Author's Note

Finally, I'm back! The critical infrastructure of my country is repaired to some degree and as a result I have the stable electricity. So, I can do my work in peace.

Chapter 15 - The Northern Soul

"How's it going?" Lemon asks on the way to the nearest restaurant.

"I had to compromise to get Venture back. I need to find the blueprints of a Vertibuck at the old Northern Soul Airport."

"An airfield and a pre-war base," she corrects me.

She notices my slightly surprised face and realizes I don't mind hearing an explanation.

"Many Wastelanders call it an airport, but it's actually an airfield," she explains, then continues in a whisper. "The Steel Rangers tried to sneak in there a couple of times..." she goes on to say in her former volume, "but the laser turrets, the Mr. Gutsy and the Sentinels happily walking around the perimeter screwed us up. And I wouldn't advise sneaking through the air, either. There are still somehow air defenses working there, easily shooting down targets in the air. We once saw a few griffons try to sneak into the base through the airspace a couple of years ago, but they were shot down by aimed fire and a homing missile."

"And what do you suggest?" I ask, already a little desperate. "Sneak in with StealthBucks?"

"No. Pre-war facilities were guarded by more advanced versions of robotic defenses. In winter, the surrounding area is at times covered by snowstorms, so they have very advanced thermal optics."

"Is there any way to get to the airfield in a safe way?"

The impregnable airfield reminds me of the times I tried to get close to the Boomers base. It would be funny if, like Nellis, there were local maniac boomers or other survivors in the Northern Soul.

"Unknown, but we haven't yet found any loopholes in the defenses to get close to the airfield with minimal casualties."

"We'll have to find a way somehow. Need to think."

"For now, on an empty stomach, it's best not to think at all."

Going to a restaurant is a good idea, but not cheap. However, Lemon has already treated us all, so I have no problem paying for such an expensive meal. The lemon pony has to stick to the diet because of a thyroid condition, so she takes vegetables, porridge, and small briquettes of tightly packed hay, which is not cheap in Wasteland conditions, even in Vanhoover.

"Oh..." Lemon sighs in relief. "How good the cooking is here. Not like ours."

"It's not bad at your... home."

"You can just eat whatever you want... And good food itself is made of tasty ingredients—and what I have to swallow is far from the concept of tasty. There are a huge number of talented chefs in Vanhoover who make delicious meals out of tasteless ingredients."

"And before you got ill, did you... ever treat yourself to anything tasty and unhealthy?"

"Of course, but within limits. I know when I can eat and how much. What's life without whims, right?"

I nod with a smile.

"I've been watching my health and keeping it up. With our workouts, it can't be otherwise, but I've always... liked to keep my mouth busy with something. Something to hold in my mouth."

Oh. No... No, Daniel... Keep your fantasy very tight. Don't think about it. It's not right. It's not right for her. She's already married, after all.

"Is everything all right?" the lemon pony asks.

"Yeah... Just... wondering."

"About what?"

There's a faint shadow of a smile on her lips. She said it on purpose to embarrass me! Oh, you... This game can be played by two!

"About my horn..." I answer and pause. "Unicorns are always thinking about their magical powers."

"It would be interesting to see your magical... talents. We are... proud of a capable pony like you."

"You can speak for everyone?" I smile.

"Of course. Did you forget?" the Star Paladin asks.

Right... she's the second face after the Elder.

"You proved that by surviving in..." she lowers her voice, "in Red Spark."

"All thanks to my loyal companions."

"You seem to have a knack for surrounding yourself with loyal ponies, and I can see why."

"Hmm?"

"Charming smile, goal-oriented, friendly, responsible and cared for kin."

"Thank you."

Wait, what kin is she talking about? I don't recall telling her about my family.

"Um... what kin are you talking about?"

"That pony... you came with on your Bear. She was sick, she had purple fur."

"Oh... I see who you mean. No, she's not my kin. Just a fellow traveler. She was a cartographer on the East Coast, exploring the ruins of the Griffon Kingdom. Even affected the social changes of the griffons in Reserve."

"Impressive. What did she do?"

"The griffons have taken up residence in a pre-war reserve. The survivors, largely because of the Enclave attack, were embittered at the pony race, so they wouldn't let anyone in. She was lucky enough to meet one griffon who wanted to cooperate with ponies, and she succeeded. Her knowledge of the Griffon Kingdom, his ancestral homeland, came in handy for this griffon."

"Wow... Now I'm even more ashamed of Bubblegum. For who he insulted."

"I restrained."

"But you were close to exploding with righteous anger. I feel guilty."

"It's not your fault."

"He's my..." Lemon lowers her voice, "subordinate. I was supposed to control him. He is under my responsibility."

"Maybe. Anyway, let's not disturb the past."

"The important thing is that you don't get mad at... us."

"I'm not mad at you at all. How could anyone be mad at such a fun and wonderful pony?"

Lemon looks down embarrassed at the empty plates. I call out to a waitress. A collared pony approaches us. I ask her for the bill, and I pay it.

"Shall we go?" I ask my companion, and she nods affirmatively.

I help Lemon put on her coat—it's easier with my telekinesis. We go outside and head in the direction of the Broken Radio Hotel.

Lemon looks thoughtful, focused. She's not talking. It kind of bothers me a little bit. On the other hand, what if she's thinking about something important? It's a hostile city for her. I don't want to interrupt.

Along the way, we stumble upon a sign for the local bar, The Bottom. From the door, two large ponies in formal attire—obviously security guards—take a drunken earth pony outside and toss her away from the entrance. Passersby hardly pay any attention to the incident.

"You've had enough for today," one of them says in a mundane tone and goes back inside. The other follows. The earth pony struggles to get up on her four legs.

"B-bitches..." she mutters indignantly. She gets up, shakes herself off, and hesitantly turns toward the bar. "C-cocksuckers. No r-respect..." she shakes and walks away.

Lemon speaks for the first time. Her offer sounds confused and as if distracted, "I'd like to warm up in a sauna. It's getting chilly. Will you come with me? I'd be bored on my own. No one to talk to. I'll pay, you... Don't worry about it."

I'm reminded of the sauna in the Ultra-Luxe in New Vegas. It's so nice to sweat for a while and then jump in the cool water. Given the freezing cold around here, that suggestion sounds extremely appealing.

"Is it really nice out there?"

"Definitely."

"Well, okay. Lead the way."

Some incomprehensible squeak comes from Lemon, but when I look at her face, I don't see anything. Serious and thoughtful.

Yeah... She definitely needs a sweat session and some muscle relaxation. There are no sauna rooms in her underground base, so it's no wonder she'd want to go there. And inviting me... well, ponies can walk around with no clothes on. And I've seen Lemon without her clothes on.

***

To save caps, we rent one small cabin in the spa. They quickly prepare it and we, fully undressed, enter it with our towels. I lie on my back on a bench, covered by a towel. The lemon pony does the same thing on the next one.

"It's so warm..." she says with a pleasant shiver, closing her eyes peacefully.

"Yeah," I agree. This heat makes me feel good. I can feel myself sweating already. "It's just wonderful. Great idea, Lemon!"

"I would never give you bad advice."

"True."

Silence and peace. The pleasant heaviness of the heat is relaxing. I feel like boiled noodles. It is so nice not to think about anything.

After ten minutes, I refresh myself in the blissfully cool water of the pool and quickly head back so I don't have to stare at the wet mares. Given my fetish... I better do it fast. Sometimes I hate myself so much because of my attraction to wet bodies.

I carefully towel myself off and take my place in the cabin. Into the familiar heat, giving me a sense of pleasant heaviness. Lemon comes in after me.

"Blissful," she says. I open my eyes and see that she hasn't wiped herself off. Wet from head to tail tip. "I don't like to dry off before the steam room," she explains, noticing my look. "The effect isn't the same."

Her green mane, her green tail sags delightfully under the weight of the water and sticks to her body. Individual droplets trickle enchantingly down her damp yellow fur, falling to the floor. Glistening droplets of water cluster on a thick buttock with a green cutie mark of a terminal with a binary code. The wet tail rests against her crotch, hiding the...

A tingling sensation arises below, which sober me up and forces me to look away. I turn my head and see my towel rising under the pressure of my rushing up organ. My gaze shifts to Lemon, who's staring at my bulging towel through the green curls that have fallen over her face.

I can't wait to get my hands... hooves on...

No! You can't.

I quickly flip my body to the opposite side to hide my arousal, but it doesn't make much sense. It's all revealed.

What to do? What to do?!

Oh...

Why...

Why did this happen? Why doesn't Lemon love...

Son of a...

"Wow," Lemon voices with confusion.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For... I don't know."

"You've seen me without my armor before. Why now?" her voice is quiet, with a sense of curiosity in it.

"It's... It's just... Wet bodies turn me on..."

"Huh."

"Yeah, that's why I came back from the pool so quickly. It's hard not to look at the mares washing nearby, it's hard to ignore the way they splash around in the water."

Lemon looks thoughtful. Her eyes are slightly covered, a faint smile on her face.

Come on. Try to make a joke about it. Say I'm a pervert—I'm ready.

In silence, she comes to my bench and lies sideways in front of me, squeezing her hips tightly together and resting her shoulder against the tiled wall of the cabin. Her yellow, wet body is just inches from my hind legs.

A beautiful view of her right buttock, glistening with water droplets.

"Well... Looks like you have to take the stiffness out of it somehow. You can, satisfy yourself. I don't mind if you watch and... well... you know..."

The lemon pony is red with embarrassment and high temperature.

No... An open offer to jack off to her wet body.

"Come on," she murmurs in an excited, embarrassed voice, stroking her thick buttock with her wet hoof. "Do it."

A sigh of lust bursts from my mouth, my organ beneath me treacherously itching with arousal. I can't take it anymore.

I turn on my back and throw off the towel. My organ is throbbing. Lemon stares at it like she's hypnotized, unconsciously licking her lips. Her hips tense harder, pressing against each other. I wrap myself below by blue telekinesis and sigh in relief as I look at the green locks of hair that cling to her face under the weight of the water.

The magic comes into motion.

She nibbles her lips. Her tongue sticks out, she licks her lips greedily. I want her to take... me in her mouth. I want to feel their soft touch.

The voluptuous itching intensifies. The speed of the magic increases. My breathing becomes ragged.

Droplets of water glisten on her fluffy wet chest. Under her left leg, droplets trickle down the short yellow fur, rolling onto her tummy, her hips rubbing lightly against each other. Lemon squirms. Her free front right leg comes into motion: slides down her belly to the inside of her thick thighs, lifts her hind leg slightly, slides it further in, and stops. A muffled, convulsive moan of pleasure from the circular motion bursts from Lemon's lips.

The glistening drops on her thigh are so appealing...

"What would you..." she begins, sighing hotly, "like to... do with me?"

"Bang you," I blurt out, feeling intoxicated by the view of her wet body.

"Oh..." her front leg moves even more intensely between her thighs.

"So hard," I add, struggling to squeeze out of myself.

Lemon pushes the wet curls of her mane away from her face and flips fully onto her back, resting already two shoulders against the tiled wall. With a trembling and timid movement, she spreads her hind legs. Her front hoof defiantly strokes her crotch area.

"Into here?" she asks, lifting the hoof from which a thin, transparent thread, glistening with moisture, stretches to her labia.

What a lot of it...

"Yes."

I can't hold back any longer. I want to jump on it and dip myself in it.

"I want it, too..." she moans from her strokes. Invitingly she pushes aside the right side of her labia, exposing the softness hiding beneath them, copiously coated with sticky wetness. "Hard." She breathes sharply with lust. "Please come inside me."

There is a long, relieved moan from Lemon as my organ slides inside her.

***

Lemon is facing the tiled wall of the cabin. Not a sound comes from her. She doesn't move. Nothing at all: she seems unconscious. But she isn't. She took a shower and rinsed herself off beforehand, came back and, without a word, lay down, turning away from me.

Our stay was over, so the steam stopped flowing in here. We must leave the cabin soon, or we will be forcibly kicked out.

I look at the back of the yellow earth pony. Her entire body is thoroughly dried.

My biggest mistake in this world. What a lustful bastard I am. Couldn't resist my instincts, so trivial, an animal. If it wasn't for the fetish... Damn it!

If Lemon hadn't asked me...

No. It's not right to bring Lemon into this. This is all my fault. I went to her, not her to me. She was too horny, but she held herself in place—unlike me. A month and a half in this world, and already I've managed to sleep with several mares. Not even on Earth had that much luck with women.

Fucking imbalance in the number of mares and stallions. Being surrounded by females more often than...

No. I'm doing it again, putting the blame elsewhere. If she were unmarried, I'd be glad, but... My loss of self-control must have ruined Lemon's family life. This event is going to poison her life.

What should I do? Should I try to talk to Lemon or pretend it never happened? She seems willing to accept it. But... It would look like I'm avoiding responsibility or a model egomaniac who doesn't care about her feelings. I should at least discuss it with her, if I can.

I take a deep breath and walk over to the lemon pony, hoof touching her back.

"Maybe... I... How are you... feel?" I ask.

"Disgusting."

"It's all my fault."

"No. I'm the one who invited you here," she replies in a quiet, stifled voice. "It's my fault."

"But I was the one who couldn't resist the temptation."

"I," she says, "don't even know what happened. It's just. I... I like you, but I didn't think about it. It's been so long since I've... aroused that... and I'm also comfortable with you, and... you turned on by the sight of me..."

I put my hoof on her back. Her body shudders in surprise, like an electric shock. I try to reassure her, suspecting that she may be experiencing a toxic guilt eating away at her from inside.

"I'm," she continues, "so..."

"I don't blame you for anything..."

"I'm a cheater, aren't I?" she sobs, as if she hadn't noticed my words. "I've ruined everything."

"I won't tell anyone."

"I'm a dirty, lustful pony."

"Shh, shh. If your husband finds out, he'll kill me, and everybody in your home... Well... I'll be hated. I'm the one who should be worried."

I need to cheer her up somehow. She doesn't deserve to suffer for it. If I could, I'd take the full impact.

"I'll tell you again," I continue. "My only fault here is that I didn't see this kind of development coming. Was too busy thinking about the airfield. If the context of what happened is omitted... I've had a good time with you."

"Me, too. But now you... I'm sure you despise me because I..."

"If a flower fades and withers from neglect, it is not its fault that it blossomed under the care of another. Yes, we're not flowers, we're more complex creatures, but the metaphor will do. Have you tried talking to your husband about your lack of affection?"

"I was ashamed to admit it outright. When the effects of the illness became... more visible, he wanted me less and less often. Excuses came up... no matter what I did. He obviously doesn't like my body. Somehow I think he..."

"...found someone on the side?"

"Mm-hmm."

"If you knew for sure he was cheating, would you want to get back at him in a similar fashion?"

"No."

"No?"

She turns to me. She's no longer sobbing, but the tears on her cheeks are still visible. Her eyes avoid direct contact, she looks bashfully at her hooves.

"I would understand him. I would want to understand. I love him... What hurts me the most is that he... doesn't want to bring it up at all. Hides his true feelings. He says the doctors will find a solution and everything will work out. He still loves me, but..."

"But often we want to have sex on the side if it's been between partners before."

"Yes. And that's why I think it's so easy for him to avoid sex with me because of connections on the side. I mean, he's an... active stud," she adds embarrassedly. "I wish he had a passion for wet bodies like you do."

"Then," I can't restrain my smile, "you wouldn't get out of a shower."

Lemon laughs sincerely. That's good, she's better.

"Thank you for talking to me. I wanted to... fall through the floor. I'm still embarrassed in front of you."

On the contrary, I thought she didn't want to talk to me. And really, it's better to act and regret what is done than to do nothing and regret about it.

"Don't worry." I take her towel and wipe the tears from her cheeks. "This whole incident won't affect our relationship in any way. If anything, blame it all on me."

She stands up suddenly and wraps me in a hug.

"Thank you again."

"The important thing is to make you feel better."

We leave the spa.

In this world, I'm already starting to get attached to the ponies. First Lilac, now Lemon. It's all too quick and easy. Even though I don't plan on having any love relationships with the ponies—it's not my world, after all, it's not my world—but it seems to find me.

Would I be willing to settle here, if I could?

No. I don't want to take responsibility for a loved one. I don't want a replay of what happened to Brisa.

***

Standing outside the room of Broken Radio Hotel, we hear two mares discussing something merrily and boisterously outside the door. I glance over with the lemon earth pony. She shrugs, smiling slightly.

In the room we see two barricades of pillows. Motley is at one, and Bluerise is behind the opposite one. They, laughing happily, throw pillows at each other. Noticing our return, the mares simultaneously throw them at us.

I don't duck. I create a magical barrier around me.

"Having fun?" I ask rhetorically after the pillow flies into me.

"Sure," Bluerise replies. "Join in."

"To be fair," Lemon begins, "go for Team Motley."

"Why?"

"For one thing. Unicorns. Because of their telekinesis, would be unbeatable on the same team."

"I agree," Motley says and hides from the 'projectile' flying at her. Bluerise chuckles. "That purple beastie is too accurate."

"Secondly," Lemon continues, looking at me, "I want to bury you under the pillows."

I smile.

She seems to have negative feelings for me after all: she wants to beat me with pillows for technically seducing her. Even if jokingly, she wants to punish me.

"Well, let's see how much you want to... kill me," I say, getting behind the barricade with Motley.

Here we go. The room fills with flying pillows, serene laughter, and unrestrained merriment. At one point, Lemon is covered in pillows with bedding like armor.

The habits of the Steel Rangers, like war, do not change.

Wearing pillow armor, Lemon runs to ram me.

Oh, shit...

She knocks me off my hooves, pulls down one 'weapon' at a time, and hits me with a swing. I end up under a mountain of pillows, and she jumps on the mountain.

I moan slightly painfully.

"I told you I'd bury you," a triumphant voice is heard.

She digs me up, and then helps me up by extending her front leg. A faint smile plays across her face. She's relieved that she beat me at the game.

"How's it going with Ventura?" Motley asks.

I recount the terms of the Vertibuck's return. Lemon lists in detail our obstacles.

"What a task," Motley mutters, sighing heavily. "I mean, Red Spark that's been dealt with recently. Do you ever take on simple tasks? Kill a yao guai and fetch its hide, for instance?"

"What can I do. My path is not an easy one. No ideas at all about the airfield?" I ask, looking at her.

"Suppose we could distract most of the robots guarding the perimeter of the Northern Soul. A weak spot in the perimeter could be used to infiltrate the airfield."

"Oh, sounds like a plan," Lemon notes.

"Can the two of you work it out?"

"What are you going to do?" the star paladin wonders.

"I'll take Bluerise to the head of the Waterfall family. She should be free for an audience by tonight."

***

Motley and Lemon stay in the Broken Radio Hotel, and Bluerise and I head to the east-south area, where the main 'headquarters' of the Waterfall family is located.

"Did Motley show you the town?" I ask, sitting behind the wheel of the army truck. I drive, keeping to the rules of the road.

"We walked through some of the sights. The Mane Street is delightful."

"What do you think of the pegasus?"

"She looks closed, often has a sullen look. She seems to have been through something unpleasant and horrible recently. I wanted to cheer her up somehow."

"By pillow fighting?"

"Yes. It helped me once. Distraction."

"You really put her in a good mood, thanks to you. What do you think of the city? What do you think of the slaves and their enjoyment of their own position?"

"They've certainly been brainwashed with it. How can one be happy with being in chains and doing absolutely every whim?"

"If another is happy with something, why are you sure it's the wrong happiness? Yes, many consider slavery immoral, but we are all slaves in some definition: principles, rules, states, opinions. A slave is brought up in such a way that they see their life only in the service of their master and derive genuine joy from it. True, to be sure, they are also intimidated by freedom and responsibility. I acquired one slave mare because I needed a guide to the city—"

Bluerise looks at me like I just spit in her face.

"Relax. I already let her go: I found a place to teach her self-sufficiency."

"Self-sufficiency?"

"Slaves are raised in such a way that they can't make decisions. They are dependent on their masters. They're obsessed with wanting to be useful to their masters. And mine was worried, too, about the fact that I hardly asked her for anything."

"Why didn't?"

"Because I knew she would fulfill it without hesitation. That's how she was raised to do it. I just... can't ask anything of someone who has no right to refuse me."

"And yet, they're happy to serve. This place has the strangest slave industry I've ever encountered in my life."

"I agree. Everything in this life changes in one way or another: it either gets more complex or degrades. The slave industry in Vanhoover is ideologically advanced. Do you like this town, if you take the slave industry out of the picture?"

"It's... multicolored. I like that. It has everything. I became a trader, after all, because I want to hold all sorts of things and trinkets in my hooves. I want to see and feel the variety of things from the pre-war world... or modern things. And there's a lot of interesting things in Vanhoover."

***

The main Waterfall manor is not in Vanhoover, but north of Vanhoover, near the greenhouses and near the dam. In truth, though it's a day's walk away, there's a train stop not far from the manor. And the train I saw on my first visit to the Vanhoover neighborhood belongs to the Steelmane family—which was already clear at the Council.

The train consists of a traction unit and cars: one passenger and four freight cars. I hope Heaven Waterfall is in town now. Otherwise we'll have to go to the manor. It's not so critical, though, thanks to Bluerise's pre-war army truck.

We reach the big market. In front of the entrance is a semicircular, crescent-shaped sign with green neon lighting: 'Oasis of Vanhoover'. The parking lot nearby is almost stocked right now, because vehicles are not allowed inside the market. Many masters in the city come here for big purchases.

Nearby on one of the walls hangs a map of the market. It depicts several streets: one circular around the perimeter, with two others intersecting at right angles in the center, forming a cross within a circle. In addition to the marked streets, the stores, stalls, and establishments located within these three streets are also marked here: The Frozen Fruit, The Ice Beauty, The Warm Hearth, The Extinguished Candle, The Iceberg, The Prancing Pony, The Jolly Gunner, and so on, offering a variety of goods and services.

The streets of the market are teeming with masters and slaves, strutting about their business. The noise of falling crates, raucous arguments, serene laughter, beggars with whom Bluerise decides to share the caps. Life is booming.

Stores abound: weapons, clothing, armor, outfits, junk, clean water and expensive drinks, and, of course, all kinds of food grown in Waterfall's greenhouses. Food and water stores and stalls are the most plentiful here.

All this commotion, Bluerise looks at them curiously, as if she is marking something in her head. Apparently, she studies their behavior, attitudes, and interests. The unicorn focuses her attention on every little thing, every detail, every situation that happens at the market. She also passes each store, each stall, with a look full of slight admiration, delight and simple childish curiosity and interest. You can't find such variety anywhere else in the Wasteland. Even I can't resist it. The local signs of the establishments are literally full of all the colors and shades that can exist. Bluerise often looks at them too, so we have to make more than one stop. The longest is near the perfume and grooming stores.

I can understand her. The Wasteland isn't usually about beauty, but this place has everything you need for this.

It takes less than ten minutes to get to the center of the market, but the overexcited unicorn makes the walk several times longer. I even have to pull the mare, who is drawn to visit and examine every store in the market, to touch and look at every thing for sale.

But here is the center—where the building we need is located. The only one that does not provide any services. The building, judging by its appearance and signage, is the main office of this market. It also serves as a kind of headquarters where the key activities of the Waterfall family in the city are coordinated. The office itself is a five-story structure of a pale green hue, devoid of any excesses, like statues, expensive ornaments, and artificial or real plants.

In the center of the market is an elegant fountain, and in the middle of it is a statue of a very large elongated fish, which stands on its back double fin. From the head... the top... of the fish spews upward in jets of water, flying around, falling into the pool.

Bluerise stands in front of this fountain and stares spellbound at the huge statue. The shape of the fish is clearly not the usual pre-war fish. It's some kind of special species. I can't remember what the mammalian species was called. Something with a 'D' in it—they were still considered intelligent water creatures. Their performances before the war, people highly admired them, and the name is also interestin- Right! Dolphins. Brisa liked them too: she had read a lot about them and watched a lot of illustrations and pre-war holomovies.

There's nothing you can't find in this Vanhoover.

"What a delightful place this is," the sky-colored unicorn mutters. She walks closer to the fountain, leans against the concrete fence, leans over, and dips her hoof into the water, wiggling it a little. I walk over to her and lean in beside her. "There's no problem with water here at all. It's even a little frustrating that it's being wasted like this." She pulls out her wet hoof, drops dripping down it, which she begins to look at thoughtfully.

Wet hoof. Wet Lemon, using her hoof to-

I shake my head. Bluerise puts her hoof down and continues to make circles on the water.

"The town is really beautiful, especially this market, where you can find anything. And the ponies here are quite tolerable: they behave normally and not as arrogant as in Tenpony Tower. The slaves are not treated as cruelly as I thought they would be: it depends on the master." She sighs heavily and looks me in the eye. "I'm... still afraid."

"I think you'll do fine," I smile, putting my hoof on her shoulder. "And remember, I'm always here for you."

The purple unicorn smiles. It's as if she remembers something and with magic pulls a pre-war gold coin out of her pocket, placing it on her hoof.

"What are you going to do?" I ask with incomprehension, removing my hoof.

"Magic," she answers simply, closes her eyes for a few moments, and from her hoof throws the coin into the fountain. It arcs through the air and falls into the water. With a gurgle, it sinks to the very bottom.

"Strange magic," I comment, glancing at the coin under the water. I see out of the corner of my eye: the foals nearby are already waiting for us to leave to retrieve it. It reaches me that this is how the unicorn made a wish. "And you believe that?"

"No... But sometimes I want to. Just for fun."

"And what did you wish for?"

"I won't tell. Otherwise it won't come true," she answers sternly and walks toward Waterfall Headquarters. I follow.

"Come on. You said you didn't believe it."

"This is the one time I believed, so I'm going to follow all the rules," she tucks her chin in and closes her eyes.

I just roll my eyes and shake my head slightly. Behind me I hear a splash: the foals are climbing into the fountain to get the coin. The average pre-war gold coin is now valued at a few caps, but they are much heavier, inconvenient to carry around.

We find ourselves in a five-story building. We approach the receptionist.

"To what do I owe the honor?" asks the earth pony, dressed in a beige dress and seated behind a wide crescent-shaped desk that is not much different. Office papers and a typical terminal. There are several waiting and annoyed ponies in the lobby.

"I need to meet with Heaven Waterfall."

Someone in the lobby laughs slightly upon hearing this.

"You're not kidding?" the pony in front of me looks at me with surprised eyes. It looks like there's a series of procedures to go through or a very long wait for my turn.

"Do I look like I came here to order muffins? I'm here to see the head of the Waterfall family on business. She gave me an important job, and I completed it. I've come to report back."

"Even so, you have to wait your turn. You're not the only ones who want to meet Heaven Waterfall on important business," the pony points her hoof at the visitors sitting in the lobby.

"I see," I glance around again at those seated, then turn to the receptionist and smile softly. "How about a mutual exchange of favors?" I wink at her.

"No way," she replies tiredly and monotonously. Cursing, it doesn't work. "You're not the first to try to play with your eyes. Wait your turn."

Bluerise leans toward my ear.

"What, are you losing your charm?" she whispers to me with an affectionate sneer.

"You don't seem to understa-" I begin, looking the receptionist in the eye.

"No, I don't," she interrupts me with ease. Bluerise giggles, covering herself with her hoof.

"I went to the very epicenter of a pretty hot place called the Crater," I explain. The receptionist's eyes go wide. "I dealt with the head raider there, so I thought I'd tell Heaven Waterfall about it, just as she wished.

"Oh... So it was you I was informed of! I'll be right back," she mutters hastily. The rest of the audience is indignant when they see her leave.

"What in the world are you doing?" some stallion behind me yells out. "Out of line?"

"I'm always out of line," I reply without turning around.

"Yeah?" the pony replies sarcastically. "Are you nuts?"

"You must not have heard," I turn slowly to the most indignant pony I've ever heard shouting at me. It's an earth pony in a formal outfit. "I've been in the middle of the Crater!"

"Lies and bullshit!" he utters sharply. "No one but the raiders ever came back alive from there."

"Yeah, yeah..." I reply, turning back to the table. A few minutes later, the panting receptionist returns.

"You can go to Heaven Waterfall right now," she says. Anger and irritation are heard from various corners of the lobby, and a variety of profanities are shouted. I can understand them.

"The fuck?"

"He's lying!"

"Fuck you all in the holes!"

"Go fuck yourself!"

"Why the fuck did they let him—"

"Shut the fuck up!" the receptionist says loudly and sharply, causing me to flinch in surprise. Immediately everyone is quiet. "Orders from above."

Bluerise and I leave the lobby in silence and make our way to the top floor. No doubt that's where the office of the respected Mother of the Waterfall Family is located. I knock on the wooden doors, painted dark green. Waiting for permission to enter, I open the doors and enter the office, asking Bluerise not to come in yet. She nods without delay, but I can tell she's already nervous.

There's no one in the office except Heaven Waterfall, sitting quietly and minding her own business. Alone. Is she really that careless about her safety? Practically anyone could walk in here, pull out a gun, and kill the head of the family. Or maybe there's a catch.

Heaven sits in a dark green chair behind a wide wooden desk, sorting through some papers with bills.

As soon as I enter the office, she slowly looks at me with the expectant curiosity of her employer. Apparently, she wants to see how my walk in the Crater has affected me. After looking me over carefully and finding nothing to note, she points with her left hoof at the light green sofa in front of her desk.

"Hello, Daniel. Sit down," the sky-colored earth pony with a striped mane of black and white says .

She is dressed in a strict black suit with a white shirt. The office itself doesn't look particularly elegant or sophisticated. A couple of fairly good wood dressers, some plain clean filing cabinets and other pieces of furniture that harmonize with the colors of this office. No paintings or engraved vases, just a couple of ordinary pots with plants, whether live or artificial, I don't know. Beyond that is a work terminal on the desk.

"They're real," she says, noticing my gaze settling on the plant vases.

"I send my regards to you, too," I smile as I glance at the head of the family. Heaven herself had told me she didn't like to be too formal, but she wouldn't tolerate insolence, either.

There is a faint smile on her lips for a few seconds.

I don't hesitate to sit down on the sofa and lean imposingly on its back, folding my hind legs over each other and placing my front leg comfortably along the back of the sofa. She hums.

"Well, I have a right for this, considering where I've been at your request," I say, shrugging my shoulders.

"I ask you to note that you offered your own services, and as for your work... Let's wait for Flint Gray and then we'll talk."

"May I ask you a question?"

"Shoot," she replies and looks at me expectantly, lifting her eyes from the office papers.

"Sitting alone in an unprotected office," I glance around the office with a disapproving look, "is bad for your health."

"Thinking about it is bad for your health, dear," she smirks. In other words, be a goody-goody and don't get up to any trouble.

"But still: suppose someone is going to kill you in a meeting..."

"Do you really think the head of the family can't defend themselves?" Heaven asks skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

"Suppose so."

"You clearly don't understand what the head of the family is supposed to be able to do besides the standard ability to whip their tongue and chop with it like a deadly axe," the earth pony sighs frustratedly, as if explaining to a foal. "Important figures have always been and will always be attacked. So there's always a safety feature," she raises her leg with a PipBuck. "You have this device, too. And you know it scans your biometrics. If I get killed, the PipBuck will alert everyone. You saw at the Council that every head had a PipBuck. It's not just a bling for beauty, but also for protection. The heads of the families make the most of its capabilities. In the event of my death, not only will the device alert everyone, but it will also indicate the exact location of the murder. Many important family members have a PipBuck, so they'll be coming for your ass. And you'll definitely be having a lot of fun."

"Okay, I agree. But that doesn't negate your death."

"You can't protect yourself from everything. Besides, there's the E.F.S., which rates the probability of... reckless aggressive action," she says. After a moment, her advisor appears.

"I'm sorry for being late," he says in an apologetic tone. "Had some business to attend to."

"I know what kind," the Mother of the family smiles understandingly. 'business'," the Mother of the household smiles understandingly. "Our friend has completed his assignment," she tells the counselor, then looks at me in confirmation, as if not believing it. "I hope so."

"You could say that," I say lightly. Flint stands beside his boss, casts me an appraising glance, then a grimace of suspicion and doubt flares across his face.

"Tell me," Heaven begins, "what's your progress on the job?"

"The leader of the raiders who orchestrated the attacks has been killed."

The head and counselor of the family are amazed at this turn of events. It's nice to see such expressions on the faces of famous and influential ponies. Still, it's hard to melt their cold and haughty looks.

"Yes," I continue, "the Crater raiders had a leader, Violet Ardor. She planned to confront the raiders and the Vanhoover masters in a bloody battle. Yet the attacks on your family were part of some arrangement with an unknown pony. His identity remained a mystery because of the mask on his face."

I tell them about Red Spark: that this city is divided in two by a bridge, which is the only exit for the raiders of the eastern part of the city, and how I destroyed the bridge and that I did not act alone in the ruins. I don't tell them exactly what kind of partners I had or Violet Ardor's origins. I also tell them about the agreement with the masked stranger and my thoughts on the matter.

"You made the right decision about the bridge. The fewer raiders, the better for business. And that mysterious pony with the strange mask who supplied three cases each. Silent Ghost, along with the robots that deliver rare and expensive drugs, clothes and interior trinkets, tools and some technology. The Meadows, the Softhooves and the Steelmanes..."

"Any idea who benefits from weakening your family?"

The blue-colored earth pony looks at me like I'm a fool.

"It benefits everyone, but you've given us a break while they find another option. It's quite possible it's a conspiracy of several families. Not necessarily just one."

And she's right... I hadn't thought of that.

"The Softhooves, the Meadows, and the Steelmanes? What about the Falcons? Could they set up the other families?"

"I hate them with all my soul for their pompousness and arrogance, but that's obviously not their style. They want their deeds and exploits to be known. These chickens are too proud."

"Who's Silent Ghost?"

"That pony in the mask. He's a... local legend. He originally came along with the Meadows family, but then apparently he started working for everyone. He's an assassin."

"Came with the Meadows family? How old is he..."

"More than Prince. I'm inclined to assume it's a ghoul, so he's hiding under a mask. Ghouls are forbidden to enter the city."

"What makes him so special?"

"Well..." the earth pony smiles as if I asked if ponies breathe. "He's fucking elusive. Prince couldn't catch him. Kings couldn't catch him. He's probably long gone—just like DJ Oscar. Several personalities share the same image. The first Silent Ghost is already dead, and now his image is being used by everyone who wants it. For intimidation."

"If he worked for the Meadows, does that mean they're behind all this?"

"Maybe. Silent Ghost works for everybody now. Sort of."

"Sort of?"

"He eliminates targets whose deaths were beneficial to one family or another. Even us."

"What if some of your blood relatives or Captains used his services?"

"I don't deny it, but I forbid anyone to do business with him. And even after that, the murders in our favor continued. He obviously wants to cover his tracks. I'm more than sure he only works for the Meadows, but to deflect suspicion he pretends to work for everyone."

"It's just a hypothesis," I note.

"Yes. But I told you that Silent Ghost originally worked for the Meadows. Even if he's dead, the family must still be using his... reputation."

"Heaven," the gray earth pony named Flint says . "I'm still inclined to assume it's the Meadows who are behind the agreement with the raiders."

"What makes you think so?" she turns to him.

"I've been researching Silent Ghost's backstory. Working for the other families involved elimination and nothing more. Here, however, Silent Ghost is something of a middlepony between the parties. Or maybe he's just the only one, not counting Prince, who could track down the leader of the Crater raiders and survive without a problem. But also... the Meadows and we have an arrangement," Flint turns to me. "You know it's hard to grow fruit and vegetables in a harsh climate, and in large quantities, too. That's why we made an arrangement with them a long time ago—they give us the chemicals that make crops grow faster, and we give them the plants with which they create their drugs and medicine."

"Then why destroy the supplies they also need?"

"Hmmm... The arrangement was that, whatever the financial situation of the parties, they should give their goods at a set price. In other words, if we raise the prices of our goods, the prices in the arrangement are not affected in any way. Even if we break the arrangement, the Meadows are left in a better position."

"In what way?"

"Food, water, and electricity," the earth pony says, looking out the window to her left, "are more needed in the city than the cold medicine or the drugs you 'fly off' to other planets. Without the drugs we can't grow enough food, there will be a shortage," she returns her gaze to me. "And everything will be blamed on us, as we will find ourselves unable to do our job to the extent necessary. Failed to handle the responsibility. A riot or other confusion will break out, and all my blood relatives, including me, will simply be killed, and our business will be transferred or divided among the families who can handle it. The Meadows, for example, could take everything. They won't have a significant shortage of medicine, since they get some of the raw materials they need from The Island and other parts of the Vanhoover Wasteland. Anyway, the Meadows are my prime suspects. But that's my concern. You've done practically a feat enough as it is. Anything else for me?"

"Oh, right! Maps and lists of many raiders," I raise the PipBuck. "I copied all the information the leader had onto a separate PipBuck. There was too much information, so it didn't fit in mine."

"Maps and a list of raiders?" the Mother of the family is surprised and looks extremely interested. Her gaze softens. "This is wonderful news. It will be possible to track down our long-time traitors or culprits who have escaped punishment."

"...whom you yourself have forced to flee."

"What can you do?" the sky-colored earth pony shrugs. "That's life. You can't keep track of everyone. The fate and well-being of the entire family and more important than the life of one. If we're too soft on the guilty, we're more likely to be robbed or fooled in the belief that they'll be spared. I will not allow anyone to coddle me and my family... And be treated as second-rate! Some are really better kept as slaves, or they'll make a mess of things and become raiders sooner or later. What are you worried about them for?"

"Just wondering your opinion on this. Will you try to catch the raiders?"

"Depends on the circumstances. There are plenty of ways to work off your debt and help the community thrive in Vanhoover. If you don't know how to be responsible for your own body, let others do it for you. I'm in solidarity with Prince on this point."

"Knowing how to take responsibility for your body? What meaning do you put here?"

"Not spoiling the lives of others."

"And don't you spoil the lives of others? You yourself have confirmed that..."

"I know what I said. Don't take me for a fool. I made it clear that I care more about the fate of my whole family than the fate of one. I know how to prioritize, I have to think and be responsible for the whole fucking family. The system is flawed. Of course it is. But don't you have any better options, given the current situation? Tell me in detail your suggestions and your solution steps. I'd love to hear it." She crosses her front hooves on the table in front of her, tilting her head with feigned curiosity. She already knows my answer.

"No," I say guiltily, though I didn't need an answer.

"Expected. Don't think I'm blind and don't understand anything. I'm not in charge of the family for pretty eyes." There is a hovering silence. I have nothing to say to her. She understands that change is needed, but she needs details and a clear plan. "That's it, or do you have any more questions for me? If not, go ahead and load the information into this terminal." She points with her hoof to a nearby table with the terminal. I get up and silently walk over to it.

"There's a trader here," I begin, uploading only maps and information about the raiders, "who came here from the East Coast of Equestria. Her caravan was attacked by raiders, and she's the only one who survived. I can tell you that she's an excellent barterer, but she never learned how to roam the Wasteland, so I'd like to place her in the city. She'll do you a lot of good economically. Just let her get settled in."

"Well, bring her to me, and then we'll see."

A few minutes later, I return to the office with Bluerise; she's clearly anxious to come in after me, but skillfully hides it. She's probably already heard about the reputation of the heads of families and so not only is she worried, but she's trembling slightly with fear. She didn't hear any of our conversation because of the soundproofing. Before she was in the office, I gave her a friendly hug and a few words of encouragement that made her feel a little more confident.

As we enter the office, Bluerise and I take a seat on the couch, but before we do, the merchant greets the head of the family and her counselor.

"What's your name?" the head of the family asks quietly.

"Bluerise, madam," the merchant replies courteously.

"My name is Heaven Waterfall. I think you know what I do. And this," she points to the gray earth pony without looking, "is Flint Gray, my Counselor. And don't be so formal, I don't like to be addressed as 'madam' very often, especially by those with whom I'll be working and dealing frequently. Just call me Heaven."

"Okay," Bluerise nods hesitantly. "Heaven, I want to open my own business in town."

"Wow," the blue mare exclaims, raising an eyebrow in surprise. "That's not going to be easy. Opening your own business costs a considerable amount of caps."

"How much?" I ask.

"Well... First you have to prepare the space, the property rights papers, the document for the right to provide a certain type of service, hire security... A lot of bureaucratic work to do, if she starts from scratch—in addition, she is only just appeared in the city. And all the paperwork is handled by the Real Estate Department," Heaven looks at Bluerise understandingly. I didn't choose the Waterfalls for nothing, after all. She understands the advantages and disadvantages. I'm glad she's at least trying to find the best solution for a stranger. "You're going to be part of our big family. Many interactions within and outside the family we take on. You sell what we allow, you buy what we allow. You are the bed in the big vegetable garden. You only have to provide for the growth of the plants."

"Can I make any decisions?"

"You can suggest solutions to optimize the process, but the final decision is up to the family. If you are effective, you can become a Captain in the future. Show your capabilities, and depending on them, we'll consider you for other areas if a position becomes available.

"And what status will I have now if I accept?"

"A Soldier status. Part of the pure profits will go to you, part to us. Do you understand your decision?"

"Yes."

"Fine. Your experience in trading and doing business outside of the Vanhoover Wasteland will probably benefit us and new ideas, and that's a sure advancement in your career. The prospect of running not just one store, but an entire chain."

"I," Bluerise begins, anticipating the cost of this venture, "just hope I have at least enough to open my own store here..."

"The whole thing will take..." Heaven says and thinks, lifting her eyes to the ceiling and calculating something in her mind, "...thirty thousand caps."

Holy shit! It takes that much just to open a store?! Although if I recall how much I invested in opening an orphanage in New Vegas, which was ten thousand caps, it makes sense... The orphanage. Unfortunately, the caretaker of the place, Esther, turned out to be a common slave trafficker. Using my caps, she attempted to capture children and sell them into slavery in this sophisticated way. I had to promise her that I would let her go if she told me where she had sent the last group of children. I didn't plan to let her go. The only time I deliberately broke my promise was when I did.

Another notable material contribution to charity was the creation of a clinic for the rehabilitation of the Fiends. Unfortunately, some of the Fiends could not be accepted back into society, they were killed—almost before my eyes.

I was just throwing caps around for different causes back then. I wish I had the same colossal amount of resources here that I had in Mojave. Unless I should get twenty-five thousand caps for the work I did at the Crater.

"But..." Bluerise's sad grows, and she's lowering her head with a heavy sigh. "I don't have that much."

"How much do you have?" Heaven asks.

"Almost three thousand caps... Even with selling everything I have except the truck, I can only get about seven thousand..."

There goes the quality renovation of Heavenly Harbor and the luxury furniture and appliances. I'll have to put it off. Twenty thousand caps... It's a good thing there's at least five thousand caps left over for my work. Really, I'm used to throwing caps around. The more caps I have, the more I feel like being generous.

"Then I'm sorry. Without that necessary amount of..."

"I got twenty-five thousand caps for the job, didn't I?" I politely interrupt Heaven. She, though surprised by my impertinence, nods. "Well, let Bluerise get twenty thousand caps out of that. Then we'll settle up with her somehow," I look at Bluerise with a friendly smile. She opens her mouth like she's about to start choking, looking at me with big surprised purple eyes. Flint admires the expression with a faint smile.

"Noble of you," Heaven says, looking in my direction with a smile on her face. "I didn't expect that from a mercenary. I'll be honest, you surprised me. No wonder why you were interested in the fate of the raiders."

"What not? She's my friend, and a friend needs help," I smile at her. Bluerise changes her astonished gaze from me to Heaven and back again. She can't believe this is happening to her.

"It can be arranged. So be it, most of that money will go into her personal bank account. The procedure for opening a personal safe deposit box is not free, just so you know."

"A bank?" I ask.

Flint answers for her, "Each family has its own bank. There are only six banks in the city, five of them owned by the families, and the sixth is independent. General Vanhoover Bank. It holds the personal accounts of the masters, who mostly don't belong to any of the families, makes loans; it also sets the value of the caps depending on the circumstances that arise, be it inflation and so on. Well, and because there are businesses that are not part of a Family."

"Is it safer to keep your caps in a bank depository than in your house in a safe?" I ask.

"Yes. All wealthy masters have personal accounts. Family members and corporations need to keep their capital, too. Large amounts of caps are most convenient to transfer through the bank from account to account, rather than carrying huge sacks of them themselves. Besides, in case you haven't noticed, it's almost always the use of an amount over a thousand caps by means of bank transactions—checks, promissory notes, and the like."

"I agree. It's a lot more convenient than carrying bags of thirty thousand caps," I chuckle briefly.

"By the way, we can open an account for you at our bank, too. It's free," the boss mutters.

Oh, that's just what I need. It will make it easier for me to pay for expensive items or services, to receive payment for completed tasks. At the same time, I'll put most of the caps I have on my account.

"That would be nice. Would it be possible to transfer from other banks to my account at your bank?"

"Of course," Flint says. "With fees."

"Then I guess you'll tell all the intricacies of doing business in Vanhoover to my friend," I say, nodding toward the purple unicorn.

"Depends on how well she takes our laws," Heaven replies, then looks closely at the still-surprised Bluerise. "I hope for a long and mutual cooperation," she adds, relaxing a little.

"Yes..." the pony with the light pink mane, who can barely understand that twenty thousand caps just have fallen from heaven, utters a faint whisper.

"Fine. Let's get down to business."

"Can we go outside so I can talk to Daniel alone?" Bluerise timidly asks.

"No problem," Heaven hoofs it up, covering her eyes for a moment and turning slightly away, thus showing that she doesn't mind, and then starts looking through some papers in her desk, occasionally turning to her advisor.

I walk out of the office with Bluerise, and she is the first to speak to me.

"Why did you do it?" she asks softly, looking appreciatively into my eyes.

"I told you you were my friend, and I want to help you," I smile.

"But... twenty thousand..." she whispers, as if she can't believe her own words. "That's a lot of money."

"Hey, I asked you for it. You wanted a peaceful place, and it's not likely to be peaceful here. And I told you I wasn't going to leave you alone in this town without support."

Suddenly her lips touch mine, her eyes closed. Her lips taste like ripe blueberries. They are as soft as velvet and as delicate as blueberry ice cream. Her kiss is slightly filled with more than just friendly gratitude. How wonderful and sweet it is. A pleasant wave of warmth and weakness runs through my body.

"Come," she says, as if the pleasant kiss never happened.

We go back to the study. I say goodbye to Bluerise, and then we go with Flint to the Waterfall Bank, which is relatively close to 'Oasis of Vanhoover', to open an account of my own. The procedure turns out to be pretty straightforward. I have to get a few signatures to open an account and sign a contract with the bank, and then I get my own savings and checkbook. Before that, we stopped by another place on the way, where I got my own... passport, without which it could not be done to open an account. Flint was kind enough to do me a favor by speeding up the process of getting it. The whole thing reminds me of the New California Republic and their love of bureaucracy.

On my way out of the bank, I look again with interest at my passport photo with all the necessary stamps of my place of registration. Daniel Evans. The date of birth is also listed there. According to the local calendar and timeline, it's the 12th of the Month of Linden 1325 since Celestia and Luna began to rule, or 172 years since the fall of the megaspells. The year 1352 is now going on. I am twenty-seven years old, and I have chosen a date of birth closer to the Earth calendar.

In a little more than a month it will be exactly two hundred years since the megaspells fell—the 15th of the Month of Rain.

"Is something wrong?" Flint asks, standing up beside me. "I thought you checked, and everything was fine..."

"No. It's just... It's just... unusual."

"I know, I know... After a while you get tired of having your own face on your passport."

"Why?"

"It'll seem like you're not good in the picture. Listen," he mutters, looking at the sunset. "Come to the restaurant with me. My treat."

"Why so generous?"

"You fucking survived Red Spark by sneaking into the heart of it and coming back. Naturally, I want to be on good terms with a pony like that."

"Thank you, of course, but I wasn't alone."

"All the more so. Was able to get the team together and get it through the fire in one piece. Let's go! You're not a mare, why are you resisting?"

I am really hungry, though... After what happened to Lemon, I should be more careful about accepting such offers. Especially from a stallion this handsome.

"Okay, let's go."

***

Flint lets me order whatever I want. Naturally, we dine at the restaurant that belongs to the Waterfall family.

"So... what is this Oasis of Vanhoover?" I ask, sitting at the table. Flint sits on the opposite side, sipping his family's wine. I refuse to drink. For obvious reasons.

"The area is for merchants from different families and just independent entrepreneurs. The more merchants there are, the more the owners begin to visit the place more and more often, increasing the interest of other merchants."

"Families don't provide space there for free?"

"Of course. We take fifteen percent of the profits from independent merchants and thirty percent from other families."

"Your family has a fairly substantial influx of caps from this rent?"

"Yup."

"About the banking system... There isn't such a huge amount of caps, unless they're stamped. What's kept in the bank?"

"You're perceptive... Yes. Almost all of the caps represent not the caps themselves, but various things of value that are converted into the numerical equivalent of the caps. Often these are gold bars, jewels, gems, jewelry, all sorts of magical items, and so on."

"How does the convert to caps work?"

"Each bank has its own rates. There's a few percent difference, but the principle is the same. You give the bank, let's say, an emerald. The bank values it at one thousand three hundred and thirty-seven caps. That amount appears in your account accordingly."

"So I don't have the physical embodiment of that number of caps?"

"You can have them, but they won't let you take off more than one thousand caps... Oh, hello again!" Flint waves his gray front leg. His purple eyes look somewhere behind me. I turn around and see a pale red mare with a white mane and saddlebags approaching our table.

She's a pegasus.

And she sits down with my companion as if she knew him. And not as a friend, but... something more.

"I didn't think we'd meet again today," she says with a happy smile. "And who is this gentelcolt?"

"Our family hero."

"Really?" she looks at me curiously. "So cute and innocent. And you wouldn't say he's... anything threatening."

"Appearances are deceptive," I say.

"I know. I'm not judging a book by its cover. I'm just talking about first impressions. By the way, my name is Crimson Sky, what's yours?"

"Daniel Evans."

"What an interesting name... clearly not an Equestrian name. Did you take it from some mythology? Or another race? Zebras? Although zebras have different specifics."

"I don't know. Honestly. That's what my parents called me."

"Eh... I'm curious about that kind of thing. All right. So what was the heroic thing you did?"

"He survived Red Spark and solved our raider problem... that I told you about."

"Wow..." Crimson Sky exclaims enthusiastically, looking at me. "Unbelievable. There are a lot of books in this town. Have you come across any?"

"Because of the raiders, there's hardly any of those left," I shrug. Flint smiles indulgently and shakes his head, looking at the pale red pegasus.

"It took you a few seconds to think about books out of the blue," he adds. "I think that's a record."

"Well, duh... It's Red Spark. There were a lot of secrets there before the war, interesting books. So much history."

"The VPI library should be enough."

"Yes, but it hasn't fully survived. A lot of books were lost because of the mess, and Red Spark may have had copies that our library lost."

"The VPI library?"

"The Vanhoover Polytechnic Institute library," Crimson Sky explains. "Which rock are you from, don't you know about it?"

"I'm new to Vanhoover."

"Oh, and how do you like the town? Do you like it?"

"Pretty much. It's like nothing I've ever seen before."

"It has a rich history, too!" she taps her hooves against each other happily.

"Oh... shit, here we go again," Flint groans tiredly. "Just don't ask her a question about the town's history. Please."

"I can see you're quite fond of history."

Flint lowers his head dolefully and utters, "Fuck me..."

"Yes!" the pegasus says, ignoring his reaction. "I love finding out what came before me and why what's happening now is happening. I'm writing my full-fledged book! A brief history of Vanhoover! Gathering all the material I need."

"Why?"

"I want to leave my mark on history," she smiles.

She seems to feel happy when she discusses the subject.

"You spend a lot of time in the VPI library. What's it like now?"

"In more than a hundred and fifty years it has been restored to some extent, even in appearance. Used for its intended purpose by the students of the institute."

"Your institute is quite working? And more than a hundred and fifty years old?"

"The institute began its restoration even before the Vermilion Rose, now known as the Queen of Vanhoover, appeared from Stable 68."

"What was Vanhoover like before the Queen? How did the institute exist?"

"As you may know, Vanhoover was far from the front, and there was no direct hit. However, the inhabitants simply went crazy over the difficulty of surviving and the deaths of loved ones from megaspells. Some banded together and tried to form some kind of organization or a disciplined group when things more or less subsided, but it all ended in failure sooner or later. There were only sporadic instances of individual civilized groups like our institute and its staff; everyone else was more or less screwed up in the pursuit of survival and degraded. The staff of the institute worked closely with the Queen, and through this a full-fledged operation was established. Slavery soon appeared, many scientists did not and still do not approve of this approach, but they saw no other way in those conditions, so they continued to work with her."

"What is the institute's contribution to the city?"

Crimson smiles smugly.

"Colossal. The institute has been and still is accumulating knowledge. It's also recycling technology—thanks largely to magic, looking for alternatives in the production of the essentials. Stocks of pre-war medicine, food, and the rest have long since been drained in Vanhoover, as in many places. In other words, thanks to some surviving knowledge, we are fortunate not to have to go through development history all over again. All that remains is the question of mass production. So now it's more about intelligence than physical labor. Machines and robots can do it. The problem is that there are too few of them, largely because of the scarcity of gems, the source of energy."

"By the way, are you solving this issue?"

"Of course. For a long time now. Lots of good alternatives, but they're not suitable for mass use. There's little prospect of development due to lack of knowledge and technology."

"Is there full education?"

"Yes, there are schools that teach basic skills like reading and writing. Arithmetic and stuff like that. But it's the institute that has full-fledged courses in engineering, chemistry, biology, and programming. The institute has labs and workshops. So it is provided with everything. True, the training is not cheap. But access to the library is free."

"That's generous of you."

"If anyone doesn't have the means but has a passion for learning, you're welcome."

"Maybe," Flint says in a tired voice, as if he's under some kind of torture, "enough already..."

"He's the hero of your family. He should know. I have an obligation to inform him."

"Oh... about the families. What can you tell me about them?"

"I'm writing a whole book for that. Can you be specific about your request?"

"Do families invest in development projects?"

"Sure. Really, they're opening their own labs now. Like the aunt of your Heaven Waterfall, right?" she asks, turning to Flint, who is jabbing away at his desk with boredom. "Sunny Waterfall."

"Uh-huh... Doing research on the rough vegetation on The Island."

"Knowledge should be shared, but you take it over like the Steel Rangers take over technology. Shame on all of you..."

"I had nothing to do with it. I'm just the Counselor."

"What are you to the head of the family besides that?" I ask.

"A childhood friend. Usually counselors are chosen from close quarters who are not related by blood ties, so I have to remain open-minded. To understand different areas, to get all kinds of information needed at the moment, and quickly bring it to the head of the family so that she makes the right decisions."

"Is that why you know so well about Silent Ghost?"

"Oh, you've discussed Silent Ghost?"

"Yes..." Flint starts uncertainly. Apparently, he himself doesn't know whether to tell the others that the Waterfall family is known to be Silent Ghost behind the organization of the raider attacks. "You could say that... Unfortunately, I can't tell you about it yet. And you'd better keep your thoughts to yourself about it."

"All right. Will you order me some food, please... I'm actually here for dinner."

"Order whatever you want."

"You know what I like," she smiles, looking at Flint.

"Oh... Okay."

A collared waitress walks up to us. Flint voices her order, which she takes where she needs to go.

"Anything else you want to know about the families?" the pegasus asks. There is a thud: Flint, doomed to anguish and suffering, rests his face on the table. "I still have an order to wait, anyway."

"I want to know about the origins of the families. Where did they come from?"

"That's easy. I could give you a whole dissertation on each family. When my book comes out, you can read everything in detail, but you only need a summary, right?"

I nod.

"Which family should I start with?"

"Let's start with the Waterfalls."

"Farmers, practiced their agricultural craft far beyond the city limits. They were farmers, united by the rather convincing and charismatic Waterfall family, who were able to survive, not get confused, and protect their estates from marauders during the general chaos. They skillfully distributed the efforts of all the workers to achieve greater efficiency, never stopped there, and tried to expand and multiply their farming capabilities. As time went on, they had no more problems with food. They had enough of everything, even in excess. One day the Queen made them an offer they couldn't refuse: cheap labor and technology with which to grow many times more food, in exchange for their ability to grow food in large quantities for the city's needs, and better protection from raiders and rabble."

"Then the family took up other areas?"

"You mean the dam and the water?"

"After the Last Family War, when the two families that dealt with those areas killed each other."

"Yes... The dam was badly damaged that the other families didn't want to take it on because they had their own troubles at the time. The Waterfalls got it all fixed up, spending a lot of caps and resources. It wasn't until recently that it finally paid off."

"Also," the gray earth pony inserts, still tucked in the desk, "we don't like slackers. I hope your Bluerise isn't one of them."

"Don't worry. What's up with the griffon family?"

"Founded back when the griffons fled their kingdom massively to the north about a hundred and seventy years ago. They managed to get an ammunition factory up and running, and then used it to start a mercenary business. In time, the Queen of Vanhoover made a deal with them—protection in exchange for slaves. At the time of the families' emergence, there were already three clans consisting mainly of griffons in the city. The Falcons intercepted the activity on Green Island—or The Island—for hides and meat. Over time, the griffon clans evolved into families. The Falcons had the most power and influence because they cooperated directly with the Queen, so they actually took over the other two griffon-led families with no problem, establishing a complete monopoly on weapons and ammunition production."

"What's your beef with them?" I ask Flint. He still doesn't raise his head.

"With those overgrown chickens?" he asks rhetorically. "For many reasons. Heaven hates them for their insolence and arrogance."

"And you?"

"For the same reasons. Never mind."

"Okay," I return my interest in Crimson Sky. "What can you tell me about the Steelmane family?"

Those who stole my Vertibuck and now use it to make me go to the Northern Soul. I hope Lemon and Motley came up with a plan.

"The dwellers of Stable 52. The experiment of that bunker was that the gardens there were half the size of the usual ones, which produced a food shortage. They had to get creative, modifying the technology they had at their disposal to obtain or grow more food. In the end, everything in that Stable depended on engineers—no lazybones there—who were able to modify technology under difficult conditions and then fix it when it broke or malfunctioned. As time passed, with the skills they had acquired, they were able to bypass the mechanism of the door, which would not open from the inside, and emerge into the Wasteland. They appeared in Vanhoover and accepted the Queen's offer to rebuild the city. They used their technical knowledge and modified technology to the benefit of the city, especially they found the Waterfall family's greenhouses to their advantage. Thanks to our VPI, they were able to switch easily and quickly to robotics and other fields of endeavor."

"What's up with Vanhoover's richest family, the Softhooves?"

"This family was founded as one of the first, when the trend toward this kind of association first started, and it's also the richest, most numerous and influential. The origins of this family lie in the dwellers of Stable 68, which is now the headquarters of Prince and his Kings. It is the only family in which the head cannot be a stallion."

"Why so?"

"Historically, mares have most often held leadership positions. You've heard about this Stable's experiment, haven't you?"

I nod.

Cherry Shine of Stable 53 told me that there the ratio of mares to stallions was in favor of the latter.

"That's why these mares are used to being in charge. It's more of a tradition. As far as I know, the head of the family and her counselor are okay with stallions, as are most of the mares in that family."

"What did they do originally?"

"First, sewing clothes. Then they swept up many casinos and almost all brothels, making them the richest, providing interior furnishings, furniture restoration services, and owning a pornography studio. Their influence is due not only to the huge number of caps, but also to the fact that they manage to deal with the activities directed against them. Quite often planned attempts on their lives are uncovered before they even happen."

"How's that?" I wonder. Flint decides to explain.

"Each family has its own eyes and ears. It's like spies. And the best ones are Prince and the Softhooves."

"Are you jealous?"

"Of course. Wouldn't you like to have a network of agents and spies who could effectively detect problems and expose attempts on your life?"

"What do you know about the Meadows?" I look at Crimson Sky.

"It was created by two twin mares. Long ago, during the Queen's reign, they came here by caravan. There were drug houses in Vanhoover before them, but they were the ones who managed to take over the rest of the drug places. As the family grew, they needed a unified leader. In the struggle to be the Mother of the family, they... simultaneously contracted each other's murders. Only the daughter of one of the twins was able to outsmart her cousins and become the head."

"And how did she outsmart her other cousins? Was it with the help of Silent Ghost?"

"The information is debatable, but the pony the masters associate with Silent Ghost came with them. As far as I'm concerned, it's just an image the Meadows family members use to intimidate other families. He is impossible to catch and no one knows what he looks like under the mask. I've heard so many versions of his origins, motives, and affiliations that I just don't believe he exists anymore. It can't be one pony hiding under a mask forever, always invisible and completely untraceable. It must be a group of ponies."

"Like DJ Oscar. Multiple ponies using the same image."

"Yeah. You're right. What are we talking about? Oh, yeah... First Meadows took over the whole drug market, then the medical services industry. After all, hospitals and doctors are dependent on medical drugs that only Meadows could produce in sufficient quantity. They hooked the residents of Vanhoover on the needle to make as much profit as possible—they don't care about the consequences. They're the only ones competing with the Softhooves in the pimping business, and the whole family in general."

Lieutenant Redstone was explaining the difference to me. With the Softhooves everything is gentle and smooth, but with the Meadows you can get into all sorts of kinky dealings with prostitutes. I suspect no one wants to work there voluntarily: they use slaves.

"Better not to be sick, eh?"

"You're right," Flint says. "Even during treatment, they'll get you on some kind of drug unnoticed. It's better not to get sick. Trust me."

"Surely you must have your own doctors?"

"Every family has them, but in severe cases only Meadows' specialists can help."

A waitress arrives with Crimson Sky's order. She happily taps her hooves and inhales deeply in anticipation the aroma of the food she has brought, rolling her eyes in pleasure.

"That's it... This conversation is making me very hungry," she declares. "Don't bother me."

"Finally," Flint raises his head. "Praise Celestia! I'm curious," he turns to me. "Why do you need to know the origins of the families? Ordinary mercenaries don't care."

I smile.

"I want to be a King. Suddenly Prince will give me an exam," I chuckle. Flint laughs, too.

"Oh," Crimson utters with a full mouth. She chews and swallows, turning to Flint, who is sitting close to her, almost snuggling. "How about your Haven recommending Daniel's candidacy for a King status? It's a rare occasion. So if it does happen, I'll be sure to write it into your family history. Stand out for your generosity and your respect for those who work for you."

"It's not up to me. The heads of families may recommend someone for a King status, but..."

I remember Ice Ground, the South Gate police captain, telling me that heads of families don't recommend anyone to a King who doesn't belong to their family. Those whom they trust are usually accepted into their ranks. However, in doing so, they lose the opportunity to become a King. Prince's prohibition to avoid privileges in favor of only one family.

"You are a Counselor. Besides, you say he's already a hero of your family."

"Yes... But... suddenly it turns out that the leader of the raiders wasn't the only one behind the organized attacks. And it's not over with them yet. Anyway, we'll see. But I hear you," he looks at me. "I'll tell Heaven about it."

"You don't worry," Crimson tells me, putting his front leg on Flint's gray shoulder. "I'll make sure he doesn't forget. For this is a historical event that I'm going to witness. This is so cool! A third recommendation for a King from the head of the Vanhoover family."

"Thank you," I nod gratefully. "Well... I'll be on my way. I won't bother you anymore."

Flint nods, and Crimson returns to his meal.

I'd like to believe I'm being recommended for a King. It'll be a big responsibility, but it'll be necessary to facilitate the search for Dome Project.

Shit! I completely forgot to ask Crimson Sky about Dome Project. Though I guess that would have been unnecessary in the presence of Flint, the Waterfall family counselor. They might be looking for the Dome themselves, so they would see me as a competitor.

Or they, like Ferris, like the Steel Rangers—at least Lemon—think it's a myth. If anything, I can find Crimson Sky and ask her about this pre-war facility. She studies history and should know at least something about it.

It's dark outside.

Now I've been sitting around... Back to Broken Radio Hotel.

***

"There you are!" Lemon exclaims cheerfully as I enter the thirty-second number of Broken Radio Hotel. "It's been a long walk. It's been more than half a day since you and Bluerise left. It's almost midnight. Have you had dinner at least?"

"Yes, I did. I made arrangements with the head of the Waterfall family about Bluerise, opened my personal bank account, and got paid to work at the Crater."

"It's all clear with you. You can't just take your friend to one place and get the caps. Not for the unicorn herself, don't get me wrong," Lemon raises his hooves in protest.

"I just found out about a certain working VPI. How do your Steel Rangers feel about it?"

"Positive. The only ones who are trustworthy. They know how to handle knowledge and technology. Too bad they'll be against joining us," she laughs. "But that's not going to happen anyway. We have no business being here."

"Did you visit the library and..."

"Of course. As far as I know, several of our brothers and sisters are studying books at the library and taking various courses."

"Who is sponsoring the studies?"

"The Steel Rangers, of course. Broken Radio Hotel is exactly what serves as a shelter for them while they're learning."

"I see. And how are you two doing? Did you go out?"

"Aye! We had fun and went out together. Visited a couple of places."

"What kind?" I ask.

"Now, that's between me and the sweet gentle pegasus..." she says, so stretched out in a smile that it ignites my aching curiosity times brighter. But I feel it will remain a secret to me.

"Fun is good, of course, but what about the plan to infiltrate the airfield?"

"I have a thought," the Star Paladin tilts her head sideways, "but you might not like it. It all depends on how you feel about animals."

"What do you mean?" I ask bewildered.

"Just that," Motley cut in, "we plan to use the brahmin as a distraction by blowing it up."

"Wha-a-a-at?" I stretch out in surprise.

"Yes, yes," Lemon calmly continues, "we'll stuff our brahmin with explosives and send him to the main airfield checkpoint. Naturally, he won't make it, but most of the tin cans with machine guns will show up for the explosion. In the meantime, we'll go around the other side of the airfield and go through the most exposed spot. I know it's a little cruel to do that to a brahmin, but the idea seems okay, what do you think?"

"Are you sure all the robots are going to head for the bait?"

"Have you forgotten what my cutie mark is?" she smiles.

No. I remember her perfectly. I've had enough of looking at her wet yellow buttock this morning with the image of a green screen with a binary code while I...

No distractions. Don't fantasize or I'll get hard again.

"I remember," I sigh, smiling tautly. She did it on purpose. Makes me remember. She's getting back at me. Doesn't want to share the burden of what she's done alone.

"So I know how the war robots will behave."

"I'll take your word for it. Although I'm not happy that we're using him as a kamikaze."

"Kami... who?" Lemon raises an eyebrow. I'd forgotten it was a foreign word from my world.

"Kamikaze—in the old language, it roughly meant a suicide killer who intentionally sacrifices his life in order to kill as many enemies as possible."

"Well, you could say that about you, too," Lemon smirks. "Dannikaze."

Motley covers his mouth with his hoof, hiding his chuckle.

"Okay," I agree with the plan, and don't pay much attention to the last phrase Lemon threw. "We'll use a brahmin suicide. Where do we actually get one?"

"Easy. Let's go to the local zoo and buy one. One brahmin costs about a thousand caps. And there's about a thousand caps worth of explosives to buy. I'll get it all. You got the caps for the job, didn't you?"

"Right, but..." I say, smiling weakly. I'd forgotten that Ferris was a valuable ally in the Crater, too. We should at least give him some of the caps. Helped out, after all. "I gave some of them to Bluerise so she could start her own business, for she was woefully short of them."

"Gave it to Bluerise. Generosity pours out of you like a fountain," the earth pony shook her head approvingly under some impression. "I know it's not easy and expensive to open a business in Vanhoover. Probably gave her a couple thousand?"

"Twenty... thousand."

"Give me some chewy carrots!" the lemon pony gasps stunnedly. "Twenty chunks?"

"Yeah," I nod and smile at Lemon's astonished face. Motley smiles a little and looks at me curiously, as if in her eyes I was starting to look a little different.

"Okay, I'm next in line if you ever think of generously splurging again," Lemon pronounces, and then looks at Motley. "Well, you're after me," she smiles. "Nothing personal, but I've known him longer."

And closer...

"So, remind me, where do you get me a brahmin from?"

"From the pus..." Lemon wants to make a joke, but cuts herself off. "From the local kennel. You can get a faithful friend there, too, if you want one. You can have a dog or a cat."

"Okay... "You can do it tomorrow."

"I will? By myself?"

"Yeah, why? I don't know where the kennel is. And I'm about to be recognized in town, so as a Steel Ranger agent, you'd better not show your face with me..."

"You're right. But I could tell you where the kennel is."

"It's good to walk," Motley inserts. "Especially for you."

"Hey!" she resents. Her chubby yellow cheeks flash red. "And you also called me friend today!"

The multi-colored-eyed pegasus covers her mouth with her beige wing and giggles.

"Feathered bitch," Lemon mutters. Motley tries not to smile, but can't. "I'm off to bed. That's it. You two hurt my feelings," she declares and walks away.

"What did I do?" the pegasus asks.

"You didn't stand up for me," she replies, pouting and closing the bedroom door.

"Looks like I'll have to sleep here," the pegasus says, sighing. "There's two of us and only one couch."

Are you kidding me? First Lemon, then Bluerise, and now Motley?

The pony giggles, covering her mouth with her wing, studying the reaction on my face.

Fuck. I fell for a cheap trick. What has Lemon already told her about me that she's teasing me like this?

"Relax. I'm going to bed with 'Berry'. I won't disturb you. Sweet dreams."

***

The 6th of the Month of Heather, Blueday. The forty-fourth day of my stay.

"Okey-dokey," Lemon choruses cheerfully, putting on her warm coat. "I'm off and you're having fun. Only this... Dannikaze... Please don't blow the room, or I'll get a bill as huge as your ego."

"Are you doubting my abilities?" I ask, sitting with the open book on teleportation that Bluerise gave me.

"I don't doubt it. I'm sure they'll let you down," Lemon smirks and quickly closes the door behind her.

"Hey! 'Berry'!" I shout out to the star paladin after realizing we've forgotten something.

"What?" opening the door, Lemon cautiously squeezes her yellow face into the room and looks at me expectantly.

"Did you forget the caps?"

"Oh. Right," she says, apologetically. I hand her a check for two thousand, and then she leaves the room.

"You," I turn to the pegasus, "need the caps? You've suffered a lot in the ruins of Red Spark, after all. I must do something to thank you for your help."

"Relax," the pegasus sighs and, laughing briefly, plops down on the couch, lying on her back and gesturing with her hooves. "Your caps don't compare to the pay I used to get at work when leading a small group. In fact, even if I did get caps from you, I don't have much to spend them on. I don't want to be rich, I'm satisfied with what I have now—ammo, provisions, and equipment. More importantly, charming company. Besides, I've already received a gift from you."

"What kind?"

"Armor."

"I just picked it up."

"It's enough for me that you thought of me."

"You're welcome. Didn't it bother you that I dragged you into one of the most dangerous and unfriendly places in the Wasteland?"

"In my former job, my scouting assignments were in no less dangerous places, though not on this scale," the pegasus replies, staring blankly at the old ceiling. "So I'm sort of used to being in difficult situations and getting into them because of orders from my superiors."

"And what were your assignments?"

"I'd say," Motley looks at me with her multi-colored eyes, then looks around the room suspiciously. "But you know the expression, 'The walls have ears,' don't you? Well, maybe next time."

I smile understandingly. Gee, I'd forgotten all about caution. No wonder Motley hasn't mentioned the word 'Enclave' once. Especially since it's a secret Steel Ranger place: no wonder the pegasus is being a bit cautious.

***

The 8th of the Month of Heather, Redday. The forty-sixth day of my stay.

The journey to The Northern Soul has taken two days. At about noon on the sixth we set out on our four for the journey. Motley took off at times and surveyed our surroundings.

We tried to avoid unnecessary encounters with local aggressive fauna in the form of yao guai, feral dogs and mutant badgers. I met big badgers for the first time—though through Whispering Night sighting. Huge badgers about the size of a pony: elongated body, tapering at the muzzle, with white and black stripes running along it. The half-ruffled fur is a shaggy grayish color. Huge, sharp fangs and claws complete the picture. Thanks to the advanced sensors in our armor and to Motley's wings, we did not encounter any serious fighting.

And so we see The Northern Soul on the morning of the eighth. At a distance of almost half a mile away we can see the barbed wire fence. Farther out, just beyond the airfield grounds, the high mountains stretch to the sky, covered with a cover of snow. This white and cold layer of snow stretches from the peaks to the base of the steep mountains.

The Northern Soul is at the base of the steep cliffs that cover its entire north side. To the south of the airfield stretches relatively flat and open terrain, while to the north looms tall, sharp, and steep rocky mountains covered with a centuries-old layer of snow. To the left in the distance are the ruins of Red Spark, which I visited about a week ago. It's scary to imagine what kind of radiation is now present between the airfield and this town, if we can already see from here a huge crater glowing from it, left by a megaspell.

Between us and the lattice fence of The Northern Soul we can clearly see the Sentinels and a lof of Mr. Gutsy guarding the perimeter, armed up to their condensers. At the fence itself there are small towers on which turrets proudly stand. The wind blows so hard and cold here now that my 'lucky' cloak is nearly carried away by the violent and audacious winds.

Thank the gods that the armor keeps me warm.

"Nice fresh breeze," I say cheerfully.

"What did you think?" Lemon says under her helmet. "That it would be hot and steamy in here, like power armor after a long run? You haven't been here in winter yet. That's when real snowy, refreshingly icy weather rules here."

"Remind me, 'Berry', which way is the main checkpoint."

"Northwest. Over there," Lemon comes closer to me and points with her hoof to what was thought to be the main gate and thus the checkpoint we need. The checkpoint consists of two small booths, and its gate is wide open, inviting in its appearance a trap.

"We have a weakness in the perimeter on the opposite side, right?" I ask.

"Yes. Most of the robots will start to move in toward the gate, where we'll set off the explosion. So only the turrets on the metal fence will remain. Once we destroy them, the perimeter guards will start coming back, so you have to move your legs quickly."

"And you're sure they're going to move in to the place where the alleged attack occurred?" I ask the paladin in a skeptical tone.

"Yes. It's happened more than once. Mistakes in the code, apparently, cause them to abandon their posts and rush the whole herd toward the enemy. Recall, the Steel Rangers have tried to infiltrate an airfield before, and then those buckets of nuts were headed for them with guns at the ready. I understand your concern, though. The plan is really risky."

"Exactly. It's going to be difficult. Do you still want to come with me?"

"Yes," Motley replies calmly and without hesitation.

"Miss out on all the fun, plus this military airfield that might be of technical value? No way!"

"Well, it's your funeral. Motley, you can get our kamikaze brahmin ready to march and wait for my command until we get to the east side of the perimeter and then fly to us on the safe side in no time, right? I just can't make it, and we can't wait for 'Berry', death will come sooner," a small pebble flew into my helmet at these words. "Because of the clumsy power armor," I add.

"You insult me, Danny," the pegasus says. "Don't forget where I was trained. Of course I can," she says in an extremely confident tone.

"Okay," I pretend to ignore being addressed by my affectionately simplified name. Certainly I've heard it often from friends, but from the pegasus for the first time, sort of. "Then perform and play a stunned drum solo, and then I'll contact you on the radio."

Penetrating the flight base reminds me of Nellis and the Boomers. I've never run as fast or as much as I did then.

The pegasus nods and heads off with the brahmin as close to the gate as possible. The detonation will happen when the brahmin's heart stops. It's all thanks to Motley.

Reminds me of a similar trap in my world when I worked as a bounty hunter and hunted down a man obsessed with explosives. I almost got caught! How bloody lucky I was when I sensed something was wrong with that brahmin, and then he was suddenly engulfed in a little nuclear explosion. I had a bad feeling about it for a reason. My ass can smell trouble...

***

Being on the opposite side of the checkpoint, I tell Motley to start the action. After a while, we hear a distant explosion of such force that I feel as if the ground beneath my hooves is shaking. The amount of explosives is a little over the top. The poor bramin was probably gone.

After waiting some more time, I pull out Whispering Night, insert the magazine with the armor-piercing ammo, activate the VATS, take aim, and fire at the turrets. I almost manage to fire five shots in this mode before the Pip-Boy charge is used up. After that, Lemon attacks several Mr. Gutsy on my signal, and then I join her in the action.

After taking out the guards here, we jog to the fence, and a pegasus landed next to us.

"Did you stop for a snack there?" I ask, heading quickly toward the fence.

"The weather affected my flight," she says, a little out of breath. "Fewer words, more to eat... damn it... more to do. You always think about wrong things during a fight!"

We find the most damaged spot in the fence, and Lemon uses his power hoof armor to make an entrance. The buckets of nuts are already starting to return to their positions, and they've brought a couple more... dozens of fellows. They call almost everyone at once for a fiery party, and now we're in the middle of a dance hall.

Meanwhile, two Sentinels are on their way from the airfield. I take one of them and Motley takes the other. The pegasus takes about half a dozen accurate shots from Typhoon that used to belong to Violet, causing the Sentinel to melt its armor and fail all systems. I didn't graze the rear either, destroying my target in the same amount of time. True, before I finally knock him out, he fires a missile at me. I manage to dodge it.

Ugh! It felt like my whole life flashed before my eyes. It was so damn close.

Other robots are already heading our way. Bad luck. This is crap! If we let them near us, we're all fucked. Suddenly, Lemon responds with some lovely news.

"I found the hatch!" she exclaims.

"Open up!" I yell.

"It's locked," she mutters a little later, with growing concern.

Wonderful! There are no words, some luck is there, some luck isn't.

"Fuck!" I shout involuntarily, shooting at the approaching robots. "Wait a minute, though."

I have an idea, and it should work. I've been practicing teleportation and concentration for a reason lately.

"Can you see anything behind the hatch?" I clarify.

"Yes. It's lattice."

"Great. Motley, quickly to 'Berry'," I yell, and I quickly head for the hatch myself.

"What are you up to?" Lemon asks with surprise in her voice. Motley turns warily toward the approaching robots. I look at the hatch, through which I can see the space below it.

"Excellent," I say, smiling to myself. "It's no more than thirty feet down there. Come closer to me."

"What?" the partners wonder.

"Come closer!" I say with annoyance. They come closer. I hug them and say cheerfully, "It's hug time!"

Lemon tries to say something, but doesn't have time, as we are enveloped in my blue magic: we disappear. A moment later, we're lying in a maintenance tunnel just beneath a locked lattice hatch.

"What... What just happened?" Lemon says perplexedly, looking around.

"Next time at least warn us that you're going to teleport us!" the pegasus says in a trembling voice. "I almost piss myself from surprise!"

"What, you're teleporting for the first time?"

"Yes!" she exclaims indignantly.

"Don't be afraid. It's as pleasant a feeling as flying."

"It might feel good, but it's... too fucking unexpected!" Motley resents, looking up at the hatch above us.

"Still," Lemon says, "I agree that it was a rather unusual sensation."

"I agree, too. It was my first time teleporting with someone..." I say, and after a moment I already regret my words.

"What?!" the mares gasp in amazement. "Without preparation you decided to teleport two pony at once?!" the pegasus asks with a scream. I get the feeling she's holding back her desire to choke me.

"Yes. Why? Is there a problem?" I smile innocently. "It worked! If it weren't for my help, you would have been minced by those robots long ago," I point to the robots that are right above the hatch, looking out for the hostile insolent, i.e. us.

What dummies, unable to look down.

"Here we had at least some chance of survival. The truth is, this trick cost me a fair amount of magic. So magic support from me is best summoned as a very last resort."

"But..." Motley wants to argue something, but pauses, apparently realizing that in rash decisions it is useless to argue with me. She sighs. "Shall we go on, Dannikaze?"

"Aye, my pissed angel," I say. Lemon chuckles with a stifled giggle.

Following the signs on the walls, I still look under my hooves out of habit. Who cares if we get spotted, though. At least there is a place to hide.

After wandering along several corridors with wires and pipes, we come to the main maintenance room of the airfield. In some corridors, radiation levels are far from safe. And there are not only robots in the maintenance room... but also ghouls with elements of battle armor. And their robots don't attack, but when they see us, both of them immediately attack us. How they love us!

We hide behind cover and about half a dozen gools come running at us, roaring wildly. Two turrets and one Mr. Gutsy shoot at us.

For some reason most of the ghouls choose me as a prey: apparently, they don't like the red visors of my helmet.

I pull out the local version of the magnum and start firing it at the approaching smooth-skinned flesh fans, retreating back down the corridor. Motley and Lemon take on the other two ghouls, and then try to destroy the turrets and the robot.

I manage to kill three of the ghouls before they get close to me, but the other two get too close for me to take aim. So I hit the ghouls closest to me with the heavy part of the gun. The ghoul staggers from the impact, and at that moment another jumps at me—I dodge to the side of his approaching body, and he meets the wall behind me with a thud. I hit him in the head with my back leg, causing his head to meet the wall again: the impact seems to have finally... hoofed off.

Unfortunately, the ghoul I pistol-whipped immediately pounces on me, and I only have time to put my front legs out in time to keep his clacking teeth away from my soft, delicate neck. Suddenly his head explodes and his body hisses and begins to melt into an orange slurry, partially smearing my helmet. I manage to get out from under it before it's completely melted.

"I've got it under control," I explain.

"Yeah. Sure you are," the pegasus sarcastically chuckles, wearing an advanced and lightweight version of combat armor.

What if she hit me? What then? Or was it revenge for the 'pissed angel'?

"Have you dealt with the others?" I ask, approaching the mares.

"No," Lemon replies and shoots, after which some gurgling is heard: the ghoul turns into a disgusting viscous green slurry. "Now I do."

"Looks like we can get to the rest of the airfield from here. Shall we split up?"

"No!" the two partners shout unanimously.

"Why? Do you really enjoy my company?"

"Yes and no," Motley replies. "In fact, I'm not going to be alone: who knows where I'll wander into these multi-level rooms. Don't forget, pegasi don't like tight spaces."

"What about hugs?" Lemon asks.

"Well... that's the exception," she excuses herself.

"And in general... Totally agree with Motley," Lemon pronounces, looking around the room. "In a place like this, it's best to stick together as a group."

"Okay. We need to find engineering rooms, an administration building, or some kind of special warehouse where important blueprints might be stored."

"Already on it," Lemon says, sitting down at the surviving terminal in that room after the battle. "We'll find it now! Nothing can hide from me," she says optimistically, typing on the terminal's keyboard, which in power armor must be very 'handy'.

"Well, well," Lemon mutters. "What have we here. Correspondence from two lovers, one working in the lower levels, which is here, and the other in the upper levels. Complaining about the monotonous job... something about a log in bed. Yep, found it. The main engineering room is in the hangar, but it's cluttered and access to it is closed, and the warehouses... There are no particular warehouses. The administration building is located on the northwest side of the airfield."

"Is there a safe way to it, bypassing the surface?"

"There has to be," Lemon answers uncertainly, looking into the terminal. "Either way, we'll move in that direction, where the necessary building is."

***

We move toward the administration building through the lower levels and rooms of the airfield. Along the way, we make our way through—as Lemon often puts it—herds of ghouls and robotic guards. All in all, we spend about half an hour and half our ammunition on them. Along the way, we have time to search the rooms in the hope of finding something useful, but mostly we find a small amount of medicine.

We come across small notes and writings on the walls, which show by their existence how the base personnel gradually went mad from paranoia and physical changes after radiation exposure, some died immediately due to the high dose, and some became ghouls, and in the end all went feral. One even had to go around several rooms because of the high levels of radiation. In one of the locked lockers, I find a surviving memory orb. I'll take a look at it when we're in a calm and quiet environment.

Injuries do happen. No serious ones, though. They mostly come to me and Motley, and Lemon's power armor can't be penetrated by anything except a rocket blast. I get shattered bones in some places in my back legs, because I'm unlucky in my defense: a heavy metal cabinet falls on my legs, collapsing because a rocket exploded next to it and I miscalculated the trajectory of its fall. Well, my partners will know about this immediately by my long scream of swearing.

I have to use a Hydra and Motley's pretty good medical skills, for at any moment a ghoul or some military robot might come up, so I have to cover her back... lying down. She has better healing skills than I do, after all.

I try not to let anyone near Motley while she does my healing. Lemon, on the other hand, holds back the main crowd of attackers. If someone slips through, I use the deadly Defender.

Ferris wasn't lying. An Apostle is an incredible thing.

After getting some sort of medical treatment, I get back into the fight: not trying to do acrobatic pirouettes yet, figuratively speaking, and avoiding close-quarters combat, and also not abusing running. Let the Hydra do its thing. Motley complains that I'm taking all the medicine.

In these quarters, one accurate turret gets to Motley, causing her armor to get damaged—the pegasus gets a few grams of lead through her armor weak spots. So I have to patch her up. Then I start patching her armor, somehow using tools, odd parts, and literally a pinch of magic. Then I jokingly point out that all my repair materials go only to her armor.

As they say, a tooth for a tooth.

There's nothing wrong with Lemon. All she wants is to shoot her plasma rifles. Her power armor is in good condition. I keep her armor and armor protection up and running in an acceptable condition. Better to patch up every scratch than to drag it out to the last.

Finally, after defeating and destroying a couple dozen metal buckets full of wires, nuts and weapons and sending about fifty ghouls to their final rest, we find ourselves at the entrance to the administration building. It looks like an ordinary office, only with robots. Amazing.

We have to hide behind shelters, which are mostly office furniture. The Sentinel's shots turn everything into splinters, and the paper, documents and bills that had been lying peacefully in the desks all around me go up and twirl around.

I lose my cover and quickly aim my revolver at the missile he's ready to fire. The first shot misses, followed immediately by the second: a hit. After the rocket explodes, only half of the hull is left of the Sentinel. It sparkles and falls to the side from the side of the explosion.

Perfect. He's done.

We search the surviving desks and safes, but find nothing but prewar records.

It's lucky that the robots and turrets at the base often miss and 'dumb down' as their programs need calibration after all these years.

We reach the fourth floor. The blueprint we need should be there.

The safe of the chief engineer is locked, it can only be unlocked from the terminal. Naturally, it is password-protected, but Lemon easily breaks it, after which we open the safe and find... only sheets of unnecessary documentation, of no value to me—but apparently Lemon likes them. She replies that perhaps the Steel Ranger scribes can get some useful information out of these papers.

As it turns out, the terminal kept a record of who took the blueprints. It turned out that before the megaspells fell, one engineer had taken them. From the reasons given it became clear that he was going to do a routine technical inspection, but because of the deadline he did not return the papers, but went to the barracks and wanted to continue the work on the next day, which, unfortunately, turned out to be the last. It seems that these blueprints are in the living quarters very close to the administration building.

We carefully and quietly exit the building and, slipping between debris, old equipment, and small structures, make our way to the right building. At least we have something to hide behind. The noise of Lemon's power armor almost makes us give ourselves away—extremely lucky that something makes Mr. Gutsy check another place. Mistakes in the code are sometimes good for us, and also the total darkness around us... Well, it's easier to avoid ghouls than these crazy robots with a lot of malfunctioning sensors and detectors.

We slip into one of the barracks and find nothing but a few ghouls, which we quickly and quietly eliminate.

There are no blueprints here.

We go to the next barracks. Here I see something I did not expect to see. I would not have been surprised by the wild ghouls, but I in no way expected to meet a friendly one—and meanwhile this specimen sits quietly at a table and talks to a skeleton. Next to him are two aggressive wild ghouls. Slowly snarling, they approach us, preparing to attack, but the one who is not hostile yanks them away.

"Sneezy, where the fuck are you going? We are, after all, having an extremely important conversation about the future of the Equestrian Air Force, and you're just like this."

He looks at me with his white, dead eyes and, without thinking long, stands up and gives me the military salute.

The wild ghouls look at the actions of their relatively intelligent comrade and do the same, though far less deftly. And to say that I am extremely surprised by what is happening is to say nothing.

"Colonel Blackwright, sir! We've been waiting for your return! You should know how much I've been sick of sitting on my ass all this week, and somebody's got to drop firebombs on zebras! Oh, how long we've been waiting to get back in line, sir!" at these words he turns around to the skeleton and speaks to him. "And you go fix my Vertibuck! You've been sitting around all week, lazing around, reading your fuckin' blueprints and drinking your fuckin' coffee, soldier! Come on, let's go fix it! Come on!"

It is clear that the skeleton did not even move an eye, which has not existed for more than a hundred years. But that didn't stop the ghoul. The madpony in the old dark gray overcoat with shoulder straps mentioned the blueprints of the Vertibuck, which the dead engineer had once looked at. I can literally feel my partners looking at me with dumbfounded eyes under their helmets. Apparently they want to say something, but suddenly the ghoul begins to take me outside.

"Hey... soldier, wait," I decide to play it official. "I desperately need to get those blueprints. And... What's your name, soldier? Where are you taking us?"

"Captain Steel Sun, sir, Forty-second Equestria Bombardment Division, commander of the Combat Aircraft! You can just call me Captain. As for your second question, I am leading you and your escort to show the others that you have arrived," he keeps pushing me out.

"Wait. I mean, they... clearly don't like me and will attack me and my escort."

"What nonsense, Colonel, sir! You're the most respected officer in all the air force, come on, don't be afraid! Or perhaps you are ill? I can take you to the medical station, it's just across the runway," he gestures toward the cluster of turrets and combat robots. No thanks, I can do without that.

"I'm more or less fine, thank you for your concern. I just need to pick up the Vertibuck blueprints, that's all. This is an extremely important government assignment—I think you understand."

"Of course I understand everything. I think our engineer won't mind, and would even be happy to give them to you."

After the Captain's approval, I walk over and take the blueprints from the table where the engineer who used to drink coffee sits. His mug bears the meaningful and self-speaking inscription 'I love my job'. After picking up the blueprints, the Captain leads me and my 'escort' outside, straight to the nearest pack of snarling wild ghouls.

Wonderful.