Fallout Equestria: Renaissance

by ChaosMedler

Rating: mature
Tags: Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Adventure, Crossover, Alternate Universe
Length: 17454

Safe and trapped, blissful and ignorant, a life in a closed world is only appealing ever for so long

As life goes on, so does Harmony in Stable #32 where everyone upholds the golden virtues and the tales from over 200 years in the past but never were they understood the same way. Closed to the outside to live an endless loop of bliss and ignorance there were no monsters to fear, radiation to harm of threats of death... but in this world there were worse things than death. Forever had been the way of twisted virtues and the door to the past lay shut to both mind and touch... but nothing lasts forever and it only takes one pony to make all the difference. One by the name of Charisma would go forth to know what secrets lay waiting in the past, and in so searching would bring about a new world, a renaissance for all...

Published 2012-11-06 21:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2012-11-06 21:20:01 UTC

Prologue Volume: From The Garden Part 1

Fallout Equestria: Renaissance

By ChaosMedler

Pilot Volume: From The Garden

Part 1 - “Come on everypony smile, smile, smile!”

War. War never changes… at least thats how its always been. Whatever the banner, whomever the leader, however justified the actions may be; death and loss remain evident. Some try and have tried. Try hard and long to make matters ‘right’: a better world or simply not, the end. Depending on who or what one asks, some say those attempts were in vain, failures or marginally successful.

So then, what happens when everything comes to a standstill, leads to its awaited conclusion? It happens. The unthinkable walks into reality. Maybe some are spared of the consequences and live it like the good old days. Living lives and generations in blissful ignorance, because nothing lasts forever and secrets don’t stay underground for long. Not ‘how’, ‘why’ or ‘where’; but when… This Stable, number 32 was just about to face a door of possibility.

All it takes is one pony.

“Come back here!” the voice rung along the tunnel walls as hooves trotted against metal panels. Slipping through gray half illuminated corridors, the din of simplistic playfulness livened up the usually quiet life. Foals, mares and stallions of all ages could be seen in complete harmony. As children played games of chase, one mare joined the fray, but acted on the part of the chased. Smiling in the run, there was no slowing down for this unicorn.

Rushing past an old mare and sidestepping an earth pony, the plan of escape suddenly came to an abrupt halt.

WHAM.

Ow. My poor, poor brains.

“Your head alright?” The universe quickly refocused onto a maroon coated stallion, with and extra emphasis on large. He was looking back with an unconcerned gaze. Then the yellow striped vault barding grew in focus for me to see Nightcap standing upright. I was sprawled across the floor. “Charisma?” He poked. “Noblebloooood.” And prodded.

“I’m fine.” Seething a look, I got back up, less disoriented than I had going down. Peeking to either side showed me the intersection leading into other residential homes, some even large enough for whole families. “Sorry Nightcap, didn’t see you come around the corner.”

“No ouchies, no problems,” he mused “You got it worse then I did.” Then he grinned. Tall son of a mule was huge. Running smack into him probably didn’t even budge him. In his Stable-standard barding his cutie mark advertised a triangular striped hat with white stars coloring it and I still couldn’t figure out what that meant. Was sleeping a talent? Or was it something bedroom related… never mind.

“So what you running for?”

“Running?” right, before hitting the floor. “I was playing a game of ‘Find Nightmare’ and I’m it.” Looking over my shoulder only produced a snicker and head shake back down the hall.

“Aren’t you getting a bit old for those games?”

“What? I’m still young.”

“You know what I mean. By the way, Candlelight told me if I were to bump into you—” there was a smile. “To tell you she’d like to meet, said something about a book she’s got.”

“New or old?” Sanctioned or censored.

“Didn’t ask but it shouldn’t be one looking past 200; anyways, she’s in the atrium. And remember Daffodil’s holding the next party, and I heard they repaired the still, so expect the cider to have a little more kick then usual.”
Medical is going to be busy! “I heard, you getting plastered?”

He scoffed as if it wasn’t even a question. “I’m working the night shift which also happens to include tonight’s ‘damage control’.” His eyes trailed playfully across the sidewall. “After that, well...”

“I found Nightmare!” the shrill voice came from a gang of fillies clambering down the metal lined corridor. Looking back, I saw the short-heighted mob of fillies rush over to charge. Focusing on the quickly approaching gaggle, they levitated. Now captured in blue auras, the foals then fought to for kids rules.

“No fair!” an orange filly called foul while they struggled to hoof traction.

“Only if you promise not to ‘banish me to the moon’,” which usually meant being tackled by ponies a quarter my size. After ‘bumping’ into Nightcap, I was still a little dizzy. Seeing their innocent mean glares was enough of an answer. Dispelling the levitation, four sets of hooves clopped to the metal floor; starring for a quiet second, then they jumped me.

“Weee!” they clambered to put a hoof on ‘Nightmare’s’ misty blue coat. “We are the chosen Elements of Harmony and we demand our reward. Noooow!”

I swayed a look at the squabble’s brightly lit eyes, she knew their adventures spoils. “Alright kids.” I caught an amused look from Nightcap. “Be quick now and you’ll find the ‘treasure’ under a plant that bears fruit.”

“The Apple Orchard! Team Harmony, to glory!” Somepony’s been reading comics (maybe the same one over and over again, new stock wasn’t exactly at hand). There were old original comics, then there was the stuff ponies continued afterwards.

“That you Gumdrop?” The security pony stepped into view, catching the attention of one orange filly. Tapping at his left fore hoof was the every stable citizen issued Pipbuck glowed. A Pipbuck 2000 had many functions. “It’s getting late, your mother’s going to be looking for you.” and keeps track of time, isn’t that something. (Most functions I didn’t care to fiddle with)

“But-but, the- the snacks,”

“Just eat them quickly and head off to your mother, she seems to over-worry whenever you’re not in sight.”

“But it’s not late, I’m awake, see!” the half-pint bounced up and down into a carroty blur while I thought of carrots. Carrots in the stable tended to grow into another ‘leafier’ deformed cousin. “Hey, we’re goanna play more, right?” the their eyes turned to me.

“Yes, but its getting late, so let’s continue another time. Hmm?”

“Awwww…” they moaned but their eyes still gleamed; they had treasure to dig up.

“Okay Princess.”

“Goodni—” I think my eye twitched, levying on a pastel green foal. “Please don’t call me that. The names Charisma, Cha-risssma.”

“Aaaalright.” The little foal muttered the name as if in a classroom. Turning, they trotted away with a last farewell. “Later Princess Charisma!”

Oh no. “Next time, leave the ‘Princess’, part, out!” I sighed and let my head fall. Then my long mane fell down in sapphire blue, black with a few pearly lines.

“So, the foals are calling you by that now? Wonder who taught them.”

“Its one thing for the other older ponies to say but, but now the kids? I swear, that title has been uttered more than my real name has.”

“Oh come on, it’s just pleasant poking.”

“Because of what, my parents?”

“Well, supposedly they’re royals, back from the ‘pre-war nobles’. Direct descendant of some aristocratic branch, so yeah, the titles not entirely inaccurate. If only a title, it has its advantages around.”

My greatest displeasure, “Don’t stress it. I have no interest in taking part in those so-called: privileges. I can take care of myself. I don’t need any servo-bots or others to fetch my barding, tie a bow or escort me down a corridor with practiced ‘yes mistress’. Being ‘royalty’ in a stable underground doesn’t exactly inspire ‘purpose’.”

“Oh, well, suit yourself, still seems like you’ve wasted an opportunity, but there’s still plenty of time to exercise it.”

“What for? ‘Hey you, fetch me apples?’”

“It’d be amusing, at least for the first time.” Looking down at his pipbuck didn’t cover his smile. “That time already, I best be getting into uniform if I’m gonna meet roll-call. Make sure not to get into anymore accidents.” then he trod past.

“Later Cap.”

“See you later, Princess.”

“Not. A princess!” I called after him and watched him continue on with a grin stretched wide. He might have been the one to spread the ‘word’. Either way, someone would have. Turning down another many times used corridor, I let my hooves do the guiding as many years of practice have instilled a map into them.

They find out: oooh, aristocracy blood, even in name, lets all have fun and call her princess, very comical. Started the day I got my cutie mark… been years since. In Stable 32, some jokes lasted forever. Forever was a lot. At least nobody went as far as ‘your highness’ or bend the knee at my sight.

I don’t so much as hate as tire of the obscure title and there had to be over half a thousand ponies who at the top my head call me that on first-glance. Either I get used to it or, well, there really was no other option. What really shoves a horn in my crotch is the next generation of ponies has started saying it instead of my real name! What next, they going to scratch out my nameplate for that ‘P’ word? Will it still be there after I’m old and a name on the records… forever was a long time. The only ones that truly deserve that treatment are the real princesses; then again, they had to be called that for over a thousand years… wonder how Celestia felt? Maybe she simply resigned herself to it all… or liked it—where is your mind going?

Oh-hey, look where my legs have taken me. Now exiting the dormitories, I entered Stable #32’s Atrium. Here, Unicorns and Earth ponies muddled from one entrance to another to add their sound of hooves clopping the metallic floor. Festooned with the steel walling, the all-roads-meet foyer had a series of corridors leading into and out of various sectors of the stable. Two large levels could be seen, the ground floor gave access to the lower sections: maintenance, security, recreational zones, waste recyclers and crop houses. Then the upper alcoves held lounging spots and better views over the Atrium and to a large portrait set for everyone to see. Some ponies went up there for jumping off or spitting. Whatever passed the time was tried and done. Next to big loadable vending machines and fresh water fountains stood directional arrows into other parts of the stable, more noted where the kitchens were, and other food making stores. Food in an isolated, multi-family-plex bunker had to come from somewhere. Further in was the industrialized living space of underground residence. Including a few labs, full plumbing and enough room to breath, run a few less than frequently used sectors.

Leading myself around a few busybody neighbors, I made my way across the atrium and see above the atrium head where the Overmares circular glass window could be seen now looking occupied. Above that perfect atrium view was the clearly visible portrait of the Goddess Celestia. Painted in oils and illuminated by talismans, the effigy stood there since the beginning… that is, from before the stable closed shut, the original Closing. The Goddess, or at least the older of the two princesses sat with a demure content expression, there was a small smile with her motherly gaze. On the other side was the stable’s entrance; now a dark emptiness leading to the giant gear shaped door. For over two hundred years the outside world was closed off and with it, what happened after the war. Not a wonderful thought to think about; I looked away. While a meeting place, the atrium acted as everyone’s living room. Tt was also the best place to catch someone going from one way to wherever—oh.

“Candle!” my waving hoof drew a few glances and the attention of a white and silver mare.

Smiling in reply, the older unicorn motioned to the bench beside herself. Drawing myself onto the seat, I found a journal, and maybe a pre-war book hiding in-between, out of sight. Security would ask questions. “Evening Charisma, did Nightcap find you?”

More like I found him. “He said you got a new book. Anyone I know write it?”

She brushed back her teal striped mane in thought. Straightening her posture, her cutie mark advertised itself with a lit candle stick. I thought, it looked like those ‘lighthouses’ in some of the books I’d read, and she was a teacher.

“I was muddling through the library when Arch showed me some writings stuck in the back room. Apparently its from some bored wizard making homegrown spells for foals and fun. Maybe something for you?” Turning to the small stack of books to her side, her horn manifested a field of orange. Hovering towards me, my own levitation took it over in an aura of purple, but was more on the side of blue.

“Resident bookkeeper? I’m glad Archives still looks around. Nice of him to show it to us. His family’s been bookkeepers for generations.”

But nothing on the shelf was before a certain date. The people had made a consensus.

“Arch loves his job. Maybe a little too much since most of it is manuals, but I think he sometimes gets bored in there, he’s not a big reader like some of us.” Well, families didn’t have to stick with the same job; everypony had a choice in what they worked or could at least try so long as there were boots to fill the empty one. There’s always at least one filly bored enough to be ‘helpful,’ if only to try for a cutie mark. “From what I was able to make out, most of it is guideposts, but some look incomplete.”

Not finding anything too obvious and delicious looking, I gave the scrawled tome back. “I’ll let you look it over some more, I got a party to join.”

“Daffodil’s?” she hovered the book into a saddlebag. A smirk crossed her muzzle. “Well, have fun getting hammered and waddling to medical.”

“I don’t ‘waddle’.” She recovered the rest of her reading material. “So how are the foals, anything interesting in class?”
Her brown eyes rolled back up in reminisce. “Well, the kids are getting more bored then usual with Equestrian history. Heartstrings finally got her cutie mark and Nailjack wants to start a construction project with a few friends interested in making toys. I just hope they don’t start another fire.” The incident’s ‘discoveries’ still had dark stains on the metal wall. Nopony got hurt, just some furniture and a parent’s nerves.

“Anypony spreading nicknames around?”

“Why you ask?”

“Gumdrop earlier called me ‘Princess’. If I can I’d like to kill the plague.”

“Now why would I stop them?” She placed one hoof to herself. “The children prefer the name quite a bit.”

You! “You’re the one spreading the ‘P’ word?”

“Oh come now my Royal pupil. All I did was answer a few of their questions, which so happened to lead into, ‘why do some ponies call Charisma Princess’, ‘why do some ponies bow at her’. I simply told them of your blood relation to some Alicorns, how your relatives decided to bring ponies into this stable when it was open, letting in hundreds, blah blah blah. The good stuff.” She flashed that well aged smile. “Just by blood you are one.”

“Not really,” Damn the word. “But that doesn’t mean I have to be called that because some other member of the family.” I pointed a fore hoof to the painting in sight. “That’s a princess. Me? I’m just like any other pony stuck in the ground. I’m not that.”

All Candle did was smile at my reaction. “Humility only makes you more the bearer. To me, at least, you’re our little Princess.”

“I’m not a princess.” Of any size! “Just try to remind them it’s not my name.” She flashed a smile before heading down the corridor. I followed, still not finished with the Stable’s teacher and spell scholar. Turning down a corner, a security team passed by with greeting nods, followed by an impossibly positive voice.

“Good-evening young-mares!” the Mr. Handy greeted the site of us with shaking robotic arms. Now tipping an imaginary top hat, the evening song and tap dance program got the large hovering robot to act. “What lovely dresses you have. I like your manes. Today I am inclined to advertise our residential host: Daffodil will be orchestrating a public party in the swimming-*Bzt*-The Garden.” It said and followed the two mares. It and like many others, the maid robot was Stable-Tec installed. Not standard, but our shelter’s original customers had a very high standard of living. In regards to the partys destination, that was something we Stable ponies wanted. “Note: must be drinking age or it’s a whipping for you!”

“Yes, yes, we already know. Go harass some other pony.” Candle answered to her annoyance. She looked at Stable’s more ‘permanent’ members with some form of scorn. I instead found their existence amusing. They were robots, blended with earth pony tech and unicorn spell work. Exactly ‘how’ is best explained by the repair ponies: they know that stuff, part of the job. Near the end of the hall, the elevator had already been summoned by Candlelight’s call, allowing the both of us to step inside. Turning about, I pushed a hoof at the fifth button scrawled over with: ‘The Garden’. With a ding, the elevator replied and another good-welcome rang out again. “Good-evening young-strapping-stallions!—” the doors closed and the platform hummed in its descent.

Unlike my passive feelings, Candle was muttering dark thoughts about busting hands and sockets. “If they so much as ‘hiccup’ around me I’ll turn them to ash.” She noticed my look. “What are you smiling about?”

“Are you still angry about that incident in the cafeteria?”

Her eyes widened then grew cold, that was a good enough answer. “No… not ‘angry’.” But livid. “Reprogramming the maintenance robots to ‘run amuck’ in a crowded locked space was not a good idea.”

Totally worth it.

She squinted. “You created a mass panic; Miss Hay still twitches at every robotic presence and Mr. Buckington ever so often asks me to denounce you from my tutelage.” It was funny at the time and a complete bonanza.
“But nobody got hurt. I made sure those flamethrower tanks were swapped out.” Who the buck installs Mister Handys with flamethrowers? “So all anyone got was a public washing with foam. The Overmare was interested in something to spice up the Stable life, there just wasn’t anything planned that month.” Detergent and some good ol’ H2O create one heck of a bubble bath.

“Reprogramming two Mister Handys’ to rave and scream profanities is not the way to discover your cutie mark. They screamed: ‘Die zebra, die.’” She stared daggers at me. From unconfirmed sources, they say she screamed like a filly. Heh.

The doors opened and we exited side-by-side with familiarity guiding our path. If memory served me right, when as a foal I’d sneak into security to watch a prank two. On that occasion, it didn’t take much doing to unlock the immodest control panels and reconfigure its new goal to soaking the cafeteria with ‘bubbly’ intentions. Being a young, curious, eager to pull wires and press buttons blank flank was… a boring day was an incentive for sudden interests. Creative ones mind you.

All in the name of the cutie mark crusade. Watching security and their mechanical tag-alongs lounging around the living quarters triggered my newest idea. Reading up whatever manuals at I could get and tips from Motorhoof the robotics chief got me a good enough idea. After lots of time and mixing together easy to come by and recycled Stable ingredients, it was only a matter of picking two Handys, replacing nozzles, then ‘highlight’ everyone as a ‘hostile zebra’. Sitting in security, I pressed the initiate command and let the chaos roll. As entrance doors rose they hovered in; the entrance locked, then the Handys accused everpony of heresy against Celestia. The look on everyone’s faces was priceless, more so after the hoses went to work.

Once the timed one-minute lockdown lifted to allow foam, bubble blanketed ponies to fumble out, not all were laughing. Some weren’t glad enough to have escaped; some formed a mob calling for a ponyhunt with murderous insinuations. I didn’t feel bad. Maybe guilty, I being a filly was thinking things like a filly: innocent thoughts. When the mob came to security, demanding whoever responsible to stand a quick painful trial. Seeing me, their blank looks had greeted my harmless smile; I didn’t exactly expect to get away with it forever. Being marched to the upper atrium with a crowd divided by colts dry and drenched, the once malicious adults were sedated on just a spanking (puppy eyes helped to restrict punishment to a warning and an assortment of tasty foods). It wasn’t exactly possible for the Stable to make good on their earlier half-maddened claims spanning from whippings to other cruel and unusual actions best not said around foals.

Motorhoof publicly scolded me how the misuses of equipment but the second we were in private he heralded my ingenuity with laughter leaking in between sentences. Apparently he still doesn’t believe how I didn’t get my cutie mark then and there with some robotics relation (that’s a story for another ponder). Still, he asked around if it was all right for me to apprentice in his line of work. Asking other ponies, he received the same answer: ‘No!’ but that didn’t stop him from slipping manuals and Programmer’s Digest magazines whenever my curiosity perked up again. Also, when in a drunken stupor he announced over the Stable Pipbuck broadcasters that I was the ‘foal he never had’, along with many other unrelated drivel. It was touching: also got him quizzical looks from his three children and wife. Thus, the ‘cafeteria incident’ was noted and a new historical Stable #32 date with mixed feelings, categorized in ‘infamy’.

Walking past secondary maintenance turn-offs, closets and stairwells we stepped into a wide and far ranging cavern underneath the Stable now redefined today as ‘The Garden’. Across half over-turned soil and powered lighting was a group of Stable inhabitants relaxing nearby in an oasis of grass, flower patches and a single apple tree. This place was the pride of the Stable. A cave seven or eight corridor heights or floors ‘tall’ was the uncompleted construction of the installations functions. Nothing critical, this particular place was in the later stages of completion when the bombs fell. Over the years the area was turned into sports events, active recreation, small hobbies and the usual party.

The amount of resources spent on necessities and luxuries such as robot servants and extra space was uncanny. Who was it all for? Aristocratic ponies from the pre-war era had made generous donations for a Stable keyed to their ‘needs’. Except, only two nobles were able to reach this door, maybe there were others but these two were my great, great, something, parents. So, why is there anyone else here? The story goes that when coming here, there was only the two and a handful of security present, not many; the bunker would’ve been very empty. No matter nobility or ‘common’ they searched for anypony for miles to come, enter and see tomorrow. The choice saved lives, just about everyone in the Stable was related to someone ‘invited’. Ever since then, many attribute that detail to the nobles who are here; thus including me in the decrypted nobility worship. How that all ties in with the garden level? Well, the Stable was under management for a number of years with stalling, leaving the swimming pool incomplete. Upon locking down the gate, earth ponies and unicorns alike spent their time dealing with their new closed world, later did they decided to finish key areas and instead of getting a swimming pool, they turned the room into an underground garden, our Stable ‘project’.

The cave floor was bathed in artificial light whilst ponies went about their day as if nothing had changed from over two hundred years, while knowing the past, they were as happy as ponies were from before the war. “Hey, Charisma.” a cream yellow pony hollered from atop a wood furnished table. Candle and I squeezed through a lively group of ponies still active towards the reigning party host. “I demand a magic show!” She was looking a little red in the cheeks. Somebody had already put up one of the Stable’s few gramophone records the party had already begun. Ponies of all kinds from the Stable associated were in harmonic attendance, drawn by drink, company and the antiquities that came with any party.

“Later! I’m gonna get a few drinks first!” I called over the upbeat yet still tranquil rhythm; later meant when no one was dancing and I didn’t want to be around. I can’t dance for nuts!

“Hey teach, drink with us!”

She smiled then joined my take and swig of party mix in a single gulp, she looked at me, then at my legs.

“I don’t waddle. I’ll prove it.” Expanding magic outwards, I felt around a nearby table with filled orange opaque drinks sitting at the ready. A crowd had formed between the snack bar, and me. I continued, not yet grabbing but still feeling, first chairs, apple chips, large marshmallows—woops, sorry! Clutching two cups in a mantle of blue hues, two glasses flew over the crowd and descend perfectly at eye level. “Would you like another,” I passed one to my mentor.

“Why thank you, its nice to see the Stable’s royalty is kind enough for a servant’s chore.” She took a sip and saw my lip twitch.

“Noble!” Rolling my head to three jumpsuit-barded ponies.

“Hey everyone. Hey Sprain, you’re the one who fixed the party tap right?” A burgundy-coated stallion with a wrench and nut for a mark grinned back. Sheepishly, I might add.

“Y-yes, how’d you know?”

Not all folks our age worked, not all the time, but Sprain was known for a few tricks in chemistry “Thanks, glad for the help.”

It wasn’t long before he was fidgeting with his hooves. “I—well, just had to replace a couple leaking pipes, straighten a valve, steady gauges, salvage stuff for a magic reflex column. Simple stuff, nothing much, anypony could do it, just a book and a—” He smiled meekly. He was rambling again. “Just thought I could help.”

The new popular attention must be giving him lots of fuzzy feelings. He deserves it, brighter than most I’ve seen around.

“Come on, let’s go get a couple drinks.” A group with Torch at the head ushered him to come along and he nodded to slip back into the crowd with happy glance back.

“You’re a tease.”

“Not a tease.” One buck stayed behind “All I did was thank him, and he needs a little more confidence in what he does. ‘Plumbing’ assistant doesn’t sound great but its important. If we can’t flush, we’re all screwed. I’m glad the pony hoofed with the job isn’t going to trigger some chance Stable disaster.” Glancing down to the dark green coat with the mark of a sliced apple dripping into a glass. He was older but most of us were all good friends.

Appleshake rolled his glance. “Might as well of been. With Sprain’s shyness, you might as well have asked him for a dance.”

“Is his crush that bad?”

Squinted eyes met my query. “Well, not like before, when the other month he blushed just on seeing you out of barding.”

“But, ponies don’t have to wear barding.” Or anything.

“The kid’s just like that.” and sighed into his empty drink. “Anyhow, TorchHoof has been showing interest in him so it’s probably inevitable that they’ll end up together.”

“Sprain dating Torch? Kind of hard to imagine but be really cute.” Ship, ship, ship; lets see another set sail! “Wait. This is one of those crazy love-triangles isn’t it?”

“Only if your barn is painted that way, or do the doors swing both ways?”

It was my turn for blank looks. Sipping the drinks very bottom, my eyes leveled his; I know what those jumpy brows were thinking. “I’m not like that.”

“Although I know a mare who’d be interested.” He offered and with just a look I shot it down. Who he trying to set up? He drank a fresh glass then looked glumly at its sudden emptiness.

“Refill?”

He nodded. “Punch, please.”

Glancing at the most probably spiked bowl, a levitation field scooped up a bubble and fly over the crowd. Tilting his cup, Appleshake let the ooze of punch fill his cup. Some had been left over so the rest went my way, a short gulp made my face do tricks. The taste had a subtle ‘stinging’ flavor on the way down, an Apple special.

“I call it a ‘Time Bomb’.”

“Tastes great.” The percentage was a mystery but definitely not light. Taking any more sips was probably a risk. Turning left, my magic instructor was seen by in conversation with a few other ponies. The music was getting louder, still not the dancing rhythm. By the older colts and mares, their talks weren’t as festive as others around, not heated, but… concerned?

“Charisma! Turn on the magicks!” Now a peachier color, Daffodil was up on a table was trying to party with a stallion who’d had a little too much.

Think, think, think, a light show, transformations, no, something… well Nightmare Night is coming up soon. Flexing my head, giving myself a little room, I let the familiar ‘magicks’ come to a point then my horn, and let the spell fall through. In an overly flashy spell execution, a cloud of red and blue slowly drifted out over the crowd fall forward then and into pony shapes. Large almost monstrous creatures caught the eye of every pony; some of them jumped at them but in another harmless moment were dazzled by the display of arcane melding. To them the hazy figures unlike anypony was entertainment. Some who missed the conjuration process instead of staring in awe, jumped in fright until the apparitions ran through crowds. Half-inspired by Nightmare Night scare pranks and stories of windigos. The crowds nearby stamped the ground in applause or if they could would raise their glass at; one of them was in offering; a still fresh Sparkle-Cola.

“Thanks.” I popped the cap seal and drank.

“Haven’t seen those things in awhile. Did you add more detail to the spell—” he froze as one ‘windigo’ flew threw him. They can’t touch any pony, but some couldn’t resist the reflex.

“Nah, I just added a few ‘expressions’, make them more lively. You like?”

“Impressed,” he pondered and fancied a glance at one of the tables. “Hmm, I see a line up has started, I’ll head back to fix up an Apple Special.” A smile rose to his lips.

“Alright, catch you later, go get those ponies plastered.”

He smiled, trotting towards a table with recycled bottles and home stashed liquids, some neared on the side of hydroponic cleaners. “So,” He nudged two ponies at the front. “Who wants something special?” And there goes the Stable renowned party mixer, drinks and flavors of all origins, effects varied. I was assured that all of it was ‘stable approved’ and safe, relatively at least.

Looking around, the party was divided largely between the magic show, DJ vibe or fetching something a drink. Musing around to find some niche to step into I soon found the more familiar faces of teach and some others banter got my attention. “—Shhh, that’s not quota talk, do you want us busted too?” One whispered too loudly. Even with a little white noise I could tune into conversations. More then I would like to admit. “Look, only a few know where the formulas kept, that’s safe until others find out from the records, but we still need our contact for an update. Have you seen him?”

“He’s not back yet, you still want to accelerate the plan?”

Candlelight signed. “Look, every pony, right now we don’t have any solid ground to move things forward, we need more time—” she noticed me. “Charisma, how are you.” She blinked a few times, surprised or was I interrupting something important?

“Hi Candle,” I waltzed into the group without a care. They probably didn’t want questions. “Hey Archives, keeping things tidy.” I allowed them to dodge and change tracks.

“Oh afternoon.” He was the stable historian and bookworm. Wearing a rarely brushed his pink and blue mane against a grey coat. Far back and above his rear legs was the mark of a tome of books. Then I nodded to the next neighbor. “Doctor Anatomist,” Unicorn for the ouchies, many just call her Ana. Chief medical, red mane, auburn yellow coat and was this time out of her lab coat. I heard she’s a protégés in medical techniques, so she claims. Once as a filly, she helped me with a head injury, and no my parents didn’t drop me on my head. “And…” Who she? Just like most others, wearing standard utility barding, but now filled with a unicorn with marble white coat and a multi-blue mane looking very fresh, minty even.

“Oh, we’ve only seen each other on a few rare occasions,” Smooth tone of voice, still no bells rang. “I am Onyx, Onyx Rarestone. I assist in the lower labs and specialize in mineralogy.” A deep opal lingered in her gaze; pretty eyes. Wait—she specializes in rocks? “Although the job hasn’t been very exciting, we have had our own fun. Little explorations and tunnel digging.” She directed our attention to The Gardens far wall where a large warren stood illuminated inner hanging lights. “You would be surprised of the items we find, but I expect such a conversation for another time.” She humbly smiled. Polite, maybe a bit heavy on the courtesy. “I’ve heard many great things from your teacher.” I took the chance to watch Candle’s glow a little. “Whenever our conversations seem to steer towards her pupil.” Me. “She speaks highly,” Aww. “And with some reserve in your affection of pre-war technology.”

I half resisted the urge to roll my eyes, or something just as benign. “Hopefully she told you the good things about me.”
“Oh, yes, and just from your ongoing demonstration, I see that you have been growing up quite well, My Lady.”

This was… unusual. Most residents picked at me with the ‘P’ word, playing on my lineage for harmless fun poking’s. But. Did I hear… reverence?

Doctor Ana seemed to have picked on my look. “She’s dutiful to the old traditions, including a little royalty awe.”

“Oh, uh, thanks?” I knew there were some like that, but not many more then the hooves I got, but their reasons were always different. Hers? I’d probably ask another time.

“My, pleasure.” A delicate bow of her head made me itch. Never got used to that, glad it wasn’t common. Turning away, Rarestone and Candle shifted their talks to the ventilations temperature and daily excavation results. Their conversation had lost all forms of concern; maybe they didn’t want to hear. Archives looked talkative.

“How are things lately, your studies going over well?”

“The usual, spells with Candle, some nuances with Motorhoof, how’s your job.”

“Well, you know, same, quiet,” his job got boring at times. “But I’ve come by some old shelved books, some are journals, both sanctioned by Stable-Tec.”

“Of course, got to follow that one rule.” Stable#32 had one rule the stable ponies themselves made this agreement, back before my parents were born. ‘Party’ Rule #1 – No Pre-War Books; punishment based on popular support. Stable-Tec documents and subsequent the war was exempt. Do magic, party all day, work all day, sleep all day, listen or make songs, read the rise and fall of nightmare moon, hear the praise of the two Princesses and the six great mares. Those were all fine but no ‘hate inspiring’ material dubbed as so. As a society we frown upon that time and even todays post-apocalypse just beyond the gear. It was a no-no topic, closed forever, end of discussion. I knew there was no point leaving because of balefire radiation but when they came for the books…

When I was a little foal we had secret game clubs; and now I’m older I know the secret book club. The biggest secret was the books.

Just don’t get caught.

“So did Candle show you that present?”

“She showed me, couldn’t make much hoof or tail of it, looked like homemade spells. Drink?” I offered.

He shook his head “Just water and I like mine from the pond.”

Everyone has a good life so no reason to think or learn about any dirty violent ‘nonsense’. If nopony rocks the metaphorical boat then everything is fine and dandy. With a life that had parties on Saturdays and a new celebration every month, no one fought that life of bliss… but what about the ignorance. Simple: they don’t know. It was just the usual quota, the regular part of the day of our lives.

“Heard you were dusting out the place, looking for new reading material?”

“Yes, I still want your second edition Daring Doo. I got some stuff to trade. A few journals from just before the ‘Closing’ and a bunch of newspaper clippings.”

I nodded and drank water from a levitated bubble. Archives watched in amusement as he noticed my drinking manners. Sitting on my rump, I looked back to my watery reflection, orbs, my eyes looked up to me with my coat of ashen blue, mane streaked with black, white and dark blue topped my face. Out of view, I felt my tail flip from one side to the other and let my gaze wander just beyond my peripherals.

From the reflection and side-glances I found no security to overhear us. Some of security’s unicorns were trained with special spells, some say they can look into everything you’ve done. We already knew they could tell who wrote based on the writing; some teachers knew that same spell, on the clause of ‘plagiarize checks’. For security, they had ‘honesty checks’. Some don’t know when their being ‘checked’; I’ve seen it in demonstrations, and sometimes when I was being processed through Stable ‘oaths’. Not many cared, they stuck to the quota as long as they could party their lives away and learn to fit in, do this and its peace and happiness. Simple isn’t it, either way, we were all regulated by the Stable by wide consensus, even if there was a few to reject the rule.

It was fine, we had no other problems and the few of us feeling the need to read couldn’t face a death penalty, but being publicly displayed was only the beginning. Nevertheless, we keep on reading books from the old world.

“Instead of the book, how about some interesting text about life on a war front, a holo-disk contain the full audio click so you’ll need to be quite plus I’ll even throw in a documentary on the weather with pictures.

“Great, it’s a deal.” We both smiled at our illegal deal, but we felt it necessary. Neither of has been caught yet but still… don’t get caught.

“Spare parts?” We heard from a nearby crowd. “We don’t have anything close by and I’m not sure if maintenance has as many parts on hoof.” Sprocket muddled. “What ‘cha need it for?”

“Accident in the lower cave tunnels. Some got trapped but no one’s hurt and the ground equipment needs replacements.”

“Well crap, and there aren’t many of those around and my department’s using everything they can salvage. Those trapped ponies will survive, but can they wait an hour or two?

“Sure, but one’s a minor claustrophobia case.”

“Unless you know a private stash this won’t be quick.”

“You need parts?” they looked at me for a better answer. “Spark batteries, scrap, conductors, I got a small stash for emergencies.”

“Why do you even—we’d really appreciate it Noble.” Sprocket breathed a relief. “Our construction wagons, the machines we use need new electronics and a few spark bats, it would make our rescue done minutes instead of hours. There’s a reward if you can do it quick.”

“Be back in a dash.” I waved to them and headed for the maintenance corridor’s main intersection. Trotting alongside Archives looking questioningly. “What?”

“You hoarding parts or something?”

I scoffed while ducking under a floating tray of drinks. “No, and I’m not hiding them, I just know where a few out of the way places have them and use them for my own ends.”

“But what about your show?”

“Them?” I pointed at a passing windigo mimic. “I designed the spell to work without having to mind it myself, I won’t be going too far, unless something dramatic happens, it’ll still be here.”

His eyes shown on a new thought. “Oh before you head off, how’s Snuggles?”
I gave him a glare. “What, If you’re asking if I still go to bed with Snuggy then I’m not saying squat.”

“Just checking,” He waved at the door as I trotted through the exit. With the door closing behind me, the music became silent. Dull dining clops resonated around the hallway. Despite the lonely maintenance shafts, a pony born in the Stable was friendly to underground closeness and tight walls. Claustrophobia was rare, but yes, happens to a few and that’s only for those really small spaces or crowded elevators. Turning further into the maintenance storage rooms led to Stable 32’s scenic route by the primary energy source. Entering a little used door was a room with a window view into a massive generator stretching into the bottom of the giant bunker. It produced some ridiculous wanton of electrical energy, not magic, not a spark reactor or with radiation.

Power utilization was different, not just standard spark reactors and back ups, there was a geothermal plant. The idea was absurd but dawned at the time of an energy crisis, too far fetched; a ‘dream’ was written in an old magazines criticism, yet here it was. By drawing heat from below the ground for power helped to supply the rest of the installation with an abundant source of energy. Maybe if such technology had become widespread before the war, things might’ve been different… Passing the last of the windows was another door, opening into a long corridor with bulkheads on either side. Moving into a large storage room was a sparse product of every sort in the vault. Light shone from failing light fixtures, many barely sputtering and with large another window peering out at the plant. Running non-stop since its first gallop over 200 years ago. A marvel of technology… As the door closed shut, the large room returned to dim lighting.

Light. My horn glowed a violet blue then into clean white solace. Shadows danced around the walls, creeping off flooring as I wandered in. Sidestepping spilled puddles of probable lubricants, I looked across the outlay of overturned tables and the familiar stuffed shelves. The place wasn’t used much and a little far out but the sights were great. Now I still had parts to fetch and unless somebody’s already came in the last few days to take my— that’s new.

My eyes focused on a very still Mr. Handy. Glazed over in white light, the robot with three mechanical arms and eyes sat in the back corner. Under a layer of trash of blanket sheets, humming quietly. Didn’t appear broken, looked like maintenance was too lazy to haul it all the way to a repair station. Finding the lockers, there sitting peacefully was a neck high stash of stable goods, parts and little baubles such as duct tape and wonder glue. I didn’t have any worries outside picking which job I’d be stuck with. Technically my ‘job’ could be an aristocratic head figure or some sort, but that wasn’t what I wanted. Maybe a teacher like Candle, or a repair pony like Motor, magic was my specialty so I had choices. I turned to the next locker over to stock up. Life was good, no troubles or discord, well, as bliss could be despite the big rule. It was my life and I was happy. Opening the locker came with it a body tumbling to the floor.

A thud.

I followed to watch.

Under the bright spell light was a body.

A body?

“H-… Hello…?” I said hello? No, no, this must be last Nightmare Nights scare prop, or Candle has been transforming crates into mannequins again. She should really turn back all the things she plays with after finishing; she’ll give someone a heart attack!

Then i saw tiny drips seep into cracks and waste paper. Manikins. Don’t. Bleed.

Turpentine, turpentine and bottled water! I really need to organize the stuff I put away, starts making a mess or I’ll end up with wasted junk.

What solvent smells like iron and colored red? Not pipe cleaner.

“A body,” I said to myself. Pushing aside a limb showed more red glossy holes, my eyes caught a frozen glazed stare. “A dead body,”

*Beep*

My head swung around to the robot now humming to life.

*Chirp* It’s eyes twitched to sweep the room to scan. “Unauthorized access detected.” Mechanical nodes leered at me. It didn’t sound routine, reprogrammed? “Do not escape or resist, you will be apprehended: immediately!”

Access, no go? Arrest? Escape-resist? What did I do, what did I find, what is—!
The supply room door rose to the ceiling, letting in corridor lighting and sight of two ponies. My eye shifted to them, under my spell torch and backlight, their appearance was shrouded. Like myself, they stood motionless, shock or just befuddled curiosity? Wait a second, why would they come here?

“Ah fuck.” One of the two, a stallion muttered. “Shoot her!”

“Request accepted. Arming weapons.”

Weapons?— My eyes grew in size as the robot’s arm turned to straighten out a machine—Gun!

*Click*

Wrenching from the floor a desk quickly became a floating barrier just as muzzle flashes lit the room with bullets biting into office furniture. Did I mention the sound?! ‘Course I did, it was loud! In a room like this the noise was magnified. Hitting the floor and levitating to me extra dense items, I clapped my ears flat as noise echo against the steel reinforced walls and my poor head. With another ominous click, fire enveloped around the shield—Fire!
Lashing around to flick red-hot flames, I jumped back and threw my shield. Flying into the robot they were driven into tables and floor items and be forced against the wall. Heavily batter, burning mixtures spewed across the wall and one quarter of the room. Who puts flamethrowers on robots?!

Focusing more tables and scrap metal onto the walled robot put aside one fear but also brought up another.
“Shoot, her!” I heard again from the entrance. I turned in time to see the stallion step inside with a firearm already in his mouth.

Gunfire erupted once more, again at me to my disapproval. Throwing infront a locker I’d ransacked earlier now saved me, but it was just a locker. Bullets ricocheted across the lockers until one pierced the thin plating. Collapsing against a fore hoof, I saw dribbling holes in my ashy blue coat. After seeing the sight of my pain, I grabbed another locker and magically hurled it at the doorway. Having been in the way, the armed pony took a locker to the face. A metallic clatter rung aloud just as the pony hit the corridor wall, now the locker was jammed in the door. Still holding suspension of both robot and door baring locker, I flinched as more gunfire sounded off. Throwing up another shielding table with added chairs blocked a hosing of bullets. Levitating a box full of bottled water, I snapped them out of the plastic casing to be turned into sheathes of ice. Pointy ones I might add. In absence of the locker, I threw the bucket wad of daggers. As dozens of shards pierced the barding and draw blood, the wounded pony crumpled away from the door. Back to the Handy, it flung armed ‘hands’ at me. Jumping back I escaped a line of blazes racing along the floor, window then ceiling. Slamming the robot back again, the robot was then hurled it into the far corner where it spat sparks and splayed itself in immobilization. Looking behind me to see where I could have been were black smothers, which would have made me a flaming pony. Hearing the front door roll down and jam against the locker underneath made me wonder what they were going to do. I was not going to be locked in! Then pin drop sounded from the gap where in came rolling in bundle of dynamite. Then hearing the sound of drips drew my attention to the fuel leaking from the Handy.

“…”

Fire! Bad—

Then everything exploded…

***

I was still here, pain…? It all hurt so much I wasn’t sure where I was hurting.

My eyes… still closed, body and everything was there… not hurting as much as sagging, immobile bruise, sweating, heavy… I mentioned sweating? Heat, all around, like maintenance heat vents, warm places… but got hotter than usual… Two eyes, one and a slow responding twin tried to fixate on something else then the back of my eyelids. I first saw flickers tinted in orange light; then I noticed the room was on fire.

Why was— I felt something pop. Looking down I saw my leftie looking a little… holey. Shrapnel and explosive force had shredded parts of the room not blocked by thick tables. I saw it all but couldn’t believe it, nothing like this. My head groaned as it turned to patchy spots across the storage floor, flickers of red, singed flammables and was that ringing I heard somewhere. An alarm? Standing up I was painfully sure I was hearing ringing.

I put up a tired foreleg, tapped my head and felt only the numbness, maybe that was a good thing since what little I could see was more than just singes covering my legs. I was only sure that I was still alive. Small little flashbacks of never before had to field test school fires lessons… I blinked to find the room window already blown out and back to the other side where the door stood half jaggedly torn off it was a big boom. I needed air, not this smoke I thought started off stumbling towards the exit.

Legs…

I got up slowly, feeling my body getting heavier every few feet. It wasn’t just the bullet I had to worry about.

Hoof over hoof… muscles spasms that a-way… then the other way.

Magic could help, but not with the concentration I had going. Everything felt a mess.

Over the burning paper… around the dislodged metal arm…

I hoped those ponies up in medical were still awake.

Around the wrecked locker… over the mass of burning—

Flesh.

I could smell the air of a burning pony.

I needed to get going, choking, air was bad, would kill. I fumbled half way over the stable door. Air was better, slightly. Took a few more steps before seeing flooring that wasn’t already scorched. Now lying on the ground I felt slightly better when staying still and stress the pain, no way could I get up again.

How far was the clinic?

Oh

Hey

Two, three then four more blurry ponies’ came around the corner.

Ah, tired… wake me up later won’t you... if you could…please

***

It was now very sooooft. A bed… or was the metal floor just that comfortable?

I pressed my head into a new direction, feeling a few slight aches and stretches. Pain was surprisingly gone, most of it. Still, I was better than before and could stay like this a bit longer. I wasn’t dead. That’s good.

“Has she woken up yet?”

I tried to turn and managed to strain my neck; that sounded like Nightcap.

“Just checked up on her a few minutes ago, she’s doing better than before.” And Doctor Anatomist. Her clinic? “But she’s still sleeping.” Not anymore.

“I’ll radio her parents that,” A stable door rose then again closed, followed by silence…

“Ana?” my voice sounded dry, hoarse. A moment latter a pencil crashed to the floor with sketch boards. Trotting around a wall of blind screens came into view a doctor looking all too happy.

“Hey.”

“Hey… you had a concussion, a big one.”

“Yeah,” Everything exploded and I survived. Parts still itched while bones felt like icicles prickling in their exercise. “How long was I out?” I tried to find some kind of chronometer.

“Three days.”

That long? “It felt…” not ‘yesterday’ but just a short time ago. Three days… just gone? My eyes began to drift to a bedside table holding a few drugs, a mirror, scalpels and empty syringes. A clean medical platter could be seen holding Pipbuck 2000. Now looking as if a dragon had breathed on it and took a day trip through Tartarus. While pitying it I wondered if I looked anything like that?

“You’ve undergone a few procedures, realigning bones, filtering out nasty cuts and not to mention all the internal bleedings, had to I.V. feed a bunch of potions and not to mention strain out a couple spells… still wasn’t as bad as your pipbuck.”

Was I that obvious? “Guess I was lucky.” I eyed a large pipe fragment jammed into one console corner. The screen flickered every few seconds, still barely functioned. Guess Stable-Tech engineers meant for their equipment to survive the worst of cases… makes sense since some of their main products like the Stables were for Post-Fallout conditions.

“Uh huh, so how am I doing?” I still felt like crap. “Med-x?” I smiled, waiting for a scoff, but all she did was stay silent. Her face was… remorseful? “Ana, what happened?” I turned for the mirror.

“Noble, take it slow, you’ve just went through some changes that aren’t—”
The mirrors not levitating, why!

“Charisma,” she knocked aside my hoof trying to get the mirror. “Not everything could be mended,”

“Why is my magic—” I reached up.

“Don’t touch—.”

I tried to touch it, but it should have been—“Mirror, give me a mirror.”

She almost took a step back, levitating far away the requested item. “Charisma…” half-heartedly she placed the mirror atop the bed sheets. Looking down I found my horn… missing.

“It’s broken…” Shattered. The miniature spiral now ended with a jagged edge, less then half its size.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything.”

I turned back up and see the hurt in the Doctor’s eyes; a part of her hated herself, because she couldn’t fix this? Who could anyone, what could. “Its—its not your fault. Doctors can’t fix everything.” Somehow that hurt her even more…

“It’s still possible to recover your magic, part of it,” Her eyes turned to a wall. “But I don’t know how long it will take.” The Stable had heard tales, what unicorn hadn’t and the story was more of a nightmare, some pony getting into accidents where they’d lose their horn and magic… none of them had a happy ending. “We could start with training text, books Twilight Sparkle herself wrote.” 101 spellcraft for foals? “It’ll take time and practice…”

I turned back into the reflection, somehow it didn’t seem real, this… twin. The missing horn, the lack of feeling the space around, levitating was more than for touching. It was as if a very important appendage had torn away. “I’ll start later,” I looked back up and blinked away my emotions, shoving them into a closest and building a barn over it. “Tell me what’s happened since I’ve been out —Wait, who found me?”

She seemed to pause at the mixed question then continue peacefully on. “First notice anything wrong was the alarms and a moment before your spell show went out in the sight of crowds. We put two and two and got security to find used your Pipbuck signal.”

They did that? My eyes narrowed. “Pipbucks could be tracked?”

She nodded. “Inaccurately, yes. Nightcap, Sprocket, Candle and a few others found you in front of a blown out maintenance locker. Then they brought you here.”
My mind began to replay the shaky moments—“Did you see them, the Mr. Handy, the body, the shooters?”

“Its, we’ve only been getting vague reports, even now. I’ve mostly been cooped up in here in medical, your parents and I insisted that somepony would have to be around at all time, and I didn’t trust my nurses to touch my surgical tools, no less the injuries you had. They say the detonation was from a gas pipe. They’ve learned of the Mr. Handy.” She glanced at me, giving me room if only to interrupt. “The body we also found was a stallion, facial recognition was difficult.”

Flesh

The smell was still fresh to me…

“But we’ve been able to get a genetic match, do you know an earth pony by the name of Happy Tale?”

“Happy? Tale sounds familiar so—” he flirted with me, once. “…Knew him a bit, heard he was the happy-go-lucky type.” he helped in the ‘book trade’ was always cautious, even if he was caught he wouldn’t be shot… “Why would anyone kill him?”

“I don’t know, I was working part of the autopsy, so the Stables known for a bit that this couldn’t of been an accident, unless that Handy was really haywire like they're telling us then Candles reaction might be fair.”

She would not have liked the news. “What she do?”

“Oh, well, if you were awake a day ago and near the repair bay you would’ve heard Candle screaming to get inside so should turn all the Handys to ash. She looked pissed.”

Thought so, she went ballistic. “Did she threaten to use magic?” Maybe even her favorite lighting spell?

“After Motorhoof had locked the doors, yes. Then the Overmare rushed downstairs to stop the two from getting into a robots vs enchanted manikins war… sad it didn’t happen, could've made a betting pool.”

Hearing that now I wouldn’t know who to place my bits on.

“The word is to assume the reason due to faulty parts but the cop ponies hasn’t yet got a closed case. Most think the bot was tampered, or programmed.”

A programmer? Unicorn or earth pony, there weren’t many that could work on a Handy and I was one of those few ponies. “Wait, Doctor, what about the ponies that shot me?”

She blinked at my question. “You were shot by the robot, weren’t you?”

I shook my head. “Two ponies came the door after I had entered a minute ago, and I think they were the ones to have tampered with the Mr. Handy.” I heard one of them order it to shoot me at least.

Her voice dropped down a few decibels. “There hasn’t been a case like this this in… I don’t know? Decades, a hundred? Murder?” It was absurd, even in no-books-before-closing Stable.

“What do you know?”

“I only know what Cap tells me, investigators say they're facing ‘complicated’ matters, and the Stable’s been in shock over the last few days. The explosion, Happy’s death, and your horn—” she tried not to stare. So the Stable before I even did. “All that’s known is the scene. Right now you should know that everyone’s on alert… and rumors have spread.”

Ah. “Lets hear them.”

“Lots, some true, mostly not… Want me to page your parents?” She leaned to move. I did the same. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to see if I can get out of this bed.”

“For what, exercise? You’ve barely recovered. You trying to leave?”

I said nothing and let her watch me hobble on the first hoof. “Lets see if you can at least stand up.”

“Don’t hold your breath and let’s see those crutches—” I flopped to one side and dead panned on the surgical floor. “…I’m alright.”

Uttering a short chuckle she helped to set me up right. “Well, at least you're not wincing in pain, better than I expected.”

“When did you expect me to recover?”

“Considering what happened… 5 days, tops.”

“You can throw patients out after a few days? Full handicap free?”

She almost laughed. “Depends who you talking to, a doctor? A quack, and you happen to be alive...” She made a small curtsy with a smile.

Well so be it. I clapped for her stunning achievements, hail to the mare in white.

She chuckled at my humor. “Potions, curing spells and some auto-doc assisted surgery can deal with most problems, all except the worst of them… Right now I don’t care what I did - I’m just glad you’re alive.”

I smiled, that felt real. “Thanks Ana,” walking got better once the blood got moving. Looking around the vacant clinic I could her the office on the other side particularly lived in. Was that a mattress? Not far from that was a pistol— “Is that a gun?”

“Hold still, let me fix your mane.”

“The gun. Why?” Sitting still wasn’t surrendering to the brush, I just didn’t resist, why not? “I didn’t know you were part of the gun club?”

“Somebody might have come after you… and I have a responsibility to protect my patients. ‘Just in case’, security and the Overmare told me to take one.”

Seeing my mane still stripped with a few lines and deep blue like always but a little frazzled but that was it.

From the next room we heard the sound of the entrance rise. “Alright, alright I’ll check again, but stop horsing me to—oh, hey, Noble, you're up.” While in full riot gear he looked happy to see me and on the other hoof his partner stole a look inside and cringe. Like me, he was a unicorn, and to us, our horns and magic was more than just fashion part of us. Great. Lots will stare…

“Stop staring—since you’ve been out, me and Blue have been taking the night watch.”

“Thanks.” ‘Blue’ disappeared behind the door. “So, you supposed to follow me around now?”

“Your parents requested it and from recent events… yes and you’re going to like it. So, are you thinking of sticking around or going somewhere?”

I thought on that and turned to the doctor. “Am I allowed?”

“You can,” Anna stroked a few more lengths of mane. “Just make sure to later come by for a checkup, I want to see if everything’s been straightened out, implants included.” Letting me go she still had words. “Stay safe, and take your time…”

So I didn’t fool her. “I’ll head back to my place for now.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be safe with the two of us.” He nodded to Anatomist who replied with tired eyes. She passed me my scorched pip buck and slip it over my left hoof. Before following, I made one last thanks to the doc, then got passed some prescription drugs. With a wave, she disappeared behind the closing Stable door. I led the way with the two security bucks at my flanks, choosing routes with only a few ponies walking about. The hallways felt closer to that of funeral procession from both late night and rare ponies that took deep notice of broken nub. Thankfully I no longer had to live with my parents and had my own room that was also closer to cafeteria. When I did reach my room I let Nightcap know that this would be the most walking they would be doing for the night.

“We’ll be here until our shift switches. You’ll be safe.”

“’K, later Cap.” Turning to stare at the door switch produced nothing. “…Right.” I hoof tapped the console. “No magic. Adieu,” I stepped inside and waited for the entrance to close, but I still wasn’t alone.

“Welcome back Charisma.”

“Hi Bronco. Hows your battery?” I said to the four-legged securitron standing in the corner to wait on me.

“Optimal and ready,” My parent’s wanted to me to keep a robot. If not for security then at least for ‘away home’ company. They were like that, a bit paranoid. I still kept it, but neighboring residents protested, so they gutted it’s motor circuits, just so it couldn’t chase them or some other fear fueled reasoning… Still, I repaired it the first chance I got. Besides the mechanical occupant and I, the room was standard Stable #32 size for singles (still large but without being flourished in expensive furnishings). In the far corner lay tool boxes, spare parts and a closet splurged a mix of barding across the floor. Making my way over the layers of cloth crawled over my bed and stare into my cushion while wondering if I wanted to fall asleep or hope that I could wake up.

The robot blurted once more. “Will you be requiring any assistance?”

“No Bronco, I need some quiet right now, go back on stand by.”

“Yes Charisma.”

Slipping into the sheets was easy, was I tired? Not really, I just wanted to be left alone… at least for a bit, maybe an hour?

My horn was broken. Thinking it now made that last twist of the dagger.

Turning to table propped mirror presented my shattered spike in horror. Looking away I found in bed corner my childhood love… “Come here Mr. Snuggles.” I reached for the sexless pony doll while thinking back on old memories. Sweeping it close, I looked to my side… my flank. There, sitting in the open just past my blue and yellow stable barding was my cutie mark ingrained. The multi-spiral sparkles reached towards the center where a five pointed star lay in silent continuation.

Magic. Wasn’t that my talent, my own ‘uniqueness’?
If this was depression, then it sucked. Pressing my face into the pillows I slowly began allowed myself to pour my heart out. The only thing I could be glad about was the Stables miraculous soundproofing…

***

…

Get up.

The thought crossed my mind as the room grew into blurry focus. Almost in reflex to some other everyday morning, just like hitting the alarm because you could never stand that noise. Or in my case it was a new morning and my horn was still broken; oh well, for a mare like me I think there was still worse in this Stable life. The room was the same but my pipbuck chirped the passed time, a long time. Feeling as I did, most of it was past, but I still had red eyes. The closet mirror showed me nothing less than expected. With a small headache and a mane still looking dust blown. Well crying ones eyes out usually does that, or was this because of the horn? Strangely enough the pain was mellow enough: like yesterday, relatively painless. Unlike when I was in the maintenance locker. While twisting under fresh blanket, I noticed mom and dad had visited. A glass of fresh water was sitting close by.

I smiled at the small acts of kindness and as comfortable as they made me be, I couldn’t stay. Moving from the mattress was easy yet exhausting. Though I wanted to stay here, at least for another hour, I instead grabbed the cup in my mouth and downed it. Needed to get out. Needed to find answers. I almost died. Whoever tried, left me for dead and since I wasn’t quite dead, they would come and make sure and I wanted to know why.

***

Either I had interrupted an important discussion or NightCap and his partner were just that surprised to see me, up and about that was.

“Noble, your,” He found my puffy eyes. “…How you feeling?” He cautiously asked with a side-glance to his partner.

“Your parents came by not too long ago.”

A couple splashes of water just weren’t going to hide everything. “Better, so,” I had a few ideas to work out. “How do you two feel about a little walk?”

“Part of the job, where to? The clinic’s always open, you going for a check up?”

“Doctor Anatomist is along the way, but I want to swing by Security.” I walked past them and trot down one metallic corridor and be followed around. Nightcap inclined his head to me.

“Okay, may I ask why?”

“Simple, I want to know what’s happening Stable side.”

“And what? Lend a hoof? Security’s already sent ponies to pinch the pony responsible; we’ve had our pony hunt since day one, long before you woke up. Unless you have more to say since what you’ve told Ana, then you're only going to be itching manes. For everything that’s been happening the Stable’s been getting prancy and the ass hasn’t been caught yet.”

“Any clues?” While passing into an intersection, glances from two ponies standing aside turned to watch me. I waved then never minded them and continued on; nothing to see here folks. “Suspects, leads, anything?”

“… being part of security means I say only what I’m allowed to.”

“That still means you know something.”

“I—that wasn’t the point.” His steps became heavier. “I do my job, the investigators do theirs while the Overmare and the Chief orchestrate it. I’m not privy to spilling beans to anypony, especially not the victim.”

“Why not, at least tell what the ‘vents’ been speaking lately?” I don’t have to tell anyone it came from you, my eyes suggested to the copper.

“Oh there’s lots!” Daffodil was under that faceplate, never could mistake that hyper mares voice. “Fouls think you got cursed by Tartarus fire, neighbors think you’re in a coma, some unicorns think you’re a veggie, some think a zombie but I don’t think living ponies can be zombies, Candle’s using your case as grounds to restrict a curfew or some-other-agenda-to-destroy-robots, some kids think you’ve become an earth pony—”

“Enough spouting the barn gossip.” Cap muttered to intervene. “Most of what’s flying around is complete horse shit.”

“Then how about you tell me something that isn’t. I can always find someone else. I know a Granny in Hydro who’d talk until her britches broke.” He still had a skeptical eye, but there was even more concern in them. “Nightcap, I’m not a foal and I’m not one to sit and wait while others go about. I want the scoop.” Don’t think you’re protecting me by keeping me in the dark…

Holding his glare for another moment, he sighed. Then continued to pace onwards. “Just make sure that if anyone asks, you got it from standing near a ventilation shaft or Daffodil here—”

“No way am I getting mop duty for something I didn’t do!”

He chuckled. “Or a noisy foal, whatever.” He glanced around the halls, the place sounded vacant enough. “Official word is that security’s been getting closer to a suspect. Truth is: we’re not.”

That got from me a query eye. “Two perpetrators, gunfire, a tampered maintenance ‘bot, a dead body… and nothing to show?”

“Exactly, wait, two? Well we should have gotten something… either someone’s dragging their hooves or this is more than just a simple murder, which I have every right to think so.”

“Any motive, any reason for what happened to Happy?” And me

He looked at me critically. “No… and that’s the worst of it. No ones got a clue or some half crapped out reasoning. A security team has already gone through Happy’s room, ‘nothing that shouldn’t be out of place’ one of them told me… But that’s only what I’ve been told. His sister’s already been notified… and tomorrow’s going to be the funeral date.”

“I walked on a crime scene, was a witness, guess that’s sort of enough for me to be shot at…”

“But what were they going to do about body disposal?”

“What?” I echoed Daff.

“This is just speculation, I mean, what were they going to do? Leave the body in maintenance until someone came looking high and low? The perpetrators couldn’t expect a locker to be the best choice… and they did come back.” Either Nightcap had been reading too many crime novels or was piecing together his own puzzle. “…The storage area is close to the sublevels, permanent data entries, thermal instrumentations, the Core and Stable communication junctures, maybe he found something... and got shot for it.” Nightcap seethed and we continued on our walk. Guess the horn made me some sort of walking sad talisman.

Reaching the robotics bay I felt lucky to find Motorhoof already here and busily training apprentices.

“No, no, if you don’t properly ground the wires then you're just going to risk a burnout, but don’t fret, it isn’t easy but short on supply— hey, Charisma your— dear Goddesses your horn!” he bluntly mourned for me. Of the two foals, the unicorn, watched in horror while the other wasn’t sure how to respond. The looks were tiring. “Heard what happened, still didn’t want to believe any of it.”

The place was a mess, supposed to be, robots both ready and dismembered sat against walls while others rested in cylindrical cubicles. The room was also larger to better accommodate extra power cables and processing modules. “Hi Motor, came by to ask a few questions. Maybe some privacy?”

"Uh, sure Noble.” The bearded tech wizard looked to his students. “Go on now, we’ll end class early, and I want the both of you to understand the difference between ‘current’ and ‘voltage’!” he lectured as they scampered out of the bay. He looked back at me with gray eyes, shaking his rust dyed mane, he turned to Nightcap, “How is she doing,” he asked in front of me.

“Suffering in silence would be my guess.” Cap eyed my glare.

“I’m right here, I’m just not making a whole drama out of it. Yes, my horn is broken, I want painkillers and a new horn, I’m a cripple, magic is kaput; can we move on now? I want to know your assessment on the Mr. Handy at the scene… is it still intact?”

Motor’s expression rose a little in answer. “Robronco made their tin cans to survive both battlefield conditions and the wrath of technology challenged house mares… it’s sitting in the corner, optics and half its hull are scrap, but data storage is well intact.”

Turning to the object of interest was lying against the wall under a spotlight strewn across a workbench and dismantling tools. “Wow, what bucked it to scrap?” Nightcap mused.

“Gas line ignition, demolition explosives, ruptured fuel in an enclosed space. Friggen miracle any pony survived.”

“I don’t even want to think how I looked like after that… So if it’s intact, what can you surmise from its tampering.” We got a better look at the machine wreck.

He snorted a raspy note. “Well… the strangest thing is that there is nothing wrong, it’s perfectly untouched, it’s been doing everything its been programmed to do since before the Closing.”

“No hacking?

“I thought of that too before my first look, see these?” he brought on hoof-rusted nails and sliced off tops. “This thing was rusted shut, had to literally hack each one… and just to be sure I took a peek, I tried a spell check, and got nadda’.” I shared a confused look with Nightcap. ”That’s exactly how the security team reacted, though a bit more shitfaced by it, guess I might have felt the same since the rest of the Stable’s been haggling them for some ‘progress’. So when they stepped out to face eager for answers ponies, the said: ‘case in progress’.

“What about the bullets, can’t anyone, you know, match bullet to barrel, or get prints.”

“Kiddo’, it isn’t that easy, reality doesn’t have a ‘hero’ just happen to find a literal ‘smoke ‘an gun’, where’s the gun? Where’s the print? It’s been half a week since the big bang down stairs. Hell, does security or anyone else know of someone or a reason to shoot mares in a pinch? I’m not saying someone wouldn’t, could happen but any clue who?”

I raised a point, “Yeah, but the bullet—”

“The bullet? Could be from anyone.” He swung a hoof widely in the air. “Standard 10mm rounds are just about everywhere in the stable. All pistols, mostly the Colt 6520 model, SMGs and bots have weapons to use the same slug. May not even have to raid the storages for it, just need the right material and something to make up for a reloading bench. Even if it were possible, I’d doubt it's enough to find the perp.”

“…The guns?”

“What are you going to do? Search the whole Stable, high and low, Maintenance and living quarts for weapons probably hidden? Good luck their Bucky!”

Nightcap turned to me. “So then is this a dead end?”

Almost agreeing, moved towards the machine “No…” We weren’t finished just yet. Motor and Cap watched as I put a hoof to my chin, this wasn’t expected, but it may say more than just what the screen said... No wait, this actually was helpful. “Mind if I take a look inside?”

“Sure, but I didn’t find anything strange. Knock yourself out.”

They watched as I leaned next to the scorched rear platting and stare at it, willing for it to open… and nothing could happen because magic was now bummed. I sighed (been doing that a lot lately), nudged the plate aside and wrung over a working computer. Motor and Cap’s voice could be heard buzzing in the background, probably sharing speculations on my ‘well being’. Nothing could be done put push on, get something done, instead of moping, crying, blubbering, hugging Mr. Snuggles… back to current matters.

“Access Granted.” Read across the screen wire connected to the Mr. Handy. Recalling activity logs, I looked for any signs of tampering and still found everything clean and of the ordinary. Like the buck said: nothing strange... did it have to be strange?

Shoot her!

That wasn’t just a shout; it was an order…

Clicking through a list of functions I soon reached the listed neighbor with free access to the machine, if unchanged then it would be just like any other Stable #32 robot.

Access Verification List

Overmare

Aristocracy

Security

Chief in Staff: Medical, Research & Development, Maintenance

Peace Watch

Stand-by orders

Hello. Did this mean I also have access? So then what, could I just order any Mr. Handy on the spot, hack at my will? Still, besides authority and the higher-ranking staff…

“Well? Anything?” Nightcap asked.

“If Motor says he couldn’t find anything and Security’s got squat…” It wasn’t for nothing… “Let’s head on to medical.” Just as we were at the door I saw Motor catch my eye and move his gaze to an empty bookshelf, one of our little signals. “Oh wait, Night, I want to grab a few tools,” I saw him turn around with one of his curious looks and wanted him distracted. “Won’t take long, here,” I offered a small bribe. “Get Daff and yourself a Sparkle Cola, there’s a vending machine around the left corner,”

“All right,” He wore a smile while taking the four bits without question. “Thanks Princess.”

“Not Princess.” I called out and watched the door shut. Turning back I found the old earth pony chuckled between grey locks.

“Still don’t like the word do you?”

“Never have,” I looked back to make sure the door was shut and with an outstretching of one hoof dialed the manual lock. “So how’s the book club Motor?” We were safe here but not for long.

“No big problems so far but security and the Party patrols have been cranked up a bit so watch what you think around the usual suspects.” he plopped himself next to his usual worktable and lean against the edge. “I know you're not going to be a suspect but watch out for Honesty or even Loyalty checks. You’ll never know, the castor may not always be ‘lenient’.”

“I know,” Always the daily drill. “Watch your eyes, think positive, if they catch you then it’s its off to the Farm we go… You don’t need to remind me, I’ll be careful.”

Just don’t get caught

“Well good; anyways, because a pony died I think we’ll be allowed to show ‘unhappy’ faces for a while. Smiles are going to be out of fashion for a bit.”

“Hey, if they stop to ask why the frown you can always say you lost another bet.”

He scoffed. “That doesn’t happen very often….” He snickered and turned to the desk he had been leaning on. “Before you leave…” the old repair pony fished out from a drawer a wrapped box.

“What’s this?” he passed the boxed item to me. Blowing dust off I unwrapped it with the pull of a string. “A book, a full size one!” Those were rare.

Neighcola Tesla and you!

Technology from the horse’s mouth!

That last part read from a still attached marketing tag. Definitely Pre-war! I could only have dreamt of getting my hooves on this particular book. “Where did you get this?”

“I heard from maintenance that you were getting a reward for those parts you got for them. They still got something to pass your way but since this gems been just gathering dust I thought I’d give you my old favorite and I recently finished writing down a copy.”

A copy? “But—but I never did finish that job,” did they rescue the tunnel workers, was days ago.

“After security combed through the storage room you were found in, maintenance got the stash of parts to aide the excavation team, saved them important time, so this is your reward, keep it safe.” He added, he did look a little sadden to part with it. “Have fun reading that… and stay safe kid.” Was this his way to make me feel better? “If you get caught, say the book came from a vent or something.”

“… Did you really make that copy?”

“Yep, and I don’t regret it.”

“But… making copies of Pre-Closing books gets you in the Farm.” There were unicorns out there that could know who wrote what just by a spell. A full sized book was bad enough, but making copies was straight to Farm… not like the word for the old surface plant & season farm… the funny Farm.

To the Party’s rule, the past was hush hush, and everypony was part of that party...

“Hey, I’m an old buck, what’s I got to lose?” Motorhoof still smiled at the door as he waved me off at the bulkhead opened and closed shut. Now he was a marked pony.

if even the littlest of 'non-quota' thoughts reached a pony on ‘Peace’ patrol would spell trouble for the thinker. They enforced the ‘Ministry’ ideals; Kindness, Laughter, Generosity, Honesty, Loyalty and ‘Magic’ were words and meanings I don’t think were the same as in the past.

The trip down one end of the corner led me to two security bucks hassling the vending machine, another victim.

“Oh come on, jammed?” Nightcap started nudging the machine from the side. Rattling in place the carroty orange-faced machine smiled back as it was being mugged. “Hey Daff, see if you can stick your magic around, I want my two bits worth.”

She smirked. “Technically they weren’t even your bits.”

“Well hey I—Oh, Charisma, got your stuff done with Motor?” He looked in a bit a trouble with one leg stuck in the dispenser slot.

“Yeah, and I was thinking if we could swing by Medical.”

“Sure, just when I can—” He flinched as he moved his leg a wrong way and back track. “Just—hold on—there!” He wrenched free an arm in scratches and some wiring wrapped around. In return the machine bleeped its last cola and the rest of its power source. Snatching the sparkle cola up from the dead machine; Nightcap swung a guilty look at both to us. “You didn’t see anything.” We had to smile and heard the sound of another cola be spat out, then another, and another, then another, and another—I might as well pick up one.

“Larceny!” A Mr. Handy screamed from around the corner. “Vendor down! Robbery!”

“Run!” We scrammed to make our hasty escape with a cola to each of our names. It felt good to know how much I could still laugh.

***

Taking the stairs and rounding off to one of the major residential levels we began to hear shouting in the direction we were headed.

“That’s it?! You found nothing!”

“A pony’s been murdered and you having nothing to show.”

“This is outrageous!”

Sounded like hides were getting chewed out… actually there was a lot of hides and chewing around the corner.

“Hey, what’s happening?” My guards merely shrugged as we peered around the corner to find the clinic front harboring a tight column of ponies yammering at where security faced the crowd and dissent. “Is that your boss?”

“Yep, guess the Chief came by the clinic for a check up or something and I … Guess the Stable’s been getting impatient.” He murmured a few heart felt pains for his boss and watched him face the music.

“All possibilities are still on the table, we must determine certainties before divulging anything to the public.” The pony voiced over the crowd funneled through the corridor. “We all grieve for the loss of Happy Tale but rushing the investigation will not help the situation, his funeral will be held tomorrow, open only to family and any invited. That is all for now!” They then backed away just as the herd shifted to follow. As the commotion moved away, the path to the clinic was free of traffic. To the touch Daff’s hoof, the steel door rose up to give entry. Peering inside was the same clinic no different from yesterday and stepping in I could eye a pony in a lab coat and a conversation was already leaking from the office.

“So what do you want to do? Open him up?”

“I think it’s necessary. Whenever I look the body over, it doesn’t make sense! He’s dead but things are still happening, it might be due to the injection but I can’t say for sure. Do I have permission?”

“Not at the moment but maybe right after the funeral when—Baby!” My parents found me. “Charisma!” Rushing out of the office and slowing just before me stood my hugging parents. A light blue stallion and an emerald coated mare quickly looked over the new arrival and began to nuzzle and hug her neck as the overly affectionate parents they were. The Security only chuckled.

“Mom, dad. Not in public....” One parent stopped only to eye what was a full horn; both unicorns felt something easily expressed in a face. One almost said something along the lines of ‘how are you feeling?’ didn’t seem appropriate.

“I don’t care what’s happened.” Her mother drew back with pained loving eyes. “Your still my little pony, my little princess is still my world.”

I felt my cheeks burn from my parent’s excessive dotage then Doctor Ana forced a cough. “Cavalier, Beryl, your daughter’s status is still to be determined, mind if I borrow her for an examination?”

“Family moment here...” Still hugging they looked back to give hearty smiles. “Go on little one, go make sure everything from head to tail is alright.” Beryl, the motherly mare brushed a hoof along her daughter’s coat, more and more petting it. “Remember Charisma, the stallions won’t care about your horn if you can lead them to the bedroom.”

Mother, none of this, not now! “Stop worrying so much,” I uttered and tried to squeeze my way out.
“Worrying is part of the job missy, hydroponics may be my Stable job, but being a mother comes first,” she pondered over my face then stared into blue eyes. “How did we end up with such a stubborn child?”

“I think it comes from her forceful mother.” Daddy buck murmured absently, mother oh dearest turned to whip him a glare. “It’s a compliment!”

She snorted at him, whilst letting me go to follow the hoof-beckoning doctor and be led to an examination table. Ana adjusted some a few headlamps and monitoring equipment, flicking her hoof at switches while staring curiously a piece of helmet with crazy wires sticking out. Some looked no different than a water strainer plied with light bulbs and sensor prods. “Take a seat,” she brought out some routine instruments and flash dental trained teeth. “So how are you doing, and I don’t want any horseshit with ‘I’m fine.’”

Letting the excuses sit in my throat a wall mirror past Ana’s shoulder drew me. Next to the eye chart was my reflection… and I was going to see that image for a long time. “No, I’m not ‘fine’, but I’m not terrible, I’m just muddling with my new—” predicament, handicap, hadn’t any words for ‘this’. “Life without magic… well, earth ponies can go without it and you said I can still recover.” I hope that wasn’t a lie.

“Yes, it’ll take time, not a lost cause… now let me check you out, see if I missed anything.”

Didn’t sound like a lie. That’s nice.

Checking my ears, mouth and bullet bitten spots she simultaneously scanned with her glowing horn while I was beginning to notice her attention wasn’t just on my horn. “You looking for anything in particular?”

“I’m not expecting brain damage, but who knows? I’m just checking your skull and implants for any malfunctions… ” Her magic began to extend underneath my skin, slightly unpleasant but always quick. “Bones are mending well… horn base is unaffected, no cracks or signs of stress,” muttering a few positive words her attention suddenly became occupied. “Hold still, I’m just going to open the first layer of skin.” Behind her floated scalpels and other gleaming sharp items. “I don’t need to knock you completely… yeah, a nerve dampening spell and a syringe of Med-X will do nicely.” Twirling the drug in front of the patient only made me cringe. Slipping it in her foreleg shoulder, a tiny squeal slipped through clinched teeth. “And here comes the medicine,” she snickered.

I was halfway through grumbling before the painkiller kicked in. “Mmm, good stuff.” I felt funny numb, but they're a bit of a ‘good will’ feel lurking in the senses. Hey, even the headache was smaller!

“Feel’s good doesn’t it, but don’t go thinking you can just bang this stuff whenever you want, can be addictive if you're not careful and I don’t want to be flushing out addicts.”

“Been having head pains, not from my horn, more like a headache, but not?”

“Oh,” she sounded interested in that tidbit. “Anything else you’re feeling? Muscle aches, ear twitches, hear strange noises?”

“Noises?” Only one of my eyes could see her. “No, I’m not hearing things if you're asking if I’ve gone crazy.”

“Just covering all possibilities.” She moved out of view, but I could still hear her ramble a little, nothing I could understand. “… You sure you haven’t been experiencing anything… strange?”

“No?”

“Just checking…” She seemed quite set on a migraine. “I’ll be right back,” With the clatter of instruments, I watched the clinic manager begin cleaning instruments freshly used. Looking at some of the slight trickles of blood around, I’d completely missed out on feeling any surgery. Quick, painless, and not a mark left behind I examined in a shiny basin, the sign of a good doctor (I think?). “Find anything wrong?”

“Ah—no, you’re fine, you can head off if you want,” her eyes darted towards the door, and she moved out of the office.

“…Weird.” No? I found one of the bone saws laid out at the ready and remind me of a Mister Gutsys with spinning power tool. Comforting. I trotted by and noticed a glass faced cabinet. Inside laid an assortment of drugs and all-cures. Med-X syringes… Buck pellets… Mentats, wondered what those did and lots and lots of potions.

“So, what was that outside?” I heard Daffodil ask about the herd outside a few minutes ago.

“That rodeo? Well the security buckos playing P.I. came here asking questions… not a lot of good ones mind you. Didn’t seem even competent.”

“What?” Night chipped. “Actually makes sense, not like there was any need before for large investigations, most of its dealt with cameras, magic and Peace patrol. Still had to do a couple mock practices.” And then muttered something about crazy ‘hoof prints’.

“How were they?”

“Interesting, after I had slept through half, like the rest. I think half the whole practice was conned off stories, maybe a magazine because of the cheesy set ups.” He noticed our side-glances. “Hey, it wasn’t even on the test, since there was a crime rate of what? Five-or-so drunken brawls a years, not counting repeat offences. Just more tipsy ponies thinking they can do tricks with half their hooves tied.” Snorting, Daff was the loudest while I giggled.

“Not that type of ‘trick’. With those kinds of offences around the Stable, I don’t exactly have to pull out a microscope to spot the bottle and smell the booze. My gig’s easy… until real stuff happens.”

“Okay, okay, we believe you, so, Anna what do you think happened, can you tell us what you told Security?”

She raised a look just as everyone else turned her way. “You're right, but not anything that makes sense or gives us a clue.”

“…Well, tell us?” I wasn’t the only one asking.

“Basically, I don’t think Happy Tale died from bullets, something else… maybe poison.” Poison? “Oh yeah, I also found a passkey on him, it unlocks some of the lower maintenance tunnels and vault locks. Meaning he was at, or at least had in mind going to some of the less ‘auspicious’ areas like plumbing, control processors, boilers, the Core…”

‘—Close o the sublevels, permanent data entries, thermal instrumentations, the Core and Stable communication junctures, Daf had noted before ‘Maybe he found something?’

And I found him near a Core junction door…

‘And he got shot for it.’ Nightcap had seethed.

I turned his way to see part of the earlier conversation linger in his gaze, he remembered. What was in the Core?

“Anyone mind telling me what Happy’s job was?” I asked, I didn’t know, he just liked telling stories.

Another shrug, then Daff filled us in. “He was a Loyalty Inspector,”

A Peace Patroller? “Him?” I thought I knew him!

“But isn’t he an Earth pony?” Spells were the usual tools of trade but rarely were there ever non-magic users in the patrol.

“Yeah, but his gig was more for reading faces, psychology, he knows other ways to pull his weight around, but I don’t know if he’s ever had to ask anyone if they prayed to Luna or been a silly pony. We’re all friends,” And yet there was some obvious unfriendly elements in the Stable.

“That’s interesting to know,” Nightcap began to ask. “But how do you know this, ponies with the Peace patrol don’t usually advertise that job.”

“Oh, that’s simple,” The yellow unicorn smiled at our unknowingness. “Because I used to partner with him. I don’t just do security, I’m an Honesty Inspector.”

Oh fuck.

“You, an Inspector?” her partner cracked up with the others while I tried to play along, this was bad, very bad… but for how long had she been one? Now Cap was on the floor trying to keep his spleen in. “I didn’t know the patrol invited goof balls.” He laughed but Daff was only pouting.

“Hey, I’m a full time Party animal, everyone knows I love my Stable, I’m trustworthy so one pony thought I’d be a nice addition to the team!” Ponies in the Peace patrol weren’t by trade or skills, but devotion.

Daff rummaged through her pockets “And hey, look, I even brought my sash!” She held hanging from her teeth an armband lined with blue and yellow stamped with the three P’s, ‘Pony Peace Patrol – Honesty Inspector’. Their badge, enchanted to last and proof to enforce the Party line and the proof wasn’t something you could see or touch, you just had to think it.

“Oh…” Nightcap stared at the band as if it were a pass to mayhem, in a way it was. “Well, who’da thunk?”

“But today I’m not on duty so if anypony here has a ‘silly’ thought, don’t worry!” She smiled. “I Pinkie promise.”

I knew it was a mistake to swallow but I had to. “W-well she’s always the party pony around here, I guess it was bound to happen. Um, Daffodil, how much do you know about Happy?”

“Oh lots, I know his birthday, his morning exercises, which barding he fancies most, half the stories he tells and recycles but we had an ‘itchy’ relationship; but I at least know he was more open with Archives.”

“Archives?” Did he know he was an inspector? “Then maybe I should drop by to say hi to him.” We were finished here. “We’ll be heading off now, and thanks Ana for telling us what you know.”

“Glad to have someone around, company and all, the only thing I’ve had a good talking with in the last couple days was the radio, the walls and a very dead pony.” Her work wasn’t exactly the happiest of ones, but clearly she was one of the few completely fine with that explanation… the smell and everything else I don’t know. “—Wait a moment! The other implant, we need it running again. Preferably soon.”

“Why, am I in any danger?”

“Danger—oh, no, not at all!” she glanced at my parents.

Could I also ask them? I wandered about that and I was already at the door. “Just asking, but what did this implant do before?”

“We’ll talk next time.” The door slid closed with me staring at its label.

Snorting at the door I looked to my two bodyguards. “Do you two know what that was about?”

Nightcap looked to be thinking very hard. “Hmm, wow, that was awhile back, maybe that time you fell on your head?”

“I didn’t hit my head… at least, I don’t remember that part—” he smiled at me and I was glad for once his attitude didn’t change too much around me.

Just after leaving, a door next to the clinic rose up to the presence of a pony, but she wasn’t all ‘here’. “Hopscotch, buckshot, kumquat! What marvelous rhymes how does anypony think of them, but if it’s all already been thought then how does anyone keep track—” Then Scrabble caught sight of me. “Charisma!” the pony bounded forward the hurl me into an embrace. “You got so big and I just love your mane!” Swinging around the corridor once then twice before being let down and be snuggled by the mare in a white patient pony press her hoof through my mane and coat. “Were you always an Earth pony because your head looks to be missing something.”

“Its alright, its alright.” I said just as two more ponies came walking out of the nearby room. Both of them wore the sign of the Patrol, ‘Generosity’ and ‘Kindness’; they ‘helped’ take care of the ‘cleansed’. “Hi Scrabble, how’s your therapy?” With a mahogany coat and a frazzled mane the conditioned pony stared smiling without a single regard for my broken horn or any possible sign of anything wrong. She wasn’t always like this. “Are they giving you the tasty grass?”

“Oh, yes, the tasty stuff is always fresh and the beds always fluffy, Metronome over there made me a plushy, so soft!” Her eyes danced around the small corridor to bounce from one face to the other while always finding a way to distract her mind. “Daffodil, you still working hard on those parties? Sorry I could come last week and I can’t seem to join any of your recent ones, even yesterday and today there wasn’t one. Did you catch a cold? Why have I seen so many frowny faces lately?” Because a pony got murdered and there’s lots to grieve about. “We need more balloons! That’s right, a balloon party, have we done those yet?” she asked Daff who smiled pleasantly to her.

“Oh don’t worry, next chance I’ll get I’ll have some magic ponies to summon up balloons just for you.”

“Yay! You hear that Charisma you lovable Princess! There’s going to be balloons!” She waved around and smiled to a level I’d only seen frozen on posters, horrid wretched posters.

Reaching out, a pony touched a hoof on her shoulder, “Come on Scrabbles, let’s get back inside or the others will worry.”

“Alright Metronome, I’m right with you!” she complied and followed the two ‘peacekeepers’ back into the room appearing just like Medical but the patients were permanent. Visible from the entrance was rows of beds backed against the walls to accommodate a dozen-and-a-half ‘patients’. Clean beds, free access to monitors and any choice of food and drinks, the ponies here lived a life easy yet routine. Ponies lay sleeping on beds, other milled aimlessly around the large room in sedate harmony with all ‘bad thoughts’ purged from their minds. Some simply stared at a bowl of grass, others socialized with ceiling lamps or reacted to anypony that could trigger a memory that hadn’t yet been perverted. As the door closed once more, the label to the room of the whitewashed stood out to any curious eye: ‘The Farm’.

“…Come on you two, let's keep looking.” Leading away we met two more ponies from the patrol and advertising their sashes. Laughing and joking they made their way to the ‘Farm’ for their daily meetups to ‘help’ the ponies who had ‘strayed’ from the herd. They were the peacekeepers. ‘Generosity’ gave them ‘comfort’ by curing them of their discontent. ‘Kindness’ helped ponies forget their awful peering’s into the darker past and filled them with joy and blissful illusions. ‘Honesty’ made ponies truthful and check for any secrets and lies. ‘Loyalty’ made sure ponies served everyone’s needs and worked towards the good of all. ‘Laughter’ made sure everyone was laughing, playing, smiling and most of all not looking into the finer details of life; and ‘Magic’, well… in Stable #32 spellcraft was aplenty and friends were… hard to find and ‘neighbors’ didn’t fill that role. They were the Pony Peace Patrol was the enforcement of the Stable’s will to be the best they could and uphold the values of ‘Harmony’. However innocent the jobs sounded or whomever they may be, their job was to keep the Stable in the endless loop of bliss… but books and history with all their compromising bits did well to undo the quota.

If you have a book, if you want to know history, if you want to hear of days long bygone then a pony has to play the game smart and stay under the radar. Just don’t get caught.

Just don’t get caught.

Just don’t. Get. Caught… after the Peace Patrol finds you there won’t be much left of a pony. It was just part of our Stable lives, ordinary like everything else and I couldn’t do anything to help a fellow book reader.

This was Stable #32 where ‘Harmony’ was enforced and any deviation could get you turned into smiling domesticated ‘things’. In here, there were worse things than death…

To be continued...

(All my love and thanks and credit goes to ‘Kkat’ for making ‘Fallout Equestria’, Bethesda’s ‘Fallout’, the Fallout Equestria community, MLP FIM, Faust, etc, etc and most definitely ‘Heartshine’ for helping to proofread and edit ‘Part 1’. I hope to bring and give back to the community even a little of the happyness it has given me with an abundance of quality reading material. For all those who have taken the chance to read ‘another’ writers work and effort to take a crack at a constantly growing fandom.)

Part 2 has already been laid out and is in the process of being edited and finalized. Thank you for your time and patience for this Prologue Volume.

Again, thank you all. =D