In a distant part of the skyport, in another boarding terminal near the destroyed hangar, a sealed door stood firm against the weather, separating the waiting room from a bridge that would serve as a gangplank in calmer weather. The wind battered against it, blowing down a narrow outdoor tunnel that provided a modicum of shelter, but it didn't budge, because it was well-designed and that was what it was designed to do.
Until a long, flat black spike forced its way through from the outside, slicing effortlessly through the metal.
Gerardo Guillaume's sword swept in a circuit, carving an entry that was kicked inwards upon completion, the frosty griffon climbing eagerly through. Behind him, Shinespark's ship hovered at the dock, the close proximity of its magical propulsion system repelling the weather enough for creatures to function outside. Following him, crossing from the deck and into the skyport, were ten of the fittest Sosans and pegasi who had been rescued, Blast Furnace and Mosswater at the forefront. Some limped, many had burns, and all entered with a steely determination that let them go on anyway.
"The skyport..." Blast Furnace exhaled, coming to a stop and glancing around the cavernous, snow-covered boarding room. "Your ship will be fine waiting for our return?"
"It should be, yes." Gerardo nodded. "There was enough talent in the group remaining behind that I've secured a backup pilot and left them to keep it in place. Although, it would still be prudent to make haste."
"That's not the only reason," Mosswater coughed, leaning against another Spirit pony for support, her side ultimately having been bandaged. "Don't forget why we're here..."
Blast Furnace exhaled. "The rest of the Spirit."
"And, namely, the possibility that they somehow got past the Defense Force at Blueleaf, be it through battle or sneakery..." Gerardo ruffled his wings. "And now intend to deal vengeance upon this facility. An economic powerhouse for an economic powerhouse, as it were. I'll do what I can to aid you if you think your mutual understanding regarding what happened on the dam will be able to defuse any tensions, though I'm admittedly curious as to how we'll tell whether they're here or still held up at the Stone District border with only ten ponies..."
"We'll figure that out as we go," Mosswater said, trying to stand on her own. "The important thing is to try! They'll be fresher than we are, too..."
Muted wind from the broken door tossed the remaining strands of Blast Furnace's mane. "Then we need to be smart about where to look. The Spirit are armed, but not enough to destroy this facility entirely. They'll go after high-value targets first, and things that can be broken without wasting limited resources like explosives."
"Right..." Mosswater nodded. "That would be any nodes in the technological infrastructure like control stations. Each boarding room like this has two control towers, which regulate some facility functions as well as landing, scheduling and routing control, but there are eight in total, and four of them are in the next hub over. They might be headed to the museum, but I don't think robbing it of Sosan artifacts is the important part. Then there's the main hangar, which wasn't the most expensive to initially construct but contains a lot of valuable equipment. Forty-eight general purpose ship charging and storage docks, six specially-kitted repair docks, four jumbo docks built in anticipation of larger future airships-"
"And plenty of ships themselves, I presume," Gerardo finished, cutting her off. "Precise numbers aside, it sounds as though that is a prime target. I must say, though, you seem quite knowledgeable about this?"
Mosswater sighed. "In the Spirit... we spent a lot of time daydreaming about scenarios like this. That and robbing our own convoys was all we ever did, really: sit around and think about the future. Only, every time we imagined getting square with the upper districts and forcing everyone to return to water for transportation... we thought we'd have a Sosa to return to. Having our lives saved by the Defense Force didn't factor into it, either. I can see a lot of us doing it anyway, especially without that time in the lighthouse to cool our heads, and half of me badly wants to see this place burn... but an Ironridge with both of its connections to the outside world gone is an Ironridge no longer on the map."
"Agreed." Blast Furnace took a step forward. "Can we reach it from here? We shouldn't delay."
The hangar was, in fact, accessible from the main skyport complexes... though not in the same manner as the rest of the area. A tunnel connected it through the ground, and after a long flight down a powerless elevator shaft, they found themselves in a passage reminiscent of the Water District. Powerless conveyor belts covered the floor, along with a rail for a moving cart, normally intended to help officials, engineers and maintenance ponies improve the speed of their travels. But Gerardo and his battered army had to make do without, walking at a stiff pace, horns lit for illumination. It was warmer than upstairs, likely due to the proximity of the Flame District, so at least the journey was a more comfortable one.
For the most part, the tunnel was without side passages, though at one point Gerardo noticed a poorly-visible metal door marked 'Emergency Exit.' It was rusted shut, which somewhat defeated the point.
Still, it proved no match for the griffon's sword and curiosity, the bolt and hinges finding themselves sliced from the wall as the fighters marched ahead. Gerardo allowed himself a quick peek through; his wings were working enough that he could fly to catch up.
The door let out into a series of switchback staircases descending below the tunnel. Signalling that he would catch up, Gerardo dove down, instinct telling him that a way out of the Sky District he didn't know about before could prove useful, provided the path was intact.
The staircase was long. With nothing better to do, he counted one hundred and eighteen flights at seven steps each, though before he could math out how many steps that equated to, he was at another door. This one wasn't rusted, though it did fit poorly in its frame. He kicked it open...
And got a faceful of smoke and foul air. The door let out into the very top of the Flame District core, and without the ventilation systems online, the ceiling had accumulated all manner of gasses meant to be dispersed. He got a vague impression of a small, ill-used catwalk leading into the structure, then backed out and cracked the door shut, not needing any more of that air. He filed the passage as 'last resort' in his mind, then took wing, racing back up the long staircase to rejoin the ponies.
The transport tunnel reached its end, a staircase thoughtfully added alongside the dormant elevator. Ten ponies and a griffon made their way up, finding both exiting onto a platform next to a wide service door that was presently closed.
"Let me see this..." Mosswater stepped up to a cable box next to the door, prying the lid off with her telekinesis. "This door should open into the hangar. If they came here, it doesn't look like they came through this way, but we should check to be sure. Give me a minute..."
Her magic rearranged cables with sparks and flashes, then she stepped back. "Whoever has the strongest horn," she requested, "stick it in there, touch the tip to the orange terminal, and give it all you've got."
A stallion nodded, stepping forward and grimacing in concentration as his horn burst into a magical corona. With a smooth, well-oiled grind, the door retracted into the ceiling.
Immediately, a wave of bitter air rolled into the tunnel, and a short wall of snow on the other side of the door collapsed, casting ice over every pony's hooves.