Fallout Equestria: Small Hours

by Evilgidgit

Rating: mature
Tags: Original Character, Cutie Mark Crusaders, Crossover, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe, Sad, Main 6
Length: 9456

A Fallout Equestria side story. A short anthology of stories from across the Equestria Wasteland, and the Great War before it.

The Wasteland has produced a number of heroes who will go down in history and folklore for their deeds, but what about the common ponies and others who lived and tried to survive in the harshities of war and the apocalypse. In a world where hope is dead and friendship is a rarity, the small experiences of a few individuals can lead to bigger, better, or sometimes, worse paths. This anthology of short stories dives into the lives of several individuals during the Great War and after the bombs fell.

Published 2015-03-22 01:20:02 UTC
Last updated 2015-06-28 16:30:26 UTC

Fancy Bunkers

Fallout Equestria: Small Hours

War. War never changes.

Two-hundred years ago, Equestria was destroyed not just by megaspells but by greed, hatred, and corruption. Though some ponies and their kin survived underground in the large secure Stables, many perished in balefire, radiation, and necromantic death. But from the ashes, heroes arose in the Wasteland.

Heroes who would emerge from underground to unite a hellish kingdom through sacrifice, sunshine, and rainbows. Heroes who would protect the weak through perseverance and survival in the worst place in the world. Heroes who would look out of place in the bleak Wasteland but bring with them innocence. Heroes in neighbouring countries who would come to care for others, despite their own inner demons. And Heroes who dare to dream in a life of fear and oppression.

History and legends have immortalised them in our history, but what about the average, common pony who lived and died in Equestria and the Wasteland. Living, surviving, fighting, playing, working, existing, just being. Here we take a look into the lives of individuals in the past and present.

They may have not had a big impact on the world, but it is the small moments that can define a person. For even if a person’s larger achievements define them, it is the small hours that lead up to them, and where hardwork, dedication, courage, and passion thrive.

…

Chapter 1: Fancy Bunkers
Teardrop’s Personal Audioblog – Stable-Tec Quality Control Inspector – Date: I haven’t the foggiest. Summer, I think.

I don’t think anyone ever asked for war or wanted it to happen, but it did anyway. All it took was a few misunderstandings, some mystical mumbo jumbo, and a school of poor foals to end a thousand years of peace. Gone was Princess Celestia’s warmth, and instead we got the coldness of Princess Luna and her six Ministries.

Everything else that happened after that will just be considered trivia in the eyes of some ponies, and historical stepping stones to learn from by the brainiacs who want to educate the next generation. Dad said the war was a horrible thing but also helped Equestria – technology wise.

That’s where good old Stable-Tec came in handy.

Stable-Tec was built on the idea for finding potential in Equestria and bringing new commodities and possibilities to homes. The company was founded by three mares from Ponyville, President Apple Bloom, Vice President Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle who was head of PR. Like all things, it started off small, developing simple things like toasters, vending machines, and stuff like that. The money they got allowed Scootaloo to operate her own company called Red Racer, which sold really cool scooters for foals.

I had one myself when I was younger, but I had too much fun on it. The wheels broke off and Dad wouldn’t buy me another one. I didn’t exactly have time to buy one myself when the world went to hell, but there are tons just lying around in Manehattan. Maybe I’ll go and get one some day.

Anyway, back to Stable-Tec 101. The company really became a household name, and I mean that literally, when the brightest technician in the company, Button Mash, invented the terminal. They came to be a big help for the Ministries during the war.

It was a weird, tense time. The MoM was everywhere. Seeing Pinkie Pie’s grinning face on huge billboards and posters creeped me out. She said that she would be watching us forever. I guess she meant it. I heard whispers that MoM spied on everypony, even the Princess. They didn’t want Equestria’s morale being threatened by naysayers and the like.

Dad was away from home most of the time, helping out on projects with the MoAS and doing consulting work with the MoWT. Dad was pretty smart. Knew a lot about mixing magic and machinery. Developing his own tech, either selling it to companies or developing it with them. He became a consultant at Stable-Tec three years into the war, and helped get me a job as a worker in Manehattan Waterworks, which was partially owned by Stable-Tec.

Speaking of which, if you’ll forgive me jumping tracks all the time, the company was doing pretty well. Terminals in every home, joint projects with the Ministries. I worked hard at the waterworks, and eventually moved to actually work for Stable-Tec as a quality control inspector. That means I checked to see if products were suitable for shipping and purchase. Not the most amazing of jobs, but it was better than being out on the battlefield.

Then, when the war reached its peak, there was talk of potential peace talks. Right in the middle of the bloodshed and constant spewing of “better wiped than striped”, Princess Celestia announced there would be discussions with zebras in Shattered Hoof Ridge. I for one was pretty happy. The war could end soon.

Boy, was I wrong.

Everypony knows what happened. Big Macintosh took a bullet and died a hero. Princess Luna declared an escalation in the war effort. Work only got harder after that. Dad was away for weeks on end. Off to Fillydelphia and Hoofington and someplace called Maripony a couple of times. But every time he saw me, he always had a tired but friendly smile. I think I became a kind of comfort for him.

He was a great help to Stable-Tec during those last few months. Heck, they even named a new type of simulation tech after him – Tranquillity Farm. I never knew what those weird pods were actually used for in the end. Maybe pegasus simulation tests or something?

I think the death of Apple Bloom’s big brother pretty hard. Shortly after his death, she was cooped up in her office all day and night. Usually Apple Bloom would speak to the staff every day through the intercom, but Scootaloo did for a while. Her words of encouragement could get pretty awkward and weird at times.

Eventually, about six months after Shattered Hoof, the bosses gathered every company employee together and announced what was their crowning achievement, their magnum opus, their cherry on top of the ice cream. You get the picture. The official title was “Project Safehouse” – the Stables. A series of underground bunkers that could protect ponies from potential fallout. Okay, I shouldn’t have to explain what the Stables are. Everypony knows what they are. Each Stable could hold up to three hundred ponies (or other folks), had Stable-Tec’s latest gadgets, and everlasting spark generators and water talismans. The marketing department clearly had a lot of fun promoting the project, but it took a little while to convince Princess Luna of the idea. Morale and all.

The prototype Stable tech was displayed at the Equestrian Trade Expo and was a smash hit with the crowds. Then the real work began. I’ll spare you the details, but in all, one hundred and one Stables were constructed in Equestria.

There was lots to do. Checking every inch of a Stable’s layout and tech could take weeks on end. My primary duty was checking water talismans, thanks to my past job at the waterworks. The lower levels of the Stables scared me. So dark and cold. I monitored about thirty Stables, but the ones around Manehattan weren’t on my itinerary. Several Stables were…unusual in design. Rooms and facilities in the wrong places, extra supplies of food, medical equipment, and disturbingly, firearms and drugs for one. The illegal-under-the-counter-kind the MoM were so nuts about confiscating. I didn’t question things, not out loud anyway. It was all part of Apple Bloom’s grand design after all.

Security and privacy around the key members of the company and those building the Stables became pretty intense. I heard rumours that Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle were ducking under the radar to have private chats discussing aspects of certain Stables.

Scootaloo seemed to becoming more and more paranoid and bitter, and there was a lot of mention about “special conditions” in the Stables. I asked Dad about it. He told me not to worry and keep up the good work.

And yet things went quite well. The Stables were built. Ponies in Manehattan started moving into them three months before they were due to begin operations. I guess the bosses wanted a test drive of their hard work. Apple Bloom’s cousin Babs Seed, who was a big roller debry champion at the time, changed careers and started up a law firm that was built around caring for the affairs of the future Stable occupants. The process for getting a place in a Stable was through a lottery. Dad got a spot in a Trottingham Stable. I didn’t get one. He spent a few days speaking to the egghead behind the lottery to make arrangements, but in the end, there was no point.

You can guess what happened next.

Everypony died. The Stables were sealed shut. The sky turned green. Canterlot turned pink. I was at Cherbuck Hospital, a privately run clinic near Manehattan that was for company employees. Some pulled muscles weren’t really anything bad, compared to what I can only imagine happened to the poor ponies caught in the megaspell bombs. The next thing I knew, soldiers were dragging everypony down to the hospital’s lower levels. The MoP had developed special medic stasis pods that you could stay in for ages without harm. Basically cryostasis stuff without the brain freeze. I think. I’m not an expert on medical equipment.

When I finally woke up, I wish I had died with the rest of Equestria.

Everypony I knew was long dead, and the Equestrian Wasteland had replaced the home I loved. If someone had asked me to paint my own idea of lost hope, it would look like the Wasteland. It was a nightmare.

I was told to survive in the Wasteland, you had to have a goal in mind. My Dad, my family, and all my friends were gone – unless they had become ghouls. Never found them if they were. The Princesses and the Ministries were probably dead too. Now it was everypony for themselves, but I don’t have to tell you about the misery that the Wasteland brings. Anyway, there was one thing from the world of yesteryear I was sure had survived and that was the Stables. They were built to withstand armageddon so it made sense that they would protect at least a percentage of Equestria’s people.

I would check on the Stables and see if they were in tact. The only trouble was I didn’t know where they all were.

I am…was just a quality inspector and technician after all.

The only place I knew where I could possibly check on the Stables and where they were was at the Stable-Tec HQ outside Fillydelphia. They had a mainframe where all the info of the Stables were kept. But that wouldn’t be enough. I couldn’t judge a Stable’s conditions based on data that was two-hundred years old. I needed to see them for myself.

Like all things in my low level job, I had heard tons of rumours. Most about who was dating who, Sweetie Belle’s love life, that sort of thing. But one time, I heard there was a secret room somewhere in the building. A surveillance room that monitored all of the Stables. Had secret video feeds into each and every one of them. Perhaps even protocols that could directly override the systems and take control. Of course, it was only a rumour. But one worth chasing.

So, here I am, on my way to Fillydelphia, slave capital of the Wasteland, to my old job that is occupied by the Steel Rangers. DJ Pon-3 has been saying they are hoarders of old tech rather than the protectors of the innocent like Applejack founded them to be. I guess the Wasteland changes everypony over time. As for me, I’m not sure how much I’ve changed. I’ve seen some pretty horrible things since I woke up – the only one to wake up I should mention. Survival has become a basic instinct for me now. I’ve had to learn how to use guns, which surprisingly wasn’t all that hard once I got the hang of it. It still feels weird talking about it like it is normal, but it is out here.

I found some fancy armour in an MoI office, apparently made out of bits of diamond judging by the memo I found. Maybe Rarity designed it. I decided to call the armour “Paduasoy”. What? Everypony seems to have names for their weapons. Why not armour?

And you know what. I took to listening to DJ Pon-3 a lot on my PipBuck, since there was nothing else on apart from that Red Eye guy spouting out his nonsense. I learnt of the heroics of the Stable Dweller. From Stable #2 near Ponyville. At least that was one Stable that had kept its occupants safe and alive. One down, one hundred to go. But that number started dwindling quickly as I continued to listen and walked the long walk between Manehattan and Fillydelphia. Stable #24 had some kind of infestation in it, but no ponies. I thanked Celestia that the Stable Dweller blew the place to kingdom come.

And Stable #29, which was in Fetlock, got mentioned as being a failure too. Everypony was dead in there too. It was one of the Stables that was put into operation three months early. Did it fail in those three months? Ninety days of operation and everypony was dead. I couldn’t believe it. I prayed to the Princesses that it was just a one off chance. But if two had failed, what had happened or was happening in the other Stables? Did this have something to do with the special conditions that Scootaloo had set up?

Most ponies I knew were pretty enthusiastic about the Stables, but my supervisor Dipstick didn’t think to highly of them. He was an old kind of traditionalist. He used to say that the Stables were nothing more than fancy bunkers. Pretty with all their accommodations and flashy lights, but just cold and empty on the inside. Maybe he was right after all. Was it all for nothing? Did all of the hard work we put into trying to save ponies fail to pay off?

I hope not. I really hope not. Besides, Stable #2 produced someone as amazing as the Stable Dweller, then there must be hope for the rest. But there’s only one way to find out. I’m about twenty or so miles from Fillydelphia. Thankfully, the company building was built outside the city limits, so hopefully no slavers will be looking for any hooves to shackle.

I’ll record another message when I get there.

…

There is no one here. Yeah, I made it to Stable-Tec HQ. But there was no Steel Rangers here.

All of their stuff was still around – weapons, equipment, the whole lot. A couple of hours ago, I found out via DJ that the battalion who operated here all went to raid Stable #2 – and none of them came back. The Stable Dweller and her friends saw to that. The only Stable I know that had actually worked was in the firing line.

DJ didn’t mention anymore details beyond that the Stable Dweller cleared out her old home of the Rangers, and something about defections, but there was no mention about how many of the ponies living inside were wounded or killed.

So that was two failures and one that was attacked by the ponies who were meant protect them. Wonderful. Simply wonderful.

Revisiting work felt strange. Seeing how bad a state it was in reminded me how long I had been stuck in that pod. I wonder what happened to everypony I knew. Dad might’ve made it to the Stable back home. He was consulting in the city’s MoAS hub around the time the megaspells started flying. But what about Gran? My cousins? My friends, co-workers, that stallion with the nice flank who delivered paperwork around, the mailpony who was as blind as a bat, that old nice mare down the road from Dad’s house? Everypony. All gone.

Trottingham is a long way from here for me to go looking. Too far me to walk. Where’s a pegasus when you need one? Oh, yeah. Safe and sound up above that stupid cloud cover. Stupid flyers.

I won’t blab on so much about the details. I keep saying that, then do the opposite.

It was a mess and everything inside was rotting, but Stable-Tec HQ was still standing. We made things to last. Doesn’t mean they work. The Stables are flawed. Each one could only hold about three-hundred ponies, and while the spark generators, water talismans, boilers, etcetera, could last a long time, they couldn’t last forever.

Plus there were too many possibilities that something might go wrong – following the rules probably wouldn’t be enough for some ponies. We are complicated creatures. Some ponies might not be meant to live underground. What if a claustrophobic pony is born in a Stable? What if some foolish pony damages the systems so badly they were beyond fixing? If the water talisman was destroyed, the populace would be screwed. We were never asked to install backup supplies in case the talismans failed. The Stables were meant to last.

I’m blabbing on again. Sorry about that. Navigating the building was easy, plus I got to explore some areas I’d never been able to before. I ran into a couple of earth pony scavengers on the fourth floor. They didn’t seem to mind me, even with Paduasoy and a rifle on display. They were looting the place for any valuables not confiscated by the Rangers, so I pointed them to places worth a look around. My destination were the offices of the President, Vice President, and Head of PR.

Apple Bloom’s office was quite large but the place had been thoroughly trashed. The terminal in the room was smashed on the floor, so there was no hope finding any info on there. Not that it would do me any good, since I’m no hacker. I guess none of the Rangers were either since the terminal was on the floor. The HQ has a company mainframe that has basic data on all the Stables like their statistics, general locations, that sort of thing. But no details on what the special conditions are, though some of the listed non-standard equipment were intriguing.

No food supplies besides Eat-o-tronic 3000 vendors in Stable #6. A huge armoury in Stable #31 out in the western desert. Medical pods in Stable #39, like the one I survived in, though these ones were called “Neural Preservation Pods”. I wonder what means. Stuff I won’t mention just in case any foals decide to listen to this in the future. And why does one list a crate full of sock puppets? Weird.

There was nothing giving clues to where the secret surveillance room might be. Though I did find an old photo album in Apple Bloom’s desk, showing photos when she was a filly with her family. I recognised Applejack and Big Macintosh in one photo, as well as an elderly mare who looked a bit senile. Most were of Apple Bloom with Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle as fillies, all without Cutie Marks. An older Scootaloo opening her Red Racer factory in Manehattan, with her friends and a proud looking Rainbow Dash present. One that actually had the Princesses in it, with a building being built in the background. I guess this was when Luna’s academy was being built. Anyway, I decided to take the album. Maybe keep it, or even give to that pony who sings on the radio. DJ says she is related to Sweetie Belle. I’d just have to find out where she lives.

Scootaloo’s old office had been used recently by the Steel Rangers’ Elder, being much cleaner and organized than Apple Bloom’s. I managed to break open the room’s vault. Nothing special, just piles of paperwork from Stable-Tec and Red Racer, a child-sized blue scooter, a large poster of Rainbow Dash and the Shadowbolts, amongst other things. But no sign of the surveillance room. Sweetie Belle’s office is a mess too. I’m there…or rather here at the moment. Rather horrid graffiti and messages had been spray painted all over the walls, and a once lovely painting of Sweetie Belle in a beautiful silver and aquamarine blue gown has been ruined forever by some sick vandal with…you know what, I ain’t even gonna describe it, but if I find out whoever drew it, they’d lose what they put on the painting!

There’s nothing in here. The terminal still works but there was nothing on it. The data probably got deleted or something. Those Rangers likely went poking around on how to get into the Stables. This search is starting to look hopeless. I raided a vending machine down the hall for some Sparkle Cola, and currently going through Apple Bloom’s album. It sure looked like a happier time in Equestria when the bosses were fillies. They called themselves the Cutie Mark Crusaders, and went to crazy lengths to find out what their talents were. That’s commitment. They were always committed to finding potential in others. That’s what made Stable-Tec so brilliant. The Stables are supposed to be too.

Stables…

Wait a minute… Sweet Celestia!

Stable #0. There’s a photo of it here in the album. It was used as the prototype Stable at the Expo, before being actually built here. In the basement, where the mainframe is. Teardrop, you dunce. Of course. The bosses would hide it in a place safe. Some of the Stables probably had secrets, and it would make sense to put it somewhere that was hard to access. The Stables sealed shut to protect the ponies inside. They would be safe.

Oh, I’m gonna go to the basement now. I’ll see what I can find, then record another entry. Legs, don’t fail me now!

…

I feel numb.

I’m not sure how I feel. I feel sick. Really angry. At myself. At the bosses. At us. We screwed up.

We should’ve known there was a problem, but didn’t acknowledge it. Maybe no one at Stable-Tec wanted to. The pressure and need to do well, get things done, and save ponies from themselves. We were meant to be the best. We were. But, it was all for nothing…

I’m sorry. Excuse my sniffles. I’ve been…crying.

I found her. I didn’t want to leave her like that. The door with the Stable was open an inch. Either someone tried to open it, or it got stuck before it even closed. Radiation could of just flooded in. But what was she doing down here? If she had sealed herself in the Stable, she would’ve been trapped alone. But there wasn’t enough time to put the door on properly. Barely anything in the Stable was ready or properly built. It was meant to be for demonstration only, but it was a Stable anyway. It should’ve been finished.

But, I couldn’t leave Apple Bloom here. She had died in the Stable. Killed by her own dream. Why didn’t she or anypony make sure she had a spot in a Stable? There were a hundred and one for Celestia’s sake! She left a final message. I don’t want to play it again. It’s too much. So I buried her. It was the least I could. I felt like burying myself alongside her. She didn’t deserve this.

Sweetie Belle survived, so that is some relief. She was the original Overmare of Stable #2. Velvet Remedy was her descendant, so of course she survived, stupid.

Scootaloo is just another nameless corpse somewhere in the Wasteland. Or maybe she went up with the rest of the pegasi to their safe haven. No, she wouldn’t do that. Scootaloo wasn’t the type of pony who would abandon her friends. They all died separated from their friends. Alone and in pain. I wish I could find Scootaloo, and retrieve Sweetie Bell from the Stable. I could all bury them together.

The Cutie Mark Crusaders. Founders of Stable-Tec. Best friends forever.

Too bad. Sweetie Belle’s body was probably cremated. Most Stables had furnaces to burn the dead.

I eventually found the surveillance room. It took a while to find, but it was in the Stable’s lowest level. There wasn’t a door, but the only way to get in was through a vent big enough for a fully grown mare to squeeze through. It felt odd there being a vent where it was, since the wall there was the furthest point of the level – beyond that should just be solid rock. It wasn’t. I had to remove my armour, weapons, and saddlebags just to get through the vent. I’m not that pudgy.

I finally made it to the room. It doesn’t really matter, but I was expecting something a bit more flashy. Turns out just to be a wall of three or four monitors, one large terminal, and the walls covered in all the protected wires and backup systems. I had found it, now I just needed to figure out how to turn it on. Okay, it was just like a regular terminal, but was password protected. A bit odd and simplistic, since it was hidden behind a wall of rock.

There were three passwords needed to access the data and controls. There didn’t seem to be a limitation on how tries I had. I started off with the most obvious – the names of the three bosses. Nope.

Cutie Mark Crusaders? Nope.

Applejack, Rarity, Rainbow Dash? Nope.

Earth Pony, Pegasi and Unicorn? Nope.

I tried probably sixty odd combinations. Random words. Anything that popped into my head related to Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle. I found myself banging my head on the computer desk in frustration. I was trying to hard. The answer was likely something shared between the three bosses. They founded the company together. Were never torn apart by the war. Always there for each other. Their friendship lasted.

Bingo.

Best Friends Forever. Staring me right in the face. The very reason Stable-Tec had been so successful, because those three had been leading it together with their unbreakable bond.

A new menu screen appeared on the terminal. A simple box with a flashing indicator on it, and text above reading “Insert desired inquiry.” Not really sure what this would actually do, I tried typing in “Apple Bloom”. The screen changed, revealing a pre-programmed welcome to Apple Bloom, and listing a number of specifications related to the late President’s personal controls and data I couldn’t be bothered to read. Exiting the screen returned me to the inquiry menu. I assumed typing in “Scootaloo” and “Sweetie Belle” would do the same thing.

Out of curiosity, I typed in “Babs Seed”. To my surprise, it switched to a menu detailing information on Babs Seed’s law firm Seeds of the Future. Originally the firm went with “Judgement of Friendship”, but it sounded too distrusting. I wonder what happened to Babs. Maybe she got a peaceful end.

I then got around to seeing if I could access the Stables systems themselves, so for an experiment, I typed in “Stable #2”. Nothing happened, so I adjusted the entry to “Stable 002”. The terminal went black for a second, and the four monitors above it flickered to life, glowing an ominous blue. The terminal came back to life, displaying a list of options: Cameras. Power Supplies. Social Project. Override Command 002.

I immediately went to the override option, but to my relief, I found it was protected by a password. The cameras were the next option. Well, that explained what the monitor screens were for. Four random video feeds flickered to life on each monitor, showing the familiar grey, metal halls of a Stable. One of the Stable’s entrance, showing the huge door had been shut. The others were of somewhere in the maintenance level, the residential halls, and the apple orchard. It was so surreal. They ponies inside were alive, but most were in a state of shock. Guards patrolled the halls, ponies were arguing in the middle of a doorway, one pony appeared to be kneeling in the orchard before a stone mound in a corner. Odd.

I didn’t have any control over the cameras, presumably needing the override code for that. Nopony likely knew they were being watched, and if they did, it was likely by the Overmare in charge. By messing with the terminal, I could change switch camera feeds in the Stable. There were quite a lot, so I randomly picked them. The orchard switched to the medical bay, where injured ponies were being tended too by exhausted-looking nurses, their uniforms covered in stained blood. What the buck had those Rangers done?

Another feed switched to a room that was a scene of carnage. And then I saw the balloons and huge “Congratulations!” banner. This had been a Cutie Mark party. That was when I exited the feeds. That was enough for me. It should’ve been.

But, nope. I didn’t listen to my brain and instead, decided to look at other Stables.

There’s too much to remember. Most of it I’d like to forget. But, beyond a few Stables, most of them had failed. Empty, dark corridors. Skeletons and corpses littering the halls. Horrid creatures patrolling several. I wanted to go on the override option and destroy the monsters, but I didn’t have the passwords, or knew even if anything could be done to alter the Stable’s conditions. Stable #24’s feed was obviously lost, but other Stables had no visual feed. Some cameras were extremely static or fuzzy. One camera lied on the floor of a Stable atrium but was still functioning, showing grainy live footage of pony-shaped creatures wandering aimlessly. One stumbled in the direction of the camera, glancing down into it with its ghoulish undead eyes.

Stable #29 was now occupied by a battalion of Steel Rangers, but they appeared to be cleaning the place up, and their armour had been painted red. The result of the defections that DJ mentioned? But I still glimpsed the horrors of whatever had happened there. The Rangers were removing piles of skeletons from the rooms, and I spotted one Ranger wiping away a bloody message on a wall that read “STOP KILLING US!” I threw up in a nearby bin. I still feel sick now.

All are hard work was slowly turning into a bad joke. Like someone had just sabotaged all the Stables to fail. Unless they were meant too… Maybe Scootaloo did it deliberately. Her “special conditions”! To punish everypony for making Equestria the hellhole it became!

No!

Teardrop, you dumbass!

Don’t say that. Scootaloo would never do that. Never! She was a good pony. They were good, damnit! They were!

Oh, Goddesses…just calm down. Take it easy. Take it easy. Just…give me a minute…

…

Sorry about that. I can get pretty worked up, so I think the babbling can help. I checked the Stables. All of them. It is safe to say that, Project Safehouse was a failure. Maybe it was always going to fail. Cramming ponies into what are basically fancy bunkers sounded good on paper, but I found private e-mails on the system between the bosses.

Scootaloo wanted to reshape future generations into better ponies, and make amends for what happened to ours. I can’t help but understand. We were all born in a world that never knew of war, raiders, megaspells and radiation. One of happiness, safety, and friendship. The world changed so quickly, and everypony went with it. No one ever questioned whether or not to just stop and look around, question things. Ask when peace and friendship became less important than coal, borders disputes, and what was the best way to shoot a zebra. Perhaps if someone had shouted out, took a stand, and said “No”, maybe the Stables wouldn’t have been necessary.

The project failed. The things going on in the Stables make me want to bleach my brain. Ghouls in more than one, though the ones in Stable #1 in Canterlot have their own society. One that was covered in ice, and frozen ponies trapped in the halls and rooms. One was ruled by cockatrice, all the ponies now statues.

A failed Stable had an population of two-thousand! Two-thousand? I had hoped it was a spelling error, but every room in it was filled with bodies piled up atop one another. How was that making things better?

There is one only foals in it, and not one adult in sight, though they didn’t seem to be in any harm.

One Stable was now a jungle. I’m sure I could see things moving around in the plants. Stable #62 was a mess, and it might’ve just been me, but the ponies all looked identical. I can’t remember which Stable it was, but one had a black feed. Then a pair of eyes opened and stared at me. It knew I was there spying on the Stable. Then text appeared on the monitor asking me if I wanted to come and play. I exited out of that feed faster than I imagined.

And yet…some did work. Look at Stable #2, it worked perfectly for two-hundred years and the ponies inside are completely sane, moralistic, and good-natured. Again, there is the Stable Dweller, who does amazing things and was born and raised in a Stable. Some are still running with no issues from what I saw or have opened across Equestria to face the Wasteland, trading with outsiders or letting them in for shelter.

But what about me? What should I do now? I came here to find out what had happened to the Stables, and I have. Most have failed, but there are those that are still running, preserving them, and keeping them alive. There is a still a chance to at least get something right that Stable-Tec made. I could go and check on them. I can download the command codes into my PipBuck, find myself an escort and likeminded individuals, and be a representative of Stable-Tec. Or something like that.

It sounds a little risky and crazy, but it is worth the chance. There’s always a guarantee that things go wrong, but that never stopped the bosses from taking daring chances. Finding potential and making progress, all for Equestria. Revolutionising safety and care for an uncertain future. No matter the bad weather.

That’s what Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle did.

That’s what the Stable Dweller does.

And that’s what I should do. It’s what Dad would say if he were here. He might still be somewhere out there. I’m an employee of Stable-Tec, and I have a job to do.

Maybe there is still hope…

…

Author's Note

Fallout Equestria was created by Kkat, so a huge thanks goes to him for his creative story and world. Elements and characters are based on Fallout and My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic. Original characters were created by me.

I’d been planning on writing a story set in the Fallout Equestria for a little while, though I didn’t think this would be the final outcome. I was originally go write a long runner named Clear Waters, which I might still do at some point, though I am very, very slow writing fanfiction. Teardrop here was the protagonist of that, though I decided to bring her forward into this. I may revisit her character in later chapters. This was also my first major attempt at doing a first person POV, and a little tricky at times.

Anyway, this is an anthology story, so it will likely be a different setting/scenario every chapter, featuring OCs or established characters or elements from F.E. or the show. In my mind, Project Horizons, Pink Eyes, Heroes, and Murky Number Seven are all canon in this story, though I will be sticking mostly to the canon of the original story.

Snow Fall

Chapter 2: Snow Fall
Personal Journal of Pasque Sermon. Date…I’ll fill that part in when I have time.

Snow in Canterlot. How about that.

It’s not even winter, but Luna thought a small sprinkle of snow would be a nice touch for the funeral procession through Ministry Walk. Nothing that spectacular will be held here. Apple Bloom asked for a quiet, simple service. It is what her brother would want she said.

It’s only been a few days since Shattered Hoof and now everyone knows his name.

A few years back, Big Macintosh was just your normal applebucker. Didn’t talk much, pretty laidback, and was champion at turkey calling until Pinkie Pie somehow upstaged him. Then, as soon as war, came he signed up like every other willing pony to defend Equestria against the zebras. Got his own squad and everything, became popular here in Ponyville and places like Hoofington.

And just ten days ago, he gave his life to protect Celestia, and now he’s Equestria’s greatest hero since Clover the Clever.

May Celestia’s light shine upon his soul, and may Luna’s moonlight guide him to his resting place.

I was surprised when Apple Bloom came to my door three days ago. To say she was inconsolable would be an understatement, but when she was done with her tears, she asked if I would lead a memorial service for her brother here in Ponyville. Of course, I said yes. How could I not? She had lost her brother. The Apple Family have always been a tightly-knitted group, and I can only imagine the loss Applejack and Apple Bloom are feeling. Grief is a terrible thing indeed. It leaves you hollow and empty, wanting to just crawl into a ball and disappear into nothingness.

I know that from experience. A lot of people have. Big Macintosh wasn’t the first soldier from Ponyville to die, and he likely won’t be the last.

So, here I am, jotting my thoughts down just minutes before I am to deliver the memorial service. Luna will be attending herself. What an honour it would be to meet her. However, there are a number of protocols and security measures that have been planned out by the Ministries for the ceremony, so I might not even be able to speak to her. I’ve had Pinkie Pie snooping around the entirety of the chapel for any possible cameras, bombs, misplaced Parasprites, and “bad vibes” as she put it. She even produced an old hat I recall Father Incense lost a few years ago. Where did she find that?

Oh, and she muttered something about the chapel’s spire needing an inspection. I’ll have to check it myself. Maybe it is slightly loose.

I glanced out the window a few minutes ago. The sky is a dull grey. It looks like we’ll be getting a little rain today. The pegasi could’ve cleared the clouds, but maybe someone didn’t want them too. There was no discussion on the weather conditions for the service. I glimpsed guests filing in. I’ll have to attend to them very shortly.

It was decided that this would be a private ceremony, small and dignified. The one in Canterlot was quite the spectacle according to the radio and papers. The snow fall was a nice touch. A march down the Ministry Walk, a ceremony nearby. Just about every major figure in government attended, and also figures of business, media, and the armed forces. Then, Big Macintosh was buried in Canterlot. Not in Ponyville. Who made that call? Ponyville was his home. It was where his family were, or at least they used to be. Sweet Apple Acres sits over the hills from Ponyville, and considering their folk founded our home, it would make more sense to bury one of their own here.

Big Macintosh is no doubt a hero. He gave his life to protect Princess Celestia. But, I can’t help but wonder if he has been turned into a martyr. He was just a simple, humble soul and now has been immortalised as the stallion who saved our princess. There have been talks that the war will go to a new tier. More soldiers are signing up every day in Big Macintosh’s name. Everyone is praising him as our greatest war hero. He deserves the praise. Not many common soldiers get this kind of praise and respect. This type of attention and bravado are given to the high-ranking generals for their commands and orders. But Big Macintosh took a stand and died protecting another pony. If it had been the other way around, had Celestia died, then he would’ve been turned into a pariah. A failure. A shameful excuse for a soldier. That sort of thing.

But I wonder if Applejack or Apple Bloom actually wanted him to be buried in Canterlot. Maybe someone in the princess’ council suggested it to emphasize the importance of the event, and overruled the sisters, even though Applejack is technically one of the seven more influential ponies in Equestria. Using it as an excuse to up the ante on the war effort. Obviously it worked since the Ministry of Image had Big Macintosh on every front page and poster just days after he gave his life. Yet again, I have to say I commend Big Macintosh for his bravery and sacrifice, but using his death to further instigate more bloodshed is just…immoral.

Come now, come now. It should be a time of remembrance and peace. Not writing down such depressing ideas. I represent the faith ponies have in Luna and Celestia. Faith is all that some folk have left. Faith the princesses. Faith in the Ministries. Faith in each other. Not everypony adjusted to wartime so well. When you live in a time of a thousand long peace, and then suddenly Celestia is gone, replaced by her sister, and you are being told zebras are evil, superstitious, bloodthirsty monsters who can put you into a trance, someone is bound to take it hard. Very hard.

Change is a difficult thing to get used to. A lot of familiar faces who are now in high ranking positions used to live right here in Ponyville. All being thrown into positions of power in such a short time. Must’ve been difficult for them. Our country did change what literally feels over night. A complete overhaul to our society, infrastructure, media, culture. You name it. Zebras became second-class citizens and many were forced to uproot and move somewhere else. Even our own resident zebra has been scarcely seen.

I’ve become a bit of a councillor, though giving advice and guidance has always felt like a rudimentary part of my job, though it has only expanded more since the war began. Grieving parents, siblings, friends, coltfriends and marefriends. Ponies who just need to get things off their chests. Soldiers or civilians suffering from WTSD. I’ve heard some pretty disturbing and upsetting tales of the battlefield. None that I will ever put to paper. And I’ve been told secrets and knowledge that must never be spoken. Not even if Luna herself demanded the truth. I’ll take the things that have been told to my grave. Unless somepony decides to use a memory spell to start poking around my head...that would pose a problem.

A few days ago, Twinkleshine asked me what my perfect world would be. I told her that my perfect world would be a peaceful one, like it was not too long ago. Where Big Macintosh was still alive. Where those poor children in Littlehorn were still alive. Where ponies and zebras live together in harmony. Twinkleshine’s response: “Nice dream.”

Harmony. That’s what we’re missing from our society today. Where did our value of friendship and harmony go?

Perhaps, just for today, one small town in Equestria will find it again. Ponyville has always been a close community. The Apples founded this town, and I suspect that everypony will be here to say goodbye to one of our own.

…

Author's Note

Fallout Equestria was created by Kkat so all credit for this story's universe goes to him. A bit of a short one, but I wanted this to be something of this length, namely a journal entry. This chapter evolved from a random thought about wanting to write a chapter about Big Macintosh's funeral. It was originally gonna be set in Canterlot, but I thought it would more interesting having the focus from the p.o.v. of someone from Ponyville, namely it's resident vicar/reverend. The character does take some inspiration from Priest of Project Horizons. I originally planned on writing out the funeral's progression and looked up details on military funerals, but scrapped the idea in favour of something more softer.

Freedom of Speech

Chapter 3: Freedom of Speech

Terminal hacked in abandoned apartment block, Bucklyn, Manehattan.

Thanks A Bunch: Hey, pal. Thanks for that think piece on the buffalos. It helped sell a lot of issues. You won’t believe how hard it has taken to get the magazine off the ground. I know you wanted to remain anonymous, but “Gabby Gums”? Really? I thought I was the only pony who remembered that. Maybe in the future you could write some more articles for me. See you later.

Note #2: Hey, pal. Thanks again for this. I hope you don’t mind me sending you notes about your articles. And before you start bugging me, your cheque is already in the post. I pay all of my staff fairly, even there are only six of them. You could count as our seventh member if you dropped the silly pseudonym and joined us officially.

Note #7: This piece is fantastic. Ponies loved the first apart on Griffinhoof, and this follow up will be great fun. Sounds like a place Daring Do would go. It took their minds off what’s going on. Not much, but every little helps. I don’t think everypony wants to be reminded about the war every five seconds of the day. Let’s have more of these things.

Note #11: I’m a little concerned about this one, pal. It reads more like an angry rant than a professional piece of journalism. The armour was made by the MoWT, and they always do test runs before putting out their tech on the field. They wouldn’t produce shoddy armour that can’t stop a single bullet. This needs some toning down. I don’t want to lose my audience as soon as I’ve got it.

Note #18: The rest of the staff have had mixed reactions to this one. “What Does Princess Luna Dream?” – Snapshot said it was weird. Daisychain’s comment was “Ever heard of quality control?”. But Milky Way said it was cool, and ponies would want to know a bit more about their princess. That’s enough to convince me. Maybe add a little more flair to it, then send me the final draft.

Note #24: “Early To Bed, Early To Rise, Makes A Pony Healthy, Wealthy and Wise”. Ever considered becoming a poet?

Note #32: “It’s Not All Black and White - What zebras are really like.” Everypony is screaming at me not to publish this, and it’s tempting to follow their advice. Everypony knows zebras aren’t as savage and crazy as all the posters say, but I don’t want to rattle anypony’s cage. Littlehorn’s anniversary is coming up and I don’t want to come off as insensitive.

Note #34: Hey, pal. Things are a bit shaky. I knew that piece would kick up a storm, and we got a few angry letters. But then, some suits from the MoI popped around to have a chat with me. Talking about sensitivity and “staying the course”. No threats or anything, just advice as they called it. I think their visit was their way of saying “Don’t go against the regime.” I’m worried we’ll get an injunction or something. The MoI are bad enough, but I really, really, really don’t want to cross paths with the MoM. There is something seriously scary about Pinkie Pie, and that big billboard they put up across the street from my flat really isn’t helping. Look, just send me whatever you have and we’ll run it – as long as it isn’t about zebras.

Note #36: There are a few spelling mistakes here and there. Are you okay, pal? This isn’t like you. Either that, or I’ve become a grammar griffon.

Note #37: There’s even more spelling errors. What’s going on?

Note #41: Okay, pal. I know you are still upset about me chickening out over publishing anymore pieces about the zebras, but it doesn’t mean you have to act immature about it. You’re a good journalist. We just have to be more careful about your choice of topic. You are one of my best friends, and I don’t want you getting hurt.

Note #42: I liked the sound of that celebrity endorsement idea you mentioned. Personally, I see nothing wrong with Fluttershy sponsoring Sparkle Cola. She is pretty cute for her age. But, hey if you think it is corporate propaganda or whatever, then by all means, send it my way. It might be a good read and convince ponies to drink healthier.

Note #48: Okay, I need you to put the article on hold for now. We need to get the jump on what happened in Stalliongrad. I think Sparkle Cola’s popularity is gonna bombdive after this. This could be a more serious follow-up to the other one you wrote. How could a factory like that have such poor safety conditions? Those poor foals. At least this time, they’ll get proper justice. Contact every pony you know who might have something to say regarding safety in factories and what-have-you. Or at least people in a position of authority or disgruntled Sparkle Cola employees. Find some safety inspectors if you have too. This one is going to be huge.

Note #49: Can you believe some ponies? Not a single hint of sincerity in Sparkle Cola’s statement. It is ponies that built the factory, it is ponies that put up that faulty catwalk, and it is ponies that dunked those poor foals into the vats. We’ll keep poking the MoP for some kind of response from Fluttershy but I doubt we’ll get far.

Note #52: A few typos here and there but this is some great material. How did you find out the Mint-Als contained herbs found in zebra country? The MoM will love this.

Note #67: Getting some complaints for this one from the rest of the staff. There’s been no official word from the Ministries about the Diamond Dogs being kicked out of their homes. Okay, everypony knows the MoAS has been scouting for somewhere to build new digs, but nothing’s been said about doing something like that. We should hold it off until we get confirmation. I know you really don’t care for this sort of red tape, but I’d rather deal with a little bureaucracy than have everyone look like idiots for printing something that isn’t true.

Note #68: I can’t believe you! You went behind my back and asked Milky Way to publish your stupid article! Now I’ve got the MoI breathing down my neck to release a blumin’ statement saying we printed a dud issue. You’re really pushing your luck, pal! Why did you do it? Because you think it’s the truth. You want it to be. We have to be careful. Say the wrong thing in Equestria now and it is like stepping on a landmine. There still hasn’t been any words on the Diamond Dog situation, and there might not be. Get your act together, mate. The name Gabby Gums caused a lot of trouble before. Don’t start repeating her mistakes.

Note #79: I don’t know what I’m more mad about. The fact that those damned zebras tried to shoot the Princess, or that the MoI have sent every newspaper and magazine in Equestria a set of guidelines on how to write about what went down at those so-called peace talks. Guidelines, my ass. More like propaganda. I’m telling you, pal, this is making my blood boil. Whatever you write better be good. Slag off the zebras, write a biography on Big Macintosh, do a thought piece on where the war is gonna go. Just write something that will…damn I don’t even know what to suggest here. I’m just so mad! Stupid zebras! Stupid war! Stupid Ministries! Stupid everything! Look, our entire issue is going to be dedicated to Princess Celestia and Big Macintosh. This was a group decision, so please go along with it.

Note #91: Hey, pal. Can you believe we got invited to that Stable-Tec press conference? For the first time in this dumb war, I felt like a proper journalist. Or at least one who was taken seriously. These Stables sound pretty cool. You haven’t sent me anything on the announcement, though I suppose that makes sense since you didn’t want to come. You can’t stay anonymous forever. Write up something short and sweet for next issue. Oh, by the way, we’re having a little party at Hoofbeats to celebrate. You’re welcome to come.

Note #92: We’re in trouble now. I got a letter from the MoI suggesting that the damn Stable article was “unpatriotic” and now they are sending an MoM liaison to the office. I’ve been asked, no, no, ordered basically to send your terminal number to them so they can personally lecture you. Okay, what you wrote was a little risqué, but you only asked if building these big Stable thingies was really necessary. In your own way. I’m sorry, pal. This shouldn’t have happened.

Hiddi-Ho: Salutations, Tootsie Roll. Yes, we know who you are. We’ve known since you starting writing for The Horse’s Mouth, and have been keeping tabs on you and your editor for a while now.

By the authority invested in me by the Office of the Mare of the Ministry of Morale, I, Sandbag, am informing you of a pending warranted search of your apartment and other such locations, and of your immediate arrest for interrogation for spreading slander, false rumours of misconduct on part of the Equestrian government and Stable-Tec, and inciting unpatriotic morale amongst the citizens of Equestria.

Expect a team of Ministry of Morale agents at your home address within the next few hours to escort you to the nearest police station, and any attempts to resist will likely cause further counts to current accusations against you. Your employer Featherweight was taken in for questioning yesterday, as were all staff members of his magazine.

Now, perhaps your thoughts and opinions on recent events have twisted your sense of patriotism and faith in Princess Luna and the Ministries, but I can firmly assure you that they will guide us through these terrible times. Perhaps when after this is all over, you can resume your career as a journalist and help contribute to making a better tomorrow for your fellow ponies. Times are harsh and tough decisions must be made, but we at least we all know that it is for a good cause.

I shall speak to you in person when you are brought in for interrogation. And please note, we may have to examine your memories to identify your informants and sources. Have a nice day.

Hey: Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Roll. Featherweight here. I know we haven’t spoken much since I left Ponyville but I hope you are well. It’s been three months since I last talked to him. I left my magazine to Milky Way, and he’s doing an okay job, but purchases aren’t all that high now. Probably because Tootsie’s articles are gone. Have you heard from Tootsie yet? I tried sending messages to his apartment but they were blocked. What did those stupid MoM hoofheads do to him? I hope they didn’t hurt him or remove any of his memories. I called an old friend who works at Shattered Hoof, but she didn’t know anything about Tootsie’s whereabouts. Please, if you hear from him, please let me know. Thanks a bunch.

Author's Note

I looked up info on newspaper censorship during World War II for this chapter for a little inspiration and research. I was originally gonna have Featherweight and Tootsie remain anonymous, but then I wanted the characters to be a little bit more fleshed out through their relationship.