Fallout Equestria: Site 4

The sultry summer sun, ever benevolent in its presence. I swear it was like I could feel the goddess embrace me in her warmth. The sunlight enveloped the world around me, pulsating with such a rich energy it seemed everything was more alive than usual. The rabbits frolicing in the meadow, the birds singing in the greenest trees I have ever seen, and are those butterflies? I haven’t seen a butterfly in ages. They’ve always fascinated me, starting life as nothing but a peripheral little insect. But one day metamorphose into the pinnacle of ethereal. Prancing around their invisible realm with an air of majesty and peace the likes of which almost appear as though it’s orchestrated. As if a unicorn is behind the scenes pulling the hidden strings, a puppeteer, whose marionette is her tool of admiration. Only such desire for attention fueling her passion to make her butterfly dance with such grace, oddly too natural to be replicated. But of course, it’s not a puppet, it’s just a butterfly, a single mere example of the inherent peace nature strives for. I haven’t seen a day like this in a very long time, it’s simply… perfect.

I awoke to the ear piercing screech of an alarm, the instantaneous jolt of energy sent my horn into the concrete, inches overhead.

Thud.

“Ow! Son of a bitch.” I muttered as I massaged my horn and got to my hooves off of the bed. The usually colorless drab walls of the sleeping quarters were bathed in a flashing red glow. Could today be the day of days? As quickly as I smacked my head on the concrete overhead, I was making my way towards the control room. It wasn’t a long walk, maybe ten feet at the most. As soon as I walked in the control room I noticed my commander was looking incredibly unhinged, I could empathize with him, hell I was beginning to feel the same way.

“Finally! Welcome to the party, get your authorization book!” His demeanor was undeniably frantic as he clumsily hustled his checklist and other essentials together.

I wanted to say something, be sarcastic, toy with him, but that idea was suppressed as quickly as it festered. Instead I did what I trained to do, sat down and pulled out my book, “Copy, authorization book ready, standing by for authorization code.”

“Copy standby.”

To say we were waiting impatiently would be an understatement; sure the early warning alarm was going off, but we could do nothing let alone knew anything until we began to receive our authorization code. Meanwhile the alarm continued to attack my eardrums, deafening me more and more with every screech from that cursed box.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

The alarm stopped, and our radio crackled to life with the distorted voice of our authorization agent relaying a code. I hastily began to copy the words I didn’t want to hear.

“OSCAR, THREE, TANGO, TWO, TANGO, LIMA, X-RAY…”

I was writing everything down as quickly as the pencil could mark the paper, I was concentrating on nothing but that voice, and operating the pencil. Someone could get shot in front of me and I would probably miss it.

“DELTA, ECHO, TANGO, EIGHT.”

Not a second after the transmission concluded I was practically throwing my book at my commander to switch and verify. He hastily, grabbed my book and I took his. Reviewing what he wrote was rather difficult, Celestia knows why his hoofwriting looks like he’s more qualified to be a doctor than a missileer. Earth ponies. Regardless, his… glyphs checked out; I reached his book back out to him and received mine in return.

“Authorization code confirmed, Deputy, unlock your lock.”

“Fuck”. I thought to myself. I got up, braver than I really was and followed my commander to the war safe. He quickly entered his combination and I did the same, we removed both padlocks and opened the blood red safe. The black interior of the safe contrasted heavily with the many tiny manilla envelopes filed in a long row, nearly illuminating them. He began sifting through the tiny envelopes and nearly filed through to the end without pulling an envelope. A drill, I thought.

Pluck.

He lifted one of the tiny envelopes from towards the end of the row. Then he proceeded to lift his book next to the envelope and verify that the first two characters were shared between them… They were. We have only made it this far during one drill before, maybe if the code inside didn’t match with the rest of our authorization code, then for sure it was a drill. My hopes were quickly brought to their knees when he read the tiny slip inside the envelope, and as luck would have it, the codes were identical. He looked up at me gravely.

“Begin unlocking sequence.”

I hesitated for a moment, I heard those words in training, I know the launch sequence like the color of my mane, but this, this is the farthest we have gone since. I went to the locking rotors and began to translate the authorization code to the passkey for mag-lock release on the missile. My commander started to activate several primers for the rocket. Time slowed to a snail's pace as I turned the wheels from the random numbers they were, to the passkey we received.

There are six wheels in all that must be turned to the right numbers, each time I rotated one of the wheels, I had flashes. Flashes of time as I once knew it, 3, memories of me as a filly buying candy with my mother, 7, my brother being born, 1, my first kiss, 9, finding out my brother died, 2. I froze and looked down at the button labeled “VALIDATE PASSKEY”, after I push that button, all that’s left to do is turn the keys. Then in about half an hour, some plot of land somewhere will be vaporized, all who inhabited it, gone with the dust they have become. Delivery in thirty minutes or less, or the next ones free, I used to think our slogan was funny. It’s not. I pushed the button to validate the passkey, and sure enough.

Beep.

A robotic voice filled the control room.

“Drill concluded, total elapsed time, four minutes, twelve seconds.”

After the pit of dread was lifted out of my stomach, I slowly regained my composure and looked at my commander. He looked much worse than I did, I could see the glass in his eyes from the tears he was moments away from shedding. He tried miserably to make a joke.

“H-hey that’s a good time.”

The sad part is, he’s not wrong.