They knew.

It took me a while to fully accept that, but as I look back, that moment was when I realized we were well and truly stuck down here. A week ago, before all of this… if a certain Red Eye rocketeer hadn’t gotten lucky, we would have flown right through the valley Neighson was nestled in. Our Vertibuck would have been torn to shreds by heavy anti-air fire before we even knew what was happening.

Despite the implications, the mere existence of such an immense fortification made my pulse quicken with excitement. I wanted to see how these ponies lived — stable lives, or as stable as one could expect at any rate. How did they make do? What did they do for work? What were their families like? It enticed me.

My excitement caused me to miss the obvious. I caught on to all the superficial differences, and it took me a while to see things as they truly are.

They are just like us — making do, despite everything that seems set against them.

—Snap Roll’s Journal

Despite the surreal view before us, the descent into the valley below Neighson was rather uneventful. Tailwind had wrapped herself in the other blanket we’d salvaged, a half-hearted disguise at best but it would pass a cursory inspection. She was napping quietly beside Crafter and I, while Bernard continued pulling the wagon. For the time being, Fade walked along beside us.

We passed farmhouses of various sizes and condition. Some seemed to be made from prefabricated material of some sort — the buildings themselves were not from before the balefire, but they might well have been made with building supplies that were around at that time. Others were clearly made using what was available in more recent times — scavenged parts of destroyed buildings, recycled sheet metal and the like. Pretty much the only thing they had in common were that they seemed sturdy enough to retain heat. Any less and they wouldn’t have been worth the while to construct in the first place.

We passed small families that were simply going about their business. Mothers, fathers, colts and fillies… coherent family units, living in the protective shadow of the Steel Rangers. Some were tending stock animals, others repaired centuries-old farm equipment. Others still were performing rudimentary upgrades to some of the structures. None of them paid us much heed, the few that actually spoke to us didn’t stay long, letting us pass with naught but standard greetings. Several times, I saw ponies usher their children indoors upon spotting Fade, seemingly wary of the griffon.

I caught the eye of a pair of foals, gazing with children’s limitless curiosity at our little caravan. I gave a soft smile and waved. They waved back, smiles wide, before running off to play. Nothing good could come from the Enclave taking an interest in all of this.

Why hadn’t they told us?

The question plagued me, though Crafter thankfully provided a momentary distraction as he gave an abrupt sigh of frustration. He was looking at his PipBuck’s screen, having first glanced around to make sure no Rangers were watching. “I don’t get this thing,” he declared.

Tailwind perked up from her nap at his outburst. “Um… PipBuck problems, I’m guessing?”

“Yeah,” Crafter replied with a slump, “I don’t know what this means.” He turned his forehoof to show her the screen. He seemed to have the map function open, but I couldn’t make out much more than that. “What is it?”

Tail’s expression softened, as any possible worries were dispelled. “Oh, that’s just a location marker. PipBucks seem to have a catalog of all the locations in Equestria — don’t ask me how, but apparently they do. So this area,” she waved her hoof in the air, gesturing towards the currently bare fields, “I would guess is called ‘The Foothills.’”

Crafter took a moment to glance down at the PipBuck, then at the surrounding area. He seemed to be thinking on that as he commented, “you know, you should really show me more of the things I can do with this PipBuck.” He waggled his elaborately manacled hoof for emphasis.

Tail snickered at that before replying, “alright, we should be able to spend a night or two at Neighson. We’ll have the room to properly go over everything. Sound good?”

Looking at Tail, he gave a soft smile. “That’d be good. Maybe I’ll be able to help out with it then, it seems fairly useful.” Hastily, he added, “well, in more ways than I’m used to.” He gazed off, seemingly interested in the equipment that farmponies were trying to variously bludgeon, weld or otherwise put back into working order. For my part, I couldn’t tell what the damn things were supposed to do beyond looking farm-related.

The rest of the ride continued in relative silence as Bernard pulled us along. The old wagon rolled steadily up to the base of the zigzagging ascent up to Neighson, where the opening was protected by a checkpoint, with a blockhouse-like structure off to the side. Such as it was, the point consisted of a pair of slender towers on either side of the base of the winding slope leading up to Neighson, a thin wall about two ponies high spanning the gap between then. A heavy gate stood at its centre, open and inviting save for the armoured Rangers on either side giving us what I could only assume were bored looks.

As familiar as I am with reading body language in power armour, it’s still hard to tell with the helmets.

The guards gave the ragged wagon a glance before catching sight of Fade, upon which one Ranger seemed to noticeably slump and wave us through the gate. All the while, I saw the slight ticks of helmet-based conversation between him and his comrade.

As we passed, Fade flashed a grin at the Ranger, along with a nod. “Paladin Rose and her garrison send their regards from Outpost Kilo,” he said almost amicably before adding in a lower tone, “could use some relief, but don’t hurry yourselves or anything on their account.” That said, he stepped up his pace, passing Bernard and walking at the head of our little procession.

The Ranger didn’t make any real response, simply shaking his head before turning back to his partner.

The ride up was long and steep, but I realized that was pretty much the point. Any attempt at taking the city would have to go up the road, taking fire from above the whole time. Along the way, we passed by the other posts. Unlike the first checkpoint, each of the subsequent points was guarded by a pillbox off to one side. I was absolutely sure there were heavy machine guns pointed in our general direction at any given time. All the points were manned, but none of them stopped us — the presence instilled by the guards was substantial nonetheless. At the last of the five checkpoints, I took note of the first non-power armoured Ranger we’d seen. The charcoal coated unicorn was fiddling with a terminal mounted on a wall. She wore long red robes with the Ranger’s mark emblazoned upon the flank, the same sword, gears and apples design that graced the flanks of her armoured compatriots.

The final rise up to the massive gate of Neighson was a terrifying sight. Recessed panels dotted the walls — no doubt shrouding firing points — while the thick muzzles of fortified batteries extended from the battlements of the bastion that the gatehouse was built into. Of more particular note to me were the quad-gun anti-air emplacements further along the walls. The same guns that once kept the North safe from Zebra incursion were still enough to give the Enclave pause. At least, I suspected as much. The gates themselves were easily large enough to let two main battle tanks through abreast. They were wide open, though ‘inviting’ isn’t exactly the word I’d use. Yet again, a pair of Rangers guarded the doors.

As we passed through the mouth of the city, we were plunged into a whole new world. The streets were alive with more ponies than I’d seen in any one place, save for a few massive Enclave exercises or military parades. The sounds of good natured commerce were inter-spliced with the joyous sound of foals at play running amongst the legs of adults talking with one another as they went about their business. The buildings were as varied as the inhabitants that found shelter in them — ranging in materials used to everything from proper concrete stonework to corrugated steel hammered together. Collectively, it produced a veritable maze of buildings. None appeared to be more than two stories tall (likely deliberate — any higher would have gotten in the way of arcs of fire from the second wall), but they all seemed to be in relatively good repair. They were certainly lively enough.

I spotted a few rangers amongst the crowd, the rather distinct power armour creating little pockets of grey amongst the shifting tide of ponies. A number of ponies wearing the red robes of the scribes were mingling amongst the populace, going about their business as any other pony would.

Our brief sightseeing was cut short by the arrival of a trio of Steel Rangers. The one in the center, presumably a paladin if the elaborate designs on his armour were anything to go by, beckoned us to follow, turning on his heel before waiting for a response.

We hitched the wagon near the entrance and followed on hoof, as the trio weaved our group through the town to a small building tucked against the inner wall, clearly part of the original design of the fort. The two lower ranking Rangers, knights I assumed, stationed themselves at the door as their commander led us inside.

The interior seemed to be some sort of administration building, commanded by an older unicorn behind a table opposite from us all, scribbling away with a quill clutched in his magic. He didn’t deign to look up from his work as we entered. The Paladin, after glancing sidelong at us went to stand at the unicorn’s flank. The only other occupant of the room was a griffon sporting black body armour with a splayed talon stenciled in white upon her breast. She rested with her back to the left-hoof wall.

We kept quiet, collectively waiting to see the tone directed towards us before committing to an approach.

The unicorn continued his incessant scribbling.

The tension in the air grew over the next few minutes as the unicorn continued to write, still not acknowledging our existence. The near-silence in the room continued until at long last he placed his quill in an inkwell, causing everyone’s attention to be drawn to the older buck. He then gave us a look over from his seat, examining us all with a critical eye.

As his eye passed over us, a little bit of muscle memory kicked in, ending up with me standing more or less ‘at ease’ as I decided to break the gradually deepening silence with a question. “Any reason in particular we’ve been detained, sir?”

Crafter fidgeted off to one side, before catching himself and adopting a similar stance to my own. Fade sat back, idly examining his talons before glancing at the female griffon. I couldn’t read his expression, but he seemed to have suddenly became much more aware of the conversation developing as a result.

Having evidently stared us down sufficiently, the buck spoke up, his voice low and gravelly. “You two,” he pointed a hoof directly at Tailwind and I, without preamble. “Show your marks.”

Damn, that was easy for him.

Even Fade cringed, hastily adding, “Just so you know, sir. Paladin Rose from Outpost Kilo sent them up here with myself as a guide.” His comment would help. Give us credence. Just the same, it also maintained his own distance from us. Smart.

The unicorn gave Fade an appraising glance before coming to a conclusion, nodding slightly. “Your stance has been noted.”

“You know, don’t you.” I deadpanned, quite sure that it wasn’t really the cutiemarks he was looking for, considering he didn’t even ask Bernard or Crafter. “Before we show you, just know we aren’t here to fight, if we can get a chance to explain…” I trailed off, biting the knotted blanket I had around my neck. I heard Tailwind take a half step forward, unsure of how good an idea that was. Considering the likelihood that station Kilo had something as simple as a short-wave radio would be enough for the older buck to know we were coming, even without the rather pathetic disguises we had. I made my decision. Pulling off the blanket, I revealed my cutiemark, and more importantly, my wings. “We’re stuck down here, no danger to you or yours.”

Tailwind frowned, but followed suit, giving her wings an experimental flap after having been restricted for the entire ride.

The griffoness gave a hearty chuckle. “Told ya Steam, these two are loyalists.” She then shrugged, “Probably from what happened to Trotwynd.”

I raised a quizzical eyebrow at the ‘loyalists’ comment, but otherwise waited to see their response. The ball was very much in their court, and I wasn’t about to raise their ire by asking. All the same, my interest was most certainly piqued.

The unicorn remained expressionless throughout the proceeding, but after she had finished, he added, “You have one chance to explain yourselves, you’d best make it count.”

The implicit threat was quite clear, even before taking into account the presence of the heavily armed but otherwise silent paladin in the room, not to mention the two ponies outside. Despite the calm of the situation, there were deadly undertones, and they weren’t being subtle about them.

Welp.

Nothing for it, I started to explain, piecing things together that I’d been hesitant to even consider. Wouldn’t have even considered for that matter, had Tailwind’s and my own life not hung on the balance of my explanation. I had suspicions, I had doubts, and I'm still not entirely sure if the theory I told them was in fact the way things had really happened — but I had to sell our story to them, and I did everything I could to make them believe I knew what I was talking about.

“My team was sent to the North to scout out the area for what we were told was a suspected griffon FOB,” I began, my voice in the neutral tone I'd always used in debriefings. That drew a light chuckle from the griffon, which I replied with a glare that suggested I was fully aware after the fact of how silly the notion of griffons concentrating in any one place was. “We were shot down near the southern waystation by what seems to have been a perimeter station the local Red Eye troops had set up. We hit the station, then escaped their fast reaction force, losing our…” I paused, biting my lip to keep my own feelings out of the explanation, “Heavy weapons specialist in the process. Over the course of the last several days, we’ve come to realize a lot about the surface, some of which is quite disconcerting. Foremost among those is that our command knew about all this,” I gestured expansively, as if trying to take in the entire structure around us. I intentionally left out how, exactly, we knew that they knew. “They told us nothing about Rangers being in the area, much less a fully populated fortress, and our flight path would have led us right into the killzone you’ve established in the airspace above this Fort.”

Damn me, I don’t want to be thinking this, but if it’ll save us… I guess I’m ok with being damned.

“They meant for us to die in the skies above your fort,” I gestured towards the scribe with a hoof, my voice dropping to a deadly serious tone. “Then, they would have justified continued operations on the surface to our own populace by saying you shot first. Thanks to Red Eye, that didn’t exactly go as neatly as must have been planned, but Tailwind and myself are the only ponies that are able to say otherwise, and we’ve been down here long enough to be considered ‘contaminated.’ I’m sure you have enough knowledge of the Enclave to know what that means for us.”

The buck nodded in affirmation, “Means you’re labelled as MIA.” He paused for a while, thinking on what I said. At least he seemed to be giving it some proper thought.

During the ensuing silence, the griffon piped up, “Then why the hell’d you come here? Surely you’d want to go somewhere nicer, like Friendship City?” She smirked at that, to which the unicorn shot her a sideways glance.

“Gwynn does bring up a point,” he added, “Why come here?”

“Well,” I replied in a more casual tone, “to be honest, at first the plan was simply to get out of the cold, restock, and figure out a real plan from there… but then we met Bernard here.” I glanced back, making eye contact with the buck standing quietly at the back, “we heard of his daughter being taken by a slaver known as ‘the Serpent,’ and that he headed this way. Put simply, we decided to help him. Nopony deserves what he’s gone through, and we can help.”

The elderly scribe shared a quick glance with the griffon he’d referred to as “Gwynn,” giving the impression that they knew something of the pony I spoke of. The buck then turned back towards us, more casually this time. “Noble intentions then, it would seem.” He stated, seeming to accept our reasoning as he returned to writing something down on the page before him. I could only imagine it was a report on us, of some sort.

“And who is your Stable friend here? Surely he wasn’t one of your ‘recon’ group.”

I glanced back. It was up to Crafter how he wished to be introduced, and he seemed to think on the question for a second, glancing from the scribe to the griffon before deciding on a response. “I’m Crafter. I was… kicked out of the Stable, and they just happened to be outside.” He paused, presumably thinking on how to summarize the events since then. “I didn’t… didn’t really know much about, well, anything out here. It kinda made sense to tag along, and they offered to take me. Whatever huge problem you have with them, they’re good ponies.” He added a smile at the end. Points for style, but it probably didn’t really phase the people before us.

I let his answer speak for me, raising a hoof in his direction as he answered. I had to admit, I was glad that the disagreement between us wasn’t bad enough to colour his overall impression.

The buck eyed him up with a hard stare. “Yes, because your view will be completely unbiased, them having saved you and all.” He sighed and shook his head. “Anyway, Stable 247, was it? Crafter, was that your whole name; And can we take note of your mark please? It’s all for census purposes, an awful lot of you leaving there in recent years.”

Crafter’s smile faded, and his confidence sagged just a bit. Still, he replied evenly, “It’s Crafter Odds… my full name, that is.” He adjusted the duster he wore, and the utility barding beneath it. It wasn’t graceful, but one could hardly expect it to be. Layers were shuffled away, revealing a cutie mark of three screws, a pair of gears, and what seemed to be a metal rod of some sort. I really shouldn’t have been surprised, considering the ubiquitous wrench he always carried easily accessible on the barding.

The older stallion noded, before returning to writing again. After a short while, it became rather clear that he had either forgotten about us, or no longer cared that we were here. He started sorting and filing paperwork. I saw the sheet that our notes were upon buried under a stack just like it.

The griffon, Gwynn, seemed to take note of this as well. She took her leave with naught but a smile and a wink as she quietly made her exit.

Shooting a look between us, Crafter whispered to seemingly anyone who might know, “Umm… what now?”

Noting his irritation, I gave a subtle cough. “So… may we enter the city?” I asked cautiously, making a conscious effort to suppress my own irritation. I’d been ignored by enough clerks to know that every now and then they needed to be jogged back to the moment.

The scribe responded without taking his eyes off his work. “I assume by that you mean Neighson, and yes you may. You’re restricted to the civilian centres for the duration of your stay. And you will be watched, so mind yourselves.”

I maintained eye contact with his forehead despite his continued disinterest. “During our travels, we’ve managed to find some items I believe would be of interest to the Steel Rangers.” I tried to make my comment sound off-hoof, but I realized that the Rangers were probably the only ponies who would be able to pay for the sword and armour we’d found at anything approaching an even trade. “The restriction to the civilian sector makes sense to me, but would we be able to at least organize a trade with a Ranger quartermaster while we’re in the Fort?”

The buck sighed and placed down his pen, clearly despairing at not being able to be rid of us so easily. Tiredly, he replied, “I’ll arrange a meeting with Star Paladin Cheesequake tomorrow afternoon. You have to go through him to gain access to the QM.” He smiled to himself, giving me the impression that he would very much like to inconvenience the Star Paladin. “You can meet with him at the reception office by the inner gate at noon tomorrow. Will that suffice?”

I nodded. We probably couldn’t expect any better. “Much appreciated,” I replied, before turning to the rest of the group. The scribe seemed to not even notice, already engrossed in his work once again. “‘Alright, now let’s find a place to stay for a couple nights… and a doctor who hopefully won’t charge hoof and wing. We could all use the rest.”

Bernard nodded his agreement, “I think I saw a few places on the way that might be an inn, we could check those.”

Fade sat up straight, seeming to have been caught almost off guard. It looked for all the world like he’d been counting the feathers that showed around the edges of his jacket. He spread his talons before him as he announced, “I know a number of places that are respectable as either a place to stay or have your wounds tended, some can do both!” Rolling his eyes up, he leveled a hand and rocked it side to side, adding, “Though it’s, ah… probably best not to mention that you’re in any way associated with or aware of my existence. At least in some of them. If you don’t wish to acquire more injuries… I’ve a bit of a reputation.”

I frowned, once again coming upon our rather dismal cap situation, specifically our distinctive lack thereof. “We’ll take whatever we can afford at this point… which isn’t much, all things considered. Cheap, understanding… anything like that?”

Fade seemed to take a moment to think on that. Rolling his shoulders, he hummed out an answer. “Well, I might know one or two places. They uh… might not be up to your standards but they will work cheap. Relatively. Just make sure you watch them at all times.” Shuffling up he gestured towards the door and asked, “But having internal injuries healed is worth far more than possibly having some less than flattering pictures taken, right? Of course! Now come along.” Without another word, he turned on his heel and headed back into the natural light.

All things considered, that sounded pretty good. I nodded my head at the thought, before realizing Fade had already turned and left. I hurriedly stowed the blanket and cantered off after him, the others falling in behind. I was caught off guard as Tailwind, apparently having overheard the griffon’s statement, cantered up beside me.

“Less than flattering pictures?” She breathed into my ear, just loud enough for me to hear, “We’ll see about that…” She trailed off with a provocative wink, before falling in behind Fade like nothing had happened.

I wore a cocky smile written all over my face as I followed, cantering out the door their wake.

Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

And so we left the Ranger office, with uncovered wings and Enclave insignia for all to see. I can’t say it was the most intelligent move I’d ever made, but what the hell. Ponies were bound to find out, and word spreading about "Enclave infiltrators" was a lot worse than "stranded pegasi."

This time, it was our turn to be the center of attention during while on the streets. Fade went all but unnoticed, as Tailwind and I were the subject of everything from paused conversations, as both parties turned to watch us, to suspicious glances and glares of outright hatred. A mother shooed her filly inside as we passed. Windows were slammed shut around us several times in the rather short trip.

At one point, we returned to one of the arterial roads. The same ponies that had largely ignored us as they went about their day unconcerned with the goings on of four ponies and a griffon suddenly found time in the day to stop and stare at the winged oddities in their midst. Where before we’d been bumped and jostled by the press of bodies along the crowded street, we now found ourselves walking in a bubble of unoccupied space. Like there was something wrong with us.

It wasn’t just the wings that made us different, I realized. We differed from the wastelanders in other, more subtle ways too, all of which only served to accentuate the gap between us and them. We were fit, unsurprising considering the Enclave’s standards in that regard — we also had the benefit of a life without want. A trim, healthy figure was not exactly the norm down here, and it would have drawn attention even if we didn’t have wings. It seemed that Chess and his daughter were something of an exception, in that regard — he must have been better off than even I realized at the time.

The stallions we passed continued to watch long after we had moved on, some with veiled hostility, others with guarded interest. Most didn’t even bother to hide their intent, pointing Tailwind and myself out to their friends as if we were some sort of exotic prize to be won, even while we were still in earshot. I realized Ossea’s reaction probably should have been an early indicator that something like this would happen, but I still wasn’t exactly prepared for it.

The mares’ reactions, on the other hoof, were often outright hostile. I don’t know if we made them feel… threatened, I suppose, or if the attraction element simply wasn’t there. Regardless, we received the most open hatred from the mares of Neighson, usually in the form of dagger-eyed glares.

Word must have been passed electronically, because every Ranger we saw along the way didn’t seem to pay us too much heed, but I knew they saw us — our group wasn’t exactly subtle, after all. However, their implicit acceptance of us being in Neighson was at least enough to placate anypony who might think of acting on their feelings towards us. The Rangers sheltered them, but they also kept them in line when they had to — though their individual feelings towards us were likely as varied as the civilians we encountered.

Having been quiet for the walk, Fade abruptly turned his head to look my way as we neared the wall. “Not much further now,” he affirmed, “end of the street, round a building, in the wall. Then you can get fixed up.” Fade paused for a moment as his eyes strayed. We kept walking, but eventually he looked back and spoke up again. “It's probably best to get out of the public eye for a bit as well. Not sure if you’re exhibitionists, but this is getting rather sordid. The Rangers might tolerate the pair of you, but the rest are less forgiving when public enemy number two appears to be strolling through town."

Well, at least that means Red Eye is hated more than we are. It’s not much, but I’ll take it.

I was relieved at the prospects of both healing and of getting off the street for a while. Even if his tone wasn't exactly appreciated, he had a point — we weren't making any friends walking around in the open. It really hadn’t occurred to me just what sort of reaction we’d get out of the civilians simply from being there. I nodded my assent as I following in his wake, though my thoughts were elsewhere.

The distance bled away quickly. Soon, we wove our way between a pair of buildings and came upon a reinforced steel door at the end of a short alley, built into the outer wall itself. On it was the trio of butterflies, still the most universal indicator of medical care even after the apocalypse. Fade stopped, grinding his beak as he stared at the door, seemingly in thought. Coming to a decision, he turned to me again, this time with instructions. “Knock twice, wait three seconds, knock again. Explain exactly what you need and all should be well.” He shifted where he stood, glancing back at the rusted steel portal before adding, “It’s probably best if I hang back for this.”

Crafter piped up, ever the inquisitive one. “If you hang back? What did you do?” he asked, tilting his head in a quizzical fashion.

I could see the conflict written on the griffon’s face. He didn’t want to tell.

If I let him respond, he’ll just evade the question anyways… best to keep him on our good side, at least.

I stepped forward, placing a cautionary hoof on Crafter’s shoulder. “He’ll tell us if he wants to,” I chided lightly, giving him a pointed look. “And we aren’t going to pry into his private business. He’s earned that much by volunteering to be our guide.” Turning back to Fade, I added, “Though I’m sure he wouldn’t lead us into anything too untowards, considering the trust we’ve placed in him.”

Crafter nodded, slightly abashed. It seemed like it hadn’t particularly occurred to him that it might be a touchy subject.

Having brought up the rear, Bernard had just caught up to the rest of us when he gave Fade a skeptical look and asked, “This is a doctor, right?”

The griffon let out a small sigh before looking back to Bernard and answering, “Yes, this is a doctor. His name is Blood Clot, and his work will suit your needs — it’s not like I’m leading you off to some abattoir.” Continuing, he turned to me, “It might not be as clean and… upstanding as what you’re used to but it will be the best I can offer for what you can afford. You have my word on that.” Still in the same breath, he addressed Crafter finally. “You’d be wise to heed Miss Snap Roll’s advice. You’ll learn far more by listening than asking out here in the Wasteland.” That said, he gestured in the vicinity of behind me and bowed his head, asking, “Now, might I? If you want as little hassle as possible, you’ll let me bring up the rear.”

I replied with a nod, cantering past Fade and rapping a hoof on the rather ominous looking door as he assumed the position at the rear. Two knocks, a pause, one more. I took a half step back, waiting for a response.

For a moment, there was nothing. Just as I was about to assume nopony was home, I could hear a faint shuffling from behind the door. Considering the door’s sturdiness, I had to assume that whatever was going on inside had to be rather loud for us to hear it at all. However, as quickly as the noise started, it stopped again. Silence reigned for a few moments, before the bolts on the door rotated and the whole mechanism swung open to reveal a rather put-out looking unicorn stallion framed by the entryway. He had a blue-grey coat, not unlike aged concrete. A golden mane and tail — both cut short and brushed back stiffly — accentuated a square jaw set below narrowed eyes the colour of rust.

Staring down his muzzle at the assemblage of ponies now outside the door, his scowl deepened. He seemed to be on the fence on whether he wanted to slam the door on us, pick a fight, or actually greet us. In a clipped tone, he asked, “Why are you here?” His tone was put-out, as if we’d interrupted something he obviously considered more important than potential clients.

“Three of us need medical attention,” I replied with a toss of my head towards my companions. “One definitely broken leg, one sprain or possible fracture, two broken ribs, and one set of partially healed-” I grimaced at yet another twinge of pain from my midriff. “-internal injuries. We were recommended to your establishment under the impression that we could come to an… agreement to acquire the medical care we need.” I put an ambiguous inflection on the word. Fade had mentioned ‘unflattering pictures,’ but I still wasn’t sure the connotation of such.

He stared at Tailwind and myself scrutinizingly as I spoke, sparing only a cursory glance at the rest of the party. Visibly shifting his jaw, the stallion flicked his eyes away for a second before returning them to myself, his expression somewhat more relaxed. “Very well. You’ll receive aid on my conditions and price,” he stated. I imagine that would normally be a question, but the way he said it left no opening for discussion. “Treatment is one hundred seventy-five caps down payment. Additionally, you and your lover will provide me with anatomical references of pegasi, prior to any treatment. It’s hard to get accurate images of your kind when they always come to me in varying states of disassembly. Any complications will cost extra. Is this clear?”

I flushed, my voice initially angry, “My-” I caught myself, realizing that his rather asinine assumption was completely correct. “Well… yeah.” I sheepishly glanced back at Tailwind, whom responded only with a playful smile and a flick of her tail.

I don’t even need to ask, do I.

Looking back at the stallion, I asked, “Why do you need the pictures before the operation?”

Giving me a look that made me think I should have known better, he replied, “Because otherwise you could simply try and leave after the treatment. Not that you’d get far, what with the door and all, but I’d rather not go through the hassle.”

“Ahh, right.” I replied. I thought about that for a few seconds before nodding my head. “Your terms are quite clear. We agree.” Reaching into my saddlebags and fishing around for a bit, I pulled out a frag grenade and several of the combat knives that had once been part of a certain ‘Sickle of Deadly Deathness.’ Someone would probably have paid more for it intact, but I still feel no remorse about destroying the weapon. Fuck that thing. “We don’t have any caps, so to speak… are these sufficient down payment?”

The stallion remained motionless for a moment before letting out a slow, almost pained sigh and rubbing his temple with a forehoof. “I should have figured you couldn’t actually pay,” he muttered as he gave his head a shake. “Though I can get a better price for those at sale than you could. Or they might serve useful if any of our arrangements should change.” Glowering for a moment, he then turned and briskly trotted down a narrow passage into the sparse concrete room beyond, calling back, “Last one in, close the hatch. Don’t need any more contaminants getting in than what you’re carrying already.” Once he was in the adjacent room, he stood by yet another hatch, instructing, “Leave all your equipment here. Nothing gets through to the next area.

I followed with a quizzical expression as I began to disrobe and dump my saddlebags and equipment by one of the walls. As the others followed me in, I wasn’t sure if I should have been impressed or worried by the fact that he had an impromptu airlock securing what seemed like a simple medical center. Taking up the rear, Bernard closed the heavy door behind us.

“Huh,” Crafter commented as he started pulling off his layers of clothing. “He likes to keep things clean. He must be good.” He wore a slight smile, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him that there were decent odds that the doctor before us wasn’t… entirely on the level.

I finished pulling the last of my barding over my head, placing it in a neat pile on my saddlebags. “Keeping a clinic properly sanitized seems to be quite the feat on the surface, what with the dirt being everywhere,” I quipped back idly.

Having returned from closing the door, Bernard started disrobing as well. “You get used to it, radiation kills most germs anyways.” He finished by placing his rifle reverently on top of the kit pile. “How much you figure we’ll have left after this? I’d like to get some new springs for the trigger mech.”

Running a hoof over my beloved energy pistol resting on top of my own saddlebags, I replied, “That depends on how much we can manage to get from selling the higher ticket items to the Rangers. Could be a decent amount, could be barely enough to get by. I’m honestly not sure.” Glancing back up at him, I added, “Getting Tailwind’s and my own barding winterized takes priority right behind acquiring food, but I’ll see what we can do about getting everyone a little something while we’re here.”

Tailwind had been content to watch the conversation as she did likewise with her own barding and equipment, giving her long mane a quick swish after she was finished. Having seen Crafter’s eyes light up upon hearing about the acquiring of things, she affirmed, “Yes Crafter, that means you too.”

The tan buck glanced around us, commenting wistfully, “I could use a new screwdriver…” He seemed to give that a few seconds of thought, before adding, “A cross-slotted one, actually.” He gave a nod, as if the entirety of his earthly wants would be satisfied with that purchase. There were no words, and I found myself having to reconsider just what sort of ascetic life Crafter actually lived.

Surprising just about everyone in the room, our griffon companion piped up, “This ‘everyone’ doesn’t happen to include me does it? I’m not exactly getting paid to tote around with you.” All eyes in the room were drawn to Fade, who seemed to realize his error a split second after the words had left his mouth. He slapped a talon over his beak and tried desperately to shrink behind Bernard, who gave him a look that pretty much conveyed, ‘He’s unarmed and I’m much smaller than you.’

Having previously taken to examining one hoof and tapping the other impatiently, the doctor before us sharply turned about as he spotted the least equine member of the party huddled behind Bernard. He rounded on me, anger burning in his gaze as he jabbed a hoof in the direction of our resident cat-bird. “You brought THAT with you?! What’s your real purpose here?! What lies have you told me?!”

I sputtered, glancing from the doctor to Fade a couple times before settling on glaring at Fade. “Everfree winds! What?! He’s… Fade! I thought you were going to… Oh, nevermind.” Turning back to Blood Clot, I pointed a wing directly at his chest, rounding on him in a manner that was slightly more pissed off than actually angry. “I’ll have you know that this griffon recommended you to us for medical care! Of all the establishments he could have sent us to, he suggested you. I don’t know what your prior dealings with him were, but he clearly came out of them with the impression that you do a bang up job at the end of the day!”

Please actually have good judgement and not have solely gone off our price range…

“We’re here for medical care, nothing more. We’ve already agreed on terms, and Tailwind and I will gladly pay up when the time comes. Now lets just keep up your end of the bargain, eh?”

The doctor leaned back some at the wing being brandished at him, splitting his attention between Fade and myself. Once I’d finished, he stepped forwards, seizing the nearest primary feathers in a light magical aura and moving them aside, rebuking in a slightly less angry tone, “What has he done? It goes without saying he wouldn’t have shared that little story! Well let me sum it up for you: the first time I laid eyes on that feathered sod he was being dragged out of a snow storm by Rangers, blathering nonsense and bleeding all over the place! They ordered me to take care of him, and what do I get for my services? He wakes up only to throw a fit and demolish half my equipment!” Taking a breath, he stepped back and let out a slow sigh, turning his eyes to glare at Fade, before continuing almost calmly, “The most important thing, however, is that he ruined a terminal that contained all of the research data I had collected over the past four years. All of it gone in an instant, and he just claimed that ‘He didn’t know who he was, or where he was.’ I figured he was just trying to avoid my fee, so I chased him out of here with a cloud of scalpels.” Looking down, he ran a hoof through his mane and collected himself before looking my way again, steel in his voice. “Despite… this, I will hold to my word and treat you. However, my fee will have to be renegotiated.”

At “cloud of scalpels” a shudder ran through me as I realized that the bloody unicorns could do it, too. How horrifying. Shaking my head to rid myself of the mental image, I replied with a smile, “You did say that the down payment we’ve already given you was worth more than enough to cover the base fee.”

Tailwind looked skeptically at the doctor before sidling up beside me and piping up, “Um, Stable-tec terminals have back up contingencies. So you know, saboteurs couldn’t just smash up a screen…” She trailed off.

I raised an eyebrow. We might have an edge.

Making a ‘tsk’ noise with his mouth, Blood Clot replied as he returned his glare to me, “I also said that any complications would hike the fee. Never did I say they had to be medical in nature.” Rolling his jaw, the stallion nodded towards Fade. “And he most definitely counts as a complication. However, I am reasonable and I’m sure we can work out something.” Not leaving room for a rebuttal, he moved on to addressing Tailwind’s point, giving her an appraising look before responding, “I’m well aware of Stable-tec’s robust designs. However, I highly doubt they counted on a high concentration of medicinal alcohol being doused over the working components. That and fire. The mongrel was rather… inadvertently thorough.” Shooting Fade another venomous look, he took a moment before letting out a sigh and moving to the door. “Might as well get this calamity over with,” the stallion muttered, his horn glowing a pale blue as a series of metallic clangs emanated from the far side of the second door.

Not liking being talked down to, especially by someone who clearly didn’t share her own… ah… lust for mechanical systems, let alone data recovery, Tailwind coughed out a rebuttal, “If a terminal data core can survive a direct hit from a ninety-millimeter rocket, then I think it would survive you spilling your tea on it, Doctor.”

Having followed the discourse to that point, Crafter’s head had been on a swivel during the back-and-forth of the conversation. Curiously, he turned to Fade and asked, “Why’d you destroy half his stuff? Seems unnecessary…” He most certainly had a way of asking Fade questions that clearly made him uncomfortable, I had to give him that.

Swiveling his head, Fade replied as he wrung his talons together. After having his beak open for long enough for it to begin to feel awkward, he simply said, “I don’t know — well, remember. I was panicked, I think. The Doc seems to know more than I do. That whole period is a little… fuzzy.”

Seeing the conversation splitting, I focused on Tailwind and the doctor, speaking in a diplomatic tone. “Doctor, Tailwind here is quite the technical specialist. She could give a shot at getting your data retrieved in exchange for a… discount if she succeeds, perhaps enough to cover any complications? She can’t possibly break it any more than you think it already is. If the terminal turns out as broken as you believe it is-” which I didn’t believe for a second “-we’ll pay in goods and services just the same.” I finished with a confident grin, “Sound like a deal?”

The doctor seemed to be resisting the urge to bang his head against the steel slab. Hissing through his teeth, he seemed desperate to try and push the situation forwards. “Fine! If she can recover the data then payment is square with what we discussed. I may also decide not to hold your flea-bitten guide as a test subject. Now can we please move along or do you have any more surprises for me?!”

Glancing at, in turn, Tailwind, Bernard, Crafter and Fade, I turn back to the doctor before replying, “I think we’re good. No surprises here…” I trailed off with a completely inconspicuous whistle, for added effect.

A curt “good” was his only response. There was another flash of magic, and a mechanical hum emanated from somewhere. A few seconds later, the door began swinging quietly inwards. Now visible, the next space seemed to be a sparsely decorated and not often used waiting room. Multiple hallways branched off of it in cardinal directions. Stepping through the door, the doctor simply stated, “Follow as instructed. I’m going to set up an exam room. Get situated and don’t touch anything. The door will close once you’re in.” With that, he trotted off, leaving the group alone in the nearly empty expanse of concrete, aside from a few benches.

We filed in behind him, making ourselves as comfortable as we could on the benches provided. For my part, I took a seat opposite Bernard as I watched the remainder of the group filter through the door. I waited for my target to cross the threshold, the griffon peering dubiously up at the door frame, as if it were boobie trapped or something, before he scooted inside as the door to swung shut with a hiss and a muffled ‘thud.’ He then tried to cross the room as nonchalantly as possible, getting about three steps before I decided to speak the question pressing on most of our minds.

“So Fade, memory loss?” I asked, having waited until he was, at least somewhat, cornered. “Considering how hard you avoid pissing off anyone too important, I imagine that wasn’t just an excuse for trashing the doctor’s clinic.” I rested my head on a foreleg thoughtfully. “I’m not wanting to pry if you don’t feel comfortable talking about it, but if you would like us to help you’re going to have to be honest with us.”

He cringed, avoiding meeting my eyes, and seated himself beside Tailwind and myself before he spoke up. Wringing his talons together, he started off hesitantly, “Ah. You heard that then? Sūdi, es ceru, lai izvairītos no šo... No use in denying it now it seems... It’s.. ahh...memory loss of a sort, I suppose. I’m no doctor. I don’t know what to call it. Everything is still there, you see. Or, I think it is. Might not be mine but it seems likely it is.” He trailed off, squinting and scratching his cheek as he decided how to properly describe the topic that he clearly wasn’t comfortable with.

I gave him time. I wanted to know if it would be an issue, true, but I might also be able to help shed some light on the situation.

“What seem like all the right pieces are there but they are out of order and not… connected. It’s like riding a conveyor through a hall of moving pictures, all behind glass; no sensation, no sound,” he explained. He hesitated, seemingly surprised at the mental image he’d just provided. He glanced up finally, looking like he was surveying the various reactions around the room.

I nodded thoughtfully as he concluded. “Sounds an awful lot like a form of dissociative amnesia.” Seeing Tailwind’s look of feigned surprise and sharp intake of breath — presumably at my use of big words — I pointed a hoof at her, “Hey! I stayed awake for the medical lectures at least!” Returning to addressing Fade, I continued, “Anyways, in the Enclave, we’ve documented a few cases of a similar nature, occasionally after troopers have gone through the VI system…” I paused for a moment, staring off into space as I tried to recall what I could of the relatively obscure topic.

“Typically, it happens after particularly traumatizing experiences while out of body, so to speak. That, or receiving massive head trauma.” I gave the griffon an appraising glance. “Not to make a dig at your character, but I wouldn’t rule out the trauma, especially considering how you first met the doctor here… but assuming that wasn’t what caused it, might you have encountered some form of mentally altering magic? A memory orb, perhaps?”

Crafter glanced my way. “Memory orb…?” He asked hesitantly, having been following reasonably well to that point.

Tailwind leaned forward, giving Crafter an understanding expression. “Oh, you wouldn’t have encountered those in a Stable, would you? Memory orbs are small, glass-like orbs, about yea big.” She described an object about the size of a small spark cell with her hooves. “They are designed to store and playback specific memories. With the right know how, a unicorn can transfer memories from a host into the orbs themselves, and view them herself by simply reaching out to the orb with magic.” She paused for a moment, before adding, “Though in Fade’s case, or anypony who isn’t a unicorn, he would have needed a device called a ‘recollector’ to do what you can do naturally.” She adopted a mild chiding tone, “Just make sure not to activate one on a whim. The memories themselves playback in real-time, so if it’s a long memory…” She smiled, “Though I’m sure you wouldn’t do that. Just making sure.”

Crafter gave a small nod, eyes widening for a second at the thought of living someone else’s memory. “Yeah, I would never,” he reaffirmed, looking for all the world like he was incredibly grateful someone had told him before he did exactly that.

Fade had been listening intently to my assessment, and had used Crafter’s interruption to settle himself where he sat. He shifted his wings and cleared his throat when he was ready to interject. He raised a talon, regarding me with a small smirk. “No, there wasn’t any head trauma. Though thank you for the vote of confidence in my being smashed on the head.” Pausing for a moment, he rocked his head side to side and stared at the floor before admitting, “Your second guess however, sounds right in theory. At least I think it does — as far as I ‘remember,’” he made air quotes at that, “The Doc mentioned something about magical ‘feedback’ — whatever that is — right after I came to, before my little episode.” Sitting back, he gestured at… well, all of him, then shrugged. “So that’s how we got all of this.”

Taking that in, I nodded in non verbal acknowledgement before frowning just a little. “The downside of it being a mental injury is that there isn’t anything I can do.” I flared my wings just a little, as a subconscious reminder that I couldn’t do the same kind of medical work as a unicorn. Still a little jealous about that. “Though even if I had access to magic, I’d hesitate to try and muddle around in thoughts. What I can suggest though, is that you’re referring to your memories like a puzzle, and I’m sure you’ve tried, but try to find the most recent memories and work backwards. Sort of like forming the borders, or edges, of the puzzle.” As I spoke, my hooves demonstrated the rough construction of a square in the air before me, starting with the outsides. “You need to find a couple memories that you know for a fact are yours, then things can begin falling into place.”

As I spoke, his talons began to intertwine. He was listening more intently than I’d ever seen him, and it was good to see that my insight might be useful. Moving to respond, he glanced down to see that his talons were tangled together. He scowled at their apparent rebellion before freeing them from each other, and setting them on the floor for safekeeping. He replied as if nothing had just happened, “I wouldn’t ask you to try regardless of resources, miss.” He gave his head a slow shake, “Though your suggestion is reasonable. It makes definite sense, though I question it’s effectiveness at this point. Perhaps if I had slotted things right away it would work… but now? It’s been years.” He paused and took a breath, rolling his neck. “What I would like to know,” he started cautiously, “is how you think an orb could do all of this. If you have any idea.”

My frown deepened. That was close to the point at which my admittedly theoretical knowledge pretty much dried up. “Well, when we’ve seen it in the Enclave, like I said has usually been with users of the VI system. Those symptoms were caused by complications when they experienced dying through the not-exactly-perfect system, usually in particularly painful ways.” A slight shudder ran through my hooves. There were some bad memories there. Summing up, I hastily added, “Or something along those lines. To get that from a memory orb…” I raised my forehooves in a shrug, concluding, “I honestly don’t know.”

The griffon leaned back, letting out a short “Ah” of understanding, while drumming his claws on the concrete. Near silence hung for about a minute before he let out a sigh and gave me an appreciative smile, “I couldn’t expect you to know. The advice and insight you’ve given is more affirming than anything I’ve yet had. So for that, I thank you.” Bowing his head low, he placed a talon on his chest and stopped just shy of his beak touching the ground. It seemed a slightly odd maneuver to do while sitting, but he was evidently quite flexible. When he rose again, he grinned at Tailwind and I. “You lot are better than the rest. Might be because you’ve got feathers. Should’ve known when I met you.”

Deliberately sidestepping the implication that Bernard and Crafter weren’t included in that, Tailwind replied happily, “Well, we’re awfully glad to have met you too, Fade.”

I responded simply, “You saved my life. I don’t plan to forget that.”

Not long after our discussion had ended, the doctor returned heralded by the sound of approaching hooves clattering down the hallway. Muttering to himself, he stopped halfway into the room and looked up with what I could only assume was his typical scowl. “All of you with the broken bones, go down to the third door on the right. I’ll see to you shortly,” he instructed with a toss of his head to gesture down the hall. Jabbing a hoof towards me, he followed up with, “You two, pegasi, follow me.” He turned back the way he’d come before apparently remembering Fade’s existence, casting his ireful gaze at the oh-so-innocuous looking griffon. “Don’t touch anything.” Was his only comment.

Crafter and Bernard headed to the indicated room, while Tailwind and I followed him deeper into the wall itself, before stopping in front of a door as nondescript metal-grey as the rest of the doors we’d passed. As the door swished open, we realized that he hadn’t been kidding when he said he wanted pictures for anatomical reference. The room was kitted out for everything from normal cameras to x-ray, and that was just what I could identify. I suspected one of the machines was for thermal mapping, but that was a guess as much as anything.

As the door shut behind us, I had to admit that despite everything, he really did just want anatomical pictures from Tailwind and myself.

Over the course of the next half hour or so, Blood Clot must have taken dozens of pictures of each of us. Wings spread, wings folded, legs, barrel, teeth, and anything else he could think of, it seemed. It felt a little violating when he took more… intimate pictures, but the fact that he maintained the same clinical expression throughout was probably what made me the most uneasy. He took colour photos, black and white, as well as having each of us stand on a full body x-ray machine. He seemed fascinated with our bone structure, and not in the coy way I’d normally say that — but in our bones themselves. I was aware that their composition was different from earth ponies and unicorns, but it had never occurred to me that somepony could be so obsessed with it.

As he finished the last of the x-ray pictures, he gave a long look over a screen, presumably where they were being previewed. WIth a satisfied nod, he finally addressed me. “There, we’re done. That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” The condescension was back in full force. “You, the injured one, come with me. I’ll have to see what kind of a mess you’ve made of yourself before I know how to proceed.” Turning to Tailwind, he added, “Before you say anything, no, you may not join us now. Once we’re done, I will let you in to see your partner.” Finished with his instructions, he moved to the door and glanced back at us impatiently.

I met Tailwind’s gaze with what I hoped passed for a reassuring look, her stance on the matter of being present during the operation quite clear from her expression. Her frown lessened just a little at my reassurance, and I was met with a nod of affirmation. “Lets just get this over with,” I said, giving Tailwind a quick embrace and another reassurance that everything would be fine. Blood Clot responded with an irritated huff, making it quite clear that he considered the reassurances either frivolous or unnecessary.

Fuck him, we’re already paying.

Breaking from the embrace, her worried expression had diminished, but wasn’t gone entirely. “I’ll see what I can do about his stupid terminal in the meantime,” she replied. It was good to see she’d have something to occupy her time, at least. I foresaw Crafter’s en-PipBucked leg being borrowed sometime in the near future.

With a parting glance, I turned to follow Blood Clot into his prepared scanning chamber. I’m not sure what I expected, but what I found myself in was a largely bare, whitewashed room with a set of locked cabinets full of medical supplies. Just off of center of the room sat a chair designed to recline into what would serve as an operating table. The cabinets themselves seemed to have been pressed into service to hold the supplies. Judging from the size and spacing of them, I guessed that this room might once have been a weapons locker, which meant that the entire clinic might well have been an armoury once upon a time. I noted that his supplies were a little below what Chess had, in terms of both quality and quantity.

I fluttered myself onto the chair as the glow of magic surrounded the unicorn’s horn. He closed the door behind us and reclined the chair to a position almost parallel to the ground, and I felt my spine give a few soft pops in sympathy. At least it was comfortable

Without ceremony, Blood Clot leaned over me as his horn once again flared to life, the feeling of magic actively scanning me feeling like a mild itch all over my body. Coming from him, I almost wanted to make an attempt at modesty, though it would be in vain — he wasn’t even interested in that way, though the thought did nothing to dispel my discomfort. Despite the unusual feeling, I found myself feeling envious of the medical applications of unicorn magic. Just a little. I consoled myself with the fact that regardless of magical ability, when it really mattered in combat, speed and skill were the deciding factors of survival. My own recent brush with death reinforced that mindset.

The doctor ran his horn up and down my body, moving his head carefully and deliberately. His personality was abrasive, but he did maintain a professional air about his work, especially with his attention to detail. Abruptly, he listed out a train of notes that made me grimace as he did, “Right upper torso, recently healed bite wound. Lower torso, bullet wound, mostly healed. High calibre. Exit wound…” He moved to my other side, seeing the star-shaped scar, mostly covered by my coat. “Hunting round?” He asked, prompting me to nod in response before he continued his questioning. “What medical care were you given?”

“Med-X, first. Then we stopped the bleeding by topically applying a healing potion and packing the wound with healing bandage while applying direct pressure.” I replied evenly. Clinically. “Then, orally ingested a second healing potion. The bite wound was healed in the latter process.”

He nodded in response, raising a hoof to his chin in thought. “The first aid saved your life, though you need additional treatment. There is still some internal bleeding. I assume you are aware that there is little I can do if there was anything improperly healed by the potion?”

I grimaced again, but nodded.

“Then lets get started…” He said, as a healing potion and a set of surgical instruments levitated themselves over to the operating table. His horn glowed, and I felt as if a bubble burst on my forehead, spreading warmth throughout my body as the anaesthetic spell began to take hold. The world became very fuzzy, and I drifted away into an induced sleep I was all too happy to embrace.

I blinked my eyes open, and was greeted by the unfortunate sight of waking up to Blood Clot rather than Tailwind, standing over my body as I remained at rest on the operating table.

“Well, I have good news.” He declared, his tone of voice almost disinterested. “The operation was a success. Your internal organs are no longer bleeding all over themselves. Unfortunately, you will have that scar for the rest of your life, however long that may be.” He levitated the last of the instruments he’d used, dropping them into what seemed (from the smell anyways) to be an alcohol immersion, presumably for cleaning and later disinfectant. The now-empty bottle of a healing potion sat off to one side.

“However.”

My heart dropped into my hooves as he continued his assessment, absently looking at a clipboard that had apparently been written on while I’d been out.

No no no…

“The bullet tore through your womb. It had filled with blood and torn tissue, presumably at the time you drank the healing potion.” The blood drained from my face as he continued, not seeming to notice. “While it undoubtedly saved your life, you will not be having foals.” His words dripped with thinly veiled condescension. “Something which I’m sure there was no danger of at any rate, considering your relationship with the unnecessarily worried mare waiting impatiently outside.”

His assumption that because I was in a relationship with Tailwind, I therefore did not want foals was as understandable as it was false — even from a wastelander’s perspective. Many in the Enclave gave up on the notion of having foals, seeing it as too much of an investment of time and effort for the documentation involved. Despite the privilege of having an additional foal granted for military service, most of the Enclave military weren’t able to take advantage of the incentive for a good long while. For Tailwind and I, with our combined salaries we would have been able to afford it — but with the amount of time we’d be forced away with various taskings, building a family simply wasn’t viable for the time being. In part, that was why the Enclave encouraged homosexual relationships. It scratched the itch, while keeping the issue of unwanted pregnancy out of the question. Neat and tidy, as it were.

I had always hoped that one day I would be able to have a foal, even just one. I’d once thought that Nosedive might have made a good father, but I’d come to accept the finality of how that ended, even if I still hadn’t properly mourned his death. Being stranded in the Wasteland, I’d even begun to consider the possibility that maybe, just maybe, I could have had a foal down here — only to have my hopes dashed not a week since finding myself stuck here.

To put it simply, all of that — all of my plans for the future — were forced to be reconciled with the reality I found myself in, all at once.

I basically shut down. On that operating table in some sky-forsaken hole-in-the-wall medical facility, I hugged my forehooves to my chest. My breathing was shallow, and I was probably staring right past Blood Clot. He had ceased to register to me, for the time being. For his part, he paid me no heed — medically, I was just fine, after all. As he finished the menial post-operation clean up, he opened the metal door and stepped out. I heard muted voices from outside, and the mare I wanted — needed — to see the most in the world stepped through the door.

Stepping tentatively through the doorway, Tailwind shot a quick glance at the departing doctor before addressing me. “Hey Snap...” She said, concern evident in her voice. “How'd it go?” She had clearly picked up that all was most certainly not well.

My heart leapt to see her, despite the news I'd have to tell her. “He... he did good,” I replied distantly, “It doesn't hurt anymore.” I lightly pressed a hoof to my stomach. Then I met her eyes. Those big, beautiful emerald orbs, gazing into my own. I felt myself tearing up. “But... h-he said I can't have kids, Tail,” I managed to choke out. “The bullet, it...” I trailed off, unable to finish.

She trotted over as I spoke, and once I brought up the outcome she gasped in shock and surprise. Then, she threw her hooves around me in a tight hug, cradling my head in the nook of her shoulder. “I'm here love, I'm here,” she whispered into my ear, her soft words of comfort washing over me.

As she held me, I felt... safe. Safe enough to soak her sky blue coat with tears. My body was wracked with sobs as I clutched her to me like I'd never let her go. I certainly didn't want to. For a long while, she was there, petting my mane as I let it all out. In between tearful sobs, I found myself asking, “Why us, Tail? Why'd all this have to happen to us?”

Still holding me close, she whispered back, “I don't know. I think everypony asks that of themselves at some point, though.”

“We had a plan...” I sobbed, “Find the right buck, settle down and raise a family... the three of us. It's all gone so wrong!”

“Shh...” she cooed, “We'll figure something out. I know you wanted to be the one but I could still carry our foal. We can still have that family we talked about.”

I backed out of her shoulder, keeping us at hoof's length for the moment. “Sorry, I... you're right.” I wiped my eyes on one of my fetlocks, brushing away the tears still lingering there. “We still can, and we will,” I affirmed, leaning forward to brush our lips together in a light kiss.

She leaned into me, and for a few blissful moments, I managed to forget the troubles that plagued us.

As she released me, I looked up to see Crafter and Bernard, silhouetted in the doorway. I didn’t think they’d heard our conversation, but they were looking inwards wearing expressions of concern. It looked like Blood Clot had found the time to treat them while I was out, too.

The sentiment made me happy, but I most certainly wasn’t looking forward to the inevitable questions.

Speaking of which, there was one left for me to ask. “Hey Tailwind, so what did end up coming of Blood Clot’s research data?

Surprisingly, she glanced away. If I didn’t know better, I might have thought she was ashamed of something. “I recovered it; wasn’t even hard.” She said in a quiet voice. “We’re paid up.”

With more than enough already weighing on my mind, I dismissed the thought. If she didn’t want to talk about it, I probably didn’t want to know. Together, we cantered out the door to rejoin the others.

Crafter spoke up first, his limitless optimism almost bringing a tear to my eye. “How’d it go? Are you all better?”

Not exactly, Crafter…

I resigned myself to the uncomfortable task of explaining my own rather intimate injury with a sad sigh, stepping out of the operating room. “Well, remember when Fade gave me that healing potion?” I began, as the door swished shut behind Tailwind and myself. At least it rid us of the nauseatingly sterile scent of the medical alcohol.

“Some wounds just don’t heal right.”

True to his word, Blood Clot let us leave unmolested by the dreaded cloud of scalpels he had alluded to before. He even seemed pleased with Tailwind’s work. There was no further talk of payment, and I was perfectly happy to leave it at that. We recovered our gear, and made our way out the airlock and into the open air once again.

I must have been out for a while, because once again the sky was starting to darken and the cold set in. By and large, the streets were cleared except for ponies headed towards warm fires and safe hearths. All except the Rangers, who still stood watch upon the walls. Keeping everypony safe, even us. That got a lot of respect from me.

Despite Tailwind having calmed me down, I was still something of a mess. Bernard took it upon himself to find us a place to sleep, and I followed along in a bit of a fugue. My legs were moving, but my mind was on autopilot. We passed by streets, intersections, alleys -- none of them stuck. For once, I would have been in trouble if I’d had to do something as simple as recount the path we’d taken. Eventually, we came upon a two story building that some part of my brain recognized as having seen earlier. Without ceremony, we went inside, huddled deep into our barding from the cold air.

Not much of the place he ended up choosing registered with me at the time, but it had a warm fire going and a series of private rooms available. Bernard bartered on our behalf, and it was his caps that were parted with. Tailwind and I soon had a room all to ourselves, and it wasn’t long before I found myself snuggled up beside her on an actual mattress. It was old, but compared to where we had been sleeping the last couple nights, it might as well have been a cloud bed for all I cared.

With Tailwind already snoring beside me and the soft sounds of our companions getting settled in on the other side of the wooden wall that separated us, my tired eyes closed on another day in the wasteland. It was, thankfully, a dreamless sleep.

Author's Notes:

I think I need to start adjusting my time estimates to be more along the lines of a chapter every month and a half. Still, I don't think this one took too long, all things considered. And considering the content of the last quarter, it would have given that time of year an even more... unfortunate air.

Anyways, big thanks to the editing team, or "Legion of Doom" as they've been referred to of late - Belmor, Plain, Personal Gamer, Jetwave and Cpt Doel. There were definitely some fiddly bits in this one.

Comments and/or criticism are always welcome, I always love to hear what you guys think of what I write. I do read every comment, even if sometimes it takes me a long time to respond.