Fallout Equestria: Oblivion
Prologue: To You, 200 Years in the Future
To You, 200 Years in the Future
by Cirrus
I woke up to the ship’s klaxons blazing all around me like the roars of hellhounds out on a hunt. I jumped out of my cot, put on my jumpsuit, grabbed for my firearm, and raced out of the cabin, bumping into another of the ship’s ensigns along the way.
“What the fuck’s going on?”
The ensign, shaking from head to hoof, set his wide and bloodshot eyes on me. “We’re under attack!” He moved to grab me, but I smacked him a good one right across the face.
“Get off me!” I shoved him out of the way.
The ensign glared daggers at me, but flew down the red-tinted hall. I got a good look at his patch: he was one of the ship’s gunners. If we were under attack by an enemy ship, he was as good as fucked.
Then I thought, wait a minute... I’m assigned to run ammo to those idiots. Oh fuck, I’m the one who’s fucked!
No, I told myself. Get it together Cirrus! You have a job to—
Before I could finish my train of thought, the ship violently banked to the right as a scraping sound ripped through the bulkheads. Whatever was attacking us, it was large enough to buck the Stratus like we were riding a tornado. With a gulp, I galloped down the corridor down to my station.
Just before I reached the ammo depot, the cloudship received another blow, one powerful enough to send the harrowing sound of crumpling steel reverberating all through the ship. It was enough to send me sprawling to the ground. It was a second before I could get back to my hooves again.
Somehow, I managed to stumble into the ammo depot. The room was large enough to accommodate at least several dozen ponies. Row after row of shells and smaller calibre rounds lined the floor and walls. Ten elevators lined the port and starboard sides, all leading to the turret stations. The shells used for the thirteen inch cannons had their own loading chambers that led directly to the five main batteries at the ship’s helm and rear.
“We’re dead!” one one of the ammo runners screamed as he crouched near his post, hooves over his head. The other ammo runners either looked just as piss-scared, but at least tried to keep their faces straight.
I was just about ready to smack the cowards when the lights started flashing, signaling that ammo was needed for nearly all fifty turret stations.
Fuck. No time to waste on a pissant. I loaded my cart full of ammo belts and raced to the nearest elevator. It took half a minute to get the cart into the elevator. I pushed the door close and pressed the button, shooting me up into the gunner stations.
There was another lurch from the ship. It launched me against the elevator wall, forcing me to smack my head hard enough to make my vision go hazy. I almost didn’t recognize the ringing sound signaling the door’s opening. I used the cart to support me as I got back up on my hooves, shaking my head to clear the ringing in my ears.
Then I saw what had happened to the gunnery station.
Half of the entire wall had been torn right off, taking no less than ten full turrets along with it. The five that hadn’t been ripped right off had been crushed, the gunners inside squished into red paste. Parts of the station looked completely frozen, a few unlucky ammo runners either completely encased in the ice, or half-trapped as they screamed in agony at what had to be a slow and painful death.
“Fuck this.” I slammed my hoof on the get-me-the-fuck-outta-here button and the elevator shot down its shaft. I was not going to risk my ass on a section of the ship that was good as lost. I exited the elevator and took the one across the ammo room. Just as the elevator doors parted, another blow to the Stratus bucked me against the floor face first. I spat out some blood as I licked at a part of my gum where I used to have a tooth.
There was another massive lurch. The deafening sound of metal being rent and torn filled my ears. What followed was blood-curdling screams, and then silence. A second later, the elevator that I was supposed to take up to the gunnery station was flooded by blood. Pieces of guts, and what I swore was a still intact pancreas, rained down alongside a wall of flames. That was followed by a torrent of ice that quickly turned all the gore into something that, had I been one of those savages that lived on the surface—or maybe a griffon—would have found rather appetizing.
Fuck. This. I stood up, legs wobbly from a mixture of adrenaline and fear. Without giving it a second thought, I raced out of the ammo bay just as a huge pale-azure claw ripped through the elevator shaft, forcing the bulwarks to shut close. Through the viewfinder, I saw a torrent of ice freeze everything, including several dozen ammo runners that hadn’t been fast enough to haul ass.
There was no denying it now. The ship was under attack by some sort of huge fucking dragon. But where the hell had it come from? They were all living in the blasted-out shell of the Badlands or dead thanks to ships like the Stratus, so in what sick universe was one doing attacking the ship? And when the hell had they learned to breathe ice?
I felt another rumble, and glimpsed more of the creature’s hide going past the tears in the elevator shaft, so many scales that they never seemed to end. I felt my blood go cold at the thought of the monster’s size.
The Stratus was a huge cloudship. It held over three-hundred crewmembers at any one time. It definitely wasn’t the biggest ship in the Enclave fleet, but it was more than enough to blast any wasteland nasties to kingdom come. That dragon had to be like something out of a nightmare if we were losing so badly to it.
I flew for it, passing by the engineering section on my way topside. The engine room was twice as large as the ammo room; the engines that allowed the Stratus to glide effortlessly through the clouds were monsters in their own right.
Just as I neared the direct topside lift, the dragon plunged its claw into the bulwark wall, right through five of the ship’s engines. With a mighty pull, the entire section of the ship flew off. The sudden drop in pressure had several unlucky engineers fly off right into that shipfucker’s huge jaws. I furiously beat my wings, managing to wrap my hoof around the nearest railing I could find. The bastard then had the decency to dig his bloodstained teeth into the lower section, dragging the ship down with it.
I hauled myself up. Fuck, it was hard. I was never good at pull-ups. I mean, I’m a fucking pegasus—what good are pull-ups when you can fly?
Just as I managed to crawl over the floor—which had once been a freaking wall seconds ago—the shipfucker decided to smash his skull over one of the five main batteries. This not only tore the fucking thing off the ship, but it also forced the vessel to lurch upwards. Before I could grab hold of anything else, I was launched tumbling down the hall, smacking right into other ensigns trying to escape. I smashed into one unlucky bastard so hard, that I must have snapped one of his legs in half. Still, he did provide a cushion, which I was thankful for.
The dragon let go of the ship, and the vessel righted itself. As soon as I was back on my hooves, I took flight. If the ship was forced to change direction, I would not be another fucking ball bearing in the pinball game.
I looked at the gaps in the ship’s hull. That ship-fucking dragon was making the Stratus its bitch. I had to get to the helm and get the fuck out of there. I didn’t even bother waiting for the lift to arrive. I opened the emergency escape hatch and flew up the elevator shaft, eventually reaching the topmost deck. I pulled on the elevator doors, and they parted, allowing me to stumble right into the top deck. I could see the skies outside. All I had was find an exit and put as many miles as my wings would allow between me and the shipfucker.
“Ensign Cirrus!” A deep, gravely voice rang through cacophony of agony and death filling the air. “What the fuck are you doing up here?”
I turned around to face the source of the voice. “If you haven’t noticed yet, sir—” shit for brains, I thought to myself, “—the ship’s getting torn apart by a fucking dragon! I don’t know about you, but I’m sure as hell not going to stick around to dragon chow!”
The pegasus, the captain of the Stratus, pulled a plasma pistol, which he aimed at my face. “Listen here, you coward,” he started, eyes hard and cold. “You’re going to go back to your post, and you’re going to stay there until the bitter end. That’s what you were trained for!”
Yeah, because all that shit sounded more noble back at Basic, I thought to myself. “The ship’s a goner. I’m not going to be worth anything to the Enclave if I get eaten.”
The officer’s brow hardened as his fetlock tightened around the pistol’s trigger. “This is insubordination. I can shoot you here and now for this!”
“Then do it!” I walked up to the captain and grabbed the pistol, pressing the gun’s caster barrel over on my forehead. “I want you to do it!” I glared daggers at the captain. “C’mon, shoot me! We’re all fucking dead if we stay on this ship anyway.”
The captain took a deep sigh, his fetlock tightening. Beads of sweat formed on his brow, his eyes losing their coldness.
“Dammit,” he whispered to himself, lowering the pistol. I breathed a sigh of relief. Part of me felt utterly terrified at the prospect of the captain having actually had the nerve to carry out his threat.
“You really are something else, you know,” the captain said with a chuckle. “Okay, you’re right. I’ll give the signal to escape. You get yourself to the topmost deck and prep the esc—” The hull next to us exploded as jaws the size of a sky tank ripped right through them.
The captain only got only a split second to recognize the dragon’s maw before it closed around us. His last action was to shove me aside, seconds before yellow teeth closed over him, severing his foreleg clean off. A moment later, the jaws pulled away. As the dragon retreated, I saw what was left of him... which wasn’t much.
I felt my wings give out at the sight. A numbness took over just as the ship once again lurched, and this time hard enough for the roar of an explosion to echo through the frame of the Stratus herself. Instinctively, I jumped out of the gaping hole the dragon had made.
As I fell through the sky, my wings refused to open. Cold air whipped at my face and threw my mane into a tangle around my face. I looked up and saw just how huge the dragon was. That bastard was enormous. Enough that his claws could rend what was left of the ship as it blew up into its face.
I struggled, and after a few more seconds, my wings finally snapped open. Just in time to prevent me from smashing against the side wind-blown hill. Still, the landing was hard.
When I finally came to a stop, I was lying there, likely on top of irradiated or tainted soil, uniform torn to shit, wings bloodied from the fall, and eyes wide as my mind tried to make sense of what had just happened. I kept on staring up as I saw pieces of debris start to fall through the clouds. If I paid close enough attention, I could pretend most weren’t the bodies of my crewmates who had been living, breathing just hours before.
I just lay there, shellshocked and utterly lost for emotion. Then I saw the dragon, roaring with pride as it dove down from the clouds to watch what remained of the Stratus rain down. It scanned the land with what I could have sworn was a smile on its smug face.
Then its eyes fell on me.
I swear, that shipfucker’s smile only grew wider. Bastard knew I was alive. It could have swooped down and eaten me without breaking a sweat, but the fucker didn’t. Instead it stared at me, a look that said, “No, you live with it.”
One final roar, and the bastard took off. In a matter of seconds, it was nothing but a speck in the horizon.
“I knew it would be a while before I could find a ride back home, but I—”
“Yes, we are well aware of what events transpired after your... miraculous escape, Ensign Cirrus,” the counselor said to me, ripping me out of my memories.
The cold night air that smelled like burning steel and flesh melted away to the dry, stale atmosphere of the Enclave Council chamber. I stood in the middle, on top of the coat of arms painted on the floor surrounded on all sides by the strongest pegasi in the whole Enclave. They all looked old as hell and mean enough to tear the steel off a Thunderhead.
I turned to the counselor who had spoken—Counselor Rainy Day—and nodded. “Yeah, the Nimbostratus found me, half dead and screaming at nothing, and brought me here. That’s the whole story, I swear.”
If any of them believed me, they didn’t show it. One of them spat into a cup, but I knew the asshole wished it was for me. The chamber’s dim lighting didn’t help, and the whole place smelled like pruny skin and overdue death. For all the reverence and fear they got, the Enclave Council wasn’t exactly impressive up close.
The youngest of them was the next to speak. He was the only one who still looked like he was in the military; buzz cut, flashy uniform, and a jaw that looked like it could make love to a boulder. His slate-gray eyes stared into mine. I couldn’t read any emotion from them.
“When the Council read your written report, few of us could believe that the daughter of such a... distinguished officer, could make such claims,” he began, and immediately shot me through the fucking heart. “However, upon hearing your colorful commentary, I believe I can speak for all of us when I say that you are less a crazed lunatic, and more a mentally-challenged victim of such a horrible accident.”
The other counselors nodded with him. “The Chief Medical Officer aboard the Nimbostratus provided us with her full report, which only helped expedite our decision. She notes that in the two weeks between you coming into her care and arriving here, you exhibited clear signs of post-crisis trauma, battle fatigue, and general depression. Your description of your father, the captain, is proof enough of that.
“This, along with your own account of the Stratus incident—a tragic loss of life due to ammunition mishandling, I might add—has led us to reach a verdict pertaining to the charge of insubordination and desertion of your post.”
I was too shocked for words. Well, no—I could think of a few, but they all rhymed with duck and wouldn’t have helped me out anyway. What I really wanted to do was throw myself at the old bastard and rip his throat out with my bare teeth. It was at that moment that I started to wonder if he was right about my condition.
I looked up at him as he picked up his wooden gavel. “The Enclave Council, under these special circumstances, finds you guilty of all charges by reason of insanity, and will forego the usual execution in favor of a dishonorable discharge from the Grand Pegasus Enclave, as well as banishment from all lands controlled by said governing body. Do you wish to dispute your sentence, ex-Ensign Cirrus?”
Like I have a fucking choice. “No,” I whispered, unable to meet the council in the eyes.
“Then you are dismissed. Pack up whatever items remain in your possession. You will be released in the morning.”
He brought his gavel down.
I stared down at the duffle bag resting by my hooves. In it were a pile of rations some stallion had delivered earlier, a few bottles of semi-clean water, a small survival kit, my personal side arm and enough energy cells to last me a few weeks, and a few other knick-knacks that some of the ponies from the Nimbostratus had come by to give. I didn’t know if it was because all my ranting and raving had gotten them to like me or if they felt pity for me.
Who the fuck was I kidding? Of course it was pity.
A knock came at the door of my cell. The thick steel door opened with a whine, spilling bright light into the dim confines of my temporary quarters. I thanked my lucky stars that it was only for another night. Any more sleeping on a mattress as thin as a ponyfeather was going to break my spine.
When my vision returned, I saw that the younger counselor from my trial was standing in front of me. Like before, his gaze revealed nothing more than an extreme disdain for my continued existence. However, instead of a gaudy uniform like before, all he wore was an old moth-eaten cloak.
“They wanted you killed, you know,” he began in a gravely, stepping next to my duffel bag. “By the Enclave, filly, you admitted to desertion! With all that nonsense going on in the wasteland about some hero stepping in where she shouldn’t, you would have been the perfect distraction to the voting public.”
“Then why don’t you finish what the other senile fuckers couldn’t?” I spat, glaring up at him. “I haven’t left yet, and banishment is as good as death anyway. At least this way it’d be quick. Or does the Grand Pegasus Enclave not want to get its hooves dirty on a crazy mare?”
Honestly, I was surprised that the punch he gave me didn’t do more than leave a sting. I had been betting on at least another lost tooth, maybe even getting floored altogether.
While I was rubbing my cheek, though, the old fool explained, “If you can shut that damn mouth of yours for five seconds, then maybe I can tell you why I argued for—and got—you a banishment!”
“What, you helped me? Why the hell would you do that?”
“You may not remember me, Cirrus, but Hazy Gale and I were both stationed on the same raptor back in our younger days. He saved my life more times than I can count, but I never got to return the favor. Now I’m doing it.”
“You’re Captain Gathering Storm?”
“Counselor Gathering Storm now, but yes.”
In all my father’s stories, Gathering Storm had been almost mythical—a regular fucking hero coming in to save his fellow pegasi from griffons or wastelanders with his trusty grenade launcher. I had always imagined him as some larger-than-life super stallion. Instead, the pony that stood before me was a hardassed old colt. He was about as tall as I expected, at least.
“Okay, Counselor, that’s really great and all, but how exactly are you saving my life by getting me banished? I can’t keep flying above the clouds forever, and those wastelanders would love nothing more than getting their dirty hooves all over me as soon as I touch down.”
I swear, that old fuck giggled. “Because your banishment gives you a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to do something you wouldn’t be able to otherwise.”
“And what’s that?”
Gathering storm’s eye grew steely. “Get revenge.”
I blinked, a small smile creeping over my lips. “I’m listening.”
Gathering Storm pulled out a freaky-looking watch from beneath his cloak. Well, it looked like a watch, with an oversized face and nothing that looked like it could tell time.
“Normally, you can only get these in a full suit of our MK II power armor,” he began, hanging the not-watch in front of my face, “but I snatched one of these for you. Before the war ended, an Equestrian company made devices called PipBucks that served as miniature maps, checklists, and personal radar to the wearer. Our technology is a bit cruder than theirs, but this can get the job done just as well.”
He dropped the thing into my waiting hoof. “We call it the Hoof-Worn Location and Directional Device,” he said. “It can give you directions to a set of coordinates, identify enemies, and broadcast any nearby radio communications. Just don’t expect it to sort your inventory like the regular Pick-Buck model can.”
I slid the wide band around my hoof, and to my surprise the thing gripped on by itself. The screen lit up in a dull orange color. “I think I’ll call it a PipBuck.”
“But it’s not—”
“Pip. Buck.”
Gathering Storm chuckled. “You are your father’s daughter alright.” Outside, a guard stepped by my cell door. He tossed what looked like a pair of basic explorer fatigues, minus all the emblems.
“Thank you,” Gathering storm said to the pony in power armor, who saluted in reply.
Gathering storm turned to look at me. “I tried to convince the council to let you have your father’s old set of power armor as a last ‘gift’ on his part, but they refused. The best I could get you was this set of explorer armor. It’s not going to protect you from plasma fire or make flying any easier, but it will do fine against smaller calibre weapons and most of the basic dangers the wasteland’s got to offer. Better than being sent out naked, I guess.” He chuckled, “That is, unless you prefer wrapping yourself in the bloodied scraps of salvaged armor from wastelanders.”
I grabbed the jumpsuit and slipped it on. It fit like a glove. “Thanks.”
Gathering Storm nooded and pointed to my Pip-Buck. “I’ve uploaded the coordinates of the Stratus’ last destination. Its real destination, not the milk run you were all told you were on.”
I looked up in surprise. “We were on a secret mission?”
“Of sorts. Your father and I were following a lead we found buried deep in the Grand Pegasus Enclave archives. A place called... Elysium. From the best we could tell, it was a cache of old pre-war weapons and tech. Dangerous stuff, too—not something we wanted the Council getting its hooves on before we could take a look at it.”
My eyes narrowed and bile rose to my throat. “So I’m just going to be my dad’s replacement; your lacky to go find you and the Council shiny new toys.”
Gathering Storm growled and shoved me back against the wall. His eyes were locked on mine and I could see the veins in his face quivering.
“Your father was my very best friend for years before you were a twinkle in his eye,” he barked. “You want to kill that dragon that took your dad, don’t you? Thing is, our best “dragon killer” got torn apart by that thing without giving it a scratch, if your report is to be believed. If there is anything in this world that can take down a dragon like that, it’s in Elysium.”
I must have looked like the scared little bitch I felt like, because Gathering Storm backed off. The old colt raised a hoof to me like he was going to pat me on the back or something, but he lowered it and shook his head. “Take my advice or don’t. It’s your choice. But if you ever want revenge—if you’re your father’s daughter at all—you’ll go to Elysium. Or you can die out in the wastes. Your choice.”
He stormed out of the room as sure as he came in, and slammed the door behind him, leaving me to my thoughts. They mostly consisted of how screwed I was.
They let me go the next morning. Well, pushed me out more like. My wings beat at the open air and I was gone, diving beneath the clouds and told to never come back. Truth was, with dad dead and the Stratus gone, there wasn’t anything to come back to anyway.
I may not be a fucking genius, but it hadn’t taken me long to figure out whether I should head to Elysium or not. Possibly being let back into the Enclave or permanent banishment to an unforgiving wasteland weren’t exactly two equal choices. The little Pip-Buck knockoff on my hoof displayed a map on its dull screen, and an arrow to show me where to go.
It took me two days to fly to Elysium. I don’t really have anything else to say about that. Flying is boring when it’s for more than ten minutes, and continuous flying without breaks longer than eating or shitting is doubly so. I was ready to collapse by the time I found the place.
On the way over, I had begun to wonder why nopony had ever found Elysium if it had been just sitting in the open for two-hundred years. That was before I ran into the humongous mountain range jutting out of northern Equestria. Flying past mountains peaks that looked exactly the same would have gotten me lost for good if I hadn’t had the PipBuck . Even then, it took me a few hours to find it.
Nestled between two sloping peaks in the closest thing the mountain range had to a valley, I could see, barely, a few artificial buildings at the bottom of a ravine. The PipBuck on my hoof said that was the place, so I flew on toward it.
There were no guards, no dragons, no anything in the whole valley that I had seen. As far as I could tell, it was empty and dead. I even let a smile start to break its way onto my face; my dumb luck had saved me again, and I would soon be up to my ass in high-tech guns and ammunition that’d give even that dragon a run for his money.
Just as I dropped between the valley walls, a loud buzzing noise filled my head, like a million bees all rumbling inside.
That was the first time I died. It fucking hurt.
