//------------------------------// // One Week // Story: FOE: The Lost Archives of Stable 36 // by Hiddenfaithy //------------------------------// One week. “I swear. You’re just really pretty. I would never stoop to such a dirty trick.” One week had passed since the world as Ponykind knew it had ended, burned in balefire and megaspells. The beautiful Equestria Starburst had known now only a ghost, haunting her waking moments with palpable grief. Now, all she knew was Stable 36. Its metal walls were her horizon, and its harsh fluorescent lights were her stars. The world began and ended with a cog-shaped door that would not open for some time.  Eventually, potentially, the surface would be safe to venture to. It was the only thread of hope that persisted in the grief-stricken populace. They knew it wouldn't be within their lifetime, and likely not their children's either. One day though, centuries later, a pony would stand on the surface again and breathe in fresh air. It was a goal that they could work towards, and strive to achieve. The stables were only a temporary home. Starburst knew well, however, that in the grand scheme of existence, a few centuries was a short time. For the ponies who would be living that temporary, it was likely to be their entire lives. Only one word could describe the mood of the stable’s citizens: mourning. They mourned what they had lost, an entire civilization and potentially the rest of their species wiped from existence. The family members who could not make it to the stable numbered surprisingly high to Starburst, as if Stable-Tec had almost intended on splitting family units. Perhaps it was a means of preventing inbreeding, but the horror and anguish her charges displayed niggled at her heart. They mourned the very world that had been ripped away. Already many were complaining about the staleness of the recycled air. No amount of air fresheners could replicate the delight of flowers carried on the wind. The solar lights and spell in the orchard paled in comparison to Celestia’s magnificence. Starburst yearned to feel the warmth of true sunlight on her red hide, or the way Luna’s soft radiance enveloped her at night. Beneath the ground, it was sterile, disconnected, and suffocating. The corridors were too tight yet empty. A third of Stable 36’s population had failed to show up. Specifically, the pegasi. To cover the workforce deficit, most were already working double shifts or extended ones. Starburst worried greatly about overworking her citizens, but critical systems couldn’t be neglected. Their existence, potentially the existence of their entire species, rested on the stable’s survival. Starburst knew it was unlikely that no other stable was active, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t risk assuming such possibilities. All she would ever know now was Stable 36, and the hundreds of ponies that depended on her. The responsibility was daunting. Everypony was looking to her to make the decisions that would ensure their survival or doom. Already she was faced with choices nopony ever should. The door had stayed open almost too long, letting in many, saving them from obliteration. There were still ponies outside when she ordered them closed. She’d stood there, watching the fear shift into utter panic. Dozens had rushed the door, as if sheer volume would let them wriggle inside. With no Security Chief, as the pegasus assigned hadn’t reported in, Starburst herself had to make the call. She had ordered the deaths of ponies only trying to survive.  She had shot one herself. It didn't matter that she was protecting those already under her charge. It didn't matter that the pony had only been trying to reach the safety of her stable. It was completely irrelevant that the pony had been a coworker of hers at MAS. She had seen them only an hour prior, working a few cubicles down from her own. She remembered their name. She wanted to forget it now. Yet she refused to let herself. It was only the beginning of the horrors she would commit to protect Ponykind. She didn't want anypony to say she denied the truth. Starburst had killed to protect her stable, and she doubted she would never have to do it again. Before, when she considered it as a possibility it was chilling but palatable. Now with somepony's life ended by her hooves and orders, she felt absolutely unraveled. Stress, guilt, panic; it wore heavy upon the Overmare. They were only ever supposed to war with Equestria's enemies, not each other. Yet, she reminded herself, Equestria was gone. There was only Stable 36. There would only ever be Stable 36. A hoof knocked on the office door, startling Starburst from her ruminations. She blinked, the light had gone off in the Atrium, signaling it was well past the normal day shift. She, just like all the others, was adjusting to the lack of true sunlight and becoming more reliant on her Pip-Buck to tell her the time. Glancing at it, a fresh wave of discomfort filled her. It was nearly 2100. The knock repeated itself. Starburst shuffled the scattered paperwork on her desk into a somewhat orderly pile, and then called, “Come in.” The sound of somepony fiddling with the controls came, and then an awkward voice half-muffled by the door. “It’s locked.” “Horseapples,” muttered Starburst as she got up from her desk. She’d forgotten about the after-hours auto-lock feature. Her office suite was right next to her living quarters, the door into it on the other side. She paused by a mirror to check herself. Ignoring the heavy bags beneath orange eyes, fetlock hooves quickly tucked blonde locks back into place before she reached the double-wide entrance. A deep blue unicorn stallion with a white mane and beard adorned with scars stood there, dressed in security armor.  “Hello?” She said, squinting. He tilted his head. “Hello.” She blinked at him, unable to remember his name and why he might be here before it surged forward with an embarrassed yelp. “Your interview!” The stallion chuckled, a calmness in his eyes Starburst immediately felt jealous of. He flicked an ear, the tip of it torn away from some battle wound. “It seems you forgot,” he said disarmingly. Starburst backed up and waved him in. “I am so sorry! It’s just been… well a lot. A lot needs to happen and I had the interviews for the Chief of Engineering over lunch-” She cut herself off before she descended into excusing rambles. Inhaling briskly, the Overmare gathered herself. “I apologize for forgetting. Do you want to go ahead, or reschedule?” The stallion gave another chuckle. Starburst squinted but managed to keep her ears from pulling back. “I think you could use all the help you can get,” he said calmingly. She sighed and gave a nod. Together they crossed to her desk, a chair available for him. He stood nearly a whole head taller than her, making the average-height mare feel like a foal. His green eyes ran over the hastily tidied papers, mostly interview notes and resumes. She shuffled through them, trying to find his, only to realize she had forgotten his name as well.  Her embarrassment grew as the stallion only seemed amused. “What?” She asked briskly. “Cobalt Wisp,” he introduced himself. Red cheeks flushed all the deeper crimson, Starburst picked out his resume. She had passed it over twice. “Starburst Aura,” she replied. “It’s good to meet you.” “Good to meet you too, ma’am. I know things have been stressful.” “That’s barely even the half of it.” Starburst rubbed her eyes with a quick muttering before straightening up. “I apologize for the lack of decorum. Stress isn’t an excuse.” His eyes softened and Cobalt shook his head. A hoof that tapered white covered his resume, and for a moment Starburst startled. “The world ended,” he soothed, “you’re allowed to be upset about it. Yes, we must carry on, but you can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt. Did you lose anypony?” Swallowing, Starburst gave an awkward laugh. “No. I… was alone.” Cobalt gave a small nod. “I lost a brother. We hadn’t spoken in years. He never approved of me joining up with the army.” Starburst arched a brow. “Really? Most everypony was for the war effort. Patriotism is… was… compulsory.” “Maybe to those of you in the Ministries,” he replied, “especially with MoM. Most of us out in the countryside were a little less excited about our kids shipping off to fight the Zebras over coal to power some cities we didn’t even live near.” “Yet you did?” She countered, relieved to see a natural way to begin the interview process. Cobalt snickered and gestured to the scars on his coat. Starburst lingered on them and then frowned. “I went specifically so he wouldn’t. Loved the young fool. But he didn’t forgive me for stealing his chance to be a hero. He wanted glory, and if we both served then he couldn’t stand out, especially compared to me.” Starburst tilted her head. “Something special about you?” The smile the stallion wore would’ve come across as arrogant from most, but something about it was entirely honest. “I listen to orders.” A flash of recognition sparked across her brain as memory consumed her. A blue unicorn in an army uniform helped evacuate ponies into the stable on the Last Day. He had drawn his gun at her command and fired without hesitation. He was the first to listen. “You… Helped me that day,” she whispered. He nodded. “I didn’t get a chance to speak with you after, but yes.” “Your help was invaluable,” she praised, “If you hadn’t taken to my command, panic threatened to take hold.” Cobalt shrugged. “You’d have gotten there without me,” he said, “but I helped, yes. I couldn’t just stand by while the world ended.” “Thank you,” Starburst said firmly. Cobalt’s smile softened, making his eyes shimmer. She cleared her throat and reviewed his resume. “So you want to serve as the Chief of Security now?” He nodded. “Well… This is my world now, and you need help. It only seems natural for me to step up.” “Plenty of ponies are only thinking about themselves right now,” countered Starburst, “and I don’t blame them. The grief we are enduring is… Almost unimaginable. Are you sure you’re mentally prepared to take on a leadership position at this time?” A stiffness took hold in the stallion, a rigidity she recognized entirely. A military instinct that she had seen for years in the ponies around her, even if she herself had never served. “Yes ma’am,” he replied, “the survival of the stable is more important. I will be sure to take time to process my own grief, but it will not impair my ability to protect the citizens of Stable 36.” While she did not say it, she was impressed with his response. Starburst scanned over the way he held himself. She lingered on his strong jaw, muscles notable even beneath the stable barding. “I cannot pretend it will be an easy job.” “I know ma’am. I don’t expect it to be. Things are chaotic despite your best effort, and while I am not keen on the idea of hurting ponies, if it is necessary then I will. I would like to avoid such a situation arising in the first place.” “Why did you shoot?” She asked, staring into his eyes. Greens swirled with a hint of emotion, but he swiftly buried it beneath the mask of discipline. “Because it was necessary. Because you gave the command.” “I don’t want somepony who only follows orders,” Starburst informed him. “That is the way of tyrants.” A flash of a smile pulled at his lips, and he dropped his bearings. “You’re ordering me to not only listen to orders?” Cobalt purred, leaning forward over the desk. He was still taller than her sitting down. She blushed at his sudden closeness, ears falling back. “I promise you, ma’am, I will tell you if I think something is a bad idea, or wrong. I listen to orders, I will hear you. I will not follow blindly. I will make the hard choices when needed.” Starburst tried to find her composure, but the quirk of his lips made her heart flutter despite all the stress weighing down on her. “You can’t flirt your way into this position,” she warned. He blinked and pulled back. “Oh. I… wasn’t meaning to.” She deadpanned. “Really?” “I swear. You’re just really pretty. I would never stoop to such a dirty trick.” Tips of her ears burning, Starburst cleared her throat again. Cobalt sat further back in his chair, polite and proper now. She couldn’t help but believe him. Chewing her cheek for a moment, she reviewed his resume in comparison to the others so far. He was sincerely the most promising, just based on experience. The fact that he had been so helpful on the Last Day was another strong point for him. Everything swirled in her head, knowing it wasn’t a choice to make lightly. Yet, it was easy. He was perfect. Starburst held out her hoof, and he smiled softly. “Let’s keep things professional, alright, Chief?” He took her hoof firmly, and they shook. “Yes ma’am. Sorry about that ma’am.” The Overmare hesitated for a moment. “It wasn’t… unwelcome, to be clear.” His torn ear perked and he tilted his head. The smile grew into a full grin, and she blushed deeply. “I can stay professional when on duty, ma’am. If you think maybe… there’s some interest when off the clock.” Surprising even herself, Starburst smiled. “I think there just might be. But first… I think we both should head to bed, it’s rather late. Your shift starts early tomorrow.”  Their hooves lingered. Cobalt glanced down. He gave a low chuckle. “I think neither of us are on the clock, ma’am,” he suggested. “Careful,” warned Starburst, withdrawing her hoof. “I’m not some summer mare to be swept off her hooves.” The flirtatious edge dropped. “Of course. I just…” He chewed on the word before finally saying, “I look forward to getting to know you, Starburst. You might be the only positive thing in my life right now.” A familiar ache filled her chest, and she gave a heavy nod. “To which I would hate to rush anything. We’re here for the rest of our life, Cobalt. We can take our time. I don’t want anypony to think I elected you to your position because of your handsome face either.” “Handsome huh?” He chuckled, taking her meaning clearly though. Standing now, he turned to leave. “Goodnight, Overmare. I’ll make you proud, I promise.” She watched him depart with a fresh blush and a hint of optimism. “I trust you will.”