We put our commandeered wagon out of our misery on the slope below Gemstone.

The rickety thing had started breaking down barely an hour out of the depot, when one of the wheels started to wobble. We had to make a couple stops to shore it up, but it kept getting worse and worse. I’m surprised it made it as far as it did.

It seems the jolt of crossing the old train tracks below Gemstone was a bit too much to expect of the decrepit vehicle. The joint that held the wheel to the axle gave one final wobble, and then splintered and broke free, followed by the crash of the wagon collapsing to the ground.

We gathered up our spilled loot, loosely tying things together with pneumatic hoses so we could balance them across our backs. Sure, we probably could have patched up the wagon for the last quarter-mile of travel, but we were ready to be done with the thing. Starlight even pulled out her Recharger and put a shot into the wreck, for good measure.

We trudged up the slope toward the lights shining in the rapidly growing darkness, grumbling and grunting the whole way.

“I swear,” Starlight said as she took slow, laborious steps. “I need to find some sort of spell that can bring ponies back from the dead.” She grunted as she shifted her load. “And then we can go back there and revive those raiders so I can kill them again.”

I disliked this more bloodthirsty side of Starlight, even if I was fairly certain she wasn’t serious. I also found it slightly concerning that the first objection to come to mind was related to the difficulty of casting such a spell, if it even existed, rather than objecting over its intended use.

While I had the lightest load, I was still struggling to keep up with my companions. It seemed a perpetual state of fatigue was to be my fate, or so I had grumpily thought to myself at the time. I was physically and mentally exhausted. Everything else was falling into the background. I wanted nothing more than to collapse somewhere safe and sleep. My mission could wait until I was in any shape to do anything about it.

The one comfort I had during that agonizing little hike was Starlight expressing similar sentiments. “Ugh. I am so done with all of this,” she grumbled, shifting her load once again, though I doubt it helped any more than all the other times she tried it. Up ahead, Dazzle gave us a wave from atop the wall, before turning back to call for the gate to be opened. “Screw the salvage,” Starlight said. “That can wait for morning. Hell, even my Lancer can wait for morning. All I want to do is find a nice, comfy bed. A place like this has to have something.”

Still struggling to stay upright, I somehow managed to balance that task with talking. “Emerald runs the inn, if I remember correctly.”

“To Emerald, then!” Starlight called out, though the enthusiasm was a bit dampened by a stumble in mid-declaration. “I knew I liked her for a good reason.”

Dusty gave a faint, muffled snort of amusement. Or maybe derision. I’m not entirely certain.

Perhaps it was the exhaustion, or perhaps it was just the depressing day that seemed to drag on and on, but Dusty’s hint of amusement--I assumed it was amusement--seemed to plant the idea in my head to brighten the mood. I immediately thought of the blush she had shown during our previous encounter with Emerald. So, in an effort to lighten the mood, and maybe even shore up her self-esteem, I said, “I think she might like you, too.”

If I’d been less exhausted, I might have been a bit more cautious about trying a delicate social maneuver like that. There was a fairly narrow window between excessive taunting that could damage the relationship I had built up with her, and encouraging somepony into another relationship that could detract from it. Looking back, I’m not sure if it would have mattered. My misjudgment had taken place the day before, when I had been in a considerably better state of mind.

“Oh?” she asked, making it another two steps before some further implications of the simple statement processed. She almost stumbled again, her nose scrunching up. “Eww, Whisper! Gross.”

Needless to say, that was not the response I was expecting. “Eww?” I asked from under my small mountain of salvage.

“Yeah, eww,” she said, sticking out her tongue as if she’d tasted something rotten. “She’s, like, thirty years older than me!”

Dusty gave another snort; while my attempt to brighten Starlight’s mood seemed to be falling short, it seemed to have done an excellent job with him. “What are you, two?” he asked.

The look Starlight gave him was one of ultimate shock and betrayal, which seemed a bit ironic with how often the two had been butting heads during our short journey. “Dusty, what the hell?”

He was smiling, even if he tried unsuccessfully to hide it. “It’s just that she can’t be that much over thirty, and if she’s thirty years older than you…”

Starlight groaned. “Oh, fine. So it’s like… ten or fifteen years, whatever. Point is, she’s a lot older than me.” She snorted, looking away. “Besides, I’m not into mares.”

“Uh-huh,” Dusty said, in a tone that made it clear he wasn’t buying it. “So Whisper having to get her own bedding wasn’t some lover’s spat, then?”

That brought Starlight’s blush back full-force. “What? No, it’s not like that!”

I almost winced at her reply. It wasn’t for being “shunned.” It was because of how poorly she worded her reply. Some ponies can’t even tell the truth convincingly.

I had to come to her defense. “I didn’t have any supplies,” I said. “After the raiders hit our caravan, we were stuck with only enough bedding for one pony, but we’re good friends, so we shared.”

“Uh-huh,” Dusty said again as he led us through the gates.

“I’m not into mares!” Starlight said again. “It wasn’t like that.”

“If you say so,” Dusty said. “Sure heard a lot of rustling around that first night.”

“It was a small bed!” Starlight said, her voice rising. “There wasn’t enough room for both of us to get comfortable!”

Dusty barely held back a chuckle. “Uh-huh.”

“I like stallions!”

Starlight froze at the snicker that came from above us.

“Aw, you’re breaking my heart, little Star!”

Starlight slowly looked up to meet the cheshire grin of Dazzle, lounging against her plasma cannon. “But don’t you worry,” Dazzle said, giving a wink. “I’m pretty sure every stallion in town heard you there.”

Starlight stood there, stuck between crushing embarrassment and horror. She finally turned away, as if to use the large pile of salvage as a shield, and hustled as best as she could under that weight toward Emerald’s shop. I hung back just long enough to shoot Dazzle a dirty glare before following.

Emerald was kicked back behind the counter when we entered, reading on her PipBuck. She lit up the moment she saw us--and possibly the amount of material we had brought to trade--and quickly stood, making her way around the counter. “Well, well! It’s good to see you three again, and so soon! I take it the trip went well?”

Starlight halted, a blush still coloring her cheeks. “Uh, y-yeah. I guess so? Kind of.”

“Well now, it sounds like there’s an interesting story behind that answer.”

Starlight hesitated, and I stepped forward again, despite my exhaustion. “Maybe we could tell the story in the morning? We’re just about dead on our hooves and need a place to sleep. We can tell you all about it while we trade some of this salvage.”

She nodded, smiling graciously. “Of course. You three have probably had a long day; I won’t keep you up any longer. We’ve got regular rooms for eight caps, or one of the bigger upstairs suites for twenty.”

“Just a regular room,” Starlight said.

“Sure thing,” Emerald said with a nod. “Though, um, it might be a little cozy fitting three ponies in one bed.”

The playful smile she gave brought Starlight’s blush back in full force. Starlight quickly gestured toward Dusty. “He can pay for his own room.”

Dusty just snickered.

After looking around at the three of us, Emerald asked, “So am I going to get this story in the morning, too?”

“There’s no story,” Starlight quickly said. “He’s just being a pervert.” She tried to change the subject by digging out some caps, but Emerald just held up a hoof.

“You can pay me in the morning.” She pointed the same hoof to the doorway in the back of the shop. “All the ground-floor rooms are vacant. Just grab whichever one you want, and get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

We thanked her--although Starlight’s came out half-mumbled--and made our way further in. Starlight and I claimed the first room, and faced only a little bit of difficulty getting the couple hundred pounds of salvage through the doorway. Dusty left his load with us, to sell in the morning, and headed off to his own room.

While small, it was very nice and well-kept. A shuttered window would let in light during the day, and a rotary switch by the door controlled a simple ceiling light. Though there was only the single bed, it was a large one, and in very good condition for being two centuries old. It was topped with several pillows and a thick comforter, and looked like the most wonderful thing in the world.

With Dusty out of sight, Starlight was a lot less awkward about sharing a bed again. That, or she was simply too tired to care, a sentiment I could certainly agree with. She quickly shed her saddlebags, dumping them unceremoniously on the floor, and slipped in under the covers. I made sure to give her plenty of room when I joined her.

I went out so quickly that I hardly remembered crawling into bed.

I slept in fits and starts.

I had no problem getting to sleep. The fatigue took care of that. I had hardly drifted off when I was awake again, my heart pounding and my throat tight. I would calm down again, and fatigue would take hold once more, and the cycle would repeat. The night passed in a slow blur, an indistinct jumble of dreams and wakefulness.

When light started to seep around the edges of the window shutters, I gave up on sleep. Physically, I was rested, yet I felt every bit as exhausted as I had the night before.

Starlight was already up, sitting on the floor and fiddling with one of the door servos we had salvaged from the depot. She stopped as I pushed the blanket aside and heaved myself up into a sitting position. “Hey, Whisper.” Her words were soft, almost delicate, and when I looked back to her, I could see the worry in her eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I said, though it sounded doubtful even to my own ears. “That is, as okay as I can be, all things considered.”

The worried expression didn’t go away as she set the servo aside. She seemed hesitant, but forced herself to speak. “I... heard you crying last night. I was just… worried for you.”

“Oh.” My expression, already slack and bleary, fell further. My ears hung low, my eyes drifting down to the floor. “Sorry. It’s been a rough couple of days.”

Starlight nodded, though the motion came slowly. “Was it about what Dusty was saying?”

In my state, it took me a few moments to realize what she was talking about. She wasn’t asking about what Dusty had said, himself. The conclusions she had drawn from the previous evening were so far off the mark that it took little effort to crack a weak smile. “I wouldn’t listen to Dusty. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Yeah,” Starlight agreed, without conviction.

The smile I had conjured died away. She was drawing all the wrong conclusions, and that could only lead to problems. As much as I would have preferred to avoid lingering on those details, I knew it was a mistake I would have to correct. I sighed, and spoke again. “I was dreaming about my mother.”

That caught her attention, her ears perking up. I continued on. “And then I started mixing in stuff from the depot, yesterday, and…” I trailed off, shuddering. It wasn’t even an act. I actually, physically shuddered. Just a week ago, seeing my queen’s empty husk had been the absolute height of horror. I knew now that it could have been worse. As terrible as it had been to see her body lying there, hollow and devoid of life, there was at least some sense of peace and stillness. After the carnage of the army depot, my imagination had gone to great lengths to show me just how much worse it could have been.

I’d been so caught up in my own emotions that I hadn’t noticed Starlight moving until she wrapped me in a hug. I hugged back, almost mechanically, and we held each other as I focused on breathing slowly and smoothly.

At the same time, I could feel that the sense of affection Starlight held for me had grown stronger. I drew on a tiny bit of that feeling. It was just a nibble, too little to actually make a difference for either of us, but I still found it encouraging. I think I needed that at the time. The faint tremble that had persisted finally faded away.

She eventually released the hug, sitting beside me on the bed. We sat in silence for some time before she spoke. “What was she like?” she asked. “Your mother.”

My first reaction was to evade, to avoid the subject and steer the conversation toward something else, but I realized that wouldn’t work. So I took another deep breath, and focused on the task at hoof. “She was… wonderful. She was wise and brilliant, and always seemed to know the right thing to say to make you feel better. She was kind. And… and she always made me feel like she was proud of me.”

I realized then that I was smiling. My throat was tight, and my eyes watered, but I was smiling, even if it was still faint. I blinked back the growing tears and looked to Starlight. She was smiling, too, and when our eyes met, she gave me a little nod.

Then she chuckled and looked away. “My mom was the coolest mom ever. Like, total badass, but laid back about it. She taught me everything I know about scavenging, shooting, stuff like that. Guess she was like a role model or something. I want to be just like her.”

I nodded, my smile growing a bit more. “I know the feeling.”

Starlight looked back to me. We sat in comfortable silence for a couple of seconds before she asked, “What was her name?”

I hesitated. There had been only a few dozen ponies who knew of my queen’s name, and it struck me as exceptionally unlikely that the information would have survived the intervening apocalypse and two hundred years’ wait, and even more unlikely that they would think to connect the two. That minuscule risk was outweighed by the benefits of being able to use the truth, rather than having to create and remember a lie. Besides, if giving a name helped Starlight bond with me, it would be a secret well-spent. “Her name was Ephema.”

Starlight cocked her head to the side. I’d heard many different kinds of pony names--though I had no idea if naming conventions might have changed over two hundred years!--but that was evidently not the kind of name she had expected. “Huh. Neat name.” She shrugged. “Mine was Midnight.”

I nodded, and we fell into silence once again.

It didn’t last long before Starlight rose to her hooves. “We should get out there before Dusty gets more stupid ideas.” She gave a nervous chuckle. “We need to sell off all this stuff, too.”

I agreed, and we gathered up our salvage once again.

While Starlight talked with Emerald, I wandered the store.

I’ll admit, there was a little bit of discomfort at leaving an inherently adversarial social interaction in the hooves of someone else. I was used to depending on my own abilities in that field, and as much as I like her, Starlight didn’t strike me as having a very diverse range of social skills; she was friendly and energetic--at least when she wasn’t butting heads with Dusty--but those did not translate into being particularly good at bartering. Despite that, I felt like my hooves were tied. She had experience salvaging, and I assumed that must include experience in selling that salvage. I also lacked a firm understanding of how much value different items demanded, and of how that value translated to the new bottlecap standard.

I suspect my incredulity at the particular form of currency was not aiding my attempts to understand the Wasteland’s economy.

The shelves of goods bore only a vague resemblance to the shops I had been used to before the end. I suppose an antique shop or thrift store might be the closest comparison; old and used items that covered a broad spectrum of goods, often with signs of old repairs. There was no packaging, much less the rows of identical pristine items, fresh off the assembly lines, that filled the shelves of the major stores.

I spent a lot of time looking, though there was little that I had any real interest in buying. Mostly, I was satisfying my curiosity while gathering potentially useful information: what sort of items might be available in the Wasteland.

The barding got a bit more interest, though. Even at the time, I recognized the thought process that had drawn my attention. With everything that had happened, I was feeling particularly vulnerable. Alone, having narrowly escaped death from multiple sources, and most recently, having received a vivid picture of what could happen to me if things went wrong. Barding might be little more than a safety blanket, but I had to consider that the possible peace-of-mind it could bring me might allow me to focus more on important matters.

Of course, that line of thought had a troubling number of conditional statements, not to mention my natural revulsion toward the idea of self-deception. Most importantly, the same logical process that led me to recognize the possible emotional benefit would likely strip me of most of that benefit. It’s hard to trick yourself when you know you’re trying to do so. I would still be vulnerable; the solution was not to delude myself into thinking I wasn’t, but to act accordingly.

That said, barding could offer some degree of physical protection, which made it worth considering. Physical dangers were best defended against through avoidance, but it seemed likely I wouldn’t be able to depend on such protection.

Which meant it all boiled down to a simple, logical weighing of costs versus benefits. That was something I could do.

Barding gave protection, but the better the protection, the more it would weigh. I did not yet have a source of food sufficient to sustain a high-strength form. I could wear very light barding, which would do little more than protect from scrapes, bruises, and the elements, or I could wear heavier barding that might protect from more significant threats, but in turn slowed me. That didn’t strike me as a particularly good trade. Looking over the few outfits in Emerald’s shop made the prospects look even more limited. With them all being of post-war construction, the only one that looked as if it would provide decent protection against firearms also looked to be far too heavy for me.

I was also wary of something so constrictive. It would limit my abilities to transform, should the need arise. A form with a smaller frame would find the armor suddenly loose and encumbering; a form with a larger frame would be uncomfortable or impossible. On top of that, none of the armors were designed for pegasi, eliminating the possibility of taking a flying form. Sure, I was hoping to avoid the need to transform, as that would rather blow my cover and complicate my mission, but I disliked the idea of limiting my options unnecessarily.

And of course, there was the cost of, well, cost. We hadn’t made enough yet to be making purchases that weren’t necessary, and by the sounds of Starlight and Emerald’s negotiations, we weren’t making the small fortune we had set out imagining. Not that I fault Starlight’s bartering for that; if anything, I got the impression Emerald was being quite generous with her prices. I’d caught hints of surprise in Starlight’s voice at some of the prices offered.

Though I dismissed the armored barding, I did consider some of the clothing. I wouldn’t mind something to protect me from the elements, even if Starlight had assured me that storms of such intensity were rare.

The other group of items I considered were weapons; and yes, the fact that only two categories I considered to be worth investigating were weapons and armor did trouble me, if somewhat less than it might have a few days earlier.

I skipped right over the small assortment of melee weapons; if things ever descended to the point where such a weapon was useful, it had gotten excessively desperate to the point that I might as well shed my disguise and try to use my magic to fight back. The other option would be to die, which would reveal my true nature anyway. If I had to be discovered, I’d much prefer the option that leaves me alive.

Admittedly, browsing Emerald’s small selection of firearms was somewhat pointless. I already had a pistol I was familiar with. The rifle I had acquired from Sharps worked well enough, given my poor skill with it. An upgrade seemed decadent when the differences would largely be wasted on me. Still, I looked. If nothing else, it would give a good idea of what sort of threats I might face.

For better or worse, the selection was slim. I barely even looked at the post-war weapons, which consisted of a pair of mismatched rifles and a clunky looking revolver, and instead turned to the old-world relics on display.

There wasn’t much selection there, either. There was a huge drum-fed Equestrian Army combat shotgun that hurt my teeth just to look at, a small-caliber civilian bolt-action rifle of some sort, one of those submachine guns that Ironshod had been trying to convince the Army to buy in bulk for vehicle crews and support personnel, and no less than three pistols identical to my own.

The item that caught my attention the most wasn’t one of the weapons. Instead, it was an attachment on one of those weapons: a suppressor.

The cost/benefit analysis immediately labeled it of little benefit. If I needed to shoot my weapon, volume was likely to be unimportant. Still, I couldn’t help but consider the idea of it opening my possibilities. Perhaps I still entertained a little bit of those assassin and commando fantasies. It seemed unlikely that I would need to quietly remove a pony, but it was possible that could be useful at some point in the future. And, judging from what I had seen of raiders, there were certainly some ponies whose death could only be an improvement for the world.

So I decided to inquire about its cost. If it was too expensive, perhaps I should make my own. I had been taught how they worked, and they were simple devices. It would probably be cheaper. Still, a professionally made suppressor made to carefully researched designs was sure to be superior to anything I could craft.

I returned to the front counter of the store to find the bartering complete, with Starlight idly rolling a small bag of caps in her hooves as the two mares talked.

“I’ve been to a lot of places before settling down here,” Emerald was saying, “but I’ve never been there. Everything I heard of Dodge City sounded like trouble. I can’t imagine living there.”

“Oh, I didn’t live there!” Starlight said with a laugh. “But we did go in there a couple times a month. Heck, I pretty much grew up there. It’s not that dangerous if you know what to look out for.” She tapped the PipBuck hanging around her neck. “Having one of these to avoid the irradiated parts helps, too.”

“They’re very helpful things,” Emerald agreed. “So if not there, where did you live?”

“Oh, a little place called Dodge Junction. Wasn’t much to talk about.”

“Ah, I went through there, once,” Emerald said, smiling. “Seemed like a nice place. Well, except for the creepy dead orchard.”

“Yeah, you got that right,” Starlight said with a laugh. “Anyway, how about you? You mentioned all the places you’ve been before coming here. Where’d you start out?”

Emerald’s smile slipped, and she hesitated before replying. “Ehh… a little place called Serenity.” Her smile turned wry. “Just a free survival tip: if the first thing you think of when hearing about a place is, ‘hey, that sounds nice,’ be suspicious.”

I saw Starlight’s skeptical expression, but she didn’t inquire. I, however, found myself curious at the apparent double-standard. “I don’t mean any offense, but Gemstone does have a certain ‘too good to be true’ feel that might make certain ponies suspicious.”

Emerald laughed. “No offense taken! I couldn’t blame you for feeling a bit suspicious. Heck, I’d even go so far as to say it’s good that you are. We might be genuine, but there are far too many twisted ponies out there that use kindness as a lure.” She shook her head, her expression having fallen with that last statement, but it brightened up once again. “So I’m not even going to tell you that you don’t need to be suspicious of us. I don’t expect anypony to just take my word about it. Instead, we’ll just carry on, doing our best to show the rest of the Wasteland a better way through our example.”

Starlight cast a curious look my way before smiling at Emerald. “Well I think Gemstone seems like a lovely place, and I hope more ponies start thinking the same way. The world could use more good ponies.”

“That it could, hon,” Emerald agreed. “There are too few of them these days.”

Starlight slowly nodded. “Is that why you left Serenity?”

Again, the older mare’’s expression fell, and there was a moment of silence before she replied. “Kind of, but not exactly. They’re not really bad, just far less friendly than you’d think with a name like that. They didn’t like outsiders. Too many raiders and slavers and such, so they keep others at a distance; by force, if necessary.” She smirked. “Was kind of a problem for me. I like meeting new ponies. So I headed out here.”

“Sounds like a Stable,” Starlight said, earning a dry chuckle from Emerald.

“It was about as isolationist as one,” she said. “Still, my family lives there. I’d like to see them again, some day. I don’t think they’re bad ponies. Just… wrong.” She shook her head and shrugged. “But, hey, maybe if what we’re practicing here starts to spread, they’ll see that ponies aren’t that bad.”

Starlight nodded. “Well, I hope you have luck with that. It’d be nice.”

“Thank you,” Emerald said. “I hope you three have luck, too. You all seem like nice ponies, and it’s like you said; the world could use more good ponies.”

“Thanks,” Starlight said, then frowned. “Wait, three? You mean Dusty, too?”

“I do,” Emerald said with a nod. “He might act all gruff and cynical, but he strikes me as a good pony under all that.”

“Yyyyeah,” Starlight said, cocking an eyebrow. “If you say so.”

“I like to think of myself as being pretty good at reading ponies,” Emerald said, shrugging. “He’s been hurt by other ponies, but I don’t think he’s given up on them yet. But we’ll see, I’m sure. If nothing else, he’s helping you two.”

“It’s just for the one job,” Starlight said.

“Ah. Well I hope you two stay safe once that’s over with.” She chuckled as she pointed a hoof at the bag of caps Starlight was still playing with. “Speaking of which, I’ve got plenty of protection for sale if you’re looking to send some of those caps back this way.”

Starlight chuckled. “Thanks, but I think I’m good for now. I might be back for some of that barding once we’ve got a bit more caps to spare.” Having said that, she looked my way. “Unless you’ve spotted something you want? A quarter of these are yours, after all.”

She shook the bag, which jingled and clanked in the most un-musical fashion possible.

“There was something I was considering,” I said. “I saw that one of the pistols had a suppressor attached. I was curious if you’d be willing to sell it separately, and if so, for how much?”

“Ah, so Whisper likes it quiet, does she?” Emerald chuckled softly. “That’s a fairly uncommon item, but one that seems to have rather little demand. I could sell it for twenty-five… no, twenty caps.”

I contemplated that for a couple of seconds before concluding I had no idea if that was a good value. I turned to Starlight and asked, “Does that sound like a fair price?”

She was already digging out the caps. “Oh yeah,” she said, counting out the little metal trinkets.

Emerald opened the back of the display cabinet holding the pistols, and retrieved the weapon in question. Holding the grip in her teeth, she spun the suppressor between her hooves until it slid free, and held it out to me. “‘Ere eh oh,” she grunted around the bit before setting the weapon back in its place. “Make sure it fits right.”

I copied her actions in reverse, while she swept away the tiny offering of caps without even counting them. It was awkward, lining it up while holding the gun in my mouth with my vision limited, but I managed. “Looks good,” I finally said, giving it a little tug to ensure it was firmly in-place.

“I’d give it a few test-fires, just to make sure everything’s running smoothly.” Then she smiled. “Just not in my shop, please.”

“Of course,” I said, and went to holster it. Then I stopped, realizing I had a new problem. “Right. I might need a new holster, too.”

“Oh yeah. What do you have there?” She leaned over the counter, looking at the holster strapped to my leg. “Oh, Army holster. One of the good ones, too. Pass it over here. I’ll cut a hole and stitch the edges for you.”

I happily unstrapped it and passed it to her.

Dusty’s voice came from right behind me. “Seriously?”

Naturally, the first reaction I had was to look at him. That resulted in my newly purchased suppressor smacking into the hoof he quickly put in its way. “Watch your muzzle, kid!”

I recoiled, turning my head away and down as I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, pointing my pistol away from him. I felt like a fool, especially for how easily I had slipped into such casual treatment of a very lethal weapon. Just in case my shame wasn’t complete, my assumed body betrayed me, a blush spreading across my cheeks.

“And seriously, a suppressor for your pistol?” Dusty frowned as he stared down at me. “Should I even ask what you plan on doing with that? Or about where you plan on getting subsonic ammo for it?”

Hoping to redeem myself in some small degree, I quickly--but quietly--spoke up. “Reducing the powder load by thirty percent puts the standard Equestrian Army ten-millimeter round below the speed of sound, while retaining enough energy to reliably cycle the weapon. I can do that with just a pair of pliers, if I have to.” My barely remembered improvised tools and methods training came to the rescue as Dusty’s frown deepened at the unexpected reply. And to think, it had been entirely useless trivia up until that moment.

“Or,” Emerald cut in, “you can get some professionally made ones from my stock. I’ve got more ten-mil than I know what to do with, and if I remember correctly, a couple of them were some lightweight civilian brand. Pretty sure those were subsonic.”

She dug around behind the counter for a moment before returning, setting two faded boxes of ammunition on the counter. I took one box and looked it over. Most of the data listed on the box meant little to me, but I knew what “hollow-point” meant, and the listed muzzle velocity was subsonic. “Yeah, these could do. How much would you charge for these?”

“Nopony wants to buy low-power ammo,” Emerald said with a shrug. “Say a one-to-one trade for any regular rounds, and one-and-a-half caps per round for the rest?”

I agreed, pulling out my magazines and emptying them as she went to work on my holster. In the end, I had thirty five rounds sitting on the counter. Thirty six, once I remembered to clear the chamber. Starlight counted out six more bottlecaps, and I went through the slow process of loading the new rounds into the magazines. It was a tedious task to perform with mouth and hooves, but I managed.

By the time I was done with that and had pocketed the remaining four rounds, Emerald had finished altering my holster. I tried it on, satisfied with the fit, and slid my pistol into it. It fit well, even if it seemed strange to see the suppressor extending out of the bottom. Holstering was a little awkward with the added length, as I had to draw my head back further to clear the edge of the holster, but it was manageable. I wasn’t likely to be in any quick-draw competitions any time soon. At least, I hoped not, because that sounded like a fight I would lose.

“Are you done toy shopping?” Dusty dryly asked, while Starlight rolled her eyes in reply.

“I think that will do,” I replied, then offered Emerald a smile. “Thank you very much, for everything.”

“Of course,” she said, beaming. “I hope I’ll see you guys around soon. And if I see any more subsonics come through, I’ll make sure to snag a box for you.”

We gathered up our remaining salvage, and Emerald waved as we left. I continued to smile even after we stepped outside. It was a small thing, but it was nice to have something go right.

The moment we had stepped outside, Starlight spoke up, her voice full of tired irritation. “So what’s the problem now, Dusty?”

He shot her a glance before gesturing toward my side. “What, that? There are only two kinds of ponies who tend to get suppressors. Professionals who need them for a specific purpose, and amateurs who think they’re cool.” He gave me a pointed look. “You’re not a professional.”

“Perhaps not in the way you’re thinking,” I said, while refusing to let my smile slip. “But I do actually know what I’m doing.”

“Do you, now?” Dusty said, but Starlight cut him off before he could say any more.

“Oh, what do you even care? You’re only with us another day or so. Let’s just get this over with.” She huffed, turning away and heading down the street.

Dusty paused a moment before shrugging and following along. “Sure. Fine.”

We walked silently through the town. Starlight’s shoulders were tense and her ears were pinned back, but as we drew near Arclight’s workshop, the tension quickly faded. Her ears suddenly perked up to the sound of a hissing pop from beyond the building, her scowl quickly replaced with a grin. She broke into a trot, and we quickened our pace to keep up.

We made our way through an open gate and into a junk-filled shooting range, and Starlight let out a very filly-like squeal of glee. Arclight had the Lancer set on one of the benches, straight and whole. He looked up from his examination and smiled as he saw Starlight approaching. “Ah, good morning!”

Starlight giggled and pranced up to him, eyes lighting up. “Is it fixed?”

“Yep! It--”

He was cut off as Starlight threw her hooves around him and hugged, letting out another high-pitched sound of glee that only eventually broke out into words. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Despite the surprise at the sudden show of affection, Arclight managed a good-natured chuckle. “I’m glad to help,” he said, patting a hoof against her back. “Emerald told me you were back in town, so I made sure to get it done as soon as I could. Helps that none of the internals were damaged, so it was all easy stuff. I was just double-checking the alignment and sights, but it should be all good to go.”

She finally released him to turn her attention to her weapon. “So, it’s all ready? Can I fire it?”

“Of course,” he said, chuckling a bit more. “It’s your gun, after all. Just needs a freshly charged crystal and you’re set. We kind of forgot about the charging rack, but it’s no worry; I was able to rig something up.”

“Oh yeah, sorry,” Starlight said, though her attention was now focused entirely upon her Lancer. She hefted the lengthy weapon in her magic, and the handle in the rear pulled back to open the chamber. She removed the dull-red crystal within and swapped it with a glowing one she pulled from a small case on her saddlebags; I caught the sight of another four crystals within it, resting in strange wire cradles and glowing with magic.

“Also, the sights were way off even after I straightened the frame,” Arclight said. “I didn’t know how you had them before, if you had any sort of convergence point or the like. I just sighted them in parallel to the beam, but you can always adjust that if you’d prefer.”

“That’s exactly how I like it,” Starlight said with glee as she brought the weapon close. The hairs on her cheek barely brushed against the side of the frame, one eye closing as the sight settled before the other one. She took a deep breath, then slowly let it out. As her breath ran out, she seemed frozen for just an instant; then there was the familiar sound of the weapon firing. I was close enough that I could hear the discharge of magic within the weapon itself, though it was almost entirely hidden behind the sharp snap and trailing hiss of the beam burning its way through the air.

At the end of the crude range were an array of bottles, cans, boards, and other debris that served as targets. One of those bottles flashed brilliant red and shattered, throwing off glowing embers that slowly burnt away in mid-air. Only a few pieces of molten glass peppered the ground around where the bottle had sat.

I knew magical energy weapons could be powerful, and had even fired an energy pistol in my training, but I’d rarely seen them in practice. And yes, a glass bottle is hardly the most durable of targets to demonstrate a weapon’s power upon, but it had vaporized most of the bottle’s mass, as if burning it to a fine ash. Glass is not terribly known for its flammable properties.

Okay, so it probably turned it to gas rather than literally burning it. I don’t have a clue what kinds of temperatures and energies that involves, but that’s still pretty scary.

Starlight slowly lowered the weapon, grinning. She looked back to me, blinking a couple times, then stepped in and gave me a hug. I accepted it gracefully as she buried her head next to mine, eyes closed to hide how they had watered up. Dusty made a point of looking away.

I could feel the love flowing out from her. It was more than a simple liking or preference. It was true love, deep and powerful, even if it felt strangely unfocused to me. It wasn’t about the gun itself. It was more sentimental. I could appreciate that.

And yes, I fed on that love. I would be a fool not to.

When she released me, the hint of tears were gone. “I’m, uh… I’m going to try a couple more shots. Just to be sure, you know?”

“Take all the time you need,” Arclight said. “And let me know if you want anything tweaked, I should be able to take care of that pretty quick.”

She thanked him and turned back to the range, and I took the chance to ask a question. “Would you mind if I fired a few rounds from my own gun?”

“Go right ahead,” he replied. “I leave the range open for anyone who wants to use it.”

I stepped up beside Starlight and drew my pistol. I gripped the bit firmly in my teeth, the stubby sights floating right before my eye. The balance felt odd, though I wasn’t sure if that was from my own lack of experience or the weight of the suppressor.

I shifted my grip slightly to line the sights up, and placed the front post directly over a tin can some twenty yards away, resting atop a bullet-riddled table. I disengaged the safety, then slowly pulled the trigger.

The gun bucked, nearly catching me by surprise with the force of it. The sharp clack of my weapon echoed for just an instant around the range, but it was dominated by the solid whack as the bullet took another chunk out of the table. It had been just a bit low and to the right. Still, not bad for a weapon I hadn’t fired in two hundred years.

Beside me, Starlight’s ear twitched, and she looked away from her own shooting to give me a worried look. “I don’t think that suppressor is, uh, suppressing.”

“Seems about right to me,” I said around my pistol’s bit. “It’s a lot quieter than a regular gunshot, at least.”

She looked unconvinced, but shrugged and returned to her own weapon.

I lined up another shot, this time adjusting up and to the left by a tiny bit. That time, the tin can spun away from the table, followed immediately by Starlight’s sharp cry. “Ow!”

I quickly looked her way, and only just stopped myself from pointing my pistol directly at her. She had a hoof to the side of her head, and was looking to me with an utterly shocked expression. That lasted for just a moment before she broke out in a laugh. “You just shot me in the head!”

That was not the response I had expected. “What?”

Through her giggling, she said, “You pulled the trigger, fired off a round…” Her horn lit up, floating up a spent casing. “...and a little piece of metal hit me in the side of the head.”

“Oh!” Her giggling was surprisingly infectious, and I soon found myself chuckling as I raised a hoof under the casing. “Heh, um, sorry.”

She just chuckled in reply as she dropped the casing into my waiting hoof. I immediately jerked back and dropped it, holding my hoof up as I stared down at the offending--and still very hot--piece of metal. “Right. That was stupid.”

“Sorry,” Starlight said, though it barely interrupted her chuckling.

“That was my fault,” I said, shaking my head. “We might want to swap places, too.”

“Yeah, I think I’ve been shot in the head enough for one day,” Starlight teased, sounding far too cheerful for such a statement. We shuffled around each other as we changed places; a quick glance back at Dusty showed him with his head bowed, a hoof resting firmly across the bridge of his nose. I didn’t hear his deep sigh, but I’m sure it was there.

Once we were re-situated, I took aim and fired a third and fourth round. My accuracy was mediocre, but the weapon itself functioned perfectly. I reengaged the safety and holstered the weapon before removing the magazine and fishing out the four spare rounds I had purchased. I reloaded the magazine, watching the rounds slide down through the small holes in the back of the magazine. Once I put the last round in, I frowned; the little holes said it was one round short of being full. It took me a couple of seconds before realization struck, and my ears dropped. “Right.”

“What’s that?” Starlight asked while lining up another shot.

“Nothing,” I said, swapping out that magazine for one of the full ones, and inserting that into my pistol.

Once he had recovered from our stunning display of competency, Dusty decided to fire off a few rounds as well. Arclight dug out some earmuffs for Starlight and myself, while Dusty used his own earplugs.

“Okay,” Starlight said, raising a hoof to her earmuffs after his first shot; I could feel the sound in my chest, if only weakly. “Yeah, I like your pistol more. Wow.”

He only fired a couple rounds at a chunk of wood on the far end of the crude range, then stopped to adjust his sights. He did that a couple more times before nodding in satisfaction, swapping out the rifle’s magazine for a full one, and slinging the weapon across his back again.

Arclight collected his earmuffs. “Come on back if you need anything. Adjustments, upgrades, repairs, whatever. I also have plenty of other weapons, and I’m always available for a commission.”

We thanked him, promising to come back if we ever needed anything else. After that, it was a short walk back to the gate. Dusty was eager to set out, as he reasoned we could make Rust before nightfall if we hurried.

Personally, I’m glad Starlight was so distracted by her weapon. She missed Dazzle’s wink, and the snicker from the stallion standing beside the guard-mare. I stared flatly at Dazzle, who at least had the good sense to raise a hoof in mock-surrender, as if saying she didn’t mean anything serious by it. She was still smiling.

We had left the town and made it halfway down the slope before Starlight could no longer contain herself. “Okay, no, I’ve got to shoot it again!” She quickly unslung the Lancer as she called out. “Hey, Dusty! You think I can’t shoot? Point to something, anything, and I’ll hit it.”

Dusty frowned as he halted, and for a moment I thought he was going to tell her no. After a moment of wavering, he rolled his eyes and gestured downslope toward the tracks. “That fence-post, just to the right of the collapsed water tower.”

“Oh, come on,” Starlight said. “That’s, like, a hundred yards at most. Give me something harder!”

“More like two hundred,” Dusty grumbled, then pointed out past the tracks. “Okay, that withered little cactus-thing with the two tops.”

Starlight rolled her eyes dramatically. “I said harder. Fine, I’ll choose.” She scanned the narrow valley for a moment, then lifted her hoof to point. “There! You see that old dead tree?”

We both looked for several seconds before Dusty finally said, “No.”

“Come on, it’s right there,” she said, jerking her hoof as if pointing harder would make it easier for us. She finally added, “Right there, on top of the hill. It’s silhouetted and everything!”

We looked up from the valley to the top of the opposite hill. It still took us a moment before we spotted the twisted remains of some long-dead tree. It was probably only a little taller than a pony, which made it hard to see at such a range.

“That tree?” Dusty asked, his voice expressing the skepticism I felt.

“Yeah, that tree,” Starlight shot back as she leveled her weapon and squinted into the sight. “How far do you think that is?”

“At least half a mile,” Dusty said. “Maybe three quarters.”

“Well, as long as Arc set these sights right…” She went silent as she took a deep breath and let it out, repeating the same procedure as before. Again, a sharp snap pierced the air.

More than half a mile away, a cloud of red embers burst forth, filling the air around the tree with motes of light that quickly burnt away. When it faded, it revealed the stubby tree slowly collapsing onto its side, with the faint light of flames dancing around the edges of a gaping hole.

Starlight lowered her weapon, grinning. “I told you I knew how to shoot.”

Despite the bleak landscape and constantly overcast skies, the trip to Rust was quiet and peaceful. It was also fairly easy going; while I didn’t like being recognized as the weakest of the group, Starlight and Dusty carried most of what remained of our salvage. While my hooves were still sore from walking all day long, at least my back wasn’t aching.

Seeing Rust again was oddly bittersweet. It was still a decrepit little settlement fitting of its name, yet I couldn’t help feeling an odd sense of happiness to see its giant steel gates once again. I suppose there was some comfort in the familiar.

The gates opened, and we were met once again by a couple of armed ponies. Steel Shot was at their head. “Hey there, Dusty. Welcome back. How was the job?”

“Tedious and boring,” Dusty replied. “And not the good kind of boring, either. Didn’t turn out as well as I hoped, but it’ll pay the bills.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Steel Shot said as the gate squeaked and ground shut behind us. “Might have some good news for you, though. Some fancy-pants mare turned up just after you left, looking to hire somepony. She’s been hanging around since then, waiting for you to get back. Smells like caps to me.”

“How many caps?” Starlight asked.

The question earned a sharp glance from Dusty before he looked back to Steel Shot. “I’ll go see what she wants. She staying at Mustard’s?”

“Eeyup,” Steel Shot replied, then looked over to Starlight and myself. “Guess if you’re friends of Dusty, I can let you hang onto your guns.”

“They’re not my friends,” Dusty said, but Steel Shot just shrugged and waved a hoof.

“Coworkers, whatever.” He turned, heading back toward the overlook. “I’ll trust you to keep them in line. Good night, Dusty!”

Dusty grimaced as the other stallion walked off.

We all made our way to the foundry. Mostly, we wanted the caps. Myself, I appreciated it as being the least depressing part of the little town.

Scrap and Singe were sharing a meal when we arrived. The mare, her mane slightly shorter than the last time I met her, grinned upon seeing me. “Hey, new-face!” she called out, setting down the big bowl she had been slurping from. She stood. “Never did get your name, you know.”

“It’s Whisper,” I said, and shook her offered hoof. She greeted the other ponies with me, though she had to prompt Starlight for her name; she evidently knew of Dusty already.

“So is all that stuff for us?” she said with a playful grin and a gesture to my back.

“It is,” I said, and we set down our loads.

Singe dove right in, pulling apart the bundles and looking through the parts. “Well, they got plenty of rubber for you,” she said, tossing a couple of the hoses to Scrap. “Hydraulics. And lubricant. Lots of it, too.”

“What kind of lubricant?” Scrap asked.

His question was met with a playful smirk. “The machine kind,” she said, then slid the case toward him. “Looks like good industrial stuff. We can put that to good use.”

She turned back to the remaining items, and her eyes widened. “Oh, wow, is that… it is!” She hefted one of the large roller bearings. “What even uses bearings this size? I could rotate a building on these!”

Starlight, as our resident salvage expert, stepped in. “They came from a Stable-Tec shipment. It might have been for some big blast door.”

“That gives me some ideas,” Singe said. While she idly pondered various plans, murmuring excitedly to herself, Scrap stepped in to sort through the offering we had brought. I once again left the negotiations to Starlight. The bartering was much more involved this time, but they soon came up with numbers that left both sides satisfied. Scrap retrieved the requisite number of caps from a heavy, home-made safe, and we happily parted ways.

After splitting the caps in half, and accounting for the purchases we had made along the way, Starlight and I were a few hundred caps richer than we had been just a few days earlier. It was a small thing, but to me, it was tangible progress.

“And here’s your half,” Starlight said as she passed the bulging bag of caps to Dusty. He hefted it, eying it warily, but finally shoved it into a saddlebag.

“You two stay out of trouble. I don’t want to have to deal with it.” He turned and walked off. “Goodbye.”

Starlight stared at him, mouth hanging open and hoof half-raised as she watched him go. Soon her expression hardened into a glare. “Asshole,” she grumbled, though her expression softened as she looked at me, and she threw a foreleg around my shoulders. “Fuck it, we got our caps, it’s time to celebrate! I’m going to get the biggest, most unhealthy meal I can find and gorge myself until I pass out!”

She grinned broadly at me as she released her grip, and I smiled back. With a fresh plan at hoof, we headed toward the center of the little town. It was a detour from my grander plans, but even I had to admit that I could use a little break.

Author's Notes:

ABG JUNG GURL FRRZ