Fallout: Equestria: Written in Sand

Chapter Five: Fancy Meeting You Here

It took a few hours to reach Haythorne, following the arrow hovering above the compass in my E.F.S.. I was accosted by nothing worse than a brief period of wind, which prompted an encounter with my most hated of enemies. Fortunately, I was assisted by my newly-purchased goggles and scarf, and the wind-borne, dusty foe was routed in disgrace.

Haythorne had been a pre-war town. Now, it was a grey smear of rubble against the dreary brown of the desert. The outskirts were overrun with dust and sand, the surface of the streets was left invisible under a loose carpet of encroaching desert. The buildings were ruinous, each and every one. Windows that had been reduced to gaping holes and doorways that were indistinguishable from the places where the walls had simply fallen through allowed the sand entrance, where it had settled across the decayed remnants of the houses' interiors.

The desert was a predator. And this vestige of a forgotten civilisation was its stricken prey, slowly being digested into nothingness. Maybe in a few hundred years there would be nothing left but sand. Nothing left to show that thousands of ponies had lived – and died – here.

Those weren't my thoughts at the time, as I took my first cautious steps down a road strewn with sand and rubble. My thoughts at the time were along the lines of:'why can't I ever go anywherenice?'. I disliked the oppressiveness of the buildings that pressed in from all sides, cutting off my lines of sight. There could be all sorts of horrible, death-dealing monsters – excluding myself – lurking amongst the rubble, lying in wait for an unwary traveller to pounce upon.

I grimaced and rolled my head around on my shoulders. If I was going to have to be a traveller here, I wasn't going to be an unwary one.

The arrow on my compass was pointing me towards a silhouette that rose above the rest of the ruins, cutting an imposing figure against the clouded sky. As I passed the wreckage of a burnt-out pre-war wagon, Splinter suddenly stopped in his tracks and lifted his head, twitching it back and forth.

Then he turned to his left and growled at a specific building.

I glanced at my E.F.S.. A pair of red indicators were hovering above the compass.

“Well, shit,” I muttered.

A figure suddenly loomed in an upstairs window of the house. Splinter snarled furiously and took off towards the building's doorway, eating up the short distance in great bounds. The pony in the window opened fire, bullets kicking up plumes of dust in a trail that followed after the tree-wolf, missing by inches. Splinter barrelled through the doorway and out of sight. The pony in the window turned his weapon on me, but not before I dived aside and ducked behind the hulk of the wagon next to me. A few bullets ricocheted off the metal before I heard a muffled scream and the gunfire stopped.

I grinned and stood up, brushing sand off my barding and enjoying the shrieks of Splinter helping himself to somepony's legs. I was starting to really enjoy having that dumb animal around.

I snapped my head around at the sound of clopping hooves behind me. Several ponies, armed and dressed in the whatever-I-can-find fashion of assorted wasteland scum everywhere, emerged from their hiding places in the buildings opposite and spread out into a ragged line, facing me. I twitched my eyes back and forth along the line. No guns. Good.

A stallion with a pair of ears that could have each provided shelter for a small family stepped forward, the blades tied to his forehooves scratching at the ground beneath him. He was scarred and worn, and wasn't exactly a prime specimen of health, but he was still almost as big as I was. “'Ello, chum,” he said in a guttural voice, his lips curling up on one side into a lopsided grin that revealed the yellowed, broken teeth he sported. “Now… you've done me a real disservice, you 'ave, setting your pet there on my best shooters.”

On cue, from the house behind me, came a series of gunshots, interrupted by a howl of agony.

“Normally, I'd be obliged to 'ave your legs broken an' give you over to my friends here to” – he cocked his head to one side and grinned maliciously –  “enjoy.”

Big Ears' little gang cackled amongst themselves. Fuckers.

“'Least 'til they got bored of you an' slit your froat, anyhow,” Big Ears went on nonchalantly. “But,” he said, putting on an expression of deep thought, “I've got some friends who'll pay well for a big bastard like you, so if you just drop your stuff, we'll forgo the leg-breakin' an' froat-slittin'.” His grin twisted itself further into a leer. “'Course, I can't make promises 'bout the other stuff.”

I snorted and shifted my legs about in the dust, finding a stable footing. “Fuck that,” I growled. “Make a line.” I pointed a challenging hoof at Big Ears. “You first, foal-fucker.”

If Big Ears' grin had grown any wider, he would have snapped his jaw in two . “That supposed to insult me, were it? Nice try.” Big Ears laughed, the rest of his troupe joining in. Without warning, he sprang forward and charged, covering the distance between us before I had time to blink. In a moment, he was close enough for me to get a good look at the stained and crooked teeth that his snarling expression revealed.

I slapped the S.A.T.S. button on my pipbuck.

Big Ears' charge slowed to a crawl. I glanced at the E.F.S., then lunged forward, spun around and bucked him right in the revolting teeth, savouring the crunch of enamel shattering under my hooves. That must have wiped the grin off his face. I let my momentum carry me through, spinning around to face Big Ears. The impact from my buck, combined with his speed had flipped him head-over-tail and onto his back. I turned around just in time to watch the back of his head smack into the ground in slow-motion.

I leapt on top of Big Ears, one hoof raised to slam into his face. As it descended, I watched his eyes open blearily just in time to see-

The targeting spell ran out and my hoof smashed into Big Ears' muzzle. He fell back against the ground, weakly slapping at me and trying to shield his face. I raised my hoof again and slammed it into his face twice more.

I grunted in pain as my hindlegs were swept out from under me and I fell to the side. I cried out as Big Ears swiped at my face with his hoof, the jagged, rusty blades coming too close to my eyes for my liking. Pain flared up from my cheek, and I felt the oh-so-familiar-you'd-think-I-enjoyed-it-by-now heat of my blood trickling over my skin. I clumsily rolled away from the big stallion, hampered by the saddlebag lashed to my side. I scrambled to my hooves and reared up hurriedly as Big Ears lunged at me. Pain shot through my forelegs as I batted his lashing hooves aside and received several scratches for my trouble.

As we dropped down to the tarmac again, I threw myself forward and slammed my forehead into Big Ears' muzzle. He staggered backwards, clutching at his bruised and broken face with one hoof. I ducked my head and snatched up my SMG. As Big Ears lowered his hoof and raised his head, lips drawn back in an enraged snarl, I pulled the trigger, spraying him with a long burst. At least a dozen bullets pulped his chest and neck and he collapsed.

I let the SMG drop against my chest, raised a forehoof and, with a roar of triumph, stamped down on Big Ears' head. There was a crunch and I felt the stallion's skull give beneath the skin. I grinned in satisfaction as I stepped off the body, raising my bloody hoof to shake it clean in a spray of gore.

There was a clatter of wood on tarmac beside me as Splinter appeared, blood and ragged strips of skin decorating his muzzle. I treated the shocked ponies opposite to my widest grin and unsheathed my lance. “Who's next?” I called out gleefully. Splinter interrupted his constant growling to bark his own challenge.

The remaining raiders glanced at each other. Then, in the slow and cautious technique of 'I'll go if you go', charged. I sank into a ready position, lance drawn back to strike at the closest-

A furious storm of gunfire came sweeping down from further up the street and perforated the charging ponies in a maelstrom of spraying blood and pained howling. One mare managed to stumble onwards for a few steps, in spite of the half-dozen holes punched through her flank. She ended up slumping to the ground just short of my forehooves, the length of lead pipe grasped in her teeth falling from her grip and rolling forward to bump against my hoof. I sighed in irritation, then raised a hoof and lightly kicked the mare's head. Hooray. Victory.

The gunfire had been replaced by the approaching clopping of hooves. I warily turned to meet them. Four sets of hooves, to be precise. The ponies they belonged to didn't look like raiders; they were too clean for that. The armour they wore was heavy-duty, not like the loose, kitbashed barding I had draped over my back and flanks. Their suits were all crudely painted the same shade of dark green. Classy. Their weapons were well-maintained, too, if I was any judge. As they came to a halt in front of me, I stepped backwards and hefted my lance.

“Oh, yeah,” one of them said in response; a grey-coated stallion with an obscenely large machine gun on his battle saddle. I took an instant dislike to the cocky grin he was sporting. He touched a hoof to the brim of his helmet in a casual salute as he continued, “you're welcome. Pleasure to save your tail. Let's do it again sometime, 'ey?”

“What thefuck isthat?” another asked, pointing at the crouched figure of Splinter beside me.

“Everypony shut up,” the one in the lead said firmly. She was a unicorn mare, off-white coat, a scoped assault rifle held alongside herself with her magic. Unlike Grinning Idiot, she was bareheaded, revealing her pale purple mane that was tied back from her face. As she spoke she floated the rifle onto the back, stowing it in a holster on her saddle. She took a step forward, raising a hoof to brush an errant strand of her mane from her face. “Look,” she said calmingly. “If we wanted to kill you, you'd be dead already. Relax, okay? We're not in the business of killing strangers.”

“Apart fromthose strangers, at least,” Grinning Idiot said, gesturing at the crumpled bodies that lay around us. “And I think you'll agree they had it coming,” he added in satisfied tones.

I grudgingly conceded the point and lowered my lance.

“My name's Paramount,” the unicorn mare said. “This is Hardwire –” Grinning Idiot gave another cheerful salute “– Prickle Top, and Macro,” she said, gesturing to each of the ponies in turn. “What's your name?”

I laid my lance on the ground, keeping it within easy reach. “Killjoy.”

“And I repeat: what thefuck isthat?” Prickle Top demanded, gesturing at Splinter again.

I shrugged. “Dunno. I just ran into him a few days ago.” I smirked. “He kills things for me, though, so I kept him.”

“'Him'?” Prickle Top said dubiously. “How can you tell?” I shrugged again.

Hardwire trotted over to Splinter, ignorant of the tree-wolf's growls. “He's pretty sweet, whatever he is.” He reached out a hoof to pet Splinter. “Hey there, little guy! Wanna-Okay-don't-wanna-play-anymore!” he said hurriedly, snatching back his hoof as Splinter snapped at it.

Paramount crouched down and examined Splinter – from a safe distance – before declaring, “it's a timberwolf.” She straightened up and looked at me quizzically. “Where did you find it? I'd always thought they must've gone extinct since the war.”

“It's a long story-”

“Woah! Hold up!” Hardwire suddenly exclaimed, trotting closer to examine the body of Big Ears that was sprawled next to me. “Is that Sharphoof!?” He leant down and lifted up one of the dead pony's forelegs, peering at it. “It is! He's got the bracelet!”

“Seriously?” Paramount asked. Hardwire looked up from prying a band of metal off Big Ears' leg and nodded vigorously. “Well, well,” she said to me with a smile. “Congratulations. Looks like you've bagged yourself a bounty.”

“I did?”

“Fuck yeah, you did!” Hardwire said, finally extracting the bracelet and tossing it up in the air and catching it again. “The guards over at Terminal have been after this little bastard for months! Two hundred and fifty caps on his head!” He stowed the bracelet in a pouch on his armour. “That'll tide me over nicely until-”

“Give it to him, Hardwire,” Paramount said firmly.

Hardwire pouted. “But Boss-”

“Hardwire-”

“But- Look, you didn't even know about the bounty, did you?” he asked me beseechingly.

“I do now,” I said, holding out a hoof. Hardwire grumbled and muttered something about 'too long between paydays'. But he did take out the bracelet and toss it to me.

“Just hand that over to the guard captain at Terminal. She'll pay out,” Paramount told me.

“Right. And what's Terminal?” I asked.

“'What's Terminal'?” Hardwire said incredulously. “How can you be out here all alone and not know about the only settlement in Haythorne?”

“Very easily, apparently,” I said irritably. “So where is it?”

“South,” Paramount replied before Hardwire could open his mouth. “It's easy to find; look for the only place with lights.”

“If the guards shoot at you, just yell at 'em that you got booze. That always works,” Hardwire advised me.

“That only happened once,” Prickle Top muttered. “And it was your fault.”

“So, what are you doing out here?” Paramount asked me, ignoring the ensuing argument that flared up between Prickle Top and Hardwire.

“None of your business,” I replied shortly.

“Charming,” I heard Macro mutter to herself.

Paramount rolled her eyes. “I'm hardly asking for your life story,” she said. “It's just a bit odd to find somepony wandering around on their own in a place like this. Especially with a timberwolf in tow,” she added, shooting a glance at Splinter. “And you don't need to worry; unless you're out on a slave-hunt, you can't be doing anything that'll get you on my bad side after taking out this piece of scum.” She shot a disgusted sneer at Big Ears' corpse.

I sighed and shrugged. “Just scavenging. Happy now?” I said.

“I doubt it!” Hardwire cut in, apparently done arguing with Prickle Top. “The boss isnever happy!” Paramount pointedly ignored the stallion's comment, although she did screw up her face in irritation momentarily.

“So… who are you guys?” I asked. “You don't look like raiders.”

“Uh-oh!” Hardwire said before Paramount could answer. “We've got ourselves an amnesiac! I'mHardwire, remember?” he said condescendingly, tapping a hoof to his chest. “I'm your king, that you've sworn your undying allegiance to-”

“Ha. Ha. Fuck you,” I said. This stallion was really starting to grate on my nerves. “You told me your names, not who you are.”

“Ooh,” Hardwire said in feigned awe. He stepped over to Paramount and stage-whispered to her, “careful, Boss; this one'sdeep.”

Paramount sighed and shot an annoyed look at Hardwire. “We,” she said proudly, “are members of Cartwheel's Cavalry.” She tapped an insignia that was crudely stencilled on the shoulder pad of her armour: a rearing pony backdropped by a cartwheel. “The best merc band in the Palomino-”

“Apart from the Talons,” Hardwire said cheerfully. “And the Privateers, when they're hiring out. And you can't forget the Rangers, of course. And I heard the Shades pulled off a good job last month-”

“We're also the only mercs that don't profit off of other ponies' misfortune,” Paramount said loudly, trying to drown out Hardwire's contradictions. “We don't deal with slavers and we only take clean jobs. And we only accept bounties from reputable sources. Not to mention-”

“Okay, I get the idea,” I said, cutting off her impromptu sermon. “It wasn't like I was asking to join.”

“Deepand more than half a brain?” Hardwire said. “I think I'm in love!”

I snorted disgustedly in reply.

“Oh, but no sense of humour.” Hardwire sighed. “Shame. Still, at least the two ofyou have got something in common.” He nudged Paramount suggestively. She ignored him.

“And what about you? Who are you?” she asked me.

I shrugged. “Nopony.”

Paramount raised her eyebrows sceptically. “Everypony's somepony. I've already said- Would youstop that!?” she snapped at Hardwire, who had been nudging her continually since he'd started.

“Aye-aye, Boss!” he said, acknowledging her with a cocky salute.

“I'm not much of a somepony,” I said dismissively. “Just trying to survive, like anypony else.”

“Well, you've managed it so far!” Hardwire said. “Nice to meet somepony who's got their priorities straight!” He made a quick series of surreptitious gestures in Paramount's direction that suggested to me that he didn't include her in that category.

“Para,” Macro said, “I hate to break up this meet-and-greet, but we should get a move on.”

“Right,” Paramount said. She turned back to me. “We're headed to an old military depot on a scavenging run,” she said. “Care to join us? It's dangerous to be poking around Haythorne alone-”

“Oh, Boss, no,” Hardwire groaned, clapping a hoof to his forehead in exasperation. “Can weplease not go rounding up every aimless, lost pony we run acrossagain? No offence,” he added to me. “There's only so much baggage I can bear. No offence,” he repeated.

“Yeah, no,” I said flatly. “'No offence',” I quoted, “but I tend not to trust ponies I've only just met.”

“Wow, Boss, this pony's smarter thanyou,” Hardwire said cheerfully. Paramount's horn lit up and her rifle was lifted off her saddle and smacked lightly against the side of the stallion's helmet. He swore and clutched at his head.

“Fair enough,” Paramount said to me, ignoring Hardwire's grumbling as she floated her rifle back to her side. “Stay safe out there.”

They turned and headed back in the direction they'd come from. Hardwire hesitated and offered a hoof to me. I looked down at the outstretched hoof, then back up at the stallion's hopeful expression.

“Come on, bro, don't leave me hanging!” he said beseechingly.

I sighed and gave his hoof the lightest of bumps with my own.

“Rock on, buddy!” Hardwire crowed before turning and galloping after his comrades.

“Freak,” I muttered as he left.

Another half-an-hour of walking brought me to the edge of Haythorne's industrial sector. Ruined houses and barren gardens gave way to the broken shells of old warehouses and fenced-off spaces littered with immense shipping containers.

The compass indicator drew me towards a sprawling building that looked less ruinous than most that I'd seen so far. The chain-link fence that separated it from the road was interrupted at an open gate that sported a sign that arched over it that read, in faded lettering:

ARCANE INTELLIGENCE INDUSTRIES

The front entrance of the building had once been sealed by a pair of ornately inscribed metal doors, depicting… well, I didn't actually know what, exactly, because they had been been blown off their hinges and reduced to a scattering of tarnished fragments that lay across the floor of the reception area beyond the doorway.

I brushed a hoof against the well-worn carpet as I stepped across the threshold, Splinter prowling along at my side. I enjoyed the feeling of something soft – however worn it was – underhoof that wasn't trying to stick to my coat and make me itch.

“Okay,” I said softly. “Find… stuff. Shouldn't be too hard, right?” Splinter barked softly in response. “Right.” I glanced upwards at a prompt that popped up in my E.F.S..

Locate three (3) spark batteries.

Optional: Locate gemcells and scrap electronics.

I growled at my pipbuck and gave it a slap. Had that Renegade bitch done something to it to make it as annoying as possible? “I'm doing it, okay? Shut up!” I muttered heatedly. Splinter whined, cocking his head at me. “Not you!”

I chose a door at random and trotted off along the corridor beyond it. It was gloomy, even by wasteland standards; there were no windows and the only light came from the doorway behind me. Even accounting for the wear and tear of two centuries, it wasn't a welcoming place. I couldn't imagine any sane pony who would want to spend their lives… doing whatever it was pre-war ponies did in a place as depressing as this.

Splinter suddenly stopped in his tracks and crouched low to the floor, his head cocked to one side. I mimicked him. For a moment, there was only the faint creaking of Splinter's branches shifting about as he slowly turned his head this way and that.

There was a heavy thump of something metallic slamming into the floor, followed by a motorised whirring. Another thump. another whir. And again. It was gradually getting louder.

One of the doors leading off the corridor swung open and a bulky, metallic leg was thrust out into the corridor and set down with a thump. After a moment, a second leg and eventually a body and a second set of legs were manoeuvred through the doorway.

I regarded the contraption before me. Right… Renegade had said something about robots, hadn't she? This one was almost endearing in a pathetic sort of way. It was vaguely pony-shaped, if ponies had no tails, no neck and a head that jutted up from the middle of the spine and had no features beyond some kind of glass visor in place of actual eyes.

The bot slowly turned itself to face us and I watched as it slowly worked its way down the corridor towards Splinter and I. It finally drew to a halt in front of us. The 'head' slowly rotated in place, panning back and forth across the pair of us.

“Welcome,” the bot said haltingly in a painfully artificial voice,“to…Arcane Intelligence Industries!” I jumped as the robotic voice was suddenly replaced with a recording of a far-too-enthusiastic stallion.“Employees… must present… valid… employee… ID.” I considered this for a moment, then spun around and bucked the bot hard enough to lift it from its feet and send it crashing to the floor.

“How's that for ID?” I said smugly as the bot's legs jerked helplessly.

“Warning,” the bot said as I trotted past it and through the doorway it had come through.“Primary motivators… compromised-…”

I shut the door on the bot's whining.

The room beyond was an immense, high-ceilinged affair, partitioned into dozens of cubicles that each contained a desk, a chair, a filing cabinet and a computer terminal. It was brighter in here, thanks to a series of massive skylights that ran the length of the room, meaning I could pick the greyness of the dirt out from the greyness of the walls.

I doubted I'd find anything of use here. As I trotted across the room, weaving between rows of cubicles, I caught a glimpse of green light that drew my eye over to a certain cubicle. I paused and poked my head into it. There was a terminal on the desk, partially buried under debris from where part of the ceiling had given way. The casing was dented and the screen was flickering, but the text on the screen was readable. I stepped over and spent a few minutes muddling through it.

'… One other thing, we had a spook poking round last week. Was asking about “diverted shipments” She came back last night, just before clocking-off tym & went to talk with the boss. She didnt look happy when she left. Boss came down this morning & told us to “tighten up the records”. Tighten up what? Everything in are departments just fine, apart from some missing payments, but everypony …'

“Intruder… detected.”

I cried out as a searing pain blossomed in my flank. I threw myself fully into the cubicle as the smell of scorched fur filled my nostrils. I craned my head around to look at my injured flank. The metal plate in my barding had neat, round hole punched in it. The metal around the pockmark was red hot and was burning against my skin, but that was nothing compared to the pain that came from the hole where a chunk of my flesh that had been vaporised. It was only a small hole, but it was still one small hole more than I prefer. The blood that came gushing out met the hot metal and began to steam, filling the cubicle with its scent.

I climbed to my hooves, ignoring- no,feeding on the pain that shot through my flank. I stuck my head out of the cubicle just in time to see Splinter tackle the bot that had shot me, knocking it to the ground. He started to smash at the bot's metal hull with his forepaws, the machine hopelessly shooting red beams from its eyepiece that only struck the ceiling overhead.

I flinched as a beam suddenly flashed in the edge of my vision, fired from the opposite direction. I jerked my head around to see three more bots steadily advancing towards me. I ducked back into the cubicle as a second volley of lasers was fired, hissing through the air around me and blowing chunks out of the thin cubicle walls.

I hurriedly rooted through my saddlebag, eventually locating one of the… thingy grenades Renegade had given me. I ripped the pin from it and tossed it over the wall of the cubicle towards the bots. The sound of it hitting the floor was lost to the chorus of robotic voices.

“Intruder… detected.”

“Warning… lethal force… is… authorised.”

“Arcane Intelligence Industries!… requires… your… immediate… expiration-”

The sound of the grenade going off was an electric crackle that made the hairs in my mane stand on end. My pipbuck's screen and E.F.S. flickered momentarily. More importantly, the bots' voices went dead.

I stormed out of the cubicle, every fourth step provoking a stinging pain in my flank. The closest bot had toppled over mid-step. I smashed a forehoof into its head, shattering the eyepiece. I bucked the second bot so hard it smashed straight through the thin wall of the nearest cubicle and lost one of its legs to a collision with the desk. The last bot was twitching in place, its voice faint and halting.“Primary… Moti- ti- ti- vvaaatorsofflineat- at- empt- em- ting-” I silenced it with a long burst from my SMG, holding the trigger down until the magazine clipped empty. The bot fell down with a crash, over a dozen holes punched into its side.

“Fucking bastard machines,” I spat, reaching a hoof around to probe at the wound I'd received. “Fuck!” I shouted as I poked the seared flesh harder than I'd planned. I turned on the nearest wrecked bot and slammed a forehoof down onto its hull. Pain shot through my leg when the blow landed, but I was satisfied to see the metal panel I'd struck dented and cracked when I lifted my hoof away.

After taking a moment to secure a scrap of healing bandage across my wound, I took a closer look at the bot I'd just hit. With a few careful smashes from my hoof, I broke away the dented panel entirely and started rooting around in its insides. I ripped out some of the more interesting-looking bits and shoved them into my saddlebag. After a moment, my E.F.S. threw up a prompt:

Locate three (3) spark batteries. (Two (2) remaining.)

I held my pipbuck up to my face. “See?That's 'being useful',” I told it. “Do it more often.” Splinter nudged me in the side with his muzzle and whined. I patted him on the back. “Not you, you're already useful.”

I smashed into the other bots and managed to turn up a second spark battery and some other bits-and-pieces that would probably be worth a few caps. I probably could have gotten a few more intact parts, but, alas, I tragically kept hitting the fucking bastard machines too hard and breaking them. Whoops.

There was a flight of stairs leading up from the floor to a glass-fronted office that overlooked the cubicles below. Posters with such captions as 'Smile! Happy workers are productive workers!' and 'Stealing office supplies undermines the war effort!' were arrayed on the wall above the stairs, the lettering faded into near-illegibility by the years. I faltered in my steps as I passed one poster which had defied the odds and retained some of its original colours. A pair of bright blue eyes stared out at me, below the only two words that were still readable:

WATCHING YOU

I scowled at the poster, then ripped it off the wall and tossed it over the railing to the floor below. Watchthat, creep.

The office was several times larger than any of the cubicles below. Clearly, its owner had been a mighty office-warrior indeed, to have earned such a privilege over their fellows. There wasn't even anything to fill the space, just an expansive desk that sat precisely in the centre of the room, a few shelves and filing cabinets lining one wall and the decayed remnants of a small tree sitting in a pot by the desk. I gave the pot a disbelievingly nudge with one hoof as I walked past it. Why? Why would anyone go to all the trouble to move to a desert and build an enormous building, then sit down in it and think, “gee, this place could really use some sprucing up.” If they wanted a tree, they could just stay in the Heartlands and go outside.

Pre-war ponies wereweird.

The terminal on the desk was turned on, the screen throwing a green light against the back wall. I stepped around the desk and sat down in the chair.

A moment later, I was sitting on the floor amidst the broken remnants of a chair. I growled irritably and threw one of the rotten pieces of wood across the room. I looked over at Splinter, who cocked his head to one side quizzically.

“That was deliberate,” I muttered as I picked myself up.

The screen was displaying a stylised rendition of the letters 'AIA'. I gingerly prodded the biggest button I could find on the terminal's control panel and the logo flickered out, replaced with the usual lines of blocky text. I sighed and planted my forehooves on the desk, leaning in to muddle through the words.

Or the first line, at least, after which I jabbed the big button again forcefully.

The terminal's speakers crackled into life.

“This is Staff Sergeant Whickers, Equestrian Army, 32nd Rangers Regiment.

“It's been nearly… eleven weeks, I think, since the megaspells hit. For most of that time I was holed up in a house up near Ponyville. About two weeks ago, I made the decision to move on out here, to the San Palomino.”

Whickers laughed bitterly.

“Some plan that was. Almost didn't make it. So much radiation around White Tail… I still haven't got my mane back. Ah well. I was never much of a looker to begin with.”

There was a rapid tapping sound made by Whickers drumming his hooves on the desk.

“And it's not like I'm heading out on the town any time soon, for that matter, considering the state of this place. This is the first seriously intact building I've come across. Everything else… gutted. Burned to a cinder. And that's the ones that weren't just blasted flat. Just piles of rubble and… bodies. Dozens of them.

“At least they would've died quick. I guess they're the lucky ones.”

A long pause ensued, broken only by the crackle of the terminal's speakers and the slow, regular tapping of Whickers' hoof on the desk. I jumped as Splinter nudged me in the side and whined. “Shut up!” I hissed at him as Whickers continued.

“I've not seen anypony living for days. The last was a pair of…”

I jumped slightly as a bang erupted from the speakers.

“Fucking scum,” Whickers growled.“There was a family, with a wagon. Just three ponies who were lucky enough to be out camping when…

“And those two were just helping themselves to the wagon, right over their bodies. The mother was still alive…barely.” Whickers chuckled darkly.“Weren't expecting a soldier to show up. I let 'em run. Gave 'em a chance. Didn't save 'em. Iearned that fucking sharpshooter's award.”

Well, well. He wasn't a complete filly, after all.

“Three months. Not even three months. We couldn't even last three damn months and already we're turning into animals.”

There was a long silence, broken by the creaking of Whickers adjusting his position in the chair that now lay in pieces beneath my hooves.

“I left the family there. No way to bury them. Made sure the filly was tucked up nice and close to her parents before I left. Think that's… how it should be.”

What? What was that supposed to do, make them less dead? Moron.

“Still no contact with anypony. Just dead air on the radio. Battery won't last much longer, anyway.

“I'm planning to head on out down south, to Galloping Springs. See if there's- what's left. At least the security bots here picked up on my ID, so I've got somewhere safe to sleep tonight.”

That lucky bastard.

“Tomorrow… Tomorrow's another day.”

The recording ended.

I forced myself to read through the next few lines, but they all had terms like 'Project Management Orientation' and 'Foreign Incursion' in them.

It had taken himtwo weeks what I'd managed in three days? What a slowpoke.

On a whim, I brought up my pipbuck and started prodding at the controls. What had Ma said?That button, thentwo clicks up,that button…

'Broadcasting device detected. Download content?' read the prompt that popped up on the screen. I cautiously pressed one of the buttons. After a moment, the name of Whickers' recording popped up, accompanied by the rest of the list, which quickly filled the pipbuck's screen. I glared at the 'Items Downloaded' number as it steadily increased, spilling over into double digits before I could blink. “No! I only wanted-!” I muttered at the infernal machine, smacking it on the desk. “Stupid thing.”

I couldn't tell you why, exactly, at the time, I gave a damn about some dead pony's diary, other than that following his first directive had at least given me something to do beyond lying down until I started to decompose.

I was certain, in a not-actually-thinking-about-it kind of way, that I'd been lucky enough to stumble across two of Whickers' journals, and that I wasn't going to find another one.

I guess, in a way, it was reassurance.

If a pre-war pony, who was soft and sentimental and slow and needed a potted plant by their desk could survive out here, then so could I.

And he hadn't had a fucking timberwolf and a bulletproof skull.

I had iteasy, by comparison.

Right?

After leaving the partitioned office room, I began traipsing through the building's corridors again, searching for more parts to scavenge.

I won't say I gotlost.

I'd call it 'orientationally challenged'.

Every one of the corridors was the same: the same faded, peeling paint on the walls, the same threadbare carpet underhoof, the same battered doors leading to rooms that only differed in the patterns the grime and dirt made on every surface and whether or not the ceiling had fallen in.

Fortunately, I didn't run into any more bots. Or perhapsunfortunately, because I still needed more scavenge, and it would at least have broken the monotony.

After about half-an-hour of poking my head through doorways and trotting down cloned passageways, I stumbled across a door that was different. It was metallic, rather than wooden, for a start and was twice as tall as me and wide enough to fit about a dozen ponies through simultaneously. I hooked a hoof through the handle and almost ripped my leg off when it didn't budge when I pulled on it. I snarled, dug my hindhooves into the floor and heaved. For a few moments, the creaking of metal-on-metal interplayed with the sound of growling in my throat, then two hundred years of rust gave way and the door shifted.

I grunted in satisfaction and pushed the door open enough for me to slip through.

I froze upon entering the next room.

It was filled with rank upon rank of bots, all bigger and more heavily armed and armoured than the ones I'd tangled with so far. They were all of the same make: a three-legged contraption, each leg ending in a thick wheel; a bulky torso from which sprouted two arms sporting weapons and a tiny head that barely rose above the main body. The right arm of each bot was a stubby, multi-barrelled affair. The left, what looked like a missile launcher.

I relaxed when I peered at the closest one and noted the rust that had taken hold around the joints, not to mention that many of the bots sported missing panels that had exposed wiring hanging out where components had been ripped out by scavengers. I gave the bot a push and it shifted slightly on its wheels, but didn't start bleating in an annoying voice and try to bore me to death with repeated warnings. I looked around at the dozens of bots.

Jackpot.

After a few moments' searching amongst the rows, I stumbled across a bot that was mostly intact. I tapped at its hull with one hoof. “How do you open one of these things?” I muttered to myself.

It took longer than I'd like to admit to find the bolts that held the rear panel in place.

Poking around in the bot's inner workings, I managed to pry free a collection of electronics and shove them into my saddlebag. The E.F.S. flashed up a prompt:

Locate three (3) spark batteries: Done.

Good. Time to leave. Head south to this Terminal place to cash in that bounty, maybe find somewhere to stay the night, then back to Sand's Edge tomorrow morning to shake some caps out of Renegade. A nice, simple plan.

And, as with all 'simple' plans since a cave-pony said, “hey, guys, I heard a rustling in the bushes; I'm gonna go check it out*,” everything started going wrong almost immediately.

Sorry, I need to take a quick moment out to emphasise for you just how badly this plan went wrong.

…

That long enough for you? Okay…

I cast my gaze around the room. I wasn't crazy about blundering around in those accursed corridors again, so I was very interested in whether there was another way out.

The wall on the far side from where I had entered possessed three doors, each attended by a low ramp that led up to it. Two of the doors were closed, one was open. At least my choice was made for me.

I started weaving through the rows of inactive bots, but as I reached the last few ranks, a red bar appeared in my E.F.S..

I stopped and took a step to put one of the bots between me and the doorway. I watched the indicator on my compass as it slowly panned across, my ears picking up a low rumbling sound that gradually loudened.

A hulking figure loomed in the doorway.

It was almost identical to any one of the inactive bots that I was surrounded by. Except that this bot wasn't inactive. Or rusting. Or missing parts. A pair of baleful red sensors, clearly intended to intimidate, were set into its stumpy head. The weapons on its arms were held at the ready as it advanced into the room.

The bot came to a halt halfway down the ramp. Its head turned to the right, then slowly panned across to the left, while a deep, menacing voice stated, “scanning. Scanning. Scanning.”

I slowly tried to edge myself fully behind the form of the inactive bot that lay between me and the sentry, simultaneously easing a hoof into my saddlebag to pull out one of the pulse grenades Renegade had given me.

“Unauthorised presence detected…”

'Well, shit.'

“…Engaging with lethal force.”

'Of course.'

The bot brought its gatling gun to bear and opened fire. I ducked as a volley of lasers flashed through the air around me, glancing off the armour of the inactive bots, leaving steaming pockmarks where they impacted.

I grabbed my SMG. I didn't know how much damage it could do againstthat at this distance, but it was worth a try. I waited for the bot's gun to stop firing, then activated S.A.T.S.. I poked my head out from behind the inactive bot I was hiding-taking cover behind, sighted on the bot, winced at the abysmally-low figures in my E.F.S. and pulled the trigger.

Click.

“Son of a motherbucking-!”

I dropped my SMG and dived aside just before S.A.T.S. ran out. A second volley of laser fire hissed past me.

Fucking guns and their fucking need for fucking bullets!

“Deploying heavy ordnance.”

'What-?'

The air was driven from my lungs when the missile struck the bot in front of me, throwing it into me. I fell down and the bot toppled on top me, the immensely heavy junk of metal pinning me in place. I was dimly aware, between coughs and wheezed breaths, of the crashing sound made of the inactive bots being thrown into each other and falling to the floor. Somewhere to my left, Splinter let out a howl.

The bot on top of me had fallen on my flank. Thankfully, my forelegs was free. I managed to twist around and start shoving it off.

“Engaging.”

“Oh, fuckoff!” I shouted back as the bot's gatling laser started up again. The bot above me shuddered under a dozen impacts. With a last heave, I threw the bot off my body and rolled to the side, flinching as a red beam flashed above my head, close enough that I could feel the heat of it on my face. I scrambled to my hooves and flung myself behind three bots that had fallen into a tangled pile.

I hurriedly shrugged off my saddlebag and emptied it out onto the floor, pawing through the contents to get to the pulse grenades.

“Deploying heavy-”

'Fuck.'

Before the bot could blow me to pieces, however, a pile of broken bots over to my left fell apart and Splinter heaved himself out of the wreckage. He shook himself free from a few trailing wires, then sighted on the sentry bot. He charged forward and the bot turned to meet him.

“Secondary threat detected-”

Splinter collided with the bot with a dull clang of wood-on-metal. The bot rocked sideways, teetered on just two of its legs for a moment, then fell back down onto all three with a crash.

“Warning,” it stated as Splinter batted at its hull with his forepaws.“Hazardous pest detected.”

“No shit, you piece of junk,” I muttered, finally coming up with one of the grenades. I ripped the pin out and threw it towards the bot. I winced as it clipped the outstretched arm of one of the bots I was hiding-taking cover behind, knocking it off course. I watched as the grenade sailed towards the bot as the machine raised its gatling laser and fired a long burst. Splinter howled and fell down, the beams vaporising chunks of his branches in a cloud of steaming splinters. The bot kept firing.

'Don't miss, don't miss, don't miss…'

The grenade hit the ground several yards short of the bot.

'…So, is that a miss, or…'

The bot ceased firing and lowered its arm. It swivelled in place towards me.“Re-engaging primary threat-”

The grenade went off. The bot started to jerk and twitch, its eyes going dim as blue lightning sparked across its hull. I gathered my legs beneath and hurdled the bots I was crouched behind in a single bound and charged.

“Primary motivators compromised,” the bot stated. Its eyes suddenly flared back to full brightness and the jerking stopped.“Diverting power to-”

“Shut the fuck up!” I roared as I reached the bot and bucked it square in the chest. It rolled backwards on its wheels, its hull dented under my strike.

“Engagi-”

I leapt forward, hooked one hoof around the bot's arm and started slamming the other into the dent my buck had made.

“Warn- -ing.” The bot's voice stuttered as I kept driving my hoof home.“Target wi- -thin minim- -um weapo- range-”

With a clang, the edge of the panel on the bot's chest bent outwards, leaving a slight gap in the bot's hull. I wormed my teeth around the edge of the panel, braced my hooves against the bot's chest andpulled. There was a bang as something snapped and the panel broke away entirely, hanging off the bot's body by a single bolt.

“Warning: Hull integrity-”

“I told you to shut up!” I bellowed. I saw something important-looking through the gap in the bot's hull and smashed a hoof into it. Immediately, the bot shuddered then froze up entirely.

I stepped back from the bot, noting that the light in its eyes had gone out. I spun around and bucked the bot, shoving it back a few paces.

“I!”

I stepped in and bucked it again.

“Fucking!”

And again.

“Hate!”

Once more, and this time the bot collided with the wall and fell down with a crash.

“Robots!”

I turned to the room at large. Where once there had been organised rows of bots, there were mangled piles of metal and electronics, some sporting steaming marks from the laser impacts, one blow open by the bot's missile, its fried electronics smoking profusely.

“Fuck! All! Robots!” I roared at them.

I stood still for a second, sucking in deep breaths and trembling. Then I heard a voice.

“…but a Ministry official has no business poking her muzzle into any dealings…”

I looked down at my pipbuck. I glared at it as the recording it had somehow started to play went on. “Especially you!” I added, smacking the 'stop' button.

I stomped over to where Splinter was lying on the floor. “Come on, you,” I said. “Up and at 'em.” He didn't move. I sighed and reached out a hoof to poke at Splinter's head.

It fell apart under my touch.

I blinked, and suddenly, my hoof wasn't resting on a head at all, but a pile of sticks. I gingerly picked one up, turning it back and forth under my gaze. Then I looked down at the scattered pile in front of me. I finally registered the numerous smouldering, blackened patches that marred the branches and twigs.

I looked at a round-ish gap in the pile that may once have been a timberwolf's eye.

I noted the lack of a warm, golden glow.

After a few moments, I dropped the stick from my hoof and gave the pile a kick, sending the pieces skittering across the floor.

“Stupid animal,” I muttered.

Companion Perk Lost: Wood Sense of Smell

Level Up: You have reached level 5!

New Perk Gained: Earth Pony Vitality (1)

REQ: END 6

“…The innate magicks of the Earthe Pony, whyle not as inclyned to showponyship as those of the Pegasus or Unicorn, are no less remarkable; the strengthe, constitution and stamina of any given Earthe Pony is … disproportionately greater than their counterparts.” - Quaint Curio, ‘A Treatise on the Pony Subspecies and Their Capabilities.’

Effect: You gain +5% to all resistances; fire, poison, radiation, magic and damage.

*Actually, they probably said something like, “ugga-wugga, me chugga,” but that wouldn't have got the point across.