The dry, chalky dust swirled and mixed with the humid air of the Bayou, forcing me to cough up ashen gobbets of spit. Choked air drifted slowly towards the south, coating the nearby bushes and wrecks in a white film. As the view of the Wasteland’s newest crater cleared, my mouth hung ajar and my heart plummeted into my legs. Sure, Malice had her reputation for being a powerful raider boss in the Bayou, but to actually see her flexing her muscles, demolishing a building out of spite--it chilled me to the bone.

Grit looked to be on the verge of tears.

He rushed straight to the lip of the crater, but only got within a few feet before his PipBuck began crackling in rapid-fire, freezing him in his tracks and forcing him back until the noise settled. The two stable ponies that’d accompanied us, who had never even known a home beyond Stable 15, stood frozen in place, pure horror in their eyes. It was one thing to walk away from a home, and another to see it in ruins.

Spark’s voice came through the radio once again. “Grit? Alloy? What happened up there?”

I collected myself first, seeing all three Stable ponies turn around. The mare cried openly now, and Grit ran towards the spritebot in a full gallop. “Malice demolished the community center building,” I answered. “The whole thing came down on itself.”

“We’ll get it dug out, dad, I promise,” Grit cut in quickly, his face wavering where his voice didn’t. Hearing Spark through the eyebot, I took comfort in knowing that at least the Stable was still safe. Buried beneath tens of feet of compressed, irradiated rubble, but safe.

I shot a glance at him, opened my mouth reflexively to voice some kind of objection, then stopped myself, slowly letting out a breath instead, turning back to the spritebot. “Is the door damaged? Any radiation leaks?”

There was a brief pause before Spark’s voice replied over the tinny speaker. “No, the door seems fine, and the air’s clean.”

Grit seemed to relax a little, but only just. “Alloy, we gotta get ‘em out.”

I turned away from the spritebot to study the smouldering crater. Radiation aside, I didn’t even know if it was possible. Some of the chunks of wall that lay between us and Stable 15 were twice as big as me, and I didn’t have the telekinetic strength for that. I wasn’t sure, but I could fairly guess Grit didn’t either. “It’s…” Despite all my misgivings, the monumental nature of the problem, I stared into Grit’s eyes and saw the desperate plea.

He did the same for me.

“We’ll need to get some help. It’s not going to be easy, either, but there’s nothing we can do about it right now.” I nodded my head back towards the path leading north. “We need to get on the road now so we can reach shelter before dark. Preferably the prison.”

“She’s right,” Kyra cut in, hovering in midair with her shotgun held in her talons. “Malice was just here. We can’t stick around right now. Stupid to run back so damn quickly, but now that you’ve seen it, we gotta leave.”

“But-” the younger Stable buck started, taking a step towards her.

“But nothin’. Look, I get it, but if you wanna stay alive t’ help ‘em, then we shouldn’t be here.”

Grit nodded, turning towards the spritebot. “We gotta find somewhere t’ hole up, dad, but we’ll come back. I’ll figure this out. I promise.” He swallowed, tears streaking his sandy coat. “I love you.”

* * * * * * *

Shortly after dark, we made it to the prison and took shelter in one of the intact offices. It felt like I had just begun to drift off to sleep when a noise jolted me from my slumber and brought me back to consciousness. My eyes opened and I stirred enough to notice that it was still the dead of night, and Kyra and the two Stable ponies were sound asleep. Lifting my head from between my forehooves, I looked around, ears swivelling for the noise to repeat itself, and only then did my clouded thoughts recognize the sound of rain pattering on the roof and walls. A low rumble of thunder rolled through the storm. With a soft breath I glanced back at our huddled group, about to settle back into sleep, when another observation struck me.

Where was Grit?

My head lifted again, and this time I was completely alert. Carefully, I stood up and slipped out the open door, resolving just to take a quick look outside before waking the others.

I didn’t have to look far. Down at the end of the hallway, sitting on his haunches in the lobby and watching the rain, was Grit. I could only barely make out his silhouette against the doorway. Just as I was considering heading back to sleep, a flash of lightning illuminated the world outside, and gave me a more detailed look at Grit for that instant.

His head was hung low, ears laid flat, facing away from me. I hesitated. Did he want to just be alone? Maybe he just didn’t want to wake us? I peered out a nearby hole in the wall, watching the rain for myself for a moment and catching the faint scent of wet, rusted metal in the air. A memory bubbled up in my mind, of Grit and I huddled in a small skywagon in a torrential downpour, just after getting kicked out of Sugarland. I winced, and looked back down the hallway at Grit, took a deep breath, and crossed the room to stand beside him. Even stepping as quietly as I could, Grit’s neck had straightened up as I approached, though I was trying to sneak more for the benefit of the others who were still asleep.

For a long moment, neither of us said anything as the soft percussion of the rain continued.

I was already here. Should I say something? Just standing here like a dope couldn’t be enough to help Grit with whatever was preoccupying him, though I knew what it was likely to be. Finally, I softly cleared my throat and glanced from the rain back at his face, sitting down on my haunches beside him. “Can’t sleep?”

He shook his head. Silence stretched out again for a few moments before he looked over to me. “Jus’ tryin’ t’ figure out how we’re gonna dig ‘em out.”

I nodded. Logistics. I could talk logistics. “Well, obviously the five of us can’t handle it on our own. We’ll have to ask for help,” I launched into a train of thought, holding Grit’s attention and vocalizing what would normally be kept in the confines of my own mind. “The logical place to start would be Four Shoes. Both of us know the ponies there, and it's a safe place to let the other two Stable ponies stay. But even with your reputation in Four Shoes, we’d be hard-pressed to find enough ponies willing to leave their stores and livelihoods to go and help. Everypony I know there counts on having their store open as much as possible.” I suppressed a wince as a nagging thought fluttered by, reminding me that my store was starting to fall behind on being open often enough. But this was important. “The only ponies you might be able to convince are passing caravan guards, but that’s a gamble, and even if we find some, they’d be expensive.”

Grit nodded, his ears drooping again. I caught the glimmer of despair that began to crease his face, and held up a hoof, trying to keep pace with my own thoughts as well. “There is another option. Shipper is closer than Four Shoes, though it’ll take all day for us to get there tomorrow.” Even then, it would be a hard stretch, I thought to myself, casting a glance back at the small office. The silence hung in the air for longer than I wanted it to, but I caught Grit staring at me with rapt attention.

Looking away from him and shifting on my haunches, I stared back out the darkened windows, fighting back an urge to keep all of this contained until I’d reasoned it out entirely.

But it kept him occupied for now.

“I’m not sure what we can offer them, but I can ask Nikale if he’d be willing to lend us his help. Either ponies - er, zebras - who can help dig out the Stable or else some kind of homebrew Rad-Away or Rad-X.” I flinched as the last words left my mouth, too late to do anything about my stream of consciousness except hope Grit wouldn’t press me on it.

I should’ve known better. His eyes were a little wider the next time lighting crashed across the sky. “They really got somethin’ like that?” There was a note of optimism in his voice, one that I hated having to smother.

“To be honest, I don’t know for sure.” I heard more than saw him slump a little. “But I’ve got reasonable indications. I know that Maizan brews a wide variety of potions. Hell, he even had something to regrow my hair on a laser burn.” I cast a glance down at my right hind leg. Even through the dim light I could swear the patch of slightly-mottled blue hair was visible. Shaking my head, I brought my train of thought to a close. “Like I said, I don’t know what we could offer them. Something like this, where we’d need extra hooves long-term, or else a steady supply of Rad-Away, won’t be cheap.” I didn’t even know if caps would cover it, or if they did, how much it would be worth to the Zebras. It was almost the worst negotiating position a buyer could be in, wanting something precious in return for whatever Nikale might want.

“Y’ said Maizan makes lots o’ potions?” Grit asked, breaking up my thoughts. I was jostled for only a brief moment this time, more curious as his tone took on a more pensive mood than I expected.

“Yeah, he does,” I answered tentatively. “I got the feeling that he doesn’t just sit on many already-made. He has a stock of ingredients, though.”

Grit pressed further, more urgently. “Use lotsa plants?”

“Yeah, probably… what’re you thinking?”

He tilted his head, making a noncommittal grunt. “Well, s’ a long shot, an’ I gotta clear it with Studio an’ Spark. Meadow, too. But I’m thinkin’ we offer ‘em growin’ space in th’ Stable’s orchard.”

Now my eyes went wide, gaping slightly. Goddesses above, that might work! But shortly after, my enthusiasm was tempered with a rising tide of doubts. “Doesn’t the Stable need all that growing space?”

“Ehh, if they were gonna stay down there a few years like th’ plan was, yeah. But they got a stockpile from bein’ underpopulated for a while.”

“And wouldn’t that mean opening the Stable door again for outsiders?” I pressed.

Grit shrunk back a little. “Well… yeah, guess it would, but they could close th’ Stable when th’ Zebras aren’ aroun’. S’better than th’ alternative.”

I closed my eyes and turned away, feeling a wave of exhaustion pass over me. There were plenty of other holes I could poke in Grit’s idea, but it just meant those were all holes I’d have to plug before pitching it to Nikale. But for now… I saw Grit’s slouch starting to creep back in. “It’s a good idea, Grit. Really. We just have to figure out the details before Studio or Nikale catch us without an answer.”

It looked like it worked, and I eased out a soft sigh as Grit’s ears stiffened again. He nodded, but didn’t say anything else.

A yawn forced my jaw opened, and need for sleep reasserted itself. Much as I wanted to brainstorm everything we’d need immediately, I knew that I’d think better in the morning and there wasn’t a risk of forgetting something. “We can discuss everything in the morning,” I said, standing back up.

Grit nodded, his purple mane bobbing and waving slightly. “Yeah. Yeah, ‘s’ late. Go on, I’ll crash pretty soon m’self. Jus’ gonna watch th’ rain a bit more.”

I hesitated as I turned away, but Grit wasn’t slouching quite as much anymore. “Alright. Goodnight, Grit.”

“ ‘Night, Alloy.”

* * * * * * *

Breakfast was hardly down our muzzles the next morning before logistics became the topic of the day. As luck had it, the buck that had joined us from Stable 15, Ginger Snap, had worked on the irrigation system of the Stable’s orchard, and knew enough to estimate how much growing space Studio could spare for a third party.

But as the conversations of gardening began to die down, Grit brought up a much touchier subject. “Y’all gotta stay in Four Shoes. Or better yet, head on up t’ New Appleloosa on th’ next caravan out.”

“Oh hell no!” the mare, Star, jumped in before Grit could continue. A unicorn with a faint lavender coat and blue mane, she glared at Grit with an intensity I had never seen anypony else look at him with. To be honest, I was barely able to suppress a snicker as Grit’s ears fell back and he stumbled away. “Look, we may be new to this whole ‘Wasteland’ thing, but we aren’t gonna just abandon the Stable when it needs help most.”

Ginger Snap stepped up to Star with a smile and gave her a gentle nuzzle. “Same. Y’ ain’t gettin’ rid of us that easy, so ya might ‘s well tell us how we can help.” The earth pony buck flashed him a grin, tossing his rough auburn mane to one side with a flick of his head.

Grit sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Worth a shot. Look, jus’ so y’know, this ain’t ‘xactly gonna be what y’all signed up for when y’ left. We gotta good plan, but when we get t’ Shipper, let Alloy do th’ talkin’.” The two of them shot a glance at me, and I offered them what I hoped was a disarming smile. I wasn’t sure if it worked. “Trus’ me, she could talk a griffon inta sellin’ her own feathers. Uh, no offense, Kyra.”

Kyra simply let out a squawking chuckle, shaking her head. “None taken!”

“But tha’ leads us t’... Studio.” Grit glanced at the spritebot, floating along behind us. “Guess we can’t put this off.” He gently tapped the side of the robot, causing it to bob in the air. “Dad? Overmare Studio? Either o’ y’all there?”

There was a long pause of several minutes before Studio’s calm voice, marred only a little by static, came through the speaker. “Yes, Grit, we’re both here. Spark and I were just discussing the final report from last night’s… incident.”

Grit looked down at the ground a moment, chewing on his lip before he continued. “Well, glad I got y’all both then. Alloy an’ I, we got a plan t’ dig out th’ Stable.”

Another pause. “Go on.”

I took the initiative to step forward. Getting Studio to agree to this half of the deal would be the practice round for Nikale. “Overmare, this is Alloy Shaper. I believe I can negotiate help from a village of zebras that live a day’s walk north of here, in a town called Shipper. I know you wanted to keep the Stable sealed for a number of years until Malice’s threat had passed, but I don’t think I need to remind you that with the debris blocking the door, you’ll never be able to rejoin the Bayou.”

I took a small breath, letting that last line sink in, but not allowing Studio a chance to interject. “I believe Nikale, the leader of the community at Shipper, could be convinced to help, but only if we offer them something worth the time and risk involved, something worth more than just caps. Talking the situation over with Ginger Snap, we came to the conclusion that a small plot of growing soil in the Stable’s orchard would be the perfect way to repay the zebras for their help.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Studio cut in, a note of alarm in the tinny voice. “You’d have us re-open the Stable door again? After what happened last time?”

“No, of course not,” I said calmly. I’d expected this answer. “Only when the zebras came to visit to collect or tend to their plants. You could open it briefly to let them in, then again to let them out, and have it closed for the rest of the time. Even if Malice were to return, she still couldn’t get in the door. And you still have effectively indefinite supplies down there, right?”

“Well… yes, we can produce food and water at least. And the air purifier is still working.” There was a low sound like a sigh, or maybe just a hiss of static, then another pause. “I don’t like this, but you’re right. How much growing space would we need to give them?”

I nodded to Ginger Snap. “Ginger has the numbers. I’ll leave you to talk it over with him and Spark.”

Taking my cue, Ginger Snap immediately started going through the details, how to move existing plants and how to keep the plants the zebras would grow separated to prevent cross-pollination. It was fascinating stuff, but I couldn’t spare any attention on it. Instead, it was time to focus on the real challenge: convincing Nikale. As Grit, Ginger Snap, Spark, and Studio discussed the finer points, I started working through the arguments in my head, preparing and rehearsing our proposal.

* * * * * * *

The curious stares of the zebras in Shipper had an added filter of suspicion draped over them. I couldn’t blame them, really. What had once been just a bi-weekly visit by a single pony was now a parade of four ponies, a griffin, and a spritebot, all of us armed. More of the suspicious looks seemed to be directed my way than anypony else’s, and my ears drooped lower as my gaze darted around from zebra to zebra, feeling an overwhelming desire to apologize for… something. It wasn’t as though the zebras had told me to keep their village a secret, but I still felt like I was violating their trust somehow.

I glanced over at Kyra for only a moment, before a deep, accented voice cut through my musings.

“Blacksmith,” Nikale greeted us, walking up to stop our procession roughly in the middle of town. His dark-grey eyes drifted across the assembled ponies before settling back to me again. “Your entourage grows with each time I see you. Perhaps the life of a craftsmare offers more celebrity than I realized.”

My eyes went wide, and I opened my mouth to object, then caught sight of his thin smile and closed it again, shaking my head. Next to me, Grit stifled a chuckle. “No, these ponies are just passing through, but I was hoping to speak with you, Nikale.” His smile partially melted as he cocked an eye, waiting for me to continue. Glancing around, I noted that a dozen or more zebra were still watching us with rapt attention. “Is there somewhere we can speak privately?”

The large zebra looked around briefly, then inclined his head off to his left. “Would Maizan’s home suffice?”

“That’ll be fine,” I replied, actually somewhat grateful for his choice of location. With any luck, if Maizan was there, he’d have some things to say in favor of our plan. “Actually, I was hoping to speak with him, too.”

Nikale cocked an eye at me again. “I do not believe all of us will fit.”

I nodded, figuring that would be the case, half-turning around. “Kyra, would you mind waiting out here with Star and Ginger Snap?”

Kyra gave a ruffle of her wings, and waved towards the two Stable ponies. “C’mon, let’s get y’all some grub. How d’ya feel about meat?”

Nikale began walking towards the combination kitchen and clinic with Grit, and I followed close behind, catching only a brief noise of shock from the stable ponies. Floating quietly behind us, the spritebot followed along. Sure enough, the older zebra was in his home, sitting at a small table with a notebook in front of him, pencil in his mouth. His head snapped up at the sudden intrusion, and he looked between Nikale, me, and Grit. “Well this is unexpected. I do hope this isn’t about the chili again.”

Nikale shook his head. “No, Alloy wished to speak with us in private.”

Maizan turned away from his desk, focusing on me. “I see. Well, I have some time. The chili is done, and Xekan can handle serving.” He waved a forehoof towards me. “How is your leg?”

Instinctively, I glanced back at my right hind leg and the slightly-thinner patch of light-blue coat covering the energy weapon burn. It seemed like a lifetime ago that I was in this office last, letting Maizan bandage my leg despite all protestations. Clearing my head with a deep breath, I stepped forward. “My leg’s doing fine, thank you. But I’m here with Grit today to propose a deal with you, between yourselves and the ponies of Stable 15.”

There was a lengthy, uncomfortable pause as Nikale and Maizan exchanged looks with each other, but I continued on with my prepared speech. “The spritebot with us has an intact radio connection with the Overmare of the Stable, who has agreed to provide Shipper with a plot of soil in the Stable’s orchard for you to use however you wish. They will provide as much or as little care to the plants as you require.” Maizan’s eyes widened slightly, but Nikale’s expression remained even. Pause here a moment. Let the idea sink in. “In exchange,” I resumed, trying to stay ahead of the question, “Stable 15 would need your assistance in clearing the rubble that has buried the Stable door.”

I took a slow breath, something primal wanting me to keep silent about the cause of the collapse. But I couldn’t. “Yesterday, Malice detonated some kind of bomb in the building above the Stable. She tried to take some of their ponies as labor, but they refused, closing the door instead. The Stable itself is fine, but the building collapsed and buried their only way out.” I swallowed, scuffing a forehoof at the ground. Had to finish this. Just a bit more. I could hear my heart thundering in my ears, but I kept my voice steady. “The other complication is that the crater is irradiated. Grit, Kyra, and I will find a way to combat the radiation, but we need help digging the rubble away. If a dozen zebras would be willing to volunteer and help us in the excavation, Overmare Studio will ensure that you have your plot to grow on.”

And with that, the speech was over. I let out a slow breath, and tried to slow my heart as I glanced between Nikale and Maizan. Neither one of them spoke at first, but Maizan looked like he wanted to. Instead, Nikale broke the silence. “We will, of course, need time to discuss this among ourselves.” I nodded. “But before that, several questions. First, will Malice not come back to look once her scouts see the work team?”

This question I was ready for. “I don’t think she’ll come back, or even check on the Stable. First, the entrance is some distance from the nearest waterway. She couldn’t get away with just sending an airboat for a drive-by, it would have to be a trip out solely to check on the Stable.” I paused a moment. Let my more logical argument sink in. My ear flicked at the air, hesitating on the next argument. But I had to sound confident, to remember Malice’s ‘proposal’ to me and her implication that nopony in the Bayou gave a shit.

“And she won’t send a dedicated trip because she won’t expect anyone to be there. She’s met Grit in passing once, and maybe even took note of what Stable he was from, but I doubt she even remembers him. And if she suspects anypony left the Stable before they closed the door, she didn’t show it. Hell, she didn’t even wait to see if anypony came back to the Stable after she blew up the Community Center. We galloped straight back after the explosion, and there was no sign of her. And if she does suspect some Stable ponies left, she doesn’t know about the spritebots, and she doesn’t think anypony will help.” I swallowed briefly, glancing between the fixed gazes of Nikale and Maizan. “Malice won’t be back anytime soon.”

With that assertion hanging in the air, silence held us all for a few moments. Grit was standing behind me, holding himself rigid. Even to my eyes, I could see tension lacing him to his core. Maizan was studying Nikale, the older zebra’s mind seemingly already made up, while Nikale’s head was cocked to one side, staring off into nowhere. I’d only seen his expression this pensive once before, when I first visited Shipper with my offer of a long-term trade agreement. The spritebot’s radio crackled and hissed as the speaker on the other end turned on, all heads snapping to stare at it. “Even if Alloy is mistaken about Malice, we will have this spritebot watching and patrolling the approaches to Stable 15. When she last made the trip out, we had more than an hour to get ready.”

“An’ I’ll do everythin’ I can to protect y’all,” Grit cut in, setting his jaw tight. I cast a quick glance at him, but did my best to suppress my annoyance. The stakes were high for him, but we were coming across too desperate.

At last, Nikale spoke. “How far away is the Stable? And how long do you think this excavation will take?”

I stepped in first, drawing Nikale’s attention quickly away from the hope dancing in Grit’s eyes. “It’s about a day’s walk from here. We’d be best off making camp somewhere away from the Stable, just in case. There are a few places I can recommend.” I paused to give his second question some thought. Truth be told I had no good idea for how long it would take, and I wasn’t sure if I should give him my best guess or just tell him as much. A compromise of the two, maybe. “As for how long, I’m not entirely sure. We can escort you down to the site to see for yourself, but the limiting factor will likely be the radiation.”

“Hmm,” the tall zebra answered, noncommittally. After taking a moment to rub at his muzzle with his fetlock, he let out a slow breath. “I have a few conditions, but I believe we can be of assistance.” Instantly, I could feel the crushing pressure on my chest ease, and I scuffed at the dirt with one forehoof. Grit looked like he was practically glowing.

I settled myself. Focus. Not done yet.

“What are your conditions?” I asked, my voice refusing to show how much more at ease I was, though I imagined Nikale could see through it.

“First, I will have to emphasize I will only take volunteers. If any of them deem the work too dangerous, they will be escorted back to Shipper. Safely.” His eyes narrowed as he enunciated his last word. I could understand his concern. Less scrupulous ponies may just decide that anyone who doesn’t want to work can find their own way home, but I wouldn’t do that to them. I nodded once, letting him continue. “Second, any caretakers we send to Stable 15 for the plants afterward must be similarly protected.”

That surprised me a little. There was no way I could commit to doing something like that, not with my store to run. I’d been away from it for too long as it was, and it looked like I would be away longer still with this excavation.

“I’ll do it,” Grit said, taking a step forward. “S’the least I can do t’ thank y’all.” There was a palpable relief on his face.

Nikale tilted his head slightly as the two of them locked eyes. Grit looked at ease, but the zebra was carved from stone. At last, he snorted quietly, then nodded. “Then I will announce to the village and gather volunteers.”

A smile tugged at the corners of my lips, and I let it pass with only a small flick of my ear. “Thank you, Nikale. We’ll let you know as soon as we have something to combat the radiation.” I still wasn’t completely sure what I’d do, but maybe some of the caravans passing through Four Shoes had some Rad-X, or maybe even masks. Failing that, I was sure one of them would know where I could get some. I turned to leave, but Nikale’s voice stopped me only half a step into the motion.

“Perhaps we can be of assistance in that matter as well,” he said, taking a step towards me. “We’ll see what we can do about the radiation, and discuss it further in the morning. You and your group may stay here for the night, of course, for a reasonable fee.”

Even with the looming threat of having to pay for a space to sleep, I wasn’t able to completely hide my astonishment at Nikale’s offer. Getting his help with the dig and the radiation was more than I could have hoped. Recomposing myself, I swallowed and cleared my throat. "We would certainly appreciate that. But as for room and board, what would you consider a reasonable fee?” I asked, cocking my head.

“As I recall, the price last time was 30 caps for yourself and your partner, Grit.” He paused and nodded out the door to where Kyra waited with Star and Ginger Snap. “As your party is now four ponies and one griffon, 75 caps seems to be appropriate.”

I snorted, flicking my tail at the air. 15 caps apiece was still far more than I wanted to pay for a place to sleep, but I knew it’d be best for our two Bayou newcomers, at least for now. Still, Nikale didn’t have to know that. “With five of us, including one Talon mercenary, I should think we have less need of your protection for the night. We can easily post watches and protect ourselves outside if need be. I certainly appreciate your hospitality, but I think 50 caps would cover us here.”

Nikale’s gazed locked with mine for a few seconds as he seemed to consider the idea. Eventually, he nodded. “Very well. 50 caps it is.”

“Thank you.” Opening my saddlebags, I retrieved the agreed amount and floated it over to him in a haze of green levitation.

With caps exchanged, Nikale walked with us out of Maizan’s home, a polite smile resting on his muzzle. “I do hope you sleep well.”

* * * * * * *

I definitely did not sleep well.

While I was sound asleep, an insistent hoof nudged at me several times, eventually forcing me awake. My eyelids felt as though they weighed more than my whole body as I pulled them open to see what the problem was. Standing above me was one of the zebras, though I couldn’t make out any details of their face, but they were motioning insistently now that I was looking.

Did they want me to follow?

For a few long seconds, I didn’t move, couldn’t move, watching the zebra trot away towards the door. With no apparent emergency, I wanted to just put my head back down on my forehooves and fall asleep again. But they’d just wake me back up, wouldn’t they?

Against the wailing protests of my muscles, I heaved myself to my hooves and glanced around at the rest of my group. I was the only one awake. Great. I lit my horn and grabbed my canteen of water to take a sip, letting the cool liquid snap at least some of my senses in place. Maybe now I could walk without tripping over anypony. I blinked a few more times and focused on the only spot of light I could see, a dim lantern illuminating the forms of Nikale and three other zebras. Nikale motioned at me with his foreleg. Without thinking, I groggily collected my sword and gun, slinging them both around my neck as I carefully stepped around Star and Ginger Snap’s sleeping forms. Their breathing didn’t change, nor did Grit’s light snore or Kyra’s soft chirps. Eventually, against the overwhelming weights of my legs, I walked out to meet Nikale and the other zebras at the entrance, glancing out at the night beyond.

As I came to a stop just outside the ramp leading to the Bayou proper, I finally asked in a low voice, “What’s this about?” A yawn forced its way past my muzzle, and I quickly shook my head to try and keep my senses focused.

Nikale kept his voice just as quiet as one of the other zebras yawned as well, and I slowly realized that he was wearing a battle-saddle-mounted rifle. “We are going to retrieve radiation-proof barding for the dig. You must come with us.”

My blood froze in my veins, and I stared at him in the pitch-black gloom, ears falling flat against my head. “What?!” I hissed at him, stealing a glance over my shoulder at Shipper, as though I was going to wake the whole town. “Now? Can’t it wait until morning?”

“No, it cannot,” Nikale answered in a low voice. “We need you to help us through the swamp.” In the scattered glow of light coming from the guard zebra’s lantern, I could see his eyes narrow. “And none of your companions can know of this.” He loomed over me, and I took half a step away without thinking, my heart audible in my ears.

He was serious.

I’d never seen him like this. He intended to go out into the Bayou at night and find this barding.

My forehoof scuffed at the wet ground, and I forced myself to breath slowly. “Where are we even going?”

“The Ministry of Morale office. Are those the only weapons you need?”

“Well, yes, I-”

“Good. Stay close.” Offering no further explanation or room to argue, Nikale simply turned away and began walking into the Bayou.

He gave no room to argue, but I made room anyway.

“Why do you need me for this?” I hissed, taking a step forward and flicking my tail at the air. If they were willing to take this insane risk, then fine. It was their business, and they sounded like they had a reason. If they wanted me to plunge in with them, that was another thing.

Nikale stopped mid-stride, and half-turned back towards me. “We need you to light the way. Our lanterns may attract more attention than a unicorn’s magic.”

And, like he already said, he didn’t trust anyone else. One of my ears flicked at the air, and I groaned harshly. Nothing about this felt right, but Nikale was insistent that he needed me for this trip. Part of me also wondered if refusing would jeopardize our deal, as well. “Fine. Lead the way.”

The larger zebra inclined his head towards me. “Thank you. We will keep you safe.”

I ground my teeth together, but said nothing, instead checking the straps on my holster and sword sheath before lighting my horn with a bright green light. Taking a slow, calming breath, I focused on the tingling sensation of magic and pulled back, allowing the light to dim to about as low as I was willing to hold it.

Nikale turned back towards the impenetrable darkness as two other zebras fell in line beside him, weapons ready. One of the other two had a battle saddle of his own, while the third held a pistol in his teeth. Walking behind them, casting a faint green glow across the landscape around us, I could see their shadows stretch out into the gloom.

* * * * * * *

Insects buzzed and chirped around us, the muddy ground sucking at our hooves as we slowly trod our way through the oppressive, sour-smelling shadows. After the lively conversation that had been a constant part of my last few trips through the Bayou, the crushing silence seemed to weigh my muscles down. And with nothing to occupy my mind, every flicker of motion, every brush of the wind through shrubs and weeds, and every irregular noise sent my head jerking back and forth. All I could think of were images of the ghouls in Stable 36 shambling out of the darkness towards me. Or the swarms of rats in the tunnels beneath the river. Or some new, horrifying monstrosity looming up out of the ground. Every shadow was a new threat, and I stared at each in turn until we passed it.

My sword hovered in the air before me, as though I could physically shield myself with it. I couldn’t remember drawing it.

Every now and then I caught myself audibly panting and focused on breathing slowly, calmly, and - most important - silently. The other two zebras that had come along were constantly looking to their left and right, sweeping the shadows for any signs of danger. At odd moments when a growl or wet steps pierced the muggy air, the four of us froze in our tracks, training weapons on the direction it came from and holding that stance for seconds or hours, I couldn’t tell. Eventually, Nikale would lift his forehoof in a deliberate gesture, and the other two zebras resumed their pace. I’d follow a moment after. Throughout all of this, Nikale seemed utterly unfazed. Though I couldn’t see his face, he walked with a steady gait, and simply shifted his gaze slightly to the left and right as he walked, careful but confident. As I watched him, my nerves calmed, at least a little.

At least until the sound of of shifting, slick muck froze us in our tracks.

As we stopped, so did the noise. I didn’t dare move my head, but my eyes darted across the landscape, trying to pick the danger out of the shadows around us. There! A glint of light. A reflection from the light of my horn, flickering off wet skin.

As though it realized it’d been seen, the thing lunged out towards us, barreling at a blinding speed. Our guns roared in the stillness of the night, and I caught brief glimpses of the creature in the flashes of light. Slick skin, six legs, and an impossibly wide mouth.

The first volley of shots went wide, and it skittered across the muck with a wet, muddy staccato. I could see it in my horn’s light now, but it was too fast to get a good look. It was headed for me! I jumped away, and felt my heart thunder in relief before a thick tail slapped into my forelegs. I fell. My head thumped against the soft mud and my head swam for a moment, and I felt my magic flicker off. Nikale shouted something about the light. I blinked, shook my head, reigniting the light of my horn.

The thing was charging me, mouth wide enough to swallow me whole.

I cried out, panic blinding me. I scrambled to get to my hooves. Where was my sword? Where was my sword?!

Another deafening boom. Another hiss-squeal, and the rapid stomping of feet died with the lizard-thing.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm myself down as I stared at the slimy corpse in front of me. With a quick shake of my head, I started searching for my sword in the mud where I’d been tripped, brightening the glow of my horn just a little. “What… what was that?” I hissed. I thought I’d at least heard of all of the Bayou’s worst creatures, but this was something else. I didn’t want to look at it, but some part of me kept casting glances at the lizard’s body. Now that it was still, I could see that it had no eyes, and I felt a shudder crawl across my back.

“Lurkilizard. We must keep moving. The noise may bring us more attention.”

I found my sword in the muck, near a stump of a metallic sign, collecting it and brushing off a clump of mud with one fetlock. “Alright,” I said, holding it in the air next to me as we pressed on into the night.

* * * * * * *

We arrived at the Ministry of Morale office with only one more stop - a pause to hide and wait for a swarm of bloodsprites to buzz past us, flying along a creek nearby and sending ripples through the waters. I had to extinguish my light the moment we heard them, but that seemed to save us. Though I was only barely able to see, I could tell from the shifting mass that there were dozens of the things. We’d waited another minute after they vanished before resuming our trek, rounding one bend to reach the bridge.

Once inside, I could feel myself relax slightly, and with that the sluggishness partially set in, tugging at my eyelids. I shook my head firmly, ears flicking upright once more after they’d started to droop. Nikale glanced back, but said nothing as he lead us through the decaying hallways, passing the stairwell and turning into the office at the end of the hall.

The other two zebra took up positions on either side of the door, guns ready, as Nikale gently tapped the door with one hoof, letting it swing open on a hinge that wailed in protest of the silent darkness. I felt my whole body tense, overwhelmed with the warring needs to run and the need to keep still, avoid making any more noise. My head slowly turned to look down the hallway. The door had been so loud, I was sure half the Bayou had heard it. Were those bloodsprites coming?

Nothing.

The dispassionate night gave us nothing.

With a slow, shaking breath, I stepped into the office after the zebras, flicking my tail at the air behind me. The office was smaller than the one I’d found the memory orb in, but had many of the same trappings. There was a cabinet against the far wall, made of metal covered by decorated wood panels. A simple desk stood near the cabinet, in surprisingly good condition, though there was no chair to be found, and against the wall to the right was a bookshelf whose shelves had long ago collapsed and spilled the now-rotten books across the floor. Nikale immediately trotted over to the cabinet, opening up one of the elaborately-carved doors and pressing something with his hoof that produced a soft click.

Without further warning, the desk slid forward, nearly bowling me over as it carried its shattered Stable-Tec terminal with it. I started to walk around the desk to the left to see what had been revealed, opening my mouth to say… something, but closed it. No point arguing over it. Need to get out of here as soon as we-

I’d expected a small safe like the one I’d found Silver Trim’s memory orb in. Instead a whole staircase stretched into the darkness below, though only wide enough for a single pony at a time. It dove into solid concrete around it, cracked slightly but largely intact, and in the glow of my horn, I could see a dull glint of metal at the end. I gaped, looking between the staircase and Nikale, trying to make sense of this staircase leading into solid rock that was on the second story of this building, but he merely gestured with his head towards the passageway. “Follow me, Alloy. Zecana, Wejin, stay here and keep guard.”

Flicking my tail again, I followed Nikale down into the stairwell, my muzzle scrunching up at the wretched, stale smell of mildew. Craning my neck to get a view around Nikale, we quickly came to a sealed metal door with a terminal set into the wall next to it. He lifted one forehoof and tapped several keys in quick succession, commanding the door to hiss and swing inward, and for a moment I marvelled at the thickness of the door.

I stopped mid-stride as the lights came up, showing me the room beyond.

At first, the sudden brightness hurt my eyes, and I squeezed them shut, only hesitantly opening them once the aching pain had begun to fade. The room opened up into a yawning cavern, drilling deep into the ground below us. From the catwalk, another staircase led the way down, doubling back on itself over and over again until it reached the bottom.

And there, looming before the bottom of the stairs, was the unmistakable cog-shape of a Stable door.

“A stable?” I hissed.

Nikale simply nodded, walking forward to start descending the stairs.

I glanced over my shoulder at the metal door, and the stairs beyond that led back to the Ministry office. “And this is where your barding is?” I kept my voice to an insistent whisper, but I did not move.

Finally, Nikale actually stopped and looked at me again. “It is safe. This Stable was one that succeeded in its mission. No one and nothing is left but a cache of supplies we use when necessary.” His gaze seemed to soften, but maybe it was just his own exhaustion starting to show through. “We will only be here a few minutes.”

I still refused to move, my temper flaring up. Deal or not, walking into some Celestia-damned Stable in the middle of the night was about where I drew the line. I stomped one forehoof on the metal grating to get his attention. “No, I want some answers, Nikale. How do you know it’s safe? And if it’s safe, why did we have to come here in the middle of the night?”

Nikale sighed and turned back towards me, something in his eyes. Exhaustion? Resignation? Either way, he took a deep breath and nodded. “I suppose you should know.” He jerked his head back towards the Stable door. “This Stable is where my ancestors took shelter from the bombs. I do not know why it is here, or what happened to the original inhabitants. It gave protection from the bombs and the worst of the radiation, but this shelter was not built to sustain ponies as long as other Stables were. Ever since our ancestors left this place, we have a commitment to resorting to the supplies here as rarely as possible, though nearly everything is already gone.

“Still, the Stable is one of our most closely-guarded secrets. A last resort. If we were not pressed for time, we would have not risked the visit at night, but we need it to be plausible to your companions that we found the barding in one of the cargo containers at Shipper. Your presence here both helps us light the way to get to the Stable, and now you can support us when we say we found the barding.” He paused and looked back down at the cog-shaped door again. “And I know it is safe because we’re the only ones who can get in.”

My mind scrambled to process all this at once. After a long pause, neither of us moving or saying anything, I finally answered what was pressing most at my mind. “You… want me to help you lie to my friends?” A knot formed in the pit of my stomach at the idea.

“It will be enough that you not contradict us.”

Glancing away from him, I scrunched up my muzzle. My discomfort persisted, but I didn’t want to stand out here all night and argue the point. Eventually, I nodded and started to trot towards the stairs. “Fine.”

Reaching into his pack, Nikale pulled out a thick, heavy band, clenching it in his teeth before he set it on the ground. Once it was free of his grip, I recognized it as an old, worn-out PipBuck, though one that had seen better days. Laying down on the ground in front of it, Nikale cradled the device with one fetlock before turning it on and tapping it a few times with the edge of his other forehoof.

The device let out a small chirping sound, and in response, a pair of whirling orange lights turned on to either side of the Stable door. A cacophony of metallic grinding and squealing took place on the far side of the heavy steel door, before the cog itself was pulled backward into the wall, then rolled to one side to allow us in. I held my breath, revolver at the ready as the entrance of the Stable was revealed to us.

The lights came up inside, though a few of them flickered in protest of their age, and aside from a film of dust and a dryness to the air that reminded me of Stable 15, there was nothing.

It looked like Nikale had been right.

He quickly led us through the atrium and down a flight of stairs to a door labelled “ENGINEERING,” where, true to his word, a trio of hazmat barding suits hung against the wall. With all three folded up neatly in his saddlebags, we trotted back to the entrance, and sealed the door behind us, though not before I noticed how small the atrium of this Stable seemed.

As the heavy cog door rolled back into place, I hesitated for a moment, waiting for it to settle so I could read the number.

“M15”

I spent several seconds considering the “M” and its meaning, but the sound of Nikale’s hooves on the metal staircase snapped my focus back to the present.

Time to go.

* * * * * * *

Waking up never felt so utterly tortuous to me before. Every moment spent standing on all four hooves, I wanted nothing more than to find a marginally-soft spot of dirt and curl up on it. Even the cup of something hot and slightly tangy that Maizan offered me did little to completely clear the haze from my mind, though it did give me a measure of focus for a few minutes.

And in the midst of this, Kyra wanted to talk business.

“Alloy, gotta talk to ya for a sec,” she said, taking a seat next to me.

I shot her my best withering glare, but the griffon was unfazed. After a moment, she just kept talking.

“I offered to guard you an’ Grit to Stable 15 an’ back for free so y’all could see what I could do. An’ I did. If you want me t’ stick around for this excavation business, we’re gonna have t’ talk price.”

I looked away from her, staring into the cup of brown liquid before me. The steam wafted into my nostrils and gave me some of my energy, and I calmly lifted the cup in my forehooves, sipping a generous gulp of what was left. Even with my eyes closed, I could tell Kyra was watching me intently, but I wasn’t going to rush this on her account. She’d wait. Savoring the warmth and faint sweetness of the drink, I swallowed before calmly opening my eyes again and turning my focus on Kyra, alert for at least the next few minutes before the exhaustion took me again. “And what would you consider a fair price?” I prompted.

“30 caps a day.” She had answered without hesitation, meeting my gaze.

“No.” I turned away from her and took another sip from my cup, only catching a glimpse of Kyra’s beak hitting the floor.

“ ‘No’? That’s it? C’mon Alloy, that ain’t fair, I got shit I need taken care of, too!”

I nodded, looking back at her, hesitating for a second. There was a genuine worry there. I’d strung customers along to get a better price out of them, and I’d even gotten this reaction before, but usually over one of my nicer-looking swords, or a horn ring in one instance. I’d only meant to stonewall her for negotiation, but… I flicked an ear. “Can’t go that high,” I answered. “As long as I’m out there helping with this dig, I’m not at my shop. 15 caps per day.”

Kyra rubbed the side of her beak with one claw, and for another split-second I had the urge to bump the price up. But I held my gaze firm. “I mean, you’re right. But what if it only takes a couple days? I’ll come up pretty dry at 15.” She glanced away, then locked eyes with me again. “20. No lower!”

I shook my head. “15 is my limit.” I had the bargaining advantage here. By her own admission, Kyra needed a job. But all the same, she was right. “But I’ll cover you in case the whole thing is over in a few days. 15 caps per day is the rate, with a minimum payout of 150 caps. Deal?”

At last, she cracked her familiar smile. It didn’t have quite the same energy I was used to, but she smiled all the same. “That works for me. Hey, would you mind draftin’ that up into a formal contract for me?” I cocked one eye at her, and opened my mouth to question why, but she held up her talons in defense as soon as she saw my expression shift. “No, no! Just need somethin’ on paper. Talon bullshit.”

I relaxed slightly and nodded. “Sure. I’ll get you a written copy after we get to the prison tonight.” As Kyra stood up, I briefly wondered why she only wanted a written contract now. Was it the caps? Had Stable 15 drafted something up for her?

“You okay there?” Kyra’s voice snapped through my thoughts and shook me back to the moment. Kyra was tilting her head, watching me. Hadn’t she left? “I gotta say, y’ look like shit, Alloy. Didn’t sleep well?”

My blood ran cold for a moment. Did she know? Had she noticed my absence last night? I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head firmly, both to clear my thoughts and answer Kyra. “No, but I’ll be fine.”

She shrugged her wings nonchalantly before turning away again. She couldn’t have known. Could she? My concerns were soon forced to the side as Grit started to round us up to head back to Stable 15, all while the ground continued to look particularly comfortable.

* * * * * * *

All told, Nikale had found us nine volunteers. Among them, I noticed, were some of the Zebras that Chainlink had been carting off all those weeks ago, including Xekan, and upon arriving, we set up camp in one of the houses near where I’d found the incomplete painting. Over the next week, we each took it in turns to spend the day hauling rubble, standing guard, or just clearing away debris from our basecamp. I made it a personal project to mend the patchwork roof we had into something that would at least keep us out of the rain, mostly using pieces of the cars and skywagons left behind.

But while the dig was going about at the pace we could have hoped for, we quickly started running into a few problems.

Or more accurately, problems began running into us.

The first creatures to attack were a trio of marshlurks, which I only heard about after the fact. Lucky for me, I’d been at the basecamp working on the roof at the time, but Ginger Snap took a heavy blow to his head, and Kyra came back with a gash across her hind leg that she waved off as no big deal. For three days straight, bloodsprites came at us in swarms, until we found their nest and burned it down. One of the zebras got bit, but luckily the ‘sprite had died before it had a chance to drain him dry. We had one day of tense, nervous guard duty where nothing came at us, but the day after, a lurkilizard clamped its jaws around Xekan’s legs while he was momentarily distracted from guard duty. Grit killed the thing, but Xekan had to be bandaged up and quickly flown back to Shipper.

And all at once, the arguments started.

“You never told us we’d be under siege at all times, Blacksmith!” one of the zebras bellowed at me, with Grit stepping between us. I shrunk away, eyes darting between pairs of hostile eyes that burned into me.

“We didn’t know, we just-”

“We’re spending so much time digging, we’re exhausted for guard duty!” A chorus of agreements rose up around the zebra mare, and I glanced over to her, opening my mouth. I couldn’t get a single word out before the next one shouted at me.

“If you cannot keep us safe, take us home!”

Another chorus of agreements.

No, no, no, we’d been so close! Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Grit’s exhausted expression, dark bags gathering under his eyes. He’d been working his damndest to keep the zebras safe, but it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t let this happen. We just needed more ponies, we needed-

Suddenly, cutting through the heated argument like a gust of cool air, the radio on the spritebot’s speaker crackled and hissed and began to play soothing, orchestral music, a piece I could swear I’d heard before but couldn’t place.

All thirteen of us, zebras and ponies, turned to stare at Kyra, who had been meddling with the robot and now stood proudly beside it, a triumphant grin on her face. “Figured y’all could use something t’ calm you down, y’know? And I figure, everyone likes music. So… ta-daaa!”

The zebras, along with Star and Ginger looked considerably calmer for the momentary distraction, and began talking amongst themselves in a much less heated manner.

Grit, on the other hand, was staring right at me.

He bobbed his head slightly, glancing to the spritebot. Then he met my gaze again.

And all of a sudden, I remembered where I’d heard the music before.

It’d been on Sugarland’s radio.

“No, there’s no way!” I hissed at Grit, incredulous.

He grimaced and waved one forehoof at the crowd of zebras who, thankfully, weren’t paying us close attention. “We do need more guards. An’ they’ve got radios, guns, gear, everythin’.”

“Bourbon would kill us on sight!” My blood was running cold. I couldn’t believe Grit was even thinking like this. Vivid memories of a night spent cold and wet inside a broken skywagon rushed back at me. All thanks to Sugarland’s assumption we were slavers.

“Not her,” he retorted, nodding at Kyra.

Immediately, her head jerked upward, turning towards Grit and I, despite the crowd between us. “What about me?”

And just like that, the conversation was no longer private. The gathering of zebras turned their attention first to Kyra, then followed her gaze to me. “Do you have an idea?” one of them asked hopefully.

My hoof was forced. The anger may have been diffused, but they were right. We couldn’t keep working under siege by the Bayou’s worst creatures daily. I looked over at Grit, who was as silent as me. I could tell he was trying to mull over how to phrase this, but every second we took to reply would make the zebras less confident in our plan, despite how little faith I had in it.

“Maybe,” I said, jumping to the answer while the initiative was ours. “Can you give us a few minutes to work this out? We’ll meet you back at basecamp.”

With only a little muttering, the herd of zebras began to walk back to our camp for the evening, while Grit and I trotted over to Kyra to fill her in. Maybe there was another way, maybe we could still find guards at Four Shoes, but it would only be one or two at most. We’d need experts.

We’d need Sugarland’s help.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Footnote: N/A

Alloy Shaper’s Smithy
Sales Journal

Author's Notes:

Well hey, apparently if I had just waited an hour before posting my blogpost yesterday, I would have been able to say “Round two edits are done!” instead of just “I don’t know when Pip will be able to get to round two!” Oh well, consider this a happy Thursday surprise!