Chapter 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.