Fallout Equestria: Rogue Thunderhead

by Salty Alty

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Crossover, Sex, Fallout, Profanity, Gore, Violence, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Narcotics, Drama, Original Character, Science Fiction, Other
Length: 9080

[PLAY HOLOTAPE] On the day of August 18th, 2090, the Grand Pegasus Enclave was shaken to its core by the loss of a Thunderhead class cloudship to traitors, in what is now collectively known by the public at large as; The Rogue Thunderhead incident.

It is the year 2090, 13 years after the Great War ravaged the majority of Equestria, as well as most of the known world. Life is tough, and it will be a long while before things get better.

Drastic measures must be taken to ensure survival; but how far is too far? For some of the newly formed communities, this question must be asked time and time again... And going too far could result in disaster.

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"It is when Oppression becomes a fact, that Revolution becomes a duty." This statement was made by those freed from tyranny for decades, until they were finally extinguished in the fires of Megaspell warfare. What everypony knows in the back of their heads however, is that tyranny never dies.

And for the crew of the Cirrostratus, A Thunderhead class vessel, this unfortunate truth has become their reality. A nascent Enclave has treated their sailors poorly for far too long, and have forced their mariners to work under inequine conditions and constraints for over a decade now.

With three thousand souls on board vying for freedom and a decent life, it presents a harsh reality. When not just survival, but their hopes and dreams, are put on the line, everypony has a choice to make. This is the story of those ponies, and the choices that circumstance forced them to make.
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Special thanks to Quindiesel and Duskhoof for editing and proofreading!

I now have a discord! Join me over at the Salt Shaker!

Published 2019-06-07 18:10:02 UTC
Last updated 2019-07-05 19:48:22 UTC

On Steel Wings

It doesn't take much to send a pony, or group of ponies, over the edge. Not enough sleep. Poor quality of life... Something as simple as the food they eat. One of these alone will not cause a collapse in a chain of command, but mix a plethora of these issues with isolation, sprinkled with an exorbitant amount of time away from home, and you've got one nasty cocktail of displeasure.

Normally, this can be managed. Shorter ship tours, better quality food, a kind and affable command staff, and a constant influx of mail and gifts from family. Simple luxuries like hot showers, soft beds, and small treats like candy and chips go extremely far in improving a military pony's mood. And when those things are lacking, one usually has their fellow sailors to fall back on. Card games, friendly competition, and general fraternization do wonders to improve morale.

Now, ask yourself. What happens when all of these things are stripped away?

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The bridge of a Thunderhead is, under normal conditions, much like an office. Everypony has a job to do, and they perform it to the best of their ability. The sheer size of the vessel, at 78 meters wide and 337 meters long, afforded a large, but protected bridge.

But much like an office, toxicity can spread like a disease, depending on it's source. Somepony lower on the totem pole is easily disciplined, and even those in management roles can be brought to heel. But when it's somepony at the top of the ladder raining shit on those below, things easily get out of hoof.

Such was the case with one Captain Ironhoof. After the war had ended, the Grand Pegasus Enclave had clambered to control their newly formed government and vast military resources after they had been spurned by Rainbow Dash. The resulting reform could be called overzealous, severely limiting and cutting back on luxuries in the face of post-war scarcity. Ironhoof embodied this new regime to a fault, holding the belief that only through strict discipline and rigorous dedication to the new protocol that the Enclave would survive.

Being granted command of one of the only fully operational Thunderhead class vessels, christened the Cirrostratus, exacerbated this issue further, with the arrogant stallion holding monthly physical fitness tests that were far harsher than any his crew had taken before. While full nights of sleep had been a rarity before his command, they were non-existent afterwards. Watch shifts had gone from four hours to eight, on top of normal duties for the crew.

Raptor crews would be sent on long patrol sorties, only being permitted to return to the Cirrostratus after a minimum of a month spent below the clouds, often running on a small skeleton crew.

Food and clean water on board were rationed heavily, with most of the onboard sailors only receiving up to a single meal a day. Showers were also in short supply due to the rationing, often restricted to under a minute or less, in addition to heated showers being afforded to officers exclusively.

These factors, alongside numerous other shortcomings among both the command staff of the Cirrostratus, and Enclave military command at large, lead to the events that occurred on the date of August 18th, 2090, Collectively referred to in the following years as...

The Rogue Thunderhead incident.

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8/15/2090 09:00, Approx 7 miles off of the coast of Manehattan.

Ironhoof sat with his command staff on an elevated portion of the bridge, positioned above the rest of the bridge crew. Various screens and control terminals dominated the room, faintly glowing wires running across the walls, linking the systems in the CIC to the bridge's various computers and consoles. The murmur of an occasional pony talking to themselves or giving an update to their fellows could be faintly heard, while outside the window, you could see the faintest glimpse of a brewing storm not too far ahead of the massive vessel.

Looking towards his second in command, his rough, gravelly voice rang out. "Veil, any updates on that rogue storm?"

The dark grey stallion shook his head, his blue mane shaking slightly from the motion. "No Sir, other than a higher than normal energy output it's stayed the same." His eyes furrowed, as he bit the inside of his cheek. "There isn't a way around it either, Sir. Our only options are to either steam through it or wait it out."

The Captain huffed, watching a light rainfall pattering against the reinforced glass windows. The occasional loud, thunderous BOOM could be heard from agitated storm clouds, while in the dry bridge the sounds of terminal keyboards being tapped and various instruments being operated contrasting the outside ambiance. "And you're sure that our ponies can’t clear it out, Thundercracker?" He asked, a hint of agitation apparent in his tone.

Veil shook his head, replying tersely. "No Sir. Not unless you want to deploy power armor units, and there is a high risk of those suits getting damaged." Pointing to the monitor he was sat at with a wing, he continued. "We tracked that storm all the way from the Everfree and the energy readings for it are more volatile than any storm we've seen. Individual clouds can range anywhere from a guppy, to approximately three times the strength of our strongest lightning clouds." He shrugged. "Unless you want to risk vital resources to bust it, we either have to fly right through it, or sit tight."

Letting out a low growl, the stone gray pony glared at the storm ahead. "Fine then," he shouted out to the helmsponies. "All ahead full! We will reach Baltimare by the end of next week, storm or no storm!" Though he didn't hear it, the entirety of the bridge staff let out a barely audible snort.

The quartermaster, a deep navy-blue mare named Astral Star, rolled her eyes. "Aye Sir. Around the horn it is then." Brushing a lock of white mane out of her way, she dug into a small drawer, waving the head helmspony, Shephard, over. Pulling out a large chart, she began setting the new course and charting the best path through the large maelstrom ahead.

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8/15/2090, 12:00, 7 miles off of the coast of Manehattan.

Low panting and huffing could be heard throughout the room, echoing off the walls and mingling with the ambient hum of machinery, against the background of the nearly silent air conditioning units periodically placed throughout the ship.

Pushing against the metallic floor of the recreation center with her wings, an azure mare let out one final heave upwards before flopping onto her back. Other than a stallion sitting a few hooves away from her, this floor of the center was empty. Bushy black hair shocked with blue fell upon her face as she breathed heavily, sweat dripping down her body.

"How many did I get this time, Ace?" She asked, looking at the tall, jet black stallion sitting down near a rack of weights, squinting from the lights above her.

The stallion tutted, the bright light above reflecting off of his short, stark white mane. "157 wing-ups and counting, Aquila. Looks like both of us will still make the top of the monthly PRT, as usual." Standing up, he trotted over to the prone mare and lightly tapped her side with a hoof. "Come on now, get up ya lazy girl. We still need to go check about our armor, Sprocket says she's got our suits fixed."

Groaning audibly, the blue pegasus clambered to her hooves. "Ugh, Do I have to? The floor is so comfortable!" She exclaimed dramatically, dragging herself over to her locker. AQUILA NATUS was etched into a small plate on the door, it's owner fumbling with a small padlock on the side for a moment before it clicked.

Pulling the door open, she reached inside the locker without looking. Retrieving a large dark grey jacket with a patch of a double-headed eagle emblazoned onto the shoulders, she struggled with it briefly, finally slipping her wings and hooves through after a time.

Aerial Ace chuckled, already snug in a jacket of his own. A small image of a pair of extended wings adorned his, and if you looked closely you could barely see the various repairs, marked by patchwork fabrics and stray sewing thread made to the jacket over time.

The two began walking, almost dragging themselves towards the exit. Both of their faces were marred with sweat and there were barely visible bags under their eyes.

As they passed into the hall, Ace looked down at his superior officer, the mare slouching and still breathing heavily from her previous bout of exertion. "Did you hear? We're heading right into that storm soon." Ace let a small grin slip onto his countenance, before whispering in Aquila's ear. "You and I both know what that means. No comms, and we'll be completely off the radar... anything could happen."

Chuckling, the mare straightened her posture, striding forward with renewed vigor. "Reminds me of a story I heard as a filly. An old frigate had sailed into a freak storm right around here and it's entire crew perished because of their captain's decision to go around The Horn. It's said that their hatred was so great that the ship, and its crew, were raised from the deep as spirits... and it is also said that they still haunt the waves to this day." Giving Ace a mischievous smile, she continued walking forward. "If I recall correctly... That ship’s name was the Mendacious."

Matching her tempo, he gave her a nod, mirroring her expression. "That there's a damn fine story. I'll be sure to tell the boys and the rest of the crew about it... though I had heard that the ship’s name was the Profundity."

As the two trotted briskly through the long corridors, occasionally having to crouch through the various doors between sections of the ship, they arrived at a small stairwell. The muffled sound of shouting ponies and heavy machinery echoed as the two pegasi slowly descended the stairs, walking down a much dirtier corridor. They could see a few hoofprints on the metal floor left in occasional puddles of oil. Multiple large doors lined the corridor, marking various storage rooms and workshops.

Approaching a large door, Aquila turned the wheel in its center, the locking mechanism rolling back. Once the door was unlocked, she pushed against the large metal object. The door creaked and groaned in protest, but opened to reveal a sprawling hangar bay. Pegasi rushed to and fro, their superiors rushing their subordinates with raised voices, shouting various obscenities and jargon that Aquila couldn't wrap her head around. Thirty-two Vertibucks sat on this level of the hangar bay alone, all organized into a neat row on each side of the bay, with another thirty-two on the level below. Nearly every variant of the Vertibuck was loaded on the Cirrostratus for this deployment, the exception being the CV-2 configuration.

Scanning the expanse of the hangar, Ace and Aquila finally spotted their target. They were working on one of many powered armor suits in a long line, their respiratory units sitting in a neat pile some 5 hooves away.

Ace waved at the pony, shouting loudly over the roar of machines and bustling noise alike. "'Ey Sprocket!" The pony who was wearing dark blue overalls turned to the source of the noise, a large welding mask concealing her facial features.

Flicking the welding mask up with an orange hoof revealed the face of the mare, her glasses slightly askew. Darker shades of orange and freckles were dappled across her face, and messy dark blue hair was kept out of the way by a turquoise bandana. The lanyard she was wearing bore a dog tag, the name SPROCKET WRENCH engraved into the metal, along with her birth date. "Oi, 'Ello there, luvs! Took ya long enough!" Sprocket said with a cheeky, mirthful voice and a wide grin across her face as she waved the pair of marines over.

Briskly trotting over, occasionally bumping into a pony rushing to and fro inside the bustling hangar bay, Ace brought the small, portly mare into a hug, giving her a noogie. "Hey there Sprocks, Y'Said you had our suits done?" Releasing his friend, Ace stepped back and walked over to a suit of armor painted a jet black, his face being reflected in the sheen of the armor. A dark crimson glass stared back at him as he looked up to the helmet, barely able to see the camera lenses that lay behind the screen.

Walking over to the black stallion, Sprocket yawned deeply, the mechanic having obvious, dark bags under her eyes. "Yea', all the servos are fully operational again." Gesturing with a hoof towards the small energy lasers mounted on the side of the suit, she continued. "These lil' fillies are all good as well, just needed some... minor repair work."

Peeking her head over Ace's shoulder, Aquila nodded. "Yeah. This is some damn fine work, Though I doubt they needed more than just 'minor' repair work... that, to me, sounds like a load of donkey balls."

The mechanic's eyes flashed with recognition, as she mouthed a silent 'Oh'. "Ah okay, now that I think about it, all of the marines suits need a day or two more in the shop. I'll get my team on it; In the meantime, why don't you get those crayon munchers of yours in shape? The coming storm will probably be rough on ol’ Cirry here."

The two marines nodded, the three ponies sharing a knowing glance.

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8/15/2090, 19:00, 5 miles off the coast of Manehattan.

The dimly lit mess hall reeked of melancholy, one of the dimly lit lights occasionally flickering as power was routed away from the kitchen for the night. The occasional clink of a plate being tossed into a sink echoed throughout the empty cafeteria, and you could faintly hear the rumbling of dishwashers and hooves gently clopping throughout the room.

Under one of these flickering lights, at a worn and well-used table, sat a pair of pegasi. One was wearing a large, stained, black apron. A chin with cinnamon brown stubble was matted in sweat, just like the dreadlocks upon its owners head. Feathers brushed against fur as his wings fidgeted. A dijon yellow hoof tapped the table impatiently, much to the chagrin of the pony on the other end of the table.

His companion was likewise equally disheveled. Her black mane was tied heavily into a ponytail behind her head, and much of her light grey fur was concealed by a bright orange safety jacket. A pair of glasses sat off to the side of her plate of steamed vegetables, untouched by the fork sat by a gloved hoof a few inches away.

The pair sat in silence for a short while, the silence being broken by the apron-clad pegasus. "So, Quick, you hear that story that's been going around?" He said with a soft timbre to his voice, raising a sunken eyebrow at the pony in front of him.

Quick Fix scoffed, picking up her fork and idly poking her vegetables as they cooled down. There was still a touch of residual steam left to waft upwards, as the scent of dried herbs made their way into her nose. "Yes, Sous. What of it?" Gently lifting her fork to her lips with a wing, she took a bite of her food, her eyes closed in satisfaction as her stomach rumbled.

Sous Vide looked around the room warily, as if searching for something... or somepony. "You mean to tell me you don't care? You ain't concerned at all about what's comin'?” The muscles in his foreleg tensed as he struggled to control his nervous fidgeting, his ear beginning to twitch in lieu of the hoof.

The mare chewed her food for a second before swallowing it, she looked at the neurotic chef through lidded violet eyes, her expression deadpan. "There was an old saying my mother used to say in times of hardship," Her tone was soft but calculated as she spoke, betraying no emotion. The engineer looked at her fork intently, turning it over slowly between her feathers, her eyes catching on the small glints of light reflecting off of the metal. "'This too shall pass.' Fitting, is it not?" Stabbing her fork quickly into another clump of carrots and broccoli, she continued. "Ultimately, I don't care. My job is to keep this ship operational and I will perform that duty to the best of my abilities... Regardless of the circumstance."

The mustard pegasus cracked his neck, scanning the stoic mare’s face for any signs of deceit or fear; but he found none. Licking his lips, Sous gave a terse nod. "Awright then. Get some rest, we've got a busy few days ahead of us, you hear?" He said, softly patting her back, before walking off to the barracks.

As the shorter pegasus left the room, Quick gave a small smile as she lifted the fork to her lips, blowing on the vegetables to cool them down. Chewing slowly, she thought solemnly to herself. "This too shall pass; As all things do."

Author's Note

I give a special thanks to my friend Quindiesel for inspiring me to start this project!

If you guys enjoyed this story, I'd recommend going over and checking out his FO:E story, Fallout Equestria: Newshire!

Calm Before The Storm

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8/16/2090, 06:00, 4.5 miles off the coast of Manehattan.

As the sun crept its way above the dull gray horizon, the lower hangar bay was filled with the sounds of those on morning shift mingling and talking, and one could hear the occasional flame of a welding torch or clank of a tool being put to liberal use. A cacophony of raindrops assaulted the sides of the massive warship, the sound echoing throughout the entire hangar bay. It was a cold day on board the Cirrostratus, everypony having bundled up in whatever warm clothing they could get their hooves on.

The largest concentration of such ponies were near one of the larger, more heavily armed variants of the Vertibucks, which had the image of a bird's beak painted upon its nose. The area around the aircraft was crowded by maintenance ponies and engineers, who were fussing over its left wing, a few of its large rotor blades bent at an angle. A single large burn mark dominated the left side of the Vertibucks hull, blackest at the center.

A mare sat off away from the hustle and bustle of the working ponies, her peach coat bearing a small number of large oil splotches, her scrappy maroon mane singed and poofed, and she wore a heavy jacket with a leaf stitched into the fabric. The edge of its sleeves were slightly charred at the edges. A few medics fussed over her, wrapping bandages over various small burns around her hooves, and checking her over for any more wounds. Her teeth chattered every so often, as her rapid breathing slowed to a calmer pace.

As the medical staff tended to the mare's wounds, an older, stark white mare coughed loudly near her, making her presence known and causing a few of the gathered ponies to jump and salute. She looked at the injured pegasus and medical ponies with scarlet, half-lidded eyes. She gestured to the ponies fussing over her friend to back off a bit, the ponies complying hesitantly. Hoofing over a thermos to her friend, she sat down roughly in front of the pony. "'Ey there, Windy. You don't look too hot..." Pulling the pony into a soft hug, she pulled back, looking at the mare's singed and freckled face. "What happened out there?"

Emerald eyes snapped up, looking at the white pony. "I-I don't know Swift... I was doin' some scouting in the storm, like the brass asked me to when some lightnin' struck Ol' Canary there!" She exclaimed, shakily gesturing to the larger Vertibuck with a hoof. "She's proofed for lightnin', but I nearly went down when that cloud struck me! It just... Lashed out like 'twas a rabid timberwolf!" Windy shakily brought the thermos to her lips, hot vegetable stew flowing into her mouth. Gulping down a mouthful of soup, she continued. "20 years, and I ain't ever had a crash. But them clouds... they nearly did me in. I'm telling you what, Dive... Ain't ever seen a storm that fierce in my life." she said a tad more steadily, her body shaking a little less and her breathing lighter than her previously labored gasps for air.

Swift Dive nodded, the dog tags attached to her neck jingling as she did so. "Easy there, sister. I already know you had a rougher time than when I had to pull off Keel's loop. Let's just take it from the top. Start from the beginning, okay?" she said softly, trying her best to come off as reassuring. She had never been good at this sort of thing, more suited to hyping up her fellows and acting a rambunctious fool than calming ponies down, but she tried her best.

Sighing heavily, Windy spoke, walking over and laying a hoof on the large aircraft. The thin aluminum skin where the lightning struck was completely melted, leaving Swift to wonder just how powerful it must have been to melt such a conductive material. "Awright. We had just been a couple klicks out when we first entered that... That storm. My co-pilot for the day was Rocky Wind, and we still had around an hour or two before our fuel level hit bingo. Both of our flight suits were in tip-top shape, and our oxy' masks were working as they should have been. The lightnin'... It was weird. 'Was different colors, like a rainbow.

The clouds were also thicker than they should've been, almost like jello. Our avionics were also on the fritz and I had to shift to manual after a half hour. It's when I tried pullin' back, that shit hit the fan. One of the clouds, a yella' one if I remember right, suddenly shifted to a bright red before the cloud just... exploded, and two bolts of lightnin' hit us right in the side and our rotor. Some of the consoles started to 'splode and set on fire, and I could hear the port rotor clankin' somethin' fierce. Rocky passed out, and the flight stick barely wanted to respond at all... I coulda' died then and there if I hadn't stabilized our bird quick enough."

Swift walked over to Windy and put a hoof on her withers, casting a critical and scrupulous gaze over the hull of the Vertibuck. Indeed, on closer inspection, one could notice slight variations in the hue of the burn, like an incredibly dark rainbow. "And I assume that's when you managed to make it back here, yea'?"

The flighty pilot nodded. "Aye. My bird barely managed it, but we dropped below the storm and I was able to limp us back here... Somewhat safely. She'll definitely be grounded for a few months, that's for damned sure." She said, kicked the ground and letting out a loud snort.

It was then that she heard a pony stomping up to her rapidly and the sound of ponies standing at attention barely registered in her ears before she was on the receiving end of a verbal onslaught from the pony. Her dark grey coat, straight cobalt blue mane, and the hornet cutie mark were among the most abhorred of the crew. Everything about this pony screamed "By the books", from the pristinely pressed uniform to the perfectly brushed fur on her coat. "Ahem! What are you doing back here so early Ensign?! And where's Sergeant Rocky?! The Captain ordered you two out for 5 hours, and it's only been 2!" The mare screeched, the tufted ears and fangs made as apparent as possible.

Nearly stepping over her own hooves, she shakily brought a hoof to salute the enraged officer. "S-Sorry Lieutenant Vespa, Ma'am! The storm nearly downed our aircraft and we were forced to RTB!" Windy's eyes were wide and she swore she could hear her heart pounding in her ears. Tears brimmed in her eyes and her jaw started to quiver. Vespa terrified her and it showed. Windy had joined the navy to fly support aircraft and had only been drafted to combat duties once the Great War ended and good pilots became scarce and harder to train.

Giving an annoyed huff, Vespa's nasally voice cried out once more. "Then why didn't you continue observation if you were still flying?!"

Attempting to defend herself, the pilot stammered out a reply. "W-W-We couldn't! Our avionics were buste-"

"DO I LOOK LIKE I CARE IF YOUR AVIONICS WERE BUSTED?! YOU HAD YOUR ORDERS AND HAVE DIRECTLY DISOBEYED THEM! YOU HAVE EYES, OR ARE THOSE BROKEN T- AGH!" Her complaining was cut short as she felt an impact directly to her chest, finding a white hoof connected to a mare's body.

Swift Dive looked at the shorter mare with a dangerous gaze, retracting her hoof and cracking her neck. "Now, how about you simmer down now, and give this mare an apology before I dent the floor with your skull?" She pawed the floor a few times as her tail dramatically flicked.

Vespa snorted, using a wing to pull back her collar, revealing the silver two bars that marked her rank. "I'm not sure if you're aware of who you're talking to, pogue. Perhaps if you walk away and forget about all of this, I won't report you to the Captain." She smiled smugly, daring the mare in front of her to protest.

Unfortunately for her, the last thing she saw before her head was slammed into the metal floor was the snowy mare giving a cocksure smile. Her head spun and she was fairly sure she was seeing stars as she impacted the floor once more, as the world around her rocked and twisted. She felt herself being pulled to her hooves, and shakily stood up.

Swift glared at her with contempt, standing to her full height, towering over the smaller thestral, and she too pulled back her collar, revealing three silver stars. "I want you to listen close and listen well. I've dropped deuces more intimidating than you. I've seen the worst shit the Great War had to offer. And I didn't survive all of that, just to deal with an uptight twat who thinks she's the best thing since sliced bread!" Her volume had raised and her shouts could be heard across the entire hangar bay. "You're damn right I'm a pogue! Because you know what snowflake? At least I actually made an impact in the world! Your ass? You ain't seen, nor done, shit! You'll never make O-9 sitting in an air-conditioned office all bucking day, jilling yourself silly while the rest of us work our asses off to appease you and your stupid bucking Captain! So go buck yourself twinkle-hooves, and don't you dare talk to my buckin' troops like that ever again... GOT IT?!"

Vespa nodded rapidly, clumsily walking away with her tail between her legs, her nose leaving a small trail of blood across the hangar bay.

Swift Dive rolled her eyes and as she saw Vespa retreating up the stairs, she growled. "Buckin putz."

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08/16/2090, 13:00, 4 miles off of the coast of Manehattan, Approx. 2 days travel to the storm.

Two pegasi sat in a small, dim office room. The lights flickered every so often, and the ceiling fan let out a nearly imperceptible hum. One, an orange stallion with a rust colored mane, was laid down on a slightly worn down couch, a mechanical wings' servos occasionally revving and whirring as it fidgeted in place. A set of aces adorned his flank, as well as 3 poker chips.

The other, a creamy white mare, sat in a cushy faux leather office chair, her strawberry red mane tied into a bun. She held a large clipboard between her wings, the pencil clutched in a hoof as she looked across the room at her patient. Gazing lazily across the room, she spoke with a nearly lifeless tone, though it carried a hint of something softer. "So, High Roller... Is there anything else you'd like to talk about this session? You do still have-" She quickly looked at the antique hour glass sitting on the desk next to her. "-20 minutes left in this particular appointment."

The stallion thought for a moment. "Not that I kin' think of in particulah'. Th' old wings' been giving me some trouble lately. May need to go see your sistah' once I'm done here." His eyes tracked the blades of the fan as it spun, blinking every few seconds. He turned his head towards the mare. "So doc, what's the verdict?"

Humming to herself, her eyes scanned her clipboard, taking a second to properly select her choice of diction before speaking in the same tone as before, looking her client in the eyes. "Well, I think I will maintain my policy of not sugarcoating these... delicate issues." She sighed deeply. "The adjustment period for cybernetics usually lasts for up to a year. Yours however... has lasted for nearly six years now. While it is not unnatural necessarily for there to be certain issues regarding bionic limbs and the requisite neural bonding procedures, the situation we have on our hooves is certainly... unique." She chewed on the eraser end of the pencil for a few seconds, struggling to find her words. "Regarding the other issues you have brought to me, I don't think you will ever fully free yourself from these habits. You have certainly come a long way after your Angel Dust addiction, though you have reported immense difficulty when you attempt to quit gambling, seeing as well-" She frowned. "It's your special talent. My personal recommendation to you is that you nurture your talent, however despicable you may find it. It can indeed be hard to nurture something you find distasteful, but here is something I don't quite think you realize; Cutie marks are not always to be taken at face value." She said, her tail flicking every so often.

The stallion grumbled, turning his head back towards the ceiling and glancing at the doctor out of the corner of his eye. "Waddya' mean by that?"

Her ears straightened, and he swore he could have seen her eyes light up ever so slightly. "Well, take my cutie mark for example. It symbolizes my ability to calm ponies down, and my aptitude as a psychologist. It doesn't just mean I am good at putting ponies to sleep... Though I harbor that particular talent as well." She said, letting out a giggle. "I suppose the point I am attempting to make is that while some talents can certainly be taken at face value, a cutie mark is multifaceted in it's symbolism."

Roller blinked, his brain having to process the information. "Huh. I 'Spose you've got a point there... I'll need to think on that 'till our next lil' rendezvous. Same time next month, Calm?"

She nodded, swiveling in her chair over to the small computer at her desk, jotting down his next appointment. "Of course. It looks like I can slot you in for.... The nineteenth at 18:00. Is that fine with you?"

The large pegasus rolled off of the couch, cracking his neck. "Yeah. That's perfectly fine." Walking out of the door, he turned back to the milky mare. "Tell Life that I said hullo, will ya?"

Calm Mind let a small smile slip onto her features, nodding. "Of course. Have a good day, Roller." She heard the door click shut, letting out a sigh of relief after she was sure nopony could hear her. Reaching a hoof to a drawer at the side of her desk, she pulled it open and fished around for a bit, before retrieving a small metal cylinder, a small blue light blinking at the top.

Putting the small tube to her lips, she depressed a button near the bottom and let the sweet, sweet taste of nicotine and cherry assault her taste buds, her eyes rolling back as she took a hit off of the electric cigarette. Blowing the smoke out of her mouth, she melted into her chair, crossing her hind legs and transferring the device to her wing. Her eyes followed the slowly fading cloud of smoke, a faded cherry scent filling the room.

Swiveling in her chair, she simply reveled in the feeling for a few minutes, her muscles completely loose and relaxed as she took another drag. Blowing the smoke out in rings, her eyes followed their movement as they were sucked into a nearby vent.

She nearly jumped out of her skin as suddenly, there was a light tapping at her door. She swiftly stashed the device in her drawer, kicking it shut as she hopped out of her chair and walked to the door.

Looking through the small peephole, she grimaced and steeled herself, plastering on a fake smile as she opened the door to the hall outside. Opening the door, it revealed a near perfect copy of herself, the only difference being a cleaner coat, a red cross cutie mark, and the light blue scrubs the pony wore, a worn name tag reading off DR. FLIGHT. "Hello Life! How've you been lately?" Calm said, noting that the mare's nose wrinkled as she smelled the remnants of cigarette smoke in the room.

Sighing deeply, Life Flight looked at the mare in the doorway. "Hello Sis... I've been great. The sick bay has been stuffed to the brim as of lately. Who bucking knew that flying so close to Manehattan would irradiate the maintenance crews?!" She raised her voice, nearly shouting as a vein in her neck threatened to burst. Huffing, her eyes snapped back to her sister. "So! How have you been? I've gotta say, your office smells positively lovely."

The psychologist snorted, and her ear quickly flicked to the side. "I've been good. I've had less patients than usual recently, though the ones I do have are riddled with the usual insomnia and anxiety. And if you would like for me to go back on Men-Tats, then why didn't you say so?! It isn't like smoking keeps me from relapsing or anything!" She hissed out, rolling her eyes dramatically.

Life huffed, pulling a small stack of papers out from under her wing. "Tch. Whatever. You've got a new round of patients coming in for Psych-Eval after we've patched em up."

She trotted away, leaving a forlorn and seething sister behind.

==========================================================================================

08/16/2090, 24:00, 4.5 miles off of the coast of Manehattan, Approx. 2 days travel to the storm.

The nightshift was always a pain to work, and tonight was no exception. A small team of eight gathered inside the upper hangar bay, currently in the process of donning hazmat suits and checking their equipment. They had various toolboxes and saddlebags of wrenches, welding torches, and any other tools or replacement parts they would require.

A shorter pink mare was currently being assisted by High Roller, as she struggled to fit into her suit. As he pulled back the final zipper, the mare spoke, her pigtails barely fitting within the confines of the suits mask. "Not that I'm complaining sir, but are you sure we have to wear these? We sh-ow! We should be far enough from the Manehattan blast zone to be fine, right?"

The rust-colored stallion chuckled, shaking his head as he saw her scrunched up face. "Ah'm positive. We've still got radiation hittin' us way out here, n' half mah crew has already been put into sickbay from it." Pulling his own suit on, he stomped his hooves into a set of black boots, which had a small red gem at the back of them. "These suits r' a damned pain to work in, but it's the only way we aren't gonna have problems, you hear, Mornin?" He said, giving her a bearded smile.

The mare sighed, stepping into her own boots. "Affirmative, Sir." Giving her wings an experimental flap, she frowned. "Oh these are going to be a pain to fly in." She thought to herself, before being startled out of her musings with a loud cough.

High Roller tapped Morning's shoulder, pointing towards a pony who was sat on a stack of crates. "See that colt there? That's Frosty Gust. He's the big kahuna in charge 'round here."

She looked towards the hangar door as the frigid white stallion shook his icy blue mane and turned to address the assembled ponies. "Alright, alright, alright everypony! Let's get this little shindig started!" He shouted, giving everypony a goofy smile. "Our job tonight is to get workin' on Anti-Dragon batteries two and four after the scuffle a week back. In addition to that, we've gotta check all the Anti-Gryphon turrets on the top deck-" Everypony groaned as they heard those words. "-as our boys over in electrical have told us they've been on the fritz. Any questions?" Nopony raised a hoof. "A'ight, get suited up and prepped for departure then. We've only got a four-hour window to work in, as we had to raise Tartarus to get the fillies over at navigation to slow down enough for us to work."

Waving Morning over, High Roller took his mask off and grabbed a large metal saddlebag in his teeth, hoisting it onto Morning's back with a thump. "Don't worry ‘bout losin' anythang. Everythin' in there is magnetic, and if ya don't do summin' stupid like drop yer tools, you'll be right as rain!" He said, pulling the straps on the saddlebags, tightening them to the mare's barrel.

She nodded, before assisting with him putting on his own larger saddlebag. "Have you ever worked on those batteries before? My last deployment was as an engineer to a Sky-Tank, and our main battery wasn't close to the size of one of those Anti-Gryphon turrets!" She asked giddily, watching as High Roller's face broke out into a grin.

"Oh yeah, plenty o' times. They're big bastards too, prolly three times the size o' those lil' guns you had on your metal turtle. 'Thousand rounds o' hot lead spewin’ out of them barrels a minute, ain't nothin’ like hearin’ that roar in th' middle o' the night." He felt her tighten the straps to his saddlebag, the metal boxes sitting snugly at his sides. Pulling the mask up above his face, he tightened the zipper with a wing, his beard tickling the air filters inside of the suit.

Morning looked at the boots on her hooves, before looking back up to her superior officer and asking, "What are these? I've never had to use them."

He chuckled, clicking his hooves together. The red gems lit up as he walked over to a wall, suddenly walking along it as though he had forgotten gravity was a thing. "Mag boots. Keeps us from flying off o' the ship while conductin' maintenance. 'Means we don't waste energy tryin' to keep up with sheer wingpower."

She nodded, clicking her own hooves together and attempting to walk, failing spectacularly as her steps fell out of sync. "Whoa! It's like I'm walking in quicksand!"

Trotting over briskly, he stabilized her. "Hahaha, Don't you worry none. It's just like walkin' in pumps."

Nodding, she took his advice, managing to step forward without falling, before his words registered in her brain. She turned around to face him. "How the hay do you know what it's like to walk in pumps?"

High Roller gave her a big smile from behind his mask. "I didn't always work on a ship!"

Author's Note

Apologies for the constant re-uploads of this particular chapter! Fimfiction was being finnicky and not putting it into the Updated tab, so I had to tinker with it for a bit.

Light The Spark

===================================================================================

08/17/2090, 06:00, 5 miles off of the coast of Manehattan, Approx. 1 days travel to the storm.

Veil's quarters were dimly lit, the usually harsh white LED lights now dimmed to a soft blue-ish hue. Some pre-war country songs played from the stereo at a respectable volume, the southern drawls and banjo music was unmistakable in that regard.

The mare on top of him let out a sigh as she rolled off onto the soft mattress, her fur matted with sweat. A thick musk permeated the air as Veil buried his muzzle into her mane, breathing deeply.

Pulling away from him, the mare's turquoise coat glinted in the soft light being cast upon the two of them. Looking at her partner with half lidded eyes, she spoke softly, her tone salacious and seductive. "So, cowboy-" She leaned forward to whisper into his ear. "-Ready for round two?"

He gave her a lopsided grin as he kissed her deeply, the mare leaning into the kiss. Pulling back after a moment, he spoke in hushed voice. "Dew, you already know I-" An intercom in the wall beeped loudly, the sound akin to that of a shrill alarm. He frowned as his, and Dew's, ears splayed back.

Rolling out of his bed with a huff, he trotted over to the intercom, pressing down on a large blinking button. Immediately after, the speaker above it came to life, the bored voice of Astral Star’s voice ringing out. "XO to the bridge. I repeat, XO report to the bridge."

He snorted. "Yeah yeah, I heard you. Be there in fifteen." He hit the button roughly, silencing the intercom entirely. Walking back towards Dew, he gave her a quick kiss. "Looks like we'll have to continue this another time. Next month?"

Stretching out like a cat, her blonde mane covered most of her face, only one eye peeking out to look at Veil. She sighed out a reply. "I suppose... You had best make it worth my while though." Climbing off of the bed, she whispered into his ear as she retreated back to her quarters, sending shivers down his spine. "You and I both know the price of... Getting caught"

He stood there as she walked out of the sliding doors, staring at the wall. "I guess we do... I guess we do." He muttered as he turned and walked into his bathroom.

Trotting up to the sink, he glared at the mirror. Roughly swiping his razor and shaving cream from the small compartment in the wall, he set about making himself look presentable.

Roughly fifteen minutes later, on the bridge.

Veil strode through the large, reinforced doors with as much dignity and composure as he could muster this early in the morning, his face bearing no emotion other than the subtle annoyance which could only be displayed by a stallion who had just been blue-balled.

The bridge was in what could best be described as a state of nervous excitement. The storm, previously a blot at the edge of the horizon, now sat a mere day away from the Cirrostratus, and it was a leviathan in the scope. Veil ran the numbers through his head, stopping mid-stride. "Must be tens of kilometers across.... Dear Faust, what in Tartarus are we flying in to?"

Indeed, what sat in front of him would be considered a Pegasi's worst nightmare. Dark grey, nearly black storm clouds crowded together tightly, seeming bound together by jagged bolts of lightning that stretched across each cloud like a spider web. Booms of thunder rang out like a dragon's roar, vibrating the ship's hull slightly as the sound washed over them.

It shook him to his core.

Ironhoof ruffled his feathers, looking back towards Veil with a steely-eyed look. "What do you make of it?"

Veil let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding, the air itself tickling his throat as he spoke. "I don't quite know, Sir. I've never seen a storm like... That before."

The Captain snorted, stomping loudly to get everypony's attention, glaring at the brewing vortex of destruction that lay ahead of them.

"Full steam ahead, we don't stop for anything."

===================================================================================

08/17/2090, 09:18, Siege Platform C.I.C, Approx. 1 days travel to the storm.

Dew Drop frowned as she scanned through various lines of code on a larger terminal near the back of the control room, occasionally typing on the keyboard to delete strings of faulty code. There were a few other ponies in the room, working on repairing a central terminal. They would mutter to each other every few seconds, asking for their fellow to take or give some tool or widget.

It was roughly ten minutes later when she felt a wingtip poke her shoulder. Snorting angrily, she whipped around quickly, nearly undoing the bun that her mane was in. It was one of the senior engineers, his fellows packing up their tools into their utility bardings' saddlebags.

The frigid white stallion coughed. "'Ey there, we got those batteries fixed like y'all wanted us to, 's well as the reactor terminal o'er there. Need anything else?"

She sighed. "No, Frosty. I don't. The only thing I need is for this bucking terminal to cooperate with me!" She shouted, slamming a hoof onto the desk and startling most of the nearby pegasi. She was about to start shouting again when she noticed something... Peculiar. The terminal had rebooted itself, loading into the user interface normally, displaying no error messages or glitches on the screen. She felt her eye twitch. "Oh you've gotta be bucking me right now."

Frosty Gust sat there with a deadpan look on his face, patting Dew's back with a wing. "Nnnnope! That totally just happened." He facehooved before continuing, "just... Just go grab some coffee. I'll get Grid Lock down here to do the rest of the terminals. Celestia knows he'll take care of it."

She huffed, crossing her hooves. "Not before letting us all know just how bucking great he is," She sighed out, brushing Frosty's wing off of her and hopping out of her chair, walking towards the exit. "Should be chow time right about now, boys! Make sure you and yours get to the galley before the food runs out!"

He nodded, cracking his neck and drinking deeply from a thermos that was clutched under his other wing. "A'ight. We'll get over there soon, right boys?" A series of "Yups" ringing out in reply.

She gave them all a look of appreciation before pushing open the door with a shoulder, rushing up the large flight of stairs. Reaching the top, she leaned against the wall and panted for a minute, basking in the cold air of the A/C units and cooling matrices that permeated the Siege Platform. Every cloudship had them, but they were far more prominent and much more powerful in Thunderhead class vessels. This was due to the enormous amount of heat generated by the four gargantuan plasma lasers that rest beneath the main body of the Siege Platform, and the dedicated reactors that powered them.

Bringing a hoof in front of her face, she checked her watch, muttering a swear as she realized that breakfast was being served in about five minutes. Forcing her body to move once more, she rushed through the halls, giving a quick apology whenever she bumped into one of her fellow sailors.

Sliding to a stop in front of the elevator, she slammed the call button and slumped against the wall. Gasping for breath, she reached up to hit the button again, her hoof stopping halfway as the elevator door opened. Scrambling inside, she allowed herself to relax, the elevator beginning its ascent.

She sat in an uncomfortable silence for a couple of long, torturous minutes. Half a decade back, Ironhoof elected to scrap the speakers in the elevators for parts, taking away the elevator music that a lot of them had become accustomed to, her especially. Most of the tracks played were songs from her home town of Fillydelphia, and the first few days of silence were tough on her. It didn't sting as much these days, but she still felt a pang of melancholy every time she entered the elevators.

She snapped back to reality as the elevator doors opened, and hurriedly began sprinting through the large corridor leading to the galley. As the large, clearly marked doors grew ever closer she flared out her wings and flapped them strongly, stopping just a muzzle-length away from the door. She whipped her head around, and was immediately hit with a wave of confusion. There were no other pegasi around. She frowned, muttering to herself. "Even on busy days, the halls are never this empty... What the hay is going on?" She shrugged, entering the galley, which was louder than she ever remembered it being.

She felt her eyes bulge out as she marveled at the sheer number of ponies stuffed inside the large room. "There's gotta be half the crew in here!" There were an exorbitant amount of ponies inside the mess hall, and while she was no expert even she could tell that the room was nearing full capacity. The air was abuzz with excitement and joviality, and the room was filled with a cacophony of voices engaged in fervent and vigorous discussion.

She found herself wandering over to her usual table, pushing through the gaggle of bustling pegasi and squeezing into her usual spot. Her usual crew was right where she thought they'd be, with Sky Sweeper and Dusty Moon wolfing down what looked like omelettes, talking to each other with their mouths full. They noticed her out of the corner of their eye, and waved her over, pointing out a third plate piled high with her favorite items on the menu.

She trotted over, taking a seat beside them. "So, what's got everypony all riled up?" She asked, devouring a piece of hay bacon.

Dusty was the first to speak up, gulping down a mouthful of food. "He looks like shit. Night shift must have gotten hit with another water ration," Dew thought to herself. And it was true, the stallion's black coat had seen better days, as had his flamboyantly purple mane, both of which were slick with sweat and visibly greasy. There were dark bags under his eyes, though his expression was still visibly mirthful as far as she could tell. She was broken out of her train of thought by the sound of his voice. "Other than another water ration? Word from the grapevine says lil' miss Priss got her shit kicked in by Old Timer." He said, both proving her assumption correct and catching her attention.

"Really? Well, she had it coming to her, but are you sure that is what's got the crew in an uproar?" She asked, tilting her head slightly. This wasn't the first time she'd heard of Vespa being reminded of her place in the chain of command, and she doubted it would be the last.

Sky Sweeper chuckled, shaking his sandy mane. His rocky road coat was, in contrast to Dusty's, much more well-kept. "Nah, surprised you haven't heard. Tomorrow's the day that the Mendacious 'sposedly sank, 'ccordin to Ace."

Dew's eyes widened, and she nodded furtively. "Oh! How err..." She tapped her hoof on the table frustratedly for a moment, before a wave of clarity washed over her. "Profound! How profound!" She blurted out, before giving out a sigh of relief.

Dusty chuckled, lightly punching her shoulder. "Exciting, isn't it?" He asked her, resting his cheek on his hoof.

Dew chewed the inside of her cheek, not quite sure of how to answer that question. "I guess... I just hope this isn't one huge mistake."

She felt a heavy wing rest itself on her shoulder. Looking back, her eyes met two large, crimson orbs, shrouded by locks of white mane. "You and me both, sister. You and me both."

===================================================================================

08/17/2090, 23:55. Deep in the bowels of the Cirrostratus, 12 Hours travel to the storm.

Aquila stepped inside of her power armor, the metallic exoskeleton reacting the second all four of her hooves had made contact with the reinforced horseshoes, tightening around her body. She felt a prick at the base of her neck as she finished pulling her helmet over head, the systems linking directly into her nervous system, her vision now overlaid with a H.U.D. It gave her the sensation of weightlessness.

All around her, fellow marines mimicked her actions. It had been difficult sneaking the power armor away from the shops without Ironhoof's watchful eye noticing, but they had managed it.

It was time.

"Alright everypony, let's do this."

Inside the central surveillance room.

A stallion sat in a reclining chair, surrounded by the various monitors and screens linked to every camera throughout the ship. He nursed his cup of coffee, barely kept awake by the precious ambrosia. He spotted something odd out of the corner of his eye. "Why the hay would an armored marine squadron be waltzing towards the bridge?"

His hoof began to hover over to the alarm button as he watched their advance. "Good question!"

He whirled around to face whoever had spoke, only for his entire world to become pain and agony as he twitched and seized off of his chair, and into unconsciousness.

Grid Lock chuckled, pulling the jury rigged taser probes away from the stallion's neck. "Make fun of me for bein' half zebra again, geezer. See where it got ya?"

He sat in the chair, twirling to face the monitors. He retrieved a black hoof terminal from a pocket in his vest, the LED lights only serving to accentuate the black and green coloration of his fur. He saw Aquila, always at the head of the pack, look into a camera and nod to him.

Pressing a hoof to the button that toggled the ship-wide speaker system, he spoke, leaning into the microphone.

He tapped an icon on his hoof terminal, and as every camera feed winked out he spoke, the sound of power being cut to the majority of the ship reaching his ears.

"Grid is goin' dark. Operation is a-go."