Fallout: Equestria Research Station Omega

by Rederik_Wood

Rating: mature
Tags: Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Human, Other, Original Character, Adventure, Crossover
Length: 5317

It's been 15 years since LittlePip saved the wasteland, and a young N.C.R. Merchant discovers the greatest threat equinity will ever know. A fan-derived tale set after the award winning Fallout: Equestria story.

It's been 15 years since sunshine and rainbows filled the sky and blew away the cloud cover of the Enclave. The Equestrian Wasteland is beginning to flourish under the banner of the New Canterlot Republic, opening trade and camaraderie among the wastelanders. Nopony Knows is a young merchant who began life with a silver spoon in his mouth that he ripped out himself in sight of something bigger... But what he comes across is something far too big for the young colt...

Published 2014-06-23 04:40:04 UTC
Last updated 2014-06-23 04:40:04 UTC

Investigate the Radio Broadcast

Fallout: Equestria; Research Station Omega

Written by Rederik_Wood, based off of Fallout: Equestria by Kkat
Chapter 1: Investigate the Radio Broadcast

-= Gawd save the Republic. In Gawd We Trust. Looking back, all these stupid jokes could have killed a fledgling nation two hundred years ago, but by Celestia, we are a beacon of hope in this desolate place. Fifteen years ago, when Rainbows filled the sky, and sunshine finally graced the surface of the Equestrian Wasteland, our fearless leader, Gawdyna Grimfeathers, organized what was once a bunch of Raiders, Mercenaries, and Stable Refugees into a peaceful and working community. After Magical Radiation and Taint were purged by the Gardens of Equestria, that community grew, and prospered. Too old and out of shape to continue being a Merc, Gawdyna settled down and organized her people further. We are the New Canterlot Republic, the rebirth of Equestria. President Gawdy, as she’s called now, is our leader, elected four times by popular vote and continuing to lead us to prosperity. We have reclaimed the pre-war industry, amassed an army of volunteers for our defense, and have given the wasteland a damn standard of living. Griffin, Pony, Zebra or whatever, pledge allegiance to the flag of the two-headed Ursa Minor, and you’ll be as close to living in the pre-war world as you’ll ever be. We work to expand our borders, bring peace and order to the wasteland, and rebuild the devastated world. From The Hoof to the Coltarado River, In Gawd We Trust.

Sometimes I say that to myself to remind me what I live for in this shithole of a world, and what I have to look forward to when I get home to NCR. I wasn’t even an idea when rainbows cleared the clouds, so I grew up in the Republic, son of a former Raider and a refugee from Stable 2 at Junction R-7. I’m your typical buck, 15 years of age, little more slender than others… OK, I’m a runt. Beige coat, unicorn, brown mane and tail, brown eyes, and as for my name? Nopony Knows. Really, I’m serious; that’s my name. My father, the Raider-turned-Senator Sincerity, had a horrible sense of humor; I think my name’s why I grew up a loner, too hard to introduce myself. Young as I am, I have a job, I run salvage outside of NCR territory in prospective settling and annexing areas. Scavengers like me are a necessity in making the nation work as we operate in two ways: Scout areas for annexation, and bring back any tech, material, goods, weapons, or food we can find. I’m better at it than most, partially because I spent four of the last five years in the Army. What, you though post-apocalyptic society was beyond foal soldiers?

Lot of Wastelanders think there’s easy money in amateur Scavenging, they’re the ones you hear about who wander into inhabited Raider towns, and getting their intestines turned into macabre streamers for Raider Décor. The Army taught me how to engage a superior force, ration supplies, shoot to kill, and rescue hostages, they didn’t just have me march carrying a Service Rifle to look important wearing one of those dumbass pith helmets like some ponies we annex to protect and improve seem to think. Everything they taught me has saved my life, or made it easier where another’s would be harder in my line of work, though it helps that they let me keep my rifle and my Desert Phoenix, the firepower really helps when things go teats-up. =-

I shake my head as I think these things, what am I doing? Giving somepony the story of my life? I should be focusing on the job ahead, heard it’s a big one. I adjust my brown baseball cap and merchant’s barding as I enter the swinging doors of the NCR Hub, the eyes of soldiers standing around drawn to me like flies to shit. Great, attention, just gimmie the damn job and I’m out of here. I trot up to the counter, and nod to the Lieutenant.
“Your name,” He asks, paying me no mind and flipping through a requisitions clipboard.
“Nopony Knows.”
“… I asked you for your name, son. What is it?”
“I told you, Nopony Knows,” I groan.
“Look, kid, I don’t have time for this shit, tell me yo-“
“Look, Lieutenant Asswipe, I don’t have time for this either. My name is Nopony Knows and for the love of Celestia’s flaming fuck-hole, give me the specs on Job U-9!” I bark at him, I love my father, but why the hell did he desire the task of making friends to be so hard for me? Perhaps it was my outburst, but everypony in the outpost is looking at me now. Fuck.
“Uniform Niner? You’re suicidal, kid,” One of the Troopers near the door chuckles.
“That’s Lieutenant Nopony Knows, NCR First Battalion, Second Company, retired, to you, Private,” I growl at her. That shut her up pretty fast.
“Look, Sir, I’m not going to lie to you, there’s a reason this job has a stigma,” The Lieutenant breaks the awkward pause, “Job’s been open for three months, accepted by four Scav teams, and not a single pony has returned. You’re a single colt. Army vet or not, it’s suicide. Should just take the damn notice down…”
“Just give me the specs. The NCR needs ponies like me to do this, and if I die, I sacrificed myself to broaden the ideals of freedom, safety, and peace,” I attempt to persuade him, to which he caves in. He pushes a dossier to me with his hoof, and then goes back to pushing other papers. “Thank you, Lieutenant.” I salute, and walk out of the complex, immediately burying my nose in the file.
“Investigate source of unknown radio broadcast outside of NCR territory. Channel on Pipbuck Radio Tuner Frequency 132.9 Hz. Pipbuck will triangulate signal origins,” I read. Suddenly it made sense as to how all those expeditions failed; none of them had Pipbucks, and had failed to find their destination, and died along the way.
Having been born a Stable Dweller’s son, my mother knew the importance of the Pipbuck. Fortunately, however gruesomely, there had been a massacre at the stable my mother used to live in prior to my conception, so there was a surplus of them at the time of my birth. It used to be Stable tradition to award it during the cuteceañera, a party congratulating a filly or colt on achieving their Cutie Mark, but ever since the great Heroine LittlePip was a blank flank until she got one, they just gave them out at the age of 10 ever since. That’s good because, I… Uhh… I don’t have a Cutie Mark. I’ve had my Pipbuck for five years now, and often I wonder what life would be like without it.
I tune into the channel, and a map marker appears between the ruins of a pre Sunshine settlement called “The Republic” and Old Canterlot Rubble, way off to the northwest. Both of those locations had been ruined before I even came to be, “The Republic” by Raiders, and Old Canterlot by the xenophobic Enclave. Well, I had the destination now, time to move out.

Looks to be three days travel out from here on hoof, so there’s no use standing still.

““We have got to move NOW, Lieutenant!” I shouted to my commanding officer as he barked assorted orders to the squadron, the buck was at least three times my age, so I didn’t blame him for ignoring me, “This Tribe is well known for use of incendiaries, and I for one do not want to be in a trench full of fire!” I didn’t get to say a word more to him when I caught the small flying object in the corner of my eye. Following my instincts and original notion, I promptly climbed the fuck out of the Louie’s foxhole, and headed behind the more suitable cover of a nearby downed brick wall. I saw the tin can bounce and roll into the hole, the officer looking down at it in bewilderment, and that was it.

BBBOOOOWWOOOSSSHHH!!

The foxhole erupted into a radiant red fireball as the air erupted in heat so great we’d all thought we’d had a micro megaspell dropped on us via fat-mane, and the overpowering scents of burning cleaning agents and radishes. This Raider Tribe had Sparkle~Grenades. Not only did they have the most powerful home-brewed fire-bomb in the wastes, we couldn’t see them; they had a delivery system with an impressive range. The flames were gone in but a moment, but there was absolutely no sign of our C.O… He had been completely incinerated by the blast. We were now leaderless, and up against a foe that could kill us all in a moment…”

The trip would be pretty boring for a colt as young as I without the training, and if it weren’t for the fact I got lucky that there was a trade caravan headed north along the road to New Appleoosa I tagged along with. We’re spending a good portion of the day swapping stories, and surprisingly enough mine were the more thrilling ones. Sure, getting picked on by raiders and would-be bandits, and the occasional oddball customer would be great, but these guys couldn’t get enough of how a colt like me was an army vet for my age, let alone the operations I’d lived through as a foal soldier; and I wasn’t even done with my tale.

““Hays? Lieutenant Hays!?” I called out as I stared in disbelief at the charred hole in the ground. He was gone, not even his dog-tags survived that blast. I looked down at my hooves spooked out of my head in grief of my fallen officer when I saw it, his shiny silver pistol. I levitated it to my muzzle, the last souvenir of my mentor. Thing was heavy, and from seeing him fire it, used 12.7mm ammunition.

The world was moving in slow motion as everything looked like it was ablaze around me, I was terrified, and I was going to die. I looked at the side of the weapon’s slide, and read the tiny inscription, “Fire Away”, I don’t know why, but I suddenly felt… Safe. I peered over my cover at the fortification, and then back at my brothers in arms, slumped against whatever cover they could hold as bombs and bullets flew overhead. I gritted my teeth raising the pistol, furrowing my brows and screamed,

“CHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRGGGEEEEE!!!””

“So, you just took command of the situation, kid?” the lead Brahmin rustler called back as we forged the dusty road.

“I had to. Everypony else was scared shitless, I was next in the chain of command, and I had Lt. Hays’ sidearm,” I shrugged as I continued to trot. I brought the map screen up on my Pipbuck to see our progress. Time was flying as we all went down memory lane.

“Just hard to believe is all, but I guess stranger shit has happened, like the time this Alicorn walked up to me and just gave me her clothes.” Now I looked at him funny this time.

“I vaulted over the brick wall I’d used as cover, breaking into a full gallop towards the main door of the stronghold, two guards flanking the opening with Flamers on their Battle Saddles were fast approaching, getting close to each other to make a door of pissed off ponies. I felt myself slip into a heightened awareness, everything around me seemed to slow down as Fire Away’s muzzle was drawn towards the fuel tank of one of the fire-breathers, and with a rush back to reality, the huge bullet flew with a resounding clap, piercing the tank with force, the magnum cartridge scraping through the metal in a shower of sparks of grinding and splintering metal, the fuel within exposed. In a flash, the tank exploded, turning its unfortunate operator into soup, and plastering his partner against a wall, spearing him on an outcropping of rebar.

I knew from that moment on I was levitating what could be considered the most powerful pistol in the world. I felt confident, I felt empowered, and I felt slightly deaf in the ear closest to the gun.”

“Fire Away, that’s the name of that Desert Phoenix on your hip, right?” the merchant taking up the rear asked as he pointed it out.

“Well, yeah. I keep it to this day in Hays’ honor. Saved my flank more than once,” I respond by floating it out and displaying it.

“How much damage you’d reckon it does?” he asks with a raised brow. My eyes go wide as a red tick mark appears right behind his green one on my Eyes Forward Sparkle.

“Hit the deck!” I exclaim as I point it right at him. Taking the cue, he drops to his withers as I pull the trigger, the resounding clap of the discharge permeating the area. The merchant opens his eyes and looks up, wondering what just happened. He slowly turns around to look at the slimy half-decayed corpse behind him missing the right foreleg and neck up. “That much… Fucking Ghoul! Get down, guys, we need to take it quick and quiet from here if there are more of them, which means no more demonstrations or stories for now!” I growl in a low whisper. We take off full gallop from the area as red ticks start to converge on the location of the fired shot.

“Nopony, you’ve got the EFS, where are they coming from?” The lead merchant asked frantically as we got ourselves and our pack Brahmin behind the cover of crumbling cement highway barricades. I take a look around, the blips were tracking from the direction of a particular building, focusing on it, I could see them shuffling out.

“Looks like the sewer way-station,” I report.

“Figures, they’ve been hiding in the pipes for years, musta’ just crawled their ways out,” the rear merchant mutters as he raises a 10mm submachine gun.

“You fire that, they hear it, they come here, and they eat our pack Brahmin. Now’s not the time. It’d be better to get out of here, warn the people in New Appleoosa, and take care of it if we head back to Junk-Town. We leave now,” I motion for them to make haste.

“When we started funneling into the compound, fire became less of an issue. The Tribals didn’t want to risk burning their own homes or chem labs down. Stripped of reliance on what gave them their infamy, their sluggish swings with switches and clubs were avoided and parried by the trained infantry colts. The smell of smoldering decay and hot blood were starting to slap me across the face as the enemy numbers thinned. The gravity of what warfare was couldn’t be drilled into you by an instructor or by stabbing a stitched dummy, only standing over the still warm carcass of an enemy brought understanding that you were in the middle of a place where it was kill or be killed. The battle was over; we had overrun the opposition, and had eliminated their threat to the wasteland. I leaned against the wall of a ramshackle hut to catch my breath when I noticed a still lit campfire, my eyes went wide as I focused on the flame, dancing and licking the logs of rotted wood that gave it life. The dancing flames seemed to transform, taking the shape of a demon’s face, looking me right in the eyes. Could swear that the blaze was getting bigger, growing to become gigantic to swallow me alive and burn me to my very soul.

“SIR!” a voice rang out and snapped me out of my stupor, “General Olive Branch is on his way to the village! He wants to congratulate you for securing the town personally!” a colt even younger than me cantering up to me before stopping in a salute. I nodded, and followed him away, averting my eyes from the logs. I could never look at fire again the same way.”

“And that’s the story of how I got promoted,” I sighed. After clearing out from the Ghoul outbreak, story time resumed so that we could calm ourselves from the encounter.

“That’s wicked; you got to meet General Olive Branch!?” The ever enthusiastic rear merchant chimed up.

“Oh, that’s nothin’. About four months after that-“ I began for another tale to pass the time.

I may have doctored the stories just a teensy tiny itty bitty little bit, but that was only the information civilians didn’t need to know, my haunch bucking was not exaggerated in the least bit. We parted ways as we entered New Appleoosa in the dead of night. I trotted away with an extra mag of 5.56 rounds for my Service Rifle and a package of Fancy Buck Snack Cakes as a gift for my company. Honestly, I feel kinda bad as a pony for parting them with their supplies over just a good conversation, but as a merchant, I got a hell of a deal.

New Appleoosa is a trading hub for the NCR, and a historic landmark for the nation. New Appleoosa was the first town to embrace the Stable Dweller, LittlePip, Heroine of the NCR, and the sight of the first major battle in the Wasteland-Enclave War. New Appleoosa also had another distinguished landmark; the headquarters of the most successful caravan company in the wastes, Absolutely Everything (And Everywhere). The last part was added as a subtext upon achieving a caravan circuit that stretched the entirety of the NCR, not a small feat at all. Place has a rich history and culture as a financial center, but at this hour, only place I’m paying patronage to is the local inn, ‘The Bunking Bronco’. 75 bottle caps for the night wasn’t bad, free apple breakfast included was an added bonus. Sleeping was effortless, and my eyes opened with the rising sun.

I swung into Absolutely Everything (And Everywhere) first thing in the morning to outfit for the trip. I had two days travel ahead of me yet, so I had a list; two days of food, and any 12.7 hoofgun and 5.56 rifle cartridges. Quite a sight, this shop, decorated with bits of history, odds and ends, and strings of odd tiny colored light-bulbs, and everything in the place except the building and what was welded, nailed, or screwed to it was for sale. I cantered up to the counter, expecting to see the glowing Ghoul that captured the hearts of a trading empire, but inst- hello! Her haunches were facing the counter she was propped up on her hind legs, leaning forward against a rack, peeking into an armored box as her horn gave off a light silver glow. I found myself staring at her blond tail and bare flank, adorned with a beautiful, sparkling silver bell.

“THAT’S NOT FOR SALE, KID!” rang in my ears and caused me to flinch. I looked over to the source of the deafening yell, and I recoiled again as I saw the ghoulified Royal Pegasus Guard staring right at me.

“Whoa! I-I’m sorry, Mister Lionheart, i-i-it won’t happen again!” I managed to squeak as his gaze absolutely pierced my soul. “IT BETTER NOT!” was all he had to say in his booming voice, which had centuries ago been magically forced into ‘Canter-lock’ by the armor now infused to his body. The verbal exchange caused the mare to look back at me, to which I met her gaze with a weak ‘sorry’ smile. She smirked, and returned to the counter to serve as the screaming stallion vanished into another room.

“Hello, welcome to Absolutely Everything (And Everywhere)! I’m Silver Bell, may I help you?” She spoke softly, which somewhat calmed me from the shock of facing down a miffed Canterlot Ghoul with a voice that could carry a mountain. “Don’t mind daddy, he’s just being careful.”

“Careful, right… May I see your goods?” Dammit, brain! Bad choice of words! Luckily, she missed the unintended innuendo, and began showing me what she had available for purchase. I had not come with much, I’d honestly expected to grab as much as I could on the job, and sell it, not needing extra items to weigh me down, just the essentials; Barding, weapons, ammo, food. If I had known I’d be consciously spending money, I’d have brought more to sell. I was only really willing to spend so many caps as I haggled, explaining just what I’d need the rounds for, and how I could work out something with her and her mother’s establishment when I got back. A 5% discount was all I could manage, well shit, I still had a few things to learn, and she’s been in this business longer than I, so I should be grateful I got less of the shaft than expected. I walked away with merely one extra magazine for either gun, but I promised, when I returned, I’d be trotting out with more than I came with.

Departing New Appleoosa, I continued on my way, keeping my pistol as close as I could. Wild animals weren’t under control in this region, and within a day, I’d be outside NCR jurisdiction. I had to be on my hooves, or else I might end up radigator chow, or Raider bait. Keeping low, I actually rather speedily crawl along the unbeaten path. I’ve been making good time so far, might have over-calculated my travel time by a day or so, just means I’ll be getting there sooner. I approach a ridge, and look off into the distance. Well, this is it, the end of the NCR territory. After this point, there’s really no help or turning back until I’m done.

Here goes nothing. I hop down the crest, sliding down the incline, kicking up a trail of dust until I make solid contact with the ground below. I stand up and dust myself off as I look back, then forward, a smug look plastered on my muzzle. With pep in my step, I hum an old tune as I canter into the bleak untamed wilderness.

This is the final stretch of my journey to the location marked on my Pipbuck, and the unofficial NCR border was to my rear, I’m really going to have to watch it now, this is where things can get fuzzy. I head straight towards the signal origin; I don’t want to take any longer than I should, and my imagination was already running wild. Why could it be that not a single pony had returned from this job? Where was I headed? Was the transmission a trap? Who was there? Raiders in a factory full of super-weapons? Intelligent Hellhounds lying in wait for prey, monsters of unspeakable kinds who had accidentally turned on a broadcast, a second Goddess? As my thoughts swirled with these horrible thoughts, I hadn’t noticed where I was, or perhaps because the surrounding area seemed safe, I let my guard down. My location must have been a pre-war suburb, now scorched and wasted by the balefire megaspells long past, appeared safe and unassuming, allowing my mind to wander as it shouldn’t have been. When I snapped out of my daydream, I found myself surrounded by red ticks on my Eyes-Forward Sparkle, fuck. I slowly started to look around, there were… Six. Six targets in a ring around me, three out front, and three behind me.

“Aww, hey there little buck, are you lost?” a male voice mocking concern rang out before me, a Raider trotting from behind a broken brick wall, a combat knife nestled in his teeth, his ragged armor revealing the image of a bleeding blade on his haunch. “Why don’t you come with me, I’ll help you find your mommy.” Great, this asshole was soliciting me; this means he wanted me alive. I’m not exactly down with the idea of being used as a cuddly colt condom, becoming a live dartboard, or having my corpse added to their home décor. However, he presented me an opportunity, one I’ll exploit with this clever ruse.

“R-really, mister? I-I’m scared, and lost, and my mommy ran away from me…” I feigned fear and distraught as his sneer grew, his associates and he must not see the weapons I’m carrying, even though the rifle on my back is longer than I am. I hit the Stable-Tec Arcane Targeting Spell, my mind immediately accelerated and fed data from the surroundings, I knew where they were, and my chances of hitting them if I relied on the spell, but their locations were all I needed. I disengaged the spell, all of the information flooding in and my accelerated mental function lasted merely a second; time hadn’t slowed down, my brain just moved at the speed of light so it seemed like it had. The Raider loomed closer, I could hear his heavy anxious breath, and now, I strike.

My pistol flowed from my holster like water in an instant, and was pressed telekinetically under his jaw as I pulled the trigger, the 12.7mm bullet entering and exiting his brain as if it wasn’t even there, sending gray-matter gore through the exiting hole of the massive chunk of lead. I caught his body before it could fall on my shoulder, using it as a meaty shield, the Raiders around me stumbling in shock and raising their weapons. The one front-right of me had a hole between her eyes before she could even draw. The three behind me must have been convinced they had an advantage, but they were sadly mistaken, as the service rifle on my back was already aimed in their direction. Splitting my telekinesis between my pistol and rifle, I was fighting in two directions at once, pulling the trigger on the bite-grip of the rifle as I aimed my pistol at the third before me. Shots rang from both weapons all at once, while my rifle was far from pinpoint accurate with my posture, it hit home in the neck and eye sockets of the fourth Raider as the third to my front was now minus his nose, screaming in agony as shock and explosive blood loss ended him. I kicked the body of the stab-happy stallion off of me as I spun on my hooves, still firing with the rifle as I did so, raking bullets across the last two, cutting a major vein in one’s neck while the other charged at me with a sledgehammer in his teeth, only to meet with my hoofgun in his face as he entered striking range. The terror in his eyes was offset by the serious grimace on my snout as I pulled the trigger, his body disintegrating into a rain of blood, gore, red mist and bits of bone showering the street and my barding.

I casually began looting the Raider remains, mostly crap and drugs, but crap and drugs I could sell to make up for the bullets I’d just expended. The last one lay on the curb, holding her mortal wound as it was slowly finishing her off, I cantered casually to her.

“Please… Don’t…. Kill me…” Her final plea for life struck me as insulting.

“I’m a soldier, what have you done for society, you fucking filth? Raped and murdered other Raiders? I’ll do you a favor…” I spoke heatedly through gritted teeth as I levitated her head to the concrete curb, opening her mouth and making her bite it, “And end your misery,” I muttered as I kicked down on the back of her head, splitting her jaw open, giving her body the final shock to kill her. A curb stomp; fitting given this battle’s outcome.

As exciting as that was, and a nice escape from the monotony of traveling, I’d wasted too much time here, and all I got for it were broken weapons, ratty Raider rags, and a covering of putrid blood I’d need to wash off. Luckily, I was close to my destination.

I could see the rocky outcropping of a large hill before me, the E.F.S. marker showing me that the destination was likely on the other side. I made my way up the side of the hill on a worn dirt slope… and saw a large junkyard, littered with certain corroded red metal storage drums. Oh, would you look at that, a pre-war hazardous materials dump; I was wondering what killed the other scavenger teams. My Geiger counter began to tick lightly, seems whatever was in those drums still had a few half-lives to live, and were shielded from the Gardens firing off. This was not surprising since the drums were meant to keep the radiation inside of them before they yielded their contents to time and weather.

“Greener Pastures Disposal Site. Yeah, I’ll bet,” I muttered as I read the location blurb on my E.F.S. Bringing back up the map screen, I saw the marker on the other side of the valley that made up this landfill, looking back and forth between map and reality, seemed to fit the location of a ruined house next to the roadway on the ridge. Well, no point in getting turned into a light bulb if I can just take the road around and get closer. Besides, there looked to be a territory war between Bloatsprites and wild mangy dogs down there anyway.

Approaching the ruins wasn’t difficult, but I noticed a severe spike in magical radiation levels as I drew nearer, and that what had once been a humble home looked like it had been hit by a falling sky wagon. I was starting to put the pieces together; the radio broadcast was an advanced distress beacon from a fallen aircraft, probably Enclave. Ooooh boy, this was gonna be good!

I pop a tablet of Rad-X into my muzzle, and take off running towards the crater behind the house. Enclave tech was worth a shitload of caps, I’m practically salivating from the idea of what I’d get when I crested the rim of the crater… Then I stopped in my tracks, looking down at the wreckage. Sweet mother of Luna…

What sat in the rubble before me was not a sky wagon. It was big, and it was metal, but I could tell it was not of this Earth. I carefully slide down the wall of the crater to take a closer look. This… Thing has what look like short metal wings on the side, meant to fly without Pegasus power for sure. I approach what I assume is the front of the craft, and I see what looks like a foreleg stuck out of a glass section in the front. Peering in cautiously, telekinetically grabbing for my sidearm, I see the body of a creature I have never laid eyes upon in some kind of armor, the helmet of which having a glass face-shield, shattered and covered in dried blood, the head inside hideous, hairless, and half-rotted.

Holy shit, an Alien. OH MY FUCKING GODDESSES AN ALIEN. I gasp and stumble back, looking into the dead empty eye socket of the half-skeletal corpse before me. I feel lightheaded… No, wait, I just feel light… Wait, I can’t feel the ground. I look around and see a rock floating next to me. Floating. I look down and see that I too, along with the wreck, am floating. My vision began to be skewed by a hellish blue-green glow as I scream and flail about to try and reach the ground, but I just keep going skyward, then suddenly, I feel my vigor leave me, shocked out of my senses, I faint.