“Good morning, everypony! This is your host, DJ Pon3, and this is the news. Strange things are apparently happening in the vicinity of Manehattan Blast Zone. Several ponies have claimed to witness a fire erupting there suddenly. I got a report from a ghoul who was out there scavenging that one of the few mostly intact buildings had been burned down. By what? Nobody knows. Anypony who is crazy enough to travel through that highly irradiated area, please remember to re-read Equestria’s fire safety instruction book.

“In other news, remember how mommies used to tell you to not litter food, because that’s how you get ants? Well, somebody didn’t listen. A trader was attacked by giant ants that had moved out of nowhere somewhere between Friendship City and Gutterville. As if the manticores weren’t enough of a pest problem around those parts.

“That’s all the news for now. Tune in later for a public service announcement and more news. Now, here’s more of Sweetie Belle, singing about that one great truth of the wasteland: every pony has done something they regret.”

I lifted my head away from the microscope’s lense as the sweet music of Sweetie Belle replaced the voice of a buck that called himself “DJ Pon3”. I’ve begun to like that station more and more. Not only did it play very good music (including songs from Sweetie Belle’s repertoire that I already liked back in Stable Eight, but also from a certain Sapphire Shores that I grew to appreciate as well), but it proved to be a somewhat reliable source of information.

“Giant ant,” I said out loud as I scribbled it on the clipboard I picked up, where on the top of the page I’ve written ‘SPECIMENS TO ACQUIRE’. I paused for a few moments, mentally going over DJ Pon3’s broadcast. “Manticore!” I exclaimed, writing that one down as well.

Still, the information relayed by this mysterious buck weren’t always one hundred percent accurate. For instance, I’d already heard him refer to Appleloosa as a place ponies needed to stay away from at least twice. Although I was sure that it applied in most cases, my own personal experience made me beg to differ.

It has been two days since the ‘death’ of Cutter. I had now completely moved in to the clinic and taken over his duties. According to my contract with Black Widow, I was required to tend to the slavers that got hurt while catching ‘merchandise’ for free, as well as making sure that the slaves were in relative good health until they were sent out of Appleloosa. For those services, I was going to get paid one thousand caps every month. Aside from that, though, I could charge as much as I liked for medical services to ponies living in the town (such as the bartender) or slavers that got hurt while off-duty. Not to mention treating illnesses. However, from those earnings I had to pay ten percent back to Black Widow at the end of each month.

Ugh, finances. Why do I have to bother with those?!

Shaking my head, I turned my attention back to the microscope. I’d just finished checking the DNA I extracted from Cutter’s blood sample. As far as I could tell, there was no change in a pony’s genomes brought on by the radiation. Of course, this was a simple microscope; to check the DNA strain thoroughly, I would have needed more precise equipment.

One more thing to acquire, I sighed. Except the chances of finding such a device that’s still working… There might be some in old hospitals, but from what I heard so far about the Wasteland, I could find those only in the ruins of big cities. And all of those are far away.

So getting specialistic lab equipment was one of the later goals. I looked at my clipboard to review the ones I could complete much sooner: a complete examination of an earth pony (a corpse preferably), an earth pony test subject, securing a more stable way of getting funds (Will need Apple Core’s help with this one.), finding some readable books, and… resuming my experiments, finally.

I turned to look at the door of what was now currently Cutter’s prison. There were several experiments that I’ve never managed to complete back in Stable Eight, but which should I start with first? I glanced at my clipboard.

I lost two subjects on regeneration research… I mused, cringing inside. So perhaps I should start with something more safe, at least until I secure more test subjects. Hm… truth serum? Would be useful… Of course, I frowned with annoyance, I wouldn’t need a truth serum if Stable-Tech had thought about leaving any books about Ministry of Morale’s memory spells in Stable Eight.

A yawn interrupted my musing. I looked at the time on my PipBuck and saw that it was almost ten, the time to open the clinic. Guess it’s too late to start working on the truth serum. Oh well, I shrugged as I raised from the desk and began to leave the basement. Maybe I should have woken up earlier… but there’s no coffee here! How am I supposed to work?

Once I closed the door to the basement behind me, and entered the empty clinic, I found myself getting almost immediately distracted from my experiments. I hadn’t even crossed half of the way to my new room (previously belonging to Cutter and Whip Crack, but the latter had already moved back to the slavers’ male barracks), when the door of the clinic opened, and Apple Core walked in.

I smiled at her pleasantly. “Good morning, Apple Core,” I greeted her.

The light brown mare didn’t meet my eyes. “Um, hi,” she muttered, looking somewhere around my hooves.

I frowned. “Is it still about you hitting on me while you were drunk? Sweetie, I told you, you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Easy for ya t’ say,” Apple Core replied, and I noticed she was blushing.

I rolled my eyes and decided to not remind her that so far, I hadn’t stated my orientation to anypony in Appleloosa. Even if she was right…

Instead, I chose to tell her something that hopefully would make her forget about her embarrassment. “Apple Core, you’ve done nothing to feel ashamed of,” I began, walking slowly toward her and gazing into her eyes. “I am an angel of Celestia and Luna; I’ve descended from Paradise bearing to ponies gifts of both life and death alike.” I stopped before her; by then, Apple Core had finally looked at me, and her eyes were wide open in shock and her mouth hang open. “To desire me is not a sin,” I continued, struggling to keep the serious (and a bit lustful) expression on my face, “for it is natural for ponies to love one that-”

Finally, I couldn’t go on. My features faltered, and lips quivered. A second later I had to cover my mouth as I began to laugh. “You should have seen the look on your face,” I managed to say while Apple Core began slowly to understand what was going on.

She snorted with laughter and looked at me with half-frown, half-amusement. “Dang nabbit, girl, ya almost ‘ad me!” Apple Core told me, glaring at me humorously. “Ah almost bought that bag of horse apples!”

“I can be convincing when I want,” I replied, sticking out my tongue. “Besides,” I continued, regaining a more lady-like composure, “I am a doctor; you can’t fault me for having a bit of a goddess complex, now can you sweetie?” I joked; contrary to what ponies at my trial had said, I knew that I did not have a goddess complex. But I could still joke about it in the right company.

Apple Core shook her head. “Better stop then. Ya seem crazy ‘nough as it is, no need for ya t’ go around town sayin’ crap like that. Folks might start thinkin’ yar one of ‘em Preachers.”

I was confused by her statement, especially that last sentence, as I’ve so far heard nothing about any ‘preachers’. But I decided that I had more pressing matters to take care of for now. “While it is always a joy to see you, sweetie, might I ask why have you come? I believe you were supposed to be on duty until noon.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I was sent t’ get ya. Guards spotted a caravan comin’; must be Cracker’s group.”

Well, there go my plans to start my experiments, I thought, stifling a sigh. I’d already heard that a certain slaver by the name Cracker was sent with a big group to capture ponies living in a small town a few days trot away. By the looks of everything I knew so far, I was about to spent half a day treating both slavers and slaves. Still, though, I tried to remain optimistic. Perhaps one of them will be seriously wounded, with low chances of making it…

“I’ll get some supplies ready; will you help me carry them?” I asked looking over my shoulder as I trotted towards the room that Cutter had used as a storage room.

Apple Core agreed and helped me pack healing potions, bandages and several medicines into saddlebags. Each of us taking one, we left the clinic and headed towards the entry to the town. Now more at ease with me after my amusing performance, Apple Core made some small talk. “Ah wonder how many did they get?”

I just assumed this was what usually passed for “small talk” around slavers.

“Hope they didn’t do too well.”

“Concerned I will have too much work?” I asked teasingly.

Apple Core snorted. “Nah. Well, a bit,” she admitted, grinning at me. “But we slavers get paid based on how many slaves we catch. Like, Ah and others will get credit for those seven ya’ve seen. Cracker will get caps for those his group caught. Also, it increases our ranks around the slavers. Can’t let the snot get ahead of me…” she muttered, a grimace sullying her normally nice features.

“I see… and how exactly does the ranking system looks like?”

“Well, f’course, Black Widow’s on top, she’s the boss. She assigns all the patrols, guard duties, and plans the raids on towns. Second in command is Butcher; ya haven’t met him yet. Maybe ya’ll understand what the hay he’s sayin’, half of folks can’t. He’s out with a small party, catchin’ travelers; he pissed the boss off a month ago and she hadn’t let him go on bigger raids since.”

Maybe she won’t miss him…

“How did he piss Black Widow off?”

“He played with a slave a bit too much, killed her. Black Widow doesn’t like losin’ slaves like that,” Apple Core replied, shrugging. “Anyways, after Butcher there’s me, third in rank.”

“Really?” I exclaimed, impressed. I’d guessed by now that Apple Core was of a high rank amongst the slavers, but I had no idea that she was just two ponies below Black Widow. I looked at her alluringly. “I wasn’t aware that I’ve made friends with such an important pony…”

Apple Core glanced at me. “Yeah, well, it’s not all that great. Ah mean, sure, Ah get more money and get to lead groups once in a while, but Ah still got to obey everythin’ Black Widow says. Ah suppose it’s more of a peckin’ order than actual rankin’... anypony who has a problem with somethin’ Black Widow says, they get better acque-... acquant-...”

“Acquainted?” I hinted.

“Yeah, that,” Apple Core nodded. “They get better acquainted with that zebra pet of hers.”

“Khan?” I asked with interest.

Oh, how I wish Black Widow would let me take a close look at him...

“Yeah, him. Ah’ve once saw ‘im pull somepony’s head off along with most of his spine,” she said and shuddered. I couldn’t blame her; it must have been rather gruesome sight.

Note to self: don’t ever get on Black Widow’s bad side.

Despite the thought, I began to wonder how to get Black Widow’s permission to check Khan’s brain; I was curious to see just how damaged it was. It was strange that despite apparently losing the ability to think and speak, he could understand simple commands and execute them.

“And what is Cracker’s rank in the pecking order?” I asked Apple Core, not wanting her to think I lost interest in our discussion.

“He’s fifth, right behind Whip Crack. And given how since Cutter’s death he became more of a dick that he already was, Ah expect he’ll fall down a rank. Or a head.”

She was right; only yesterday Whip Crack had both beaten up one slave, then got into a fight in the saloon. If he continued to be so aggressive, he might find his head removed from his body by Khan.

My musing and our discussion were stopped when we reached a large group of ponies gathered near the cages where the slaves were kept. Among them was heralded a group of fourteen ponies in shackles, all greatly battered and wounded, with bandages poorly wrapped around them. Surrounding them were slavers, all looking relieved to be back in Appleloosa. One of them, a large light gray earth pony with spiked horseshoes and a coiled rope as a cutie mark (Or is it a snake? I pondered briefly; I couldn’t get a good look from that angle), was talking with Black Widow. The black unicorn mare was listening to him, while at the same time looking over the gathered slaves with an appraising look.

We managed to reach close enough just in time to hear the pony - Cracker, I assumed - say: “... we killed three of those raiders and captured the other two, but they’ve killed one slave.”

“Shame,” Black Widow replied, frowning slightly. “Still, running into a raider group could have much worse repercussions. They’ve been getting even more aggressive as of late. I wonder if we should give up on the hunting grounds near Ponyville, even if that group still lets our patrols go for a small fee.”

“Yeah, I swear, every time I have to talk with them, I half expect them to just blow my head off.”

“Hm. At least you’ve got one extra slave out of this.” She finally noticed me and Apple Core. “Ah, Doctor Angel; Cracker, meet Appleloosa’s new medic.”

“New medic?” Cracker asked, turning to us. “What happen to- Hello Baby!” he exclaimed, smirking, as he looked me up and down. “Where have you been hiding?”

I noticed Apple Core bristled slightly beside me, and I felt touched. “In a Stable, sweetie,” I replied, smiling at him. “I’m terribly sorry for eavesdropping, but I’ve happened to overhear that you lost one slave. You don’t happen to have their corpse, do you?”

Even though I already knew the most likely answer, I had to ask.

Cracker look at the me with raised eyebrow, and he wasn’t the only one confused; Black Widow and Apple Core mirrored his expression. “Uh, no, why the fuck would I bring a fucking corpse?”

Frowning a bit at his language, I replied: “Well, for you, of course, it would have no value. Still, I had to ask, because I had hoped that, if it was a corpse of an earth pony, I could perform a post-mortem examination. I’ve studied only the physiology of unicorns, you see, and although there’s not much difference between the two, there are still minor differences. The bone density, for example, or the muscle structure…”

As I was talking, I was beginning to be more and more aware that the only one that seemed to understand remotely what I was talking about was Black Widow, and even she was looking at me as if I bored her. The other two were also looking at me with deepening confusion.

I cleared my throat, stopping my lecture. “The point is, I would really appreciate if the next time a pony you’ve captured had unfortunately died during the journey back, you would bring his corpse. If it was close enough, of course.”

“How much would you appreciate that?” Cracked asked almost immediately, taking a step towards me.

Black Widow spared me the need to reply to his allusion. “Doctor, don’t you have patients to check?”

I nodded at her, smirking, and turned around to the crowd of wounded ponies.

“Everypony who can move, please form a line over here, and wait your turn,” I told them. “Ponies too wounded or in too much pain to move, please stay where you are and groan.”

Although a little taken aback by my orders, ponies began to line up, slavers pushing groaning slaves to stand. I shook my head, dismayed with their brutality, and headed towards them. Behind me, I could hear the trio of slavers talking.

“Could ya stop starin’ at her flank?” I heard Apple Core hiss. “Ya can’t even see it under that coat.”

“Why do you care?” Cracker snorted in reply. “Anyway, Boss, there’s one more thing I wanted to mention; when we were getting out of Rock Gulch, one of the boys swears he saw the Hooded Figure. I took a few ponies to check it out, but-”

The rest of the conversation was lost to my ears, as I had to concentrate on a misfortunate pony who had lost half of his teeth, his face looked as if it was minced, and had several broken ribs.

A yawn escaped me as I was finally done with the last patient. Cutter wasn’t kidding when he had complained on his work; on busy days it was really a lot for one pony. I’d started working on that group around ten in the morning, and it was already almost midnight.

“Do you have to be so brutal with them?” I asked with pretense one of the slavers that was keeping an eye on the slaves in the clinic.

The state of three of them was so serious that I had to operate. I was surprised that they’d made it to Appleloosa in their state; that is, until somepony told me that their kin carried them for most of the way. One of them, for example, had an ugly, purulent wound on his leg; I had to cut out a lot of flesh to save his life.

My question caused both guards to chuckle. “Ponies don’t usually line ‘emselves up to become slaves, Missy,” one of them said.

“Doctor,” I corrected him.

I walked over to the closest slave, ignoring the guard’s reply. Each of them was sedated, chained, and laying on a mattress. I double-checked to see if everything was in order, before I finally nodded in satisfaction.

“I’m going to Salt Block for a glass of Sparkle-Cola; don’t break anything, sweeties,” I smiled at them as I turned to leave. I stopped for a moment. “That extends to my three patients as well; I hadn’t spent the better part of today fixing them for you to break them.”

“Sure, sure,” one of them replied, rolling his eyes at me.

“I’m not in the mood for fun anyway,” the other added, shrugging.

Not really feeling comfortable with leaving them in my clinic, I hurried to the saloon. I’d closed the doors to my room, the storage and to the basement, but I felt slightly concerned about the fate of the slaves; those two didn’t really convince me they wouldn’t do anything to them. I hoped to find Apple Core and be done with my business quickly.

However, I was in for a disappointment; Apple Core wasn’t there.

“She got up and left about an hour ago with Snare,” the bartender told me when I asked him. “And it looked as if they were going to be busy.”

Another one? I thought, frustrated that I couldn’t talk with her tonight. That’s the third time since I came to Appleloosa; I wonder if it’s because of how she acted when she was drunk… either way, I’d better ask her about what method of contraception she’s using.

I ordered a glass of Sparkle-Cola, figuring that I might as well drink something since I was already there, as well as ordering some potato crisps. After paying him, I took my order to an empty table not far away. As I sipped my Sparkle-Cola, I scanned the crowd; several ponies who had noticed me were smiling smugly at me and were shouting for me to join them. I just smiled and shook my head; it didn’t take much of a genius to figure that their main intention was, to put it gently, copulation. Sadly for them, their chances were none-existent… unlike mine, which I thought were at least plausible.

So far, I’ve met only three people in the Wasteland that I would consider making love to, and it doesn’t look like any of them are going to show similar interest, I sighed, annoyed. Can’t believe it’s already been a few months since-

My train of thoughts was stopped abruptly by the angry and surprised shout coming from the room behind the bar, followed by the sound of several objects falling. I wasn’t the only one who heard it; other patrons were also looking in that direction, surprised.

Being the closest one, I was the first to react. Urged by my curiosity, I hurried from my table, jumped on the bar’s counter and jumped down on the other side. My E.F.S. was flashing me four bars; one friendly, and three- two hostile. One hostile bar just disappeared the moment I entered the backroom.

Then I saw what caused the bartender to start such a commotion. Next to him, on the ground, were two tiny, brown colored creatures, each about the length of my leg, scattering around on the floor one their six legs, their antenna twitched in the direction of the bartender, beneath whose hoof were the remains of their kin.

As the pony raised his goo covered hoof in the air, I screamed: “Stop!”

My shout had the desired effect; the bartender looked back at me, confused. I paid him no mind; I had to hurry. Although I was tired, I still had the strength to cast two anesthetic spells. Were they going to hit their targets, though…

Not wanting to lose such a chance, I activated S.A.T.S.

Immediately, everything around me froze. Or, to be more precise, my perception of my surroundings had been drastically sped up. The Stable-Tec Arcane Targeting Spell, one of the spells included in my PipBuck, had begun to work. With it, even with my total lack of combat experience, I could hit two of those critters easily (because, as the S.A.T.S. informed me, I had over eighty percent chance of hitting them). Taking a deep breath (figuratively speaking, as I was unable to move when S.A.T.S. was in effect), I lined up two spells, one on each target, and let it do its work.

My anesthetic spell worked; both insectoid creatures dropped on the ground, unable to move. I smiled, pleased with myself. And a little bit surprised. I knew how S.A.T.S. worked, of course, as I checked out every possible use there is for a PipBuck years ago, but using it in an actual combat - or, well, resembling combat at least - was another thing.

I snapped myself back to attention when I noticed that bartender was now giving me an even more confused stare. “What-” he started, but I cut him off.

“Mind if I take them?”

“Ya’re keepin’ radroaches as pets,” Apple Core deadpanned.

“I know!” I exclaimed cheerfully. “Aren’t they cute?”

It was morning the next day; we were in my room in the clinic. Most of the things in it had belonged to Cutter: drawer, table, wardrobe, sink (not working), fridge, and bed (with the mattress changed). Of course, they were empty; Whip Crack took most of the things he and Cutter had kept in them, but I wasn’t complaining.

The only visible thing that belonged to me was an aquarium, with two radroaches I rescued the night before safely in it, chewing on a bit of brahmin (whatever that was) meat. Their brethren’s remains were down in the refrigerator in the basement. There wasn’t much that was left of it that wasn’t smashed, but it was still a valuable source of information.

“First of all,” Apple Core started, replying to my question, “‘cute’ ain’t in mah dictornary-”

“Dictionary,” I corrected her patiently.

“Ugh, tryin’ speakin’ fancy around ya… second of all, Ah’m pretty sure those things are the very opposite of ‘cute’.”

I giggled. “Well, I suppose this depends on the pony.”

“No, it ain’t,” Apple Core once again deadpanned. “Like, really. Those things are gross.”

“Beauty is an abstract idea, it is defined by our personal standards. What to one pony can be the most beautiful thing ever, could very well be absolutely hideous to another.”

When I turned back from the aquarium (The way they ate was so cute! With those little chelicerae…), I was met with a blank stare. “Can’t ya speak normal?!” Apple Core exclaimed once she recovered.

“Define normal? After all, I am a product of my upbringing, which is safe to assume was much different than yours…”

I trailed off when I saw Apple Core’s annoyed gaze. She sighed as I giggled. “Let’s change topic ‘fore mah head explodes; where the fuck did ya get this glass thingy?”

I frowned hearing her curse. “Can’t you ask in a nicer way? You really curse too often.”

Apple Core facehoofed and muttered something incoherent.

“That ‘glass thingy’ is called ‘an aquarium’. Before the war, ponies used to fill them with water and keep fishes in them.”

“The hell are ‘fishes’?”

“Scaly animals that used to live in rivers, lakes and seas,” I replied simply. “And as for how I got the aquarium, it was in Forty Caps store when you showed me around. I bought it from him.”

“Wasn’t the store closed?”

“He was in the saloon,” I replied, shrugging. I looked back at the radroaches, frowning. “What do you think I should name them?”

“Itchy and Scratchy?” I raised my eyebrows. “What? It fits ‘em.”

“On the other hoof, I don’t think they need names just yet.”

“Whatevs. What did ya want anyway? Smash told me ya wanted t’ talk about somethin’.”

When the slaves woke up early in the morning, they had to be placed back with the others. Smash, who was one of the two ponies that guarded the slaves overnight, had agreed to carry my message to Apple Core. I admit, I was surprised he did so. I suppose I was being prejudiced; I still remembered how he and Sawed-Off were eager to put me in shackles with the slaves.

“Yes, I do,” I told Apple Core, looking her in the eyes. “I was wondering if you would like to earn some caps?”

That got her interest. Her eyes widened, but there was now more attention in them. “What ya mean?”

“Well, you seem to know pretty much everypony around here,” I began slowly, not breaking the eye contact. “And since you are the third important pony in Appleloosa, you would have a much easier time to-”

My soon-to-be-partner stomped angrily. “Just get t’ point!”

“Would you like to sell drugs to ponies?”

Her eyes grew wider again.

“Think of it as a small side business,” I continued, pleased with the effect my words were having on her. “I would provide you with drugs, and you would sell them to slaves and merchants in Appleloosa. I figure you would easily learn what everypony needs.”

“Where would ya get drugs?” Apple Core finally asked.

“You know how there is a door leading to the basement here?”

“The one that nobody could get t’ open?” I nodded and grinned. Apple Core sighed. “When did ya open it?”

“The very night I first came here,” I replied cheerfully. “Inside there was a supply of several drugs and medicines. I have plenty of ingredients to create Buck, Dash, Rage-”

“Ya KNOW how t’ make drugs?”

I couldn’t help myself; I had to laugh at the surprise in her voice. “Sweetie, those things, from a technical point of view, are medicines. Of course I know how to make them. Even if my Stable was supposed to be more ‘magic-oriented’, they provided us with enough Ministry of Peace’s books for me to learn about the drugs as well. In fact,” I giggled, “did you know that the drug that enhances combat effectiveness and numbs the pain, commonly known as Stampede, was invented during the war by somepony named Angel? I just had to learn how to make it!”

“Why do Ah feel like ya just went back in time and invented it?” Apple Core deadpanned again.

“Oh, don’t be silly, that’s impossible,” I quickly told her.

“Yeah, Ah know-”

“Stable Eight’s excessive studies on the subject showed that even though it is possible for a unicorn to travel back in time with a correct spell, it would be impossible for him or her to change historical events.” Ignoring the stare Apple Core was giving me, I continued: “Inventing a battle drug would be one such event. Of course, if-”

My next words were muffled by the hoof pressed against my mouth. “Ya know what Ah hate the most?” Apple Core asked me, frowning. “That Ah can’t say whether ya are fuckin’ with me or not right now.”

I rolled my eyes and moved her hoof away. “Then to avoid such situations, I would advise you to not make sarcastic jokes.”

“Fine, Ah will remember that in the future,” Apple Core sighed.

“Speaking of future-”

“NO!” she shouted, almost shoving her hoof into my mouth. “Ah do not want t’ hear anythin’ more about time travel! Let’s get back t’ drugs!”

Her hoof was stopping me from replying. I looked at it pointedly, then back at Apple Core. She grunted with annoyance and removed her hoof.

“So here’s my offer,” I resumed, as if there wasn’t a hoof in my mouth just a second ago. “From the caps you’ll get from ponies, we subtract the cost of materials, and we split what’s left between us.”

Apple Core frowned. “What ‘cost of materials’? Ya just said ya’ve got everythin’ in the basement.”

Sure, she cannot spell ‘dictionary’, but knows what ‘subtract’ means.

“Sooner or later, I will run out of them,” I explained. “That means I will have to start buying ingredients to make more.”

“From where? Ah don’t recall Forty t’ have any of that kind of stuff. Not t’ mention that Black Widow would notice somethin’s up when ya would start buyin’ chemicals and shit around here and she would want in on this business,” Apple Core pointed out.

I smiled. “True… unless I was buying them from someplace else. When is the next train from New Appleloosa coming?”

Her jaw dropped, causing me to smirk. That smirk quickly turned into a frown, however, when she said: “Ya sneaky bitch- Sorry,” she apologized, noticing my expression. “Um, Ah think it’s two weeks from now.”

As I’ve learned since coming to Appleloosa, New Appleloosa would send a train with various goods every once in a while in order to trade. And by send, I meant have a bunch of ponies pull it, as they had no coal. Either way, the train was the fastest way of traveling. New Appleloosa itself was not only the closest big settlement, but was also a major trading hub in the area. Somepony there was sure to have what I needed.

“I plan to talk with the ponies from that train about if they could arrange some trading agreement, and if not then I will travel to New Appleloosa myself to orchestrate one,” I told Apple Core. “To be honest, I would prefer the second option; I would like to see that town for myself.”

Plus, there is that pegasus that lives in the area… I mused, almost squealing inside at the thought. Perhaps he would agree to let me examine him and run a few tests…

“Black Widow might not like ya leavin’ town,” Apple Core pointed out.

“Leave Black Widow to me, I will find a way to convince her to let me go,” I assured her. “I am good with words, after all.”

“Yeah, Ah can see that,” Apple Core admitted.

“So, what do you say?” I asked her, although I was pretty sure she would say-

“Sure, Ah can use more caps. Ya have yarself a deal,” she said, extending a hoof towards me.

I pretended to frown. “I was hoping we could seal the deal some other way…”

Apple Core began to growl, causing me to giggle. “Sorry, couldn’t help myself,” I said, grabbing her hoof and shaking it.

It appears that I won’t have to worry about the funds for my research. If only the trip to New Appleloosa goes well, that is.

Footnote: 50% to next level!