Fallout: Equestria - Parallelism

"So what brings you here?" Cherry asks, greeting me and walking beside me as I stroll through the corridors of Stable 53. Motley had placed the Vertibuck not far from the entrance to the cave, so that in case of a tail, she wouldn't lead him to the lair of escaped slaves. The pegasus stayed to keep an eye on Nara. The little orange pony tried to follow me.... Thankfully, Motley and I managed to convince her to stay in the transport and wait for me for a while.

"I wanted to see Flow and offer her something," I reply without looking at the cherry colored unicorn.

"And what kind of offer, if it's no secret?"

"An offer to work as a cook in my humble nest."

"Heavenly Harbor?"

How does she know? Cherry smiles understandingly.

"Motley gave me a report on you."

"Huh... Right, I remember."

"Motley," the interlocutor smiles, as if looking at something in front of her. "I'll be honest, when the pegasus came back after she left following you, I didn't recognize her. It surprised me even more than visiting the heart of the Crater and killing the raiders' chief, as well as infiltrating the Northern Soul and acquiring two Vertibucks."

"Surprised in what way?"

She turns to face me. "I didn't recognize her from the look on her face. Remember how you saw her when you first met her. She was always sullen, apathetic, and indifferent to everything around her: it seemed as if there was a dark cloud hanging over her all the time. Motley showed no emotion or interest in anything at all. She was indifferent to the fate of those around her; everything seemed hopeless and meaningless to her."

"Yes, I remember."

Indeed, when I think about the meeting, she appears exactly as Cherry had described her. She's nothing like the Motley I know now. Hell, I couldn't even influence Boone: he's only smiled a couple times in the two years we've known each other, while Motley smiles every day and even jokes sometimes.

Or maybe it's because of me... She obviously feels something for me.

"It was the first time I saw her smile," she continues. "Since we've had her, she has never once shown any emotional connection to the world around her."

"What was it like for her the first time here?"

"Very hard," Cherry answers grimly. After a brief pause, she continues in a bleak tone. "Dodger brought her here for several reasons. I mean, she's a former Enclave scout, which means she has a lot of useful information. She had high-tech equipment—power armor and energy-magic weapons don't lie on the road. Later, it turned out that her armor was badly damaged, and one of her saddle rifles was completely destroyed and beyond repair. As for the armor, repairing it would require not only the necessary spare parts, but also specialized skills in repairing such things."

"So the pegasus wasn't let in here out of the goodness of the hearts, "I say.

I can understand them, but still... this attitude toward my companion is unpleasant. Irritated.

"Yes and no. Dodger intended to uncover information related to the Enclave that we might be able to use. That was the reason he tried to befriend Motley. She saw his true motive as through glass, and clearly understood the reasons why she was really here. She had lost trust in anyone else before showing up here. Not surprising, considering what she's been through..."

"She told me her story," I utter. Cherry looks at me with inexpressible amazement.

"Amazing," she mutters. "Only to me she told me about herself," Cherry adds, then continues with barely concealed upset, "Before I found out the real reason, as a former scout for the mysterious Enclave, no one in this place had confidence in her, in fact, neither did I. She was secretly hated, suspected of being sent here to watch us, and her attempts to get information out of her had failed, so she'd been left alone. No one dared to confront an Enclave scout, albeit a former one, with brute force. She was even feared at times. She rarely left her room, and that only increased the suspicion of those around her that she was plotting or planning something. And we came to the conclusion that she would tell us nothing useful..."

"You didn't trust her and you watched her personally, am I right?"

"Yes. One day I heard her crying. She was broken. And I could somehow convince her to tell me everything. Killed her lover... her subordinates. And all because she brutally murdered an important pegasus who might have had something to do with her sister's rape and death, and she had to flee."

"Might have?"

"And you believe that?"

I want to believe. I really do, but Cherry looks like she's judging me.

"She had no substantive evidence of his involvement. No wonder the court acquitted him. It's not uncommon for mares to be harassed by stallions, offered sex or whatever. She could have been coincidentally abused by someone else. The two events are too close together. And that pegasus confession... Under torture, the victim can say anything to stop the pain."

"What about the fact that her sister didn't use drugs? She was framed as a drug addict in court."

"She could have been drugged. Or Motley didn't know her sister well. It happens: even family members sometimes don't know what's really going on in their family. Or she saw what she wanted to see. The quirks of our psyche. And there's a lot we don't notice until we're told about it from the outside."

Now it makes sense, thanks to whom Motley was beginning to doubt.

"So... you didn't support her?"

"I hugged her, sympathized with her loss, but I expressed my doubts later."

"How did she react?"

"Denied it. Proved otherwise. Her emotions were strong. I insisted. Eventually she stopped believing herself: she thought she was a horrible pony and isolated herself. I just wanted to show her that she was jumping to conclusions, but she took it as if I was judging her for torture, for murder. Again, I understand her emotions, but I'm not justifying it. Even if the pegasus does turn out to be guilty, it will only be because of a lucky coincidence. We can't rely on coincidence and indirect clues. Only facts. Anyway. I'm glad she's smiling. What have you done for her?"

In many ways she's relieved because of me, because of my similar experiences, but... I don't want to tell Cherry that.

"We... fought a lot of battles together."

"When death is near, you get attached to those who've gone through those experiences with you and didn't leave you in trouble. Or she likes you. She speaks favorably of you in the reports. I sense a certain amount of bias."

We enter the Atrium, and two cheerful foals run past us. Here, in the most spacious room, the ponies are discussing something vigorously and cheerfully, joking, telling something interesting from their ordinary and almost carefree lives.

The place is cozy and cheerful... And Motley feels like a cruel, uncontrollable murderer amidst it.

***

I don't notice that after a while I am with Cherry next to Flow. She was just in the kitchen cooking. There are a lot of ponies around, minding their own business. I was let in here at the request of Cherry. I can tell by the smell that the pink earth pony is cooking something sweet and savory.

Ooh, I'm drooling, I can't wait to try it!

"Hi, Flow," I say to the pink pony in the white apron. She flinches in surprise and turns around, and I look into the pot. "I see you've been learning how to make sweets hard at work so you can make me the perfect and most delicious strawberry dessert?"

"Daniel!" she exclaims happily and hugs me tightly. Cherry stands back, occasionally dignifying us with a smile, and watches us without interfering. "It's been so long since I've seen you," the pink pony adds.

"It's only a couple weeks. Where's the usual 'hello'?" I smile, loosening the hug.

"I thought a hug was a gesture of greeting..." she says with a tinge of concern and slight incomprehension.

"I'm just kidding," I laugh and poke her lightly with my hoof. "It's okay. How are you doing, by the way? Did you learn how to make sweets?"

"Still learning, thanks for asking, but I'm not doing so well so far. I have someone to cook the main meals, so I help out when asked."

"How's life on the outside? How's the independence and responsibility for yourself? Not so scary anymore?"

Flow hesitates to find the right words. "Quite unusual and difficult... and still scary, but I have support. It makes me want to do something in return. And not because someone asked me to. It's still difficult."

"And yet it's good to hear that, too, because you're making progress even if you don't notice it," I say. "I didn't just come here to say hello, I came here with an offer to work as a chef at my..." I can't finish.

"Agreed! Yes-yes-yes!" Flow exclaims. She herself is surprised by this suddenly loud response. The others turn their attention to us, but almost immediately return to their business.

"Huh. It's... quickly?" I wonder.

I expected this kind of reaction, but it's still hard to believe I mean anything to her.

"You are the one I most want to work for, for you are almost the only one who has treated me kindly. You believed in me, that I could be serviceable and responsible for myself. I am eager to do something equally good for you."

"Pack your bags. I'll be waiting for you out the entrance," I smile.

"Okay. I'll be right back!" Flow's cheerful voice sounds behind me.

I think Caroline, with her dislike of restrictions, will help Flow get used to being on her own faster.

***

Cherry and I are at the entrance to the Stable. She presses a couple of buttons on the console, and the mechanisms come into motion with a nasty grinding sound, working hard to get the massive, bombproof steel door out of our way.

"Flow's having difficulty in her new place," Cherry informs casually, looking out into the dark void of the cave. "She's been dependent on her master all her life. It's extremely rare for us to have former slaves now, so I had no trouble keeping an eye on her as well. She tends to be helpful to anyone who asks."

I examine a pre-war poster on the wall showing a cute yellow pegasus with a soft pink mane and tail. Several small animals are crowded around her. It encourages ponies to be kinder. Useful propaganda, I can't argue with that. It's a little naive, though.

"I've been thinking, do slaves at The School get their memories erased? Flow doesn't remember anything about her past. Could it be because of her young age—or because she's had her memory wiped?"

"Memory erasing is harder than simply writing a memory from someone's brain, and it's also expensive, since ponies who have mastered memory-related spells are very, very few. There are a lot of slaves, so it's unlikely that she had her memories erased. Simple brainwashing with recordings repeated time after time will change anyone's mind sooner or later, if you cut off access to other information."

"And it works?"

"It's been experimentally proven that you can change anyone's mind about anything, the only question is timing. You need the right methodology—The School achieved this for several decades before it proved effective. Slaves were persuaded to be useful to others and the master would take care of the rest. Memory erasure is also disadvantageous because most of those who can use memory spells work in the porn industry."

"How did they get there?" I marvel.

"Memory orbs allow you to experience exactly what the owner of the memory is experiencing at that moment. I think you realize what the contents of these orbs are. And this kind of thing is popular as usual. It's better than just staring at a magazine or watching movies."

"And, needless to say, they're not cheap?"

"Naturally. Memory orbs like this are quite pricey, but that doesn't take away from the fact that folks want to buy them. The Softhooves family makes a huge profit from this enterprise, just as they do from the casinos. Of course, they also produce movies with similar content, but to experience such a variety of spicy feelings on their own skin... just about everyone wants to experience. That's why a lot of effort is going into it."

"But only unicorns can view memory orbs, and they're much smaller in number than earth ponies."

"Well, unicorns are more likely to live wealthy lives," she taps her hoof lightly on her horn. "Thanks to magical skills, we won't be poor. And in general, memories can be stored on special devices called recollectors—something like a black tiara that anyone can put on, and the effect is the same as viewing a memory orb. True, such devices are quite rare, respectively, more expensive. Besides, those who work there with such memories not only get very good caps, incomparable to the payment for erasing the memory of slaves, but also free horny staff."

"Thank you for the extremely detailed explanation," I smirk, causing Cherry to look away embarrassed. She's clearly no stranger to these memory orbs. I found Eric and his wife's night purely by accident.... It was so real. "Any ideas on how to get rid of the slave industry without serious repercussions?"

"It's impossible, because there will definitely be negative consequences. If you prohibit the slave industry all at once, the slaves will be left to fend for themselves, and they can't live like that. They are useful for others, but not for themselves. And try to get those upstart slave-owners to give up their obedient servants, whom they can dispose of in any way they like, for they are only tools, and as they say, they have no opinion of their own."

"Right you say," I say, hearing the clatter of hooves clattering against the concrete floor of the Stable.

The source of the sound in the hallway turns out to be Flow. She's in the same warm leather jacket I once bought her. A thick book barely peeks out of the pocket. I can't see what's on it, since it's almost entirely hidden in the wide compartment of the leather jacket.

"That's it? You packed?" I clarify.

"I don't have much to pack. Except for this outfit you bought me once."

"What's the book?"

"Apple Seed, the local cook, gave it to me as a gift to thank me for a few of my techniques for improving hot meals. It has recipes for sweet treats."

"Oh... "I and roll my eyes dramatically. "I'm going to get fat on your fabulous cooking."

Flow giggles cutely. It makes me so pleased to see her, a former slave, happy. A thousand caps is definitely not wasted.

"Good luck to you, Flow," Cherry smiles. "I'm sure you'll be able to make excellent muffins and pies."

"Thank you Cherry, I am extremely grateful for your help."

After saying goodbye to the Overmare, we leave the shelter, followed by the cave. Flow, like my own shadow, follows me, glancing around warily—indeed, as before—as she does. When she finally sees the Vertibuck, she looks at it with fascination. She definitely wants to find out more about the thing, which looks a bit like an insect with its front end.

"It's my Venture," I say, noticing the expression on her cute face. "Flying transportation..."

"Flying?" Flow marvels, interrupting me without even noticing it.

"Yep. Which means you're flying today... and it's not about drug use."

Flo shrieks in anticipation of flying among the clouds. Almost in the clouds, because the Enclave won't let us fly higher.

Just as we board the Vertibuck, I see a lovely picture of Nara snoozing peacefully under the wing, her owner looking down at the peaceful filly with a gentle smile. I can barely contain a sigh of adoration.

"How long has she been snoozing?" I ask in a whisper.

"Almost the entire time since you left," the pegasus answers quietly, not looking up at me. At least an hour, then.

There's a rustle, and Nara wakes up. She opens her eyes sleepily, and when she sees Flow, she immediately shakes off the remnants of sleep and shrinks under the pegasus's wing.

"Hush, hush," I say in a low voice. "Don't worry, she's my friend. Once we're home, she'll make you something delicious... Right?" I turn to Flow. She nods gently, though she's puzzled that the filly has spooked her. I brief Flow on what happened with Nara. She is understanding, but has no idea how to communicate with foals. So her attempt to talk to her is unsuccessful, to say the least.

The pegasus with a mix of nostalgia and a bit of sadness reminds me that she used to look after her little sister, so she has some experience with kids. Even with the pain she had experienced the year before, the pegasus has a motherly concern for Nara. It's clearly evident in her gaze on the little pony. I still can't believe I was able to have that much influence on someone. Especially Motley. Had she met Nara while still being a gloomy Motley—she wouldn't have bothered. Probably.

When Venture takes to the air, Nara no longer feels fear, but gives in to a sense of euphoria—though she still holds back her enthusiastic squeals, clearly afraid of making any unwanted noise that might attract badgers. She is frightened, however, when Flow squeals in horror and delight at the sudden rise. Of course she's not scared! I nearly shit myself with that sharp squeal. The pink pony notices Nara's fright and turns shyly toward me. Seeing my slightly scared face, she awkwardly rubs one of her front legs against the other. I smile warmly and comfortingly at her.

Flow is much less restrained than Nara. Still, they both had a pleasant feeling of flying. It's a joy to watch them.

Before leaving for Heavenly Harbor, I ask Motley to visit Vanhoover to find out why Prince is looking for me. Not for a heart-to-heart conversation over chamomile tea and cookies, I suppose.

Needless to say, if this is going to be a mission, I have no intention of doing it now. I am very tired and exhausted from fighting the clawed and dangerous mutants called badgers. I want to have a good rest and gain strength before new challenges. I'm not on my own anymore: I need to think about others, about their needs and comfort.

***

I'm standing in the Prince's office in Stable 68. Motley landed Venture near the Kings' residence on Mane Street. This caused a fuss among the surrounding crowd, who had apparently already heard about this sort of thing. Only a few interested ponies came closer to get a proper look at this marvel of engineering.

Walnut is not in the residence or the bunker itself. Maybe he's having fun with whores in a brothel somewhere, or warming his ass on a chair in some bar or casino, or he's in a drug haze from a combination of different drugs—or maybe all of them at the same time. Vanhoover has a plethora of establishments for entertainment.

"I heard from Walnut that you wanted to see me," I turn to Prince, who is sitting in his chair and examining me closely. Apparently not noticing nothing new or unusual, he sighs disapprovingly. It's definitely not about my looks, but something else... something deeper.

"And how do you intend to become King with that sort of behavior?" he asks demandingly. "You're impossible to find in the city."

"I had business out of the city."

"That's to be expected, but I assumed you'd be doing something productive in the city as well. Reputation is the most important thing in this place. If your name isn't on the lips of the citizens, if you don't get at least a recommendation from someone influential, you can't become a King. The masters need to know and, moreover, recognize your identity, but try to find you. There aren't even any normal ways to contact you."

"I've been doing..."

"I know it was you who infiltrated the depths of the fiery Crater and killed the leader of the local savages. You were the one who managed to sneak into an impregnable fortress called the Northern Soul and obtained from there a rare and useful transportation for the Steelmanes, a Vertibuck. You're the one who picked the right team to get into such places and survive."

"From...?"

"My ears and eyes are everywhere, and such high-profile events don't go unnoticed. Also, let's not forget Walnut telling Redstone about your good fighting skills at Stable 60."

Crimson Sky from the institute told me that Prince and Softhooves have the best agents.

"See, my deeds are already on the rumor mill."

"No one will believe you did this. There have already been a number of scammers trying to gain fame. These are such high-profile events that it takes time to truly find out who's behind them. Foreman's eyes popped out when he heard from Lieutenant Redstone that you were behind it. He just didn't believe it."

"Besides, I wasn't alone then, so the glory shouldn't belong to me anyway."

"I doubt you got them to cooperate with caps or anything material, since it's extremely difficult to achieve such successes with that, so you can take credit for it. Making those around you respect you is one of the Kings' main traits. I don't know if your team is based on fear or something like that, but you have it as a leader, judging by your achievements and coordination with your companions. You were in charge of their lives. You had each other's backs. But no one can verify those acts, so you need to show everyone that you can do that."

"And what am I supposed to do?"

"You need the support of another King or head of the family, which is unlikely. They need to see that you can actually do what you did at the Crater and the Northern Soul."

"The Waterfall and the Steelmane already know that."

"But they're not likely to speak up for you. It is unprofitable and risky for them to stand up for those who are not bound by blood or obligation to their family. They can't count on them. It's happened twice in history. Get to know the city... IN the city, not out of it. Vanhoover should feel a sense of kinship."

"And what exactly am I supposed to do?"

"Do whatever you want—within reason, of course. You can go and compete in the Arena, many Kings gained fame there."

That's where Walnut got the name Splitting Claw. Not bad at all, except I'll undoubtedly lose to most professional fighters.

"They make good fighters," Prince continues, "though they are shortsighted for some delicate matters. I can also advise you to start your own business, assuming you have enough caps, and if you can withstand the pressure of the Families. Show your tenacity, your autonomy. With a business, you'll be closer to the city and its residents. You'll be involved in the life of the city. You'll feel a responsibility to them."

Responsibility towards the city... I'm not excited about the city, the slavery in it, I don't want to get attached to it. I got attached to the Divide once—and destroyed it with my package later. But it seems I have no other choice. No one has been able to find the Dome in two hundred years. Most think it's a rumor or a pre-war myth, but there's nothing else for me to do. Why should I be able to do this? And without being a King? It's the only quick way to make the search easier.

"All right," I agree. "Is it realistic to be autonomous in the city?"

"Sure. There are quite a few independent businesses in the city that are owned by powerful masters, almost all of them Kings, the rest are potential candidates. For example, the Arena, the Radio Station, The School, the institute, and quite a few well-known businesses and establishments that the Families can't fully control. The latter are plentiful on Mane Street: think of the Luxury."

"Anyway, I'm definitely not in any condition to walk around the city today."

"And I'm not asking you to do it right now," Prince notes. "It's in your best interest to be a King. That's all I wanted to tell you. If you are discussed, and talked about as a good worker, and one of Kings stands up for you, then I'll give you a test assignment and you're golden."

"And what kind of test assignment would I have to pass?" I ask.

"Until you've earned the opportunity to fulfill it," Prince states sharply, "you won't know the details. Free to go."

***

"How'd it go?" Motley asks as soon as I step aboard Venture.

"Like a fairy tale—Prince invited me to a ball in his domain," I reply, not looking at the pegasus and settling into the passenger seat. "Let's go to the Harbor, I'll tell you there."

A short time later, we land in Heavenly Harbor.

When Nara first leaves Venture, she looks up at the rather high ceilings and shrinks back from the panic that has set in. I nudge her forward affectionately. Then I put her on my back to get her used to it a little.

Flow likes this bunker. Quite spacious and clean, she tells me. I show her the living quarters and the rest of the rooms, as well as the kitchen along with its contents. She notices that it has the necessary ingredients and cooking utensils to prepare a proper meal. I ask her to make a list if I need to buy anything so that I can give it to Bluerise later. She will make bulk purchases at low prices.

"Flow," the pegasus addresses to her, "don't give Daniel frying pans. He uses them in the wrong way."

"Ha-ha. Good joke," I utter sarcastically. "Okay, Flo," I turn to the newly minted cook. "If you need anything, let me know." Flow nods and we leave her to get out of the way of the dinner preparations.

Finally, after walking through the rooms of Heavenly Harbor, Nara is brave enough to walk on her own feet. She chooses her room and then explores everything in the bunker down to the smallest detail, namely the system and ventilation tunnels. They aren't too branching, so her exploration is over quickly. She probably does this for her own safety, so that she knows escape routes in case of an attack. Judging by the little orange pony's face, she is more or less satisfied with the place, though she is wary of using the usual paths when traveling. Later, she takes a bath and we give her some normal clothes. Though, she gets them dirty almost immediately, having collected all the dust she hadn't cleaned up after the renovation.

Motley and me, Nara is not afraid of. She's also more or less used to Flow. She is afraid of Ferris, but is curious about his pet, Edge. He in turn is friendly with her and soon begins to play with her. However, Nara herself is not as optimistic as the feathered predator.

At the first meeting with the Captain, Nara, like Flow, is frightened. It's the first time they've both seen a ghoul. This only confirms my guess about the ghouls in Vanhoover. Flow does not get used to the ghoul immediately, but she is wary of it when it appears in her line of sight. Nara can't get used to the walking, decomposing dead pony. She hides behind something or someone at the sight of him.

The Captain himself notes that the little one has some sort of mental trauma or phobia related to the military. Steel Sun doesn't even seem to see or want to realize that his body is decomposing if he doesn't notice the difference between his body and the body of a normal, non-ghoulified pony. His perception of the world is so different from ours that it gets scary sometimes.

Caroline, as well as her body, Nara's perspective is very ambiguous. She has seen robots and their like, but this is the first time she has encountered such vividly speaking software. Later, she gets used to the curious Caroline—though she barely understands the machines' sophisticated language. Speaking of curiosity, the AI wants to ask Nara about her Stable, but immediately realizes that now is not the time. Instead, she asks me and Motley about what happened. Naturally, we satisfy her interest as best we can.

Flow doesn't pay much attention to Caroline at first, again because of her dry machine language, but after a failed 'social interaction' with Nara, Caroline quickly catches up on that foundation with Flow. And now the pink earth pony listens with interest to what this machine has to say about usefulness, which is directly related to freedom.

As I thought. Flow will visit Caroline often, for she understands the possibilities and real dangers of freedom even better than I do. Ferris is left without much attention by Flow.

A couple hours after she arrives at the bunker, she makes a nice dinner out of what we have. Everyone likes Flow's cooking except Caroline—she doesn't need organic matter to run her programs and systems, but she's not averse to the social power of such gatherings. It is easier for her to analyze the behavior of living organisms when they interact with each other. After dinner we all go to our beds. I myself am terribly tired after battles with badgers in underground tight spaces.

Once I am in my 'modest' apartment, I fall on the bed and almost immediately pass out.

***

15th of the Month of Heather, Redday. The fifty-third day of my stay.

I've slept for almost nine hours, and at this point it's about nine in the morning. That's more than enough for a good night's rest. I'm awake enough that I don't mind fighting a deathclaw with just a plastic fork!

After lying in bed for a few more minutes to recover, I get up and make my way to the bathroom for my morning routine. Fresh as a pickle, I head out to join the others.

In the morning, the Captain informs me that he needs to check on the situation at the Northern Soul. He says he'll be back here in a little while. Or right away, in case I need him urgently, for I told him at dinner that I was planning a long trip in Vanhoover, where he is not welcome. He just doesn't want to waste time waiting for my orders when I'm away. Anyway, Motley deigns to drop our brave warrior off at his 'camp'.

Meanwhile, I decide to work on the Motley power armor again in the workshop, surrounded by various parts, spares and tools. Ferris is doing his thing. Hopefully I'll be able to finish the repairs today. I've had time in a couple of days to think a lot about how and what can be fixed to get the armor working again.

The power armor of the Grand Pegasus Enclave is smaller in size and less durable, but it makes up for it with good streamlining, which is essential for flight, and relative lightness, so you can hoof-to-hoof combat without losing much speed or maneuverability. It's the kind of armor I'd like to use myself, but it's designed specifically for the pegasus and its wings. So it's not meant to be. Also, the design of the helmet doesn't allow for the necessary hole for the horn: this would certainly disrupt the function. Several armor functions would have to be sacrificed.

Motley returns very quickly, cheerfully reports to me that the task has been accomplished, addressing me as Colonel Blackwright, and remains in the workshop watching me work.

Am I hypnotizing with the manipulation of my magic? She once showed an interest in unicorns... But she's silent, reading her book about the Three-Way Unity, and behaving quietly, so I sometimes forget she's around until I catch her eye—I'm so immersed in the work.

It's like she has nothing better to do. The important thing is not to look at her. And here I am thinking about her again! That's not surprising... because I'm repairing her armor.

I spent the rest of the evening fixing the armor, only interrupting for lunch and the restroom. At some points I use only magic to repair the armor, at others I take simple material and use magic to transform and integrate it into the armor, and at the end, when my magic is almost exhausted, I use tools and parts to repair it. When the work is done, the pegasus exclaims with joy when she sees the result—in her words, the armor is in perfect condition.

Everything has been done just as it should be.

In truth, there are still many problems there, but still I am grateful for her cheering. Her life won't be in any danger.

The armor's standard movements and functions worked properly. Another peculiarity of pegasus power armor is the presence of a blade at the end of the tail. It looks, by the way, threatening and dangerous, which gave me goosebumps. The blade is so sharp that you can get a cut just by touching it. And it's also, uh... enchanted, so it doesn't get dull with use. I can feel the magic flowing through it.

"You're a mechanical wizard!" Motley marvels.

It's unusual to see this cute pegasus wearing such intimidating armor. However, despite the black chitinous armor and insect-like helmet and scorpion tail, she looks pretty cute. I deeply doubt I'd have the tongue to call anyone in that intimidating armor cute except Motley, as long as I see her pretty face... and again I think of her.

"I was aiming for Chief Engineer of my Stable when I was a foal. Come and try out this armor," I suggest with a tired smile on my face. "I don't want anything to fail during the battle. Just don't overdo it!"

Oh she puts on her helmet and heads for the exit. My gaze lingers involuntarily on the spot where she has disappeared from sight.

"I think," Ferris says without turning around, "she wants you to fuck her."

"You're such an expert on pony behavior?" I shake my head.

"Mares have repeatedly shown interest in me by being around me all the time."

"I was fixing her armor. She just wanted to make sure I didn't mess it up."

"Yeah, yeah... Just for that. You were focused on fixing the armor most of the time, but no matter how many times I looked back at the pegasus, she was constantly distracted and looking at you, not the armor and the book. At the same time, her lips were constantly moving. Impatient. Excited. Whatever she feels for you, she wants to be around you. She even went to lunch with you. Ask her to tell you something, talk about something—it doesn't matter what, any boring shit—and she'll say yes. Mark my word."

Ferris is still keeping up, but what can he do? He's become an unwilling observer: naturally he wants to talk about it, but... if what he's saying is true, then... No. I need to be sure first.

By the way, Ferris was happy when I let me explore the Apostle yesterday. The weapon is quite cleverly designed, so he's been exploring it periodically since I haven't used it yet. It makes a noise like heavenly thunderclaps, and if I apply the automatic firing mode, it's terrifying to the point where I might as well give my soul to the gods.

"Why are you so... interested? Do you care about what's going on between me and Motley?"

"It's just hard to watch guys who have feelings for each other and don't talk about it."

"It's not that simple..."

"Ponies in general are pussies. If someone breaks your heart, rip out the heart of the one who broke your heart."

"I don't have claws," I play along.

"Uh... Right. I forgot. Anyway, take action. The pegasus won't act, apparently. That's good. It's up to you to dominate."

"Here we go..." I raise my eyes to the ceiling.

The dark gray griffon laughs. Its white plumage with gray tips on its head sways as his head shakes.

"Suit yourself. I'm not going to be your babysitter."

"Thank you. Tell me more about yourself. All we talk about is dominance, Motley, ripping out the hearts of your abusers. How did you end up in the Wasteland? You said you didn't want to be in Vanhoover, and your skills are clearly beyond those of the average gunsmith. The city has everything you need to live, so you just couldn't leave for personal reasons. I can only assume you had a clash with the local authorities. Particularly with the Families. Your skills indicate you didn't rank last in society—that's why you live away from the city, to reduce the risk of being seen and identified."

"As before, I admire your insight, "I don't know if he said it sincerely or ironically, "you're right." The griffon waits a short pause, and, glancing around, adds, "You can say this to the rest of yours or not, but I'm considered dead in Vanhoover."

"Wow," I wonder. "How on earth did you escape that fate?"

"Outsmarted my pursuers. But that doesn't matter now. You might accidentally say my name in conversation with someone anyway... So... I'd better make it clear to you. I'll start by telling you my full name, Ferris... Falcon."

"You're from..." I marvel.

"From the Falcons," he smiles sourly. "A clash. Not quite the kind you envisioned. Simply put, I've been accused of murders I didn't commit. By the law of my family, I was to be summarily executed for that. I hope you won't tell anyone in Vanhoover that I'm actually alive. I mean, you're a curious fellow who might start asking questions about me. It's dangerous to mention my name in town."

"Don't worry about that. I'll keep my mouth shut. And who was killed?" I try not to go into details.

"I appreciate you believing me," Ferris utters gratefully. Truth be told, I really believe he didn't do it.

Shit. And I sympathize with him. First Motley and her murder of a pegasus she implicitly accused of the crime, now Ferris... who happens to have a blood bond with the Falcon family.

"But be that as it may, I have no desire to bring it up just yet, especially after seven years. And..." Ferris gives a fake smile, then hesitates. "That's a nifty way to change the subject, you pipe-shit-explorer. We'll talk about it later. You mind your own business for now, and in the meantime, if you'll let me check your Whispering Night," he points with a nod of his head to my rifle lying on one of the shelves. I brought it here before I took care of the pegasus' armor, just to clean it. "You won't be using it for a few days, if not a week, anyway."

Last night at dinner I told everyone that I will go to Vanhoover without my main equipment, and without Whispering Night in particular, with the intention of gaining some fame. In a fine navy blue suit with white inserts, with the shock sword and the ponykind revolver, so as not to draw too much attention to my person, but not to seem like a harmless vagrant either.

"Of course. What are you going to do with it?" I levitate the rifle to the griffon.

"I'll see if I can modify it."

"There's no way to improve it," I say. It's already stuffed with improvements, from simple alloys of light but strong metals to complex mechanisms that make it more effective in combat. "What can you do?"

"You may have aimed for the status of Chief Engineer of the Stable, and you can repair things like a ferocious beast with screwdrivers instead of claws, but I've already undergone the complex training of the institute before I'm fully grown. And recently Caroline has made some interesting points to me regarding the material and construction of firearms. It's amazing to have an artificial intelligence with that kind of capability around. And how can you not recognize your own brainchild?" the griffon says rhetorically with a touch of nostalgia, glancing first at the weapon with maternal care, then at me.

I felt like I'd been splashed with ice water from a barrel.

Wait, he'd said, and I'd seen, that he'd designed his own weapon, or rather, a pistol. And his scientific interest in Caroline's body. And during the repair of the bunker, although he was lazy, he showed impeccable skill and precision in fixing all sorts of technology. I wasn't particularly surprised to learn that he'd gotten his science degree in engineering from the the institute. The Falcon family is in the weapons business, and Ferris was definitely some kind of chief engineer.

He's not just some random master, he's a full blood relative of the family! Maybe he had a grudge, so they set him up. Or maybe he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Holy shit! How he caught me off guard with that confession.

I can see it in his smirk.

"Hey, you..." he smiles weakly. "Keep your mouth shut. There's a lot of things that can get in there."

***

While Motley is somewhere in the Wasteland testing the armor I've repaired, I decide to test the memory orb I found in one of the North Park bank deposit boxes.

I sit on my bed, concentrate on the orb, and everything around me fades away, replaced by the colors of the past.

<-=======ooOOoo=======->

Cold... Winter. Snowflakes are falling lazily around me. I walk down the street—there's almost no one on it, it's covered with a thick layer of snow. I feel myself breathing the cold and fresh air that fills the lungs of the owner of the memory. On the road are the traces of passing wagons. The sun has long since disappeared over the horizon, and the street is lit by a row of lanterns emitting a yellow-white light. I have just passed by one of them. The light from the windows of the houses and low buildings nearby adds to the illumination.

The streets are quite familiar.

The owner of the memory, a stallion by the feel of it, is moving slowly and idly along the sidewalk, and a wagon is passing him on the road. Here he passes a pony smoking a cigar with a long inhale and looking thoughtfully at the road. He pays no attention to me, or simply doesn't notice me. The owner of the memory also completely ignores the passersby, as if they are ghosts of some kind. He, in turn, is also considered a ghost. As I walk, I feel a multi-layered thickened fabric, a kind of protection, I think. A warm fedora protects me from the snowflakes flying into my face.

He stops outside a local bar, from which comes a raucous buzz of joy and sheer carefree spirit. The owner of the memory examines it carefully, trying to note every detail. The shapes of the windows, the texture of the walls, the height of the entire building, the double wooden doors, the neighboring houses, the sign illuminating the name in blue hues: the Snowpony Bandit. From the looks of it, the bar is nothing remarkable, yet I am interested in such a close inspection.

After looking at everything I can, the owner of the memory pulls out of the inner pocket of his brown trench coat, which is also found on passers-by, a photo of a mare: a middle-aged earth pony of stony color with a pale mane and tail. Apparently, having once again thoroughly examined the photo, the pony puts it back into its inner pocket, sighs deeply, and enters the bar through the double doors with what seems to be a calm demeanor.

No one pays attention. Some customers are sitting at small round tables sipping alcoholic drinks, others are discussing something heatedly, others are playing card games. Two stallions are having an argument: which hoofball team will win the next match. The argument escalates into a loud altercation and then a fight. I realize that this happens quite often, since only a couple of visitors give this harmless commotion an almost apathetic glance. Many are absorbed in thinking about their domestic problems and failures. In general, there are very few visitors at all. No more than a dozen.

The owner of the memory walks over to the bar and orders a glass of whiskey from the barpony. That voice... It's so familiar.

Eric Frost!

Once again, I am lucky enough to be in the memory of this particular pony. Barpony turns out to be the mare from the picture in Eric's inside pocket. I can clearly feel Eric tense up as she looks at him, fulfilling his order. She, in turn, barely notices him and looks at him with a furtive, probing gaze, already guessing what kind of gentlecolt is sitting at her counter and why he's here.

There is a silent dialog between them.

Eric calmly pays for his order and immediately takes a sip from his glass. I feel a burning warmth slowly spreading throughout my body. In the meantime, the barpony calmly walks over to the two brawlers and throws them outside, advising them to settle their relationship outside.

Fighting mare...

She turns to the others, abruptly announcing that the bar is closing. After a few minutes, everyone does leave the premises with indignation and resentment. Eric, however, doesn't even move. He just quietly continues to drink his whiskey. He is calm, enviably calm.

I'm reminded of what Steele Sun said about betrayal and murder in the Controllers' ranks just before the Silence, i.e. the megaspells explosion. And that Eric was involved. Did he really have anything to do with it?

The bar is quiet. The only sounds are the doors shutting and the lock clicking. Eric finally drains his glass and suddenly says, looking into the empty glass container.

"Why are you hesitating if you've realized who I am and why I'm here?" he asks with some surprise, without turning around.

Oh, Eric, you're being rude. And given the tense situation, you're making a mistake, since she could attack or pull a trick at any moment.

I'm hearing everything much better than usual. It feels like I can hear the breathing of Eric's conversation partner at such a short distance. I don't even have time to realize and fully distinguish the sounds that Eric is picking up with his fine-tuned hearing.

This is what Controllers are trained and practiced to do? Oh, no shit.

"Before I deal with you, I need to figure out where I made a mistake so I don't make the same mistake again. As far as I'm concerned, it's all been smooth sailing."

"It only seems that way to you," Eric says likewise, without turning around. "Self-confidence is not a good thing. Everything we see is just an illusion. Our perception of the world is far from the truth. We cannot know everything. The secret documents you stole are under our special monitoring. The fake was quickly spotted." The Barpony hums. "You stole classified documents from Stable-Tec's main office in Red Spark and quickly returned to North Park. We're not as blind as you or your employers believe. Your mistake was taking on this dangerous case without realizing what you were getting yourself into. And for all we know, you still have them, for too little time has passed."

North Park. No wonder these streets seemed familiar.

"At first I thought," the Barpony says with concern in her voice, "that you were the one who was supposed to take the papers and give me the money."

"So you just wanted to make sure, did you?"

"No, it's just that I realized too late that the papers were due tomorrow night. So you're a Cleaner—a special agent of the Controllers, dedicated to catching dangerous enemies and spies of Equestria. I'm honored to be included on this list of yours."

"Wow, you're so knowledgeable," Eric marvels sincerely, but with a shadow of a smile on his lips, still not turning around.

"I'm a professional thief," her voice trembles visibly at some points—she's intimidated by Eric's calmness. Me, too. Either that's because of the knowledge of the betrayals and the murders in his ranks, not because of his calmness. "It is risky to venture into uncharted territory. However, I did not expect to bring the wrath of the Controllers upon myself by taking this job. Which means I've touched your dirty secrets. Dome Project, right? "Eric is silent. Her mocking tone sounds unconcerned. "Anyway, all I care about is money for the work I've done, no matter what kind, which is why I didn't know the value of those files when I was offered the job. So it's just an accident."

"Equestria's enemies," Eric says, "are used to working through third parties to make them harder to trace. I must know that, as I am a Cleaner. I see a bigger picture of the world than you do. You're not the first, you're not the last in this state of affairs. And yet, like I said, you made a mistake when you took this job."

"What a cocky asshole. Didn't even bother to have a face-to-face conversation!" she blurts out sharply.

There's a slight rustle, and Eric's head swings sharply to the right, and a slight whistling sound reaches his ears. There's the noise of shattering glass—a knife flies past and into a bottle on the shelf behind the bar, crushing it. The contents spill onto the floor.

Oh, fuck! His reactions are unbelievable! It's about as good as you can get when you're drugged by Dash.

The clatter of hooves on the wooden floor. Before the shards and the liquid from the broken bottle hit the floor, and before I know it, Eric's feet are on the table. The wooden chair on which he has sat shattered from the blow of the mare's front hoof.

That's a lot of strength! Well, she's an earth pony, no wonder she's so fiercely powerful.

Eric, not wasting any time, makes a sharp U-turn and strikes the mare. She manages to make a block, but falls from the force of the blow. Eric jumps on her, aiming his front hoof at her head. She yanks her head to the side just in time, and his hoof hits the wooden floor, followed by a slight crack of wood. I feel a little pain from that miss.

Even though Eric's body is piled on top of the mare's after the miss, she uses her hind legs to throw him off of her, and now he's resting his back against the rack.

About ten seconds of fighting, dynamic and impressive, in which neither one misses a punch. They move at a speed that for a moment seems impossible to me—but I can clearly feel the muscles under Eric's skin working hard, and the confidence with which he moves, as well as his opponent. She feels much more confident in battle than she does when she's talking to a Cleaner. Eric sees a good opportunity to attack: it's almost impossible to dodge such a blow.

He doesn't miss the chance and gives the mare a severe blow with his hoof to the side. She loses her balance, but somehow stands on her legs. Eric doesn't lose his balance and delivers another blow right on the face, which finally knocks the mare down.

Nicely done. Well done, Mr. Frost.

The short but spectacular fight is over. Maybe I should try these moves myself later, because I've felt and seen them performed correctly. In fact, personal experience.

He presses her throat with his telekinesis magic, and she, who had been hit hard in the face earlier, is unable to resist, though she tries desperately to fight back. Soon the mare collapses and can no longer fight back. Eric removes the magic and then pulls her, unconscious, into the rooms, where he uses her own clothes from the closet to bind and gag her and blindfold her.

He searches through desks, cabinets, behind paintings, under the carpet, apparently to find the documents she had stolen, but he finds nothing of significance. At some point, he just stops and seems to think.

What's on your mind, Eric?

He looks around the room again. Eric's attention is drawn to a closet from which he has pulled clothes to tie up for the barpony. He walks over to it and mumbles to me in surprise, "Right..."

I don't know what he's talking about until he tries to move the closet, but it doesn't even stagger. Now I get it. The closet is somehow nailed to the wall, but at first, when Eric was pulling clothes out of it, he didn't pay much attention to this. After some thought, he decides to take a closer look at the closet. From inside, he fumbles with magic for a barely noticeable switch. When he presses it, the back wall of the closet opens slightly, allowing him to pull it away without much effort.

Having done so, Eric finds a cramped cubbyhole that's a bit hard to turn around without snagging something in here. Inside is a familiar grayish-black armor. That's the...

That's the same stealth armor worn by that raider in Red Spark's Stable, and now me! It's Nightwatch.

"Huh..." Eric's lips stretch into a faint smile. "She even managed to steal the stealth armor prototype," he ponders aloud. "And the engineers and scientists keep wondering where it went: it didn't disappear, literally. No wonder why my superiors have had extreme difficulty tracking down this thief—she's a master of her craft."

He glances at the small shelf that holds a folder of stolen documents. He only flips through them quickly to make sure they are the right papers. And once he's sure, he hides them under his suit.

My consciousness only has time to see the large letters on some of the pages, namely the names of the Stables: 44, 52... and more than a dozen of them. But of the Stables that have flashed by, I would like to see only the 66. Apparently, it has absolutely all the plans and complete information on the Stables in this region and surrounding areas, and considering that the key cards were in it, it's obvious why the documents were stolen and why The Controllers kept a close eye on such things.

Eric returns to the room. Barpony has regained consciousness. She lifts her head slowly and languidly at the sound of Eric's approaching hoofsteps. He sits down in front of her.

"You know, this is my first assignment. Who would have thought that you were actually The Gray Vixen? If you hadn't taken it, no one would have known it was you. But you got greedy and took a risk. So you're coming with me and you're going to forget about me and the job you did, the documents and the Dome. I don't know what my superiors will do with you after that, but I don't care. The main thing for me is to prevent the last hope for a bright future from crumbling into dust. I'm guessing you'll just go to jail in Red Spark. I can see from your surprised and fearful look that you're wondering why I'm telling you this. As you realize, pride is hard to fight, you want to stretch this moment out. Or I had the impulse to save that moment in an orb. Especially when I caught that most elusive Gray Vixen."

I can feel the smirk on his face. I agree with him on that. Magic begins to buzz in Eric's horn, he plays some kind of spell, and a blue aura envelops the mare's head. Barpony loses consciousness again, and her head hangs limply.

At the same moment, Eric's memory ends, and I am thrown back into the real world.

<-=======ooOOoo=======->

It's not like the Dome is made-up. Eric actually believes it exists. I can't help but be encouraged by that. It gives hope that the pre-war knowledge and research has survived in this place.

***

16th of the Month of Heather, Orangeday. The fifty-fourth day of my stay.

I stand in front of the mirror.

Time to go to Vanhoover. Time to make some noise there and earn the trust of the locals. But... what if the Dome won't give me what I need? What if it doesn't have anything to do with long-distance teleportation to other worlds? What if the Dome isn't intact, and neither is the knowledge within it? What do I do next? I'll have to look elsewhere. But where? I don't know this Wasteland—or the world at large—that well. I'm familiar with the mundane aspects of pony life, but not the geography and history enough to know what to do next, where to go.

Caroline can tell me what she's read in the books that the residents of the cryopods of Stable 67 brought with them. It's unlikely that those books contain information about pre-war scientific facilities, which must have been classified 'top secret'. Long-distance teleportation was clearly not studied publicly, or I would have seen hints of it in the Tenpony Tower's spellbook store. But still, I'll ask Caroline about it.

I need to know the current state of the situation. But the only ponies I knew who could do that were Homage, Watcher who'd tipped me off about the location of the Dome and briefly mentioned other places of interest, and Motley. She lived beyond the clouds, and as a captain she must have been interested in what was going on in the Wasteland. She mentioned in her report on the Enclave that they mostly gathered information on what was happening on the surface, and only intervened on rare occasions. It would probably be boring for Motley, but... Like Ferris said, if she's really interested in me, she'll definitely agree to tell me everything right now if she's not busy with something important... Like taking a shower.

I want her, but I don't want to hurt her with my... lifestyle. I'm always the reason someone gets hurt. Lemon because I... Uh-huh. She feels guilty when I'm the one to blame. I don't want to make Motley... She doesn't deserve this. She doesn't realize what a danger I am to her. It would be a long story. And if I just say no, she might take it personally. And I don't want to say no, but I have to.

I have to do something about my conflicting emotions. It wasn't hard to control myself when they came separately, but together they made a burning cocktail, scorching my thoughts so hot that it was almost impossible to think straight.

"What's wrong with you, Dan?" I ask, staring closely into my blue eyes. "What the hell is going on with you?"

All I get in response is silence and a frown. The beige unicorn looks at me thoughtfully. The black mane is pointedly tipped forward, slightly in my field of vision.

"You even," I begin, and the lips in the reflection also come into motion, "use the expressions here, not only with yourself, but in your thoughts. We. Don't. Need. To. Be. Distracted. By. Responsibility. For. Others. Bluerise, Lemon... Motley... The more intimate they get, the heavier the responsibility for them."

I step into the shower stall, stand on my hind legs, and put my head close to the sprayer. Refreshing and clean cool water pours over my head and then over my entire body.

Feeling relieved at heart, I take a full shower and head for breakfast. Flow has prepared refreshing salads of various vegetables and colors, more hay and porridge. Motley picked a breakfast spot without delay. Across from me. At the same table. Again.

That brown hair reminds me so much of Brisa. She looks up at me. Notices me looking at her. She smiles slightly, dipping her pretty nose into her plate to grab a flower bud in the sauce.

I blink and shake my head, returning to my breakfast.

After the meal, everyone disperses. Nara and Edge are the first to leave. The big eagle doesn't fly, it chases Nara across the floor, who runs away from it with a smile. The eagle can fly, but it clearly wouldn't be interested in doing so.

Ferris goes off to the workshop, Caroline goes to help him. Over breakfast, they talk a lot about alloys, about the design of weapons. When I asked her if she knew anything about long-distance teleportation, she answered in the negative. She could only talk about what she'd seen in fiction books, and she could also talk about the mythical Crystal Empire that Lilac had once told me about in the context of their influence on griffon culture and its evolution.

Even if the fiction books didn't have facts, they could contain ponies' perceptions and views on magic. On magical possibilities in general. But that's for another time.

"Why do you need," Motley inquires when everyone has left the dining room, "long-distance teleportation?"

What's her answer to that? I can't tell her that I'm a creature from another world who just wants to get home before I get attached and fall in love with a cute, attractive beige pegasus.

"I... Just a magical interest. Unicorns are always interested in these things. The complex ones. Oh, and I'm awfully curious myself."

"I've noticed that."

"You... were in the Enclave. Mentioned three sky cities in your report. New Pegasus, near Hoofland, I won't forget, but the other two slipped my mind..."

"Wind Louis is not far from Sun City. Skyrock is roughly between Tailslfield and Rainport, but east of the Road of Stars."

It takes me a few seconds to realize what I've heard. Too many names.

She's good at geography.

"You studied hard if you still remember such nuances."

Motley smiles satisfied.

"Can you tell me about the history of Equestria and the world beyond? How the Enclave sees everything going on before and now? Suddenly, from what the Enclave—and you in particular—know, I might be able to track down signs of what I'm looking for."

I do. I'm interested. I'll also find out if you're really into me. If she says no, then both Ferris and I have misinterpreted her behavior.

"I... this is going to take too long, I suppose, but... I'm in no hurry to get anywhere anyway." She spreads her front hooves apart. "Ask."

"Remind me of the cloud cities. And then we'll see."

"There were five cities in all. Cloudsdale, the capital of the pegasi, was completely destroyed, as was Wingside. Las Pegasus, Skyrock, and Wind Louis survived partially. As in the case of Las Pegasus, they were slightly displaced away from the megaspell trajectories. That's the advantage of locating the city on clouds—they can be moved away from the approaching threat, at least reducing the potential level of damage."

"As I recall, in the report you compiled on the Enclave, you mentioned its four divisions: the Northwest, Northeast, Central-South, and South. I thought they came from the major cloud cities."

"They did. The Southern division of the Enclave is made up of the descendants of the surviving pegasi of Skyrock and its environs. South Central is Wind Louis and its environs. Northwest Division is Las Pegasus and its environs. The Northeast Division of the Enclave contains descendants from the vicinity of two cities, Cloudsdale and Wingside."

"And this last unit is considered the most important, as I recall."

"Yes," Motley replies.

"All these two hundred years, not counting the attack on the Griffon Kingdom, the Enclave has been engaged in reconnaissance and collecting missions. What do they know regarding other places?"

"The situation is no better in the ruins of the Zebra Empire than it is in Equestria. Tribes and organizations grow there like fungus after rain, just like ours, but they are united among themselves into small legions, alliances and coalitions. Zebras are much more unified... than ponies, though even they have all these different forms of alliances that usually last no longer than a mare's heat period, due to internal disagreements and interpretations of traditions. They have a sort of prophecy... The essence of it is that a new Caesar must emerge, far better and smarter than all previous leaders, who will unite all the disparate zebra tribes and rebuild the Empire."

"Is there a threat to the pegasi from there?" I inquire, as such aspirations must pose a decent amount of danger.

"Information is scarce, and much of it is classified. However, there is no threat... Probably not, since zebras cannot fly. Their only winged allies have been the dragons, who are currently engaged in internal squabbles over territory ownership. They were united by the zebras during the conflict with Equestria, but before that they were just as busy with internal warfare and tooth-and-nail skirmishes as they are today."

"I remember from pre-war history that the Griffon Kingdom was an ally of Equestria."

"That's correct. The territory of the Griffon Kingdom served as a buffer zone to protect the north of Equestria from dragon raids. They were quick to agree to an alliance with Equestria, because they were constantly bickering and scratching with the dragons actually on their doorstep."

Lilac would have a lot to say about the place. She'd spent most of her life there. Told me its history and origins.

"What about the other races?" I ask. "What is their role?"

It's only now coming to my attention that other races might know about long-distance teleportation. I don't have to limit myself to just Equestria.

"Bulls, like bat pony—or thestral, as you prefer—didn't have their own independent country, they were part of Equestria. Both the former and the latter were reluctant to side with Equestria in the war against the striped menace, especially the bulls after the ponies started exploiting their territories in the Great Desert, breaking peace treaties for the needs of their army, mining and transportation. There were constant attacks in those areas, violent armed clashes. It came down to a civil war between the bull tribes—some wanted to give in to the ponies, while the others fought for their independence and would not surrender because the ponies were desecrating their sacred Great Desert lands. Before the fall of the megaspells, there were active civil conflicts going on there. Because of the megaspells, almost the entire race was almost exterminated, as well as the bat ponies that lived in the desert zone, but they were much luckier, because they lived in the cozy caves of the rocky mountains."

Ditzy Doo, in her Wasteland Survival Guide, mentioned local analogs of deathclaws with energy... energy-magic weapons. What do Motley and the Enclave know of their history?

"What about the Diamond Dogs, who later became Hellhounds because of the Taint? I remember they were tried to be kicked out of their homelands, but did they fight on the side of Equestria before that? Or did they originally live with it like cat and dog?"

"They didn't care a bit about the fates of the ponies, only gems on their minds. It was rumored before the war that the zebras were known for their greed for gems, so they tried to form an alliance with the Diamond Dogs, appealing to their irrepressible love of these wonderful magical jewels and whispering to them what supplies the ponies possessed. They intended to use them as secret spies or soldiers behind enemy lines. Besides, they knew a small bit about the nature of gems. The benefit to the zebras is obvious, as you can see. It's not known if this alliance was made, but all those rumors that were probably spread by the zebras themselves, finally turned the ponies and the Diamond Dogs against each other."

"And how did that hostility turn out in the end?"

"Because of the rapid development of the gem industry, the ponies invaded their homes in Splendid Valley, which were rich in gemstones, and built research complexes and power plants. The Diamond Dogs were forcibly—not without armed conflict—relocated elsewhere, and their homes were used to store the byproducts of gem magic and the effects of failed experiments like the Impelled Metamorphosis Potion, which, when mixed together, eventually formed.... the Taint. The terrible thing was that they had returned to their homes at the end of the war without anyone warning them of the danger that awaited them there. And they didn't find out about it right away. It was only after a series of explosions from megaspells that the dangerous contents of the barrels spread into the air and mixed. But it was they who suffered the most, eventually becoming Hellhounds."

Ponies were not inferior to us in conflict with zebras before the war. But that's natural: every creature wants to live and procreate. The pre-war USA also invaded countries rich in valuable minerals as third parties, and then also intermediated the extracted resources into their territory. Everywhere you look, the story is the same.

"Doesn't look like the image of rainbow and peace-loving creatures that propaganda painted," I remark. "I understand it was supported by Princess Celestia?"

"Yes. For thousands of years. The ponies of the past did come to think of themselves as a peaceful and friendly species, to believe that all problems could be solved by friendship. Zebras also didn't expect such actions from ponies towards the races that lived in their territory, like the bulls and Diamond Dogs."

"With what was it related to? With Princess Luna?"

"Mostly. She was noticeably tougher than her older sister. These actions helped in the long run to stop the offensive and stabilize the front, but on the other hand, they gave the zebra authorities another dose of propaganda ideas for their territory. Now they didn't even have to convince their population of the cruelty and ruthlessness of the ponies, especially with Luna at the lead, which once again proved their belief that she was a horrible and ruthless Child of the Stars who only 'cared' about her subjects. She was actually quite pretty and naive in appearance—well, only in appearance. And she used that skillfully."

"You mentioned yaks. What kind of fruit were they?"

"They, despite their propensity for destruction, wanted no part in the killing. Their territories to the south bordered in part on Tartarus as it was, so they had their own entertainment. They like to defend themselves; stubborn and resilient, they fight to the end. The zebras respected them for that, though they tried their best to get them on their side. Only the dragons would occasionally raid them in an attempt to eat something meaty and large, as yaks are quite large. The megaspells hit them too, and now the situation is dire. Their culture has degenerated a lot—just like ours on the surface."

"Did the dragons leave anyone in peace at all? "I marvel at the stories of this world.

"Zebras. They managed to gain their support by temporarily uniting most of the dragons, and thus made themselves safe from raids by most of their species. It was not without alchemical skills and a certain amount of gemstones. It was a kind of payment."

"I see. Is it all races?"

"Do you know about Aris—the island?"

"What is it?"

"It looks lonely and detached from what's going on in the world," the pegasus explains, "but it's densely populated. There are hippogriffs living there, isolated from the rest of the world. They're like a mix of pony and griffon, almost pony-like in build, including the mane and tail, but with clawed feet instead of front hooves and a beak instead of a nose. Weak in the scientific field, but extremely creative individuals: musicians, writers, painters, sculptors.... Equestria has learned much from them. They are more difficult to get to than to get through an ear, for they are excessively distrustful and prejudiced against other races. They know how to fight, but only for defense, like the yaks. Both the zebras and the ponies have tried to sway them to their side, but to no avail. They barely felt the fall of the megaspells on the continents, but after that they won't let anyone in at all. It's only accessible by physical force, so there's not much data on what's going on there right now."

"Interesting... And which of these is a potential threat to the Enclave?"

"From greater danger to lesser: dragons, Goddess and Unity, the Red Eye Army due to the presence of quite a number of griffons in it, the Steel Rangers, Vanhoover... and pretty much everything. The Enclave often intervened in the affairs of the surface inhabitants to eliminate emerging threats to themselves, but only those that had a low risk of detection. That's mostly why the ponies didn't have unity."

"You said ponies aren't as united as zebras. Is that the fault of the Enclave?"

"Partially. Zebras have a prophecy, unknown to me, that encourages them to try to unite. Ponies haven't had anything like that."

"What about the infamous Friendship and Harmony?"

"That whole doctrine of friendship was desecrated and tainted in the war with the zebras, especially after the arrival of Princess Luna. Yes, they believed in her and honored her, but in the course of the war and under her steel hoof, it was as if the ponies had forgotten what Celestia had taught them. They were overcome with fear. And anger toward the zebras. For that reason, the ponies did not believe in the power of friendship now as they had under Celestia. The Enclave is drenched in cold sweat at the idea that the surviving surface inhabitants might unite and band together against them. As you can see, they fear in vain. Although it's better to overreact than underreact. But there have been miscalculations and negligence. Like the Goddess and her alicorns and the Red Eye army, which have grown to dangerous proportions. While they don't pose a direct threat to the Enclave, they have indirectly posed one."

"What about the Steel Rangers and Vanhoover?"

"As you know, the Prince can't be killed by conventional means... If it's even possible. The Enclave probably hesitated to attract his attention since they didn't know what to do with him. Steel Rangers... the situation here is a bit more complicated. They, as a special unit of the Equestria army, existed before the Enclave even existed. I don't remember much about their history."

"Tell me what you remember," I ask.

"Hmm... Although the Steel Rangers existed before the war, their current goals of protecting and collecting technology took shape around Stalliongrad. That's where their central headquarters was—and still is."

"Why there? I've never been there."

"Stalliongrad is the largest city in the world, built by hard-working earth ponies. The Ministry of Wartime Technology was made up mostly of earth ponies, scientists and engineers from that city. It was there that the scientific and industrial progress of Equestria took place: the first steam locomotive, cannons and many other technologies were created there. In wartime, they quickly switched from ploughshares to guns, just as they did in Fillydelphia, and with the arrival of Luna, they began to grow rapidly thanks to government investment."

"Where did the money for such rapid development come from?"

"The elimination of a huge number of social privileges, subsidies and the like. But instead, there was a wave of scientific development, especially in Stalliongrad. By the way, it's where power armor was manufactured, and before that, Stable-Tec was formed as a corporation there. It's also where the space program was born, where rocket launch pads were built, where satellites were launched into orbit, and with which PipBucks are now synchronized." Motley nods at my front left, causing me to catch a glimpse of the device. "The greatest minds of earth ponies lived in this place. The Steel Rangers who survived there defined their goals for finding technology and wrote a set of rules and guidelines—the Codex. It was these that pointed the way for the entire organization. Individual units could operate autonomously and do things that did not contradict the Codex. Originally there were twelve chapters, sent into the ruins and neighborhoods of every major city."

"I've heard that fighters from one chapter are required to obey senior ranking officers from other chapters. Wouldn't that lead to conflicts between the Elders?"

"Of course. That's why each chapter is assigned its own search territory."

"Wait... All the major cities in Equestria have been destroyed to some extent. I think Stalliongrad, as a city with research centers, was not ignored by the zebras: at least, it received a decent of the megaspells on the head. How could such a powerful chapter shape up in such a place?"

"This is a city of earthy, hard-working ponies. 'Earth' is in the race name for a reason. They know how to cultivate and work the land. You see what I'm getting at? A lot of their science centers and laboratories are hidden underground. And it doesn't have to be under the city. It's somewhere in the surrounding area. Ministry Mare's sister of the MWT was one of the founders of Stable-Tec, which builds underground facilities. No wonder the Steel Rangers, because of such a direct... close and intimate relationship with the MWT had information on the location of many of these military or research facilities. Soon they had made passages and—or—discovered surviving secondary ones. Reconnaissance in those places has been difficult for the Enclave, and tha's why this chapter they fear the most. There's been some strange activity lately, which has alarmed my former senior officers."

"Fascinating. You said there were twelve chapters originally. How many are there now?"

"Thirteen."

"Not many. But a lucky number. And where was this unit sent?" I clarify, but the answer immediately comes to mind on its own.

"Vanhoover," Motley confirms my guess. "Originally, this city and its environs were assigned to the Steel Rangers of Hoofland in the south, but due to the distance and mountainous terrain, they were unable to quickly and effectively control the search operations being conducted. That all changed when the Queen of Vanhoover created such a large organized group of slavers, slaves, Families and Kings and Prince showed up later. The Steel Rangers were worried. They also questioned the rapid economic growth, prompting them to form a separate chapter to investigate. The Enclave, for its part, was just beginning to look for potential threats... and turned its attention to Vanhoover after the Steel Rangers did. Because of the Prince's immortality, both sides with power armor didn't know how to approach the city—so the region was just being watched. On the other hand, as you know, Prince himself was hesitant to take any overt action against his potential enemies so that the city, economy, and way of life would not be affected. So that's how the staring has been played for over a hundred years."

"As for the rest of the chapters?"

"On average, each of them has about a thousand personnel. Though there are exceptions like the Stalliongrad and Baltimare chapters. In the first, the exact number is unknown even to the Enclave... They're up to about ten thousand. A lot of their bases are underground after all. Another peculiarity of this chapter is that there are three Elders."

"And there's no conflict between them?" I chuckle involuntarily.

"It's more of a... Council. No, there are no conflicts. Except for arguments and disagreements on certain matters, nothing more. This chapter was even able to restore and put into service a railroad track that starts somewhere around Stalliongrad and runs along the central part of the west coast all the way to Hoofland."

"What about the second one, the one at Baltimare?"

"In the most miserable condition. The personnel does not exceed a hundred ponies. Baltimare was occupied by zebras before the war, but a few years before the mega spells fell, the ponies liberated the city and went on the offensive. Within a couple years, they had completely pushed the zebras out of Equestria. The creation of energy-magic weapons, power armor, Raptors, and other technologies made such a dramatic change in the balance of power."

"And why did the zebras start losing and retreating?"

"For many reasons, exhaustion being a key among them. Not only were the ponies tired of the protracted war, but so were the zebras. This created internal conflicts within the higher elites of power and the active civilian population. There were many zebras who disliked Caesar: some for his slowness, others for his haste, which led to mistakes and losses both on the front and in politics. But almost everyone wanted victory over Equestria. So there were rumors of a coup to put a more intelligent and stronger leader in power. Perhaps this, in turn, was the basis for the prophecy that was formed in the post-war time—of a new Caesar who would restore their glorious Empire. Of course, the internal conflicts weren't absent from Equestria either. The bulls, the Diamond Dogs, and the growing discontent among the pegasi, which led to the appearance of the Enclave shortly before the apocalypse. The difference was that Equestria had vast reserves of gemstones, which after years of intense wartime research helped tip the scales in their favor."

"Where was the front line?"

"It shifted constantly at the beginning of the war, but stabilized over the course of a couple of years after Princess Luna came in as in charge. By this time, the zebras had occupied Baltimare and many coastal towns on the east coast in south-central Equestria. They entrusted the northern territory to the dragons, and the zebras themselves had little involvement there. They also took over the eastern railroad tracks as well, which actually sped up the construction of them in the middle of the desert zone. This, as you'll recall, was disliked by the bulls, who thought the ponies were desecrating their sacred lands. In fact, the front line was actually the Sapphire Sea, which separated the two continents and all the islands and coasts it surrounded. The coastline around Manehattan and Trottingham was the least affected by the warfare."

"And how does that relate to the decline of the Baltimare Steel Rangers?" I'm trying to figure out where the stories about the past are going. Lilac mentioned something about a large alliance of traders, and they must be powerful now if they're confronting the Red Eye Empire. "I know there's a strong economy there."

"After the fall of the megaspells, the current economy of the Wasteland was born there, replacing the barter system—caps. This was also aided by the zebras that came to Baltimare. This city had become closely related to them during the occupation... for ten years! The regular ponies were able to get along with them, while the Steel Rangers blame them for what happened to the country. The Steel Rangers have a good memory of history, while the regular citizens of the Wasteland were only worried about survival. They don't care who they cooperate with, as long as it benefits them."

"I see where you're going with this," I chuckle. "That's their style. Xenophobia."

"Uh-huh... The Steel Rangers' actions were to the taste of few, and they had no advantages other than technology. But because of the active trade, the Steel Rangers were being fought back there, certainly not without the help of the resources and weapons that regularly passed through the ruins of the city. Because of this, the trade groups rebuilt a railroad that ran along the eastern coast straight to Trottingham, and the Steel Rangers there have been the softest of the Steel Rangers for two hundred years: they have not impeded the passage of technology caravans. As you can see, the conditions exist there for the caravan business to thrive. The Red Eye has his... his eye on caravans and railroads because of the proximity of Fillydelphia and Trottingham. Thanks to these caravans and the railroads they rebuilt, he will have easy access to resources not only from Equestria, but also from the neighboring continent, and thus access to the so-called exotics. He's already trying to grab it all."

Lilac had mentioned once that all of Red Eye's attention was centered to the south. Toward Baltimare, where...

"Ponies and zebras managed to get along..." I mutter.

In the ruins of San Francisco, the crew from the Chinese submarine had started their own group, and the sailors got along well with the locals. Even the Brotherhood of Steel didn't oppose them much. Descendants of Chinese and descendants of U.S. residents cooperate.

"For the most part just around Baltimare," Motley says. "Almost all of the ruins of the city went underwater after the bombings, and so there are often boats and subs there when exploring the ruins and the seabed. The only obstacle was a decent level of radiation. Generally, only those who are familiar with the story are now prejudiced against zebras. There's not much zebra activity in the rest of Equestria—and it's dangerous in the southern part of the Sapphire Sea these days."

"Why is that?"

"You don't know? There's a traveling magical fog. The Yellow Fog," the pony says in a dramatic and terrifying tone. Watcher mentioned it once. "The northern part of the Sapphire Sea has high magical instability, causing weather anomalies, just like the Desert Ocean. So, the southern part of the sea wasn't bombarded like any area nearby, but after the megaspells fell in Equestria like a thunderclap, this fog formed... and it's like it's got a mind and it's chasing ships sailing in the area. It's faster than they are. Those caught in the fog were never seen again."

"And it also can't be entered like the center of the Desert Ocean?"

"Yes."

"What's with the magical instability? And what does it have to do with megaspells?"

"I have no idea... I thought you, as a unicorn, should know."

"I'm a technical specialist, not a global magic specialist... "I smile. "I'm only interested in it if it teleports long distances."

"I haven't looked into that question. All I know is that two such instabilities arose in the Great Deserts with underground huge worms and in the northern part of the Sapphire Sea, where huge creatures fighting for the place arose. Emerged due to the fall of megaspells. We know the instability due to weather anomalies, what it spawns along the same lines as the Desert Ocean and Tartarus east of the Zebra Empire."

I'll have to ask someone else about this magical instability. Maybe it really is capable of teleporting. But Motley clearly didn't know anything about it.

"So what do you know about the Yellow Fog?"

"There are also many legends and myths about it, among ponies and zebras alike, for it also appears off the coasts of their continent of Solstice when ships sail there. All that is known is that there were fierce sea battles fought in this area during Equestria's war with the Zebra Empire."

"Interesting coincidence. There is no high magical instability, yet this weather anomaly in the form of fog still formed."

"One of the mysteries of the post-war world," Motley nods.

"I understand you, working for the Enclave, investigated the northwestern part of Equestria. That's also where Hoofland was located. What do you think of the Steel Rangers there?"

"The Blood Rangers. Yeah, I know better about them than the other units."

"Why are they bloody?" I utter, expecting the worst: steel-armored madponies.

Though as far as I know, this place is populated by all sorts of cults and religious groups. Even Prince from Vanhoover was nicknamed the White Demon, for consuming the souls of the weak, or something like that. That's why Prince didn't want to cooperate with them. He thought they were too... crazy.

"Hoofland was a resort and tourist place, almost like Las Pegasus for pegasi. They are even relatively close to each other. There were a lot of ponies with different outlooks on life, worldviews and quirks from all corners of Equestria. After the fall of the megaspells, this multiculturalism had spawned an incredible number of different cults and overly religious groups with varying degrees of insanity, including many who worshipped technology—or hated it and tried to destroy it. With a neighborhood like that, I don't envy the Steel Rangers. Despite their nickname, they were no different from any other chapters, but because of the high concentration of deranged zealots, they had to adopt their force methods more often than not, for this is a veritable breeding ground for myths, tall tales, beliefs, religions, and cults."

"Now I see where it all came from."

"It was thanks to these superstitious and wacky ponies that Vanhoover eventually acquired such a sinister reputation, which then spread to the rest of Equestria. And... Uh... look, Daniel. I'm tired."

"Yes, thank you very much! So many interesting things you've told me. From your height, you see things differently. You've given me such a great lecture. It's amazing."

Motley smiles embarrassedly.

"I'm going to go practice and warm up," the pegasus says as she leaves the dining room.

I process the information I got from Motley, relating it to what I partially know. Motley told me a lot about the Steel Rangers and a little about the inhabiting races. If the other races had anything to do with long-distance teleportation, Motley would certainly have told me that.

So... The North of Equestria, where Canterlot, Manehattan, Fillydelphia, Trottingham, Hoofland, and of course Vanhoover are located. So far only the Dome is interesting in this part. I've been to Manehattan, and there's nothing interesting there yet. Fillydelphia is run by the Red Eye. In Trottingham, the Steel Rangers are soft. Beyond Sunny Bay in the north of the Sapphire Sea are huge creatures that fight dragons. To the south along the sea follows Lava Island, also inhabited by dragons. Then there's the free water space where ships travel from the Zebra Empire to Baltimare and back... Then there's the Yellow Fog, which travels swiftly across the southern part of the sea.

Interesting fog. Too bad it has nothing to do with long-range teleportation, so I don't want to explore it.

In the south of Equestria, beyond the Great Deserts, are the remaining cities of Equestria, including Baltimare and Stalliongrad. The first is essentially world trade, while the second is the foundation of the Steel Rangers and the technology of the pre-war world. These are the two areas that should be visited in case the Dome fails.

There is no point in visiting the other species. They are not as advanced as the ponies or zebras.

As for magical instability—I want to know more, but in the Wasteland, try to find someone who knows about it. Unless they're in the Enclave. A scientist or something. If there's any sign of long-distance teleportation, well... I'll have to visit the north of the Sapphire Sea, learn about the Desert Ocean, see the Great Deserts, and explore Tartarus, populated by strange creatures spawned by this instability.

All in all, there are plenty of interesting places. At least I have a general idea of where to go after Vanhoover. But I want to believe that the Dome will have what I'm looking for.

Motley was indeed happy to tell me everything. And did so until she was tired. Anyone else would have fallen asleep from such a flood of information. But not her. She clearly wants to do something for me. She cares about me... That's a problem.

I'm gonna go pack for Vanhoover.

***

"You look great," Motley praises me as I enter the great hall in my navy blue outfit with white inserts around the edges.

"Thank you. Can you give me a ride on Venture to Vanhoover?"

"I'm..." the pegasus mumbles. Oh... no. "You won't mind if I come with you?"

"Why?" I ask, once again holding back the hormonal storm generated by internal contradictions. I feel like I'm going to split in two soon if I don't do something about it.

"Well... It's not like you have a reliable protection. You're not that good at close combat, "she rubs her hoof behind her mane in shyness.

The storm is getting worse.

She's right: being alone in Vanhoover is really dangerous when I have no one to rely on and no one to trust. Motley saved me in the Crater and the Northern Soul. I feel safer with her by my side. At the same time, the risk of getting close to her increases, which makes me anxious and afraid. And...

She looks at me with charming anticipation with eyes of blue and yellow.

I don't have the guts to say no. Shit. Because I have a horn and telekinesis. I also have teleportation. And... I can't, I just can't.

"Okay... Come with me."

Motley almost glows with joy.

"But I don't have anything to wear," she lowers her eyes doomfully.

"Excuse me?" I say. "You're going to be my guard. You've got two more sets of good armor for that."

"I thought," she lowers her head, briefly strokes her hoof across the floor, "that we'd both look like regular city masters. You said yourself you wouldn't wear armor, so as not to attract unnecessary attention."

"You want to play the same role as me?" I clarify.

"Sort of," she shrugs.

"You can buy yourself a proper outfit or dress when we're in town."

"Really?" she cheers.

"It's not like I'm a cheapskate. Friends don't spare anything."

A cheapskate. Twenty thousand caps gave to the Bluerise for nothing.

"Oh, thank you!" she exclaims.

And once again her tender and joyful embrace. It feels so good when her front legs wrap around my neck. I can smell the pleasant scent of her mane. Fresh.

Almost immediately she loosens them. I open my mouth in frustration.

"Ahem... yeah... " she mumbles something, awkwardly looking away. "Okay. I'm going to go take a shower."

I just nod, trying not to picture her wet.

She quickly turns around and walks deep into Heavenly Harbor. I wish I could feel her gentle embrace again. Or, better yet, to embrace her myself. To hold her against me, to feel her body warmth, the touch of her fur against mine.

No... I must resist. I can't let such a sweet and adorable pony suffer for fear of something happening to me, because I have a dangerous life. And so does she.

I'm also human. She won't accept me. Don't forget that. She'll break your heart... and she'll wish she'd never felt anything for me.

***

Nara distracts me from thinking. She climbs on the furniture by various methods, in various places and positions. Maybe I should take a break. I'm too focused on my thoughts. I'll play with her for a while.

She doesn't react when I approach her. I ask her to have some fun. She agrees, and the first thing that comes to my mind is that she liked being on my back.

I put the little orange mare on my back and run around the bunker like I'm being chased by a mix of deathclaw and cazador. I run through all the rooms, imitating the distinctive roar of a sports car engine and occasionally jumping over furniture.

At first, Nara is frightened by the imitation of a powerful engine and rapid run. Soon she gets used to it and her grip loosens a little. The little girl enjoys herself and smiles broadly.

In a few minutes she is already squealing with joy and delight. She has that thin and familiar baby laugh... Especially when its source is right next to my ears. But I like it, so I continue to run around the shelter without slowing down.

"Orange Swirl is taking the lead," I yell, "overtaking Pink Gum! There's not much left, and victory is in her pocket!" We rush up the steps. "Ooh! What a bumpy road up here!"

Pink Gum—Flow—stares at us in bewilderment.

After twenty minutes, I finally run out of breath and fall onto one of the couches in the main hall.

"Victory! We've reached the finish line! And the transport has run out of fuel," I say to my passenger, lying tiredly on the couch and burying my face in it.

"I want more!" she exclaims.

"Car's tired, no fuel," I excuse myself, struggling to lift a hoof.

"Well I want more..." Nara pushes me lightly in the back.

I try to make a sound like the car is desperately sucking up leftover fuel, and then I pretend to pass out completely, and don't respond in any way to her subsequent requests. She climbs off my back, purposefully running somewhere.

I hear the clatter of hooves on the floor, turn my head sullenly, and see Nara with Sparkle Cola in her teeth, looking at me expectantly. I burst out laughing, back hiding my face in the couch, unable to stop laughing suppressedly.

How much I dislike Sparkle Cola...

"Thake..." she utters slurred. I reluctantly get up, sitting down normally on the couch.

"Thanks," I smile tiredly and shake my head.

Nara smiles sweetly and looks at me expectantly. I levitate the bottle to me with magic, pull the cap off and take a small sip, then set the bottle on the small table.

I do my best to hide my dislike of carbonated carrot juice. I don't want to upset her.

"My engines are overheating from all the hard work. So that's it. Play with Ferris or Edge."

Nara pouts her lips and looks at me sadly. I hug her. She smiles, but still looks sad and goes away. Motley appears in the main hall.

"Oh! Looking lovely," I say to the pretty pegasus dressed in battle armor.

"Thank you," she nods and walks over to me. "You two looked pretty cute," she adds and turns to the small table with Sparkle Cola.

"Not as cute as Nara on your back some time ago." The pegasus turns away, looking at the table with the bottle again.

We set course for Oasis of Vanhoover and land on the rooftop of The Bottomless Chest store, a vast two-story building owned by our friend Bluerise. One of the Sentinels is traveling with us, to act as a guard in case someone gets the idea to take another bite at my baby. It's not like anyone can start the engines of a Vertibuck without a code, but it's never a bad idea to be careful.

Last time I didn't know where Bluerise was, but now I do, and I'm gonna leave the Vertibuck over her place. I hope she won't be upset to see that thing on the roof of her store. On the other hand, it'll just attract more customers! So she'll have to thank me!

"Do you mind?" I ask Bluerise, standing at the exit of the store with her mouth gaping open. Motley pulls me down from the roof, since getting down without breaking my hooves in the process is not an option.

Though I could have just teleported—and wasted some of my magic.

"I don't even know what to say," the unicorn looks first at the Vertibuck and then at me. "I certainly didn't freak out too badly when the ceiling of my store shuddered. But it's sure to get attention! Which means more possible customers coming to gawk at that shit."

"So," I'm glad we both see the benefit of it, "you're okay with it. And don't worry, there's a Sentinel, and also the security codes. So this thing won't be stolen from me once again. How are you doing?" I ask, as if this conversation never happened.

"Yeah everything's great," she looks me over carefully. "You look nice," she smiles. "And where are we going dressed up like this?"

"Business and stuff. Gonna have to hang around town and build up a bit of a reputation."

"Well, I won't keep you." We head away. "Good luck to you," she shouts after a brief pause, adding, "lovebirds."

I glance stealthily at the pegasus, who is lost for a moment.

"Here we are at the market," I turn fully to Motley. "Are you going to look for something to dress up in, or what?"

"What? Oh, yeah," she glances around nervously. "Will you... walk with me?"

"Maybe," I smile, "I should also help you try something on and actually put it on?"

There is confusion on the pegasus' face, a pink blush coloring her cheeks.

"Ha-ha. Nice joke," she says with the same irony.

Actually, it wasn't so much a joke as a suggestion... I guess. I'm having a hard time understanding myself lately.

"And I was already thinking of helping you with that," I get naively upset.

"Oh," the pegasus rolls her eyes dramatically, walking past me. "And you're going where the sun don't shine."

"To the cave?" I inquire innocently.

"Yeah..." she stretches out meaningfully. "There..."

We pass clothing stores, and not bad ones at that, but the pegasus quickly runs her eyes over their contents through the windows and, not satisfied with what she sees, steps further.

What on earth is she looking for? A royal dress? Do I even have enough caps to pay for it?

Eventually we leave the market, and after twenty minutes the pegasus finds a suitable shop. It's quite large in size and has a rich assortment.

My nominal bag of caps shrinks in fear and bursts into a frenzy, wanting to run somewhere far away from this place. The little cheapskate in me tells me that there will be a bottomless pit in my budget if I continue to store with the overexcited pegasus. But for the sake of her smile, I'm willing to make this heroic sacrifice.

The main thing is to have money for food and ammunition later.

A lot of mannequins... I mean ponynequins, showing a variety of dresses of all possible colors and styles. Such an abrupt change of colors makes me dizzy. The lamps illuminate the room with yellow light, and the walls are painted with beige paint, the floor is covered with strong and strong parquet. A soft and unobtrusive, barely perceptible melody plays in the background. Reminiscent of the lobby of Tenpenny Tower and Tenpony Tower.

Most of the visitors are mares. They choose their next outfit, as they have an absolute preference for expensive and exquisite clothing.

Judging by how clean, new and wonderful everything is here, this shop, I am more than sure, belongs to the Softhooves family, for whom fashion and style are above all else.

I can already get a sense of how much one dress will cost here.

I sit down in one of the brown upholstered armchairs and look around the room, trying to find Motley, who, having slipped into the store, disappeared like lightning after a flash. Why did she need me then? Oh, I still have all the cash.

I sit for about ten minutes, reading—or rather, looking at pictures of an old pre-war fashion magazine. There's nothing in it that's useful to me, but I don't mind looking at the beauty standards of this world.

Motley is shown in a beautiful new dress; next to her is a maroon-colored salesmare in a humble outfit.

The hem of the dress is slightly wavy and of an exceptional blue, almost sapphire color, the rest of it, separated by a white sash with a buckle somewhere in the belly area, is entirely in patterns in the form of waves of a blue hue. Quite unusual, but it looks lovely, especially on Motley. It's not flashy, but it's not plain either. Also included in the set are elegant blue hoofpieces, harmonizing with the color of the outfit. The only thing missing is a hat to complete the picture.

"Well... How do I look?" Motley asks shyly, walking up to me and gracefully wrapping herself around me, fully revealing the beauty of the outfit.

"Like a fragrant prairie flower," I smile. "No matter what you wear, you'll always look simply fabulous—you're the one who colors the clothes, giving them a sophisticated and elegant look. If someone else tried on this dress, it would immediately lose its unforgettable beauty and subtlety..."

The salesgirl giggles softly, covering her mouth with her hoof. I can roast meat on Motley's face. She wags her hoof on the floor. She's probably embarrassed to dig herself a hole and hide in it.

I love it, putting other people in that state of mind. There's a certain beauty to it. Though mentally I'm surprised at how easily I throw compliments around, especially to Motley.

"How much for everything?" I ask the salesgirl, admiring the pegasus. She grimaces.

"Eight hundred caps," she replies calmly.

I'm yanked out of the ocean of thought. It's like I'm almost drowning underwater.

That's fucked in the head!

"Is that how to buy, or how to sell?" I ask after a brief pause, chuckling. "You can see how perfectly the dress fits this flower," I murmur, which makes the salesmare raise an eyebrow. "What a hue, what a cut, and what a material... Ooh!" I utter rapturously and enthusiastically, getting carried away. "The full and true beauty of the dress is given by this lovely pegasus, this amazing flower of the Wasteland. It is nothing without her," I lower my voice, speaking in a dramatic tone. "Wouldn't you agree? It is she who is destined to wear this marvelous garment, for only this gentle and tender beauty can reveal its full majesty and charm. All the stallions will begin to sigh lustfully and languidly at the sight of this attractive lady, and the mares will only sigh dreamily and cast jealous glances."

"Oh," the salesgirl sighs, covering her eyes for a few seconds. I seem to have hit on a common ground. She appreciates the beauty of clothes and their meaning. "I'd have a similar thing said to me... O-o-okay. Seven hundred caps for this flower."

"I see you have an appreciation for the beauty of clothes. And," I say affectionately, looking her closely right in her eyes, "you realize what a waste it would be if this unique and precious dress fell into other hooves, am I right? " I lean closer to her with gentleness in my gaze.

"I think so..."

"In other hooves, this superb garment would lose its marvelous beauty. Only this pony, wearing this dress, will give a message to all others by its appearance, how magnificent and matchless it is. And if anyone asks where this beauty came from, we say it was created by the Softhooves family. Made just for this pegasus! The Softhoves create outfits just for everyone. And here it is—the proof."

"Oh... Okay, let's make it six hundred and fifty. That's all."

The former captain of the Enclave's reconnaissance squad doesn't know where to put herself, and is seriously about to fall through the floor. It's an indescribable sight.

"Thank you," I smile.

I hand the salesgirl a check for the amount indicated. She leaves. I was willing to pay eight hundred caps just to see Motley happy and satisfied. But I wouldn't be myself if I turned down this opportunity to make someone feel uncomfortable. Besides, it's a great excuse to practice my persuasion skills.

Motley lingered: she picked up her armor.

"You're not going to carr-" I don't even have time to fully turn toward her before the pegasus rises into the air, squeaking, "I'll be right there!" She disappears from sight.

Apparently, she's overheated from all the hot trade. I overdid. I hope she cools down on the flight.

A couple minutes later, she comes back.

"You really know how to work your tongue," she remarks without looking me in the eye.

"You don't realize how much..." I wink, unable to resist.

What on earth is happening to me? Why am I flirting with her so directly? I can't resist it.

The pegasus is covered in a thick veil of embarrassment. What a pleasure this brings me!

''I actually succeeded in convincing her since I spoke sincerely. I wasn't exaggerating at all when I tried to lower the price," I smile gently. She really pierced my heart mercilessly with her appearance. She is beautiful in that dress. "I always speak from the heart and don't skimp on compliments."

"Thank you," she barely audibly mumbles, lowering her head.

***

Prince reminded me of the Arena in Vanhoover. I wanted to visit it just out of interest, but now I have time, because the trail to the Dome has been lost and I don't know what to do about it. I will study the life of the city more closely; maybe I'll learn something useful.

On the way to the Arena, a memory of Pitt came to mind.

I'd been a slave once; to get my freedom, I had to fight in the Hole and win three hard fights with every weapon and method at my disposal. The fights were fought to the death. I was able to win only through the help of a woman from the factory yard. She taught me a lot of things and my fighting skills increased greatly.

The Arena... I wonder what it's like here? I remember the rules of participation and the importance to the city, but I would like to visually appreciate this place, one of the most popular. Violence and aggression is part of our nature, both humans, ponies, griffons... whatever. It's a way of surviving. And it needs to be satisfied somehow, so it's no surprise that a fighting arena is a favorite place.

There was something similar in New Reno, where there were more or less official competitions between fighters: boxing at the Jungle Gym. I did not participate there, I had no desire to lose some of my teeth for the sake of entertainment. But I had heard that the Chosen One had once become the champion. I read it in his memoirs. He's quite a funny guy, despite the fact that he's a tribal savage; he's managed to get along quite well in the civilized world, as far as today's society can be considered civilized.

In addition to the standard purpose of fights—to vent aggression—the Arena now has another purpose: to test a slave's ability to be independent and responsible for his own life. Slaves hope to prove their ability to defend themselves without taking the lives of others: the opponent must not be killed. Otherwise, the contestant faces a fine and disqualification.

Soon we approached the Vanhoover arena, located ten blocks off Mane Street. The arena building is an elongated rectangular shape about five stories high. There are two dozen masters bustling around with their slaves. Some of the slaves are different from the ones I've seen before, with stronger and more imposing muscles, but there are also slaves with a normal build. The eyes are burning with passion. The slaves are ready to fight for their independence, giving their masters a chance to earn a decent amount of caps. They are dressed as well as their masters. Arena guards are also posted around the area.

They're pretty tight on security, I see, and they keep order. And they've got some interesting outfits, too.

We got here at the end of the day, so it's pretty crowded. By the way, as I found out later, this place used to be a hockey court. That's why the guards are wearing rather peculiar outfits, strongly reminiscent of pre-war hockey players' uniforms from posters. Their weapons are mostly hockey sticks, only a couple of guards carry two miniguns on their saddles.

In some places the building looks ragged and anarchic from the fall of the megaspells, but judging by the subtle differences made during the restoration, it's in good condition by the standards of the Wastelands and the city in particular.

To enter the Arena, one hundred caps per body must be paid. No matter how long you stay there, the price of admission is the same at any time of day. The Arena is open to the public from ten in the morning until three in the morning. Most crowds converge after dusk, as most of the masters are released from their work somewhere around that time and can enjoy the spectacle.

After paying for ourselves, we go inside and find ourselves in a lobby that completely wraps around the arena and follows the shape of the building. Here before the war they used to hand in their upper clothes, but now they are places for handing in weapons, because the entrance to the stands with weapons and ammunition is strictly forbidden. In the same place there are also vendors who sell only food and drinks.

If visitors leave the Arena building, they will not return until they have paid the next one hundred caps. Already from here I can hear the crowd cheering enthusiastically as they support one of the fighters.

We head towards the stands, which are accessed by only four entrances from the lobby area, located in each corner of the main hall. There are guards standing at these entrances to make sure we leave all our weapons by the checkroom. We don't have any extra upper warm clothes on: it's not cold enough to wear them yet. The only question is about the weapons. I am the only one who has left it, as Motley has no weapons other than his hooves.

In the stands, Motley and I look around. Around the arena are seating places in the form of plastic chairs connected to each other. The walls are finished in light gray plaster, and there are small spotlights on the ceiling that cast a white light over the central part of the hall. Almost all the seats are already occupied: at the bottom completely, and closer to the top more free. We barely found two free seats somewhere in the middle of the row, but even from here everything is clearly visible.

There is no ice on the hockey ground, instead everything is covered with a long ago hardened layer of soil, which is even overgrown with low grass at the borders. The arena is divided into two arenas, so it is possible to watch two fights at the same time. Slaves are fighting on one arena, and ordinary masters are fighting on the other. Apparently, there are more than enough individuals willing to prove themselves among both. This place is indeed of great importance in the life of the city.

Slave fighters have their collars removed for safety. The use of any drugs among the fighters is strictly forbidden. Before the fight, each participant is tested for drugs in the blood with the help of magic spells or devices. However, I'm sure that cheating is pervasive, as it's one of the ways for the checkers to shake more caps off the master if he wants to win unfairly. I think this restriction was put in place for just such a purpose. Another way of profiteering that isn't quite legal.

Implants are also forbidden, except for life-sustaining devices such as pacemakers. I'm not allowed in the arena. I think the situation with implants is the same as with drugs: pay the caps and the strict rule doesn't affect you anymore. Any weapons, including bladed weapons, as well as metal or any other devices on the hooves that allow gaining superiority over the opponent, are also forbidden.

The fight lasts no more than twenty minutes; if either fighter does not surrender, the referee declares a draw. No one has lost or won anything. The loser in the arena is the one who is unable to rise on all four legs within ten seconds. Ponies in white coats are on duty near the two arenas in case a seriously wounded fighter needs urgent treatment. Naturally, for a nominal fee, they will provide this service.

There are no forbidden techniques in the arena. In the event of a slave's death, the owner would be compensated according to the value of the lost property, and the killer would lose ten previous victories in his progress toward freedom. And, just as Flow said, five accidental kills are followed by a lifetime disqualification.

Once a slave has reached nearly a hundred victories, the Arena managers may be willing to re-buy the winners from their masters for a decent amount of caps. The masters have the right to refuse, but in most cases they agree, as a slave who has won almost a hundred fights will soon be unable to participate in fights because of the freedom he has gained, and the master himself does not need strong guards. The Arena management keeps these fighters as guards. After hearing this, I took a closer look at one of the guards and noticed a barely visible collar underneath the layer of equipment.

The guards don't need to be paid, and their experience in hoof-to-hoof combat has long since been clearly proven. Excellent fighting dogs standing guard. Arena management benefits from this.

Bets are placed before the fight starts; they can be placed in the lobby at a specific location. There is also a list of those participating in the fights for that day. The person signing up for a fight has to wait for their turn, usually it comes the next day. It depends on the length of the fights, which normally rarely last more than ten minutes.

I don't offer Motley any fights, because that would require waiting her turn, and we do the betting amongst ourselves. She ends up earning about two hundred caps for her own expenses, even though I pay for everything. I wonder where she intends to spend it. She's a better judge of the matter than I am.

We talk about the fighters, how they fight, discuss the moves they've performed. Some of the moves I could definitely repeat, but most of them I can't do, their execution looks quite difficult. The fighters perform very well compared to Motley. However, I'm sure that the precise movements of my pegasus would take down even a massive opponent—the taller the cabinet, the louder it falls. She could defeat her opponents by snapping them like peanuts.

Sitting for about three hours, watching the fights and discussing them. The audience in the stands are cheering and applause is heard. They just have fun and enjoy watching exciting fights, quenching their aggressive impulses. I go for drinks a couple of times, and Motley keeps an eye on our seats, as they can be taken by anyone: already at the height of the evening there are already enough seats for all the spectators with a strain. Apart from the fights, I don't talk to Motley about anything else. Though, no matter what the topic of conversation is, I enjoy just being around her and discussing things with her.

A dark gray earth pony with a black mane and tail, some strands of hair white, enters the slave arena. Everyone greets him with his stage name, Black Feather. Even the slaves are given nicknames by the audience, all because he has the lowest number of defeats in the ratio of victories among the contestants: five to sixty. His eyes burn with self-confidence, he is fully determined to win today in the hope of gaining his freedom. Judging by his direct gaze, uncharacteristic of a slave, he hasn't been chained in the collar for very long. One or two years. So how did an experienced fighter like him become a sla-.

"It can't be!" Motley's suppressed shriek interrupts my thoughts. I turn back to the pegasus in surprise and confusion, her stunned gaze fixed on Black Feather. The fight has already begun, and she's staring at the fighter as if he were a ghost. "That's Blaze! I mean, he's... died... because of me..."

It's an earth pony. Maybe she's mistaking him for someone else? I remember Blaze being a member of Motley's squad, but... how could an earth pony serve in the Enclave, as a scout...

Wait a minute... part of his back is bandaged. I first thought it was damage from previous battles. There's a subtle bulge under the bandages, when I look closely. Two bumps... where pegasi usually have wings.

Oh...