//------------------------------// // Chapter 56. Battle // Story: H'ven Sent // by otherunicorn //------------------------------// Life was moving at an alarming rate. How many years ago did I think I would be spending my life running and bouncing my way though the aging structure of Habitat Eleven, investigating tears and cracks in its material? Not many years on, I was now playing in a much larger structure, with far greater stakes. Our pathetically small world had proved to be exactly that – a tiny pocket in a much vaster universe. I was also the queen, the ruler of three million creatures – the most significant pony in the habitat, yet I fully understood that once I passed through that hull, I became another minute speck, something so insignificant that the universe, as a whole, would never notice that I even existed. To wit, I was standing guard, just outside the airlock door to the hangar of Habitat Eleven, the job of a common hoof-soldier. With this, I had no problem. It was the sort of life I would choose for myself, had fate not already decided to give it to me. I waved as a procession of ponies approached, some carrying all sorts of goods on their backs and others pulling wagons that looked like they had been made from parts of a scrapped the landing craft. Even the breezies were helping, carrying tiny packages of their own. It would take a few days for the ponies of Habitat Six to move in, mostly due to them having to disassemble their hidden base camp, and move it all through the winding paths of the ringworld. I had decided the best course of action would be to allow them to move into the hangar while we plotted our next move. With their information, and our technical advantage, getting to the livable surface of the ringworld would be a real possibility. Perhaps, if it proved suitable, we could move there from Habitat Eleven. I figured we were owed at least the surface area of the planet we had lost. If the alien spiders objected, they would have an unexpected fight on their... whatever they called the ends of their legs – feet, one presumed. I was no entomologist. Failing that, there was a possibility that we could wire our habitat into the systems of the ringworld, using their power and resources. That could sustain us indefinitely, even if it did restrict the growth of our population. I returned my attention to the parade of ponies, now that they were within speaking distance. I wondered what they would think if they knew it was the queen of the habitat who was acting as their door-mare. Cacha was with me, of course, as was Snow. Ultramarine approached. Like the other ponies, her back was laden with assorted possessions, from guns to food generators. Veering from the established path, she stopped near us. Heavy Hitter followed her. They had to have something going on between the two of them, as like Cacha and myself, they were usually close, or in each other's personal space. "Aneki, if I may enquire, earlier, you said your alicorn princess is the figurehead for your government. So, who wields the real power?" Ultramarine asked. "That would be our queen," Cacha said, even though it was not her who had been addressed. For that, I was grateful. "A queen? Isn't that the title given to the mother of a changeling nest?" "Yes, that is where the title came from, and we do have one of those too, but the queen to which I am referring is a pony." "So, what's this queen like?" "I love her," Cacha said, smirking. "She's a really down-to-earth pony." "An earth pony?" "Unicorn." "Will we get to meet her?" "She is a very private pony," I said. "Maybe you will. Maybe you won't. Just be thankful she approved you moving into the hangar with so little fuss." "And you've met her?" Ultramarine asked. "I have, obviously," said Cacha. "And you, Aneki?" "Ah, no, but I have met Princess Lunar Eclipse and the changeling queen." Well, it was the truth wasn't it? How could I meet myself? "You seem to be well connected, especially for soldiers." "You could say that," I said. "After all, it was my body that was used to create the missing key. I'm the mother of a tiny princess." "You must have lived a very interesting life, despite being safe, inside a habitat." "This must be some new usage of the word safe of which I was not previously aware," I said, dryly. I don't think Ultramarine caught on. "And you, Snow, are the oldest HELaTS?" Ultramarine asked, turning her attention to the bat-winged unicorn. "No, I am the first HELaTS, if you don't count the alien spiders," Snow thought back. "How can you be the first if you are not the oldest?" Heavy Hitter asked. "After all, becoming a HELaTS is what allows us to live longer." "Easily! A pony already older than me became a HELaTS." Snow grinned. "Oh, of course. Silly me. So, who is the oldest?" "In our habitat, it is our princess, Lunar Eclipse." "Your princess? Wow. Ours never converted," Ultramarine said. "She was powerful enough as she was." "Ours converted for... political reasons," I said. "Power, of the physical sort, didn't come into the equation." Cacha nodded her agreement. "You don't mind Cacha always being in your personal space?" Heavy Hitter asked, taking the conversation off on a tangent. "Cacha and I only have one personal space between us. We have to share it," I said, dryly. Ultramarine shook her head, as if trying to get the comment to fall into place in her mind. "I don't know whether to kick Heavy Hitter for being tactless, or to laugh," she finally admitted. "Are you two... lovers?" "That would depend on your definition of the word," Cacha said. "We share a bed. We also share a husband. He, however, does not share the bed." "It's best you simply think of us as two ponies who can't live without each other," I said. "You share a husband?" "There was a severe shortage of stallions in the lower levels, where we lived." "We have one more stallion than we have mares in our group. He is waiting until one of the fillies comes of age. HELaTS live for centuries, after all. Could you not have done the same?" "Culture clash," Cacha said. "No, we couldn't wait, because none were ever born. All potential males ended up intersex, like me. We had to steal our stallions from the life support chamber. We have six of them, at current count. Things, however have improved a lot since, well... since Aneki came down." "So you can't have foals?" Heavy Hitter said, not being satisfied with one hoof in his mouth. "I can now," Cacha said, "Our husband is good with fixing ponies. He and his main wife even put us back together after our first encounter with those eight-legged dissection machines, and that is only one of their skills. So there you have it. When Aneki and I first got together, I was technically male, and a social outcast, and she was the most wonderful, accepting pony in my universe." "Oh," Heavy Hitter said. "It's a good thing your coat is already red," Ultramarine said, "or you'd be changing color every time you open your mouth." Yup, they were definitely a couple. "Your stories don't add up," Heavy Hitter said. "Look at your flawless hide. Look at me. Look at Ultramarine. We are covered in scars." Ultramarine shook her head in disbelief. "Heavy Hitter, dear. These ponies are helping us, yet you tell them to their faces that they are liars?" "But it could be a trap." "Seriously? Why would they bother with a trap? They could have killed us all a hundred times already. They can turn their bodies into weapons, guns, not just blades. Do you think something like smoothing over a scar would be too difficult? And even if it was, that they can put ponies back together in the first place suggests that they have medical technology beyond what we can imagine. We are limited to the healing systems built into our HELaTS bodies. They clearly are not." Ultramarine turned to face us. "Allow me to apologize for the biggest dope in our team. He has his good sides, or I wouldn't have married him, but today he seems intent on embarrassing me as often as possible." "Meh," said Cacha. "So, you're stuck?" I said, munching on my bowl full of greens. It wasn't the most elegant or proper way to go about interviewing, or planning, but I did like the air of casualness it created. I wanted these strangers at ease, not balking, and holding secrets. They, too, had been issued with portable food generators from the hangar's reserve, despite having their own. Variety was something to be valued! "Yes. Any time we go near the main shaft between the levels, more of those antibodies appear," Ultramarine said. "So, how did you get this far up? Are there other paths you can take?" "There are other paths, but mostly they don't go where we want to go. We have found other shafts that pass through the major floors. We assume they are also connected to other docks on the outer rim, but the problem remains. In fact, the shaft we are currently trying to climb is not the one we initially came up." "How did you get this far up, then? Wouldn't you have been attacked at every level?" I asked. "No. Their appearances have increased, the further we climbed. We didn't see them in the lowest levels at all. We think that is for one of two reasons. First, the systems may not have even been in place when we started. This ringworld is under construction. It's changed so much, even during the last decade or so." "The second reason?" "We must be getting closer to where they are made, or to what they are made to guard." "Is going near this shaft the only thing that triggers them?" "No. There are other areas that appear to be out of bounds – places where they don't want us to go." "Are you saying they will only attack if you go into these restricted areas? If you stay away from them, you are safe?" "Not really. Going to one of these places causes more of them to appear. Once they have shown up, they keep trying to kill us until we destroy them, or presumably, they succeed." "The two we destroyed earlier? How long had they been about?" "The one we had almost beaten had been after us for a few weeks. The other caught us by surprise. It may have been active for a while, or it might even have been a new one that you triggered yourselves. We don't know how many of them are roaming around out there in other areas, but you can be sure that if it has a pony head, a pony going where it shouldn't have is the cause." "So they always replicate what they see?" "We only have two examples from which to draw our conclusions, but if a breezie scouts out the inter-level shaft, a much smaller antibody shows up, a little while later. Those also have pony-like heads, but so do the breezies. The only conclusion we have been able to draw is that they take their head design from the offending species." "Unicorns and pegasi – do they make a difference?" Cacha asked "Not that we've seen. Luna forbid one of those monstrous freaks could fly!" "Have they ever duplicated your weapons?" I asked. "Thank Luna, no. Their leg-blades are bad enough," Ultramarine said. Conversation went on like this, until I felt I had wrung as much information on the problems from our guests as possible. I suspected they were getting a little tired of trying to educate the inexperienced about things that had long since become subconscious knowledge on their part. In the end, it was clear that there were gaping holes in their knowledge, and despite all the questioning, we would have to stick our own heads out and look. The antibodies, or clockwork spiders, came from somewhere above. They arrived anywhere from minutes to hours after a pony went into or near a protected zone. That their shape and size appeared to be related to the species of the perceived threat suggested they were being manufactured on demand by some sort of automated factory, and that the factory wasn't too far distant. It also suggested that if we stayed put, and these other ponies were similarly contained, the antibodies ceased to be an issue. As such, a plan B was becoming feasible. Instead of going up, if we went down, found power and, if possible, material feeds, and hooked them into the systems of the habitat, we could survive indefinitely. It might even be possible to flush away our stores of spent fuel, freeing up more areas for ponies to expand into. New materials and the re-emergence of unicorns would allow us to better repair the habitat. Sure, it wasn't optimal, or even desirable. It certainly wasn't what I wanted, but it was a way to survive until a better solution became an option. "So," I said, "I guess we had better come up with a plan of action. With three heavy weapons ponies, we have a greater set of options than you have had previously." "Could you supply us with more of those weapons?" Heavy Hitter asked. "You have made my weapon feel quite inadequate." "It is inadequate," I said, "but no, we cannot supply you with weapons like these, above what we already have. Snow, Cacha and myself are weapons. The systems are part of us, physically." "What about supplying them with some of Brainstorm's guns?" Cacha asked. "They are designed to draw power from the magic distribution system within the habitat. This far outside it, they wouldn't work." "Carry power," Snow said, then realizing the comment may be a little vague, she flashed us an image of the portable magic generators from the landing craft. "Perhaps, Snow. Would they be able to supply enough power to operate the weapons? After all, they are usually just used to power food generators." Snow frowned, extended a finger from her hoof, and placed it against her lips, and sat there silently for a minute or so. "One of the larger generators could power three or four weapons of the power output we need," she thought to us. "We still have our generators," Heavy Hitter said, pointing a hoof at several of the wagons. "That's them there. Some more fuel would be good, though. If you don't have any to spare, we'll need to trek out to the nearest supply point and get some." "Supply point?" "Yes. There are stations dotted around the tunnels that allow access to basics such as fuel and water. I presume they are there for the likes of the antibodies and other construction robots refuel as needed." "Okay," I said. "I'll contact the Storms and see what they can offer in the way of weaponry." It had taken the better part of a week for Brainstorm and Stormie to equip the new arrivals with weapons. The Storms were delighted to have customers for their wares, even if those customers were not of the paying sort! Now that I thought about it, I didn't think any of their few customers had paid, me included. While the newcomers were waiting, they set up a rather cozy camp in the hangar, with the assistance of some of the Habitat Eleven HELaTS. We even set up little huts, and furnished them with beds salvaged from the landing craft. The place soon felt like a small habitat in its own right. That was all secondary. Our primary purpose was to plot our attack on the antibodies of the next level. With all ideas discussed, the previously obvious course of action remained so. The heavy weapons ponies would have to go up the shaft and scout the area out. The first step was for one of us to levitate up far enough to determine if there were any immediate threats, while the others took up defensive positions below. As soon as the newcomers were all equipped with weapons, the team hauled the heavy equipment to the nearest elevator shaft, the trip taking the better part of a day by time all the logistics were sorted out. The pace was much slower than by pod, too. I felt the trip could easily be made in a little under an hour. Once we arrived, we immediately began setting up equipment, and positioning ourselves for the fight. The magic generators were brought up to full power, awaiting the impending battle. Personally, I decided turrets would be the best option, and formed one on each shoulder. That gave me very close to full coverage. As I was preparing to enter the elevator shaft, two antibodies arrived, dropping down from the level above. I can't say we were surprised. In fact, we were ready for them. One of the antibodies was pony sized, suggesting it was meant to kill the breezies in our group. Cacha dispensed with that one with a single shot that passed through the top of its head, down its neck and into its insect like body. The other was of the larger sized, designed for pony execution. Snow took out its head, while I put my shot through its trunk. It died in much the same way as the first one we had done that to, flames bursting from the points of impact, and from all points of articulation as it fell, lifeless. Whe could hear it crashing into the tendrils in the shaft, as it bounced its way down. Eventually, the sounds became too soft to hear. The smaller antibody we managed to catch and toss to one side so we could give it to Brainstorm. Apparently Maisie and Briggs had suggested that these clockwork spiders might make good bodies for the sapient computers such as Briggs himself – or was that herself? We usually referred to him in the masculine, but the truth was he no longer identified as a pony, and as such sex was irrelevant. These clockwork spiders had a decidedly feminine bent to their facial appearance, so if Briggs did move into one, he might find himself using new pronouns. The larger antibody had fallen back into the elevator shaft, and disappeared into the depths below. More than likely, it was hung up on one of the growths that had yet to be cleared from the shaft by the machinery that would eventually install the elevator itself. Hoping that the demise of the immediate threats would give as a short break from danger, I edged the pod out, into the shaft, where it levitated soundlessly. According to my wish, the body of the pod remained dark. There was no point in carelessly drawing extra attention to ourselves. Mostly, I was expecting to find an area exactly like the one we were in at the moment. If that was so, we were contemplating setting up a beachhead from which to destroy any approaching antibodies. Initially, one of the three living weapons, if not all three of us, would be stationed there, while some alternate defences were built. Of course, I had to actually get up there first. The other ponies had gathered around the edge of the elevator shaft. The glowing horns of the unicorns showed they had prepared spells to hold back any attackers. Snow and Cacha, both out of their pods, stood near the edge, and readied themselves to shoot. The remaining pegasi and earth ponies, now equipped with weapons from the Storm labs, were to provide backup. The weapons they were using were significant improvements on their previous guns, but were still orders of magnitude weaker than mine. To keep a clear view, and readiness to fire, I had the pod only partially encase me, leaving my head and shoulders, with their turrets, clear. "Wish me luck," I said, knowing that doing so would make no difference at all. After the expressions of well wishing were over, I began my rise. The floor through which I was passing was just thick enough to stop us having any view of the level above through the elevator shaft. It was perhaps three to four times as thick as the diameter of the hole. The tendrils left by the modifier driven growth of the ringworld were also obstructing my view somewhat, and were proving to be annoying obstacles as I had to keep adjusting my course. Suddenly, there was something large and fast dropping down the shaft above me. I didn't have time to recognize it, but working on the assumption that anything coming from above was an enemy, I blasted it, then maneuvered the pod out of its path, only to discover there was another large thing dropping towards me. Antibodies. Lots of them! I blasted a second and third, dodging, as best I could. One hit my pod, throwing it against the side wall. As I struggled to regain control, flames flared from a couple more antibodies, as Cacha and Snow shot them from below. Limb blades blew off, as they targeted the only parts of the machines they could see through the collective barriers of tendrils and damaged antibodies. That wasn't anywhere near good enough to deal with the onslaught I had suddenly found myself in. I managed to hit two more while dodging them. Tendrils around me exploded as the ponies below started targeting them in order to get clear shots at the antibodies. The resultant buffeting was making it very difficult for me to do anything. It was definitely time to retreat. I pulling myself back into the pod, while the ponies below maintained a barrage on the antibodies around me. One came at me from the side, and struck, two leg-blades piercing straight through the wall of the pod. There was nothing I could do to avoid them. The burst of pain was intense, excruciating, but short lived. I thought the pain had been short lived, but I could not be sure, because everything had changed. It was quiet, so quiet that I was sure I was alone. Was I in hospital again? That was how these thing usually panned out. If something chopped off a leg or two, my consciousness would step out for a few hours, leaving my body on autopilot. What had happened? Was it in my memory? Ahh. I had been rising up through the future elevator shaft to the next level of the ringworld when too many clockworks spiders to deal with had dropped down on top of me. The last thing I could recall was one of them pushing two of its blades through the side of the pod and... And what? Now that I was more alert, I started to explore my surroundings mentally, without moving physically. I was lying on my back, and what I was lying on was too hard to be a bed. It was the wrong shape, too. Beds usually didn't leave you half hanging over an uncomfortable bar. As I had observed before, it was also too quiet. All I could hear were the background noises I had come to associate with the lower levels of the ringworld. My left shoulder hurt. It wasn't agonizing, but I'd certainly taken some sort of injury. I opened my eyes and surveyed my surroundings. A white glow came from below me. Above were a mess of tendrils. The shaft? I was in the elevator shaft? Had I fallen? Had I been left for dead? No. Cacha would come after me as long as she had a single leg with which to drag herself. And on the subject of legs, why was mine hurting? I tried to gently move it, but that just resulted in more pain. Perhaps it was bruised. I reached across with my other forehoof to gently probe it. Ouch! Something was decidedly amiss. A little wiggling allowed me to move into a slightly more comfortable position while being careful not to overbalance, and fall off whatever it was I was lying on. I didn't fancy falling any further down than I already had. Now that I was less restricted, I took the chance to look at my injured shoulder... except that it wasn't there. Shit! My leg was missing. All of it, right up to and including my shoulder. That antibody had torn me apart! Where was it? With the latest HELaTS upgrade, it would be easy enough to reattach it, if I could find it. More careful maneuvering allowed me to get my remaining legs under me. I was till amazed that I had survived such a massive injury. I hadn't been cut – I had literally been torn apart, as had my pod. I was standing on what remained of it. I could see its rear wheel and about seventy percent of the main body. Evidently, the engine had survived, as the body was still glowing. Hadn't I turned that off? Dark splotches and streaks marred the white surface, both inside, where it didn't glow, and out. It only took a moment for me to realize that the splotches were part of me, specifically my spilled blood. Of my missing leg there was no sign. This time I didn't bother to close my eyes as I mentally formed a tendril from my remaining blood, and reached for that which I had already lost. It was both disgusting and fascinating watching as I reclaimed that which had been spilled. Feeling a little more energetic, now that I had regained some of my fluids, I carefully explored the area from my perch. A little lower down was one of the antibodies, somewhat charred around its joints. It also sported a gory pair of blades – ah, it was the bastard that had got me. Unfortunately, there was no sign of my missing leg. I extended another gory tendril from my injury, down to the bloodied blades. It was quite a distance to be reaching with one's own fluids, so I was concerned I would not be able to reach them. I soon discovered the merest touch was more than adequate, as the reclaimed fluids extended my reach. When I drew back the tendril, I noticed the blades were somewhat pitted. Apparently I had absorbed some extra materials, perhaps to repair my weapon systems. Now that I thought about it, my weapon systems had been concentrated around my shoulders, where I had created turrets, and one of those was now missing. That gave me a thought. I didn't need my weapons at the moment, assuming they still worked. Perhaps I could convince what was left to form a crude leg in place of what was missing, much like the splint on my wounded leg I had formed after my first significant battle. Crude was right, but it took my weight. It looked more like scaffolding than a leg. It had no sense of touch. The only feedback I was getting from it was when I struck something with it and it aggravated the wound from which it protruded. Skin had already covered my exposed inner workings, so, perhaps wound was no longer the correct word. Whatever. Being slightly more mobile, I scanned the area again, moving to better vantage points to improve my view. What I could not see were the front section of my pod, and... well... the rest of myself. No doubt, the Storms could grow me another leg and shoulder, but I rather fancied keeping my old one – I had become rather attached to it. If it had fallen past me, it would probably not be recovered. If anything, it had probably been smashed to mush. I was certainly not going to risk going down at the moment, either. The smartest option was to try to go back up the elevator shaft, in the hope that the others were coming down, looking for me. At the very least, that direction would take me home, and if I was lucky, I might find my leg on the way. I was fixating on that, wasn't I? A cripple driving a wreck – what a fantastic combination for climbing a shaft! The pod's levitation function was compromised, only just canceling out gravity at best. At least that meant I wasn't going to fall. Upward progress, however was challenging. If I angled the levitation force so that I gained traction against the wall of the shaft, I lost my buoyancy, and would start to fall. That the pod only had a single wheel was not helping at all. Eventually, I worked out a technique where I would use the levitation engine to force me against the shaft wall, while I was balancing the pod on one of the tendrils that crossed the shaft. I would accelerate up the wall for as long as I could before a tendril I couldn't dodge got in the way, the shaft opened into a level, or I lost control or balance. At that point, I would switch the levitation engine to neutralize gravity, and attempt to guide the floating pod using my own magic. Progress was relatively slow, but as time passed, I began to realize why it was so quiet. I had fallen a very long way down. Why I hadn't been smashed to a pulp was a puzzle. I recalled my fall through the floors of the habitat, back when I was just beginning to turn into a HELaTS pony. That had made a real mess of me! Perhaps, in this case, the levitation engine had provided just enough lift to allow me to gently bounce my way down the shaft, despite me being unconscious. The same could not be said for the fallen antibodies which I encountered. Both they, and the tendrils they were hitting were made of the same multidimensional material. As such, the antibodies were somewhat broken, as were the tendrils which they had hit. What was really weird, though, was just how good I felt. Perhaps the HELaTS system had pumped me full of endorphins. Thank goodness for that. I didn't want to imagine what this situation would feel like without it. With any luck, it would last until I escaped from this shaft. All I could do at this point was hope, and focus on Cacha. Cacha, yeah. That was a good goal to keep in mind.