Chapter 8: Soldiers

<~Canterlot, Five days later~>

“To Tartarus with you!” an angry Celestia cursed at her guard captain, Bronze Spear - who was Shining Armor’s replacement - in pure rage. Celestia had just been delivered the crushing news that The Royal Guard had to call off searching for the Elements of Harmony, declaring them gone for too long.

Celestia’s unicorn investigators had also given up as well. They detected residual magic at the library, as well as six charred spots on the wooden floor. With magic scans for Twilight and the others coming back negative, the unicorns declared what they thought was a magic blast from a botched spell disintegrated Twilight and the others. It was a likely scenario, as everypony knew the young princesses affinity was to magic.

Celestia took a few breaths to calm herself down, apologized, and dismissed the Captain. Giving a long sad sigh, Celestia plopped depressed onto her throne. How would she explain this to everypony?

Damn politics demanded that searches be called off after so many days of no evidence. A fruitless waste of valuable resources that could be used elsewhere. Her own guard told her. She refused to accept that they were gone, just like that. Celestia knew Twilight was too careful to botch a spell.

Even with her belief that Twilight and her friends were alive, somewhere, Celestia still had a duty. Calling a servant, she had her fetch paper, ink, and quills. She had a lot of tear stained letters to send to friends and family.

Celestia dreaded sending them, especially Pinkie’s and Twilight’s letter. Celestia had practically raised Twilight since she was a foal. And Pinkie’s aunt and uncle, the Cakes were nice to her, if a bit grovely with serving her tea. Pinkie had made so many of her little ponies happy with parties, and Mr. and Ms. Cake were the only ponies she had pulled a prank on in forever.

Crying openly now, a few tears rolling out her eyes. She tried to compose herself and levitated a parchment and quill, her emotional state only jumbling the words that she wanted to put down in her head. How would she tell all her little ponies that the heroes that saved Eequestria so many times were dead?

<~Camp McCarran~>

“Oi’, wake up,” A familiar voice demanded at more than enough volume to make my eyes shoot open.

Noticing that the voice belonged to an old friend of mine, I mumbled tiredly, “Morning, Triplett.”

I sat up in the bunk that I had been issued to me, rubbing the back of my neck. I let out a grunt as my metal tags, both Wonderbolt and NCR, jingled against my chest when I repositioned myself to sit on the edge of the mattress.

“Are we due for PT today?” I asked, mumbling near inaudibly as I tried to soothe my headache and rub the sleep out my eyes. I took a few swigs of the good stuff and it was coming back to haunt me.

Out of the flap, I could barely see that the sun was just starting to peek over Camp McCarran's wall. It was already hot as hell, a phrase used a lot around here. The stuffy canvas tent was like an oven, roasting me with cruel slowness. I already had sweat drenching my no-longer-white T-shirt.

“Yeah,” Triplett said slowly. He was the same guy I had literally ran into days ago, then met back up here. I still couldn’t believe that we shared the same tent. He hesitantly added, “You don’t look so good.”         

“Well fuck you, too,” I replied, holding up my right middle finger. It was a rude gesture I had learned fast in the NCR. I let my mouth run faster than my brain and got flipped the bird. I was too hungover to think of what day I learned the gesture.

“Love you, too,” Triplett countered jokingly. Though I’d hate to admit it, he was sorta, kinda cute, in an armed-and-dangerous soldier type way. After our short verbal banter, he exited through the tent flap that served as a door. No doubt waiting for me.

Nolan had been rotated out of guard duty at the 188 to live back on base. Some poor sod taking his place. Damn, if I hang around him much longer, I’ll be speaking like i’m from Trottingham. I thought.

He was right though, about me not looking good. In reality, I really was a mess. I hadn’t slept for two days after Applejack and Fluttershy were taken, so I worked myself extra hard in training to the point I collapsed from exhaustion, just to get some sleep. Bloody bandaging covered my back. My desert-tan NCR cargo pants were caked with dust and mud, and I hadn’t cut or washed my hair since arriving. The dirty rainbow strands were down to my shoulders, hanging and swaying limply as I took heavy breaths of the thick, humid morning air.

Getting up, I pulled my footlocker out from under the bed. I opened it up, and pulled out my dirty, mud-and-grime covered coat/bulletproof vest, and put it on.

I made sure I had extra magazines for my service rifle and 9mm pistol, the standard weaponry of NCR troopers. Satisfied, I put on my pistol belt, grabbed my helmet and rifle before running out the door. The asphalt floor making loud clunks with each of my footfalls, and feeling like I was digging nails into my skull from the hangover.

Stopping my run, I slowed in the blistering heat of the morning sun, gasping from the temperature like a fish out of water. If it was already that hot, I knew it was gonna be a scorcher later on.

Cradling my rifle, Nolan and I readied ourselves to form up for PT - PT being an acronym for physical training.  As we waited for the sun to cook us in our armor, I saw Rarity in a red beret and her armor, talking with a blushing peer who called himself Ten of Spades. Even with her singsong voice gone, she could still make young men blush.

I could clearly see that her armor had been cleaned and refitted, hugging her form better and making it clear she was female. There were also large leather patches added to mend the bullet holes in her duster coat. After proving her skill with a rifle, they allowed her into First Recon. Boone helping of course.

She also abandoned the massive anti-material rifle for a First Recon standard issue .308 bolt action rifle, not by force, but by choice.

She was good shot with the AM rifle, but even better with the lighter rifle. That and the fact she loved to the point she scratched a copy of her cutie mark into the stock, as well as I name she showed me, Ringing Belle. It didn’t seem to faze the other members that she was the only ghoul among them. Though her appearing as a normal, but heavily scarred human might have helped. Or I could have been dead flat out wrong, I wasn’t listening in on them all the time.  

Looking around some more, I saw Twilight working beside the main terminal building on an olive green truck - her pet project. She had replaced her power armor for a faded blue, grease-stain covered jumpsuit, and her laser rifle for a rusty tool box. Although, she still had that strange gold gauntlet she received from that crackpot doctor in the Big Empty.

Pinkie was promoted to assistant cook for the base. And I had to say, being behind an oven and stove seemed to have cheered her up to her normal bubbly, happy-go-lucky state. Not only that, soldiers said the food drastically improved.

I gave a smile remembering when Colonel Hsu - the commander of Camp McCarran - apologized for putting her on kitchen duty, only to be wrapped in a hug from a reinflated haired Pinkie thanking him in her high pitch, mile-a-minute speed voice.

My thoughts briefly drifted to, Colonel Hsu, I thought he was a little young for his rank. Most of the colonels in the Wonderbolts were grey haired ponies who were at least twice my age, if not more. But Colonel Hsu still had a full head of black hair, covered by a worn-out olive-green beret.

“Atten-shun,” Our Drill Sergeant called out. He wore a firmly pressed and relatively clean set of the standard armor. The only difference was that he wore a wide brimmed olive green hat over his salt and pepper style hair.

“Listen up, pukes,” He said after third platoon, the platoon Nolan and I were in, formed up into neat rows and columns, “I would like to congratulate those of you new recruits who haven't washed out.”

Oh shit… he was complimenting us. Five days of nothing but insults, and the wicked smile on his face, I knew deep down I was in for it today.

“But,” He paused making many of the thirty troopers in formation fidget, “I still feel there are some of you who don't have enough balls to kick Caesar’s ass. So all of you shitbags are gonna give me five miles before reporting to the range. Do I make myself clear, maggots!”

“Sir, yes sir,” was the chorus of yells following his order. Five miles, easy. The Running of the Leaves was longer, and I had Applejack fighting me the whole time.

Instead of standing like an idiot and getting reamed out by the Drill Sergeant, I began to run. Nolan following almost right beside me as we ran the parking lot course. One lap was around half a mile, so ten laps.

“So, Rainbow,” Nolan said quickly through puffs of breath as we jogged a steady pace with each other, ahead of everyone else. I swear his accent was music to my ears.

“What?” I replied, looking into his brown eyes.

“O-Our platoon has leave coming up,” he stuttered.

“And…?” I egged on.

“I was wondering if… maybe you would like to um... go for a few drinks?” He asked, fumbling his words as his cheeks began to tint red.

“A few drinks, that all?” I asked, my tone showing that I clearly knew what he meant by A few drinks.

“Uh… yeah,” He lied obviously, facing away from me.

“If you have the hots for me, try not and make it so fucking obvious,” I teased with a sly smile.

I could see his blush brighten as he then tripped over his own feet. I left him in the dust as twenty-eight more men and women passed him. One poor oblivious individual tripping over him, and getting the both of them chewed out by the Drill Sergeant.

After our five miles, I reported to the rifle range, Nolan joining the line beside mine, since there were only a limited number of targets and thirty people. I figured the entire exercise was a total waste of good ammunition. We should have been using it on Caesars Legion.

After several minutes of waiting in line, listening to the steady crack of some other trooper’s service rifle, Nolan looked over to me, “Ready to lose, mate?”

“Nah,” I said nonchalantly and cracking a smile, “I’ll leave the losing to you.”

It was our turn. The instructor stood between Nolan and me, “Alright special case,” he said, using the nickname given to me because of my non-NCR citizenship. Technically I wasn’t supposed to be able to join, but Jamie was buddy-buddy with Colonel Hsu. Something about a spy and a bomb on the monorail, “Let’s see if you can outshoot this true, blue-blooded NCR citizen.”

Jason chuckled, “Ladies first.”

“I guess you just want to get it over with, huh?” I said cockily as I chambered a round and raised my 5.56mm service rifle to my shoulder. Eyeing up the target, a metal no-parking sign, through the sights, I licked my lips shortly before gently squeezing the trigger.

Pew-Thunk.

A single casing flew out the side of the gun, followed by more, accompanying loud thunks against the metal signpost.

In a split second, my magazine was empty, and I lowered my rifle. Looking over to my instructor, his face was neutral, but his slow nod betrayed his approval.

The instructor stopped his nodding, and finally, after a few tense seconds, he said, “That grouping was so tight together, it might just be a new company record.”

My face split into a grin at those words. Captain Spitfire gave me a compliment almost exactly like that. I could almost feel my ego inflating.  

<>~<>~<>

That evening, the whole platoon was issued a weeklong leave to Freeside and the Strip. Although, we were strongly advised to stay on the Strip due to the Kings gang. The NCR and the Kings were still ready to fight each other. Although, Jamie had returned from the Divide and talked a King called Pacer out of starting trouble, but a single day was too little time to fully get all the pent up angst out of everyone’s system.

Of course, I had no beef with the Kings. Where I heard the term, having a beef with someone, escaping me.

After Colonel Hsu and Major Dhatri - another officer in charge - gave our platoon the okay to leave base, it took no time before I was on the second floor of the terminal building. Even with my speed, I was already standing in a long line of troopers, still in my uniform waiting for the monorail train. Pretty much the same as everyone else.

“Hey, Rainbow,” Nolan called out from behind me. I turned to see him skipping a few troopers in line to walk up to me. A few troopers groaned at getting skipped, but even more were snickering, but not at him.

I was constantly made fun of at first for my name… until I punched that one guy, repeatedly. He had the broken jaw and ribs coming, but got the last laugh when I was flogged in front of the platoon. The whip had left five bloody marks down my backside that still hurt, but wounded my pride more than anything.

“What?” I groaned, blushing from everyone’s laughs.

“I was just wondering, s-since you know I’m into you… uh,” he clammed up. I could tell a few of his friends were taking mental notes to screw with him later. And I say to them, ‘be my guest.’

“Can I sit next to you on the monorail,” I finished for him as he shook his head yes, “Fine, but sit too close, and I push you out the door.”

He had the hots for me, and was cute… but I wasn’t going to let him drool all over me.

The next thirty minutes were a boring combination of waiting in a long ass line, shortly before waiting in a two hundred year old bucket of bolts that threatened to break down at any second to get to the station on the New Vegas strip.

When we did make it, I had to follow Nolan because it was my first time on the Strip part of Vegas. Making our way out of the station building, I saw scantily dressed women – probably drunk – dancing in a water fountain as a bulky blue and grey robot tried to coerce them out. Only for the NCR MPs to be called and haul the women off on their shoulders.

All that the drunken women did was giggle like mad. Though, one girl suggested some very lewd bedroom activities involving rope and the MP’s baton. I don’t think she was referring to the electrified nightstick the MP was carrying.

Not even five minutes in and I love the place.

“So, where we getting smashed?” I asked, my wallet full of NCR ‘dollar bills.’

If Twilight ever gets her memories back and quits calling herself Midnight, she would flip over the concept of paper representing a set money value. It would save a whole lot of resources and labor mining up the gold for the standard bit in Equestria’s currency.

I might have slept through most of high school, but freshman Civics and Economics had me slightly awake... most of the time. Somehow I managed to float my way through school with B-minus or higher grades.

“Calm down, Rainbow,” he said with a wave of his hand, “I said a few drinks, as in a date.”

I looked down and faked being disappointed, “Aw man.”

I may have been too convincing because he quickly reprimanded me, “Hey, last thing I want is the both of us doing something stupid. You know what happens when you get a drunk guy and a drunk girl in a bar that has rooms available.”

“Rarity would applaud you for your gentlemanly behav-” I was cut off before I could continue.

“Wait a second, you know Lady Death?”

“What?” I asked flabbergasted, “I thought you knew I knew Rarity? And what’s with this ‘Lady Death’ thing?”

“You know we haven’t talked much during your time on base,” Nolan shot back, his voice holding a twinge of annoyance, “But yeah, Rarity is popular in First Recon,” he chuckled a little before continuing, “They say she popped thirteen Fiends her first mission out… with her revolver.”

“Was this coming from her, or any of the others?”

“It was Sergeant Bitter-Root and Lieutenant Boyd gossiping,” He said lowly, like the mentioned two would overhear.

I groaned, “Boyd, as in the lezzie that tried to get in my pants first time she saw me?” I asked. I was annoyed to hell with the sheer amount of women suddenly hitting on me. Veronica, Boyd, almost every other woman on base.

“Yeah, the very same,” He stated matter-of-factly, “Boyd was her spotter.”

I gave a chuckle, hoping Boyd would pester Rarity. Then I realized something.

I asked Nolan a question, he told me the answer, and not too long after I was stepping out of Vault 21, my hair trimmed, washed, and jet black.

Talking about lesbians had reminded me my hair was rainbow colored. Which lead to me remembering it was dirty and longer than average. I was eager to see if the change in hair color would make me more attractive to men. Or at least stop the women pestering me.

I have no prejudice against homosexuals, it’s just when anyone thinks I’m one that pisses me off.

Nolan finally got a good look at the new color, since I had repeatedly refused to let him see Sara Weintraub, the owner of the Vault 21 store, mess with my hair.

“It looks lovely with your magenta eyes,” he admitted.

The new hair color worked just like I wanted. “Thanks,” I said, blushing.

After a few seconds, I realized I was blushing and needed to play it off. I needed an excuse, and fast. “Well at least people will finally stop thinking I’m gay,” I said, not exactly lying. I was hoping that our recent discussion about Boyd would make him think the change wasn’t just for him.

Wait… what? I thought, Oh great. I’ve got the hots for him. I could feel my blush return.

“So, would you like to get some drinks and break the ice?” he asked, not really acting all that different, “Afterwards we can get some dinner. My treat.”

“Uh… yeah,” I said, finally my turn to clam up. I had a secret to tell him, “I never actually been on a date like this,” I admitted, blushing redder than a tomato.

To my surprise he let out a sigh of relief, “And here I thought I was screwing something up. Admittedly I never have done this before myself. Most women on base are either not my type or taken.”

“Oh, and what is your type?” I asked, totally screwing with him.

It backfired when he just laughed, “Strong, dependable, and won't sleep with someone behind your back.” He then sighed and I caught a look in his eyes.

“Ex-girlfriend?” I asked slowly, hoping I wasn’t treading on dangerous waters.

“Yeah, we were going well. The two of us never went on any date’s because we just sort of clicked, you know? Like we were made for each other,” Nolan and I began absentmindedly walking, finding a nearby metal bench, talking as we walked.

We sat down and he continued, “But after a while, we were just going through the motions of an old routine. And I’m not just referring to the sex… our love for each other just fizzled out. We fought more than we kissed, then after our sixth month of going out, we had our last argument. I packed my bags, left our little place near Reno, and joined the NCR. Never looking back as I left the house we had moved into together.”

I gave a sigh, the cool night air making me scoot closer to Nolan. “I Joined the NCR out of anger after two of my friends were taken by Caesar’s Legion,” I started, “It’s only been five days, but it feels like eternity without them.” I began to relive the helpless feeling of holding the rifle with no bullets… a field of bodies between us as the distance grew between Applejack, Shy, and me.

“Don’t cry, they’re alive,” He said, noticing my tears.

“Bu-but what Shy must be going through… Applejack is tough, hell, even tougher than me at times… but I can’t imagine how Shy must be feeling now.”

Nolan wrapped me in a hug and let me sob for my friends.

After a few minutes, I was done crying… but still clinging onto him tightly.

“So,” he started slowly, “Maybe a few drinks? We’ll get them back.”

“Y-yeah,” I admitted, “We will. And yes, I would love something stiff to drink.”

<>~<>~<>

I had gulped down two shots of whisky since arriving at the bar. Hoping to drown out the numb pain of failing my friends like I had. Nolan and I were sitting in a booth at the Gomorrah. The air was thick with the stench of tobacco smoke, alcohol, and sex. With the alchohol swimming through my head, making my body feel fuzzy, I began to listen to the up-beat club music playing as I bobbed my head.

It was either here, at the Tops Casino where some guy named Benny was killed, or the Ultra-Lux, which was run by former cannibals.

Gomorrah wasn’t that bad. Here they had male strippers grinding on stage instead of all females to fast-paced music, which was a step in the right direction. The booze wasn’t watered down either.

“So,” I started, catching Nolan’s attention, “You have any family?”

“I’m an only child; my mother died a year after I was born to natural causes.” The nonchalance he stated that struck even me as blunt.

I decided to answer my own question. “Well, I’m an only child as well. Although, I did sort’a adopt a friend of mine.”

“Oh,” He inquired, pushing his empty glass to the side to rest his elbows on the table.

“Her name is Scootaloo, she’s a pegasi, the same species I was,” I said, having already explained a bit about where I was from.

“The ones with wings, right?” He asked as two plates of food were set before us.

Out of modesty, Nolan didn’t order meat. We had both received white plates, full of corn on the cob, pinyon nuts, prickly pears, and buffalo gourd seeds.

“Yeah,” I said answering his question, “Orange fur, and the most beautiful dark pink hair.” I felt my heart twist in a knot as I thought of her.

“If you didn’t have those magenta eyes or that natural rainbow hair, I would swear up-and-down you were a bloody loon,” He stated, his accent grown thicker since consuming his remaining beer.

“Yeah, don’t know how I ended up here. This place has changed us, you know. Rarity’s got the fucking nickname of Lady Death… she used to sew for a living for peats-sake!”

Nolan frowned at my outburst, and changed subject. It eventually drifted back to talking about our friends, other family members, and things we liked. We also shared a few laughs, though alcohol makes almost every joke funny.

One of his jokes nearly split my sides in my drunken state. ‘A skeleton walks into a bar and says, “I want one beer… and a mop.’ That had me turning heads at how loud I was laughing. Looking back when I was sober told me it wasn’t that funny.

We kept talking and eating our meals until I made the mistake of ordering a third shot of an even stronger alcohol.    

After my third shot took its hold on my brain, I stopped having interest in Nolan and my conversations. I began to lazily stare at the rubber and leather clad men as they slid their junk up and down the silver metal poles.

My fourth shot was some drink called a screaming orgasm and must have been spiked or something, because the end result was that I was horny as fuuuuuck for some reason. I made the smart decision of stopping.

Giggling in a totally girly way, I moved to sit in the booth with Nolan, and rested my head on one of his shoulders. It was the same shoulder that had held me tight when I was feeling sad.

I moved my head again to look into his brilliant brown eyes. In the dim lights of the club they seemed utterly amazing. So, I leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. The contact of our lips only made the effect of the fourth shot explode.

That one kiss led us to making out, our making out led us to ordering a room, or ordering a room led to a screaming orgams. And no, it wasn’t the alcoholic drink.

<>~<>~<>

I opened my eyes slowly, the feeling of a small hangover threatening to ring my skull like a bell. I could hear snoring and warm flesh along with a hairy chest.

Moving the covers to the side, all I could do was stare. I had no clothes, Nolan had no clothes. There were a few damp spots on the sheets, and I smelled the familiar scent of sex.

I was annoyed. I wasn’t angry that I had let him screw me, what pissed me off was I wake up in bed with a dreamy guy, and I was too plastered to even remember how he made me scream for… oh wait… coming back now.

And a blush did follow, along with a smile. Maybe I could persuade him to do that one move when we’re both sober.

<~Camp McCarran, 11:26pm~>

Midnight couldn’t sleep. Now part of the NCR engineering corps, she knew there must be someone who needed something fixed. A restless urge to get up and do something productive drove into her skull like a sharp nail. 

Getting up from her bunk in the middle of the tent city in the parking lot of Camp McCarran, Midnight walked out into the chilly night air to find something to do.

She let out a groan remembering that all the other engineers were asleep by now. It didn’t matter. She still could fiddle with the truck. And even though she didn’t know how to fix it, Midnight felt like it was still something productive to do.

She could already envision it, a truck that size hauling heavier loads longer and farther than any brahmin train could. If only she could get the damn thing working.

Moving to her small workspace alongside the terminal building, she went to her toolbox on a rusty metal shelf. Seizing the ancient rusty box, by the cracked plastic handle, she relocated herself to stand beside the olive green truck.

Opening the hood of the multi-ton vehicle, she set to work. Gripping a handful of different tools, Midnight ascended up the large, driver-side wheel to access the engine.

And as she worked, she began thinking to herself.

It was second nature to her now, thinking that is. She had spent the whole time since getting out of the Big Empty trying to summon up her past from the confines of her mind, and figure out what the gold gauntlet Dr. Mobius gave her did.

While totally engrossed with thinking and the task at hand, Midnight began to concentrate, almost subconsciously, out of an impulse she didn’t remember having.

The wrench she needed to loosen a bolt with was enveloped in lavender light. The light coming from the gold gauntlet on her right hand.

It took her a few seconds to realize her needed tool was floating. And when she did, a wall was busted down. It was the wall holding all the memories of Twilight Sparkle from being called up by Midnight Star.

Gasping, the wrench clattered onto the engine with several metallic clangs and Midnight slipped. Falling only a short ways to the ground did no damage to her.

Panting for air, Midnight broke out into a fierce panicked sweat as the memories came flooding back. She remembered Nightmare Moon, the Chaos God Discord and his reformation, King Sombra, Trixie Lulamoon, cutie marks… everything.

It all came back in one raging flood of information. And it hurt.

Clutching her head, Midnight remembered that she was indeed, Twilight Sparkle, and her friends needed her now more than ever.