Chapter Six: To Hell in No Time

"Do you like suffering? Well, you're in luck! 'Cause it's downhill from here, and we're all fucked."

It was a gaol. While a prison is a facility, this was just a tiny cell that barely contained the three of us; and there was also just one bed. A plank bed. Technically, this was a tiny dungeon. I'm not an expert in correctional facility terminology, but it definitely seemed to me like a gaol.

The bed was occupied by Kira, who was glaring at me so fiercely that I was somewhat thankful that all of us were still hoofcuffed. All the way here, we'd been silent, and the silence was by no means comfortable. Oh, I also owed Kira ten caps now. Just great.

"Well, at least this gaol is right on our way, right?" This was true; we'd been led along the same very path we'd been following, until we faced a small one-storey building (with a basement) made of dirty stone, which, as it seemed, was the nearest NCR correctional facility, judging by the two-headed-ursa flag. A silly flag, if you ask me. Probably an image of an irradiated ursa or something. And we were the only prisoners in the only cell. Huh. Seemed like there weren't many prisoners within NCR territory.

Seeing as my remark was met with silence, I decided to speak out my thoughts, "Not many prisoners here, what?" I chuckled, but the smile died on my lips in the wake of Kira's glare.

"That's because the NCR kill their prisoners swiftly," Turner said in his usual calm manner. How did he- Actually, I wasn't about to ask that question; he knew, like, everything, as it seemed to me. Punishing all prisoners by death penalty? So much for "democracy".

"Perfect," Kira said finally, trying to cross her hooves. Which was a silly attempt, given that she was hoofcuffed. "Now I'm gonna get executed just because somepony." She glared at me. "Can't. Keep. His fucking mouth shut." Aww, that was harsh!

"You know, just because I speak Latin, and they don't, doesn't mean I'm the one to blame," I explained. "Their ignorance isn't a reason to sick your dogs on me, you know?"

"Apparently, it was enough of a reason to put us here and take our stuff." Kira huffed. Well, we had been "freed" of our possessions, true. They'd even taken my Box of Many Wonders! I could already feel the withdrawal from the lack of Mr New Pegas' voice. "They even took Turner's special battle saddle!" "Special"? So there were other battle saddles out there? Also, nota bene: it seemed that Kira cared about Turner's possessions dearly.

"In what way is it special?" I asked casually, casting a side glance at Turner to see if he was offended by us talking about him in his presence. He didn't seem to give a damn.

"Most battle saddles have a control mechanism made of metal, but Turner modified his with a string for easier shooting." That... made sense. Except it didn't, to me. "It's worth, like, ten thousand bottle caps!" Ten thousand... caps? How the hell would one carry such an amount?! Okay, let this remain a mystery, along with "how can a huge battle saddle fit in a small saddlebag".

"How do you know so much about weapons?" I wondered, just to keep up a friendly... okay, not-so-friendly conversation. On a second thought, that wasn't a bright idea: she'd probably just had sex with a local smith or something.

"Turner taught me." I decided not to enquire further, given both Turner's silent attitude, and Kira's lack of desire to discuss anything connected to Turner and her. Oh well. At least she hadn't had sex with the local smith. ...Probably.

The door to our cosy cell was opened by a stallion in the brand NCR barding, which made it difficult to distinguish between different soldiers. Because they all looked alike, their coats and manes hidden beneath the military outfit. This one also hid his tail. Oh well. I'll just call him the Guardpony from now on. 'Cause, you know, he'd been guarding us all that time and all.

"You." The stallion pointed at me. "To interrogation room. Now." Aww! I don't like it when scary military ponies ask me pointless questions! However, I had little to no choice as the Guardpony practically dragged me out of the prison/gaol/whatever cell.

I expected a long walk to a special interrogation room, but it seemed that the NCR guys were a little low on caps, for the Guardpony just led me out of my companions' sight, along a short stained corridor, and right into what seemed to be a tiny closet devoid of any furniture apart from a single stool. After a closer look (my eyesight is far from perfect, to think about it), I realised it was a chair, with ropes hanging from its back. They didn't even bother to place a book-ish (or, rather, film-ish) table with a lamp. In the "interrogation room", there was a mare, surprisingly naked compared to other military personnel: the only piece of clothing she was wearing was a red cap, the trademark NCR bear on it, and a motto of some kind. Squinting my eyes (hmm, looks like those old eyes are good, after all!), I could make out, "The last thing you never see". Huh. That didn't even make sense. Still, the mare looked incredibly hot, with that stunning amber coat, and dammit, she was ginger! I wish I were ginger! Ginger manes are so damn sexy.

Oh dear. It seemed that I really hadn't had sex for decades... All right, Doctor, focus! This must be some trick! However, my mind refused to cooperate with me as the ginger-maned mare trotted up to me, swishing her tail against my flank plaifully. "Oh, lookie what we got here! A big, muscular, handsome stallion!" I blushed slightly, trying to brush my mane back. Which was rather hard, given the hoofcuffs and what-not. Well, I was rather handsome... Still got it, I thought gleefully. Almost a thousand years old, and I still got it.

"No wonder the Legion took interest in such a strong guy," the mare remarked, grinning at me slyly, while the stallion was tying me to the chair. Oh, so this was the good cop, bad cop thing. Or something. One way or another, no matter how sexy the mare was, I needed to be wary, if "wary" is the word I want. I think it is. Anyway.

"I don't work for the Legion," I explained. "I just speak Latin. Also..." I tried to test my luck. "What's up with all this bondage stuff? Couldn't you and I speak without restrictions?" Get it? Get it? ...It was a pun. Like, "restrictions"? Two meanings of the word? ...Oh well. The ginger mare didn't get it either.

"No can do, hun." The mare winked.

The first punch came as a surprise.Or, rather, a kick. The stallion hit me right in the face, and I won't lie: it hurt. Nothing broke, so I assumed he wasn't beating me at full might, but it was still extremely painful for me to just feel the skin of my face. I didn't dare open my eyes.

"What do you do for the Legion?" the stallion demanded in a gruff voice. Dammit, wasn't it obvious I didn't work for the Legion? My face really, really hurt.

"I told you." I finally opened my eyes, noticing that the ginger mare still had the same grin. "I have nothing to do with the Legion." Another kick sent me down to the floor, along with the chair. I was sure I broke my jaw. Describing the pain would be meaningless. It was a different kind of pain, compared to getting shot with a laser, but it was still pain.

"If you don't speak, I swear I'll fucking kill you!" my assaulter growled. Despite the menacing tone, I couldn't get my thoughts right. What was I to confess? Hell, I didn't even know what the Legion was supposed to do!

The Hoof of Pain was near my face again. "Okay, okay, I confess, I did it!" I yelled, watching the stallion pause. It won me some time to catch my breath, and for that, I was thankful. Thank you, brain. You're good, mate. Really good. Both the mare and the stallion looked at me expectantly. I took a breath.

"It was I who killed the Kennedys!"

Okay, apparently, that was a bad idea. Either the NCR didn't care about the Kennedys, or they were unaware of their existence; one way or another, two more kicks were placed on my face and one nearly broke my rib. Did I mention I was lying on the floor? Yeah. So much for democratic measures of interrogation. Somehow, I was liking the NCR less and less with each passing second.

"Either you stop fooling around, or I'll rip out your Celestia-damn Legion balls!" the stallion roared.

"Not really a democratic measure, is it?" I coughed, spitting blood. And a tooth. Just great. An amazing way to start the day. If it was morning, that is.

"Don't you dare speak about democracy, you Legion scum!" Another kick, right to the gut. I must admit I felt an urge to vomit, but didn't, due to the fact that I hadn't eaten in a while. (Yet more proof that avoiding pears is good for you.) Instead, a trail of blood ran out of my mouth. It tasted rather steely. "Besides, President Coltball allowed us to use any measures against the Legion!" What a stupid name. I didn't say it out loud, of course, but... Coltball? Really?

Generally, those NCR ponies seemed to be really stupid. As in, reeeeeally stupid. Extraordinarily stupid. Assuming that somepony was Legion just because they spoke Latin? Stupid. The highest tier of stupidity. No, actually, that would be killing people on sight, just because. But then again, that could be considered madness…

Before I could give in to philosophical thoughts, however, the ginger mare whispered something to the stallion, and he disappeared. The mare levitated my chair up (damn unicorns and their magic! I hadn't even noticed her horn beneath the cap: must be really small, that horn) and leaned closer to me, her hot breath falling on my cheek. "Come on, now that the big bad pony's gone, you'll tell me all about it, right?"

Riiiight. Straight away, ma'am. "You know, I don't have a habit of talking to torturers. Besides, I'm really not working with the Legion."

The mare huffed. "Your choice."

The stallion dragged a familiar cyan mare into the room. Noticing my rather compromised position, Kira snapped at the ginger mare, "Get off him, you bitch!" Ouch, that language. But, in a way, it was somewhat fitting, given the current situation.

"Oh, so protective of your coltfriend, are we?" the ginger mare cooed. It... It didn't even make sense. Neither lexically nor grammatically. She grinned at me with mischief in her eyes. "What if we beat up your marefriend while you watch, huh? I bet that'll make you speak, huh?" Okay. Now, right now, at that exact moment, those NCR guys fell even below the whole-town-burning Legion, in my eyes. That was plainly wrong, and sadistic. All that "democracy" was just for the posters, as it seemed.

I just glared at the mare, trying to vaporise her with my eyes, which, alas, proved impossible to achieve. Kira spat on the ground as the ginger mare untied my ropes. I watched the cyan mare being tied to the chair, my legs wobbling. I couldn't fall down now. I couldn't. Showing them my weakness would only add even more fuel to the fire of their sick anger. Unless they were doing it all in cold blood, that is. That was a very real possibility.

I stood there and watched as kick after kick landed on Kira's face, and legs, and chest. I stood there, and couldn't blink, as if there were a number of weeping angels before me. The cyan mare's screams resonated inside my very brain, penetrating my ears. Her blood and tears formed a blurred mess that, as it seemed, would forever leave an imprint in my brain. That was when I started to shout.

At first, my yells were unrecognisable, driven by a violent mood swing - jumping straight from sarcasm to horror isn't a good thing for your psyche - but then grew into a stream of consciousness, "I'll tell you everything! Stop beating her, Celestia damn it! We were passing a town - a little town on our way here - and they had a damn lottery - and then there were those Legion guys - they just killed everypony - but one survived - and we talked to them! But I'm not with them, for fuck's sake! Let her go!"

Tears were streaming down my face freely, soaking my cheeks as they mixed with blood. My legs gave way, and I collapsed to my knees. The beating stopped, and the stallion looked at me dispassionately. Only now did I notice that his eyes were a breezy light blue - a terrifying contrast to his violent, merciless behaviour. The ginger mare glanced at me, then at the Guardpony. I breathed heavily. Kira was weeping in her place.

"Legionaries don't cry," the Guardpony said finally, breaking the silence. Dully, I noted that they called Legion soldiers "legionaries", and not "legionnaires". The ginger mare shrugged, rubbing her chin. I prayed that they would let Kira go. The worst thing was that they paid no attention to her being a mare, a lady. Common courtesy didn't exist here, as it seemed. All of us were subject to the same torture. That's what "equality" is all about, I guess.

The ginger mare nodded towards me, and the Guardpony grabbed me, making me wince in pain, and dragged me out of the interrogation room.

As he threw me into the cell, next to a dispassionate Turner, I couldn't make out if Kira was still being tortured or if her cries were forever stuck in my mind.

***

I hadn't exchanged a single word with Turner. The stallion had just cast a passing glance at me, and averted his eyes, once more looking at the wall. Even though this was seriously freaking me out, I didn't have enough power, or desire, to talk. Turner just didn't give a damn. This was his attitude towards everything; let it remain so.

The Guardpony opened the cell door and threw in a very beaten Kira, hanging on the verge of unconsciousness. I crawled towards the cyan mare wearily. Her forehead was red from blood, and I saw a slight crack pierce her horn. Turner stood up wordlessly and left the cell before the Guardpony could touch him. I labelled him traitor. I don't know. I mean, he didn't seem to care about me, all right; I was a stranger, after all; but he didn't give a fuck about Kira's well-being. And, according to the unicorn mare, Turner and she were rather close. Or, had been close, at least.

"It's all right," I cooed soothingly as I held the mare in my hooves, trying not to touch any sore spots. "It's all right." It wasn't all right. But it was the least I could do. Without our supplies, I couldn't apply a bandage or a healing potion to the wounds, and I sure as hell wasn't a qualified surgeon to fix the crack in her horn. I wasn't sure if she could cast magic, after all of that. And the psychological trauma was sure to stay with her for long. I had seen things; I would overcome. She could fail to overcome.

Kira wept, damping my fur further, but I remained steadfast, hugging her, holding her close to my chest. It was the least I could do. The least I could do. For a while, I just stroked her mane carefully, lest my blood-stained hooves mess with its brown beauty. "We'll get our revenge on them." I knew I was making empty promises, but at the moment, it didn't matter. I could only talk and stroke her mane as my heart drenched in painful empathy. "I swear on everything that's holy, they'll pay for this."

Kira raised her head, looking into my eyes. They were bloodshot, and tears were streaming down her face below the blood-covered forehead.  Her nose was broken, as it seemed, and the blood had already caked there. I felt a lump in my throat at how dull her eyes were; but even more so they were hopeful. I tried to smile, reminding myself that I was lacking a tooth and could scare her.

And then she kissed me.

I can't say it was the best kiss in my life. It wasn't even good. The copper taste of blood in my mouth mixed with Kira's blood and saliva, making it rather... peculiar. There was no passion from either side; I felt no arousal or excitement. In a way, it was a desperate kiss of two broken ponies, a kiss sealing their devotion to fighting for a common goal. Like a hoofshake.

After we broke the kiss, Kira tried to back away, but I held her tight, and, soon, she relaxed in my grip, laying her head on my chest and closing her eyes. I decided that a little sleep wouldn't hurt, so I closed my eyes as well, the images of pain and torture still dancing beneath my eyelids.

I don't know how long we had half-lain, half-sat there, but when the door to the cell opened once more, I had already felt a little more invigorated. Maybe it was the endorphines from the kiss. Maybe it was the oath that I had given. Maybe it was just a few minutes of sleep.

Turner stood there in the doorway, his saddlebags on his back, and Kira's saddlebags in his mouth. He didn't look beaten up or anything of the kind, even though the Guardpony was standing right next to him. He tossed the saddlebags towards the cyan mare, who barely caught it with her magic, wincing in pain. It seemed that she was still able to cast magic, but was experiencing difficulties with it. "Get up. We're leaving."

What? I looked at the Guardpony, but he just stared at me dispassionately. Judging by the fact that our possessions were back, and Turner walking around freely... Dammit, it seemed that he was no traitor, after all! All that time, he'd been thinking up an ingenious plan of freeing us - and it seemed that it turned out well! I got up, smiling. Well, Turner wasn't so bad after all, albeit a little strange at times... all right, most of the time, but still! How he'd managed to talk it out with the NCR evaded me. I got up, smiling.

"Not you." Huh? I cocked a brow, but the pegasus just measured me dully. "You will do what the ponies of the NCR say. Consider your debt to me paid in full." He... He... The realisation dawned upon me swiftly. He never talked it out with the NCR. He'd just made a deal with them. Basically, he had bought his (and Kira's) freedom by selling mine. Even if I weren't in debt to him (or, rather hadn't been in debt to him, seeing as he forgave it so quickly), I would have still ended up in the same situation. The NCR didn't really like me. Being a slave? Not a pleasant occasion, even if it wasn't called "slavery". But... At least he'd saved Kira.

Speaking about Kira, the mare got up, glaring at the pegasus. "What the fuck, Turner? I'm not going anywhere without the Doctor!" I was glad for the loyalty, but I couldn't help but wince at the thought of Turner leaving alone, without the unicorn mare.

So I shifted closer to her. "Kira, listen to me. Everything will be all right. Go with Turner, please. I'll catch up to you." If they don't kill me, that is.

"You are." Turner stared at the mare for a while. "I promised your father that I would look after you, and I will." Oh yes, "look after" her. Where were you when she was beaten up to a crying, bloody mess?! Hypocrisy is on my list of things that I despise, above Labourists, and even pears. "If I need to tie you up and carry you on my back, I will."

Before Kira could make another remark, I leaned in and started whispering into her ear, "Listen, don't be stupid. This is your chance to get out. I swear, I'll make it through. I promised you I'll get revenge on those bastards, and I sure as hell will keep it." I whispered more, and more, something about love, and my ability to regenerate, and a bright new day, until she finally nodded and kissed me on the cheek. I didn't return the gesture, but nodded in appreciation.

Before leaving, she levitated a brown Stetson out of her bag - my Stetson. I took it wordlessly, and, just as wordlessly, my two companions - ex-companions - left. I felt a strange, hollow emptiness inside my chest. I couldn't bring myself to be angry at Turner for betraying me, if only because he never pledged his allegiance to me. Well, at least I didn't owe him money now! ...Yeah, that was not a very cheerful thought. Moreover, I was relieved that Kira was safe. It wasn't a lover's concern - mainly because I wasn't her lover - but it was the kind of concern an elder brother would have about his younger sister. I prayed that she would be safe.

"So, are we going to cooperate?" a familiar female voice reached my ears. I lifted my head and saw the ginger-maned mare in the doorway, smiling at me.

"Does it look like I have a choice?" Because it didn't look like I had a choice.

The mare's smile faltered for a moment, but she got a hold of herself immediately and continued, as if nothing had happened.

"This is what we need you to do..."

***

"Are you fucking insane?"

Okay, I normally do not swear, but dammit, were they out of their minds? Sending me on a suicide mission? Better kill me right here and right now!

"It's a relatively easy task," the ginger mare reasoned. "There and back again." Yes, more like "there and never back again".

"So, let me get this straight," I began. "Infiltrating the Legion as an escaped legionary previously held hostage by the NCR, getting to know their next move, then getting back to you with the information - is a 'relatively easy task'?"

The ginger mare nodded. "Well, since you aren't with the Legion, but know their language, you make a perfect infiltrator." She smiled. "Do it, and you're free." That... That didn't even make sense.

"Wait. So now that you know I'm not with the Legion, shouldn't you issue an official apology for beating me up and let me go?" I enquired. "Isn't that how democracy works?"

"Democracy works in many ways," the Guardpony dropped. And that's why I prefer monarchy. "Besides, we are not sure whether or not you are working with the Legion. If you are, NCR spies within the Legion will assassinate you before you can say 'Fuck'." Well, that was... reassuring.

I chewed on my bottom lip, squeezing my hat in my hooves. As I may have already mentioned, I had no choice. "Will there be some kind of briefing? Something I should know about the enemy?" I decided to call the Legion "the enemy", just to stay out in the safe.

"The Legion is a new formation," the ginger mare explained. "We don't know much about it, with the exception that they are devoted to their leader, they are merciless, they respect strength and oratorical skill, and they are after our turf." Something was telling me that the latter was the NCR's greatest concern.

Well, it seemed that the NCR just needed somepony like me, somepony who spoke Latin, to infiltrate the Legion. This was no issue of "democracy" or anything of the kind. They would use any measures to protect their territory. And, to be honest, I didn't just have no choice. I had no choice nor did I have a desire to do anything else. I was alone, for the first time in this wasteland, and, to be honest, I was growing quite apathetic. And what could deal with apathy better than a good old fear of death?

"All right. Let's do it. But I need some food, water, and my radio." If I was going to be crucified, at least I'd die listening to Mr New Pegas' voice. "Or, Celestia help me, I'll commit suicide before you can make use of me."

***

Actually, neither the food nor the water had been worth committing suicide for. Tasteless pre-war canned food and dirty irradiated water. Ah. So refreshing. Well, it was better than nothing, I had to admit. Also, the good news was that I still had my radio with me! The bad news was that they didn't let me turn it on, given my condition as a prisoner. Oh well. At least my Stetson was firm on my head, even though I was tied and dragged along a narrow path that was leading to the east from the one Turner had been leading us along. If they were going for authenticity, they had succeeded. The ropes ground against my legs painfully, and I felt distinctly uncomfortable.

"So, what's the legend behind my mission again?" I clarified, reminding myself that he who was aware remained alive for a longer time.

The ginger mare (her name was Katie, as I'd managed to find out; how cute) groaned. "Honestly, it's the tenth time you've asked this question!" Then, with a sigh, "You are a decanus, one of Centurion Maximus' subordinate officers. You were captured by the NCR on your way to deliver a message to Caesar." At least she pronounced it "See-zar". "All of your weapons were extracted from you so you couldn't commit suicide." This was very important, from what I gathered; the Legion didn't like their soldiers agree to be taken hostage. "You are important, because Maximus gave the message to you, and only you. You must deliver it to Caesar."

"And what if that Maximus shows up and doesn't recognise me?"

"He won't." The Guardpony (still never learned his name) grinned. "The dead don't talk." Oh.

Well... That seemed pretty easy. Except there were probably a million complications that would arise. Oh well. After a few hours of uneventful walking, I spotted three equine-shaped figures on the horizon. Before I could ask my... "companions" about it, they quickly dropped me onto the sand and retreated, without dropping a salute or even a word. Oh well.

As the figures came closer, I made them out to be three legionnaires - or, rather, legionaries. Seemed like the NCR soldiers were right: this road was of the the Legion's trade routes, patrolled daily and nightly. Also, as a passing thought, I mused that I could probably write a thesis on the importance of travelling in threes in the Wasteland.

The figures silently hovered above me - three stallions in Legion armour, their weapons aimed at me. "Sum Decanus Bonus, Centurioni Maximi." Rather spoken and informal, true; but my Latin was a little rusty, I had to admit. Besides, I liked the name "Bonus". It had a certain ring to it.

One of the legionaries frowned, not moving a centimetre. "Do you all speak like that in the East?" Speak like... Oh, right. My Byzantine pronunciation probably showed. I nodded, a bit surprised that they were speaking English. Or, well, Equestrian. Which is the same language.

The East. Right. Apparently, the Legion was divided in two parts: the Eastern territory, which was led by some Decanus, who reported directly to Caesar, and the Western territory, which  was led by, well, Caesar himself. Well, since I "was" from the East, I could pretend that my accent was Eastern, as well.

"What happened, Decanus? Where is your armour? Why are you tied up?" Damn, it was anticlimatic, hearing that legionary speak English. I mean... Well, I'd enquire into that later. Still, it was good for me. I wouldn't be able to speak Latin all the time, I guess. Not without my TARDIS' innate translator.

"I am to deliver a message to the mighty Caesar," I replied, feeling a little more comfortable speaking English. Still, I had an excuse to pronounce it "Tse-zar". Yay, I guess. "Our contubernium was ambushed by the NCR, and all my soldiers were killed. They stunned me and ripped me off my weapon and armour. Then they took me here to get rid of me, but then saw you and fled like the cowardly rats they are." Please buy it please buy it please buy it...

"Why would they take you so close to our territory?" the legionary mused aloud. He frowned, looking at me. "And why are you wearing a hat?" Damn. Turner had been right; I shouldn't have taken the damn Stetson.

"Well, we all wear hats in the East, didn't you know?" I said with as much confidence as I could possibly muster, praying that he would buy it.

"Then why didn't they confiscate it?" Fuck. Should have thought that through... Think, Doctor, think!

"They found it useless." Please buy it, for fuck's sake!

The legionary was silent for a while. "What about the radio on your back?" You. Son of a...

"My last wish. I always tune in to NCR broadcasts to listen to their latest movement, and I wanted my fellow brothers of the Legion to find it and make use of it, if necessary." Come on! I itched for drastic measures. "Now, soldier, untie me already!" I assumed that those were mere troopers, while I was obviously an officer. So, my word should mean something! Right?

Apparently not. "Let's take him to the Fort. They'll decide what to do." Damn it. The two legionaries on the sides propped me up without untying me.

"Soldiers, I'll have you crucified this instant if you do not untie me!" I roared in a vain attempt to intimidate the stallions.

The legionary who'd been talking to me only smiled. "Decanus - if you are a decanus, and not a filthy NCR spy who I think you are - you should know that you cannot crucify a legionary without either the Senate's or his commander's approval." They started dragging me along the road. "And our commander is in the West."

Fuck.

***

A pony's brain is a strange, strange contraption. A Time Lord's brain is a contraption yet stranger. As I was led by the three stallions, once more a prisoner (had I stopped being one, after all?), all my brain could focus about was Kira's backroom. And not in the sense you have just thought. Perverts.

I mean, if her house did have a backroom, then where was it? And what would a terminal be possibly connected to? And, more importantly, how the hell did Kira know that it held documentation if, according to her, the whole town was illiterate?! At least those thoughts kept my mind off my possible upcoming crucifixion. Oh well.

Also, I was hungry. As in, extremely, unbearably hungry. Hungry to an extent I would eat a pear if I closed my eyes and imagined it was something else. Like an apple. On a brighter side, my wounds seemed to be healing well; and, once more, I mused about my possibly being able to heal better than the next pony. I mean, not "the next pony", as in, "the pony next to me", or, "the pony who's next in the queue" or something of the kind; I mean... Look, it's a figure of speech, okay? Okay. So. Yeah. Where was I?

Oh, being dragged by two Legion ponies! That's where. And, once again, my Box of Many Wonders wasn't there to soothe me. Well, technically speaking, it was there; just off. Oh well.

We had crossed a small valley and were now climbing up a steady slope of a scorched hill. Back in my time, hills used to be green. With grass, you know? Anyway. Crossing the hill (the way down was a bit easier), I saw what seemed to me a five-tent camp by another hill, just near that point where the hill... circles itself. You know the one I'm talking about. Maybe not; but just take it for granted. As we drew nearer, I realised that this was probably the Fort. Didn't seem like a fort to me, but who was I to judge?

Anyway, I decided to make a pleasant remark to win some points with the legionaries. "I am amazed by the practical and honourable simplicity that the mighty Caesar has borne in mind whilst building his Fort." How many points do I receive?

The stallions just exchanged plain looks and kept on propping me forth. Why weren't they humbled by my comment? And, more importantly, why were we skipping the tents? As we circled the hill (remember that circling point I mentioned above? Yeah, that one), I could see why.

The scenery that hit my eyes in a bright firework of light and colour could only be described as a city. Not a village, not a town, not a settlement; a city. Dozens, if not hundreds, of buildings surrounded an enormous palace, red-and-purple banners swishing in the wind. Curiously, I noted that the Legion's flag was plain: no image, no motto, no symbol. Just two stripes of red and purple. The whole city was situated in a crater-like valley, protected by high stone walls; not the usual wood and metal and what have you. Stone! And the buildings! They were properly built, from stone and wood and metal carcasses - not your common wasteland shacks! Celestia, I think I'm finally seeing some civilisation here!

However, my observations had to be halted as the legionaries pushed me down the hill, limiting my overview. Suddenly, a hole in the cloud curtain came to life, ripping the grey layer apart. It was a tiny hole, but specks of warm sunlight fell onto the city walls, illuminating them beautifully. My mood brightened a little; maybe it's true that one's mood depends on sunlight greatly. I don't know; I'm no doctor. I mean, I am The Doctor, not a doctor. You get the idea.

My companions' mood, however, didn't brighten, as they kept on dragging me towards an enormous gate elaborately decorated with carved eagle figures. Hmm. Maybe an eagle was the Legion's symbol? Welp, all better than NCR's ursa. My heart slowly dripped with poison as I thought of the NCR. Kira's cries still resonated in my ears. And, as if on cue, the hole in the cloud curtain vanished, leaving only the everpresent grey. Not even gonna say "oh well". Oh well.

Damn.

The Fort - and I was perfectly sure this was the Fort - was a prospering city, judging by the merchants flowing freely through a small (well, relatively big, since the gate was damn huge) opening in the front gate. I say "front" gate, because there are usually back gates in such, erm... establishments. If "establishment" is the word I want.

"Is travel prospering around here?" I wondered, gazing at purple-red flags adorning the backs of the merchants'... two-headed cows?! What the?.. "There are two-headed cows here?!" I blurted out, not caring about blowing my cover. I mean... Two-headed cows, guys. Serious business.

One of the legionaries glanced at me with an, "If you hail from the East, you must know about the brahmin." So, these were called 'brahmin'. Huh. Peculiar. Oh, I also blew my cover. Congratulations, Doctor.  "And yes, the mighty Caesar has seen to it that all trade routes are protected so that merchants can pass freely, without any guards." Huh. Seemed pretty interesting. From what I gathered, peaceful travelling wasn't widespread in the Equestrian Wasteland.

We approached the front gate, step by step, passing merchants with their flad-adorned co... brahmin. I wondered if the plural form was "brahmin" or "brahmins". Welp, I'd ask later. If I got out of it alive, that is. I noticed one co... brahmin without a pony to accompany it, and glanced at it sadly. In a way, I felt like a stray c... brahmin, too. "Lost your master, poor thing?" I said warmly as we passed the lonely animal.

It looked at me with one of its heads. And then, "Watch your tongue, profligate." What. What. WHAT?! "I am a free brahmin, under the protection of the mighty Caesar." Idly, I noted that even this brahmin pronounced it, "Kay-zar".

"You can... speak?" I looked at my captors/companions weakly, unable to comprehend this world. On a second thought, weren't Equestrian pre-war cows able to speak? I needed to refresh my memory on that point.

"Not many of us can, profligate," the brahmin said and trotted on, through the gate. Again with the "profligate". I mean, I can indulge in a whisky or a game of Blackjack, but does that make me a profligate? No, sir. And, to be more authentic, he (she? it?) could have said "profligatus". To sound more Roman and stuff, you know?

As I looked left, I would have rubbed my eyes if I weren't bound. Off in the distance, I saw a great, magnificent set of skyscrapers, barely touched by age and destruction, as it seemed to me (can't say for sure: one of the things I do not possess is perfect eyesight), lining the horizon in neat groups of two, three, four. There were dozens of them! It looked like a beacon of civilisation in the wasteland, and, among the tall, majestic buildings, I saw a tower. No, the tower. It was far away, but I could see it well, for it grew above all and everything. It was thin, needle-like, its tip prodding the sky; or, rather, the cloud curtain. Beneath the top was a round (or oval) chamber-like glass-covered compartment of some sort, one that could probably include hundreds of ponies at once. And... At that exact moment, I was sure that it was the Lucky 56, my ultimate destination. (Also, Turner's; but I didn't want to think about him now. I could only hope Kira was well.)

Still, it was far, but not too far. In fact... It could be Caesar's land. Or it could not. I decided to keep that question to myself, for now. Close up, the gates weren't as majestic. Sure, they were grand, and golden, but there were scratches and occasional patches of dirt; and the steel beneath the golden cover was beginning to rust. As we neared the gate protected by three (as if there ever was a doubt) guards, I saw my faithful brown Stetson fall to the ground, hitting the dirt. I winced, grabbing the hat with my teeth as my... escorts kept dragging me along. I really did like my Stetson. I even felt, as silly as that sounds, that it was giving me a better... perception of reality, I guess. Like, my eyesight, which naturally is far from perfect, got way better. And stuff. Anyway.

One of the guards, as I could observe, was a zebra! This actually raised my spirits a little. I mean, a zebra! At least these guys weren't racist. Just murderous imperialists. Makes it so much better. Oh well. One way or another, I decided to drop a greeting to, you know, greet the guards. Before I was taken to the cross. To be crucified. I wondered, as the gates opened, if I would regenerate over and over while dying over and over. On a cross. Of weakness, starvation and dehydration. Oh well.

At that moment, I remembered that I had only one regeneration left. One. Regeneration. Left. The desire to say how-do-you-do vanished in an instant. The desire to stuff my stomach with a lot of delicious food was still very much present.

I will save you the details of my being dragged through the entire... city, I guess, given the size and the splendour of the settlement: there is nothing interesting about that. Let's just say that there were rocks flying my way, thrown by foals, mostly. Jewish or Arab foals, apparently; for I could not remember the Romans having such a punishment. Maybe there was. I don't remember. Sue me.

Anyway, as I was (finally) dragged through the city streets, I gave in to the ancient Time Lord weakness of observation. The little city (or huge, if you think in wasteland terms) was alive and breathing with action. A grim-looking zebra was looming over a huge stone disk, sharpening knife after knife. Three earth pony foals ran past me (well, us, technically), nudging forth a colourful ball. A zebra mare walked side by side with a unicorn mare, who was carrying two shopping bags in her levitation field; both were laughing. Caesar's city gave me a feeling of a prospering, booming town - a hope-raising prospect in a wild, bleak wasteland.

On the edge of the Fort - rather, at the far side, by the wall - rested about a dozen of tents, one significantly larger than the others. I assumed that was the commander’s-in-charge tent. Though, if this was the residence of the mighty Caesar, wouldn’t that technically make him the one in charge?

Before I could practise the mighty Time Lord art of inner philosophy - an art that, if I may remark, is the one thing that can keep even a sleepy Time Lord awake - I was dragged, erm, escorted, through the small cobbled path that led past the smaller tents and up to the great purple tent of the seemed-to-be-commander.

And, indeed, the pony inside did seem like a commander. In fact, he seemed like the commander. The one commander whom I had the pleasure (or, rather, displeasure) of having encountered in that Celestia-forsaken town we passed. Remember? With all the brutally crucified ponies and all? With the town burning to hell? That one commander.

“Oh, look at you,” was all he said, but it was enough for my (well, technically, the NCR’s) meagre plan to fall to bits. Caps. Whatever. Of course he would remember me. Of course I had no way to infiltrate the Legion. Of course there was a cross with my name on it.

I have no idea how I recognised him without his battle barding (and the battle kilt), but let’s just assume that my eyesight is perfect. Because it totally is. The brown earth pony (him, not me) motioned for my escorts to let me go. I fell to the floor with a dull thud. Technically, it was the ground, not the floor; but since the tent was built on a chunk of cobbled asphalt, let’s assume it was the floor. I checked my Stetson, just to see if it was there. It was there. A little relieved, I stood up from the floor, putting the hat on my back.

“Travelling alone now?” the commander… Let’s say, The Commander wondered, approaching a table with a map, which was the only piece of furniture in the tent. The table, not the map.

“Well…” I drawled amicably, “my companions may or may not have ditched me and left me to face certain death.” I shrugged. Which was a very brave thing to do, considering I would undoubtedly be crucified very, very soon.

“You seem educated,” the other brown pony in the room (tent, whatever) remarked, taking a brief glance at me. “You know our language.” He looked at me, expecting a reply. We Time Lords have this special ability to figure out if a reply is expected or if it’s just a how-do-you-do kind of question.

“A little,” I replied evasively. “I’m rusty,” I added swiftly, just so he wouldn’t examine me. I mean, sure, I’m smart and I can pass any examination, but, you know, I’ve been relying on the universal translator a little too much.

“What do you say,” the commander offered in an offery tone that made me shiver a little, “if I pardon you, assign you to become a praetor for the Fort. The last one was crucified for bribery,” he added in a bored manner. So much for equinity!

“Don’t tell me you’re just so kind as to grant me a place in the Fort, and a place of high standing at that,” I replied, wary of the whole ordeal. “Just because I speak La- your language?”

“Not really.” The commander sighed and rubbed his nose. “See, we’ve been told that a pony of your description would eventually come, and that pony would possess remarkable intelligence and would be capable of wondrous feats.”

Well, now that was good praise if I ever heard any. But one thing bugged me: who was that pony speaking of me so lavishly. As a good Time Lord, I voiced my concerns straightaway: “Who was that?”

“I can’t tell you that,” the commander retorted. “He only said to show this to you.” With that, he took out something… something very familiar...

My screwdriver! It was my sonic screwdriver. I took a closer look, giggling - and my blood ran cold. On it, on my favourite sonic screwdriver, there was an engraving: Lupus Malus.

“Bad Wolf.”