H'ven Sent

by otherunicorn


Chapter 26. Holdout

The lab was fairly busy, despite me being the only pony visible in here. Overhead the manipulator arms were whizzing about, fabricating and machining parts that were needed by Brainstorm and Stormie, for whatever they were creating this time. The benches were covered in clutter. Organized chaos was a fair description of how it looked to me. Brainstorm had separated the system controls that had previously all been attached to the tank. Anything that was related to the weapons building process had been rerouted to a pair of headsets he had just installed in the shooting range. He and Stormie were now busily creating new weapons and other things remotely, much as they had while they were trapped in the tank. The headsets and cabling had been protected by a spell to prevent the Hellite modifiers from eroding them for resources. The same spell had eventually been applied to their mattresses too, but not until they were looking somewhat worse for wear.

Much of my time was being spent packing, running errands and moving most of Brainstorm's inventory of weapons and ammunition through the shooting range, and into the main service shaft beyond. The showroom was looking quite empty now, just a select few weapons left, at Brainstorm's request. I was stashing the items in all of the alcoves and corners I could find, and so far, had carried quite a few of the items down several floors. It wasn't as hard as it sounded, because most of the between-level carrying was accomplished with that marvel of marvels, levitation. To assist with getting the equipment through the shooting range un-eroded, Brainstorm had taught me a basic shielding spell to prevent the modifiers from trying to digest the equipment I was moving. I, on the other hoof, was totally immune to the things, my conversion already complete. Crimson was helping with the movement of equipment through the shooting range itself. I'd leave things just inside the door and he'd lug them down to the other end. When there was enough junk at the other end to warrant it, I'd go through and into the shaft, and he's pass things through to me. He got the exercise he wanted, and it saved me some time.

Cacha was in the lab, inside the life support tank, now repurposed for gender change, where she was currently immersed in a suspension of concoction sixty three modifiers, while they rebuild the relevant parts of her. Despite the promise of a dream come true at the end of her stay in there, the process was, to put it bluntly, boring. I was spending most of my free time in the area so she had some company. The tank lid had been reattached to offer her some privacy and to reduce contamination risks while her privates were being rebuilt, but that had the downside of adding to her isolation.

When I wasn't busy, I had taken to sitting or lying on the floor at the base of the tank, out of the way of the manipulators, chatting to Cacha through the mental link. Sometimes I even dozed or slept, taking advantage of when it was quiet, figuratively speaking; the manipulators above were far from silent. Being the only pony that wasn't currently being modified, I was also on guard duty. Admittedly that wasn't exactly accurate. Cacha was monitoring the cameras we had set up around the perimeter we had created by sealing off the service corridor. The big problem was that most of these cameras were on our side of the metal walls. That meant we could only watch for damage to the walls, or listen for the sounds of tools. That, Cacha was doing from her hookup inside the survival tank. It was my job to act anytime she saw something that warranted attention: a cutting blade penetrating the wall in a shower of sparks, for example, although with the racket that was making, I think even the dead would have known about it.

"Aneki, I'm opening the door now," Cacha informed me. "Please take care... and ammunition."

"I have some. Ammunition, I mean," I responded, although I found the thought of carrying something that could kill, offensive. Nonetheless, I was feeling these things that kept crawling down from Central intent on killing us were not living in any sense of the word that I would use. What empty souls they must have. It was too bad I couldn't load the gun with care and shoot ponies with that.

I stepped through the doorway as soon as the door had moved sufficiently out of my path. I could hear the door as it continued opening. I took the couple steps required to reach the second door of the airlock arrangement. The airlock protocol had been overwritten, and that door was also opening. Quick exit and quick entry were more important at the moment. I stepped through the widening gap. That put me in the service corridor. The welded-up door that gave access to the public areas still stood firm. Earlier attempts to cut through it had resulted in the attackers getting doused in effluent. After that, cutting through the wall seemed to be a better option to them, judging from where they were now cutting.

I could see the blur of the blade well enough, despite the shower of sparks. Positioning myself so I could target the blade at an angle while maintaining a safe distance, I raised my hoof, and wished my weapon into existence. It obliged, forming a long barreled weapon to aid with accuracy. A bipod extended, giving me extra stability. I didn't want to be anywhere near that blade when I shot it. Of course, with the targeting spells that were part of the weapon design, the boot pistol would have been adequately accurate; I was just using the opportunity to practice forming alternative weapons.

I loaded the weapon with a version of my disintegration spell, set the charge and penetration to minimal values, took aim, then gently squeezed the trigger. The wonderful thing about this weapon design, powered as it was, by my magic, was that it was very quiet, and did not recoil.

The spell hit the rapidly spinning wheel, blowing away a small section of the abrasive material, twisting the wheel as it did. The result was instant. The blade jammed and shattered, throwing pieces around the corridor. Things would be worse on the other side of the wall, where the larger portion of the blade was still being held against the metal panel. The resultant bangs, clangs, scream and string of curses was most satisfying. With any luck, it would have injured some of them. With even more luck, they would eventually run out of ponies to send down to kill us. How many death squads could H'ven support? It wasn't as if Hellites were constantly being hunted and killed, was it? Surely their visits up here were few and very far between. I sincerely hoped so. How many poor ponies like Cacha had been executed over some ancient fear, or dispute?

I reabsorbed my gun then quietly crept forward, towards the cut wall panel. As I passed my stock of metal salvaged from the stairs above, I levitated a section of inch-square tube that had once formed the front edge of one of the steps. I had separated it from the tread plate earlier. Carefully I pressed it up against the wall where the cut was, then using my welding spell, fused it into place. Unlike technology based welders, the magical process was quiet, dark and cold. It didn't give away my presence to those on the other side of the wall. If they were really attentive, at most they might notice a change of light or color at the depth of their cut. When they tried to continue their cut, as no doubt they would, they would find they hadn't achieved as much as they thought. Even if they re-cut the slot, they would not be likely to cut deep enough to go through the far side of the tube, which would again thwart them. They had also shown their hoof in that I knew the area they were working on. Taking this into account, I levitated across another piece of tube, and welded it parallel to the first, then again twice more, so that I had four tubes spaced out across the area where I believed they would try to cut the opening. I then welded four more tubes at right angle to the first four. The theory was that even if they were able to cut an opening without me interfering, the piece they were trying to remove would be supported by the extra tubes, giving me enough time to get to the problem, even if I was several levels down carting Brainstorm's inventory at the time.

Walking back towards the airlock, I realized that should the wall be breached, I would be totally vulnerable as I tried to exit the airlock. After a moment's thought, I levitated up another of the salvaged steps, and welded it to the floor, on edge, so that it formed the lower part of a barricade. Three more steps followed, with me leaving a narrow gap between the second and third steps so I could peek out, or push a gun barrel through. Another piece of tubing along the outer edge made it sturdy.

That done, I sat quietly behind my barricade and waited, listening.

After a few minutes, Cacha spoke into my mind. "Aneki, are you okay? You are awfully quiet."

"Oh, sorry," I subvocalized. "I should have reported in. I destroyed their cutting blade. I expected they would be cutting again by now, but all is quiet at the moment. Maybe they didn't have a spare. Maybe I damaged their machine."

"Come back inside right now, please," Cacha said, a hint of urgency, no, desperation, in her voice.

I obliged, rising, and taking the few of steps from behind my barricade, through airlock doors and back into the lab. At Cacha's bidding the doors immediately closed.

"What's wrong, Cacha?" I asked.

"Please don't do that to me again," she responded, her voice still expressing an edge of desperation.

"Why? What has you so worried?" I wondered.

"Don't stay out there when it is quiet," she answered. "If they are quiet, they are planning or are possibly setting something up. You would be vulnerable if it was something you weren't prepared for. What if they could punch a hole through, then feed gas in? It could be too late for you, or even for all of us if I couldn't get the door closed quick enough."

I sat, just where I was. "Yikes. I hadn't considered that approach. I made myself a little barrier as cover, but that wouldn't be any good against a gas attack, would it?"

"I would suggest only going out there while they are actually cutting. We know exactly what they are doing when there is a sparking blade stuck through our wall, don't we?" Cacha suggested.

"True, true," I answered as I looked across at the tank in which she was lying. I hadn't seen her for a few days now, and was looking forward to her emerging. "How's it going in there?" I asked, as I had many times before.

"Lonely," she answered. "Thank goodness for the camera and microphone feeds, or I would be finding my senses somewhat deprived. And thank you for hanging around as much as you do."

"My pleasure," I responded.

I thought back to Brainstorm living in there for twelve hundred years. That would have been mind numbing, even with the cameras. It wasn't as if anything was happening around the lab before I showed up, was it? It was little wonder they spent the time sleeping, puzzling over intricate technology, and when they could, building their weapons using the remote manipulators of their lab. I wondered if their minds ever became so submerged in that reality that they forgot their bodies were stuck in a tank, that the manipulators became literal extensions of themselves, as if they were their own limbs. That they had come out of it as amoral, mad scientists was a minor miracle. They could have gone totally insane.

The nasty buzzing screech started up outside again. The death squad were back to cutting through the walls. I stood, and turned to face the door, which was still closed.

"No sparks yet," Cacha informed me. "Stay put for the moment. I'll let you know when I think it is safe for you to go out and confound them.

"Okay," I agreed. "Persistent pests, aren't they?"

"You said it. It's too bad we can't break their legs, with the wall in the way and all," Cacha added. As feminine as she was, she certainly had a dark, violent streak. If I was honest with myself, I was beginning to grow a dark streak of my own. I was really getting tired of Central and those who did its bidding. I wondered what dark and twisted sort of creature was at its helm, and what I would do to them if I ever had the opportunity.

"Okay, friend, we have a breakthrough, of the rotating blade persuasion," Cacha announced. "Sparks are spitting out of the bottom of the tube you welded to the wall before."

So, my tube idea was working well, thus was why the cutting had been invisible so far. As the doors opened again, I grabbed one end of the hose that was neatly coiled on a reel by the door, and quietly trotted out, zeroing in on where the sparks were blasting out of the open bottom of the tube welded to the wall. They were continuing with their old cut. Using my welding spell, I sealed up the bottom of the tube, perhaps a counterproductive move because I could no longer see the sparks, but my next surprise for them counted on the tube being sealed at the bottom. Using that other very convenient spell I had recently learned, I levitated the hose up, and stuffed the end of it into the top of the tube, holding it there.

"Ready when you are," I subvocalized. While I hadn't said a word about what I was doing, I knew that Cacha would understand.

The hose hissed, flinched a few times, then went firm as another stream of effluent blasted through. Unfortunately I could not hear the faint voices from the other side of the wall over the sound of rushing effluent, although the sudden cessation of cutting was most notable. I let the flow continue for a few moments more, then indicated Cacha could flush the pipe. A few moments later the hose drooped, so I pulled the end from the tube, dropped it on the floor, and retreated back into the lab, where I immediately began reeling the hose in again. Even before the end whipped through the doors, Cacha had started to close them.

"You know, Aneki," Cacha said to me, "I really think shooting them would be kinder than spraying them with sewage!"

"Oh, Cacha, you know the stuff I am spraying them with is only one process away from being a perfectly good meal!" I responded.

"Remind me why we are flushing out the hose with clean water before you reel it in then?" Cacha replied. She was definitely smirking. I could feel it!

With the hose neatly put away, I stretched, and settled to the floor near the tank again. Just as I was getting comfortable, Cacha interrupted me with news I didn't want to hear. If she hadn't, the racket would have let me know anyway.

"Sorry, Aneki..." Cacha began.

"Maybe I should just shoot them and be done with it," I muttered as I trotted out through the opening doors again.

"Please, do," Cacha requested. She wasn't joking.

This time the cutting saw was penetrating the wall a little higher than it had been before. It was also clear of the tubes I had welded there. Perhaps the ponies on the other side thought they had hit a pipe. Surely they could not be so dense as to not realize I was sabotaging their efforts? What did I need to do to stop them, weld their damn tools to the wall or something? Hey... now, that was an idea!

Once I was past my barricade I carefully approached the spinning blade, and stared at it. I couldn't weld it while it was spinning without it shattering. Glancing around the floor while I wondered how to approach the problem, I saw pieces from the last blade that had exploded, and that gave me another idea. Using telekinesis, I lifted several of the pieces, then fused them together. I pressed the little mass of abrasives to the wall, just below the spinning blade, and welded them into place. Admittedly it wasn't a true weld, but as long as the pieces stuck there, I didn't care. I stepped back, well out of the way, to watch.

While it wasn't spectacular, it was amusingly effective. A stream of dust and particles spewed from the blade where it hit the material of identical hardness. It would have been a lot messier on the other side of the wall than I was seeing, too! The saw would eventually cut through it, but not before it severely worn down the diameter of the blade. The pony on the other side kept on trying though. The vibrations through the wall increased, presumably because the body of the tool was now resting directly on the wall. Perfect!

Estimating where the tool would be sitting, from the portion of the blade that was through the wall, I cast my welding spell, not at the blade itself, but at the wall to either side of it, pushing, forcing the material of the wall to reach out on the other side and merge with that of the tool itself. The flow of dust reduced, then stopped as the speed of the tool increased, no longer loaded by pressure of the blade against the wall. I had done it! The tool was stuck in place. Moments later, the tool powered down. Through the wall I could hear grunts, thumps and bangs, as the pony on the other side tried to budge the cutting machine from where it hung. The cutting wheel twitched a little, before grinding to a standstill, suggesting my weld wasn't as firm as I would like, so I immediately stepped closer and re-cast the spell, this time fusing the remains of the cutting wheel itself to the wall, before again pushing the spell through the wall either side of the blade to fuse its hub as well.

"Fuck! The cutter is stuck! I can't budge it!" I heard a pony exclaim in outrage. Even through the wall, his frustration could clearly be heard.

"Flick it on, see if it can cut itself free," a quieter voice replied. So I had at least two ponies out there at the moment.

"I would advise against it," the first responded.

"Just do it," the other voice commanded. So, the second pony was the idiot in charge.

I held my breath and listened, and there it was, a resounding 'pop' as the surge of current through the cutter's stalled motor blew its coils. That was when I decided it was time to retreat to the safety of the lab again. I could hear the argument between the ponies outside erupting. I'd love to see them explain that one to their boss, or supply clerk or whoever it was that they had to return the machine too. Hell, I'd love to see the stupid tool stuck to the wall. It would be hilarious.

Once again the doors to the lab closed as I dashed past. We were safe for the moment, doubly so.

"Whoa, they are carrying on a treat out there!" Cacha said to me. I can't quite make out what they are saying, but it sounds like heads are going to roll, one way or the other. What did you do exactly?"

I smirked. "I welded their bloody cutter to the wall, didn't I?"


It wouldn't be long now. In a few more days, the Hellite conversions would be complete. Cacha would be done sooner. Despite the idiots from central continuing to attempt to break into the service corridor, I had found the time to move most of the assets of the lab into the main shaft. I'd even managed to repair the damaged shaft wall at the rear of the shooting gallery and had fashioned a hidden door into it. It wasn't as impressive as the real doors on the other levels, but it was adequate. It consisted of two parts, in effect, an inner door and an outer door. Once we had left the lab through it, the outer door would be closed and pegged to the frame. The inner door was then placed over the threaded shafts that protruded from the back of the outer door, through the door way, and the two secured together. As such, the only way to open it was from within the shaft, and that was protected at all other entry points by hoof scanners. It even had gaskets to make it airtight! I was proud of it, especially considering it was the first door I had ever made from scratch.

Between them, Brainstorm and Stormie had even written an EMP spell to kill off the remaining hellite modifiers once they left the 'shake and bake' room. Crimson, complaining that he felt like an extra in a poorly written play, had been assisting me with the construction of the door, all the while chatting about the lives we were leaving behind. His lot sounded similar to mine, although both of his parents had died, and he wasn't that fond of running.

Of course, whenever I could, I'd drop in on Cacha to keep her company.

"Aneki, what are those things the manipulators have been assembling?" Cacha asked me. She was referring to the two assemblies Brainstorm and Stormie had remotely assembled over a good portion of their time in the 'shake and bake' room.

Each of the two items sitting on the workbench appeared to be some sort of expanded construction kit, or a complex antenna. Their cores were a tube, like a gun barrel. From these barrels short lengths of perpendicular rod held small curved pieces of metal out at some distance. The curvature of those suggested that they belonged tightly packed around the core, rather than sitting out at the end of the little sticks. There were several layers of these odd protrusions of varying lengths. Within their shadows was some dense cable-work as well as some tiny and intricate machinery. I was well aware of what they were, and had known very soon after the manipulators had started building them.

To answer Cacha, I lifted my foreleg and rested it on the table parallel to the two devices, imagined a sniper rifle, and reached for the nonexistent grip. As per each time I had done so, the machinery and its associated modifier built support systems went into action, the weapon extruding itself from my leg, morphing, twisting, changing as needed, until there on the bench was the weapon I had wished for.

"Oh," said Cacha. "One of those."

"Two of them, actually," I told her.

"They are scary. I can't imagine how it got installed in you," she mused.

"Unfortunately, I don't have to imagine it," I muttered. "Be very glad you are not a unicorn.

"That bad, eh?"

"Worse," I answered. "Worse than you could possibly imagine."

"Does it hurt you?" Cacha asked.

"Not any more. It just feels weird as it scavenges its parts from around my body and assembles itself."

"Gross," Cacha stated. "Oh, sorry, I don't mean you."

"You are quite right," I agreed, "and installation was a hundred times worse. It cut its way into me and hurt like crazy until I fainted. There's no way I'm going to touch one these, in case it decides it wants to install itself as well. One is enough, thank you."

"So who are they for? Brainstorm and Stormie?"

"I can't see anypony else with unicorn's horns. Can you?" I asked.

"You do have a point," Cacha agreed, then added with a chuckle, "Sorry, I didn't mean to make a pun. What would happen if I touched one?"

"Absolutely nothing," I stated. "You need to be treated with a special modifier before it will work, as I have been."

"That's a bit risky for you, isn't it?"

I shrugged. I could imagine myself grabbing the damn things while not concentrating, and finding myself waking up with even more weapons sticking out of me.

"Brainstorm?" I called.

"Yes, Aneki?" he answered through the thought link.

"Cacha and I would like to know something about these unicorn guns you've made. Specifically, what will stop them attaching themselves to me if I touch them, or will they react like the first one did?"

"There are a couple of safety measures in place. First, they are keyed to a different modifier than the one used on you, so they will not react to you," Brainstorm explained. "Each weapon has a specific modifier coded for it. Also, it is highly unlikely you still have any of the original integration modifiers left in your body. Once the weapon is absorbed, the modifiers are converted to a support role. Oh, we also tweaked the modifier a little since then, to make the integration experience less unpleasant than it was for you, although we still don't fully understand why the installation caused you any pain at all."

"Just a little bug that needs to be ironed out, eh?" I asked, wryly. "I assume these are for you two. I look forward to watching them install themselves."

"I guess we asked for that," Brainstorm admitted.

"You did."


It started out as unnoticeable, then manifested as an uneasy feeling. Things began rattling and buzzing about the lab. First it was bottles on a shelf, then it was some things on the bench. It set my nerves on edge, and I stirred, standing, glancing around, looking for a possible source of the vibrations.

"Cacha?" I asked.

"What's happening?" she asked me. "The cameras are shaking, but I can't see anything."

One of the cupboard doors began to resonate, then after peaking, it quietened down while in turn, some tools began chattering together.

"I don't know, Cacha," I answered. "It's got me worried too. Something large and heavy appears to be spinning up somewhere near by. In all my years as a structural engineer, I've never come across something like this. Even the pumps and rotary converters aren't this bad."

I heard somepony burst through the shooting range door, then grab one of the weapons and ammunition still in the showroom.

"Aneki! Emergency!" It was Stormie. "We've been suckered! Get in here, and ready your disintegration beam at full output!"

"What?" I began to object. "The blast from that would knock us flat!" Not to mention that it would be powerful to put a sizable hole in any wall I hit - even the thick ones of the lab itself.

The vibrations continued rise in frequency, and were now entering audio frequencies.

"Blow out the front door, then shoot anything you see. Hurry! We've only got a few seconds, before we're all dead!" Stormie yelled over the increasing din.

"Hurry," Brainstorm added. "Shoot to kill."