Three months came and went, both much faster and much slower than I could have ever expected. Time was already muddy and unsure, but especially by the third month I was getting to the point that I could barely remain cognizant of my surroundings. Was it the monotony? Was it the pain of watching so many ponies waste away and die? Or was it the very real pain I felt now as a constant reminder of where I was? Even with the radiation medicine Liese had smuggled in for me so many times, I was growing weak and listless. Weak, listless... and lost.

That last month was all but lost to me, but I remember the day it ended. I was leaning against the fence in the same spot I always did while waiting for the siren to sound, an insufferable and yet indispensably familiar sound that brought be back to reality and told me I could lay down again. I couldn't really remember why I even picked the spot so long ago. There had been something outside of the fence there before. Something that... struck me somehow. It was gone now, but even so I felt more alert and secure in that spot than anywhere else in the crater.

That day, while waiting for that blaring, head splitting siren to sound, an old white unicorn stallion tapped me on the shoulder. “Hey, Longtalons?”

“Huh?”

He tapped my beak to get me to look over. “Somebody's here for you. You get to go ho-err, leave today. C'mon, let's go.”

With effort, I pulled myself up and fought to hide that I was trying to catch my breath from the small motion. “Who?”

Shutter Flash fixed me with a deadpan look. “Some griffon. Didn't give me his name.”

'His name.' Wasn't the lieutenant then. She probably sent the big orange guy who didn't talk. Isaac? Yeah, that was his name. Isaac Clawmarks. I shook my head and started following the pony. It felt like there was something I was forgetting to do. It gnawed at my insides, utterly refusing to let me take any joy in the fact that I was leaving the depths of Hell to return to the upper levels. But what... oh. Oh. “Wait... where's Rusty? Rusty Rivet?”

Shutter looked back and muttered something under his breath about being in deep manure. “Don't you remember? He's gone. Been gone three days. Luckiest pony out of the lot I figure. They had to carry him out, but you threatened to snap somepony's neck if we didn't let him go. Which we were going to and did do.”

I said that? Uh... sure. Maybe? It felt like I hadn't seen him in, well, a month, but he actually got out? That I could scarcely believe. He might have gotten out of the crater but I'd bet cigarettes that he was still in a factory somewhere in this pony-princesses-forsaken city hauling pallets of material as fast as they could whip him to. Maybe I'd find out soon.

To my mild surprise the griffon at the gate was gray and blue speckled, not orange. Serge-ent... Sergeant Serge Swiftwing. That made sense I guess. He was tasked with dumping me off here, so he could be the one to pick me up.

Serge was too far away to really pick out any details when Shutter flash stopped me. “Hang on, let me get this thing off of you.” He reached up, unclasped the joints on the collar and pulled it off. “Right, there you are. Now, no need to tell anypony about that little detail, right? You can just keep that between us.”

Oh no. Oh dear, what would he do if Lieutenant Blackfeathers heard that he'd put a dysfunctional bomb collar on a Talon who was supposed to die here anyway? I bet he'd get to stew in his little shack for all of eternity over why the big bad griffons hadn't come to do something awful to him for mistreating me. Ugh. “Yeah... whatever.”

He grinned nervously. “Right. Okay, let's not keep your friend waiting.”

We continued on, passing the grave pile as we went. I tried not to look, but as always trying not to look at something only made it that much harder. Two ponies laid motionless on the wet cardboard sheet, waiting for the corpse cart to make its rounds. Shutter mumbled something about it not showing up yesterday or the day before, but if the bodies had been there that long it wasn't obvious. Practically every pony here looked two steps away from death now anyway. I thought that maybe I recognized the big stallion, but he was so covered in muck and grime that I couldn't be sure. Something to do with trains... Tinder Car? Double Boiler? Forget it. I could guess train related pony names all day and never remember. The mare wasn't much of a different story. She was kind of yellow looking under her own coat of filth, but so were a fifth of the ponies here. Maybe I knew them, but it was probably for the best that I didn't try to remember.

“Here he is, sir,” Shutter said. “See? Took good care of him.”

Serge scanned me once and did a bad job of hiding a grimace. “Hey, Kaz. I'm glad to see you're alright.”

That was stretching the truth a little. “Me too...”

Shutter sat and clacked his forehooves together a couple of times. “So, uh, he's in your custody now? Not my responsibility?”

“He's returning to duty, so yes, he's out of your hooves.” He waved a claw for me to come closer. “Lieutenant Blackfeathers may follow up with you later, but for now you're done.”

Shutter grinned and hopped up. “A pleasure to help Talon Company. I, uh, I'll be going now.” He backed up two steps, turned and scurried back into his pit of despair.

Again, Serge waved me onward as he started for the path through the rubble back to the main road. “Kaz, I really do mean that I'm glad you're alive.”

“Thanks...”

He stopped at the entrance to an alleyway between two collapsed buildings of indeterminate purpose and shuffled his wings. “We've been... keeping up with you, as much as we could. I know it was hard in there. Whatever anyone else might think, you've more than paid your debts.”

I focused on a pebble on the road, rather than look him in the eye after a comment like that. “You have no idea.”

He sighed and spread his wings. “Sorry, I'll shut up then. Our first stop is the clinic.” He lifted upward and pointed a thumb into the distance. “You'll need a physical before returning to duty.”

If they wanted me to last very long I was going to need an awful lot more than a physical, but the clinic sounded like a very welcoming place right then. I unfolded my wings and tried to join Serge, but my attempts to fly just resulted in a clumsy stagger when I returned to the ground as quickly as I left it.

Serge landed and shook his head. “Can you walk that far?”

It wasn't like I had a whole lot of choice, now did I?

I was convinced that they moved the clinic while I was at the crater. Previously it wasn't more than a kilometer away, but this trip made it feel like a hundred. By the time the little dusty white building appeared through the jungle of shattered glass panes, I was so exhausted that I thought I was genuinely going to have to have Serge carry me. My throat and lungs burned with each breath and my feet were numb, but seeing that little sanctuary gave me the strength to claw my way past the trash and debris.

It seemed that they also replaced the lighting inside while I was away, since the piercing, unnaturally crisp light felt like it was boring holes through my retinas and straight into my frontal lobes. I started to squint and look down while following Serge inside, but the jingling of the door bell surprised me enough to get me to look up.

A young griffoness with pale yellow feathers popped out of the door in the receptionist's office and her eyes flew open. “Dr. Longtalons! I didn't know you... I mean, should I get Dr. Darkskies?”

“Yes, please. She knows why we're here. She's expecting us,” Serge answered for me.

Zella scurried back inside and after a muffled but excited conversation she returned with an older red and pink griffoness. “Kaz! King's feathers, I'm glad to see you!” She stopped just short and asked, “How are you feeling? You look almost as bad as Alfred did last time he dragged his sorry ass in here.”

Time to get ready to answer that question a dozen times. “Terrible.”

Serge gave her some space to look me over and said, “The lieutenant wants you to check him over and send him back to first platoon's HQ when you're done. How long will it take?”

“Three months,” she said with a snort, running her claws through the feathers on my neck.

“This isn't a joke Yvonne...”

She crossed her arms and grumbled. “I don't know. Whatever, tell her he'll be back in three hours.”

The figure seemed to surprise Serge a bit, but he didn't question it. “Alright, thanks. Kaz, I'll be in her office in three hours. She's expecting you so please don't be late.” I didn't need to hear him stress the last sentence to know not to be late. If I screwed up the very first thing Heidi asked me to do after I got out of the crater she'd probably have me permanently demoted to doing laundry or something.

“I'll be there.”

Serge mumbled something about having other things to attend to and excused himself, leaving just the three of us in the lobby. Yvonne pinched and tugged at my back, which would have been far more annoying if she wasn't in the process of confirming what I already knew. “Well, you're pretty dehydrated, so it's no wonder you feel bad. Zella, go get an IV ready.” She patted my back and ushered me toward the door. “You'll feel like a new griffon after that.”

“Thanks.”

We ended up in the back room with 'Alfred's Chair,' and to my mild dismay that's where she deposited me. I was really almost too tired to care about how much vomit I'd seen on that particular seat, but since it had more or less become the official place to put someone suffering from alcohol poisoning or dehydration we kept the needed tools and materials right next to it. Zella even had me hooked up before I realized she'd started.

Vonny turned up a minute later with a pack of liquid sporting a crossed out radiation symbol and a hand held device of some kind that I vaguely recognized as a radiation poisoning gauge. I'd never seen a Stabletec model before. “Zella, when his drip's done give him this.” She passed the intravenous RadAway to her assistant and angled the scanner at me. “Okay, let's get your levels...” She twisted some dials on the side, hit a button, swore, hit it again, shook it once, then dialed it one last time. “Wow. Six-seventy-eight. Not enough to be acutely lethal but you definitely wouldn't want to go much longer without some medicine for it.” She set the scanner on a table and crossed her arms. “Liese tried to get me to give her more for you but it was all I could 'lose' on the inventory sheets without someone getting suspicious. Sorry about that.”

“You already did more than you should have,” I said truthfully. I'd have felt pretty awful if Vonny got in trouble over me. I rubbed my eyes and fought to stay awake. It felt unbelievably comfortable in that chair. “Thanks, by the way.”

She shrugged. “Don't mention it. Seriously.” A smile crept onto her face. “Joking aside, you look exhausted. Go ahead and get some rest. We'll be done here in two hours but I told Serge it would take three, so you've got time to shut your eyes a minute. Are you hungry? Have you eaten anything today?”

Nothing that she'd consider food, I doubted. “Not really.” At that point I'd have been ecstatic to get my claws on anything that wasn't soupy and vaguely made of oats.

“Zella, run and see if you can find something for him, would you? Actually, I think there's some left over stew in the fridge.”

She looked relieved to have a reason to leave. “Yes ma'am.”

“I'd offer you a steak, but I don't have one and you'll need to be careful what you eat for a day or two anyway. Wouldn't want to get sick from eating something too rich,” Yvonne said as she returned to my side to check my neck again. “The heck happened here?”

“It's just rust,” I assured her, taking my mind off of all of the fantastic foods I'd taken for granted in the mess hall. What I'd do for a radigator tail right then...

She snorted and backed off. “Right, Liese told me about that. I was afraid she'd be in the prison for snapping some pony's neck over it.”

I coughed and joked, “I called her off.” Sometimes she really was like an over zealous and overly protective dog. Eager to jump at anything she didn't know or understand and without carefully considering the outcome.

“Heh, good idea. Anyway, I'm going to officially put in for you to go on light duty for a while. If Heidi complains about it, tell her to take it up with me, okay? You're in absolutely no shape to be doing anything strenuous.”

She didn't have to tell me twice, but after this I wasn't going to be telling Heidi to do anything. If she asked me to rearrange the box cars to move the barracks around while singing about how lovely it was to be working for Stern and Red Eye, I was pretty sure I'd be doing it without a peep.

“Kaz?”

I yawned and nodded slowly. I wasn't going to tell Heidi a thing, but I didn't feel like arguing right here regardless.

Vonny patted my shoulder. “Alright. Go ahead and get some sleep if you need it. I'll be back in an hour or two to check up on you. Your wing looks like it might need some attention...”

Already taken care of, but whatever. I just wanted to do exactly what she suggested and shut my eyes. Oh, but the ding of the magic oven in the break room informed me that I'd have some stew to slurp down first. Yes, food first.

Leaving the clinic was one of the hardest things I ever had to force myself to do. It was cool, calm and quiet. There was food. There was water that didn't smell. There was medicine that actually made me feel better. There were griffons who didn't hate me despite what I'd done. It was one of the hardest things I had to force myself to do, but all the same, I had to leave. Serge's polite request to not be late carried more weight than a buffalo, and I wasn't going to anger this buffalo.

With an extra thirty minutes to spare, I'd bid Vonny and Zella goodbye and started on my trip back to the rail yard that served as first platoon's base of operations. Even with the help of the RadAway and fresh food, I wasn't in much state to fly that far. My first attempt lasted only a minute or so before I had to make a clumsy landing in the middle of the parking lot of a bus-chariot service. Subsequent attempts literally never got off the ground. It was a good thing that I'd given myself extra time, because now I was going to need it.

Navigating Fillydelphia on foot was challenging when you were accustomed to seeing it from the air, and I had never had a particularly keen sense of direction, but I knew the general direction and at worst I could watch which way the odd griffon was flying above. Odds were good that they were heading to or from one of the bases. Easy enough.

By luck most of the streets were clear of significant activity, so my initial trek was uneventful. I passed the occasional pony pulling a covered cart headed to or from one of the factories, but right now the work shifts were in full swing so most of the slaves were indoors. The few that I passed paid me no mind. I guess I looked bad enough that they figured I was a slave like them. Like Railroad Spikes said, there had been griffon slaves in Fillydelphia, even if I'd only heard about them. You probably had to mess up big time to end up like that. Or maybe they outright refused to join Talon Company? At this point...

I sighed and lowered my head as I continued along. No, I wasn't going to even joke that being a slave was better than being a Talon. I knew better even before I went to the crater, and I sure as hell knew better now. Personal convictions might make the difference for some, but I wasn't strong enough, mentally, physically or emotionally, to weather the life of being a slave for very long. Been there, proved that. Three months in the crater had thoroughly demonstrated that. An involuntary snort passed my beak. It wasn't like I would even sleep any better at night as a slave, despite what my conscience might think.

My self-pity train came to a stop at reality station when the unusual quiet of a dormant factory to my left caught my attention. Ponies were inside and clearly doing something, but the machines weren't running and there was no frantic hustle of ponies loading or unloading materials at the shed. I could have sworn I even saw one weary stallion casually eating at his work place next to a crate of empty rifle magazines. It was around midday, but slaves didn't get lunch breaks. Did they?

For a long moment I analyzed the scene, trying to understand. Maybe one of the big machines threw a gear or something. Every pony not working on that would have to keep going though. No, it was something else. Who ran this factory? Red Eye would probably have some choice words for them if he knew. I'd heard two dozen names of important slavers but trying to guess whose factory this was would be as accurate as guessing how many bullets were made inside each day. Grindstone? Wicked Slit? Hardly, apparently you could hear her screaming halfway across the city if she got mad. Maybe List Seeker? Ida once told me he was a pretty decent pony, as far as slavers went. That was a tough idea to swallow, but she'd know better than me I guess. Maybe this was his factory and maybe he did give the slaves a short break for lunch. Hey, as long as he didn't get crater time for being nice, have at it.

I resumed trudging down the empty street, squinting from a gush of sticky, hot air and trying not to think about how nice it was back at the clinic. It wasn't filled with trash and crooked lamp poles everywhere, and the floors were clean and not stained with blood...

...wait a second. I stopped and spun in a little circle. That lamp pole was very familiar, and that dumpster...

This was where Ida died.

Revulsion overcame me long enough to send me leaping into the air, but my wings wouldn't hold out and I came back down on the spot. I squeaked and backed up two steps. Just like that day three months ago. There was still traces of her blood on the sidewalk. The rain had washed most of it away, but it was still there. A faint, rusty series of blotches on an already sullied and cracked slab of concrete. Rain couldn't remove that. Time couldn't. Not that fast.

I wanted to leave. Desperately. But, between my exhaustion and the realization of where I was, I couldn't move. My chest hurt and a wave of chills ran through my body, but I felt like if I tried to move I'd just fall over. I leaned over and stabilized myself on the post, fixated on the spot where my partner expired.

How... how could I have not realized I was walking this way? I'd have never gone by here had I known! I never wanted to see this place again so long as I lived! This city was a hundred square kilometers and by chance I'd stumbled across this tiny little patch of it. I didn't believe in fate, and I didn't believe in spirits guiding me around randomly, or anything silly like that, but what were the odds?

Not everything happened for a reason, but... that... that didn't mean I couldn't make there be a point to it, right?

From the bag at my side I produced a little packet of crusty yellow mustard. It was a stupid little thing, but you know what? I remembered that poor, dingy mare that gave it to me. She was probably dead and gone, but I remembered her. She meant something. She mattered. And you know what? Ida sure as hell mattered. I wasn't in any danger of forgetting her, but all the same, I wanted something tangible. Something that I could hold in my claws and remember her by. There probably wasn't anything left, but since I was here, I was going to look.

Slowly but surely the feeling returned to my limbs enough that I could take uneasy steps around the scene. A feather was my first idea, but any feathers would have been blown away hours after the incident at most. No feathers. Maybe I could find a piece of her equipment or something. Surely anything reusable had been taken, but there was enough useless garbage left to clutter the streets that something could have been missed. A scrap of her fatigues... a button... something. But it had to be something I was sure was hers.

I scoured the intersection for a few minutes, wasting worrying amounts of time until I got the idea to check the dumpster. Hadn't something of hers flown into it? I was sure that the Talons had checked that, and if they hadn't any opportunistic slaves would have, but maybe there was something inside.

The heavy steel lid was almost too much to force open in my state and left ghastly stains on my palms from the rust, but with effort I tossed the flap open. A thousand little insects scurried away from the light and into the crevices of plastic bags so old even they had begun to decay, but almost immediately the glint of light on metal caught my eye. I leaned in, balancing on the narrow lip of the enormous garbage can and...

Crunch.

It happened so fast I didn't even register slipping before I was tangled in the centuries old trash. I swore a few times and pulled myself out of the mess, thankful that after so long any organic or other slimy refuse had long decayed to dust. It didn't even smell, which was a particularly good blessing since I still had to stand in front of the lieutenant in a few minutes, and leading off the meeting with her asking why I smelled like a dumpster would probably be bad.

Nevertheless, I shooed a few more bugs away and plucked my prize out of the corner: a pair of relatively clean buckles. Talon buckles. Just like the ones from my armor, and attached to stubs of straps that had been severed clean. Images of someone cutting Ida's armor off before trying to transport her somewhere began to play in my mind, but what really happened was beyond me. I just couldn't get over the fact that there was really something here. And who would put them in the dumpster anyway? The idea that someone would actually throw something away, in a dumpster, in Fillydelphia was almost too absurd to believe.

But after the crater, I'd believe just about anything. I stared down an alicorn after all, so I could believe that someone had a brain fart and dropped them in the dumpster.

Either way, I had what I came for and needed to get back on the road. I dropped the buckles into my bag and started working my way back out. It wasn't much cleaner outside...

Our platoon's base hadn't moved at least, and the trip wasn't quite as much of a slog as I was expecting. It helped that there were increasingly few slaves as I got closer, but it was impossible to deny the apprehension growing inside me as I traversed the train tracks leading up to the earthen fortification surrounding the base. The only griffons I'd seen so far were airborne and on the move, so while I knew they probably barely noticed me I couldn't help but feel like each was a pair of eyes staring holes through me and wondering why I was back.

The guards circling overhead didn't bother to even land to interrogate me, so I wandered up the path, well clear of the minefield, and stopped just inside. To my right were the rows of box cars serving as the barracks, and to the left were the mess hall, and beyond it, the lieutenant's office. I wasted no time in turning left and hugging the inner wall of the base. Maybe that way I'd avoid running into anyone. I really wasn't ready for that yet.

Of course, at this time of day almost everyone was either actively out on patrol or were currently in the mess hall sucking down what they could before they had to get to sleep before another overnight shift out in the city. I was getting worked up over nothing, and didn't even see anyone on the way over.

That didn't stop me from freezing at the door, claw raised to knock. My memories of the last time I was here were fuzzier than a newly hatched griffawn's down, but knocking wasn't required, right? I lowered my claw and tried to rehearse what I was going to say to the lieutenant. Which was what, really? Wasn't she going to be doing all of the talking? Yeah. Yeah, I just had to listen and do whatever she told me. No need to get so worked up.

I think Egon would have preferred that I knocked.

How he failed to hear me ascending the creaky steps remains a mystery, but I caught him mid giggle, leaning perilously close to his terminal and holding two talons to his beak. He started hard enough to send a purple feather drifting over to my side of the room and fell back in his chair. Rallying quickly, he adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat. “Oh, Mr-Mr. Longtalons! Ahem, you're uh, you're a bit early.”

Early? Oh, good. I hadn't wasted too much time in the alley after all. “Sorry. Should I come back later?”

“No, no.” He smoothed the feathers on his chest and situated himself. “You can go on back. Lieutenant Blackfeathers said for you to see her as soon as you got here.”

“Thanks...” I plodded around the desk, gazing back in time to see fresh text scrolling up the terminal window. Egon giggled again and went to tapping up a response. Have fun while I get chewed up...

Even from the receptionist area I could hear Serge and Heidi talking, thankfully in a civil tone, and reconsidered if I should wait a moment. It was impossible to decipher the conversation at all and I was already here, so... here went nothing. I skirted a fresh bare patch on the floor with water damage and knocked twice on the door frame. Even from out here the floral air freshener in her office was almost overpowering...

“Come in, private. We were just discussing you.”

Yes ma'am. Heidi and Serge were seated in the only two chairs in the room, so I strolled inside and stood at what I hoped was the least awkward distance from Serge on our side of the desk. Heidi's golden eyes tracked and fixated on me. Did I forget to do something? Uh, was I supposed to-

“It's good to see you're in one piece, private,” she said levelly. “Egon's having Private Darkskies transfer her report on your status in a moment, which I'll review later. You seem well enough.”

Suspiciously so? Please don't ask... “Y-yes ma'am, I managed.”

“So I see.” She folded her talons together. “Before we begin, I would like preface this by saying that it's in the best interest for all of us to attempt to put the past behind us. We have a long future ahead of us and don't need any extra complications. Assuming we've all learned from our mistakes, we need not revisit them.” Those piercing eyes flicked between Serge and myself. “Are we all in accord?”

“Yes ma'am.”

“Y-yes ma'am.”

She nodded. “Good. That's even more important because of the necessities that have arisen in finding somewhere to reassign you, private. In short, I can't reassign you. Ideally you'd be moved to another platoon to minimize the damage to morale but first and second platoon are going to be switching duties in the coming weeks and it's too much hassle to find a place for you there. Not to mention that second platoon already has a medic that I would rather not displace. Nor can I really move you to third platoon because Private Darkskies has been part of it for ten years and that wouldn't be good for morale either.”

Private Darkskies? Yvonne had been a private for ten years? What the heck? But more importantly, they were putting me back in my old squad? Yikes... to be honest I hadn't even considered that I might be put somewhere else, but it made a lot of sense to do that. Now that I thought about it, putting me back with Serge's squad couldn't possibly be welcome for any of them...

“So, sergeant, you're sure that this won't cause undue difficulties?”

Serge considered his response briefly. “Yes ma'am. I've spoken with everyone and I believe we'll manage. Private Galeforce is the one I'm least sure about, but she'll behave.”

“What's new?” Heidi groaned to herself. “If it doesn't work out I'll have to find something else.” She cut her eyes to me. “I'll review your report when Egon finishes getting it, but I'm assuming that you're going to be on light duty for a few days. I'm leaving that to the sergeant's discretion. You'll need to retrieve your equipment from Sergeant Bladewind before you return to duty. When you leave, go by the armory and do that. I've already sent the requests.”

“Yes ma'am.”

She leaned back. “Good. That's all I have for you. Do you have any questions?”

I probably shouldn't have had any, but one thing she said earlier stuck out. “You said that our platoon was switching duties? What's that mean?”

“Second platoon is taking over primary city watch duty. First platoon is going to move to flexible assignments with field duty with third platoon.” No doubt sensing that I had no clue what that meant, she said, “We'll be performing perimeter patrols, escorting caravans, assisting with stable cleanup duty, polishing Master Red Eye's horseshoes or whatever else he or Captain Stern ask. You'll find out more when I do.”

Serge glanced over. “Deployment won't happen for a couple of weeks, probably. We'll get you situated by then.”

Heidi nodded once. “Right. Unless you have anything else, you're dismissed.”

I didn't, so I bowed toward the door. “Yes ma'am.”

As I turned to leave, she spoke up once more. “Oh, and private?”

“Yes ma'am?”

“...welcome back to Talon Company.”

A warning if I ever heard one. “Thank you.” The meeting had been short and consisted of a great deal less shouting than I expected, but I was happy to get moving all the same. I ducked back into the hallway, took a deep breath of the clean smelling air and headed for the entrance. Serge and Heidi went back to talking about something else I could barely make out. Something about enlistment rosters. None of my business.

I emerged in the receptionist area again just in time to catch Egon peering over his glasses at more text scrolling across the screen. “Oh, Zella, you dog...” He straightened up when he noticed me and cleared his throat. “Have a good afternoon.”

“Thanks.” Either Egon was the least perceptive griffon in the world or maybe Heidi should reassign me to sniping or something. Apparently I was awfully good at sneaking up on people.

Heh, right. Probably shouldn't even joke about that. Just needed to get my gear and get on with my life.

The armory was still vaguely where I remembered it being, which was a little surprising since I wasn't sure if I'd even been back to it since I picked up my medical kit and met Otto so many months ago. Even more surprising since I was still too tired to fly and had to approach it on foot, making the path completely different.

Then again, it was easy to follow the rhythmic thump of griffons at the shooting range, which led me straight to the fenced in section at the far end of the rail yard. I passed through the unguarded gate and cast a glance to the squad performing a marksmanship drill of some kind. All familiar faces I still didn't know the names to. To their side was the remains of the Pinkie Target, now so riddled with holes nobody would have known its original purpose. Down the range I saw a few new signs had replaced it: a couple of crudely drawn ponies brandishing knives and wearing improbably spiky manes, and a banner of the pony goddess Celestia with an angry face and beard marked on it in black. I looked back to the metal clad building and hurried along, wondering briefly if Red Eye would approve of that and if he really believed in that goddess nonsense to begin with. Probably not.

The interior of the armory felt much less haunting and claustrophobic during the day, since there was more than enough light to navigate by spilling in from the windows, and by luck it seemed I was the only one there. Maybe this wouldn't take too long.

“Be right there,” a gruff voice yelled from the back. I approached the window just as its source emerged: a graying dark brown griffon with enough scars that he could donate one to each member of the platoon and still be accused of hoarding them. He popped the joints in his stiff wings and sized me up. “A new guy? You here to pick up all of your gear or something?”

This had to be Sergeant Samuel Bladewind. For a moment I feared I just didn't remember him, but he didn't seem to remember me either. Was it possible that I'd been part of the platoon this long and we'd never properly met? “Uh... yeah. Kind of. Kasimir Longtalons. I'm here to pick up my old equipment. The lieutenant should have sent-”

“Hmph. Yeah. Yeah, I remember now. Her little assistant dropped off the request earlier. So you're the one that broke my gun and killed Ida, huh?”

Joy, oh joy, this was going to be fun. “It was an accident...”

He leaned heavily on the shelf on his side of the wall, which groaned under his weight. “Son, do you know how many griffons break the shit I give them and say it was an accident? Or lose it even? Hell, aren't you in the squad with Lita? Can you believe she lost one of my grenades and didn't even say she was sorry?”

My eyes narrowed involuntarily. “No offense, sergeant, but do you really think I murdered her?”

Another groan from the shelf prompted him to ease up. “Hmph. No, but I haven't seen many dumber things done since I've been here. At least Lita didn't kill anybody with that grenade.”

What the hell? Just shut up and give me my stuff already! “Look, if you have a problem I can go get the lieutenant.”

He grumbled and turned away. “Quit your bellyaching. I've got your gear. Meet me at the door.”

By 'having my gear' he evidently meant it was still all sprawled around in the hundred boxes I saw in the back, since it took him a full ten minutes to finally open the door and present the shockingly large bag to me. One thing in particular seemed to be missing though. “Uh, what about my rifle?”

“You broke it, remember? The bolt was ruined. I haven't fixed yet and I'm not too keen on giving you another one to break”

Uh huh... but I'm a guard and guards need guns in this city. “So, what do I do then? I have to have a weapon.”

Sam thrust his claw into the bag and pulled out a pistol in its holster. “You have one.”

“But... just a pistol?”

“You're a medic, right? You don't even need a rifle.”

Was that normal practice here? I needed to ask Vonny next time I was at the clinic. “Our platoon is mobilizing soon though, so won't I need one in the field?”

He shrugged and shut the door. “If it worries you that much, ask Heidi. I'll let her decide when you've earned another big boy gun.”

Well, fuck you too, grumpy old fart. If I got killed by a raider I was coming back to haunt him. Fine. Whatever. I wasn't going to sit here and argue over something I didn't know the rules to anyway. I slung the bag over my back and made for the exit, whispering curses under my breath. I was going to make it a point to come back at night in the future if I ever had to. Otto was so much easier to interact with. My heart went out to him at that moment too. Working for this guy must have been a nightmare. At least Egon seemed to get along well with Heidi.

And no, I wasn't going to ask her about the rifle. Serge could answer that question just fine.

The trek back to the barracks was much shorter than I wished it was. I'd been anxious the entire time since I left the clinic, but it all began coming to a head on that last leg of my journey before I was reunited with the rest of my old squad.

I'd met Serge again and he seemed to have put it all in the past, but what would the others think of me? I knew they'd never forget what I did and probably would never completely forgive me either, but would we even be able to work together again? What if we couldn't? Heidi said there was nowhere else for me to go, so what would happen then? Would they find some menial job for me to do, like shoveling trash to be burnt at one of the power plants? Or would I just get to work at the clinic full time? That wouldn't be so bad...

My pace slowed and I came to a stop beneath the giant number 3 painted on the side of our train car. I... needed a moment before heading inside. The others were probably all out on duty anyway, but even so I had to prepare myself for when they came back.

Isaac would be easy. He mostly ignored me anyway. Kind of like he did for everyone except Leigh. If he got physical then I was royally screwed, but that seemed a remote enough possibility.

Leigh... well, I figured she would be easy enough to work with again. She was second in command of the squad and surely knew how important it was to try to keep morale high and everyone coherent. Besides, she was at Ida's funeral and I don't remember her giving me any particularly nasty looks or even making any commentary. She always seemed pretty nice.

Carmelita was really the one I worried the most about, doubly so since Serge said as much himself. She'd always been jovial and friendly, but she was at my trial and had been deadly serious there. She never made any wayward comments to me either, but Heidi and Freija were there so that might have stopped her. I was pretty sure she cut her eyes to me quite a few times while testifying, but did it mean anything?

Did any of this mean anything? What was I going to do if they were nasty to me anyway? There wasn't a thing I could do. Sitting here and simmering in fear and anxiety wasn't improving anything.

With a heavy sigh, I grabbed the handle to the door and shoved it open with the full weight of my body. The door zipped along its track with startling ease and dropped me hard back on the sand, driving the air from my lungs and sending me into a coughing fit. What the heck? Did someone finally get around to greasing it?

“Sarge? You back already?” ...Lita's voice. I'd halfway picked myself up by the time she poked out, but it was pretty obvious what happened. “...oh. I was wondering what the heck happened.” She hopped down the step and offered a claw, which I accepted. “Is Serge with you?”

I was still trying to catch my breath and coughed. “No, he's... still talking to Heidi.”

“Oh.” She sized me up and frowned a little. “You look rough. Guess you would though.”

Yeah, I would. With effort I pulled my pack of gear off of the ground and asked, “Is it just you here then?”

“You need some help with that?” She indicated the pack, which I graciously offered to her. I was still so unbelievably tired... “Yeah, it's just me. Serge is with Heidi, and Leigh and Ike are off on their morning rounds. Guess they should be back any minute though.” She turned around. “Anyway, come in.”

The barracks hadn't changed much from what I remembered, aside from the coffee pot now having most of its guts sprawled over the table. A little part of me died inside knowing that I was going to have to wake up in the morning without caffeine to help, and I prayed that whoever was working on it fixed it soon.

Lita dumped my bag in the corner where I used to put my gear and pointed a thumb at the table. “Can you believe Ike? Got mad at the thing and smashed the power button. Leigh hasn't had a chance to fix it yet. She mostly fixed him with a stern talking to.” She snorted and fell into a chair. “If I was corporal I'd do more than talk to him, but ugh, whatever.”

Right, so, what would you do to me then? This didn't feel quite right. This wasn't the Carmelita I remembered, and I knew full well why. Best to keep skirting that issue. I eased into a chair two seats away from her and sighed. “I'm sure she'll get it fixed.”

“She ought to fix it with parts from his terminal if you ask me. That'll teach him to break shit like a three year old.” She switched to a terrible mock male voice and said, “Isaac hate coffee maker, Isaac smash.”

Uh huh. I nodded and leaned back. It was cool and relatively calm here. I could just shut my eyes for a second and try to relax before someone gave me orders to go do something... “Yeah...”

I woke up to the sound of someone snapping their talons in my face. “Wh...” The fog in my vision took its sweet time parting and returning me to the world of the unwillfully awake. “Huh?”

Serge, now suited up, pointed to the back room. “Get some sleep. Lita and I are about to head out for the day. I'll talk with you when we get back about your assignments for the week.”

“Right... okay.” I almost fell over Leigh as I got up, who I was not expecting to be sitting next to me with some bit of electronics in her claws. How long had I been out? “Oops, sorry.”

She caught the little switch just as it left the table and made space for me to move past. “It's okay.” Without looking up, she added, “Oh, and welcome back, Kaz.”

“Yeah, what she said,” Lita chimed in from the door.

Isaac grunted from across the table and went back to sorting screws by size.

“Thanks.” I wound my way around the now very crowded room and pushed my way into the sleeping area, where I discovered that my cot hadn't magically vanished and was even made up for me. That was an unexpected and completely unnecessary surprise. I was about to make it very unmade soon anyway.

As I plopped down onto the sheets, talking resumed in the other room. Maybe Serge thought I couldn't hear him, or maybe he thought I needed to hear what he had to say regardless, but his low voice carried easily inside. “Remember what I said, everyone. Kaz has been through a lot. He's back, he's going to do his job, and you're all going to do yours. I don't want to hear anything untoward said to him.”

“Ugh, why don't you say it a tenth time...” Lita groaned.

“I will if I have to. Anyway, can the commentary and let's go.”

Silence returned and I rolled over to face the comparatively friendlier wall. It could have gone worse, I guess, and Serge if nobody else was making an honest effort to put everything in the past, but this was going to be an uphill journey for sure. An uphill battle maybe? I could still hope not.

At least now I could sleep, it seemed, which I was going to take advantage of. Maybe I could forget everything soon.

Like Ida's empty cot...

Mild Radiation Sickness – You feel pretty bad, but it's nothing some magical medicine and time won't fix. You suffer -1 END until it's cured.