Chapter 1: For Want of a Nail
“Hello!
“My name is Scootaloo. You probably know me (since I am pretty famous) for my awesome performances at events like last year’s GALLoPS, or maybe just as the founder of Red Racer.
“...
“None of which means a damn anymore, of course. If you’re hearing this, that means Omega-Level Threat Protocols have been enacted and you are... are now... aww, dammit!!
“Sorry.
“Okay... right now, I’m talking to you as vice-president of Stable-Tec. You have been appointed as Overmare (or, in the case of Stable Twenty-Four, Overstallion) of a Stable-Tec life-preserving Stable. You have been chosen for your sense of loyalty and duty, both to the ponies around you and to this company. And while the Stable-Tec HQ might be... probably is... nothing but blasted rubble now, our ideals live on.
“Your Stable has been selected to participate in a vital social project. The first goal of your Stable, like all others, is to save the lives of the ponies inside. But you also have a higher purpose beyond saving the lives of individual ponies. We here at Stable-Tec understand that it doesn’t do ponykind any good to save ourselves now only to annihilate each other later. We must figure out where we went wrong. We must find a better way. And we must be ready to implement it as soon as possible once the Stable doors open. ...And survive what our current leaders have managed to do to Equestria...
“...dammit! I-I really hope no pony ever has to h-hear this. Can’t this all just be for nothing? They’re really going to destroy us all, aren’t they?...
“...I’m sorry. Again, I’m totally off script. Where was I? Oh, yeah. In short, Stable-Tec is working to ensure a more... a more Stable society for future generations.
“Inside the safe in your office, you will find a set of special instructions and objectives, as well as details on how your specific Stable has been fitted to carry out your part. If at any point, you believe that your part in the project is threatening the safety and security of the ponies in your charge... as a whole... you are to cease participation and take any necessary steps to rectify the situation. In any other circumstances, however, it is crucial that you keep to the directives provided, and keep Stable-Tec appraised of all results as per your sealed instructions.
“Thank you. From all of us. From all of Equestria...
“...
“Thank you, and may somepony up there have pity on us all.”
*** *** ***
Not the message I had been expecting. Now my feelings about the Stables were completely twisted up in my head, and I just wanted to forget about them entirely.
“Away with the old, embrace the new, right?” I clopped my hoof on the counter again. “Apple Whiskey, another of your specials, please!”
Apple Whiskey, the bartending unicorn who owned and ran Turnpike Tavern, poured me another glass. Then, as I watched, he lined up seven apples on the counter -- beautiful golden apples quite unlike the pale and flavorless ones back not-home -- and waved his horn over them, magically transforming them one-by-one into bottles of the most delicious, pain-numbing, mind-easing fermented apple beverage. Beside me, Calamity clopped his hooves on the floor in applause and several mares in the tavern let up a whoop.
“Dunno why I was surprised,” I half-whispered, leaning near Calamity. “Your leader is a stallion, after all.”
Calamity’s ears perked up and he gave me a look of shocked confusion. “My leader? Ah don’t have a leader!” I couldn’t tell whether he sounded more offended or worried.
I hoofwaved. “I heard him. Over the sprite-bot. When it wasn’t being Watcher.”
Calamity looked at me with deeper confusion. And then broke into a too-riotous laugh. “What? Red Eye?” He turned to the rest of the bar. “Hey, everypony. LilPip here thought Red Eye was our leader!”
The whole tavern joined in on the laughter.
“Good Goddess, girl!” cried one of the mares down the counter from us, “Red Eye ain’t nothing but a puffed up prancer! Hell, Ah don’t even listen to that broadcast! Not when DJ’s on the dial!”
“Huh?”
“Ayep,” agreed a buck from a nearby table as he gathered a pile of bottle caps from his cross-looking companions, many of whom were looking at colorful squares in disgust. “Just let ol’ Red Eye try an’ come out here and make New Appleloosa part o’ his so-called ‘new world’! Ah’ll personally take all his unity an’ brotherhood an’ shove it right up his...”
“Just deal!” the pony next to him interrupted grumpily.
“So...” I fought to shove new facts into the puzzle I was building in my head. The drinks were great for forgetting, but not so great for thinking. “...the not-Watcher voice on the sprite-bot is Red Eye, and he’s not your leader...”
“What’s this watcher stuff?” the mare closest to me asked. “Those sprite-bot’s are just radios. Red Eye can’t actually watch ponies through them. They ain’t cameras!” She turned to Calamity. "I mean, could you imagine if he could?" Okay, now that I knew wasn't true. But apparently the fact those sprite-bots can be used to spy wasn't common knowledge. Watcher had tipped me off to something. Something I couldn't just let lie.
"They are, you know. Cameras, I mean." I couldn't hold back a smile at the way the mare's face went pale. Calamity just smirked and thumped her on the back.
"Ya didn't hear? Ol' Red Eye uses 'em t' watch what yer doin', an' sell th' secrets t' th' Ministries!" He devolved into guffaws, the mare glaring at him before huffing and moving a few seats away. When his laughter died off he turned to me, looking me over like he was seeing me in a new light. Which he might be, apple whiskey is wonderfully illuminating. "Good catch there Lil' Pip. Most ponies ain't ever bothered takin' one of them apart. Lotsa parts in 'em, an' they've got a pretty good low powered magical energy zapper if'n its yer speed. Ah know ya prefer slingin' lead, but havin' a decent recharger pistol could save yer flank when ya run outta bullets."
Huh. That was news. Wait, how does Calamity know all that? I asked, and got the most charming shit eating grin I'd ever seen in response. It certainly explained the look the drunk mare in the corner had been giving him for the last hour.
"This ain't just a hat rack, ya know. Can't scavenge stuff if ya don't know what yer pokin' around in. Heck, if'n ya find some parts Ah could make ya somethin' with some kick."
Shooting crazy raiders with a laser gun? I already had a few guns, but infinite ammo sounded like it could be useful. So of course I answered "Sure, if you want." And then my big mouth kept going. "I didn't take one apart though. It talked to me. Actually talked to me. It told me to get some stuff, make friends, and go save Ditzy Doo."
He stared at me like I'd suddenly sprouted antenna. "No, really. It told me to visit the tree to find a book, and then I shot the slavers and they blew me up." In hindsight I probably should have told him this story when I wasn't drunk. But that's what bars are for, right? "They did that a lot. With mines. It didn't work."
Which was the point where Calamity, and everyone else in earshot, started laughing again. I couldn't help but crack a smile myself, ponies laughing with me being a weird, surprisingly nice feeling. As weird as everything else that had happened over the last... Week? Had it really only been a week? My internal debate was interrupted by the tail end of a very bombastic stallion's speech coming from the speaker.
"...near Appleloosa. My prayers go out t' that one. And that's the truth of the matter. Now back to the music. Here's Sapphire Shores singing how the sun can't hide forever. From your lips to Celestia's ears, Sapphire!"
For a moment, everything seemed to stop. What?!? I turned to Calamity, "Near Appleloosa? Was he talking about this Appleloosa?"
Calamity snickered, still not done having fun with me over my wasteland ignorance. "Nah Lil'Pip. This here's New Appleloosa. Ya can't have a new without havin' an old, now can ya?" That got him serious, my liquor mired brain struggling to keep up. "Now, ya don't wanna be goin' anywhere near Old Appleloosa, ya hear me? That's a Slaver town!"
What. Apple Whiskey piped up, cleaning a glass that I'm pretty sure had been in front of my hoof a few seconds ago. "Well, there's no harm goin' up that way t' trade. Ah sell a good bit o' my trademark apple whiskey to those folk."
And just like that, I didn't want any more whiskey. "You... Trade with slaver ponies?!"
"Ayep. In fact, got a train headed out that way on the morrow."
I tried to think of something clever, something that would get these ponies to see how crazy that is. How suicidal and wrong it was. Instead I sputtered out "You trade with slavers?!?"
Calamity leaned over, pulling a wing around me and pulling me off my stool. Turns out my legs had decided to take a cue from the apples, and magically turn into liquid. "Why ya think Ah never took up livin' here." It wasn't a question.
The next morning I found myself out in the continuing downpour, staring at the train and feeling not a little guilty that I'd spent the last evening helping load the flatcars as part of my training with Crane. That evening would have gone a bit differently had I known where those goods were headed.
"So what's th' plan?" Calamity stood beside me, his hat and coat protecting him from the worst of the rain. That might be a good idea, if this is how the weather's going to be. His head was down, checking the shiny steel ammo hoppers of his battle saddle.
My head ached, understatement of the century really, and my saddlebags were emptier than I'd like. Apple whiskey was expensive, the other price for how warm it made me feel. I should have felt more embarrassed by Calamity carrying me to the small room Ditzy had rented me for the night. I would have, but at that point I was too unconscious to care, and this morning I was too angry. "The plan? Walk into town and ask nicely if they'll let the slaves go." Little Macintosh floated out of its holster, a gift from Ditzy Doo after she saw the gorgeous weapon. "With a high caliber gift basket from Ironshod." One liners? Not my strong suit. Especially when hung over.
"Well then Ah'm comin' with ya. Ah've wanted t' take that damn hole down fer years. Figure with th' two of us we might have a chance." I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "Ah'll talk t' Ditzy Doo fer supplies. Ammo, canteens, some trail food. Th' train'll probably take us up, fer a few caps, but we'll have t' trot back over th' mountains an' desert. Ya'll may be small enough t' fly that far, but yer... arsenal ain't."
Now that gave me pause, for more than the weirdly appreciative look he gave me. First, I wasn't planning on just leaving the slaves to fend for themselves. I wasn't going to let more Monterey Jacks happen if I could help it. Second, I wasn't really sure I wanted to come back to Appleloosa. It traded with slavers, and probably wouldn't be happy about our attack either. Ditzy Doo was amazing, no doubt, and the ponies here were more or less reasonable. How they'd bought their peace left a bad taste in my mouth. I voiced these concerns to Calamity, stepping out of the rain onto somepony's porch.
"Well now, Ah can't say Ah thought o' that. Ah agree with ya, much as Ah've helped, they ain't gonna be happy 'bout their tradin' partners bein' buzzard food. Don'tcha worry none about Ditzy, she ain't got much love fer Slavers." Knowing I wouldn't make an enemy of the best mare I'd ever met was nice. "As fer gettin' ponies back t' town, it really depends on how many folk ya plan on bringin' back. Yer gonna hafta do some real slick talkin' if ya wanna get 'em t' stick 'round an' give them slaves a ride. Gettin' 'em t' just stick around fer a few hours'll be easy, it takes a day or two fer them t' get everything unloaded an' stock up on th' stuff they bring back. Might take some caps, fer traders yer time is caps."
Right. Caps that I didn't have, and I doubt I could talk them into sticking around for the green as grass Stable Pony to 'liberate' some trade goods for them. So I could try to talk them into risking their necks to bring back a bunch of ponies they indirectly help enslave, or bribe them into wasting their time sitting around a slaver town while we rained leaded death on their trading partners. This... wasn't going to work. I turned to Calamity to see what he might think, and found myself staring at empty space where the pegasus had just been. I should probably lay off the inner monologues a bit, if I'm missing stuff like a big pegasus walking away.
Calamity didn't strike me as the type to just up and ditch me, so I sat down and focused on the train itself. Most of the train was composed of two kinds of carriage: long flat ones with goods strapped down under tarps, and big boxes that Crane had called Box Cars. Clearly a pony came up with the name. The big one in the back was red, surprisingly shiny, and had a stallion leaning out of a small window in the side. The one on front was even bigger, with a "smoke stack" on top and a bunch of ponies milling about a series of metal ropes connected to it. I could recognize the latter from Absolutely Everything, where a similar train car had been welded into the mishmash of metal that made up the shop.
I was getting up to ask one of the puller ponies what the big cars were for, when Calamity swooped back in and shook the rain off himself like a dog. He gave me a grin around a metal tin between his teeth, spitting it out in front of me. My horn sparked, catching it before it could hit the half rotten wood beneath our hooves, and pulled it closer. The tin had a scratched out picture of a zebra on it, somepony having taken marker to the label. "Party-Time Mint-als?"
"Eyup. Brewed up with Mint-als an'... some other stuff. Guaranteed t' make ya the life o' the party. They'll clear yer hangover, clear up yer head, an' make ya th' smoothest-talkin' pony in all the Wasteland. They ain't cheap, but Ah figure if it helps take down them bastards its worth callin' in a few favors." He tipped his hat, hiding most of his face beneath the brim. "If ya want t' talk them train ponies inta helpin' us with our plan, they'll help."
Well, that was an option. Not the only one, but maybe... "What was that about favors?"
Calamity perked up, looking down at me with the sort of pride he has when talking about his Policy. "Well, Ah've spent th' last while now protectin' caravans an' trains like this'n from th' usual types. Raiders, slavers, th' odd Talon wing on hard times. Ain't many 'sides th' last type that bother lookin' up, an' Talons ain't exactly th' type to try hittin' caravans. They don't like upsettin' th' folk that hire 'em. So Ah happened t' remember a pony in town who Ah helped out, an' she decided t' share. That's part o' livin' out here, gratitude."
I'd certainly run into that. Both sides of it, in fact. Monterey had been a great example of a pony who didn't show that, and that lead to the standoff in front of Ponyville. On the other hoof, Ditzy had been more generous to me than I had any right to. Gratitude... It was more than gratitude that made Ditzy the warm, slightly squishy heart of the community here, but it certainly helped. "Maybe... Maybe we can do that?" A grin slowly spread across my face, headache or no headache. "Calamity, how many of these ponies have you helped out?"
He was looking at me funny, though I couldn't tell if it was suspicion or confusion. "Ah'd say most of 'em. Why?" Perfect.
"There's a thing we do in the Stable. My Stable, not... Anyway, we used to get a stipend to spend every month, but it wasn't nearly enough for most ponies. So some would trade favors in exchange for things like apple cider or somepony's slice of cake. They'd have to do something in return later, that's what you meant by favors, right?"
Okay, that was definitely suspicion. And then realization. His frown turned into a grin, and he darted forward to snatch the tin from my magic. "Yes, yes it is. An' Ah reckon its time th' good ponies helped their neighbors. Gimme twenty minutes, Ah'll have us a ride." He kicked a lever on his battle saddle, a bullet popping out of his rifle with a ping. I caught it in telekinesis, on reflex more than anything, and found a tattered sack of caps shoved in with it. "These're th' kinda bullets Ah use. Get some o' th' ones with blue tips, an' as many o' th' normal ones as Ditzy Doo will sell ya. Tell her what we're doin', an' she'll help ya pick out enough rations fer th' both of us. We're gonna have a heck of a walk in front o' us."
I nodded, turning as he pried open the tip with a hooftip. He started trotting towards the train ponies, chewing a mint from the tin.
"'Cause we're chasin' Justice." If anyone ever asks why his one liners are so much better than mine, I blame the damn mints.
Hours later, Justice was taking a nap. Calamity had fallen asleep less than an hour after we boarded, curling up on a bench and passing out. Which left me alone, with my thoughts, again.
Ugh. No feeling lonely, you've got a friend right there. Think of something else. DJ Pon3's radio station, once I found it, spit faint static into my earbloom. If I had to guess, we were on the edge of good reception. Turned down, the snatches of music and white noise made good background noise to the rainstorm outside. Which had, of course, picked up again. We were going to be relying on the storm, but it was going to be miserable once we left the train.
Staring out the window, I found my mind drifting. From missing a warm shower (indoor plumbing!) to everything I had been through. It eventually settled on, of all things, Ditzy Doo. I was wearing my utility barding, now armored and festooned with extra pouches thanks to the strange but cheerful pegasus ghoul. That poor pony. I turned the radio off, it wouldn't help where my thoughts were going. Seeing her home and life obliterated, turned into a rotting cliche from an old holotape. Made to live with that in the mirror for centuries. Suffering and fighting back against Raiders, slavers, and probably much worse. I sincerely hope that what she wrote in her survival guide was the worst of her experiences, but knowing her she had censored her story heavily. And the whole time living with everypony eyeing her as if she was going to go insane and eat them at a moment's notice. No wonder ghouls went feral, if that's what they lived with every day, and that's just the tip of the iceberg. But there she was, happier than everypony else, smiling in the rain. How that big smile, and the little kindnesses made her the most beloved pony in New Appleloosa. That foal had been dragging his mother around trying to see Ditzy again, with the biggest smile I'd... Oh.
Laughter is a Virtue. Not the giggling laughter, and definitely not rolling around laughter. Those are fun, but Laughter with a capital L is more... subtle. Its the inside kind of laughter that lets a pony take everything the world throws at her and not lose... Joy. The kind of Laughter that's infectious, that spreads through an entire town, and pushes back the darkness. Its definitely a virtue!
I turned away from the window, my spirits higher than they had been in days, and gave Calamity my best smile. He snorted and rolled onto his back, legs splayed out. I had to bite a hoof to not wake him up with my own giggles.
Lightning flashes outside, drawing my eye. I fell off the bench, heart frozen in terror. I could have sworn I saw the head of a giant pink pony, the size of a hydra, peering at me over the hilltop with a sinister grin.
A snicker dragged me out of the frozen panic, my head whipped around to stare bug eyed at Calamity. A few seconds later he was on the floor with me, laughing his tail off. I flicked my tail at him, then laughed too.
Virtue or not, there was a time and a place for laughter. A jerk of Calamity's head showed this wasn't it. It was time to go.
The train was approaching Old Appleloosa. Calamity and I were standing on the rain-slick roof of the passenger car, having just closed the top hatch. Even standing beneath Calamity I wasn't safe from the rain, my face and mane soaked through in seconds.
"Ya ready?" Calamity shouted through the storm, interrupted by thunder. I nodded, swallowing a lump in my throat. Everything Calamity had told me about lightning screamed that this was a bad idea, but he was the expert. As his legs wrapped around me and I felt his chest press against my back, I hoped he was right. Calamity's wings spread wide, catching the wind. The storm yanked us off the train, Calamity wheeling around toward a ridge overlooking the slaver town.
In my defense, I stopped screaming after a few minutes. Mostly because Calamity threatened to shove an apple in my mouth if I didn't.
To be fair, I couldn't have been safer. With all four of Calamity's legs wrapped around me, I probably couldn't have gotten free myself without opening fire. I was actually starting to enjoy the experience, minus the rain beating against my face. It was remarkable seeing the world from this high up, for miles if the storm ever stopped. The view ended all too soon, as Calamity beat his wings hard against his momentum. Hovering over the ridge, he let go and dropped me the remaining foot to the ground.
Soaking wet and shivering against the adrenaline runoff, I laid down in the least muddy spot I could find and unholstered my sniper rifle. Through the scope I could see the train pulling in, the scope's higher magnification almost able to pick out the fleas infesting the stallion that came to greet the conductor. Scanning the town I could make out the silhouettes of guards walking along catwalks (with guard rails for once) that ran between the buildings and cages. Cages holding slave ponies huddling up against the pouring rain and frigid air.
Hello wrath, its good to see you again.
"Okay, so here's the plan."
Calamity snorted, pulling my binoculars from my saddlebag and scanning the town himself. "Is it better'n sneakin' in an' shootin' 'em all?" That was the result of our planning on the way here. Considering how the last week had gone, I still consider it one of my better plans. A few hours to think had made it even better.
"It is. You're staying up here. I'm heading in."
"'Cuse me Lilpip, but that sounds like th' same plan. Want t' run that by me again?"
I levitated the sniper rifle to him, along with all the magazines and ammo I had for it. "I'm your spotter, and clean up. I'm going to sneak in and get them alone." He cut me off, grabbing the sniper rifle and unfolding its bipod.
"An' then Ah shoot 'em so ya'll can hide th' bodies? If Ah time it to th' thunder, they ain't gonna hear th' shots." I nodded, feeling more than a little proud at the smile he was giving me.
"Exactly. We don't have enough ammo to fight all of them, and I don't want to get shot again. If we're careful, we should be able to kill enough to make them panic and run. Then you can pick them off from the air."
He looked me up and down, then nodded, laying down in my spot. "Good plan. Ah'll do mah best t' keep ya in mah sights. Use yer horn t' signal when its safe t' fire."
Pulling out Little Macintosh I agreed, checking to make sure it was loaded. I didn't want to use the gun, letting Calamity know to swoop in and grab me if I started shooting. For all that Little Macintosh was, it wasn't quiet or fast. If it came down to shooting, I'd just have to hope to save as many slaves as I could before they got me.
Something was wrong. There were slaver patrols, yes, but the slaves were scattered all over the town. There weren't nearly enough slavers around to keep an eye on everyone, and most of them were walking around alone. I had been able to escape manacles before, with some luck, so somepony here had to be able to do the same. I was most of the way to the first set of cages when a flash of lightning lit up the landscape. It was official, the universe hated me.
They had mined the fucking cages. The rain had washed away most of the dirt covering them, exposing the big bulbs on top to the air. Scattered craters explained why no slaves had attempted escape, even with such paltry guards.
After my work with Crane I was much better at self-levitation. It still took a lot out of me, only good for short bursts. I wasn't confident I could pick the locks on the cages, float myself over to them, and levitate everypony inside out without getting caught.
"Hey, who's there?" A voice out of the darkness, a slaver. I wasn't the only pony to have seen something in that flash of light. Well, that left plan A.
I skittered back, ducking through the broken paneling of a nearby shack. A stomp kicked on E.F.S., revealing an array of green and a lone red marker on my compass. No, wait, there were two more above me. From the faint vibrations I could feel in the foundation, I could reasonably assume that the pair were distracted. And try very hard to not think about how. Once I was certain the slaver was looking the other way I peeked out, checking around him to make sure nopony else was looking this way. A flicker of my horn lit up the weathervane on top of the shack, and I hide in the darkness again to wait.
A hoofful of seconds later a flash of light split the sky, illuminating the slaver and the landscape around him. He was leaving, going back the way he came, one hoof raised. His body hit the ground first, a small spray of red erupting from the side of his chest. He didn't make a sound, laying in the middle of the street, his chest heaving. For a moment I thought Calamity had actually missed, but my magic wrapped around the stallion and pulled him under the shack with me. My plans for stomping faded once I got a good look at him.
All in all, there was surprisingly little blood. The lack of an exit wound contributed significantly to that, which made me realize why Calamity hit him where he did. His ragged armor hadn't been a match for the sniper rifle, but it was able to stop the bullet from fully penetrating. Not enough to save him, blood seeping from his muzzle as he stared up at me in shock. I couldn't pull myself away, staring down at the stallion next to me. The light left his eyes after a handful of seconds, his body slowly going limp. I wanted to throw up, my empty stomach rebelling in vain.
I tucked the stallion's corpse out of sight, in one of the intact corners of the foundation. He had been carrying a saddle mounted rifle, some form of bolt action gun that reminded me of Calamity's. The ammo was easy to collect, and while I couldn't salvage the saddle itself I was able to pull some parts from the gun with help from my Pipbuck's repair spell. My hooves moved mechanically, mind racing to try and block out the horror. I had just watched a stallion drown in his own blood. He was a slaver, sure, but I still saw the terror in his eyes.
The vibrations had stopped by the time I was done. I peeked out from under the shack, checking around before raising a hoof toward Calamity's ridge. I couldn't see the glint off the rifle's scope, but if I squinted just right I could almost make out his hat's silhouette. Good, he wasn't too worried yet.
Next on the list: The two red marks above me. One was moving, but not outside. Calamity couldn't take a shot on somepony inside, we were counting on the rain washing away any blood to hide the evidence. So I had to get them outside. Unfortunately, the only idea I had was really, really stupid.
I grabbed my throat, rubbing it until I could feel it start to ache, and dropped my voice to make it sound as gravelly as I could. I'd learned the trick back in the stable, during a particularly naive attempt to join the Stable Acting Troupe. Did I still sound like a filly trying to act grown up? Yes. Would what I shouted next have had that filly in time out for eternity? Yes.
"Hey piss for brains! Get your sunfucked ass down here! Yeah, you! I know you're up there! Fuck my buck, and I'll fuck your skull with my horn!"
Not my most colorful, but these slavers haven't shown themselves to be very eloquent. It got what I wanted though. A wild maned mare slammed her way through the door, the fragile hinge breaking from the impact of her shoulder. She held a gun in a rotten green magical glow, eyes darting back and forth. I lit up the weathervane again, holding my breath as the furious mare trotted in place.
Lightning split the sky, and I grabbed the door handle in my telekinesis. It closed as quietly as I could manage. The mare spun around, gesturing in my general direction with her makeshift pistol. She never got a shot off, thunder rocking her world. She slumped, a bullet tearing through her throat and into her chest. I caught her before she could hit the ground, trading subtlety for speed as I dragged her into what was quickly becoming a very crowded grave.
I didn't even get to finish tucking her body away before the door fell out of its frame. A stallion strutted out of the shack, smirking as if he was expecting a show. Which, from the mare's temperament and what I had said, was a reasonable expectation. Instead he got to join her in my little hole in the ground, dead before he hit the mud.
I wasn't taking chances. E.F.S. is amazing, but its not perfect. There were reasons I didn't leave it on constantly, headaches and distractions aside. Just crouching had been enough to hide me from the spell's scanning parameters before, and that was before I had spent half my life bored enough to engage in petty mischief. That wasn't the only reason I was checking the shack's interior, a reprieve from the rain was worth gold to me at the time, and there had to be something useful in here. It was only a few rooms, and while I couldn't hear anything I still entered gun first and scooted away from the door as soon as I was through. If someone decided to check on the newly doorless shack I didn't want to be standing there with my plot sticking out like a big target.
There wasn't much in there. A couple chairs around a desk, boxes and crates stacked against a wall, a closet with random junk shoved inside. I started with the boxes, deciding that they would be more likely to hold useful supplies. I didn't spare anything, even the loose caps sitting on the desk. This was probably theft, though I was pretty sure Calamity would call it looting. Slavers didn't any moral ground to complain on. Most of the boxes had what I'd come to expect as the wasteland usual: A few pieces of junk, maybe a half empty bottle of Wonderglue, sometimes a couple caps or bullets. The metal ones tended to have more of the latter, and by the time I reached the end of the row I'd collected enough ammo for the pistols these raiders preferred to keep Calamity and I stocked for a long time.
The last box was different. Its lock was much, much harder to crack. After a few seconds I had managed to find the blasted security pins and force them to stay in position with a tiny application of Telekinesis. Not the easiest answer, precision telekinesis on something I couldn't see was nearly impossible, but focusing on the lower half of the pin (which I could see if I shoved the box up my nose) was enough. It came open with the most beautiful click. Inside was something... unique. The inside of the lock box was lined with velvet, and nestled in a depression stood a totem the size of my hoof. A statuette of an orange mare with a yellow mane and tail, tied back with a red band, frozen mid-buck. Besides being completely pristine, the most interesting part was the three apple cutie mark! I levitated out Little Macintosh, checking the lovingly crafted bit. The markings were identical, which meant... I levitated the statuette of Applejack out of the box to read the inscription (Be Strong!) and staggered under a sudden surge of magic.
I'm not sure how, or where it came from, but the flow of energy from this little statuette made me feel... Stronger. Not just physically, but mentally as well. I realized the previous owner was probably one of the ponies currently resting beneath my hooves, and instead of nausea or guilt I felt nothing but scorn. Anger, that they would taint good upstanding ponies with their evil, and that they would lock away something so beautiful. It was all I could do to keep from stomping out to give them a piece of my mind, and six rounds to the...
A thump resounded from the door, jolting me from my anger. I whipped around, sliding into the nirvana of S.A.T.S. as Little Macintosh slide into place. Only the slow-motion clarity of S.A.T.S. kept my reflexes from firing, watching a stallion roll back away from the door with half his head missing. A small hole above the window lined up with the shot. S.A.T.S. fell away, and a quick check confirmed it: Calamity had shot the stallion through the wall, with only half his body visible in the window. Not for the first time I was glad that Calamity had only taken shots at me once.
I wrapped the stallion in my magic, dragging him inside and shoving his body into an old closet. Before the doors shut I caught a shine off his neck. A set of keys, hanging from a necklace.
Perfect.
Fire blasted through the air, a stream of burning liquid roaring louder than the rain.
A flamethrower! The fuckers had flamethrowers?!
I counted myself lucky that they hadn't noticed me yet. The last thing I wanted was to have that thing pointed at me. As it was, it was being used as an incredibly overkill fire starter. Three slavers sat around the burning pit, one throwing in flammable junk to keep it going. They were the last ones I'd found during three circuits of the big barn in the center of town. If there was anyone left they were hidden so deep that I doubted they'd interfere before phase two went into play.
That barn was the last on our list. It was huge, easily dwarfing the barn from Sweet Apple Acres that Stable 02 was hidden under. A lot of light poured out of the windows, and even more noise. Over the clamor was music. My Pipbuck confirmed that we were still out of range of every station except the Sprite-bot station. (At this point I was convinced they acted as relays. It would make sense, if they were made to spy on ponies.) I didn't even need to get close to tell that the barn was packed, and would be suicidal to try and hit directly. There was no way I could draw slavers out of there one by one, and our approach relied on clearing the city out without raising an alarm until it was too late. It could wait.
Eleven Slavers, including the three in front of me. That was everypony that wasn't a slave and not in the barn. A lot of them, but not nearly a whole town's worth. I regretted not asking Calamity if he had an estimate of their numbers. Honestly I was surprised they hadn't noticed their numbers slowly dwindling like they had. The storm might have been keeping them inside, and I'd seen a stupefying level of ego over the last three hours, but I was getting antsy. I'd never had a plan actually work this long before. It left me waiting for the other shoe to drop.
That left these three, before we could put the last step of our plan in motion. I'd scavenged a few things that might just help us take care of them. I nosed into my saddlebag, my sorting spell depositing my prize right at the top. I caught the laser pointer between my teeth, pointing at a nearby wall. A press with my tongue placed a little red dot on the rusted metal.
The flamethrower slaver perked up, glaring past his friends. He grumbled something to his friends and stood up, something about charring someone named Steak Knife. He started off toward the red dot on the ground, muttering swears the whole way. It took everything I had to not drop the laser pointer in laughter. My magical glow wrapped around a piece of sheet metal on top of a nearby shack. The slaver's death knell was swallowed up by the thunder, and his body was tossed into a conveniently placed dumpster. I had to back away, shoving a muddy hoof into my mouth to muffle my giggles.
Feeling far better than I had any right to, I removed my assault rifle and brought it up. Laser pointer providing Calamity a target he couldn't possibly miss. A white rend opened up the heavens, connecting mountaintop with cloud for a single heartbeat.
The roar was deafening, blasting through Old Appleloosa. I had to fight against the urge to clap my hooves over my ears, focusing on the stallion in my sights. He jumped, and I tongued the trigger. My rifle kicked three times, a line of holes stitching from chest to head. The other target spun, watching his friend's brains splatter into the campfire, and fumbled for his gun.
Which is when his foreleg blew off at the elbow. I didn't have time to change targets, already able to hear my ears ringing over the fading thunder. Magic lashed out on reflex, lightening his bulk just enough to push. His remaining foreleg pinwheeled before he fell face first in the fire.
This time I did cover my ears.
The numbness I felt hiding bodies was becoming an all too familiar feeling. Going over the ambush, something was niggling at me. Even with the surprise thunder, it still went almost as well as the rest of the night. The messy way I had to kill the last one... I had shot him as soon as I'd gotten the chance, but after that last strike the storm's wrath had started to abate.
I wasn't in any shape to hit the barn. Not right now. As much as I hated to delay, we had the time. Nopony alive had seen us, and I'd hidden the bodies as best I could. As long as nopony looked under the outhouse where I had stashed a particularly skinny slaver we'd be fine. It had been over sixteen hours since I'd slept last according to my Pipbuck. It felt like centuries.
Going up was a lot slower than going down, and by the time I got to the top of the ridge I was barely conscious. Turns out waking up early with a hangover, fighting for hours, and pulling what was swiftly becoming an all nighter? Not great for my poise. At least the faceful of mud woke me up enough to talk.
A plan was hashed out through my impromptu mud mask. An hour and a half each, and we'd go back in once we'd gotten some rest. Calamity looked completely ragged, staring through me as much as at me. Against his complaints I took first watch. It still took wrapping him in the tarp and sitting on him before he gave in. He was snoring less than a minute later. Hadn't even taken off his hat.
I woke up three hours later, groggy and with Calamity poking my chest. He had thrown the tarp over me at some point, hunkering down with one of the blankets Ditzy Doo had sold us (at what I'm positive was a serious discount.) Calamity was looking worlds better, even if his mane was messier than usual. He passed me a can of magic fruit. (Beans, to my disappointment.)
"Ya'll ready?" Calamity asked, hoofing me back my sniper rifle. I slipped it into its holster, reassured as the comforting weight of my weapons evened out.
"Yes, as ready as I'll ever be. I've even got an idea for phase two. Got any tips on explosives tinkering?"
Phase two of the plan was the simplest one: Make the remaining slavers panic. The main part of the plan involved a few dozen bottles of alcohol duct taped together (acquiring all their Apple Whiskey in the process) around a couple things my Pipbuck helpfully classified as Apple Grenades. They certainly looked like apples, but according to my Pipbuck they were some kind of explosive. Operation seemed simple enough: Pull the little metal stem and release the safety leaf, then throw as far as you can and hide. Calamity had mentioned them, and so I handled them with care. According to him their lethal range was somewhere in the realm of fifteen feet and they could spit shrapnel over fifty, perfect for spreading the incendiary exponent. Adding the flamethrower's fuel and throwing the whole thing into a small trash can were the classy touches. For overkill's sake I tossed in the missiles (!) I had found in the armory, figuring that more explosives meant more boom. I knocked a hole out of the side with a railroad spike (there were just bundles of the things laying around for some reason) and threaded through a bundle of string I had tied to as many pins as possible. An entire roll of duct tape from the same armory went towards making my little surprise and by the end I was more than a little proud of myself.
The morals involved with being proud of making something I hoped would explode and spray flaming death everywhere were something to think about later. Right now I had to let Calamity know to get ready. Thankfully I had found a marker while searching for tape, so making a sign telling him "Go Time" was easy.
That's how I found myself crouched across the street from the big barn, tucked away underneath a shack in what was swiftly becoming a trend, levitating my trash can full of boom next to the window of what I hoped was the main hall. I cracked the window open, allowing the wind to fling it wide, and pulled as the string. The trash can sailed in over a slaver's head the moment I let it go, and I ran back as far I could under the shack. I had written "From The Goddesses with Love" on the side. Blasphemy? Maybe, though I'm pretty thoroughly convinced that it would have been Their will to blow them sky high.
The blast made the storm sound like a firecracker. I felt more than heard my own squeak as I turned and curled up in the corner, hiding my head against my stomach. Needles peppered my back and hind legs, followed by a vicious wash of heat. I could smell my coat charring as the blast blew over me. My hooves were shaking as I lifted my head, eyes wide at the absolute carnage.
It looked like Celestia Herself had slammed Her hoof onto the barn, and followed it up with a bolt of holy wrath. The barn hadn't been blown sky high, it had been blown to shrapnel! Shrapnel I could feel stabbing into my back. My utility barding protected me from the worst of it but I'd be picking splinters out for days. The shack I had been under was mostly gone too, annihilated in righteous fury. The fact that I had been in the ubiquitous low ditch beneath these shacks was the only thing that saved me from a much, much worse fate.
The crater was on fire. If anything survived the initial blast, it certainly hadn't survived the flames.
I lifted a healing potion to my lips, not trusting my shaking hooves to hold it steady. I was covered in blood, I couldn't hear a damn thing, and I had been that close to being killed. I had the right to shake like a leaf. That it would have been self inflicted only made it more so. Note to self: never underestimate explosives again.
Calamity zipped by me, flying hard and fast. Faster than I had ever seen, a brown blur followed by a whipping jetstream. My sniper rifle was ripped from its holster, snapping the cloth straps holding it in place. I felt a sharp stabbing in my ears, one after another, the fire suddenly roaring in my ears.
Which is when I heard the majestic, spine chilling voice behind me. The other shoe had finally come down.
"Well well. Someone has come to give Us some entertainment. That was a spectacle worth of Our viewing." I stumbles back, legs giving out as I fell on my side. Little Macintosh and my shotgun zipped up to eye level... And dropped onto my chest as my telekinesis imploded.
She was tall. Taller than any pony I had seen. She towered over me, barely a pony's length away. This close I couldn't miss a single detail. Her coat was a dark forest green, nearly black, her mane long and flowing in an intangible wind. Divine, an aurora of green and purple. A great spiral horn the length of my leg rose proudly form her forehead, matched in majesty by the wings spread wide at her sides.
"L-Luna? Celestia?" Awestruck. I couldn't think, couldn't respond. I could barely function. I was in the presence of divinity! Before I knew it I was face down, bowing to the Goddess before me, trembling with pain and excitement. The little pony in the back of my head was squeeing and running in circles. Finally, everything would be okay. A Goddess had descended to rescue us.
"Your reverence is acceptable, Pipsqueak." She knew my name? Eeeee! I wasn't even upset that She used my full name. The Goddesses could call me whatever they wanted. "Tell Us, where did you come from? Your magical might is notable."
I couldn't believe it. She thought I did that, with a spell? Me, Little Pip, the mare with barely a cantrip to her name. I'm pretty sure I fainted at some point, because the next thing I knew I was on the ground. "S-Stable 02, y-your Majesty. T-Though i-it wasn't a spell." I could feel my heart breaking as I watched the faint expression of approval drop from her face. I soldiered on, continuing to speak as the little pony in the back of my head buried herself in rubble. "I-I built a bomb with the town's supplies."
"Hm. Disappointing." The little pony in my head shriveled up and died. "You shall be made greater in Unity. Come, this town will produce one thing of worth."
What? I laid there paralyzed. Unable to comprehend what I had just heard. Unity sounded fine, I guessed that was the name of the religion worshiping the Goddesses out here. But talking about Old Appleloosa like that was... Jarring.
"We said come. Do not make us carry you. We would be gentle, only so far as you have relieved us of the burden of this town."
Magic wrapped around my body as the Goddess turned, Her flanks turning to me as she began a regal stride. Which was about when my world fell apart. Her flank was blank. The Goddess didn't have a cutie mark!? But... But we know what Goddess Celestia and Goddess Luna's cutie marks looked like! I had both painted on my bedroom wall in the Stable! Something was wrong. This...
"You amuse Us, Pipsqueak. You shall join Us soon." As She spoke I felt... Weird. Like my body was going numb in a wave that rolled up from my hooftips. A yawn popped my jaw, my mind sluggish to catch up to what was happening. She was putting me to sleep?! I had to escape! If I could... If I... Maybe another nap... Would help...
"YEEEEE HAAAAWWWW!"
BLAM!!
Footnote: Level up.
New Perk: Ghost - You are the thing that goes bump in the night. Gain double the bonuses to sneak for low-light and environmental conditions
