//------------------------------// // Chapter Seven: Wake up. Smell the ashes. // Story: We don't go to Sub-Level Five // by RadBunny //------------------------------// Of the things Astral expected to see when the doors opened, grass certainly wasn’t it. The tile extended to connect the six elevators in the welcome area, but grass then spread out to the left, a rainbow of flowers coloring the scene out. Stepping out cautiously, Astral slowly pulled his sled of supplies, watching in amazement as bees flittered to and fro on the flowers. There was even an artificial sun glowing happily on the domed ceiling, making his green eyes narrow. “What in the world…?” Tugging the supply sled through the field, Astral didn’t notice anything out of place. Large trees grew around the exterior, giving the room a ‘clearing amidst a forest’ sort of feel. If he closed his eyes, he could almost forget he was underground. So, he did just that, only for a few minutes. Just get out of here, and you can stay up late and feel the sun again. I just need to keep moving. On opening his eyes, Astral found that he couldn’t move. There wasn’t any force preventing him from doing so, but his shaking limbs simply refused. A few soft sobs wracked his frame, the stallion shaking his head back and forth. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. Even when that thing had been lunging at him, he had frozen. Maybe some ponies could handle all of this. Hardened warriors who thrived off a battle. But this was just…running. Hiding and panicking with extra steps. The defeatist thought of perhaps just waiting in this field for the creature passed through Astral’s mind; it wasn’t the worst place to go. But he discarded that immediately. He wasn’t about to give up, not yet. If for no other reason than to spite the homicidal computer that dropped over five stories of concrete onto Astral’s head. You’ve got to move. That thing could get down here. The stallion found a few surprising tears brimming at his eyes, the bat-pony swiping them away with a forelimb. He couldn’t stop now. And yet the Guard’s body refused to move. He needed to move, to keep going. Otherwise, he’d be here forever, or at least until that thing found him. Why do I freeze when I’m in danger? Astral wished the question didn’t have a logical answer. He knew why. He just didn’t have the time to solve the puzzle. “Hey, buddy? You’d better get going. That creature is going to find a way down here eventually.” Looking around at the sound of the cheerful voice, Astral immediately found his limbs unbound at the distraction. It was light and airy, pleasant but carrying a knife’s edge. A mare? “No, you can’t see me. Speakers in the walls. Get moving. The next floor down, SL-8 is full of toxic fungal spores, so have your mask on before that elevator door opens. Just get to the end of SL-9. There’s a tram that takes you to a Security Station at the Silo Junction.” “I, uh, ok!” Astral called out, not sure if whoever it was could hear him. Silo junction!? “The microphones are fried by a power surge on this level and other areas, so I can’t hear you at times. Get moving if you want to live. Follow the signs, get to the Silo Junction, look for the Security Station One.” The transmission cut out; the bat-pony’s limbs energized with the knowledge someone else was down here. A supervisor perhaps? Maybe a leader of a group of survivors from the accident? Whoever it was, they offered their help. While Astral had plenty of reasons to both trust them, and not, it ultimately didn’t matter too much. The only way to go was down. He had no idea what the individual meant by ‘Silo’ though. The fact that SL-5 had indicated this was ‘Silo 1’ made the Thestral uneasy. You only numbered something if there were multiple of said something. Regretfully leaving the beautiful field behind, the Thestral shoved his supply-sled into the elevator, about to begin the downward journey after donning the SCBA mask. In horror, he only got a few breaths in before the mask sucked to his face. Disconnecting the valve, the stallion’s green eyes locked onto the gauge- solidly in the ‘empty’ area. Replacing the tank and leaving behind the empty one, Astral made a mental note to check the gauge more often. That could have ended very, very badly. To that end, he also reloaded the cannons on his side; another oversight that could have been deadly. I’ve got to remember to do that. No air or bullets; that could have killed me. A full tank of air on his back and barrels loaded, the bat-pony keyed the elevator, once again zipping down to the next floor. As soon as the door opened though, his vision immediately was swamped by a soupy, pea-colored dust. “Welcome, to SL-8.” He hated that voice. It had no reason to be that cheerful. It was clear now why the above floor was so pretty; this was where everything was grown. The massive domed area had dozens of greenhouses, a few split open and venting out the nasty, lime-green spores. That would be the fungus. The tiled path that led from greenhouse to greenhouse was nearly covered with spores. That made navigating difficult, but Astral tugged the sled along nonetheless. Some of the greenhouses were intact, with beautiful ferns and flowers visible behind the double-sealed doors and filtered air vents. The artificial sun glowed above him, but the air was choked with the visible spores and who-knows-what-else. Others were full of what appeared to be burned and dead plants, yet others held massive, meat-colored mushrooms that made Astral’s hooves tingle unpleasantly. They seemed to almost be breathing. He didn’t know what they were, but he already hated those mushrooms. The bat-pony had half a mind to burn them. The greenhouses the mushrooms were in looked much more heavy-duty with decontamination areas on the entrance and exits. A small section of the dome was sectioned off into an office, but the fact spores covered every inch of the area meant that foraging was pointless. The windows were broken in, and Astral wasn’t about to take any unnecessary risks. He had supplies, after all. With a rebellious huff, he ducked in and managed to find a jug of sealed water along with some snacks. Perhaps a peace offering to the nice mare who had warned him about the soupy air. To his relief, there was a decontamination arch near the elevators. While the device was mostly overwhelmed by the spores, the pressurized mist at least blew the majority of them off of Astral’s frame and salvaged supplies. As he loaded the sled into the elevator, the Thestral couldn’t help but let out a relieved breath, the elevator apparently having a decontamination system as well that sucked all of the spores away with a whirlwind of air. There were now two floors between him and that thing, and these labs had actually been pleasant! Maybe the next one would be a giant pool? Considering he was covered in sweat, grime, and all manner of dirt, that thought sounded amazing. Opting to leave the mask on just in case, Astral queued the elevator for SL-9. The pony hadn’t been lying…so that was a point to them for trust, whoever they were. As the elevator slowed, Astral took a few deep breaths and readied himself for whatever this floor had to offer. He was praying for a pool. The doors opened, and the bloodied, torn-apart corpse of a pony promptly fell onto Astral, the stallion abruptly screaming in horror. “Welcome, to SL-9.”