I give Cora one final, halfhearted smile as the pod closes and reply, “See you on the other side.” The pod begins to ice over and I feel my body slowly growing lethargic. In seconds, I can barely keep my eyes open any longer and my eyelids fall. Once again I’m greeted by the cold embrace of darkness.

        “-ke up. Come on, Ratchet. Wake up. You’re still alive, I know it. I can see your vitals right here,” I hear a voice calling out to me. My body feels stiff and lacks energy to move. I can barely open my eyes. “You weren’t this stubborn the first time I woke you, geez,” The voice says with annoyance clearly evident in it.

        When I finally get my eyes to open a bit, I see the inside of my cryopod. “What…?” I mutter as I blink a few times and start shaking my head. My head is killing me. The pod starts to open up and I slowly drag myself out of pod. “Ugh, Cora?” I ask. The room looks really bright and I feel something trickling out of my nose.

        “Uh-oh,” Cora replies. “That’s not good. Your uh...nose is bleeding, Ratchet,” She tells me. I raise up a hoof and wipe my nose. When I bring it back in front of my eyes, I do indeed see blood. “Huh. I did the same procedure as last time and your vitals were just fine. I wonder if it is some sort of reaction to being frozen multiple times,” She speculates.

        As she continues to suggest reasons for the bloody nose my concentration drifts away as I feel my stomach rising into my throat. I try to contain it, but it proves futile as the contents of my stomach spill out all over the floor. “Oh my,” Cora mutters. “Are you, uh, going to be ok Ratchet?” She asks.

        I pant over the mess I just made for a moment, spitting out the remaining sick from my mouth. “Actually, I suddenly feel a whole lot better,” I tell her. “I ate a while before getting in the pod this time, right?” I ask her.

        “I think so Ratchet, why?” Cora replies.

        “The first time, I specifically remember I went a day without eating in preparation. Maybe it is some sort of reaction that happens when the stomach has solid contents inside?” I suggest with a shrug and pick myself up to my hooves. “Damn it,” I mutter dejectedly. “I still remember exactly what happened as though I wasn’t even in the pod.”

        “I did tell you that would happen,” Cora says disapprovingly. “But, you insisted and did it anyway. Told me to wake you up when something happened to take your mind off of it,” She reminds me.

        “Yea, yea. I know, it literally just happened for me, ya know. And again, sorry about all that stuff I said. You’re my friend Cora,” I tell her. “So, what’s going on?” I ask.

        “Don’t worry about it, I’ve had two and a half decades to get over it,” She tells me. “As for what’s going on, I found a facility. It is an old MAS facility in the Ghastly Gorge. Some scavengers in Ponyville told me about it, but they said a large portion of it was sealed off and that it required clearance to go any deeper,” She informs me.

        “They didn’t just try to force their way in?” I ask. That’s how things usually work. In the wasteland, it is take what you want and don’t worry about collateral damage.

        “They tried,” Cora tells me. “But, the door is apparently really thick and sturdy metal, the terminal is virtually unhackable, their words, not mine, and any sort of attempt to break in triggers defence systems to activate. The scavengers barely made it out alive when they tried to blow up the door.”

        That’s about right. “Ok, it sounds promising. Any idea what the facility did?” I ask.

        “The scavengers picked over everywhere they could. But they didn’t find any documentation, books, blueprints, or strange gadgets. Just your average wasteland salvage. They did mention piles of ash in the waste bins though. I suspect any documents were destroyed long ago,” She replies.

        “Gotcha, so we are going in blind until we manage to open the doors. Well, get in your armor and get ready to go. I’ll get my things together,” I tell her as I walk over to retrieve my PipBuck from the console.

        “Oh, uh, by the way, about your PipBuck…” Cora says as I pull it out of its storage area and start putting it on my leg. “I may have tried to update it again.”

        “Oh, that’s nice of you. Did it work?” I ask as I finish putting it on and my vision flashes for a moment before returning. Various readouts and data scroll across my vision. Then warnings start filling my sight and I let out a sigh as I begin to read.

>S.P.E.C.I.A.L. Status Deleted

>Skill Status Deleted

>Mapping Data Recovered From Crash

>S.A.T.S. System Corrupted

>E.F.S. Functionality Damaged

>Medical Treatment Corrupted

>Inventory Management Corrupted

>Illumination Light Corrupted

        I blink and slowly turn to look into the camera suspended from the ceiling. “Cora. You know that updating usually is supposed to fix things not make things worse, right?” I ask her. She laughs nervously in response. “You know, I guess you did manage to get the EFS working, somewhat…” I mutter.

        In my vision, I can see bars on the compass. Though, they vary in color from red to blue to green to purple. A few other colors are in there as well. “I’m guessing that it now marks locations of things that are potential threats, just not their actual hostility? Why not just one single color though?” I ask.

        “I don’t know,” Cora responds. I facehoof.

        “Ok, but how do you break the Luna damned light?” I ask. “It is just a fucking switch to make the screen brighter!”

        “I don’t know,” Cora repeats. I put a hoof to my temple.

        “At least you managed to recover the map data, I suppose. But, my stats all got deleted, how did you even manage to…” I break off as new things pop up in my vision.

>S - 2

>P - 5

>E - 2

>C - 3

>I - 8

>A - 3

>L - 5

>Generating Skill List

>Downloading Level…

>Level 10

>Unallocated Skill Points: 212

>Perks: Educated, Skittish, Junkie, Companionship, Protected by Eberron

>System Startup Complete

“I also clearly remember having more SPECIAL stats and perks too. At least I still have my level and skill points I earned...But still,” I mutter.

“I can explain that,” Cora tells me. “You see, during the updates, some perks were removed and the amount of SPECIAL points you originally start with was decreased. You are still behind on four hundred and sixty three updates.”

“What? They just removed perks and stats with updates? How does that even work? Aren’t they like...part of me?” I ask, confused.

“I don’t know,” She replies again. “Neither of us really understand PipBucks all that well. Let alone how the stat systems work. Someone out there probably understands all this though, and who are we to question the creators?” She says.

“Right...well then, I’ll just max up my melee weapons skill and adjust the rest accordingly. I suppose I’ll just keep doing what I’ve been doing. Now then, shall we go?” I ask her.

“One more thing,” Cora tells me. “You should go talk with Twinkle. She’s been here for a month now, and it is weirding me out because she won’t leave or tell me why.”

“Twinkle? Oh, so not that long has passed, hu? But, why does her not leaving seem weird? This is her home now, right?” I ask her.

“Uh, kind of. It has been weird since you’ve been away. She and the other Rangers never stayed here long. Only a day or two to resupply and rest up, then they would set out again. But Twinkle, hasn’t set hoof outside for an entire month.” Cora replies.

“Oookay...Just how long have I been frozen?” I ask her.

“Twenty-five years. A few months too, but that’s not too important,” Cora says.

“Twenty-five years, hu? That means Twinkle would be, what? In her fifties or sixties? You know, if I keep getting frozen, telling time is going to get weird. Let’s start up a new system, ok? We will start it the day the Megaspells fell and go from there. Which means we are in the year 60 of the...let’s go with Wasteland Era,” I suggest.

“Why can’t we just keep counting from where it last left off?” Cora asks. “Seems unnecessary to make a new system.”

I shake my head. “It might be necessary. Especially in the future. The world basically ended, we should mark it as an important time. Just saying the original year wouldn’t do it justice. It needs to be known that things practically started completely over,” I tell her.

“I suppose,” She mutters. “Very well, I’ll start referring to the year in terms of the Wasteland Era, as you suggest. Now, I’ll go get ready, you go talk to Twinkle. We might need her help, you know.” Cora tells and she unlocks the room. “She’s in the infirmary.”

A quick walk later and I arrive at the infirmary, half of which has been converted into a sort of common area. I’m not entirely sure where the couches, chairs, and tables came from, but I did tell the Rangers they could do what they wanted with my lab while I was frozen. It isn’t a bad change. Elder Twinkle is laying on one of the couches reading an old book.

She doesn't notice me enter, so I take the opportunity to look her over, especially since she isn’t in her power armor, but a set of blue robes. I immediately notice the she has aged quite a bit. Wrinkles have developed and there is a hind of gray in her mane. But other than the signs of aging, I don’t see a single thing different about her. No scars or lingering injuries, that I can see anyway.

That is unexpected. Though, then again, so is seeing her reading a book. I expected her to be maintaining a gun or something. I clear my throat to get her attention. After a moment, she looks up at me expressionlessly for a moment, then tilts her head and asks, “Ratchet?”

I nod. “Yea, I’m back in the world of the living once again,” I tell her. “Uh, I suppose I should start by apologizing for everything that happened before I froze myself again…” I mutter.

Twinkle shakes her head. “Don’t bother, Cora told us all about it once the deed was done. I understand, we all did,” She tells me. It is odd, she seems different. Tired, sad almost.

“What about the other Rangers?” I ask. “Are they all still doing well?” She grimaces.

“Dead,” She tells me simply. “The last one under my command died around fourteen years ago. I’m alone now, the sole survivor of Stable 36, an Elder in name only,” She says. I’m about to inquire further when she holds up a hoof. “They all died honorably fighting against raiders and protecting the innocent. They are buried with the others,” She tells me, remorse in her voice.

This is wrong. This isn’t the Twinkle I know. She wouldn’t be so deeply affected by the deaths of her comrades, especially if they died in battle. What happened? “Cora tells me you’ve been here a month,” I state.

“Indeed I have,” Twinkle replies simply.

“Why?” I ask, trying to probe for an answer.

“You said I could live here,” She says, raising an eyebrow.

“Cora made it seem you were rarely ever here until about a month ago. What changed?” I ask.

“Maybe I just needed a break?” She suggests. “I am getting old.”

“What about Eberron?” I respond and see her flinch at his name.

“What about him?” Twinkle asks defensively.

“Doesn’t he, you know, demand sacrifice and all that?” I ask her.

“He does,” She says simply, sparing a glance at the book she was reading.

“What were you reading?” I ask her, grabbing the book in my magic. She raises a hoof to try and stop me, but I get it past her and read the cover. “Eberron, lord of death. A collection of mythology.” I set it on the table between us and notice her outstretched hoof shaking in the air and her mouth agape.

Twinkle’s eyes tremble for a moment before tears start to fall from them, surprising me. Her following words surprise me even more. “They are all dead and I don’t understand it,” She tells me. “I’ve read and reread every book on Eberron to reaffirm my beliefs. My lord, Eberron...I gave him countless souls, my enemies and my allies fell for him. But now I am alone…” She mutters.

She lowers her hoof and looks down at the floor. “I don’t understand it. He demands sacrifice, no matter who you are or what you are, you are nothing but a drop in the sea of his collected souls. And yet…” She hesitates. “I don’t die. No one can kill him. I can’t give my soul to Eberron.”

“What...do you mean?” I ask her. She wants to die?

“All my life, I’ve killed in the name of Eberron, sending my enemies to him. All the while, my comrades died around me, going to serve Eberron in the next life. But I remain. I continue to kill in his name, but I don’t think I will ever get to the next life,” She tells me.

“You want to die?” I say in disbelief.

“Is that so strange?” She asks. “All of my friends are dead, for a while I thought all I needed was to kill for Eberron but then…A thought occurred to me. What if Eberron doesn’t want me?” She suggests.

“Doesn’t want you?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. She nods and gets up off the couch. In one motion, she disrobes, revealing her unblemished hide.

“I have been in countless battles, stood in the open amongst thousands of bullets, but I have never been injured. Not once. My armor has barely ever been scratched! I even went into battle with these robes for the past two years, and not a single bullet struck me! I even charged ten raiders barehoofed and killed them all!” She shouts.

“I thought it was Eberron’s blessing at first, his desire for me to keep killing in his name, but what if it is his curse instead? Him cursing me to die of old age and never join him in the afterlife I deserve?” She says with a wavering smile.

“In all the texts on Eberron, I’ve never heard of something like this. No mention of curses or even blessings that protect a pony. Just the same line repeated over and over. ‘Kill in his name and the afterlife will be one filled with bliss.’ I don’t understand what is happening,” She tells me.

“If you want to die, why not just let someone kill you? Or kill yourself?” I suggest to her. But she just shakes her head with a frown.

“The texts specify that you can only join him if you die in battle honorably. That means no dying on purpose and certainly no suicide,” She replies, letting out a sigh. “I’ve spent this entire month trying to understand, but I am no closer to the answer now than when I began,” She mutters.

Suddenly, her eyes seem to sparkle and she starts talking about a distant memory. “You know, back when I was a filly, my mother used to sing me a song. Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, it went. I liked it, since it had my name it in. I thought perhaps, I was a star, twinkling brightly,” She chuckles sadly. “I’ve never even seen a real star, since I was born in Stable 36.”

“Twinkle…” I mutter in concern, but she ignores me and continues.

“Shortly after, I took up learning about Eberron and resolved to be a Twinkling Star in service to him. And I shone brightly. I’ve lost count of how many souls I’ve sent to Lord Eberron. However...These last few years, as the doubt has crept in on me, and this last month in particular...I fear that I no longer twinkle. I am faded now, diluted with doubt and worry, unsure of how to proceed,” She says sadly.

“I’m...so very tired of being a leader, Ratchet. You’re awake for a reason and I’ll help you. I just have one request, if there is an opportunity for me to die, let me take it. Don’t give me potions or try to save me. Let me go,” She tells me.

“Twinkle...You don’t have to die, you know that, right?” I tell her.

“You wouldn’t understand, Ratchet. You’ve been gone for twenty-five years. And things have only gotten worse. Grimoire may be dead, but there are more raiders now than ever. Sure, they aren’t organized or threatening to destroy the world, but there are countless more than there were before. And, there are also slavers now. Seems tame at first glance, but slavery is slavery after all. Things are getting worse and worse each day,” She tells me.

“Then why do you want to die? You could do something about it?” I ask her.

“It is more than I can manage, more than my squad could manage. Even if you decided to stick around and help, nothing would come of it. No, the only way to stop this decline is a miracle. Short of the skies opening up or Celestia and Luna coming back, what we would do would amount to a drop in the ocean of what needs to be done,” She tells me.

I furrow my brow. Could things really have gotten that bad in twenty-five years? Twinkle continues, “There is a saying I’ve heard recently. ‘When will the Wasteland break you?’ I’ve heard it said for the reason ponies turned raider, the reason parents sell their children into slavery. It is saying one thing, that the Wasteland will break you. No ifs, ands, or buts, about it. And Ratchet, I think it has broken me.”

I harden my expression. This isn’t the Twinkle I once knew, it is a shell of what she once was. Did the Wasteland break her or was it the deaths of her friends and the seemingly futility of her actions? During the war, ponies always found something to blame for their misfortunes and inability to move forward. Is the Wasteland the new thing to blame? But, maybe Twinkle is right. I don’t understand.

“Get your armor on and your things together. We are going to Ghastly Gorge in search of another cryopod. It might hold something that can help the wasteland,” I tell her and let out a sigh. “Or, it might hold something that will kill us all. Either way, we’ll need your help.”

Twinkle at last gives me a genuine smile, like the ones she used to wear twenty-five years ago. “Let’s get going then, Scribe Crusader Ratchet.”

Next Chapter: Part 2 - Shadows Estimated time remaining: 31 Minutes