Chapter 9-1: All That Shines

[On the other side of the bottle cap, I didn’t have any place else pressing to be.]

“WHEEE!”

“There must be something that can be done.”

“WHEEE!”

“Dunno what, though. It’s tricky since you’re basically untrained.”

“WHEEE!”

“I can’t keep fumbling around though. I need a way to do it my way.”

“WHEEE!”

“…”

“You’re thinking it’d be much easier if I just used a gun, aren’t you?”

“WHEEE!”

“NAIARA KNOCK IT OFF!”

“But It’s fuuun.”

On our way to the second of the three Raider groups we were to visit, in our quest to bring the disparate Raider groups in the area under one united banner, we’d stopped on a peaceful, flat rock clearing to address a growing concern.

I still couldn’t fight worth a damn. Not hoof-to-hoof, not with a weapon or a gun, not even with my growing-but-still-weak magic.

I knew all of one spell that required me to be touching my horn to whatever it was I wanted to affect. It was pointless in a fight, if I was that close to an opponent with even basic common sense, I would be finished before I ever got around to casting the Cryo Serpent. Even the name, cool as it was, was thought up by somebody else. Aqua Breeze’s passion for proper nouns provided the name.

Either way, the spell, though capable of reaching great distances… eventually, required a medium that connected my horn to whatever it was gonna freeze, which would be a very rare occurrence. Not to mention my control over the Serpent, once released, was very lacking.

No, it certainly wasn’t combat-ready yet. And neither was I. I needed another way.

I was supremely thankful that basically all the people I considered friends, Wastelanders all, were capable fighters in their own rights.

Well, I guess not Lexi, but she runs a trading company AND is a heck of a medic. She hires the fighters she needs. Still, almost all of them.

Currently accompanying me on my task were two of my closest friends, Bosco and Naiara, an Earth colt and a zebra filly respectively. Even better, though each was capable of defending themselves very capably, they went about it in very different ways.

Bosco was a pure gunfighter. His having travelled the Wasteland for at least six years and survived showed that he had learned the lessons he needed to keep himself alive. Not that he couldn’t get up close, he was pretty good with a knife, but gunfighting was his thing. Usually, he used a pistol. It suited him, it wasn’t flashy but it got the job done just fine and could be relied on.

I’d sought his advice on the matter of self-defence before, though my attempts to learn gunplay had been… less than successful. We had abandoned the attempt after little more than an hour of trying. I’d managed to hit one target… out of sixty.

Back in Stable 61, which I’d called home before being forced into the Wasteland, I’d never even held a gun outside of equally-disastrous once-a-year mandatory training. It just didn’t feel right. Perhaps it was my unicorn blood rebelling, as most magic ponies would simply levitate the guns and fire them from mid-air.

Sadly, I was lacking in that regard, having lost my telekinesis, apparently permanently, after touching a damaged Memory Orb, housing much stronger magic than mine. Whatever other effects the Orb had had on me, the most prominent was the loss of my magic.

Still, I owed it to Bosco to try anything he could suggest. He did so much for me, not just protecting me physically but also assisting me on this and other quests, even if he didn’t agree with the goal, that I couldn’t continue to be a liability when it was time to fight. I didn’t want to kill anybody, but my inadequacy had caused too many deaths already.

Always willing to help, that being the kind of guy he was, Bosco was currently racking his brains to think up a way that I could fight. So far we hadn’t had any breakthroughs.

Which brought me onto my other friend, and currently other combat instructor, Naiara. At least as capable as Bosco, Naiara nevertheless utilised a very different way to fight. She was a pure hoof-to-hoof fighter, though not even close to the kind of gutter fighter you usually see around the Wasteland.

No, Naiara was a zebra combat master, following the doctrine of Stompeii Emboli style. Unlike the more popular Fallen Caesar style, which was based on powerful kicks, Stompeii Emboli fighters incorporated surprise and confusion into their battle; attacking from all angles and orientations, using any and all parts of their body for maximum versatility.

Naiara knew the style inside and out, which was what made her so deadly. It was also what made her capable of the stunt she was pulling at present.

After we’d struggled to think up anything that could work as a combat application of my magic, Naiara had switched to thinking up ways of using it to avoid fights. She’d happily volunteered to try out an idea she had for a fast getaway.

“WHEEE!” She zipped past us again, leaning her body into the circle, her balance allowing her to stay upright while she tightened the curve.

Naiara, not the most serious of fillies, had thought to try to use the slick nature of my ice magic as a means to increase my speed for getaways. The end result was, after several botches tries, magicking up thin sheets of ice to cover the flat bottoms of her hooves. With the surface tension removed, Naiara was finding incredible joy in skating around on the flat ground.

“WHEEE!”

Sadly, her body control and natural grace allowed her to succeed in this stunt, whereas I’d ended up on my face more often than my hooves.

I’d be jealous if it looked in the slightest bit fun. Which it doesn’t! Nope, not at all.

Before this brainstorming session, I’d been fighting with Power Hooves, electrically charged hoof armour which could deliver a more forceful blow than a naked hoof could. Especially useful for fillies and colts like me who weren’t built like brick outhouses.

Not to say that I was effective with them. I wasn’t. I’m not a natural fighter. Wearing the Power Hooves, I’d lost fights against Earth ponies, Hissyflits, a pegasus, and a griffon. The only victories I’d had were against three sheep-spider hybrids called Tarantubaas and, what had become the prompt for my current drive to improve, a ghoul I’d beaten into paste with assistance from Bosco and a heavy door.

It was the first time I’d ever killed a sentient being. Technically formerly sentient since the ghoul had gone feral long before encountering me, but still…

That’d been a pony once.

I killed a pony.

It was the first time I’d ever killed directly, at least. My actions had brought about death on a far greater scale than a single ghoul, but this was the first time I’d ended a life intentionally. Even the Hissyflit I’d squashed between my two Power Hooves, before one was taken from me by the Neighlway Steel Rangers, was a wild, instinctual act of self-defence.

I’d gone after that ghoul with every notion of putting it down for good.

That thought had kept me awake ever since.

~~~~~~

Sleep didn’t come that night either.

After abandoning the thinking session, due to discovering that Naiara’s icy hooves weren’t going to defrost any time soon, we’d moved on towards the next Raider group, who I hoped to convince to join an alliance with two, possibly three, others. After I’d been reduced to stumbling tiredly, long after dark, we’d called it a night. I’d volunteered to stay on watch, not sleepy even while physically drained.

I waited until my friends had been sound asleep for an hour before silently letting out the tears.

This… this is unforgivable.

My friends hadn’t blinked at killing ghouls. Being a solo Wasteland traveller and a foreigner in a land that thought you unwelcome respectively, they’d always known that killing was necessary to survive.

Not me. I was born to a peaceful existence in Stable 61. There were no enemies inside. You might not like this or that Stable dweller but you never wished them harm. The only deaths were tragic accidents. To commit murder was unthinkable.

I’m not even three weeks removed from that life. Time obviously isn’t the only measure of separation.

It was hard to keep track of what I was grieving about.

The ghoul? A pitiful shell of a pony, already subjected to unimaginable horrors in life, and now having its unlife snuffed out by an intruder upon its home?

Snowflake? Whose comfortable life within the walls of Stable 61 was stolen by Old Equestria, and whose chances to eventually return to it were being constantly taken away?

Red Ice? An image made real, born from a weak mind, and shaped into a ruthless villain without a choice in the matter?

How about my brothers? The best siblings-no, the best people that could ever exist, being cursed with a sister like me? Buff, Al, and Lo deserved better than the pony I was finally revealing myself to be.

I think I might have been wrong about Snowflake.

Perhaps Stable 61 was no shield against the Wasteland, merely shackles to hold in the Old Equestrian instincts within her.

Within me.

I raised my head, eyes still wet, and matched gazes with the Overmare.

I said nothing, so as not to wake my friends. Despite not having seen the Overmare since Whinniepeg, I didn’t really have anything to say to it… her… whatever this was. The real Overmare was safe and sound in the Stable. I was out here because she knew the importance of separating the Stable’s residents from Old Equestria.

For the first time, I got her point. It hurt so much to realise I understood.

Even worse to realise why I understand.

Her face impassive, the Overmare seemed satisfied, though hardly content, to float and stare. No sound came from the older pegasus’ slowly flapping wings.

Expecting scorn, which she had expressed each time I’d seen her since leaving the Stable, it was slightly jarring to simply be stared at. I thought back to the Overmare’s voice from back in the Stable, the first words she’d spoken to me in months.

“Snowflake, what have you done?”

Heh, even my answer is the same as back then.

I’m… not really sure myself, Overmare.

I found myself missing that stern voice of hers. By no means familiar, but nostalgic nonetheless. Everything was so much simpler in the Stable.

All I had to do was let the Orb fall into the chasm. It would have been so easy.

As if reacting to my thoughts, the Overmare across from me slowly shook her head. Her expression stayed flat, making it impossible to discern her meaning. Was I not supposed to think like that? Was I not supposed to do that? Was that never an option at all? Whatever she was trying to say, I didn’t understand.

I can’t understand her actions, but can understand her fear of me.

I can’t use magic, but can conjure ghosts.

I can’t fight, but I can kill.

What I CAN’T do should be done, and what I CAN do, I shouldn’t.

Staring at her, I didn’t know whether to feel cheated or spoiled. The Overmare hardly spoke to me in the Stable. Here in the Wasteland, she’d been the one to point out my failings when I needed it the most.

Like now. Am I doing the right thing with these Raiders, Overmare? I just wanted to show that hate isn’t the only thing they have left, that they could join in the community of the Wasteland. It isn’t perfect but it’s better than what they have. Hell, Raiders being as they are is a big part of what makes the Wasteland so bad, a big part of what makes people not trust each other. Would it be so terrible to change that? To have them work with others instead of fighting with them? Is it worth my doing this?

Is it worth killing for this?

Though staring at me for far longer than she ever had before, the Overmare nonetheless remained silent.

~~~~~~

Morning brought no relief. Still sleepless, I listlessly brushed off any attempt to develop another way to fight. I was just too tired. I needed to rest. Just for a moment. Except every time I closed my eyes, I couldn’t. All my eyelids were good for was blinding me.

My lack of energy seemed to drain some from my comrades too. They soon gave up on trying to include me in conversations or planning, instead simply debating between themselves. Soon even this fell to my overbearing exhaustion, with Naiara excusing herself to scout ahead, becoming visibly more upbeat with each step away from me.

Bosco had implored her to be safe as we watched her go. When she was out of sight, the charcoal colt suddenly rounded on me. “We need to talk, Snow.”

I continued my plodding pace, giving the barest of grunts to confirm I’d heard him. “Hm?”

Uncomfortableness flowed off him in waves. He seemed even worse than when Schwarzwald was teasing him in Hoofshine Harlots. “Naiara was telling me about what happened in Neighlway.”

“Which time?” I deadpanned.

“The last time!” His snapped response surprised me a little, breaking through the fog of fatigue, “I’m worried about the zebra.”

“’The zebra’? Bosco, you’ve been travelling with her for a long time, aren’t we past this?”

“Not Naiara! I trust her. I’m talking about the other zebras, especially that stallion. What was his name? Showed up in armour, got a thing with that techy Pegasus?” Bosco still hadn’t met Breeze. I wondered what he’d think about her, besides ‘techy pegasus’, when he finally did.

“You mean Cept?” My eyes were widening more and more as this conversation went on.

“Yeah, him. I don’t trust him.”

“What? Why?” Cept hadn’t done anything to make Bosco mistrust him. He’d rescued me from Neighlway, flirted with a pretty filly like any normal stallion, and of course Naiara trusted him as a clanmate. What was Bosco’s problem?

He kept glancing around, as if expecting Naiara to return any second. “I just think it’s a little strange that he managed to take down a Steel Ranger and take the armour without anypony knowing about it. Any time Rangers mix it up with somepony, word gets around.”

“I’ve seen him fight, he’s pretty tough.”

“I don’t know anypony who’s tough enough to be able to choose to non-lethally take out a Ranger. Zebra tricks or not.” Naiara wouldn’t like him calling them tricks.

“…Schwarzwald?”

“…Okay fair point. Still, did he mention how he’d gotten the armour, or how long he’d been inside Neighlway before were taken? No offense, but losing Ranger armour camouflage and a back door into Neighlway is a real high price to pay for rescuing one filly.”

Not that that wasn’t true, but still… “Bosco, come on. He saved my life. Naiara grew up with him. If she says he’s alright, isn’t that enough?”

“What about the other zebras? Why are they here in the Wasteland? They know the kind of shit they’ll have to deal with if they get found out here, yet Naiara is walking around without any worries. That got me thinking about what the rest of the clan are up to, Cept included.”

I had to concede that he had a point, but I still didn’t want to think badly about the zebra if I could help it. I’d known too many inside the Stable, plus Naiara was a great friend. I owed it to her. “Zebra aren’t really much different from ponies, or buffalo, or griffons. They’re all just trying to make their way in the world. Don’t forget that the zebra lands got hit by megaspells too. It might be worse over there than it is here. They might’ve just come for a better life, or to do some good. Maybe they want to work to make things better between ponies and zebras, so they can start working together to rebuild. Just look at what Naiara’s been willing to do for us!”

“I already said I trust Naiara. I know what she’s done and is still doing, for you, me, and everypony. I just can’t be like you. I can’t believe that they aren’t working some kind of angle. They’re risking too much in being here.”

“…Will you at least keep an open mind when we see Cept next? And if we ever meet the other zebras?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Or after a few seconds. I saw his expression while he thought it over; the tight lips, creased brow, his grey eyes trying to find all the unseen arguments.

Fully awake now, I was getting genuinely worried that he wouldn’t be able to ever trust Cept or the remaining zebras, which would drive a rift between him and Naiara, maybe forever. “Bosco, you trust Naiara, and you trust me, right?”

“…Mostly. You do make some bad decisions though.”

“I know, but you know I wouldn’t lie about something if it would be dangerous for you, right?”

This time he replied instantly. “Yeah, I know that.”

“Thanks, Bosco. Look, the war’s been over for 200 years. Everybody regrets it, including the zebras. Please don’t ruin what you have with Naiara because of this. Just talk to Cept, and the zebras, if we meet them. Decide for yourself. Don’t let what happened in the past make you do something you’ll regret...”

“Snow… I just-“

“Please, Bosco?”

I must have looked truly pathetic. He relented instantly. “Alright, Snow. I’ll talk to Cept and find out for myself. You’re right. I owe it to Naiara.”

I almost cried again. Bosco was way too nice to be driving himself crazy over what happened long before he was born. I’d never forgive myself if I let this drive him and Naiara apart. They were as good friends with each other as they each were with me. That was rare in the Wasteland, and too good to let go.

I might have to talk to Naiara about this later, to try to smooth things over with her in case it ever slipped out. I couldn’t bear her being upset with Bosco any more than I could him being afraid of her clan.

It’d be like Breeze, Cassie, Wings and Schwarzwald all over again. Breeze and Schwarzwald were on relatively good terms with me, and obviously attached to Cassie and Wings respectively. I hadn’t seen Schwarzwald since the canyon where Wings and I fought, and I hadn’t seen Breeze since she helped bust me out of Neighlway. All because I couldn’t trust Wings and Cassie anymore.

I would do anything I can to stop that happening to Bosco and Naiara. They were both too nice to go through it.

~~~~~~

I still felt tired and unhappy when Naiara returned an hour later with news.

“Okay, we’re not far now, which means we have to be careful. These guys are really different from the Barnstormers. Four Fields’ lot are like most Raiders, take their prize if they can, kill you as a second option,” neither of us disagreed, considering how the Barnstormer scouts had searched our hastily-abandoned campsite to find us, “not these guys though. They don’t seem to care about prizes, they just try to kill anything that moves.”

“You weren’t hurt, were you?” Bosco and I both began checking her for wounds.

She waved us off. “Nah, I’m fine. They never saw me. They’ll shoot at anything, though. Whatever animals were moving in the bushes got shot full of holes.”

“Why? Were they hunting for food?”

“No, that’s the thing. As soon as they were happy that the animals were dead, they turned and walked away. Just left the bodies where they fell.”

That was strange, even for Raiders. I was starting to realise the rationale for Caber Toss’ proposal for a united Raider alliance. These weren’t just separate groups that he was trying to reunite, they were actually completely unrelated communities that he was trying to merge into a single faction. It was like Red Eye and Peanut: They were both slavers, but had nothing to do with each other.

No matter how much Peanut wishes otherwise. He runs his own slaver city and yet he still looks up to another slaver. Why?

So what would a Raider union mean for the Wasteland? While Raiders normally operated in small groups, they would now have the numbers, and organisation, to bring more people along on their operations.

They’d have operations, for one.

Caber Toss had spoken of change for the better, and Four Fields had expressed a slight interest in that too, but still… they’d been Raiding for a really long time. It would take a long time and a strong personality to reform them, if they could be reformed at all.

The ghoul’s corpse sprang, unbidden, to the front of my mind. What was I even doing here? Did I really think I could reform the Raiders? All of them? I’d acted like a complete bitch with my friends just for a few minutes of conversation with Caber Toss and Four Fields. I’d killed with barely a thought, just for this chance.

Really, what possible hope did I have for reforming the Raiders, for steering them away from hate and anger and violence, if I fell into it so easily when around them?

How many corpses would there be if all I did was make the Raiders worse?

Oblivious to my inner doubts, Bosco continued the conversation, relaxed as he could be while close to a probably-hostile force. “So what’s the plan? If we’re not announcing ourselves this time, can we sneak in? Go straight to the boss… um… what was the name?”

Naiara had been with me when Caber Toss provided the information, Bosco had been up on the Lethbridle wall, giving us cover with the city guards. “Undertow. Her group’s called the Deep Divers. Apparently they do salvage of sunken treasure. Heh, Raiders above and below, huh?”

“At least they’re not hurting anybody down there.” I was mostly mumbling to myself, but both of them picked up on it anyway.

Turning to Bosco, the zebra spoke in hushed tones, full of concern. “How’s she doing?”

The charcoal colt shook his head sadly. “Not great. She’s really shook up. You heard her last night, right?”

“…Yeah.”

Oh. They heard me. That’s not good. I don’t want to worry them about this. It’s my problem, not theirs.

I’d have to try harder to maintain my composure. It’d be all too easy to let slip Bosco’s suspicions when I was like this, which would ruin things between him and Naiara.

Digging deep, I forced my eyes open wider and essentially dragged my chin up to a normal, casual angle. I made sure to catch each of their eyes as I did so. They’d been staring at me with worry. “So, if you think it’s the best approach to take, we’ll sneak in. If you think it’s safe, Naiara. You’re the best at this sort of stuff. If you decide it’s too risky, we’ll call off the whole thing.”

Both pairs of eyebrows shot up. “Call it off?”

“We can’t call it off! The Haylanders and Barnstormers’d riot!”

“She’s right! We’re in it now.”

“Are we?” I retorted tiredly, “Are we really? If we just let it all go, what will happen? The Raiders will go back to Raiding, same as they always have. Nothing would have changed.” I didn’t really see the difference either way anymore. Nothing I did was the right decision. I’d be better off just stepping away from Red Ice, and the Raiders, and everything that I had set into motion. I should just stop dragging my friends into trouble and focus on helping them out. I could help Bosco with his Memory Orbs, or Naiara with whatever the zebras might be up to.

It’d be easier. Less complicated. Just follow their lead for a while. They might have killed in self-defence but they were still good people at heart. They’d do the right thing, even if it hurt.

I don’t see any reason why I should keep going with this Raider nonsense.

Bosco did. “Snow, everything’d change. Make no mistake, word’s gonna get out. Red Ice with the Raiders is gonna turn heads. If they go nuts because you pull out, everypony’s going to think it was on your order. You’ll be branded the Raider Queen anyway. You’ll be hunted down, shot on sight. You wouldn’t be safe anywhere.”

Naiara stepped up beside him in agreement, the corners of her jade eyes drooping as she backed him up. “After what you said in Sprinkles Supplies, too many ponies are paying attention, svara. All your actions will be judged on a bigger scale.”

The edge in Bosco’s voice faded to a soft, comforting tone. “If we were gonna stop, we needed to do so at Lethbridle, with Rockhaunch and the guards as witness. They haven’t seen us since. They think we’re going through with it. We wouldn’t be able to get back there fast enough to stop things going to hell.”

Browbeaten by their words, my chin was down again. I felt, more than saw, the hooves rest on my shoulders. Bosco on my right, tough and strong. Naiara, slender and supple, on my left shoulder.

They were warm.

Bosco’s words damned me and my stupidity, made even worse by his gentle, caring voice. “We’re in this until the end, Snow. There’s no other choice anymore.”

…Never the right decision.

“How… how do we reach the chief?” I finally choked out, past the lump in my throat.

Naiara’s hoof squeezed a little tighter. “Atta girl,” she whispered, before launching into her report, “this’ll be easy enough. Mostly these Raiders are based around a boathouse at the start of the water. It’s not far.”

Releasing my shoulder, she began scratching at the dirt, digging out basic shapes to represent buildings. “The big one’s the boathouse, it opens onto the water. Tons of ponies around there, so we can assume it’s where most of the work goes on. I couldn’t see inside.”

We weren’t expecting anything, but her apology shrug showed that maybe she expected more of herself. She pointed at the collection of smaller shapes scattered around the larger ‘building’. “This is the village. Their homes are in better shape than the Barnstormers’ village, but everything’s kinda… rusty.”

“Maybe they’re getting the materials from underwater?”

Another shrug. “Yeah, maybe,” she paused to scratch out more details. It was a building, slightly bigger than the normal house shapes, and surrounded by a semi-circle. It was located a small distance away from the rest of the village. “but this is the important building. I think it’s the boss’ house.”

“What makes you think that?”

Her hoof traced the semi-circle. “See this? It’s like a ridge, or a cove. It’s a big hole in the lakeshore, basically. There’s an overhang, and not as many ways to get to it. I saw the corner of a building in there. It’s a good location for the most important pony.”

“But…” I began, before stopping when they turned in my direction, “no, never mind.”

“Snow, what is it?” It apparently came as a pleasant surprise to her that I was joining in.

“It’s alright, Snowflake,” he was coaxing me like you would a scared foal, “tell us what you’re thinking.”

I felt like the dumbest filly in class on test day. “Um… well… she’s so far from the rest of the village. How would she help them if they were in trouble?”

Despite the oppressive atmosphere, Naiara still was sufficiently amused to turn away and laugh-cough into her hoof.

“Um… they’re Raiders, Snow… they really don’t care that much about other ponies. Remember Four Fields?”

“…Right.” Dejection does a real number on your mental faculties.

Naiara was back with us now. “Sorry, Snow, I shouldn’t have laughed.”

“It’s fine.”

This view was not unanimous. The impatience that’d been building made itself known. “Can we get back to the plan already?”

“Yeah, okay. Anyway, our best bet is still the house in the cove. Even if it isn’t the chief’s house, it’s quiet and out of the way. We can get in, and hopefully out again, without too much of a disturbance. We can do it one of two ways. First off-“

Blinking, she had to break off and shoot a searching stare our way. “You guys… can’t swim, can you?”

“Nope.”

“No, sorry.”

Heaving a sigh and rolling her eyes, as if to say “oh well”, she smiled and continued. “Okay, so now we only have one way to do it. I was gonna say we could go a little further around and swim in the lake until we reached the cove, but you two would never make it before you either drowned or the radiation made you sick.”

“Yeah, about that: How can these guys go diving every day and not suffer from it?”

Tapping her hoof on the dirt map building we thought was the home of the boss, Undertow, the zebra cut off the tangent before it could start. “Let’s ask her when we meet her, shall we?”

“Right, yeah. Sorry, carry on.”

“Since not all of us can swim, we can’t come in from the water below the house. So… we’ll use the ridge above it, and climb down with a rope.” Beaming, she poked triumphantly at the semi-circle under her hoof.

I shared a look with the charcoal colt that all but said, “Can you do that? Because I sure as hell can’t.”

“Um… Naiara?”

“Yes, svara, I know. You two are out of practice with ropes. I’ll oversee everything. It’ll be fine.”

“If you’re sure?”

“Totally. It’ll be fun. Besides, exactly how crazy do you expect Undertow to be, in comparison to Four Fields?”

“…There is that.”

~~~~~~