The Vault Dweller: A Fallout in Equestria Story

Chapter 9: Born to be Wild

There are some that say the sounds of gunfire is the new nighttime lullaby of the Wasteland. That hearing a shotgun, pistol, or cannon go off is the night chorus ponies had chosen for themselves. Nopony had ever bothered to tell Rusty that. He hunkered down, his ten millimeter pistol in hand, listening to the sound of bullets striking the side of the passenger car they were in. Angry shouts from outside, shouts demanding that they stop, give up, let the train go, and an entire collection of other things came from the group of Raiders outside.

Of course he returned fire when he could, and the Engineer was certainly intelligent enough to keep the train running. They had already crashed through something, but the train didn’t derail, it didn’t even rock back and forth, but instead it simply kept going. Riding in a belly of a steel beast certainly had its benefits. He raised up, just enough to look out, and ducked down before the bullet that kissed his empty window had a chance to claim him as its own. He raised up again, returning fire, and watched as the Unicorn he hit tumbled off of a cart being pulled by several Earth Ponies.

A few scant hours ago he had been in the Caboose, with Cream, actually inside of Cream, and now she, well she was there with him, her face angry, her revolver floating in the air, and she was shouting at them. It was fairly obvious to anyone watching that Cream was tired of Raiders, Slavers, and any other pony, gryphon, or anything else that wanted to make life difficult. She fired three shots, ducked down, and let the bullets fly past her.

“What in the name of Celestia’s tight tailhole are those idiots on the top of the train doing?! Are they playing cards or something?!”

He ignored her rant, knowing that most likely those two ponies were doing their best to hold off the attack with the limited numbers they had. The fact that he, and his herd of friends, was willing to help seemed to be greatly appreciated by those running the Railway Town Express. Rusty wasn’t a dick, or at least he didn’t think so, but he couldn’t help but wonder if they would be giving him and his friends some ammo at the end of this voyage. Since they obviously spent a large chuck on these Raiders.

Rusty heard the peppering of the sides of the train, the occasional suicidal Raider deciding to try and ram the cars only to end up under the wheels, and he lost count of the time that passed as it happened. Memories of being in American History, listening to the professor drone on about World War II, reading the stories left behind by the soldiers as they wrote about being inside of their ships, listening to the sounds of aircraft peppering their hulls with machine gun fire. As a student he never had anything to compare what that must have been like. Now, with these Raiders peppering the train, fighting to make it stop, and doing everything in their power to take it for themselves he understood.

He understood the madness those soldiers must have felt. To know that above them was fighters doing everything they could to take out the aircraft firing on them, and to feel so helpless about it. Of course he wasn’t totally helpless. He did shoot at the Raiders, usually getting one or two of them, but this group was fairly large. Their numbers had began shrinking, but he wasn’t sure how long they would hold out until they decided it wasn’t worth it, or the train came to a section of track they had to stop at.

Of course, when that happened he had no illusion about what would happen. Those Raiders would board the train, and there would be a firefight that would result in massive casualties on both sides. He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t let it come to that. So he chanced a look again to see one Raider specifically, one that was on top of a wagon, shouting orders. He nudged Cream who looked and then smiled.

“Must be the idiot that thought this was a good idea. Normally Raiders will keep fighting, even after their leader dies, but they become pretty unorganized fairly quickly. We take him out, I bet they fall apart pretty quick.”

The problem that was presented wasn’t something to be sneezed at. The only semi long range weapons theyhad was the pistols. A rifle would be excellent, but he didn’t think that anyone had one. At least he didn’t until he watched one of the ponies move from their seat. Their movement caught his eye, and then he looked above where they had been. There, in the luggage holder of the passenger car was a bolt action rifle. he moved toward it, taking a quick moment to stand and grab it. A shot rang out, and he felt the burning kiss of lead as it caressed my side. He fell to the floor, holding onto the rifle, trying to ignore the pain. He checked and saw that there was a shell in the chamber. He released the small magazine and saw there was four more waiting. He had five shots. Just five. He felt thankful there was a scope, although it was oddly place. He quickly realized it was a weapon for a pony.

The scope hung over the side, meant to be held by magic, and for him it was worthless. It’d have to open sites. He moved toward Cream, who looked upset to see his wound, and then she saw the rifle. Before he could protest she took it from him, her magic leveled it out, getting the scope by her eye, she aimed it toward the wagon carrying the Raider that was shouting at his troops, and then she fired. The first shot hit him, but it wasn’t a killing shot. It struck his foreleg, causing him to curse. The wagon began moving away from the train, and she wasn’t letting him get away. She worked the bolt with her magic, ejected the shell, and then loaded the next one.

Once more the rifle barked at the pony, once more she struck him, but while it wounded him, it didn’t kill him. He held his chest, his mouth open in agony, unknown words and curses escaped those pained lips, and Cream didn’t give a whorse’s loose tailhole what he was screaming about. She worked the bolt, loaded the next shell, and it found a happy home in his head. He slumped over, falling off of the wagon, and soon the Raiders began drifting back. She knew they weren’t gone, but instead they were confused.

Eventually they would be back, but when they were they would be mindless, idiotic, and far easier to deal with. She looked at Rusty, her human, and got him up to the seat. A healing potion found its way into his mouth, and he breathed as they continued on their way. The train finally began to slow, and the sound of the breaks being applied caught their attention. She began to question what was going on when she realized that the tracks were leading into something of a large settlement composed of gryphons, ponies, and even some zebras.

The sight of overturned train cars caught her attention, and she realized that they were entering Junction Town. The train had been slowing for a while, and it finally stopped, coming to rest next to a platform that looked to be mostly rebuilt from the original train station here. The two ponies riding on the top of the train entered through the hatch in the roof, and she could see that their time up there had been fairly unpleasant. Deciding not to give them a piece of her mind for not doing more she instead watched as they stepped off of the train.

After a few minutes one of them poked his head back into the passenger car, “Folks, we’re going to be staying in Junction town for about eight hours. We need to rest, we need to resupply, and if I’m being honest, I could use a damned drink. So, I suggest that all of you take a moment to get out, and look around, and maybe find some place nice to rest up for a few hours.”

Slowly the group of ponies on the passenger car left it, and before long there was talk spreading about the new Stable Dweller. Cream shook her head, and then she heard the radio in the distance, “Wastelanders, time for more hope. It seems that our new Stable Dweller recently rescued a load of ponies that were trapped in an old Ministry of Morale hub. Those poor ponies had been inside of several pods, frozen in what seemed like time, for quite a while. Apparently one of those ponies is actually now the acting head of the Ministry of Morale. That’s right Equestria, one of the original Party Ponies is still alive, and promising to spread good cheer through the wastelands! So, thank you! Thank you Stable Dweller for making things just a little bit better! This is DJ Pon-3, and now, enjoy some soothing tones from Sweetie Belle herself.”

As they walked a group of Gryphons neared them. Cream wasn’t sure what was going on, but one stepped in front of them, blocking their way. She was about to say something when Rusty laid a hand on her back. She nodded, and watched as he stepped forward.

“Can we help you?”

The Gryphoness, a crow headed gryphon, apparently one of the rarer breeds, nodded, “I believe so. Captain Grimfeathers would like to meet with you. I believe she wants to see if you’d be interested in a job.”

Rusty knew enough to know that when someone was talking like that they didn’t mean they were interested to see if he was interested, but that rather he was going to do this, regardless if he wanted to or not, but at least being civil about it wouldn’t land him in deeper shit. He followed the gryphons, Cream, and the rest of his friends, behind him. They entered into a building that looked mostly repaired, and sitting down at an old metal desk was a large gryphoness. She had the look of someone who had seen war in one form, or another, for years. Her hawk like face had a long scar running across it, but her eye met his own. He could see her studying him for a few moments before she stood on her hind legs and offered her taloned claw to him. He took it, shook, and was offered a seat.

“Not going to lie, when I heard about another Stable Dweller, specifically one that looked like a mutated minotaur, I had my doubts. Yet here you are,” she said as she walked around her desk, “You’ve become something of a celebrity, and that’s just fine. These ponies need hope, something to believe in. The stories of Littlepip, that ghost that walked the big 52 looking for her mother, those stories give ponies hope, but sometimes they have to see something to really believe it.”

She took a seat near him, “So, that brings me to my job offer. I understand that you’re needing to get to the Crystal Empire, and I won’t stop you from going, but I’d like you to help bring back some hope to these ponies. Along the way, there’s going to be a town, or rather a model of a town, that’s roughly about a day’s extra travel for your train. It will be after you leave Manehattan, so those ponies getting off there won’t have a thing to complain about.”

“What’s there?” Salty asked.

She chuckled, “The town was created by Solaris Corporation. The hope, I want you to bring, is to shut down the automated defense systems of the town.”

Lyra listened, shook her head, and then looked at the gryphoness, “Shut down… You’re wanting us to open up Sweet Ridge, aren’t you?”

Gawdyna looked at her, and nodded, “Yes, I want you to open up Sweet Ridge. It’s a model town, with only automatons, sprite bots, and a few helper drones occupying it. However, those security bots, and gun turrets, pretty much keeps everyone out of it,” she sighed, “Look, I’m fine with taking refugees here, but having another place for these ponies to call home, especially a place that is teeming with fresh water, crops, and fully stocked food pantries like Sun City, would be a bonus. Not to mention we could ensure that those inside of it don’t destroy it trying to claim it for themselves.”

“Not to be a dick or anything, but what’s the pay?”

She looked at him, at the Stable Dweller, and she breathed a sigh of relief, “The pay is a place of residence in Sweet Ridge, a few of my troops to help out when needed, and the thanks of potentially thousands of ponies.”

Author's Note

(AN: So, another update, and this is something I've been working toward. The next chapter is going to be a bit longer, and perhaps... a little emotional.)