After fishing me out of a sea of bullets, Mustang and Crosshair forced me to rest, whilst they made sure all the robots were no longer hostile. It took them a few hours, giving me time to sort out some of the bullets. However, my chest began to ache over time, gradually getting worse and worse. Eventually it became so bad I had to lay down and curl up to try and somewhat alleviate the pain. I wanted a shot of Med-X, but they were in my saddle bags. Just as I decided getting up was more trouble than staying on the floor, I heard hoofsteps from behind me.

“Inkwell! Why didn’t you say you were hurt?” Crosshair asked, leaning into my vision. I absently noticed he still hadn’t cleaned off the ash from his nose.

“I didn’t feel it.” I choked out, gritting my teeth in pain. “Not until now. Didn’t want you guys worrying, anyways... Owie... I think a rib is floating... again...”

“You idiot, what part of pretending not to be hurt made sense?” Crosshair asked, hooves up in the air in frustration. “Mustang get in here, I need you to carry our Elder.” Crosshair reached into his saddlebags and removed a syringe. “Probably best you aren’t awake for this. Pity there’s only a half-dose of Med-X left. It’ll have to do I suppose.” Crosshair stuck the needle into me, plunging me into sweet release.

Then he punched me in the face.

I recoiled from the sudden blow. “OW! Crosshair, what-?”

Crosshair raised his hoof again. “As I said Elder, best you aren’t awake. This one should knock you out.” This time his hoof struck me on the temple and I was out like a light.

I’m floating, the feeling of weightlessness fills me as I swim through the air. I bump into a wall, glancing around I realise I’m in a small room, the room rattling all around me. Furniture floats up around me, the bed, desk even the chair. My eyes lock onto the wardrobe bolted to the wall, realization hits me as I recognize my surroundings. I’m back on the airship, right when it was crashing.

I’m now touching the ceiling, like some spider, I easily walk along its surface and pull myself over, not to the wardrobe, but to the door leading to the hallway beyond. I grasp the door with my hoof, and the heat sears my flesh and fur, blackening it as I pull away. The door itself grows brighter and hotter as it melts before my eyes.

“Still happy I’m dead?” I knew that voice, knew it from before Wintertrot. But no, that pony was dead, I saw them dead and burnt. A pony in full Steel Ranger armor walked into the melted doorway, shining and shimmering from the white hot metal surrounding her. I recognized the mare, even though her mane was gone and her face was extremely burnt. But only because of the obnoxious, non regulation earring she always wore.

“Jack Knife.” I squeaked, slowly floating backwards. Waving my legs to steady myself in freefall, I watched her walk into the room in dumbfounded horror. “I saw you die. On the airship.”

“Isn’t that cute? Think a little old fire can stop me tormenting you?” She cackled, the flesh on her cheeks close to tearing. She licked her lips, her tongue made of what looked like liquid fire.

“Get back, you’re dead. DEAD! I collected your dog tag!” Something flashed in the flickering light, and I looked over to see the little bit of metal on it’s chain, wrapped around my hoof. Jack Knife scowled, stamping over to me and tried to pull it away. But her hooves couldn’t get it off, try as she might, and eventually gave up with a huff.

“You little thief! Stealing from your superiors. Lets see what the Elder has to say about all this.” She flung me over her back, and the glowing metal of her armor seared my chest, eliciting a sharp flair of pain. She stalked through burning corridors of molten metal, unaffected by the white hot flames that licked at her hooves.

She carried me to a roughly cut hole, the searing heat being replaced by an incredible cold. We were outside the airship, snow surrounding us on all sides. Nearly a hundred ponies were out here, all of them horribly mutilated by fire. A pony wearing robes that had partially melted and fused to his flesh turned to look at me.

“Ah, Initiate... oops, sorry, ‘Treasurer’ Inkwell.”

“You’re dead... You died in the inferno Elder Ratchet.” The burning former Elder grinned horribly, reaching for for my hoof and trying to pull away another dog tag I hadn’t realised I was holding. The grin quickly vanished, replaced with a bony scowl.

“Give it back, Initiate.” He rasped, seemingly struggling to pull away the dog tag held limply in my hoof. “You have to let it go.”

“I can’t... I can’t. I don’t know why, but I just can’t.” The mob of burned ponies seemed to close in, ever so slightly. “It’s not like I want to carry these.” My hoof had become burdened under a thick ring of dog tags, their names blurry and unrecognizable.

“Don’t let go then. Keep hanging on to this hopeless endeavour!” Elder Ratchet said, flailing his forehooves in a gesture of mock defeat. His voice was slowly coming out more clearly, losing the rasp. “You have no concept of what leadership means. You think it’s all about getting ponies to listen to you?” His tone became firm, like my drill sergeant back at basic training.

“I don’t know. But, I’m trying.” I paused, taking a quick breath. “I’m trying really, really hard.” The silence that greeted me was chilling. For a few moments nopony spoke. I glanced around noticing it had stopped snowing. The ponies around me weren’t burnt husks anymore, they were flesh and blood. And they were all staring at me expectantly.

“Do not try to be a good Elder.” Ratchet spoke carefully, as if finding the words hard to say. “BE a good Elder.”

“But how will I know? What if I get a bitch like Jack Knife in my contingent?”

“HEY!” Jack shouted indignantly.

“There is always a bitch like Jack Knife in the contingent.” Ratchet explained calmly.

“HEY!” Jack Knife shouted again, to the amusement of everypony.

“But it is how you handle them that matters.” I glanced around at the sea of familiar faces, the dog tags no longer seeming so heavy in my hooves.

“Thank you. I’ll uh... I’ll try not to screw it up too bad...” I replied.

Sighing, Elder Ratchet facehoofed gently. “Probably the best we’ll get...” The world began to blur as I felt myself drifting away again. Before I could get away, Ratchet’s almost accusing voice cut through the fog. “And remember, only recruit ponies!”

As I floated away, I pretended not to hear. “Whaaaat? I’m kinda fading out fast here!”

“Oh, shit!” I could just barely make out him curse. “He’s already got a damn-.”

I awoke feeling not refreshed, but definitely better. Glancing around, I realised I was in the medical wing of the stable. Dust coated gurneys and dustier beds filled the room. My saddlebags were lying next to my bed. Searching through them revealed they were devoid of my Med-X.

“He’s gone quiet. Do you think he’s woken up?” Mustang whispered, failing miserably at being quiet. His naturally deep voice echoed in the empty corridors.

“I doubt he’s still asleep, the amount of Med-X I had was hardly enough to tranquilise him.” Crosshair replied calmly. There was an awkward moment of silence as their hooves got closer.

“Good thing he had those spare Med-X syringes, I wouldn’t have wanted to feel what you were doing to him either.” So that was where my Med-X went. I fumed silently for a moment, but let it go for now. I could always get some later. Mustang and Crosshair finally passed by the observation room window. I waved to them as they entered the room.

“Elder, what are you doing?” Crosshair asked suspiciously.

“I don’t know.” I said a bit listlessly. Pulling my hoof out, I realised I had twisted the chains of dog tags around it. Holding them up, I looked at them for a moment. “Thinking.”

Crosshair seemed to pick up on what I was feeling and remained respectfully silent. Mustang on the other hoof was unaware.

“What a fascinating collection of dog tags. I didn’t know you collected them.” He stated, sounding genuinely curious.

“I don’t.” I said dully. I went to lift my own up, but found it was missing. Panicking slightly, I glanced around before finding it lying on the bedside table.

“Oh.....Oh, um, er... My apologies, Elder. I was, ahem, unaware of how important they were to you... I’ll just...” An awkward silence threatened to fall upon us, but was quickly squashed by a tinny voice.

“Stand clear, stand clear. Patient detected.” A robot hovered into the room, Crosshair and Mustang levelled their guns at it, but hesitated when the robot didn’t react. “All firearms must have their safeties on when not on the firing range. Please put your weapons safeties on, or security will be notified.”

“Do what it says! The last thing we want is Stable security online again.” With reluctance, both of them put their weapon’s safeties on and allowed the robot to hover over to me. It was a Mister Handy model, specifically programmed as a doctor. The Ministry of Peace’s cross with three butterflies was painted on the side.

“Good evening patient *TICKET UNIDENTIFIED*, I am the Stable’s official diagnostic robot and medical dispenser.” The Robot moved one of its eye-stalks forward. “Performing diagnostic spell.” A beam of light passed over me, the robot made several strange beeping sounds as it processed the data.

“I can’t inform you of your problems. Your guests will have to wait outside the room.” I could tell just by looking at both of them, that my companions were not in the mood to leave me alone with the robot. I instead, tried a new tactic.

“Can you deliver your diagnosis later? I really, REALLY! Want to catch up with my friends.” A series of fizzing static sounds and beeps emanated from the robot, it likely needed some maintenance or replacement parts. After a long pause, the robot’s eyes flickered three times.

“Your condition is not life threatening. I shall deliver my diagnosis later, shutting down to conserve power.” The robot hovered across the room and into an alcove hidden behind some overturned furniture. The robot’s legs folding up neatly as it shut down.

“Well now. That was unexpected.” Crosshair muttered.

“I think it’s damaged, given how long it was taking to process a simple request. I’ll take a look at it later.” I said with a hint of weariness. I still felt tired, being knocked out is no substitute for proper rest.

“Do you want to talk about your dog tags Elder?” Crosshair asked. I contemplated the question, weighing spilling my guts to them.

“No... not really, but it would probably help in the long run....” Mustang levitated two chairs out from a corner and set them by the bed. They both got comfortable as I got ready to talk. “I suppose I should explain about these right?” I rattled the dog tags for emphasis. “Every Ranger gets one, initiates, scribes, knights, paladins etcetera. It’s kind of like a personal record.” Mustang raised a hoof, to interrupt me. I nodded and let him speak.

“What do you mean it’s a personal record Elder? It looks like a plain, if slightly thick piece of plated steel.”

“Looks can be deceiving Mustang. Allow me to demonstrate.” I levitated my own dog tag in front of me and carefully pressed it together, whilst unclasping a tiny lock on the bottom. The lock was cleverly concealed inside the plain tag, which popped open and revealed a thin strip, glowing with blue arcane magic.

“Is that some kind of...storage device?” Crosshair asked, leaning in closer.

“It is Crosshair, it is. Think of it like a holotape or recording that you can add to and edit. Normally it’s a scribe’s job to add data to dog tags and record everything on them, onto a maneframe.” I reassembled my dog tag and put it back on. “These dog tags, these pieces of plated steel and data storage devices...They’re all I have left of them, all I have left of everyone I knew.” Oh Cocknoodles, my eyes were watering. Leaders weren’t supposed to cry.

“Elder are you-” Mustang asked, before I cut him off.

“I’m...I’m fine, just a little overwhelmed. Did I ever tell you about Jack Knife?” Both stallions shook their heads at me.

“To be honest Elder, you’ve been rather guarded about your past.” Crosshair explained.

“Yeah. Heh, sorry about that. I’ve been trying not to think about the crash or my past much. So Jack Knife, she was...a bitch. No not a bitch; ‘Thee Bitch’ of our, sorry, my contingent.” I paused for a second to let my words sink in. “She got to be queen bitch with her attitude and the fact she was a senior knight. Not a Paladin you understand, but she outranked regular knights and initiates. Jack Knife got some special privileges, like being allowed to bully the lower ranking knights and initiates, all on account of her special talent.”

“What was her special talent? Leadership, using guns?” Mustang asked, I snorted, shaking my head and smiling.

“No. Her talent was a metal detection spell.” I could see Mustang and Crosshair were both let down. “Hey that spell was nothing to sniff at. She could fine tune that spell to detect certain alloys, specifically the ones used in making certain weapons.” Realization dawned on both Crosshair and Mustang’s faces.

“So due to her unique spell, Jack Knife was allowed to be a Knight? Despite being a unicorn?” Crosshair asked.

“Exactly. And oh how she enjoyed flaunting that fact, walking around in her damn armor. In fact, let me tell you about when she first got her promotion...”

Rust. Every wall was covered in layers of rust and grime. The walls had become this rotten mess over a period of years, laying forgotten as the room was designated as a storage space. Now I was tasked with removing two centuries of rust, a punishment I felt was wholly unjust. I mean, okay, I had been helping Scribe Wavelength tinker and construct a device we found on some old schematics. But I hardly feel I was responsible for when she tested the device and blew down one of the walls of our compound.

Wavelength got reprimanded and was made to help rebuild the wall. I got lumbered with derusting some of the older rooms. It was dull, boring work, but I was at least allowed to use magic. I levitated a wad of steel wool and used my hoof to scrub another wad of wiry wool on the rusty walls.

I was almost out of the vinegar I was using, when I heard the familiar heavy stamping of power armor. No doubt a knight was bringing me another bucket of vinegar.

“Ugh, what’s that smell? Did somepony spill a vat of vinegar?” A mare’s voice asked. “Oh, no wait, it’s just you Inky.” The mare finished, giggling to herself.

“Hello Jack...” I said flatly. “Did you see a knight with a bucket of vinegar? I’ve nearly run out and-” She cut me off mid-sentence

“Geeze, Inky, rude much? At least turn around if you’re going to talk to me.” I sighed, turning around and dropping both my steel wool sponges. Jack Knife was there all right, but she was wearing a full suit of power armor, minus a helmet. Her smile only grew bigger seeing my reaction. “HAH! Your expression is priceless.” A white flash blinded me as Jack Knife took a photo on a camera she’d been levitating.

“Gimmie that! I’m not letting you post photos of me all over the compound!” I yelled indignantly. “I look like shit!”

“As opposed to how you normally look?” She replied snidely.

Not even bothering to say anything, I presented myself with my hoof, swaying it as if saying ‘look at me, and think about what you just said.’

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right... Waste of a good photo right there. I’m just celebrating my promotion to Knighthood. I want to capture every moment of this day.” Inside I was privately seething, I really shouldn’t have been. She earned the promotion, because it fit her skill set. She walked closer, still smiling brightly.

“Congratulations.” I said sarcastically. “I’m sure the wasteland will tremble at your hoofsteps.” I added in the same pouty tone.

“Oh shut up, Inkwell. You’ll get the chance to try on power armor some day. Probably when you have to set my armor and try it on for me. I’m sure the mare setting will fit you perfectly.” I gritted my teeth, biting back a retort. She was technically my superior officer now. “Come by my quarters later Inky, you can fill out my requisition forms for me.” As if that was happening.

“Forget it, Jack. I’m busy enough without having another workload on me. Do your own damn paperwork.” I retorted

“Ugh, Luna’s backside, Inkwell. How can you be so smart and still be so stupid!” She was nearly in my face at this point, and if looks could kill, I’d have had a nice hole in my head. Suddenly she lurched forward, and our heads collided.

Cursing in bewilderment, I tried to shove her back. Unfortunately power armored mares are pretty heavy, and I only succeeded in mashing our faces together even more. Finally, after some moments of awkward face mumbling, Jack Knife pulled back, her face showing disappointment.

“This, uh... armor is hard to get used to.” She said abruptly, then turned away and left me to myself.

I pulled myself off of the nasty, runny wall with a horrible sucking sound. My coat was stained with rust. Nearly crying in anguish, I left my punishment unfinished. I needed to be clean again, and was later reprimanded for tricking a few of the other initiates into finishing my work.

“And that’s just one of the times she made a mess for me to clean up!” I finished, a little anger heating my words. “It took days to get the red out! If there’s one good thing that came out of it, she stopped calling me Inky after that.”

“Elder... Do you understand the concept of romance?” Mustang asked, completely out of the blue.

“It, uh, it has something to do with neurochemical stimulants and some type of courting methods, usually towards a mare... right?” Crosshair facehoofed so hard it made a cracking sound.

“You are Doomed Elder. Doooooomed.” Crosshair stated sadly, shaking his head as he got up. “I’m not sure how you missed all those signs.” Signs? What was he talking about? There was nothing I missed. Crosshair’s face had frozen, whilst I was pondering a devious smile on his face. “Elder. Have you ever had sex?” I felt my face redden quickly.

“I, uh... Crosshair that’s...! I... NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!” Crosshair and Mustang were giving me those judging looks again. “Hey, I’ve done it before! I’m no virgin! It took HOURS!”

“Riiiiiiight” The two rangers said in eerie unison.

“We’ll just let you get some sleep now.” Mustang stated, standing up.

“That’s right Elder, try to avoid any amorous dreams won’t you? We don’t want you falling out of bed.” The two stallions walked out of the room, leaving me with a growing sense of dread.

I managed to get a couple of hours of much needed sleep, after Crosshair returned and assured me that the Stable door was shut. I slept comfortably, no dreams of vague fires or images of evil zebras. When I awoke feeling truly refreshed for the first time in ages, I was eager to get out of bed. Unfortunately my ribs were still giving me trouble. The pain wasn’t unbearable, but it did make me think twice about sudden movements. A cool syringe of Med-X, that I had to convince Crosshair to give me, and I was almost ready to go.

We ate a quick breakfast of two-hundred year old sandwich in a can (peanut butter and ‘raspberry’ jelly). The can was a lie though, you had to spread the jelly and butter on the bread yourself. It made me a little off put, and subtle suggestions of what I would do to the inventor if it turned out he was ghoulified pleasantly lurked at the back of my thoughts.

Riding the elevator to the top, I finished what was left of the lie in a can. We entered the Overstallion’s office later, now without the deadly robots ready to shoot us. I tapped one of the walls suspiciously, hearing a hollow clang of a hidden room. That was where T.I.T had decided to hide some backup for their employee’s protection. There was a large terminal that took up the back wall, which likely held all of this stable’s instructions. Curious, I accessed it, finding it to be surprisingly enough, not password protected.

The screen flickered as I was on the main menu, I scrolled through the options before selecting the Stable instructions tab. Two more options popped up, the Stable-Tec instructions and the T.I.T instructions. I tried the Stable-Tec one first.

“Greetings Overmare. You have been chosen to lead this Stable in an exciting endeavour. We at Stable-Tec believe that somewhere along the way, Ponykind lost its way. That is why your Stable will be participating in an exciting joint-company project with Trotsworth Independent Technologies, that’s T.I.T. for short. The goal of this stable is to-” The message cut off abruptly and was replaced by the sound of static. “Test. Testing. One, two, three.” The hell? Did someone accidentally record over something as important as Stable Instructions? More static filled our ears, before a new voice finally replaced it.

“Hello, this is Pinstrike Trotsworth, CEO of Trotsworth Independent Technologies.” Well, hello back to you! Things had just gotten very, very interesting.

“Our company has the pleasure of working with Stable-Tec, a joint project full of risk and unique opportunity.” There was a pause and muffled whispering, and sounds of somepony crumpling up and throwing away a piece of paper. “This Stable is not a proper Stable, it’s been converted into an ammo storage and testing laboratory. Plenty of the other Stables we are building will be used for their intended purpose. Stable-Tec is unaware of this, and their employees in this stable must be left unaware of this deception.

“In the event of the highly improbable megaspell apocalypse or outright destruction of Equestria, this stable will close automatically. There will be enough food to keep the senior most staff alive and well, before they can migrate to another of our stables. There will also be an adequate amount of radiation and hazardous environment survival equipment for the trek through the potentially irradiated ruins to Stable XII.

“You will no doubt have noticed the numerous robots around this particular stable. They were intended as part of some idiotic Stable-Tec experiment, but have been repurposed as security robots. You should already know this due to the many, many safety briefings, but I’ll say it once again: Do not try to take testing or training equipment from the Stable or the firing range.

“This, as you know, will result in the Stable security turning hostile, until the stolen equipment is returned or the stable security is reset. Fortunately you can do this from your desk or if it comes to it, you can always reset the system from Engineering or the Stable Security offices. We hope that...” There was a sigh of exasperation and mutterings we couldn’t make out before the tape cut off abruptly. I guess that explained the robots behaviour. The massive robot following us must have assumed we had taken weapons from the firing range. I facehoofed, thinking of the waste it had turned out to be after all. If only we’d known beforehoof.

“Well, at least we know what we’re dealing with.” Crosshair stated almost nonchalantly as he rifled through the Overstallion’s desk. “I think you know what we need to do Elder.”

I nodded in agreement. “Yep. Obviously we just have to disable the robo-”

Crosshair cut me off, slamming his hoof on the Overstallions desk. “No Elder, we have to destroy them. Machines can’t be trusted, you ponies were too reliant on them during the war.”

That was complete nonsense, of course. The Zebras had used warmachines all the time.

For a moment there was complete silence, and I noticed Mustang and Crosshair were staring at me. Mustang in interest, and Crosshair in a mix of loathing and denial.

“Go on,” Mustang said expectantly.

“Er... did I just say that out loud?” I asked hesitantly.

“You did, Elder. Though to be fair, it is a valid argument.” Mustang responded diplomatically, taking the neutral side. I glared a little at him for being so... neutrally not on my side.

“Well, my point still stands. Zebras used robots just as much as the ponies did. Maybe even more than us at some point, later in the war.” Shrugging, I trotted to the overstallion’s desk and accessed his terminal. “If some of the reports are to be believed, they were eventually going to try to only fight with them.”

Crosshair huffed in obvious anger. Flailing his head around, he started to bang his hooves on the floor. “Nnnngh~! Noooo!” He said, his voice a bit strangled. “Lies...! Evil...! UUGH~!” For a moment, he just took a large breath and then slowly let it out, his face turning a bit red. I was suddenly worried he might pop a blood vessel or something.

“Woah, there!” Mustang said in concern, pushing his hooves onto Crosshair’s shoulders. “You have to calm down, the Elder is only speaking what is... what he believes to be true.” It was true, but it seemed like a bad time to point that out.

“Crosshair, go lie down. Mustang go with him and make sure he does.” They stood around for a little bit, Crosshair half looking like he wanted to lash out at me. Mustang guided him from the room, keeping a firm hoof on his shoulder.

I waited until they had entered the elevator before I began examining the Overstallion’s terminal. It contained a helpful map of the Stable and showed all the PipBuck signatures and robots patrolling the lower and upper floors. There also seemed to be something called OSDefMeas. I was really sure I’d never heard anything like that before. Selecting it, I suddenly had to cling to the desk as it groaned and shuddered. With a squeal of metal, the circular dais it rested on rose up, and twin linked gatling lasers deployed from the sides.

Staring over the front, I couldn’t help but mutter in amazed excitement. “Wooooooah...!” This was awesome, this desk... no, my desk had roof and desk mounted gatling lasers. I had to show it off to the other guys sometime. I selected the OSDefMeas option again and then proceeded to select the stable’s security robots, shutting them all down. The robot blips vanished from the map all at once. I got up and decided to go inspect the firing range, maybe test out a couple of the exotic bullets.

“~Shot by shot, bullets hit the target.~” I sang cheerfully, watching as the last green tipped bullet exploded in a corrosive burst of acid on the pony shaped target at the end of the range, leaving a nasty puddle. I made a quick note on a clipboard I had found and proceeded to the next loaded assault rifle. There was a line of them, sitting along a table. They’d been here for a long time, but they hadn’t needed much in the way of maintenance. Pulling out the clip, I pulled out a single round, and wrote the serial number down, and a brief description. Loading it back in, I leveled the rifle at the next target.

The door to the range hissed open, a familiar medical robot hovered in, dragging a gurney with its gripper claw.

“Ah, there you are, *TICKET UNIDENTIFIED*. You are alone now, and I am pleased to report you have a developing addiction.” Worst. Bedside manner. Ever.

“I’m not addicted. I had to take those med-x syringes. I was in pain!” The robot’s eyes flashed, making fizzing sounds as it processed what I said.

“Typical addict denial. I am required to provide medical attention. Now that you are aware of your condition, you are obligated under company policy #1345-j8 to immediately undergo treatment.”

“I don’t want you to perform surgery, you malfunctioning tin can!” I shouted, backing away from the advancing robot. I needed my power armor back, approximately five minutes ago.

“Medical procedures are mandatory and non-negotiable, young lady. Even if I have to incapacitate you to treat you.” The robot brought its buzzsaw arm forward with a whine, and charged at me.

Telekinetically pulling the rifle close to me, I settled the butt against my chest and pulled the trigger. The recoil slammed the rifle against me, but I cushioned it with my magic. The rifle chattered almost happily, slamming round after round into the rushing robot. Each bullet hit with a small blue arc of electricity, punching holes into the light armor. As the dead weight of the bot fell upon me, I shoved a hoof up, bracing the still flailing armature away from me. Jamming the barrel of the gun against one of the holes, I held the trigger down until it clicked empty.

Pushing the bot back, it clattered to the ground. Taking a deep breath, I levitated the clipboard over, and marked off the EMP round functionality box. Looking around, all I could do was wish that Mustang, or even Crosshair had seen how EPIC I had just looked. Why couldn’t I do stuff like that when I wasn’t alone? I let out a resigned sigh. It suddenly occurred to me that I had supposedly shut down all of the robots. I guess medical, and maybe maintenance robots, were excluded? Getting over it, I levitating the robot out onto the firing range, and with some difficulty, set it up like another target.

“Can I join you Elder?” I turned to see Crosshair standing by the door, giving me a blank look.

“Of course you can, grab a gun Ranger, you can help test out some of these bullets.” Crosshair trotted over to the table of guns and began examining them. He finally selected a sniper rifle but took a moment to swap out the scope for one he’d been carrying in his saddlebag.

“I have to test out my new scope Elder. It’s going on my Zebra rifle after all.” Crosshair explained, before he loaded a clip of experimental bullets into his sniper rifle. He took aim at the expired doc I had propped up and fired.

What happened next was a thing of beauty.

The round exploded out of the muzzle in an eye searing blast of light and heat. The flaming bullet left a streak of afterimage along my retinas, before bursting violently against the lightly armored robotic hull. With a resounding roar, a pillar of flame burst through the top of the bulbous chassis. Before the flames could reach the ceiling above, a series of chemical retardants blasted out of barely visible vents.

Almost as soon as I understood what was happening, at least a third of the roof opened up, revealing extractor fans, which powerfully suctioned the dense smoke and powder. My mane flapped against my face as the turbine generated wind sucked air in from behind me. Then, with a suddenness that was almost startling, it all retracted back in, leaving the firing range almost as if nothing had happened. The only visible remains were the now half melted, chemical powder coated husk of the medical bot. Small shards of metal rained down in plinks and patters, tinkling merrily in my ringing ears.

I slowly swivelled my head towards Crosshair, my hooves coming up to frame my face in astonished wonder. “Wooooow...!” I said breathily, feeling like a little foal discovering the beauty of guns for the first time. “That was aaaaawesoooome~!”

“That was not awesome Elder, that bullet was incredibly dangerous. What if it jammed in the barrel and exploded?” Crosshair pointed out, trying to bring me out of my gun induced high.

“Ahah, n-no~! shhh-shhhhh!” I said, interrupting him. “Can’t talk for a minute. Need to let certain body parts settle down.” Crosshair gave me a confused look as I dashed from the room. I didn’t have time to think on it as I dashed into the closest public bathroom. Slamming the door behind me, I turned on the faucet at full blast. Immediately I started yelling in pain. I’d turned on the wrong side, and it was practically molten hot.

I quickly splashed my face with cold water, but my face was still stinging like crazy. I couldn’t think straight like this, too many little nerves prickling me. I placed my hooves on the counter and reached for the cold tap when my hooves slipped, causing me to heabutt the mirror. I yelped as I cut my face and stumbled backwards, falling and hitting the back of my skull, while bits of glass showered down around me. I rolled to sit up, imbedding small pieces of glass into my back, exacerbating the situation.

Sweet Luna’s rounded backside, this hurt. I very carefully trotted over to another mirror and used it to look at my back and pick out as many pieces of glass as I could with my magic. Once that was done, I cleaned my face up as best I could and dabbed water on my cuts. I spotted a Ministry of Peace medical box besides the door and pulled it open. There was no Med-X inside, but there was a healing potion. I glanced outside the bathroom briefly and then levitated my last vial of sweet painkilling medicine out of my tail where I had been hiding it.

I glanced inside the medicine box and pulled out a length of medical tubing, tying it around my right leg to expose a vein. I tightened the vein with my teeth and and left hoof and using my magic, injected the syringe of painkiller. Cold and smooth relief flooded through my body, numbing all my little aches and pains. I sighed contently, just enjoying the sensation before I popped open the healing potion and sipped the deliciously cherry flavored potion, letting it knit my cuts closed.

With a yelp, I put my hoof up to my right ear. Looking in the mirror, I could see a bit of glass still hanging in it, the skin healing around it. Whipping out the bit of glass, I downed the last of the potion, but it was too late. The skin had completely closed, and the small hole remained. Maybe nopony would notice? I just had to pretend my ear was always pierced, who really focuses on a pony’s ear anyway? I mean, I wasn’t going to obsess over it or anything... I flipped it with a hoof a few more times just to make sure it wasn't going to change on me. Nope. Ugh...

With a last glance at it in the mirror, I turned and walked out of the restroom. Outside I walked into Mustang who gave me a suspicious look.

“Are you okay Elder? I heard strange sounds from the bathroom.”

“Of course you did, I wasn’t... uh, rather, I was... er... Having some trouble...?” An awkward silence descended as I let Mustang’s imagination fill in the pieces.

“I...see. Well, now you’re feeling, better...?” There was that awkward pause again... “Perhaps you’d like to join me? I was going to inspect Hailstorm, perhaps you could fix up your own Power Armor?” Mustang had a point, I couldn’t spend all my time productively testing out bullets. I had to fix up my armor, get back out there and recover some more technology. After finding my first Stable, I just knew I was going to be hooked on that feeling of discovery and reclamation. And the bullets~!

“That sounds like a good idea Mustang. I’ll need your help to carry it though, it’s quite heavy.”

“Fascinating... I see why the Steel Rangers are so successful now. This armor, it could turn anyone into a walking tank.” Mustang said, his tone one of wonderment. “So why did you only bring one suit?”

I looked up from my armor. We’d relocated to the PipBuck technician workshop, and I’d been slowly stripping the warped plates from the equally bent infrastructure. The room was overflowing with machining equipment, and I found it hard to contain my excitement at moments, random squee’s squeaking out of me before I could stop them. Containing another shot of happiness, I thought over Mustang’s question.

“I brought a lot of replacement parts, but taking an entire suit would have been weight expensive, and they only help me carry so much.” I explained. Theoretically I could have carried another suit, if I had had time to get another one from the airship armory’s lockers.

“Ah that makes sense. So when do I get a suit?” Mustang asked.

It was a good question, unfortunately I didn’t have any good answers. If there was any power armor in Wintertrot, they would have been stored in military facilities, which would be in lockdown or heavily guarded. “I could, potentially, jury rig some of the servos I have at the moment to help make a frame, but I’m gonna need a bunch more armor and parts. It’d be better to just find a complete suit and customise it to your... size.”

“Are you saying I’m... Fat?” Mustang asked, his eyes flashing alarmingly. His lower lip trembled almost imperceptibly, and I couldn’t help but worry that things might go drastically downhill in a moment.

“O-of course not Star Paladin. I merely meant because you have a taller and more muscular body than myself or Crosshair.” I explained in my best apologetic tone. Mustang glared at me suspiciously, before finally speaking.

“I understand Elder. Just don’t call me fat, I work hard to maintain my figure.” I nodded and decided to focus on inspecting my leg servos and pistons to ensure they were all still properly functioning.

Taking a power clamp, I started exerting pressure to pop the warped plate off. With a loud metal bang, the plate flew off, ricocheted from the ceiling, and impacted along one of the mesh locker doors. For a moment, Mustang and I looked at it, then back at one another. “Woops.” I said, almost as an afterthought.

I left the plate there as I checked over the damaged internals. The self repair talisman was at least still working, but it would need more scrap metal. It had run out at some point, most likely while I was being squished by the oversized security bot. Looking at one of the power junctions reminded me to check over the Magi-drill. I was fairly certain it was fine, but I’d... Squinting in thought, I looked at Mustang.

“I think I know how we can get you power armor, after all.”

I was sprinting back to the firing range, giddy as a colt firing his first laser rifle. Mustang followed asking pointless questions like ‘where we were going’ and ‘wait stop, there’s a hole in the floor’. I burst into the shooting range, after the door politely whooshed open. With a sudden halt, Mustang and I simply stared at the scene before us. Crosshair was sitting sedately, eating a packet of animal crackers calmly topping them with a dollop of green toothpaste.

“Hold on.” I stated. “I’m just gonna leave and come back in and maybe I’ll understand what is going on better.” I stepped back through the door, closed it, opened it again, and then stepped through.

Staring for a moment longer did nothing to help.

“Yeah, still not getting it.” I said flatly

“I don’t see what the problem is, Elder. I found this delicious ‘wintergreen mint’ cream, and decided to have lunch early.”

“Uhhh...” Mustang said eloquently.

I winced away, having much the same thought process. “You know that is for brushing your teeth, right...?”

“Why would I brush my teeth?” Crosshair asked, sounding a bit more confused than he should.

“Gingivitis, abscesses and tooth decay, just to name a few reasons. How else are you supposed to clean your teeth?” I asked incredulously.

Mustang's eyes boggled out. “DO YOU EVEN FLOSS?!”

“Flossing? Like candy floss?” Crosshair asked, still chewing the cracker.

“Stop eating that! It’s bad for you!” I yelped. “You’re going to throw up! How much have you eaten so far?!”

We looked at the table he was sitting at. There were three or four completely emptied tubes, crumpled and squeezed for what looked like every last drop. One was even split open, the insides licked clean.

“Oh my Celestia, I’d laugh if I didn’t know how much this is going to suck for you...”

“What are you talking abo-HURK!”

Mustang and I fled from the room. “YOU HAVE TO CLEAN IT UP LATER!” I yelled as we escaped the horrible sounds of Crosshair’s suffering.

We spent a while sitting outside the door. A long, awkward while, filled only with the faint sounds of what I’m fairly certain was Crosshair’s sickly moaning.

“That was... educational?” Mustang said uncertainly, shattering the quiet. “Why were we going to the firing range anyway Elder?” He asked.

“I was going to ask Crosshair where the mining facility was. They have exoskeleton rigs that they put drills on, like my Magi-drill. I can use them to make you a set of armor.” I explained, Mustang’s face brightened at the mention of his own suit. “At least, I think I can. I believe. Maybe.”

“Well why didn’t you say so? Lets go ask our striped friend.” And then he opened the door, to a sight that would haunt me till the day I’d die. There was Crosshair, laying in pool of minty green puke, trying to stand up, but slipping and falling back into it with wet sounds. Reaching over, I closed the door.

“Let’s wait.” I said, trying to bleach my brain. “We’ll ask him when he’s better. And cleaned up.” Mustang nodded in agreement, his own face looking quite pale.

We didn't see Crosshair until dinner time, which gave us ample time to finish working on my power armor. We were in the Stable’s public cafeteria, Mustang cooking in the kitchen whilst I set up a table for us. Crosshair walked unsteadily into the room, clean and showered but still looking sick as he slumped onto the table.

“Why are equestrian goods so deceptive.” Crosshair mumbled, his face resting on the table. “I mean who cares about taste if you’re not supposed to eat it?” Crosshair groaned, clutching his stomach.

“So how do you clean your teeth normally Crosshair?” I asked, genuinely curious to know how he had been taking care of his teeth.

“We take a cloth and dip it in a special solution. Then we use that damp cloth to clean our teeth, I didn't even know toothpaste existed until today.” Crosshair explained, before curling up and grabbing his stomach.

“You’ll be fine Crosshair, you just have to take some deep breaths, maybe eat something else so you don’t feel so bad?” We didn’t need to wait long, as Mustang returned with a large omelette on a platter.

I scooped a few hoofulls onto my plate, then took a tentative bite. It tasted awesome. I started shovelling as much into my face as fast as I could. “Where did you get the eggs?” I asked, cheeks bulging.

“Oh, I got them from a radigator nest when we were still on the surface.”

I managed to force myself to swallow the first mouthful, rather than spray it on the table. “Did you say radigator eggs?” I asked a little queasily..

“Oh yes Elder, best eggs you can get, unless you want to try stealing cockatrice or other killer bird eggs.” Mustang said, before adding. “After all, a radigator won’t follow you far inland, but an angry bird can chase you for miles.”

“Where did you even get radigator eggs?” Crosshair asked munching away at his own eggs.

“I found them in a river before I came to Wintertrot, sold half of them to a merchant for a good deal on some canned food.” Mustang replied.

We sat in silence, no more words needed to be said as we ate through our food. The radigator omelette had a spicy taste to it, and still tasted awesome, even if it was a bit disturbing where it came from. I waited until we were nearly finished to speak again.

“So Crosshair, how far are we from the mining facilities?” I asked, Crosshair didn't immediately reply, chewing slowly on his omelette.

“We are roughly two days from the mines, three if you want to take your time and be careful.” Crosshair paused tapping his hoof on the table. “You want to go to the mines don’t you?” He glanced at Mustang and myself and groaned.

“What’s wrong with the mines Crosshair? Are they full of monsters? Dangerous natural hazards? Rogue Robots? Cultists?” I asked, trying to lay out as many scenarios I could think of.

“The area around the mines are booby trapped by the creatures living there. They doggedly hunt down anything that tries to enter the mines-” I laughed out loud at his pun, bits of egg flying everywhere. After giving me the stinkeye, Crosshair continued. “And are fiercely territorial. Please tell me we aren't going there.”

“I'm afraid we must, Knight Crosshair.” Mustang said in a somber tone. “The mines are the only place we know we can find suits of power armor for us.” Crosshair sighed, standing up and taking my plate.

“I'm still hungry.” Crosshair said his mouth half full. “We’ll need to be at full strength for the trek. Eat plenty, we won’t have time to stop tomorrow.” Crosshair stood up, now more steadily than when he first arrived.

“I'm sure he’s exaggerating Elder.” Mustang said, though his tone was clearly conflicted.

“I'm not.” Crosshair said seriously. “If we don’t want to die, we’ll have to be constantly moving. There will be no time for rest.” On that note Crosshair left us sitting there, wondering what awaited us.

“It’s a bit loose, Elder. What did you do to my barding?” Crosshair inquired as we suited up and prepared to leave. We were standing before the stable door, our equipment arrayed around us as we prepared to leave. Mustang was fussing over Hailstorm, and I was having trouble clipping the magi-drill onto my leg plating.

“I only treated the metal alloys to harden them Crosshair, maybe they stretched out a bit?” I had taken to closing up some bullet holes his recon armor hadn't fully stopped for its previous owner. I hoped. Like any good leader, I had stolen away his armor and made a few tweaks and treated the armor with some hardening solvents.

“Did everyone remember to return all the testing guns?” Mustang asked, now finished adjusting Hailstorm and his battle-saddle.

“Yes Mustang. We double, and at Knight Crosshair’s insistence, triple checked.” My magi-drill finally connected with my power armor once more. I’d made all the repairs I could and let the auto-repair feature work its magic on what I couldn't.

“Let us be off then Elder, we've got dangerous territory to pass through.” Mustang said rather too jovially for my liking.

“Yes Star Paladin, and that’s just leaving the stable. Wait until we’re on the streets again, then we only have to worry about Snow Pirates, Raiders and Super Stallions.” Crosshair stated flatly.

I opened the door using the little control terminal. The door hissed and slid inward, before an arm swung down and pulled it aside. We were greeted by the sight of dozens upon dozens of ghostly blue eyes as ghouls looked at us in surprise. I felt my back legs lock up, fear seizing me in it’s icy grip. With a surge they came in, pooling around each other in a storm of thundering hooves.

Out of the rushing herd a voice yelled out. “Alright, which one of you idiots changed the password?”

Footnote

No Significant Level Progression

Author's Notes:

Awesome Authors Note: So this chapter our protagonists take a moment to recover before they have to go off into the frozen city once more. I enjoyed writing this chapter and look forward to writing the next one.

Gryphster Editor’s Note: I dunno what to say here. We’re really grinding through this. Having fun. Feels great. Words.