What’s the one thing I remember the most from that night?

Bacon.

It had been a bit surprising to see that bacon, and a few other kinds of meat, were even offered at the “Food” place. I hadn’t seen a single non-pony there, and couldn’t imagine they got griffon--or other!--visitors enough to regularly cater to a non-herbivorous diet. I was even more surprised when Starlight lit up upon seeing the bacon, and quickly ordered some.

Don’t get me wrong, I was quite happy to order some for myself. It was good bacon, too; nice, thick strips, and the cook prepared it almost perfectly; cooked all the way through and firming up, but not scorched and brittle like inexperienced cooks tend to make it. I enjoyed the opportunity to break from the herbivore’s diet that I had been largely restricted to during my time in Appleloosa. Ponies weren’t entirely strict vegetarians, often making use of eggs or milk in their cooking, but actual meat tended to be a bit too extreme for their tastes. A few of the more bold and experimentive ponies might try it, perhaps emulating griffons or other such cultures, so I had used that excuse to snatch the rare nibble of meat.

That ended after the second such treat in as many months, at which point I found I was getting a small reputation for it. That put a halt to my divergence from the standard pony diet, and after another month I had eradicated most traces of that reputation; to an Infiltrator, few things are as dangerous as standing out as “unusual,” even if that reputation was entirely playful.

So on the one hoof, it was a great relief to be able to broaden my dietary horizons without suffering suspicion or condescension for it.

On the other hoof, it was yet another reminder of how much things had changed.

I had many questions, ranging from cultural to historical to biological, but I set them aside for the moment and simply enjoyed my meal. I’m not normally one to set aside questions and concerns for the pursuit of personal pleasure, but I think I can make an occasional exception for really good bacon.

I did somewhat regret having to voice any concern at all, when I noted how much more expensive the meat was than the vegetables they grew there. Our funds were still quite limited. Starlight laughed softly and soothed my fears.

“Trust me. You know what the best trick is to keeping from blowing all your caps? My mom taught me; you give yourself one splurge, one little extra you’re going to get with your next big payoff, so you’re not always regretting saving everything else for more practical stuff.” She popped a slice of meat into her mouth and grinned. “And this time, I want bacon.”

So we had our little celebration, such as it was. We had a huge, tasty meal, finishing up with a whole box of snack cakes and a couple chilly bottles of Sparkle Cola. It cost us as much as several days’ worth of meals, but I couldn’t say it wasn’t worth it.

With full bellies and high spirits, we stumbled our way to Mustard’s to get a room and sleep off the excess of food.

In hindsight, stuffing ourselves with fatty and sugary foods right before lying down to sleep was probably not the brightest of ideas.

My stomach, having seen such little use in the preceding centuries, was not quite ready to handle the monumental task I had set upon it. Starlight fared no better than I, leading me to wonder whether the pony digestive system was properly capable of handling the amount of greasy meat we had stuffed in it. We both woke early in the night to the bubbling and churning in our guts. We tossed and turned, keeping each other up as much as ourselves, while our stomachs slowly sorted things out. There was the occasional groan, hooves pressed to our own bellies, and at least one quick run to the toilet when our digestive tracts decided they had done all they could and quickly expelled the remains.

Relieved of their burden, our guts quickly settled down, and we drifted off, sleeping until noon.

And you know what? We still agreed that it was totally worth it.

Well, not at first. I woke to a feeling of crushing fatigue and a pounding head. I struggled to sit up, more out of determination to not remain lying there all day than a personal desire to be upright. I immediately found a bottle of water floating in front of my face.

When I pushed it weakly away--my stomach still felt a little funny--Starlight insisted. “Drink it. You’ll feel better.”

While I could have argued with her, it didn’t feel like a worthwhile expenditure of energy. I took a small drink at first, but under Starlight’s continuing insistence, I downed the whole bottle. I felt bloated afterwards, and lay down once again. But you know what? Just ten or twenty minutes later, I was feeling much better. I didn’t feel as worn out, and that headache was quickly receding into the background.

Starlight smiled, looking quite proud of herself.

Feeling better, we headed out. The first order of business was to get some breakfast; despite the size of our celebratory meal, we were both hungry once again. And then? Then it would be time to work out what we would do next.

Those plans derailed as soon as we made our way downstairs to the inn’s common room, to find Dusty sitting there, hooves steepled and staring off into space. He was one of only three ponies in the room; while the other two were sharing a light meal and talking, he simply sat there, with an untouched glass of water set before him.

We might have just passed right by, but something about it caught Starlight’s interest. That, or her ire. She changed course to pass by him, and halted a short distance away. “What’s up with you?”

He didn’t even blink. “Thinking.”

“Yeah,” Starlight dryly replied. “We could smell the smoke. Thinking about what?”

That finally brought Dusty’s attention back to the room he was in. He glared flatly at her for a moment before looking back the way he had been. “About a job offer.”

Seeing as he didn’t seem very talkative, I nudged Starlight. “Come on, let’s get some food.”

Whether it had been curiosity, belligerence, or the mention of a job, Starlight’s attention had been thoroughly set upon Dusty, and she shrugged off my nudge. “What kind of job?”

He mulled the question over for several seconds, as if deciding whether he should answer. Eventually, he did. “Go to a research park. Get computer records from several companies. Bring them here.” He idly tapped his hooves together. “Pays five thousand caps. Maybe more.”

Starlight’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit.”

Having less of a sense of the value of caps, I wasn’t so startled by the number. I was, however, concerned by Starlight’s reaction and the implication that had for Dusty’s job. Her reaction didn’t suggest that it was a large amount of caps so much as it spelled it out in giant, flaming letters and beat me over the ears with it, all of which led me to one particular question: “What’s the catch?”

There was a ghost of a smile, lingering only for a moment before fading into a grimace. “It’s raider territory.”

A smile slowly spread across Starlight’s face. “Ah! And you need ponies to go with you.”

“Yeah,” Dusty grumbled. “And I don’t exactly have the greatest of selection.”

Starlight’s smile grew into a full-blown grin. “Seems to me you’ve got a great selection right here. Question is whether we want any part of your job.”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t get too full of yourself, kid. I ain’t even decided if I’m doing the job, much less if I’m actually going to ask you to come along.”

“So you were thinking of asking us,” Starlight said, full of satisfaction.

“Thinking,” Dusty echoed. “Very long and hard.”

“It’s a lot of caps,” Starlight said in a singsong voice.

I couldn’t help expressing doubt. “I don’t know. I don’t like the idea of picking a fight with a bunch of raiders.”

Again, that hint of a smile appeared. “Neither do I. But she’s right, it’s a lot of caps, and with a bit of luck there won’t even be any fighting.”

I frowned. “I’m not staking my life on luck. And I don’t think you are, either.”

He did smile at that, if faintly. He even exhaled in a way that suggested a chuckle.

“Okay, enough,” Starlight said, nudging out one of the chairs and sitting. “You’re going to ask us to help you, so spill the details. Let’s hear about this job.”

I think it should be pretty obvious to you that I didn’t like where this was going. Still, I figured it was worth hearing out the details. At least then I could give more concrete reasons to decline.

Dusty resisted only a few moments longer before speaking. “That mare Steel pointed me to, she wants me to hit this old compound that was built in the hills south of here. Some sort of community setup by the Ministry of Technology for wartime research. Stable-Tec, Equestrian Robotics, Ironshod Firearms, Crystal Life, and some group called ‘The Canterlot Medical Research Group.’”

As much as I hated it, he suddenly had my interest. I still thought it was dangerous, possibly too dangerous to undertake, but I now had a much more compelling reason than caps. Money could be acquired through many means. Information, however, was a much more difficult commodity, and Dusty had unwittingly dangled it in front of me. One Crystal Life Technologies facility had been home to members of my hive for two centuries. What might I discover at other facilities?

“She wants me to go to each of those companies’ facilities,” Dusty continued as I took a seat, “and download all their computer records onto a data-store. I bring that back to her, she pays caps. Trick is, it sounds like it was built with security in mind, so some raider band saw the high walls and towers and thought it’d make a great base. We have to get past them.”

“Three of us against a fortified raider band,” I said, frowning. Despite my interest in C.L.T., the information it might net me would do little good if I didn’t survive to use it. “I don’t see this going well.”

“Ideally, there wouldn’t be any fighting,” Dusty said, though I felt he lacked conviction, “but I always plan for worst-case scenarios, and that means being ready for a fight.”

“All right,” Starlight said as she leaned forward, crossing her forelegs atop the table. “So what is the plan?”

“Even if I bring you two along, we’d have to be ready for a fight, even if it’s just to escape. A big fight, too. There’s probably a few dozen raiders in there. Whisper’s right; three ponies aren’t going to cut it. We need more firepower. I’ve been thinking all night on it. I’ve only come up with two ideas, and I don’t really like either of them.”

“Let’s hear them,” Starlight said.

Dusty slowly nodded, then raised one hoof. “Option one is to hire some mercenaries. There are lots of ponies out there willing to kill for caps. Problem is, most of them are amateurs, if not outright psychotic, so they could be more dangerous to us than the raiders. Hell, some of them might be raiders. I’d want to get somepony professional, like Talon Company. They’re good, but they charge it, too. That’s a problem. Not much point in even taking the job if we just give all the caps to somepony else.”

“Still salvage opportunities,” Starlight said. She blinked, and her expression darkened. “Well, unless the raiders all trashed that place, too.”

“I wouldn’t count on salvage,” Dusty said. He sat there, frowning for a moment before slowly raising his other hoof. “Which leads us to option two. We hire Sickle.”

There was a moment of silence before Starlight expressed my own thoughts, albeit with a touch more profanity than I would have used. “You’re fucking kidding, right?”

“There aren’t many ponies as good at killing raiders as her,” Dusty said. “And she works cheap. Hell, we can probably just let her keep the bounty on the raiders we find.”

“Seriously?” Starlight said, her voice rising. “What was all that ‘amateur and psychotic’ stuff you were saying?”

“She’s not amateur,” Dusty said. “Psychotic, that I’ll give you. I worked with her once. I’d really rather not do so again, given the chance, but I think it might be the best option. She’s got some sort of hate for raiders in specific. Not sure why. She… wouldn’t tell me.”

“Oh, so she’s a professional psychotic!” Starlight said, throwing up her hooves. “Oh, well I feel so much better! There’s no way some raging sadist that loves carving up ponies would ever turn on us!”

“Hey, I’m not saying I like her or anything,” Dusty said. “I don’t. But the only ponies she kills are raiders and ponies that cross her. Hell, you two broke into her home and she just threw you out.”

“After nearly throwing Whisper through a wall! And you saw the bandages she needed after that!”

“Still milder than I would have expected,” Dusty said with a shrug. “Hell, if it was me I might have shot you.”

Starlight stared at him for several seconds before replying, her words dripping with sarcasm. “Wow. Thanks, Dusty.”

“Oh, calm down,” he said. “Walking into my home in the middle of the night to find a pair of armed ponies? Never thought I’d say Sickle showed restraint in anything, but there you go.”

“Doesn’t change that you’re wanting us to work with a psychotic murderer!”

“I wouldn’t call killing raiders murder, Starlight.”

“Well what would you call gutting somepony and hanging them from the rafters!” Starlight shouted. Needless to say, the other ponies in the room were eying us.

Dusty kept his voice much more level and controlled. “Hell, I’ll be the first to say she enjoys killing a bit too much, no argument there. But really, so long as it’s raiders she’s doing it to, I can’t really say I’m too troubled by it.”

“And what about that little colt she killed, huh?”

He grimaced. “...I’m not terribly comfortable about the idea of killing a kid, but you saw that cutie mark same as I did. You have any idea what you have to do to get a mark like that?”

I shuddered, just a little.

The same statement also made Starlight pause. Her mouth moved in twitches, as if trying to come up with words but falling short. Finally, she looked to me for help. “And what do you think, Whisper?”

I frowned, giving a show of mulling it over for a few seconds before speaking. “I think I’m willing to consider the idea.” Starlight’s shoulders slumped, but I was already raising a hoof. “But on one condition: if I think for even a moment that she’s going to cause a problem, we’re out. Gone. Period.”

Dusty nodded. “If I think she’s going to cause a problem, I’ll be walking out right with you.”

Starlight grumbled for a moment, sitting back in her chair and crossing her forelegs. After a moment, she practically spat out the word, “Fine.”

“Good,” Dusty said. “And I think I’ll talk to Amber, see if she’ll agree to six thousand.” He paused, then added, “Same split as before, fifty-fifty.”

Starlight nearly knocked over her chair as she rose. “Oh, fuck you, Dusty! Enough of this half-share crap. We each did just as much as you did on that last job, and you know it. Maybe more! You can either pay us a full share each, like we deserve, or you can have fun playing with psycho-mare on your own!”

Dusty stewed over that. I have to admit, as much as I disliked seeing Starlight so angry, I felt just a little proud of how she had maneuvered him. I felt like a predator moving in for the kill as I spoke up. “It’s a lot of caps, Dusty. You still get plenty, even if you pay us a fair share. Certainly a lot more than you’re likely to get without us.”

He looked back and forth between us, remaining silent for several seconds. I could see the battle raging in his eyes, and I could see the moment the lines broke. “Fine,” he grunted. “An even three-way split.”

Starlight let out a sharp laugh in celebration, while Dusty stood, fishing out a pack of cigarettes. “Think I need a smoke after that,” he grumbled. “For some reason, it feels like I just got fucked.”

That drew a snicker from Starlight. “Yeah, love you too, Dusty.”

He turned to her, meeting her own smug grin with a scowl. “Oh, shut it, kid. I know you two ‘not-lovers’ are joined at the damn hip, but if I had my way, I’d only be bringing one of you.”

“Yeah, you told us,” Starlight said, the smug grin growing a bit more.

“Yeah, I did. What I didn’t tell you is that if I were to bring only one of you into a fight, it’d be her.”

He leveled a hoof at me; Starlight’s smugness vanished.

“Seriously?” Starlight said, voice laced with incredulity that, even if it seemed critical of my own ability, I had to agree with. She quickly looked my way as she realized how it had come across. “I mean, hell, Whisper’s great at a lot of stuff, but shooting is kinda my thing and all.”

“You’re cocky,” Dusty said, leaning in over the table. “Overconfidence gets ponies killed, and not just the pony who’s full of themselves. I don’t care how well you can shoot range targets or trees. I’ve never seen a range target shoot back, or a tree moving to flank a position. I want a pony who is good in combat. You’re arrogant and hot-headed.” Again, his hoof pointed my way. “I may not be entirely happy with her, but Whisper is cautious, and at least seems to think things through instead of acting impulsively. I think she has better hopes of becoming a good soldier than you do.”

That was certainly the strangest piece of praise I’d received, and possibly the most troubling.

“Seriously?” Starlight said once again. “Why?”

Dusty shrugged, his response simple and calm after the preceding tirade. “She keeps both eyes open when she shoots.”

Starlight stared at him. “...What?”

His expression darkened again. “Yeah, you wouldn’t pay attention to something like that, would you? You’re so wrapped up in yourself--”

I’d had enough. “Dusty.” I didn’t shout the name, or even elevate my voice, but I said it with a sharp firmness that caught his attention. His head snapped around to me as I rose from my chair, standing tall and meeting him with a firm stare. It wasn’t an angry stare; I kept it level and dispassionate. I didn’t want to rile him up even more, but I needed to make it clear how serious I was.

“I may not have much experience with combat,” I said, “but I know that in any team endeavor, it’s critical for everypony to work well together. Tearing into another pony on the team and encouraging strife is detrimental to the entire group, and if we end up in a fight, it could get us killed. That wasn’t constructive criticism you were giving; you were just insulting her. If you want to educate us, that’s fine. I’d even welcome the opportunity to learn, and if you’re polite about it, I’m sure Starlight would, too. But if you continue to be insulting, and putting us all at risk, then we’re done.”

His jaw was tight by the time I was halfway through my statement. He glared back at me, while I hoped I hadn’t misjudged him.

The face-off lasted only a couple seconds. His glare wavered, and his anger crumbled. “...Yeah,” he said, his gaze dropping away from mine. “You’re right.”

He closed his eyes, his muzzle dipping to face the ground and ears folded back. He drew in a deep, calming breath, and let it out again.

I nodded, though he couldn’t see it. “Okay. Then let’s go see this Amber.”

“Yeah,” he said, quietly at first. He straightened up again, his expression firm once more. He grabbed the yet-untouched glass of water, downed it all in one long drink, and thumped it back down atop the table. “Let’s go talk to Amber.”

Behind him, Starlight was staring at us with wide eyes; mostly, she was staring at Dusty’s back. When she caught my glance, that expression changed to a wide grin, and she brought her forehooves together to mime clapping.

I gave a tiny smile, and we both followed Dusty.

Our destination was one of the big top-floor rooms, opposite the one we had shared our first time in Rust. Dusty knocked sharply on the door.

A well-spoken but bored-sounding voice answered us. “Who is it?”

“Dusty.”

There was silence for a few moments, followed by the sounds of hooves and the shuffling of furniture. After a few seconds the sounds stopped, and the door opened.

The mare beyond had a golden-orange coat, perfectly cared for. The warmth of the color contrasted with the haughty look she leveled our way, which managed to achieve that perfect balance of contempt and disinterest. With the care and styling put into her smooth coat and short but stylishly cut mane and tail, she looked as if she would fit right in among the snobbiest Canterlot socialite.

Beyond her I could see two pairs of saddlebags, with one set large and stuffed with items, and the other set small and fashionable. Both looked brand new, without a hint of dirt or wear. The outfit hanging from a hook beside the bed was practical and sturdy, but apart from a bit of dust looked just as new as the bags. Beside her stood the dresser that had, moments earlier, been keeping the door shut.

She looked over the three of us before speaking in that same bored tone. “I do hope you didn’t bring these ponies in some sort of foolish attempt to rob me.”

“What?” Dusty said, blinking. “No, these are some of the ponies coming along for the job.”

Starlight stepped forward, offering a hoof and a smile. “Hi. I’m Starlight, best shot you’ll find around here. You must be Amber?”

The mare looked down at the offered hoof, but did not return the gesture. “Lady Amber,” she said, and looked back to Dusty. “I don’t particularly care what ponies you decide to subcontract, so long as you meet the objectives I have detailed. Have you decided to accept the contract?”

While Starlight’s happy expression slowly withered at the cold rejection, Dusty nodded. “For six thousand caps.”

Lady Amber’s head tilted just a hair to the side. “I believe we had agreed to a final price of five thousand caps.”

“That wasn’t the final price,” Dusty said. “That was the starting price.”

“No, the starting price was three thousand. I’ve already been generous enough raising it to five.”

“You raised it to five because that’s how much it cost to get me to even listen.” Dusty replied. “Then I find out you want me to break into a raider fortress, hit five separate objectives, and extract ancient computer records from secure wartime research facilities. Six thousand is a bargain. Talons would charge you twice that or more, which I figure is why you’re talking with us instead of them.”

She stared back, inscrutable, for several seconds. Then she gave a curt nod. “Very well. Six thousand.”

“And one thousand of that will be upfront.”

“So you can run off with the caps without even doing the job? I think not.”

“So we know you can pay, rather than getting us to do your dirty work only to find out there’s no reward.”

She considered that for a moment. “I suppose that would be reasonable. However, my patron did not supply me with any caps to offer upfront. Payment was to be conducted after the data had been delivered.”

Dusty’s expression had tightened, his head drawing back a hair as he eyed her suspiciously. “You mean you don’t even have the caps to pay us? You better dig something up. You’re not going to find any mercenaries willing to risk their neck for you unless they know you can pay. Part up front is the way this business goes.”

Amber’s head tilted a tiny bit the other way. Several seconds later, she let slip a tiny smile. “It’s still worth a try,” she said, and the smile vanished. “I should be able to provide your fee from my travel budget. Remain here.”

With that, she shut the door in our faces.

Starlight turned to us with a smirk. “What a lovely and absolutely charming bitch.”

Dusty answered with a near-silent snort, as if amused but not willing to show it. As for myself, I allowed a slim smile.

Half a minute later, the door opened again. Amber held a sizable--and spotless--satchel, which she deposited before us. “One thousand caps, plus one very rare data-store. Do not think of running off and selling it; my patron has ways of tracking this device down, and as I’m quite sure you can see, has substantial resources to deal with ponies who become a problem.”

Dusty snorted again. “Wouldn’t be pushing you for a bigger payout if we’re planning on taking the up-front payment and splitting.”

“Unless you planned on using precisely that sort of argument,” she said, eyes narrowing slightly. She returned to her bored expression a moment later. “No matter. This is not particularly time critical, but my patron would appreciate a speedy resolution to this endeavor. Would one week be sufficient?”

“Should be,” Dusty said with a nod, “unless something comes up.”

“Then I will expect you within a week. If that time passes and you have not notified me of any delays, I will assume you’ve broken your word.”

“Won’t come to that,” Dusty said. “See you in a few days.”

“Good,” she said, and shut the door for good.

The moment it was closed, Dusty huffed out a breath and rolled his eyes. “Well, that’s all settled,” he said, then bent down to open the satchel. Inside was a large data-store, probably twice the size of the one I carried. It was one of the rugged military types, made to survive in rough conditions. It sat atop a large number of smaller sacks. There were ten in total, and Dusty pulled out a couple to check their weight. They jingled and clinked as he did so, and returned them to the satchel. There must have been five or six pounds of bottle caps in there, and we’d be getting five times as many when we returned.

“This looks in order,” he said, slinging the satchel over his back. “Go gear up. We should head out soon to find Sickle.”

Starlight smirked as we fell in beside Dusty, making our way out. “Such charming ponies you introduce us to, Dusty.”

Even Dusty gave a snort of amusement at that. “Yeah…”

The walk from Rust was much quicker in the dry mid-day warmth than it was in a pounding, night-time storm. The dry ground crunched faintly beneath our hooves, while the faint breeze teased at our manes. The signs of the torrential rain had entirely passed. We saw the land there for the first time; the only familiar part of the journey was the train tracks we followed.

Less than two hours after leaving Rust, we laid eyes on the tiny ghost town. Again, it was a hint of the familiar, even if viewed from the opposite direction. Unfortunately, that familiarity brought with it a growing tension; I knew what lived in these ruins.

So did Dusty. “Starlight. How much punch does that Lancer have?”

She cast a curious glance his way, then looked back to the distant shack that slowly drew closer. “A lot. Tends to blow rocks apart when I shoot them, even fairly big ones. It’d put a hole right through Rust’s gate.”

“Good,” Dusty said, then looked to me. “If this does go bad, our job is going to be keeping Sickle distracted long enough for Star to get a shot. Shoot her, yell at her, whatever. And Star?” He turned her way. “You’ll get one, maybe two shots before she kills us all. Make it count.”

“You’re not exactly inspiring confidence here,” she replied.

“I don’t think it’ll come to that,” he said as he pulled his rifle from his back, leaving it to hang across his chest--in easy reach. “I just like to be prepared.”

I did the same, and Dusty looked my way once again. “Don’t expect that thing to do anything more than piss her off. Unless you get lucky and put a round right in a joint or something, those bullets won’t get through her armor. I doubt mine will, either. Maybe if I had some AP rounds, but I don’t.”

“Noted,” I said, stifling the tremble that threatened to seize my legs.

The last hundred yards were crossed in silence, save for the jingle and creak of our equipment.

After pausing for a moment to take a breath, Dusty stepped up onto the porch and gave three firm knocks.

A moment later there was a loud thump from within the shack, accompanied by the muffled sound of a large number of bottles knocking together. Then a deep voice called out from inside. “Who the fuck’s making all that noise?”

“It’s Dusty.”

There were a couple more thumps, followed by a much louder one that knocked dust from the wall beside the door. A narrow board halfway up the wall pulled back; in the darkness, I could only catch a hint of movement before it slammed shut. Then the door swung open.

That’s when I first saw Sickle.

Sickle was huge.

I know, I had described her that way from our prior encounter. That time, however, it had been dark, lit only by a swinging PipBuck screen. It had left as much to my imagination as it had shown.

This time, I saw her in the light of day, however overcast it might have been. She stood there without her armor, glaring out at us, as I realized that my imagination might have been lacking.

She wasn’t just big. She was easily the largest pony I had ever seen.

Now, admittedly, I had never seen any of the princesses with my own eyes, but that wouldn’t have changed that statement. I’m reasonably certain that only Celestia would have stood taller, but even she wouldn’t have come close to matching Sickle in size. The closest I could think of was some old stallion who had retired in Appleloosa; in his prime, he had stood nearly as tall as my queen, and was strongly built. Even then, I suspect Sickle surpassed him.

She was large, and she was thick, and she looked like the strongest pony ever.

A bit of a clarification: when I say she looked like the strongest pony ever, I imagine it conjures up different images to different ponies. I’m still getting used to how perceptions have changed since the megaspells, but I know that during my stay in war-time Equestria, many ponies asked to picture an extremely strong pony would think of bodybuilders. They think of ponies with ultra-low body fat to highlight the contours of muscles, with focused exercises that lead to big, bulky shoulders and narrow hips and legs. Personally, as something of a professional in the arts of body alteration and morphology, it’s a look that always struck me as profoundly unnatural.

Sickle didn’t look like that. She didn’t have some perfectly sculpted body. She just looked thick. Her hooves were the size of my head, her legs as thick as my chest. Her body was strong and thick all the way through. Some might have looked at the soft definition and the roundness of her belly and concluded that she was fat, but I knew quite well how fat distributes around a pony’s body, and that wasn’t what I saw on her; what I saw was a healthy bit of padding over an immense, powerful frame. She looked like she might be more bear than pony.

The rest of her appearance was thoroughly rough and rugged. Her coat was a faded pink, wild and unkempt. It was also worn thin around her withers, hips, and a few other places, lingering signs of the heavy armor I had first seen her in. Her mane and tail, both in slightly darker shades of pink, were scraggly, thin, and short. And just for good measure, all of it was dirty and frayed, with the kind of worn-in grime that made me think she didn’t even understand the concept of bathing, much less had ever done so.

Her neck was almost as thick around as her head, and her face… well, she showed the signs of wounds all across her body, but it was her neck and head that bore the most impressive. Old scars left her features jagged and uneven. The left side of her jaw was so scarred up that a fair section was bare skin. She was missing half of her right ear. Her muzzle was lumpy and ever so slightly askew, as if it had been broken multiple times in the past.

Suffice to say, she wouldn’t win any beauty competitions, save by threatening to crush the judges.

I also noted that she was an earth pony. Apparently, the horn on her helmet hadn’t been to protect a horn underneath.

At least her cutie mark seemed relatively benign: a single, large horseshoe.

The whole powerful, rugged, chewed-up appearance combined to make the glare of pure death she was giving Dusty even more menacing. When she spoke, her voice was deep and rumbling.

“What the fuck do you want, Dirt?”

“It’s Dusty. I--”

“I know what your fucking name is!” She snapped, taking a single step forward; Dusty took two steps back and covered the same distance. “I asked you what… what…”

She looked right at me. I could see now that she swayed slightly when she moved, as if off-balance. Her eyes were dilated, with only a faint ring of blue barely visible, and I could see them trying to focus on me as she blinked. Then her expression hardened, and my gut dropped. “You! I remember you, you little cunt! And you!” She looked at Starlight, swaying slightly with the motion. “I told you two bitches what I’d do to you if you ever showed your fucking face around here again!”

Her head dropped, her legs tensed, and my heart started pounding at the inside of my chest. “What the fuck is this, Dirt?”

“It’s a job offer!” Dusty quickly answered, holding up his hooves. “That’s it!”

She looked square at him, blinking several more times as she refocused. “...What the fuck would I want with a job?”

“Not… not that kind of job,” Dusty said; he was doing a good job of keeping his voice calm and conversational without devolving into patronization. Given how hard my heart was beating and the copious amounts of adrenaline burning in my veins, even I might have had trouble remaining so level-headed.

Memories of being held helpless under those giant hooves didn’t help.

“A job killing raiders.”

Sickle’s ears--that is, ear and a half--perked up, and her murderous glare vanished. “The fuck are you talking about?”

“I got a job. Problem is, there’s a bunch of raiders where I need to do that job. Raiders got a nice bounty on them. I figure you kill all the raiders and collect their bounty, we do our job, and everypony makes an assload of caps.”

She stared at him for a couple seconds, blinking. Then she smiled. It was a cold smile, so predatory that I would have been only slightly surprised to see sharp teeth. “Go fuck yourself, Dirt.”

Dusty took a half-step back. “It’s a lot of caps, Sickle.”

“Yeah, right,” she growled, advancing a step and ducking her head to glare straight into Dusty’s eyes. “You want me to kill a bunch of ponies for you? You’re going to give me a cut of whatever you’re getting for this ‘job.’”

“We’ll let you have all the bounties,” Dusty said. “That’s a lot of caps.”

“Fuck you! I can kill any raider for a fucking bounty.” Her grin returned. “You want me to go out of my way to kill these raiders, then you’re going to have to make it worth my while.”

Dusty considered that a moment, doing his best to meet her glare without flinching away, though I could see the tension in his limbs. “Fine; you get a share of the pay, and we all split the bounties.”

“No. I’m going to be doing most of the killing. You little shits sure aren’t.” She waved a giant, dirty hoof toward Starlight and myself. “So I get a full share, and all the bounties for the raiders you’re bringing me along to kill, or you can all fuck off.”

Dusty stared back at her, his brows furrowing. She met the look with a sneer that made her scarred face crinkle up in strange ways.

After a moment of their silent stare-off, Dusty looked over to us. “What do you two think?”

Starlight grunted unintelligibly.

I gave a slightly more vocal reply. “If you think it’s a good idea, I would accept that.”

He sighed and looked back to Sickle. “Okay. Deal.”

Her chuckle rumbled so deeply I could practically feel it. “All right. So where are we going, and when?”

“Some compound south of here,” Dusty said, gesturing a hoof in that direction. “About forty miles. And I’d like to set out as soon as possible.”

Sickle nodded, her eyes blinking several more times as she looked south. “Okay… yeah, okay. Let me get my shit.”

She turned around, staggering a little, and disappeared into the shack again, slamming the door behind her.

“Charming,” Starlight said, and Dusty grunted in agreement.

It was several minutes, and quite a few thumps and bangs from inside the shack, before the door opened again. Sickle stepped out to the clinking and scraping of metal. She looked more like I remembered her from our first encounter, but the lighting gave me a much better view. I could tell now just how thick her armor was, and the only places I could see her coat were a few bits of her face and the tip of one ear. That thickness made the dents and dings even more impressive, just to imagine how much force had been applied to it. The armor was as battle-worn as she was.

There were also a set of metal boxes hanging at her sides, like armored saddlebags. It looked as if someone had attached straps to a pair of large ammunition boxes, and then welded medical boxes to those. A few faded flecks of yellow still clung to the metal, despite the many scrapes, dents, and even a crudely patched bullet hole.

The thick-barred muzzle hung from one side of her helm, the other clasp dangling free. She was chewing on something, and her muzzle was wet and dripping; she’d apparently went to drink something and missed. She swallowed whatever it was she was chewing, then shoved the muzzle into place over her snout, latching it in place. “Okay, Dirt,” she said, voice slightly muffled. “Lead the way.”

With a weary shake of his head, Dusty started walking.

Much to my growing sense of dread, Sickle hung back, right next to me. I tried to ignore how I could feel her hoofsteps through the earth. Then her huge, armored head swung around in my direction, the spear-like horn looming dangerously in my direction. In the deep shadows of her helmet’s eye-slits, I saw tiny twin reflections of light. “What’s your name?”

My voice faltered slightly as I spoke. “Whisper.”

“Whimper. Got it.” Her head swung over toward Starlight. “And you?”

Starlight looked back with an unrestrained, hateful glare. “It’s Starlight.”

“Starlight. Star… whatever.” Sickle shook her head; her armor clanked noisily with the motion, and she stumbled a little. “Both of you, listen good. When I threaten to do something to a pony, I follow through. Period.” I started considering escape routes before she continued. “Only reason I’m not stomping your fucking heads in is because I know Dirt dragged you out here. So I’m letting you two bitches off on a techno-whatsit.”

I was wary of speaking at all, but I cautiously replied, “Thank you.”

That head swung my way again, a sneer showing behind that muzzle. “You want to thank me, you can stick your snout between my legs and show it. Otherwise, you can fuck off.”

Her pace quickened to catch up with Dusty, while I happily lagged behind, having no desire to stay too close to the angry goliath of a mare. Hanging back also revealed that her armor, despite covering almost every inch of her, left her groin bare. I suppose it made sense, as it meant one wouldn’t have to remove the armor to relieve themselves. Unfortunately, the observation combined unpleasantly with her prior statement.

Starlight broke the following silence. “I hate her.”

I winced, even as Sickle let out a quiet chuckle.

Somehow, we managed to go through the rest of that long and tense day without incident. Little was said. Even Starlight was quiet. She responded to my inquiries with little more than “I’m fine,” before continuing on in silence.

When she looked anywhere but where she was setting her hooves, it was over to our newest traveling companion. Unsurprisingly, Sickle was the focus of my attention as well.

Sickle didn’t seem to think much of us, most of the time. She rarely turned her attention away from where she was walking, and on the few occasions she looked at one of us, I could just barely see the corner of her mouth quirk upwards in a smirk under that metal muzzle she wore. At first, those looks were accompanied by a few moments of wavering and focusing, and even the occasional stumble. Those diminished as we traveled, and within a couple hours, whatever chemical impairment she had inflicted upon herself had faded away.

It was around then that I got the impression those glances had changed. While I couldn’t clearly see her eyes in the shadows that pooled behind those narrow slits, the little glimpses I could catch suggested a sharp, focused look to my mind. The impaired look of amusement and contempt had been replaced with a more critical expression. I worried whether that was better or worse.

Dusty called a halt as night fell, leading us to a narrow draw on a dry and dusty ridge, where a few dead trees and dry bushes gave a bit of concealment. I was happy to slip off my saddlebags, and we began to unpack our sleeping gear. Sickle was the exception; she simply rolled to her side and collapsed with a tremendous crash of metal. She ended sprawled out, propped up against the stump of a dead tree with her legs splayed in either direction. If it were some other pony, I might have considered the pose silly, or a simple expression of exhaustion. Sickle just made it look lewd.

I hid my attention by busying my hooves with setting out my bedroll, while observing her in the corner of my vision. After getting comfortable, Sickle reached up to undo one of the clasps of her muzzle, letting it swing free to hang from the side of her helm. She dug awkwardly--due to angle, rather than lack of coordination--at her saddlebag cases with her hooves. Eventually she retrieved a large bottle and some jerky. She pried the bottle’s cap off with her teeth, spitting it back into the case she had retrieved the bottle from, and took several deep swallows from it. Then she bit off a large piece of jerky.

She chewed for several seconds before her head lazily rolled to the side to stare at Starlight. She spoke while chewing, spraying a few little bits of half-chewed meat as she sneered. “You got a problem, little bitch?”

Looking over at Starlight, I saw that she wore an irritated expression, though she quickly looked away from Sickle. “You’re disgusting,” she said, keeping her glare focused on her own bags as she unpacked.

Sickle gave a dry chuckle, and followed up by gratuitously scratching an armored hoof at her crotch. “Yeah. And?”

Starlight’s ears pinned back, her blanket freezing in midair. I quickly stepped in to. “Hey, Starlight? Do you--”

Sickle’s hoof shot out, pointing straight at me; even with plenty of distance between us, I flinched back. “Fuck off, Whimper,” she said with a sneer. “We’re talking.”

When she turned her look back to Starlight, the smaller unicorn met her with an unflinching glare. “I saw what you did at the depot.”

Sickle’s head tilted to the side as she continued to chew on her jerky for several seconds. “Uh-huh. What depot?”

“That army depot,” Starlight clarified. “The one where you butchered all those ponies.”

After a moment more of thinking, Sickle shrugged. “I dunno. That doesn’t really narrow it down, much, does it?”

“What, you butcher that many ponies?” Starlight said, her voice rising. “It was a week ago, a warehouse in the middle of the desert with a bunch of--”

“Oh, yeah!” Sickle said, breaking out in a big grin. “Hell, that was fun.” She took another bite of her jerky. “So, what about it? You got a problem with killing raiders?”

Starlight recoiled a bit, but continued on. “I’m fine with killing raiders,” she said. “I’m not so fine with somepony sticking their bodies on a pole like some sort of fucked-up flag.”

Despite the criticism, Sickle was chuckling. “Oh, you saw what I did to Pike, huh? Yeah, she was a fun little bitch.” Her chuckles ended as she tilted her head, smirking at Starlight. “Guess you didn’t see her cutie mark, then? I know I left one of her hind legs laying around there.”

Starlight glared for a couple seconds before replying through clenched teeth. “There wasn’t enough left of them to see it.”

I paused in my unpacking, a package of food in my hooves. I wasn’t sure if wanted to eat with the topic at hoof.

“Ah, too bad,” Sickle said with a rumbling chuckle. “You’d recognize it. Just a gutted pony’s body on a spike. She liked to do that to ponies. I thought it’d be all ironic-like to do that to her.” She made a quick, thrusting gesture with her hoof. “So I stuck her own spear up her cunt and left her on display.”

I grimaced, placed the food back in my pack, and closed it.

“That’s fucking disgusting,” Starlight said, trembling, which just made Sickle smile more.

“Yeah. And?” She gave a deep, rumbling laugh, ending when she turned up her bottle and chugged the rest of its contents. She sent the bottle flying through the air to crash to the ground behind her, and continued. “Ain’t like she was some fucking saint or some shit. She’d put up whole caravans like that, just to show others what she did when they didn’t pay her toll. Hell, sometimes she’d do it even if they could.” She sneered once more. “Bet you’d change your mind if you saw a whole bunch ‘a little blank-flank colts and fillies on display, with poles jammed up their asses and out their mouths, all because ma and pa didn’t have enough caps.”

I shuddered, unable to hold back a whimper at the vileness she conjured up--which, naturally, appeared to amuse Sickle, given the moniker she had chosen for me. Even the horrors I had seen did little to take the sting out of what she described. I like to think that I avoid poetic license when possible, but I felt like it hurt something deep inside me to hear such an atrocity spoken of so plainly. The many levels of wrongness required to reach that state were the sort of thing that could drive a thinking person to despair.

Starlight’s voice drew me out of my inward focus. She trembled, looking faintly queasy, but managed to fix Sickle with a glare once again. “I saw the colt you killed.”

“Huh?” Sickle said, helmet tilting again. “What colt?”

“At the depot,” Starlight said, the tremble fading from her voice. “The one you kicked through a--”

“Oh!” Again, Sickle grinned in recognition. “I remember that little shit now! Hah, yeah, that’s a good one. I was thrashing the place, and some pony charges me from behind. I gave him a quick kick, only it sends the fucker straight through the wall! So of course, I’ve got to check it out just to see, you know, what the fuck? Yeah, he was dead. One kick. But it gets even better! Ends up this little fucker came at me with a knife. A tiny fucking knife!” She broke out laughing, thumping a hoof against the ground.

When her laughter finally died down, Starlight spoke up again, though quietly. “It’s still disgusting.”

“Heh. Kid was a raider. He deserved it.”

“Aren’t you a raider, too?”

Any hint of amusement Sickle had was gone in an instant. Even her chewing stopped. When she spoke, her voice was low and quiet. “I ain’t a fucking raider,” she said. “Not any more.”

“Were a raider, then,” Starlight clarified; despite the sudden change in tone that had set me on full alert, she didn’t waver at all as she met the monstrous mare’s glare. “Does that mean you’d deserve it if I killed you?”

Her bags still floated in her magic, but just behind her, I noticed that her Lancer was wrapped in the same magical glow, half obscured by her body. My heart hammered inside my chest, as I moved my shoulder forward. A quick twist would bring my rifle to where I could hold it; the question was whether I could possibly do so in time to matter.

After a couple seconds of silence, a grin slowly spread across Sickle’s scarred muzzle. “Yeah, I guess I would. You going to try it?”

Another stretch of silence.

Finally, Starlight relaxed ever so slightly. The Lancer slid down, resting on the ground behind her. “Not today.”

“Then quit your bitching,” Sickle said, still grinning as she laid her head back against the tree.

On the opposite side of our small camp, Dusty resumed laying out his own bedding.

I sat next to Starlight as she finished unpacking. She grumbled a little, and I tried to be comforting just by being there. I couldn’t think of anything useful to say, at least not with Sickle lying right there. Her bad mood faded a bit as she ate. After a while, I was even able to stomach a bit of food, and shared one of the snack cakes I had stashed away during our celebratory dinner. By the time we were done eating, she gave me a weak but appreciative smile.

Meanwhile, Sickle ate a bit, drained and tossed another bottle, and downed a couple pills. After latching her muzzle back in place, she settled in to sleep. By the time we were done eating and ready to sleep, her head was lolled to the side, drooling as she snored.

While Dusty sat vigilant to take the first watch, Starlight and I tucked into our simple beds.

Minutes later, when I had almost drifted off to sleep, I heard her quiet whisper, barely audible.

“Whisper?”

I cracked open an eye to see her, lying on her side and looking at me, worry etched into her expression.

“Yeah?”

She swallowed, eyes wandering before returning to me. “...I’m not really comfortable with where this is going.”

“Yeah. Me neither.”

She gave a ghost of a smile, as if appreciating that I felt the same way, but it faded as quick as it came. “Do you think she’s going to cause a problem?”

I had to consider that. There was so much I didn’t know, and Sickle was throwing in all-new complications. Despite that, after a moment of thinking, I answered honestly. “No. I think she’s just having fun riling us up. I don’t think she’ll cause any real problems. And if things do take a turn for the worse, we’ll get out of it together.”

I smiled, gently and comforting, and she eventually did as well.

“...Thanks, Whisper.”

I gave a tiny nod, and she tucked her blanket in around her, her eyes closing.

I settled in to sleep once more. We still had a long couple of days ahead of us.

Author's Notes:

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