• Published 23rd May 2016
  • 2,126 Views, 38 Comments

Fallout Equestria: The Light Within - FireOfTheNorth



When Doc awakens in Stable 85 he has no memories. Soon he is thrust into the North Equestrian Wasteland, where danger waits to devour him at every turn. Can he find a path of light through the darkness, even when he learns the truth of his past?

  • ...
7
 38
 2,126

PreviousChapters Next
Chapter 12: Specters of the Past

Chapter Twelve: Specters of the Past

Once my business in the Republic of Rose was concluded, I returned to Burnside as quickly as possible. Thankfully, this time there were no raiders blocking my path, only the occasional radroach or overgrown rat, so I made good time. The radiation barriers were still humming as I reached the avenue leading up to Burnside, but there was considerably more activity than during my last visit. Guards were vigilantly patrolling the street all the way up to where the pylons ended, and townsponies were at work putting up new barriers and guard posts.

“What’s going on?” I asked the first guard I caught the attention of.

“Raiders hit us yesterday,” she replied without stopping her patrol, and I fell into step beside her. “They had some powerful armaments, and our outer posts were overwhelmed. The call for the militia went out, but it’s been a long time since Burnside was attacked in force, and most ponies were scrambling, unsure what to do. They were nearly at the gates by the time we stopped them.”

Thanking the guard, I moved on to the settlement proper. It was just as Rose had said yesterday; raider attacks were getting worse. Perhaps this attack would make the Regulators more likely to accept Rose’s offer of an alliance. While I was thinking this, I made my way through the marketplace to the old administration building from which the prison-turned-town was governed. Not that the Regulators did much governing, but they were in charge of setting prices, and in Burnside that was everything. Their uncanny abilities to accurately assess the worth of anything, material or immaterial, was probably why they’d been put in charge of purchasing fuel, selling power and purified water, and paying the town’s guard force, all functions that would normally be taken care of by the settlement’s leader or leaders.

The Regulators had claimed the top few floors of the administrative building for their use, and I followed the directions of Burnside citizens and the numerous signs to the lowest one. The upper levels were living quarters and private offices, and the only way a non-Regulator could get there was by invitation. The floor I was on was where the ponies of Burnside went to dispute prices and have the worth of items evaluated. Following more signs, I queued up in the line for “General Business” and waited my turn.

“I need to speak to Regulator Mossy Oak,” I announced to a young stallion in a trench coat behind the desk when I reached the front of the line.

“Do you have an appointment with the Regulator?” he asked as he tapped on the terminal before him, no doubt pulling up a schedule.

“No, but it’s important that I speak to him.”

“Mossy Oak doesn’t appear to be here right now,” the stallion said, clearly lying, “I can get you in to speak to Regulator Skimmer in half an hour.”

“I have an important message for Mossy Oak only from Rose of the Republic of Rose, regarding an offer for Burnside,” I said, and the stallion’s eyes widened.

“I’ll, um, see if I can find Mossy Oak,” he said, rising from his chair and walking stiffly into the back offices, only picking up the pace once he thought he was out of sight.

A few minutes later, he returned with a mottled-gray stallion wearing a duster.

“This the one?” the new stallion asked, gesturing to me, and the other nodded, “I’m Regulator Mossy Oak. I understand you have an important message for me?”

“I do, an offer directly from Rose.”

“Well then, I think we’d best have a chat. This way, please,” Mossy Oak said, leading me to one of the shared offices on this floor. “All right, out with it,” Mossy Oak said once we were seated across a desk from each other, “Forgive me if I’m being blunt, but I’ve been waiting for word from Rose for a long time.”

“Rose is hoping to set up a defensive pact between Burnside and the Republic, and a trade alliance if Burnside is willing to agree to some restrictions,” I said, passing a letter across the table, “The details are all right there.”

“Hmm, yes, no trading of slaves with, around, or from the Republic of Rose. That’s to be expected from her. It may ruffle some feathers, but the benefits will far outweigh any downside from restrictions. Yes, I think I can get my colleagues to agree to this,” Mossy Oak said as he perused the letter, “Thank you for bringing this. Did you have any trouble on the road?”

“Not on the way back,” I replied, “I encountered some heavily armed raiders on my way to the Republic, though.”

“Yes, there seems to be more and more of that going around,” Mossy Oak mumbled, “You’re not one of the normal couriers. Are you new?”

“I’m not a courier at all. I was just doing some jobs around here for Price Slasher.”

“Oh really?” Mossy Oak said, intrigued, “What kind of jobs?”

“Scavenging for supplies and fuel and making a delivery to the Republic of Rose.”

“Is that so? How are you with computers?”

“Um, pretty good, I guess,” I said, taken off guard by his questions, “I’ve been able to break into almost every terminal I’ve come across exploring the Wasteland. Why do you ask?”

“I might have a job for you,” Mossy Oak said, powering up the terminal on the desk and tapping something into it, “My apprentice is leaving to scavenge in Bunker Hill tomorrow, and he could use some help. His plan was to blow the doors off, but if you could hack into the security terminals, it would make things much easier.”

“Oh,” I said, pleasantly surprised that I was being offered a job so easily. After all, this wouldn’t be the first time I’d been sent on a job by a prominent pony in a settlement because of my ability to break into terminals.

“You would have to split the take from the trip with my apprentice, of course, but if you can actually get inside Bunker Hill, it should be profitable for both of you,” Mossy Oak said as he tapped a key on the terminal, and the bulky box on the desk next to it began to whir noisily and print out paper with the terminal’s content neatly typed on it. “Take a look at this contract,” the Regulator said, pulling the paper from the machine and passing it to me, “If you’re interested, meet my apprentice at Burnside’s gate tomorrow at dawn.”

***

After leaving the Regulator offices, I ventured out into Burnside’s marketplace to trade the bottle caps I’d earned and scavenged for food, medicine, and ammunition: supplies that would let me go out and earn and scavenge more caps. I hoped my life wouldn’t become a never-ending cycle of earning caps only to spend them to allow me to earn more caps, but at least it was a living. If I scavenged wisely, I could maybe earn enough to buy a home in Burnside (really just a set of prison cells converted into a living area, but you took what you could get in the Wasteland.) I’d skimmed the contract Mossy Oak had printed off for me, and the projections of this job's potential earnings were quite high. A few more jobs like this and I could buy a home easily, but then I’d be presented with the problem of what to do next. I didn’t have many skills that were applicable outside of the Wasteland, though I suppose I could develop my trading skills, and I could always fall back on my basic medical knowledge to fix up wounds if it came to it .

Eventually my wandering through the markets of Burnside, admiring all the goods for sale and pondering my future, brought me to Price Slasher’s store.

“Welcome back!” the mare greeted me as I entered the shop, “I trust you didn’t have much trouble.”

“Well, yes and no…” I said, and described to her my clash with the raiders on the way to the Republic and saving Rose from the Lamplighters.

“Oh my,” Price Slasher said once I’d finished, “Well, you were obviously capable, but you must be feeling as worn down as you’re starting to look.”

It was true. Healing potions could stitch up almost any wound I succumbed to, but it wasn’t the same as letting the body mend itself, and I had a feeling that the aches and pains I felt all over wouldn’t leave if I kept up adventuring. Nor did healing potions repair the clothing over the wounds, and my Stable jumpsuit was beginning to look pretty ragged, with holes and cuts all over its once-pristine surface.

“I hope you’re planning to rest up for a bit,” Price Slasher continued.

“Actually, I’m going out on a scavenging mission tomorrow morning to Bunker Hill,” I said, now wondering if staying behind would be better.

“Oh,” Price Slasher said, her eyes widening at the mention of Bunker Hill, “At least let me fix up your jumpsuit before you head out.”

I still had some time today, and had been toying with the idea of heading out to the fuel station Price Slasher had sent me to before in order to earn a few extra caps; however, now my aches and pains were making me feel noticeably tired and worn down. Perhaps it would be best to spend the rest of the day relaxing and allowing my body to repair itself before taking off into the Wasteland again. And my jumpsuit really could use some work.

“All right, as long as you can have it finished before dawn tomorrow,” I told Price Slasher, “I intend to pay though, with caps.” I wasn’t going to get trapped owing favors again.

“I understand,” Price Slasher laughed, a smile coming to her face, “I think you’re getting the hang of Burnside.”

***

I awoke the next morning feeling stiff but refreshed once I started moving around. The aches and pains weren’t all gone, but most had vanished or become less noticeable. It was the best I was going to get, as I felt that Mossy Oak’s apprentice wouldn’t wait around for me to return to the same level of health I’d been at immediately before leaving Stable 85.

It was still dark when I picked up my jumpsuit from Price Slasher, though I thought I could detect a slight glow coming from the Vanhoover crater. Price Slasher had done a fantastic job of fixing up my Stable jumpsuit, even adding some further protection and padding to vulnerable areas. Despite what her name advertised, it hadn’t been a cheap fix, and I found my bag of bottle caps significantly lighter.

Without further ado, I headed to Burnside’s gate, where I spotted Mossy Oak’s apprentice waiting beneath a flickering electric light. The stallion was wearing a trench coat identical to that of the pony I’d spoken with at the Ranger offices the day before. The battle saddle on his back gave him easy use of the assault rifle at his side, and I spotted a revolver strapped to his foreleg for additional support. Between the electric light’s intermittent periods of illumination and the glow from his cigarette, I could make out the pony’s green coat and brown mane swept back between his ears: perfect for a pony named Spruce.

“You the one Moss sent?” he asked as I approached, stamping out his cigarette on the ground.

“That’s right. I’m Doc.”

“Spruce,” replied Spruce, “We’d best get moving if we want to get to Bunker Hill and back before nightfall.”

“Is it that far away?” I asked as I trotted up beside him. Unfortunately, simply hearing the location’s name or reading the contract hadn’t added a marker to my PipBuck’s map.

“Not at all,” Spruce said, “It’s just that Bonnie here doesn’t move very fast.”

“I believe you’re forgetting somebovine?” a deep voice said haughtily as a two-headed cow stepped out of the shadows.

“Right, how could I possibly forget you, Claude,” Spruce said with a roll of his eyes, walking past.

I stared at the two-headed cow longer than was probably polite. I’d seen them before, of course, transporting supplies for merchants, but never up close, and I had no idea they could talk . They were almost ghoul-like in appearance, with much of their hair missing and skin flaking off, but other than that seemed to be a perfectly healthy creature.

“What’s the matter, boy?” the left head, the one with horns that had talked before, demanded, “Never seen a brahmin before?”

“Don’t be so hard on him,” the right head—Bonnie—came to my defense, “Can’t you see he’s only been out in the Wasteland for, what, two weeks ?”

“That’s amazing!” I said, “How could you tell that?”

“I’ve been around a while, dear,” Bonnie said with a crooked smile, “And Claude and I were extremely fortunate to keep our wits about us. Most brahmin have stunted brains in at least one of their heads, but we avoided that.”

“You’ve only been out in the Wasteland for two weeks?” Spruce said incredulously, “Why did Moss send you to me if you’re so green?”

“I’m a fast learner,” I said.

“We’ll see about that,” Spruce huffed, “Let’s not waste any more time talking and get a move on. Bunker Hill isn’t going to miraculously open itself, but if it does, we’d better be the first ones inside.”

***

“Right now, I’m just an Apprentice Regulator,” Spruce explained as we approached Bunker Hill, “I can’t adjudicate any transactions or take part in making trade laws officially until I’m approved by a full Regulator. Then I’ll trade my trenchcoat for a duster and an office. ”

Despite his initially semi-hostile attitude toward me at our meeting, Spruce had warmed up to me during out trip. I think he'd first he’d been disappointed that I’d showed up since he’d have to split the profit of the mission with me, but now he was glad to have someone to talk to besides Claude and Bonnie. Most conversations with the brahmin went the same way as my first interaction with them. Claude took offense at the tiniest slight and acted uppity, and Bonnie tried to calmly talk him down. It grew tiresome after a while . However, if we were able to scavenge as much as the contract estimated, we would need them to carry everything back, hence the 20% transportation fee they were due.

“Originally, I estimated I would need another four or five big trips like this to obtain full Regulator status, but now it might take less. Not only will I have to accurately evaluate the value of my haul, but also yours and ensure that everything is split evenly. A greater challenge ought to earn me greater merit and prove to Moss I’m ready to be a full Regulator,” Spruce went on, explaining another reason for him to be thankful that I’d showed up.

I cast EFS as I spotted Bunker Hill. The location wasn’t actually called Bunker Hill (during the War, it’d been the Sunset Luxury Apartment Complex), but that’s what everypony had taken to calling it after seeing it. This “luxury apartment complex” had been built like a bunker, with reinforced concrete coating the entire structure and flaring out extra-thick at the base like a hill. The windows were shatter-proof glass that had to be magically enchanted, and the doors were harder to get past than a bank vault. Ponies knew this since more than a few banks had been broken into in the aftermath of the War, but nopony had ever gotten inside Bunker Hill.

The top of Bunker Hill was poking over the surrounding wreckage now, looking virtually untouched compared to the devastation surrounding it. The structure looked quite imposing, the tiny windows in the concrete façade staring down at us insignificant ponies below. The roof flared out in a few places, which Spruce explained were landing strips for pegasus-drawn sky-carriages . Residents could travel to work without ever stepping out onto the street below. This probably happened quite often, since Bunker Hill had been populated by Ministry employees, also explaining why the building was so heavily fortified.

I spotted movement up ahead and drew Spruce’s attention to it. It was too far away to register with my EFS, but my binoculars confirmed it as a raider patrolling in front of Bunker Hill. That wasn’t the only surprising thing; there were barricades up around the building. Bunker Hill had been fought over for years by raider gangs wanting to secure the undiscovered riches within and Burnside’s Regulators seeking those same riches and wanting to deny them to the raiders. The raiders had mostly given up in recent years, though, as a century and a half had passed since the end of the War, and Bunker Hill seemed no closer to being opened than at the start. Realizing that building a camp around the building was a sure way to draw the attention of the better-equipped Regulators, raiders had stopped camping here entirely. However, there appeared to be a raider camp here now.

“Where did they come from?” Spruce asked as he flipped his battle saddle’s firing bit into position, “I scouted this site myself a week ago!”

Bonnie and Claude trundled into a nearby building to take cover during the ensuing shootout as I drew my sniper rifle and peered down the scope at the raider. I waited until the scrappy pony was away from the gap in the barricades (and out of sight of her compatriots), and cast SATS to aid me in hitting her with the first shot. I fired, and the bullet cut right through the raider, dropping her to the ground with little noise.

“Nice one,” Spruce said, hitting me on the shoulder before advancing, his teeth poised above and below his firing bit.

We moved up to the entrance of the ring of barricades, and my EFS began to light up with red tics, quite a few more than I’d expected in such a small area. As luck would have it, just as we were nearing the enclosure’s entrance, the replacement for the raider I’d sniped trotted out to relieve her. Seeing two ponies with drawn weapons approaching (one wearing the signature outfit of an Apprentice Regulator), the raider fumbled for her own firearm. I fired off my hunting rifle as quickly as I could, my second shot crippling the raider and the fourth finishing her off.

My attempts to silence the guard hadn’t gone unnoticed, nor could they have with her falling dead still in the gap between the barricades. The red tics on my EFS were going crazy, rushing to take us out. Spruce pulled a metal apple from his saddlebags and chucked it into the enclosure. At the sound of the explosion, my EFS cleared up a bit and a raider stumbled out through the entrance missing a foreleg. Spruce quickly finished him off, and the two of us charged to the enclosure’s entrance.

The raiders were beginning to organize now, and shots were coming our way. They had arranged their camp to be highly defendable, with two concentric rings of barricades within the outer wall, and some of them were taking advantage of this instead of rushing about in a bloodthirsty rage. Within the central ring, near the main door to Bunker Hill, was a pony directing the organized few and trying to get the rest under control. The mare was wearing a nearly complete set of Equestrian Army combat armor defaced with what I hoped was (and knew probably wasn’t) red paint. Two unicorn skulls dangled at her side, suspended by their horns. Levitating my magical energy rifle, I took a few shots at her, hoping that taking out the leader would scatter the remaining raiders; unfortunately, after she noticed beams of magic lancing past her head, the raider boss ducked out of site and shouted orders from safety.

While I’d been analyzing the situation, Spruce had finished off the group of unorganized raiders charging us over the scattered remains of their dead friends. More were coming from the other direction, and I let loose with my SMG into the crowd. The ones with melee weapons fell without a fight, not managing to get close enough for their deadly tools to be effective, but the rest fired back at me. I survived the onslaught, but not without a number of scrapes and holes in myself. Breathing heavily, I ducked down behind the nearest barricade and drank a healing potion.

A raider on the other side of the barricade, realizing where I was, leaned over and fired a pistol at me while my wounds were still healing. I lunged to the side and kicked out with my hindlegs, knocking the raider’s weapon from his mouth. The raider went all in, drawing a knife and swinging at me. Spruce was nearby, but he was on the other side of the raider and couldn’t risk firing without hitting me as well, so I was on my own. I punched the raider in the face with my armored foreleg and was pretty sure I felt his nose break, but the knife still didn’t fall from between his teeth. While he was still staggered, I followed up with a thrust of my machete, the blade piercing the raider’s throat and scraping against his spine as it came out the other side. As I pulled the machete back through, enduring the spray of blood with closed eyes and held breath, the knife finally clattered to the ground.

Another raider had taken notice of my struggle and darted around the edge of the barricade, aiming her weapon at me. Too far to swing my machete at and with no time to grab a ballistic weapon, I grabbed the dead raider’s knife with my magic and flung it haphazardly at the raider. The blade struck an unprotected part of her shoulder, only scratching her but injuring her enough that she staggered, and the shots from her SMG went wide of their mark. By the time she had her weapon lined up on me again, I had my own SMG out and dropped her before she could fire again.

I continued to move left while Spruce went right, taking out any raiders I encountered. There were a few close calls, but eventually I made it to the exterior wall of Bunker Hill and the end of the first ring of barricades. Leaning around to get a good look at the span between the first and second rings, I saw that there were still a few raiders alive within. I could hear the raider boss yelling orders more clearly now. With a start, I realized that she was ordering all the ponies under her command to converge where Spruce was (or where I assumed he was, given that the sounds of his weapon firing were coming from that direction).

None of the raiders I could see had spotted me yet and were following their boss’s orders, so I had an opportunity to hit them while they were moving away from me. One fell sprawled on the ground when hit from behind by a shot from my hunting rifle, which was enough to get the attention of a few others. I charged forward, my head ducked low with the hope that my helmet and doctor’s coat would protect me, and waited until I was close enough that the raiders couldn’t miss before casting SATS. I raised my SMG in slow motion and fired a burst into three of the raiders, seeing them die in slow motion as well.

As time returned to normal, I rolled to the side to avoid the fire of the raiders I hadn’t killed while in SATS. Only, I wasn’t nearly as agile as I thought I was, and I ended up dropping my SMG and coming to a stop on my back. Before I could right myself, one of the raiders took advantage of the lack of protection from my coat in this position and fired a shot into my stomach.

The pain was intense, but I somehow still managed to grab a metal apple from my saddlebags and pull the stem before rolling it at the raiders. The explosion took out the rest of them, but I still had a real chance of dying. The wound would kill me for sure, and I doubted even a healing potion could repair the damage quickly enough. While I was still cognizant, I grabbed the restorative potion I’d taken from the Ministry of Peace hospital. I tasted blood in my mouth, but I forced the potion down and prayed it would kick in in time. The effect was spectacular, and I nearly doubled over as my flesh regenerated itself at such a rapid pace it felt like I was growing an entirely new body. In moments, my stomach was fully healed, as were all the aches and pains covering the rest of my form.

Newly invigorated, I charged off to help Spruce. The Apprentice Regulator was hiding behind the first line of barricades from the assembled raiders out for his blood, occasionally trading shots with them with his revolver when he thought it was safe. As I approached, he threw a metal apple over the barricade, sending raiders flying and causing the others to shrink back.

“Come on! He’ll run out of those soon enough!” the raider boss snarled as she showed herself, trotting out behind the cowering raiders.

Another raider fell to a shot from Spruce’s revolver before they got back in position to attack, but by then I was ready to fire on the raiders. With my SMG, I swept out the legs from the four trotting toward Spruce with weapon’s drawn, then turned my attention to the raider boss. She tried to retreat back behind the inner ring of barricades, but Spruce threw a metal apple over her, blocking the route unless she wanted to be blown to smithereens. My submachinegun was largely ineffective against her armor, but it kept her occupied enough that she never saw Spruce’s next attack coming. By the time she noticed the Apprentice Regulator, it was too late. The magical energy rifle on her battle saddle fired off a single shot before Spruce’s assault rifle was in the raider’s face and turned her head to pulp.

“Wondered where you’d gotten to,” Spruce said as we met up outside the last ring of barricades, “Come on, there can’t be many of them left.”

Spruce was right. According to my EFS, there was only one raider left within the inner ring, though why they’d stayed back during the whole fight was a mystery. After reloading, Spruce led the way through a gap in the barricades while I followed.

“Ah, horseapples!” he cursed, “This was not part of the plan!”

Standing before us in front of the door to Bunker Hill was a raider wearing power armor. It wasn’t on par with that worn by the Steel Rangers, but terrifying all the same. It looked like the raiders had scavenged several pieces of Steel Ranger armor and merged them with heavy construction equipment to create the monstrosity before us. Thankfully, the armor was lacking the grenade-launching minigun or rocket pods I’d seen on some Steel Ranger armors, but those weapons had been replaced by a chainsaw with impressive reach on one side and four rifles strapped together on the other.

The raider laughed at us, his voice booming through the welder’s mask on his head, and began to fire his rifles. Spruce and I split up, galloping in opposite directions to avoid the raider’s shots, but there wasn’t very much room to maneuver within the ring of barricades. The power-armored raider’s steps were slow and ponderous, but he didn’t need a terrible amount of maneuverability when he was able to adjust the direction of his chainsaw independently from his body and keep us from getting close enough to find any weak points in his armor.

Spruce was on the chainsaw side of the raider and was trying to stay far enough away that the spinning blades couldn’t touch him, while firing his assault rifle and hoping to find a weak point by chance. I was on the other side of the raider; fortunately, the raider’s rifles couldn’t swivel independently of his body, so I was relatively safe – or so I thought. To my surprise (and terror), the contraption in the center of the raider’s back wasn’t just an ammunition storage or power supply, but a weapon capable of swiveling like the chainsaw. I had my magical energy rifle ready, hoping it would pierce the raider’s armor or vaporize him, but was forced to drop the weapon and duck as spinning saw blades came flying at me.

The blades kept coming as I dodged out of the way, and the raider moved closer to Spruce, trying to trap him in a corner where the chainsaw would be able to easily slice him apart. I was hard pressed just to keep from being hit, and I didn’t always succeed. One blade would have sliced my foreleg off had it not been protected by armor, and others cut holes in the Stable jumpsuit that Price Slasher had so recently repaired.

When the blades stopped coming momentarily, I found myself standing next to Bunker Hill’s door, backed up against a crate filled with materials the raiders intended to use to blast the compound open. Within one of them were a few metal apples, including some of a kind I’d never seen before, elongated and glowing as if to proclaim their potency.

“Spruce! Get out of the way!” I yelled as I grabbed one of the metal pears and removed the stem.

The raider lunged at Spruce, the chainsaw whirring over his head as he ducked down and rolled to the side more gracefully than I had earlier. As Spruce scrambled through a gap in the inner ring of barricades, I threw the metal pear at the raider. The moment the explosive struck the power armor, it exploded in a blast of magical energy that temporarily blinded me. When my vision cleared, not much was left of the raider apart from glowing pieces of scrap and a grisly stain of charred flesh.

“What was that?” Spruce asked in awe as he walked past the destroyed raider.

“One of these. I’ve never seen them before ,” I said as I pulled another metal pear from the crate.

“Magical energy grenades,” Spruce said as he examined the explosive, “These are extremely rare. How did these raiders get their hooves on them?”

“For that matter, how did they get a set of power armor?” I asked, “I may be new out in the Wasteland, but I’ve never seen raiders so organized and coordinated. Is this normal?”

“No, it’s not,” Spruce said with concern.

Leaving the Apprentice Regulator to his thoughts, I looked at the security terminal protecting Bunker Hill’s door. Tapping into it, I realized with a shock that the security software had been partially deactivated already. A cable ran from the terminal to an unfamiliar piece of electronics on the ground that the raiders had presumably brought with them. A saw blade was currently embedded in the machine, but before it had been damaged, this thing had been breaking into the terminal automatically. I didn’t recognize it, but the style was unmistakably the same as the Equestrian Army equipment I’d seen in Bunker 519. How had raiders gotten ahold of something like this?

Unplugging the device to keep it from interfering or damaging the system, I set to work hacking through what firewalls were left. It took me several minutes, but eventually I managed to strip away the remaining security. Hacking in had been no cakewalk, and if this device hadn’t done most of the work for me initially, I doubt I could have broken into the system. Spruce and I would've been walking home empty-hooved.

With an anti-climactic key tap , the main door to Bunker Hill began to grind open for the first time in a century and a half. The outer surface of the door was horribly malformed from repeated attempts by raiders and Regulators over the years to blast it open, but the interior was entirely unscathed, yet more proof that hacking through the security was the only way to get inside. Ceiling lights flickered on as the door finished opening, revealing a long, empty hallway that burrowed through the concrete shell of Bunker Hill.

“Welcome to the Sunset Luxury Apartment Complex!” a voice crackled from the ceiling speakers, “If you are a current resident, please proceed to Area B to check in with your ID. If you are visiting a current resident, please proceed to Area A to await confirmation. If you are a prospective resident, please proceed to Area C to fill out an application. Please note that you must be an employee of a government Ministry with security class of at least P-3 to be eligible for consideration. Have a pleasant day!”

By the time the cheery voice recorded years ago finished its announcement, Spruce and I had reached where the hallway branched to Areas A, B, and C. B was straight ahead, and we could see elevators past the security checkpoint, so we continued on that path. Since Bunker Hill had remained sealed since the War, everything was still in exquisite condition, including the security gates. There would be no continuing this way, not without breaking down the gates or scanning a valid ID card. Through the bars of the security gates, I spotted a pair of automated turrets hanging from the ceiling, presumably also in top condition and ready to kill anypony who tried to break in.

“Hold on a second. I have an idea,” I said as Spruce began to pull explosives from his saddlebags.

Giving a shrug, he followed me as I backtracked to the split in the hallway and headed to Area A. Area A was a waiting room with plush seats and a wall of more security gates, though these lacked card readers. As I’d hoped, on one of the walls was a building directory listing the name, room, and Ministry of every resident. Pulling out the ID card I’d picked up at the Ministry of Arcane Sciences Hub, I searched for a Dr. Primrose. There were two Primroses on the list, but only one worked for the MAS, and she lived on the eighth floor. Trekking back to the security gate in Area B, I entered the ID card, hoping that it would be accepted. With a reassuring ding, the security gate slid open.

“Welcome home, Doctor Primrose,” an electronic voice said from the security checkpoint as I stepped through the gate, “Our system has determined that your appearance has changed. Please see your Ministry’s security officer as soon as is convenient to have a new photo taken.”

The moment I was through the security gate, it slid shut behind me, blocking Spruce. I passed the card through the gate to him and he repeated the process I’d gone through moments earlier. The security turrets didn’t seem to care that the same pony had supposedly just entered twice in a row, though Spruce did get the same “appearance changed” warning as I did.

“I can’t believe that worked,” Spruce said as we stepped into the elevator and I pressed the flashing “8” button.

The elevator glided smoothly upwards, arriving at the eighth floor in no time. I couldn’t help but notice as we stepped out that turrets were hanging for the ceiling here too, disturbingly situated so that nopony could leave their apartment if they were active.

“Did you notice that there’s only one room on the tenth floor?” Spruce asked as we trotted down the hall looking for Primrose’s apartment, “A penthouse. That’s got to be where the best loot is.”

“Sure, but how do we get there?” I asked. Primrose’s ID card had gotten us this far, but probably wouldn’t get us much farther.

“Not by the elevator, but there have to be fire stairs somewhere here,” Spruce said, “There’s no way they’d be allowed to build this place if it could easily become an oven.”

As I’d suspected, once we reached Primrose’s apartment our journey was forced to halt. Her door was locked not by a keycard reader, but by a simple lock I didn’t have the key for. The key was probably still on her body sprawled out in the lobby of the MAS Hub, but I wasn’t going to tell Spruce that we had to travel all the way into downtown Vanhoover to get into this apartment. Either we’d have to turn back without scavenging anything, or we’d have to break in.

It was inevitable that we’d have to break in sometime, so I got to work trying to pick the door. Unfortunately, the lock proved to be too hard for me. Spruce was much better at lock picking, which I should’ve expected given that he’d been scavenging longer than I had. I watched the nearest turret anxiously as he worked to crack the lock, as it’d taken an unusual interest in me since I’d tried to break in. Just how smart the turrets were I didn’t know, but they could at least understand that we probably weren’t supposed to be here; they just weren’t sure enough to start firing yet.

I breathed a sigh of relief as I heard the door to Primrose’s apartment pop open, and Spruce and I entered. The apartment seemed pretty bare, but Spruce seemed enthused nonetheless. Maybe that was because my eye was trained to look for items that would help me survive in the Wasteland when scavenging, and his searched-for items were ones that could be traded for a large number of caps in Burnside.

“A blender! Fully intact glasses, emblazoned with a Ministry logo no less! An automatic dishwasher!” Spruce excitedly catalogued his finds as he examined the apartment’s kitchen.

As he sought out more household goods, I trotted over to the apartment’s windows. They were small and grimy, but I hadn’t expected any windows given our position in the building, and they were still larger than I’d expected. From outside, Bunker Hill appeared as a massive block of a building, but I could now see that the square’s middle was missing. These windows did not look out on the Wasteland, but down on a courtyard with a swimming pool in its center. Rows of windows stared back from across the courtyard, exposing little of the apartments on the other side. Placing my hoof against the window, I felt a tingle in my horn and quickly pulled back. These windows were enchanted as well, ensuring no pegasi could circumvent the building’s security and break in from this side.

“Pristine clothing untouched by the Wasteland!” Spruce called exuberantly from the apartment’s bedroom, “Lots of lab coats, but plenty of formal and casual wear as well. These will sell out in Burnside in a day!”

Leaving the windows behind, I moved on to the large chalkboard that dominated one of the apartment’s walls. Multiple notes were attached to its edges, and others had fallen to the ground. All the notes bore the same message: “ERASE BEFORE LEAVING,” but apparently not even this many notes could remind Primrose to erase her work before leaving, for there were still chalk sketches on the board’s surface. One side of the board had a drawing of an exploded view of a pony’s head, and the other held a similar sketch for a robot’s head. At the center of each was a brain, and I realized that this was Primrose’s plan for the robot that had attacked me in the MAS lobby.

“It’s a shame we can’t take the furniture with us. Perhaps on a future trip ,” Spruce said as he trotted back into the main room, “If all the other apartments are like this, not even Bonnie and Claude are going to be able to carry everything back.”

“About that. How are we going to get into the other apartments?” I asked the question that was surely on Spruce’s mind as well.

“I’ve been thinking about that. If we break into anything else, the security turrets will probably turn on us, so we have to choose what we break into wisely,” Spruce said, looking out at the turrets in the hallway, including the one immediately outside of Primrose’s apartment, which was watching us intently, “We could try to find the security offices, but those will probably be extremely well defended, and we’ll probably have to break into multiple areas to get there. The penthouse is still our best bet, I think. The residents listed—Resolute and Midnight Aurora—were both marked as personnel from the Ministry of Morale, and at least one of them had to be pretty high up in the hierarchy to get a home like this. Knowing the MoM, it’s likely that they had secret access to the security systems in case they needed to purge the building because of a security leak. And, if I’m wrong, the penthouse might just contain enough loot itself to make this trip worth it without going anywhere else.”

“All right then,” I said, finding no flaw in Spruce’s assessment given what I knew about the MoM, “Let’s get moving then.”

Heading back out into the hallway, we searched for the fire stairs and found them at the corners of the building, where the security turrets from two directions would have clear shots. There was also a notice next to the doors that proclaimed the fire stairs locked and inaccessible except during an actual emergency, which apparently would be determined by the building’s security system. I didn’t fancy our chances against twenty-four turrets simultaneously after blowing the door down, so we were forced to come up with a new plan.

Returning to Primrose’s apartment, Spruce and I pushed her couches and chairs out into the hallway to form a makeshift barricade on both sides of the door. The nearest turrets would still be able to hit us, but we would be safe from those farther away if we ducked down. Once we were in position, I drew my machete. At Spruce’s signal, I swung the blade at the turret directly above us, tearing it from its mount.

I immediately dropped my machete and cast SATS, drawing my magical energy rifle and lining up shots on the two closest turrets in one direction. As I fired, I could hear Spruce’s assault rifle firing in slow motion in the opposite direction. My shots fried one of the turrets, but the farther one was still active when time returned to normal, and I fired repeatedly until the rifle’s battery was exhausted and the turret was melted.

Magical beams of energy flew up and down the hall as we crouched down behind our barricades. Both Spruce and I had managed to take out the closest turrets, so we were safe for the moment so long as the furniture didn’t ignite and none of the beams made it through. Whenever there was a pause in the turrets’ firing as they needed to cool down, we popped up and shot down more of them. Eventually all was quiet again, though my EFS was covered in red marks from all the turrets around us in the building.

Rising from our positions, Spruce and I set to work on the next part of our plan. We pushed the couches and chairs to the end of the hall, where more turrets awaited us. Rather than try to repeat our plan against twice as many enemies, we held back around the corner and Spruce threw a metal pear from down below at the fire door. Vaporization created a hole in the heavy security door in an instant, with molten metal dripping down from its edges. After pushing the furniture out to form a barricade, I used my machete to push the door open, and we jumped into the fire stairway.

Immediately we were faced with another turret, and Spruce bit down on his battle saddle’s firing bit, shredding it before any of its shots could hit us. The stairs, like everything else on the exterior of this building, were bare and concrete. We advanced up the first flight very carefully, keeping an eye out for the turret mounted on the next level and taking it out before it could recognize us. The Ministries had to have been either extremely paranoid or hated their own employees if they placed turrets not just outside all their doors but also along the emergency evacuation route.

Now that we knew to expect the turrets, we made it up to the tenth floor easily. Since we weren’t under attack at the moment, Spruce used the explosives he’d brought along to blow the door off its hinges instead of the valuable metal pears. There was only one turret in the next hallway, and I spotted it immediately and destroyed it with repeated bursts from my SMG.

Since only one apartment was situated on this top section, it was set up differently than the other floors, with a short hallway leading in one direction from the fire stairs hugging the exterior of the building. At the end of the hallway was another security door, this one with a terminal next to it. With great difficulty, I hacked into the terminal and managed to unlock the door and deactivate the security system within, which was separate from the building’s main security system.

Even so, I was tentative as I pushed the door open, expecting the workaround to be a trap and the turrets within to fire on me anyway. Thankfully, it seemed the terminal outside had been genuine, and the turrets hanging from the ceiling of the apartment were hanging limply.

“Would you look at this place,” Spruce marveled breathlessly as he stepped into the penthouse after me.

It was a much more luxurious living space than Primrose’s apartment down below, with plush furniture and wood-paneled walls. Works of art hung from the walls and statues made of pure crystal stood on pedestals. My attention was drawn to where a private terminal buzzed on a desk surrounded by shelves displaying awards, medals, and photographs. I turned to the terminal first, hacking in and searching for hidden controls. Hacking into the terminal had pushed my abilities, but once I was in, I found the command to deactivate Bunker Hill’s security system with ease.

Spruce had set off to explore the rest of the apartment, so until he returned and I could inform him that the building was now safe to explore, I decided to examine the desk’s surroundings. The medals and awards meant nothing to me, and probably meant nothing to anypony unless they were a member of the Ministry of Morale like Resolute, which was the name emblazoned on the personalized awards. The photographs were more interesting, all featuring a unicorn couple. The wife had a coat of midnight blue and a purple mane and the husband had a dark wine-colored coat and a black mane. Both were members of the Ministry of Morale (as the directory on the first floor had indicated) and were wearing crisp military-style uniforms in several photos, though the stallion was wearing his more often. In only one photo was he not in uniform, and that one appeared to have been taken on a beach during a vacation.

In one particularly shocking photo, I recognized two of the ponies pictured. It was the Goddesses Celestia and Luna! Judging by their attire, the photograph had been taken at Resolute and Midnight Aurora’s wedding, but my eyes were fixed on the two alicorns standing next to them. Celestia looked a bit weaker and Luna a bit wearier than I’d imagined them, but it was unmistakably them. Did such photographs of the Goddesses exist elsewhere in the Wasteland, or was this a rare glimpse of them? How important were Resolute and Midnight Aurora if those responsible for the cycle of time itself had attended their wedding?

The surprises didn’t stop there. On the other side of the couple was another alicorn! How could this be? Celestia and Luna were the only two Goddesses, so how could this pink pony with a candy-colored mane be an alicorn as well? Unless not all alicorns were goddesses – that had to be the case! Next to the alicorn-not-goddess stood a stallion in a military uniform, though one different from the one worn by the groom. There was one more unicorn in the picture past the white-coated mystery officer; I recognized her as well, though I’d only seen her picture once before in the MAS Hub. It was Twilight Sparkle, Ministry Mare of the Ministry of Magic, though exactly what she was doing in this photo with this unicorn couple, the strange alicorn-not-goddess, and the Goddesses Celestia and Luna was a complete mystery.

I tucked the photo into my saddlebags, both to have a photograph of the Goddesses and so I could ask if anypony knew anything about the other ponies pictured, and moved on to the next photo. This one also had a Ministry Mare in it, though it wasn't Twilight Sparkle this time. Pinkie Pie, who I’d recognize anywhere after my time in Stable 85 and the MoM Hub, was pinning a medal to the stallion’s uniform. Curiously, there was a small plastic case in front of the picture, and I took it down from the shelf. Based on its size, I had a hunch about what was inside, and opening the case confirmed my suspicions. Within was a small glassy orb containing the memories of some long-dead pony.

“A memory orb, huh?” Spruce said as he trotted back into the room, “So, was I right about the security?”

“Yeah, it should be down now,” I said, nodding at the terminal.

“Great. I’m going to take a look around if you want to see what’s on that orb.”

“Right now?” I asked.

“Sure, why not? The security is down, and the orb is worth more if we know what’s on it. An earth pony like me can’t check, so I’ll leave it to you,” Spruce said as he trotted toward the door we entered through.

He had a point. I too was curious what memory was stored on the orb and why Resolute would keep it. I supposed that, with the security system down, Spruce wouldn’t really need me for backup unless Bunker Hill was attacked from the outside, but that would probably be prevented by the building’s reputation. Lying down on one of the couches, I made contact with the memory orb with my magic.

<-=======ooO Ooo=======->

I found myself in the body of an earth pony stallion once more. My host was packed within a large crowd of ponies assembled around a stage in a wide-open park. As my host tried to push his way closer to stage, I caught glimpses of a castle on one side of the green and a towering obelisk with wings sprouting from it on the other.

I soon began to notice that everypony in the crowd was wearing some form of identification that marked them as an employee of the Ministry of Morale. There were also armed guards around the crowd wearing the same uniforms as the soldiers who’d accompanied Pinkie Pie to the Vanhoover Sports Center. It seemed this was an MoM-exclusive event, further confirmed by the ponies I spotted on stage. Most of them were unknown to me, but I recognized their uniforms; they were the same as the one worn by Resolute, who was seated up on stage next to the Ministry Mare herself.

“What are we doing out here?” a mare near my host groused, “Every moment we’re not listening to the phone taps, the zebra sympathizers could be contacting each other to plan a coup.”

“Resolute is receiving his second pink stripe today,” a stallion next to her explained.

“Does the Ministry Mare drag the whole Canterlot staff out here to the castle grounds every time somepony earns an award?” the mare said testily.

“You haven’t been here very long, have you? Anypony who serves a term as overmare or overstallion of a zebra internment camp is granted the black-and-white stripe automatically because of the work done there. However, if you serve an outstanding tour of duty commanding a camp, you receive the pink stripe and can request a boon from the Ministry Mare. There aren’t many ponies who earn the pink stripe, and those that have usually request some post far away from any camp to distance themselves and never have to command them again. However, when Resolute earned his first pink stripe, he requested a second tour of duty at the same internment camp. Now that tour is done, and he’s earned a second pink stripe.”

“Oh my,” the mare said, looking up at the steely-eyed pony of honor on the stage, “Do you think he’ll request a third term as overstallion?”

“No, I heard he asked for a special posting to Vanhoover or something,” the stallion said, shaking his head, “So as to be closer to his wife’s family.”

Inhabiting another pony’s body through their memories didn’t give you a complete recreation of the situation, but it could give you a pretty good idea. Though I couldn’t read my host’s thoughts, he seemed awfully nervous. During the conversation between the other two MoM employees, he’d been looking around the crowd, his eyes lingering on the armed guards a moment longer than everypony else, and his gaze always returned to the stage and Resolute. He only seemed to grow more nervous as Pinkie Pie bounded up to the microphone and began to elaborate on Resolute’s accomplishments in combatting the zebra menace.

“Come on up, Resolute,” Pinkie Pie called and the unicorn strode up to her, causing my host to stiffen, “For your fantastasticable job at nullifying the threat of zebrahood against equinity, I present you with the honor of the pink stripe.”

Pinkie took the medal from the aid standing next to her and pinned it to the front of Resolute’s uniform, beneath an identical badge. The pink stripe was a very simple medal, composed of three horizontal bands: black, pink, and white from top to bottom. It was a simple way that the Ministry of Moral rewarded atrocities committed in the name of Equestria. Apparently, my host felt the same way, for he made no applause as the ponies around him stomped their hooves on the ground.

“You fiend!” my host yelled as the applause died down, shocking everypony, “You monster! Your pink stripe is nothing but a reminder of all the blood of captive zebras you worked to death! It’s time somepony called you out for what you are, and spilled your blood instead!”

The crowd gasped as my host pulled a concealed pistol from his clothing and raised it to fire at Resolute. Before he could line up his weapon, Resolute drew his own pistol from the holster at his side and fired a single shot at my host. I felt the bullet bit through my host’s shoulder near the neck and the pistol fall from my host’s teeth as he collapsed to the ground. Through blurred vision, I could see the armed guards close in on my host and point their guns at my host’s head and hear shouts of “zebra sympathizer!” and “traitor!” as if from a great distance.

“Hold!” Resolute ordered the guards as he jumped down from the stage, and the crowd made a path for him to my host’s body, “A zebra sympathizer like him may know useful information. Take his memories first; no need to be gentle.”

My host stared at Resolute with hatred as the guards picked him up and dragged him away, but the Ministry of Morale’s only recipient of two pink stripes just stared him down emotionlessly until the memory came to a close.

<-=======ooO Ooo========->

I came back to reality with a start, and felt my shoulder to make sure there was no bullet hole there, though I knew there was no way there could be. Now I knew more about Resolute and what terrible meaning the medals displayed across the room had. Like the other memory orb in my saddlebags, I questioned whether anypony would want to buy and live through this memory. Hadn’t ponies during the War recorded any happy memories?

Still shaking off the shock of being shot in a memory, I noticed an exposed panel on the wall of the apartment that I was sure hadn’t been there before. A bright light was rapidly flashing over a pair of gas masks like the ones in the MoM Hub. Realizing the danger, I quickly pulled my gas mask from my saddlebags and fitted it over my face before scrambling to Resolute’s private terminal. There was a new message displayed, warning that the secondary security system had been triggered. I deactivated the system, but it was already too late. Bunker Hill was a fortress, and now it was filled with hallucinogenic gas that had no way to escape.

Hearing a muffled scream, I rushed to the gas mask cabinet and grabbed one before leaving the penthouse. Following the green pip on my EFS, I hurried to locate Spruce and eventually found him three floors down. He was writhing on the floor of an apartment, trying to kick something off of him that wasn’t really there, and I hurried over to him. I took his hooves in my face several times before I was able to fit the gas mask over his face.

After a few more minutes of kicking around, Spruce returned to normal, and I stopped trying to restrain him. Exhausted, I rolled over onto my back and stared up at the ceiling. I’d come to Bunker Hill seeking a fortune, and though I’d found it, I’d also found more reasons than ever to hate the Ministry of Morale. Would it ever end?

***

It was smooth sailing after the incident with the gas. Bonnie and Claude were loaded down with far more goods than I thought even someone of their size could carry, but they made no complaints (or no more than usual from Claude), so I figured they could handle it. There was so much of value within Bunker Hill that Spruce and I were also carrying heavy loads, and we had left so much behind. I had reprogrammed the security lock on the main door with a new password, but my work wouldn’t hold up as well as the professional security put in place years ago. Still, Spruce had insisted, and it made sense. It wouldn’t do for raiders to get their hooves on Bunker Hill’s riches, or let them spoil them before the Regulators could get to them. Spruce was sure he could convince them to send enough Regulators to guard the entrance and transfer everything back to Burnside once they saw our current haul.

We were on our way back to Burnside, and I was lagging behind a bit when something nudged me from behind. Spinning as fast as I could with my heavy load, I prepared for a fight. I needn’t have bothered, for it was just a sprite-bot, one of those annoying metal orbs with wings[LS36] that buzzed about the Wasteland spewing propaganda for the Grand Pegasus Enclave. This one seemed different, though. It was silent, and the way it bobbed around made it look like it was trying to signal for me to follow it. Intrigued, I followed the sprite-bot, but kept my magic ready to draw my SMG in case this was a trap.

“I see you followed my advice,” a muffled stallion’s voice came from the sprite-bot’s speaker grill once we were out of sight of Spruce and Bonnie and Claude.

“You can talk?” I said, surprised. I had assumed that sprite-bots were simple automatons incapable of independent thought. Unless they had pony brains within them.

“I forget, you haven’t heard my voice yet,” the sprite-bot said after a slight delay, “We met once before, when I contacted you in Stable 50.”

“Who are you?” I asked, “And why are you following me?”

“Not important, and I’m not following you. I can hack remotely into almost any system is all,” the sprite-bot replied, after a slightly longer delay than last time, “I just wanted to congratulate you for making it to Burnside. You have found some direction, I hope. If not, you have chosen good friends to help you. Price Slasher and Mossy Oak are some of the better ponies in Burnside.”

“Okay, but why are you watching me? What do you want from me?” I asked, wanting some answers from this enigmatic pony.

“Hey, Doc! Where’d you go?” Spruce called from up ahead, realizing that I’d disappeared.

“I’ll be up in a sec!” I called back to reassure him, and turned back to the sprite-bot, but the robot was fluttering away, playing marching music. Who was this pony, and why had he taken a personal interest in my well-being?

***

As Spruce had predicted, the Regulators were thrilled with our haul and the opening up of Bunker Hill for scavenging. I was also quite thrilled when I received my cut of the profits, which were nearly double what the contract had estimated. I wasn't able to take anything from our scavenging, but Spruce had given me two of the metal pears, figuring that they weren't covered under the contract since they hadn’t come from inside Bunker Hill.

With the caps I’d earned, I was able to rent a slightly nicer room for the night and pay Price Slasher to fix up my Stable jumpsuit again with plenty left over, even after restocking on ammunition and healing supplies. I didn’t have to be at the gates at dawn, so after a fine night’s sleep, I had breakfast made entirely from fresh food at a diner near Burnside’s gate and watched caravans come and go while listening to Radio Free Wasteland. Perhaps I would never find out why the mysterious stallion had contacted me in Stable 50 and sent me to Burnside, or why he cared that I made it here safely, but maybe it didn’t matter. I could begin to build a life here, and put my past behind me .

“It was terrible! You’ve got to warn all the traders coming through here!” I overheard a trader's panicked voice say to one of the guards at Burnside’s gate.

“Calm down, you’re not making any sense. Just what are you talking about?” the guard told him.

It’s Sundale! No more trade with Sundale!” the trader said and I paused in sipping my Sparkle~Cola .

“What? Why?”

“It’s gone!” the trader replied with horror, “Everypony in Sundale is dead!”

Level Up
New Perk: Paranoid – Your time in the Wasteland has taught you that an attack can come from anywhere at any time, +1 to Perception
Equipment improved: Stable 85 Jumpsuit > Padded Stable 85 Jumpsuit – Price Slasher has made modifications that improve your jumpsuit, +4 to damage resistance, radiation resistance, and magic resistance.
New Quest: The Fallen – Investigate Sundale
Perception +1 (5)
Barter +2 (18)
Energy Weapons +2 (32)
Explosives +1 (30)
Lockpick +1 (44)
Medicine +2 (35)
Melee Weapons +2 (21)
Science +3 (65)
Small Guns +4 (69)
Sneak +1 (42)
Speech +1 (31)
Unarmed +1 (21)

PreviousChapters Next