Fallout: Equestria - The Least Of Us

To say that the town of Oasis was, well, a town, may have been a little too charitable. To be more accurate, Oasis was a twisted jumble of corrugated sheet metal propped together with rotting wooden beams and tied together with chicken wire into what passed for dwellings. Some of them were haphazardly propped up on stilts that looked like they could collapse at any moment, and from the lopsided appearance of some buildings, a few of them apparently had. The town’s sole inviting feature was a well at the center, overlooked by a phenomenally bored-looking guard.

Looking over the town at its western entrance was what must have been a water tower before the bombs fell. However, the tank at the top had long since fallen off and was now more of a nest, with a rickety wooden roof overhead. Inside were a few pieces of evidence that hinted that somehow, somepony lived here: a dirty, saggy cot, a radio, a small tank of water hooked up to some tubes leading to the roof, various empty water bottles strewn about the floor, a lockbox with some loose bottlecaps on top of it, and a radio that was presently blaring a bittersweet pop tune. Two nails were driven into the wooden beams, and upon them was mounted a long and nasty-looking spike, caked dark with what was most certainly not just rust.

The nest’s one and only inhabitant was a unicorn mare. She was a mean-looking thing: tall, dark purple, and lean, overly dressed in dark leather barding that covered almost her entire body. Her right eye was covered by an eyepatch, while the other peered through a telescope held aloft by a magic glow. Next to her were two guns, one lying on and the other lying against a small, lopsided table. The first was a pistol and the second was a long rifle; dark, worn, and rusty, yet with a polished scope.

The mare watched the wastes beyond the borders of the town, keeping her eyes on the rocky formations not far away. If anyone came out of there, she’d be ready. Though Oasis had little of what bandit or raider groups would like to plunder, it was what she got paid for. Besides, ponies all needed water, the one thing Oasis had. That one resource kept the dirty little hovel from blowing away in the next wind.

Soon, she spotted someone in her telescope. A tall mare, hobbling forward. She was slouching slightly, but upon seeing the town she seemed to pause and pick her head up. Her hooves were dark and caked in blood, and the barding she wore was dirty, though not torn.

The mare in the tower paused and lowered her telescope and picked up her rifle, training the scope on the newcomer. She had heard gunshots earlier; there had been some sort of scuffle, which was why she’d been watching. In the absence of other ponies around, this newcomer seemed to be the only survivor. She wondered momentarily if she was a raider. She sure seemed dirty and unkempt enough to be one. But then, she didn’t have that crazy look in her eyes that she knew of the Tox. Nor did she have the self-assured swagger of a Bang Ganger or the shifty-eyed demeanor of a Dart. She was also alone, which ruled out her belonging to any bandit groups.

Her magic focused around the trigger. She could probably shoot her and get away with it. She could argue she looked dangerous enough, covered with blood, and bleary-eyed. And hey, just because she didn’t have a bunch of her friends with her now didn’t mean she wasn’t a scout or something. And besides, she hadn’t had much target practice for a while…

Then the music on the radio stopped. The mare had little appreciation for music, regardless of the genre or the performer, and so often tuned it out. She had left the radio on simply out of laziness and boredom. Now, however, with the song ended, the host, DJ Pon-3, began to speak.

“And that was our very own Velvet Remedy with her hit song ‘Get It Right.’ I think we can all learn something from Velvet Remedy.” The mare lowered her rifle and turned towards the radio, slowly walking towards it. “Many of us have been forced to make compromises, to do things we don’t want to do. And when these things happen, we have doubts. And some of us can’t always recover from that. Those of us who have ideals have often found them challenged. But the important thing is to never give up. No, you won’t always succeed. You’ll make mistakes. But if you’re too scared of making a mistake to even try, you’ll never reach a change. Sure! It’s a cliché, and I know a lot of you folks are rolling your eyes at me right now…” He laughed.

“Eye,” said the mare through a thick gutteral.

“But that doesn’t mean it’s not true. And I’m not giving up. Not on the Lightbringer, and not on you. Now, big news from the eastern front here. The Enclave’s stomping all over the place and they’re heading for Fillydelphia. Don’t be fooled; once they’re done there they’ll start going on over where you are. Remember ‘Project Cauterize.’ They’ll raze everything more than three feet from the ground if they can. If they can. But our Lightbringer isn’t going to let that happen. I’m not one to blab secrets, but she’s got a surprise cooking I’m sure you’re all going to love.”

By now, the mare was standing right in front of her radio, looking down on it.

“And now, a message from my assistant, Homage.”

The mare picked up the radio walked to the edge of the tower, and dropped it off. On the way down, she could hear, “…now I know you’re not in love with it, but it has a couple more settings I’d like you to try…”

Boss entered the town and saw ponies there, milling around. She stood a distance from the entrance, her hooves still caked in blood, and watched. After two days slogging through the barren landscape only to be met by crazed attackers, this was the first indication that Boss had of something resembling civilization save for the radio messages piping through her PipBuck.

Boss found herself disappointed.

Chapter 3

I Saw it Hang on the Edge of a Cloud

Somehow walking into the town made Boss just as bleary-eyed as stepping out of the stable, or out of the cave. Perhaps it was all the more surreal to see ponies who didn’t think anything of the dull, dusty town they inhabited.

Though the attention of a few of the townsponies drew to her as she walked in. Understandable, since after her scrape with the Tox she wasn’t looking her best. They stared at her briefly, before going on about their business. One of them, a rotund mare in a wide ten-gallon hat, kept her attention.

“You have something to do with those shots that went off over ‘n there?” she asked, gesturing over the expanse of rocks.

“Yeah, kinda,” said Boss.

“Was it raiders?”

“If that’s what you mean by crazies who come shooting at you, yes,” she said.

“Tox or Bang Gangers?”

“Um...” Boss said, racking her brains. “Tox, I think.”

“Ohhh dear...” The mare waddled off without another word.

“Hey, hold up!” Boss called after her, but the mare disappeared into one of the shanty huts.

She stood there, briefly frustrated, before pressing further into the town, with no idea what to do or who to talk to. Aimlessly, she trod into the town, past the buildings of corrugated sheet metal or rotten wood. So this was Oasis. What a shitty town.

There was one thing that caught her attention, though. As she approached the middle of town, she saw what she quickly assumed to be the town’s reason for existing: a simple stone well, guarded by one surly stallion.

She approached, cautiously.

“Hold up there,” said the stallion, a tall brute of an earth pony with a massive saddle bristling with miniguns.

Overcompensating much? she thought.

“Just want some information, sir,” she said. “I kinda just crawled out from under a rock.”

The stallion peered at her suspiciously. “This is Oasis,” he grunted. “We have a well. If you got caps you get water. That’s pretty much it. There’s also Cozy Coaster’s there if you need a place to stay. And if you got caps.” He nodded to a substantially longer building off to the side.

Boss didn’t have any caps, but she had another question. “So I buy water?” she asked. “From who? You own it?”

“No,” he said. “I just work for the guy who does.”

“He owns the well?”

“Runs the well and the town,” he said. “His name’s Slim Slick. Well, I guess he runs the town. Since he started having Law ponies here, they’ve been doin’ peacekeepin’ n’ such. Guess he was sick of guards gettin’ knifed and water gone missin’.”

“That happened a lot?”

“Hopefully not anymore,” he muttered.

“Eesh,” said Boss. “Law ponies?”

The stallion didn’t answer, but simply nodded his head, signaling her to look behind her.

She turned and saw a wagon rolling down the road, pulled by a hulking black bull. Seated on the wagon were two brightly-colored unicorns - the first was a gold one with a heroic, handsome build, while next to him was a smaller, more wiry red-orange stallion.

On the back of the wagon, there was a loudspeaker, blaring the sound of a filly’s voice, singing:

“Come to the river flowing for justice,

Come to the river, rendezvous.

Come to the river flowing for justice,

All for the ponies, me and you.”

“That there’s the Law,” explained the stallion behind her. “They come from River, doin’ stuff like clearin’ bandits and guardin’ caravans. Not much. They tried running a prison a while back, but that didn’t work out.”

“Uh-huh...” said Boss. “You said your boss’s name was Slim Slick?”

“Yuh-huh,” he said. “His office is just back there.” He nodded his head in the direction of some sheds off past the well.

“Thank you,” said Boss. However, as she was about to go, she heard that familiar, stilted, tinny voice.

“Hello.”

Boss turned around. There was the wheelie, its visor bearing a smiling face.

“Hello,” it repeated, “I think you dropped your hat .”

The stallion leaned against the well, watching with an expression of vague, bored amusement.

“I think you’re mistaken,” said Boss. “I don’t have a hat.”

“No,” the robot insisted, “I am certain that this is your hat.”

The door on its front opened and this time, instead of chocolate cake, there was a white top hat.

“Guess it’s your hat,” said the stallion.

Boss shook her head. Not wanting to argue with the strange robot, she took the hat in her mouth, gave a muffled grunt that might have been gratitude, and went on her way.

She crossed over the threshold into a dusty little office. There was a small desk with a computer terminal on it, a half-busted radio, and on the wall beyond it an ill-fitting portrait of some flowers. Behind the desk sat a skinny, almost snake-like stallion, counting a few piles of bottlecaps. He looked up at her as she walked in.

“Something you want?” he asked.

“My name is Boss. I wanted to talk about your town.”

“You with the Law?” he grunted.

“No, but I...”

“Then what do you got to say to me?”

Boss stopped. Slim Slick was fast-talking and to the point, and not someone who would be interested in hearing about her little stable or her jewelry mysteries. However, from looking at his desk, there was one thing she was sure would persuade him...

“I wanted to talk about a sort of business opportunity,” she said.

Slim Slick leaned back, looking her over with a lazy, slack-jawed expression. “Wonder you got in here, looking like that,” he said. “Surprised Patch didn’t stop you. Must’ve been taking time off...” His eyes narrowed. “I’ll have to dock her pay for that. So, er... your name again?”

“Boss.”

“Right, Boss...” Slim Slick leaned forward into his desk. “Exactly what kind of business arrangement did you have in mind?”

Boss walked up to the desk and was about to place a hoof on it when she realized that her hooves were a little too dirty to touch other ponies’ things with. “I am the Overmare of Stable 51. We’re looking to move out, and your town is reasonably close by. Your town is also...” She grinded her teeth a little, her mind looking for a delicate way of putting it that never occurred to her. “A bit of a shantytown. I understand you mainly rely on your well keep business in town?”

Slim Slick’s eyes had gone wide open at the mention of the stable. “What of it?”

“We have a working water talisman, which means you can make more water. We also have ample agriculture we can grow thanks to our underground apple orchard and extensive hydroponics. Looking around outside I... certainly don’t see a lot of apple trees nearby. We can provide fresh produce. We partner up, we can sell this, you get more residents in your town and you get more business and more money...” She glanced down at the caps, then at Slim Slick.

He certainly didn’t seem like a trustworthy fellow, but he seemed greedy enough to take the deal. She reasoned she had a good enough pitch and enough leverage to work with him for the time being. And if he turned out to be a problem, well, her security guards would probably be more loyal to her...

But her scheming ended when the door opened.

“Well, howdy, Slim!” Boss turned around. Standing in the doorway was a dust-colored earth pony in a studded jacket and a fedora. “Howsit goin’?”

“It’s going fine,” Slim muttered through his teeth. “Is there some reason you’re bothering me?”

“Ohh, just doin’ my job,” he said, circling into the room. He turned to Boss. “Well, hi there. I don’t reckon I’ve seen you ‘round these parts. Name’s Cowboy, Officer of the Law.”

“Get to the point, please,” said Slim. “I’m in the middle of an arrangement.”

“‘fraid your mistaken, Slim,” said Cowboy. “Whatever you were doing with this here lady is stoppin’ right here. You’re under arrest.”

Slim didn’t answer. He just stared at him.

“Oh, and by the way,” Cowboy continued, “if you’re thinking of pulling a gun on me or something funny like that, bear in mind I’ve got Righteous Hammer outside.”

“You’re shitting me,” said Slim.

“No, I got him right outside!” said Cowboy, before turning his head and calling, “Hey, Hammy!”

The door opened and in walked one of the unicorns Boss had seen before, the heroic gold one. “Is he giving you trouble?” he asked.

“Naw,” said Cowboy, “I think he’ll come along fine. Won’t try anything funny.” He smiled unctuously at Slim Slick. “Will you?”

“I hired you,” muttered Slim Slick.

Righteous Hammer chuckled. It was a deep chuckle, and ever-so-slightly smug. “Another one, Cowboy,” he said. “Thinks he can buy the Law.”

It was at this moment that one of them turned again to address Boss. “Well,” said Cowboy. “You’re not looking the best.”

“I had a bit of a raider problem out of town,” said Boss.

“Raiders?” asked Righteous Hammer. “You mean to tell me that you’re the one who cleared out the Tox?” He smiled, and Boss realized that everything about this pony was just a little smug, from his tone of voice to his smile. Yet he seemed good natured enough. “The radio’s been complaining about you.”

“Not popular, huh?” asked Boss. “I can live with that.”

“You know,” said Cowboy, “we should really thank you.”

“Saved us some trouble,” said Righteous Hammer. “We were planning to go out and deal with the Tox ourselves, but that would take extra stallionpower. You’ve done us a favor, and I think the ponies of this town a great service.”

Boss snorted. “Glad somepony appreciates the trouble I go through.”

Righteous Hammer laughed. “I think we’ll get along just fine.” He looked over at Cowboy and Slim Slick, the latter still looking mighty displeased and, Boss noticed, glancing at the picture behind his desk. “Alright, you head with me,” he said to Slim Slick.

“You’ve just made a big mistake,” the new prisoner growled. But he stepped in front of Righteous Hammer, who led him out the door. Cowboy moved behind the desk and took a seat, propping his hind legs up on the desk.

“So, haven’t seen the likes of you around here before,” he said. “Fancy jumper you got there. Where’d you come from?”

“I’m from Stable 51.”

Cowboy snorted. “Yeah, yeah, and when you were a foal your crib was a bunker, right?”

Boss raised her foreleg, showing the PipBuck. Cowboy’s smile faltered.

“Well, shit…” he said.

“My name is Boss. I’m Stable 51’s Overmare.”

“If you’re the Overmare, what are you doing out here?”

“I’m leading an expedition out to see if we can move back to the surface.”

“An expedition?” asked Cowboy. He leaned to the side, peering behind her.

“The others…” Boss said. “Didn’t make it.”

“Sorry to hear,” said Cowboy, nodding in sympathy. “Lost ‘em to Tox?”

Boss nodded.

“I know how that is. The Tox are a nasty little band of raiders. Always hopped up on Mint-Als, Rampage, Dash, and Goddesses-only-knows-what.”

“Drug addicts?” asked Boss.

“Chems’re practically their religion,” said Cowboy. “I don’t know too much about them. Just that they got a bunch of crazy shaman-folk that get them to stick themselves with all kinds of shit. Mint-Als, Dash, Buck…”

“They still make those?” asked Boss. “I would’ve thought two hundred years would be enough to come up with some new things to shoot up.”

Cowbow tilted his head. “You might not’ve noticed, but these aren’t the most innovative times.”

Boss thought for a moment. She remembered the raiders she’d encountered and how one of them talked about “taking the poison.” “So they poison themselves,” she said, “and chems are a kind of poison?”

Cowboy shrugged. “I can’t say I know how a crazed mind works. But I don’t know. Maybe it’s like that adage ‘whatever doesn’t kill me makes me stronger’? Guess they figure if poisons don’t kill them…”

“Fascinating,” said Boss, eager to make an exit from this conversation. “Well, I’d better be going,” she said, turning to leave. Her hoof reached for her pocket, making sure the back of bottlecaps was there.

“Alrighty,” said Cowboy. “And remember, Boss,” he reminded her, “if you need a favor, you can ask the Law.”

I’ll keep that in mind.

With Slim Slick out of the picture, Boss was in a tight spot in regards to securing a way out for her stable. She could ask the Law for help, and they seemed friendly enough, but she realized that they wouldn’t have any particular loyalty to her, and given she had never been a popular Overmare…

Slim Slick she felt she could deal with if he turned out to be a problem. The Law, however, were more organized and more powerful. She didn’t want to deal with the possibility of being “arrested.” This left one option: organize something herself out of the gorge.

How to do that, however, well, that posed some difficulties.

She walked down the roads, looking around the shanties. Oasis, indeed. Real shithole. She stopped by one building that was larger than the others. Wider, at least. A rotting sign hanged from above the doorway: The Watering Hole. Parked outside the building was a large wagon. Written on the side of the wagon were the words Fair Weather Caravan Co.

Caravan? Boss thought. That’s a starting point.

If she couldn’t get a city to move into, she’d simply trade out of the stable and build her own little town on the economy. The new plan: get a trader, head back to the stable, and consult with her council.

Or what was left of her council, she realized, feeling a painful pang at the memory of Staunch’s death the day before. She would be responsible for that. She would have to face the music.

More immediately, however, she would have to face the new, pungent stench of the… bar, she guessed. The Watering Hole was filled with ponies in various shades of the less colorful end of the rainbow. A bartender stood at the counter, apathetically chewing on a piece of wood as he surveyed the tavern, his eyes so glazed over that Boss wondered if he could actually see anything. An earth pony sat at a table playing cards with some griffons. A small group of unicorns sitting in a corner of the floor were at dice, making rowdy cheers whenever one of them won. One ragged-looking unicorn with an eyepatch was alternating between cleaning a pistol and drinking something.

A radio blared and Boss instantly recognized the voice.

“Hey hey! It’s on!” shouted the Voice of Truth. “They’re at it! Just a week ago they set off a fucking megaspell, and now they’re at it over Fillydelphia! Well, come on, place your bets! We got Red Eye, the Enclave, and the New Canterlot Repuffffffft…” The Voice snickered. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, just… pfft. Okay, I’ll just cut to a song here. And hey, whether you’re a slaver or an Enclave or one of those Republic folks, I say go right on! Really! Give it a good once-over! Finish what the zebras started!”

And that was all the Voice said, before switching to music (“And we will all go together when we go…”). Boss spotted two earth pony stallions at a table, one of them an immensely fat lummox who she swore looked just like Chubby Chuckles, except even fatter. The other was a taller, older, grizzled guy, who was nodding disinterestedly at the fat pony’s loud complaining.

“Look,” said the fat pony, “all I’m saying is if I want to be depressed, I can look out the window. Sometimes hope and escapism, they do the mind a favor.”

“Well, he’s got more music. You gotta give him that.”

“No, I can’t deny that,” said the fat pony, “but DJ Pon-3 has music the Voice doesn’t. That original stuff with Velvet Remedy.”

“I guess...”

“Besides,” said the fat pony, “what’s wrong with hope?”

“Listen, I don’t know what kind of experiences you have in the Fair Weather Caravan Company, but I did the rounds for Vanhoover back in the day.” The other pony leaned back in his seat. “So it figures I don’t put a whole lot of stock in hope.”

“Vanhoover?” asked the merchant. “You mean... under Red Eye?”

“No, no, no,” said the mercenary, waving his hoof dismissively. “The guy before him… shit, can’t remember his name.”

“You actually got inside Vanhoover?” The merchant leaned in.

“Not Inner Vanhoover,” said the mercenary. “Not inside the walls. But I got some work in Outer Vanhoover.”

“Excuse me,” said Boss. “You don’t mind if I cut in?”

The fat stallion looked up at her in surprise.

“You’re with the Fair Weather Caravan Company, right?” asked Boss.

“Oh!” said the stallion. “Why, yes, yes I am.” He smiled a smile that Boss found oddly endearing. So much so it nearly scared her. “How can I help you?”

“Well,” said Boss, “I was curious about your wares.”

“Oh,” he said, as though afraid he would have to stand up. “Well, they’re out in the wagon…”

“Well, that’s okay,” said Boss, “I just wanted to ask: do you sell, say, fresh fruit or anything like that?”

The mercenary raised a suspicious eyebrow.

The merchant smiled and gave a nervous chuckle. “Well, that does depend on your definition of… ‘fresh.’”

“They’re either peaches or apples,” said the mercenary. “One of those two. Can’t really tell.”

“Uh-huh…” said Boss. “So that’s a no, then? Bluntly?”

“It’s hard to come by,” said the mercenary.

“And fairly expensive,” said the merchant. “If you want some you can try our…”

“I wasn’t buying,” said Boss. “I was selling.”

“I’m sorry?” asked the merchant.

“How’d you like exclusive access to a large supply of fresh fruits?” asked Boss. “Apples, peaches, oranges, lemons, the like.”

The merchant looked like he’d like that very much. Still, his interest was laced with caution. “And how do you have access to these? Who are you?”

“My name is Boss,” she said. “I’m the Overmare of Stable 51, to the west of here, Galloping Gorge. We have a fine agricultural department, with an apple orchard and an extended hydroponics program.”

“A stable,” repeated the mercenary.

“Yes,” explained Boss. “We’re, well, planning to open up. But we need a little help to get things going. Just a little helping hoof to get the ball rolling. It’ll pay handsomely, I promise.”

“Galloping Gorge…” said the merchant. “That’s Tox territory.”

“So I found out…” said Boss.

“So you want me,” said the merchant, very slowly, “to take days out of my busy schedule, through raider country, to Galloping Gorge, where you say you have a big opportunity.”

“Well, I cleaned out the raiders,” said Boss.

“Listen, you get a town going, and then we talk about connecting with the Fair Weather Caravan Company.”

“What?” asked Boss. “But I need the Fair Weather Caravan Company to get a town going!”

The merchant shrugged. Boss looked to the mercenary. He also shrugged.

“All right, then,” said Boss. “Fine. I won’t get your company now. I’ll do it, and then maybe I’ll get your help.”

She got up and stormed right out of the bar. Then she stopped and turned right around back in.

I still need to get back to the stable through probably hostile territory…

“So,” she said. “Hey, merc dude. What about you?”

“If you’ve got caps,” he replied.

“Um…” said Boss, fumbling through her pockets.

“No caps?” he asked.

Boss feebly took her hoof out of her jumpsuit. “Well, I have some.”

The mercenary looked dubiously at her. “Can’t get something for nothing, miss.”

“Well, I won’t be a waste-of-space fatass,” Boss muttered. The merchant looked shocked.

The mercenary stared at her, unamused.

“I think I’m out of your price range,” he said. “Try Patch over there.” He nodded to the unicorn with the eyepatch.

Boss, feeling incredibly foolish, approached Patch. Patch had an untidy mane, short but thick. Her coat was dark purple, and wore barding that seemed to receive better care than her personal hygiene, though not by much. She was still cleaning her pistol, checking its mechanisms over and over again.

Patch stopped fiddling with her gun and looked up at her. “Can I help you with something?” she asked. Her good eye was fixed on her, concentrated and looking near-bloodshot.

“You’re Patch, right?” asked Boss. “Can I take a seat here?” She gestured to an empty seat next to her. “Right, thanks,” she said, sitting down. Patch just stared at her in silence.

“What do you want?” asked Patch.

“I understand you do stuff for hire?” asked Boss.

“I shoot shit,” said Patch. “You got shit you want me to shoot?”

“I might,” said Boss. “I was hoping you’d be up to escort me someplace that might be dangerous.”

“Guard stuff?” asked Patch. “Yeah, I could do that. Already got a job here.”

“Oh?” asked Boss.

“Yeah,” said Patch. “I’m the town’s lookout sniper. I got that little tower you saw outside town.”

“Ah,” said Boss. “Then I take it you saw me come in?”

“Nah,” said Patch. “I was takin’ a break.”

Promising, Boss thought drolly.

Patch eyed the bottle in front of her, as if she were trying to will it to explode.

“So you worked for Slim Slick?”

Patch’s eye narrowed, and the gun she was cleaning froze midair.

“‘Worked’?” asked Patch.

“Oh, you didn’t hear?” asked Boss. “Cowboy and Righteous Hammer came in and arrested him.”

The gun hit the table with a thud. “Son of a bitch!” cursed Patch. “Assholes… hope I still get paid.”

“Afraid not,” said Boss. She decided it would be best not to mention that she had stolen and lost the money herself.

“Shit,” said Patch.

“Yeah,” said Boss. “So, what do you think the chances are that the Law keeps you on your current job?”

Patch glared at her. “What do you want?”

“I’m from a stable a few days west of here,” said Boss. “We’ve just opened up and we did a little scout-work. What we’re hoping to do is move out and establish a settlement. We’re also hoping we can get trade going. You come back with me, do some guard duty and help us get acquainted with the sea of brown out here, we send out some folks with wares to sell, get ourselves on the map, and we should do okay.”

“And you plan to pay me what, exactly?” asked Patch.

Boss paused. “Okay, I don’t have the caps right now,” she said. “But once things are up and running we can pay you just like Slim did.”

“And until then?”

Boss paused again. “Well…” she racked her brains. “When we get back to the stable we can give you room and board. And food.” She added, “there’s gonna be cake.”

Patch stared at her blankly. “You’re shitting me,” she said flatly.

“Nope, no shit,” said Boss. “There’s gonna be a party with cake and everything.”

It was true; with Lucky Break’s newfound cutie mark, there would be a party. If it were anypony else, the party would have already occurred by now. But Boss knew they wouldn’t have the party without his sister there.

“So,” asked Boss. “We have a deal?”

Patch turned around and leaned back. “You’re not a lesbian, are you?” she asked, her eye narrowing.

Boss balked. “Excuse me?” she asked.

“Well, are you?” asked Patch.

“Uh…” Boss said. “No…”

“Hmm...” said Patch, taking another drink.

Boss opened her mouth to say something when another voice piped up next to them.

“Did I hear something about not being lesbians?”

Boss recognized the voice… but from where? She looked next to her and saw a short earth pony in a white bowler hat. Boss realized at a glance that he wasn’t just really short; he was a colt.

“Well?” he asked again.

“Hey, fuck off,” said Patch. The pistol by her floated just an inch off of the counter.

“Hey, hey…” said the colt, backing up a little. “I was just asking the young mare here,” he said, gesturing to Boss and smiling genially.

“Uhh…” Boss looked at both of them. “Did I miss something?” She raised her hoof, pointing at him. “You… I heard you on the radio.”

“Oh?” asked the colt. “Then are you interested in what I’m brokering?”

“Fuck off, Pimpernel,” said Patch. “We’re doing grown-up talk here. Go whore out your brother somewhere else.”

“Okay, okay,” said Pimpernel, stepping away. “No need to bitch me out.” He looked over at Boss. “Just remember if you need some relaxing you can always come and see Sugar Daddy.”

He straightened his bowler hat and turned around, which would have seemed a lot more dignified if he weren’t ten years old at most and the radio weren’t playing a silly piano ditty.

“So...” said Boss, looking back to Patch.

“We can discuss this back at my place.”

Patch’s ‘place’—the ramshackle water tower near the front of the town—was what Boss would call a sty. It was filthy, with dirty rags and torn magazines littering it. A few dilapidated posters peeled slowly from the walls. Patch sat down in a torn-up chair, eyeing Boss. “So,” she said. “You want me to shoot someone for you?”

“If that needs to happen,” said Boss. “Mainly I’m just interested in an escort.”

“Not the lesbian kind of escort, right?”

“No…” said Boss.

“Alright,” she said. “Let’s talk payment.”

“Well…” said Boss. “There’s a slight problem with that…”

“No money?” asked Patch. “Then get the fuck out of my house.”

“Hold on,” said Boss. “I don’t have any bottlecaps on me right now, but I can make it worth your while.”

“How?” asked Patch.

“Well, I don’t think you’ve ever seen a stable before, have you?” asked Boss. “We might not have bottlecaps or money, but we can compensate you in other ways. We have a huge hydroponics program. Fresh fruits and vegetables. When was the last time you had one of those? Ooh, here’s another one: free drinkable, batheable water. I think that’s gotta count for something. As the Overmare I’d be in a position to give you all that and more. That, and… I can’t imagine you have a lot of attachments to this town. Might make for a nice change of pace.”

Patch stared at her, her expression unchanging. After a short bit of silence, she said quietly. “Overmare, huh? Well, ‘Overmare,’ I don’t do things for free. And I’m still a bit sore about the prospect that Slim Slick isn’t going to be paying me from behind bars.”

“So… no deal?” asked Boss.

“Well, let’s think about that,” said Patch. “Slim Slick has my money somewhere. If you can find it for me, pay me for my last job, then maybe I’ll come with you and see this stable.”

“Did I mention we’ll have cake?”

“Bring me my money,” said Patch. “And then we’ll talk.”

Boss made her way back to Slim Slick’s office. If he had any money, it’d be here. She slowly opened the door, peeking inside. Nopony there. Scanning cautiously, she walked into the room.

So Patch wanted her money, and that was all right with Boss. However, she had no idea where that money was. Slim Slick certainly hadn’t said anything, which left Boss with a fat load of nothing.

She walked over to the desk and sat down, drumming her hooves on it. She pried open a few of the drawers, but they were empty, save for some useless, dirty pencils.

There was still the terminal on the desk, though. She tapped a few strokes out on the dusty, grimy keyboard. The more she saw of this place, the gladder she was that she wouldn’t have to do business with Slim Slick. More like “Slimey Dick.” She shuddered.

The computer was protected with a simple password system. Nothing very sophisticated for a pony who knew her way around a computer. Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Water,” said Boss. “Easy enough.”

A few options flashed on the screen, one of which was labelled Safe Access.

Click.

“Bingo,” said Boss, as the picture on the wall behind her opened. She peered inside and was disappointed to find nothing more than a small sack. Taking and opening it, she found a modest but still decent stack of bottle caps. Hopefully this should be enough for Patch, she thought, shutting the wall safe and powering down the computer.

Then, however, a message flashed in front of her eyes. Note added to inventory, it said.

Boss never liked the PipBuck’s literally in-your-face Heads-Up Display. She never turned it off, however, as she didn’t want to miss something in case it was important. The sacrifices she made for her job.

But as the message faded from her vision, she wondered: Note? What note?

Before she could search through her bags, however, the door opened. She instantly turned and got an eyeful of a red unicorn stallion. It was the same pony she’d seen on the wagon before, alongside Righteous Hammer. Though where Hammer was thick and powerfully built, this pony had a sleek, leaner build. On his flank was a bright flame.

“Well, howdy,” he said, stepping into the room. He casually strolled over to the desk and sat down, lazily eyeing boss. “You’re the little mare who cleared out our little Tox problem.” His eyes scanned her up and down. “I was expecting someone smaller.”

Boss raised an eyebrow. “Is that a joke?”

“Hm,” said the stallion. “I never did have a good sense of humor. My name’s Righteous Fury. I think you’ve already met my brother Hammer.”

“Yes,” said Boss. Her brain flipped through various options. He seems full of himself. Smug. It’d be funny if he fell down a flight of stairs. However, she settled on “Colorful guy.”

Fury chuckled. “You don’t seem to have heard of us,” he said. His eyes travelled down to the PipBuck on her leg. “You mind if I turn on the radio?” he asked, leaning over to the radio on the desk.

“Not at all,” said Boss. “May I sit down?” she asked. He nodded and she took a seat by the desk. In truth she did mind, but she still didn’t know what to make of Righteous Fury. The radio clicked on and she heard the already-familiar voice of DJ Pon-3.

“Alright, everypony!” shouted the DJ’s voice. “Things are gonna get really exciting, really fast! Slaves are moving out of Fillydelphia amidst the chaos, thanks to our own Ditzy Doo!”

“That’s a PipBuck on your leg,” observed Righteous Fury. “And I’d have to be severely inbred not to know a Stable jumpsuit when I see one.”

“Nothing escapes the Law, I see,” said Boss. Righteous Fury grinned.

“Well, not nothing,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “But I think I should know a stable dweller.”

“You get a lot of those out here?” Boss asked. DJ Pon-3 had begun playing a song (“Here comes the sun, do do do do…”).

“Not nearly enough,” said Righteous Fury. “A lot of the stables failed and died. A lot of the ones that didn’t got broken into by raiders or Steel Rangers or worse. You’ll have to forgive me if I’m taking a bit of an interest here. It’s just with what you did with those Raiders, I can’t help but thinking…”

“Oh, by all means,” said Boss, “please finish your sentences.”

Righteous Fury smiled and leaned back in his seat. “Over east there’s been talk of a little mare who crawled out of a stable and started doing all kinds of things. Clearing out raider nests. Decimated a branch of the Steel Rangers. Took on a slaving empire single-hoofedly. And now things are changing.”

“In the west, you mean?”

“All around,” said Righteous Fury. “They’re starting a new society out there. And we’re aiming to do the same.”

“Then it seems like I picked the right time to come out of the stable,” said Boss.

“Picked the right side, too,” said Fury. Boss peered at him for a moment, and he spoke again. “So, what are you doing here?”

“I had a few questions,” said Boss.

Fury shrugged easily. “Shoot.”

“I’m hoping I can find some information about a gem,” she said.

“A gem?” asked Fury. “Gonna have to be more specific than that.”

“It’s a large diamond. It’s got some sort of pink flaw in the center.”

Fury stared at her, his closed mouth moving as though chewing over an answer. “Afraid I couldn’t tell you that. I dunno much about gems. Mostly they’re used for powering magic firearms, and I can’t say I have much experience with those. If I wanted to find out about gems I’d probably head on west to Crown, but… since Vanhoover’s gone black they’ve been a bit out of order.”

“Vanhoover?” asked Boss. She remembered that from some maps; a port town.

“It was part of Red Eye’s little empire. Of course…” He shrugged. “You might’ve heard he recently died. They’re probably collapsing in a bit of a panic there. Crown was a town that worked with them, and with Vanhoover in the state it’s in, well…”

“I see,” said Boss. The radio finished its song and the voice of the DJ returned.

“And that was ‘Here Comes the Sun,’ by the Hoof Beats. You’d better stay tuned, ‘cause there’s a surprise on the way. The Lightbringer is gonna do it.” Then his voice went soft. “It’s gonna happen…” he said, almost muttering to himself.“We’re gonna light a beacon and paint the sky.”

“Well, I think I’d best be going now,” said Boss.

“It’s been a pleasure… what did you say your name was?” asked Fury.

“Boss,” she said, standing up. “I’ll leave you to your business. I’ll attend to mine.”

“The Law will be keeping a close eye on you, Boss,” said Fury, smiling.

She left the house and went into the streets, making her way down the road to Patch’s little hovel. As she walked, however, she remembered that note that she now had on her. She stopped and sorted through her PipBuck’s inventory spell until she found it: Note.

Some gecko eggs? was all it said.

Boss resumed her walk towards Patch’s tower. Her PipBuck said it was 5 PM. Not that she could tell that from looking up at the sky.

When she approached the tower, she saw something in the dirt. Investigating it, she found a broken radio. She puzzled over it for a moment before looking up.

“Hello?” she called up. “Patch?”

No answer.

She looked back at the road. Patch wasn’t there. Not much of anypony was. Boss didn’t like the look of it; it made her think of a ghost town. She looked up at the ladder and, not wanting to just stand around, began to climb up.

Ladders were not something she was used to. She knew what a ladder was, but there wasn’t much use for them in Stable 51. Gripping her hooves on the rungs was a trial.

We have things called ‘stairs’ and ‘elevators,’ she thought, this should be obsolete. Like the slide rule. She grumbled to herself as she went up the ladder. It wasn’t that she couldn’t climb it, as she had managed to do so earlier; she just wished that the town wasn’t so poor.

When I settle a township, there aren’t going to be any fucking ladders, she resolved as she reached the top. We will have stairs, and elevators, and all kinds of shit like that. I can look up how to make those! With that, she had a glimmer of satisfaction, imagining how her Library would bring Equestria back to something that wasn’t an eyesore. At least, the corner of Equestria she’d run.

Patch was, as she figured, not home. Her nest was a mess; obviously Patch didn’t care much what guests thought. She looked around. There were scraps of… things. She saw a fragment of something that looked like a poster. Come to me with fear, it said.

Creepy, she thought.

What caught her eye the most, however, was a bloody spike mounted on the wall, held up by two nails. She stood before it, staring. She didn’t know what it was, but there was just something about it that drew her.

“What are you doing here?” asked a voice behind her, making her jump.

Boss spun around and saw Patch standing there, her eye narrowed. “Oh, uh…” Forgetting about the inventory-sorting spells on her PipBuck, she fished through her outfit for the bag. “I got your money back.”

Boss held out the sack of bottlecaps in her mouth. Patch’s horn lit up and Boss felt the the bag practically yanked out of her teeth. Patch silently opened the bag and inspected the contents.

“Is that it?” asked Boss. “Now will you go with me?”

“Tomorrow,” she grunted.

“Tomorrow?” Boss asked. “Look, I don’t want to keep my stable waiting any longer. It’s already a two-day trip—”

“All the more reason to leave early so we can cover as much ground as possible before it gets dark,” said Patch. “I need to pack and get ready. I don’t just grab a gun and go wherever some bitch with caps tells me to.”

Boss narrowed her eyes. “You’re a mercenary.”

“There’s a difference between mercenaries who do what you tell them and mercenaries that keep you alive,” she said.

“Uh…” Boss looked around. “I kind of need a place to stay for the night if we’re going to be leaving—”

“There’s a flophouse by the well,” Patch cut her off. “They’re cheap and they’re usually good about their tenants not getting stabbed at night.”

“Cheap is a relative term…” mumbled Boss.

“Not my problem,” said Patch. “Now get out.”

Boss looked at Patch. Patch’s facial expressions hadn’t changed, but her voice had gotten lower. Deciding that it would be best not to press the issue, she nodded her head and went down the ladder. But first, she felt she should mention, “I think your radio fell down.”

“I know,” said Patch, as she sat down and scanned the horizon.

And that was that.

If going up a ladder was a pain in the ass, going down a ladder was worse. It only served to further solidify Boss’s commitment to a ladder-free utopia. It’d be her first decree on founding a town.

Well, assuming that happened. It’d probably be simpler to run operations right out of the stable. Or maybe just to slam shut the door.

She thought about Staunch and Fixit. The deaths of those ponies would no doubt push some to keep the door shut.

None of this would have happened if she’d kept the door shut. If she hadn’t let that stranger in. That hadn’t done her any good so far. He came in, used medical supplies, died, and left them with a gemstone and a lot of questions.

How would this all reflect on her? Anything bad that happened from that point onward would be entirely her own doing. If things went badly, it’d be her fault. She wasn’t exactly the most beloved Overmare in Stable 51’s history, and it wouldn’t take too much for her to be regarded as its worst.

But on the other hand, if this did work, and if she were the one to lead the stable out to rebuild civilization, if the library’s stores of knowledge of architecture, agriculture, and civics managed to restore Equestria, well… It was probably a pipe dream. But still, if it happened, what would that mean for Boss’s legacy then?

Well, there was no point in worrying about that right now, she decided. She’d need to find someplace to stay… or sleep out in the alley or something like that. She remembered for a moment what Cowboy had told her: that she could call in a favor for what she did. This seemed as good a time as any.

But then, she didn’t know how ponies regarded favors in the Wasteland. Maybe it was just being nice. Maybe it was a quid-pro-quo. If that were the case, she decided she’d better hold on to that chance for something later.

She fiddled with the earbuds for her PipBuck, and turned on the radio. At this moment, she faced the dilemma of choosing between the Voice of Truth and DJ-Pon3. One was moralistic and crass, and the other was annoyingly upbeat. After a moment of deliberation, she decided she’d go with “moralistic and crass.”

“Hey, what did I tell ya?” said the Voice of Truth. “It wasn’t a fucking week ago that our lovely little Lightbringer dropped a megaspell on Maripony, and guess what? Now we got cunts throwing around big fucking sun lasers. If I hadn’t already used that song I’d play it again, but—”

That was enough for her switch over to “annoyingly upbeat.”

“Hellooooo my little ponies!” said DJ-Pon3. “We’re almost here, something big!”

“Oh, this should be good…” Boss muttered as she walked down the street.

“There are big changes coming to the wasteland,” the DJ continued, “changes I think you’re all gonna like. Well, unless you’re a raider or a slaver or an Enclave member, but then, fuck you. But for the rest of you, well… lots of things coming. One of them in twenty. Nineteen. Eighteen. Seventeen...”

Boss turned the volume down. She always hated countdowns. Every time the number ticked down something went off in her brain that said “this is important. Pay attention.” She couldn’t focus on any of the thoughts in her head. Her eyes scanned the town. She saw some mercenaries stand imposingly before a wagon, a rotting cardboard sign on a building that looked like it was about to fall off, and she saw two ponies with the Law making their way down the road. She stopped in the middle of the road as the DJ poured numbers in her ear.

Her mind went back, briefly, to the note she had picked up. Some gecko eggs? She didn’t remember picking anything up. But PipBucks were finicky things, she reasoned. That was bound to be the case when you depended on two-hundred-year-old technology. The things weren’t beyond their quirks; Boss remembered one time someone found a cupcake in their personal inventory and didn’t know how it got there. Upon further checking, it turned out that he had sat on it. A pleasant surprised turned disappointing. So maybe she had sat on it.

“Five… Four… Three… Two… One… Aaaaaaaaaand…”

Then the sky exploded.

Boss was thrown to the ground. Clouds dissolved, swept away in a tremendous splash of colour and light, and the sun tore through, nearly blinding her.

“What was…” Boss started, but she couldn’t quite string a coherent thought together. She just stared up, awestruck at the blue sky. It wasn’t that she’d never seen the color blue before, but there was only so much she could see under the artificial lights and on dingy, two-hundred-year- old computer screens. She’d never seen anything as blue as the sky at that moment. It was a wash of color that left her dumbstruck.

“Told ya,” said the DJ. Boss immediately snapped off the radio.

The ponies in the road gasped as they looked up at the sky. They whispered to each other in awed, hushed voices.

“What is that… the clouds have been wiped away… the sun!” said snatches of disparate voices.

Boss, her hooves a little shaky, pulled herself up off the ground and stood up. She was almost entranced by the look of the sky. The bright, pure blue color overwhelmed her, like she could just drink it in.

But then she heard a voice. “Look! Look over there!” it said. She turned and saw a stallion pointing off in the distance.

Not all the clouds had been cleared. There were patches here and there, and off in the distance she could see one. Screwing her eyes, she saw something, some hulking mass, teetering over the edge of the cloud. She didn’t know what it was, but it seemed odd and unnatural, like…

Wait a minute… Boss thought. That’s an airship!

Then, it slowly tipped, before careening over the edge and plummeting to the earth. Boss could see tiny specks flying out that, upon squinting her eyes, she realized were pegasi.

She and the others watched as the once-mighty pegasus airship fell and fell, until it could no longer be seen, crashed surely down to the earth.

--

Footnote: Level Up!

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