Fallout Equestria: The Light Within

by FireOfTheNorth

Chapter 8: The Open Cage

Chapter Eight: The Open Cage

This had to be some sort of nightmare. My time in Stable 85 had given me the impression that the Pinks were isolationists—the first time the Stable door had been opened since the War had been to let me in, after all—yet here they were, leagues from their underground home. Why? In Stable 85, Overmare Fairy Floss had wanted me (and all the Yellows) dead in order to take total control of the Stable, but my existence outside of the Stable didn’t threaten that objective, so why was she here? Was she really so upset that I hadn’t joined her before her purge that she was willing to personally lead a team out into the dangers of the Wasteland just to track me down and kill me? It seemed insane, but that wouldn’t exactly be out of character for the Pinks, now would it?

“You’re a hard pony to find,” Fairy Floss said as ponies in pink-painted security barding slowly moved to encircle me, keeping their weapons pointed at me the whole time.

According to my EFS, there were eighteen Pinks here, not counting Fairy Floss, more than I could hope to take on alone even with a generous helping of good luck. Surveying my surroundings, I was unable to find anything that could aid me in my fight. Before the Pinks could completely surround me, I backed slowly away. Maybe if I could put some cubicles between us, I would have a better chance.

“Stop right there!” the Overmare ordered as she trotted toward me, “Fire if he takes another step.”

My mind raced as I tried to think up some scenario where I could escape this situation, but every possibility looked increasingly hopeless, especially as time continued to tick by and I was frozen in place. Maybe if Sage could distract them—but Sage’s scream was what had alerted me that something was wrong! Was Sage all right? I didn’t want to even consider the possibility that the Pinks had killed her. More blood on my hooves.

“Drop your weapon,” Overmare Fairy Floss ordered, and I complied, letting my pistol fall to the floor.

I was completely surrounded now, but I continued to search for a way out. My eyes flicked back and forth, over the ovens and confetti stations, a rack of gas masks next to a fire hose, a pyramid of playing cards somehow still standing after a megaspell blast and centuries. Finally, I fixed my gaze on a pipe running across the ceiling with “WARNING! DO NOT PUNCTURE!” printed on it in bright pink letters. I had no idea what was in the pipe, but it seemed dangerous; if I was going to die here, the least I could do would be to take all these Pinks with me. As Fairy Floss stepped under the pipe, my machete went flying from my saddlebags and flipped through the air, the blade lodging between DO and NOT.

An instant after the machete left my magical grip, one of the Pinks took a shot at me. I fell to the floor as I felt the bone in my left hindleg shatter. From my new lower vantage point, I looked up to see if my attack had done any damage. The ruptured pipe was leaking a pink vapor that quickly faded away, not something explosive as I’d hoped. Maybe it was poisonous, at least.

Wait . . . maybe it was, and maybe my cutting the pipe hadn’t been the only thing to release the gas into the air. The gas masks on the nearby wall were labeled: “For use in case of hallucination.” An enticing theory leapt to my mind. This building had revealed no defense system (turrets and the like) that one would expect to see in the headquarters of an important Ministry, especially one that operated as a secret police that could arrest Equestrian citizens without reason. The MoM Hub’s defense system wasn’t a network of automated guns, but a dispenser of hallucinogenic gas. It all made sense, but was my theory correct?

“Take his saddlebags, in case he has any more surprises” Fairy Floss ordered, and one of the Pinks pulled them off my back, “You know, if you were trying to kill me, you really should have aimed better.”

Maybe this wasn’t real, but the pain in my leg sure felt real. Would it feel real if I was killed, too? If I hallucinated dying, would I snap back to reality, or would my body really think I was dead? Maybe I would know the answers to these questions if I were truly a doctor, but my cutie-mark and my aptitude didn’t agree. In any case, it would probably be safest not to risk it and get to those gas masks before the Pinks could kill me.

Desperately hoping that I really was hallucinating, I jumped and ran toward the rack of gas masks, knocking a stunned Pink aside as I did so. On the Overmare’s command, the rest of the Pinks opened fire on me. I felt bullets tear through every part of my body, accompanied by agonizing pain. Somehow, I managed to pull a gas mask over my face and hold on to life, though I felt at every moment that the end was coming.

Once I was suitably punctured, Fairy Floss gave the order to stop firing, though I barely heard it through the sound of blood rushing in my ears. I could feel my life flowing out of me through dozens of holes, and I struggled to hold on. Maybe I had been mistaken and this truly was the end. I had only just begun to live, and now I was going to die!

But when I opened my eyes, I found that I was still alive. The Pinks had also all disappeared, and there were no signs that they had ever been there. My machete was still lodged in the pipe, which continued to leak a pink haze, but my saddlebags were still on my back. All my wounds had also vanished, leaving only a strange prickling sensation and the memory of pain.

I sat on the floor and waited for my heart to stop racing, before I remembered that I hadn’t come here alone. Had Sage really been attacked, or was it part of the hallucination? Jumping to my hooves, I dashed back toward the stairwell, grabbing my machete on the way. I realized as I ran that there was also the possibility that Sage had become caught up in her own hallucination, and it might not have ended as favorably as mine had.

“Good; you figured it out, too,” I said with relief as I spotted Sage coming up the stairs with a gas mask strapped over her face.

“Well, you know how it is. When a pony who’s been dead for eight years appears in front of you, it’s a bit of a shock at first, but it doesn’t take long before you realize that something’s off,” the pressmare said with grim humor.

“Do you think this place has any more surprises in store?” I asked as I looked at the ascending stairs. There were still at least forty floors to explore and I found it hard to believe the Ministry of Morale only cared about defending the kitchens and greeting card stations on the lower levels.

“Oh, probably, but we’re already here, so we may as well continue on to what we came for,” Sage said as she flicked me with her tail while trotting past me up the stairs, “Don’t you think?”

“Well, yeah,” I admitted as I followed her. I liked this mare.

Together we continued to move up through the Ministry of Morale’s Vanhoover hub, eventually moving past the tamer aspects of the ministry. Ovens were replaced by switchboards and headsets that let MoM staff eavesdrop on any conversation in the city and assembly areas for strange winged robots that I’d occasionally seen hovering around in the distance. As we moved up in the building, Sage and I encountered a secondary defense system in case the gas below didn’t do its job: automated turrets that fired darts instead of bullets. They were easy enough to take out, but I was still curious why darts were used. Perhaps they contained a tranquilizer or hallucinogenic agent; the MoM didn’t seem keen to kill if they could capture and interrogate instead.

Finally, we reached a floor of prison cells, the most likely place to find what we’d come looking for. Surprisingly, most of the cells were empty, either because there really weren’t that many “zebra sympathizers” to arrest, or the Ministry of Morale was incredibly fast at getting information from their prisoners before moving them on. Personally, I felt the latter seemed more likely. The cells that weren’t empty held skeletons, and many of them appeared to have died from a single gunshot to the head. When the megaspells had fallen, the guards had probably disposed of their prisoners; it was the most sensible explanation.

“There’s a live terminal over here! You want to work your magic?” Sage called from the other side of the prison block, drawing my attention away from the unfortunate inmates.

Either I was getting better at hacking, or the Ministry of Morale had skimped on their security here. It only took a few minutes for me to break into the terminal, and I was never in danger of being locked out. This terminal appeared to be linked up with the main records maneframe of the building, and I was able to access information on every arrest the MoM had ever made in Vanhoover. It was tempting to try to go through them all, but that could take a lifetime, so I focused on finding the particular case I’d come here for. Sage remembered the date on which the printing press had been interned in the Strip, which helped narrow down the search, and I soon found the case.

Case #401-3-9507-509-1
Date: 9.14.1350
Joint MoM-MI Case
Suspect(s): Desert Bloom – Editor, Vanhoover Crier
Charges: Noncompliance with MI censor (9839), spreading defeatism (3421), refusal to seek treatment for Wartime Stress Disorder after recommendation from doctor (4310), criticism of Ministry of Morale (0199), meeting with suspected zebra sympathizers (0026), criticism of government policy (2962), suspicious activities (8439)
>Case Details
>Interrogation Records

The straightforward choice to find the information I was looking for was Case Details, but when I selected it, it turned out that the file had become corrupted. Not willing to give up after coming all this way, I tried Interrogation Records and selected the one file that appeared: (1) 9.17.1350. I was startled when an audio file immediately began playing.

“So, Ms. Desert Bloom,” a mare’s voice said, followed by the sound of a chair being pulled back across the floor, “Do you realize why you’re here?”

“Easy,” Desert Bloom replied arrogantly, “Because freedom in Equestria is dead.”

“Aggressive response to mild questioning,” the interrogator said, accompanied by the scratching of quill on parchment, “Doesn’t look good for you. And no, you were not arrested because ‘freedom in Equestria is dead.’”

“Well, why else would I be chained to this desk with my paper in ruin for speaking the truth?!”

“You deliberately defied a Ministry of Image censor and were going to publish the banned article anyway,” the interrogator went on the offensive, “The MI investigator we spoke to said that they’d never had any problems with the Vanhoover Crier before, so why did you choose now to defy them? Does it have anything to do with your meeting with two individuals at the Manticore’s Gateway on the Thirtieth of Sun’s Height?”

“No, and it’s great to know that you’ve been spying on me!” Desert Bloom responded, “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true or was against the MI guidelines, so I didn’t see any point in complying with the censor.”

“What about,” the interrogator said as she flipped though pages of paper, “‘The majority of known deposits exist in Saddle Arabia, or within Equestria and its territorial waters. As Equestria shifts from reliance on coal to oil, the war with the Zebra Empire is destined to become a pointless struggle over a resource we no longer need’?”

“Yes?” Desert Bloom said questioningly.

“You called the war a ‘pointless struggle.’ Do you mean to say that the countless ponies who’ve fought and died over the last thirty years did so in vain! What about the Littlehorn Massacre? Or how about the terror attack here in Vanhoover only four years ago?”

“Those were terrible tragedies, but I said nothing about that,” Desert Bloom defended herself, “I merely speculated that once Equestria’s energy industry switched to oil, there would be no need to fight for coal.”

“Any speculation about the War’s viability is dangerous, especially published in a major newspaper. Can you imagine the irreparable harm that could be caused if ponies begin to believe the War no longer needs to be fought?” the interrogator asked before hardening her tone, “Yes, I think you do. You thought you could outsmart us, foment dissent in plain sight. If you can convince ponies that the War is pointless, then support falters, our troops fail, and Equestria collapses, allowing your Caesar to waltz right into Canterot and take over.”

“Are you accusing me of working for the zebras? Celestia! You’re more paranoid than I thought!” Desert Bloom said indignantly.

“Nopony is above suspicion, and it appears that’s fully warranted, judging by your actions and responses to our questions. How long ago did the stripes turn you?”

“I’m not a zebra agent!” Desert Bloom protested, a hint of fear entering her voice, “All I did was violate one MI censor because I thought it unwarranted. I’ve published more critical pieces on the War in the past, and the Ministry of Image never had a problem with them! Is the War going badly? Is that why you’re making a fuss over this?”

“Wouldn’t you just like to know,” the interrogator said without a hint of sympathy, “I think we’ve gotten our answer. Lucky for us we picked you up before you did any public damage.”

“That’s it?! You’re just going to convict me as a zebra sympathizer with no evidence?” Desert Bloom said desperately while the interrogator jotted something down.

“No, but we’re sure enough that we can move on to more intense interrogations. Unfortunately, we don’t have the facilities here to do so,” the interrogator lamented, “You’ll be moved to Los Pegasus as soon as possible.”

“Interrogations?” Desert Bloom asked, and I almost thought I could hear her shaking in terror, “What are you going to do to me?”

“Fear not, we aren’t barbarians who torture our own citizens. All we need to do is look through your memories to determine when your treachery started. Of course, it’s not a gentle process, and you’ll probably be reduced to a twitching imbecile by the time we’re done, but there are worse fates for a traitor. At least you’ll still be capable of breaking rocks at Shattered Hoof Reeducation Center until you’re properly adjusted.”

“No! You can’t do this! I didn’t do anything wrong! I know my rights! Don’t leave! Come back! I’ll never disobey the censor again, I swear! Please, just let me go! No!”

The tape cut out abruptly in the middle of Desert Bloom’s rant. Though it had just been a back and forth between two mares, it had still been terrifying to listen to, especially surrounded by prison bars and skeletons. The recording also confirmed all my suspicions about the Ministry of Morale. Even a century and a half later listening to an audio record, I could tell that Desert Bloom was telling the truth, and the MoM was going to convict her as a zebra sympathizer no matter what she said. The talk about them looking into her memories also made me reconsider how the memory orb in my saddlebags had been obtained. It seemed the MoM didn’t have any qualms about destroying the minds of guilty and innocent alike.

“Sweet Celestia, I thought things were bad now, but Wartime Equestria seems almost as awful, just in another way,” Sage said breathlessly, putting into words what we were both thinking.

***

After hearing that interrogation, it was understandable that both Sage and I were anxious to leave the Ministry of Morale building. There were more floors above the prison level, but neither one of us saw the need to poke around and find more unpleasantness left behind by the organization that had spawned the Pinks. Besides, we had found what we’d come for.

We removed our gas masks after exiting the building, and continued down the street that led off east toward Stable 50. The raiders I’d encountered between the Manticore’s Gateway and the Strip must have been an anomaly, because there was no sign of any of the scum on our journey. The Crimson Tide had really locked down this street, but I supposed that was only to be expected, since it had once been used by them to travel between Stable 50 and the Strip. Sage pointed out strongpoints as we passed them, hidden places Crimson Tide patrols could retreat to if they came under attack and needed to hold out against a larger force until reinforcements arrived. I marked them on my PipBuck map, as they could possibly save my life too, if they were as well defended as Sage claimed.

After we had been walking for a while, I noticed an addition to the street I hadn’t seen elsewhere. High over the pavement was suspended a narrow metal rail, evenly spaced sturdy posts sprouting from the sidewalks to hold it up. As we continued to follow the street, the rail continued to hover over us, occasionally with what looked like train cars hanging from it or perched atop it. Approaching a section where the rail was surrounded by a building with stairs leading up to it, I asked Sage about it.

“That’s the elevated monorail. Back during the War, the city of Vanhoover undertook several transportation projects in an attempt to reduce traffic congestion from auto-carriages,” Sage explained, “The monorail—a high-speed one-railed electric train—is what they tried in the northern half of the city, and they tried a subway in the south.”

“Subway?” I asked, revealing more of my ignorance.

“An underground train,” Sage said, “According to the records I’ve found, the subway was much more popular, probably because it was warmer underground in the winter and ponies didn’t have to climb so many stairs to get to it.”

A crash from up ahead alerted us that we weren’t alone. I pulled my binoculars out of my saddlebags, but before I could levitate them up to my eyes, Sage dragged me out of the center of the street and behind the stairs to the monorail station. Peering through a gap between the steps, I didn’t like what I saw. Standing in a cluster on the sidewalk was a group of ponies wearing power armor. One of them climbed through the window they had smashed, and emerged a moment later by opening the heavy metal door next to the window.

Sage gave a tap on my shoulder, and I pulled my binoculars away from my face. Motioning for me to follow her and keep quiet, she started to trot up the stairs. As we climbed, all but a few Steel Rangers headed into the building, leaving the rest to stand guard. The monorail station was empty, the floor littered with newspapers, train schedules, and empty Sparkle~Cola bottles. At the east end of the station, a monorail train had stopped halfway into the station, and Sage and I entered one of the back cars whose doors looked to have been torn off, probably by ponies trying to escape immediately after the megaspell detonation. At the front of the monorail, the glass had been blown out, and we were easily able to look down at the Steel Rangers.

Two of the Rangers loitered on the sidewalk, scanning their surroundings. The building behind them seemed more heavily fortified than those around it, and a quick look at the name printed in block letters over the door and window revealed why. BRAMM: Bureau for the Regulation of Armaments Magical and Mundane read the sign, and I figured the Steel Rangers had come here for the Magical component of Armaments, given what Sage had told me about them. The organization had its own emblem (a rather unimaginative one consisting of a bullet and magical energy cell with BRAMM printed in between), but I also recognized the logo for the Ministry of Wartime Technology next to it, making this a Wartime government building.

“They don’t know we’re here?” I observed quizzically to Sage. I wasn’t sure exactly how far the Steel Rangers’ EFS worked, but I felt that we were probably on the edge at least, even if we were high in the air.

“Not when I’ve got this,” Sage said, shaking her head as she produced a roughly cylindrical device from her saddlebags, “It interferes with the system they use to detect if ponies are around.”

I curiously cast EFS, and sure enough, Sage had no pip. It strangely flickered and faded in and out of my vision, suffering from distortion, and I had to deactivate the spell before it gave me a headache.

“Can’t they tell we’re around from the interference?” I asked. If I ever saw my always-reliable EFS start to act like that, I’d certainly think something was up.

“They can only tell if they’re right on top of you, and then it’s too late anyway,” Sage explained.

“I don’t suppose I could get one of those?” I said, since being able to keep Steel Rangers from finding me would be especially nice, given my situation. It would interfere with my EFS too, of course, but that would be a welcome price if I could escape or avoid a fight because of it.

“Only Crimson Tide members are issued them,” Sage said thoughtfully, her face scrunching up, “But, given your situation and how you’ve been sticking it to the Steel Rangers, it might be possible to convince Colonel Jumper to sell you one. I’d ask her next time you’re in the Strip. Oh, look, they’re leaving.”

Sure enough, Steel Rangers had begun to emerge from the BRAMM building, some of them with magical energy weapons strapped to their backs. I breathed a sigh of relief as they marched away from us towards the north on a perpendicular street, instead of walking under the monorail station where Sage’s EFS jammer was sure to give us away. I followed them with my binoculars as they left, and identified their leader. At the head of the squad was a Steel Ranger whose helmet crest was painted with blue zigzags. The weapon mounted to the armor that I could see also looked different than anything I’d ever encountered before; I realized after staring for a minute that it was some kind of a magical energy minigun, which was quite frightening. I hoped I’d never run into anything like it again.

***

After the Steel Ranger sighting, the rest of the trip to Stable 50 was uneventful. Sage informed me that the entrance to the Stable was in the ruins of an old park amphitheater, and I ran ahead when I spotted the place where the skyscrapers gave way to the scorched remains of trees. Red pips immediately appeared on my EFS as I crossed into the park, but I didn’t spot anything around that could hurt me.

Out of nowhere, a dog missing most of its fur pounced at me, its mouth latching onto my foreleg, which remained unharmed thanks to the protection of my Stable-Tec jumpsuit and doctor’s coat. Thinking fast, I drew my machete and sliced through the dog’s neck. As the jaw released and the head rolled away, another badly malnourished hound jumped at me. It was instantly knocked back, bits of flesh following it as it slid across the ground. I turned to see Sage levitating a shotgun that she fired at the dog again as it tried to get back up.

Swapping out my machete for my pistol, I fired at the next dog to bound toward me, slowly starting to advance as Sage did the same. Most of my shots missed, but a few managed to find their way into the mongrel’s neck and chest as it dropped to the ground, its light on my EFS disappearing. More pips vanished as Sage blasted them away with her shotgun.

I spotted the amphitheater poking over the trees, but the dogs kept coming from Celestia knows where. Another one nearly reached me before I was able to gun it down, firing my pistol into its skull at point blank range. While I was reloading, a canine jumped over a low stone fountain filled with terribly dirty (and irradiated) water and tackled me to the ground. Throwing up my hooves to protect my face and neck, I tried to kick the beast off. I wasn’t able to remove it, but I held it off long enough that Sage could bring her shotgun to bear on it, knocking it off me and splattering me with its blood at the same time.

Retrieving my weapon and pushing the clip in the rest of the way, I stepped through the last line of trees and into the open space in front of the amphitheater. Three dogs were charging toward me, and I immediately cast SATS and lined up two shots on each of their heads. Only one managed to hit and do fatal damage, but the moment time snapped back to normal I drew my machete. As one hound leaped at me, I swung the blade around into its neck. It managed to live on for a few seconds more, snapping its jaws at me and reaching with its paws, but eventually had to admit that it was dead. The third dog never reached me, having been torn to pieces by a blast from Sage’s shotgun.

“You killed my poochies!” a crazed scream came from near a dingy tent pitched in front of the amphitheater, where an orange-coated mare wearing nothing but spiky shoulder pads and a hockey mask was standing, “Now you’ll die!”

The raider levitated a strange weapon that appeared to be a chainsaw that could shoot jets of flame, and charged toward us. Sage set her shotgun down and pulled a scoped magical energy pistol from its holster on her side. Squinting, she lined up the shot, then swiftly pulled the trigger thrice. Three beams of magical energy lanced through the air, two of them striking the crazy dog raider in the chest and one in the head. Her weapon fell to the ground as she was reduced to a pile of glowing ash.

“They teach you that in the Crimson Tide?” I asked, impressed by Sage’s combat skills.

“Yes, actually,” she said as she picked her shotgun back up, “Why? You thinking of joining?”

Truthfully I was, but I didn’t want to bring any more Steel Ranger-related problems down on the mercenary group. In the end, I just told Sage that I would consider it, which I would.

Leaving the dog raider’s camp (as well as dog-gnawed bones that may have once belonged to ponies) behind, the two of us headed into the amphitheater. There had once been a door at the back of the stage, but it had been blasted away, the scorch marks around it extremely visible. We went down a flight of stairs to a large room where the Stable door had sealed the ponies within from the outside world and the destruction wreaked by the megaspells. The Stable door was no more. When the Steel Rangers had attacked, it looked like the ponies within had tried to seal the door, which probably would have protected them for a good while, but it hadn’t closed all the way. As a result, the Steel Rangers had been able to wrench it off its track rather easily with the heavy weapons attached to their armor, and had entered the Stable.

Sage and I both looked around in awe as we stepped inside the Stable. The Steel Rangers had done a thorough job of destroying the place, making it completely uninhabitable. The control console for the Stable door was a mess of wires and scorched components, and anything in the room that couldn’t be destroyed had been thoroughly scorched, probably by flamethrowers.

The rest of the Stable told a similar story. Windows were shattered, tables and chairs twisted into pretzels, lights blown out, and beds’ mattresses burnt until only mangled springs remained. I couldn’t imagine the effect beyond what I was feeling seeing this destruction had on Sage, since her ancestors had once lived here, had possibly even died in the attack. The destruction was immense and complete, and I began to doubt that anything could be salvaged after all.

As we explored, my original plan fell apart; the maneframes had been completely destroyed. I’d held out hope that the Steel Rangers wouldn’t have gotten to them, since the access tunnel was too small for them to fit through with their power armor, but they must have sent an unarmored pony through with high explosives to turn them into a blackened slag heap. Not that I would've been able to access them even if they were intact, since the reactors and all the backup generators had been destroyed in the Steel Ranger attack.

I wasn’t ready to give up hope entirely until we searched the Overmare’s office, though. The sight of it was depressing as Sage and I stepped inside. The Steel Rangers appeared to have taken a personal interest in destroying this room, and quite possibly its occupant. Bits and pieces of furniture were everywhere, and there wasn’t a single spot on the walls that hadn’t been scorched or blasted.

“Hey, you’re good at hacking terminals; any chance you’re good with locks, too?” Sage asked, which I thought was a rather odd question until I saw what she was looking at.

Amongst the charred remains of the wall, the outline of the door to a safe was barely visible. The door was badly dented, and the cover of the locking mechanism was gone, but it didn’t look beyond hope. I spent the first few minutes cleaning soot and tiny bits of shrapnel from the lock before I started to try to pick it. Three times I snapped the bobby pin, and had to carefully fish the pieces out of the lock, but luckily I was able to avoid jamming it. Finally, the safe popped open, and Sage and I gave a cry of triumph.

The safe was practically empty, the leader of the Crimson Tide at the time of the attack having apparently decided storing things here wasn’t worth it. Or maybe the mercenaries had already begun to shift their headquarters to the Strip; I’d have to ask Sage, but that could wait until after we examined the contents. There were two shelves in the safe, and the top one contained keys and an extra clip for a submachinegun. The bottom shelf held two file folders, and I levitated them out, passing the thicker one to Sage.

Both folders looked to be made for holding important documents, and had a clasp on them. Sage opened hers before I was able to figure out mine, and proclaimed ecstatically that it held records on the Stable’s history. Apparently she wasn’t the only historian the Crimson Tide had had. My folder held only a single, faded sheet of paper, though it must have once looked very official. Sage shone her flashlight on it so that I could read it better.

! CONFIDENTIAL ! SECURITY CHIEF’S EYES ONLY ! CONFIDENTIAL !

If you are reading this, then it means that Equestria’s worst fears have become reality. The future of Equestria, of the continuation of ponies themselves, is your responsibility now. What you are about to read may be hard to grasp at first, but I assure you that it is necessary. We at Stable-Tec realize that the Stables are not a permanent solution, and when they open and Equestria begins to be resettled, things cannot simply return to the way they were before. Equestria has become a mess, and we cannot allow our descendants to make the same mistakes as us all over again. We must work toward a more STABLE society, and that is the true purpose of the Stables.

As Security Chief of Stable 50, you are entrusted with one of our many important experiments to further that purpose. Your Stable’s purpose is to test whether a military government can be successful where ours failed. Stable 50 was given an Overmare, like all Stables, but this is merely a temporary measure. As soon as you are able, you must lead your security forces in a coup against the Overmare and seize direct control of the Stable, running it as if every citizen within is a soldier under your command. It is vital that nopony but yourself and your successors know about this experiment, or it may be compromised. To this effect, neither the Overmare nor anypony else in the Stable has been notified, and it must stay this way. Your coup and takeover must be genuine if the experiment is to succeed. We at Stable-Tec have the utmost faith in you, and are certain that you will make the right decision and the hard decisions in order to take this experiment through to its conclusion.

“Well, that settles it,” I said as I placed the orders from Stable-Tec back into their folder and passed it over to Sage, “It was all a Stable-Tec experiment.”

“How ‘bout that,” Sage said, though she seemed far less shocked or concerned than I thought she’d be. Could she still be in shock from seeing the destruction of the Stable?

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Of course. This doesn’t change anything,” Sage replied, shocking me.

“How can you say that? The Crimson Tide was only formed because Stable-Tec ordered it. They’ve been using you as an experiment all this time.”

“But Stable-Tec isn’t around anymore,” Sage said, which was true, but I didn’t see that it changed anything.

“Even so, doesn’t it bug you that your destiny was determined for you by somepony else?” I said, knowing it would bother me and trying to understand how this mare could be so calm when she’d just learned that her entire society was manipulated into existence by Stable-Tec.

“Look, Doc, maybe Stable-Tec set things up and ordered the coup that started everything, but every action the mercenaries of the Crimson Tide have taken have been our own,” Sage explained, “Stable-Tec had a plan for us, but I don’t think they could have foreseen what we’ve become now. We’ve move beyond their plans and schemes, and have grown to be so much more than they envisioned. Maybe it all started out because of their design, but that doesn’t change the fact that we did this ourselves, and nopony can take our accomplishments away from us and say they don’t count just because of that.”

“Even so,” I said weakly. I had admit that she made a lot of sense, but it was still hard for me to think of having my destiny decided for me in a positive light.

“You see destiny as a cage, but it’s not,” Sage said passionately, “Or, if it is, then it’s a cage with an open door. You can leave anytime you want, so long as you’re not so focused on the bars that you stay put staring at them and curse them for constraining you. Stable 50 is a cage, and the Crimson Tide left it a long time ago. Our story is no longer about Stable-Tec or security forces or coup d’états; it’s alive, and it’s still being written.”

That really drove the point home. Sage was truly an exceptionally eloquent mare, which I suppose I should have expected, given that she wrote the Strip’s paper. I would be sad to part ways with her, but she had to return to the Strip, and I still had to follow a mysterious instruction to go to Burnside. Perhaps someday I could return to the Strip and see her again. Perhaps, but first came Burnside.

Level Up
New Perk: Speak Softly and Carry a Big Stick – Melee attacks while sneaking always do critical damage.
Equipment added: Ministry of Morale Gas Mask
New Quest: The Concrete Jungle – Make your way through the ruins of urban Vanhoover to Burnside
Lockpick +3 (41)
Melee Weapons +2 (11)
Science +3 (58)
Small Guns +4 (52)
Sneak +8 (37)