Fallout: Equestria - Martingale Fairytale

Chapter 3 – Bakersmill

“Welcome to Bakersmill. Where the good times actually roll.”

I looked over to see Kusafiri reading from the sign outside the town. Most of it was faded, but it was still legible. A stylized drawing of the town accompanied the words.

I looked past the sign at the town beyond it. The road we were on arced through it, and the town straddled the river, connected by one, high-arching bridge. The town was mostly flat, little more than a collection of houses. The area around the river seemed the most built up, with the buildings reaching taller than the single storey of the others around us. As Rain Maker had reported, a small plume of smoke raised from the edge of town, near the river.

“Wonder if anypony's home,” Ginger Beer asked.

I chuckled and shrugged. “We can only hope,” I replied, trotting forward. “We'll check there first.”

It was quiet, unnervingly so. I looked around as we passed the first few houses, trying to not let the heat get to me. Despite, or maybe because of, the cloud cover, it was stifling outside. I, like my two companions, was used to the climate controlled cool of the Stable. Now that the sun had been out a while, the heat had become unbearable, and the humidity made it feel like we were underwater. Ginger Beer and Kusafiri had both opened their Stable bardings, and after a while I unzipped mine too. It didn't help much, but it was something.

“This fucking heat, huh?” Ginger Beer said with a laugh, having watched me unzip my Stable barding. I was heavily regretting taking the labcoat along as well, but there was nothing I could do about that now.

“It's the humidity,” I replied, wiping a hoof across my brow. It came back soaked, and didn't do much. “I can stand the heat. This humidity... it's like we're swimming.”

Kusafiri chuckled, and I couldn't help but grin as well. We had a lot to deal with, and here we were complaining about the weather, as if it was important. I ended up even laughing a bit about it, looking around as we approached the city. Much like the trees, Bakersmill was still intact, and I wondered if the war had even come to the city at all.

“It's so... quiet...” Kusafiri said after a long while of silence. He seemed nervous, and I couldn't blame the young stallion. The buildings may have been sagging with age, and dirty from the unbridled elements, but everything looked normal, as if at any moment, ponies could simply step out and greet us. It looked as if the entire town had simply disappeared. The house to my right even had a sky waggon sitting in the driveway, rusted but still in one piece.

I nodded. “Yeah,” I said softly. Bakersmill appeared to have been a small suburb at one point, mostly consisting of houses spread out along the main road and the few side streets. The houses were all similar in design: single storey, and either very wide, or very long, depending on how they were set up. One or two went to two storeys, but they were few and far between. As we trotted along the highway closer to the river, a few shops and restaurants appeared among the houses, and on the far side of the river were a pair of small factories, and of course, the mill itself, walled off from the rest of the town. From beyond those walls came that small plume of smoke.

Bakersmill must have been quaint, even beautiful, before the war, I decided. Now, it was just eerily empty and quiet.

I looked to my right, spotting a little coffee shop called “The Cheery Bean”. On a whim, I looked into one of the windows to see if there was anything worth taking. I noted it was ransacked, but something seemed off about the whole place.

“Hold on,” I called out to my companions, holding up a hoof to get them to stop. I heard their hoofsteps slow down.

“Come on, Doc!” Kusafiri whinnied. “The mill's right across the bridge, and it's friggin' hot!” I knew that he just wanted to get this over with, as soon as possible. I shook my head.

“What is it, Bean?” Ginger Beer asked, looking over my shoulder. I pointed with a hoof toward one of the tables.

“Look, there,” I said. The stallion to my right nodded, then looked at me.

“What is it?”

“Doesn't that look a bit too... perfect?” I asked.

The table I was pointing at stood upright, and unlike every other table there, was clean of dust and debris. The dishes on top were stacked as well, not scattered about the room. To me, it was as if somepony had been there not long ago.

“Hello?” I called out.

“What?” Kusafiri asked, looking over at us. He'd gone to sit in the shade of a bus stop nearby to try and get some rest.

“Looks like there might be somepony here,” Ginger answered.

“Are they friendly?”

“No id-”

“Quiet!” I whispered to my companions. I wasn't trying to be mean, but I was listening for a reply. I stepped through the front door of the coffee shop.

“Doc?” Kusafiri said quietly.

“Come on,” I called out, waving with my hoof. I looked around the shop to look for signs of anypony being there, but saw nothing. Instead, I went for the cash register.

“While we're here, might as well look for supplies,” I explained. The two nodded and went to the kitchen, while I got to work forcing open the cash register. I would never have considered stealing like this in the past, but at this point, I was desperate. We would need money to trade with the ponies of Bakersmill, if they were friendly, and I was willing to break into this register if it meant keeping the others safe. I opened the cash drawer and pulled out piles of pre-war bills and coins, then shoved them into my saddlebags. Behind the counter were a few empty mugs and glasses, but nothing else of use.

“Find anything?” I called out to my companions.

“Not yet!” Kusafiri replied.

I nodded to myself, then started to wander about the room, taking a stop at the table that had been set upright. I examined it for a moment, then shrugged. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out why anypony would have set it up like this. After a few moments, I turned and trotted toward the bathroom, intent on relieving myself. I opened the door to the little colt's room, and jumped back in surprise.

An earth pony stallion looked back at me. He was of average height but skinny and lanky, with a coat of steel grey and an unkempt mane of fiery red. A hat of dead looking straw sat lopsided on his head. He wore armoured barding, that looked similar to the stuff Stable security would wear. Perhaps most prominent, and most frightening feature of this stallion, was the boxy shotgun that hung from his neck, resting against his chest.

We stared at each other for a few seconds, frozen in surprise, then went for our weapons at the same time. I quickly floated out my MEP, pointing it at the stallion's head. He quickly hooked a hoof through his shotgun's grip and raised it, grabbing hold of the bit.

We stood off like this for a few seconds, neither of us firing. It was a long time before any of even blinked. In the end, it was the stallion who blinked first.

“Put the gun down,” I said.

“Ya first.”

“How can I trust you?”

“ 'bout the same way Ah can be trustin' ya,” the stallion replied. I nodded slowly. He did have a point, after all. I began considering my options, and it wasn't looking good. I had never killed a pony before and would never want to, but he might force my had. But at this range, there was no way he would miss with that shotgun, either.

“Doc? Who're you...” I heard Kusafiri call out, and heard him trotting over. When he saw what was happening, he quickly drew his sabre, and shouted. Ginger Beer was there with his pistol seconds later. I watched the stallion with the shotgun look around at us three, then heave a small sigh. He put his shotgun down, and I lowered, but didn't holster, my magical energy pistol.

“Ah know when Ah'm outnumba'd. So... whatcha plannin'?”

I blinked in confusion. “I'm sorry?” I asked. It was an odd question from the stallion.

“Ah said, whatcha plannin'? Y'all gon kill me right here, o' take me t'a hideout, torture me there?” he asked.

I raised an eyebrow, then looked at my gathered companions. We all looked back at the stallion at the same time, confusion evident on our faces.

“Excuse me?” I asked. This time, it was the stallion's turn to look confused. He tilted his head and stared at us.

“Y'all three ain't raidas?” he asked. I shook my head, and stuck my MEP back into my saddlebag. My companions took the cue and stowed their weapons.

“No, we're not,” I assured him.

“Prove it.”

“Um... how about the fact we're all wearing Stable barding?” I offered. That seemed to placate the stallion, who relaxed a bit.

“Y'all from a Stable?”

“We just said that,” Ginger Beer said with a bit of a grunt. I shot a glance at him, and he gave me a bit of a shrug. I looked back at the mysterious, hat-wearing stallion.

“Yes. We were looking for Bakersmill, to talk trade,” I explained. I didn't exactly trust the pony, so I wasn't going to tell him every detail, but the truth couldn't hurt our chances, could it?

The stallion considered it for a while, then nodded. “Well, it just so happens y'all found me. Bakasmill's best procura o' items,” he said with a note of pride.

“Procurer of items?” I asked.

“Scavenga,” he corrected simply, smiling a bit.

I chuckled and nodded. “Could you take us there?” I asked. It was fairly obvious where the settlement was, but if this pony was truly from there, it might help if we approached with somepony from the town, instead of just waltzing in on our own.

“Sho' can! Muh name's Gumbo. Gumbo Pot,” Gumbo introduced himself as, tapping the brim of his hat and grinning. He seemed a lot more amicable, now that we'd established that we weren't going to kill each other. “Y'all just follow me, an' I take ya there.”

~~O~~

Our guide was highly talkative, so I was thankful our trip was a short one. All we had to do was cross the river via the arching bridge, and then trot up to the mill two blocks away. The entire time, Gumbo had something to say, about how well the settlement was doing, how great the ponies there were, how great the weather was, and other such things. It got to be irritating, but thankfully he was harmless.

“This be the mill,” he said at long last, indicating the building. It was one of the tallest in Bakersmill at three storeys, and made of weathered red brick. A matching wall, supported and added onto by rusting sky waggons and other pieces of scrap metal surrounded the entire complex, and all we could see were the top two storeys of the mill, and the second floor of a handsome looking farmhouse. A single gate stood as the only entrance.

Gumbo Pot trotted up to the gate and knocked out a distinct two-three-one rhythm with his hoof. The gate slid aside on a track, squealing slightly as it did. Two guardsponies stood on the other side, pointing pistols at us. I took a step back out of instinct, but Gumbo put out a hoof to stop me.

“S'alright. They with me,” Gumbo assured the guards.

“Alright. Just uh... no sudden movements, and don't even think of drawing weapons,” one of the guards, a mare, said.

“Don't worry, we're not here to cause trouble,” I assured the guardsmare, following Gumbo as he led us into the compound.

It was a beautiful place. The path we were on led right up to the farmhouse, a small, two-storey building with a wraparound porch. It was set to the left of the mill, which was pressed up against the river. I was surprised to see the wheel of the mill still turning after all this time. Behind the house and the mill were two long, redbrick sheds. A pair of ponies wandered past the house, heading toward the sheds.

Our guide began leading us to the house, and a voice suddenly called out to us. “Gumbo! What'd I tell you?” The voice was female, and while accented, was not as heavy as Gumbo's.

“Not to bring random ponies around,” the stallion said sheepishly, bowing his head and pushing the hat down to cover his eyes.

“And what'd you go and do?”

“Aw, these ones alright, Mama. Not raidas o' nothin',”  he assured the voice.

A moment later, the door to the house opened, and an earth pony mare stepped out. She was elderly, which I could tell even from a distance. She trotted over, and I noted that she was rather on the plump side. I wondered if Bakersmill may have had a surplus of food, to give her that body type.

The mare trotted up to us, shaking her head. “Sisters above, Gumbo. I swear, when they were linin' you up at the gene pool, you took the high dive into the shallow end. Get outta here, go make yourself useful somewhere,” she said.

Gumbo nodded and tapped the brim of his hat before trotting off. The mare looked at us and chuckled softly. I noted she was a good head shorter than the rest of us. Even Kusafiri was taller than her.

“Sorry about that. Gumbo's a good scavenger, but sometimes I'd swear he's got nothing between his ears. My name is Praline Sweet, but most around here call me Mama Praline. Now, and with all due respect I ask this, but what in the name of all that is good are y'all doin' in Bakersmill?” she asked.

“My name is Doctor String Bean. This is Kusafiri, and Ginger Beer,” I explained, indicating my companions with a wave of my hoof. “We're here... because, frankly, we need help.”

Praline looked at us for a moment, as if judging the sincerity of my words, before bursting out in laughter. “Oh, my. First time I've ever heard of somepony needin' help from Bakersmill, not the other way around. Y'all look tired. Come on into the house, let's get y'all somethin' to drink.”

I smiled and followed. My companions weren't far behind, looking around as we went inside.

“Y'all from a Stable.” Praline's tone had it more of a statement, than a question. She must have seen our barding.

“Were from a Stable,” Ginger Beer corrected.

“Oh?” Praline looked back at him.

“There was an accident. Only twenty of us made it out,” I explained.

Praline nodded solemnly. “I'm sorry to hear about your loss,” she said softly, leading us through the house. For being a relic of a time long past, the house was well kept. Everything was reasonably clean, and fixed up. It was a true home, not simply shelter. The elderly mare let us to the back of the house, where the kitchen was, and collected a few water-filled bottles of Sparkle-Cola. She removed the caps, and placed them in a small box near the sink, then passed the bottles to us. I took a long sip from mine, eager to have a drink of relatively clean water.

“Thank you, Miss Praline,” I said with a smile.

“Oh, no need for the 'miss' part. Mama Praline, or Praline, works just fine,” she said with a return smile, sipping from her own water. “So. Y'all need help from Bakersmill? If you're looking for shelter, I'm unfortunately going to have to turn you away. The reason I don't like Gumbo bringing others in is we simply have no more room.”

“Oh no, we have shelter, not far up the road. While there many be enough room there, what we're lacking is food,” I explained.

Praline nodded in understanding. “Ah, I see. Well...” she looked out the back window. I followed her gaze and my eyes widened in surprise. Somehow, there was a small crop of admittedly dreary looking wheat along the river's edge, behind the mill. If they could do it, I reasoned we would be able to as well, at least to some degree. Praline looked over at us, and continued. “Our food supplies are not infinite. We've got the town to take from, and a small crop. But I still have to feed twelve ponies, Doctor.”

“So... you can't help?” Kusafiri asked quietly from the table. Praline sighed softly and shook her head.

“Sorry, Kusafiri. I can't. I want to, but we just don't have the supplies. Perhaps if I...” she blinked, as if a sudden thought hit her, then she smiled a little. “There might be something.”

“Oh?” I asked.

“Perhaps we may be able to solve your little conundrum after all. We used to have a good trade route with Neigh Orleans, but recently we've lost contact with them. If you could get some of your ponies together, and get our trade route back up and running, we'll be able to trade with your little group as well,” Praline suggested.

I looked at my companions, then back at Praline. “Could you give us some time to think about it?” I asked.

She smiled warmly at me. “Of course, dear. When you've decided, come on down to the mill.” She left out the back door, leaving me in the kitchen with Kusafiri and Ginger Beer.

“What do you think?” I asked, sitting down at the kitchen table.

“I'm down. I'd love to go see the city,” Kusafiri said, a grin on his face. I chuckled, admiring his enthusiasm.

“Kusafiri, if something took out their trade route, it's going to be dangerous,” I pointed out.

“That's okay! I can handle myself. Besides, I won't be alone.”

“True. Ginger?”

“I'm not so sure,” he admitted, sipping his water. “That's a bit of a ways away, and I kind of want to be with my kids. And besides, other than Peach Tea I'm the only one that knows how to work a weapon. I don't want to be away from Hope for too long, at least not until I can teach others to defend it,” he explained.

I nodded in understanding. “Good point,” I said.

“We don't have a choice though, Ginger,” Kusafiri said. “We need that food.”

Ginger Beer nodded, sipping his water. “I know, and I understand. But I'm not going to be going with you, unless I absolutely need to,” he said.

“That's okay,” I assured him. “We'll get a team together. Maybe Lode Stone or Ngao. I'll go find Praline, tell her we'll help. Get some rest, you two earned it,” I said, getting up from the table. I finished off my water and put the bottle down, then left out the back door and made my way toward the mill, watching with fascination as the giant wheel turned. It was mesmerizing to watch, and I was so enthralled I nearly crashed into the side of the mill, instead of going through the door.

The inside of the mill was empty, and a little cramped. A large crankshaft turned with the wheel, filling and it was rather loud. I looked around, trying to see if anypony was there and I just couldn't see them as my eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness.

“Hello?” I called out over the din of the gears turning.

“Up here!” a voice called out from upstairs. I quickly trotted to them and climbed up. An earth pony stallion that looked much like Gumbo Pot stood there with Praline, the only difference being his colours were reversed: where Gumbo was grey with a fiery red mane, this stallion was red with a grey mane. He working on the grind wheel, which was disconnected from the rest of the gears so that it wasn't turning.

“Can Ah help ya?” he asked. His voice had the same accent as Gumbo, a thicker version of Praline's. He didn't look at me, still working on the gears.

“I was told to come by?”

“Oh, y'all must be that stallion Mama was tellin' me 'bout,” he said with a grin. “Name's Stew Pot. Y'all met my brother, Gumbo?” As he spoke, he he finally turned to look at me and extended a hoof.

I took his hoof and shook it, smiling. “Yes, I have.”

“Quite a character, innee?”

“Indeed,” I said with a soft laugh.

“Well now, Stew, Doctor Bean and his friends are going to solve our little trading problem,” Praline put in as she trotted upstairs to come greet us.

Stew Pot nodded. “Ah see. Good to hear we got somepony t'help. So, y'all know anything about Neigh Orleans, friend?” He pronounced it “Neigh Awlins”. I shook my head, and Stew chuckled. “Alright. Let's all head upstairs, quieter there.”

The three of us trotted up to the third level of the mill. It was mostly empty, aside from a number of sacks similar to those downstairs, and a winch jutting from the side to carry them up and down. Stew Pot shifted one of the sacks and sat down. Praline and I followed suit, settling down on. The sack felt like it was full of grain or something. Sure enough, it was quiet, compared to the other floors.

“ 'kay. Ah see y'all got one of them PipBucks, might be good to jot this down,” Stew told me.

I nodded and immediately lifted my hoof to start taking notes with my PipBuck.

“Neigh Awlins be a nice place, but it's dangerous. Split into two sections, North Neigh Awlins, an' South Neigh Awlins. North be the place y'all want to go. Right along the Muddy River is the Fancy Quarter. Can't miss it, they got signs everywhere pointin' to it.” He coughed into his shoulder, then continued. “Down the close end o' the Fancy Quarter is the first place Ah'd stop, place called The Grand. Big ol' hotel, whole block o' the city. Y'all want to get to Bourbon, big street runs right through the Fancy Quarter, or Fancy street. When ya get to Bridle street, you're there. That's where the trader, Tumbleweed, was from.”

“The Grand is the biggest settlement of ponies in Neigh Orleans. Well, nice, civil ponies, that is,” Praline Sweet put in. “Most of the traders have to pass through there at some point, hence why it's so busy.”

“Ayup. An' if'n ya don't find him there, it's an hour walk to the other end of the Fancy Quarter. Down by the river there is Celestial Square, an' the Temple o' The Celestial Sisters. Most just call it the Temple. He might be there.”

“The Temple of the Celestial Sisters?” I asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow. I, like most of the other ponies in the Stable, believed in the infinite power of Celestia and Luna, considering them near goddesses. But, at least in my case, I didn't believe in that enough to build an entire temple to them.

“Yes, I know. A little over the top, but it's a pre-war building. Somepony obviously liked those two enough to make it. In any case, the pony that runs it is a good stallion, he'll help no matter what,” Praline assured me.

“Yeah. Crazy ol' bastard thinks he some kinda prophet for Celestia, or somethin',” Stew said with a derisive snort.

I chuckled. “Well, he can believe a talking rock named Tom is the saviour of all ponykind, as long as he can provide us with help.” I couldn't help but grin as I said it, because of how ridiculous it sounded. Stew let out a bark of laughter, and even Praline smiled. “Alright. So first The Grand, and then the Temple. Anything else I should know?” I asked, glancing down at my PipBuck to make sure I had gotten everything so far.

“Yeah. Y'all gunna cross the river an' keep goin', 'till the road splits off, an' both take ya to Neigh Awlins. Y'all want to take the top road. Ah'm sure y'all can figure it out, but ya definitely don't wanna go wanderin' to South Neigh Awlins,” Stew Pot said.

“And why's that?”

“South Neigh Orleans is the raider capital of the area,” Praline said softly. “Most of them come from the Ninth Sector, a neighbourhood along the Muddy River. It's very, very dangerous to go through there, at any time... and going near the Ninth Sector is usually a death sentence.”

I nodded solemnly. No Ninth Sector, and no South Neigh Orleans. Easy enough.

“Y'all got supplies?” Stew Pot asked.

“Some. A few weapons, some food. Money, not a lot though,” I replied, lowering my PipBuck.

Praline and Stew both stared at me for a while, and I shifted a little, feeling nervous. Had I said something wrong? Eventually, Stew burst out laughing, and Praline gave me a small smile.

“Hun, your fancy Stable money isn't of much use here, aside from kindling and toilet paper. I'm sure you could trade it for something, but here, we use a unique currency. We use bottlecaps,” Praline explained.

I blinked. “Bottlecaps?”

“Yup. Pre-war, lotta ponies drank this stuff called Sparkle-Cola and Sunrise Sarsparilla. Lotta beer, too. Thousands upon thousands of bottles. Dunno why caps, but there ain't no shortage of 'em,” Stew assured me with a grin.

“I... see.” I frowned a bit. Bottlecaps. “And how am I supposed to get some bottlecaps?”

“Ah can get y'all a few. If ya got spare supplies, take 'em with ya. Sure to be somepony that can trade with y'all.”

I nodded. “Alright. Well, we'll see if we can't fix this trading issue of yours. We'll be heading back home, organize a proper party. By tomorrow, we should be back through here on the way to Neigh Orleans.” I stood up and stretched out a little.

“Sounds like a plan. Good luck to you, String Bean. We'll make sure you have a few caps to take with you when you pass through,” Praline said. She stood up and smiled warmly. She trotted over and gave me a hug around the neck, then went downstairs.

“Y'all take care. Neigh Awlins can be dangerous, but it's beautiful, too,” Stew Pot said as we headed down together.

I looked over at him and nodded. “Thanks for the advice. Sorry we couldn't stay very long.”

“Aw, that's alright. Y'all welcome back any time. So, where y'all set up?”

“Hope Manor. At least, that's what we called it. Out by the train station,” I explained, ducking under a low hanging beam. “It's a nice place. Room for us all.”

“Cool stuff. An' y'all's Stable? What happened?”

“Accident,” was all I could bear to say. I stood in the doorframe and shrugged. “I'll talk to you about it some other time, maybe. Bit too fresh right now.”

“Take your time. Luck, Doc.”

~~O~~

We made it back to Hope by late evening, and by then I was about ready to get some sleep. I trotted through the door, and was surprised to hear... music? Yes, I definitely heard music, a very energetic brass tune coming from...somewhere in the house. I blinked and looked around in confusion, by my two companions had no answers, and looked just as confused.

“Dad!” Fire Walker had been crossing the hall when she saw us come in, and the young filly ran to hug Ginger Beer around the neck. “You gotta see this! We found a radio in Mtoto's room, and Ngao fixed it up and we found a radio station and-” she didn't seem to need to take a breath to say it.

Ginger laughed and cut her off. “Alright, let's go see this radio of yours.”

We all trotted into the living room, where most of the kids were staying, as well as Berry Medley, who'd apparently taken on the role of mother for all of the orphaned ones. They were crowded around a small wooden radio set on a table, the front dial glowing and flickering on occasion. The brassy jazz tune trailed off with one long note, and a voice cut in.

“Good evening fillies and gentlecolts! Hope you're all doin' alright. We were going to do a weather report, then we realized nopony cares.” I heard the sound of a sheaf of papers flying, and couldn't help but chuckle.

“So how 'bout some news instead? If you're looking for work, you're good with your hooves, and don't mind a bit of bucking, Wise Apple Plantation's looking for some new help. And for Celestia's sake, folks, no, I have no idea what that rumbling last night was. You can stop asking, but if you have any information, I'd be happy to hear it. In the meantime, have a little Fat Cat, who Ain't Misbehavin', if that's what you're implyin'.”

The voice cut out to be replaced by a piano song. I chuckled. “Well, now that's unexpected. How'd you find this?” I asked to nopony in particular.

“It was Dewdrop who found the actual station,” Berry Medley said, looking over at me. “She was fiddling with her PipBuck, and discovered that there was a radio signal. Then Mtoto and Ngao found the radio,” she said, indicating a small zebra colt nearby when she mentioned Mtoto. I recognized him as Ngao and Elekezi's son.

“There's actually a functioning radio station?” It was a rhetorical question, more out of disbelief than anything else. I sat down in a nearby chair, shaking my head. “That's incredible. Has he mentioned where he broadcasts from?” I asked to Berry. I was intensely curious now, and would like to visit the radio station.

“Um... Jazzland, I think. Don't know where that is. And he says his name is DJ Shorty. Why do you ask?”

“I'm just curious,” I replied simply, smiling and sitting down on a chair near the fireplace. I spent the next hour or two listening to music with the children, then got up to gather most of the adults in the study across the hall for a short meeting. I settled into a chair with a soft groan, rather tired from the day's walk. I looked around at the assembled group of equines.

“We found the ponies at Bakersmill,” I began. “They've agreed to help us with trading, but of course, there's no such thing as a free lunch. Their main trading partner from Neigh Orleans has disappeared.”

“Let me guess... we need to go find him?” Ngao asked.

“Bingo. Praline Sweet, the pony who runs Bakersmill, wants us to go to Neigh Orleans, and find out what happened to that trader,” I explained. I let it sink in for a moment, looking at the assembled ponies. “I'm going to need some help. Kusafiri has already volunteered, and I want another small group, no more than four. This is probably going to be dangerous, and we'll be away for what may be a long time. I don't want to take anypony away from their friends and families, so this is all on a volunteer basis. If Kusafiri and I are the only two who want to go, then we'll be the only ones going.”

The room was quiet for a bit, while everypony looked at each other, weighing the options. I could see in their faces that few wanted to go, and would prefer taking time to relax and take everything in first. I was thus surprised when a hoof went up.

“I'll go.”

I looked up to see who it was. I was even more surprised to see that it was Peach Tea. “You sure?” I asked.

“Of course. Always wanted to see the city. Besides, I'm a big mare, I can take care of myself.”

I nodded. “Anypony else?”

“Why not?” A voice said, and another hoof went up. This one belonged to Lode Stone. “You guys could use a bit of flying help,” he said.

I nodded again. “Okay. We'll be leaving early on, so try to get some sleep. Anypony else have anything to say? Questions, concerns?”

Ginger nodded and stood up. “Yeah. With you gone, what happens if we have a medical emergency?”

“I know some first aid. My sister was one of Doctor Kugusa's nurses,” Elekezi replied. “It's not much, but with the medical supplies it should be enough. Besides, I don't think we'll have much to worry about.”

Ginger Beer nodded, satisfied. “Alright, then I just have one other thing to say. We don't know what's out there, so it would probably be best to learn how to defend ourselves. If anypony here wants to learn, I'll be teaching self-defence and shooting starting tomorrow,” he offered. A few ponies nodded in interest.

“Alright. Are we all good?” I asked. Nods and murmurs of assent. “Good. Let's get some sleep, everypony. We have a long few days ahead of us.”

The group got up and broke up, wandering around the mansion. For my part, I hauled myself out of my chair and went to the kitchen to get a quick bite to eat. I grabbed a box of candied apples and a bottle of Sparkle-Cola, then trotted upstairs. I had chosen a small room at the far end of the house, overlooking the river, as my own. I trotted in and sighed softly. I removed my barding and folded it, setting it on the chair for the nearby writing desk, and finally removed my PipBuck. I turned on the device's lamp to give myself some light to eat by, then set it on the bedside table. I ate an apple or two, then closed the box and sipped at my cola. When I finshed it, I lay on my back and stared up at the ceiling.

Thoughts came and went, and I was unable to calm my mind and get some sleep. I was worried about a number of things. The mental state of the the group, for one. Sure, they may all seem on the outside to be happy with their new situation, but it could be a facade. I was afraid that, while I was away, somepony would end up with a mental breakdown from the stress. I was worried too about the safety of Hope while I was away, even though there seemed to be no immediate danger. I was worried that we wouldn't make it back from Neigh Orleans, if it was as dangerous as Stew Pot said it would be.

In an effort to put my mind at ease, I pulled out the earpiece on my PipBuck and fit it to my left ear. I picked it up and checked the radio signals, and sure enough, there was one, registered as 90.1 FM Radio Neigh Orleans. I selected it and listened to a stallion with one of the roughest, yet surprisingly soothing voices I'd ever heard. He sang about a street in Neigh Orleans. I ended up dozing to a soft trumpet solo and finally got some sleep.