//------------------------------//
// Chapter 61. Boring 
// Story: H'ven Sent 
// by otherunicorn 
//------------------------------//

To say that outside the habitat was surreal would be an understatement. The usual darkness was hiding behind a veil of mist. The lights from the pods did not penetrate very far, mostly just reflecting off the haze around us. The other pods were similarly lit, but through our own micro universes of illuminated mist, only vague glowing spheres gave their positions away. Cacha and I were sitting, back to back, atop Snow's pod, held there by adhesion and counter-inertia spells. We were rugged up in our worn and unfashionable garments to protect us from any falling drips of liquid nitrogen we might encounter. Chances were we would still get the occasional freeze-burn. At least our muzzles, throats and lungs were protected from breathing the misty remains of the nitrogen blast we had used to clear all clockwork spiders from around Habitat Eleven.

Apart from our breathing and the quiet sounds the pod made as it rolled or floated across the terrain, all we could hear were a chorus of drips as droplets of liquid nitrogen or condensation fell about us, and the click-clack of Briggs's multiple feet up ahead as he trotted along. As he was unlikely to be attacked, he was scouting ahead.

Personally, I was also being subjected to a private concert, as Snow was broadcasting spooky, ambient music directly into my mind. I wondered how long it had taken her to craft each of her pieces of music, equipped with nothing more than her mind in which to play them. Well, she was over two thousand years old so she had plenty of time to nurture the skill. Perhaps her ability was so finely tuned as a direct consequence of her brain damage. If nothing else, I knew it wasn't a skill I held. This time I let Snow keep playing it, as it did not interfere with my real auditory senses, and it was kind of relaxing.

Sensing that the light from the pod was not really helping, Snow reduced the output to a gentle glow. After a brief telepathic conversation, the pilots of the other pods did likewise.

It was not as if we had far to travel, so the inconveniences were not really an issue. The original estimate to get to our destination, directly below the clockwork spider factory, was fifteen minutes of uninterrupted travel by pod. That had assumed we would be moving at a faster pace. The mist had put the kibosh on achieving that time. If it hadn't, we were expecting encounters with clockwork spiders would do so, anyway.

As we were wearing coats, forming turrets with our inbuilt weapon systems was impractical, so we had each created two weapons, one per foreleg, and were holding them at the ready. But should we need to dismount and walk, we would need to reabsorb them or configure them as something more appropriate. All the same, we had not needed to fire a single shot since we set out. Occasionally the shadows in the mist hinted at the shape of a clockwork spider, but usually it was our imaginations. The couple of clockwork spiders we did see had been smashed apart or skewered on broken tendrils of the ringworld structure, and were mostly dead.

One that had been skewered had maintained some function in its head, and had blinked at us forlornly as we passed. I decided that stealth was more important than finishing it off, so we had continued on our way without destroying it. I almost felt bad for it, probably because of its pony shaped head. I wondered if they were made that way to cause us to feel sympathy for them, and thus lower our guard.

Up ahead, the clacking of Briggs's feet stopped.

"I've found a number of damaged but presumabbly mobile clockwork spiders," he transmitted to us. "I suggest you remain there until we can scout ahead."

All of the pods came to a stop as one, the glowing hull of each going totally dark. The ambient light that remained, combined with the glow of our eyes did little more than change the color of the haze from black to very dark grey. We may as well have shut our eyes. I looked towards Cacha, to find her glowing orbs were fixed on me. I smiled inside my mask. Okay, so there was one reason to keep my eyes open.

"Okay, Briggs," I subvocalized. "Do we have line of sight to them? Well, a direct line of fire, anyway?"

"I think so, but I will leave the final call to your judgement."

"I'll be there in a moment."

"I shall return part way and collect you."

I reabsorbed my weapons and adjusted my hooves so they were soft pads. I turned and gave Cacha a quick hug. Releasing the magic that held me in place, I slid to the floor, taking extra care to be silent. The constant dripping of condensation caused by the release of liquid nitrogen was masking any small sounds I made. If I was to think about it, I could not have chosen a better masking sound than the dozens of tiny impacts, as that was the exact sort of sound that would normally have given my position away. Moments later, the sound of Briggs feet clacking on the floor made taking care almost moot. Then again, Briggs did not need to hide.

Slowly I crept towards the sound Briggs was making – or to where I thought he was, as there was some echoing confusing my mental image. Of course, if Briggs was a unicorn, it would be easy for us to synchronize via telepathy, but he wasn't, which is why I was advancing now. Once I could see the targets, I would be able to guide the shots of the others.

While on the floor the glow from my eyes was marginally better than being in total darkness. With my nose near the floor, I was able to get a sense of what was a pace ahead of me, and that allowed me to navigate the hazards of the irregular, organic structure.

It was not long before there were clockwork spider feet right in front of me. I knew they belonged to Briggs. Why the other clockwork spiders were not moving about was puzzling. Briggs reached forward, grasped, spun and lifted me, holding me with my back to his upper torso. I hadn't been carried like this since I was a foal! As my legs were now freed from their primary duty, I again formed my weapons. It wasn't as if I couldn't have hooves and guns at the same time, but the coat was making that difficult.

"Ready?" Briggs asked me. In reality, his method of mental communication was closer to that of a comms unit than true telepathy.

"Ready," I subvocalized back. After all, the comms system was based on magic, and could be considered telepathic devices. None the less, it was nothing like the mental intimacy that came with true telepathy.

Briggs turned and headed back in the direction he had taken before, apparently unphased by the swirling mist.

"You can see clearly?" I asked.

"I can see well enough. The visual band used by both pony eyes and my original optical sensors is somewhat cloudy, but the clockwork spider's senses extend both above and below that."

It was too bad the system comms units was practically useless with transmitting video, although some of what could be transmitted was unfathomable, nausea being one such aberration.

"Can you see our glowing eyes?" I asked. "I expect so."

"Ah, yes. Perhaps you should close them until we get closer."

I did so, and that added to the surrealness of the situation. Briggs continued walking, but not for long.

"They are just ahead of us," he said. "Once you open your eyes, and transmit the targeting information, I will move to the side, so as to give the others a clear shot. Ready?"

"Is everypony ready?" I thought.

A chorus of affirmative assertions was the result.

I opened my eyes, to find I was practically on top of the huddled clockwork spiders. To my surprise, they looked vulnerable and confused. I rapidly scanned the scene, suggesting targets to each of the waiting ponies. Cacha could take the one to the left. The Death Squad One members could each of those to the right of that. Death Squad two and the Lander Team needed to wait a couple of seconds and shoot at the second row of clockwork spiders. I would shoot at anything that was still moving.

That made it all sound nice and organized, didn't it? The reality that the huddle of clockwork spiders could not be readily broken into rows – it was simply that they were all muddled together but some were further back than the others.

"Fire on my command," I thought, as Briggs suddenly leaped sideways. "Fire, fire, fire!"





They hadn't held back. In retrospect, just a couple of shots would have done enough damage to those poor, disoriented clockwork spiders. Bombarded with destructive spells, the first row exploded, the resultant shrapnel doing even more damage, parts flying in all directions. The second volley of shots found their marks on already airborne chunks of clockwork spider, blowing them to dust.

I never even got a shot off, as the combined concussions threw both Briggs and I further than our plan had allowed. He had managed to protect me from most of the flying debris by positioning himself between me and the explosion, but I could feel that I had several cuts and contusions. It wasn't a major concern, as the updated HELaTS modifiers would have the wounds fixed within moments.

"Who are the idiots that decided to use unrestricted spells?" I asked, my mental voice calm, but cold.

"That would be the two fellows from Death Squad One." Cacha replied.

"Was that wrong?" one of them, Sendo, asked. "And, technically, it isn't an unrestricted ammunition spell. It simply doesn't contain the blast within the clockwork spider's body, instead using the explosion to our advantage. Using that spell was how we survived the trip back after we were rescued. I just assumed we would be continuing to use it."

"It was... unexpected, but you may have a point. I was too conservative in my first encounter with a clockwork spider," I said.

"So were we, and look what happened to us – two dead, two dissected," Sendo said.

"I was sliced and diced, too," I said. "More importantly, was the attack a success? The explosions threw me, and from here I can't see anything for the smoke. Perhaps you would care to advance and check?"

"Will do. Trust me, they will be total wrecks. Squad Two, follow behind and cover us, just in case more show up."

At least the explosions had dissipated the mist in the area, even if it had replaced it with chokingly thick smoke. Thank goodness we were wearing the respirators we had salvaged from the spacesuits.

Something else was nagging at the back of my mind, and the after effects of the concussion wasn't helping me to think... Briggs! He hadn't said anything since the blast.

"Briggs? You are awfully quiet. You haven't joined the other clockwork spiders in destruction, have you?" I asked, trying to sound calm.

"Fortunately, no. I was able to shield you without taking any damage myself. My apologies. I should have realized Sendo and Mors would be using generalized ammunition."

"Shall we also investigate the level of our success, then?" I asked. By now, I had no doubt that we had succeeded, if only due to the fact there had been no retaliation. What we had to worry about now was the possibility of more clockwork spiders coming, attracted by the noise.

"You may as well come this way," Mors said, as he drove his pod towards the center of the carnage, followed by the two pods of Death Squad Two.

I followed on hoof, immediately tripping over what appeared to be part of a clockwork spider's leg. Visibility really was suffering because of the thick smoke. At least, with the breathing apparatus we were wearing, we were being spared from breathing it. Could I clear the smoke? Smoke was just fine particles hanging in the air – not really that different from dust. Activating the same spell I had used to clear the air, after the ship's main gun incident, I mentally swept the area. With each pass of my spell, smoke cleared, revealing the situation in tantalizing pieces.

And that was exactly what I was looking at – pieces. What's more, the closer I got to the target area, the less I was finding. The center of the blast site was clear of all debris.

"So much for those clockwork spiders," I said. "I wonder why they were behaving like they were."

"My guess is the situation overloaded their processors, to put it a crude way. They simply were not programmed to handle such a massive event – or series of events," Briggs said. "First, you hit them with the main guns, destroying many, as well as damaging the structure of the ringworld itself. Then, on top of that, you attacked from all sides of the habitat in one massive blow. I am unsure if their primary objective is to protect the structure, or to rid it of unwanted invaders. If it is the former, their actions have resulted in events contrary to their goal."

"Leaving them with no possible action but inaction if they wished to bring a stop to what seemed to be a cascading return of force," I surmised.

"Exactly."

"So, have we already won? Do we need to keep going, to push the message home, as well as rid ourselves of one actual source of the threat?"

"I honestly don't know. So far, I have been concentrating on decoding the signals needed to drive their bodies, not the neural structure that is their mind."

"If we took over the manufacturing facility, could we reprogram them to leave us alone?"

"Maybe. It would not be as easy as that, though, as they don't run simple code, as per what we use with old unicorn horns. Their minds are much more like that of a living creature, with their base programs built into their very structure, much like a pony's basic operating system is programmed into its body and mind by its DNA."

"Oh. In that case, I guess we blast them now, then sift through the pieces to learn what we can do in the future," I said. "How much further do we need to go?"

Briggs pointed upwards. "Our target is above us now. Being unable to climb between levels locally, due to the destruction caused by the ship's main guns, those clockwork spiders were as close to their base of operations as they could get."

"Then we'd better set up, and get this over as quickly as we can. I would hate to lose the opportunity. This time, however, we will use the approved ammunition spells, and set up shields to protect us from the blast."





The pods were strategically parked away from us, in such a way as to restrict access to where we were setting up. Death Squad Two were keeping watch. The rest of us gathered at the point Briggs had indicated. At my suggestion, each pony had formed a single, long barreled weapon with a base that could be rested against the ground. Although awkward, it was possible to walk while keeping the weapon deployed. Briggs directed each pony as to the optimum angle for their shot.

The ammunition spell I had given each pony was designed to penetrate through the thick multidimensional material that made up the floor of the level above us. Once it broke through the upper surface, it would expand into a sphere a couple pony lengths in diameter, and vaporize everything within that sphere. Half of that sphere would intersect with the floor, releasing a massive blast as the freed atoms reacted with each other and the gasses of the atmosphere. What was in the upper hemisphere of the disintegration zone was practically irrelevant, although I expected we would be destroying walls, machinery and probably some clockwork spiders.

I cast the shielding spell, a glowing blister forming over us, sealed around us where it met the floor. My hope was that it would allow the back-blast from the shots to flow around us without even buffeting us.

"Is everypony ready?" I asked.

A chorus of affirmatives confirmed the fact.

"Fire One!"

Cacha fired her weapon, a spurt of flame blasting back at her from above, but before it could even ruffle her mane, the flame hit the shield, fanning out, encasing us in a glowing dome. I felt the load on my horn.

"Fire Two!"

Snow blasted the ceiling, and another wave of flame washed over the dome of my spell. Yes, I could hold this.

"Fire Three!"





We had kept moving, then firing, until Briggs said we should have vaporized the entire site occupied by the clockwork spider factory. All that was left to do was investigate.

A total of two damaged clockwork spiders had approached us during the attack, both of which were promptly destroyed by Death Squad Two. Was it possible that we were winning, well, winning this battle? The war could be a different matter entirely.

When the smoke had been cleared, I noticed drips were slowly forming at many of the tiny holes our ammunition had created while boring through to the surface above. These drips were not condensation – the color was wrong – and all off the heat from our blasts had dried out and warmed the immediate area enough for condensation to be unlikely.

"Liquid from above?" I asked Briggs, waving a hoof at the ceiling.

"The clockwork spider factory wasn't anything like the word factory would call up in your mind. If anything, it had more in common with Brainstorm's tanks, or even the recycling vats of the habitat. It was made up of a honeycomb of pools, each filled with a soup of resources and modifiers, although in this situation, the tiny machines would be better described as being builders than modifiers."

"So, why would damaged clockwork spiders want to return?" I asked, thinking of the group that had been waiting here.

"I watched a damaged one immerse itself in a pond, and emerge later as if it were new."

"That was daring of you. What would have happened if you had fallen into a pool?"

"I expect the clockwork spider I inhabit would have been repaired."

"Thank goodness that didn't happen. Perhaps you should also avoid these drips... You know, I think we have been attacking these things the wrong way! I'm going to grab a sample of this stuff and take it back for the Storms to analyze. Perhaps they can reprogram them, or create a new modifier that attacks them. If we could infect the resource distribution system, we might even be able to adjust or simply remove all clockwork spider manufacturing!"

"You are hopeful," Briggs said, "but the Storms do seem to achieve the impossible often."

"Do tell, but that's a problem for later. Now, how do you suggest we go up and inspect the damage? You took a rather long way around, which we could do, although it may be uncomfortable riding on top of the pods for that distance. Could one of the carts make the journey?"

"Riding the pods would make more sense," Cacha said, "as there will be more clockwork spiders to deal with. Just because we may have stopped more being made doesn't immediately rid us of those that were already on patrol."

"I suspect the big blast did that, on this level at least," I said, "but I had not forgotten. The level up is probably crawling with them."

"Why don't you just bore a hole all the way through the ceiling, and into the next level?" Cacha asked. "It would be quicker, unexpected, and open out on an area we have blown the shit out of."

"And with any luck, all those out on patrol will come running home to help, if that's what they do," I said.

"Wouldn't that be convenient? Scary, intense, even, but convenient."

"Indeed. Okay, everypony, this time, those who can are going to cast the shield spell. Those who can't can keep a lookout. I will be the lucky pony to shoot through the ceiling!" I announced.

After consulting with Briggs as to the possible best location to add a new 'elevator shaft', I had the others, pods included, gather on the ground around me. Those that could, cast their shield spells. That was almost everypony. The effect was tangible. I climbed atop the pod which had been parked at the center of our cluster, formed my weapon, and braced it against the top of the pod.

I was planning on taking several shots with the same spell we had been using to destroy the factory. The theory was all but the last blast would be directed upwards, along the path already opened by the previous shots. Only the last shot or two, when breakthrough occurred, would we be hit with the full force of the explosions.

"Are you ready, my little ponies?" I asked. "I don't know how bad the blast will be, but be prepared to hold against something stronger than you can imagine."

A chorus of affirmatives, some hesitant, suggested they were prepared.

"Here goes!"

My first shot resulted in a back blast much like each of the shots from when we were destroying the factory. The combined shield didn't even waver.

The second shot produced a more muffled, distant explosion. That was when I realized I hadn't moved the weapon, and had fired up the exact same hole. The spell relied on penetrating material to place the sphere of destruction. I had probably just blown a hole out of the floor above the one we wished to cut through!

"Note to self," I said, "If you wish to cut through a level, you either need a new spell, or you need to create a new hole with each shot."

"How long's writing a new spell going to take?" somepony asked. "Do we drop the shield?"

"Nope. I'm going to use the second method."

With that said, I moved the weapon just enough to miss the old hole, and fired again. The result was a little shrapnel rained down on us as the blast within the second hole blew through into the first. I moved my gun and fired again, with much the same results. More of the liquid flowed down the larger hole, dripping onto the shield, before rolling off to one side or another. It was like watching balls of mercury. The drips were unable to adhere to the spell. I guess I shouldn't have expected otherwise.

With each successive shot, the trickle got larger.

It was the sixth shot when things happened. The repeated moment of tension followed by just a back blast was just beginning to take its toll on concentration. The shield shimmered, buckled, then a few layers of it burst as the monumental force of the explosion pushed down on us. I was able to hurriedly throw up my own shield as the combined shield pressed me against the top of the pod. Fortunately, the shield held.

I lay there, silent, breathing deeply as the dust settled around us, landing on the shield, then shimmying off, as it too found no purchase.

No pony else said anything either. A brief mental headcount had assured us we were all well.

Eventually, the dust had cleared enough for me to see up to the ceiling. Except for a slight inward kick at the opening, it appeared to be the full diameter of the sphere of destruction. Before that last shot, the remaining thickness must have been a mere hoof-width. Drips were now forming around the lip of the opening, as the liquid was no longer being funneled into small hole.

"Well, my ponies," I said. "We have a way up."