"Once, many, many years ago, the ruler of all of H'ven was a wise and strong pony. He was greatly respected because it was under his guidance that ponykind had finally risen from the underlevels and taken their place in H'ven. But not all ponies were happy. The dark and twisted folk of the lands below were not invited to the new paradise, even though they had helped create it. The ruler looked down on them, and could see no place for them in his ideal world.
"In turn, the twisted folk of below, the Hellspawn, cursed his daughter with a terrible disease that turned her into one of them. The ruler was so enraged by their action that he ordered the Hellspawn be punished. Paradise was finished. There was no need for the twisted, jealous creatures anymore.
"Many Hellspawn were caught. None would reveal how to cure the ruler's daughter, so he had them killed. When the hunts were over, the Hellspawn had all but vanished. The ruler's daughter also disappeared. Some say she was killed along with the other Hellspawn, by intent or accident. Some say she fled.
"Black twisted creatures, with glowing red eyes, the ghosts of the Hellspawn can sometimes be seen haunting the levels below the ground, so make sure you never go down there to play, because even if you don't see one down there, they may see you, and strike you with the disease too."
Crimson fell silent, staring at me expectantly. I had mentioned that I would like to know how things went so wrong that Hellspawn were being hunted to extinction when it appeared they had a vital role in keeping H'ven functional. Even allowing for memory lapse, and personal interpretation, Crimson's story was a little odd.
"That wasn't something that was covered in our school history lessons," I stated. Either I had never heard the story before, or it was a lesson I had forgotten or missed. Even so, it was way too simplistic, as if it was meant for foals. It reminded me of the scary stories of the great nothing that was outside H'ven's walls.
Crimson snapped his fingers. "You are right. Now that I think about it, it wasn't technically a lesson: not a history lesson anyway. It was in an old Breezie Tale that was read to us at school."
"That would explain its structure. It may have been created merely to keep inquisitive foals from trying to go down below, where, as we both know, it is very dangerous," I commented.
"That is quite possible. Nonetheless, there are other elements of truth to it, too. You, Aneki, were struck down by the 'disease' yourself. If there was no knowledge of the mechanism that created the change, it could seem like an attack from the disinherited," Crimson suggested, "and if the Hellspawn really were kicked out of paradise, aggression from them could have been expected, even if none occurred. Let's say that I threatened to make your life hell, then went on with my own life, never following through on the threat, yet misfortune befell you the very next day. Who would you blame? You'd blame me, of course," Crimson conjectured.
"If you'd said that to me a couple of months ago, I would probably hate your guts about now," I responded. "As for truths, I do know that there are other Hellspawn alive down here, somewhere," I admitted.
"How?" Crimson's eyebrows went up at the comment. "So some have survived?"
"Supposedly one helped me after I fell from sub-level sixteen down to sub-level twenty one. Needless to say, I wasn't any sort of condition to verify that myself, but somepony at Central told me the pony that assisted me was Hellspawn, and also mentioned them in other ways that suggest that some survive down here, hidden, and probably doing their jobs, just like always."
"I guess places like this facility confirm that. We can't get in, and you can, and it still seems to be functioning correctly, so the only conclusion is that Hellspawn have been going in there from time to time to repair or maintain it as needed," Crimson summarized.
"Going on our limited pool of knowledge, I'd say it certainly looks that way," I agreed.
"I pity them; I pity you," Crimson said. "You're stuck down here in the endless dim tunnels, with only walls and ceilings to look at."
"Most of them probably don't know anything else, but is it really that much different to what's up there? It may be about ten miles up at its highest point, but the sky is just another ceiling, another set of walls. I want to know what is beyond them."
Eventually all Crimson and I felt we could say to each other was exhausted. I thought it funny that I, who had never been directly employed by Central, knew more about its dark side that one of its employees. Crimson had worked there long enough to be a few rungs up the internal structure too, and after that many years working there, one would have thought that he would have heard something, even just a rumor or a hint.
Crimson and I stared down the access hole at the ladder, and the body of the inspector hanging from it. Somewhere, several levels below was his mapper/comms unit. We had dropped it down there, hoping any ponies that chose to investigate the death would conclude it had either been knocked off during the inspectors fall, or dropped down there by him. The latter at least gave him some reason to have been on the ladder in the first place. Of course, the little diversion could be pointless, depending on how much he told them, and that would depend on how receptive they were to the truth.
Crimson and I had agreed on a few variations of the story he would tell. Time, and pressure, would tell which he used. Story number one was pretty simple. He was poking at the button of the door to the biomass processing and reserve facility, when the inspector did the klutz thing and fell, breaking his neck. That was the story for people like the inspector himself: bullheaded and stuck in their own ways, sure that what they personally believed was the absolute and irrefutable truth. We hoped that would be it, but if they found any evidence I had been in the area, something a little closer to the truth would be given: that the inspector had tried to get away from me, and fallen. Anything about the conversations that occurred after the inspector died would be omitted. I had merely run off. That said, I was planning to do exactly that now.
A much better outcome would be if the pony investigating was open to the truth, and was also curious as to how anypony accessed Biomass Processing and Reserve Facility No. 4. After all, this had occurred right outside its door, after Crimson and the inspector had come down to investigate the possibility it had been opened. In that case, he would tell the story, much as it had happened. Getting the Hellspawn off the hunted list, and getting them talking to the ponies from above would be beneficial for both parties, even if those from above still weren't that keen on any of us moving up to the surface.
"Okay, Aneki. I'm calling in the accident in a moment. Best you be gone," Crimson suggested.
"Okay, Crimson. Look after yourself, "I said, hoping he wouldn't end up in the deniable facility after this. That gave me an idea. "Crimson, I will tell you a code. Never repeat this to anypony, as doing so would destroy its value. Instead, if you find yourself in real trouble, listen for it. It's a remote possibility, but it could save your life when all else has failed. It is the only thread I hope I can offer. The code is 4J2."
Crimson raised his eyebrows. "Um, thank you, I think."
"I hope it is something you never have to face," I said, "and learn the standard color code too, if you don't already know it. That's something else I found handy."
"...okay. Fortunately, I do know it."
"Great, then this is goodbye," I said.
"What's your comms unit ID, in case I need to call you?" Crimson responded.
"It's been nobbled," I replied. "Only the mapper works."
"Give it here a moment," Crimson suggested, so I unfastened it and passed it to him. It had occurred to me that I could have grabbed the inspector's comms/mapper unit, but had decided I preferred my one's anonymity. After a couple of minutes of poking at it, searching through menus, and opening it to check its insides, Crimson closed it up again and passed it back to me. "Hmmm," was all he said.
"You haven't set it to track me or anything, have you?" I asked.
"No," he replied. "I could have salvaged some parts from the inspector's unit to fix it, if we hadn't dropped it down the shaft, or even from mine, if I didn't need to use it right now."
"Thanks, but no thanks. Anyway, it's time for me to be somewhere else. Somewhere else far, far away. For all I know, the ponies from Central are still looking for me," I said, as I turned and galloped off. I would probably never see or speak with Crimson again. With the inspector's body in too dangerous a position for us to remove, the ladder was effectively out of commission, so I had to find another way down. It was like I was playing a real life game of Snakes and Ladders, although for me, that ladder had worked against me. What I needed was another snake... well... another spiral ramp at any rate!
I heard Crimson call a final farewell before I was too far away to hear. I turned a corner, isolating myself, then went back to my dodging and weaving to put me and my trail of illuminated ceiling lights as far from any pony as I could.
Damn, at twenty miles diameter, this place was huge! I already knew that from running about on the surface, but it took on a whole new meaning when you were sandwiched between a never ending floor and ceiling. I had been trotting for a while before I found another possible way to change levels. It was an elevator shaft. I recognized it more by the layout of the corridor than anything else. There were no glowing numbers to indicate which floor the elevator car was on. Likewise, the call buttons were dead. Closer inspection of the doors revealed that this particular shaft had been decommissioned; the doors were welded shut, and the call buttons and indicators had plates welded over their vacated locations. Actually, that was good for me, because it meant there would be no unexpected visitors stepping out at inconvenient moments. Had it still been functional, it wasn't as if I could use the elevator myself, as Central overrode control of all elevators to the sub-levels. What I needed to do was find the accompanying staircase. There was always one nearby somewhere. Well, every other elevator had one nearby. This location was proving to be frustratingly devoid of one!
Eventually I found what I was looking for. Again, anything that indicated the staircase was there had been erased, as had the door handle to the stairwell. In its place was a small welded patch. More beads of weld joined the metal of the door itself to its frame. Bugger.
Sitting down, facing the annoying blockage, I pulled out a drink bottle and sipped at it while I considered my next move. Last time I had encountered a welded obstruction, it had been in a place of structural weakness, and in an area where modifiers tended to gather, if my condition was anything to judge by. This sealed door may be concealing a similar problem. I didn't fancy going down multiple levels, express fashion, atop a collapsing staircase. The modifiers themselves, should any be there, were not something I was overly concerned about. What could they do? Finish the job, maybe? I thought of continuing towards one of the elevators marked on my mapper, and using the associated stairwell. Bah, that was a lot of effort, and I was getting curious about why this staircase had been blocked off.
Suddenly, my mind made up, I was up and aiming my hind hooves at the door. Unleashing my new-found strength, I bucked the door as hard as I could, hoping to crack the welds. The mighty clatter and bang that resulted as the door smashed into the stairs overhead, then the far wall was somewhat surprising. I turned and stared at the dark hole, amazed. Had I really just kicked a welded closed door off its hinges? I hoofed at the space in disbelief. Nope, there really was no door there to ram my face into if I proceeded.
I reached into my saddlebag, returning my water bottle and fumbling through what was there until I found my recently purloined flashlight. Gripping it in my mouth, I edged into the black maw of the stairwell. It was truly decommissioned. No lights came on, not even on the levels below or above me. Looking about, mismatched paint outlines and small mounting holes showed me where the sensors, light fittings and wires had been removed. The floor itself was patchy, some floor plates had been lifted, leaving just a narrow strip on which to walk. Exposed beams extended from either side. Directly across from me, the staircase descended. It was somewhat skeletal, with two out of every three steps missing. Ahead and below, leaning at the bottom of the first flight was the twisted form of the door I had bucked. Wow. Just wow. There was no way I could put that back into its frame.
The lights out in the corridor, no longer able to sense my position, suddenly switched themselves off, leaving my flashlight as the only source of illumination. I shuddered, remembering the last time I was down here without lights, having just been ejected from the service elevator. At least this time, I had only been ejected from society!
I took a step further into the stairwell, balancing without trouble on the remaining floor plate. The next remaining step seemed secure enough, so I jumped down to it. From there, aiming the beam from my flashlight, I studied the remains of the staircase. Any other pony may have been scared off by the sparsity of places to stand, and all the gaps giving views of the mosaic of shadows and glints my flashlight was creating. Being a freerunner, I just leaned further down, studying where I place my hooves... and knocked the flashlight from my grip. It was with some dismay that I watched as its beam of light showed its path as it bounced and ricocheted down the stairwell into the depths below. Eventually the banging and clanging faded away, and of the beam there was no sight. I stood there, staring after it. What was I meant to do now: climb down there and get it?