Fallout: Equestria: Written in Sand

Chapter Seven: Best of Intentions

Pain.

I regained consciousness almost immediately, but would have gladly traded it away again for a shot of Med-X. As I brought a trembling forehoof to my face, somepony loomed over me. I feebly slapped away a hoof that reached towards me. “Get… fuck off…” The words came up my throat accompanied by the metallic taste of my own blood. I rolled away from the pony that flinched and drew back at my protests and onto my front. I managed to raise myself up on my forehooves enough that when I blacked out again, the crack of my chin on the ground was still paining me when I came to once more.

Searing pain shot through me as I was roughly flipped over. A familiar face loomed in my vision. A face I wanted to stomp into a thin paste. “Bitch,” I managed to cough. “You- you’ve… fucking killed me…”

“You’re not going to die. You’renot going to die,” I heard Paramount say, her voice sounding muffled to my ears.

I tried to spit some of the blood congealing in my mouth at her, but my throat caught and I ended up coughing it across my chest. “Fuck,” I said weakly, my head lolling back and smacking on the ground. Something cold was pressed against the shredded flesh of my flank, making me shiver. I blearily lifted my head again and was blinded by the glow of magic as a healing bandage was laid across the seeping shrapnel wounds.

The pain started to alleviate. I let my head fall back again.

“Come on, please work… please,” I heard somepony say.

“Healing potion,” I groaned. “Saddlebag.”

I felt the weight of the saddlebag on my left flank lifted away from me and heard the clattering of somepony rummaging through it. A bottle, wreathed in a magical aura, was shoved roughly against my muzzle. I forced my mouth open and managed to swallow the contents, along with more than a little of my blood. The now-familiar warm feeling spread over my wounds. I groaned as one of my ribs was magically drawn back into place, sinews stitching themselves shut around it. The sensation of blood trickling over my skin slowed, then ceased.

I let my eyelids droop shut, but fought to stay conscious; there was no way I was going to let myself lose consciousness around a pony that had been shoving a gun in my face not ten minutes ago.

I sensed somepony standing over me. With no small amount of effort, I forced my eyes open.

A different, unfamiliar, face filled my vision. A pair of teal eyes, drawn wide with concern, were staring down at me. I rolled away from the mare they belonged to and onto my front and made to stand up. The mare – one of the now-free slaves – who had been staring at me tried to push me back down. “Your friend said you’re not supposed to move-” she said nervously.

“I don’t have any friends,” I growled, shrugging her off. As I straightened my trembling legs, pain shot through my right shoulder. I sank back down, panting. The mare tried to support me as I fell, preventing me from smacking my chin on the ground again.

“Are you okay?” she asked as I shifted about to take the weight off my injured flank.

“The fuck do you think?” I snapped. “I got blown up, dipshit.”

Why was I cursed to perpetually deal with idiotic mares?

“Sorry.”

“Oh, shut up,” I said wearily. My head was starting to pound again; the familiar thumping at the skull beneath my scar. I rested my head on the ground, wishing that the coolness of the paving slabs would travel up from my cheek to the site of the pain to soothe it, just a little.

Second time in less than a week that I’d felt this bad. On the plus side, I hadn’t died for any length of time. On the minus side, this had been perfectly avoidable but for the actions of one psychotic do-gooder.

I realised that the mare who’d been watching over me was resting a hoof on the back of my neck. I weakly made to shrug her off, but the adrenaline and healing potion were fast wearing off and the familiar post-fight crash was settling in.

“I… hate… everything…” I whispered between laboured breaths.

“Are you all right?”

I growled and lifted my head again. “What did I-?”

My words died in my throat as I made eye contact with Paramount.

“You,” I snarled, moving to stand up again. “Get the fuck away from me.”

“I’m sorry-”

“Fuck you!” I barked. “You-” I would have gone on, but my throat chose that moment to clench itself shut. I coughed and retched as a wave of nausea rushed from my stomach up to my brain, joining with my headache to perform a duet of misery and suffering on my nerves. I groaned and tried to press my hoof to my skull. A burst of pain erupted in my shoulder and I flopped back down again.

“Where does it hurt?” I heard Paramount say, her voice coming from far too close for my liking.

I ignored her, instead focusing on drawing in breath without triggering another painful, throat-ripping retch. I flinched as a healing bandage was wrapped around my aching shoulder. Paramount said something to the mare who was still hovering beside me and walked away again. I twisted my head to watch her leave, snarling at her back.

“Here.” A bottle of water was placed in front of my muzzle. The mere sight of it made my throat burn with thirst and I eagerly seized it between my lips and took a gulp. “Careful!” the mare beside me chuckled as I choked. “Take it slowly.”

I drained the rest of the bottle and tossed it aside. The mare picked it up and conscientiously stowed it in my saddlebag. “Thank you… you know. For saving us,” she said quietly.

“What-the-fuck-ever,” I said sourly. “Thank that crazy bitch.” I jerked my head over at where Paramount was conversing with some of the other slaves. “She made me do it.”

“You saved me from that last slaver.”

I carefully turned my head to look at her. Right… she was the pony that the bitch who had blown me up had taken hostage. I grunted, turning away from her slightly. After a minute, I took a deep breath and gathered my legs beneath me once more.

“No, don't…” the mare said, her hoof pressing down on my back. “Get up,” she finished lamely as I straightened my legs and raised my head to take a look around. I spotted my lance lying discarded where it had fallen and stumbled towards it. “You really shouldn't be moving around,” my self-appointed nurse weakly protested as I walked over to it, my legs trembling, spitting out some more blood onto the body of the dead slaver nearby.

“I've been shot in the head. This is nothing,” I grunted. I scooped up my lance and settled it into its sheath across my back.

“You're okay!” a relieved voice said. I rounded on it, narrowing my eyes. Paramount faltered in her approach as she caught sight of my expression.

“You know,” I snarled between increasingly painful breaths, “somehow, 'I told you so' doesn't quite cut it.”

“I'm sorry-”

“Shut the fuck up.” I raised a forehoof to my face and dragged it across my brow, wiping away the sweat that was gathering there. “Just… Just…”

My legs shook violently and I hurriedly slammed my raised foreleg back down to steady myself. My 'nurse' tried to hold me upright as I stumbled to the side. 'Tried' being the key word here. All she managed to do was slow my fall. A little bit.

“Fuck,” I said tiredly after I had finally come to rest with Nursie sprawled next to me.

I was too tired to protest as Paramount walked up to me and bent down to say, “Look, I know I messed up. I'm sorry. But we need to get moving, or Terminal will be locked down for the night before we can get there.” She shot a look around us. “Unless you want to spend the night out here, you need to just put this to one side. For now, at least.”

I glared up at her, willing my gaze to flay away her her skin and ram red-hot needles through her eyes. Alas, my mental powers were still non-existent.

I didn't want to put 'nearly getting me killed' to one side. I wanted to put a pair of hindhooves through her face. I didn't want an apology from her, I wanted her go and fall on a grenade of her own.

She met my continued glaring with an entirely neutral expression, marred only by a couple of glances at one of the nearby former slaves, who was muttering under her breath and impatiently tapping her hooves.

“Fine,” I said eventually. The acidity in my voice could have melted a hole in the paving slab I was sprawled upon. She nodded slowly in response, just once. I ignored the hoof she offered to me as I struggled to my hooves once more.

“Will you be all right to walk?” Paramount said doubtfully as I let out a groan of discomfort.

“You just… just go away,” I said tiredly. I didn't have the strength to stand and be angry with her. “Just go away and don't talk to me anymore.” She nodded, and turned away.

“Are you okay-? Sorry!” Nursie squeaked as I turned to glare at her as she stood up. “I just meant… Do you need any help?”

“No. I'm fine.”

Paramount led the way south, the rest of us trailing behind. The freed slaves had taken up the weapons from the dead slavers and were glancing around warily as they walked. I brought up the rear, not that my condition gave me much of a choice. Every few hundred yards or so, I would stumble as my light-headedness got to me, prompting a short rest. Every time, Nursie, who was hovering beside me every step of the way, did her best to keep me upright. After shrugging her off the first few times, I gave up on trying to stop her. Having some clingy mare lay her hooves on me was preferable to knocking myself out on the tarmac.

I don't know how long we walked for. I was stuck in an endless loop of carefully planting one hoof in front of the other, my gaze fixed on the ground just ahead of me, only occasionally lifting my head to check that I wasn't falling too far behind the others.

“Hold up!” somepony shouted. I promptly sank down to my haunches, head bowed, sucking in great lungfuls of air. Air that made me cough and scratched the back of my throat. I lifted my head. A slight haze of airborne dust was starting to rise from the ground, lifted by a gentle breeze.

“Radstorm,” I heard the stallion who had called a halt say. Paramount trotted over to him and the two held a rushed conversation, followed by the stallion nodding, clapping a forehoof against Paramount's own and galloping off into the distance. I groaned as Paramount came over to me.

“Listen-” she started to say.

“Which part of 'don't talk-'?”

“Shut up and listen!” Paramount snapped. “This is important!” There was an urgent tone to a voice that forestalled my reply as she went on. “There's a radstorm coming on. We need to get to Terminalnow. It's not far now, how fast can you move?”

“Fast enough.” I waved her away as her expression became doubtful. “Just fuck off. Go. I can keep up.” She frowned and her gaze lingered on me uncertainly as I slipped my goggles over my eyes. “Are we going or not?” I said sharply. She nodded and turned away. As we continued southward, the pace she set was noticeably quicker.

The wind continued to pick up, bringing it with greater amounts of dust. I wasn't bothered, thanks to the goggles and scarf shielding my face, but beside me, Nursie was breaking stride every few yards to cough and rub her eyes. The visibility had dropped so low that I could barely make out anything beyond the figures of Paramount and the other ponies up ahead. I did, however, notice one of them shooting impatient glances back at me, finally moving over to Paramount's side to mutter something to her. She must have said something pretty insulting, because Paramount shoved her away and glared at her until the mare retreated.

I spat a curse into the cloth covering my face as I stumbled over a crack in the road surface. As my knees hit the tarmac, I noticed the conspicuous lack of a steadying hoof on my shoulder. Looking around as I stood up, I saw Nursie slumped on her haunches several paces behind me, her forehoof clamped over her mouth, stifling a series of hacking coughs.

After a few moments of watching Nursie sputter, she stumbled forward until she almost bumped into me. She drew a forehoof across her watering eyes and blinked up at me. “S- Sorry,” she said. “I just- just need a- a-…” her voice trailed off into a paroxysm of coughing.

I sighed, ripped off my scarf and threw it at her. She flinched and had a brief struggle with the garment before pulling it off her face. “Wha- Why did-? Oh!” She rapidly looked from the scarf to my now-bare face and back again. “I didn't mean… You don't have to-”

I rolled my eyes, turned, and kept walking.

It wasn't as if I needed the scarf in the first place; I wasn't going to choke to death on a bit of sand. Besides, if she had fallen behind, I'd have probably been forced to carry her at gunpoint by a certain psycho-mare.

Nursie caught up to me, my scarf now adorning her face. She mumbled something through the thick cloth that I was fairly sure was 'thank you'. I didn't reply, on account of not wanting to inhale any more dust than I had already.

Something was clicking as I walked. My left foreleg. I broke stride to lift my pipbuck and peer at it through my goggles. What was it…? Something Ma had said… I looked at the gauge set into the device next to the screen and watched the needle on the radiation meter wobbling back and forth, ever-so-slowly edging upwards.

At least now I knew why they'd been calling it a 'radstorm'.

We pressed on.

At last, through the brownish haze, the silhouette of a building became visible. The only thing that distinguished it from the myriad of its fellows was the series of spotlights rigged up around it that shed pools of murky white light across the open ground surrounding it. A solitary figure was visible on the broad staircase that led up to what had once been the main entrance. As we approached, it waved a hoof at us, then ducked back inside the building.

As we mounted the staircase, I glanced up at sign affixed above the doorway. Only one word was still legible. At least now I knew how 'Terminal' had acquired its name.

The main entrance led into what had once been an immense hall that was now gutted and ruinous and, at this moment, full of swirling dust. In the centre of the hall, a small fort of sorts had been constructed. It was hardly an impenetrable fortification; a wall just tall enough to deter anypony who couldn't fly and a tower in the middle that sported a few spotlights similar to the ones outside.

“Smaller than I was expecting,” I coughed to myself. Beside me, Nursie laughed, the sound muffled by the scarf.

As we approached the open gate, three ponies stepped out to meet us. One was the stallion who'd gone ahead of us. The other two wore armoured barding and were toting weapons. Guards. That much was obvious, even if they hadn't been eyeing us suspiciously.

“Just in time. Lucky for you,” one of the guards said. “Hurry up and get below, we're closing 'er up after you.”

'Below?'

They stepped aside and ushered us through the gate. Beyond it was a flight of stairs that led downwards. At the bottom, a pair of steel doors, easily half-a-foot thick, had been left open wide enough to allow one pony to slip through at a time. After a minute or so of jostling and impatient queueing, the guard bringing up the rear stepped through and, together with his comrade, began pushing the doors closed.

I slumped against the wall, letting my hindlegs fold up beneath me. I dimly heard the sound of the doors slamming shut behind us, abruptly cutting off the sound of the wind, leaving audible only the sound of ponies scuffing their hooves on the floor and coughing the dust out of their lungs.

“Welcome to Terminal,” one of the guards said insincerely. “No thieving, no fighting, no killing, no anything-I-don't-like-you-doing. Well?” she added almost immediately. “Are you going in, or are we playing at statues?”

I remained where I was, my laboured breathing interspersed with weak coughs, as the others began moving down the tunnel. “Hey.” Somepony slapped me on the shoulder. “You going in or what?”

“What,” I grunted, not bothering to look around.

“I said: 'Are you going in or what?'”

“And I said: What.”

“Oh,” the guard said sourly. “A smartass, are we? I'll be keeping my eye on you, for sure.”

“Like I care.”

The guard leant closer to growl in my ear. “I'll be watching you.”

I shrugged her off and began making my way down the tunnel. At the far end, at the top of a second flight of stairs, the freed slaves and Paramount had congregated. “Well, we made it in one piece,” Paramount said as I reached them. “Now-”

I shouldered my way past the group and kept walking.

“Wait!” Paramount called after me. I growled irritably as she ran to catch up to me. Some ponies just couldn't take a hint. “Listen-”

“No,you listen!” I snapped as I turned suddenly, prompting Paramount to skid to a halt before she crashed into me. “You almost got me killed! I don't care what you've got to say!” I broke off as my throat clenched painfully and I spat out a few strangled coughs. “If… I… didn't feel so… fucking terrible,” I groaned, “I'd be returning the favour, got it?”

“I-”

“So just leave me alone,” I said. “”Just leave. Me. Alone. Clear?”

She backed away, her gaze dropping away from mine.

“Good.” I turned back to the staircase and groaned inwardly at the sight of the steps that set my legs trembling again.

“Hey…” somepony said as I went to descend the first step.

“Whatnow?” I growled as I turned, expecting Paramount, but instead being confronted with Nursie, who flinched and let out an involuntary squeak as I rounded on her.

“I- I…” she said tremulously.

“Spit it out.”

“I'm sorry you got hurt,” she squeaked. “A- and… thank you again, for-”

“Believe you me, it really wasn't worth it,” I said, turning my back on her.

I descended the staircase, grunting and wincing every step of the way, and emerged into a vast underground room, larger than the ruined building above. The level I was stood on was suspended above the floor of the artificial cavern, consisting of a balcony that ran the perimeter of the room and numerous walkways that criss-crossed it in an orderly grid pattern. The walkways had been commandeered by the settlement's inhabitants, who had erected makeshift shelters for themselves out of scrap; tiny houses of their own, many complete with roofs, as if they didn't quite trust the ceiling overhead to shelter them from the elements. The ceiling itself sported an array of lamps, most of which were unilluminated. Those that were, were glowing barely brightly enough to make it anything other than perpetual twilight within the cavern. Many of the makeshift shacks had their own smouldering braziers or jury-rigged electrical lighting, the interplay of the different colours, from orange through to brilliant white, giving the whole affair a chaotic atmosphere.

There was a constant bustling of ponies moving to and fro, conversing, arguing and laughing. The central walkways were thronged with ponies navigating their way between the many shacks in a constantly-shifting mass. The balcony and the outermost walkways were less crowded, but all in all, there were more ponies here than I could remember ever seeing in one place before.

I heard hooves clopping down the stairs behind me and hurriedly moved away along the balcony, wary of venturing into the crowds in the centre of the room. To my left, the balcony overlooked the bottom floor of the cavern. It was less well-lit, but there were still some particularly ramshackle structures in evidence. To my right, the balcony was lined with pre-war shopfronts. Many had had their windows smashed long ago, the contents of their meticulously-arranged displays taken by scavengers. Here and there, a shop had been occupied, either by a merchant of some kind or somepony who didn't care for building their own home from scratch out on the walkways.

After walking half the circumference of the room, I leant against the parapet to catch my breath. I slowly eased myself down to the floor and settled down for a rest. I twisted my head to take a look at my wounded flank. The barding was sporting a dozen rips and holes where the grenade's shrapnel had punched through it and the armour plates were hanging off at awkward angles where the blast had torn the straps holding them in place. It would need fixing, or worse, replacing. Great.

I dropped my head on to my foreleg and closed my eyes. The floor beneath me was cold and hard, but it least it meant I wouldn't be at risk of dozing off and waking up with my stuff missing and some fat stallion with bad breath licking my face and telling me what a pretty colt I was. I doubted I could have fallen asleep even if the floor had been made of feathers and the idyllic dreams of sweet, innocent foals; not with the constant hubbub of background noise and the occasional clopping of ponies walking past.

“Excuse me.”

Or, for that matter, with a mare in armoured barding looming over me.

I looked up. The mare – another guard, obviously – was looking down at me with a look of extreme self-importance. “Yeah?” I asked.

“You can't sleep there.”

“Watch me,” I grunted, lowering my head onto my foreleg again. I growled as she nudged me with her forehoof.

“You're obstructing the walkway,” the guard mare said. “You need a place to sleep, you find someplace out of the way or rent a room.”

I looked around. There was nopony else within twenty yards. “Obstructingwho, exactly?”

“That's the rules,” the guard said implacably. “You either follow 'em or get out.” Her expression softened somewhat as she glanced at the bandages wrapped over my wounds. “'Sides, you look in need of a good bed, not a hard floor.” She gestured across the room. “Try Verdant's; she's got good prices. Cleaner 'n most, too.”

I sighed and stood up slowly; I was too tired to argue. “Maybe I'll do that.” The guard nodded and walked away, personal power-trip fulfilled.

I began to meander along the balcony again, glancing into the shopfronts to see if there was anywhere I could sleep without being harassed by anymore self-important guards. There was no way I was going to pay somepony for the privilege of a bed for one night. I didn't have the caps to spare, in any case.

“Hey, you!”

I didn’t respond to the first shout.

“Hey! I'm talking to you!”

I glanced over my shoulder.

“Yeah, you!” said the young-looking stallion who came trotting up to me. He had his mane shaved bare, save for a gravity-defying strip of dark green that ran down the centre of his scalp. A pair of sunglasses – scuffed and scratched – were hiding his eyes, perched above a cocky sneer. I looked at what he was wearing and… yep. A black leather vest. Holy shit, this pony was the epitome of wannabes everywhere. He was the wannabe that other wannabes wanna be. If he told me his name was ‘Stud McTerrorSmash’, my lack of surprise would be matched only by my shame at having to share a world with this waste of breeding. Tagging along in his wake was a mare who was missing most of one ear. She, at least, had a more subdued appearance and seemed to be cringing at her companion’s antics. Hey, I would too.

“What?” I demanded.

Mohawk raised his head and allowed his sneer to grow more pronounced. “Don’t you ‘what’ me, mister!”

“What?”

“I said ‘don’t you “what” me’-”

“What?”

“Isaid- Oh, fuck you,” Mohawk said, his sneer dropping into more of a pout for a moment.

“What do you want?”

‘Please say “brain injury”. Or “broken leg”.’

“Oh!” said Mohawk, as he sat back on his haunches and crossed his forelegs over his chest, tilting his head to one side. “You think you’re a tough pony, do you?”

“What. Do. You. Want?” I repeated, loudly and slowly.

“You don’t look so tough to me!”

I began to realise that one of us had had this conversation beforehand. With a mirror.

“Yeah, that’s right: youdon’t have anything to say!” Mohawk said when I failed to respond.

“No, I don’t. Bye now.” I turned to leave.

“Oh, gonna run away now, are ya?” Mohawk said as he followed me. “Just as well, I guess; a colt like you’s got nothin' on a thoroughbred stallion like me!”

I stopped in my tracks and turned to face him. “Are you trying to get yourself mauled? Go. Away.”

Mohawk held up a hoof and sneered. “Hey! Hey! Don’t get aggressive with me, buddy! I’m a pony with no limits, ya hear!?”

I sighed. “If I ‘got aggressive’, you’d be smeared across that fucking wall,” I said, gesturing at the nearby shopfront with my head. “But I’ve killed plenty of ponies today, and I’m really not in the mood to kill any more right now.”

Words I’d never thought I’d speak.

“Oh yeah? Sure,” Mohawk said condescendingly.

‘Remember the guards, remember the guards, I thought to myself.‘That’s not worth this little shit.’

Not quite, anyway.

“Listen, shit-for-brains,” I growled. “I’ve killed so many ponies, I gave up trying to count that high. Fuck. Off.”

Mohawk made a noise. A mock, high-pitched squeal of terror. “Yeah, yeah,” he said sceptically, ignoring his one-eared marefriend, who was tugging urgently on his vest. “And I once bit a dragon's head off.” He squared up to me and pawed at the ground. “I could take you any time.”

I took a deep breath. ‘It’s not worth it.’

“Fuck you. I’m not getting thrown out of here because of you.” I snarled. “And believe me, that’s the only reason you’re not dead yet. Get lost.”

“How about this,” Mohawk said. “We go outside, where the guards won’t bother us, and we settle this one-on-one? Pony-to-pony?” One-Ear’s tugs on his jacket were getting more urgent, between the increasingly fearful glances that she was shooting at me.

I sighed. “Alright, fine.” I gestured in the vague direction of the entrance. “Lead the way.”

One-Ear and I watched as Mohawk turned and cantered away. He made a big show of rolling his head around on his neck, cracking the joints. He got quite a long way before he realised I wasn’t following him. He looked around finally, then began sputtering with indignation and galloped back towards me. I shared a glance with One-Ear, who rolled her eyes at me.

“Dude!” Mohawk said as he skidded to a halt in front of me. “That ain’t cool!”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” I said. “Now go away.”

Mohawk shook his head. “Nuh-uh. I’m gonna take you down if I have to-”

“What’s going on?” a familiar voice called out.

Okay, so I lied. Maybe Iwas in the mood to kill somepony.

I turned to glare at Paramount as she trotted up to us. “What the fuck do you want?” I snarled at her.

She ignored me and spoke to Mohawk and One-Ear. “What are you foals doing?”

“Nothing,” One-Ear said quickly. Mohawk smacked her on the side of the head.

“We don’t have to explain nothin’ to you!” he said, puffing out his chest. “Bounty hunters don’t answer to nopony!”

I lifted a hoof and pressed it against my forehead, biting my lip to prevent myself from groaning out loud.

'Stupid ponies. stupid ponieseverywhere.'

“And why are you collecting a bounty on my friend here?” Paramount asked patiently.

I lowered my hoof. “I am not your friend,” I hissed at her.

Mohawk sagged a little as he realised what he’d let slip, then drew himself up again. “Cuz somepony is paying us, an' that's all the reason we need!”

“And because he’s a bad pony,” One-Ear chimed in.

“Yeah, that too,” Mohawk said, shooting an annoyed glance at his partner. “Justice and retri-boosh-on, all that shit.”

“Uh-huh. Look, I’m with the Cavalry,” Paramount said, tapping the insignia on her armour. She raised her head loftily. “You know what that means, right?”

Mohawk scoffed and went to say something that was doubtlessly idiotic, but stopped as One-Ear tapped him on the shoulder and murmured something to him. They shared a brief back-and-forth in hushed voices before Mohawk turned back to Paramount and said, “Uh… no.”

One-Ear rolled her eyes again.

“It means,” Paramount said firmly, “that I don’t abide by ‘bad ponies’. Slavers, raiders, whatever.” She lifted a hoof and pointed it at me. “I haven’t got a problem with him. In fact, he helped me save a bunch of ponies from slavers today.”

I shot her a searching look. Okay, fine, if she didn’t want to mention the ‘under duress’ part, then neither did I.

“Uh…” Mohawk was looking considerably less full of himself as Paramount went on.

“So, if you’ve got a problem with him, then you’ve got a problem with me,” she said lightly. “And if you’ve got a problem with me, then you’ve got a problem with the Cavalry.” She smiled. “But I’m sure that’s no trouble for tough ponies like yourselves! I mean, we’re only the third-biggest merc band in the Palomino!”

Even Mohawk’s namesake was beginning to wilt before the unicorn’s cheery, thinly-veiled threats. “Um…” he said, as One-Ear started trying to drag him away by his tail. He raised a hoof. “Just wait there one sec,” he told me. He and One-Ear had a second rushed, muttered exchange, which involved a fair amount of One-Ear smacking Mohawk over the head. Eventually, Mohawk walked back over to us. “Okay,” Mohawk said, shifting his hooves nervously, his gaze fixed on the floor just in front of Paramount. “We’re just gonna… leave now. If that’s okay…” One-Ear nudged him. “Ma’am,” he added quietly.

“‘Miss’,” Paramount corrected him coldly. “I amnot that old.”

“Um… yeah, sorry, ma’a- miss. Sorry. Bye.”

The last word was almost squeaked out as Mohawk backed away. The pair turned and walked off, bickering between themselves.

“So…” I turned to Paramount as she spoke. “Do you forgive me yet?”

I stared blankly at her for a moment. “Oh, of course,” I said flatly. “I mean, you just totally saved my life there. I don’t know what I would have done about that pair of little bastards if you hadn’t shown up.”

“Look,” she said, sitting down on her haunches, her gaze dropping to the floor at my hooves, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“Oh, well, that makes it okay then!” I snarled at her. “As long as you didn’tmean to almost get me killed-!”

“No, I know it doesn’t,” she said quietly, still not meeting my gaze. “That’s why I said I’m sorry.”

I glared at her for a moment, then shrugged. “Okay. Fine. You said it. Now go away and never come near me ever again.”

I made to walk off, but she followed me.

“Leave. Me. Alone.”

“Look, how can I make it up to you?” she asked. She was actually starting to look a bit desperate. I might have laughed if it wasn’t so annoying.

“You can’t-” I paused. “Well, there is one thing…”

“Yes?”

“Go find a grenade and jump on it. If you could not survive, that’d be even better.”

I turned to walk off, but was arrested by Paramount laying a hoof on my shoulder. “I just-”

I slapped her hoof away and rounded on her. “What is your fucking problem!?” I shouted in her face. “Leave! Me! The fuck! Alone! Or I’ll buck you through that fucking wall-!”

“That’s enough!”

I rounded on the speaker with a snarl. Surprise, surprise, it was one of the guards; the one who had tried to threaten me at the entrance, if I wasn't mistaken. “Calm it down. Right now,” she said menacingly.

“Or else what?” I demanded, reaching a hoof for my lance.

There was a metallic clicking from behind my right ear. I froze.

“Or else 'bang',” somepony said from behind me.

I lowered my hoof.

“Right,” the first guard said. “I’ve seen enough. You’re leaving. Now. Take him down and out,” she said to the guard behind me.

“Right you are, boss.” Something cold and metallic pressed against the back of my head. “Move it. No funny business.”

I shot a look over at Paramount as I was frog-marched away. “Bitch,” I muttered.

The guards escorted me down to the lower level, a gun pressed to the back of my head the entire way. On another day, I might have ducked left, spun, charged and taken my chances. But today, courtesy of one idiot mare, I was bruised and exhausted. Besides, if they'd wanted to kill me, they'd have done it already.

Thinking that made me think of Paramount again, prompting an involuntary growl. I grunted as the gun was shoved roughly against my skull.

“Don't even think about,” the guard holding the gun said.

“Too late,” I muttered.

The lower level consisted of a series of raised platforms between sets of rails that disappeared into tunnels that were blocked off by either fallen rubble or ramshackle barricades. We came to a halt before one such barricade that had a gate set into it. The lead guard lifted a bar that held the gate closed and dragged it open, revealing the tunnel on the far side that led into impenetrable darkness.

“Start walking,” the lead guard said as she leant casually against the barricade beside the gateway, a sadistic smirk on her face. “If you're lucky, you'll come out the other side.”

“And fuck you, too,” I snarled at her. She laughed mockingly in response and gestured through the gate.

I stepped through the gate. After a few steps into the tunnel, the gate behind me was slammed shut, cutting off the only source of light. I froze in place, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the gloom.

They didn't.

The only light came from the slimmest of cracks in the barricade behind me and the faint glow of my pipbuck screen.

After a while, I growled and stamped at the ground.

I might have been wounded and tired, but I wasnot going to be afraid of the dark.

I started walking, carefully setting down each hoofstep, wary of anything that could spell danger. I kept my eyes, useless as they were, fixed on the darkness ahead, probing for any source of light.

Silence.

It started to get to me after a while. After the ceaseless droning of background noise in Terminal, the quiet was particularly noticeable. The only sound was the soft clopping of my hooves on the ground and a faint humming from my pipbuck. I caught myself holding my breath more than once. Each time, I let it out in a whoosh that was deafening to my ears.

I was aware of the tunnel's gentle downward slope and with it, the knowledge that I was delving deeper and deeper beneath the surface. Thousands of tonnes of rock and sand were piling up above me with each cautious step I took, entombing me under the desert.

The tunnel eventually levelled out and entered a long bend that turned southwards, if my pipbuck's compass was still accurate. Impatience began to overtake me and I broke into a slow canter, only to skid to a halt when I almost tripped over a fallen section of ceiling that was lying across the tracks. As I rounded it and continued onwards, I flinched as a flash of light momentarily dazzled me. I looked around and noticed a recessed doorway in the tunnel wall, the slight crack between the door and wall emitting a thin bar of light that I had just walked through. I stepped over to the door and my ears pricked up as they registered a low humming sound coming from beyond it. I lifted my pipbuck up to the door, the faint glow from the screen illuminating the sign it bore:

SPARTRAN

Restricted Area

Authorised Personnel Only

“Authorisethis,” I muttered, my voice echoing up and down the tunnel. I turned my back to the door, picked up my hindhooves and bucked it.

The door rang like a deep-pitched bell under my hooves, but didn't give way. After a few more tries, the lock gave out. The door barely moved as it broke with a clang of sheered metal. I threw my weight against the door and forced it open, gritting my teeth against the grinding noise of the rusty hinges.

The room beyond was tiny. Barely more than a closet. That wasn't strictly true, I realised as I looked around. The bare floorspace I was standing in was tiny. The room itself wasn't. It was simply packed with pre-war computers. Judging by the way they were humming, I guessed they were still working. By that and the glowing screens of the terminals, anyway.

I overlooked the bounty of pre-war technology, however, as my attention was drawn to the ladder at the back of the room.

“Screw you, morons,” I muttered, thinking of the guards, as I trotted over to it and looked upwards into the shaft it ascended into. I couldn't make out the top, but it was a safer bet than blundering around in a pitch-black tunnel. As I hooked my forehooves over the rungs and leapt onto the ladder, it groaned under my weight. I hesitated and tugged at the rungs above me. They felt sturdy enough. I started to climb, testing every rung before putting my weight on it.

I hadn't realised how the glow from the terminals had ruined my night vision until I was enveloped in the darkness of the shaft. After a minute or so of climbing, I was forced to stop by the growing pain in my shoulder. I looked down. The bottom of the shaft was barely visible as a round, green spot far below me. After a short rest, I continued.

I swore as my head struck something hard.

After a few moments of swearing and rubbing my head, I probed at the obstruction with a forehoof. Smooth metal, maybe a trapdoor? My hoof bumped against something that jutted out of the trapdoor at the point where it met the wall of the shaft. A handle of some kind. I tugged at it and it made a heavy clunking sound as it parted from the wall. I shoved at the trapdoor.

It didn't open.

I shoved at it again, almost dislodging myself from the ladder in my frustration. The trapdoor shifted slightly, but it felt heavy, as if something was pinning it closed. I braced myself against the ladder and pushed until the burn in my shoulder made me stop, panting for breath. The trapdoor didn't budge by a single inch.

“Oh, youfucker!” I bellowed at the trapdoor, my voice shouting back at me from the stone walls around me.

As I hung there, mentally adding trapdoors and ladders to my 'inanimate objects I despise' list, I became aware of a rapid clicking noise.

I looked around wildly, glaring at the walls of the shaft, until my eyes fell on the source: my pipbuck. I checked the radiation meter. The needle was flickering back and forth, but it was steadily edging upwards.

I raised my eyes to the trapdoor.

Suddenly, I didn't want to go that way anymore.

A minute later, I tumbled to the floor of the computer-filled room and sat there for a while, trying to catch my breath, which had gotten its hooves on someone's stash of Dash, judging by how easily it eluded me. The monotonous humming of the computers was broken up when my stomach growled loudly.

Dinner time, I supposed.

I started poking around the room's terminals as I ate. Whatever was in the packet I had pulled out of my saddlebag at random was chewy enough to make my jaw ache, but it was sustenance, at least. Most of the terminals were displaying messages along the lines of'This terminal is locked. Please contact your administrator', but the one that was embedded in the enormous computer that took up most of the room was less boring:

OP 3 Primary Access Terminal

Be sure to log out WHENEVER this terminal is left unattended <<<

>>> ERROR! CONNECTION TO EQNET SEVERED!

>>> ATTEMPTING TO RECONNECT...

>>> ATTEMPT NO. 621274446

>>> PLEASE WAIT…

Current Search Time: 1725777 h, 21 m, 3 s

Current Search Hits: 9003

Current Search Parameters:

+ ministry

+ princess

+ megaspell

+ zebra

+ peace

+ experiment

+ mission

+ attack

+ invasion

+ dragon

+ sabre

+ saabre

+ sunder

+ leviathan

+ leviafan

+ maripony

+ marypony

>>>Press 'Enter' to view more parameters…

What the hay, you only live once, right? I smacked the biggest button I could find on the terminal's control panel. The screen flickered and a new list appeared:

+ marrypony

+ imp

+ gilded

+ hope

+ “gilded hope”

+ stable

+ stable-tec

+ “stable tec”

+ stable-tek

+ stable-tech

+ stable-teck

+ “stable tek”

+ “stable tech”

+ “stable teck”

+ “fuck this shit”

+ “i hate this interface”

+ cloven

+ stone

+ “cloven stone”

>>>Press 'Enter' to view more parameters…

I aimlessly jabbed at the 'Enter' button a few more times, each time producing another list of meaningless words. I got bored pretty quickly and gave one of the other terminals a look:

[…]

PLEASE remove ‘zebra’ from the parameters? Everypony and their aunt is talking about the stripes we get enough false positives as it is. Im spending most of my time following up on leads that lead me to some old nag complaining about her neighbours.

With begging, E.

Mood: {Please Express Your Current Feelings Here. Use Smilies If Possible. :)}

~~~

Sender: op_5_post@iss.moa.eq.net

Recipient: op_5_9@iss.moa.eq.net

Subject: RE: Polite fucking request

Content:

~~~

Request denied.

~~~

And, just for fun, I looked at the last one on my way out:

Sender: op_5_9@iss.moa.eq.net

Recipient: op_5_post@iss.moa.eq.net

Subject: Still a big, fat, unending, overwelming, bullshit nothing…

Content:

~~~

… on the new parameters. I say dump them.

Somepony ask 14 is HE was the drunk one.

Too many false positives being thrown up – Have I mentioned my spare time crisis lately?

With irritation, E.

Mood: >:(

~~~

Sender: op_5_com@iss.moa.eq.net

Recipient: op_5_9@iss.moa.eq.net

Subject: RE: Still a big, fat, unending, overwHelming, bullshit nothing…

Content:

~~~

Listen up, nine.

I don’t give a DAMN how many falsitives you get. You will follow up EVERY LAST ONE until we have full expo on this matter.

Clear?

With {Insert Pleasantries Here}, CB

Mood: >>>:(

~~~

Clearly, not every pre-war terminal could be a font of inspiration.

I slammed the door shut behind me as I exited back into the tunnel, and turned to continue onwards just in time to catch the entire weight of a full-grown pony in the chest.

I staggered back, stunned, then cried out as something sharp was dragged across my neck. I reared up and lashed out at the vague silhouette before me. The skull that my forehooves cracked against felt wrong – not enough skin, for one thing. As the pony fell down in front of me, I got a clear look at it at the same time that a chorus of hellish screeches came echoing down from further along the tunnel.

“Oh, good,” I muttered, stamping on the first zombie's head with one forehoof and drawing my lance with the other. “This isexactly what I need right n-”

I cut myself off by shoving my lance between my teeth and swinging it around to spear the next zombie through the neck as it galloped out of the darkness. I grunted and stepped back as it ignored the length of metal buried in its necrotic flesh and continued to press forward, wildly flailing at me with its forehooves. A second zombie darted past the first. As it lunged at me, I dropped my lance, spun around and bucked it in the chest. The zombie with my lance embedded in it immediately leapt forward and smashed its forehooves against my wounded shoulder.

My foreleg collapsed beneath me and I fell to the ground heavily, knocking the wind out of me. I rolled away from the zombie kebab as if stamped down at me, then twisted around and lashed out with a hindleg, shattering the zombie's knee with a crunch. As it fell down, the lance caught on the ground and was driven out of the back of the ex-pony's neck. It must have caught the zombie's spine on its way through, because the zombie immediately went limp, its shrill cries reduced to gurgling moans.

As I struggled to stand up, the last zombie tackled me, sending me sprawling onto my back. Before I could recover, its forehooves stamped down onto my head, blurring my vision in a haze of pain. When it cleared, I was treated to the unenviable sight of a zombie’s gaping mouth hovering over my face.

I reached up with my forehooves and clasped the zombie’s head, just managing to stop it from tearing my face off. A helping of thick saliva – or what I hoped was saliva – was spattered on my face as the zombie let out a screech.

For a long few moments, we struggled. Me trying to push the zombie away long enough to stand up, it trying to bite down on my head. The thing’s forehooves struck me in the head again, sending bolts of pain through my skull. I roared and shoved the zombie upwards, then released my grip long enough to smack a hoof across its muzzle. It staggered to one side, and I rolled to the other.

I stumbled backwards, away from the zombie, and went for my SMG.

A pair of gunshots rang out. The zombie fell down, two gaping holes blown through its torso.

I froze in place, whipping my head from side to side, trying to locate the source of the shots. Back down the tunnel, from the direction of Terminal, the dim glow of a unicorn's magic field, a rifle suspended within it, floated towards me, shedding light on the features of the pony that approached.

“Are you all right?” Paramount asked.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I groaned. I wiped my face with one hoof, not looking too closely at what the zombie had sprayed me with. “Do you have some kind of fuckingillness?”

“No,” Paramount said. “I’m on a job.”

I snorted. “Really.”

“Really. An expedition came down here a week ago. Scavengers. They haven’t come back. The guard captain sent me out to look for them.”

“Okay,” I said. I stepped aside, pressing myself up against the wall, and gestured down the tunnel. “Off you go, then.”

She didn't move.

I sneered at Paramount. “If you're going to be a liar, at least be a good one.”

“I-”

“Turn around,” I said, drawing a circle in the air with my hoof. “Walk away. Go-”

“No.”

I glared at her. The faint glow from her horn illuminated her expression; defiant, but not angry, just… determined.

“What the fuck do youwant?” I said exasperatedly.

“Iwant to make up for getting you injured,” Paramount said matter-of-factly. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“Well I don't want you to, or need you to,” I replied shortly. “So fuck off.”

“Well Ido want to.”

“Why?”

She didn't answer, instead looking away to run her gaze aimlessly around the tunnel walls. “Do I need a reason?” she said finally.

“…What the fuck isthat supposed to mean?” I said, throwing my forehooves up in frustration. “Just fuck off.”

“No.”

“Go. The fuck. Away-”

“You're angry. I get it,” she said calmly. “I don't blame you. But I didn't mean for you to get hurt and I'm not going to let you walk off down here and get yourself killed because of me-”

“Oh, bullshit,” I scoffed. “Now you care if I die or not? You didn't give a shit if I got killed back there, as long you got to play hero.”

“Okay, fine,” Paramount said sharply, her patient tone finally giving way. “Idon't care whether you die or not. That’s why I didn’t just leave you to die after you got wounded. That’s why I didn’t just leave you behind when you were slowing us all down and the radstorm was coming. That's why I came down here after you. That's why I put a bullet through that ghoul instead of you. Because I don't care whether you die or not.” She paused for a moment, cocking her head to one side in faux-thoughtfulness. “Oh, wait!” she said, feigning sudden enlightenment before letting her expression drop again. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

I snorted and sneered at her. She stared back, refusing to blink.

“Whatever,” I said eventually, breaking the stare. “Just stay away from me.”

“You’ll get lost down here on your own,” she called after me as I retrieved my lance and walked away.

“At least I'llbe on my own,” I shouted back over my shoulder. “As in 'nowhere near you'…”

My voice trailed off as I heard my echo change suddenly, becoming more distant. I glanced down. The railway tracks beneath my hooves split into half-a-dozen branches and arced off in different directions into the darkness. I raised my head and squinted into the impenetrable blackness. I couldn't put my hoof on it, but I felt a keen sense of… openness. Like the tunnel ceiling had been ripped away…

I snapped my head around as Paramount trotted up to stand next to me. The glow of the magic field around her rifle illuminated the tunnel ahead, just well enough to show me that it wasn't a tunnel at all.

Two steps in front of me, the tunnel opened into an immense artificial cavern, the ceiling so high that the dim glow of Paramount's magic didn't reach it before it faded into the gloom. Looking around the walls of the cavern, I could make out, barely, at least a dozen blacker-than-black shadows that could only have been more tunnels.

“You sure about that?” Paramount said, in a light tone that I knew was only concealing her smugness. I scowled at her in return. “You don't even know where you are, do you?”

“Too close to you by a million miles, that's where,” I retorted.

“This is the Network,” Paramount said, ignoring my comment and gesturing at the cavern before us. “It's a… well, anetwork of rail tunnels that run under the Palomino. Hundreds of miles of them. Ponies go missing down here all the time.” She shrugged, turning to look outwards, into the cavern. “Maybe lost, maybe… something else. Nopony knows.” She turned back to me, her expression sceptical. “You sure you'll be okay on your own?”

I looked away and cast my gaze around the cavern.

Wounded, exhausted, disorientated, sorely in need of a drink… the odds were stacking up against me, I had to admit.

“Are we going to stand here all night?”

I turned my head to shoot a glare at Paramount. “Who's this 'we' you're talking about?”

“You look tired,” she commented lightly. “But there's all kinds of dangers down here. Can you sleep with one eye open?”

I let out a hollow chuckle. “Right. And I'll sleepso much better if you're hanging around.”

“At least you won't wake up dead,” Paramount said, her voice edged with foreboding.

I snorted dismissively. “I can look after myself,” I said, turning away from her and walking forward into the cavern. I immediately stumbled over one of the rails and let out a sharp gasp that echoed around the chamber as a stabbing sensation erupted in my wounded shoulder.

“Give me a break!” Paramount said as she stepped forward to stand beside me as I slumped down to gingerly probe at my shoulder. “You're tired, you're hurt, you have no idea where you are or where you're going. You had trouble taking on a handful of ghouls!” She laughed briefly. “And trust me; there's worse than just ghouls down here. Much worse.” She stepped closer and stared into my eyes. “If you can't get over your pride,” she said firmly, “you're going to die down here.”

She let those words hang in the air between us for a few seconds before adding, in softer tones, “Let me help.”

I glared back at her for a few moments more, still massaging my aching shoulder, before closing my eyes and looking away.

I sighed and nodded, just once.

I was going to regret this, I knew.

Against the wall of the cavern, somepony had erected a simple shelter by leaning sheets of metal against the stone surface. A mattress had been thrown down in the back, along with a scattering of junk; empty food cans, bottles, the casing of an old rifle that had been stripped down for parts.

Paramount poked her head into the shelter, sweeping her rifle back-and-forth across the interior. “It's clear,” she murmured. I'd already known that, thanks to my pipbuck's E.F.S., but letting her know that would have meant speaking to her. She turned, stepped away from the entrance and gestured into the shelter. “I'll keep first watch,” she said. “You get some rest.”

I grunted and stumbled past her, ducking beneath the ceiling of the primitive shelter, too tired to argue with her. My knees crumpled beneath me as soon as I reached the mattress and I could barely suppress a sigh of pleasure as the constant throbbing throughout my body was relieved. My eyelids started to droop almost immediately…

Suddenly, urgently, a thought came rampaging through the veil of lethargy that was falling across me.

A burst of adrenaline roused me instantly. I raised my head and blearily looked around. The darkness was almost impenetrable, but I could make out the roughly triangular entrance to the shelter, and the silhouette of Paramount, sitting motionless, facing outwards. I shifted around on the mattress and laid my head back down so that I was facing her.

I let my eyes close and slowed my breathing until the thumping of my heart slowed. As unconsciousness came, beckoning and tempting, I forced my eyelids back, heedless of the aching sensation behind my eyes, and watched Paramount's unmoving form. After a minute, I allowed my eyes to close again for a while before forcing them open once more.

I don't know how long I rested like that. Constantly courting sleep, but thrusting it back whenever it threatened to envelop me fully. Thoughts, dreams and mere sensations were all blurred together and became a barely-perceptible distraction from the feeling of nothingness I was desperate to achieve, but not at the cost of vulnerability. I was both hot from the fresh blood that spattered against my face and cold from the air that blew across my hide. I was deafened by the sound of explosions and screams and gunfire and straining to make out stifled sobs. I was grinning at the body at my hooves and snarling at the face in my mind's eye.

“Hey, wake up.”

The words pierced the fog of pseudo-sleep I had lapsed into. I jerked fully awake, swatting a hoof wildly at the figure that loomed over me.

“Woah. relax!” Paramount said, dodging my clumsy swipe. “It's me, not another feral! Relax!”

I shuffled away from her and stood up. “Your turn to keep watch,” Paramount said, suppressing a yawn. “I only need a few hours. That okay with you?”

I grunted in response and moved to the front of the shelter, sitting down to stare blankly out into the darkness. Behind me, I could hear the soft rustling of Paramount settling herself onto the mattress, followed by silence as she finally fell still.

I waited.

I steadily counted my way to a thousand before turning back to where Paramount had lain down to sleep. As stealthily as my trembling legs would allow, I crept closer, expecting at any moment for her to snatch up her rifle.

I looked down at her as she slumbered.

I wavered on whether to wake her up or not. Eventually, I decided it didn't matter. She'd be dead either way, and I was willing to forgo a little satisfaction if it went with a lesser chance of having that rifle shoved in my face again.

She deserved payback.

I watched as she shifted in her sleep, hooves twitching. Occasionally, her lips moved, mouthing words.

A few times, she shivered and winced without waking.

Once, she groaned and clutched her forehooves to her chest.

Some time later, I walked back to the front of the shelter and sat down.

After a moment, I raised my pipbuck and started flicking through the various screens, occasionally shooting glances over my shoulder at where Paramount lay on the mattress.

Progress to next level: 73%