Industry.

Spike had said he didn’t understand the “Earth Pony Way” until he had seen Fillydelphia. Even now, with the ruins of the city looming on the edge of the horizon, I began to understand why.

Industry had been the secret heart of Equestria since long before the war. How could you have pony-pulled trains without steel mills creating metal for the rails? How could you have the tall skyscrapers of Manehattan without glass companies producing windows by the hundreds? How could a small town like Ponyville have a dressmaker’s shop with all the finest fabrics without the textiles industry? Still, most ponies had barely thought about it -- out of sight, out of mind. Living in the idyllic, pastoral towns and halcyon cities of Equestria, it had been easy to forget. Unless you were a pony living in Equestria’s single center of manufacturing -- a mecca of earth pony industry.

Fillydelphia.

I learned these things from SteelHooves. I had sought his knowledge when it became abundantly clear that we were heading towards something far more than just a really big version of old Appleloosa. Because less than halfway between Manehattan and Fillydelphia, my PipBuck had started picking up a broadcast out of Fillydelphia.

It was the same musical programming the sprite-bots kept playing, interrupted occasionally for messages from Red Eye. But now that I had a constant feed, I realized those little speeches were far more frequent, and carried more substance, than I had assumed. Now, Red Eye was able to talk to me as he did the ponies of Fillydelphia. And his words worried me. A lot.

“…we have Uncle and Aunt Fruitcup, a peaceful and loving couple, married for nearly a decade now, living in their quaint little house with their tiny garden on the outskirts of Roamer. No children, two dogs and a sunflower that Aunt Fruitcup has named Celestia.

“What kind of monster, I have been asked, would root up Aunt and Uncle Fruitcup, tear them away from their peaceful, pointless lives, and set them to work hauling carts heavy with scrap metal?

“A monster, indeed. But one with his eyes open and cast upon our future. The future of Equestria. Two hundred years ago, we lost our great nation, but we will have it again! And what would the Fruitcups and their little homestead be in two hundred years? Nothing, meaningless, not even hoofnotes in the annals of history. But… what will have meaning two hundred years from now? This factory!

“And it is from this factory, and the others like it, that Equestria will be rebuilt. It is from the work that Uncle and Aunt Fruitcup do now that a new national infrastructure will be created and a new golden age will be born -- the golden age of Unity! Equestria will rise like a phoenix from her own ashes! But not without our help, and not without our labor.

“This is what is important. This will make a difference. This will last!”

The words of Red Eye were met by the clopping applause of at least a hundred hoofs. The roar of the crowd was abruptly cut off, replaced by a gravelly voice:

“And there you have it: Red Eye’s speech marking the reopening ceremony of the Honest Steel factory. Word has it, Red Eye will be making a return visit later this week to inspect the factory’s output. And now, for some music, starting with my favorite: March of the Parasprites…”

The broadcast began playing the familiar marching music, heavy on tuba and harmonica.

I turned off the station, pulling out my earbloom. Red Eye, it would seem, didn’t live in Fillydelphia. But he made visits, and one was coming up very soon. I informed my companions of this.

Velvet Remedy was curled up on one of the bench seats of the Sky Bandit with Pyrelight sleeping next to her, a glowing patch of emerald and gold against her charcoal coat. I was amazed at how the balefire phoenix had stayed with her. Normally, even a pet bird would need a cage.

SteelHooves nodded, not turning towards me. He had been keeping watch on the ground sweeping below ever since we had flown over the last rubble of the Manehattan suburbs. I tried to avoid doing that.

“Ah have bad news, folks,” Calamity called from in front of the Sky Bandit. “She’s startin’ t’ sag. Keep yer peepers out for someplace t’ put ‘er down long enough t’ swap out the spark batteries.”

“All I’ve got is dirt, rocks and dead trees,” SteelHooves called back. “Nothing you want to land on out here.”

I floated out the binoculars and moved to the edge of one of the windows, braving the possible vertigo. “What are we looking for?”

SteelHooves continued to scan the ground below. “Anyplace the hellhounds are less likely to get at us.”

Hellhounds. I recalled Homage, as DJ Pon3, warning ponies about hellhounds in the stretch between Manehattan and Fillydelphia. I’d been picturing rabid dogs, like the ones Uncle and Aunt Fruitcup had, only vicious. Possibly overgrown and mutated, like the bloodwings. Sure, the first time I heard of a hellhound, I learned that just one could take out a wagon train of slavers. But then, so could I. And I was hardly frightening.

SteelHooves’s even voice, however, betrayed a hint of worry. And nothing my mind had been conjuring would even strike alarm in the ancient, steel-clad soldier. “What are hellhounds?” I caught a shiver pass through Pyrelight. I suspected the answer would be something much worse than I dismissed them to be. When even the nigh-immortal bird is worried…

The suspicion was nailed home when SteelHooves and Calamity both turned to look at me as if I had just asked what a gun was.

“You don’t know what a hellhound is?” SteelHooves asked evenly. “And you decided we should all go to Fillydelphia anyway? Without finding out what lies between?”

Velvet Remedy chimed in, “I’ve never even heard of a hellhound.”

SteelHooves facehoofed with a clank of metal on metal. Calamity muttered something about “Stable folk” from ahead.

“You could fill us in,” Velvet Remedy suggested. “Or you two can just keep being melodramatic.”

SteelHooves bristled. “The hellhounds,” he nickered, “Are simply the most dangerous creatures in the Equestrian Wasteland. I’d rather face off against alicorns.”

Velvet Remedy and I exchanged looks. She deadpanned, “Wow. Informative. What, are these things a secret?” I smirked.

Calamity pushed back his hat, glancing over his left wing at us. “Either of ya folks ever heard ‘bout Splendid Valley?”

My “Yes” came simultaneously with Velvet Remedy’s “No.” While hellhounds had not struck much of a note in my imagination, a terrifying specter of Splendid Valley had been painted in my mind by all the dark rumors and foreboding mentions of the place. I looked down over the ruined plains below us, all brown dirt and blackened trees. It didn’t look like the barren landscape in the picture in Twilight’s Athenaeum, but that had been before the end of the world. It could be…

“Is that what’s between Manehattan and Fillydelphia? Splendid Valley? Are we over it right now?” I scanned for what could be Maripony. A structure in the distance caught my eye. A large building topped with smokestacks. It looked fairly intact. Giant metal skeletons fanned out from the building in all directions, holding up lines of cable.

Calamity barked a laugh. “Aw hell no. Splendid Valley’s closer t’ Ponyville than t’ Fillydelphia.” I was suddenly thankful for the slavers who captured me my first night out of the Stable. Without them, what pony could say the direction I would have struck off in? “But… what all do y’know ‘bout Splendid Valley?”

“Well… that’s where Maripony is,” I started, trying to remember everything I had heard, all while wondering where Calamity was leading with this. SteelHooves was silent, which could mean he thought that Calamity was taking the right tack. (Or just that SteelHooves was SteelHooves.) “Maripony used to be there because of all the gemstones they mined out of Splendid Valley, but it was converted to something else once the gems were all gone.” I licked my lips, trying to think of more. “They stored all sorts of magical toxins in the caves under Splendid Valley. And it was the second place hit by a megaspell…”

“Second place, huh?” Calamity whinnied. “Ah didn’t know that.”

“You’re missing the most important thing,” SteelHooves interrupted.

More important than megaspells, radiation and magical toxins? I looked from Calamity to SteelHooves.

“Ayep. When the ponies decided t’ mine Splendid Valley, they had had one small problem. The valley was inhabited…”

Velvet Remedy’s eyes widened. “Wait… they mined ponies’ homes?”

“Not ponies,” SteelHooves answered, interjecting, “Gemstones meant magical energy weapons. Crucial for the war effort. It was decided that the creatures living in Splendid Valley had to move. The valley belonged to the nation of Equestria, and it was needed.”

I felt a rock growing in my stomach.

“Only, not alla the inhabitants seemed t’ get the message. An’ after ponies had stripped the place clean, several families moved back into those caverns.”

“Back in… to where the Ministry of Arcane Sciences was storing hazardous magical waste?”

“And to where the zebras set off a balefire bomb,” SteelHooves added.

“Goddesses,” Velvet Remedy gasped. “And they… survived? Those poor… what were they again?”

“Diamond dogs,” Calamity called back.

I froze. Waaaaait…. “Hold on! Are you telling us that the creatures that Rarity defeated by whining have become the most terrifying monsters in the Equestrian Wasteland?”

“Ayep.”

I looked to SteelHooves in disbelief, but his helmet nodded. “They’re big. They’re fast. And they’re extremely aggressive. They have claws that can tear through armor like it was soft cloth. I’ve even seen one claw their way through an alicorn’s magical shield.”

Fuck. “Well, makes me glad we’re up here where we can shoot at them and they can’t get at us!” I paused, “They can’t fly, can they?”

“Nope,” Calamity said, much to my short-lived relief. “But they c’n dig. Fast. An’ pretty much through anything. When they come after ya, they c’n stay underground ‘till they’re right beneath ya. Ground might tremble a bit; that’s all the warnin’ y’all will get before they rend ya apart. An’ they sure ain’t gonna stand around outside where ya c’n shoot at ‘em.”

“Worse,” SteelHooves asserted. “They’re smart. These aren’t animals like manticores or bloodwings. They’ve gotten hold of magical energy weapons, reverse-engineered them, and rebuilt them for holding in their claws. They don’t have the magic to create new ones, but they sliced their way into the Splendid Valley Armory and stole over a hundred weapons – all of which, we must assume, have been re-purposed.”

“So…” Velvet Remedy said slowly, “They can shoot us, and we can’t get at them.”

Cocking her head towards me, she snarked, “Well thank you, Littlepip. I adore the places you take me.”

“What is this place?” I asked, staring at the huge smokestacks as I stepped out of the Sky Bandit and onto the broken roof of the building that I had spotted in the distance. All around, metal structures, like the skeletons of standing giants, stretched out across the plains, most marching towards Manehattan or Fillydelphia.

The building was huge, and offered the best protection against hellhounds.

“A power station,” SteelHooves answered. “Massive furnaces burned coal to generate the power necessary to operate a lot of the non-magical conveniences that came out of Equestria’s technological revolution. There were hundreds of these all over Equestria before the war.” He pointed a hoof to the cables that the metal skeletons were holding up. “Those carried the power created here to the cities.”

Wow. I floated out the binoculars and gazed out along one of the marching lines of metal structures. About a mile away, several had collapsed, the lines severed and dangling from their still-standing compatriots. This was so much bigger than the once coal-powered train engines I had seen in New Appleloosa and Junction R-7.

Calamity had detached himself from the Sky Bandit’s harness and was preparing to crawl under the passenger wagon as Velvet Remedy fished spare spark batteries out of her saddleboxes.

Floating my binoculars back into my saddlebags, I cast a look about the roof. On one end was small tower with a door. My curiosity woke up and began digging into my mind with a persistent hoof. Shrugging, I trotted towards the door, pulling out my screwdriver and a bobby pin in anticipation. No reason not to just take a look.

I was thrilled when the door was locked. Crouching, I got to work.

Click. Such a sweet sound. I nudged the door open. Stairs, up to the tower and down into the power plant itself.

As I stepped into the darkness, a deep, rumbling voice asked, “Where are you going?”

“Exploring,” I smiled back. SteelHooves just shook his head, but took up position behind me as I headed up the stairs.

The tower stairwell opened onto a single room with a balcony that looked like it was designed for pegasus wagon landings. The back half of the room was nothing more than a huge cargo elevator. A circular company logo painted on the elevator door (Hippocampus Energy: Hydroelectric, Coal, Sewage) was flaked and peeling into slow oblivion.

The rest of the room had large windows looking out towards the Fillydelphia and Manehattan skylines. Both were far enough away that the horizon hid them, but Fillydelphia was closer and I could see the clouds on that horizon hung low: black, angry clouds lit by reddish light from below. Fillydelphia’s ivory tower was clearly visible, slashing up into the clouds like a needle.

“Wow. The sky over Fillydelphia actually looks… kinda evil.”

“Red Eye must have several of the factories going again,” SteelHooves commented.

I nodded although I had no idea why that would change the cloud cover. Then again, I thought as I looked out across the power plant’s massive chimneys, maybe it would.

There were four boxes of ammo sitting under a bank of dead lights with labels like “generator #11 output” and “sector #7 load”. I knelt by the ammo boxes. Two were empty, the other two locked. I opened one easily enough, retrieving ammo that didn’t match any firearm I had seen before. A big and frightening caliber. The other box, to my surprise, was jammed. Somepony had tried picking the lock and failed badly. It was literally the first evidence I had seen that anypony in the Equestrian Wasteland other than me had learned lockpicking. Unfortunately for both of us, this pony wasn’t very good at it.

I sat back. I had no idea how to open a force-jammed lock, aside from the sort of massive firepower that would likely destroy the contents of the armored box. The damn thing was designed so you couldn’t just shoot the lock.

I telekinetically lifted the box and tried to pry at it, but that was utterly futile. A pony might think that having the strength to lift a train car would give me more than enough power to tear open a box, but no. The levitation field of my telekinesis makes the objects trapped inside, like the boxcar in Appleloosa, virtually weightless… until, of course, I let it go. There simply wasn’t enough force behind my single magical spell to break a lock. I’d have better luck with a crowbar. But I tried anyway. And failed. And tried again. And failed again. And finally tossed the box as hard as I could. It hit with a thud that did no further damage to the box but left a small crack in the plaster covering the wall.

“Done now?” a smooth, feminine voice asked from the stairwell. “Or would you like to jump on it with your hooves for a while first?”

I blushed, looking at Velvet Remedy. “um… How’s Calamity doing?”

She sighed, looking out the window at the Sky Bandit on the roof below. “Do you think there’s any chance of getting him a bath in Fillydelphia?” She looked across at SteelHooves. “I suspect an actual spa is right out.”

I laughed. Good luck trying to get Calamity into a spa even if there is one!

The stairwell down lead to a set of offices adjacent to a break room. While SteelHooves and I took the offices, Velvet Remedy trotted towards the latter to scavenge any foodstuffs from what had once been the employee refrigerator. I felt confident that everything she would find would be vegetarian, no matter the actual contents.

The offices had windows on opposite sides. To the back, the windows had once peered outside, but they had been so caked with dust over the centuries that the weakened sunlight that made it through the clouds above was not strong enough to penetrate.

Opposite these were windows that stared out over the power plant’s main floor, filled with enormous generators and a wall of furnaces. A metal catwalk bisected the air above, leading from the offices here to what looked like an Overmare’s office on the far side.

“How did catwalks over heavy machinery become the dominant aesthetic?”

Horrifying memories of Ironshod Firearms were flashing through my head. Although, fortunately, this place seemed utterly deserted. Looking around, I could see where there had been turret emplacements, but they were destroyed. Further catwalks and suspended stairwells lead down to the floor of the plant, and on one was the crumbled remains of a brainbot and a few piles of mildly-pink ash. Further evidence of the scavengers who had come before us.

I turned back, already having decided to cross the catwalk and explore the office beyond. But not with SteelHooves. Previous experience told me that having someone as heavy as he was on those catwalks would be four hooves of “no”.

SteelHooves was looking at a framed sheet high up on another wall. A badly faded page from a newspaper stared back. I trotted over, having to plant my forehooves on the wall to get the height to read it. The pony who hung the frame was not thinking of shorter ponies.

The main article featured a picture of this power plant (or, at least, one that could be its identical sister):

The story dominated the page, pushing aside lesser stories (“Fillydelphia’s prestigious Alpha-Omega Hotel to host this year’s Summer Sun Celebration” and “Coal prices continue to rise as relations with zebra nation remain strained. Princess Celestia promises amiable resolution soon”) to make room.

A thought hit me. Back in New Appleloosa, Calamity had said something…

All the coal’s in strange far-away lands... full of zebras!

I dropped to all hooves, turning my head towards SteelHooves.

“Hold on,” I said, feeling dumbstruck for the second time in as many hours. “Equestria didn’t have any coal!” I waved a hoof at the power plant. “Are you telling me you ponies built Equestria’s entire infrastructure on a power source you didn’t have?”

SteelHooves said nothing.

“That’s… insane! What pony does that?”

SteelHooves just stared as I had a mental meltdown trying to parse that idea. Finally, he stated, “Why would it be a problem? We had resources the zebras needed, they had coal. We trade. Everybody’s happy.”

Yeah, sure. Until somepony… or some zebra… figures out they don’t have enough to go around anymore. Or decides they just don’t want to share.

I turned away, my eyes falling on a desk and the strangely pristine coffee mug still sitting on it. I allowed myself the distraction of marveling at how, in all these dusty, tattered, decaying ruins, a coffee mug would be the thing in finest condition. I glanced across at the other desks and a table beyond. Yes, there wasn’t one that I wouldn’t have felt safe drinking out of… except for the one where a baby radroach had apparently decided to drown itself. I shuddered a little, and decided that the coffee mug maker had employed some minor magic in their creation. A little spell meant to keep them from being stained by the coffee had left them the cleanest things in all of Equestria.

Several of the mugs had the company emblem: Hippocampus Energy. Hydroelectric, Coal, Sewage. Okay, so Equestria hadn’t been entirely dependent on trade with the zebras, but this power plant spoke volumes to just how much of it had been.

I snorted in wry amusement. Unicorns gave us power through magic. Earth ponies had given us power through water, rocks and… “oh horseapples!” I said, suddenly realizing we had all left Calamity on the rooftop alone.

We all galloped back only to find Calamity still at work. “Shouldn’t be more’n a few minutes,” he said, half his body hidden under the Sky Bandit. “Why…? What’s got all y’all actin’ spooked?”

Pyrelight was circling overhead, keeping an eye out for danger. (Or food. Or small, shiny things.)

“Nothing,” SteelHooves started to reply, but Velvet Remedy stepped forward, levitating a rolled sheet of paper that she had slipped through the straps of her saddleboxes.

“I found something I wanted you to take a look at,” Velvet almost purred. “Building and fixing things is your forte, after all.”

Calamity pushed himself out from under the Sky Bandit to take a look. Velvet Remedy cringed back slightly. He was as filthy as she had feared. “Sure. Whatcha’ got fer me?”

Taking a few steps back from Calamity, Velvet floated the roll of paper between them, uncurling the schematic. The paper was darkly stained with blood, but most of the writing was still legible. Calamity leaned forward to study it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Pyrelight dive down below the roofline. A moment later, there was a crackle of green flame. The majestic predator returned with a roasted squirrel in her beak. She dropped it on the roof next to Velvet Remedy and began pecking at it. I boggled internally as Velvet, who not minutes ago had edged back from a dirt and grease-smeared Calamity, only smiled at the very carnivorous actions of the balefire phoenix.

Calamity let out a low whistle. “Well, somepony was sure… inventive.” He looked up to Velvet Remedy. “Where’d y’all find this?”

“On a table, beneath the remains of a dead unicorn pony,” Velvet Remedy fretted. I could guess by the waver in her voice that the body had not been a skeleton. Somepony more recent, one of the scavengers I assumed. “I think she may have died for that.”

“How did she die?” Calamity asked with an odd sense of urgency.

Velvet Remedy, ever the medical pony, was swift to answer. “She was hit by a magical weapon. It didn’t turn her to ash, but it melted half of her face and neck,” she said grimly.

Calamity nodded with a frown. “Well, that rules out… ‘bout nothing.”

“The power plant had robotic security that wielded magical energy weapons,” I informed him. “I’ve seen the sort before.”

Calamity let out a sigh of relief. Pyrelight looked up from her meal, a strip of barbecued squirrel dangling from her beak.

“This here’s a design fer creatin’ a helmet usin’ the claws of a hellhound. Thing is, Ah don’t think a unicorn could use it,” he told us. I could imagine why; I had no desire to trade in my horn for such a helmet. “But it would sure make one hell of a weapon if Ah ever gave up shootin’ for headbuttin’.”

“One of the children asked me, ‘Red Eye, what is your cutie mark?’”

The charismatic voice of Red Eye spoke to me in my earbloom as I moved back down into the power plant. This time, I left SteelHooves behind with Calamity. In return, Velvet Remedy insisted on accompanying me. No splitting up.

“To that child, I answered ‘I do not have one.’”

I paused, lifting a hoof to my earbloom. I recalled with a shudder how the alicorns were blank-flanked. Was Red Eye an alicorn? He certainly didn’t speak like one. I racked my brain, trying to remember if I’d ever encountered a male alicorn. I couldn’t think of one.

“Of course, the next question was ‘Why, Red Eye?’ Why don’t I have a cutie mark? Because I choose not to have a cutie mark. Why would I want one? Am I really going to let a picture on my flank determine my future? If I find something that I really enjoy, do I need an icon on my ass to tell me? Of course not.

“To too many ponies, cutie marks are more about what you can’t be. How can you expect to be a great scientist if your cutie mark is a rake? Or an amazing artist if your flank has a picture of a pile of hay? Who is going to give you the chance?

“But if your flank is bare, then the possibilities are endless. And the choice is up to you. That is why I had my cutie mark removed. And why the Children of Unity have all chosen to do the same. In the new Equestria, we will all be lifted up by the Goddess, freed from the shackles of cutie mark coercion.

“But there is still much work to be done before that day. So in anticipation for it, we have chosen to take the first step ourselves.”

As I took my first step onto the catwalk, I shut off the broadcast. I didn’t need any of that nonsense threatening my concentration if a section of the walkway started to give.

“Velvet, you stay here. I’m just going to go across to that office…”

“Because that’s what ‘not splitting up’ means to you, right?” Velvet chided.

I sighed and tapped at the catwalk. “Because I don’t want to risk putting extra weight…” I clammed up two words too late.

“So… you’re saying I’m heavy?” Velvet Remedy said with a voice like chocolate silk. “Is that why you no longer seem attracted to me? And here I had thought it was because of the… wagon. But no, it’s because you think I’m fat.”

I facehoofed. “Velvet… I...”

“Oh no,” she said, putting an extra sway into her hips as she stepped out onto the catwalk in front of me. “It’s good that you’ve finally told me. All this adventuring… I’ve really let myself go, haven’t I?”

“Velvet…”

The more mature unicorn mare tossed her mane as she turned to look at me over her shoulder, pouting alluringly. I felt a flush of arousal mix with cringing shame. She lifted a hoof to her muzzle, suckling it in thought. “I suppose I’m getting old too.”

Luna’s tidal mareheat!

I began to follow behind her, head hung low, using my levitation to keep most of my own weight off the catwalk. She tortured me the whole trip. It was the longest catwalk in history.

I was working the lock on the door to what I had mentally labeled the power plant’s “Overmare’s office” when Velvet Remedy bit my armored utility barding and gave a tug. My mind immediately conjured two possibilities. Either something was wrong, the sort of wrong that required silent notification, or Velvet Remedy had decided to ramp up my punishment with nuzzles and nips. Either, really, seemed just as likely.

I heard a shuffling noise below.

Okay, not a punishment. Carefully, I set down my tools, not wanting to risk a shock making me drop them. I peeked over the edge of the catwalk. Below us, hidden behind the last of the massive generators, was the shredded body of a Steel Ranger. Gasping in horror, I almost called out SteelHooves’ name. But this wasn’t SteelHooves. The armor had subtle differences to the design which told me this Ranger had been a mare. Lumbering over the corpse was a hulking, demonic creature, canine only in the broadest comparison, three times the size of the armored pony whom it was tearing to ribbons with deadly claws that sliced through the armor like it was paper mache.

The hellhound stopped, sniffing at the air. It raised itself up to full height, then let out a pained howl, dropping back to all fours again. One of the creature’s legs was crippled and deformed. The Steel Ranger had gotten in one good hit before falling to the monster.

The monster reached over and picked up a bizarrely designed magical energy rifle from the floor. Again, it began to look around. Velvet Remedy crouched flat against the catwalk. I shied away from the edge. We held our breaths.

We heard a grunt. Then a whimper and shuffling. It was moving… but to where?

I carefully lifted the screwdriver and bobby pin again, hoping that this office offered a back way out. I didn’t want to crawl back across the long catwalk. If it could smell us, I wanted out of this room quickly.

The tumblers fell into place. The door opened with a click that felt deafening.

We both heard an odd vocal sound from somewhere below.

We both rushed into the room as quietly as we could and I gently pushed the door closed behind us. But it was too late. I could see the monster climbing up one of the sets of stairs like a monkey -- if that monkey were made out of death.

I looked immediately to the wall where the elevator had been in Ironshod Firearms. No such luck. I took in the room quickly -- desk, terminal, wall, weapons cabinet (a weapons cabinet in a power plant?), filing cabinet, office fridge, miscellaneous badly decayed furniture. No other exit at all.

I figured it would take the hellhound all of seconds to claw through the door. It would take longer, with its bad leg, to get across the catwalk.

Velvet Remedy galloped to the far corner, horn beginning to glow. Dammit... if these things could claw through an alicorn’s shield, what good would Velvet’s do?

I floated out Little Macintosh and my sniper rifle, although I would have only the slimmest chance to get a shot off with the latter before the monster closed the distance and killed me.

We waited.

As the seconds dragged on, I started counting the missed opportunities to swap out ammunition for something with more punch. But as much as I yearned to do so, I was certain that the moment I emptied Little Macintosh would be the moment the hellhound came through the door.

Velvet Remedy was trembling, tensely holding her spell. She was shooting me furtive looks that I couldn’t interpret, but didn’t dare even whisper.

We waited several more seconds. By my estimation, the hellhound should have already reached the door. Was it just sitting outside? Or had it gone away? I forced myself to think through the clouding effect of fear. SteelHooves said these things were smart. It could be planning. But what would it be planning? What would I plan if I was an incarnation of death? A wounded one?

What I wouldn’t do is charge in through a door where the ponies on the other side were waiting to shoot me. No, I’d set a trap.

It was setting a trap!

My mind had snatched that idea when Velvet whispered one of her own. “It tracks by scent,” she hissed. “What if it went the wrong way?”

I didn’t think that was likely. It must have heard me shut the door behind us. But, if Velvet Remedy was right, then that meant it was heading up towards SteelHooves and Calamity! And we were wasting precious seconds that we didn’t have!

Of course, if I was right, rushing out to save them would be exactly the trap-springing mistake it was looking for.

Cautiously, I inched towards the door. I was nearly to it when I heard a sound from somewhere on the other side, faint and brief and unfathomable.

I jumped, backpedaling until my tail hit the far wall. I crouched, cowering, and readied my weapons to shoot. All of them.

With a sense of utter dread, I grew tired of waiting. My nerves were frazzled from adrenaline. The room’s musty, dilapidated odor was giving me a headache. I thought I had heard the strange sound a few more times, but it was so faint through the door that it could have just as easily been the whispers of my mind playing tricks on me.

By now, if the monster had gone after SteelHooves and Calamity, they were already dead. If it was stalking us, it was clearly willing to wait forever.

“Fine,” I hissed. “I’m going to find out what we’re going to die for, and then I’m leaving. Slow and careful. I’m expecting a trap.”

Velvet Remedy nodded. “Just keep out of the hellhound’s way. I’ve got a plan.”

Velvet Remedy had a plan? Velvet? I quickly chided myself for being so surprised. She was smart and capable, if not exactly what I considered Wasteland-wise. And besides, it was bound to happen sooner or later.

I started with the weapon’s locker, only to find that, like the ammo box upstairs, the lock had been mangled by an amateurish lockpicking attempt. I felt a flare of hatred. SteelHooves and Calamity might be dead, we might be about to die, and this idiot had fucked up the lock.

I moved on to the desk only to find it had been unlocked and emptied. The filing cabinet had been unlocked as well, but inside I found mostly ashes, with the burnt remains of documents and folders as well a partially-melted audio recorder with no recording remaining. My rival lockpicker had opened this filing cabinet with the intent to destroy the contents, not loot them.

I turned to the terminal. Hacking it was hard, but not as hard as Pinkie Pie’s terminal. But either my rival had gotten into it before me, or the terminal’s spell matrix had been programmed to wipe out all the contents. The terminal was blank.

That left the wall safe, which I had purposefully left for last. Looking it over, I had to bite back a whistle at the craftsmanship. The lock was, by far, the most complicated and demanding I had ever attempted. Not to mention the sturdiest. My rival had clearly tried and failed here too, but the lock resisted even jamming. The bitch had responded by breaking off a bobby pin in a mean attempt to prevent me from getting the prize it had denied her. I pulled it out with simple telekinesis.

My first attempt failed. As did my second. I I thought I had it the third time, but was only rewarded with a broken bobby pin.

Dammit! I wasn’t sure if, without the benefits of Party-Time Mint-als, I could manage it.

No. I wasn’t going down that path. Not again.

Instead, I pulled out every lockpicking tool I had at my disposal and tried again. And again. And again, until I finally got it right.

The safe clicked open.

Inside was a fair amount of pre-war gold coins, two clips of those very scary bullets, a StealthBuck and a memory orb. And a golden “Iron Pony” saddle buckle. (If it’s an Iron Pony buckle, why is it colored gold?) That last I left behind.

Motioning Velvet Remedy behind the desk, I crouched down and focused on the door. A telekinetic field enveloped the door, depressing the handle with a click and pulling it open.

The first thing I saw was the hellhound crouched at the far end of the walkway, holding its rifle as it tracked a target I couldn’t see. The first thing I heard was the symphony of beeps as the magical energy mines that the hellhound had attached to the door prepared to detonate.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

My instinct was to slam the door shut, but even if the backlash didn’t kill us, the explosion would destroy the bridge. Instead, I grasped them each with my telekinesis and shot a prayer to the Goddesses that the actual strength of my spell was enough to pry them off the door.

The hellhound turned and fired a beam of orange light at me. It struck inside the open wall safe, scorching the back. The energy splash turned the Iron Pony buckle brightly hot.

The damn mines wouldn’t budge. The hellhound might as well have attached them with wonderglue. (And, in retrospect, probably did.)

BEEP!BEEP!BEEP!

There was no more time. I slammed the door shut and ducked.

The explosion melted the wall.

It also turned enough of the floor to goo that the desk fell into the room below us. Without thinking about it, Velvet and I leapt down after it. The last thing I thought I saw before I plunged into the darkness below was Pyrelight soaring across the wide open space above the generators, the hellhound trying to track her with its rifle. The last thing I heard was the rending sound of metal.

Pain lanced up my left foreleg with every step. Considering what we had momentarily escaped, I was happy for it. I had merely twisted my hoof. I still had all my limbs attached.

The hallway lead past bathrooms on one side and what I suspected was the supervisors’ break room, complete with vending machines. The opposite side of the hallway bore a set of three framed and backlit posters, each with a different illustration but the same proclamation in big, bold letters:

PROGRESS.

The highly stylized images were, in order: a train engine bellowing smoke and hauling multiple passenger cars all by itself, ponies staring up in marvel at a monorail train passing overhead, and a mare marveling in near orgasmic glee as her spider-like hover robot dusted her furniture. The last poster’s backlighting was flickering maddeningly.

We found two more slashed apart Steel Rangers before we made it to the stairwell. To my dismay, the only way out was back into the generator room. Velvet Remedy whispered to me, “When I say the word, gallop for all you’re worth.”

A shot of fear went through my breast. “I don’t know how much run I can manage right now,” I said, but my real fear was that her plan was self-endangering.

“Try self-levitating just enough that you aren’t putting any real weight on your hurt hoof,” she recommended. “And don’t worry. I know that look. I’ll be right behind you. Promise.”

Honesty, a pony in my head reminded me, was not Velvet Remedy’s virtue. “You better be. Or I’m coming back.”

She nodded. I had Little Macintosh in front of me, now loaded with magically-enhanced bullets. I took a breath.

We stepped cautiously out onto the main floor of Hippocampus Energy Plant #12. We were able to spot the injured hellhound almost immediately. It was perched on top of a generator, shooting at Pyrelight, who in turn was twirling and dancing in the air, occasionally sending puffs of green flame in the monster’s direction.

Pyrelight was distracting it for us. Belatedly, I realized those odd sounds I had been hearing were shots from the magical energy rifle, muffled by the door.

Notes to self: First, Pyrelight is willing to risk herself for Velvet Remedy (and possibly me as well). Second, Pyrelight is an amazingly agile flyer. Third, hellhounds may be fifty different flavors of murder, but they aren’t necessarily good shots.

The hellhound took less than a second to notice our presence, leaping savagely at us, bloodthirsty claws outstretched. It gave a slight yelp as its ruined leg hit the floor, but its good leg pushed it towards us with a speed that caught me off guard. I froze, forgetting to fire.

The light around Velvet Remedy’s horn pulled away, becoming a ball of light that soared towards the hellhound, striking it in the shoulder. The monster seemed to instantly lose all coordination, collapsing in a jumble of limbs, skidding towards us on the floor out of sheer momentum.

“Go!” Velvet Remedy yelled as she started galloping, giving the monster a wide birth as she made for the far end, leaping over bits of the catwalk which had collapsed into the room. I followed, taking her suggestion. The pain still slowed me, but it was manageable. The hellhound slashed out at me with those huge, terrible claws. I darted deftly out of the way. It tried to crawl after me, managing only a wicked slither. The hellhound had fallen and couldn’t seem to get up.

Ahead of me, Velvet Remedy stopped and motioned me to continue ahead. I worried but didn’t argue. As I reached the opposite stairwell, I heard her calling out to Pyrelight behind me.

“Did you kill it?” I asked, panting hard as Pyrelight swooped into the Sky Bandit through a shattered window, Velvet Remedy galloping up just a pace behind.

The charcoal-coated unicorn tossed herself into the passenger wagon.

I’d arrived just enough ahead of them to yell warning to SteelHooves and Calamity while gulping for breath. (I think what I said amounted to “Aaaah! Hellhound… generators… rifle… Velvet… spell… Go! Go! GO!”) Calamity had barely gotten the harness attached when Velvet had dashed out onto the roof.

Calamity spread his wings and with a firm beat, pulled us off the roof and into the air.

Velvet Remedy cocked her head to me, even as she caught her own breath. “Killed it? Why ever would I do that? I’m not in the habit of killing my patients.”

Blink. “Itwasawhatnow?”

“Anesthetic spell,” she smiled. “The poor thing was clearly in pain.”

I stared at Velvet like she had completely spit her bit.

“Plus, it does have the very helpful side effect of preventing the patient from running around. Very hard to do when you can’t feel your legs.” She smiled cleverly, her eyes twinkling.

I fell to my haunches.

Damn. That plan… damn.

Recovering a little. “You didn’t… actually heal it, did you?”

Velvet rolled her eyes. I took that as a no. Personally, I would have killed it if I had realized it was virtually helpless. But in a way I was happy that Velvet had not. I had been worried that the wasteland was robbing her of that compassion which made her so special. It had eroded her spirit, there was no getting away from that. But it was good to see that my Velvet Remedy (in a “my Pinkie Pie” sense) was still there.

Even if, contemplating those three Steel Rangers, I really disagreed with this particular decision.

“When did you learn to do that?” I asked, amazed.

Velvet tossed her mane and smiled. “Back in Tenpony Tower while you were… out. Doctor Helpinghoof had quite a nice selection of old Ministry of Peace medical spells for sale.” Velvet Remedy smiled wistfully. “Apparently, Fluttershy’s Ministry had a whole department of unicorn ponies dedicated to magical research.”

The pony in my head perked with alarm, but was ignored. “You can buy spells?”

Velvet Remedy nickered. “If by that you mean barter for tutelage, then yes.”

“But… Doctor Helpinghoof was an earth pony?”

”Yes,” Velvet patronized. “But his assistant was a nice unicorn buck. Anyway, don’t feel too bad. I doubt you’ve missed out on anything. All the teaching in the world won’t help if you don’t have a natural talent for the type of spell you are trying to learn. I’ll never be able to cast lightning from my horn, or turn a rock into a top hat, or conjure a door out of thin air. Not matter how many bottle caps I try to spend or hours I try to learn. Entertainment and medical spells are my gift.”

I tried not to visibly droop. “Yeah. And mine is to do the same spell every single other unicorn can do. The first one we learn. And that’s it.” It was like having a PipBuck as a cutie mark. The epitome of non-special.

“No,” Velvet’s voice chided. “Your gift is to do that spell better than anypony else in at least two hundred years.”

I gave her a weak but thankful smile. That did make it sound better.

“Sorry ‘bout this,” Calamity said as he hung from the harness, wings drooping. The entire Sky Bandit was wrapped in the soft light of my levitation spell, glowing against the darkened sky as I drifted us slowly towards a freestanding section of overpass three piers long. It looked plenty sturdy, and should be safe from hellhounds. A place to spend the night.

“No need to apologize,” I insisted. Calamity had been flying for hours on end with only the stop at the Hippocampus Energy Plant for a break. I envied the pegasus’ endurance.

“Muh get up an’ go.” Calamity bemoaned, “…just kinda got up an went.” He looked out towards the standing chunk of overpass. “Ya gonna make it that far?”

“No sweat.” Actually, much sweat. I was already beginning to feel the strain, and the overpass was at least half an hour away. I would have said there was no way I could hold us that long; but after all Calamity did, I’d be damned if I couldn’t find the fortitude to take us this tiny bit farther.

We moved across the sky with aching slowness.

“I still can’t believe…” I fretted, “I mean, the idea that you could barter for spells never even crossed my mind.” I let out a sigh. “I guess that explains why Velvet Remedy is our diplomat and master trader, and I’m…”

“A toaster repairpony?” Calamity supplied when I was at a loss for words. I laughed and nodded.

Pyrelight fluttered out and perched on the rust-coated pegasus’ battle saddle, clamping onto it with her claws. She spread her wings and flapped, as if with my magic in play she could hope to pull the Sky Bandit herself.

“Drat!” Calamity chuckled. “Pretty soon, y’all won’t need me fer anything.”

My eyes widened in alarm. “What? Don’t say that!”

“Well, it ain’t passed muh attention that Ah’ve been not with ya on yer adventures far more lately than Ah’ve been with ya.”

I opened my mouth to tell him how not true that was… and stopped as the reality of the statement sank into me. Instead, “Calamity, you’re my closest and dearest friend…” Not including Homage, I mentally added. “You keep me strong. You keep me from losing it. I will always need you.”

“Sure, ya say that now.”

“And next adventure, we’ll go together. You and me. I promise.”

The setting sun dipped below the cloud line, setting the clouds ablaze with brilliant oranges and dark crimsons. The effect was magnified against the black clouds that hung over Fillydelphia, turning the whole post-apocalyptic city into a fiery hell.

“Dayumn!”

There were dark spots floating around over the city. We were close enough to make them out, but just barely. Calamity had spotted them too, as he asked me to float him the binoculars. He scanned the air between the silhouetted ruins of Fillydelphia and conflagrant sky.

“Aw hell,” he said, motioning for me to take a look myself. I floated the binoculars to my own eyes and stared towards Fillydelphia, seeing hundreds of molten fires in the black below. Chimneys poured out constant smoke. The draconic skeleton of a massive roller coaster added an alien touch to the city’s skyline. The dark silhouette of the Fillydelphia town shot upwards into the sky. Following it with my gaze, I saw them…

Dozens of pink dirigibles, shaped like creepy pink smiley faces complete with ears and mane, floated around the sky above the city ruins. “Pinkie Pie balloons.”

“There’s a name fer ‘em?” Calamity gave a shudder. “Anyway, Ah was more lookin’ at what the ponies in those... Pinkie Pie balloons were packin’. We sure as hell ain’t flyin’ inta there.”

I looked again, turning up the magnification as high as it would go. I saw earth ponies attending mounted rifles easily two ponies long, scoped and terrifying. They were what my sniper rifle would like to be when it was all grown up.

“Anti-machine rifles,” Calamity informed me. I now had a very good idea what my scary new bullets were supposed to be for.

He was right. Taking the pegasus-pulled bomb anywhere near that skyline was a death sentence. From here on in, we walked. We’d be sneaking into Fillydelphia on hoof. I sincerely hoped we were out of hellhound territory.

“How did the much-deified Princess Celestia and Princess Luna allow our land to become like this? How did the mares of the Ministries allow the greatest and most glorious nation in the world to die in balefire and agony? The answer is quite simple.

“Incompetence.

“For generations, the hard-working ponies of Equestria toiled to build this great land, and the leaders sat back and reaped the benefits. And not only them, but a great majority of ponies throughout the land. They enjoyed the fruits of hard labor without lifting a hoof themselves. They lay back, slept on clouds, idled their days away like parasites feeding on the sweat of the workers. Workers like you. Workers like me.

“They became selfish and lazy. And laziness, my little ponies, breeds stupidity.

“The destruction they brought down on us was, in a word, inevitable. They couldn’t do any better because they weren’t any better. But today, we all work. And tomorrow, when our toil is done, we will step forward and be accepted into the loving embrace of the Goddess and be transformed. And in the coming Unity, we will all reap the rewards of our own brows. Together. As equals…”

I shut off Red Eye’s broadcast. Somehow, they always left me feeling twisted inside. He was unpleasantly convincing sometimes. A steady diet of this fodder and I might find myself biting his poisoned apple.

Calamity had collapsed from exhaustion the moment we touched down on the overpass and was snoring softly nearby. There were other vehicles up here, including a large Sunrise Sarsaparilla delivery wagon that had been heading towards Fillydelphia, a faded painting of a smiling Celestia watching over happy sarsaparilla drinkers adorning its side. A couple of camouflage-painted chariots were abandoned on the far edge -- part of a military convoy, the rest of which was crushed and buried under the collapsed section of overpass beyond. I wanted to poke around, explore… but I’d promised Calamity. And while looking in the backs of a few wagons wasn’t really an adventure, I was sure he’d be sore with me if I didn’t wait for him. With good reason.

Velvet Remedy was asleep as well. Pyrelight perched on her shoulder, plumage seeming to glow in the dying light. The balefire phoenix looked proud and, if it wasn’t my imagination, possessive.

SteelHooves was on guard again. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him sleep. Did ghouls even need sleep? So much I didn’t know.

“I like you,” I said, smiling to the mythical bird. “You’re…” The word that came to mind was simple, but after my mistake with Velvet Remedy earlier, I was watching my choice of vocabulary. “…straightforward. I don’t have to worry about any hidden agendas or dark secrets with you. You watched us… dare I say out of curiosity? If so, it is something we have in common.”

The balefire phoenix let out a pleasant whistle.

“Velvet Remedy helped you, and you decided to stay with her. Friendship, pure and uncomplicated.”

The phoenix preened.

“You chose well,” I added looking to Velvet Remedy. “She really is a very good, very special pony.” I reached over and put a hoof on her flank, touching her cutie mark. A singing bird.

Pyrelight scowled, giving a hoot backed by a little burst of green flame. My PipBuck briefly click-clicked, then was quiet again. I drew back my hoof with a laugh. “Don’t worry, I’m not a rival. She’s all yours.” A touch chagrined, I added, “Maybe once I would have been. But… things have changed.”

The green and gold phoenix cocked her head. I found a way to explain. “Velvet put me in a cage. It was for my own good… I was sick and hurting myself. But after that…” I paused. “We’re just good friends.”

Pyrelight seemed satisfied with that. But I wasn’t going to pet Velvet Remedy’s flank to find out.

I was having trouble sleeping. The fright earlier and the worries of what lay ahead merged into a constant buzz in my head. I couldn’t afford to go into this new situation half-stupid from lack of rest, but that worry only made it worse. I couldn’t force myself to sleep. I’d tried.

A distraction might help derail the worried thoughts swarming my head. I pulled out the memory orb from the power plant. I stared at it for a moment, running through a mental checklist. I wasn’t in battle or imminent danger, so it should be safe. On the other hoof, these orbs were always a gamble. I remembered the sickening experience of the damaged memory orb all too vividly.

Part of me also wondered if I was just using lack of sleep as an excuse to indulge my curiosity. I probably was. Well, that was okay. Who didn’t have their vices?

The memory held within it something amazing, wondrous, inspiring. Sunlight!

Pure, radiant sunlight. Unfiltered and unmolested by a cover of clouds. The ball of fire in the sky was at once terrifying and majestic. The living symbol of the Goddess Celestia herself. Its light was powerful, capable of slashing through darkness and shadows, revealing and cleansing. It was warm and compassionate, and it brought with it a sense of peace and hope.

Sunlight was as miraculous to me as a PipBuck was to the ponies of the Equestrian Wasteland. And, likewise, it was as pedestrian to the pony I was riding as my PipBuck was to me.

I was standing on a balcony with several smartly-dressed gentlestallions, staring down into a huge sunlit foyer lined with clear windows of glass that rose at least three stories high. The scene outside was idyllic. Colorful ponies, finely dressed, went about their business along cobblestone sidewalks bordering a boulevard of grass – a geometrically perfect field of green divided into precision shapes by cobblestone paths and a huge reflective pool. The buildings on the other side were largely obscured by trees, but I could tell they were as regal and impressive as the one I was in.

Balconies and mezzanines arced around the airy open atrium. Large gardening boxes held full-grown apple trees. And everywhere, ponies moved about busily. After looking about briefly, my host focused on the light-colored marble floor below, where a throng of ponies were causing a disturbance.

It was a small mob, pressing in towards the single figure in the center. A zebra.

“Go back where you came from!”
“Did you think you could just trot into a Ministry?”
“Better wiped than striped!”
“What are you doing here? Are you a spy?”

A voice rang out over the crowd as a familiar orange pony with blond mane and tail came trotting down an arching stairway. "Simmer down, sallie. Zecora ain't no spy!"

Applejack reached the throng and quickly dispersed the ponies, who grumbled as they went back to work. In just over a minute, it was just her standing alone with the extremely out-of-place zebra. Other ponies were giving them a wide berth, shooting stares. Applejack shot even better stares back, causing several to shy away, picking up their pace.

Finally, she turned to the zebra, looking deeply apologetic. "Zecora, ya really ought not t' be walkin' 'round like that. T'ain't safe these days."

"I thought I could visit a friend,” the zebra replied in an exotic and strangely poetic voice. “I should have known how it would end."

"Well, there is a war on," Applejack said reasonably. She lifted a hoof to scratch beneath her ear, looking embarrassed.

"Ponies hate and fear me still, no better than in Ponyville.” The zebra’s voice was deep with disappointment. “To you folk zebras may seem strange, but ponies... ponies never change."

"Gee, thanks,” Applejack frowned, bristling a little. Then she let out a sigh. “Let's jus' get ya outta sight, okay? Come with me…” Applejack paused, looking around the huge atrium. “Ah should have an office in here somewhere."

This is her Ministry, and she doesn’t even know where her office is?

"Lady Applejack, how good to...” a gentlestallion called out, approaching from a different stairwell. He stopped as he spotted the zebra. “oh my!"

"ugh,” Applejack grimaced, facehoofing. "Not you too, Starshine. Ain't nothin' wrong with Zecora. She's muh friend."

"Oh, of course!” the gentlestallion said gracefully. “I have nothing against zebras. In fact, my company is one of the only in Canterlot who make a practice of hiring zebras.” Well wasn’t he a smarmy buck. “Let the Ministry of Propaganda say what it will..."

"Ministry of Image," Applejack corrected.

"I believe that's what I said,” Starshine stated dismissively, turning his attention fully to the zebra. “Anyway... Zecora, is it? Should you ever find yourself looking for work, look me up. Anyone who has Lady Applejack's hoofprint of approval..."

"Was there somethin' you wanted, Starshine?" Applejack interrupted impatiently.

"Oh yes. I just wanted to pass on a little thank you for M.W.T.'s support for our Stalliongrad and Manehattan expansions. Everything's working smoothly, and I expect nothing short of a stellar success."

"uh... Ah told ya before, Starshine. We don't take buckbacks. Ain't how we operate here."

"Of course, of course. Banish the thought!” the gentlestallion said in genial apology “No, this is just a friendly gift. But never you mind then.” He didn’t want to offend, of course. Greasy git. Absolutely everything about this pony was striking a negative note with me. From the look on her face, Applejack didn’t seem to like him much either.

“Now, Zecora...” he said, turning back to the zebra woman. “How do you feel about public transportation?"

The stallion standing on the balcony next to me spoke in a quiet voice, drawing my attention away from the scene below:

"Now she's trotting around publicly announcing friendships with zebras. The publicity alone could sink us."

I felt my host nodding along with the others.

"Gentlecolts, I think it's time we discussed Applejack's retirement."

I came out of the memory feeling cold. It was appalling, the sort of memory you only kept for blackmail. I pushed the memory orb far away from me.

“SteelHooves?” I approached the Steel Ranger cautiously. “I want to talk to you about Applejack and her Ministry.”

The helmet of the armor-clad Ranger turned towards me. He said nothing.

“You knew her… probably better than anyone other than family and her lifelong friends. What… what happened?”

“Megaspells fell,” SteelHooves deadpanned. “Everypony died.”

I sighed. He was going to be that way about it. I tried again. “What happened between her and the Ministry of Technology?”

“Are you ordering me to tell you?” he asked strangely.

“No…” I said, the question making me feel awkward. “I’m asking you. I just… I wanted to know.”

“Because you know it will be tactically advantageous to have that information?”

I hung my head in exasperation. “No. Because…” I stopped, unsure. “Because, as dumb as this probably sounds, I care.” My words surprised me, as did the truth behind them. Somehow, I’d come to actually care for this group of six ponies from two hundred years ago, the Ministry mares. I didn’t understand why. It made no sense. But at some point, my glimpses into the past had evolved from mere academic curiosity to a genuine feeling of attachment.

Maybe it was meeting Spike. Hearing his stories of a bright and joyous past, and the adventures of these close friends, certainly sealed the transformation. Part of me wanted a happy ending for at least one of them.

Reality painted the chance of that as heart-wrenchingly bleak. I knew that, but I wasn’t willing to stop hoping anyway. Looking past SteelHooves, I took in the night-shrouded Equestrian Wasteland. The low clouds over Fillydelphia glowed a dark red, reflecting the lights from below.

Hell. We were literally going into hell.

The low rumble of SteelHooves’ voice startled me.

“Applejack had no taste for being an administrator,” he began. I turned toward the ghoul pony who had, I was certain, once been Applejack’s lover. “It wasn’t like running a farm or organizing the Winter Wrap-Up…” I heard a snort of laughter from inside his helmet. “…Which, come to think of it, she needed Twilight Sparkle’s help for anyway. So she just hired a whole bunch of business ponies to do it for her.”

I wondered how many of those I had just shared a balcony with.

“Applejack’s intention,” SteelHooves continued with a touch of uncharacteristic nostalgia, “was for the Ministry of Technology to help encourage and subsidize enterprises that were pushing greater technological and industrial advancement. The Ministry promoted the principles of the earth pony way and sought to help make Equestria better for all ponies through that ethic.”

SteelHooves was looking out at the horizon. At Fillydelphia. His voice held firm, but I could tell this was an emotional thing for the ghoul pony to talk about. I listened reverently, knowing that this was a gift.

“Applejack didn’t want to stick her hooves into other pony’s businesses any more than she wanted anypony messing around with her farm. She believed in the inherently good nature of ponies, and felt they should be left to the guidance of their own virtues…”

He turned to me suddenly, a note of bitterness creeping into his voice. “The problem is, industries and corporations aren’t ponies. They don’t have a good nature. They’re like… maneframes, calculating risk and profit. And if the numbers are strong enough, they’d throw baby fillies into the gears of their own machinery to grease the flow of capital.” I suddenly found myself thinking of the Crusader Maneframe in Stable Twenty-Nine.

“When Applejack returned to the Ministry of Technology after the death of her brother, her only intention was to focus the efforts of the Ministry for as long as it took to create a new, better suit of armor. One that would not fail to protect a pony like Big Macintosh’s armor had failed to save him.

“But the longer she stayed, the deeper the pit of horrors she began to uncover. What wasn’t corrupt was out of control. And so she tried to fix things. Tried to put bit and reins on development, regulate corporate misconduct.”

SteelHooves fell silent, staring at me for a long time. I felt he was assessing my understanding, and perhaps with it my worthiness of this gift.

Finally, he finished by adding, “And that’s not something anypony was going to be happy about. And that some ponies wouldn’t stand for.”

“Do you know what word I hate more than any other? Slave.

“Yes, we are all bound in the chains of industry. But even more, there is a greater chain that holds us together. It is the chain of mutual responsibility. And to break free of that chain is to become nothing better than a raider, the most loathsome and repugnant sort of leech on our great Equestria.

“If I am a slave because I am not independent of virtue and accountability to my fellow pony, then I do not want freedom! The freedom to be worthless, destructive, unproductive… license to abandon the future that only together we may achieve… this is not liberty. It is anarchy at its most vile. And the good, hard-working and honorable ponies of Equestria will not stand for it. Will you?

“Raiders are the epitome of the sins of the past. Selfish, lazy, greedy. They take what they cannot build for themselves. And they destroy what they cannot take. They infest the Equestrian Wasteland like termites, chewing away at the already frail bones of our once-great nation. They even skitter about in the ruins of Fillydelphia, chittering just outside The Wall.

“Rest assured, my little ponies, that when the rebirth comes, there will be no room for such harmful and parasitical insects in our new world. Those who do not join the Unity will be crushed under our hooves. Stamped out, once and for all.

“We may not even have to wait that short time. Even today, the glorious army of the Children of Unity grows stronger, mightier. And the Goddess sends out Her children, created in Her image, to scour the wasteland.

“Yes… to those of you out there who are termites… to the raiders, the Steel Rangers and the cannibals, I have this to say:

“The Purge is coming!”

Footnote: Level Up.
Skills Note: Lockpicking has reached 100%
New Perk: Clever Prancer – Through agility and reflexes, you have become deft at striking where it hurts while preventing your enemies from doing the same. You gain an additional 5% chance to score a critical hit; your enemies suffer a 25% penalty to their chance to critically hit you. This perk is only effective when wearing light or no armor.