“Please don't make me kill you,” I wheezed, releasing the intercom controls with a staticky click. I slumped back in the padded chair and began running a hoof through my matted mane. A shower of rust-brown sprinkled downward as the dried blood flaked off.

The static-filled security feed on the monitor before me showed the intruders hesitating, milling about as if considering my warning. I felt a small glimmer of hope, but it was shattered as they began filing into the Stable’s inner corridors.

“Goddess-dammit, why!” I shouted, bringing up my forelegs and slamming them against the oaken-topped, circular desk. “Why can't they just leave me the fuck alone!”

I swept my limbs across the surface, causing an avalanche of old food containers, bottles, and… books. A flash of horrified realization burst from my horn, halting the fall of the bound treasures and suspending them aloft. I breathed a sigh of relief, gingerly sorted the collection, and returned them to the appropriate gaps in the shelves behind me.

Another cast sprung a different, green-bound volume out of the shelf and opened it in the air before me. ‘Bliss Out: A Guide For Calmly Traversing Life’s Struggles In A Post-Harmonic World’ by Treehugger. I flicked to the first chapter, “Diaphragmatic Breathing, The First Step Toward Tranquil Meditation.”

I continued to read aloud, only pausing to follow the more specific instructions. Within minutes, I began to calm and replaced the book in its proper space.

With a final, steady exhale, I turned my gaze toward the door. In the shadows laid a large, vaguely pony-like silhouette. “What in Tartarus’s name is happening? We’ve been secure for years, and now twice in two days somepony has broken in?!”

The figure did not respond.

“What, nothing to say?” I asked incredulously. “You’re supposed to be the chief security officer, so start acting like it!”

I rose from the… well technically it was still called the Overmare’s desk. I hadn’t quite figured out if there even was a way to change the designation in the Stable’s systems, but I was never exactly chomping at the bit to use a terminal either. In fact, I tried to keep any prolonged exposure to those contraptions to a minimum.

Perhaps Stable-Tec had only planned for mares to be in control of these facilities. I wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that, regardless it never really seemed like something that should occupy a sizable amount of my concern.

I stalked toward the other figure, stopping just before our muzzles touched. While he was by no means the same towering presence I’d known in my youth, the pony still stood a full head higher than myself.

“You promised me you could handle this,” I reared up and slammed my hooves against the pony, pushing him back with surprising ease until we crashed against the steel door. A loud crack split the air, followed by splintering wood. “Why can’t you keep them out? Why are you making me kill so many ponies, Pike?!”

I released my hold as the figure toppled to the ground and into the dim cone of my reading lamp. The enormous, red-painted mannequin shattered against the floor, it’s limbs popping off and chunks of the torso crumbling.

A horrified gasp escaped me, “Oh Goddess, no!” I swept the pieces up in my magic and desperately attempted to reconstruct my brother. The limbs reattached easily enough, and a quick perusal through my repertoire of spells swiftly located one of basic mending. A pulse of blue struck the model, and the cracked wood began to reseal itself and smooth the surface. After a quick flash, my brother was revealed to be whole once again.

My hooves ran along every velvet-lined surface, ensuring not a single piece was missing. “You're ok. You're ok. Everything's ok,” I murmured.

I gingerly placed him back on the ground, “I’m sorry, Pike. I lost my temper.” My head dropped until I was staring dejectedly at the floor. “Everything has just been so perfect, why is this happening now? I don’t… I don’t want to be this pony again, but what else can I do? Why don’t they understand?” Tears stung at the corner of my eye, “Please, help me.”

Of course the mannequin said nothing.

“You’re right,” I sighed, interpreting the non-response. “There’s no point sitting around and crying about it. I have to handle this.”

Y’know, if you were looking for a homicidal pep-talk, you could have just asked.

A subtle shimmer in the air accompanied Koe’s appearance. The doppelganger had grown alongside myself, now standing as a tall, though fairly malnourished looking, stallion. From my recollections, I was perhaps just a hair shorter than my father had been. My mane had grown long and wild, now hanging level with my shoulders. We were both clad in the same blue and yellow jumpsuit that were, for whatever reason, required to be worn by many of the Stable’s automated systems. The only area where the voice and I differed was him retaining both eyes.

I’m pretty sure he did that on purpose.

I didn’t even glance at the shade, merely striding back toward the desk and yanking open the top drawer.

Koe sighed, Don’t you find it a bit ironic that your only psychotic delusion that actually talks back is the only one you’re ignoring? He faded away for a moment before reappearing atop the desk, laying prostrate and propping up his head in both hooves, Oh come on. What do I need to do to compete with a fucking mannequin, huh? Dance a jig? He swiftly rose off the ground and stood on his hind legs, crossed his forelegs, and began kicking rhythmically. Hech, hech, hech, he chanted throatily.

I kept my eyes on the task, removing a nearly-pristine 10mm sidearm and a box of bullets. The magazine dropped from the weapon with a soft click, and I began feeding it cartridges. A pair of pitch-black goggles also floated from the confines of the drawer, settling around the top of my head

How’s about a Goddess-damned limerick?! Koe asked in exasperation.

There once was a young stallion trapped deep underground
To his best friend of all time he made not a sound
He was dumb as a brick
Also kind of a dick
And one day he’ll die with not a pal left around

I finished loading the magazine and slammed it back home. “Pike,” I called, “keep a watch over the security feed and let me know where they’re going.” I worked the pistol’s slide, chambering a round. “This ends now.”

Oh we are so far from the end, Koe sneered venomously. This is just the start of the second act.

Right outside the Overmare’s office stood a smaller desk that held the Stable Administration terminal. I shut my eyes and breathed a preparatory sigh, then pressed several keys to bring the contraption to life. Its muted green display flooded the darkened room, triggering a flash of annoyance.

I couldn’t quite explain my aversion to these things. I knew it wasn’t rational, they were just tools like anything else. But something about a simulated intelligence just rubbed me the wrong way.

‘Good Morning, Administrator,’ the screen displayed. ‘Would you like to create your first diary entry? Stable-tec’s team of expert behavioral psychologists all agree that recording your experiences in the Stable is vital to your mental well-being and…’

I began rapidly clicking through the welcoming message. These machine’s constant yearning for my thoughts and communications was partly what fed my aversion to them. At the very least, however, I could draw a bit of humor from their promises of ‘helping my mental well-being.’

At this point, I was probably a couple steps beyond their abilities.

Several tentative key presses guided the interface toward the Stable’s primary power systems. I clicked through the options and found: ‘Protocol X Emergency Shutdown.’

Upon confirming my selection, a dialogue appeared:

‘Warning: Activation of Protocol X is only recommended as a last resort power conservation method or for fulfilling duties pertaining to the prime directive. Interior and emergency lighting systems, as well as all but critical life support systems, will be disabled. Eraser Deployment System (EDS) will remain functional per prime directive. Do you wish to continue?’

I cocked my head as I had the last time this protocol was activated. Most of it made sense, but in all my time in this self-imposed prison I’d never come across the Eraser Deployment System. It had something to do with this ‘prime directive’ that I vaguely remembered being mentioned when I’d first gained access to the Stable. None of the welcoming documentation I’d had the opportunity to read had any mention of it. Alas, it would have to be a worry for another time. I tapped the confirmation key.

A shrill alarm sounded from the PA system before the automated message took over, ‘Protocol X emergency shutdown initiated. All Stable residents are advised to return to their quarters until power is restored.’

A jolting rumble echoed through the steel halls. The power generators soon grew quiet, withdrawing the continuous hum I’d grown to know so well. A shriek tore through the Stable as the entrance was pulled shut and locked down. The lights above flickered for a moment, then winked out.

Ah, memories, Koe commented.

I continued in my neglect of the voice, instead lowering the goggles over my eyes and flicking the activation switch. Instantly the room sprang back into light, although now shrouded in a cloak of green. The night vision goggles took a moment to adjust, before offering a near perfect image of my surroundings.

“Let’s get this over with,” I murmured, then strode off toward the Stable’s entrance.

The halls echoed with muted scuffs as I crept along the steel floors. The Stable was usually so comfortingly quiet, I could just sit and bask in it for hours on end. Lazing about in the welcoming isolation, practicing my magic with no fear of interruption, and plucking a book from a nigh infinite catalogue of topics and genres. It had all been so perfect.

I couldn’t help but gaze protectively at every bookshelf I passed, running my eyes across every neatly stored volume. Each wing housed the collection that most accurately pertained to its function. Medicine journals in the medical bay, cook books in the kitchen, self-help and leadership training in the Overmare’s office, magical tomes for training the magically gifted, and, of course, a treasure trove of fiction. Every last corner of the facility was packed with literature.

I knew exactly how imperative they had all been to the survival of my sanity. These books were the reason this had to be done. If I lost them, there would be nothing to occupy my mind, and nothing standing in the way of… him unleashing us on the wasteland. So many would die if I let that happen.

What were a hoofful of lives in comparison?

What a noble sacrifice. Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Justify it however you want. We both know that, after yesterday, you can’t wait to get your hooves dirty again.

As I rounded a corner, I vaguely made out three figures at the far end of the hallway. Instantly I halted, falling to my stomach and peering through the green vale. They remained still, causing me to worry that I’d been spotted. Soon enough, my memory locked onto the identities of the ponies, allowing me to breathe a sigh of relief.

I stood back up and continued down the hallway until I was face to face with the charcoal stallion and his two younger brothers. “Didn’t you hear the announcement!” I snapped quietly. “It’s not safe out here right now. I know you want to help out more, but Pike and I have security well enough in-hoof.” I placed my hoof on the head of one of the smaller ponies, “You need to focus on keeping your brothers safe. They need you a lot more than I do Trim.”

The black-painted mannequin remained still, frustratingly resistant to my commands. “Don’t do this now,” I whispered. “We’ve had our differences in the past, and I know you want to make it up to me. If that’s really your goal, then you can help by keeping Patchwork and Spring Breeze out of harm’s way. Please, Trim, just go back to your quarters. I promise that I’ll come see all of you when this is over.”

I took his fresh batch of silence as acquiescence. “Good,” I said, relieved at the answer. As I trotted past the band of brothers, I shot one more look over my shoulder. “And hey, maybe when this is done we can have that rematch,” I laughed softly.

“Chalk up your pool stick, because I’m not gonna go easy on you.”

It wasn’t long before a hushed conversation began to echo through the halls. I stopped and listened a moment, trying to discern exactly where this lot may have been heading. The armory? The atrium? What would be most valuable to a group of scavengers who’d recently discovered the eviscerated remains of their predecessors?

After observing the direction of the echoing whispers, it came to me. The medbay, of course. They must be trying to save that mare. A shuddering realization coursed down my spine. Did that mean she was still alive?

Eh, quick bullet through the skull, or gravity-dictated impalement that just so happened to be angled to miss every major organ. Potato, potahto, am I right?

The clash between those scavengers and myself was cloudy. I could only recall flashes, disjointed images of violence and pain. My awareness only returning after I was already walking out of the entrance hall, that mares tortured pleas for mercy fading into the background.

I set off once more, taking a more hidden, yet direct route to the medbay. A burst of magic removed a ventilation cover on the wall to my right, and I climbed inside. It was far more cramped than I remembered it being just a few years ago. Stupid growing body. What good did it do me?

The night vision goggles illuminated my path, a rectangular shaft of steel that wound its way through every room and corridor of the Stable. After adjusting to my new size, I was able to capably navigate the junctions toward my goal. Just before arriving, I got my first real look at the group of intruders through the grate below me.

There were five in all. The one in front was an elderly-looking stallion that vaguely reminded me of the mare from yesterday. Family maybe? He was leading the group with steely determination. Although it was fairly undermined when he walked face-first into a wall.

Oh come on, this was almost too easy.

“Goddess-dammit,” he snarled, rubbing a hoof across his bruised muzzle. “First we get sealed in here, and now we can’t even fuckin’ see. Can’t you do anythin’ ‘bout this blackout, Cracks?”

A unicorn mare to his right shook her head as she ashed her cigarette. The ember sent a small, blinding light through my goggles. “Not from here. Protocol X is uniquely encrypted for each Stable and overrides the permissions of every terminal on the network. It can only be undone through the Overmare’s personal terminal if I don’t have a couple days to work it out. We wanna take a detour over thataway, I can get the lights back on.”

“No time,” the older stallion grumbled. “We there yet?”

“Should be just around this corner,” Cracks, apparently, responded. “Why don’t you just bust out your lantern if you can’t see? You ain’t a whole lot of good to me or Tumbler if you fall down a staircase, old man.”

“If we can’t see, then neither can whatever did that to her,” he answered. “I ain’t about to go and give away our position, right now we’s on equal footin’.”

The mare sighed, “Whatever, Whiskey.”

“So,” a second stallion piped in, “any o’ y’all know what’s up with all these creepy mannequins we keep findin’?”

“What? You scared of a couple dolls, Crosshair?” Cracks asked tauntingly.

“Keep up the attitude, Cracks. See what happens,” Crosshair, I guess, seethed.

“Ooo, I’m shaking in my boots,” she said sarcastically.

“Stuff it, the both o’ ya,” Whiskey snapped. “Ah’ve seen this a couple o’ times before. Lock a pony up long enough, they bound to work a couple screws loose. If this thing is already loony ‘nuff to do all this, means we got to keep on guard.”

I crawled the final few meters toward the medical bay and peered down through the vents. Several examination tables were lined up along the opposite wall, with tall, round lamps hanging above each one. A long series of shelves housed a wide array of antiseptics, bandages, and instruments. There was even a sub-room that housed an entire surgical theatre.

However, what lay beneath me now was almost certainly the scavengers’ goal. The wall directly below supported an enormous, steel cylinder. A small observation window was mounted on the sliding door, and a long panel ran across its length, housing an amalgamation of various controls. It was the very machine that had healed me upon first arriving in Stable 42.

The Auto-Doc.

All was quiet for the moment, so I unhinged the panel and carefully let it fall. Similarly, I lowered myself from the ceiling. I took a quick scan of the room, and came face to face with another pony.

A silent scream escaped me before recognition of the figure dawned. Though they were colored in the same light green as the rest of my vision, it was obvious who they were. I took a calming breath, “What are you doing here? The nursery’s on the other side of the Stable. Who’s watching the foals?” I put a reassuring hoof on the pony’s shoulder. “It’s not safe here, Grandma.”

The light blue mannequin tilted slightly in its stand, but said nothing more.

“Oh,” I said. “I completely forgot Syringe wants you coming in for weekly checkups. How does a unicorn even get feather flu?” I shook my head, “Couldn’t have been on a worse day.” I lifted the mannequin, laid it gently on its side, and pushed her under the counter. “Try to keep your head down. It’s…” I hesitated, “it’s going to get pretty loud in here.”

The mannequin’s indented eye stared up at me.

“No,” I snapped, spinning away. “I don’t need to hear it. It’s either them or us, there’s no other way.” Another thought occurred to me as I spared a glance at Tender Heart, a small grin appearing on my face, “Besides, it’s not like they’ll be gone forever. When I can learn to forgive them for what they've done to me, they can rejoin us one day.”

I stared intently at the figure, the growing guilt shrinking before my justification, “Just like you. Just like everypony else in our family.”