//------------------------------// // Chapter 30. Strategy // Story: H'ven Sent // by otherunicorn //------------------------------// What the Hellites were calling their habitat, or living quarters, wasn't particularly large. The buildings were very box-like, low profile, and long, built it around one of the massive pipes that carried that thermally controlled water up into the water jacket of the life support chamber. Cacha explained how the water was heated by the main engines of Habitat Eleven when it was too cold, and cooled when it was too hot by feeding it though heat exchangers around the lower portions of the sphere wall. From the outside, the living quarters were not much to look at, just dark structures in the gloom. Entry was again through airlocks of a sort, although these took the concept to its most primitive. One opened a door, walked into a small room, closed the door, crossed the room, and repeated the process with the door on that side. All the airlock had to do was to keep the conditioned air from escaping. There was no pressure differential. Even single doors would have been adequate, if they didn't mind the odd draft. Insulation had been stripped from the pipes themselves, and transferred to the walls of the encasing building. While I had not seen the source of heat, the engines themselves, it was obvious that they were operating. I suspected they also powered the H'ven Dome. It was information available on a 'need to know' basis, I had been told. I wondered if the members of Central I had spoken to knew themselves. 4J2 certainly had gaps in his knowledge, and he was part of their inner circle. He also thought that being a member of that inner circle meant that he was in a place where he could affect change. I was coming to think he was mistaken. I was starting to believe Central were puppets for somepony else. Somepony with absolute say. Somepony with an absolute hate for the Hellites that could not be swayed with logic, appeals, or even the truth. Perhaps there was some truth to that old breezie tale about an old ruler. Could it be possible that ruler was still alive today? It required some free thinking, but it wasn't outside the realms of possibility. Perhaps they had a tank like Brainstorm's. Perhaps they were even a Hellite themselves. According to the tale, the ruler's daughter became a Hellite herself. Could it be her? "Habitat Eleven to Aneki, please respond," a voice said in my ear. "Huh?" I asked. "Move your butt, Aneki. We're blocking the doorway!" Cacha said. "You really zoned out there." "Oh sorry, I was mentally exploring the political structure of Central," I explained, taking a few steps forward so others could pass through. "Did you find anything?" Cacha asked, with a smirk. "Maybe," I answered. "I'm contemplating the relationship between a breezie tale Crimson told me, and our real history. There are definitely similarities, so I'm wondering if the tale holds the link to reality we need." "And what would that be?" "A very angry pony, that got turned into a Hellite against her will," I said. Cacha took a sudden step back, as if I had just bitten her. "Sorry, sorry," she apologized, wide eyed, fear practically radiating from her. She was afraid of me? Even with her major crush on me? "Oh, you silly thing, not me!" I said in as calming a voice as I could muster. "I'm really not that annoyed about my conversion anymore. It's opened a whole new world to me, gained me friends, magic, all sorts of good things." I leaned forward and gave her a platonic kiss on her nose. I could see the tension going out of her. "And, you are one of those good things." "Phew, I was really scared there for a moment," Cacha managed. "I'm sorry." "There you go again, silly," I admonished her. "Have I ever done anything to you, apart from shoot you in the face with colored gas?" She shook her head. "Nor am I likely to. Come on, let's have a look at the rest of these living quarters." We began our tour, again. Inside, the Hellite habitat reminded me somewhat of school. A corridor wide enough for several ponies to pass in each direction ran along the outside wall. On the other side of the corridor, through which the exposed pipe ran, were the rooms in which the ponies lived their everyday lives. The pipe was effectively the far wall, its diameter defining the height of the ceiling from the floor. Some of these rooms were shut off from outside view. Some contained a few ponies going about their business. One even served as a sort of swap-shop or market. Cacha was getting some odd looks from the other mares as we wound our way though the busy corridor, towards the nursery. The temperature through the whole of this make-shift habitat was pleasant enough, so foals would be able to wander around without adversely affecting their health. Them getting underfoot was another matter. I guess I was on the receiving end of a fair number of odd looks, too. So far Cacha and I had been left to our own devices. While no pony recognized me, it wasn't that unusual, despite the very low population of Hell. After all, no fertile pony paid particular attention to the sexless at the best of times. I was surprised no pony had called me out on my horn, despite my poor attempt to hide it in my mane. Having our faces exposed seemed to focus their attention away from all else. The stallions and Stormie were taking a different route. Berry was leading them around to the living quarters of the sexless. The whole idea of taking over this place by stealth had significant merit. We'd find somewhere to set up the tank, then start converting the sexless into real mares, assuming that was what they wanted. We would be able to build up a loyal herd of our own while not making enemies of the other stallions. Obviously it would be near impossible to do this in total secrecy, so we had settled on doing it quietly. It wasn't as if we were wanting control of what the others did either. We merely wished to have the option to do as we wished without their interference. "What angry pony were you referring to, if not yourself?" Cacha asked, riving our earlier conversation. "It was the pony from Crimson's breezie tale. She was the daughter of the old ruler. According to the tale, she was converted into a Hellite during the extermination. After that, she vanished," I explained. "What about the ruler himself?" Cacha asked. "He would be over eighteen hundred years old, if not two millennia, at his youngest, as would his daughter for that matter," I said. "If he is still alive, he is hiding behind Central. I have neither seen or heard of him." "That would seem to be pretty unlikely, wouldn't it?" Cacha asked. "Extremely, but if you think about it, ponies living in some giant spherical machine for thousands of years, while hiding from unknown terrors, also sounds far fetched, yet here we are," I said. "And then there was Brainstorm. Who would have expected them to survive for twelve hundred years. They were sealed away to die, not to reappear as powerful geniuses centuries later." I did not miss the confusion of two ponies called 'Brainstorm'! "Hmm, I never thought of it like that," Cacha said, "but you are right. There is nothing natural about our lives at all. Pony influence and interference permeate our lives completely, right down to our genetics." "Scary, isn't it?" I said, "Our whole existence, oh, look. Foals!" And thus that conversation ended with me leading Cacha into the nursery where the youngsters were playing. Pleased to have new guests, the foals soon pulled us into their games. The experience was refreshing, encouraging, and delightful. We must have been playing with them for quarter of an hour before we were interrupted by a mare calling us out. Reluctantly we left the foals, exiting the nursery. "Who are you, and what does your type want with our foals?" the mare demanded as soon as we were near her. "I was checking out the facilities, for when mine is born," I responded, making sure my voice held an edge of authority. There was no way I was going to kowtow to any other pony, and the sooner that was known, the better. "Ha funny ha," the mare drawled. "Since when do those without a uterus get pregnant?" "Since some slimy bastard in Central artificially inseminated me," I responded, "and whatever makes you think I don't have a uterus?" "How? What? What are you talking about?" the mare jumbled out. "I ain't seen you around here before, so you can't be a mare." "I can't be a mare because you haven't seen me? Since when do I need your approval to be female?" I snapped. "I, Aneki, am a mare from the life support chamber. You ain't seen me before because I ain't been down here before, and as the bastards up top seem to make a sport out of hunting and killing Hellites, I ain't planning on going back up there." The mare stood, staring at me, wide eyed. I don't think she had expected that sort of response from one she had considered to be of the lower caste. "That one ain't got any business in here though," she finally muttered, waving a hoof at Cacha. "I rekkonize her." "Maybe I don't have any business down here after all," I responded. "I'd hate for my little one to be raised among bigots." While the mare was spluttering, I turned to Cacha. "Come, my dear mare. I suggest we find a better place to raise our young!" The resultant giggling fit from Cacha was to be expected. "Life here will indeed be interesting," I said, grinning. "Perhaps you should introduce me to your parents. I would dearly like to meet some of the better elements of Hellite society." Cacha's father wasn't particularly impressive in his build. Brainstorm was taller, and Crimson both taller and bulkier than he was. Nonetheless, he didn't look like the sort of pony to whom that would matter. Seeing that we had our faces exposed, he peeled back his own armor. I was surprised to find he was just as black under his armor. His mane and tail were black too. Somehow he had managed to father a pink and yellow daughter. "Hello, I am Bright Star. I can see you are puzzling over the color of my coat, compared that of my offspring," he commented as we came face to face. He mind-read too? "I will admit the thought crossed my mind," I said. So did the strangeness of his name. He wasn't bright, so why was he named after a twinkle of light? Oh, the little white marking on his forehead was a bright star against the rest of his blackness. Fair enough. "Black mother, red and yellow father, and black is dominant, genetically speaking," Bright Star explained as he sat, indicating we should do likewise if we wished. So the eight legged, two headed mare sat, oh sorry, Cacha was glued to me again. "There aren't many black ponies up in the dome," I said. "Weren't many when I lived up there, either," Bright Star stated. "I don't imagine that has changed. Surprisingly, I have significantly fewer black foals than I would have expected. Perhaps there is a color randomizing modifier loose down here. You never know." "Modifiers, yes, the bane of our existence," I muttered. "It would be hard to live down here without them," Bright Star reminded me. "And without them, we wouldn't even need to," I countered. "Touché," he conceded. "Cacha, perhaps you would care to introduce your friend to me. I don't think we have met before." "Quite so," Cacha agreed. "This is Aneki. She is the result of what happens when a mare does a job that stallions traditionally do." "Pardon?" Bright Star queried. "She's the 'stallion' I caught with my first hellite trap," Cacha admitted, sheepishly. "Oh, so you are an engineer, are you?" Bright Star asked. "Yes, I'm a structural engineer," I stated. Come to think of it, there hadn't been that many females in that course at school, and as far as I was aware, I was the only one who enjoyed taking the jobs the furthest from the office. "You are exceptionally well built," Bright Star observed. "And you only just got down here?" There was a little hope in his voice. "I enjoy freerunning, thus the muscle tone," I answered, as that seemed to be the lilt of his first question. The second, however, was, I suspected, about to be followed by a pick-up line. "Yes, our little herd only just got down here. Two mares, two stallions. I helped Cacha recruit the others." "I see. A pity. Having a unicorn as a part of the family would have been nice," he conceded. I smiled. "Our little family has three of them. Cacha's the only mare who isn't a unicorn," I said, with a smirk. Bright Star slowly looked from me to Cacha. "You've managed to con a new stallion into accepting you? Things could get ugly when he realizes..." His voice trailed off. "Does Aneki know about..." "Yeah, I know. Cacha wanted to marry me at first." I ruffled her mane. "But an unexpected turn of events put the kibosh on that idea. We realized she was just a late bloomer, and while I may have considered marrying a mutant stallion, I wasn't going to marry a mare." Okay, so I was ad-libing a bit there, but we had agreed to keep the conversion process secret for the time being. "You're a mare, Cacha? A genuine, foal bearing mare?" Bright Star asked, eyes wide. "Yup! Unicorn scanned for verification and all. So there won't be an annoyed stallion!" she quietly exclaimed. "So, where are these other newcomers?" "Over in the other living quarters at the moment," Cacha answered. "We are trying to keep it all low key for the time being. We want to settle in first. We knew you wouldn't be a problem, but the other stallions might get a little testy." "Considering the ruckus that occurred when I came down here, I think that is a good idea," Bright Star agreed. "Apart from letting you know we are okay, we came down to let you know about the explosion that occurred up in the life support chamber yesterday. I'll get Aneki to fill you in on the details. The bad news is there are death squads in the area. The good news is the damage isn't something we really need to fix," Cacha explained. "Oh, damn. We'd better get Fire Starter and Aquamarine to lay off sending ponies up there for the moment." "We already bumped into Berry, the pony they were sending up, and filled her in. She's with the new stallions now," Cacha said. She sounded slightly nervous, something her father immediately picked up on. "What aren't you telling me, Cacha?" "There were two murderers chasing Berry," I said. "They tried to steal the stallions, threatened to kill Cacha, and admitted to killing several ponies, including Berry's sister, in the same sentence." "That doesn't sound good. What happened? Where are they now?" Bright Star asked. "A fight happened," Cacha said quietly. "One of the new stallions dispensed with one, while his other mare saved him from the other. Aquamarine shouldn't have tried to kill a unicorn." "Aneki?" Bright Star asked. "Our stallion protected us, resulting in the unexpected death of the red head. That's when blue hair attacked, legs turned into blades. The unicorn mare deflected her attack. Last we saw her, she was alive, but as she had gone over the railing, I doubt she survived," I explained. "And Fire Starter and Aquamarine admitted to killing others? Really?" Bright Star pushed. "Yes, they did. They were proud of it. Berry told us she saw them kill her sister, too," I said. "Fortunately, they didn't see her, or they would have killed her, there and then." Bright Star fell silent, tapping his chin for about a minute. Neither Cacha and I moved from where we sat, but we did lean into each other for mutual support. The silence was becoming exceedingly uncomfortable. It wasn't unlike sitting outside the headmaster's office at school, waiting for news on how he planned to deal with some schoolyard indiscretion. Finally, Bright Star spoke. "Thank you for informing me of the untimely, accidental deaths of two mares. I shall pass the word onto those who need to know. That does, however, leave us without anypony to coordinate the more dangerous missions." His statement told us several things. Dead mares were best left dead. Their reports of the deaths of others had been accepted without question, so the announcement of their deaths would be no different, and if we were smart, we'd leave it at that. I was smart. "I suggest you consider us for the coordinator role," I commented. "Cacha knows Hell. I know the life support chamber and its underlevels. Others in our herd also have expertise in that area. Perhaps that knowledge can be used in a way that would result in fewer 'unfortunate deaths' of the sexless." "I shall nominate you at the meeting then," Bright Star agreed. "Your logic is sound. Your knowledge of the area, and that you are volunteering, is also in your favor." "Good, thank you," I said. "I suggest you go say hello to your mother, while I deal with this," Bright Star said. "I'll come and find you, wherever you are, and let you know how things go." "Will do!" Cacha separated herself from me, giving her father an enthusiastic hug. "See ya around!" Our combined herd of six were sitting in a circle, having a round-table, or in this case, round-floor discussion. Some of the other sexless were hanging around, nearby, clearly interested in what was going on. Some were wondering what stallions and fertile unicorn mares could want with their kind. Some had already noticed Berry had already been accepted by a stallion, and were wondering if their luck could extend that far. We saw no reason to exclude them. If they wished to ask questions, comment or make suggestions, they were welcome to do so. We acknowledged them with nods, waves and casual greetings. Bah, 'sexless', what a nasty term. I didn't like using it, but I couldn't think of an alternative that would differentiate them from the others. Those with C.A.I.S. 'C' ponies? Could I call them C ponies? The living quarters of the sexless were less than adequate for our requirements. They were similar to the other living quarters, but made from lesser materials. It seemed the best was always grabbed by the fertile, and the remainder, the scraps, the unwanted, the garbage was tossed towards these ponies. Apparently the recently departed duo had a large part in things running that way. No fertile pony had called them to task on this, and that reflected badly on them as well. We wanted to do things better, much better, yet not in such a way that it had the fertile moving into our newly made home, and giving us their old one as soon as we were done. Besides, the gender correction tank was not something we wanted visible to them at all. "I know! Why don't we investigate the old air tank?" Cacha asked. "You know, the one that leaked. It would give us a fully enclosed environment in which to do our own thing." "It would certainly be big enough for half of the Hellite population. What is accessibility like?" I questioned. I hadn't seen much in the way of catwalks or ladders when I had been peering down at them from the suspension platform. "There is access. Do you know how big those tanks are?" Cacha asked. "The larger ones are nearly a mile in diameter. We are talking huge. If your brain didn't take in the scale, any catwalks would have looked like threads. Besides, the catwalks are close to the bases and apexes to allow for servicing, and were probably hidden from your view." "How many miles down are we talking?" "I'm pretty sure it is the top tank of the second stack," Cacha said. "Heating and cooling?" Brainstorm queried. "No problem. The tanks have to be cooled normally to prevent unwanted expansion of the contents. There is also a heating system to allow for rapid discharge and expansion of the gas into the habitat. It would be no use releasing the liquid gas into the habitat, as it would freeze everypony inside. A small portion of the liquid is heated as it drains from the tank to generate the pressure needed to drive the liquid and gas up through the water jacket, where the remainder of the heating and expansion takes place before it enters the habitat itself. The point being that there is some sort of heating equipment we could repurpose to our advantage." "And if it is the top tank, it's closer to the path up to the life support chamber, and to our stash than here," I commented, "assuming there is a direct catwalk or ladder or something." "We can levitate. We can cut. We can weld. If we can build a new interior for the tank, building a way to get to it should be comparatively easy," Stormie commented. "Most of the route is there. We'd just need to put in some bridges and ramps. The problem will be gathering the required materials," Cacha reminded her. "We may need to go up to sublevel seventy nine and strip that. As you know, sublevel eighty has already been cleaned out. For that matter, there are the old, empty fuel tanks too, but they might still contain traces of the fuel." "You can cut and weld?" I asked Stormie. I knew it was possible. After all I had already worked out my own cutting spell. "Yet, when you were welded into your lab, you considered yourselves trapped?" "Yes," Stormie replied. "We were trapped, but not by the welds themselves, but by those that would have killed us on sight had we exited the labs. We were trapped by the situation, and by the attitudes of others." "Then I guess you have a very good understanding of why we are stuck living in this second-rate habitat, while the stallions and mares live in comparative luxury," one of the listening sexless interjected. "The major hurdle has been jumped," Berry responded. "There will always be distaste for our kind by many of the others, but the worst of the worst, the enforcers, have been dealt with." "Dealt with? How? Nothing we have ever tried did anything but make them worse," the pony said. "They tried their usual tricks against these ponies here with me. It didn't work. It so didn't work. You won't believe how badly it didn't work. Cacha tells me there will be new ponies taking over their role." "What happened?" several ponies voiced. Oh, here we go. Berry is going to tell everypony we killed them. Great, just great. That was not how I wished to introduce the new maintenance coordinators. "They admitted to murdering some of us, and got themselves retired, is what happened," Berry stated. "So who's going to take over and when will they show their faces? And what of the murderers? Will they still be wandering about?" "The new coordinators are showing their faces a lot more clearly than you imagine," I said, standing and facing the questioner. "And this time the ponies taking on the role have a much better understanding of how things work up above too, so we won't be sending you off to die." "You said 'we'," the pony pointed out. "I did. You don't know me yet, but you do know my partner in this task. It is your own Cacha. The other ponies with us will also be assisting us. It is our desire to make your lives as good as we possibly can, instead of exploiting you for the wellbeing of others," I said as Cacha stood and moved up beside me. "And the old enforcers, the murderers? You still haven't told us what happened to them? Will they be able to interfere, despite being retired?" "They fell victim to one of their own kind of 'unfortunate accidents'. One is confirmed dead. The other is presumed dead," I said. "So you don't know for sure?" "She fell down between the tanks from the suspension platform. We heard her screaming most of the way down. We haven't gone looking for the body," I explained. The questioner nodded. "Yes, that would be about as dead as you can get. Thank goodness for that. If we do find her remains, we will make sure we treat them with the greatest of disrespect." There was a murmur of approval from the others that had gathered. I noticed more ponies had quietly been gathering around us too. "So, this new living quarters you are talking about getting us to build... who's it for?" "It's for us, of course," Cacha said. "The mares and stallions already have the best of everything, don't they? What could they want with what we build for ourselves?" There was a definite smirk on her face. "And if we don't want to? What if we want to stay here?" one of the onlookers asked. "Or if we don't help now, and want to join in later?" another asked. "That is entirely up to you," I answered. "We are the new maintenance coordinators, not replacement overlords. And to make things clear, we are going to build these new living quarters, not you. If you wish to become involved, you do so because you wish to be part of this, to be one of us." A pony began clapping her hooves together. Soon most of the onlookers joined her in applause. A few remained silent, neither showing approval or disapproval. All in all, it wasn't a bad way to start. What was it Brainstorm has said earlier? That was it: Welcome to the new order.