Chapter Five: An ill-Timed Remark

"Will you ever learn?"

The metaphorical rain from the song became accompanied by real rain erupting from the dark clouds above as we left town and resumed our walk along the badly-cobbled path. My fur was soaking, and I had to keep my head low in order to prevent my eyes from the falling water. Moreover, my hooves were aching terribly. I could bet I had got some kind of callosity; or a few. In addition to my body being downtrodden, my mind was downtrodden too. I couldn't cease thinking about Celestia, and Luna, and the Legion, and that "Kay-zar", and my debt, and what-not. The only thought that warmed me up inside, if only just a little, was the fact that we were going towards Lucky 56, towards Mr New Pegas, towards The Voice!

Still, I found it necessary to complain aloud, if only out of sheer boredom (and lack of desire to think about sombre matters). "My hooooooves huuuuuurt!" I whined, half-theatrically, half-naturally, pouring into it all the pain of my generation and what-not.

"Oh shut up!" hissed Kira, who, as it seemed, was still angry with me. Those mares, I tell you. That's why I prefer stallions. ...As interlocutors, I mean! "You are always whining! Your hooves are sore - you're whining. You got a few cuts - you are whining like you're dying. Shut up already!"

"Well, those were laser beam cuts, you know?" I protested, mostly out of spite. "The kind of laser beams that can turn a pony into a pile of ash, you know?" Not really. The temperature's not high enough for that; but Kira didn't know that, right? Besides, if you hit a vital spot, and it was hot, then maybe, just maybe, it could turn a pony into a pile of ash. Ergo, I'm no liar!

"Well, your wounds were no deeper than mere knife cuts! And you still whined as if you were bleeding out on the spot." The cyan mare huffed indignatnly. I glanced at Turner, waiting for a confirming nod or something. Turner, however, was not amused and just walked on in silence. My wounds... They couldn't have been so minor, could they? I mean, laser beams. Serious business. "You must have a tough hide," Kira said finally, as if in an attempt to make up with me. Or seduce me. Whatever. "Compensates your tiny brain." Oh well. Short-lived attempts, what?

I didn't feel like arguing any more, so I fell silent, lost in mental contemplation. (I didn't even tell Kira that the size of one's brain wasn't really connected to one's wits; well, let her remain blissful in her ignorance.) If Kira was right - and it seemed that she was right... About the tough hide, not the tiny brain, I mean! Then, the wounds should have been cauterised instantly, given the heat a laser emits. They shouldn't have been just bleeding, like your normal cuts. Now, I was beginning to feel that my wounds indeed had been minor; minor enough to fully heal over the span of a few hours. Was I more resistant to damage or something?

Oh well. No use scrutinising that. Every reincarnation of mine has something new. Once, I could heal my wounds, and even other people's wounds. Imagine how useful that would have been in that battle! Every reincarnation had its own (or, well, his own; or, to be even more exact, my own) perks; all the little things that made me different every time I woke up in a new body, reborn and vigorous (usually). My character changed as well, constantly, with each new reincarnation. For one, my present character seemed to be of the grumpy variety. Oh well. Still, all those reincarnations, all those Doctors had something in common: they were all me. I still was a discrete person, and felt like one. No, felt as one. Becase I was still The Doctor. My individuality always remained, albeit slightly altered. That is what all of those Doctors had in common. Oh, and, also, none of them were ginger. Oh well.

"Hey, Doctor?" Kira called out as we passed a peculiar toxic dump. What was a toxic dump doing in the middle of the desert? Hell if I know. "Take this." The mare levitated a small pill towards me. "It's RadSafe, a non-addictive drug." She motioned towards the barrels lying in radioactive waste, just to my right. "It'll reduce the amount of radiation you get from those."

"Firstly," I said, raising my hoof, "I don't do drugs." Kira huffed and opened her mouth to protest, but I silenced her, "If it's medicine, then, for Celestia's sake, call it medicine, not a drug!" The cyan mare frowned, but my tirade wasn't over. "And secondly-" I stumbled upon a rock and swore under my breath, eliciting a giggle from the unicorn and lack of attention (as usual) from Turner. "And secondly," I repeated, "Even if it is medicine..." Kira nodded, and I grinned in reply. "I don't need it. I'm immune to radiation!" I exclaimed, making my female companion raise her brow. Okay, well, maybe almost immune; but Kira didn't necessarily need to know that, right? "Look."

With a smile, I deviated from our path, directing my hooves towards the toxic dump. I heard Kira yelp as I stepped into the green irradiated goo. A bit thicker than water. Hehe. I could write a book about it. "Rad is Thicker than Water." Hehe. All right. I turned round, facing the surprised mare, who'd stopped dead in her tracks, looking at me in visible shock. "Hey, Kira?" I called out. "How many rads do you think there is here?" I tapped one of the irradiated barrels, feeling the touch of steel on my sore hoof. I wished radiation could heal it...

"I don't have a Pipbuck, but it's probably four or five rads per second!" the mare shouted, glancing helplessly at Turner, who had stopped as well, eyeing my little deviant detour calmly. "Get back!" She gulped down a pill of that "RadSafe".

"What's a Pipbuck?" I replied cheerfully, watching the dirt from my hoof wash away in the radioactive goo. Hmm. To think about it, it was water, albeit a little thick and irradiated... I carefully washed my face with a hoof. Yes. It definitely felt good to be clean. Or, at least, cleaner than I'd previously been.

"It's some kind of portable computer." Now I could very well see fear on Kira's face. "Come on, Doctor, get back! You'll get radiation sickness!" she called out to me in concern.

I chuckled. "I'm a Time Lord: we don't have that shit!" Yeah, I know, I acted a bit like a poser. Still, I had to make a point, all right? I took a hoofful of irradiated water and drank it. It wasn't that different from the water I'd tasted in Kira's town. Or, rather, Shafty's town. Just a little more... sparkly, if "sparkly" is the word I want. If there is such a word. Anyway, let's just assume that it tasted a tad sparkly. Which led me to a thought. "By the way, Kira, why do you guys only have irradiated water in your town?" Time Lords don't mind a little radiation in their water; normal ponies, apparently, do.

The mare blinked, forgetting, as it seemed, even her concern about my basking in the glow of radiation. "We do have purified water, and we offer it to anypony who has the caps." The mare boasted proudly, "That's why our town is called Friendsville!" Oh. "Friendsville", eh? Very friendly. Not letting a poor, penniless (capless, if you wish; though, that sounds off) Time Lord have a glass of pure water! Not even telling him there was pure water in the first place! Maybe I did have caps - who knows? ...Oh. Turner. Surely Turned had told them about my debt before I came in for a snack. Oh well. Still, you get the idea? Very. Friendly. The friendliest town in the Wasteland.

All right, enough with the sarcasm. I washed my hooves in the green goo again and stepped out of the irradiated site, grinning at Kira, who ran up to me, scrutinising me with her eyes. Hmm. They were beautiful indeed, to think about it. Just saying.

"Any symptoms of radiation sickness?" She asked as she checked my pulse and pressed her hoof against my forehead. "How do you feel? Aching limbs, headache, an urge to throw up?" she wondered, her voice trembling.

Never stopping grinning, I just brushed my mane aside. "I'm perfectly fine. I told you: I'm a Time Lord. A little radiation can do nothing to me." Maybe now she'll finally believe me? I mused, glancing at Turner, who just stood there dispassionately. Was there anything that would make him, I don't know, laugh, for a change?

"Hmm." Kira seemed content enough with the examination. "I don't believe of word of this Time Lord nonsense, but you seem absolutely healthy." The mare scratched the back of her head, messing up her brown-ish mane. Oh well. If she didn't want to believe me, so be it. Not like I lost anything.

"How do you know so much about medicine?" I wondered, partly because I wanted to change the topic, and partly because I was genuinely interested. "You haven't left your home town, from what I gather." Turner slowly proceeded on our way, so Kira and I started trotting along as well, following him.

"I fucked the local doctor from time to time," the cyan mare explained. "So he taught me about medicine." Kira grinned, making me flinch. Oh well. At least she didn't fuck The Doctor. Get it? Get it? Ahem, anyway. I nodded silently, deciding against enquiring further.

The path took us past the toxic dump and forth into the desert (or, back to the desert, one might say), and I took one last glance at the barrels, which lay and stood there magnificently, reminding the future generations about- "Wait!" I shouted, noticing a peculiar object resting atop one of the barrels, and dove right, running towards the green goo-ness. Drifting closer (even despite my perfect eyesight, I still had to check), I could make it out to be an almost-new, only slightly-goo-covered hat! And a Stetson, no less! Or whatever the Wasteland equivalent for Stetsons was.

Smiling at my newly-acquired hat, I trotted back, brushing off the goo from the hat. Kira frowned at me, backing down. "What the fuck is that?" she demanded angrily. Ouch. That language. And she dares to call herself a lady! ...If she ever called herself a lady. Let's say that, at the moment, I didn't really remember.

"It's a Stetson," I replied, tapping my hat. "Stetsons are cool." Kira tried to reach for my hat with her telekinesis immediately, but I grasped the leather piece of awesomeness in my hooves firmly. "What are you doing?!" I shouted. "Give it back!"

"It's soaked in radiation! I don't want to get sick!" Kira retorted, now clutching the hat in her hooves. I groaned and yanked the Stetson out of her hooves with my teeth. Ah, Time Lords' teeth. Famous for their sturdiness.

"Do you realise the amount of radiation it would take for it to actually emit radioactive emanation?" I cocked my eyebrow at the seemingly ignorant mare. And that's why you should read books, kids. They broaden your ken greatly.

"Get rid of it!" Kira yelled. "You won't smooth-talk me!"

"Never!" I shouted back, holding my Stetson firmly.

"Shut up, both of you!" Turner bellowed. He glared at me, then at Kira. "You." He pointed at Kira. "Stop bugging him. You." He pointed at yours faithfully. "Take off the hat. It's too noticeable in the desert."

"It's brown, and I'm brown," I protested weakly. "If it were bright red-" I began, but Turner barked, interrupting me, "A sniper doesn't look just at the colour. Your hat is big, and makes your head noticeable. And I don't want a sniper to shoot you in the head because you owe me caps." With that, His Grumpiness continued trotting along the path.

"What's the point of carrying the hat on my back?" I mumbled; though, I obeyed the pegasus' order immediately. Suddenly, I felt the hat fly off my back in Kira's magical grip. Before I could protest, the mare smiled at me and placed the hat into her saddlebag.

"Don't want you to get shot in the back either," she muttered, blushing a little. Aww, now ain't that sweet. Now she was starting to look like a lady! And she was slowly growing on me, in that aspect. Not the "being female" aspect. The courtesy, I mean.

"Thanks," I replied warmly, feeling that there most certainly was a growing friendship to observe here, between Kira and yours faithfully. And friendship is magic, or so I hear. "Turner really is grumpy, what?" I chuckled.

"What?" Kira frowned.

"What?" I blinked.

"You said, 'what'," Kira noted in lack of understanding. "What did you mean?" Oh, that. Some ponies just don't know that the only polite way to reply to such a "what?" at the end of the sentence is "indeed". Or "I don' think so", if you disagree.

"It's just how we speak in England," I said, and, before Kira could enquire into what England was, I paraphrased, "What I mean is, Turner is rather grumpy, isn't he? His replies are also kinda sharp."

Kira shrugged. "He's been like that as long as I can remember." She chewed on her bottom lip. "I don't wanna talk about it." My ears fell, but the cyan mare smiled the next instant. "I bet five caps he'll say 'I'm not amused' by the end of the day," she proposed, extending her hoof.

I pondered for a moment. "Well, for one thing, I have no money, and I'm in debt to him. For another thing..." I frowned. "I've had such a wager once, and I lost it." Then again, it was about Her Majesty the Queen... But, knowing Turner... Damn. My gambling nature urged me to participate. After all, Turner didn't even speak that much... And I had to lay down a few bricks in the foundation of Kira's and my friendship...

"Ten caps," the mare suggested.

"Deal." I shook her hoof, instantly blaming myself for that. Dammit, it seemed that I was falling into the same trap I'd once fallen into. I had a nibbling sense of deja vu about he whole deal.

I sighed as Kira trotted after Turner cheerfully. Those caps were as good as hers, as it seemed to me, and I had no idea how I would pay her. Oh well. Deciding that it was no use listening to silence, I turned on the radio (since I didn't really know how my hoof-made batteries would last, I resolved against leaving the radio on all the time) in hope of hearing the Voice of Blissful Raspiness. Instead, the radio blared with music. Well, at least, it seemed like a nice song. I trotted on, eager to catch with my companions as warm, soothing jazz pleased my ears.

Play the guitar~

Play it again~

My Jonneigh~

***

For the one they call~

Jonneigh Guitar~

I slammed the radio angrily, turning off the music. Groaning in irritation, I glanced at Kira's relieved face. Yeah, it seemed that I wasn't the only one who was tired of listening to the same song four times in a row. (Turner was - what else - not amused.) Mr New Pegas hadn't provided any interesting information, apart from some "NCR outposts" (NCR, if I understood correctly, standing for "New Coltifornian Republic", whatever that meant) having been attacked by some tribals under the banner of Caesar's Legion. (At least Mr New Pegas pronounced it "See-zar".) From that I could assume that I was witnessing the birth of a new era, no less, since this Legion was apparently expanding and conquering and whatever it is that Legions do. This Caesar guy seemed to be pretty knowledgeable, depite his barbaric methods: uniting tribes under a single banner was exactly what Romans used to do. (Or would do, or were doing; I wasn't sure of the time boundaries of this particular universe and how it correlated to planet Earth.)

Since the Box of Many Wonders didn't want to participate in amusing me, I trotted along in silence, trying to concentrate on the good things. Well, my fur was finally dry, and my hooves weren't half as sore as they'd been before. Also... Hmm. Oh well. Other than that, there wasn't really anything good to concentrate on. Aw well.

Off in the distance, I saw four pony-shaped forms approach us from the West. That is, the left. Because I honestly had no idea where the West was. I mean, when there's some wind, I might take a lucky guess, but still... Ahem, anyway. Thanks to my perfect (or, well, near-perfect) eyesight, I could make out that they were all stallions, and armed stallions at that. I opened my mouth to warn Turner, but my pegasus companion had already stopped and extended his hoof, preventing Kira from going any further. I stood by the mare, ready to protect her in case of emergency. And by "protect", I mean "grab her and run away". Because that's what I do best. Running, I mean.

As the figures came closer, I found out, to my surprise, that there three of them, not four: I mistook an especially large grenade launcher (at least that's what I assumed it was) for a pony. Oh well, my eyesight is not perfect, you know. Welp, at least I was now perfectly sure that everything, absolutely everything came in threes at this crazy place. I tell you.

Still, a grenade launcher?! Where the hell would one get a Celestia-damn grenade launcher?! I looked at Turner for instructions, but the stallion had already opened his saddlebags and... extracted a battle saddle out of it, tightening the straps on his back. I could feel my haw connecting with the floor, or, rather, the sand. "How the hell did that fit in your saddlebags?!" I yelled, disregarding the fact that I'd completely missed the moment when Turner took his battle saddle off in the first place. Oh well. Still, that was kinda... shocking? Impossible? Unfeasible? Anyway, the battle saddle was larger than the bags!

"They're bigger on the inside," Turner replied, chewing on the control string... thing-y. Wait, what? I blinked. I could swear I saw a tiny grin on his face! Was he mocking me? However, before I could speak up, something whooshed right past me and exploded against the ground in a few metres. Oh well, guess the saddlebag question would have to wait!

Only now had I noticed that it wasn't a grenade launcher. It was a missile launcher. A fucking missile launcher! Shooting missiles! Now that's what I call a perfect time to run. However, before I could employ the ancient Time Lord technique of running away, one of the stallions - a beige unicorn who was leviating his weapon magically (lucky unicorns) - opened rapid fire from his assault rifle, making me duck for cover. Seeing Kira just standing there in shock, I leapt at the cyan mare, pinning her to the ground, just as the bullets swished above our heads.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Turner pull the control string and place a few perfect shots straight into the barrel of the missile launcher, making it emit smoke and blow up. Unfortunately, its user, a pink earth pony with a ridiculous white mane (not blond; snow-white), had managed to get rid of his weapon before it exploded, so he ran towards my pegasus companion, only a few scars adorning his cheeks.

Meanwhile, Turner decided to get rid of the assault-rifle-bearing stallion. He placed a few shots to the beige unicorn's hindlegs and a shot to each of the forelegs, successfully crippling him. However, being immobilised didn't prevent the stallion from pulling the trigger telekinetically and washing us with bullets. Thanks to me lying firm on the ground (well, on Kira's body, to be more specific), neither the cyan mare nor I was hurt, but it seemed that Turner got a few bullets to the shoulder, and at least one to the knee.

The third pony in the party of our assaulters didn't approach us, instead just standing there, his dust-coloured mane swishing in the wind due to its noticeable length. He seemed to be the only one wearing some kind of barding that covered the whole of his body. Moreover, he was crouching, while gazing at us through a scope of his... Sniper rifle! The muzzle of which was directed at Turner, no less! It kinda made sense, since he was the only one of us three who was putting up a fight. "Turner! There's a sniper!" I shouted, praying that the pegasus would hear me.

He did. Ducking to avoid assault rifle fire, Turner chewed on the string, and his battle saddle merrily showered the unfortunate sniper with lead, painting him bloody red. Dead. Torn to pieces. And I never got to see the colour of his coat!

While I mockingly mourned the death of one of our assaulters, the pink stallion who'd lost his missile launcher, thanks to Turner, decided to avenge his weapon, as it seemed, launching himself (hehe, it was all he could launch, without his weapon) at the pegasus, a knife in his mouth. Without looking back, Turner bucked the white-maned pony right into the face, not only breaking the knife, but also his jaw. No ponyshoes attached, ladies and gentlecolts! Next, he stomped onto the pink head, crushing it into bloody goo. All. Without. Even. Looking. Wow. I wouldn't want to get in a fit of Turner's temper! If he ever got mad with anger, that is.

The assault-rifle-wielder's weapon clicked sadly, out of ammo, as the unicorn tried to reach for his saddlebags for more bullets. Turner placed a few shots into each saddlebag, ripping them apart, An apple-like object rolled away through the hole in the stallion's left saddlebag. With fear in his eyes (my perfect Time Lord eyesight allowed me to see even that), the unicorn levitated the grenade and tore off the pin. The explosion tore him apart, sending chunks of meat and bone flying everywhere. I averted my eyes, lest I have an urge to vomit.

I just lay there for a couple of minutes until a grunt from beneath brought me back to the Wasteland. "Would you get off me now?" Kira mumbled, pushing me. I rolled over, getting up to my hooves. Turner just stood in place, his battle saddle gone. How in the wide wide world of Equestria had he managed to conceal it in a tiny saddlebag? I knew better than to ask; that was Turner, after all. A killing machine. Addendum: A flying, battle-saddle-equipped killing machine. Although he didn't seem like he was fond of using his wings, which, as always, rested at his sides.

"You're heavy," Kira dragged me out of my contemplative reverie as she trotte towards Turner, levitating healing potions and bandages out of her precious medicine-filled saddlebags. I wondered how long it would last. It didn't seem like there were loads of hospitals around. In fact, I had yet to see one.

"A 'thank you for saving my life' would be nice," I muttered, watching the cyan mare extract the bullets from Turner's shoulders and his damaged knee. He didn't even wince. Wow. Simply wow. I was gaining more and more respect for him. Now, if only her talked more so we could exchange wits and what-not!

"Well, I'll give you a blowjob as a 'thank-you'," Kira cooed nonchalantly as she poured the healing potions onto the pegasus' wounds. No. I staggered back. Do. Not. Want. Well, to think about it... Gah! No! Doctor, stop! We Time Lords can spend months without sex! Years without sex... Decades without sex... Dammit, when was the last time I had sex?!

Still, I found it in my heart (or my mind, more likely) to refuse, "Not giving me a blowjob would be a decent 'thank you', thank you." Grr! Lexical repetitions, striking back! Well, lemme tell you: the Time Lords strike first! ...Anyway.

Turner got up, without waiting for the bandages to be applied, which made Kira frown in disapprovement. "Come on, Turner, I have to get those wounds bandaged!" she insisted, but the pegasus only glanced at the corpses (at least those that were recognisable) and trotted on, dropping, "Don't waste bandages on such light wounds. We'll still need those bandages later." The fact that he said, "will need", and not "may need", certainly added to my general anxiety.

"That Turner, always making a badass of himself," Kira mumbled in a scolding tone. "And his stupid 'no looting corpses' rule!" She glanced at the assault rifle wisfully. I wanted to tell her that Turner was all right with other people (or, at least, ponies) doing that, but remembered that Kira and Turner had some muddled relationship (not in that sense) that neither of them wanted to talk about it. Oh well. Maybe Turner cared about her more than her cared about it, and thus made some special rules and regulations for her. Made sense, right? Riiiiiiight...

"Well, those raiders always attack from nowhere!" Kira exclaimed suddenly in a very fake tone, making me raise my brow. What was that about? "It's not really amusing, is it, Turner?" she wondered in an innocent tone, fluttering her eyelashes. Oh sweet Celestia. Please don't tell me she's really concerned about that stupid bet, right after a near-death experience!

Apparently, she was. However, my pegasus companion (might as well start calling him "our pegasus companion") paid no attention to that, only muttering, "Those weren't raiders. Too well-equipped, not crazy enough." And that was it. No matter how Kira bugged the stallion to tell us what he was thinking about the assaulters (for a good ten minutes, if I may add), Turner just trotted on in silence, shrugging off the questions. Literally. He just shrugged his shoulders in reply, as if it weren't something to be concerned with. But I could see he was concerned, even if he didn't want to show it!

But it was Turner. I sighed. Our chances of extracting even a little information from him were equal to zero. With nothing better to do, and having no desire to listen to Kira's whining (and Turner's occasional whinnies and huffs that accompanied his shrugs), I turned on the radio, a smooth country ballad soothing my ears instantly as I followed my companions at a moderate distance.

In the shadow of the valley~

I would like to settle down~

***

While settling down in the shadow of the valley seemed like a pleasant option, what concerned me more at the moment was my growing thirst and hunger. The irradiated goo-ish water I'd consumed some time ago had left my body through the natural course (which involved yours faithfully finding a spot behind a cactus and Kira giggling like a schoolfilly; you get the idea), and my stomach was protesting against being empty.

I turned off the radio and called out to Kira, "Have something to eat?" Before she could make a naughty remark, I clarified, "I mean, food-wise."

Frowning (most probably because I prevented her from making a "funny" joke), the cyan mare shrugged. "I have little food. Get your own!"

Oh, being friendly, are we? "You know, I saved your life," I noted. "If you'd been shot during that battle, you wouldn't need this food now, anyway." A little harsh, true; but hell, I was hungry!

"Turner saved my life." I glanced at the pegasus. At least he didn't remark someting like, "I was fighting for myself" or something. Still, Kira sighed and took out a fruit from her saddlebag, levitating it towards me. "Here."

I cringed inwardly, shutting my eyes for a moment. A pear. If you have forgotten, I hate pears. I despise the flavour, the texture, the appearance, the way they grow, their very existence. If an apple a day keeps The Doctor away, a pear a day keeps The Doctor rolling in his grave. Because pears would surely be the end of me.

"I hate pears," I mumbled. No extent of hunger would ever make me eat those terrible fruit!

"Oh, 'Ai hait peeeez'!" Kira exclaimed mockingly. Hey, I don't speak that way! That's a pitiful exaggeration of my beautiful British accent! "Well, I don't have anything else, so either take it or stop whining!" She pondered for a moment. "Better, both."

I shook my head at the fruit. "Thanks, save it for later." Kira just shrugged and chewed on the pear. Eww. So that's called "saving it for later" in her book, eh? I immediately regretted not taking the (disgusting) treat. In a few hours, I would be praying for a pear, I thought. I mean, when you're hungry, like, really, really hungry, you don't care about what you eat. Apart from fellow ponies, of course (griffins, buffalo, zebras - it was all cannibalism, and I, as you may have guessed, was no cannibal, and expressed disdain towards the act). And dolphins. I knew those didn't exist here (probably), but they were still way too smart and intelligent to be consumed as food.

After a few mintes of silent walking, Kira sighed and levitated a flask with water towards me. "Here. I bet you're thirsty. Or you would say, 'Ai hait woote, Ai't p'fer juice!'? Because I have some juices that-" Before she could finish the phrase, I took the flask and sucked on it greedily. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the dirty pun die on Kira's lips and a smile appear there instead.

"Thank you." I handed (hoofed? Never could get pony idioms right, having been a humanoid for almost a millenium) the flask back to her, and she packed it in her saddlebags.

"You're welcome."

We continued to walk in silence that was interrupted only by occasional howling of a rogue wind or the rattling of some insects. My bet was on grasshoppers. Erm... Rad-hoppers? Anyway. To somehow get my mind off my growing hunger, I delved into philosophy. Because, obviously, it helps you direct even the most distant nooks of your mind towards the non-eating path.

Thinking about Turner's words, back then, in the morning (I assumed it was morning, as it was almost dark now, which signified the evening's approach; and the moment we met the legionnaires had occured about ten hours ago, if my assumptions were correct - it's hard to tell the time when you don't see the sun!), I concluded that, in a way, he was right. The Wasteland did offer more freedom; not in the way of anarchy, but in the way of basic protection. I mean, here, you could protect yourself with a gun, while in London, for example, you would simply get into prison, even if you've killed in self-defence. (On the other hoof, though, London had the police and people, and was fine to explore during the day, if not at night. Here, though, nopony - nobody - seemed to be ready to help you and protect you free of charge. Even Turner had his mercantile motives.) On Gallifrey, though... Well, it wasn't customary to use guns, anyway. Same with Gallopfrey. Same with pre-war Equestria, actually! Before that war between ponies and zebras (that I still had to enquire more about), ponies didn't use to use  (grr, lexical repetitions!) weaponry! I should know: I was there.

That made me think about my friends back in Ponyville, in the peaceful, lively, rustic Ponyville; but I didn't give in to nostalgia, instead dragging my hooves through the desert. If I continued to reminisce, I might as well have an emotional breakdown. And I didn't want an emotional breakdown. Not in the slightest.

As I walked, the sounds of the desert created a winderful ambient symphony. I even had to check if my radio was off! Because, for a moment, I thought that the music was coming out of my Box of Many Wonders and not the nature itself. The howling wind trembled as it united with the deep hum of the ground. The grasshopers/rad-hoppers/whatever they were rattled, as if in an attempt to drown the twitter of birds, none of whom I could actually see, but could very well hear. Sand whooshed past our little party, only to fall back and rise again in a large whirlwind. It was music, in some way. Music is everywhere. You just have to hear it.

Wow. I'm really getting a grip on that "lyrical narration" thing, aren't I? Ahem, anyway. While I was deep in philosophical speculations, we had reached a peculiar encampment. Low, half-pony-high walls composed of tin sheets surrounded a spacious territory where four small tents rested, along with a bigger rectangular one, a two-headed ursa flag fluttering above it on a pole. The path we'd been following led through the encampment, and, as soon as we came up to the entrance, a unicorn mare wearing a uniform blocked our way, levitating a rifle. When I say, "wearing a uniform", I mean, "wearing not only a military jacket and a hat, but also trousers". I mean, really? Maybe she was wearing pants beneath? ...You know what. No. I'd better not think about it. I'd be way safer.

It seemed that I wasn't the one who was baffled. She leaned in to me, lowering her voice to a whisper, "Is she wearing pants?!"

"I don't know," I whispered back, surprised by the cyan mare's enquiry. "Kinda hidden by her trousers, you know?"

Kira looked at me in an "are-you-stupid" manner. "Pants are trousers." Ah. Cultural differences. Before I could do some explaining, however, the military-dressed unicorn (even her mane was of the khaki colour; I assumed that it might be natural) coughed loudly, drawing our attention.

"State your business," she said formally. It was kinda strange how a voice of such divinity could mix with such officiality. Oh well.

"Passing through," Turner replied for all of us. The mare glanced at him and nodded, not lowering her weapon, however.

"Ultimate destination?" the military mare asked. Dammit, she looked kinda hot when she was dispassionate like that, I had to admit! ...Actually, forget that line. It never existed.

"Lucky 56," my pegasus companion answered in a just as not-giving-a-damn tone as the mare's. "We're in a hurry," he added. Were we? Oh yes. We were. We definitely were.

Disregarding the remark, the military mare (I really had to ask her name. Erm... For narration purposes) continued, "Please produce your passports." Instinctively, I reached for my saddlebags, but remembered that I didn't have those. Nor did I have a passport, to think about it. I wasn't an Equestrian citizen, after all, and you didn't need a passport on Gallopfrey! Besides, my wonderful hypnotic paper served its role just fine... with the exception that it was in my TARDIS. Which was Celestia-knew-where. Oh well.

"We aren't NCR citizens," Turner said calmly. Aha. So, apparently, this was an NCR outpost. Rather small, considering that it was a whole republic, according to Mr New Pegas. I could only assume that this wasn't NCR territory; just a little military base. Or something. "We have no discrete national affiliation," he added, lest we be taken for enemy. At least, I think that was his reason behind saying that. Knowing Turner, he didn't say anything without a particular concrete reason.

The mare frowned. "In that case, I must take you to Major Shiny to draw up your travelling papers. With all the Legion scum around, we can't just let you through." Uhuh. And having a paper would definitely protect us from the danger. Suuure.

One way or another, Turner huffed, a little impatiently. "As I have said, we are in a hurry."

The mare huffed back, "Well, I am sorry, sir, but I cannot do anything about the matter. You'll have to address Major Shiny." Oh, for crying out loud! Besides, who the hell would make Somepony Shiny a Major?! A Major with such a name... So intimidating. Not.

All right, time to bring out my super-negotiation powers. Putting on my Charming And Disabling Time Lord's Smile [TM], I took a small step forth towards the mare. The rifle trembled in her magical grip, if only a wee bit. "Ma'am," I cooed, brushing my black - my charcoal - mane aside. "You see, while I am perfectly sure that Major Shiny is a decent pony, we really need to pass through, and as swiftly as possible. Maybe there are some... other ways for us to pass?" I winked. "Something faster, and not involving any official documentation?"

"No." The mare stared at me dispassionately. "Please proceed to Major Shiny's tent before I have charged you with bribery. I strongly feel there is no need for it." A glare. I shivered a little. A bribe? I didn't even have money! It wasn't a bribery attempt!

"There is no need for it," Turner confirmed, disregarding my attempt at practical seduction. "Lead the way." He was the first to follow the military mare, while I fell behind, mumbling to myself, "She must be a lesbian. There's no other explanation."

Suddenly, I felt Kira pat me on the back. "Don't worry," she said with what seemed to me like compassion in her voice. "If she were a stallion, I'm sure you would have succeeded." With that, she trotted on, leaving me dumbfounded.

If she were... a... stallion? The realisation hit me like a tidal wave, and I galloped towards the tent, following my companions, as my cry pierced the very sky.

"I'm! NOT! GAY!"

***

Two hours. It had been two damn hours and the damn Major still hadn't shown up in the damn tent. The military mare (she had only stated her rank - Private - but not her name) had informed us that the Major was away "on state business" and "would be back soon". Soon, huh? Still she didn't feel like talking and just stood there by the flap entrance to the tent with her rifle, "for our safety". Taking our saddlebags (including Turner's weapon-packed ones) was probably also a measure taken "for our safety". No doubt.

There was absolutely nothing to do except look around; and that wasn't a particularly time-consuming activity. The whole "room" (well, "tent" would be a more accurate term) was relatively small and empty, with a single bed that the three of us sat on (with my sitting in close proximity to Kira, glad that this proximity wasn't turning into promiscuity, if you get what I mean), and the metal skeleton of shelves filled with scrap metal, various spanners, batteries and the like. I wished I could take those batteries with me; I mean, why would a military commanded possibly need those?! (For radio transmitters, of  course. Silly Doctor. Still, I needed batteries more! I think.) The walls were adorned with two propaganda posters, one of which (a classic "Careless Talk Costs Lives!") our Private seemed to take maybe a little too seriously, silent all the time, just casting dirty looks towards Turner, who paid them no heed. Well, seemed like there really weren't many pegasi around!

The other poster held more meaning: it depicted a pony in barding similar to the military mare guarding us, with the words, "You Bring Democracy to This Land!", beneath the picture. Both posters looked relatively new, and I could only assume that it was meant to lift the NCR military's spirits. Nice; even though it would definitely prove a challenge to bring democracy to the Wasteland. On second thoughts, the message could be addressed to any reader. Including civilians. Which was a peculiar psychological, and political, move: getting civilians to realise that they were doing their part in establishing democracy, through trade, work, or otherwise.

The flap door opened, and three ponies materialised before us: a stallion in the middle, his short-cut mane concealed by a service cap, his body concealed by military uniform. (Though, if his uncovered tail was any indication, his mane was also blue.) On his left stood a mare, fully-concealed in her uniform (I concluded that mares had some special compartment for their tails), and on his right was a pink-tailed stallion. The uniform didn't appeal to me at all, if only because it was too... secretive? It even covered their cutie marks! Who would want to hide their special talent? ...Thinking about it, somepony might have a real penis cutie mark. Oh well.

Mr Service-Cap took one glance at Turner, and his face immdiately broke into a grin. "Congratulations, Private! It's not a common occasion to catch Enclave scum!" Damn, what was with their love for this word? "Legion scum", "Enclave scum"... What's next? "Time Lord scum"? Though, as the stallion's gaze fell to my pegasus companion's cutie mark, his face fell. "Fuck. Another Dashite." Well, at least it wasn't "Dashite scum". "And here I was, hoping that we'd finally catch an Enclave spy." So... They haven't caught any real Enclave members yet, but still they know how Enclave outcasts are branded? ...Nothing fishy at all.

Casting a quick look at us, he spat on the ground. (Did I mention there was no floor inside the tent?) "Once a traitor, always a traitor." Being grumpy, are we? Though, to think about it, if my name were Major Shiny (and I assumed it was him), I'd be grumpy too.

However, Turner didn't even wince. "We need to pass. Could you sign out travelling papers?"

The stallion grunted and placed himself at the desk near the bed, taking a pen in his mouth (by which, I assumed that he was an earth pony, contrary to the military mare who'd escorted us here) and scribbling down something on a piece of paper. "Names?"

"Turner," the pegasus was the first to reply.

"Full name, please." Oh, at least he said "please"!

"It's my full name," Turner replied calmly. The Major muttered something but still wrote it down. Thanks to my perfect eyesight, I could make out his signature. "Major Shiny Pants." No fucking way. "Shiny Pants"? Really? No wonder he was so grumpy.

"Kira," the cyan mare said next, making the Major chew on his pen angrily. "Celestia fuck me, what's with the short names today?!" Because, apparently, "Major Shiny Pants" sounds waaaay better. Still, the stallion filled in the paper.

"The Doctor," I said, last but not least. "You can omit 'the'." Another victory over lexical repetitions!

"I didn't ask for you occupation," the Major grunted. "I asked for your name." The pen in his mouth was on the verge of breaking, but it still amazed me how he managed to hold it in his mouth and speak distinctly at the same time. Earth ponies have their special perks, too! And not just because I'm an earth pony. Just... No wings, no horn, no problems - that's how it is!

"It's my name," I replied, not without a hint of defiance. The Major's eye twitched, but he still finished filling in out names.

"Destination?"

"Lucky 56," Turner said for all of us. The Major nodded. "I see, gambling." Wait, what? There are casinos here?! In the Wasteland?! ...The more you know, I guess.

"Now..." Major Shiny (Celestia, that name!) signed the three papers quickly. "That'll be 150 caps."

Wha-? "What?" For once in my life, my tongue blindly followed my thoughts. 'Cause there was really nothing else to say.

"One hundred and fifty caps," the Major repeated slowly, as if explaining to an idiot. And, let me remind you, I'm not a idiot. I'm genius. Just a friendly reminder. "Fifty caps per paper."

Wait wait wait wait waaaaait a minute. We had to pay to get through?! Why couldn't we have just chosen the roundabout way? (Probably because it would lead to random ponies and beasts killing us; but that's not the point.) All right. It was time for my super-negotiation powers.

"With all due respect, dear Major," I began, much like a lawyer in court, unable to bring myself to call the Major by his name, "This fee, while legal, according to the law of your state, is not legitimate." I smiled at the stallion's lack of understanding. "You see, we haven't been informed of this fee when it was announced to us that getting travelling papers was a legal necessity; ergo, this act, verbal or otherwise, has no legal effect, according to the principles of international law, which your country, as a democratic state, must be following." I took a breath, delighten by the uncertainty on the Major's face. Either I had persuaded him, or he simply didn't understand what I was saying, apart from the key words. Either way would work. "And, let me remind you, that the democratic principles of international law read that even though pacta sunt servanda - though I doubt that this act is an agreement - we should also note that negativa non sunt probanda, and this fee, most certainly, is an issue that affects the law and its subjects negatively."

I took a deep breath. Wow, now that was some speech! What did I tell you - a genius! I looked over the tent proudly, noticing the dumbfounded expressions on the soldiers' faces - good, Turner's usual not-giving-a-fuck attitude - as usual, fear on Kira's face - confusing... and a grin that appeared on the Major's muzzle. And I don't mean the muzzle of his gun. Which, by the way, was pointed at me. Even though it wasn't a rifle, like the soldiers' weapons, but only a pistol - it was still rather unnerving.

"There you go, Legion scum." The Major rose from his seat, keeping the muzzle of his gun on me. "You blew your cover. Your language betrayed you." My... language? But I was... Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Please don't tell me... Fuck. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. (Confound this wasteland, it drives me to swear.)

"I just speak Latin, that's all!" I yelled as the Major placed the hoofcuffs around my forelegs. Where had he got them from?! "International law principles are based on Roman law!" However, it seemed that nopony was in the mood for listening to me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kira and Turner, already hoofcuffed by the soldiers, Kira afraid and angry, and Turner... Well, not giving a damn. As if getting hoofcuffed was a usual stroll in the park for him. Though, given that there didn't seem to be any parks here... Ahem, anyway.

"Sure, you'll tell that to your guard." The Major placed the key into the pocket of his barding after my hoofcuffs had clicked. "In gaol."

Well, for one thing, it was called "prison". Unless, of course, it was some kind of small custody. Which I doubted. For another thing... I got nothing. Really.

As we were escorted from the tent, I resisted the urge to facehoof. Well, the cuffs certainly helped with that. Kira just glared at me menacingly. Turner was the first in our little queue to prison, and, as we left the outpost (hadn't even got to learn its name), the pegasus turned back to face us, for a moment, his face flat.

"You know, for some reason..." He looked at Kira, then at me, fixing his dispassionate gaze on yours faithfully. I made an apologetic face. Kira huffed in what seemed to me righteous anger.

"I am not amused."

***

Footnote:

Level up!

New Perk: Pacifist - Instead of relying of brute force, you like to solve problems verbally, in a non-violent way. If you are travelling with a companion (or several companions), there is a 70% chance that the enemy will attack them first, instead of you. If you are travelling alone, there is a 50% chance that an enemy will become non-hostile if you do not draw or holster your weapon.