Midnight Reverie stands in front of a massive steel door.
They have found the station completely deserted, the main platform littered with ancient trash, bags that had been abandoned for more than twenty years now, mold has covered entire walls. They were scavenging the place, taking anything that could be burned or have any value when she was attracted to a small light that still shone in front of a massive double gate, a faded symbol marked it as the entrance to Stable 273. With three of the Night Guard wounded, Midnight Reverie had been sent to scout the location for medicine they so badly needed. Ivory Spark was sent with her to look for spare parts and ammo, and Iron Sunrise followed them for protection.
“Welcome one and all,” says a rasping voice through a speaker in the wall. “The Guardian spares you for having killed the Demon.”
The ponies look at each other in confusion and back to the massive door. This wasn’t by far the strangest they have encountered in the Wasteland.
“You ain’t sick?”
Midnight Reverie answers it. “We have wounded, but no infectious diseases in our group.”
“The unicorn looks funny. Ain’t natural.”
Midnight Reverie looks at Ivory, the unicorn lowers her eyes and try to hide herself behind Iron Sunrise.
“No, she is fine, just some scars.”
The crackly voice resumes. “The Guardian says he wants to know how you got in here?”
“Long story,” says Iron Sunrise.
“Got time. Guardian’s got all the time in the world. Nobody never got in this Stable. Never in a hundred, never in a thousand, never in a million years. Doors sealed tight. Guardian don’t allow it until Stable-tech sends the order.”
Midnight Reverie glances sideways at Iron Sunrise, a Stable was bound to have huge stockpiles of resources they could use. Back in Maretania they had even meet with remnants of the Solar Guard that had been living around a Stable, waiting for it to open.
“We come from the Ponyville,” Iron Sunrise replies, not entirely a lie.
A cackle of laughter. “That’s a long way from here.”
“We have been traveling for a long time. Where are we?”
“Guardian has the Stable in his charge. Keep it safe. Let no pony enter with darkness in his heart. You got hate?”
Midnight Reverie shook her head. “No. We come in friendship.”
The tension around them is palpable, this seem to be going nowhere and they can’t keep the wounded ponies back at the train waiting forever.
“I have to search the books for word on what to do. Guardian has to take care. Move not, friends. I’ll be watching.”
“We should run,” whispers Ivory. “This seems like too much trouble.”
“We need the supplies” retorted Iron Sunrise “Unless we get more coal, we are going nowhere.”
“The Guardian has consulted the holy books of Stable-tech: No unauthorized ponies are to be allowed in Stable-tech property!”
“We are Royal Guard, Night detachment!” Iron Sunrise protests. “We operate under direct orders of Princess Luna!”
“The Guardian cares not for your princess!” his voice cackles. “They are fake goddesses that misled ponies! Only Stable-tech saves!”
The three ponies look at each other in despair, but Midnight Reverie suddenly smiles.
“But we are authorized,” Midnight Reverie replies quickly.
“Then show your authorization to the Guardian!”
“Of course,” Midnight says, digging amidst her pack frantically. “I’m a certified Stable-tech Medic!”
The mare produces a small plastic red heart badge with ‘certified Stable-tech Nurse’ written with bleached white letter. It is nothing more than a toy that she had found along the ruins of Hollow Shades so many years ago.
“Come forward, let me see it.”
Midnight Reverie approaches the faded heart to the camera, there is a long and tense silence and then with a screech of metal against metal, the big door slowly moves out of the way.
Midnight Reverie leads them through an ample hall.
“Midnight? What is this place?” asks Ivory.
The unicorn is silent, gasping in awe at the building that seems fit to house an army, the clean and sterile interiors are in starch contrast with the rest of the world.
“It’s a Stable, an underground bunker built and stocked to survive for centuries. Once the radiation clears down, the ponies inside will come out.”
Even as she speaks, a burst of laughter splutters from the loudspeaker.
“Do not blaspheme,” the voice of the Guardian comes more clearly trough the speakers. “This is not the Stable, but the home of the guardians!”
Iron Sunrise moves closer to Midnight Reverie, and tries to whisper, but he is interrupted by the door ahead of them beginning to slide slowly upward, revealing the hooves, then body, then head of a pony standing facing them.
The pony dresses in a bizarre assortment of rags and flashy attire: a saddle that bears sparkling sequins, the hoofs covered in mismatched and raggedly hacked pieces of leather, the face is old enough that he must have been alive before the bombs feel. Numerous medals on scraps of iridescent ribbons, jingle on the chest.Abandolier that crosses his chest contains an extraordinary range of ammunition. Even at a snatched glance Midnight Reverie can make out five or six different calibers.
He carries an assault rifle on his saddle, the kind normally found amidst private contractors and cops. He stands with a tense posture, obviously not accustomed to carry guns.
“Greetings from the Guardian, strangers,” croaks the pony, his voice is old, but energetic. “Never have there been such outsiders here.”
“I’m Midnight Reverie,” she introduces herself with a respectful bow, “This is Iron Sunrise, we are from the Night Guard and she is Ivory Spark, a civilian technician.”
“You best come with me. That is the invite of the Guardian. There is food,” the barrel of the machine gun swung toward a door to their left.
“We have wounded…” Midnight started.
“Later, my pretty little bat. All things later. First come and eat. There’s plenty for us all for all of eternity.”
The old stallion makes the three of them walk ahead of him towards the cantina.
“This place is enormous,” says Ivory, walking beside Midnight Reverie. They walk another nine or ten minutes, moving into a part of the bunker with several side rooms, to the left of them stands a long corridor that takes to the giant form of a Stable door, the giant metal cog seems to have been painstakingly scrubbed and polished until it almost gleamed under the weak electric light. A few flowers and pieces of papers have been deposited in front of it, not unlike offerings in a temple.
The floor is a patterned mosaic of soft tiles. At the center of the hall, which is two hundred paces long by a hundred wide, is a glittering fountain shaped from curves of polished metal, with water burbling and chirruping from level to level. And on every side, were stores still decorated with colorful advertisement to a myriad of discounts and promotions.
Midnight Reverie looks around, her jaw sagging, eyes dazzled wherever she stares.
“Blessed Luna,” she hears Iron Sunrise whisper.
“Halt. The Guardian commands obedience. Beyond that portal is food and rest for the weary traveler. Not that we’ve ever had a traveler before, weary or not.”
They stop in front of a sturdy metal gate and Midnight Reverie watches the doddering old stallion aim a small black remote-control device at the top of the closed door. It is obviously a simple sonic switch that activates the opening lock.
“Move forward and enter the lair of the Guardian.”
They step through into a small industrial cantina, two machines rest in a corner and a pile of trays are just to the side, the long tables seem fit to dozens of workers. The three of them watch as the guardian kneels in front of one of the machines and prays to Stable-tech, praising the company for saving his life from the lies of the fake princesses and the zebras’ wrath. After the long-winded prayer, the machine sputters two colored pastes into a tray and bright orange juice into a cup.
“The Guardian will allow you to reconnoiter the parameters of the Bunker once you have eaten.”
The strange bunker, with its incorporated shopping mall, is one of the biggest building that Midnight had ever laid eyes on. The shopping mall alone would have put to shame even the biggest shopping malls of Canterlot and Fillydelphia with its maze of interconnecting passages and stores.
The survivors and remnants of the Night Guard had been more than happy to come inside if for nothing else then to escape the cold outside. The Guardian had consulted his holy books and decided that since she was a medic, Midnight Reverie and her group could stay there until the wounded were healed. Their enthusiasm, however, is curbed very soon as they find that every single store is tightly sealed and locked. Ivory organizes a small party of technicians to work on the locks, the Guardian keep following them around, laughing as they keep failing to open the locks.
The Guardian keeps to himself most of the time, spending most of the day cleaning and patrolling the giant structure. By the second day, Ivory Spark found him prostrated in front of a Stable-tech vending machine, praying to Stable-tech until the machine releases a pair of canned meals. The unicorn tries to do it himself, but the machine remains completely unresponsive.
Midnight manages to organize a small clinic in a corner of the food plaza, at least the faucets are a source of pure water. The rest of the survivors cluster around the bathrooms, taking turns to wash themselves on the sinks and use the toilets.
As far as they can determine, there are only two entrances to the bunker. One is the double steel doors they had used and the other is a series of loading and unloading doors in the back of the complex, but without a manual control on the inside. Midnight believes it had never been opened since the day the bombs fell.
Ivory Spark walks with Midnight Reverie down through the long corridors of a library, the ancient books sealed behind thick panes of transparent plastic, with ladders to reach the high shelves and a balcony.
“It’s a shame all of this is locked so thoroughly,” says the unicorn, running his hoof over one of the locks, as if he can unlock it by sheer force of will.
“I wonder why they built this,” Midnight says. “This is not a regular bunker, it looks more like a shopping center.”
Ivory looks over the book titles. “I wonder what kind of pony will come out of the Stables, they will have spent several generations living underground. Maybe they will even have forgotten all about life on the surface. I fear that no matter what we do, life will never be the same.”
“Perhaps, its better that it never goes back. As perfect as things looked back then, we still ended here. Maybe this time, things will change for the better and whatever pony comes out of the Stables will not allow the world to be destroyed a second time.”
They stand on the balcony for a moment, wondering what secrets and promises lay behind the sturdy Stable door.
“I think she’s getting worse,” Midnight announces. Black Dahlia slows his pace and takes a long breath. Of course, she was getting worse, everything seemed to be getting worse all the time.
Scavenging for medicine had been impossible so far, with every store thoroughly sealed and locked behind sturdy doors. Even when Ivory Spark had managed to pick the locks, they discovered all the supplies sealed in sturdy boxes. Ivory and his small team of technicians were still working on unlocking those, so far, the rest of the team had been managing to live on their own supplies, but those were dwindling by the day.
Black Dahlia watched over the three convalescent ponies, Midnight had been managing to keep them stable for now, but unless they can start opening those boxes, they would have to ditch most of the wagons and cargo to try and make it to the next station, with some luck they would find some supplies there.
Ivory Spark bursts into the room, out of breath and sweating.
“We have trouble,” she manages to speak.
Trouble. That is the watchword. That is the heart stopper. Black Dahlia knows how to deal with hostiles, lack of food or water, and even radiation poisoning. But trouble is an entirely different problem.
Dahlia helps the unicorn to some water from his canteen as they walk closer to Midnight Reverie.
“Take a long breath and tell me exactly what is happening.” Dahlia orders.
“Back in the workshop we were messing around with some old radios, trying to use them to hack into the digital locks,” the unicorn tells him. “We think we can trigger the welcome protocol.”
Dahlia looks at the three wounded ponies.
“This get us medicine?” he asks.
“More than that, it will unlock all the stores!” Ivory replied animatedly. “The protocol is supposed to activate when the Stable’s door opens, but we can trick the internal clock to think we are about a hundred years in the future.”
“So why are those bad news?” Dahlia asks.
“To do it we will need more tools and at least one functioning terminal,” Ivory replies quickly.
Dahlia paces around, eyes closed as he speaks. “By the state of the ruins outside there must have been a military base on the city, take Midnight Reverie and Iron Sunrise with you to scout around.”
“I should stay with the patients, sir,” Midnight protested.
“They are stable enough for now, I want you on the team in case they find any medicine,” Dahlia replied. “Go put your armor and take any supplies you want, I want a full report of the surroundings as soon as possible.”