Fallout: Equestria - Parallelism

No... It's not fair! She shouldn't have died so early and so close to her goal! How... Why? Why now? Her long journey cannot end like this!

The violet-colored face is motionless, as if frozen in time.

My eyes are stinging with coming hot wetness.

"Well..." the haughty voice comes behind me. "One less parasite."

"Whoa-whoa-whoa!" 'Berry' yells, after I turn sharply toward 'Bubblegum'.

I stand close to the young Knight and stare at him. My teeth clench tightly, my front legs trembling with contained rage. The protective glass on the Steel Ranger's helmet is sweating because of my heavy, deep breathing on it.

'Bubblegum' doesn't move. Its laser weapon is activated and aimed at me. It hums and glows threateningly.

"Calm down!" the voice shouts from the side.

I wish I could take the stupid helmet off his head and beat the son of a bitch to death!

I press my front legs into the hard ground beneath me. The fogged glasses of his helmet reflect the blue glow of my horn's magic.

Say another word, you bastard. Come on! Say it! Give me a reason to smash your ugly face you're hiding under that helmet!

"I said..." 'Berry' squeezes between us and pushes me back to Bear, "...calm down! 'Bubblegum'..."

'Berry's' helmet speaker goes silent next. They've switched to communicating on the intercom, apparently.

One second...

Two seconds...

Three...

My gaze is fixed on 'Bubblegum', my teeth aching with tension. 'Berry' turns toward me and comes close, shielding the retreating 'Bubblegum'. Her leg, wrapped in power armor, rests heavily on my shoulder. She presses against me to hold me down and let the bastard get away in peace. 'Berry' speaks slowly and gently, the way they try to calm an angry beast, "Calm down... He will leave now. Put your magic away..."

My gaze stays fixed on the departing Steel Ranger. I stare at him until he disappears behind the tree trunks.

"Okay... Breathe steady..."

My jaw relaxes; I inhale a full lungful of cold air. The air is saturated with the scent of the coniferous vegetation that surrounds us.

It is so... relieving and soothing.

"That's it... Nice."

'Berry' removes her hoof from my shoulder, a sigh of relief coming from her speaker.

There's nothing in my head but tired weakness and a cold emptiness. I can't seem to wrap my head around what just happened. I want to fall down and rest.

Is that how the Steel Rangers treat the dead?

Oh... Lilac...

I close my eyes, feeling a new rush of prickly wetness on them. After waiting a moment, I turn to the open door and look once more at the lifeless body of the elderly pony.

"I..." I hear 'Berry's' voice from behind me. Shy, quiet, unsure. It's filled with genuine sorrow. "I didn't expect your traveling companion to... I only wanted..." She sighs convulsively, trying to regain control and composure. She almost witnessed a conflict that could have ended in the death of one of the parties. It certainly wouldn't have happened if she hadn't brought 'Bubblegum' with her. "It doesn't matter anymore. I apologize and... my sympathies."

I turn toward the Steel Ranger. My throat tightens with the bitterness of the injustice done to Lilac. I try not to think about 'Bubblegum's' words, but even this effort irritates me. All I can see are my fingers clamped in a dead grip on the scum's neck...

I look down: there are only blunt stumps hidden under dark blue clothes, with kneepads and a Pip-Boy.

"I understand your sadness and your... emotions. Bubblegum wasn't acting on behalf of all Steel Rangers. He takes responsibility for his own words."

I once more take in my lungs the relieving pine air. The slightly bitter aroma passes through my nostrils, and relief arises in my body. Anger leaves me. I think.

I exhale and turn to Lilac.

What do I do now?

I put my front foot on her shoulder, her body not responding in any way. Dead and lifeless as... the Wasteland.

A bitter and unpleasant lump rolls up to my throat.

No... I will not leave you here. I will keep my promise. You can be sure I'll see it through.

My head feels like it's filling up with lead and leaning over her body. My thoughts must be put in order. I feel a cold breeze blow, I step back. I close Bear's door and walk around the hood to the driver's seat.

"I... go with you," 'Berry' says. I stop and turn to her.

What did she say? Did I hear it right? Am I imagining it?

I examine her massive power armor. A short while ago, her front leg rested on my shoulder and nearly pinned me to the ground. Bear just can't take her. As if she read my mind, she says, "I'll turn on the additional armor lightening matrix. I'll weigh like I'm not wearing it."

This point is the least of my worries.

"Why do you want to ride with me?" I ask hoarsely, and I'm slightly surprised. It's like I haven't uttered a sound in days.

"I've already warned the others about it. It's... easy to get lost. I'll... show you the way if you get away from our truck."

I gaze into the shape of her helmet.

What are you up to? Probably wants to make sure I don't run away.

"You're coming with me... on one condition."

"What's that?" there's a strain in her voice.

"Show me the way to the coast. I must get there."

My cloak flutters slightly in the slight gusts of wind. Its cool touch tickles my fur. 'Berry's' silence lingers more and more.

I have nowhere to hurry... I certainly don't now.

"Why do you want to go to the coast?"

Do I need to tell her the truth? Is it worth it? It makes me want to ask for advice...

I turn my head toward the front passenger seat. There is a strange expectation... Hoping that she will nod or react in some way, but no. Nothing. I have to take responsibility for the follow-up response myself. I think I need to change the wording of my question.

Do I want to tell her the truth?

"It's... her dying wish," I confess.

There's another pause and a tense silence. This time it's shorter.

"Oh..." 'Berry' makes a quiet noise, realizing what she's heard. "Well... Good. I think we can get there in a few hours."

I haven't noticed... The sky on the west side is already starting to take on orange hues. Sunset is coming soon. Hopefully we'll make it today.

"Let's go," I say. "As long as there's time."

Now I should hurry.

***

I put Lilac in the back seat, letting 'Berry' sit in the front. It is the only place she could fit in her armor. It's lucky that the interior of Bear is spacious enough for her to fit in.

Berry is almost completely silent the whole way. I've felt her gaze on me a few times, but apparently she doesn't decide to talk to me off-topic. She only gives me directions as to where I should go.

The SUV manages to go several hours without a single breakdown.

I shut off the engine near the towering rocks and hear the sound of the surf. Opening the door, I step outside, where I am greeted by the piercing smell of seawater. I inhale this salty and humid scent. The rocky hills in front of us have an orange outline from the rays of the evening sun on the other side.

We're here, Lilac.

Going to the back door, I open it, envelope Lilac's body with my telekinesis magic, and carry her out into the open air. It ruffles her gray hair, and her fur faintly sways under its breeze.

I walk over to the trunk and open the door. From there, I use telekinesis to pull out the metal box with maps and journals with map notes. And a few other things.

'Berry' follows me. I struggle to climb the rocky rise, trying not to lose focus on the telekinesis. Too many objects I'm holding at once.

And then... I feel the cool, moist air on my face and the warm rays of the delicious red-orange sun that rises over the blue-purple ocean that stretches to the horizon. And best of all, there is not a cloud above the water. The sky is ablaze with fiery red light.

Beautiful...

The noise of the surf is especially loud. It is not far to the water. Small foamy waves crash into the rocks and stones below. They are soaked in the moisture of the sea water and glisten in the bright orange sunlight... It seems as if they are glowing.

While the sun is still out on the water, I find the smoothest ledge and place Lilac gently on it with her back to the rock, which is at an angle. So that she is in a semi-lying position and her face is facing the evening sun. I place the metal box on my right side, propping Lilac up so that she won't fall to the side in the gusts of wind.

This box... contains forty years of her life. Forty years of toil, filled with dangerous adventures. And also the knowledge she had gained while exploring the ruins of the pre-war world and which she shared with others. Her favorite work, one of her raisons of life... Her other meaning of life is on the opposite coast.

I sit on the other side of the box and sigh in relief.

"We did it..." I say quietly, looking up at the sun. My voice is barely audible beneath the noise of the rolling waves.

I feel a faint smile on my lips.

I didn't think the evening sun over the water was so beautiful. There are mesmerizing glints of orange rays visible on it.

I open a bottle of bright red liquid, hold up the large cup Lilac used to drink from, and pour the berry juice into it. I set it on the metal box with the journals.

And I pour the berry juice for myself. Screwing the lid on, I place the bottle next to Lilac and tsk on her cup with my cup.

"Your wish is granted."

I sip the sour-sweet juice and stare at the water of the Desert Ocean.

Under this delightful sunset, the juice plays with new colors.

'Berry' is not far away from me, silently enjoying the sunset. I think I'll have to give her a taste of the berry juice later. It will be interesting to see if she likes the berries from the Reserve.

The sun touches the water.

I sip more berry juice, close my eyes, and give in to the sensation. Wet wind tickles my fur, I hear the sound of the surf, warm sunlight warms my face; deep breaths of sea water smell, sour-sweet juice in my mouth...

Thank you, Lilac... Without you, I wouldn't have had such a pleasant experience.

Lilac has lived an amazing life. She explored the Griffon Kingdom, accidentally influenced changes in the largest griffon town on the Wasteland, lived happily with her lover, enjoying the beautiful views and seeing the ruins of many great cities of Equestria... All her life she has been doing what she loves.

I wonder... were there any regrets in her life? Did she ever regret the choice she made? Even though I forgot to ask her about it...

I turn to Lilac for a moment.

...but something tells me she has no regrets.

Sunsets are beautiful, but they remind me of... the end of life. That everything will come to an end sooner or later.

Happiness doesn't last forever.

That's for sure.

I take another sip of berry juice and return to the feeling...

How long will I live? Will I be able to live to her age? Given my attraction to unexplored places and my irrepressible curiosity it's unlikely to happen, but why not imagine it?

Where would I end up? Like Lilac, but alone, under the open sky? Or, if I am lucky, with someone close to me to look after me?

Come to think of it... It would be nice to die in a place where I'd feel at home. Like, for example, at the Vault 101. After all, I left Mojave to go back there. Unless, of course, I turn somewhere along the way and stumble upon something interesting... Like that cave and the sphere.

I don't doubt that the world of colorful ponies is amazing, but I want to end my life in my home world. And there is a suitable place somehow find. At the moment, this question is irrelevant. Not only because I'm in a different world, but also because my life is full of risks. I shouldn't think about it too much. But... I wonder how much I will regret my decisions and actions? Or... will I regret them at all? And, more importantly, about what, exactly?

Keep what you have now... and even after the loss, continue to rejoice in the happiness you had.

Less regret. More keep... Yes, that's what I should do.

I finish the rest of my berry juice and enjoy the sunset until the sun disappears below the horizon and the sky turns pink and purple.

I rise on all four legs, glimpse the berry juice-filled bowl, and stare at one of the happiest ponies in the Wasteland for the last time in my life. There's wetness in my eyes, but I smile.

"Thank you again for everything, Lilac. Rest in peace... And enjoy the sunsets—they really are... beautiful."

***

My front hoof rests on the wheel of Bear, the engine silent. The headlights are on, yellow light hitting the gray rocks, and they cast a somewhat ominous shadow.

"Why don't you start the engine?" 'Berry' asks, sitting in the front seat. "Or do you still need to recover from your farewell?"

"Yeah, I'm just... Thinking about what to do next."

"Right... you were looking for medicine... What was this pony's name?"

"Lilac."

"Yes. And now that she's gone... How do you feel?"

There's a breeze in my head like the wind across a desolate open plain. No thoughts, no emotions. A lazy lightness and soporific serenity.

"Relief and... emptiness."

"Relief?" 'Berry' interrogates me with barely perceptible confusion.

"It's hard to explain. I feel tired. I want to hug a soft pillow and fall asleep sweetly."

"You can still drive, right?"

"Yes."

"Good. Our home isn't far from here. You'll get some rest, get your strength back."

'Berry's' offer sounds different this time. It feels a lot more... warmth? Maybe because of the word 'home'. A word like that is a lot more... trust than 'military base'.

I'm distracted. Perhaps I will fall into a trap if I accept the offer and do not resist. Maybe I'm already in it, the Steel Rangers scouts are watching us, and I can't hide now. If that's the case, I hope they won't touch Lilac and her belongings.

Still, I shouldn't tempt fate. I'll be a good boy and go along with it. I'm under their watchful eye anyway... An unicorn who wears a PipBuck and uses some kind of magic or technology that disables their power armor.

"Mind you, I'll be gone if you don't have a soft pillow."

'Berry' laughed as tinkly as her speaker would allow, "Though we live by strict rules, comfort is important to us, too... for me, at least."

And what kind of comforts do they provide for prisoners? Can I at least go to the bathroom?

The engine groans long and then roars painfully, like an emaciated yao guai caught in a trap.

After less than an hour of travel, a protective fortification begins to peek out between the pine vegetation. In the night, it is visible largely due to the sparse lights that illuminate the high concrete walls and the surrounding area. At this point I can't make out all the grandeur and power of the pre-war Equestrian base.

I also don't care for its appearance... I want to go to sleep.

We stop near a security checkpoint. To my left I can see the old railroad tracks going inward to the base. They are illuminated by two huge and powerful floodlights. They receive special attention. Perhaps they have some kind of railroad transport on the move, like a wagon or a small train.

In front of me is a huge metal sliding gate with the symbol of the Steel Rangers. 'Berry', judging by the direction of her head, is on radio contact with the officer on duty in a small booth.

I tilt my head toward the side window and look up.

It's high... Almost as high as the high walls of the prewar Pentagon, what is now the Brotherhood of Steel Citadel in Washington, DC. Project Purity... the good-natured old man Lyons, the war with the Enclave...

So many memories...

Still the high and impregnable walls remind one of the fences at McCarran Airport, which the New Californian Republic took over and set up... But there are far fewer warm moments associated with that place.

I turn toward the gate. They grunt, making a nasty groaning sound, parting before us to let us pass.

"Welcome," 'Berry' says to me, just as we pass the gate. "Follow that way..."

I stop where 'Berry' points me and turn off the engine.

"And you... you better leave all your weapons in the car."

I peer into the front of 'Berry's' helmet, into her tinted glass.

One way or another, I have nothing to defend myself against here. I'll be turned to ash faster than I can sneeze.

I lift my eyes up, as if trying to look at my forehead.

"I can't get the horn off."

'Berry' laughs, but there's a touch of uncertainty and concern in that laugh. Which isn't surprising, though. Like Lilac said, unicorns are unpredictable because of the infinite number of spells they can cast. So it will be interesting to see how 'Berry' tries to convince me that I need a special protective ring on my horn to block my magic. She'll probably say something along the lines of, "It's for your own safety. What if you use telekinesis and one of my siblings mistakenly thinks it's a combat spell."

"Okay," 'Berry' says, opening the doors and climbing out. "Come on, I'm hungry."

Outside, several pavilions and individual buildings are visible in the light of the lanterns.

I'll explore it all tomorrow in the light of day... if I'm allowed, of course, given that I'm a prisoner.

We enter a large concrete building, descend into the lower rooms, built entirely of metal, and walk around for a while until we reach a rather large elevator, with the familiar Steel Rangers symbol on the door.

The elevator takes us a long way down. Once down, we emerge into a small rectangular room of dark metal with a lattice floor. The place is lit by a soft yellow light emanating from small lamps set in the ceiling and under the bars. Here we are greeted by three Steel Rangers with weapons on their combat saddles, one of them without a helmet. I take it he's the one in charge, since the important folks like to talk face-to-face.

The stallion has chocolate-colored fur and a pristine white mane with a modest short hairdo. He greets Berry in a formal tone and then looks at me.

"Head Paladin Maneuver," he introduces himself in a calm and smooth voice. "You are not a Steel Ranger, but you are required to abide by the rules for visitors while within the courtyard on the surface and inside this bunker. The rules here, as in any decent community, are simple for guests: don't get into fights, don't meddle with your hosts, don't steal, and don't provoke others to aggressive acts. The word of the Elder is law for Steel Rangers and outsiders alike. Disrespect for the rules equals disrespect for me, the Elder, and the Star Paladin."

Guests... Can civilians come in here with no problem, or is this a ploy designed to let my guard down and give me a sense of security?

"You'll be assigned a convoy while you're in the base, so you don't get into any trouble. I've already been informed that you're under the responsibility of the Star Paladin Star, so go ahead and beat yourself up, but don't you dare sully the Star Paladin's name. Do I make myself clear?" he says, squinting at me.

Star Paladin Star... Interesting coincidence of position title and name. Why would that pony stand up for me when I'm not even...

Wait a second...

I turn to 'Berry'. Her head nods.

She's a Star Paladin?! Is she that high up in the Steel Rangers? Uranium isotope in my ass...

"Y-yeah..." I say, feeling discouraged by the news. "I'll be a goody-goody."

"That's good," Maneuver says. A shadow of a smile flashes across his face, and then he becomes serious again. "Elder Largo Breeze is busy now. Report your arrival tomorrow. You will be taken to the lounge for temporary guests. If you have any questions, you'll find me in my office," he points to the room to his right. I nod contentedly. He retreats to his quarters, and the other two Rangers, without a word, remain to keep an eye on the entrance.

Does someone need help finding a laser gun?

This all reminds me painfully of my first visit to Hidden Valley. Well, well, it's time for me, as a prisoner, to get used to this base.

"Follow me," 'Berry' or Star Paladin Star says.

***

The heavy metal doors slide aside, 'Berry' enters and turns on the lights. Neutral and cold light. I follow her in and look around.

Well... At least there are no chains, shackles, hard beds, bars...

Metal beds with mattresses are arranged along the walls. Each is separated by a small steel partition, and also has a chest for storing belongings.

The Star Paladin approaches the closest bed and touches a pillow.

"It's soft... but a little dusty," she says, patting the pillow. "We don't have many visitors, after all. The room is rarely used."

"It'll do."

"Are you hungry?"

"No."

"I see... The bathroom is to the left down the hall. And if you need anything, go to him," she nods toward the exit, pointing to the approaching Steel Ranger in power armor.

"How do I address him?" I ask.

"It's the same 'Pervert'," 'Berry' replies.

The aforementioned Ranger with the ambiguous call sign coughed awkwardly.

"Why don't you... give me another nickname?"

"Yeah," I say, "I don't feel like going to the bathroom with 'Pervert'."

'Berry' lets out a slight chuckle and says, "All right... I'll let you use your real name. We're at our base."

From which I can't escape and reveal your dirty, like these pillows, secrets...

"Knight Willford," he says.

"Good. Then," I say, stripping off the elements of my armor, "I'm going to bed."

"Sweet dreams," the Star Paladin says. "I'll come check on you tomorrow."

"Just don't disturb me."

"Whatever you say," she replies and hides from sight. Knight Willford leaves the room and the door closes.

Silence... A sweet and so soporific silence. There is good soundproofing in here.

I take off my armor completely, dust off the sheets, blanket, and pillow, and go to sleep. After all, I'm not clean myself. My eyelids are leaden and my body feels as sluggish and heavy as the steel door of a Vault.

What a long day... So much has happened. King Blackwater, the Steel Rangers and the Stable, Lilac's death...

So unusual not to hear her painful cough, her heavy and hoarse voice, and the stories of her exciting wanderings...

***

The 20th of the Month of Bread, Blueday. Twenty-ninth day of my stay.

I turn off a tap and the warm water stops pouring from the faucet. Seeing that there is nothing repulsive on my beige face and head before I meet the Elder, I leave the restroom. Since all Steel Rangers on this level have long since awakened and taken up their duties, I took my morning routine alone.

"Are you sure you don't want to sleep?" I ask the waiting Willford.

"Sure."

"You've been watching me all night, after all."

"Steel Rangers know how to nap standing up. Besides, our ancestors were horses. And they knew how to sleep standing up. It's deep in our blood, only we've worn that skill out over the generations. I doubt you know that."

My ancestors were monkeys who slept on branches and shit on your kind from above, and then saddled you and subjugated you as pets.

Okay... I'm annoyed with him this morning. Or am I annoyed at the Steel Ranger who accuses me of being uneducated? Or... I can't forgive Steel Rangers for insulting Lilac? However, she was only insulted by 'Bubblegum'. And 'Berry', or Star Paladin Star, was much friendlier and more tactful.

Pull yourself together, Daniel. Don't lump all Steel Rangers together. Don't let such a trivial irritated insect turn into an aggressive elephant. Control your emotions.

"No," I reply to his fact about horses, "I didn't know that... Probably because I don't need it to survive."

"How good it is that I don't need to survive. I'm happy to be living for a common purpose, and I have brothers and sisters in arms. There's someone to lean on. Can you say that about yourself?"

That's a fair point. Perhaps being a part of something is exactly what I miss? I've been on my own all my life... Sure, I've been accepted into the Brotherhood of Steel in Washington and in the Mojave, but... only formally. I didn't really associate myself with them and didn't share their goals.

"Why, do you want me to join you?"

My question, judging by the sepulchral silence, stumped him.

"It's not so important whether or not I want to..." he replies. "What matters is whether it will do any good."

"Is there any good from you?"

A short pause.

"Yes... For example, right now I'm making sure the Wasteland tramp behaves himself, and that my brothers and sisters don't bother him."

"Thank you," I reply without much sincerity. What a protector. But I have to hand it to him. "You volunteered to accompany me?"

"Yeah."

"Not because of my beautiful blue eyes, I hope?"

He lets out a slight chuckle.

"Yes, your blue eyes have me mesmerized. In fact, I want a change. Rarely do I get to chat with loners. But, most importantly, I'll get a benefit from my superiors for this convoy."

"What kind?"

"A plus in my service record, as well as a break from duties, hard training, and education. The break depends on the amount of time I'll be accompanying you."

"So the longer you accompany me, the longer you'll be free?"

"Exactly."

Not a bad carrot, I'd take one myself.

"Look," he goes on, "I've just been informed that the Elder is ready to take you in. You're already looking pretty decent. Not ashamed to stand beside you. Let's go."

And that's assuming I'm completely unclothed right now... No shame.

Ponies have a special attitude towards nudity... The strange thing is, I got used to it faster than I got used to controlling this body.

***

Elder Largo Breeze sits in a large comfortable chair behind a semicircular stylish metal desk, the top of which is decorated with wood. There's a terminal on it, lots of office supplies: important documents, reports, protocols, deeds, pencils, a few books, and so on.

A busy personality, I see.

Along the walls are file cabinets of documents like soldiers, but there are also residential furnishings like living plants and paintings. Again, such amenities are unusual for a military organization. Opposite the entrance to the office, just behind the Elder's desk, is another door. Apparently that's where her suite is, with even more amenities.

The Elder is a light beige earth pony. Because of her faded, graying mane and wrinkles, I would say at a guess that she is at least sixty years old. She raises an indifferent and cold gaze at me.

Something serious has happened in the past and she has lost all positive emotion—or maybe it is just her old age or her profession as a leader of the renegades in power armor. Somehow I doubt the latter two.

Knight Willford remained on the other side of the cabinet, in the corridor.

"My name is Largo Breeze, Elder of the Vanhoover Chapter of the Steel Rangers and your Elder, too, while you are here. If any outsider finds out what's going on on this base, believe me, I'll make sure there's not even ashes left of you. Do you understand, local?" she says in a stern tone that gives me the creeps.

"I see," I answer without giving away my emotions. She starts looking at some papers again.

They're trying to create the illusion that I'm their guest and not their prisoner, so it's easier for me to tell them about myself without being interrogated. I'll tell them what they should know to earn a little bit of their trust.

"My name is Daniel Evans. I do mostly travel in abandoned and unexplored places. I do odd jobs from time to time. Mostly courier deliveries, former bounty hunter. I came here looking for a cure for a certain pony, but that doesn't matter now... She died yesterday."

"Condolences," she says carelessly.

So that's it, huh? You're not even on the same level as her. You're as far from her as the moon. I don't need this formal condolence.

She doesn't let me respond in any way and asks, raising my curious gaze, "You're not from around here?" I nod. "Have you been in the slave business?"

"No. Why?"

"If you've done such things, don't coddle every Steel Ranger about it. Some Rangers can't tolerate Vanhoover masters. That's just an information for the record, if your life is important. I'm not interested in what you've done in the past or whether you've been a friend or foe in other chapters of the Steel Rangers: as long as you behave appropriately here. All I care about is what's happening here and now. Has Maneuver given you a brief overview of our rules and regulations yet?"

I nod immediately.

"Good," with these words, she turns to the terminal.

She types something there for about a minute, and then pulls out a piece of paper. She takes a pencil in her teeth and writes something on it, then hands it to me.

'Order No. 42'

"This is the number of my standard order that I sent out to everypony on the local network. By this number, others can see in the general database that you're allowed to visit most of the bunker rooms. You remain under the responsibility of the Star Paladin Lemon Star, only now officially. Do not betray her trust. You are allowed to trade here and use the services of Scribes and others if they so choose. The standard currency is bottle caps or gems. That's the end of it. No questions?"

I shake my head in the negative.

"Dismissed."

***

A typical stern leader... of a military organization. Doesn't even leave room for a word, let alone a question.

Willford takes me to the local mess hall. I'm hungry.

"What can you tell me about your house?" I ask my guard.

"That's... an extremely broad question, I must say," Willford replies, walking behind me.

"Start with the most important thing. What does the home consist of?"

"The bunker has only five levels, but an impressive size. On the first is the storage room, the firing range, the training room, and the head paladin's quarters; it's right behind Maneuver's office. On the second: residential barracks for fighters, a laboratory, a medical bay and a workshop. On the third: rooms for Scribes and for the younger generation, the Discharger, there are also archives and virtual reality simulators. The fourth is the Command Center, the Elder and Star Paladin quarters, the Steel Rangers' main computer, and the systems that keep this bunker running. The fifth is the hydroponics level."

No surprise there, except one.

"The reactor is on level four and hydroponics is on level five..." I begin and deliberately cut my thought short. It's too obvious the lack of planning here.

"I see where you're going with this... The reactor is well and reliably sealed to prevent radiation leakage."

"And yet it's an extremely unfortunate planning."

"That's just the way it is. A small network of caves was found relatively shallow. The ground in them turned out to be suitable for growing certain crops, and it was further equipped for that purpose, and a water talisman provides everything here with water."

Despite the flaws in this bunker, water and food problems are completely absent. The bunker is completely self-sufficient. It doesn't depend on anyone. I'd expect nothing less from the Steel Rangers.

"Impressive," I say.

"You bet it's impressive. You've lived your whole life on the surface, wandering around in the dirt and garbage... Must have dreamed of a life like that in bunker, huh?"

I grew up in a place like this... And I must say, that kind of comfort in total isolation is sometimes unbearable. So much so that I want to climb the walls and howl in boredom.

"Yes, I have," I reply.

We walk up to the Discharger. In front of me pops up an earth pony with hair as yellow as a ripe lemon and a green mane, the length of which is within the shape of its head... Slightly round, I must say. The cheeks are larger than usual.

I didn't expect to see any overweight Steel Rangers... I've seen enough overweight ponies in Tenpony Tower. There they are, of course, larger than this lemon earth pony, but still... her fullness sets her apart from Steel Rangers I've met here.

The lemon pony looks at me with surprised green eyes. After a second, she smiles embarrassedly and hastens out of sight around the first corner of the corridor.

"That was..." I begin, "unusual."

"What was?"

"I didn't expect anyone among Steel Rangers, the most militarized and disciplined organization in the Wasteland, to be a slacker on physical activity."

All the more reason for someone to get away with it.

"Well..." Willford's voice seems somehow awkward to my surprise. "An exception to the rule, so to speak."

What's also curious is that breakfast has already passed, and the main staff has already dispersed to perform their military duties. And at this hour, practically no one should be eating breakfast... Or was it her second breakfast?

I enter the Discharger.

The room of the Discharger is huge, with two side staircases leading to the second level. Between the side staircases from one to the other stretches an expansive bar. On the first floor are rectangular metal tables, each of which can seat at least six ponies. There are many more comforts, as well as various furnishings: paintings with beautiful pre-war landscapes, beige vases with real plants, cushioned furniture, carpets with ornaments, and more.

Nice and cozy... What I wouldn't normally expect from the Steel Rangers. A hundred ponies can easily fit in here, but at the moment there's almost no one. The robots are doing the serving.

"Usually ponies come here," Willford begins, "to hang out, relax after work or duty, and have serene, off-duty conversations. It's not just a dining room, but just a place to relax. The Discharger."

"Do you have many dining halls?"

"There are on every level, but this one is special. What's discussed in the Discharger stays in the Discharger."

I sit down at the nearest table.

"Don't you want to eat?" I ask my keeper.

"I do, but I won't."

"Why is that? Duty forbids it?"

"No, the power armor has certain nutrients. We eat what's inside the armor."

"You go to the bathroom wearing armor, too?"

A short pause, after which I get the answer, "I don't want to answer and spoil your appetite."

"What would you like?" the robot asks, hovering over the lattice floor with three 'arms'. Mister Handy.

"Some vegetable soup and boiled meat."

"Will do."

"Maybe..." I begin, looking at Willford and waiting for my order, "can you tell me about what was here before you came?"

"Ever since the fall of the megaspells, military personnel have been sheltering here. The bunker was in good condition, with the comforts of the original personnel. Over time, the Steel Rangers and the military personnel at the base merged, but nevertheless, it was the rules and laws of the Steel Rangers that became predominant."

This explains why there are so many elements of decor and amenities here that I noticed earlier. Today's Steel Rangers are the descendants of the Steel Rangers chapter that came here about a hundred and ten years ago and the surviving personnel of the military base.

"That's it?"

Mister Handy brings me my order and leaves it on the table. He wishes me a pleasant appetite and leaves. I keep looking at Willford.

"That's all I'm allowed to say."

I shake my head in frustration and take cutlery with my magic.

After the meal, out of curiosity, I pay a visit to the Steel Rangers' quartermaster. As expected, the shopping list provided me with only the standard items... no energy-magic weapons, no spark batteries. Only Steel Rangers have access to the rest of the gear—or outsiders if they have special orders from the Elder.

Shame: I'd have liked to see the local arsenal. I left the room with the quartermaster.

"Am I at least allowed to gawk at your workshop? See what marvelous tools, instruments, and devices you possess..."

"Won't you choke with envy?"

I can't help laughing.

This is... This is the first time I've laughed since Lilac died.

"I can only choke on your stuffy jokes," I say.

Now it's his turn to laugh.

"Okay. Let's go."

***

The workshop is very large, divided into several zones. There are about four dozen Knights and Scribes here, repairing and calibrating various weapons and equipment.

How many tools and high-tech equipment are here... Oh, I always feel ecstatic at the sight of the equipment of the Brotherhood of Steel, and now the Steel Rangers. Even though they're as obsessed with technology as a raider is with sadistic fun, they know how to pick up the right stuff for the engineering craft.

My eyes don't have time to look around at all this beauty of engineering. I want to touch and feel everything! To take the opportunity to use all this goodness! I could easily build an energy-magic rifle here: all I need is parts and the right equipment, and it's top-notch here. Oh, fuck... What a great place and what opportunities!

Not quite as good as the Think Tank workshops at Big Mountain, though. The possibilities there were truly endless. Thanks to those equipment, I was able to put technology into my Pip-Boy that generated a short-lived stealth field.

"Good thing you're not choking... But don't shit all over yourself with excitement," Willford says, noticing my indescribable genuine enthusiasm.

"Let me enjoy the moment," I resent. "You're ruining the first impression!"

I walk over to a unicorn working on an energy-magic weapon. I can say with confidence that she knows her stuff! She pays no attention to me: totally immersed in the process. Nice work!

"Who is in charge of this magical place?" I ask Willford, turning to him. Before he can answer, a voice comes from one of the scribes, who is fiddling with a disassembled power armor rack with instrument wires connected to it. The two of us naturally turn our attention to him.

"There are no leaders here," he answers in a husky voice. "Everypony gets their own assignment and does their own thing. I only coordinate their work if a major or important project needs to be taken care of. "

"This," Wilford says, letting out a small chuckle, "is the Steel Rangers' Head Scribe, Iron. He's a genius to be found. He can fix a power armor with no spares by magic alone, and disassemble and reassemble a plasma rifle in his sleep in the blink of an eye! He can take a peek at unfamiliar technology, figure out how it works, and explain the cause of a malfunction if something isn't working. He's a true Steel Ranger, he's got a real thing for technology."

Wow... how much excitement in his words. It didn't sound like the usual respect, since he hadn't even described his Elder in such tones.

"You exaggerate, Hugh," mutters the Head Scribe, who is a gray unicorn in his sixties with a graying mane that used to be black, judging by the individual strands. He turns away from his work and walks toward us.

Wait... who's Hugh?

Meanwhile, the old pony continues to speak in his easy and casual tone. I can sense in his voice that he has seen a lot in his life. There is an aged serenity about him.

"We have to take this technology apart first to understand the cause of the breakdown, I told you that before."

"I forgot to mention," Willford whispers to me, "that he's a bit of a prude." Then he turns to Iron. "I'm telling it like it is. You're unrivaled in this business."

"Head Scribe Iron Willford. How may I help you?" the old pony turns to me with an officious expression, and smiles warmly as he notices my rounded eyes at the sudden clarification of their kinship.

I can see why Willford has such admiration for me. I'd be proud of my father, too, if he were a professional in his field.

Yes... James was a professional.

"Did something happen?" Iron asks, snapping me out of thinking about the past.

"Just... remembered my father. He was kind of a skilled handypony, too."

Iron chuckles slightly.

"The son, I see, carrying on father's business?" he asks.

"Almost. I'm attracted to digging into technology. Understanding their workings and purpose."

"Oh, and what do you think of this place?"

"What do I think? I'm fascinated by this place!" I say, smiling and circling the hall with my hoof. "So many possibilities here."

"A mechanic, huh? The best mechanic?" Iron inquires playfully.

"I don't claim to be the best mechanic in the Wasteland. I think you got that honor. And I think your work is legendary. All I ask is a fair chance."

"Let's see," he levitates a fucked-up rifle with a good telescopic sight toward me, "if you can fix it."

"The thing is," I begin, feeling a rush of embarrassment and awkwardness, "that I... repair things with parts and tools. Full magical repairs are, alas, almost unavailable to me yet. I only know the basics of it."

"Strange how you can be called a mechanic, being a unicorn and yet not be able to use spells in that area."

The prisoner is allowed to demonstrate his skills. Or am I no longer a prisoner?

I envelop the sniper rifle with my blue magic and concentrate on the most damaged and worn parts of the rifle. I try to repair them as best I can, and then make the most of my tools and a few spare parts for a rifle of a similar type.

"Here," I hand the rifle back with a smile. It takes about half an hour to repair.

Willford Sr. examines the work I've done with due attention and care.

"There are seldom unicorns in the Wasteland who like to poke around in technology; they want lightning and teleportation, which only a few can master, but unicorns can easily repair any malfunctioning device without parts. You ever read any books on repair spells?"

I look away, for I cannot tell such an experienced repair unicorn that I have only studied basic spells... Essentially what a colt on the path of engineering and mechanics should learn.

"For beginners..." I reply. "If I had the parts, I could repair this rifle to perfect condition without consuming too many parts."

"I can see that. The problems with the magic are conspicuous, but when you picked up the tools and parts you surprised me with the beauty of your work. Precise, fast and efficient. The repairponies' hoof skills were honed almost to perfection. At least in terms of weapons. "

"Thank you."

"So young, and already such a professional at it," he grinned. "I wish young ponies would learn this craft so diligently. If they were half as adept at magical repair as you are at hoof repair, we'd never have a problem with screwed-up power armor sets and energy-magic weapons. Right, son?" a twinkle of sneer flashes in his eyes as he looks at Hugh.

"Hey! You know it's not my thing! Well, I just don't have the heart for it," he protests.

"Yeah, you're more of a mother. I thought you'd have at least a little interest in engineering."

"If you like him so much, why not adopt him?" Willford Jr jokes. "And besides, I've got a sister who's just crazy about that kind of... activities. Why did you bring it up again?"

"As an example to you... Steel Rangers like to talk of usefulness: I see more usefulness and potential in this tramp from the Wasteland than I do in most of our brothers and sisters. Less talking about goals and more action. We should be working with technology, not discussing it."

"I am not a unicorn..."

"All excuses. You don't need to have a... horn to satisfy a mare. And you don't need to have a horn to fix a weapon. It's enough to use your hooves and your mouth," Iron says jokingly.

I can't help smiling. The father, meanwhile, keeps teasing his son.

"You were more fond of peeking at beautiful mares like your mother was at stallions, though you never once exposed yourself in doing so. At least you know how to do something, and perfectly. We wouldn't have known if you hadn't accidentally gotten drunk at your birthday party last year."

'Pervert'... that's where that nickname came from. And 'Berry', or Star Paladin Star, knows it.

I laugh.

"Okay, that's it, cut the jokes, Dad," Hugh says in an embarrassed tone. I bet there's a red face hiding under his helmet.

"Now, young one," Iron turns to me. "I am utterly interested in you for your thrill of engineering and electronics, but I cannot grant you access to the spell books. You are not a Steel Ranger."

Is that even considered an option given that I'm a prisoner?

Or is it not? What kind of game are they playing?

"But... I can train you in advanced spells, only it won't be cheap. You're not one of us, and I don't want to waste time on an outsider when I have other apprentices eager to learn the art of engineering. But I don't want to miss out on potential talent, so I'll give you a discount... which will cost you twenty thousand caps... Although you don't have to pay in caps, you can pay in gems. And yes, I know," the Head Scribe says, noticing that my eyes are about to fall out of my head and roll toward his hooves in shock, "it's expensive, but you don't get that kind of knowledge for nothing. Anyone else would have asked a lot more for that kind of training."

"What's so important about being fully trained in this craft?"

"Do you know what the possibilities are for a unicorn who is masterful at spells in the field of engineering and mechanics?"

Memories flash through my mind from Tenpony Tower, where I was in the spell bookstore and staring at the tall shelves littered with top-notch books.

"A little..."

"Now, he can effortlessly repair any thing he's good at. Knowing the construction—no matter how damaged it is—he can repair it to perfect condition. The downside is that it is magically demanding and repairing many things in a row with spells is not recommended. It all depends on the complexity of the technology, whether it's components, material, and so on. He can easily magically 'scan' a device or thing and find in it a breakage or some other disruption in the construction. And certainly he can, on the contrary, corrupt the technology at will."

"I don't get it, what?" I ask in bewilderment. Why break something like some drugged-out raider?

"Let's say there's a fight going on," Iron begins telling me passionately, actively gesturing with his rifle, "and a unicorn skilled in engineering spells can break or damage an opponent's weapon at a decent distance. Power armor can also be corrupted. Take my word for it: such a unicorn is more dangerous than a pulse grenade. But even that trick would be hard to pull against a unicorn that magically wraps its weapon and protects it from other's magic. Or they casts a protective spell fueled by gems. As you can see, it's risky to teach you something like that for nothing."

Power armor... If it's risky for him to teach me something like that, it means that not all power armor of the Steel Rangers is magically protected against such effects. I suspect that Star Paladin Star's power armor has all the protective spells available. The higher the status, the more valuable the soldier, the more he is equipped... or more accurately, protected.

"How can I get your trust? Get some technology?" I offer, agreeing with his reasoning. I need to find out more about spells that can corrupt opponents' weapons.

In general, this world surprises me again, and pleasantly so. Here my opponent thinks he's shot me and comes at me to finish me off, but I can mess up his weapon so hard that it will either jam or explode the next time he fires it! It's like ripping the pin off a grenade, slipping it quietly into someone's pocket, and watching the fireworks go off.

Or... It can be the other way around. Some unicorn might use a spell like that against me.

That sucks.

"We already have a lot of technology... However, there are wonderful things I know about that I don't have."

"These 'wonderful' technologies, I assume you're anxious to get your hooves on?"

"Exactly."

"Father," Hugh interjects, "don't tell me you're sending him to find something even Steel Rangers couldn't find?"

"You know, son," he replies, "sometimes a fresh look can point out even the most trivial blunders. We get used to some stuff and don't notice the likely issues. So," he turns to me, "I need Enclave power armor or an invisibility cloak."

I whistle in surprise... Although that's to be expected. No one said it would be easy.

"Where am I going to get this technology?" I ask at a loss.

"That's the problem, I don't know," Iron replies with a shrug, "but I can give you a direction—Vanhoover. My guess is that some big shot in the Five Families must have these two technologies. There are more of them, after all, and they must have gotten something like that."

"It's quite possible," I agree, "that invisibility cloak might be there, but how could an Enclave power armor be there? How does one even know about it?"

I wonder how the Steel Rangers know the Enclave exists.

"The Grand Pegasus Enclave, or just the Enclave, flutters with its wings to this day. I know that before the war, the pegasi used a special type of power armor. It was inferior in protection to Steel Ranger power armor, but it was much lighter because the pegasi needed speed and maneuverability in battle."

"Then why would the Steel Rangers need lightweight power armor? Pegasi are not among your organization. Or am I missing something?"

Iron chuckles serenely.

"Those would be our most valuable fighters. But that's not the point. Pegasus power armor makes far less noise when it moves than the standard version designed for earth ponies. If you combine it with stealth technology, you can create armor for special operations. For stealth and covert missions, pegasus power armor is the best possible, and when combined with stealth-field technology, which is best implemented in invisibility cloak, it's perfect. Before the war, the zebras were ahead of the game in terms of stealth technology. In principle, either of these technologies is enough for me, but surely the process will move much faster with two."

"Find any one of those two technologies. I see. But still... how could the Enclave power armor end up among the Vanhoover masters?"

Iron looks thoughtfully at my face. His lips move faintly. He seems to be thinking about whether or not to tell me such information.

"I don't recall ever catching the elusive Enclave birds by the tail. But about a year ago there was a firefight with powerful energy-magic weapons somewhere in the vicinity of Vanhoover. The Enclave is suspected."

"It's all questionable. What if it was your fighters?"

"It certainly wasn't them. When a few Steel Rangers got there, they found a lot of blood at the battle site, but the bodies were missing, including technology. Most likely it was either the Enclave had had time to take their wounded and dead with their equipment, or the bodies had been taken by the Vanhoover masters. Their caravan routes from the farms and mines lie not far from the battlefield."

"Are you sure there were no Steel Rangers when the skirmish occurred?"

"Absolutely," Iron replies firmly. "I wouldn't tell it if there was an operation involving my brothers and sisters there."

The whole story interests me myself. There's a chance to touch the local Enclave in person... even in this way.

"All right. I need to study the battle site closely. I'll try to bring both technologies."

"Really? In that case, in addition to the free training, there will be a special gift waiting for you," Iron smiles warmly and reassuringly. "Of course it will be, if you bring me both technologies."

"I'd be glad to," I smile back. What a nice old pony. "And... I won't distract you from your work anymore. Oh... am I allowed to use the equipment and workbenches here?"

"You're welcome to use it, for Celestia's sake. Just use your spare parts and clean up your workspace after yourself."

I nod gratefully.

Still, I am not a prisoner. I am allowed to use the local workbenches and equipment. What purpose do the Steel Rangers have regarding me?

I make myself a reminder in Pip-Boy, subject: 'Heavy and Invisible'; description: find one or two technologies for Iron Willford to teach me repair spells.

Mostly in these reminders, the theme title was funny in nature. It's one way to cheer myself up.

Willford Sr., on the other hand, points out that I am doing quite right—my business should be written down, so as to relieve my memory for other things.

In the medical section, I learn that Steel Rangers are getting implants. They are mostly of a medical nature. For example, for chronic illnesses, loss of limbs (though this is already a prosthesis) or organs, all sorts of physiological complications. Nevertheless, there are also combat implants that enhance the body's abilities in combat. Several such implants are implanted in my body as well.

As an outsider, I am not allowed to have implants even by the caps. I am told that if I want them installed, it can be done in Vanhoover at one of the Five Families that do it. They have the same medical technology as the Steel Rangers.

Vanhoover has that kind of technology? Yeah, well... It really is an advanced life there. And the Steel Rangers can't get to them. How does it say? It's hard to look at lips you can't kiss... So it's hard for a Steel Ranger to look at technology he can't grab.

I'm leaving the medical section.

What should I do next? I kind of looked around at everything I was interested in. Maybe I go back to the workshop and sharpen my basic repair spells?

Sharpen my spells...

That's right, there's another nuance. Another area of activity, without which it's hard to do exploration of abandoned and old ruins in the Wasteland. Lockpicking... Specifically, lockpicking spells.

"Hugh, can you take me to your locksmith wizard?"

The head hidden beneath the helmet of power armor nods.

***

"Where's your glorified professional?" I ask Hugh impatiently, as I enter the section of archives filled with terminals with memory blocks. There are Scribes bustling around each one.

"Look at the only mint unicorn in here," Willford Jr says.

I glance closely around the room and find her at once. She is indeed mint-colored with a snow-white mane, standing and typing something into a terminal. I walk up to her. She hears my hoofsteps and turns to me. The puzzled look in her silver eyes changes to one of confidence, supported by a barely noticeable charming smile.

"Hello, tramp."

"My name is Danny."

"Оh... how interesting and gentle that sounds. Danny..."

She grins again. It only takes a few seconds for me to realize that she clearly stands out from the background of the other Scribes in this room. Her demeanor is much friendlier than I expected. And she herself is much younger, though older than I am.

"Greenkeys," she adds. "A pleasure. What's this about?"

"I'm interested in you," I allow myself a slight smile.

"Oh... How nice of you."

"They say," I slowly move closer to her, "that you are the best lock picker in the Wasteland. "

"Yes, they think I am. Do you have any objections?" Greenkeys continues, smiling.

"No," I look up for a moment, as if noticing something interesting there, and then drop my gaze back to the unicorn. "I just think you've got a worthy opponent," I smile. "Since you haven't met me yet."

"You?" she looks at me skeptically. "Well, then, show your skills."

From the bowels of her work bag, she pulls out a key lock. The silver magic of her horn turns the key, and then the key is retrieved by her. The lock is then presented to me.

"I playfully pick it when I need to pass the time. Will you be able to do the same?"

"Like a hoof on the pavement!"

A few minutes later there's a sweet click. And I smile silently at the minty pony with a white mane. She presses her lips together thoughtfully and nods faintly in respect.

"Yeah... Managed to pick a difficult lock, that's admirable. Now try it again without tools," she says, then locks the lock again.

I was ready for this challenge. Or rather, I was ready to be asked.

"To my deepest regret... I don't know how. That's why I'm interested in you. I want to learn more from you. I want to do it with magic and bypass security spells."

"What makes you think I'm going to teach you?"

"I know a lot about locks."

"And what do you know about them?" she asks in a muffled voice and smiles playfully.

I repeat after the tone of her voice. Light, quiet and playful, "Locks like to be gentle and groped. If you feel for the right position with a bobby pin, and then twist it properly with a screwdriver, the lock will snap open. You can try to open it by force—this option is risky, because the lock may break, offend, and it will not reveal its secrets to you. It will be impossible for a 'dummie' to pick it, but I can manage even ruined locks by unskilled hooves. Most locks without magical protection, I open without breaking a sweat. It depends on the complexity of the lock itself, but I have not come across any that I could not pick."

"You like this stuff?" she bites her lip slightly, looking into my eyes.

"In the process, time seems to slow down around you, you are intoxicated by passion and excitement as you slowly but surely move toward that very moment. The moment when the lock doesn't hold out and makes a melodious sound that caresses your ears, for it means you've reached your goal."

She hums and comes closer to me—so close that I can feel her minty breath on me. Her silver eyes just sparkle with the desire to 'teach me a lesson'.

"Well, we'll see," she continues to look me in the eye and smile evilly.

Out of the corner of my eye I notice the silver glow of her horn; the same glow appears around the lock. After a couple of seconds, the lock trembles, and then opens with a click.

I try to keep myself from being surprised, for then I admit my defeat. She picked the lock without any tools at all, and without even looking, in seconds!

Although... she knows this lock inside and out because it's her practice lock.

"I'm a demanding teacher... But I'll give you a chance. Ten o'clock. Tonight," she says and turns to the terminal, losing all interest in me. "And now I'm busy."

I look around me and notice a few Scribes turning their eyes to us, the ones closer to us—mostly mares—who are chuckling with giggles, glancing at me. I don't even know how to respond to this.

I have much more luck with the female part of the inhabitants in this world... Their quantitative superiority over stallions influences it.

We leave the archives.

I return to the Discharger, eat well, and head to the workshop to practice my magical repair skills. Iron, as expected of the Head Scribe, is too busy with important things. I am naturally not privy to the details. The only observer is Hugh Willford... my keeper, who makes various comments about my magical manipulations.

Since I have an appointment with Greenkeys in the evening, I do not overwork myself in my training and save my magical reserves.

***

In an hour to go to Greenkeys... I spend that hour in the Discharger. There I have dinner, meet Maneuver. He's playing cards with the others. I don't participate, as I don't quite understand the rules of the game. After all, card games in this world are a little different from human games.

Five to ten hours. I go to my teacher's apartment to pick locks and disarm some security spells.

We're on the same third level and we're standing at the entrance to a room with a sign saying 'Apartments of the proctor for the Order of the Quill'.

"I suspect you're in for a long..." Hugh mutters dejectedly.

"You won't come in?"

He laughs and says, "Unless you invite me in. But in that case, too, I'll refuse. It's duty, after all. I'll hang around... and watch the door closely."

I knock on the door. A few seconds later, Greenkeys opens them.

"Decided to visit me after all," she says in her sweet voice.

"I couldn't refuse such a generous offer to study with me alone. In silence, without the others."

"Oh..." she smiles innocently. "Come in, don't just stand on the doorstep."

The apartment is spacious. Along the walls are shelves of books, file cabinets of documents, upholstered furniture everywhere, tables full of various locks and other locking mechanisms, and also carpets, vases with live plants, a jukebox from which plays a light, soothing and unobtrusive melody, as if designed to concentrate.

"So, shall we start learning?" I ask.

"Tomorrow morning."

"Oh..."

"Are you disappointed?"

"No, just..."

"It turned out to be too much work today. I don't want to strain my head. I want to..." she approaches me with a barely noticeable smile, "...relax."

I shudder to find her kissing me on the lips. It takes a few seconds to realize what has happened.

Her lips are soft as silk, and they taste like mints that make me want to lick more and more. They are so... I can't fight against that, so I give in to her.

The unicorn's silver eyes are closed with pleasure. She doesn't care how I feel right now. She's the kind of person who just takes what she wants... and doesn't ask for an opinion.

Her enthusiasm... her initiative... It ignites a real fire in me, and it's taking over my body at a rapid pace. Her excited and hot breath intensifies this fire, fuels it. I hope I can get it under control. I want to win back and seize the initiative.

I move the unicorn onto the cushions beside her and kiss her neck, holding her forelegs with my telekinesis. My lips, my tongue... gradually move downward, exploring her soft, short, mint-scented fur.

***

The 21st of the Month of Bread, Violetday. Thirtieth day of my stay.

Greenkeys lie on cushions scattered across the floor, levitating a book in front of her. Chamomile tea and a floral plant sandwich float nearby.

I've already had a breakfast of scrambled eggs, salad, and bread that one of the Discharger's robots delivered here.

"Curious..." I begin, peering at her silver lock cutie mark. Greenkeys looks up at me. "What such a lovely person, so high up in the Steel Rangers, finds in a tramp from the Wasteland."

Her lips stretch into a barely noticeable smile.

"Well... Interested in what stallions can do. Steel Rangers... tend to be kind of boring in that regard."

"Is that why you've switched to Wasteland tramps?"

"You could say that. I'm only interested in the ones that have some potential in them. I watch the way they move... the way they look... the way they talk..."

"And you weren't disappointed?"

"No, I wasn't. I don't know what to think of you yet."

"Not impressed with my techniques?"

"They're... standard. There's nothing special about them."

I feel a slight smile on my lips.

"I never reveal all my aces at once."

"Mmm," she mumbles thoughtfully. She finishes her last sandwich and finishes her chamomile tea. "Well, we'll see... Now let's get to training."

My training takes about half a day, and then Greenkeys calls her duties. She says I can come to her again and continue my training, or I can just stop by to chat with her. She'll be glad to see me.

***

I sit on a small grated metal bench and watch Steel Rangers train in hoof fighting. They are taught and trained by a lavender earth pony with an athletic and trim figure. I watch their body movements in hoof fighting. It makes me think it would be a good idea to find a combat teacher—since almost all of the human fighting techniques I've learned don't fit a pony's physique.

My father had taught me a little about hand-to-hand combat when I was a boy, and I'd picked up a few things from prewar holomovies. In the Badlands my fighting skills were improved by the instruction of a friend in Pitt steelyard: sharing her knowledge saved me from imminent doom. An excellent master of body movements, she could move gracefully and elegantly. In Mojave I was trained by Veronica from time to time, she showed me some new fighting techniques. Also, some other individuals who were versed in the business showed me a few tricks and techniques in close combat. Even with that variety, though, I was far from even an expert.

"I knew she'd do that," Hugh Willford says from behind me. I throw my head back and look at him upside down.

"What, I'm sorry? I got distracted..." I tell him.

"See the light gray earth pony?"

I raise my head and look up to see them fighting in a training match. The gray earth pony deftly dodges punches and launches elaborate counterattacks. They're quick, but they don't do much impact. She simply prevents the opposing stallion from striking back.

"Yes... She pins her opponent down, not giving him a chance to counterattack. But won't she get tired of hitting so often and to no avail?"

Hugh laughs lightly.

"Watch closely," he adds. "You'll figure it out now."

I focus my gaze on the gray earth pony, glancing occasionally at the stallion's face. He looks a little... bored, he's waiting for a moment to strike back hard.

The stallion falls from the gray mare's sudden and unexpected heavy blow. He lies on his back, staring at her with surprised eyes.

"Wow..." I exclaim.

"Yep," Hugh says behind me. "With her monotonous blows, she put his guard down, falsely suggesting to him that she wasn't capable of anything else. He was used to her blows, so he didn't expect anything more serious. He relaxed and prepared to attack. That's where she got him."

"Clever trick. How did you know she would do that?"

"She hasn't changed in all that time. Works the same scheme against big opponents. Surprises them. I knew her well... Really well."

The gray earth pony helps the stallion stand up and switches to her next opponent.

Were they... close? No wonder Hugh knows her moves.

"I see," I say and tilt my head back to look again at the pony encased in massive power armor. "You know... I thought you had cold steel instead of a heart."

Of course, that's not true. I know that in a military organization like this, they know how to love. I just want to tease him.

Hugh hums thoughtfully, as if my mockery wasn't so far from the truth.

"She does," he adds.

"Oh..."

"No, I ended the relationship myself. Couldn't stand it."

"What happened?"

"She moves beautifully... But she doesn't know how to love, and she's not interested in bed games at all. Nor does she want to raise her future foals. She's devoted herself entirely to the Steel Rangers."

Either a careerist or obsessed with serving her brothers and sisters. Her personal life doesn't interest her in the slightest.

"I couldn't live," I begin, "with a pony like her. To live with one who has only her career in mind."

"And who doesn't know how to enjoy the other pleasures of life."

I hear the loud crash of a wave into the rocks nearby. And I smile, remembering Lilac, who enjoyed her second sunset over the water yesterday.

Here she was, able to balance work and her personal life. She's someone I could have loved if I'd had the chance. I guess so. Her stallion was extremely lucky to have her.

For about a couple of hours we watch Steel Rangers practice before another Steel Ranger comes up to us and says in 'Berry's' voice: "Knight Willford, you free to go. I'm taking him on a scouting mission."