Fallout Equestria: The Indefatigable

December 2, 1277 - Mission Day 54

The 51st Recon sat around the ruins of an apartment block. Respirators were off, microphones silenced, and MREs half eaten. Crystal Trail had her lips drawn into a straight line, only occasionally disrupted by the ripple of her tongue pressing against the inside of her mouth. Waffle Cone looked to Spear Bash expectantly, the latter mare simply smoking a cigarette and carefully monitoring her squadmates' reactions. Sugar Beach intently watched her vidscreen, replaying the video clips she'd been sent. Hay Weave slowly massaged the sides of her muzzle, breathing in and out rhythmically. Shot Stack, Ice Slushee, Pounce Chaser, and Radio Whistle all looked on with grim expressions.

After what seemed like hours of silence, Crystal Trail finally surmised: "This is a fucking stupid idea."

"We're literally specialized in this shit. Taking out fortified enemy installations is our thing!" Shot Stack reached for his shoulder, where the 51st Recon patch was. The image of a fort exploding was barely visible in the patchy light of the night vision, "They don't even have air defenses."

"A fucking long gun is an anti-air gun unless you're a flying machine, and we can't depend on this armor to deflect above 50s, or 20 thaums if they got energy weapons," Hay Weave breathed, reciting elements of the training manual on pegasus power armor, "I'm not getting snuffed out after getting this far. Hell no!"

Crystal Trail didn't give the other side any time to talk, immediately weighing in, "This is going off mission, intentionally. Blatantly. Dereliction of duty at the least. This is court martial-business you're talking about," a pause, as the mare turned her helmet slightly towards Pounce, "I thought you were all about loyalty, Chaser."

Pounce Chaser folded her forelegs, insulted, "Hey! I got no loyalties to Lightning Bringer. If Rainbow Dash were here, she'd be all for this idea. You know what else was a court-martial waiting to happen?"

Crystal Trail simply tilted her head.

"Us fucking watching kids getting stolen by pedos and holding our damn fire. That's dereliction of duty to the ponies we were sworn to protect," Pounce Chaser sneered.

"They weren't ponies," Radio Whistle pointed out.

"Whose side are you fucking on, Whistle?" Chaser retorted.

Another moment of silence permeated the room, up until Sugar Beach lowered her vidscreen and admitted, "What're you exactly suggesting we do? Just go in, guns sparkling, and indiscriminately end everything in there? After that, we just spring the stripes from their cages and turn them out?"

Ice Slushee, finally, decided to speak up, "No. We recon on our own terms. Try and see if they have hostages, spring 'em, then dust anything that gets in our way on the way out."

"Sounds pretty fucking risky," Waffle Cone pursed his lips, "I mean, if something goes wrong... we're so fucking finished. All of us. And I dunno about you, but I'm pretty sure I'd rather be here," he rattled his plastic wrapper of food, "Eating MREs and drinking fresh water than out of a job and trying to live here without this firepower."

"They won't fire us," Ice immediately dismissed, "You've all been listening to the briefings, right? Recon is the one of the things they can't afford to dispense of. We're the only ponies in all of Equestria now who know how to work this power armor, went through the three-fucking-years of conditioning to get into this position. Without us, they'll have to use Vertis and Rangers to do all the scouting missions. Luna knows Rangers don't have a clue what subtlety is."

"Hard to have subtlety in their fatass armor," Spear Bash chuckled.

Crystal Trail spared a look towards the large mare, "And you? You seem strangely silent about the subject of not killing Stripes."

"If you all are good with it, I go with the team," she simply said. Waffle Cone hummed.

Pounce Chaser leaned forward, forelegs crossed, "We signed up to protect our country. Damnit we failed, but we got a chance to do the right thing here."

"And! And! Annnnd! We're probably worrying about nothing. They have fucking leather straps to protect their bodies. We've breached fully armed forts where every one of its occupants was high on like fifteen potions and could turn your organs to liquid by just punching you," Shot Stack added enthusiastically, "We're way too badass for this to be a problem."

That made Ice smile for some reason.

Lead Syringe sighed, "...Sarge, if you're okay with this, then I am."

"Same," Sugar Beach affirmed, looking towards the old mare.

Hay Weave threw her hooves up, "Sure."

Waffle Cone sighed, "I'm with Spear Bash. If you all agree, then I'm in as well."

"Of course you're with Spear Bash," Crystal Trail muttered, all eyes in the room turning towards her. She sighed, reaching into her cargo compartment and picking up a cigar, lighting it and stuffing it into her muzzle and taking a few thoughtful puffs. Eventually, her vision wandered back over to the half of the squad that had proposed the idea, saying, "...If anypony asks, they shot first."

Suddenly, all the lights around Stable 83 darkened. Turrets clicked and whirred as they powered down, barrels lowering as they lost power. In the canteen, the refridgerator stopped humming.

Crack Whip looked up from his alfalfa salad, sneering as he was left in the dark, "Razor! I thought your fuckwit ass fixed that generator!"

"I did! I don't know what's wrong!" the raider mare complained, reaching for a lantern and opening the valve to light the kerosene within, "I'll go fucking restart it!"

"Better! I'll fucking rape you and put your head on a stick if you've fucked it somehow! I'm not getting my ass chewed out by Dad again!" Crack Whip slammed a hoof on his table, causing his underling to jump out of her chair slightly faster.

Stumbling past the makeshift wooden tables, the unicorn mare in spiked leather barding grumbled as she levitated the oil lantern behind her. A stallion waited by the door, battle saddle laden with a pair of submachine guns.

"Hey, Razor, you want me to come along?" he offered, giving a sly grin.

"Sure, fucking whatever. The fan probably just got itself jostled loose and Boss is pissing himself," she hissed as her fellow raider went to trail behind her.

The night sky was pitch black above them. No rain to stir up the Balefire Lava and cause a halo. Fortunately, the birds of Las Pegasus weren't built to fly, so there wasn't exactly much need to keep the sky lit. In fact, without even stars or sun to gaze at, there was very little reason to look up at all. Still, Cracked Razor's ears flicked as the sound of the tin roofing of their camp's permanent buildings.

Nothing, even as she raised her lantern to view it. Must've been the wind.

The building housing the generator was sat flush to one of the dirt embankments leading down towards the Stable Doors. Power lines ran from a transformer on the top towards the other buildings in the perimeter, as well as to the construction lights in the rubble clearing operation by the Stable and the ones lighting up the battlements around the walls. A jangle of keys came from Razor's side as she inserted the correct piece into a slot below the doorhandle and twisted.

The door unlocked and she pushed it aside with a single exertion of telekinesis.

Pushing the door closed behind her as soon as her companion entered, Razor dropped her lantern and walked up to the small, yellow painted generator in the back corner of the shed.

"Alright, fucker, let's see what you're pissing and shitting yourself about this time," she muttered, reaching into her spiked barding and taking out a screwdriver.

"Whoah, Razor? I don't-" the stallion's voice suddenly trailed off.

"Huh?" she raised an eyebrow, not turning around. Her eyes, however, saw what he probably meant.

The side panel of the generator had been pierced through the center and the ignition plug had been ripped out. Her mouth and eyes widened as she turned her head towards her friend, "Someone fucking broke the-"

The stallion was lying in a pool of his own blood on the ground next to her, mouth open in the midst of forming a word. A clean, circular whole had been carved straight through his skull and out one of his eyes. Before she could even process the sight of the corpse, a stinger suddenly jabbed at her from the darkness.

Cruelly sharp, the stinger went straight for her throat, pressing in enough to cause her shout to croak in her mouth, drawing a thin line of blood just left of her jugular. The implement was connected to a long, mechanical tail, slicked in fresh blood, coming from the darkness in front of her. In the flickering light of her lamp, she could barely make out a pair of glassy eyes, jet black armor, and warpaint covering a steel hull.

Steel Rangers? This far west? How did they- she would've- oh goddesses...

"Go for your gun or scream, and you're dead," a slightly crackly voice informed her coldly.

She struggled to push a gulp past the obstruction near her throat, but she nodded, shaking. She was more handy with the ripper on her belt than the nine mil in her breast holster.

"Civilians. Four of them. Two adults, two foals. Some wearing your ensign stole them. You know about them?" the voice asked, the figure in the darkness statue-like. Its head didn't even bob as it talked.

Oh shit, who had Rusty Screw's posse pissed off? She rapidly thought through the hostages that had gone through their camp, only for the mechanized tail to press deeper into her throat.

"Talk," the voice insisted.

"I-I don't know! I don't know! Plenty of ponies come and go here. I'm not part of any that I'm the fucking technician I swear!" she blabbered hoarsely, ears flattening as she looked down at the robo-stinger, terrified. She'd had plenty of ponies on the right side of her ripper before, shitting themselves in the exact same way she was no doubt doing. Not once had she been able to understand how hard it was to think straight.

"There any here right now?"

They had to be liberator types! Like that Lightbringer they kept talking about out east on the radio. Fuck! Think fast! "I-I'll fucking help you! I'll tell you where! I've got keys! There's ten of them downstairs under the central building! I never wanted to be part of this op, I just know how to fix the sparky!"

"So there are hostages here..." the voice muttered, suddenly sounding satisfied. The prospect of the voice being done with her made her life flash before her eyes.

"Please pleasepleaseplease! No nono nono! Don't! Don't please! I don't wanna die! Please! Please!" she begged, tears suddenly welling up in her eyes for the first time since she was a foal.

The voice didn't respond. Suddenly, Razor felt nothing as she fell to the floor, her arteries slit wide open, her blood mixing with her friend's on the blade of the stinger and on the ground.

In the last moments that residual oxygen in her head allowed her brain to continue working, Cracked Razor saw a mother and a father. She felt the pummeling of hooves on her skull. She felt the feeling of finally being on the winning side. She felt the feeling of warm blood on her coat. She saw the faces of terrified foals.

The limits of her mortal coil did not allow her the time to yearn to apologize.

Leaving the body of the savage on the ground, Pounce Chaser turned her lamp off. Deactivating her speakers, she said, "Bad guy confirmed the presence of ten hostages. Two kills for me."

"We counting kills here? I thought we only counted kills on dead Stripes?" Shot Stack asked.

Ice Slushee, flying in a holding pattern above the compound, commented, "These guys're almost as bad as stripes. I'd say they count."

Ice scoped out the surrounding area. There were a few patrols on the battlements. They hadn't even installed a backup power system for their turrets, they were still offline. Amateurs. Their patrols were even spaced out enough that they could take out individuals with a few quick strikes without the others being able to hear.

"Alright. Let's take their patrols. Line up your targets and take in twos. Stay melee if possible. If shots are fired, we take off and maintain altitude, then set up a secondary ambush," Crystal Trail instructed, "Pounce Chaser, we'll provide overwatch. Let's go, team."

Ice and Shot Stack dove out of formation as the team split up. As soon as everypony else was in position, they moved on one of the patrols on the battlements of the walls, right near the generator shed. A pair of lanterns lit their way as one of them tried to light a cigarette with his, failing and burning his snout as he tried. They barely got a chance to move as their ears rotated towards the sound of wings flapping. A stinger drove straight through both of their skulls.

One for Slushee, "Patrol down," she informed, though her voice was lost in a sea of similar reports as her squadmates simultaneously eliminated other targets.

With a single, smooth swish, Shot Stack chucked their lanterns out over the side of the wall, getting the light away from the bodies now bleeding onto the scaffolding beneath them. Crystal Trail, still hovering over the center of the base, Pounce Chaser now by her side, reported, "Battlements secure. Let's bait them out into the open. Group up on me."

As ordered, the entire squad moved back up to the side of their commander. Once she ensured everypony was settled, Trail signalled for them to take positions in a circle. Then, she reached for her cargo compartment, bringing out a standard road flare. Popping the top off, she threw it to the ground as it began to ignite.

A brilliant orange light spilled from its top, along with a plume of smoke as it bounced off the ground in the center of the compound. Despite its brilliance, its light didn't reveal the squad of MoA Reconnaissance lurking above, waiting to strike.

"Who the fuck threw that?" came a voice from down below as a door slammed open. A few others, battle saddles open and weapons levitated at their sides, walked out from the nearby buildings.

"Hey!" the same voice shouted as its owner walked into view, a piss-yellow earth stallion with a pair of combat shotguns mounted to his left and right, "Where the fuck did the patrols go? Where's Razor and Swamplight? Your asses better not be fucking sleeping again!" the stallion shouted at the walls, at his dead subordinates.

Ice Slushee narrowed her eyes, sights landing directly on the chest of the leader, "Got the one shouting," she claimed. He was wearing combat armor, thoroughly stained with rust-colored blood.

Her squadmates claimed their targets as Spear Bash began to giggle to herself, finally claiming her target, "Got the Overcharged for these ones," she said as her suit switched the spark cells in her twin gatling lasers out.

As ponies continued to gather, and the leader seemingly began to organize a search, Crystal Trail gave a single order, "Weapons free."

As soon as she heard the order, Ice pulled the trigger on her battle saddle. Her two laser rifles flashed, Combat Shotgun's entire body immediately turning pink and disintegrating from the giant hole burned into his chest. All around his rapidly deteriorating body, his comrades were reduced to cinders as the rest of the 51st executed their battle plans.

Shouts of alarm immediately erupted as battle saddles were unlimbered and guns levelled, however it was too late to stop a second volley of fire as thirteen more fell to the assault from above - Spear Bash's full auto barrage carving straight through four consecutive militants.

"Engage stealth and reposition," Crystal Trail unnecessarily reminded as the crackle of Stealth Bucks activating came from all around.

Ice moved to flank a nearby building as more spilled out into the compound, responding to the shouts. Their guns were levelled towards earthbound threats. They could never have seen the shots coming. The back of Ice's brain tickled as three were felled by her guns in quick succession, the third only barely being able to turn around in time for her to see his feckless expression.

"Form up and move on the main building. Some pips are still yellow in there," Crystal Trail said, voice still calm and collected.

Indeed, on Ice's EFS compass, five yellow pips were still hanging around in the direction of the central building, along with a hoofull of red ones - the only ones left in the area. Landing in the dirt nearby and cantering over to the front door, the squad quickly stacked up. Spear Bash was at the front of the right flank.

Crystal Trail's invisible head - highlighted in blue by the squad's power armor systems, peeked around the opened front door. Three more hostiles moved down the stairs, guns unlimbered and galloping to the aid of the cries of those outside.

"Stun out!" Crystal quickly proclaimed, before raising her hoof and firing the small launcher mounted to it. A flash grenade bounced a few times on the other side of the door as everypony looked away.

A single bright white flash from inside and Spear Bash breached. The three inside, ears bleeding and blinded by the flash, were quickly terminated by a flurry of overcharged beams from her gatlings. Behind them, a stairwell lead up to a second floor, and down into a basement.

"Spear Bash, Pounce, Whistle, keep this exit clear. Beach, Weave, watch that staircase. Ice, Shot Stack, Waffle, Lead, on me!" she urged as they moved across the room.

Ice sucked breath through her respirator, watching her corners as Spear Bash, Radio Whistle, and Pounce Chaser took cover behind the tables that sprawled across the room - which seemed to be a mess hall. Soon enough, Sugar Beach and Hay Weave broke off to take positions near the stairwell, watching upwards for any movement.

Descending the stairs, Waffle lead with his scatter laser primed. As they approached a door at the base of the stairwell, Waffle Cone held up a hoof.

"Signatures through this door. They're probably waiting for an ambush," Waffle surmised, using his limited range lifeform scanner, "No yellows in the room. Looks like these are the last two."

Crystal Trail came up next to him, before nodding and agreeing, "Two signatures, hostile, other side of door. We'll blow the entrance."

There was no room on the side of the door to stack up for a traditional flash and push. Instead, Shot Stack moved forward with a shaped charge. The others retreated up the stairs, providing covering angles from different elevations. Not a perfect field of view, but it was the best they could do in such close quarters.

"Ignite charge," Trail ordered.

Ice, for what she believed was the seventeenth time in her career, thanked the power armor designers for having the sense to have built-in hearing protection around her ears. The muting of her ear coverings didn't stop her from feeling the ground shake, or from her nerves tingling as the vibration rippled down her body.

The door, made out of thin metal and seemingly stolen from somewhere, stood no chance. Most of it was turned into a hail of shrapnel flooding into the room beyond, with only a few pieces hanging onto the doorframe, almost as if too shocked by the sudden sundering of itself to even react to the explosion. One of the two pips were immediately extinguished on the other side, the other being knocked to the ground and covered in a pile of debris.

Waffle Cone walked over, immediately kicking the submachinegun she was pawing for, before kicking her in the side of the stomach. Cuts covered the militiamare's body, a piece of debris was stuck in her sternum, and the back of her head was matted in a thick layer of blood. More of her life essence leaked from her ears, from two burst eardrums. As soon as her gun was removed, thankfully, she seemed to surrender, going limp and focusing on struggling between gasps of breath.

"Syringe. Treat her. We might be looking at the last one, she's our prisoner," Crystal Trail ordered, "Rest of you, with me. Let's clear the rest of this basement."

Waffle stayed at the destroyed door as Lead Syringe cantered over to the critically injured militant. After searching her for hidden weapons, and removing many of them, he got to work closing her wounds with healing bandages and potions. The rest moved forward past him, through an arch on the opposite side of the room, past where the two had been waiting in ambush.

A door to the left was left hanging ajar. It seemed to be some sort of mundane storage room, filled with random trinkets that lined shelves and overfilled boxes. Two other doors were built into the hallway, one on the right with light spilling from the underneath, and one on the left that was dark.

After they quickly cleared the storage room, Waffle Cone activated his scanner again against the lit door. A single yellow compass pip pointed to the other side, which Waffle confirmed, "One signature. Non-hostile."

"Ice, watch the far door," Crystal Trail instructed.

Ice lined her sights up on the other door as the handle of the lit one was tried. No sound of the door opening followed.

"Looks like a simple bolt. Stand clear, in case it's trapped," Shot Stack advised, unlimbering his laser cutter.

The others stepped out of the way of the door. After giving a flash warning, the stallion got to work, the cutter destroying the simple bolt in seconds. Simply kicking the door down was an option, it would probably be the option if the operation was time sensitive, but there was a comparatively higher chance that manually breaching the door would trigger some kind of trap. They'd been in tricky Zebra territory for long enough to know.

Now that the handle was slack, Shot Stack stepped back. Crystal Trail cautiously gave the door a push, the entrance swinging open calmly, without even a squeak. Ice kept her eyes on the far door as her squad cleared it.

"Fuck's sake. Civilian in here. It's a bedroom," Shot Stack reported.

"Civilian's bedroom?" Ice Slushee inquired.

"No, considering the civilian's in chains in the corner, I don't think it's theirs," Shot Stack muttered.

Crystal Trail came over the commlink, "I've seen cleaner mattresses in alleyways outside of strip clubs. Celestia... this is atrocious."

"Well they're fucking dead now. That's some relief," Shot Stack commented, before the sound of his voice transmitted via speaker came from the now-cleared room, "Hey, you, you okay miss?"

There was no noise.

"Jeez I uh..." he trailed off, "Aw fuck's sake..."

Lead Syringe spoke up, voice distracted by his work on the prisoner, "Anything acute, Private Stack?"

"No, doc, she's an SA case..." Shot muttered, voice crunchy as his jaw set.

Crystal Trail muttered something under her breath. Waffle Cone emerged from the door behind Ice to rejoin her.

"Should I get these cuffs off of her?" Shot Stack asked.

Crystal Trail shook her head, "Not yet. We'll free her once the compound is secure to prep her for medevac," a pause, before she added something more, "...This changes our story, team. We're reporting now that we saw them capturing pony civilians, and moved to take raid their base. Technical disturbance cut us off from command."

"Aye fucking aye," Shot Stack sighed, "I'll stay here and make sure nothing happens."

Ice Slushee coughed, ears flicking as Crystal Trail stacked up with them once again. She was tapped on the back, before being pointed towards the door. The bolt was on their side of the door, secured in place with a padlock.

Walking forward, Ice noted the presence of four more yellow pings on the other side. A quick check from Waffle Cone verified there was no presence of any unknown life signs in the room that EFS hadn't picked up. With a single flash from her rifle, she vaporized the lock holding the door shut, before opening it cautiously.

No traps, once again.

On the other side was what seemed to be a holding cell. The bars almost reminded her of something one might see aboard the Indefatigable, but there was nothing else that could be counted as familiar.

Stains covered the back wall, behind the bars. Equine excrement was plastered all over. The only ventilation in the room was a small grill in the top left corner of the room, looking out into the compound. Flies buzzed around the area, likely feasting on the smell - which Ice was once again happy her respirator relieved her from smelling. Four shambling forms that could only possibly be ponies sat behind the bars, looking up cautiously at the newcomers.

There was an earth pony stallion wearing a worn, old trenchcoat. Ribs showed through around his torso and mucus ran from his nose. A middle-aged unicorn mare was passed out in a corner, though the fact her pip was appearing on Ice's compass meant that she still had signs of life. Ice's eyes may have become glued to the Zebra filly trying to make herself as small as possible by the side of the elder, however she could only spare a small glance towards the child before locking onto the fourth occupant of the cell.

A zombie pony, just like the one they'd seen aboard the Victory. Its skin was rotting and peeling, though very little of it was visible. Its hooves were shorn in rubber boots, its body covered by a worn woolen cloak, and its shirt reminded Ice somewhat of a commissioned officer's basic duty undershirt. It even wore a cap with the emblem of the Royal Navy on it, a hole in the visor making way for its horn.

It, however, was not slathering to bite or tear at them. Instead, it was grinning, beaming with broken, yellowed teeth. That, combined with its pip being yellow, was the only reason Ice didn't pull the trigger right there and then.

"Fucking great. Steel Rangers. We're not getting rescued, are we?" the unicorn stallion said, voice hoarse and drawn.

"No! No! No we are!" the zombie suddenly spoke in a deep, gravelly voice, making Ice's eyes widen. It reached up to the bars and gripped them, pressing closer to them. He laughed a creaky, almost crumbly laugh - though it was one of overjoyment all the same, "We're getting rescued by the 51st Reconnaissance! Haha!"

"It's... talking..." Ice marvelled as the zombie continued to chortle with glee, almost to the point of hysteria.

Crystal Trail turned on her speakers, "...You can talk?"

"Oh! Yes yes I can!" the zombie's smile somehow widened further.

"...You recognize us?" Crystal Trail said, tilting her head.

"Ah!" the zombie blew a raspberry, rolling its eyes, "Yes of course you probably don't recognize me! Time has been cruel indeed..." he laughed again, raking a hoof over his face, making Ice fear it would tear off. It didn't, though, and he finally clarified, "I am the Captain of the Constellation!. One of your escorts? Surely you remember!? Captain Star Strider???"

Ice Slushee, Crystal Trail, Shot Stack, and Waffle Cone all looked at each other, clueless.

"Oh come on! Let me talk to your Commander, Lightning Bringer! I knew her personally before all this!" the zombie shouted, frustrated, "You were sent here to rescue me, right?'

Crystal Trail, for once, seemed dumbfounded, "...No?"

"...Oh," the zombie wilted a bit, before perking right back up, "Well it's lucky you found me then! They might've sold me to go plough some field! Labor almost entirely unfitting a commissioned officer!"

The unicorn stallion, seemingly just as confused as the 51st, raised his head from the floor a bit, asking in a weary, exasperated tone, "Please, we've been locked in here for days. They haven't been able to sell us, so they haven't been feeding us. She's sick, she cut herself in this awful place..."

Finally snapping out of it, Crystal Trail shook her head, "Waffle, pop that door open. Lead, as soon as you're done, we got more needing attention up here. Ice, help them tend to the hostages, then move them upstairs for evac. The rest of us'll regroup and secure this compound. Once we're sure we're dead and dusted, we'll open our comms back up and radio for a Vertibuck for these ponies."

"Oh thank the Goddesses..." the stallion breathed, tears welling up in his eyes as Waffle came over to melt the padlock of the cell.

Lead Syringe reported from the back, "Prisoner is stable. No more bleeding, but a surgeon will need to root around for some of that debris. Too risky for magical regen. I'm moving up to help with the hostages."

The rush Ice felt at the sight of the hostages moving towards the cell door as it was finally sprung open was only roughly offset by the idea of needing to face Lightning Bringer soon. She eyed the creature claiming to be Captain Star Strider - perhaps that find would be enough to cool some of the CO's anger.

Waffle Cone's scatter laser visibly twitched towards the 'Captain' as he walked out of the cell, though the zombie only responded with another unsettling smile. Lead Syringe walked into the room, hooves covered in blood, before he started slightly at the sight of the zombie.

Another unsettling smile.

"We got an unconscious one here," Ice said, finally switching to her speakers and gesturing towards the passed out mare.

"Please, kind saviours, I need water..." the stallion said, pawing at Ice's chestplate.

She reached for the auxiliary drinking tube near the neck of her suit, only for Lead Syringe to hold up a hoof and say through his speakers, "Small sips. Don't let him drink too much or it might come back up."

The stallion nodded, and Ice procured her drinking tube. She yanked it away from him as he took two, greedy gulps. He promptly collapsed back against the bars of the cage with a sigh, "I never thought I was getting out of there again, thank you, thank you all..."

"Yeah, uh, no problem..." Waffle Cone said awkwardly.

Ice's attention turned towards the foal, still crouched by the passed out mare as Lead Syringe moved over to tend to the mare. No glyphmark yet, naked - no equipment, though she'd seen plenty of times what an adult zebra could do with no weapons or armor. The filly seemed extremely wary, fearful. Her eyes were bloodshot, and cheeks covered with crusted tears.

Ice looked towards the emaciated stallion, "Did they hurt her?"

"Aside from deprive her of water, like the rest of us?" the stallion snapped, voice still hoarse... though it quickly softened as a look of realization washed over his face, "...No, no... they didn't hurt her. Her brother though..." he shook his head, "...I-I'm afraid he never came back after they took him from the cage. They can't sell foals, and they can't sell striped foals to the East either!"

Ice gritted her teeth at that. Her next words came on strongly, harshly, "Parents?"

"Yes... but they weren't kept here for very long. They were taken to be sold at Gun Rush," the stallion muttered, before giving out a bitter snort, "Everypony stays quiet about the slaves at Gun Rush, up until you're on the receiving end. I'll never look at a vegetable made by the Syndicate the same way again!"

Ice turned back towards the filly, who had shifted away from Lead Syringe. He'd discovered a septic wound on the mare's leg, which he was quickly treating with antibiotics, as well as trying to lower her raging fever. It was clear in the urgency of his actions that their condition was serious.

Ice reached out towards the filly, "Hey, kid, you alright?"

The filly looked between Lead Syringe and Ice, both entrapping her on either side, before rapidly shaking her head.

"What's wrong?" Ice asked, crouching down.

The zebra paused for a moment, before shaking her head again.

Ice frowned, before she reached into her cargo. Rummaging around for a moment, she eventually retrieved one of her MREs. Pulling open the wrapper, she fished out the dessert package - chocolate covered biscuits. She backed up slightly, holding the biscuits outside of the cell.

The filly's eyes darted towards the food, before she looked towards the passed out mare, the zombie, and the emaciated stallion.

The stallion simply nodded, "Come out kid, nothing's gonna hurt ya..."

Finally, the filly stood up, walking towards the biscuit. As soon as she was outside the cell, Ice held it out for it to be taken.

"Should probably give her some water too..." the stallion muttered. The sounds of radio chatter indicated the squad had begun clearing buildings.

Rolling her eyes, Ice's hoof was already halfway up to her neck as she pulled out her secondary drinking tube. She reached up, daring to take off her respirator - the smell nearly made her vomit instantly - but she steeled herself and made sure the child was watching before she bit down on the tube and sucked, drawing water through it. Holding it out again, she offered a drink. It was promptly taken.

Waffle Cone chuckled, "You'd be a great mother, Ice."

Re-securing her respirator and taking a relieved breath of magically generated air, Ice shot Waffle a dirty look, "Shut it, furball."

"What? I meant it," Waffle snorted.

Ice rolled her eyes, watching the foal as she ate and drank. Waffle eventually was called over to help Lead Syringe move the mare out of the filthy cell for some sort of emergency operation. The radio squawked as Crystal reported a building fully cleared.

"So... why?" the stallion asked, groaning as he adjusted his weight.

"Huh...?" Ice asked, looking up from her undersized charge.

"Never seen power armor like that. Maybe you aren't Steel Rangers, but you're still too overequipped to be working alone. Why're you wasting your time here? Is it that Stable they're digging up?" the stallion questioned, "...Not that I particularly care. Anywhere's better than in that cell."

"Is killing rapists and rescuing civilians not a good enough reason?" Ice raised an eyebrow.

The zombie had slowly become less manic as time went on, but he suddenly perked right up and smiled again at her words.

The stallion, not paying attention to the zombie, frowned, "...Not in this wasteland, it's not. It should be though."

A few more minutes, and a few more conservative drinks between the foal and the stallion, Crystal Trail's voice came over the radio, "Everyone, report in your status."

Lead Syringe finally spoke up, having been deep in concentration until then, "One patient needs immediate evac. We'll lose her without IV antibiotics and an autodoc within a few hours. Other patients stable and ready for transport."

Ice reported all clear, as the rest of the squad did. Eventually, Crystal sighed, "...Okay. Here we go. Do another sweep of your recording software, make sure it's been off and we aren't about to datadump our crimes directly to command. Once you're done, Radio Whistle, switch back on our commlink."

Soon enough, they were connected with the Indefatigable's signal again as they carried the hostages to the surface for medical evacuation. It was only a few seconds after Crystal Trail addressed command that Lightning Bringer's cold, level voice came back over the link.

"Command, 51. We are indeed receiving you. What is the status of the camp surrounding Stable 83, Site Golf?"

Crystal Trail left a moment of dead air, before she finally responded, "43 dead, one taken as a prisoner. We have four rescued hostages, we need immediate medevac at our current location. One hostage claims to be Captain Star Strider, of the Victory, ma'am."

"...51, a Vertibuck is already inbound. We've had your GPS signal in the compound for the last twenty minutes. Prepare to datadump all recordings and logs for analysis. You will board the Vertibuck, along with the hostages."

Emerging from the building, walking alongside Shot Stack, who had the mare from the bedroom over his back, Ice Slushee looked up to see the navigational lights of a Vertibuck already rapidly approaching the cleared camp. A smoke was tossed, signalling the aircraft where to land.

"Command should be advised that logging software crashed across the squadlink about an hour ago," Crystal Trail said, at the head of the group as the Vertibuck began to land.

"Your claim is acknowledged. For the record, 51, you may want to know that your next orders were to establish peaceful contact with the occupants of Site Golf. They were the branch of the Syndicate, who we are presently allied with. By destroying them, you may have caused a diplomatic incident."

Ice's namesake gripped her heart as Shot Stack gave her a mournful look.

"Fuck."