On the landing below the ladder from the air lock, I was again treated to the spectacle of equipment filled space: so much space. It was mostly dark, apart from what I could make out from the lights I could see, dotted off into the distance. At these distances, my illuminated irises made no practical difference. Gesturing to the others, I pointed out the pipes, wires and conduits that twisted and turned through odd angles before doubling back on themselves, only to take another odd turn. The massive arrays of lattice connecting the bottom of the huge water jacket that encased the life support chamber was no less impressive than last time I had seen it. In fact, looking down to the equally expansive surface several storeys below, I felt the suspension matrix was bigger than I recalled. Now that I was staring at it intently, I could see the lower surface was not solid. Sure, there was more material than not, but there was a grid of openings in a hexagonal array. Some of these openings served to allow pipes, conduits and wires to pass through. Other openings were no doubt fitted with ladders. Nonetheless, the darkness obscured most of the details.
With the exception of Cacha, my companions were enthusiastically looking about, trying to absorb as much of the view as they could.
"Oh, so we were isolated from whatever goes on down here," Brainstorm observed. "Impressive. Quite impressive."
"If this impresses you, you will absolutely love what is below the suspension platform, which, by the way, is an impressively tough structure made from the same stuff as the outer shell, whatever that stuff actually is," Cacha said.
"You don't know?" Stormie asked.
"No. All we know is it is very resilient. We can't even scratch it," Cacha admitted. "The shell is impenetrable, or at the very least, hasn't been penetrated yet."
"If the purpose of this place was to keep us safe, by keeping everything else out, it seems to be doing its job quite well." Crimson mused.
"Indeed, but what if out there is now safer than in here? How do we get out?" Brainstorm asked. "Or worse. What if this place was built to keep us in?"
"I doubt that was the intention," Cacha said, "because we've found doors that may lead to exits in the outer shell. They are not clearly marked, though, and like the gun ports, we can't open them."
"What made you think they are exits then?"
"Their positions. There are points around the middle of the sphere where some enclosed catwalks can be extended all the way from these doors to other doors built into the water jacket itself. Logic suggests that if these doors were opened, and the catwalks extended, ponies could walk from the life support chamber, and straight out of Habitat Eleven," Cacha said.
"If that is the case, it is another argument supporting the idea that there must be more than nothing outside," Brainstorm said. "Nonetheless, if you say we can't open the doors from inside, perhaps this place really is a prison."
"Perhaps Habitat Eleven was made to keep us safe while we traveled between places that were more than nothing," I suggested. "Perhaps we have to travel through nothing to get from one place to another. In that case, one would not want to be able to open the doors during transit."
"You know," Stormie said, tapping her armored head with her fingers, "You could be onto something, there, young Aneki."
"There must be an awful lot of nothing between places with something," Brainstorm said. "How many thousands of years have we been traveling? From personal experience, I can say we have been in Habitat Eleven for at least twelve hundred years. History, what little of it remains, suggests the great extermination was somewhere between six and eight hundred years before that. Prior to that was the time of construction, when ponies were living in the under-levels while the city was completed."
"And even the stories from that time suggest that there was already nothing outside the sphere, so the journey must have started before the city was completed," Stormie added, tapping her armored face with her fingers again. "You know what, I think I'm going to open my armor."
"Great idea," I agreed, focusing on rolling back my own. It was an amusing sight, watching three other ponies blossom like some sort of weird flower. Only Crimson wasn't involved, but that was because his pony skin was still unbroken. "Ah, that's better," I said, giving my nose a scratch.
"Cacha," I asked, "do Hellites usually run around armored or not?"
"Personal choice, really, but the fashion at the moment is to keep it deployed. We still have to peel when we need to bathe. I was in the habit of leaving it deployed too, but I think I was trying to hide my face from the other Hellites," she admitted, embarrassed, "but starting today, I'm going to display my face with pride!"
"And so you should," I agreed.
"Likewise," Stormie said. "Let us start our own fashion. The mares of the new herd are proud to display their true selves."
Brainstorm chuckled.
Finally, I was getting to see some of what really was down here, below the suspension platform. It would take weeks just to see an overview of the place, and longer to get to know it. To truly understand it would take a lifetime. It had taken some time for us to follow the twisting path of the ladders and catwalks that allowed us to navigate the suspension system. Like with the pipes and conduits that linked the support systems below to the life support chamber above, a direct, rigid ladder or elevator was not possible.
I was standing on the beige colored suspension platform, looking down through the sizable hexagonal opening. Huge spherical tanks were stacked, one on top of the other, within a lattice of support structures. Their shape suggested they were for storing liquefied gas, perhaps fuel, perhaps reserve air. I counted eleven of them before the gloom became too dark for my vision to penetrate. I could almost feel the great depth trying to suck me over the edge, and to my doom. There were no safety rails. With the exception of the safety rails along the suggested walkway, none of the openings had any safety measures at all. While, with my love of freerunning, I had peered over similar chasms without fear, this particular one offered few places on which I could land, or surfaces on which I could bounce or kick off. To fall would be to die, pulverized somewhere hundreds, maybe thousands of hooves below.
"Getting from here down to the bottom would be rather difficult," I said to Brainstorm, who had stepped up beside me.
"Not at all, not at all. The merest slip of the hoof would be all it required," he said, with a chuckle.
"Getting down there, and surviving, would be rather difficult," I corrected myself.
"Ah, yes, the whole survival thing does complicate things, somewhat," he agreed.
I expected Hellspawn would frequently be required to go into places with inadequate safety equipment. It was no wonder they usually died an accidental death. All the same, managing three to four hundred years in this deathtrap was quite an achievement. I suspected that sort of age was rarely reached by the sexless though. If ponies had wings, none of that would have mattered. They could simply fly up to the point where difficult maintenance was required. We carefully backed away from the edge, returning to the relative safety of the official path, closing the access gate behind us.
"Scary, but awesome," I summed up what I had seen, moving to the side of Brainstorm, putting him between me and the safety rail. We started walking again, heading towards another of the hexagonal openings, this one being equipped with a way to let gravity-bound ponies pass through safely.
"They are the reserve air tanks," Cacha told me, sidling in between Brainstorm and myself. "Some contain liquid nitrogen and some contain liquid oxygen. There is enough liquefied gas to replace the entire atmosphere of the life support chamber a few times over, should the chamber ever vent. I presume it was a measure to combat pressure loss due to Habitat Eleven being damaged by outside forces."
"So how many of the tanks have been emptied?" Brainstorm asked.
"I believe all but one are all at full capacity. Some of the older Hellites remember one of them developing a leak into Hell, many years ago. There was a mild panic because with that venting into the habitat, we risked having the atmospheric pressure significantly increase, not to mention the gas imbalance it would cause."
"So what happened?" Stormie asked from behind Brainstorm.
"Nothing. The extra pressure simply vanished. Some automated system dealt with the problem. Maybe the excess was vented outside. Maybe it was recompressed and stored in other tanks somewhere else. As you would have noticed when passing through the airlock, there wasn't a lot of pressure differential between the life support chamber and down here. And that is mostly because we get greater temperature variations than up there," Cacha said. "Even if the pressure had increased down here, our hellite bodies would have adapted anyway. They are designed to handle such things, after all."
"Ah, we are still thinking like regular ponies," Stormie said. "No doubt we will learn our abilities and limits with time."
We continued on, making small talk until we came to the way down. Cacha hadn't told us what to expect, so I was surprised to find a left facing curve was actually the start of spiral ramp curling its way downwards. For those who felt so inclined, there was also a ladder, running right down the middle of the spiral. It was also equipped with those wonderful outer bars that let a pony simply slide down.
"Ah, for those in a rush, I see," Crimson said when he also noticed the bars. Curiosity satisfied, he returned to his favored position to my right, commenting on the lack of width of the walkway. At around five ponies wide, I felt it was quite spacious!
"Sorry, Crimson, but please hush. I think I can hear somepony coming in this direction," Brainstorm said, raising a hoof to his lips.
We fell silent, and paused, straining our ears to listen. Brainstorm was correct. In fact, there were several sets of hoofbeats muddled together, ringing through the material of the spiral catwalk. Every so often one party would yell something at another. There was no love lost between them, either, if their tone was anything to judge by. What they were saying was becoming clearer as they got closer.
"Stop chasing me!" one of the approaching ponies yelled. Okay, that sounded pretty damn close. One or two loops down at the most.
"Then, get up there and do your job!" another yelled. I heard Cacha groan as she recognized the voice.
"Go do your suicidal jobs yourselves, you bitches!" the first yelled, as she suddenly burst into view, just one loop down, and moving fast, her deep magenta mane and tail streaming out behind her. "Eek! Look out!" The last two words were actually aimed at Crimson, who was in her way, as she swung wide. He braced himself but didn't move out of her way, and she cannoned into him, brought to a sudden stop by his bulk.
"Stay," he told her. She immediately ducked behind him, and hid. One glance at Crimson's face told me he wasn't going to let the pursuers anywhere near this mare. I also noticed the mare made no objection. Was it because Crimson was a stallion, or was it because she was prepared to accept any help she could get?
Moments later the other ponies, two of them, thundered into view, slipping and sliding in a comedy of errors as they tried to avoid us. They managed to stop before hitting any of us, or the safety rail. Immediately, they regained their composure and glared at us, as if it was our fault for their stupidity. They were both quite bulky for mares, unlike the one they were chasing, who was petite, much like Cacha.
"Oh, if it isn't the useless catcher, back from another failed attempt to catch a stallion," one of the two harped, upon recognizing my friend. That there were two stallions in our group seemed to have escaped her notice. She had a fire-red mane to go with her spicy temperament.
"I thought we told you to go up top and not to show your ugly face down here again, unless you were successful," the second of the mares growled. This one was sporting a basic blue mane and tail. Apart from their manes and tails, it was hard to know what any of their colors were, as their heads were sealed up in their armor. "Yet here you are, and what's more, with your ugly mug on full display!"
"Who the fuck are these inbred morons?" I asked Cacha loudly. "And what language do they speak? I hear noises coming from their mouths, but even with my mastery of current and ancient languages, I cannot understand what they are waffling on about!"
Cacha giggled. "Oh, these are the enforcers. Basically, they are a pair of bullies that assign dangerous missions to the sexless and then make sure they undertake them. Of course, they don't have the guts to go on these missions themselves, hiding behind their mare status."
I could see the ire of the pair growing rapidly. It would not had surprised me if steam had blasted from their ears, so visible was their fuming.
"I'll see that these other sexless freaks are sent back up into the chamber with you, catcher, and this time, I will personally throw you off the catwalk if you dare return without at least one stallion!" the red head raged. Who the hell was she calling a sexless freak? Me?
"We can't win against these," a small voice interjected from behind Crimson. "Nothing we ever do is good enough for them."
"You didn't tell me these assholes were this bad," I said to Cacha. "In fact, I think you failed to mention their existence at all."
"I had hoped that bringing back two stallions would get them off my case," Cacha admitted, "although their selective blindness has me puzzled. They usually aren't quite so vicious, either."
"Oh, shut up, freak. I can see the two stallions clearly enough. It's not like we are going to let a freak get the credit for bringing down the first stallions in years."
"As if I am going to let you bitches take the credit," Cacha spat back.
"It's not like you have any choice, catcher. You will go back up there, and keep looking if you know what is smart for you. Open your mouth about this even once, and you go over the railings. You wouldn't be the first we've killed," the red maned mare said with a self satisfied smirk.
The resounding crack caught me by surprise, and the red maned mare somersaulted backwards, hitting the safety railing, where she hung limply, blood dripping from her mouth. Brainstorm's hoof was now in the space previously occupied by the mare's head. He hadn't even used his guns. Since when did he get that strong?
A fast moving shadow caught my attention. My eyes only just had time to focus on the blue maned mare, now glowing, hanging in the air in front of Brainstorm, various blades where her forehooves had once been, before she arced away, vanishing through one of the hexagonal openings in the suspension platform. Her scream marked her passage. It became inaudible long before any fatal impact could silence her. I had completely forgotten about being able to form tools or weapons directly with the hellite body. While my brain was still trying to process what had just happened, the corpse of the red maned mare levitated from where it had landed, and was thrown in a similar arc, vanishing through the same opening.
"That was... unfortunate," Brainstorm said.
"It wasn't the sort of welcome I was expecting," I muttered. We had been down here how long? Already two Hellites were dead. I thought we had wanted to avoid confrontation. Then again, this was one confrontation that had been unavoidable. My own comments had certainly added to their ill feelings. Brainstorm had merely done what he believed had to be done. Maybe I was becoming harder inside. I really didn't feel all that upset about these deaths. I was more worried about Brainstorm's state of mind.
"I honestly can't say I expected it, either," Cacha said. "It was just bad luck we met those two up here. If we had gotten down to the habitat, they would not have been able to try that. But to admit to killing? They can't have actually..."
"Oh yes, they could," a quiet voice interjected. "They murdered my sister. I saw them do it. Of course, they reported her death as an unfortunate accident. Being such senior mares too, it wasn't like anypony was going to believe one of the sexless if they contradicted them. And thank you for protecting me."
"Welcome to the new order," Brainstorm said, expressionless. He raised his hoof to his face, studying it. "I knew being a Hellite would give me strength, but that was ridiculous. It wasn't my intention to shatter her skull. I merely wished to put her in her place." Well, that was reassuring.
"And once her friend attacked, I had no choice but to protect Brainstorm," Stormie said.
"Oh, that was you?" I asked. I had presumed it had been Brainstorm.
"Yes, yes, it was. And before you ask, doing anything less than killing her would have been to our detriment. I have dealt with her kind before," Stormie said.
"I wasn't going to ask," I mumbled. I had dealt with bullying over my nub of a horn when I was a filly. Bullies feel they have the right to abuse you, yet if you attempt to defend yourself, let alone retaliate, they come down on you even harder, making your life a living hell.
"Berry? Is that you?" Cacha asked, turning to face the newcomer as she emerged from behind Crimson. "It is you!"
"It's been a while, Catwalk Runner," the mare said.
"Guys, meet my half sister!" Cacha said. "We used to play with each other as fillies, before her mother went to live with one of the other stallions. We didn't get to hang around much after that."
"I've been living with the other sexless for a while now. I never saw you there," Berry said.
"I lived with my parents, until the bitches insisted I take on the role of a catcher," Cacha said. Cacha the catcher?
"Your name? Your role?" I asked.
"Oh, I was called Cacha first. It was their sick sense of humor to pick me for that role," Cacha said. "So, Berry, what was your assigned task?"
"There was a huge explosion up there yesterday. Somepony needs to investigate what caused it, and make a report," Berry said. "I'm not sure who I would be meant to report to, now those two are dead."
"That was an easy mission, wasn't it?" Stormie said. "You've already gathered all of the information you could want."
"I don't think lying about it would be good. We really do need to know what happened," Berry said.
"Oh, there's no need to lie about anything," Cacha said. "We were there. Central found a ship's main gun up there and tried to fire it. Fortunately we stopped it from firing, but it did kind of explode."
"Did you assess the damage?" Berry asked.
"Aneki did. She's a qualified structural engineer," Cacha said.
"Aneki?" Berry asked.
I chuckled. "We seem to have failed to complete our introductions. I'm Aneki. This is Stormie, and this is Brainstorm, our stallion. The charming red fellow is Crimson Garnet. Yes, he is a Hellite. He just hasn't shed his skin yet!"
"Charmed," Berry said, her armor folding back to reveal her blushing, mauve face. "And your mares are...?"
"Embarrassingly lacking in number," Crimson said. "Would the lovely mare like to be my first?"
"Who? Me?" Berry asked in disbelief. "You know I'm sterile, don't you?"
"So what?" Crimson asked. "You still think of yourself as a mare, don't you? You'd still like to be treated with respect by a stallion, wouldn't you? I've heard how poorly you girls get treated from Cacha. I'd like to make a difference."
Berry reared up, wrapping her forelegs around Crimson's neck, giving him a hug. "If you are willing to accept me, I'm prepared to give it a go."
I looked away from the ... couple? and addressed Cacha. "It seems Crimson has a better grasp of herd life, or at least of how you are used to living, than I did. Do you girls always move this fast?"
"There isn't much stallion time to go around, so we kind of have to! The fertile mares do, anyway. As you know, the other stallions don't spend any time with us. The only stallion that has had time for me was Dad, and that was a child-parent relationship anyway."
"So, having been treated like a pariah, you crushed on the first outsider that treated you with respect?" I asked, noticing that once again, Cacha was practically glued to my side.
"Guilty," Cacha admitted. "But even so, you are so crush-worthy!"
I extended my fingers and ruffled her hair. If I had to have a pony stuck to me, she wasn't a bad choice.
"So what about you, Cacha?" Berry asked. "Is one of these stallions going to accept you too?"
"Oh, I'm Aneki's... oops... Brainstorm's mare now!" she giggled.