Fallout Equestria: Blood of Steel

Chapter 1: Sheltered Beginnings

‘Steel Rangers aren’t born! They’re produced in pods, sent out to kill us all and take our stuff!’

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30 years BG

        “Hey everypony, it’s time to wakey-wakey so you can PAR-TAY!” The voice of Ministry Mare Pie seemed to be unusually upbeat and cheerful for 5 AM. The little mechanical mare, painted bright pink, continued to dance about on the nightstand beside the bed. Her endless chatting and shouting about all the things she’d be doing today was almost loud enough to wake the dead. From under the covers reached a single pony leg, jet-black, with fetlock neatly trimmed. The hoof at the end of the leg groped for the mechanical mare, trying to grab her so it could hit her fluffy pink mane and earn the owner five more minutes of sleep.

        The alarm clock seemed to have other ideas. From somewhere deep within her mane, the mare pulled a large hammer and swung it down. Her aim was precise, smashing the offending leg right where the foreleg met the hoof. That point is an incredibly sensitive point on any pony, and the colt leapt out of bed, whimpering in pain. He glared at the mechanical mare as she whistled innocently, hammer ‘hidden’ behind her back. The golden glow of his telekinesis lifted the mare to eye level, where one hoof tapped her fluffy mane. Her mane and tail fell flat, and she glared at the colt. “Absolutely no fun,” she muttered, before becoming small and statuesque.

        The colt, his black coat in need of a thorough brushing and his golden mane sticking up like he’d just received a massive shock, looked upon the little pink menace. He glared down at the miniature mare, his eyes the same color as his mane. The clock remained stationary, an inanimate object once more. “It’s just a clock, Iron. Don’t smash it.” The colt, almost a stallion now, left his bed and had to bite his lip as he tried putting weight on his injured hoof. “No matter how nice it would feel,” he growled, taking a closer look at his injury. It was starting to swell a bit; the clock’s aim had always been good.

He lifted his hoof to his horn, letting the golden glow of his magic wash over the injury, reducing the swelling and relieving the pain.  “That’s better,” the unicorn sighed, allowing all his weight to rest on his hooves. He turned, his golden horn glowing as he telekinetically made his bed, careful to make it neat enough and the covers tight enough that he could bounce a pre-war bit from the bed back into his hoof.

        Iron continued with his morning routine, showering and taking care of other toiletries over the next half-hour.  By the end of the routine, he’d wrangled both coat and mane into the image of a proper military pony. His cutie mark, the barrel of a gun with a screw raised up on it, reflected the light neatly along with the rest of his coat. He walked to the hooflocker at the end of his bed, opened it up, and pulled out the robes of a scribe. Except a ten-gallon cowpony hat, he’d emptied the locker. The unicorn left the hat inside and closed the hooflocker.

        He left his room, locked the door behind him, and headed down the hall to the right. He opened the door at the end of the hall and walked into one of the central sections of the cement bunker. A banner hung from each support column, displaying on a golden background ponies in power armor rearing at an invisible foe. Between the ponies, each banner bore a sword on top of a shield on top of a scroll. The sword’s hilt resembled an apple stem, and the shield an apple: the emblem of the Steel Rangers. The same emblem stamped on each piece of equipment the Rangers used.  At the base of each column and facing the entrance to the bunker sat a 10mm turret, the lights glowing as it scanned for new targets. The colt was on the ground floor, and above him was the steel grating that acted as the second floor of this bunker. The unicorn headed up the nearby stairs and down another hall, walking through the primary bunker of the Steel Ranger base and into the medical quarters where he was stationed this morning.

        Before the war, the medical quarters had been a mess hall for the Rangers. Most of the ‘beds’ were currently old tables from the mess. The colt remembered when he had first been assigned to medical and, instead of helping patients, been delegated to mixing concrete for the new tunnels, with the ingredients kept in bags on those same tables. They’d been moved out of medical, of course, and the colt released a sigh as he remembered mixing the sand, clay, rock dust and water for the others to pour over the scrap metal reinforcement.

        Behind the main desk in the medical quarters stood a unicorn with a blue coat, her pink mane tinged with grey. Her cutie mark, a golden caduceus, might cause a Wastelander to perform a double-take. On the other hoof, a group of fortified bunkers in the Appleloosian mountains that housed Steel Rangers would cause most Wastelanders to double-take...before running.

        The mare looked at the colt before her, and shook her head. “Tried to hit the snooze button again, Acolyte?”

        The unicorn looked up in shock at the mare, and then back down at his hoof. While his spell had temporarily relieved both the pain and swelling, the spot where the clock had injured him had started to swell up again. The spell was keeping the pain away, but wouldn’t for much longer. “Yeah. Ah’d thought that bit of tech would’ve worn down after 200 years,” he said. His voice was deep, and the southern accent was soft. He took a few moments more to fix his hoof properly with both magic and medical knowledge, and soon stood tall in front of his mentor.

        The mare chuckled, her voice a rich soprano. “Something made by Ministry Mare Pie breaking down? The clouds will part before that happens, Iron Sights.” She rustled through the files on her desk, and she attached a piece of paper on a clipboard. “I have a few things I need you to do today, but it isn’t much. You should still have time to take the Amanuensis.”

        His eyes widening, Iron Sights remembered what made this day unique. The Amanuensis was the test every Scribe took when they reached the age of 16. Its purpose was to help an acolyte determine which of the three orders they should focus on, whether it was Sword, Shield, or Scroll.

        The aged mare looked down at the acolyte with pity. “You forgot about it, didn’t you?”

        Iron Sights shook his head and grinned. “Nope! Ah-ah was testin’ yah! And yah passed with flyin’ colors!”  He tried to keep the grin up as the mare stared at him. It didn’t take long for Iron Sights’ smile to break under the glare, and he lowered his face toward the ground. “Yeah, I forgot” he mumbled toward the ground, just barely loud enough for anypony to hear.

        The mare sighed, shaking her head. “Well, at least you can’t fail the test. Have you thought about what group you want to join?”

        Iron Sights took the clipboard, examining the list of things to do on it. “Not really. Ah mean, with my cutie mark and my skill in medicine and medical magic; that means Ah could go to either Sword or Scroll. What do you think Miz Pill?”

        The mare smacked her forehead with a hoof and stood for a moment, before setting the hoof down. “Iron Sights, quit thinking like a robot” Pill said. “I didn’t ask where you would be good fit, I asked where you wanted to be.” She glared at him for a moment, then closed her eyes. “Besides, call me Bitter. You’re not my student anymore.”

        Iron Sights silently headed over to one of the cabinets and started to check the inventory. Not much changed for the bunkers in the mountains, but checking the inventory was still something that needed to be done. The Rad-Away and the Rad-X were low again, but with the number of scribes going to and from the bunkers, he’d expected that. A new shipment would come in tomorrow, and things would be back to normal. “Ah think ah’d like to go to Scroll” he said, finally.

        Bitter looked up from her paperwork. “What?”

        Iron Sights moved over, using the key to unlock the cabinet with Med-X. Useful stuff, but the addiction was so subtle that a pony wouldn’t realize they were hooked until they had a serious problem. Medical kept the stuff under lock and key, for just reason. “Ah’d like to become a Scribe of the Scroll” he repeated.

        Bitter Pill lowered the paperwork to the desk, letting her telekinesis vanish. She looked at the colt in front of her. “Why?”

        Med-X appropriately counted, Iron Sights started to count the other drugs. These were also restricted, but specifically for the use by Paladins in combat. Buck and Dash were the most common drugs used by the Paladins, but there were also a small supply of other addictive drugs. The only one that was conspicuously absent was Party-Time Mint-Als. They were deemed as being ‘Too Risky’ by the orders of the Mane Scribe, and were to be destroyed when found. “Well, if ah became a part of Sword’s group, ah’d get stuck doin’ maintenance, or havin’ to go out and assist the Paladins in the field” he said. “Same with Shield. Lotsa combat, but ah can’t reckon ah’d be really helpin’ ponies by bein’ with either group.”

        Bitter rubbed a hoof against her chin. “You’d be training Steel Rangers, especially Paladins, in both Shield and Sword. You can’t have a more noble cause than that.”

        Iron Sights made a couple marks on his clipboard, locked the cabinet and moved to counting healing potions. “Yeah, Ah know. But the Rangers are commanded to protect the Citizens of Equestria” he said. “We’ve taken that to mean that we need to make sure they don’t kill each other with the real dangerous tech out there, but we don’t go and help ‘em either. Ah wouldn’t be able to help anypony if ah was stuck learnin’ how to fix a minigun, or workin’ in a lab tryin’ to reinvent Power Armor.” Iron Sights lifted a potion, checking the consistency and color. Still that rich purple, but it looked a bit thinner than normal. It took a couple seconds of swishing the potion in the bottle before color and consistency returned to normal. He placed the bottle back on the shelf and shook his head. Must havegotten distracted in all this talking, potions are good forever.

        “Ah’m not sayin’ we shouldn’t grab balefire eggs and other nasty bits of equipment” he went on. “We should, for no other reason than to keep it out of the hooves of raiders. But can’t we extend a helpin’ hoof to the settlements?” Iron Sights set the potion back on the shelf and started to count bandages, separating the magical from the mundane.

The mare gave a dry chuckle. “We could, but you know the rule. The Rangers can’t protect the Wasteland…”

        “…until the Ponies are willin’ to be protected.”  The colt made a few more marks on the paper as he finished the first rule every young Ranger was taught. “Still don’t make it right though” he said as he moved on to checking the miscellaneous supplies. Medical bags that had everything necessary needed to fix a limb that had taken too much punishment, leg braces, sterilized needles and thread, and other useful tools in case somepony needed surgery.

        The mare wandered back to her desk, opening a drawer and pulling out a form. Her tail started pulling out a bottle of ink and an old quill while she cleared a spot on the desk. She licked the tip of the quill before she dipped the quill in the ink and started writing. “So, you’re sure you want to be in Scroll? You’ll have to study under Glass Eye.”

        Iron Sights shuddered as he thought of the Mane Scribe. “Yeah. Ah won’t mind” Iron said. “He may be a Ghoul, which is as weird as a bloodwing goin’ vegetarian, but Glass Eye is still a Ranger, and a damn fine one. Ah reckon ah could learn from him.” Iron Sights checked the last box on the list as Bitter Pill signed her name on the form. “Well, Ah’m all finished here. Might as well head over and take the Amanuensis.”

        Bitter Pill looked up from her form, taking the check list from the clipboard and putting the form in its place. “That won’t be necessary, Acolyte of the Scroll. You can start your training with Glass Eye after lunch.” She floated the clipboard back to Iron Sights, who looked back at the mare, flabbergasted.

“Huh? But the test…” The colt was cut off by the mare.

“The test is an oral examination. What? You thought you were in a Stable?” She gave a wicked grin at her former student. “I thought you would’ve caught on, but I guess I managed to distract you enough. Take that form up to the Mane Scribe after lunch. You are excused till then, Acolyte.”

Iron Sights floated the clipboard over, looking from the clipboard back to the mare who had gone back to her work. He walked out of the medical quarters and to his room in a state of shock.

Iron Sights didn’t notice Bitter Pill watching him leave. She shook her head, floating a bottle of Wild Pegasus from the bottom drawer of the desk. The cork left the bottle with a quiet ‘ploop’  as she lifted the bottle to her lips, taking a pull. She swallowed and winced. “Hopefully Glass Eye can get rid of that altruism.” She took another pull, and sighed. “The Wasteland enjoys breaking kids like him.”

Note: Character Established.

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Many thanks to Dimestream and Wirepony for editing, and Kkat for giving us the world to play with.