Fallout: Equestria: Written in Sand

Chapter Four: “Recuperation”

The Sun was setting by the time I made it back to Sand's Edge. As I neared the town, a pair of spotlights were turned on, spreading a ghostly-white pool of light across the ground in front of the gate.

“Hold up!” somepony called down from behind the glare of the spotlights as I trotted up to the gate. “What- Oh. It's you.”

'Not this bitch again…'

“Yeah. Me,” I replied, lifting a hoof to shade my eyes. “Now get this gate open.”

Moody snorted. “The mechanism's sticking,” she said. “It'll take a minute.”

I stamped my hooves impatiently while I waited for the gate to open. With the Sun dipping below the horizon, it was starting to get noticeably cooler. Shame it didn't take the dust with it.

Eventually, the gate was opened. Very, very slowly. It shuddered to a halt, just below my head height.

“Well?” Moody's voice called from the far side. “Are you coming in or not?”

I sighed and ducked beneath the gate. Moody shot a smug grin at me as I passed her. It disappeared when Splinter barked at her as he followed me through the gate, prompting her to jump back and stumble. She tripped over her own hooves and ended up sprawled in the dirt, cursing at the tree-wolf as we walked off.

Ma answered almost immediately when I banged on the door of her shack. “Took you long enough!” she declared cheerfully. “Well? What did she have to say for herself?”

“Nothing. She's dead.”

I watched as the hopeful grin on Ma's face slid away. She sat down heavily, her mouth trying to form words that wouldn't come.

“Wh- What?” she managed finally.

“Raiders,” I said flatly. “They were lying in wait when I got there. They're dead now, anyway, so…” I shrugged.

Ma covered his face with one hoof. After a long moment, her shoulders started to shake. “I knew…” she whispered hoarsely. “I just knew that one of these… Itold her… stupid filly…”

Her voice trailed off into a choked sob. I awkwardly looked around, scratching at the ground with one hoof.

After a minute or so, Ma shook her head vigorously and gave me a strained, self-conscious smile as she briskly wiped the tears out of her eyes. “Bah! Look at me, goin' to pieces while you stand there, just tangled with raiders… you are alright, ain'tcha?”

I shrugged. “Fine.”

“Ah, you'll be wantin' your caps… I dare say you've earned a little extra…” Ma mumbled to herself. She hesitated, looking thoughtful, then said, “if you're agreeable, I've got somethin' stowed away that should be better use to you than caps. Can't remember where I left it though…” She chewed her lip thoughtfully. “Come back in the morning,” she said. “I'll have it dug out by then. I promise you'll like it more than the few caps I can give you.”

“Sure, that's fine. I'll see you then, I guess,” I said in a rush, eager to get away before she started crying again.

She seemed just as eager for us to part ways, because the door closed in my face almost as soon as I'd finished speaking. As I walked away, I heard a muffled wail.

Twenty minutes later, I walked out of the town's tiny shop. The owner had given me a tidy sum of caps for the revolver I'd liberated from Ma's daughter's place. I had a nagging feeling that he'd short-changed me, but I didn't know how much the thing was supposed to be worth. Strapped across my forehead were the goggles I'd bought, which, paired with the scarf hanging around my neck, would – I hoped – solve my dust problems. A solitary healing potion had eaten up almost all of the rest of my caps, the shopkeeper citing 'short supply' as a good reason to charge me an insane amount.

I drew to a halt as I walked back out onto the town square.

'And now what?'

My eye was drawn to the sign that was fixed up over the front of one of the larger buildings in town. The saloon’s door was open wide, inviting in the town's inhabitants. It seemed that most of the ponies in town had accepted the invitation, judging by how much noise came floating out through the door.

I hesitated at the threshold.

It was fairly crowded inside. Most of the tables that were scattered around were occupied, either by chattering groups or sullen-looking loners. I ignored them all and trotted straight up to the bar.

A scuffed and shoddily-repaired radio was sitting on a shelf behind the bar, blaring out somepony's voice in a crackling buzz.

“… any pony out that way, do me a favour and drop in, then drop me a line, ‘cause I’m pretty certain some of those deadbeats owe me a cap or two.

“Okay, enough news. This is Desert Wind Radio, drifting out across the sands like… uh, wind, I guess. And this in particular is a tune from our own Silver Strings. And hey! If any of you pony-folk happen to know a poet, send them my way, 'cause I need someone to write me better segues.”

A melodic twanging started reverberating from the radio as I sank onto a stool at the bar. I studiously ignored all the stares of the ponies who apparently couldn’t believe that a stranger had walked into their saloon. Splinter curled up on the floor beside me and, after shooting piercing glares at the first few ponies to walk past, laid his head down and apparently went to sleep.

I rested my forehooves on the bar and bowed my head. I closed my eyes and focused on all the aches and pains that the day had brought on. With nothing to distract me, the constant throbbing in my head was starting to become noticeable again. How far had I walked today? Miles upon miles. Add to that a couple of gunshot wounds, various bruises and strains and all that fucking dust that was still clinging to my coat…

I deserved a fucking drink.

“Well, howdy there, stranger.” I glanced up. The bartender was leaning on the bar opposite me, giving me a scrutinising look. “This is Stellar's, I am Stellar, and, forgive me for judgin', you look in dire need of my services.” She winked at me. “What's your poison?”

“Whiskey,” I answered shortly.

“You sure?” Stellar said. “I don’t get much of it in from the merchants, so I have to charge extra.”

“Yeah.”

She floated a bottle off the shelf behind her and set it down on the counter. “On the rocks?”

“Huh?”

“Ice. You want ice with it?”

“No.”

“Good, ‘cause I got none to give anyway.” She grinned. “Sixteen caps, Muscles.”

I went to dig out the caps from my saddlebag, then paused, raising an eyebrow at the bartender. “‘Muscles’?” She winked at me in response. I rolled my eyes and slapped the caps on the counter.

“Much obliged, Scarface,” Stellar said, scooping up the caps with her telekinesis and tossing them into a box behind the counter.

“At least pick one and stick with it,” I grunted, pulling the bottle closer. A pony at the far end of the bar called over to her and she moved off to serve them, leaving me alone.

I twisted the cap off the bottle and took a sniff of the contents. I immediately started coughing, the aroma bringing tears to my eyes.

The first few swigs went down to the accompaniment of a burning throat and coughing. Good, strong liquor had always been hard to come by and I'd never gotten my fair share. Besides which, getting too drunk around the kind of ponies I'd endured for so long was inviting trouble. As the bottle emptied, I started enjoying the burn, as well as the increasing feeling of relaxation.

At least nopony seemed interested in trying to strike up conversation. Beyond a few suspicious glances from ponies that came up to the counter to order a refill, it seemed everypony was content to let me stew in silence. Not that I did a lot of thinking; there wasn't a whole lot for me to think about. I was here, alive, against odds that had been stacked up higher than the clouds against me. Nothing was trying to kill me. Nothing more to it. Between swigs from the bottle in front me, I just sat and relaxed, occasionally turning my attention to the pony with the weird accent on the radio, who was nowhere near as funny as he seemed to think he was.

As much as I tried to tune out the chattering of the ponies behind me, I was still acutely aware that I had my back to a roomful of complete strangers. Once or twice, when I heard a thump of somepony's chair banging on the floor, or a bottle being slammed down, I shot a glance over my shoulder. I just as quickly turned back, berating myself internally for being so jumpy.

I forced myself to close my eyes and take a deep breath, letting it out in a long sigh.

“Problem, stranger?”

I snapped my eyes open and cast a glance at the speaker. My gaze fell upon a pair of red eyepieces set into a dark mask. It took a moment for the memory of the confrontation at the gate to resurface. I gave the Ranger a ‘leave me the fuck alone’ look and turned back to my almost-empty bottle.

“You don’t look like a desert pony,” the Ranger said, apparently not bothered by my silence. “You come down from up north? Maybe through Snapleg Pass?”

“None of your business,” I muttered. I noticed Stellar watching us from as far down the bar as she could manage. The sound of clopping hooves on the floor behind me told me that the Ranger’s buddy was standing behind me.

“You’re lookin’ awful nervy for somepony in such a safe place,” the Ranger went on. His tone was light, but I could feel the menace hidden behind that mask.

I felt a familiar aggression bubble up through my psyche, but the whiskey put a hoof around its shoulders and gently led it away to simmer down in some quiet corner. “Must be the present company,” I heard myself say, not looking up from the bar counter.

“Know what I think?” the Ranger said, dropping his voice and with it, the friendly pretext. “I think you’re a raider,” he growled.

“Really?” I asked casually, the whiskey nudging my mouth into action. “’s a nice thought, that. You’d better think of another one quickly, though, before it gets lonely.” I clapped a hoof to my forehead. “Wait! I just thought of one for you!” I lowered my hoof and turned to him fully, glaring at my reflection in the visor of his mask. “Go fuck yourself.”

“Them’s fightin’ words, scum,” the other Ranger snarled, starting forward. The first Ranger held out a foreleg to stop him, then cast a look around the bar. Other ponies were looking over, clearly anticipating the brewing fight. I heard Splinter start growling from his spot on the floor beside me. The Ranger turned his gaze back to me. I met it without flinching. Then I grinned at him. I hoped it made him angry. Angry ponies are stupid ponies.

“Let’s go,” he said to his fellow Ranger, leading the way out of the bar. His buddy shot me a glare, then followed.

Good. There was more room to swing my lance outside.

I downed the last of the whiskey in one gulp and slammed the bottle back on the counter, hard enough to jolt the nearby clutter. As I stood up, I staggered to the side. I frowned and squinted down at my legs. They looked fine. So it wasn't me; it was just the world being all… swirly. Good. Fuck the world. I sucked in a deep breath and swaggered over to the door, ignoring all the nervous glances of ponies who were trying to look absorbed in their drinking.

The night air made me shiver as I stepped out of the warmth of the saloon. The square out front was only lit by the thin bars of light that seeped through the cracks in the shutters and doors of the surrounding buildings. I looked around as I stepped out into the empty space, Splinter padding along behind me. No sign of any masked morons anywhere.

“Well?” I called out across the square. “Come get some, foal-fuckers!”

Splinter barked. I turned around and casually flung up a hoof to deflect the telekinetically-held knife that came hissing through the air towards my neck. It flew off into the darkness and clattered to the ground in the shadows.

“Ow.” I raised my foreleg and looked at the gash that was seeping blood down my hoof and dripping to the ground. I raised my gaze to the silhouette that loomed out of the shadows beside the saloon. “That hurt, you bitch,” I said indignantly.

A set of galloping hooves drew my gaze to the right. The second Ranger charged out of the darkness. His gas mask was hanging around his neck, his knife clasped between his teeth. I lazily turned to meet his charge, but Splinter beat me to the buck. The tree-wolf pounced, hitting the Ranger in the side and sending him flying. I chuckled as I watched the pair crash to the ground and start rolling around in the dirt, the Ranger slapping aside Splinter's snaps with his forelegs.

I turned back to the first Ranger just in time to catch a buck to the chest. I staggered backwards, the pain cutting through the whiskey-scented shroud that was swirling in my mind. I swore and lashed out with a foreleg that was seized in a telekinetic grab. Before I could pull free, the Ranger twisted my leg harshly, pulling me off balance. I lost my footing and fell to the ground heavily.

“Ooh, you'regood,” I said, my voice muffled by the dirt I was spitting out. I rolled aside as the Ranger's forehooves stamped down on the ground where my head had been. I twisted around and swiped at his legs with a hindleg. I heard him grunt as I struck his knee, buckling his leg and staggering him momentarily – long enough for me to climb to my hooves.

I brought my lance out and clenched it in my teeth. Before I had a chance to swing, the Ranger darted forward, knocking the lance-head aside and smashing a hoof across my face. I grunted and reared up, striking out with both forehooves. I swore as I struck the armoured shell of his gas mask. As I dropped down, I whipped the lance around, cracking the haft against the Ranger's head. He stumbled and I followed up with a knee to the chest.

The Ranger grunted in pain and stumbled backwards. I lunged forward and swung my lance again. There was a crunch as it struck the Ranger's visor and one of the eyepieces developed a lovely web of cracks. He backed away some more and I followed, only to swear as my lance was grabbed and thrown away by his magic.

“You cheating… cheater!” I shouted as I threw myself forward.

The Ranger managed to rip his visor away just in time for me to collide with him and bear him to the ground. We struggled in the dirt for a while, until I managed to pin him down.

“Well, hello there!” I said cheerfully, my face inches above his. I raised my forehoof-

"Enough!"

The electronically-amplified shout startled me. Judging by how the Ranger jerked beneath me, I wasn’t the only one.

A beam of light was shone across us, blinding me.

“Let him up,” the voice at the other end of the spotlight ordered.

I grudgingly obeyed, giving the Ranger one last stamp to the chest as a gesture of defiance.

“Call off your pet.”

“He's not really a-” I started to say.

“Just do it.”

I mumbled a few insults against the speaker's mother. “Splinter!” I shouted. “Hey!” I roared when he ignored me and continued gnawing on the Ranger's leg. He looked up, letting the limp limb drop from his jaws. “Come here!” The tree-wolf snarled at the stricken Ranger momentarily, then trotted over to my side.

The source of the spotlight bobbed closer, accompanied by a set of heavy hoof-steps. As the spotlight was turned away from me to regard the mauled Ranger on the ground, I could make out the formidable silhouette of Renegade's power armour.

“So,” she said coldly. “This is 'keeping out of my mane', is it?”

“Fuck you,” the Ranger Splinter had torn up spat. He struggled to stand, clutching his ripped-up foreleg to his chest. “We-”

“Shut up.” Renegade turned to the Ranger I'd given a beating as he clambered to his hooves. “Take your friend and leave.”

“That pony,” the Ranger said, pointing a hoof at me, “is a murdering, piece-a-shit raider, and you ain’t got no business sheltering him like this-”

The minigun on Renegade’s battle saddle spun up, the high-pitched whine cutting off the Ranger’s speech. “Out,” Renegade said firmly.

I took a surreptitious step away from the Ranger, who was standing stock-still, his form bleached white by the spotlight, eyes blinking rapidly against the glare. He drew himself up, raising his chin defiantly. “You ain’t got the guts to-”

A buzz like a bloatsprite’s great-granddaddy ripped through the air. A line of bullet impacts was drawn in the dirt just short of the Ranger, kicking up a cloud of dust, the motes picked out like stars in the glare of the spotlight. The Ranger cried out and jumped backwards.

“You missed,” I said derisively. Nopony paid any attention.

“Out,” Renegade repeated.

The Rangers glanced at each other and backed down. They limped off in the direction of the gate.

“You'll fucking pay for this, bitch!” one of them called over his shoulder.

Renegade snorted. “Just for that, we're keeping your guns,” she replied. She trotted off after them.

I sank to my haunches, inspecting the cut on my foreleg from the deflected knife. It stung, but it was nothing a tough pony like me couldn't handle. I gave Splinter a look-over, but I didn't know if he could evenbe injured, making the whole exercise pointless. I patted him on the head and he growled in response.

“Who's a badass?” I said as I stroked his neck. “Who's a badass? We are! Aren't we just-”

“You okay there, friend?” I glanced up at the pony who was standing over me. It was… whatsisface… Lucky.

“Oh yeah,” I said, waving a hoof nonchalantly. “They're just lucky that Metal Mare turned up when she did.”

Lucky let out a bark of laughter. “Yeah, I guess so. Have to say, I ain't seen anypony ever give Rangers a beatin' like that before. 'Least, not without a certain suit o' power armour.”

“Pfft,” I said disdainfully. “You desert ponies are all weaklings, in that case.”

“Charming,” Lucky said coolly.

The heavy stomping of armoured hooves announced Renegade's return.

“I didn't need you,” I said. “I had it totally under control-”

“Shut up,” Renegade said. “They get a ten-minute headstart, then you're out, too.”

“What? Why?” I demanded. I slapped my forehoof on the ground. “But Ilike it here-”

“You're trouble, and I'm not having it in this town,” Renegade said calmly. “Ten minutes-”

“Now, you hold up right there, missy,” Lucky said before I could speak. He squared up to the armoured mare. “This ain't your town.”

Renegade drew herself up, exploiting the bulk granted by her armour to full effect. “I don't see anypony else keeping the Rangers out,” she said disdainfully. “Not that it matters,” she went on. “I'm not having somepony with grief with the Rangers hanging around, bringing them down on us.”

“That ain't fair, an' you know it!” Lucky said, pointing an accusing hoof at Renegade. “You know that Rangers'll pick a fight with anypony they please an' damned if most of 'em done nothin' to them or anypony!”

“I didn't even know what a Ranger was until today,” I grumbled to nopony in particular.

“There, you see?” Lucky said, clapping a hoof to my shoulder.

“Those Rangers started it!” somepony said. I looked behind me. Apparently, half the saloon had turned out to watch the aftermath. “Just picking a fight for no reason!” The crowd murmured in agreement.

“Fine,” Renegade said eventually. “You get to stay.” She took a step closer, bringing her visor to level with my eyes. “But I'll be watching you.” With those oh-so-friendly parting words, she turned and walked off.

“Ah, don't go takin' it personally,” Lucky said. I realised I'd been mumbling various threats and insults at Renegade as she walked off. “She's always been a bit stiff. Come on, up you get.”

Lucky helped me to my hooves. It was harder to stand than usual. Like somepony had been tying weights to my legs. I glared at them. Nope. Everything looked normal. Weird.

“I have to ask,” Lucky said. “How did ya do that thing with the knife?”

“What, this?” I asked, lifting up my hoof. “'S easy! Just wave your hoof likethis.” I demonstrated. “'S easy!” I repeated.

“'Easy'?” Lucky said. “That kinda trick ain't somethin' anypony I know would try anytime soon.”

“Well,” I said, waving my hoof around some more. “I guess I'm just awesome.” I held my head up high in triumph.

Killjoy. Knife… Bouncing-Off-er Pony Supreme. Fuck yeah.

“Everything all right, Born?” a familiar voice. I liked that voice. It gave me whiskey.

“All clear, now, Stellar. Although,” Lucky stepped past me to mutter to Stellar. “How much has he had to drink?”

“Three whiskeys,” the bartender replied.

Lucky snorted. “A few glasses doesn't-”

“Threebottles.”

“You gave himthree bottles of Privateers' whiskey-!?”

“Lies,” I said firmly, pointing a hoof at Stellar's face. She recoiled slightly as it ended up less than an inch from a her muzzle. “I've hadone, and I'll kill anypony who says otherwise.”

“He kept paying for them,” Stellar said, ignoring me. She shrugged. “Business is business.”

“Kill you all, I will,” I mumbled, looking around at the small crowd. I could take 'em all with one hoof tied to my tail. Jus' watch me.

“Dammit, Stellar,” Lucky said. “When will you-?”

Somepony nudged me in the side. I turned to glare at a young pony who was regarding me with fascination, his foreleg still outstretched.

“You starting something?” I asked him. “You'll die first, bitch.”

He backed off.

'Yeah, you'd better run, Pokey…'

“There is noway he's had that much,” Pokey said, shaking his head. “I can't handleone of those bottles.”

'Okay, you get to live.'

“He has, and I have the caps to prove it-!” Stellar said.

“No you don't!” I said jabbing my hoof at her, making her flinch. “I didn't drink 'em! I-” I hesitated. There was something wrong with that sentence.

“Okay, okay!” Lucky said loudly. “Y'all stop winding 'im up!” He started waving the crowd away. “Go on, clear out. Nothin' more to see, folks.”

I sat down again as the crowd dispersed. I yawned suddenly. How long had today been? Too long. The ground was feeling awfully soft under my hooves…

“Woah there, big guy!” Lucky said, pulling me back upright by the shoulder as I went to test how soft the ground was with my face. “Let's get you someplace outta everypony's way first. Don't want nopony trippin' over you in the dark.”

Ooh. That was a good point. I stood back up, ignoring the aching in my legs. “Nice. Where?”

Lucky rubbed at his face thoughtfully. “Misfire's ol' place should still be empty,” he muttered to himself. He shrugged. “It'll do. For tonight, anyway. Come on, let's get you-”

“You're… giving me ahouse?” I asked as he led the way past the saloon, towards the cliff edge . “An actualhouse?”

“For one night,” Lucky said. “And yes, it's an 'actual' house. Can't go puttin' up ponies in fake houses, now, can we?”

“Wow,” I said. “That's… I like that. And you. I like you.” I slapped him on the shoulder. “You get to be killed last.”

“Well, shucks, ain't that an honour,” Lucky muttered.

“Damn right!” I shouted, making him jump. “I've never killed somepony last before!” I frowned. That sentence didn't seem right, but I couldn't put my hoof on it…

“Okay, okay,” Lucky said soothingly. “Let's just get you to this house and get you into bed, okay?.”

I stopped walking and turned to face him, drawing back from him suspiciously. “What did you just say?”

“Let's get you into-” Lucky stopped and pressed a hoof against his face. “Not like that,” he said.

“Better not be,” I said, holding up a hoof. “You just… keep your distance. I've got my eye on you.” As I spoke that last sentence, some part of my brain hastily tried to intercept it. Too late. “But not like that,” I added instead.

“And here I thought you said you liked me,” Lucky said jovially as we walked off again.

I snorted and shook my head. It caused the world to lurch suddenly to one side and I stumbled into Lucky's side. I growled at the ground and made my next few hoofsteps extra heavy to punish it for its impertr-… imperternin-… nastiness.

“You're not my type,” I said. “An' don't go takin' it personally. 'S just you're old and stuff.”

“Thanks. That makes me feel much-”

“An' notta mare,” I added, once I'd realised what I'd forgotten to say. “'S important, that.”

“Okay, glad you noticed. Here we are…” Lucky pushed open the door of a shack that was suddenly in front of us. Sneaky shack. I trotted right on in, Lucky following behind. It was a very small hut, with just a rickety old bed tucked away in the corner and random pieces of clutter spread across the floor.

“Home, sweet home,” Lucky said. “'T ain't much, but it's someplace to lay down your head down for the night.”

“It'slovely,” I said. Without further ado, I trotted over to the bed, shedding my weapons and saddlebag on the way. I reared up over the bed, spun around on my hindhooves, flopped backwards onto the stiff mattress and was fast asleep before the springs stopped jangling.

I awoke.

“Aaargh.”

I curled my forelegs over my head and groaned.

As I lay there, moaning through the disgusting taste in my mouth in agony at the throbbing in my skull, I heard the soft padding of Splinter walking over, then felt him nuzzling me in the side. I feebly pushed him away. “Gerrof, you bastaaargh…”

I shoved at the door to the shack and stumbled out. As the door banged behind me, I turned my gaze upwards and the glare of the morning sun ran a thread of liquid fire into my brain. I pulled the goggles on my forehead down until they covered my eyes. They did nothing to help.

“I hate everything,” I mumbled to myself. Splinter barked, then whined sorrowfully. “Especially you,” I added.

It took me longer than I'd like to admit to find Ma's house again. I banged twice on the door, having to rest my hoof against the door on the third knock as the throbbing in my head overwhelmed my sense of balance.

The door opened, causing me to over-balance. I caught myself before I fell headlong through the doorway. I straightened up and found myself face-to-face with Ma.

“Well, good morning, young 'un,” she chirped. Although she smiled, it was strained and forced. Good. I didn't want to deal with happy ponies at the moment. “You alright there, buck?” she asked, squinting at me.

“'M fine,” I mumbled. “Got headache.”

“Well, come on in,” she said, moving back to allow me past. “Wipe your hooves!” she scolded me as I crossed the threshold.

The shack within was far more homely than the one I'd endured last night. As Ma trotted over to a chest and started rooting through it, I threw a look around the room. Most of the floorspace was covered with clutter; boxes that appeared to contain useless bits of junk. I bent down and inspected the closest one. A broken pistol, a collection of empty food cans and a tangle of electrical wiring. Somepony clearly thought everything was worth saving.

“Ah, here it is…”

Ma walked back to me, levitating an oversized bracelet beside her. She held it in front of my face, allowing me to inspect it. It was old world tech, that much was clear, with a miniature terminal screen and a set of buttons and knobs set into the scuffed metal surrounding it.

“Wha' 'sit?” I asked.

“Pipbuck,” Ma said simply. “Bit o' pre-war magi-tech. Real handy for a pony out in the sands; keeps track o' your health, scopes out nearby critters and keeps maps o' everywhere you bin. An' that's not even half the things it can do.” She lowered the device to my left foreleg. “Lift your leg, an' have a try.”

I sat down and raised my leg, allowing her to slip it on over my hoof. A key was produced and slotted into a discreet hole in the casing. She turned it and the padding suddenly clenched tightly around my leg. I let out an involuntary grunt of discomfort.

“Oh, hush, you big baby,” Ma said, removing the key and slipping into my saddlebag. “Try not to lose that, by the by; ain't nothing can get one o' these off your leg after it's on.” She pressed a button and the pipbuck's screen flashed. Words began to scroll across the screen, too fast for me to read them.

I blinked suddenly as I realised that a similar set of words had appeared in the top-left of my vision. I flinched and as I turned my head, the words moved as well. I swatted a hoof at where it seemed the words were, but they remained. I scowled as Ma laughed at me. A thin, robotic voice emanated from the pipbuck's speaker.

“Primary boot sequence complete. Eyes-Forward Sparkle online.”

The words dissolved into nothing. As they did so, a whole set of discreet diagrams and figures appeared, scattered around the edge of my vision.

“Life signs monitoring subsystem online. Inventory management subsystem online. Auto-mapping subsystem online. Identify Friend-or-Foe subsystem online. Stable-Tec Arcane Targeting System (Patent Pending) online…”

The pipbuck spewed out a whole lot of other long words I didn't understand before finally falling silent.

“An' there y'are! All set!” Ma said.

I raised my leg and turned it back and forth, inspecting my new toy. I looked at the screen. It was displaying a crude figure of a pony whose tongue was hanging out, their eyes screwed up in an expression of discomfort. I felt an immediate sense of kinship.

“That's health monitorin',” Ma said. “Keep a close eye on that, if you've any sense. Hit that button there… that's inventory. Now that button… No not that one,that one! That's the map. Now turn that knob two clicks down, that's- I saiddown!”

It took a while, and more than a few utterances of “your right, ormy right?” –  many of which were due to a slight fiasco with the device's voice recording and playback facility – but Ma managed to acquaint me with the pipbuck's functions.

“Last, but not least,” she said. “Hit that button.” I did so.

Nothing happened.

“Well, that was-” I started sceptically, but I stopped as I raised my head.

A whole slew of new diagrams had appeared in my Eyes-Toward Sprinkles, or whatever it was called, floating around Ma. As I tried to process the array of numbers, a fly buzzed across my vision, its wingflaps almost slow enough to be individually visible. I raised a hoof towards it, then noticed a new diagram appear: a dotted line, tracing a curved path from my hoof to Ma's head, with a number floating alongside it. I moved my hoof so that it followed the line, watching the number flicker as it increased, from the mix-sixties up to seventy, eighty. As my hoof moved, Ma's eyebrows rose in slow-motion, her hoof moving upwards as if through thick treacle.

There was a beep from the pipbuck and the E.F.S. devolved to its usual form. Ma's hoof snapped upwards and gently knocked mine aside.

“Nice try, buck,” she said. She nodded her head down at the pipbuck. “S.A.T.S.,” she explained. “Targeting spell. Handy for any tight spots you find yourself in. You'll figure it out yourself, easy enough.”

I nodded, lifting up the pipbuck to admire it.

I liked it.

“So,” Ma said, “that leave us square?”

“Uh, yeah,” I said. That seemed lacking, so I added, “thanks.”

“You're welcome, buck. Now if you don't mind,” she said tiredly, “I've got a long day ahead. See yourself out, and thank you again.”

I nodded and made my way to the door.

'Well… now what?'

I hated that thought.

I wandered around town for a while, trying to think of an answer to go with it.

I could go and out and wander around in the dust for a while. Maybe walk until I found another settlement and… rinse and repeat…?

I sat down and rubbed at my face, flinching when my hoof struck something hard. I rolled my eyes at my own idiocy and pushed the goggles up onto my forehead.

Was this going to be the rest of my life? Aimlessly drifting around this dusty piece of wasteland until something killed me?

Granted, up to know my life had mostly revolved aimlesslystaying in the same place until something killed me, but… it was different now. Somehow.

“Hey. You.”

I turned my head. The formidable form of Renegade came stomping over to me from the doorway of a house. Splinter immediately began growling at her. I didn't bother to stop him.

“Yeah. What?” I replied, mimicking her clipped tone.

“I've got a job for you,” she said.

I cocked an eyebrow at her. “Really? Yesterday, you couldn't wait to see the back of me.”

“That was yesterday,” she said coldly. “Do you want these caps of mine or not?”

She wasn't even pretending to be friendly about it. Was that a good thing?

“Dunno. You'd better tell me what the job is, first,” I said.

She walked closer to me. I wasn't a little pony by any measure, but the bulk provided by her power armour made her more than my equal in size. I squared up to her anyway.

“Where did you get that?” she demanded suddenly, pointing a hoof at my pipbuck.

“None of your business,” I sneered at her. “And that's not a job. That's a question.”

A snort of frustration burst forth from the armour's speakers. “Do you know where Haythorne is?” she asked.

“Nope.”

“South-west. About fifteen miles. There's an old magical technology factory in the northern quarter. I need any tech you can find that's in good condition.”

I mulled it over for a moment. “What's the catch?” I asked suspiciously.

“Nothing,” she said. “Besides raiders, rangers, bots, radstorms and feral ghouls. You know, perfectly normal Wasteland stuff.”

“Sure, whatever,” I grunted. “What kind of tech do you want, and how much do I get paid?”

“Spark batteries, gemcells, any electronics and wiring you can find,” she reeled off. “You get thirty caps for the batteries, one cap for every five 'cells and a cap for every circuit board or metre of wiring. Well?” she demanded impatiently as I thought it over.

“What do you want them for?”

“None of your business,” she said. She cocked her head to the side. “And that's not an answer. That's a question.”

I gave her an insincere, mocking laugh. “Fifty caps for the batteries,” I said thoughtfully. “Four caps for every five cells and three caps for that last thing you said.”

Renegade snorted. “Go buck yourself,” she said bluntly.

“Fine, get somepony else to do your job.” I smirked at her. If she had somepony else to ask, she wouldn't be asking the complete stranger who'd been 'causing trouble' the day before. I knew it and I knew she knew it.

I barely heard the sigh of frustration from the armoured mare. “Forty caps for the first three batteries, thirty for every one after that,” she said. “Three caps for every ten gemcells, and one cap for the circuit boards and wiring.”

I thought about it. Was that a good deal? I had no idea. I'd just asked for more caps on principle.

“I dunno… still seems a little low for such a long walk…” I said.

Renegade sighed again. “And I'll give you something to use against the factory's bots.”

“You didn't say anything about bots before,” I said accusingly.

“I did. You weren't listening. Yes or no?”

I shrugged. “Okay.”

Renegade nodded. “Follow me.”

As she turned away, Splinter barked. I looked down at him. He turned his gaze from Renegade to me, then back again and growled.

“Look, I don't like her either, but caps are caps,” I muttered to him.

“Are youtalking to that thing?”

I turned back to Renegade, who had paused in mid-stride to shoot a glance over her shoulder at me. I shrugged. “Yeah. So what?”

She sighed. I was beginning to get the feeling it was her favourite word. Or not-word. Whatever. “So nothing, if you don't mind looking crazy.” She ignored me as I made a face at her.  “Get a move on.”

She led me over to the house she'd come out of, beckoning me through the doorway. The room beyond was festooned with bits and pieces of old world tech. Several terminals, only two of which were undamaged and had lit screens, were resting in a haphazard arrangement on a table in a corner. A long bench lined one wall, bits and pieces of various guns scattered across it in a scene of orderly chaos. Coils of wiring were hanging from hooks in the roof and walls, along with an example of every tool and measuring device in the world.

I turned my eyes from the workings of what looked to be an SMG similar to the one hanging around my neck just in time to see Renegade pop the seals of her helmet and lift it off her head. Her coat was a dark blue, complimenting the lighter shade of her mane, which was streaked with pale yellow. I would have called her fairly attractive, if she wasn't scowling at me like my mere presence insulted her.

“Hold out your pipbuck,” she told me, picking up a cable that ran from one of the terminals in the corner.

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

I obeyed, but not without putting a scowl to match hers on my face. She jammed the cable into a port on the pipbuck and walked back over to the terminal I was now tethered to.

“If you're planning to keep me on a leash, you're gonna need a longer rope,” I said scathingly. “Also: way too kinky for my tastes.”

She shot a disgusted look at me over her shoulder. She tapped away on the terminal for a few seconds, then my pipbuck beeped and a prompt popped up in my E.F.S.:

Map data added.

“There,” Renegade said, pulling the cable out of the pipbuck. “In case you try to get lost with my stuff.”

I glanced at the compass in the corner of my vision. An arrow was hovering at the edge. I turned my head and it panned across. I turned my head back and it moved back.

“Nice,” I said flatly.

“You're welcome,” Renegade said in a tone that suggested I was nothing of the sort. She walked over to the workbench and picked up a bulky metal canister. She proffered it to me. “Pulse grenade,” she explained. “Pull that bit out, throw it at a bot, bot goes boom. Throw the big bit, not the little bit.” she added condescendingly.

“I know how to use a grenade,” I snapped at her.

“Amazing,” she said snidely. “Did you find a book with pictures and big words? Are you sure you had it the right way up?”

“You realise I can just take these grenades, leave and never come back?” I said.

Renegade smiled viciously. “Oh, youcould,” she said maliciously. “But if you've got the Rangers out for your blood, then this is the only safe town for you in the Palomino. Granted, I'd much rather shoot you myself, but you'd still be dead either way.”

I snorted. “Those idiots? I would've killed 'em both if you hadn't butted in.”

“You got lucky. Out there,” she jerked a hoof over a shoulder, “they'd just pick you off from half-a-mile away.”

“Whatever.” I stuffed the pulse grenades into my saddlebag. A prompt flashed up in my E.F.S., informing me that I had done so. Clearly, the pipbuck had been designed for ponies with a memory span of less than a second. “I'm outta here. You just have your caps ready for when I get back.”

“Good luck,” Renegade called after me as I left. “You're going to need it,” she added just before the door slammed shut behind me.

Well, at least I had an answer tothat question now.

As I left Renegade's house, my E.F.S. showed me another prompt:

Make your way to Haythorne.

I glared at my pipbuck and shook it irritably. “I know that already,” I muttered at it. Splinter whined. “I'm not talking to you!” I snapped.

This was going to get confusing, now that I had myself, an I-still-don't-what-it-is-probably-an-animaland an inanimate object to talk to.

Lucky was at the gate when I walked up. He saw me coming and groaned.

“Couldn't you have come along two minutes earlier?” he said. “I've just closed the gate after Ma.”

“Nope,” I said baldly. “Sounds like you just need a better gate.”

“An' don't I know it!” Lucky exclaimed as he started working the winch. “I keep asking Renegade to fix us up somethin' to do the job, but she never quite gets around to it, for some reason.”

'Maybe because she's a bitch…? Possibly…?' I thought.

“You feeling okay after last night?” Lucky asked. “You were pretty far gone.”

I groaned. As if I needed reminding. “I'm fine.” I tapped the scar on my head lightly. “I was shot in the head once, you know.”

Lucky chuckled. “True. I guess after that, a bit of whiskey is foal's play.”

The gate ground to a halt.

“Stay safe out there,” Lucky called after me as I left. I snorted.

'Fat chance.'

Progress to Next Level: 36%

Challenge Perk Gained: Didn't Even Blink!

'Just dodge it'? Just watchthis!

Deflect an enemy's magically-thrown object with an Unarmed attack.

Effect: Blocking deducts more damage from enemy Unarmed and Melee attacks.