Fallout Equestria - Stables

by Sorren

Stable 100 - Chapter One: First Impressions

“Man,” Jet breathed. “I still can’t get over how big these doors are.” The red mare stood just inside the entrance to the stable, looking at the giant cog rolled off to the right.

Ghost rolled his eyes at her. “Well, it was only built to stop megaspells. You know, nothing serious or anything.”

She yanked her head around to glare playfully at him. “Oh, stop being such a dry-humored ass. Have some fun.”

The white unicorn looked around at the other seven ponies in the room. “Fun isn’t exactly in my job description.”

Jet pranced over to a corner and began rummaging through a pile of old tin cans. “Typical answer! Maybe you should try some of my stuff.” She looked back at him and smiled.

“No,” he deadpanned. “I am not getting strung out on any of your crap.”

She turned to Ghost and gave him a heavy push on the shoulder. “C’mon! It’s not like it’s bad or anything—it’s just Dash.”

Ghost chuckled. “Yeah no. I am not inhaling anything that you think is good.”

“Fine,” She turned tail on him, “your loss.”

In the back corner of the room, the three mercenaries sat watching the ponies that would eventually be paying them.

“Think there’s any caps to be found in this big hole?” Sulfur asked Coal.

He nodded. “I’ve heard stories about these places—all filled with old tech.”

Sulfur returned the nod. “But I don’t think the pegasus mare is in it for the caps. She talks about this place like she’s searching for some sort of justice.”

Coal squinted and tilted his head at her. “Justice? What the fuck?”

She sighed. “I don’t know. She’s weird, like all of them.”

A good ten feet away, Litebrite rummaged through the contents of a desk against one of the railings. The bottom drawer yielded four caps, which she pocketed. The other two proved nothing more than useless junk. She was about to turn away when a piece of paper half under an old book caught her eye.

Carefully lifting the book aside, she exposed the paper and its contents. Sliding the paper across the desk towards her, she looked over the dirty scrawl.

'Tell Rickets he needs to get down here and check out this door. The terminals haven’t been working down here so I’m having to write this on paper. Something about the mechanism is acting up and I don’t want to let this go. Last thing we need right now is the door keeping us alive to go on the fritz too.’

“Hey Slipstream,” she called backwards. “I found a paper. Don’t you normally do something with these?”

The dark blue pegasus’ ears perked and she trotted over to the table. Litebrite hoofed her the note and she skimmed it, eyes drinking in every feature. After a moment, she looked up. “Hey Ghost,” she called.

She passed him the note. “Enter that in your PipBuck.”

Ghost grumbled something incoherent and pulled up his PipBuck. He knew the interface so well now that it only took him a moment to enter the information.

Whenever Slipstream found anything now, she would have him document it. He was really the only one who shared her drive to collect this stuff.

They had been in this sort of self-proclaimed explorer’s profession for four years now — two years longer than anypony else here. He had found Slipstream in a time of need and she had found him in a time of crisis. Things had just sort of fallen in place after that. They were close, but not relationship close. More like good acquaintances that used one another for sex, which he never quite understood. Unlike him, Slipstream was tough and (in his opinion) good looking, while he was almost the exact opposite. He was good with old tech and that was it. Slipstream was not old tech and he never quite understood why she chose him over other stallions; there were certainly plenty others.

Ghost finished entering the letter into his PipBuck and placed the paper back on the desktop, only for Slipstream to snatch it up and slip it into her saddlebag.

From the center of the room, Dodge eyed the skeleton of a unicorn nervously. “Damnit,” he murmured. “Why did I get into this?”

He jumped as Jet pranced by, laughing something indignant to Shortfuse. The red mare ducked as a glass sailed across the room towards her and shattered against the wall.

“Hey,” she said irritably to the yellow earth pony. “No need to throw things.”

Shortfuse huffed at her. “It’s not called dynamite!”

Jet ignored him and crossed to one the hydraulic doors. “Whatever, it all blows up.” She looked over at the rest of the ponies in the room. “Hey! Are any of you ready to go? I’m tired of sitting around in the door room, or whatever this room’s called.”

Slipstream approached Jet with a nod. “Yeah, let’s go. There’s nothing in here.”

“Hear that,” Sulfur declared, pushing to her hooves. “Let’s move out, ponies.”

Litebrite walked up and motioned towards Ghost’s PipBuck. “Doesn’t that thing map your surroundings too?”

He grinned. “Yeah.”

Litebrite reached out and flicked the switch on the hydraulic door to ‘Open’. “Well then, you’re our navigator too.” She gave Ghost a shrug when he frowned at her. “That PipBuck was a good idea. I still don’t know how you got that thing on your leg; normally you need magnetic tools to open a PipBuck.”

A low hum emanated from a mechanism above the door. With a crunch and a hiss, the top half of the steel door rose into the ceiling and the lower half into the floor. Ghost noted the small warning label at the bottom of the upper half of the door, right above the safety bar.

WARNING

Hydraulic Hatch

3,300 lbs

Pressure

Ghost stepped forward, marvelling at the flourescent bulbs in the ceiling which were miraculously, still operating. They weren’t as bright as they had originally been, but they still worked.

Walking down the narrow hallway proved unnerving for everypony. The walls had since gone a rusty orange and a thin layer of dirt caked the floor, signifying there had been no passage on this path for years. The ceiling lamps had also decayed and the once-white light now shone down a dirty yellow-orange.

The only one who seemed unphased was Jet. She moved over to Sulfur and gave her a nudge. “You ever been in a Stable?” she asked.

Sulfur tried to ignore her, but Jet only persisted, asking the same question abbreviated with a poke to the flank.

“No!” she finally snapped. “I’ve never been in a Stable before. Now please stop bothering me. I’m trying to listen.”

Jet scrunched her face. “Listen for what?”

“Anything,” Sulfur growled. “I don’t know what could be down here.”

Jet stifled a laugh and dropped back to walk beside Dodge, striking up a new conversation which the stallion, who was glad to partake.

Ghost looked back at the irritated Sulfur. “It’s fine.” He pointed to the PipBuck for what seemed like the tenth time this hour. “There’s nothing showing up on the E.F.S... Not even radroaches,” he added with a halfway grin.

Sulfur blinked, showing not an ounce of amusement. “You know every time you speak I just want to beat you upside the head?”

He winced. “No. No, I did not know that.”

“Don’t worry,” said Slipstream, looking at Sulfur, then to Ghost and raising her voice. “She doesn’t get paid if she hurts you.”

Although Ghost was officially leading, Jet had ventured out ahead of him and already descended the staircase ahead. Nopony really paid the mare any mind until a loud crash resounded from the bottom of the stairs.

Shortfuse’s ears perked. “Jet?”

Worried for her comrade, Slipstream bolted ahead and took the stairs two at a time. “Jet, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” moaned the unicorn. She lay in a heap at the foot of the stairs, a single hoof stuck in a mop bucket, the mop tangled in her rear hooves. She pushed herself up with a wince. “I guess I didn't see the bucket. “

Slipstream’s mouth hung open a little as she watched Jet shake the bucket from her hoof. “Are you feeling okay...? You said you didn’t see the bucket.”

Jet shook her head slowly. “I’m not sure. I looked right at the stairs.... I know there wasn’t anything there.” She levitated an inhaler from her saddlebag, looking it over. “Maybe that trader ripped me off and watered some of this stuff down.” With a shrug, she uncapped the device.

“Really, Jet?” Litebrite asked irritably. “Now is not the time.”

Jet appeared genuinely confused. “What, the Dash?”

“Yes, the Dash.”

With another shrug, Jet dosed herself and tossed the empty capsule aside. “Let’s go make some caps!”

Litebrite rolled her eyes and passed the mare, who had begun to jitter.

Down the next two flights of steps, Jet dashed around to everypony, asking questions and not not even waiting for for an answer before she moved on to the next.

“How do you stand her?” asked Sulfur as she refrained from swinging at the red mare.

Shortfuse just laughed. “Don’t worry, the initial high only lasts a few minutes for her. She’ll calm down in a little bit.”

Sulfur had her doubts as Jet shot around a corner and disappeared. “I hope so.”

“Hey everypony!” came Jet’s disembodied voice. Bolting back around the corner, she sprang off the wall and skidded to a stop in front of them. “Hey, that door up there leads to the commons area; a sign right at the top said so!”

Litebrite kicked an old tin can, sending it skittering away. “Can’t we take that stuff away from her?”

Slipstream laughed. “You haven’t ever seen her off of Dash, have you?”

The gray mare inhaled through her teeth. “Good point.”

The eight ponies rounded the corner to see Jet waiting by the hydraulic door. The sign above did in fact read ‘Commons Area.’ As they neared, Jet helpfully hit the switch, opening the door.

“Thank you, Jet,” said Shortfuse politely as he crossed through.

Slipstream looked around the larger room. It wasn’t much, a single fluorescent flickering over a worn pool table. Three other doors led off from here, each labeling different features of the level.

There was a sudden hiss and a clank, followed by a squeal. Slipstream jumped around to see Litebrite, last through the door, standing stiff as a board. “Are you okay?”

Litebrite swallowed and looked back at the sealed door. “It got my tail,” she gasped.

Ghost trotted forward and examined the scene. Litebrite stood in front of the door, the final foot of her tail clamped between the upper and lower sections. “Wow...” Reaching over, he flipped the switch and the door once again hissed open. He turned to look at the rest of them. “Who hit the switch?”

Jet bounced. “Nopony hit the switch. I saw.”

Sulfur opened her mouth for a rude retort, but Litebrite intercepted. “It’s fine,” She glared at her tail, trying to work out the crease. “Oh this isn’t going to go away.” She made a small sound, examining the kink in the smooth, black strands.

Dodge felt like turning and running back up the corridor, for on the pool table, two skeletons lay, one in the middle, a broken pool cue sticking from its ribcage. The other lay propped on the side next to a low caliber pistol. The once casual blue fabric of the table had been stained black. “They... killed a pony with a pool cue.”

Slipstream waved it away. “I’ve seen a lot worse. Just try and ignore it.”

“Yeah.” He tried not to look at the table. “Easy for you to say... So, exactly what are we looking for again?”

Ghost and Slipstream both exchanged a glance. “Loot,” said Ghost. “Loot and information.”

Jet, who had seemed to calm some, looked between the three doors. “So which way do we go?”

Slipstream pondered the question. “We don’t know how big this Stable is, but most of them are usually pretty large. So I’m going to assume the same here. If we stick together it’ll take forever to cover the whole place.”

Litebrite nodded. “So we’re splitting up?”

“Yep.” Slipstream looked around at their group of nine. “Okay, three pony groups.” She pointed towards the three mercs standing silently. “One merc per group.”

Shortfuse shifted his stance. “I’ll um—I’ll go with Jet.”

Bobbing her head approvingly, the red mare trotted over to stand by his side. “Sweet! So it’s me and Fuse here.” She looked ponderingly over the mercenaries before pointing at Coal. “We’ll take him.”

The dark-colored pony exchanged a glance with his two companions and shrugged before trotting over to Jet and Shortfuse.

Slipstream already knew who she would be taking. “I’m with Ghost.” She wanted Ghost with her for any terminals she may come across. Also, she just kind of wanted him around in general — the white unicorn was a sort of comfort piece to her. Having him around just felt normal.

Litebrite looked around. “So that leaves me with Dodge.” She shrugged. “Mudbath?” she asked. “Mind coming with us.”

Mudbath and Sulfur exchanged a glance. She gave him a meek smile. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

Slipstream tapped her hooves for attention. “Okay, it’s already late in the day and I’m sure we all want to sleep pretty soon. What do you say we do a quick search, and we all meet back here in three hours? We’ll really go over this place in the morning.”

Litebrite shrugged. “Sounds good to me...” She put on a fake smile for a second before dropping it and letting out a goran. “I don’t know how anypony could sleep in a place like this.” This was now Litebrite’s second Stable. The last one had still been in fair condition and almost seemed cozy, but this one? With all the rust and the decay... Something just didn't seem right.

Jet was the first to leave, heading towards the door on the left. “See you in three hours everypony.”

* * *

“So where are we heading first?” asked a much more level-headed Jet.

Shortfuse gave her a shrug. “The sign back there said cafeteria.”

Jet shook her her head, causing her mane to poof out. “Great! I was feeling hungry!” Using her magic, she slicked her mane back down and gave it another shake, which set it perfectly back to its airy self. “That’s the great thing about these Stables; the food lasts forever.”

Coal tried to ignore the mare’s rambling and listen to his surroundings. He was trained to stay focussed. Just because they were in a dead, desolate hole in the ground didn’t mean he could let his guard down. Every hoofstep met his ears and his mind assigned them to the correct ponies. The light buzz of the fluorescents proved a minor distraction, but nothing he couldn't surpass. His eyes flicked over a torn page of a book on the ground, picking out words such as ‘desperate,’ and ‘lingering.’

He stopped, drawing curious looks from the other two. Ahead, the layer of dust on the ground had been disturbed, allowing the worn floor to be seen.

Jet scrunched her face at him. “Why’d you stop?”

With a kick from his hind leg, he armed his battle saddle. “Something’s moved the dust up there.”

Curiosity spiked, Shortfuse crept forward. The dust in fact had been stirred, but it hadn’t been any time recent. The faded tracks—shaped like rectangles lined up by width—traveled a small distance down the hall before turning through a closed door. “They lead through that door,” he whispered, wondering why he was whispering.

A metallic noise emanated from behind the door and Shortfuse jumped a foot in the air. Jet bounced forward, levitating two automatic pistols from their holsters. Coal armed his battle saddle and took stance beside Jet.

Shortfuse shoved indignantly between the two. “What do you think’s in here?”

“I don’t know,” said Coal as he reached for the door switch, “but we’re about to find out.”

Without even waiting to see what was on the other side, Jet opened fire, laughing maniacally as she unloaded simultaneously with both automatics. Coal joined in, figuring if the thing in the room hadn’t been a threat, it most certainly was now. The only one left out was Shortfuse, who tentatively held a grenade in his mouth, tongue on the pin. Against his better judgment—as to say, his make-stuff-go-boom side—he decided to return the grenade to his bag.

Jet’s pistols clicked on empty and all at once the roaring stopped. From inside the maintenance closet, a cleaning robot turned to them with a clatter. “Good day to you!” it said in a pre-recorded voice, a few sparks shooting from its bullet-riddled form. “Could I interest y—” The tape sped up to the point of which the speech was unintelligible. Smoke rose from its riddled form as the whole machine gave a shudder. The circuits failed and it crashed to the floor.

Jet reloaded her pistols and returned them to their holsters. “Whoops.”

Coal rolled his eyes. “You just wasted forty bullets on a janitor robot.”

She gave him a flick of her tail. Well, you wasted like...” She counted his bullet casings. “...five!”

Shortfuse pushed them both aside and scampered into the small closet. “I see a box!”

Coal deadpanned. “A box...”

The yellow earth pony scrambled over the destroyed robot and stopped in front of a green box near the back. “Grenade box.” Excitedly, he flipped open the lid to reveal three grenades. Scooping them up, he tossed them into his bag. He was about to turn away when he spotted a piece of paper in the bottom of the can. Curiously, he picked it up and read its contents.

'Rickets wants us to report anything dysfunctional so he can fix it right away. Well here’s your report, you bastard. I went into this stupid closet to get a bottle of floor polish. The door closed behind me and now it won't open. The switch won't work. I’m trapped in here with a bunch of ammonia and this damned robot that keeps trying to clean my coat.'

'Really, I am going to tear Rickets a new asshole when he gets here. I’ve been in this damned closet for three hours. Three!'

'That little foal named Sally came by. She heard me calling and asked why the janitor was playing hide and seek; cute little thing. I told her to tell somepony that I was trapped in here. I should get out of here in a while. Every day the maintenance robots on this floor stop by to restock on supplies. They have electronic sensors in them that open the doors. I’ll get out then.'

'I don’t know what the fuck is going on anymore. Nopony has come by. I think it’s been about a day... I’m not sure. Really, this is a commonly traveled hallway, what the fuck is going on?'

Shortfuse flipped the paper over.

'I have to eat. I didn't have any food in my bag and it's been at least two days. I don’t know why nopony has come by.'

'There’s a box of grenades in here. I’m going to blow the door open. I don’t give a fuck if the Overmare has me subdued for doing it. I have to get out of here. I’m going to rub this paper in Rickets’ face when I get out of here.'

He looked to the back of a room, where a skeleton wearing the remnants of a dark blue pair of coveralls lay splayed against the wall.

“What’s taking you so long?” Coal complained.

Shortfuse shook his head and scooped up the paper, tucking it safely into his saddlebag; he would give it to Slipstream later. “N-nothing. I just wanted to make sure I didn't miss anything.”

Coal rolled his eyes. “Well, let’s get to the cafeteria then. I think it’s just up ahead.”

* * *

“Clinic,” Litebrite read, looking up at the dimly-glowing sign above the door.

Dodge watched glumly as the mare reached for the door switch. “Great,” he said under his breath. “Probably more dead ponies.”

Litebrite turned to him as the door hissed open. “What was that?”

“Nothing.”

Mudbath snorted from behind them and Dodge shot the brown merc a glare.

Litebrite’s eyes went wide at the sight of the clinic and she trotted through the open door. “There has to be loads of medical supplies in here.” Her eyes darted around the room, taking in its every feature. On a wall near the back, cartoonized pictures of happy ponies getting checkups covered a corkboard and to the left of that sat a gurney, complete with its very own skelton. In the far left corner stood a desk with an old terminal on it, all of which had gathered a decent blanket of dust. The whole clinic—which only consisted of one large room split up by dividers—seemed to leak darkness despite the fact that every light in the ceiling shone apart from one.

Dodge looked over at Mudbath and held out his hoof to stop the merc’s advance. “Look,” he declared. “I don’t cope too well with dead things, okay. To be honest they creep me out. It’s something that stuck with me from my childhood.”

Mudbath pushed the hoof aside but Dodge tracked him forward. After a moment the gruff pony nodded respectfully. “I can understand that.” His voice was harsh, like he had spent the better part of his life gargling nails. “I ain’t never liked bodies neither.”

Dodge pondered Mudbath’s answer. “But, if they bother you... then why are you—”

“A mercenary?” Mudbath finished for him. He smacked his lips and stared off into space. “I needed money fer’ my family an’ whatnot. Only way ta’ get it was to become one of them mercenary fellers. Yeh’ get used ta’ the dead ponies after a while.” He grunted sadly. “Mmhmm.”

Dodge flushed, bowing his head. “No, I meant... I don’t like dead ponies because of... of something that happened when I was young.”

Once again, Mudbath nodded. “Family killed in front of yeh’?”

Dodge blinked. “H-how did you know?”

The older pony looked him right in the eyes. “Yeh got that look in yer eye. I see it a lot, bein’ a mercenary an’ all. Yeh see, yer gettin’ paid ta’ do what they tell ya, an’ ya do what yer told or ya don’t get paid.” There was a certian look in his eye that said it all.

“That’s horrible!”

Mudbath looked down at the floor. “I ain’t proud of what I done.”

“Hey guys!” exclaimed Litebrite, trotting over to them with a nylon bag dangling from her mouth. “Look at all these supplies.” She dropped the bag at their hooves. “Stimpacks, RadAway, Rad-X, Med-X. This place has got everything. All of this stuff will deal us a good five-hundred caps easy.”

Dodge perked his ears. “Well that was fast.”

Litebrite rolled her eyes and dropped the bag of supplies into one of her saddlebags. “There’s more over there.” She swung her head to the back end of the large room, where several privacy screens stood. “Would you two mind rounding it up? There’s a terminal I want to check.” This time she pointed towards the desk in the corner.

Dodge nodded. “Sure.”

Litebrite started towards the terminal. “Thanks.” She paused and looked back. “Yeah, something strange must have been happening here. Every gurney has a pony on it. This clinic must have been full. There's even some on makeshift beds in back.”

“Well... thanks.” Dodge hung his head. “You’ll be fine,” he reassured himself.

Litebrite looked skeptically at the skeleton of the mare still sitting in the chair before the terminal, propped comfortably on the table as if she had fallen asleep there. “Sorry,” she murmured, giving the bones a nudge that knocked them to the floor. Sitting down carefully, she looked at the terminal screen, trying to remember what Ghost had taught her.

“Let’s see.” She tapped the sequence of keys she had learned from Ghost and brought up the password selection. She read over the list with a sigh. “I have no idea here.” More out of annoyance than anything, she panned over the word ‘CONTAMINATE’ and hit enter. Much to her surprise, the terminal beeped at her and a message appeared in the corner of the screen, ‘>is accessed.’

“Wow.” She laughed once and entered the correct password, wishing she were a unicorn for this particular task. Soon, she was brought to a root menu.

>Patient Records

>Patient Prescriptions

>Inventory

>Personnel Notes

Litebrite skimmed the first three folders, seeing nothing of importance, but accessing the bottom directory brought up a chain of files that looked worth reading. She threw a glance over the terminal to Mudbath and Dodge, who were still gathering supplies. Sitting back, she opened the first file.

We had Ms. Jones in here today. Again. She keeps complaining about a pain in her back, but I have already told her that she has used up her rations for painkillers. We are running low already and there could be generations after us that need them. However bad she says it is, she’s just going to have to deal with it.

>Dr. Sparks

Floss is complaining about sickness after eating one of the cookies from the cafeteria. (the ones they wrap in cellophane, makes them look more appetizing) Although she does show signs of internal exposure to an irritant, nothing appears to be severely wrong. If the problem persists then action will have to be taken.

>Dr. Reese

A rather gruesome case here; I had to pass it to Scalpel. Apparently this pony was caught in one of the hydraulic doors of all things. All the doors have safety bars, but I guess this one must have malfunctioned. The leg will need amputation. His femur was crushed in the accident and the surrounding flesh has been badly lacerated. Surgery begins later today as soon as we get enough blood donations for the operation.

>Dr. Sparks

Things are getting out of hoof. Today Ms. Jones suffered from near suffocation when she was caught in a gas leak on level two. The corridor in question was the one leading to the cafeteria. They’ve had it shut down for the past seven hours now while they try and find the source of the leak. Also, I need to keep reminding myself. Mr. Ross has asked me to ask about his daughter, Sally. He said she went to go play with her friend down the hall but it turns out she never showed up. I'll have to keep an eye out.

>Dr.Sparks

Great, Dr. Sparks has put me on home service. If you’re reading this Sparks, I hate you. Dealing with hypochondriacal ponies is bad enough. Dealing them in their home is just plain annoying.

>Dr. Reese

“How you two doing over there!?” Litebrite called, peeking over the monitor screen.

Dodge poked his head around one of the privacy screens. “Mudbath’s trying to pick the lock on one of these medical cases. It might take a little while.”

She shrugged. “Okay.”

Litebrite didn’t know why she felt so unnerved. Nonetheless, she went back to the terminal and continued reading.

I am sad to say that one of our staff is no longer with us. Yesterday, Dr. Reese took a room call to a mare (name withheld) on the fifth floor. On the way there, she fell down a flight of stairs and broke her neck. What in Celestia’s name is going on here? A Mr. Handy unit found her and was trying to poke her back to life like she was taking a nap. I feel like I’m in some freak horror play. Since when do ponies fall down stairs and die?

>Dr. Sparks

There was another gas leak today, this time in the infirmary. It hurts to even type this out... I have two foals out there wondering what happened to their mother and I don’t know what I’m going to say. I’ve been speaking with Rickets about all these problems and he’s just as thrown off as all of us. He says that most of the systems are monitored remotely, and that absolutely nothing is showing up wrong on the charts. Rickets better get his crap together. I can’t handle any more of this.

>Dr.Sparks

That is it! Something has to be done about all this. I can’t sit back and watch this place fall apart. Simple maintenance issues are one thing, like a dead light or the occasional door malfunction, but when ponies die because of it... that’s too much. Rickets says he’s working as hard as he can on the situation and I know he is. I don’t think that pony’s gotten a full night’s sleep in weeks. Yesterday I saw him speaking with the Overmare; they were both whispering urgently about something. I think the Overmare knows about what’s going on. She’s hiding something.

>Dr. Sparks

Sweet Celestia! This is by far the worst thing that has happened yet. Those cookies they ration out in the cafeteria, somehow they were contaminated. Everypony who ate them is terribly sick. I ran a test on one of the poisoned sweets. Chlorine! There was chlorine in the cookies! I don’t even know how this is possible. The only place we use chlorine here is in the water purifiers. I know because Rickets told me himself. There are over thirty sick ponies in here! How in the name of Celestia does chlorine get in a cookie!?

>Dr. Sparks

I just had a talk with the Overmare. Apparently, she came by to check on the sick residents. She’s such a terrible liar. I hinted a few things but she didn’t play into anything. I think she might know that I’m on to her. From now on I’m putting a lock on this computer; I don’t want anypony to see what I’ve written.

>Dr. Sparks

I just got a message out to Rickets. Something is really wrong. I was locking up for the night. The usual, checking the patients, wrapping things up. I have to do it all now that we don’t have Dr. Reese. Rickets will be over soon to help me. The door won't open. I flick the switch and something whines, but it won’t move. I don’t know much about this stuff, but I think the hydraulics are shot.There’s also an override level at the bottom, but that isn’t working either. I wish I could find a way to circulate the air in here; I’m starting to get a little woozy.

Dr. Sparks

I don’t want to die. I know why I’m getting dizzy. It’s the oxygen. The clinic has controllable oxygen levels for atmosphere control. I just checked the oxygen level in here. It’s up to forty percent. I’ll be okay for now as long as I take slow, deep breaths. Rickets said he was coming... I really need him right about now.

>Dr. Sparks

I cant think anymre. My whoel head is spinning. Rikets said he would be hre soon but he nevber came. I think the overmre stopped ghim. I can’t fal asleep. If I fall asleep... , I die.

>Sprks

rikets nevr came. thepatints are dead. Im still here. my visins going blac. To mcuh oxygn and the brain shuts of. Takin so long to type. Stya awake think stay awke staywakestaywakestyawke stya awa

///////

[user inactivity after 06:00:]

>>autosave initiated

>logging off

Litebrite stared at the last file, mind spinning circles on itself. Slowly, her eyes crept to the skeleton on the floor, then to the decaying name tag pinned to what was left of its barding.

‘Dr. Sparks.’

* * *

“What do you mean you can’t get it open?” pressed Slipstream. “It’s the Overmare’s office. We have to get in there!”

Shaking his head, Ghost disconnected his PipBuck from the wires dangling from the door’s control panel and replaced the cover. “There’s no way for me to patch in here. The wires are dead.”

“So what does that mean?”

He thought for a moment. “That means these have been disconnected to run to another source. Unlike every other door in this Stable, this one doesn’t have an override. However we could find what terminal, or switch these wires are running to and unlock the door from there. Either way there’s no way for us to get in from here.”

Regretfully, Slipstream looked up at the yellow sign above the door, ‘Overmare’s Office.’ “We are not leaving here without getting to her terminal.”

Ghost nodded. “I didn’t plan on it.”

Sulfur glared at the two of them. “What are you talking about?”

“I thought we were here to steal shit that we could sell, not go looking for terminals.”

Ghost cleared his throat loudly. “Actually, we’re here to gather information and to um, steal shit we can sell.”

Sulfur gave him a dangerous look, having had enough of his sarcasm. She normally beat the shit out of punks like him. No strength and all words: not too good to back you up in the wasteland. “So... you’re here to read old terminals?”

“Not exactly,” responded Slipstream. She looked to Ghost. “Will it hurt to tell her?”

Ghost shook his head. “Not really. The rest of the group already knows. You want to start us off?”

Sulfur glared back and forth as the two talked, pretending she wasn’t there.

Slipstream fell back on her rump and leaned comfortably against the wall. “Yeah, I’ll start.” She paused and looked to Sulfur. “You do want to hear, right?”

Although Sulfur was nothing more than a hired gun, and had specifically trained herself not to get attached to a situation, she let curiosity get the better of her. “Sure, start talking.”

With a pondering expression, Slipstream rubbed her hooves together. “Let’s start near the beginning. You see, I used to work for a group of ponies in a technology lab that I’d rather keep unnamed. One of my assignments was to retrieve one of the water talismans from something they called a Stable. I had no idea what they were at the time but I went there anyways.

“While I was in the Stable searching around for the talisman, I stumbled across a lot of terminals, all of which contained old files. To shorten things up a lot, I found out that many Stables were designed to fail, or run certain scenarios to test ponies. It was an attempt to better the future for when the Stables were re-opened. When I got back, I did a lot of research on the Stables; that’s where Ghost helped me.”

Ghost broke in. “She didn’t know a thing about the terminals Stable-Tec used. More or less, I knew them up and down just from fiddling with them in spare time.” He cocked his head. “You never did get that water talisman, did you?” he asked Slipstream.

The mare smiled and shook her head. “There wasn’t one there. Turns out it had already been removed.” She waved away the thought of the talisman. “But we realized something — some of the information from the failed stables was actually useful. There were diagrams of pony behavior, leadership methods, psychological step-by-step breakdowns, and much more. In a way, the Stables that failed were actually huge steps forward.”

Sulfur closed her mouth. “So... all these places were meant to fail from the get go?”

“Not all of them,” Ghost corrected. “A good number of the Stables built were designed to be controls, actually doing what they were said to do: protect ponies. Many others were huge experiments though. The scary thing is that most of the control vaults failed anyways. But what Slipstream was saying—all of this information will be lost if it isn't recorded. What we’re collecting now could very well save the future of ponykind.”

Sulfur laughed, slightly shocked by the information. “And I thought you all were just a bunch of scavengers looking for a quick pocket of caps! Is anypony funding this?”

Both ponies shook their heads. “No,” Slipstream answered. “What we made from salvage on the last two went into this excursion and the down payment for you three.”

Sulfur blinked, not sure how to continue. “Well... that’s a good thing you’re doing, I guess.” She cleared her throat loudly. “So... what do we do if we can’t open the door then.”

Sulfur wanted to hit herself. What was she doing? Her job was to walk around and shoot things without a word. These ponies were just business, just like the numerous others before. She did their dirty work, they paid her, then she left them to their messed up lives and the cycle started all over again with some new pony. Once you involved yourself in another pony’s problem it became your own, and as a mercenary, you already had enough of your own problems.

Ghost stood up suddenly, checking something on his PipBuck. “Well, we might as well go try and find something else.” He looked back down the way they had come: a gloomy length of hallway that curved back and around before dropping down a level.

With a shrug and one last brooding glance, Slipstream turned her back to the Ovemare’s office. “Think we could have Shortfuse blow it open?” she asked, throwing out a wildcard.

Ghost froze, thrown momentarily off-guard by Slipstream’s tactlessness. “What?” Slipstream shrunk away like a scolded filly. “Those doors are specifically designed not to open while pressurized. You could try, but even if you did manage to blow the door open, you would bake whatever’s inside... and probably anypony on the same level. These steel hallways would channel the explosives and turn this place into an oven.”

Slipstream gave him a raised eyebrow. “Been hanging around Shortfuse lately, have we?”

He grinned. “Maybe a little.”

Slipstream flicked him across the nose with her tail and started back down the hall. Sometimes she just had to tease the white unicorn. Of course, if she started something he would usually return the favor one way or another, be it a well-timed joke or complete embarrassment. Out of everypony she had met, Ghost was her favorite, even if he was a smart ass. Everypony had always looked at her funny, or shunned her for her wings and the brands on her flanks. The ground ponies hated her for being a pegasus and the Enclave had branded her a deserter. There were no friends for her in this cruel world. Even though everypony else treated her like scum, Ghost had seen her as just a pony; a mare lonely and seeking a friend.

The truth was, had she not met Ghost, she would probably be hanging around some raider’s camp in ten different pieces or captured by slavers and turned into some sort of exotic, winged sex slave to be sold to the highest bidder.

Ghost drew up his PipBuck, alerted by a light clicking. “Hey, Slipstream?” he asked, not looking up from the device. “How much RadAway did we bring?”

“Enough for everypony to have two... Why?”

He trotted swiftly forward, overtaking Slipstream. “Because we’re getting six rads a second in this hall.”

Slipstream hurried to catch up with him. “Well didn’t you pick it up on the way in here?”

Ghost shook his head confusedly. “No, it just started.”

“But since when does radiation—”

“It’s because the ventilation systems are running.” Sulfur interrupted, causing them both to look.

Ghost shook his head at her. “Radiation doesn’t travel through the air.”

Sulfur glared him down. “I know that.” She pointed to a vent as they hurried by. “See the dust coming from the vents?”

Ghost nodded as he ducked under the airstream of one. “I see where you’re going.”

“Exactly. The dust is irradiated.”

Slipstream kicked up a small pile of dust in her wake. “Well then why isn’t this dust radioactive?”

The two mares followed Ghost as he rounded a corner and descended the staircase ahead three steps at a time. “I don’t know!” Sulfur snapped “All I know is that I don’t feel like puking my guts out for the next few days. The radiation is coming from somewhere and I want to get out of it!”

“No, really?” returned the other mare sarcastically. “I was thinking maybe we’d stop and uncap a Sparkle~Cola over light conversation.”

The three galloped out into the atrium which the Overmare’s single window overlooked: a dual-leveled room, most likely the largest in the Stable. A walkway spanned above on either side and below that, several tables and long-decayed cushioned seats lay asunder.

Ghost nodded approvingly as his geiger ceased its ominous clicking. “You two can stop bickering. It’s gone.”

Sulfur flicked her tail irritably before plopping down in one of the chairs that had not been upturned. “Sure it’s gone, but how many rads did we rack up?”

Ghost checked the PipBuck. “Well, I got about seventy so I think you two should be somewhere around there as well.”

Slipstream sighed. “Nothing a little RadAway can’t fix... and the thirty caps it costs just to buy one.”

A sudden crackling burst from an intercom near the door they had originally entered the atrium from, causing all three of them to jump. Sulfur was on her hooves in a second, battle saddle trained. She huffed, realizing there was no real threat and plopped back down.

“Hey, anypony there?” asked the intercom box.

Ghost frowned. “Is that Shortfuse?”

“Think so.” Slipstream responded, sharing a look with him.

“Heeeelloooooo?” said Shortfuse in a singsong voice. “lalala there’s nopony here.” He was quiet for a moment. “Hey, he whispered suddenly. “You seem like a good listener.” The pony snickered.

Sulfur stood up and walked over to join Ghost and Slipstream, looking equally confused. “What is he doing?”

Ghost stifled a laugh. “I think he’s talking to the intercom for fun.”

“Yeah,” buzzed Shortfuse’s voice from the little white box. “That Coal pony is a real stuck up jerk.” He laughed to himself.

Ghost, the only one of the three who hadn’t fallen to the floor snickering, bounced over to the intercom and depressed the talk button, comically deepening his voice. “The wiseth one believes thou should tell this to Coal pony’s face.” Behind him, Slipstream rolled over onto her back clutching her belly with her forehooves and eyes tight shut.

“Stop it,” she half-laughed, half-cried.

“W-what the hell?” Shortfuse replied. “Who are you!?”

“I am the one who knows all silly pony! Now bow before me!” Ghost released the button pounded his hooves on the ground in an effort to maintain his composure.

Shortfuse was silent for a moment. “Oh...” Realization dawned in his voice and the pony let out a nicker. “I’m going to kill you when I find you, Ghost.”

“How’d you know it was me?” Ghost looked back at Sulfur and Slipstream, who were shakily climbing to their hooves.

“You aren’t very good at disguising your accent.”

Ghost huffed. “I barely have a twinge of that accent in my voice anymore. There’s no way it was that obvious.”

Shortfuse just gave him a laugh. “Well it was. Do you even try to disguise it?”

Still feeling a tad on the playful side. He recalled the old accent he had picked up from his father eight years beforehoof. “I’lle tell ye’ what, mate. If I wasn’t tryin’ to disqiose may accent, even just a mite, then yeh’d definitely be able to tell.”

Another laugh. “Good thing you don’t talk like that anymore, except for those times when you start yelling and all your syllables get longer and your I’s turn into Io’s.”

“Come on. It’s not that bad.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Shortfuse said in compromise. “Hey look, I have to go. We’re in the cafeteria and there's a whole bunch of food in here. Could you believe Jet found a case of wrapped cookies!? I bet they’re still good too. Anyways, bye!” There was a crackle and line died.

Ghost turned back around to see Slipstream eyeing him mischievously. Sulfur stood a short ways away, once again wearing her deadpan expression.

Slipstream flicked her ears at Ghost when he started towards her. “You know, that accent really turns me on.”

Sulfur blinked and one eyebrow disappeared into her mane. From behind the dark-blue pegasus, she pointed to Ghost, then Slipstream, then back to Ghost. Her eyes asking the obvious question.

Ghost shrugged at her silently asked question and turned his attention to Slipstream. “And no. I am not doing it again. It’s painful to think about how annoying I used to sound thanks to my father and his weird accent.”

She gave him a look. “I never said you had to do it again.”

He frowned with skepticism. “You know, I really don’t think now is the... I don’t even—”

Sulfur threw her hooves up in the air and turned to leave the atrium. “Celestia, really!? I’ll see you two back in the room with the pool table.”

Slipstream watched as she left before looking back to the stallion. “It reminds me of our first time—your accent was still there back then.”

Ghost sighed. “You just had to go and get sentimental to draw me in.”

She nudged him. “Works every time.”

* * *

“Jeesh,” Sulfur murmured as the door closed behind her. “Since when does a mare have to ask a stallion for that?”