Stable 17

by JuyUnseen

Rating: everyone
Tags: Dark, Adventure, Crossover
Length: 1649

A crossover with Half Life. A labarotory disaster and short war leave Equestria under alien rule.

18 years after a labrotory disaster and a short war leave Equestria in alien rule, one of the ponies present at the disaster misteriously returns to Equestria, and takes it apon himself to try to save the distopian land.

AUTHOR NOTE: This story is pretty much dead. i know i said chapter two was finished, which it is, but i havent had time to sit down and transcribe from the notebook i wrote it in and i have a lot of other things taking up my time.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2011-08-25 16:48:50 UTC

Chapter 1: Point Insertion

1

       Point Insertion

A train, I was on a train. Or it seemed that way. I was in a metal box with grimy windows and worn, faded red seats. It was dark outside of the windows, but I saw lights pass periodically indicating that we were in a tunnel.

The biggest thing I noticed about the train was that it was strangely empty. Trains were supposed to be busy places with ponies packed in like sardines heading to or from work. There were only two other ponies on this train, two stallions who seemed to have only just noticed me.

“Didn’t see you get on,” said a larger chestnut stallion that stood by the door. I looked at the two of them, and realized that they were wearing matching blue coveralls with a nametag on the front above what appeared to be a barcode. How strange.

His question had made me ask some of my own. How had I gotten here? And where was here? I tried to remember but my memory was fractured. I could remember flashes of gunfire, catwalks and ventilation shafts. And then I pulled up my one solid memory, a memory of a strange pony with piercing yellow eyes.

Rise and shine…

A solid memory, a flash, shaky broken speech, and a monologue directed at me. A briefing maybe? Orders? But I’m not a soldier, I’m a scientist.

Wake up and… smell the Ashes!

That ominous statement echoed through my skull.

The train screeched to a halt.

“well,” said the chestnut stallion tightening his saddlebags, “end of the line.” The doors slid open and he trotted out. Cold April air drifted in behind him. I followed him out the open door, into a nightmare.

“Welcome! Welcome to Stable 17. You have chosen, or been chosen to relocate to one of our finest remaining urban centers. I thought so much of Stable 17 that I elected to establish my administration here in the Citadel thoughtfully provided by our benefactors. I have been proud to call Stable 17 my home. So whether you’re here to stay, of galloping through to parts unknown - Welcome to Stable 17, it’s safer here.” I had stepped into a world of oppression and concrete. A drone had snapped a picture of me as I disembarked the train, and that message was spoken through a giant video screen.

“Welcome! Welcome to Stable 17…” the message was on a loop, restarting at thirty second intervals. A gray, well groomed stallion in a suit delivered the speech. He appeared to be trying to seem reassuring, but he spoke to these ponies from a different world. He was in a luxurious office with a mahogany desk littered with papers and paperweights. There were wooden cabnets behind him, and he stood on a fine red rug. He spoke to us from a world of wood and wool, we listened from a world of concrete and metal.

I tore my gaze away from the screen and drank in surroundings. The walls were plastered with worn posters, trash littered the ground, a masked security guard argued with one of the stallions from my train, and a mare asked if her husband had been on my train. There was a sad quiet over the train station, broken only by the looping speech speaking of a nonexistent world.

I wandered through the station taking in my grim surroundings. Some ponies sat at tables, fuming with hatred at this hellhole behind masks of submission, another pony muttered to himself disjointedly about trains, the two stallions from my train watched the message play on a big screen,

“Dr. Breen again? I thought I saw the last of him back in Stable 14,” to which the other replied

“Watch it, this is his base of operations.” The two stood near a security checkpoint, a checkpoint that I obviously had to enter. At least three more of those white masked guards stood further into the checkpoint all of whom seemed to watch me. This couldn’t be good, I took a deep breath and entered the checkpoint, and a gate slammed shut behind me.

I stood, caught between a locked gate, and a shock-baton brandished by one of those guards. This was not good, I couldn’t see any way out. The guards seemed to be content to wait, but for what?

My questions were soon answered when a door I had overlooked to my right slip open, revealing yet another guard.

“YOU CITIZEN!” it yelled from behind it’s mask “COME WITH ME!” I had no choice but to follow. He (I guessed it was a he because of his size) lead me down a hall of unmarked steel doors. Some of them had voices coming from inside.

“This must be some kind of mistake! I got a standard relocation pass just like everyone else.” These were interrogation rooms.

We stopped at a door near the end of the hall and my captor knocked. A slat slid open revealing the eyes of another guard, it slid closed again as the door clicked open. There was blood on the floor.

“GET IN!” I didn’t comply, they grabbed me and threw me in a heap on the floor. They began to talk.

“Need any help with this one?” asked the guard who had unlocked the door,

“Nah I’m good.” The other left, leaving me alone with my captor, I could tell that this was going to hurt.

The first thing he did was a strange one, he walked up to the terminal at the front of the room and turned the cameras off. He turned and stared at me,

“Now…” The guard removed his mask, “about that beer I owed ya!”

I recognized his face instantly, how couldn’t I, he was my best friend. I was staring at the Light brown face of Barney Calhoof. He looked me up and down with his trademark sarcastic grin. I managed to croak out my first words since arriving on the train.

“Are there even any bars here?” Barney chuckled at my attempt at comedy,

“Nah, but I could probably nick some contraband beer for us.” I was stunned, the last living thing I had expected to see in this desolate place was this pony, and why was he dressed up as one of those brutal guards, and where was here? All these questions swirled in my head until they finally fused into a single question. I spoke two words,

“What happened?” Barney looked up at the ceiling, thinking.

“Where to begin?” he thought aloud.

<<< ----------- >>>

The door was locked.

Dammit, thought Barney, searching his saddlebags for his keys. He knew he would be stuck here if nopony came along to unlock the door. The trams weren’t allowed to stop anywhere other than their destination. A tram passed as if to illustrate his point.

“Dammit,” Barney cursed as he started to bang on the locked door. Another tram passed after around five minutes of knocking, Barney thought he saw his friend Gordon on the tram, but couldn’t be sure. Another tram passed, this time with an unfamiliar figure on board. The door clicked open and Barney’s heart sank down to his hooves.

Brock stood in the door, looking at Barney dissaprovingly. Brock was a large broad shouldered stallion, with a dark blue coat and a grumpy disposition. Brock was also the head of the guard here at Blue Mesa Labs, which made him Barney’s boss, and he was a boss that did not approve of tardiness. Brock waved Barney in with a scowl.

“Late again Calhoof, third time this week.”

“Sorry, guess I took a wrong turn at the chopper hanger. I suppose I should have turned left at the radioactive sludge pit but I’ve always thought…”

“Cut the crap Calhoof, Normally i'd be yellin' your sorry ass of but your needed in the west wing. I was gonna send Pepper in your place, but you’re here now. Something big is about to happen.”

“Who’s runnin’ it?” Barney asked as he slipped on his shoulder pistol and body armour.

“E’yup, and they’re having Freepony play Guinea pig, they’re fittin’ him for a HMD suit as we speak.”

“Alright boss I’ll get over there quick as I can.” Barney hoped he could catch Gordon before he went in. Barney trotted off for the west wing.

The west wing was the Hazardous Experimentation Section, all the biggest expirements and the biggest failures happened in this wing. Barney was guarding the Lab itself, permitting only authorized personnel and generally staying out of the way of the scientist eggheads over here. He had been there for a good thirty minutes when light tan pony turned the corner down the hall wearing a bright orange suit (a Hazardous Magical Defence system or HMD). The pony inside was Barney’s best friend Gordon Freepony. Barney smiled and greeted his friend,

“Catch me later and I’ll buy you a beer.” Gordon grinned, but didn’t say anything. Gordon was a pony of few words. Barney wished him luck and admitted him into the testing area. That was the last time Barney saw Gordon.

An hour passed, the test started, the test failed, the room exploded, and Barney blacked out.

<<< ----------- >>>

I had been listening to Barney tell his story for about ten minutes when a knock on the door interrupted his speech.

“Dammit, that what I was afraid of,” Barney cursed as he ran for a closet door, “Quickly get in here Gordon, before you blow my cover.” I obeyed and entered the spacious storage room.

“Pile up some boxes and climb out that window, I’ll catch up with you later.” I nodded and responded,

“You’d better,” Barney smiled but held my gaze.

“Don’t worry, you won’t have to wait 18 years to see me this time. That’s a promise.”