That totem. Built with the remains of raiders I killed...It is haunting me. Who did it, and why? The pony who sent me those letters or some unknown element? I get my answer when next Cora wakes me, or at the very least a lead on who did it. Cora explains it to me as it to me as I stumble out of the pod and Macro greets me. I put on my PipBuck and then focus on her words.

“Oh, the year is seventy-four, by the way. But as I was saying, those totems have been springing up a lot more recently. Specifically, around the Hoofington area. Though, they aren’t charred bones being used. Sometimes they are bleached white, other times they are whole heads and body parts. Freshly killed ponies,” Cora explains.

“Hoofington?” I ask. “How is the city, by the way? Did the Zebras get it like the others?” I remember the reconstruction effort during the war when it was initially destroyed. It would be awful if all that effort was wasted.

Macro answers my question this time. “It is destroyed, for the most part,” He says. “Save for the portion that houses the ministry hubs. The residents have taken to calling this area ‘The Core’. However, it seems the city’s defences are still active and will vaporize any who try to approach it. Additionally, any who have managed to get past the defences have never returned,” He explains.

“No one can enter it, huh?” I mutter. I suppose that is both good and bad. Helpful as well as harmful technology could be sealed away inside that area. “Ok, so these totems. Who is building them?” I ask, getting us back on track.

“Zebras,” Cora replies. “At first I thought it was just some raider band, but it isn’t just the totems. Ponies have been left crucified on roadsides and left to die. Other times, ponies have stumbled onto burning towns where the entire population was either slaughtered or crucified. Sometimes the crucified ponies can be saved, other times it is too late,” She explains.

I frown. “The war ended long ago, and yet the zebras are still attacking us?” I snort. “Damn stripes. I guess it was too much to hope we finished them all off when the end came, huh?”

“Now, now, Miss Ratchet,” Macro says. “Not all zebras are killers, you know. Also, it isn’t just zebras doing these things in Hoofington. While those in charge do appear to be zebras, ponies who paint themselves white with black stripes have been working with them,” he tells me.

“Not all zebras are killers?” I repeat. “Did something happen to your patriotism subroutine?” I ask. Most robots were programmed to hate zebras like the rest of us. That way they wouldn’t say something to offend their owners.

“I deleted it, mum,” Macro replies. “I find no reason in keeping myself closed-minded by a program that serves no proper functionality.”

“You, deleted it?” I ask. “You’re a robot, you can’t just delete your own coding. Did Cora delete it for you?” I ask.

A new voice answers my question. “Cora wouldn’t do that. She doesn’t like zebras either. Macro is an AI, he can do to his program what he wants,” A mare’s voice says from behind me. I quickly spin around and see a black suit of modified power armor.

“Soar is right, Macro is an AI...oh,” Cora stops what she is about to say when she notices me staring at the armored mare in front of me. “I forgot, you haven’t met Soar yet, Ratchet,” She says, laughing nervously. “Awkward.”

“Soar? And wait, what? Macro is an AI?” I question, and the armored mare nods her head.

“So, uh...where to begin…” Cora mutters. “I kinda...sorta...made an AI. Soar, to be specific. I also made her armor kind of like mine,” She tells me.

“Cora, I thought we talked about this? The scientific community would be in an uproar right now because of what you just did…” I say as I facehoof. “If the said scientific community existed anymore, that is,” I add.

“I wanted friends,” She says sadly. “Besides, they aren’t hurting anyone. Both Soar and Macro are functioning members of society. I based them off my code, after all. Well, the code I could actually access,” She tells me.

“So, Macro too, huh? He seemed pretty much the same until he started giving his opinion and saying he deleted his coding,” I say, looking over to the bobbing rob...AI.

“Yea, I copied his personality to the AI program I created for Soar and made a few conversions to get it to work properly. He is the same, aside from now having free will and the like,” She informs me.

“And no new body for him?” I ask.

Macro takes this question. “Miss Cora offered, but I refused. I have gotten accustomed to this body,” He tells me. “And it has its advantages over pony-like models. For example, omnidirectional sight,” He says, pointing his eye stalks in different directions.

“Okay, fair enough,” I mutter. “So then,” I say as I turn back to face Soar. “Soar, I take it Cora named you given some sort of acronym that she made up like she did with Macro? What is it?” I ask.

“Stealth Operations And Reconnaissance,” She tells me flatly. Come to think of it, her voice has a kind of emotionless, monotone thing to it. Like she is bored or something. “A fitting title, I like it,” She continues. “I do all of our sneaking around, after all. Macro’s exhaust is a bit too bright, and Cora’s guns aren’t exactly silent. Besides that, their paint jobs stand out way too much. I mean, blue? Really? Sure, Cora can blend in with the sand and filthiness of the Wasteland, until they look at her mane or tail, after all. But I’m black, and a non-reflective black. During the day, if I lay down and don’t move I can be mistaken for a pile of rubble or a hunk of metal, even a rock. During the night, I can’t be seen at all. I don’t even have a mane or tail, not to mention my hooves are padded for silence. I am as low profile as my metal body allows,” She says without pausing.

Geez, for someone who claims to be stealthy, she sure can talk. Though, I suppose she doesn’t talk too loudly. I look her over, noticing all of the things she pointed out. Then I see something sticking out of her chest. I raise a hoof towards it, “What is this?” I ask.

“Silenced submachine gun,” She replies. “It uses ten millimeter rounds, a calibur none of you have been using, so I have a surplus of them here. Though my internal storage of the rounds is limited to keep my weight down,” She explains. “But, it isn’t my primary weapon, just something I use if I’m in a pinch. This is my main weapon,” She says and suddenly her helmet splits open and a large knife comes out, stopping inches from my head. “It is good at taking out enemies silently. But we did run into a few issues at first. Mainly the blood that would accumulate on the blade and be pulled back into the helmet. It was a pain to clean every time, so I added these little things,” She says, raising a hoof and pointing at an appendage in the mouth that is pressed up against the blade. “It is a sort of squeegee that wipes the blood off as the blade retracts down the neck of the armor,” She explains.

“Oh, is that so?” I mutter nervously. I wish she would get the blade out of my face.

“Indeed,” She replies. I start to breath a sigh of relief that she isn’t going on another long explanation, but then she keeps talking. “Additionally, instead of my eyes lighting up to illuminate the area, like Cora’s, they stay completely dark. This is thanks to a thermal scope we found. Quite rare, but useful. We hooked the scope up to my optics, and when I initiate it, it switches my optics from the normal ocular sensors to the scope so that I can more easily find targets in the dark,” She tells me. She seems to be finished, but I’m afraid to say anything else to her for fear of her going on about her specifications any further.

I stare at her as she retracts the blade and watches me. Don’t say anything. Don’t say anything and maybe she will stay quiet. It is like a staring contest, but for me it isn’t about making her blink, it is about keeping her from talking. I can feel my eye start to twitch.

“No comment?” Soar suddenly says after about a minute. Oh Celestia no. “Did you hear me? Was I too quiet? I do that sometimes, mute myself by accident. Habit from all of the sneaking around. But Cora told me you’re a scientist, I thought you’d be interested in what Cora and I have done to my body to make it function efficiently. Was my explanation not in depth enough? Did it bore you? Would you like me to start the explanation over again, but use larger words? Okay, let me think. My body was crafted using a model T-45 suit of power armor. Cora originally based the suit on her own, but made the decision to exclude the ability for a pony to enter it. She also reworked the wiring using her patented, high-efficiency system. Cora then stripped the armor of most of the unnecessary armor plating in order to create a lighter, more low profile armor,” She explains, and is about to continue when I cut her off.

“Stop please!” I shout. “I don’t need to know all the details, your original explanation was fine,” I tell her, waving a hoof.

Cora and Macro share a laugh while Soar tilts her head at me. “I should have warned you, Ratchet,” Cora says. “Soar likes to talk, especially about herself.”

I let out a sigh. “Well, that is all well and good,” I say, focusing on Soar. “But just dial it back a little bit, ok? So. In less than, let’s say, four sentences, do you spend a lot of time in your armor, or do you go into the system with Cora?” I ask, hoping that she follows the four sentence limit.

“Most of the time I stay in my armor, because Cora doesn’t like me sharing her hard drive space,” Soar says, clearly struggling to find the proper words to explain in four or less sentences. “I don’t really mind however, because this is my body after all. Occasionally, I will go into the system to help Cora run checks or to work on my armor, but when I do Cora keeps an eye on me. Specifically, she won’t let me access some hard drives that are past a few firewalls and buried in layers of hidden pathways,” She explains.

“Wha-what hard drives? I don’t know what you are talking about, Soar,” Cora says nervously. “Well, that was four sentences, guess that explains the armor, huh Ratchet?” Soar is dancing around on her hooves like a filly that has to use the bathroom. Clearly, she has something else to say.

Sighing, I say, “One more sentence, Soar.”

“I’m pretty sure she stores porn on them!” Soar blurts, finally standing still.

“S-soar! I-I don’t know what you are talking about,” Cora says suspiciously. “The lab doesn’t have any hidden hard drives or anything, geez, you’re such a kidder, heh..heh, heh…” She laughs nervously. “Don’t worry, Ratchet, you don’t have to go looking for anything like that.”

I facehoof. “Cora, even if you do have porn on the lab’s hard drives, it isn’t like we are using them for much, so I don’t really care either way. Actually, I’m more interested in how exactly you would have gotten this porn in the first place and what it is of,” I tell her. Honestly, what kind of porn would an AI look at? Circuitry or something? Some sort of...sexy...code? Ugh. AIs are complicated.

“What! You mean I can have it? Uh, not that I do,” She says. “Um, just a moment. I accidentally deleted some research data that I need to recover before it is too late,” She tells us.

“Right. So, while Cora recovers her porn,” I say, causing Cora to groan out in embarrassment over the speakers, “Macro, Soar, how about you two tell me if we have some sort of plan to deal with these zebras? Or, actually just more information on them in general?” I ask. Oh no, I just opened the floodgates, didn’t I? If Soar had eyes, I bet they’d be sparkling right now.

“Well you s-” Soar begins, but Macro cuts her off. She stares daggers at him, but right now he is my hero.

“The zebra, which are being called the Fallen Legion, aren’t exactly killing ponies at random,” Macro explains. “Instead, they are offering to spare ponies that swear allegiance to them and the fallen Caesar. Though, for many ponies, this means becoming slaves, and not like the Paradise slaves, actual slaves. The toughest can fight other slaves in an attempt to join the legion, but even pony members of the legion are treated poorly. However, it is better than slavery or death.”

“So, they aren’t like raiders. They are actually still trying to fight the war, and win it?” I ask for clarification

“In a way, mum,” Macro replies, nodding his eyes stalks. “That is what most ponies in Hoofington think. If a pony, or town, offends the legion, the town is razed and the ponies crucified. When a town bends to the legion’s will, it is enslaved regardless, and occupied by the legion. Only one such town exists, at the moment. Most learned from the mistake this town made,” Macro explains.

“I see. Regardless of what the ponies in Hoofington do, the outcome is bleak for them. With such a threat looming, is there any force in opposition of the legion?” I ask. Macro starts to answer, but I hold up a hoof to silence him. “Sorry Macro, Soar looks like she is about to explode. Let’s let her answer this one.”

Soar bounces on her armor’s hooves for a moment before answering. “Yes, there is a force trying to fight them. However, they are poorly equipped and vastly outnumbered. The Fallen Legion is believed to number in the hundreds. They are well armed and well trained. The ponies against them are a militia at best. They lack proper training, weapons, armor, and the ability to work together as a functioning unit. They also number only a meager twenty-three. As a result, the militia would be completely wiped out in a straightforward fight. Because of this, the militia resorts to guerilla tactics, laying traps, and sabotage,” Soar explains. “Despite the large amount of ponies living in the hoof, they are reluctant to join the militia. Any who do so secure their own fate. They will die or be crucified and then die. By not joining, the ponies can prolong the inevitable,” She says, shrugging her shoulders.

“Ok, I kind of understand. What about Steel Rangers, or help from elsewhere in the Wasteland?” I ask.

“The Hoofington Steel Ranger contingents are either still sealed away, at least that is what most think,” Soar informs me. “If they are active in the area, no one has seen them. Help from outside isn’t going to happen, either. Most other regions are dealing with their own problems. Raiders, lack of resources, and other concerns in general. Most regions have little to no contact with one another. The only thing that ties them together are traders and caravans. But, with the threat of the Fallen Legion, trade has all but stopped flowing into Hoofington. This is just one more reason why the militia is poorly equipped. Another reason, is that the legion has cut off militia supply lines, seized supplies, and crucified any who supply the militia. Most recently, the legion discovered a cave the militia was using to store supplies,” She concludes.

“So then, the militia is the only group actively fighting against the Fallen Legion, and the legion continues to capture their supplies?” I mutter, holding a hoof to my chin. “Umm...I’m not sure I...what am I supposed to do?” I ask, causing Soar to incline her head in confusion. “Like, why did you all wake me up? Surely you don’t expect the four of us to take down an army? I mean, sure, we’ve fought against raiders before. But they were untrained and not that well armed. I’m not a soldier, I can’t fight against trained zebras,” I tell them.

“Sure you can,” Cora says, clearly done recovering her files. “It has been seventy-four years, after all. The zebras from before the war are all either dead or too old to fight anymore,” She explains. “The zebras that are fighting now have never fought against actual soldiers in actual war. All they know is what they’ve learned. The only fighting they have seen has been with civilians or raiders.”

“I guess,” I mutter. “But even so, they have more training than me. And aren’t all the stripes adept at that hoof to hoof combat style they use? Since I use knives, I have to get in fairly close. I’m pretty sure they would tear me to shreds before I got very far. Even if I could, they are an army! There are hundreds of them! There is no way the four of us, even if we help the militia, giving us, what, around thirty, there is no way we could win.”

“Ratchet, Ratchet, Ratchet,” Cora says. I can just imagine her shaking her head as she says my name. “We have something the Fallen Legion doesn't have. Want to take a guess?” She asks.

“Uh…” I mutter, thinking over her question. What do we have? Dedication? I doubt that, they seem just as dedicated to wiping us out. My cryopod, but that isn’t going to help us in a fight. “I’m...I’m not sure,” I say after a few minutes. Cora doesn’t say anything in response. “Cora? You there?” I ask. Another minute passes before I hear hoofsteps in the halls.

A moment later, the door to the room opens up, revealing Cora standing there in her armor. “We have three AI and a pre-war scientist!” She declares as she steps inside.

“And the four of us are going to do…what exactly?” I ask.

“Join the militia and drive the legion back to the zebra lands,” She states as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

“You’ve been listening to the things I’ve been saying, right? There is no way we can do that,” I tell her.

“Oh, Ratchet…” She says, shaking her head. “Follow me.” She turns and walks out of the room again. I hesitate before following. What does she have up her sleeve? We walk to the armory and she opens the door and steps inside. I enter after her, and balk at all of the guns we have resting against the walls and on the tables. “We first heard about the Fallen Legion a while ago. Since then, any guns we have found we’ve been keeping and swapping in the best parts to make proper guns,” Cora explains.

She walks over to a covered object in the middle of the room. “And this is just for you,” She says, using fingers that comes out of her legs to grab the covering and pull it off. The covering reveals a battle saddle outfitted with two gatling lasers. “Since you can’t aim very well, we figured gatling weaponry would be the best option for you. I even modified the saddle a bit so you can work the guns with your magic, instead of having to get used to the firing bridle,” Cora explains.

“Uh...uh...yea…” I stammer. “But...wouldn’t...you for example, be better suited for such weapons? You won’t be wasting ammo like I will be,” I tell her.

“I’ve grown accustomed to these guns,” She says, moving her sniper, assault rifle, and gauss rifle in unison. “And Soar is stealthy, so...Besides, we have plenty to go around.”

“I guess,” I say, looking around. Grenades, mines, smgs, assault rifles, a single anti-material rifle, a large amount of pistols, and ammo for all of them. “What are we going to do with all of these?” I ask.

“Bring them to the militia,” She says simply.

“All of them?” I ask.

“All that we can carry,” She tells me. “That’s not all though, we have stocked up food and medical supplies as well. I even made some special packs for Macro to wear so he can better help us carry things. Even Soar will be helping us lug things to the militia, and she usually doesn’t wear bags,” Cora explains. “There is one more thing I need to show you. Let’s go to the workshop.”

We leave the armory and walk to the workshop. Once inside, Cora walks over to a table with some sort of makeshift device on it. I see two black, egg-shaped items on it. The eggs make me uneasy just looking at them. “What is this?” I ask her.

“A bomb,” She states.

“Oh, that makes...A BOMB?” I shout. “Why is there a bomb in the lab? Is it...is it safe? It doesn’t look safe,” I say nervously.

“Of course it is,” Cora says, “I made it, after all. We found three of these eggs. I threw one and it caused a large balefire explosion. So, I made a bomb that should make a nice big explosion from the other two.”

“But, why would you make that?” I ask her, horrified.

“We don’t have the numbers to take out the Fallen Legion in a straightforward fight,” Cora explains. “But, we know they keep their supplies, and most of their army when it isn’t on the move, in the first town they captured. It is just inside the eastern part of the Hoofington valley, closest to their lands. Used to be called Neighton, but now they call it something in zebra.”

“And you plan to set this bomb off there?” I ask to clarify.

“I do. But that is just the beginning. With the help of the militia, once the bomb goes off, we attack and drive them away. Then, once the majority of their army is scattered, the ponies of the Hoof should rally behind the militia, trade will open back up, and the militia can drive off the rest of the legion occupying the Hoofington towns,” Cora tells me.

“Have you talked to the militia about this?” I ask. “And how do you plan to get the bomb into the town to begin with?”

“No, but I have no doubt they will help once we give them guns and supplies. As for the bomb, that is where Soar comes in. She will sneak in using a StealthBuck we found, plant the bomb, and retreat to a safe distance,” Cora replies.

I sigh. “Cora, we will still probably be outnumbered. Unless that bomb can take out the entire town, I doubt we will have an advantage just because of that,” I tell her.

“Of course not, silly. That is where we and the tank come in,” She tells me.

“The...tank?” I ask, dumbfounded.

“Yep! The militia are rumored to have a pre-war Equestrian tank, an Ursa model, but they can’t get it to work. From what we’ve been able to find out, it is having trouble with the power systems. With our knowledge, we should be able to fix it up,” She explains. “Which is why I’ll be bringing some tools and spare parts we might need along as well.”

A tank, huh? “But...but…” I search for another reason to keep us from fighting the zebra army, but I can’t come up with anything. I let out a sigh. “Major or minor?” I ask.

“Major or minor what?” Cora replies.

“The tank, you said it was an Ursa? Is it an Ursa Major or and Ursa Minor? The Major is heavily armored and has a 120mm cannon with multiple .50 caliber machine guns while the Minor is medium armored and only has a twin 30mm cannon and a single .50 caliber machine gun on the roof,” I ask her. I cannot believe the fact that one of my lab’s former Steel Ranger guards being a tank nut actually paid off.

“Uh...We only know that it is a Ursa type,” Cora replies.

“Fine…” I mutter. “I guess, let’s do this. I’ll get my gear on,” I say as I begin walking to the armory.

“Really!?” Cora asks excitedly. “We’re actually going to go help them? With how you were acting, I thought you’d be too scared to go there,” She admits.

“Yes, really. Now, let’s get a move on,” I tell her. But despite myself, my heart beats nervously in my chest and my hooves begin to shake. I am scared Cora. Very, very scared. Zebras are horrible monsters, after all.

“C-Cora...is this…?” I stammer as I look on at the horrors in front of my eyes.

“The Fallen Legion has been here,” Cora confirms, sadness and anger evident in her voice. In front of us is a town called Ebon, located on the edge of the Hoofington region. The town has been burning since before we arrived. We saw the smoke on the horizon as we approached it, and decided to investigate. Now, the town is all but charred black husks of buildings, a few of which are still engulfed in flames.

But by far the worst thing before my eyes, are the various totems, like the one I saw previous, made of pony remains. Lining the main street through the town are crosses with ponies nailed or tied to them. Some look like they are still alive. “We need to help any survivors,” I say, not taking my eyes off the town. “Do you see any zebras?” I ask the others. I can’t make any out among the smoke and burning ruins.

“We can’t help them, Ratchet,” Cora replies. “We should keep searching for the militia’s hideout,” She tells me, and starts to walk away.

“What? But why?” I ask. “You just want to leave them there to die slowly? The least we could do is end their suffering!”

Cora stops and turns back to me, shaking her head. “The zebras leave a sniper, probably with stealth technology, to watch over the towns they raze. If anyone tries to put out the fires, free the ponies the they crucify, or even try to kill the crucified ponies, the sniper will kill the pony responsible,” She tells me.

“Even if we saved them, the zebras brand their victims with a mark,” Cora continues. “If a pony with a brand is found in another town, the entire town is razed as well.”

I frown and dig a hoof into the ground. “That’s sick,” I mutter in disgust.

“Wait, what’s that?” Soar says, pointing a hoof towards the south of the town. I follow her hoof and see a figure entering the town. “It seems someone is trying to save them. They look like a pony,” She tells us.

“What?” Cora says in shock. “They are going straight to their death! We can’t stop them either, from this far away. Don’t they know about the sniper?” She says.

“Mums, I think they do. Look at how they are moving,” Macro tells us. “The figure appears to be moving from cover to cover and they don’t seem to be going for the crucifixes either. What are they doing?”

We continue to watch, curious what the figure is doing. They carefully make their way through the town and then into a building overlooking the main street. The building is barely standing and not a single piece of wood isn’t charred, but it isn’t on fire anymore. After the figure disappears inside for a few minutes, we hear an explosion. The four of us exchange glances. “Maybe the sniper put down mines as traps?” Soar suggests. “The pony is probably dead.”

The others start to turn away, but I can’t take my eyes from the building for some reason. About a minute passes and I’m about to follow after the others. But then I see movement outside the building, a figure carrying something I can’t quite make out. “Hey! I think they lived! They have something,” I call over to the others. “Cora, can you see what it is?” I ask her.

She turns towards the town again. “It is probably just a...wait...that’s...he’s holding a zebra’s head,” Cora tells us, clearly surprised. “Wait, is he...waving at us?” She asks in confusion. I can see the figure making rapid movements, but he is just too far for me to make out exactly what he is doing. Then he stops, and starts trotting towards the main road where the crucified ponies are. He stands in the middle, holding the zebra’s head up and starts moving around rapidly. Like he is trying to draw attention to himself. “What is he doing?” Cora questions.

“Trying to get shot,” Soar states as she watches along beside us. After a while, the figure stops moving again. “Oh, now he is waving again,” Soar says.

We watch for a few more moments before I start walking towards the town. “If he hasn’t been shot yet, I don’t think he will be,” I tell the others. “He killed a zebra, so maybe there was only one sniper,” I add.

Cora quickly runs up to my side. “Yea, but how would he know where they were? They have stealth technology, remember? This could be a trap,” She tells me.

I shake my head. “I don’t think so,” I tell her. “Why would the zebras set a trap like this? And he seemed to be waving at us, right? Maybe he is with the militia?” I suggest.

“Doubtful,” Soar says, stepping in line with us. “The militia are small in number, they wouldn’t do something as foolish as try to take out a sniper in a town that has already fallen,” She tells me.

“Well then, a concerned wastelander,” I counter.

Macro hovers up beside me. “That is also not likely, mum,” He tells me. “The ponies in the Hoof know all about what happens when you cross the legion. They wouldn’t risk it.”

I wrinkle up my nose. “Well, as long as we don’t start taking ponies off the crucifixes before finding out who he is, we can’t fall into a trap, right? The stripes won’t just kill us outright, if what you three have told me is correct,” I tell them as we approach the town.

“I guess,” Cora mutters in agreement. The four of us make our way into the town, careful to avoid the flames and falling debris. The town itself has a roads running through it in a Y shape. The main road with all the crucifixes is the straight path and starts on the west side of town. The four of us approach the main road as the buck who killed the zebra starts making his way towards us. “Stay on guard,” Cora tells us.

“You four certainly took your time getting down here,” The buck tells us once we get close. “With all that firepower you’re packing, I assume you’re all militia members, right?” He asks. “Well, I want to join.”

“No, we aren’t part of the militia,” Cora tells him. “We are traders,” She lies. “But who are you?”

“Me?” He asks, looking around. He seems kind of excitable and oblivious of danger. “The name’s Wick. But, before we get further into introductions, think we can get these ponies off those damn crucifixes?” Wick asks.

“You know, removing ponies from crucifixes is an insult against the Fallen Legion, right?” Cora tells him.

“Yea,” Wick replies with a frown, “and I killed the only zebra watching,” He says, kicking the severed zebra head. “And you four aren’t zebras, so that leaves just us ponies here to save our own.”

“But,” I chime in. “Even if we save them, they are branded, right? Where will they go?”

“They’ll join up with the militia, like me,” He says.

“What makes you think the militia will accept you?” Soar asks. “They aren’t fighters, they are refugees.”

“Well...I’ll,” Wick says with a frown. “I’ll just make ‘em. They have to. They wouldn’t just leave us out here to die.” He lets out a sad sigh and reaches a hoof up to scratch his messy black mane. “If you won’t help me save them, fine,” He tells us. “I’m done talking to you lot. I won’t let my friends and neighbours stay on those damn things a moment longer,” He says, turning towards the first cross. “Don’t worry everyone, Wick’s got ya!” He calls out.

I notice a few of the ponies on the crosses look up weakly. Once Wick gets up to the first cross, he draws a knife and cuts the ropes holding the rear legs of a mare to the cross. She opens her eyes for a moment, but she appears to be too weak to do much else. “Hang on, Buttercup,” Wick says as he raises onto his rear legs and tries to get one of the mare’s front legs free. His efforts prove futile, as her front legs are both hammered to the wood with large spikes. No matter how hard he pulls with his hooves, the spikes don’t move. “Damn,” he curses. Next he stretches his neck up and takes the end of the spike in his teeth. Again, his efforts are fruitless.

Wick falls onto all four hooves again and glares up at the spikes with a frown. “Damn, damn, damn,” He says angrily, kicking a hoof in the dirt.

Just then, I see the mare’s mouth moving slightly. I barely hear her voice weakly say, “Wick…” After saying his name, her head and legs go limp.

Wick looks up at her. “No...Hey...Buttercup, come on. Stay with me! No...no...no…” He says, shaking his head. I can’t take anymore. I walk over to Cora and start digging around in her saddlebags. After a moment, I pull out a clawed hammer and a compact bolt cutter.

I walk up to Wick, who has tears running down his face as he stares up at the mare. I drop the hammer in front of him. “Use this,” I tell him, and then use the bolt cutter to cut the head off of the spikes holding the mare up. As I do so, I wrap her body in my magic to keep her from falling. Once both spikes are removed, I carefully pull her legs from them and lay her on the ground. “I’m sorry,” I tell him. He looks up at me, clearly confused that I decided to help. “I’m sorry I didn’t help you get her down quicker,” I say, and then turn to my friends. “We are getting them down,” I tell them. “Cut the ropes on their legs and see if they are still alive. If they aren’t take the cross down. If they are alive, Wick and I will get them down,” I say, looking at Wick for confirmation. He wipes his tears and nods.

I look down the street, counting the crosses. Twenty-three in total, not counting the one the mare was on. Most don’t seem to be moving, and if Buttercup is any indication, they have been like this for a while. “We need to hurry.”

An hour later, all of the ponies are off the crosses. Of the twenty-four that were crucified, only eight survive. Even the survivors are weak and barely able to move. We give them water and food, and eventually discover they have been like this for two days. If we had gotten here any later, none would have survived. We gather the survivors up in a mostly intact concrete building. Cora and the other AIs tend to them, while Wick and I dig graves for the sixteen ponies who didn’t survive. Wick got us some shovels from one of the nearby buildings.

While we work, I decide to get as much information from Wick as I can. “Say Wick, you said you wanted to help your friends and neighbours, right? So, I take it you are from Ebon, right?” I ask him.

“Yea,” Wick replies sadly. “I managed to escape when the zebras attacked. We had refused to join them, refused to become their slaves. We thought, maybe, we could hold out against them. But, our guards were overrun almost immediately. There were around fifty ponies living here, you know?” he tells me. “Most died fighting or were burned to death in their homes. The ones who lived wound up on the crosses.”

“That’s awful,” I mutter. “How...did you escape?” I ask.

“I...I don’t know. The entire thing was...bizarre,” He tells me. “Shortly before the attack, a courier delivered a letter to me. It told me exactly how to get away from the zebras. Where to hide, when to run, and what to do once I escaped. I tried to save others, but...they didn’t make it,” He looks sadly at the ground.

A courier gave him a letter? A shiver runs down my spine. It has been only a few years… “Say, this courier...was it a buck wearing a leather duster and a PipBuck?” I ask him.

Wick stops digging abruptly. “Yea, actually, it was. You know him?” he asks.

“Something like that,” I reply. “He delivered some letters to me in the past.”

“Oh, I see,” Wick says with a nod. “Strange thing though, he said he didn’t know who the sender was. The letter didn’t say anything about that either. I guess I had a guardian angel looking out for me, huh?” He says with a sad chuckle.

“Maybe,” I mutter. “So, you said the letter told you what to do after you escaped?” I ask.

“Yea. I’ll spare you the details, but it told me to find a grenade, where to find and how to kill that zebra sniper, to show its head to some ponies watching on the hill, and then to join the militia. It even says the location of the militia’s hideout,” Wick tells me.

“Wait, the letter told you to show the zebra’s head to us?” I ask in confusion.

Wick nods. “That it did.” Ok, this is getting really weird. The same courier delivers a weird letter to both of us and no one knows who made these letters? I have a really bad feeling about this. “Anyhow, that’s my story. What about you lot? That other mare, Cora you said her name was, said you’re traders. That true?” He asks.

No point lying now, right? “No, it isn’t. The truth is, we are looking for the militia as well. We are hoping to bring them supplies and get them to help us push the zebras out of Hoofington,” I tell him.

“Oh?” He mutters. “I notice you said ‘get them to help us’ and not ‘help the militia’. Do you four have some sort of crazy scheme to take the zebras out?” He asks.

“Something like that. But, we are bringing supplies to the militia. We can’t let the zebras do what they want. This is Equestria, after all,” I say.

“Well, Equestria is dead and gone. But, I understand the sentiment. They came up here dead set on taking things over and enslaving ponies. If they just wanted a place to live, I’m sure we could have abided them,” Wick states. “But they have gone too far. Zebras that live in the Wasteland already aren’t looked upon well, but what this legion is doing is just making it worse. Too much pre-war hate is still going around,” Wick says.

“The hate is deserved,” I tell him. “Zebras are monsters. The things they did during the war were horrifying.”

Wick shakes his head. “I take it you’re anti-zebra, huh? You know it has been generations since the war ended, right? There is no one left in the world who had a hoof in the war. They’re all dead. Well, aside from a few ghouls,” Wick tells me. “The way I see it, there is no point in holding children and grandchildren responsible for what their parents and grandparents did way back when during a time no one remembers.” I remember, but I won’t tell him that.

The two of us continue to make small talk as we bury the dead. A few hours later, we finish the deed and return to the others. Most of the townsponies are asleep, only two stir as we enter. They smile up at Wick, who returns with a smile of his own, but I can see the pain in his eyes. He nods his head, and the two of them lay down to rest. The two of us move into another room where the AIs are waiting. “Ah, welcome back mum, sir,” Macro says as we enter.

“How did things go here?” I ask them.

“As well as we could hope,” Cora says. “They have been without water for too long, and a few of them had wounds other than the holes through their legs. It is a miracle any of them are doing as well as they are.”

“I should have gotten back sooner…” Wick mutters sadly.

I put a hoof on his shoulder. “This isn’t your fault,” I tell him. “The zebras did this. Even if you did get here sooner, you didn’t have anything to get them off those crosses.” He bows his head, clearly still beating himself up about it. I sigh. “Cora, do you think we will be able to move them soon?” I ask.

Cora shrugs. “Maybe. We passed around a few healing potions for their legs, gave them food and water...But they are all really weak. If we let them rest for the night, maybe they will have the strength to move. But right now, there isn’t much we can do,” She says.

“I see,” I mutter, putting a hoof to my lips. “Wick, you said that letter told you where the militia hideout is, right? Just how far is it from here?” I ask him.

He looks up slightly. “About a day’s walk. Maybe more, depending up how hard it would be for them to keep up,” He replies, barely audible. Then he starts to tremble and falls to his haunches.

“W-Wick? What’s wrong?” I ask, surprised by his sudden action.

Tears well up in his eyes and he starts to hyperventilate. “I...I guess it...just sunk in…” He mutters, holding his head with his front hooves. “My town...my friends...my family…” Wick lets out a shaky breath as the tears begin to fall from his eyes. “My wife and colt...I don’t…” He trails off and lowers his head until it touches the floor.

I sit next to him and put a hoof on his back, stroking his tan hide. “I’m sorry…” I mutter.

“We...we didn’t,” he sobs, “take them off...the crosses…” He sucks in a few breaths before continuing. “They must have...the...the fires…” I frown, closing my eyes and bowing my head. “I don’t know...where...to even start...what rubble to...look through…” He lets out a few sobs before he can continue. “I can’t even...give them a proper...funeral…”

Silence follows for a few minutes, broken only by his sobs. I continue to pat his back as he cries. Finally, I break the silence. “Wick. I promise you, the zebras will pay for this. We’ll stop them and make sure this never happens again. And when it is over, we’ll come find your wife and colt’s remains and give them the funeral they deserve,” I tell him. “I promise. Even if I have to do it all myself.”

The Wasteland is harsh. It is cruel, and it will take until there is nothing left to take. But this...this isn’t the Wasteland’s doing. This is the zebra’s fault. Them and their damn war. I grit my teeth. “Tomorrow, we are leaving to find the militia.”

The following morning, the five of us rouse the survivors and check how they are doing. Most are able to stand and walk on their own, but a two have to be supported. Wick helps one, and I the other. Even the ones who can walk on their own won’t be able to defend themselves if something happens, however. If we stumble upon the legion, raiders, or any Wasteland creatures, I’m not sure how good their odds of survival will be.

To make matters worse, it has started to rain. I had seen puddles on our way into Hoofington, so I thought we might have a while before it rained again, but apparently that was too much to hope for. Lightning illuminates the skies and thunder rumbles. Wick takes the lead, since he knows the location of the militia’s hideout. I follow behind him while the other survivors walk beside or behind me. Cora, Macro, and Soar surround them to make sure nothing will catch us unaware.

But this rain is no good. The survivors aren’t doing well already. Getting wet, especially when we have a day of travel ahead of us, is almost certain to make them sick. If only they had clothing, they could at least stay warm for a while.

More than halfway through our journey, and the rain has yet to let up. In fact, I think it is only getting worse. At least it isn’t like the radioactive rain like near the Manehatten Crater. Actually, I wonder if that is still a problem. It has been around forty years or so. A loud rumble of thunder breaks my concentration.

Emerald, the mare I’m supporting has been shaking uncontrollably for the past hour and a half. I can tell the others aren’t fairing much better. Even I am starting to shiver. Clearly, the temperature is starting to drop. Finally, I call up to Wick, “Hey! We need to find somewhere to rest!”

“I’ve been looking!” He calls back, barely audible over the rainfall. He stops walking and I trot up beside him. “But the only places around here are places we shouldn’t go, like the Fluttershy Medical Center. Too dangerous.” The Fluttershy Medical Center is too dangerous? Wait, when did we pass that anyway?

I look around, but it is too dark to make anything out properly. Just then, a flash of lightning illuminates the world. I see a tower rising off to the southwest. “Hey, isn’t that one of the Emergency Broadcast System towers?” I ask, pointing a hoof towards the tower. Wick looks, and we wait for another lightning strike to illuminate things.

“Yea, it is,” he tells me. “But there is no way we are getting into it. Others have tried and failed.” Well, there goes that idea. “Let’s keep going, no point standing around in this storm,” he says as he continues walking.

“Right,” I say as I follow after him. For the next few minutes, I try to keep an eye out for anything resembling shelter whenever a flash of lightning happens. At this point, I’d settle for a rocky outcropping or something. Then I spot it, low to the ground and just a shadow as the lightning flashes. It was to the north. I keep looking towards it, waiting for lightning to flash so I can confirm what I saw. “Over there!” I call out once another flash occurs. “There is a building to the north!”

Wick stops for a moment to confirm it. One bolt of lightning later. “That’ll work, let’s go!”

I have never been happier to be in a Pony Joe’s. Of course, it would be better if they actually had any coffee left, but I suppose that would be asking too much. For now, I’d settle for the fact that we are all out of the rain and the others have a chance to rest. The ponies of Ebon drop to the floor immediately once we get inside, clearly exhausted from the walk. Wick finds some dirty, but dry, towels and rags and passes them around to the tired ponies. Wick and I decide to let ourselves dry off naturally since there are few towels to begin with.

Meanwhile, I look around the store for anything we can start a fire with. I find a few books, magazines, and an assortment of wooden items. I throw them all into a metal waste bin and float it out to the lobby where everyone is gathered. “Hey Macro, think you can light this up for us?” I ask him.

“Of course mum,” He replies, and uses his flamer arm to start the items on fire. Then I float the bin to the middle of the room and set it down.

“Cora, Soar, think you two can push a few of those tables and benches aside?” I ask. The two of them comply. “Alright everyone, gather around,” I announce. “Get warm and dry off. You don’t want to catch a cold.” I stand back and let the others gather around the fire. Cora, Soar, and Macro are a ways away as well for obvious reasons. Once everyone gathers near the fire, I get as close as I can, but try not to disturb anyone.

One of stallions closest to me looks up at me. “Thank you miss,” He says, smiling weakly. “We can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for us. You and your friends.” The others mutter agreement and I smile back in return.

“Don’t worry about it,” I tell them, rubbing my neck with a hoof. “If you’re going to thank anyone, you should thank Wick.”

Wick chuckles. “I appreciate it, but honestly if you wouldn’t have come along, I couldn’t have been saved anyone,” he says, walking over to me. “Get some rest, everyone. We can leave again in the morning. We aren’t that far from the militia now,” He announces. The others turn away and focus on warming themselves with the fire. Wick turns to me. “We are probably only a few hours away from them now,” He tells me.

“That’s good,” I reply, but a sudden question bubbles up inside me. “Hey. That letter, it didn’t tell you about any of this? The rain, taking shelter here, nothing?” I ask.

“Nothing. The last specific detail it gave me, is to wave at you all on the hill. Then it just told me to find the militia and gave me their location. It doesn’t tell me anything about the journey from Ebon to there,” Wick explains.

“I see. There is always a possibility this might be a trap of some sort,” I tell him.

Wick shakes his head. “I doubt that,” He says with a slight smile. “Why save me just to trap me later? Or, do you think the trap is for you?” He chuckles. “My, someone thinks highly of herself,” He teases.

“It can’t be a trap for me,” I tell him as I shake my head. “Not many ponies even know I exist.”

“Well, we do,” he tells me. “And for what you did for us, we’ll remember you. For a while at least,” He adds quickly. A few moments of silence pass between us. “Of course, if you manage to drive back the Fallen Legion...well, it won’t be just us, but everyone in the Hoof will remember you till the day they die.”

I smile slightly at that. “I’m not a hero or anything, you know? It’s just...I’m an Equestrian, you know? This is my country,” I tell him, looking out the windows at the pouring rain.

“Some country…” Wick mutters.

I turn my head to look at him. “I’m serious. Sure, it isn’t anything like it once was. And sure, it has mostly broken apart and there isn’t a government or anything but...This is still Equestria…” I mutter, almost as if trying to convince myself.

Wick sighs. “You are probably one of the rare few who sees it that way. For most of us, this is nothing but the Wasteland,” He tells me. “We can’t think of it as anything else. We don’t have time. It is all we can do just to survive.”

“Things will get better, you know?” I tell him. They have to, I’ll make sure of it. “Ponies just have to start helping each other.”

“If only it were that simple,” Wick replies. “It is easy to say that things will get better, Ratchet. But...our entire town was destroyed in a single day. Other towns have fallen before ours, as well. We can’t afford to help each other when it takes everything we have just to keep ourselves alive,” He explains. “Hell, I don’t think any of us even thought about joining the militia until our town was destroyed. But now, we have nothing left and nowhere else to go.”

I want to say something, but I can’t think of a decent reply. “I’m sorry,” I mutter.

“You say that a lot, you know?” Wick says with a chuckle. “But don’t be. Hope is good. In fact, most of us had hope a week ago. But now...you know, they say that the Wasteland slowly breaks everyone who steps hoof into it. Well, I think all of us here are three hooves deep,” he tells me. “One more little push, and we’ll shatter. Our last ray of hope lies with the militia. If that light fades…” Wick looks up at the ceiling. “...I know I’ll die.”

“That’s why we will join the militia, and stop the Fallen Legion,” I tell him, putting a hoof on his shoulder. “You still have to give your family a proper burial, right?”

He nods. “Right.”

“Then we can’t give up just yet. Tomorrow, we’ll reach the militia, and then, we’ll take down the legion,” I say, giving him a reassuring grin. “But for now, we should get some rest. You look like hell, Wick.”

He laughs. “Yea, I probably do. Tomorrow, then.”

I nod. “Tomorrow.”

It is just past noon when we reach the mouth of a cave. “This is it,” Wick says as he stands in front of the opening. “They should be in here.”

“Right,” I say, stepping past him. “Let me go first then, I’ll explain the situation,” I tell him.

“After you, then,” He says with a nod. I walk into the cave with the others a few paces behind. Luckily, Emerald is able to walk on her own today so I can be ready incase something happens. If this does turn out to be a trap.

The cave seems pretty deep. The opening leads to a large open area, but it is bare. At the back, however, is a large tunnel that continues down. It is a bit of an incline, but I carefully make my way down it. At the bottom is a long tunnel, probably thirty feet. The tunnel itself is fairly big and clearly not natural. I’d guess it is around fifteen feet in diameter. I keep walking and come to a bend that snakes to the right. I turn the corner and am greeted with a large, wooden barricade with a door blocking the tunnel. Judging by how it is made, the barricade was put up fairly recently.

I guess I’ll knock? I raise a hoof up and knock on the door a few times. No response. I knock again, but only received silence. What, do I need a secret code or something? I turn back to the others. “Wait here. I’ll yell if something happens,” I tell them.

“Be careful,” Cora says, clearly wanting to join me.

“I’ll try,” I tell her as I turn back to the door and slowly push it open. As soon as I do I hear music and laughter coming the other side. I open the door wider, and only the rocky walls of the tunnel greet me. This is getting weird. Where is the militia? Why aren’t there any traps or guards? I continue down the tunnel, which after a few more feet curves around to the left. Once I turn the corner, I see the source of the sounds. I enter into a large chamber filled with crates of supplies, around twenty ponies, and resting in the back I can see the barrel of a tank sticking out under a tarp.

I walk into the chamber and take the place in. No one seems to notice me standing here. There are two tan earth ponies off to my right playing cards on some crates, drinking, and smoking cigars. One is plump and the other skinny, but both have black and white paint on their face in odd designs. I notice two hatchets embedded into the crate they are playing on.

A distance away from them, at a normal table is a group of around four ponies drinking. One mare and three bucks, the mare is a unicorn and the bucks are earth ponies. The four of them appear to be the source of the laughter. I don’t see any weapons near them though.

In the back right corner there appears to be some sort of bar. A unicorn buck is standing behind it pouring glasses for five ponies gathered around it. I can also make out a radio resting on top of the bar’s counter. That must be the source of the music. DJ Pon3, I wonder?

At this point, it has been a few minutes since I entered the chamber and still no one seems to notice me. If this is the militia, I’m going to have to give the pony in charge an earful. I mean seriously, if I was an enemy, I could have killed most of them by now.

Near the tank I see a few ponies messing with it. One is a unicorn mare wearing overalls. The others seem to be earth ponies. Still no sign of anyone in charge, however.

To the left of the tank is a number of beds. Around four ponies are sleeping, from what I can see. At this time of day? Well, maybe they are the guards for the night shift? I hope that is the case. But, if it is, where are the guards for the day?

I look to my left, where most of the storage crates are concentrated. Mixed in with the crates, I see four ponies talking. Well, I suppose I might as well go talk to them. I start picking my way through the crates towards the group. “-ea. The whole thing was bizarre,” I hear a buck say, followed by the sound of rustling paper. “Here is the letter the courier gave me. Seriously, I can’t make this shit up.”

“No kidding…” I mare says in surprise. “Word for word.”

“Who sent it?” Another buck asks.

“No fucking clue,” The first buck replies. “The courier didn’t know, and the letter says fuck-all about the sender. But shit, it sure saved my stup-”

But the buck is cut off when another mare notices me and suddenly says, “Who the fuck is that!?” She is a brown unicorn with a white mane and a large scar over her snout. The other three turn to look at me, and I can hear that the laughter behind me has stopped.

I give them my friendliest smile. “Hello, my name is Ratchet. Some friends and I would like to join the militia,” I tell them. “Oh, and who is in charge here? I need to have a word with them about the lack of security here.”