A pre-word: My name is Steel Beam, my cutie mark is a tape recorder and I work for Equestria Daily. My coat is brown and my mane is grey, despite being relatively young. I am an Earth pony. I decided that to commemorate the tragedy of a few years prior, I would write an article regarding first hand experiences. My boss laughed, and said that nopony would ever want to read that. I tried to argue, and eventually he came to the conclusion that "If you really want to write it, kid, you'd write a book." So take that, I wrote a book. I wrote a book of emotions, a book of love and sacrifice, of loss and visions. I've gone to far away lands to talk to people who first witnessed the space station launch to finding the people who were in canterlot at the time of it's destruction. This is not truly my book, in that sense. This is a device to remind people of the ponamity of it all, to help them remember - we're all living, breathing creatures capable of rational thought in times of stress, and that we still make mistakes. That we can love, that we can cry, and that most importantly, we can grieve.
It is a month after Twilight's coronation. The populace has settled and steps have been taken to downsize the gang activity. Canterlot is being rebuilt, and Equestria's aching hearts are healing. Before me sits Stella Bright, Astrodynamics Executive and the first one to figure out why our space station fell apart. In fact, she's the reason why there's an Astrodynamics at all. She sits at her desk, a simple, wooden thing. Behind he is a window overlooking the crash site of some of the debris of the space station, now turned into a memorial for the ponies that had died there. I sit before her, admiring the items she had acquired over the years. I have put my tape recorder on her desk to easily recall what she says.
[She stares at me as I have my paper and pencil ready.]
So, you want all of Equestria to know why we failed? Real simple. We launched the rocket straight up. In case you don't know what that means, it means we both caused damage and wasted fuel. In fact it was lucky we managed to get it into space in the first place. Well, no, we didn't. We didn't get it past the exosphere. Goddess, there was so much we didn't know. I tried to tell 'em, too, I said, "You can't just shoot straight up." They laughed, and told me to find a better solution. Well, what did you think I did? They had wounded my pride and dang it, I was going to make sure they payed for they're hubris. It started with a theory, 'what if...' yeah, that's it. What if. What if I... shot it sideways? Keep it going straight that way. Same problem, too much fuel. So I came up with a slightly better idea: A diagonal line. Now, that had it's problem too. I couldn't just keep it in a straight line, too much jostling and the intended flight path would fall out of order. I presented it anyway, they actually expected a result, heh. If they decided to keep their own noses where they belonged, possibly I would've kept my credibility when I presented my final idea. You know, the working one? Which, by the way, was the plan immediately afterword. But no, they figured out the "perfect" balance between weight and fuel. They didn't need my plan, one way or the other. They said, "Stella, if we wanted your plan, we would have come to you. Not only that, we can't even trust you to come up with something safe, judging by your last plan."
[Stella frowns at the memory, then reaches for the cider placed on her desk beside a picture. She shows me the picture.]
These were the ponies on the mission. 7 bright, young, capable ponies. Could they have fixed the problem? Maybe. Maybe if the damage sensor wasn't the thing crippled. In fact, we trained them to fix everything except the damage sensor. Oh boy, did our trainees sure learn quick. We split them up now, each crew member on the next space station will specialize in something and, uh, basically have a minor in something else. For example, [She takes a swig from her mug.] Let's say I'm good at biology. I have a small amount of knowledge of what you do, say, engineering. Suddenly, you become, I don't know, wounded because you misused a screwdriver. Hey, it happens. I know how to do your job and keep it held in duck tape until you come back to health. Oh, don't get me wrong, we didn't do that for the doctor. We made sure there was two doctors this time. We're not making any mistakes. Not again. We can't afford to have our funding cut because we don't know how to drop kick a shuttle from here to low orbit.
[She takes another drink from her mug. She sets it down, and stares into it. After a short silence, she begins to speak again.]
You want to know what I thought of the ponies handling that mission? Shoddy. They were green, the higher-ups said that if they were going to get experience, they might as well start now. They were idiots too. Told me so themselves. Well, not exactly of course. But they came pretty close. So not only was it a combination of a bad launch and crippled systems, but it was also because the boys in the control room didn't know how to handle a situation. What if they weren't green? What if the damaged sensor wasn't, you know, damaged? What if they used my plan instead? I guess we'll never know. Maybe the shuttle was just faulty. But I think, no, I know so, if they had listened to me, they would have gotten farther, done more. And those astronauts would still be alive.
[She shows me out the door.]
To make up for our mistakes, we're going to the moon. Steel... I think they're calling it Apollo.
Author's Note
Woosh, my first story, ever!
This is a 'World War Z' inspired story. I apologize in advance is I let a vulgarity slip.
I stand in the area where Canterlot's streets used to be. now there is just a wooden platform, a busy reminder to the grandeur of the cobbled streets of old golden throne. Besides me is Talon hoof, a riot member of the old Royal Guard. Everything about him is black, his coat, his mane, his eyes, and some say his soul. I came to him with an open mind and heart, just as the Princess of Friendship would do. What I find is that despite the wheelchair, Talon is still just as agile, sharp, and cunning as he was back in the Rioting Days. He motions to the work being done, and sighs.
You think it's easy building a castle onto a mountain? We're not even building it on top of it, we've built it on the side, where extra support is needed. That's why it all... come crashing down so suddenly, unexpectedly. All the magic in place, the support, the engineering. Years of work, gone in a flash of light. Crazy, isn't it?
But that isn't what I'm here to talk about, is it? Not my job, they say. Pfah. I know more about the structure than even the engineers do. It's the streets I know, the crack houses and gang hideouts. I made sure they were more... visible. But construction still has a long way to go.
[He rolls down the new street, weaving between unicorn workers and piles of supplies. I follow.]
[A long pause stands between us, filled with the noise of shouted orders and construction.]
The riots were bad. Really, really bad. Not here, clearly. No, 'here' didn't exist. Ponyville, Manehatten, even the Crystal Empire, from what I hear. Some of them were just angry mobs. Others were solemn things. I uh... attended a few myself. Not in uniform, of course. I was just as much a participant as the pony beside me. But... when I was on duty. That was when the real nightmare started.
They say the fire of Canterlot burned for four days. Ponyville burned for months. Something was always on fire, houses, transports... bodies. [He looks distant for a second. Suddenly, he turns to me, shouting.] A child shouldn't be equipped with a weapon! Not the magical equipment they had! [He goes quiet again.] I've seen my fair share of cracked skulls, poor decisions... but we don't get to make that choice.
I... my wife was caught outside once. She... didn't make it through the mob. They thought she was carrying bombs. She had nothing but bread. Freshly baked bread from home. Just... bread. I hope the bastard that killed her ate well that night. But she wasn't the only victim. You want to know why there isn't so much crime anymore? Because nopony can afford to lose the bodies. The morgues are full, Mr. Beam. There's a curfew now, enforced by capitol punishment. To be undone only when Canterlot is finished. Nopony goes outside anymore for fun. You get your bread, and you go home.
[Quiet again. He reaches into one of the pouches on his wheelchairs and pulls out pieces of something, and as he assembles the black carapace, I see what it is. His old riot helmet, still in perfect condition.]
They said we were the best of Equestria, its shining star. If that's so... what does that make the rest of Equestria?
[He gives me the helmet. He motions for me to put it on. As I do, I feel the solemnness of the action. The best of Equestria, fallen to such depths. I give it back. He puts it back into his bag.]
What Equestria needs now is time to mourn. Time to recover. And when we do, we're going to be ready. Ready for whatever's next, be it bug invasion or even the death of the new princess. And while we do, I'm going to clean the streets up for every being in all of Equestria. I am going to personally see to it. And you, Steel, you write this book. You make sure we remember, because the day we forget, that's the day we die.
[He rolls away, leaving me with my thoughts. He stops at the place where the rocket first exploded. He bows his head, and puts his helmet on.]
Author's Note
woowoo, getting moar story up in here!
