"Goodbye, laboratory," Brainstorm bade, as he leaned through the open door from the service shaft, into the shooting range, his horn aglow with the swirling shades of a powerful spell. "You have served us well, even as a prison." The spell that had been building on his horn leapt free, and he rapidly pulled his head back in, slamming the door shut. The spell he had cast was a modifier killer. Any of the concoctions that were left, contained or otherwise, as well as the Hellite modifiers in the shooting range itself, would be destroyed beyond use or salvage. He pegged the door closed.
I levitated up the second part of the door, carefully aligned it with the protruding bolts, and slipped it on. After that came the dozen lock washers and large nuts. I spun them as tight as I could with my magic, Crimson following up on each with a twist with a wrench. I was tempted to weld the door shut as well, but that would really foul us up if we ever wanted to get back into the lab for any reason. That done, the three of us followed the other two who had already descended the few levels to where I had carted all of our belongings, and that which had been salvaged from the lab earlier.
From there we separated, leaving a couple of us unicorns on the highest floor on which our stuff was sitting. The others descended to a much lower level. It was bucket brigade time! Brainstorm and I would levitate a couple of items over the edge of the catwalk we were on, lowering them down until Stormie's spell pulled them onto another catwalk where Cacha and Crimson caught them, and stacked them. The whole process was many times quicker than when I had been doing it all myself. Brainstorm and I would then descend to the next level I had piled things on, and repeat the process. When we had finally cleared all of the items, we climbed down to were the others had stacked the gear, while they went even lower, and started the process again. While suggestions of levitating ponies were made, I insisted that I neither wished to try to levitate, or be levitated!
At sublevel seventy five, we found there was an extended floor, supporting an abandoned storage room. As whoever had last used it had left it completely empty, we took advantage of it to stash as much as we could of the lab equipment and stores into it, sealing it with a lock and a spell when we were done. The less valuable items that would not fit were piled onto the roof of the storage room, easily accessible from one level up, then protected with Brainstorm's pseudo-stasis spell. From the store room it was only five levels down to the airlock to Hell.
One thing we discovered during all of this activity was that it was really convenient to be carrying food generators, because when one needed to go in this pony forsaken area, one did not need to hunt around for facilities. One merely excused oneself, and remained a level up, and when you were done, you had a nice bowl of nibbles to chew on. My food generators were, however, getting passed around a lot. Even the broken blue one was put into service, after its case had been welded back together. The choice of foods available to us also increased with this food generator's introduction. I was assured by Stormie that the pieces of orange and purple vegetable were, in fact, carrot.
Having all taken turns with the food generators, we sat there nibbling, and getting some rest after all of the packing. Whatever Cacha's worries about us having nightmares tonight were, I was pretty sure I would be too tired to notice. I suspected my nights sleep would feel rather like a long blink. I'd just close my eyes for a moment while we were doing something and...
"Hey, Aneki," Cacha said, giving me a shove. "Wakey wakey."
"Oh, you have to be kidding me," I muttered. "How long was my blink?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah, right. Dunno, I wasn't timing you. Must have been quite a few hours though. One moment you were nibbling on some food. next moment, you were out cold, your face in the food bowl," Cacha chuckled. "So, I got you a bit more comfortable, had Stormie scan you to check you were okay, then snuggled up beside you and had a sleep myself."
I noticed that Crimson was watching us from where he lay. His expression was hard to read. Seeing that he had our attention, he spoke. "It's just my luck, that of the three mares here, one's spoken for, one's pregnant and doesn't want a stallion, and the other seems to like mares!" he half jokingly complained. Ah, so that was it!
"Oh, give it a few more hours, and you will have so many mares, you won't know what do with them all," Cacha said. "Oh, and I like Aneki, not mares. I expect I will choose a nice unicorn stallion to mate with. I have no interest in mating with any of those assholes down in Hell. My dad is the only stallion down there that didn't mistreat me, and needless to say, I'm not getting fresh with him!"
Brainstorm raised an eyebrow. "Are you hitting on me, young Cacha?"
"Maybe later, you gorgeous unicorn, you, but in the meantime, I don't want to be heavily pregnant myself, when Aneki will need help the most," Cacha said.
"If we could be serious for a moment," Stormie said, "I think there are things we need to discuss and agree on before we go down below, including exactly who is going to pair with whom."
"Yes, yes," agreed Brainstorm. "I expect the introduction of new blood into the herd will cause a moderate amount of excitement, as well as friction. The males that are down there probably won't appreciate a sudden drop in the size of their herds, and, on the other hoof, our mares may be extremely enticing to them, which will be a problem for us if we don't want to share. Cacha, would you care to educate us?"
"It's more complex than that. We have needed to separate breeding from any sort of romance due to the small gene pool. Some mares move from stallion to stallion, living with each while they breed with them. Some stay with a single partner, be that one of the stallions, or another mare, then shop around when they want to get pregnant. Some mares live as couples, some live in small groups, again going to one of the stallions when the need arises. Most stallions do have a few mares in their permanent family. Occasionally, one of the sexless will be accepted in these families as well, usually because they are offspring or siblings of others in the group. Most, however, are kicked out of family groups, for reasons I've already said."
"And you, were you kicked out?" Crimson asked.
"No. My folks are some of the nicer ponies. That didn't stop me getting assigned the dangerous missions though," Cacha admitted. "Some of the other, older mares in the group did however attempt to make my remaining with my family... unpleasant."
"Now that you have turned out to be a really late bloomer, you can go spit in their faces," I suggested.
"Good idea," Stormie said. "I mean the late bloomer bit. That will save us having to reveal our methods."
"What about rivalry? What attitude should we expect then?" Brainstorm asked, guiding the conversation back onto the subject of stallions.
"You are right, in part. There will be some jealousy. Attempts will probably be made for Stormie and Aneki. You and Crimson may have to give one or two of the stallions a lesson in humility. They are mostly quite old. Dad's the youngest, and he's in his nineties. Don't underestimate them, though. Our younger fellows, all three of them, made a run for the surface, never to be heard from again, and even they were between forty and sixty."
"So how many stallions are there?"
"Four, so even if they have to share, that's still a lot of mares each," Cacha said. "It's probably the oldest one you will have issues with. The old codger thinks he runs the place."
I chucked. "It's about time he learned to respect his elders, then, isn't it?"
Cacha chuckled, hiccuped, then collapsed in a heap laughing hard. Clearly it was a joke we couldn't get, at least, not until we saw the old codger. Whatever his age, I knew Brainstorm and Stormie had to be older than him, as the oldest mare Cacha had mentioned to me was a freak for lasting a millennium, and most only made it to three or four hundred years. Then again, Cacha's mirth could merely be an after effect of the psycological shock of the explosion. I could remember a friend and myself laughing ourselves silly in class, after one of our friends had blown a small hole in his leg with a home-made explosive, during our lunch break. What we had just survived had been orders of magnitude greater.
"Aneki," Brainstorm said, "I know you are not interested in mating with anypony at the moment, but may I suggest you let me claim you, in name, at least. That way I can offer you some protection from the advances of others. If at any time you want to wander off and find a mate, just do so, but you will always be welcome in my family."
"Thank you, Brainstorm. I accept," I said. His suggestion was a good one. "And Cacha?"
"The same applies to her. She'll want to stay with you, and has already expressed her preference," Brainstorm reminded me. That was true.
"Thank you, oh handsome one," Cacha giggled. "I accept your proposal." She hiccuped again. "Sorry about this!"
"I expect we will get the joke later, if at all," Stormie said. "And while we are talking, there is another issue that needs to be addressed. Gun safety. Or more specifically, making sure any guns we take in with us cannot be turned against us."
"Needless to say, the unicorn guns we three have in our bodies are free from such issues, unless another pony physically lifts us up and starts aiming us at others," Brainstorm chuckled. "This applies to the boot pistols you and Cacha have, to the gun Crimson has chosen, and to Stormie's and my saddle guns. The process is simple enough. Place your finger in the open magazine, and click the reload button. It will register your DNA, and lock that gun so it can only be used by you."
"And how would we counter that, should we wish to share the gun with somepony else?" Crimson asked.
"You don't," Brainstorm said. "That way, it can never be forced from you."
A general rustling interrupted our conversation as weapons were retrieved, and loaded with a sample of our DNA before being returned to our various saddle bags. While I was at it, I gathered my food generators and stashed them as well.
"And needless to say," Stormie said, "everypony should keep their mouths shut about our stash, and more importantly, about our magic and skills. We don't want to create riots or mobs, especially if we find we are unable to deliver." Her jade green mane bounced against the black skin of her face armor as she emphasized each point with a bob of her head.
"Hmm..." Crimson mused. "I may be getting ahead of myself here, especially after you just said that, but with a little time, and your skills, we may be able to build ourselves a decent, and faithful, support base."
"Go on," Stormie requested.
"Okay. We make no attempt to take the other stallions' mares. Instead, we move in with the others like Cacha, and accept them into our herd. We treat them nicely, and when you get a new tank built, we start converting them to real mares as time allows," Crimson suggested.
"Sweet Luna, you would be totally loved," Cacha gasped. "Any political takeover would be by stealth!"
"Crimson," I said, as realization struck, "you usually don't have much luck with the mares, do you?"
"None at all," he admitted.
For fun, Cacha and I had agreed not to tell the others how to access the airlock to Hell. All five of us were now at the bottom of the service shaft, on what was the floor of sublevel eighty. I moved to one side, out of the way, and settled to the floor, pulling out my water bottle for a few sips. Cacha joined me, and we sat there, nose to nose, smirking at each other, as we watched the others fumbling around looking for a secret entrance.
Crimson and Brainstorm had opened the door out to sublevel eighty and were proving to themselves that nothing was to be found out there.
Eventually, Stormie, who was still in the shaft, stood, totally still, in the middle of the area, and raised her head. I watched as a spell built on her horn, before pulsing out horizontally, striking all of the walls. Her eyebrows went up, then understanding painted itself across her face. Without saying anything, she took the few steps to us, and settled on the floor as well. We shared a grin with her.
Having failed to see anything outside the shaft, Brainstorm and Crimson returned through the door, sealing it behind them.
"That was a bust," Crimson said.
"We've all found it," Stormie stirred. "It must be a girl thing!"
"Really? Only a couple weeks ago you were a male," Brainstorm countered.
"A couple of weeks ago we were neural matrices, skin and bones soaking in modifier soup," Stormie corrected him.
"Not much left then?" I asked.
"You weren't far off with your pony soup comments," Stormie admitted. "While our intellects have traversed twelve hundred years, there is some debate to whether our souls have, or if we are indeed new beings."
"Oh, that must be troubling," I said.
"No, not really. We are alive, aren't we? That's what matters. And we can't be sure how much of our original brains survived, and how much of it was rebuilt around a synthetic neural network created by the modifiers we used to preserve ourselves, so it is something that can never be known."
"I'm glad you feel that way," Cacha interjected, "because that means you won't be worried by some of the Hellites you meet."
"Huh?"
"There are some Hellites that are sure we are dead, nothing more than machines. If you have that outlook after what you've been through, you won't go having any existential crisis the first time one of those nutters shoves their theory down your throat!" Cacha said.
"Well, there's nothing out this way, and there is nothing down the other way either," Brainstorm muttered, indicating the door through which they had just entered the shaft.
"Come to think of it, what is down the other end?" Crimson asked, not looking in that direction. "And why can't I seem to get my eyes to go that way?"
Cacha and I looked at each other and chuckled again.
"Damn it!" Crimson said, deliberately facing away from the spell that was hiding the airlock door. He started to shuffle backwards. "There are no eyes in my ass, are there?" Moments later his rump thumped into the hidden wall, half his flank hidden by the blackness of the spell.
"You are definitely onto something there, my boy," Brainstorm said, looking at Crimson. "Or should I say into something. You are embedded in what seems to be a... wall? Damn, that is hard to focus on!"
"Close enough," Cacha announced. "Well done. You've found the airlock. If you turn around, and feel about in the darkness, you will find the scanner that lets you open the door."
Crimson spun about and felt about, to be rewarded with the announcement "Please wait while your qualifications are verified. Access granted. You and those accompanying you are qualified to proceed past this point." The voice spoke into my mind, as it had last time, so it had to be linking to each of us. The black murk faded to nothing, revealing the substantial plug-type door, which began to open. Crimson moved out of its way.
"Ha! Cool!" Crimson said. "Aneki, remember last time we tried this, and the door wouldn't open because I wasn't a Hellite?"
"Oh, that's right. It was that effluent processing station, wasn't it?" I asked, recalling the first place where Crimson and I had met.
"And apparently the point at which my life took a sudden change of direction, not that I'm really complaining," Crimson added.
Once the door was open, we stared at the illuminated chamber beyond. It was just roomy enough for two ponies. It hadn't been an issue on either occasion I had used it so far, but this time, clearly the group wouldn't all be going through at once!
"It would be best if I go through with the first batch, in case any other Hellites are poking about on the other side," Cacha suggested. "Stormie, come with me. Aneki, do you think you could squeeze in here with us too? Hmm, maybe not. I'll be back in a few minutes, unless you are happy to operate it yourself."
"I got through it once by myself. It's not as if you need to be a Brainstorm to operate it!" I laughed.
"True, true," Cacha agreed, then ushered Stormie through the door, following her in. I saw her poke the button on the control panel, and the door closed.
"So, how does the airlock operate?" Crimson asked me.
"It's pretty obvious. The panel has two arrow shaped buttons. You push the one for the direction in which you wish to go, then marvel at the simple labels that tell us more about H'ven than anything we've managed to dig up while living up there," I said with a wry smile.
We discussed the irony of that, and our theories of lost history while we waited for the airlock to cycle. I guess we must have become fairly focused on our discussion too, because the opening door startled us. There was no one inside, so apparently the program that controlled the airlock was smart enough to realize we were still waiting.
Crimson stepped through the door, moving to allow space for the next occupant. Brainstorm directed me through, but before I could reach for the button, I found myself floating in a levitation spell.
"Up you go!" Brainstorm said as He carefully placed me on Crimson's back, which was a surprise to Crimson as well. Brainstorm stepped into the air lock as well. Perhaps crammed himself into the airlock would be more accurate.
A quick jab at the appropriate arrow started the cycle. That started me thinking. A single button would have been adequate, if one presumed you always wished to exit the airlock from the opposite end to which you entered. Two buttons must have been used to allow a pony to change their mind part way through a cycle. Bah! I shook my head, bumping my ears and horn on the ceiling. It was somepony else's problem.
"It's getting a bit chilly in here," Brainstorm observed.
"Don't worry about it. Your body is already adjusting to it," I advised him.
"I can't say I noticed it too much," Crimson said. "Not only do I still have my original coat, but I'm rugged up with a nice, warm mare."
I gave him a gentle bonk on his head. "Don't get used to it, you cad," I admonished him. "And we now have the interesting problem of getting out of here," I said as the exit plug-door opened, "because, simply put, we can't fit through the door like this!"
"No problem," Brainstorm said, levitating me again. "Now, move it, Crimson, before I apply some kinetic persuasion to your posterior!"
"Careful, good fellow," Crimson said as he climbed through the exit. "I don't want you tearing my original skin. I rather hope to make a coat out of it!"
As soon as Crimson was clear, Brainstorm lowered me, and levitated me out the door, where he gently placed me, then followed me through as I made way for him. Again I was in the bluish, metal colored antechamber. Aqua-blue, I thought, staring at it again. While this room was small, it was fortunately more spacious than the airlock. I did notice that Stormie and Cacha were sitting close together, effectively blocking the exit and ladder down from view.
"Welcome to my home, Habitat Eleven's Lower Level!" Cacha smirked.
"It isn't particularly large, but it is much better than our tank," Stormie said.
"You're joking!" Brainstorm exclaimed, then chuckled. "Is this another game of spot the hidden door?"
"There is no hidden door, Brainstorm," I advised him, deciding to have a little fun as well.
"Quite so," Crimson said, as he walked around the antechamber. "However, this hole in the floor with the ladder sticking out of it does look promising!"
"Ha ha," Brainstorm said dryly.
"Well, let's get going, shall we?" Cacha suggested, as she swung herself onto the ladder in question, hooked her hooves and fingers around the outer rails as I had, last time I had gone this way, then dropped from sight.
Stormie leaned over the opening, watching Cacha descend. As soon as Cacha's voice drifted up, indicating she was clear, Stormie climbed onto the ladder and dropped from view. I noticed her horn glowing as she did: extra braking, I assumed. The three of us that remained gathered around the hole to watch Stormie's progress. Perhaps the spell was for nothing more than illumination. It did make for a fascinating spectacle for those of us watching the glowing ring that marked her progress.
"You go next, Aneki," Crimson suggested. "Are you all right doing that? Or would you prefer to climb down one rung at a time?"
"I'll slide," I said. "I have done it before."
"Oh good. It should be easy for you then. It looks like Stormie is clear."
Nodding, I climbed onto the ladder, and eased my grip, beginning to slide. As I dropped I heard Brainstorm comment, "You know, I knew hell was a long, long way below us, but was always under the impression that it would be somewhat warmer..."