Fallout Equestria: Shard, A Zebra's Tale

by Mackstack

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark, Adventure, Crossover
Length: 3615

A group of Zebra survivors, known as Shard, attempt to establish a foothold in Equestria on behalf of their tribe and zebrakind.

The dust of the Great War settled, and ponykind emerged the victors. They destroyed the Zebra Empire, crippling their society and rendering them useless. But not entirely. The Shard is the story of a group of Zebra scouts posted deep in Baltimare. Sent by Lliko, the leader of their tribe, they must find a way to save their home town, as well as establish a Zebra foothold in Equestria.

But not is all as it seems in the coastal town of Baltimare, as the hostile waters slowly claim the city. Will The Shard fight on behalf of Zebrakind and destroy their enemies? Or will they pledge to save Baltimare from a new nightmare, mightier than any empire seen before or since?

Note - This is a little side project of mine, and is my first fanfic of any particular length, so let's see how it goes!

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2015-07-24 00:58:56 UTC

Prologue

Prologue.

The jungle was quiet. The once vibrant and beautiful land was now lifeless, void of any of its old, natural charms. Once bright green trees now hung down towards the floor, blackened and charred from where the megaspells had torn through them. The air - now a sickly green – hung heavy in the canopy, slowly seeping down to the jungle floor. A few freakish plants stood tall amongst the rest of the withered flora, managing to adapt and enhance themselves among their new environment. These plants had shot up and spread out, engulfing much of what remained of the land around them, becoming known simply as Anathema. Animals too were now a rarity, with very few species managing to survive the intense explosions and subsequent radiation that had bombarded the land those 50 years ago.

The sound of chatter could be heard through the thick overgrowth. The jungle canopy itself was so thick with those radioactive plants that it would be impossible for any Pegasus flying above to see exactly where the voices were coming from. Though any Pegasus who had ventured so far from Equestria would surely rue the day they chose to travel this deep into Zebra territory.

Among the ponies of Equestria, little was known of the outcome of the Zebra Empire. Many considered exploration of their fate pointless. They had been wiped off the face of the world, bombarded by countless megaspell strikes. What could possibly survive that? And, truthfully, who would want to stumble across the hideous abominations that had done? As far as the ponies of Equestria were concerned, the few survivors of the Zebra Empire had reverted back into mere crippled tribes, with no strength left within them. And for those ponies, this was all they needed. Assurance that they would never return.

Lliko looked down upon his settlement. He was a rather stout and elderly zebra, his coat beginning to turn from its proud black and white into a rather more embarrassing grey. Only the red compass that was his cutie mark remained bright and youthful. With age he had taken to staying sat in his large, rather grandiose throne overlooking his camp. A large and intricate array of huts and rudimentary shelters were home to about 80 zebra stallions, mares and foals. They had constructed their homes themselves using wood and scrap scavenged from nearby factories that had been long abandoned, overtaken by the Anathema. The Anathema itself had once been a tiny, insignificant woodland on the outskirts of a pre-war zebra town known as Quagga. Now though, it had spread, burying any remnants of the town in its mighty roots. Lliko’s Camp was the only settlement for miles around that had not been destroyed, thanks to a force-field talisman that had been deployed within the Hearth.

The Hearth was Lliko’s pride and joy. It was why he had settled here, risked so many lives to beat back the Anathema, and destroyed so many innocent tribals that stood between him and his prize. The Hearth was - as far as Lliko knew - the only functional pre-war Zebra Munitions factory remaining in the entirety of the Kingdom that had not been destroyed by a tactical strike. A huge grey slab against its woodland backing, the crumbling Hearth dominated Lliko’s Camp. And it was all his. He was free to produce as many firearms and tools as he wished, limited only by the number of able-bodied zebras he had available to operate the temperamental machinery. With such power at his hooves, Lliko would surely be able to rally the other zebra tribes beneath his own proud banner, and march an assault on Equestria to finish the job his ancestors had failed before him. Unfortunately, Lliko knew his plan would falter with time. The force-field talisman was old and would soon need replacing, and the materials required to create another such talisman were dwindling. He knew he had no choice but to send out more scout parties.

He leant forward in his chair and called out to his subjects. They quickly fell in line beneath him, staring upwards. “My friends,” he cried, “as you are all so well aware the Hearth is a needy beast. We are currently producing firearms and equipment at a much slower rate, in an effort to maintain our ever-shrinking number of resources. Word from the other tribes has confirmed our fears. All the Zebran mines have been depleted; and so we must expand. Thus it is with great difficulty I must select a hoof-full of you to lead a scouting mission into Equestria, and pony-occupied territory.” Lliko paused, watching the eyes of his followers darting left and right. “Do not be afraid! Equestria is as weak a realm as us, I am sure! We shot first, and we are still on the assault!” He pulled himself up from his chair, raising a hoof to the sky. “We may have lost our footing, but we will stand strong again! Zebrakind will reach its rightful place as rulers of this land! We will complete the task Caesar failed all those moons ago! We will live again, and ponykind will suffer our swift and just punishment!” A cheer rose from the crowd as they thrust their hooves and rifles to the sky. Lliko’s speech had been a success.

“Now,” he turned to a small mare who approached his side, “choose twelve names at random from the terminal. These brave soldiers will be our ambassadors.” The mare quickly trotted down a wooden stairwell around the factory’s edge, before disappearing inside through two rusted double doors. They swung shut behind her. Shortly she returned with a list of twelve names, and hurriedly handed it to Lliko. He cleared his throat and read out the list. “The rest of you may return to your stations. As for our brave twelve, make your goodbyes. This may be the last time you see your friends and family for a long time. Then report into the Hearth for further briefing and arming. I shall see you there.” With that, he stepped back from view, and slowly trotted inside.

The interior of the Hearth was dark and cold. Usually it was much more an array of colours and sounds. But not now. Now it was running on empty. Huge vats hung limply from the ceiling, and motionless conveyor belts coiled around the floor like dead serpents. Very few machines were still working to full capacity, notably several bullet presses and a medical station. There was still an abundance of metals and medicinal herbs, but very few of the important talismans and gems. Of course, as far as the other zebras were concerned, there was still ample supply. Lliko’s followers never saw the material reserves, so they had no idea how bad the situation truly was. Lliko was anxious not to give details of the mission’s urgency to the general populace, for fear of creating a panic. The doors swung open, and light poured onto the factory floor. Twelve zebras marched into the hall, nervously awaiting instruction. They stopped and fell in line before Lliko, saluting.

“At ease friends. What I tell you is not to leave this room. Our material reserves are running low. Primarily, our talismans and gems. If we do not stock up on these soon, the force-field talisman will die, and the Anathema will engulf the Hearth. And if that happens, we lose all chances of winning this war. So you twelve will be split into three scouting squads, and will settle in different areas of Equestria.” He separated the zebras into three groups. He pointed to the first group. “You are Glass. You will be posted on the outskirts of Froggy Bottom Bogg.” He pointed it out on an old-world map mounted on the wall, slowly peeling away and decaying. He motioned towards the second group. “You are Beam. You will be posted close to the city of Vanhoover.” Again he pointed it out on the map. “And you are Shard. You will be posted here, to Baltimare. You all have three simple objectives. ONE! Locate a renewable source of gems. TWO! Locate an influential area from where we can establish a foothold in Equestria. THREE! Collect information on our enemies. Contact home on your radios when you make progress, and find us a method to win this war!  Good luck, my friends, you’re going into Equestria. The Wolf’s Den.”

I: Needs must when Luna drives

I: Needs must when Luna drives

“This is Shard contacting Home. Do you read us? We have arrived in the Baltimare region. I repeat, do you read us?”

The sound of static filled the air around Akoa as she fiddled plaintively with several wires hanging from the back of the radio unit. She had lost signal to Home shortly before arriving in the Baltimare area and it worried her. She was posted with three incredibly diverse zebras, but no clear leader had been assigned. Without direction from the tribe she feared imminent failure.

“Hey, have you had any luck?”

Another zebra had appeared in the doorway behind her. He was rather slight and seemed to lack any presence. Akoa wondered how long he had been stood behind her. She sat up from under the desk.

“I'm afraid not, Val. I've tried contacting both Home and the other scout groups, but no success. I can only assume we are out of range. Either that or something is interfering with the signal.”

Val sighed, exasperated. “Would it not be more effective outside on the surface, as opposed to down here in a mine?”

The group had discovered a small gem mine a few miles south of Baltimare City, which they had quickly scouted out and deemed safe to inhabit. A relic of the pre-war world, the mine had been stripped clean long ago. All that remained were the bones of the desperate ponies cowering within when the megaspells fell. Or were they zebras? It was difficult to tell.

“I have tried the radio on the surface numerous times. Nothing. Not even a second of connectivity. My aim now is to upgrade it somehow, boost the signal strength. Of course, I needed a workstation to tinker, so I kindly commandeered this gentlecolt’s office.” She pointed at a skeleton slumped back on a worn sofa in the corner. “He won’t be needing it.”

Val turned back to Akoa, a look of disgust on his face. “How can you speak like that? They were a living being once.”

“They were, but now they aren't. Circle of life, I'm afraid. Now, do you have anything useful to tell me, or can I return to my duties?” She leant back down under the desk.

Akoa had always been a no-nonsense sort, ever since fillyhood. Growing up in the tribe she had always wanted to design things, build things never seen before. She was good with her hooves and her head, always dreaming up new inventions. If only she had an opportunity to create them. It was when she grew older the opportunity seemed to come, as she was delighted to become the official engineer of the tribe. As it turned out though, it was rather a dull job. She rarely did more than repair a broken conveyor belt or elevator system in the Hearth, and was never allowed near the construction tables. She never got to do anything cool like design a new rifle or build an incredible android. What a waste. Ever since then she saw no point in dreaming big. What was the point in being an optimist in a world that doesn't care for you? Especially one tinged with radioactive death.

She looked up over her stomach as Val slipped into the room from the doorway. Reaching into his saddlebags he pulled out a map, flattening it onto the desk. “This is a map of the local area. I found it in the foreman’s office.” The map focused on Baltimare City, with several new locations drawn on around it. “We are here.” He pointed with his hoof to the mine. “To the north we have Baltimare City. To the south, Horseshoe Bay. The East is nothing but ocean, so that’s a no-go of course. To the west, seemingly nothing. The map is blank. But this is where it gets interesting.” Grabbing the corner of the page with his mouth, he turned the map over. A message had been scrawled on the back of the paper. Val cleared his throat and proceeded to read, slowly and purposefully.

“To my friends, never travel North of Baltimare. The town officials say the forest there has been overrun by cragidiles, but you should know that this isn't true. Slavers from Fillydelphia are travelling south, and they’ll soon decide to overrun ‘The Backwards Baltimare’.”

“Backwards Baltimare?” Akoa interrupted.

“I don’t know. Perhaps a nickname for the city? Anyway,” Val continued, “it gets stranger. The message ends with one phrase, repeated multiple times.”

Akoa leant up from her work, intrigued. “Go on.”

“Beware the sea. She never sleeps. Repeated over and over again.”

Akoa laughed. “Well, they were clearly a mental-case then. Ignore it. Of course the sea is dangerous. Everything in this backward little nation is now.” Val could not help but express is concern in the matter. “Should we not mention this to Daxi and Xato? Surely it would be in our best interests to warn them.”

Akoa rolled her eyes and slumped down below the desk again. “Forget those psychos. The less they know, the safer I feel. Besides, they aren't here. They said something about scouting out one of the medical stations we passed on the way here. They've taken two of the stealth suits.”

Val knew this meant something bad was going on. He’d only known the two of them vaguely back in the tribe, but had learnt enough to know they weren't zebras of diplomacy or particular good-nature. Wherever they were, though, Val was just glad they weren't here with him.

Night had fallen on God-Light Medical Station. The air was quiet, populated only by the noise of the occasional breath of wind, or the groan of a patient. Lights shone down from the top of the building, but nopony could be seen. Just Daxi’s luck. She liked a fight. The station had nothing in the way of security structures, so she and Xato had approached the encampment with ease. They didn't even lock the gates. Amateurs.

“Xato. You search the main structure. I’ll take the out-buildings.”

The two shimmering outlines disappeared into the camp.

Daxi slowly pushed open the first door she came to. She knew she was supposed to be looking for gems, but she wanted some kit of her own. Primarily medical supplies. She knew the amount doled out to her group would not last long. They wouldn't healthily last one zebra for any great deal of time, let alone four. And as much as she didn't want to stoop to using medicine pulled from ponies hooves, she knew it was necessary.

“Needs must when Luna drives.”

Stepping inside she found herself in what appeared to be a staff bedding area. Expertly she began quietly sifting through cabinets and draws around the room. She grabbed everything she could, stuffing it into her saddlebags before slipping out again. As tempting as it was to kill one of these ponies in their sleep, she knew it was probably not wise. She just hoped Xato remembered that too. A stealth mission, she had said. A stealth mission.

Xato was taken aback by the sight before him. He had entered the main building, only to be greeted by a huge number of hospital beds and gurneys. Each appeared to be occupied by a pony, some in more varying degrees of pain and duress than others. Walking through the hall, he found himself staring at the warped bodies around him. He hated ponykind with a passion, and so he found it oddly comforting to see so many in such pain. He would enjoy this. He proceeded to start rummaging through draws, stealing whole swathes of materials from the cabinets around the room. He took a moment to read the labels. “Buck, Party Time Mint-als, Dash. What a joke!” he thought to himself. He didn't understand why Daxi wanted this medicine so much. They had been given ample supplies by Lliko. Surely they would only need what the tribe had given them? He was snapped back to reality when he heard a groan behind him, emanating from one of the beds. He spun on his heels.

There he could see a stallion and a griffon, both in serious pain. It looked like the stallion had lost his leg somehow. As for the griffon, well, Xato was sure wings didn't naturally go at that angle. Stepping closer, Xato saw the extent of the damage to the stallion. His leg had gone a vile green, contrasting the light pink of his flesh around the wound. Surrounding his bedsit were numerous IV bags and drips, all pumping medicine into the stallion’s veins. Xato was no doctor, but even he could tell this stuff was keeping his little friend here alive. He grinned. This stallion wasn't going to survive very long in the wastes without a leg, so what was the harm in helping him along to the grave just that little bit sooner? He leant forward, slowly lifting the IV bags down off of the arm they were held on. Placing them down on the bedside, he disconnected the bags from the tubes, letting them flop down uselessly by the pony’s side. He placed the drips away in his saddlebags, and stepped back ready to leave. As he did he looked back at the griffon, now motionless and quiet. He leant across, placing both hooves on either side of the griffon’s head. In one swift motion he yanked the head to the side, breaking her neck. It wasn't fair for a griffon to be trapped in a hell-hole with these ponies. Content with his work, he turned to the door, and joined Daxi who was waiting there for him.

As quickly as they had arrived, two shimmering outlines disappeared into the night.

“You did what?!” Val couldn't help but scream at Xato, something he knew was rather foolish, in retrospect.

Xato scoffed. “What, you braindead or something? We went to get meds, and I saw a weak little pony cripple hoggin’ a load of ‘em. And why waste good drugs on a bag of bones like that? So I unplugged him. ” He turned towards Daxi, who smiled and nodded approvingly.

“Xato’s right, you know. We came here with a job to do, by any means necessary. Even if I did tell him to be quiet about it.” Daxi looked around the mine they occupied, her eyes coming to rest on several skeletons piled up in a corner. “The thing about these ponies is that they can’t look after themselves. Always got to run crying to somepony else or hide in a corner. And look where that got them.” She kicked a rock at the pile, dislodging several bones. They came tumbling down with a thud.

Val’s eyes darted between Daxi and Xato. “What are you talking about? Of course they can’t look after themselves, there was a nuclear war! You honestly expect them to be gaily skipping around, hoof in hoof as if nothing happened? They need help!”

Daxi stepped forward, staring deep into Val’s eyes. An unnerving smile broke out across her face. “If I didn't know any wiser I’d say you sound a lot like one of those pony sympathisers. That’s not a wise stance to take in the presence of a soldier like myself or Xato here. If it weren't for Lliko and the Hearth choosing you to be here, I’d have kicked you out into the wastes for making such a disgusting comment. Then we’d see how far your pony-loving got you, as they unloaded their guns at the mere sight of you. Ponies fear Zebras. That’s the way it should be.”

Val stayed strong, maintaining his composure. “How would you know how a pony feels about a zebra? I’d bet you've never even spoken to one! In fact, have you even ever left Zebra territory before this mission?”

Daxi raised her hoof and threw it forward into Val’s neck, pinning him to the cold steel wall behind them. “Who the hell do you think you are? Some do-gooder that’s gonna restore harmony? Don’t make me laugh! If Lliko knew how you spoke, you’d be a shame on the tribe. You wouldn't be allowed to fight under his banner! And then what would you be? Nothing. Nothing!”

“Hey, let him go!” A voice - stern and assertive - issued from the hallway. Akoa’s head had appeared around the door, staring daggers at Daxi. “Get your sorry flanks in the office. We have plans to discuss. Unlike you three I've actually been doing work.”

Daxi growled and brought her hoof away from Val’s throat. He slid down the wall, gasping for air. She leant down towards the hunched stallion, whispering in his ear. “You see Val, this is why you aren't in charge. You lead with your heart, not your head. These ponies are the villains. They don’t deserve your petty sympathy.” With that she turned and left the room, with Xato hot on her heels. Val gasped for breath as he regained composure. Clearly he would have to work a little harder to create a sense of diplomacy amongst his so-called colleagues.