Twilight vs. the Wasteland
“Yes,” said the unicorn.
Her tone made Dust wish he’d stuck to the hilltop path. Or, come to think of it, maybe a path through the raider camp.
Wind-blown grit swirled around them, filtering through the scraggly plants that lined the trail, hissing among the crates on the wagon, and ending up in his mane. And his mouth. He really didn’t like stopping out here in the open, but she had surprised him.
“Er, hello again. As I said, at Dust’s Magnificent Traveling Items Emporium, we guarantee satisfaction! Can you tell me exactly what...”
“It’s this book you sold me.”
“Ah.”
“The Official Wasteland Survival Guide, I believe it’s titled.”
“Well, it’s an Official Wasteland Survival Guide.”
“It’s a knockoff.”
“Homage!”
“It’s full of terrible advice.”
Dust didn’t like where this was going, and reached surreptitiously under the wagon for his rifle. Very sneakily, he thought. Even kept his smile in place when he discovered it was stuck.
She continued, waving the book accusingly. “For example, under ‘Shelter and Protection’, it advises bedding down inside a nice comfortable drainage pipe.”
“Good advice, that. Highly defensible. And cozy!”
“Last night I checked two dozen drainage pipes, and do you know what I found?”
“A warm place to sleep?” He tugged the rifle again. Still stuck.
“They all had water draining through them. Would you like me to explain why that is, Dust?”
“Sounds like bad luck, really.”
“No, it’s because they’re drainage pipes. That is, in fact, their purpose. To have water in them.”
“We don’t offer refunds, but I’d be happy to give you something to take your mind off it.” Yank. No good.
“Dust.”
“Yes.”
“You can’t get your rifle out because I magically fused the latch shut. Before we started talking.”
The stinging wind whistled around them. A nearby drainage pipe gurgled softly.
“So,” grinned Dust, adjusting his hat, “you did learn something from the book!”
I put on my best salespony grin. “Welcome to the best shop in the Wasteland! Can I help you find something? Upgraded armor, perhaps. Or a nice memory orb, to take your mind off your cares?”
The six of them shuffled in and looked around awkwardly, bare hooves clunking softly on the worn wooden floor. They looked like they hadn’t slept for several days. One of the unicorns, the white one, looked at my display of salvaged machetes and turned an odd shade of green.
The other unicorn stepped forward, smiling tightly. She had dark circles under her eyes, and was wearing badly-scuffed combat barding, slightly too small, with the buckles done up wrong.
Out-of-towners. I felt a warm glow as my prices went up.
“Um, yes. Let me get my checklist.” Her horn lit up as a dirty collection of pages flowed from her saddlebags. I was amazed she’d been able to find so much paper. Although to be fair, a couple of the pages looked like cleaned-up candy bar wrappers.
“OK. We need... one thousand rounds of non-lethal ammunition, eighteen stun grenades, an automatic hack terminal with Stable-Tec modem adapter, new lenses for a beam rifle, two horn protectors, two pairs of wing blades... sorry, one pair of wing blades... and six sets of combat armor. Level three or better. Oh, and a hairbrush.”
I blinked. “That’s, uh, a very expensive shopping list.” To say the least. Even if all six mares were literally made out of caps, it wouldn’t come close to covering the bill. I tensed. Was this a robbery?
“We can trade a PipBuck,” she said, looking uncomfortable.
So either a robbery, or the world’s most outrageous attempt at a bluff... she might as well have offered a piece of Celestia’s horn. The only ponies in the Wasteland with PipBucks were stable dwellers. And raiders, who got them by slaughtering the stable dwellers. And then made furniture out of the leftovers.
I froze as a PipBuck, in reasonably good condition, plopped down on the counter. Yes, plopped.
“Sorry, I think it’s locked on there or something.”
I nodded, smiling and being careful to avoid any sudden movements. “I understand.”
“Don’t look at me like... he shot at us! And threw a grenade! I just, um, threw it back again.”
“No need to explain,” I said professionally, wrapping the item in a spare piece of cloth. I wondered idly if the horseshoe might fit me.
“I’m not a bad pony,” she huffed. “The Princess said so.”
Skull Smasher dangled.
The inverted horizon swung gently back and forth, as he tried to rate the level of agony. Definitely worse than getting his hoof caught in one of Red’s ridiculous pony-traps, but not nearly as bad as the flamethrower accident. So, somewhere between eye-watering and blindingly painful.
Most of all, he was disappointed by how crude it was. If they were going to hang him upside down, they could have at least tied the rope to his hooves instead.
Absolutely unsporting.
Vindictive, even.
Thank goodness pony tails were so strong.
From what he could see, four of the lunatic ponies were now having a picnic with the freed slaves. They had ripped down his best tarp, too, the one with the red square patterns that did such a good job of hiding the gristle. It lay on the muddy ground, now covered with an overwhelming assortment of tin cans, plates, healing potions, old military rations, and a pot of what smelled suspiciously like tea. A yellow pegasus was pouring out steaming cups for everyone, even the idiot blank-flanks.
Skull rolled his eyes. What a waste. The rainbow one was even teaching a few of them how to play Frisbee.
He craned his neck, trying to find the rest of his troops. They were all locked in one of the holding cages, nervously clustered around an enormous pile of removed slave bomb-collars. The pink one was dancing in front of the cage, waving energetically. She was holding what looked like a broken blender in one hoof, and a bundle of old wires in the other.
After a few minutes, he realized with horrified fascination that she was putting on a puppet show. From the bits and pieces he could hear, the theme was “How To Get Along And Not Enslave The Other Nice Ponies.”
The bomb-collars’ detonator lay in the grass next to her. The ex-slavers were very attentive.
One of the unicorns, the purple one, was asking him questions again. He studiously ignored her, until she gave him a shove that ramped up the agony a little.
“I said, what have you been doing to these ponies!”
Skull looked coldly back. “Whatever we want.”
“They’re foals!”
“Yeah. Foals don’t fight back.”
That earned him another shove, and a worrying twisting motion. Definitely edging towards blindingly painful. He decided to stop being clever.
“We sell them to Red Eye. Who, by the way, is a very demanding customer. And won’t be pleased to learn a bunch of crazy ponies have been brutalizing one of his best suppliers.”
She seethed. “You’ve got a lot of nerve to talk about brutalizing ponies!”
He shrugged, which was surprisingly hard to do while upside down. “That’s how the Wasteland works. Now listen, you have a choice. You can cut me down from here, and I’ll give you and your precious foals a head start before hunting you down. Let’s say two hours. Or, you can cut my throat instead, and fight Red Eye’s forces when he decides to make an example out of you.”
She looked at him. And looked, and looked, and looked, until he was actually starting to feel a little uncertain. Finally, she made her choice.
“I need a knife!” she shouted. The other unicorn, muddy white with a disturbingly clean mane, left the picnic and ambled over. She pulled a silver knife from her barding, a ruby glimmering in the hilt, and rolled her eyes.
“Darling, I thought we agreed we weren’t going to do things like this. Holding on to our equineinity, and all.”
“I was just going to ask you to cut him down.”
Skull grinned smugly. “If you know what’s best for you. Also, as repayment for treating me like this, how about you and I spend some time together? I know how to put a filly to work.”
The white one wrinkled her nose. “Are you sure you want me to cut him down?”
“Yes. Right below the rope, please.”
“DEAR. This is really going too far.”
“Ugh! Fine!” Her horn flashed with brilliant purple light, blasting the rope to pieces and dumping Skull Crusher onto the ground. He snorted and spat out dirt, massaging his aching tail.
Her horn lit up again, and he felt his stomach lurch at the intense concentration on her face. Bluster aside, it wasn’t good to be on the wrong side of a pissed-off unicorn. His hooves scrabbled noiselessly as the world slowly dissoved into a wobbly fuchsia color, with dancing sparkly bits. A strange, tingling, falling sensation gripped his entire body.
Finally, it passed, and he struggled blearily to his hooves. Something was wrong. They towered over him.
The white one smiled. “Aha! Excellent! You’ve finally mastered the age spell.”
The Ponyville Library garden was absolutely beautiful this time of day. Bees and butterflies flitted among the flowers, in the warm welcoming space behind the library tree. Sunlight filtered through a tall row of hedges screening the space from the streets of Ponyville, muffling the gentle sounds of everyday life in the rest of the town. From somewhere beyond the lazy pool of afternoon light, Fluttershy’s birds chirped faintly.
In a clearing at the very center of the garden, next to a brilliantly polished gazing globe, Twilight and Princess Celestia sat at a table having tea.
“Mmmmmhmmm....” murmured Twilight, eyes closed, enjoying the aroma from her teacup. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a nice Darjeeling.”
Twilight took a sip, wincing slightly but quickly recovering. “A bit flatter taste than I remembered, but still good. It brings me right back to those long nights studying in the castle! Learning about history, and math, and life. And... even friendship.”
She beamed at Celestia. “It’s so good to be here with you again, Princess.”
Princess Celestia seemed to be having some trouble with her tea. The cup sat on the table in front of her, steam rising in relaxed curls into the warm summer breeze, while she stared... glared... at Twilight.
No trouble! Twilight gently levitated Celestia’s cup to her lips.
“Mmmmmphhhhhh!” said Celestia. The tea splashed disappointingly from her sealed muzzle, a few drops falling to stain the brilliant white tablecloth.
“Oh, Princess!” cried Twilight. “Do be careful. I don’t have any more napkins left!”
The Princess glowered silently.
With a musical creaking of hinges, the back door to the library swung open. Why, it was Applejack and Rarity! They were certainly dressed oddly, Twilight thought. Best not to comment, though. Friends didn’t make friends feel unwelcome.
“Girls!” exclaimed Twilight. “I wasn’t expecting you! Would you like some tea? I was just telling the Princess how much I missed her.”
Applejack frowned, although not quite as severely as Celestia. Rarity looked mildly ill.
“Darling, I thought we discussed... Fluttershy said this wasn’t good for you.”
Twilight laughed cheerfully. “How could tea not be good for me! Tea is good for everypony! Why, I know even Rainbow Dash enjoys a good cup every now and then. Is she with you?”
“No,” said Applejack, frowning harder. “That’s why we’re here. The Enclave folks want their, uh, colleagues, back. All of them. Like we agreed in the cease-fire. And we get Dash back in one piece.”
“Are you sure you don’t want a quick cup? It’s Darjeeling!”
“No,” said Applejack, firmly. She let out a sigh. “Twi, I know this is hard on you. It’s hard on all of us. But we need you back now, OK? We’re still in a fight here.”
Twilight’s lower lip trembled. How could her friends ruin a perfectly good afternoon of tea, by bringing up... bringing up... that.
She took another sip. This Darjeeling was very flat, wasn’t it. It tasted like it had been sitting in a box for years.
Decades, even.
Centuries?
Twilight looked hopelessly at Applejack. “I know it’s petty, but it just helps, sometimes... you know?”
Applejack nodded. “I know. But your friends need you now.”
Twilight nodded, closing her eyes. Her horn glowed, and the garden shimmered, hedges and flowers and bees and butterflies and tables and teapots flowing like water, draining into the ground. She opened her eyes.
The grimy shack surrounded them again, lit by a single dim bulb. Mud- and mold-streaked walls with peeling wallpaper, and the occasional bullet hole, replaced the towering garden hedges. Shell casings, unpleasant organic debris, and a selection of empty tea-tins littered the floor. Across the table, the bound and gagged Enclave officer continued her glaring.
Twilight glared back, levitated her battered teacup, and poured the contents out onto the floor.
“You make terrible tea.”
She was grinning again.
I started to get that not-quite-right feeling, deep in the pit of my stomach. Which was silly, considering I was the one in the power armor, staring down the sights of a missile launcher, and she was currently armed with a turnip.
Although to be fair it was a bit chewed, so maybe a radish. Either way, I didn’t like a pony who grinned while she ate.
Steel Rangers don’t repeat themselves, not even lowly Initiates like me, but I decided to make an exception. “I repeat, you will declare any and all arcane technology in your possession, now, or face severe consequences!”
I found myself wanting to add “please,” but caught it just in time. I did double-check my spell matrix, though. Armor and magical shielding fully charged, 100% protection. The little pony icon on my tactical display was so green it needed watering.
She continued chewing, slowly, until the entire turnip-slash-radish was gone, and tossed the stem aside with a flourish.
I waved the rocket launcher up and down a little. “Um...”
As soon as that slipped out, I banged my forehead against the helmet armor in frustration. Steel Rangers didn’t say “um.” I could feel Paladin Gravy Boat’s eyes boring into me from the hilltop, trying not to imagine what he’d say when this was over. ”Was it the unarmed purple unicorn with the sparkly cutie mark that made you wet your armor? Or was it the highly trained attack vegetable she pointed at you?”
She grinned wider. “I do actually have something. Something very dangerous.”
I checked my spell matrix again, just to be sure.
“I’ll make you a deal,” she continued, softly. “Give back the water talisman you stole, and I won’t completely humiliate you in front of your superiors.”
Oh, balls. I realized, with a sick feeling, that I was really going to have to vaporize her. I didn’t think Gravy would mind, but I’d never actually killed anyone before, and didn’t want my very first day on checkpoint duty to end with flying pony fragments.
I instinctively looked back to the hilltop. Double balls. Paladin Gravy Boat had been joined by Paladin Cheese Wedge, Scribe Butter Knife, and even Star Paladin Smashed Soufflé, head of our unit. And what looked like every other knight in the camp. One of them, in the back, was waving a suspiciously vegetable-like object and nodding in encouragement. Or laughter; it was hard to tell in the armor.
“I, er, insist,” I began, not really stuttering all that much, “that you immediately... discharge all such arcanotechnological contraband as you have on your person, and um... submit yourself to proper authority for questioning.”
I tensed as her horn lit, and she opened her saddlebags. I mouthed the trigger for the rocket launcher, ready to fire. She raised an eyebrow and slowly pulled something out....
A carrot.
She took a huge, theatrical bite and made exaggerated chewing motions. “Mmmmmmm,” she said, loudly, rolling her eyes at the distant pack of Rangers. “That really hits the spot!”
The vegetable-waving seemed to have spread among the troops, and Gravy wasn’t in a rush to put a stop to it. I turned down the volume on my speaker as low as it would go, so that only she could hear me. “Can... can you just hand over whatever it is? Why are you doing this?”
She finished chewing, in record time, and looked me straight in the eye. “Because carrots are very nutritious, and good for your night vision.”
I nodded. “I’m sorry,” I said, and re-locked the missile launcher on target. Guess she wanted to make a statement.
But before I could bite down on the trigger, there was a boom from the camp behind me. The assembled knights turned around in confusion. Some started galloping back down the hill towards the camp, pulling out weapons. I could hear the distant rattle of gunfire.
“I’ll tell you what I have,” she said, in a whisper. I glanced back. The situation was rapidly slipping away from me.
Then it happened. From the direction of the camp came a dull roaring sound, growing louder and louder and louder, until suddenly a rainbow trail appeared overhead. I got the brief impression of a blue pegasus pony, wearing a water talisman on a chain around her neck like a trophy, before a tremendous rainbow explosion filled the sky.
There was a popping, fizzling sound as my armor locked up. The little pony on my tactical display turned red, then gray, then finally disappeared completely as my spell matrix crashed. In the distance, I saw Gravy and the rest of the knights very slowly tip over and rest awkwardly on their sides, frozen like me.
The unicorn walked over to me, leisurely adjusting her saddlebags. I struggled frantically in the crashed armor, but there was no point; the backup spells would take hours to reverse this level of damage.
“I’ll tell you what I have,” she repeated, smiling. “Friends.”