” she said, with a hint of smugness in her voice. The Courier did not respond. Raquel smiled internally. She had finally beaten him. That silver-tongued outsider finally had nothing to say! Maybe now she could convince Mother Pearl to withdraw from that stupid allian- “What if…” Dammit Dammit Dammit Dammit Dammit! “What if we made a deal?” Raquel pushed down her frustration and spat out, “Well?” “How about this: you stop blowing up foreign diplomats, and I solve your munitions shortages. Permanently.” Raquel’s eyes widened under her T-57c power armored helmet. She thought, for a moment, that that would be impossible, but she knew better. She hadn't believed it when he said he would clear out an entire colony of exploding fire ants, but then he did it. She hadn't believed that he could get Loyal functioning solar panels for the generator building, but then he did it. She hadn't believed it when he said he would raise The Lady from the Lake, but he did it. When The Courier said he was going to do something, he would do it. And worst of all, she knew it was a fair deal. He would get them a reliable supply of ammunition and explosives, and all they had to do was stop blowing up his visitors. It was a very good deal: one where everyone got what they wanted and walked away satisfied. There was no way she could turn it down. And it infuriated her. Still, to her credit, she went down swinging. “And how exactly do you plan to make good on that?” She growled through gritted teeth. If The Courier noticed her tone, (and she knew almost for a fact that he did) he didn't show it. “Simple. You produce a lot of surplus crops, correct?” Raquel nodded. “Wonderful. There’s an organization called the Gun Runners with a branch just north of Vegas. They will be willing to trade munitions for your extra crops. And don't worry about quality, the Gun Runners take pride in producing quality ammunition and weapons.” Raquel sighed. She knew she had been beaten. “I'll talk to Mother Pearl about it. You talk to these ‘Gun Runners’ about- Ringringring The ringing caught her off guard, and she whirled around to find it’s source: a small, flying metal ball. Raquel blinked. She recognized the robot, The Courier had brought it to Nellis before, but she didn't even notice it approach. Ringringring The Courier sighed, and held up a finger. “Hang on. I gotta take this.” As he approached the eyebot, a panel dropped out from its ‘belly’ and presented a telephone. A particularly boxy telephone with an exposed wire connecting to the robot, but a telephone nonetheless. “Yeah?” Raquel leaned forward, straining to hear the voice on the other end. She couldn't make out the words, but it sounded remarkably cheery. “Did they? … When do they start? Thursday? … Magnificent. Thanks, Yes Man.” The Courier gave his robot the phone back and turned back to Raquel. She immediately straightened, attempting to regain some form of composure. “So… who was that?” “That was… my assistant. He was just speaking to the Gun Runners about our deal. They say they're ready and willing to begin dealing with you.” “…” “…” “You planned this entire conversation, didn't you?” The Courier chuckled. It was a smug, satisfied chuckle that stopped just short of becoming sleazy. “Well, now that would be telling, wouldn't it?” With that, The Courier turned on his heel and, robot by his side, casually strode to the airstrip, to meet the guests he had just ensured would survive to see the sunrise. “We are approaching the landing zone now. Please remain calm and do not make any sudden moves. The personnel are a bit jumpy around outsiders.” Swift Wind flinched at their escort’s voice. Despite the metal monster’s assurances that they would be taken cared for, she hardly trusted them as far as she could throw them. And, considering how much they had to weigh, couldn't be very far. But her Princess trusted them, and if She commanded, Swift Wind would obey. As they ascended over the hill, she saw the aforementioned ‘el zee’. It didn't look impressive at first glance, but then she noticed the large figures pacing along the ground. She couldn't make out exact shapes, but thought that they must be fairly large up close. The thought made her nervous, but not as nervous as the emplacements surrounding the facility that looked suspiciously like cannon emplacements. Memories rushed to the front of her mind. Memories of her time in the Royal Navy. Of splintered wood and sails on fire. And of screams. Sweet Celestia, the screams... A savage, three way war waged within Swift Wind’s mind; her fear on one side, self-preservation on another side, and devotion to her Princess on the third. Her fear urged her to fly away as far and as fast she could, and to take her chances on her own. Her duty to her Princess commanded her to stay: she had sworn an oath to protect and serve Princess Luna, and she had meant it. Her self-preservation was no help either, reminding her that, no matter what she chose, she would probably be shot down anyways. Her breathing got heavier and faster and her eyes raced across the horizon because she had to get away. Have to get away havetogetawayhavetogetawAYHAVETOGETAWAYHAVETOGETAW- “Swift Wind?” The world stopped spinning. Swift flinched away as she felt a hand on her shoulder. It belonged to 1st Sergeant Barrel And Key. “Are you alright?” “Swift Wind jerked away from Barrel, and she realized that she had nearly veered off-course during her freakout. If Barrel hadn't nudged me, I might've- Swift ended that train of thought before it could reach its logical conclusion. She didn't want to think about how many pieces she would be in if those cannon turned- Stop it stop it stop it! Swift Wind took a deep breath, trying to calm down before the panicked again. She realized she never answered Barrel; she still was looking at her, concern and curiosity etched on her face. “I… I’m fine, Ma’am. Thank you.” She gave Barrel a weary smile. Barrel didn't look convinced, and for a moment Swift thought she might grill her for more. But instead, she smiled reassuringly. “Don't worry, soldier. We're all gonna be fine. Just remember your duty, and we'll all come out of this intact.” Swift Wind nodded. “Yes Ma’am. Understood, Ma’am.” Shreereeeeeech “We will be landing shortly. Please remain calm. An official will be meeting with you to process your requests.” Swift jumped at the monster’s voice, but calmed herself. Deep breaths, Swift. Deep breaths. Four thestral ponies carrying stretcher, an alicorn princess, and two vertibirds flew through the darkness of the Mojave, and as they approached Nellis AFB, the runway lit up like a Christmas tree, lighting the way for it’s airborne visitors both familiar and exotic. The airstrip, once pocketed and rough, now shone smooth and flawless in the light of the powerful edge lights lining the runway. For Nellis now stood as more than a simple military installation; it stood as a symbol, reflecting the Mojave Wasteland as a whole. Once hostile and riddled with gashes, now restored past its former glory and safe for locals and visitors alike. Well, assuming that said visitors are welcome, that is. The ponies, flanked by their escorts, slowed to a hover over the runway. As the vertibird’s VTOL thrusters activated, the ponies flapped their wings and descended to the airstrip, their armored feet clanking gently onto the pavement. As the ponies looked around the base, the Delta 1 let out a final Screech “Welcome to the Mojave Desert. We hope you enjoy your stay.” Author's Note Roll Credits! And, just in case anyone is confused by certain details, I am basing this story off a heavily modded New Vegas. I have added links in instances where I reference events/objects from a mod, all of which I highly recommend you check out and use on your next play through.
Chapter 3: Black CoffeeChapter 3: Black Coffee Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I am Mr. New Vegas, fanning the flames of your passion. Exciting news from the NCR border, as local caravan runners report a dramatic increase in brahmin supply from the NCR border following a successful deal with brahmin baron Heck Gunderson. Beef prices are expected to drop significantly over the next several weeks. In other news, several unidentified objects were detected flying over the hills north of Vegas around midnight. NVR reporters in Outer Vegas reported that two vertibirds were deployed from Camp Mccarran within minutes. Now that’s what I call ‘rapid response time’. That’s all the news for now. This is Mr. New Vegas, reminding you that you're nobody ‘till somebody loves you. And that somebody is me. I love you. “News certainly travels fast around here, doesn't it?” The guard glanced at Luna. “How do you mean, outsider?” Luna raised an eyebrow at the guard. “Not two hours after our arrival, and there’s already a news report about our presence. You don’t find that the least bit impressive?” The guard’s face was unreadable underneath his armor, but his shrug of indifference was exaggerated by his bulk. “Not really. Some of us were impressed by the outsider’s intelligence network at first, but it's not so amazing now.” Luna hummed, and mulled over the Boomer’s reply. While there were few things that she was better at than her sister, reading between the lines was one of them, and the guard’s statement gave her a lot to read. First, he confirmed her theory about these ‘radios’; they were not regarded with any sort of value beyond a common household item, meaning that the level of magical sophistication they required was not seen as exceptional. Either the baseline magical capability of this kingdom was much higher than Equestria, or these ‘humans’ interacted with magic very differently than ponies. Second, his reply confirmed what she had inferred about the Boomers, based on how they referred to anyone who wasn't another Boomer as either ‘savage’ or ‘outsider’: the Boomers weren't just isolationists; they were xenophobic isolationists. Or, at least, they were. They actively cooperated with so-called ‘outsiders’ militarily, meaning they probably used to be even worse. Third: the nation of New Vegas held freedom of information in very high regard. Through Radio New Vegas, the rulers of the land told its citizens about anything and everything going on within its territories, be it active military operations, the status of public works, or economic developments. But RNV also practiced discretion. They never named names or revealed any potentially compromising information. They told the citizens of the Mojave what was going on and with who, but never where, when, or how. It was a subtle line they walked; between transparency and carelessness. She had to admire them for that: it took a careful knowledge of communication and psychology to walk that line effectively. “Princess Luna, I presume?” The question jolted Luna out of her ruminations, and nearly made her leap from her seat. The voice had come from right in front of her, but when she looked, but saw no one. She ran her eyes across the entire hangar, but as far as she could tell, there was no one else in the mess hall besides the two guards the Boomers had assigned to her. Panicking would get her nowhere, so she took a moment to reign in her nerves and decided to play along. “You presume correctly. And to whom am I speaking?” This time, she was able to suppress a startled reaction when another human materialized with an electronic ‘woosh’ right across the table from her. They wore a brown coat over a black vest and a collared shirt with sewn-on circles on his upper arms, sleeves ending just past the elbow. Both their forearms wore a kind of vambrace; the right was made of simple metal, perhaps bronze or iron, but the left one was much more intricate, with several buttons and dials surrounding some sort of crystal display. The human wore a brown fedora (or human equivalent thereof), reflective sunglasses (at night?), and an easygoing smile that almost put her at ease. “Hi. My name’s Isaac. People call me The Courier. I'm in charge around here.” Luna blinked, taking a moment to compose herself. This was the leader of the great city of lights? He didn't look much like a ruler. His casual demeanor was a complete departure from what she remembered from dealing with foreign leaders; instead of the rimrod, no-nonsense posture she was accustomed to, this one leaned onto the table, one hand supporting his head and the other tapping to the new song on the radio. He looked more like a cowpony, or perhaps a sheriff. Or a courier, she speculated. There has to be a story behind that name. “Greetings, sir Isaac,” her tone turned dry, “Do you greet all visitors to your nation like this?” Isaac didn't miss a beat. “Not anymore. The NCR asked me to stop about 3 ambassadors ago. We had to rush the first one to the ER; poor thing nearly had a heart attack.” Despite herself, Luna chuckled lightly. “Really? And what made you think I wouldn't be any different, hmm? For all you know, I could have keeled over at any moment.” “Call it a hunch. From what I’d heard from your guards, I took you as made of tougher stuff than your typical politician. Or typical royalty, for that matter.” Luna barked a laugh. I like this one. “You clearly haven't been introduced to the right royalty.” Luna blinked, and she realized what he had just said. She spoke frantically, as a mother would while searching for her child in a crowded market. “Wait, you have spoken to my guards? Are they well?” Isaac held his hands up palliatively. “Easy there, princess. Don't get that heart attack after all. Let me explain.” His tone was reassuring, but carried another feeling along with it. He seemed… impressed? He probably didn’t expect her to notice his mention of the guards. Luna took a moment to calm down, taking slow, deep breaths. I really must thank Cadance for that technique. “Alright… start from the beginning. Are they well?” “Physically yes, at least as far as we can tell. We aren't exactly familiar with your physiology, but the doctors couldn't detect any fractures or life-threatening injuries. That is, apart from the big one in the stretcher.” Isaac held up a hand before Luna could interject. “And before you ask, he’ll be fine. The doctors were mostly able to stabilize him. He won't die any time soon.” Luna nearly sighed in relief when she, once again, noticed one small, innocuous caveat. “Mostly?” An expression flashed across Isaac’s face for a fraction of a second. Luna hardly noticed it, and couldn't've identified it if she tried. “Mostly, yes. There were some… complications.” Luna was stone-faced, fixing him with a raised eyebrow. “Complications?” Isaac grimaced slightly. “Yes, complications. Nothing serious, mind. Just a minor setback.” “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU DON’T HAVE ANY ANTIVENOM?!?” Isaac had to admit that Argyll was certainly made of sterner stuff than most men. Most men would have been reduced to a terror-stricken, quivering heap of limbs in the face of his vindictive verbal onslaught. Argyll, on the other hand, had the gumption to fire back. “I mean we don’t have any antivenom! Why would we even have any antivenom? There’s nothing venomous even remotely close enough for us to need any!” Who the fuck is this guy, talking to me like that? After all I’ve done for him and his, I oughta- Calm down. We both know he has a point. Besides, it won’t do us any good to lose our temper, especially around the Boomers. The last thing we need is to anger our only bomber squadron. Isaac pushed back the growl in the back of his throat. “Alright,” he exhaled, “how is the patient?” Argyll relaxed slightly, inwardly relieved at the change of subject. “To be honest, his survival so far is nothing short of astounding. Examination shows nine puncture wounds to the arms and torso consistent with cazador stingers, and the stiffness in his limbs and voluntary muscle groups indicates a large amount of venom over a long period. At this point, with this much venom in their system, most people would have experienced cardiac arrest hours ago. But these horse-people are made of tougher stuff, it seems. “His biology, and he is a ‘he’, by the way, is fairly similar to ours, at least as far as the circulatory system goes. We were able to stabilize him with blood packs and regular stims. But as far as the Venom goes, we're only kicking the can down the road.” The Courier did a double take. “Wait, you gave him blood?” “Yup.” “And he didn't die?” “Like I said, their circulatory systems are strikingly similar.” The Courier glanced at the humanoid equine on the mattress, removed his hat and anxiously ran his fingers through his head. His breathing had stabilized, and his body no longer radiated heat at such an alarming rate. To the untrained eye, he could easily be mistaken for asleep. But the individuals present noted the subtle quivering of his muscles, indicating severe tension. His breath came fast and shallow, too fast and shallow to be healthy, and his body was caked with sweat despite being towelled off less than five minutes ago. “If we don’t get that antivenom soon, his heart won’t last long,” said Argyll. The Courier replaced his hat with a huff. What to do, what to do… “So, he hasn’t regained consciousness?” “We’re working on it. We don't have the resources or facilities to treat cazador poisoning of this caliber,” Isaac retrieved a bottle and glass from… somewhere in his coat and filled the cup to the brim. “Thirsty?” Luna eyed the glass with a ounce of suspicion. She knew, at this point, that this human was more than he appeared. The subtle ease with which he subverted and spun her expectations spoke of incredible experience in politics and discourse. He had tried to turn her own first impressions against her to throw her off balance, to get her to reveal details about her character and intentions. And, in a way, she had given something away; her devotion to her guards. That was a weakness he could almost certainly exploit. At the same time, he was clearly much more that a simple politician; there were very few creatures, at least in her world, who could sneak up on her like he had, and all it would have taken was a particularly sharp knife in the right place to… And yet, at the same time, he and his hadn’t been anything but hospitable to them. They sheltered and fed them, asking for nothing in return. If they wanted to dispose of them, they had a dozen easier way to do it before. She supposed there was no harm in taking a small dri- *SNAP* “Wha-What!?! What happened?!?” Luna recoiled; Isaac had just snapped in her face. Her mood soured and she made no effort to hide it. “What is the meaning of this?” To her confusion (and slight frustration), Isaac seemed nonplussed by her reaction. “Oh, good. You’re still with us.” “...What?” “You’ve been sitting there, mumbling to yourself with that blank look on your face for about two minutes.” Her indignation was washed away by a flood of embarrassment, cheeks flushing and eyes taking sudden interest in the polish on her cuisses. “Oh. I-I see. My apologies.” Isaac dispelled her apology with a nonchalant wave. “We’ve all got our own quirks that we would rather do without. “So, about that drink…” Luna saw the opportunity to change the subject and pounced on it. “Please,” She grabbed the glass and downed it with a single gulp. It burned harshly down her throat, the heavy scent overwhelming her nostrils. The drink felt like vinegar in her mouth, and she struggled to not start coughing. With a grimace, she drank it down. Isaac laughed; it was a harsh laugh, not cruel in nature; more the laugh you would give while helping you friend up from an embarrassing fall or humorous failure. “Strong, isn’t it?” Though Luna had only been present for the past 3 years of it, she was confident that that was the understatement of the century. “Strong is one word for it! Why in the name of the maker would anyone in their right mind willingly consume this vile concoction?!?” “Well, I can’t speak for those in their right mind, but I find it quite energizing.” Luna was absolutely incredulous. “You call this energizing? I think you will find find that there are other words that fit this… mixture more accurately. Like ‘vile’. Or ‘repugnant’. Or perhaps ‘odious’.” Isaac found this amusing more than anything else, chuckling as he took a swig of the remains of the drink. “Well, I suppose it’s not for everyone. After all, when you brew a pot of coffee these days, it’s more out of desperation than anything else.” Just as Luna’s incredulity was fading, that last statement brought it right back up. “Sir Isaac, perhaps this is simply an issue of cultural or linguistic confusion, but I can assure you, that,” she indicated to the bottle of black sludge, “is most definitelynot coffee.” Isaac eyed the bottle in his hands, contemplating. “Well, yeah. I suppose it’s not technically coffee, but it’s the closest thing we’ve got these days. Actual coffee beans have been extinct in this part of the world for 200 years, give or take.” He said, polishing off the rest of the drink just as a new song came on the the radio. “Hey, speak of the devil.” “Pardon?” Isaac blinked, realizing his mistake. “Oh, it’s the song; it called “Black Coffee”. Y’know, ‘cause,” he gestured to the bottle in his hand. “And, like…” he gestured vaguely before trailing off. “Never mind.” Luna’s eyed dawned in realization. “No, no. I get it. It’s because of-” Isaac jumped in. “The coffee. Yeah, yeah. Right.” They both sat expectantly, each waiting for the other to contribute something meaningful to the conversation, but eventually realizing that neither of them had any idea whatsoever on how to continue. As the atmosphere careened into an abyss of awkward silence, Luna’s eyes began to wander, eventually taking a keen interest in the arches lining the ceilings. Isaac, concurrently, took an equally rapt interest in a spot of dirt on his boot. “So…” A shrill beeping cut through the air, the awkward climate surrounding the two of them evaporating like dry ice. Isaac groaned in what, at face value, seemed like exasperation. But Luna also heard what sounded like relief at the excuse to change the subject. “Deodamnatus. Sorry, I gotta take this.” He pushed away from the table and stood. Pushing his sunglasses into place (seriously, why was he wearing tose at night?) he strode over to the flying metal ball that had appeared out of thin air and picked up a circular, corded- Wait, what? Luna blinked. The orb was still there. She rubbed her eyes, as if the orb was a trick of the light or something. It wasn’t. She was about to dismiss her failing to notice it until now as a result of her anguish over her soldiers when she heard, “Where did that thing come from?” The guard’s bewilderment confirmed that she was not, in fact, going crazy. At least, not yet. If anything else suddenly appeared out of thin air with no apparent explanation, she might actually consider it. Tartarus, this world might actually see the third coming of Nightm- Luna stopped that particular train of thought before it took her off a cliff. No. I mustn't think of ... such things. That will never happen again. I have ensured that it will never happen again. Perhaps if she thought it hard enough, she might start to believe it. *click* “MATRIS FUTUOR!!” Luna was unfamiliar with the exact meaning behind the explicative. She could make a fairly good guess, though. “Is something wrong?” “I have to take care of something. Opperīta huc.” Luna considered being offended by Isaac’s dismissal. She decided against it on the basis that arguing with an offended pony was never productive, and the offended individual was rarely taken seriously. She did not, however, have any intention of obeying him. “I most certainly will not ‘stay here’,” she said, getting up from her seat. “What happened back there? You looked like you were about to burst a vein!” Luna ducked under the floating sphere (which gave a clipped beep of what she could only assume was surprise) and fell into step next to Isaac. “Something came up.” Isaac spoke calmly; his tone and volume controlled and carefully neutral. She didn’t buy it. “It’s about Sergeant Rock Solid, isn’t it? Has something gone wrong?” He didn’t answer. “If it’s something concerning my soldiers, I have a right to know. You will tell me what the problem is this instant!” “You don’t-” Isaac spun around to face her. His eyes seemed to glow a bright red behind his sunglasses and voice wavered, betraying the violent rage barely suppressed beneath his stoic mask. Luna held her ground, rage quietly rising to meet Isaac’s. But it was gone in a instant; Isaac took a deep breath, and the light in his eyes faded. Perhaps she had imagined it. “... Fine. You’re right.” “Do mean that I’m correct in thinking that I have a right to know, or correct in thinking that it involves Sergeant Rock solid?” “Vero.” “Pardon?” Isaac shook his head, grimacing. “Sorry. I meant ‘yes’” Luna adopted an unamused stare. Ah, yes. The old ‘mathematician’s answer’. “Well, then. Out with it. What news do you have?” Isaac looked over Luna’s shoulder, likely making sure there was no one to eavesdrop on their discussion. “Alright, here’s the deal. Remember when I said there were ‘minor setbacks’ ?” Luna nodded. “Yeah, turns out that by ‘minor setbacks’ I meant ‘we can’t neutralize the poison’.” Before Luna could cry out in either anguish or indignation (she wasn’t sure which one was most appropriate to the situation) Isaac stormed ahead. “What I mean is, we can’t neutralize the poison here. The Boomers don’t have any antivenom in stock, and we can only keep him stabilized for so long before his heart gives out.” “And you intend to take him someplace where you can treat him?” Despite the circumstances, Isaac scoffed. “In his condition? Not a chance. The drugs we’re using to keep him alive have made him so fragile, I wouldn’t risk having the robots move him, much less a truck.” Luna didn’t completely understand all of those words, but pushed aside her confusion for later. “So we can’t move him. Can you bring medicine from elsewhere?” “I did. It was just intercepted by raiders.” Luna froze, flabbergasted. Her mind raced with a dozen questions at breakneck speeds. Questions like, Why would anyone attack a medical caravan? How could such a magically advanced society still have things like raiders? Where did Isaac go? *Blink* That last question snapped her back to reality; Isaac was nowhere to be found. I really should stop getting lost in thought so often. As she looked up and down the hallway, she faintly heard a door close to her left. Luna rushed to the door. It had an exotic, yet simple opening mechanism that she wrestled with for a few moments before it finally slid open. She quickly scanned the concrete field and spotted him approaching a green metal… thing. Is it a box? A box with wheels? Some kind of carriage? Luna internally chastised herself for such an absurd thought. That’s ridiculous. That thing looks too heavy for a carriage. Besides, where are the harnesses? As she approached, Isaac glanced over his shoulder. “Was there something else you needed?” “I-you-” she stumbled over the words, stupefied. “What do you mean ‘is there anything else’? I am coming with you!” Isaac looked her up and down, as if assessing her physique. “No, you aren’t.” “Excuse me? Who are you to tell me what I will and will not do? I’m will accompany you and assist you in vanquishing these ‘raiders’, and there is nothing you can say or do to stop me.” He sighed and shook his head. “Okay, do I need to explain all the ways that’s a bad idea? Because I will if I have to,” annoyance began to creep into his voice. Luna opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off. “Primam, your guards are counting on you for leadership and moral support. If you get killed out there, they’ll have no one to look up to or count on. Diende, your ideas of combat are very different from ours. This isn’t some honorable sword-and-spear engagement where both sides stand in lines and hit each other with pointy sticks. If you go out there with wingspan flared, boasting and challenging those idiots to ‘glorious combat’, you’ll be dead before you can say ‘perforated with extreme prejudice’.” At this point, Luna was quite thoroughly through with all this talk of her supposed inadequacy in combat. She had lived for over three thousand years! (If one took her time in the moon into account) She had fought on battlefields when she was but a youngling of 1300 years, and had been feared by her allies and enemies alike. She had held the line against the hordes of Tartarus. She had held her own against the dread Sombra himself. And she was not about to stand there and let some… some… some mailmare tell her what she could and could not do! “Do you think I am some naive filly, swinging a wooden sword around her head shouting ‘glory to Equestria’? You have no idea who I am. You have no idea what I am.” Isaac silently took a single step forward, cooly meeting her gaze “Please. Do enlighten me.” “I have commanded great armies against hordes of the most horrible monsters ever to walk my world!” Luna took a step forward as well. “So have I, only I left my army behind. They would have slowed me down.” Isaac stepped within arms reach of her. “I stood against the most fearsome warlord in all the world and vanquished him in single combat!” Luna leaned into Isaac’s face. “I looked the most fearsome warlord in all the world dead in the eyes and told him to take his army and walk away.” Isaac leaned closer, until their noses were nearly touching. “He ran. “Now, are we done with our homicidal phallic measuring? I have shit to do, and we aren’t getting anything done standing here, boasting at each other.” No, we aren’t, are we? Luna surveyed the terrain, her eyes finally resting on a short, long wreck of rusted metal laying destitute on the ground. “What would it take to convince you to allow me to accompany you?” Isaac laughed. This time it had a harsh edge. “You’d have to impress me,” she didn’t wait for the rest, and began gathering magical energies in her horn. “Keep in mind, I’ve seen some crazy shit over the years,” Luna cast a discrete shield spell around the three of them. “Shit I would’ve never believed if it hadn’t happened to me. The odds of you actually impressing me are probably slim… to… no…” With a light *whoosh* of a telekinesis spell, Luna slowly raised the wreck off the ground. As Luna effortlessly lifted the hunk of metal into the air, she could only imagine the look on Isaac’s face right then. She decided that it was for the best; whatever face he was making in reality would most likely be less impressive than the one she imagined. The wreck ascended to ten feet. Twenty feet. Thirty feet. Luna decided to stop at thirty, so as not to diminish the effect of her next trick. Isaac chimed in, having finally recovered his wits to the point where speech was possible. “Well, then. That’s… unusual. Do you-” Luna held up an open palm. “Oh, sorry. Should I wait for you to finish, or-” Wordlessly, Luna clenched her hand, and the wreck clenched with it. The sound of tearing metal filled the air as the wreck imploded; a horrible, screeching sound that grated on the ears of anyone within earshot. (i.e. the entire base) Luna let the sphere of twisted metal hang in the air for a few moments, then pulled her arm down to her side. The ball followed her movements and dropped, no, rocketed to the ground with a mighty *crack*, sending jagged bits of stone flying in every direction. Of course, the shield spell she had cast before her display was more than adequate to protect them both. When the dust cleared, Luna turned on her heel and gave Isaac her best ‘I-know-exactly-how-awesome-I-am-and-now-so-do-you’ smile. “Well? Art thou impressed yet?” Luna was too satisfied with herself to care about her lapse in speech. “Or shall We need to demonstrate further?” Isaac was, for the first time in a very long time, completely speechless. Average weight of the Chryslus Corvega: 5995 pounds. Subtract weight of engine, wheels, exhaust, internal components: 1750 pounds. Pressure required to crush steel chassis: approximately 2,000 psi exerted from all sides at once. Requires minute control of force applied and direction of application. Telekinesis indicated psychic abilities. Rare, especially at that level of power and control. Or is it rare? May be common in the other world. Or result of royal blood? Royalty determined by psychic power? Possible meritocracy. Caste system? Possibility of social unrest/discontent; exploitable? Requires further inquiry. Ask other Equestrians about society; royalty unlikely to know about average quality of life. Slipped into early modern english grammar. Decorum? Childhood conditioning? Linguistic dissonance between upper and lower class? Further evidence of caste system; exploitabl- *SNAP* “Wha-What? What happened?”Isaac recoiled; Luna had just snapped in his face. His mood soured and he made no effort to hide it. “The hell was that for?” To his confusion (and slight frustration), Luna seemed nonplussed. “Oh, good. You’re still with us.” “...What?” “You’ve been standing there, mumbling to yourself with that blank look on your face for about two minutes.” Luna smiled in a way that was somehow perfectly innocent and deviously impish at the same time. That cheeky little- Don’t. Isaac kept a straight face as he suppressed the outburst, maintaining eye contact with Luna all the while. He let the atmosphere stew for a moment, and Luna began to squirm under the scrutiny. The old staring contest was a reliable negotiation tactic; it put psychological pressure on the other party to initiate the conversation while simultaneously implying that any sort of remark would be considered inadequate. It worked more often than most would expect; most politicians and grandstanding warlords weren’t used to being put on the back foot so quickly, and Luna, by the looks of it, was both. Sure enough, her smug pride gave way to the usual feelings: confusion, then scorn, then despondency, the- Wait, what? She wasn’t just squirming; she was wilting. Her eyes found their way to the ground, her feet shuffled across the asphalt, her hands began to fidget together. Even her ears wilted, splaying flat across her skull. He could see the hope draining from her eyes, as if her very essence had bled from her body. It was soul-crushing. She’s a liability. Her political importance is to great to risk her traipsing into a landmine. If she dies, so many opportunities disappear. ‘Yup. All the psychic hocus-pocus in the world won’t save her from a bullet to the head or shrapnel to the spinal column. Eeyup. We’re still taking her with us, aren’t we? Yes we are. This’ll be a disaster. We’ve dealt with worse. Resigned, Isaac sighed. “Alright, fine. Welcome aboard.” The effect was immediate. As soon as the words left his mouth, Luna shot up like a meerkat. Her ears perked up, back straightened, and her eyes went from disconsolate resignation to tentative hopefulness. “I-you-truly? I may accompany you?” Isaac turned back to the van and slid the key into the backdoor. “Just do us both a favor and try not to die horribly, okay?” “I… fair enough, I suppose.” Satisfied, Isaac threw the doors open with a flourish and hopped into the van, “Come along, then. Let’s get that antivenom.” He strode to the front of the van and plopped into the driver’s seat. With a huff he removed his hat and placed it on the dashboard, then he reached for his sunglasses before remembering himself. Probably best if we leave those on for the moment. Don’t want to scare her away. He swept his eyes over the dashboard, checking for anything out of place. Fuel was at acceptable levels, the gearshift looked relatively intact, and the snowglobe was sitting peacefully above the map. Lovely. He adjusted the target designator to the shipment’s approximate location and was about to turn the ignition when, “Hey, hey! Cease, you metallic mattoid! I said cease!” Isaac immediately discerned the scene behind him, and did not even glance back to shout, “ED-E, stop antagonizing the pretty pony princess who can kill you with her mind.” There was a ruckus of furred flesh slapping on metal, followed by, “” as Luna stormed into his field of view. “That officious orb tried to corrall me like an animal!” “You were staring, weren’t you?” Luna sputtered, “Well-I-it-” “” Luna threw a glare at ED-E, who floated a few paces back. Isaac quietly moaned in exasperation and turned to face the two. “Listen, you two can work out your differences later. We’re on a time crunch right now, and if we want to get that medicine in time, we need to focus. Sit down and leave each other alone.” Luna immediately sobered and sat down in the passenger seat, “You are correct. My apologies, I forgot myself.” ED-E was even more serious about the whole thing, “” Luna blinked. “...Was that supposed to mean something?” “He says that he is profoundly sorry for antagonizing you and wasting time when the life of one of your soldiers in on the line.” Luna’s expression turned to bewilderment, mixed with an ounce of suspicion. “You got all that from a series of incomprehensible beeps?” “It’s no less incomprehensible than any foreign language. Now,” he turned and met Luna’s gaze, “you have questions. We have time to answer one. Ask away.” Luna raised an eyebrow, “You’re certainly direct. Very well, what exactly is the purpose of us entering this box?” Box? Plate armor, spears, implied royal family. In terms of society/technology they’re at 14th century at best. It would be surprising if they have anything even conceptually resembling an internal combustion engine, much less a fusion reactor. Isaac grinned devilishly. “Well, that’s simple. All you need to do to find the answer is look out the window.” Luna’s eyebrow raised even higher. “Really?” he could practically taste the skepticism coming from her expression. “Really. Just look out that window, and all will be made clear.” “...hmf. Very well,” she turned away to gaze out the side window, “What exactly am I looking fo-” With her back turned, Isaac turned the ignition. The engine roared to life, and Isaac took great pleasure in hearing the startled “eep!” from Luna. “Onwards into the breach!” he shouted, gunning the van forward and away from Nellis. Author's Note Next chapter won't take a year this time. I promise.
Chapter 4: That Ain't RightChapter 4: That Ain't Right Passage taken from “The museum of the present,” Lucky 38 MuseumThe Desert Rangers are an ancient order of protectors who operated throughout southern Nevada and Arizona since the end of the Great War, safeguarding the survivors of the War from raiders and preserving old world knowledge of warfare, medicine, and survival. In the mid-23rd century, they held the line against Caesar's Legion for over twenty years, albeit with significant difficulty and heavy losses. In 2271, the Desert Rangers were close to breaking, and likely would have crumbled within months if the NCR had not arrived in the Mojave. In order to protect Nevada from the horrors of the Legion, the Desert Rangers signed the Ranger Unification Treaty on October 7th, 2271. As a result, they were absorbed into the NCR Rangers in exchange for NCR's protection of Hoover Dam and Nevada from Caesar's Legion. If you traveled from NCR territory to the Mojave before the Second Battle of Hoover Dam, you’d’ve seen the giant statue overlooking Mojave Outpost, marking the union of the two organizations for the common good of the Mojave. However, if you have visited the Mojave Outpost after the Second Battle of Hoover Dam, you may have noticed that this statue is conspicuously absent. This is due to the fact that, as the NCR has failed to provide it’s protection to the Mojave in recent years, the Desert Rangers are no longer bound to serve the NCR. As of 2284, every remaining member of the Desert Rangers has left the NCR and returned to the Mojave (all legally and through the official channels, of course). Today, the Desert Rangers serve as the national guard for the New Vegas and it’s foreign territories. Operating alongside the Mojave Alliance Defense Agreement (But outside it’s direct control) the Desert Rangers are the highest authority in matters of justice, second only to The Courier himself. When a Ranger speaks, it is always wise to listen. While Rangers often mediate the law throughout the Mojave, occasionally they must enforce it. And they are more than prepared to do so; their armor is of nearly unrivaled quality, offering protection equal to a suit of T-45 power armor at a fraction of the weight. They wield custom-cast revolvers chambered for .45-70 rifle rounds, as well as bayoneted M1 Garand .308 rifles and as many other weapons as they can operate. So, a word of advice for visitors and residents of the Mojave alike: pray you never need the Rangers. And when you see one, pray you have done no wrong. While Luna recognized that Isaac was, technically, telling the truth, she still felt every right to be angry at him for ‘trolling’ her, as the youth referred to it. She couldn’t bring herself to irritated, though; she was too fascinated by the machine to muster the concentration it would require. She could tell that the box was moved by more than a simple ‘animate object’ spell; the constant rumbling beneath her feet indicated some form of engine, though one much more complex than any ever conceived by Equestrians. The magical power and sophistication such a construct would demand was staggering, especially when moving such a large object. When she first laid eyes on the interior she assumed it was a cottage or some other kind of personal lodgings. It wasn’t an unreasonable assumption; there were certainly all the elements required for a home: a stove, sink, storage cabinets, a workbench, bed, dining table, and something she could only assume was some sort of icebox (though she could only speculate the function of the flat glass panel mounted on the ceiling). She thought perhaps that was simply the style of housing in this world; all the necessities of a home collected in one room. It was certainly efficient, and promoted the tenant to spend more time outdoors. She assumed, initially, that Isaac simply wished to acquire some items from his personal abode and set off as soon as possible. This assumption caused a considerable amount of confusion when sat down near the end of the room and began fiddling with the assorted accoutrements across the window pane. She would have inquired about his intentions when that spherical satrap nudged her into the box. Shaking herself from her reminices, Luna turned to Isaac. “Any idea who would have attacked the shipment?” Isaac brought a hand off the wheel to rub his chin, “Can’t say for certain. The Fiends and Scorpions are extinct, what’s left of the Vipers and Jackals left years ago. The Khans moved to Montana, and even if they hadn’t, they don’t attack caravans,” Isaac bore the van right, driving East, “Could be Legion; sometimes a raiding party gets past the border. NCR is unlikely, but not impossible. Moore has been trying to rile up the brass lately, might have gotten the green light on a sabotage missio- what?” he stopped when he noticed Luna’s nonplussed expression. “You realize that I have absolutely no idea who any of those groups are, don’t you?” After a moment, Isaac chortled, “Figures. The first time we get to discuss regional politics in this story, I’m talking to the alien.” Blink. “Story?” Isaac waved a hand in the air, as if dispersing her question from the air, “Don’t worry about it. Anyways, we’ve got time for the short version. “The Khans, Jackals, and Vipers are ancient raider bands, all originating from an old fallout shelter back west: Vault 15. They all have been dwindling in numbers and power for the past few decades, and their last members took refuge in the Mojave some years ago. By now, the Vipers and Jackals have been all but wiped out, but the Khans traveled North to Montana. I hear they’ve been doing well for themselves. “The Scorpions were a particularly young raider band, and they died as quickly as they were born. Nothing much to note there. The Fiends, however, are a different story. Full of junkies and psychopaths of all stripes, the Fiends were a force to be reckoned around Outer Vegas. With thousands of members, a secure command center in Vault 3, and more drugs that you could shake a stick at, they made life very complicated for the NCR. “But, like any band of insane, drug-addled marauders, all their support and influence came from their leaders. Without them, they had no drive or motivation, making them easy pickings for an organized military. “So I killed them all.” Luna blinked, “You what? Killed all of who?” “Their leaders.” “Personally?” “Basically. The NCR had placed several lucrative bounties on their heads; it was only a matter of time. I just happened to get to them first. Took me the better part of a year, though. It was like killing radroaches: crush one, three more come scurrying out of the shadows.” Luna’s muzzle scrunched up in distaste. Isaac noticed. “You disapprove? From what I remember from our little ‘boast-off’, you didn’t seem to have much of a problem with killing.” Luna shook her head. “Not killing. You make it seem like you… assassinated them.” Isaac shrugged, “Essentially. When I could. Had to storm a few strongholds too, if that makes you feel any better.” It didn’t make her feel better, but she kept silent for the moment. “Anyways, they’re extinct now, so that possibility is out. And I can’t go into any further details, because we’ve arrived.” Luna looked out the windshield. They had stopped right in front of a crossroads/ Across the stretch of asphalt sat a gaggle of ruined buildings; patchwork construction and faded colors a result of centuries of neglect. “What do you mean, ‘We’ve arrived’? I see nothing but desert and ruins.” “Did you think I would drive all the way there without scouting ahead? The last thing I want to do is drive into an ambush. Or a landmine,” he rose from his seat, and Luna followed suit., “Eddie,” he pointed to the floating ball, “stay here. Be ready to bring the van around when I call.” The orb responded with an incomprehensible string of beeps and tones that Luna could only assume translated into some approximation of ‘yes’, as it promptly floated over their heads to rest in front of the control wheel. She had no idea how it intended to operate the machine, but Isaac seemed to trust it. She would have to do the same. That’s one hell of an ambush. Rules out raiders. Too professional. Isaac lay prone on the second floor of a ruined store, overlooking the crash. Moonlight shone above the wreckage, illuminating the shards of twisted steel and rubber. The wreck was strewn about the street, blackened shreds of metal and plastic scattered away from the central chassis. The truck itself was totalled; the chassis has overturned into its side, the windows were broken, and part of the underside was melted away, leaving an enormous hole and exposing the driver’s cab and cargo bay . Looks like plasma. Pre-planted explosives? Possibly. Tread marks lead away from the truck to a small crater, still sizzling with green ooze. Definitely plasma. Someone knew they would come this way. Security breach? Likely. Need to get Yes Man to review cyber security when we get back. “My word,” Luna said, “Whoever did this must have access to powerful magic. It would require a very advanced spell to cause this destruction.” Isaac turned to Luna, slightly confused. Magic? Irrelevant at the moment. We’ll need to ask later. Isaac switched from night vision to infrared and scanned the wreckage for hostiles. Finding none, he returned to night vision and rose to his feet, thanking whatever gods may be for his bionic eyes. “It’s clear, but keep close to me and stay alert,” he whispered, adjusting Medicine Stick on his back as he crept to the edge, “Care for some music?” Luna blinked; likely startled by the seemingly non-sequetorial question, “Umm, certainly. If you think it would not interfere with our efforts.” “Splendid,” he leaned forward and let himself fall off the building, fiddling with his Pip-Boy on the way down. By the time his feet hit the ground, he’d settled on the velvety pipes of Nat King Cole. “You coming?” Completely deadpan, Luna simply unfurled her sizable wingspan in lieu of a response. Oh, right. Those. How are those even able to support her weight? Another question for later. As Luna glided down, Isaac observed a few more details about the crash; the frame was covered with dents and scratches and the front tires were gone, likely incinerated by the plasma. “Definitely a pre-planned ambush. Professional, too,” Isaac circled the truck, meticulously taking in details as he pieced the crash together. After a moment, “Looks like the truck hit a plasma mine and swerved off the road. Rolled a few dozen yards before stopping here,” he peered into the driver’s cab, “No sign of the driver. Keep your eyes peeled; they might’ve crawled away from the crash.” “I doubt it.” “Pardon?” Luna pointed to a hunched figure lying about forty feet away from the crash. The driver's seat was still flush against their backside, slightly melted from the blast. He couldn't see their face from this angle, but he noticed the red trail left in their wake, sprinkled with bits of bone and flesh. “Good eyes. Looks like he was thrown from the crash. Plasma ate through the cab floor, he and the seat flew through the hole when it rolled. Ouch.” Luna winced, “One can hope he died quickly.” “One can hope. Anyways,” He approached the rear doors of the truck, “let’s get what we came for.” As Isaac walked away, Luna considered using a simple medical spell to determine more details about the driver’s death. The cause of death (severe head trauma) was obvious to any casual observer, but she felt compelled to know all the details. She couldn’t exactly place where this urge came from; there were more pressing matters at hand, she had never even seen him before, and she was certainly no stranger to grisly scenes of carnage such as this. Perhaps it was the uniqueness of this particular death that pushed her on. Perhaps it was a subconscious desire to learn more about the biology of humans. Perhaps she simply felt sympathy for the human who died so violently for no reason at all. Nevertheless, she lit her horn and cast the spell. The driver’s biometric information was projected directly into her mind as her aure washed over him. Aside from the obvious head trauma, his arms were shattered (Likely from an attempt to shield himself upon impact) and his legs had been severed at the knees, most likely due to friction against the road. She let the spell continue to carry her into his body; she saw all 67 pieces his knees had shattered into. She saw every inch of shredded muscle and sinew. She saw each individual piece of his brain, scattered across the road like flowers during cherry blossom season. She saw his eyes, each hanging out of their sockets by a- Luna quickly canceled the spell and turned away in disgust before the grotesque images overwhelmed her. The sheer number of horrifying injuries, any one of which she could have dealt with by themselves, made her instantly regret casting that spell. After several seconds she started to take deep breaths. In and out. In and out. With each breath, her nerves settled, and the sensory overload quietly faded. It took her several breaths to relax, and when she finally looked around Isaac was nowhere to be seen. She opened her mouth to call out when a quiet *clang* came out of the truck. There he is. She thought, and swiftly cantered over to the truck, eager to finally finish what they came for. Come on. Where is it where is it whereisitwhereisitwhereis- Panicking won't help us find it faster. I know! I know! Goddammit, the first alien contact our species has and one of them has to get stung by a goddam cazador! Couldn’t he have just been mauled by Yao Guai or something? It’d be a lot easier for us! Easy, Courier. Heartlessness and cold pragmatism is my job. Don’t get smart with me! “What exactly do we seek at the moment?” Isaac shook himself back to reality. “Look for a square white box, about 15 inches on all sides. It’s got chamfered corners and a plus sign in the center.” He heard a quiet thump as Luna hopped into the truck. “Plus sign?” “An addition sign.” Silence. “You know… math.” Luna waved her hand and a dark blue symbol appeared in the air. Lines and circles crisscrossed in a seemingly random pattern. Isaac ran through the math textbooks he could remember, looking for anything familiar. He found nothing. “This is our plus sign.” That’s just needlessly complicated. How to they teach their children math if the symbols are so intricate? That’s not important right now. Focus. “You know what, forget about the plus sign. Just look for-” a sliver of beige white slipped into the corner of his vision. “There it is!” he snatched the box up and threw open the clasps. Inside were two packs of blood (O-), one case of Med-x, and three bottles of Antivenom (one can’t be too careful with cazador stings, especially after so much time has passed). All just as ordered. “It’s all here. Now we just need to get back to the van and hustle back to Nellis.” Luna’s relief was clear as moonlight; her shoulders relaxed and sank several inches. “Thank the Maker. “Wait a moment, what about the assailants responsible for this?” Isaac waved her concerns out of the air. “Not the biggest priority at the moment. Besides, it’s likely some small upstart gang that got lucky. As I said earlier, any major raider factions are either dead or long gone at this point. Which makes sense, considering that nothing appears to have… been… taken…” Wait a minute. “Wait a minute,” Isaac’s eyes darted across the truck, “Find the shipping invoice.” “Shipping invoice?” “It’s a sheet of paper documenting what the transport was carrying.” Luna huffed, “I know very well what a shipping invoice is, why do you need it?” “I have to check something. It’s important.” After several minutes of searching, Luna approached him. “I believe I’ve found it.” Wordlessly, Isaac snatched the document out of her hand, eliciting an miffed yelp. “Well, there’s no need to be rude,” her objections fell on deaf ears as Isaac scanned the paper. “5 crates of mixed artillery munitions, 2 sealed boxes of medicine and one box of tools and utensils. All of which…” his eyes shot across the cargo bay, “are still… here.” His mouth hung open as he trailed off. “So? What does that mean?” Luna prompted. “It means,” Isaac looked her in the eyes, “That whoever attacked the shipment didn’t take anything.” Luna’s muzzle scrunched up in confusion. “I don’t follow.” “Think about it. If they were trying to steal the shipment, none of the cargo would still be here. If they were just sabotaging our supply lines, they would’ve destroyed the cargo, or at least rigged it to explode. “No, no, no. This wasn’t a random attack. Someone wanted to draw attention to themselves. Realization dawned across Luna’s face. “This was not sabotage, it was gathering bait.” Luna finished.“Well, then. If they want to draw some attention to themselves, they've got ours-” she froze, ears twitching. “Something’s outside.” Isaac swept his thermal vision in a circle. Every house and alley was packed to the brim with red blobs. The ones on top floors and ceilings had their heads poked out. Snipers. I can’t believe you just walked in, we’re better than that. “We’ve got company. A lot of it.” He tucked the first-aid box into his duster and hunkered down. “I’m not sure they know we know they’re here. I’ll call reinforcements, but we’ll have to stall them before they get here. Just stay quiet and what the hell are you doing?” Luna stood statuesque, softly mumbling in an alien language under her breath. Her palms were pressed together and her horn softly glowed, brightening subtly with every word out of her mouth. Her eyes shot open glowing pure white. She brought her palms apart and an ebony staff extended between her hands. Her aura faded when the pole reached 5 feet long, and when she gripped it a wicked blade, shaped like a crescent moon, extended out from the top, turning the pole into a fearsome glaive. The blade softly glowed in the night, making her cuirass shine as if in moonlight. “Fear not, Isaac. I shall vanquish these wandoughts in glorious combat, and we shall return to the sergeant's bedside within the hour!” Stop her. “Luna, do you remember what I said before I took you here?” he hissed, “‘Perforated with extreme prejudice’?” Luna scoffed. “Fie on your perforation. I have lived for thousands of years and fought countless battles. Stand back, Courier. The time for talk is over; now you shall observe the might of an alicorn.” Luna strode out into the open, grasping her glaive with her arms spread wide in challenge. Energy ran across her body, sending the surrounding dust and debris into a small whirlwind around her. Her eyes shone pure white with power, and the summoned the Royal Voice in the ancient tongue of the Alicorns: “HWIN SEA SIAN TO SOCKOL SLI-” *pop* *THWACK* Luna’s head jerked sideways. Her aura vanished and her eyes returned to their normal blue. She slowly, imperceptibly tilted sideways, and collapsed like a sack of bricks. An unnatural silence fell upon the road. Not even the crickets dared to make a sound. Well, that was short-lived. Swift and silent, The Courier toggled his stealth nano-bots and crouched down. He dared not make any sudden moves, even with the stealth field, as he slowly, methodically crept towards Luna’s prone form. His arms inched forward, creeping towards her dark purple paldrons. His fingers slowly curled around each paldron, warily keeping her barding from so much as twitching in his grasp. He looked left. He looked right. Shall we begin? Isaac breathed in… Yes we shall … The Courier breathed out. With a firm grip, he summoned all the strength his heavily augmented body could muster, and pulled. When Luna left the ground, bullets came to fill the space left over. The Courier dumped her to the ground away from the hole and crouched next to it. Some of the bullets dented the truck walls. Some didn’t. The Courier toggled his EM vision and looked through the wall. His AR scanner counted around 128 hostiles, some heavily armored and all heavily armed. Some shot from the buildings, others running out of them to surround the truck. He heard he ratatat of automatics, pop-pops of semis and the telltale clicks of bolts and levers. He thought he might have heard buckshot. He decided it didn't matter. “ED-E, be advised,” he drawled into his pip-boy, “I have contact with numerous hostiles at crash site, requesting immediate assistance. Bring Kavacha.” The gunshots tapered off as the soldiers approached the truck. One of them got within arms reach of the hole. It was their last mistake. The Courier grabbed her by the collar (she wore reinforced combat armor. So did her comrades) and slammed the barrel of Light into her face. Her nose went crunch as it folded in on itself. The soldier tried to cradle her face, The Courier’s knee went into her groin first. He pressed her body against his and fired Light around her shoulder. He spent casings fell to the ground, six bodies fell with them. His bullets spent, their bullets went through the body of the soldier, her armor slowing them enough to save him, but not her. The Courier let her body crumple as he retreated into the truck. As he slid the next magazine into Light, he looked around with his EM vision. The soldiers had surrounded the truck, most of them were clustered around the hole. Probably too afraid to come any closer after what happened to the last one. A voice rose above the din, sounding like it came from the top floor of the old stock exchange. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU MORONS DOING?!?” he screamed, distance only slightly reducing his intensity. “GET HIM!!” “But sir!” someone else shouted back, closer: “you saw what happened to the last guy who tried to go in there! We ain't getting near there just to get slaughtered!” A third voice piped up. “Jeoffrey, relax. There’s a solution you all aren’t seeing.” Just as the words reached The Courier’s ears a rock clattered into the truck. He glanced at it. It looked more like a frag grenade than a rock, on reflection. Shit. Luna woke up in agony. The left side of her forehead sent overwhelming pain throbbing through her body. Her vision swam and all noise was muffled as if behind two walls. She faintly heard shouting and saw Isaac crouched next to another human, slotting a small rectangle into an L-shaped tool. The human laying prone wasn’t breathing. A metal sphere bounced into the hole and Isaac lurched back. She reacted on instinct and used as much energy as she could muster (not much, considering the piece of metal lodged in her skull) and erected a shield around the sphere. She was faintly aware of the pops and bangs outside the truck, and only barely noticed the sparks and splinters flying through the air. The sphere exploded with tremendous force; the strain on her magic sent another powerful throb of pain through her skull. The shield nearly shattered, but held. She let it drop almost immediately and cradled her head. “Hello, Luna. Glad you’re still alive.” Luna opened her eyes and blinked as a bright light flashed on and off in front of her face. “Good, you aren't concussed.” “What in the name of the Maker happened out there?” “You got shot in the face.” She shot him a look in between irritation and pain. Her fingers grasped around the projectile lodged in her skull but Isaac swatted her hand away before she could start to pull. “Don’t touch that: you’ll get blood everywhere. Hold still,” he pulled out a small needle, “this will help with the pain.” As Isaac pulled back her glove and pressed the needle into her skin, Luna heard someone screaming outside: “...OUGHTA TEAR YOUR GODDAMN HEAD OFF!” “B-but sir, how else are we gonna-” “BUT NOTHING! NO MORE EXPLOSIVES, GODDAMMIT! THAT TRUCK HAS FIVE CRATES WORTH OF ARTILLERY SHELLS INSIDE! DO YOU WANNA BLOW US ALL TO KINGDOM COME? “AND DON’T ANY ONE OF YOU DARE TRY TO RUN! OR I’LL KILL YOU MYSELF!” “Well, at least we’ve got that going for us.” He muttered. “Alright, here’s the plan: I’ve called for Eddie, once he gets here I can use him to radio for reinforcements. We’ll have to hold out long enough for them to get here, and we’ll have to work together to get through this. How’re you feeling?” “I cannot think with this thing stuck in my head.” “Take this,” he handed her a small pill, “It’ll help stop the bleeding when I take the bullet out.” Luna knocked back the pill with a grimace. She nearly flinched when Isaac started to feel around her scalp, but restrained herself. She felt his fingers wrap around the metallic intruder and wrench in free. She expected more pain, but only felt a dull pressure as it left her skull, as well as a slight trickle down her muzzle. Isaac held the bloody projectile in his palm and let out a low whistle. “Damn, Luna. That’s a .308. Hollow point, looks like. Looks like you are made of tougher stuff after all. How’s the pain?” Luna was confused. “Pain? I barely feel anything now.” Isaac tilted his head, a puzzled expression sat behind his sunglasses. (again, why was he wearing those at night? There had to be a reason) “Med-x is potent, but not that potent. How could… you know what, it’s irrelevant right now. If you’re good to start fighting, you can keep-” Another soldier, clad in identical armor to the one lying dead on the ground, crept into the transport and pointed a weapon at Isaac's back. “Look out!” She drew herself up standing, but Isaac was faster. Near-instantly, his L-shaped tool flew out of its sheath and pointed at the soldier. There was a flash of light and a *pop*, and the wall behind the soldier’s head was suddenly coated red. He collapsed to the side and fell onto his comrade. It had happened so fast that she barely saw it happen, and Isaac hadn’t even turned his head. “Sorry about that, didn’t see that guy. Anyways, are you good to go?” Luna’s eyes shot between Isaac, the corpses on the ground, and the hole in the transport wall. She took a deep breath, scooped up her weapon, and met his eyes, steeled for another go. “I am ready.” “Wonderful. Let’s go fuck their shit up.” Author's Note Sorry for the wait, I got you a present to make up for it. If there are any continuity errors, spelling/grammar mistakes, or stupid plot threads, comment below. Your input gives me life. Side note: If anyone would like to edit/beta read/peer review current or upcoming chapters, PM me and we'll work something out.
Interlude: Way Back HomeInterlude: Way back home “Hey Twilight! Any progress on the search?” Twilight looked up from the stack of calculations and records on her desk to see Spike enter the room, carrying several bags from her favorite pizza restaurant in Canterlot. She smiled, despite her exhaustion, that Spike had remembered her favorite restaurant and walked across town to get it for her. “Thank you, Spike. No, I haven’t made any progress yet. I’m starting to wonder if Luna even ended up on the other side of the portal.” Spike put down the bags and hopped onto the bench next to her. “Well, where else could she have ended up?” “I don’t know! It’s been two weeks since the accident, she could have gone anywhere by now. And even if she stayed right next to the entry portal, bridges between dimensions are a totally new concept in Equestria, at least as far as I know. There’s no precedent for this kind of scenario.” “Well, if anypony can figure it out, it’s definitely you. You’re like the smartest, best, most amazing magic user in a thousand years!” Twilight beamed and ruffled Spike’s spines, “Thank you, Spike. That means a lot to me. But I’m starting to wonder if anypony could figure this out.” Spike peered across the assortment of papers and tomes across the desk, “Say, whatcha working on?” “Oh, I’m drawing up a spell diagram that will allow me to scan Dimension P-74 in a 200-mile radius from the exit portal.” “Woah. Is that a lot?” “Relative to the total surface area, it might as well be the size of this book compared to this entire room,” she swept her arm across the bedroom/study. “But it’s as far as I can go without risking sensory overload. If we wanted to scan further, we’d have to physically search the alternate planet’s surface.” Spike’s head tilted, confused, “Well, why can’t we do that?” “We have no idea what’s on the other side. Yes, it looked perfectly safe, but Luna and her honor guard went over specifically to confirm that. And since they went missing, there’s no way to verify that they weren't captured or worse by whatever is on the other side.” Spike shivered, “You don’t think Luna and her guards are…” Twilight sighed, “I don’t know, Spike. I hope not, but there’s no way we can know for sure until we find her, so I really need to get back to work.” “Aww, come on, Twi. You haven't eaten since breakfast! I went all the way to A.P. Indy’s to get dinner.” “I’m sorry Spike, but I need to concentrate. Princess Celestia is counting on me to figure this out and find Luna. She’s already lost her once, I can’t imagine how awful she must feel.” “Twilight, you can’t solve the mysteries of the multiverse on an empty stomach. Come eat!” Twilight hesitated, eyes lingering over the functions strewn across her desk, until eventually, she caved. “You’re right, Spike. I am pretty hungry,” As if on cue, her stomach released an earth-shaking rumble, startling both of them. She sheepishly giggled, blushing. “What would I do without you keeping an eye on me?” “Starve, probably.” the quip earned him a playful shove and a half-hearted reprimand. “Come on. I got extra green pepper slices.” The throne room of Canterlot Castle was nearly as famous as its primary occupant. Stained glass windows holding highlights of Equestrian history cast a kaleidoscope of colors across ancient tapestries, each bearing the ornate patterns woven with the utmost precision. The Gleaming Dawn, Celestia’s elite guard force, named for their hand-crafted armor which shone with unparalleled radiance in the light of their charge, stood vigilant and dignified in their posts, flanking visitors as they walked down the brilliant crimson carpet. At the end of that carpet, flanked by Celestia’s most trusted stallions, sat the throne itself. Cast from the finest metals and gilded in the purest gold along with more heat-protection spells than one could shake a spear at (gold melts very easily) it beautiful on its own. When the mare herself sat upon it, scholars and poets alike were struck dumb by their magnificence. But today, the throne room was different. The sun seemed to shine a bit darker than usual. The guards seemed a little less stately, the tapestries a bit less bright. The room no longer shined with the radiant brilliance that it usually had. And Celestia… Well, to be honest, Celestia was a wreck. Her hair could only manage a shadow of its usual waviness, barely quivering as it hung limply down to Celestia’s hips. Celestia sat glumly looking over a floating stack of papers from the quarterly border report, in a posture that could not be described as hunched, but was certainly on it’s way towards it. She noted, dimly, that the Northern patrol unit had not filed a report. Were she in better spirits, she might have made note of it to her right-hand-mare, Raven, who would have filed an inquiry into their lack of submission to the audit. But she was not, so she did not. She merely sighed and made a mental note to check on it later. Suddenly the double doors burst open and a ragged guard ran into the throne room. As he ran he flashed the door guards a medallion bearing the mark of Hurricane, indicating an urgent message directly for the Princess. “Your highness!” he shouted, “News from Northern Equestria!” Celestia quietly sighed, floated the stack of reports to Raven, and met the guards eyes with a warm, perfectly convincing smile. “Yes?” The guard removed his helmet and knelt before the throne, “I am simply to tell you that… ‘it’ has returned.” Celestia shot upright with a gasp, half-lidded eyes bulging open. She turned to her nearest guard, “Find Princess Cadence and Shining Armor.” The guard gave a curt “Yes your highness,” and shot a gesture to his fellow Praetorians, who rushed out to fetch Celestia’s fellow royals. As they galloped off, she brought up a scroll and began to write: “My dearest Twilight, you must come to the throne room as soon as possible. Something has happened that requires our full attention.” Celestia sent off the letter with a flash and dismissed the rest of her guards. Once she was alone, she cradled her head in her hands. “Oh, Sister. Why did you have to leave me now?” Author's Note Whipped up a little something to keep you updated, and give a little context. If it's shit, let me know. If only parts of it are shit, let me know. I plan to have the next proper chapter out by the 19th. *edit* Whoops, accidentally posted with edit marks still inside. Reposted.
