//------------------------------// // Chapter 34. The Elder // Story: H'ven Sent // by otherunicorn //------------------------------// Cacha sat, looking fairly stunned. While she had been watching me paging through the various displays, I didn't think they meant a lot to her. Sure, she was clever, but the Hellites had been living in isolation for a long time. Their teaching resources were mostly limited to word of mouth and first-hoof training passed from one generation to the next. If a fault didn't appear for a generation or two, the skills to deal with it were lost, except, perhaps for word of mouth instructions, and had to be learned all over again via experimentation. The only new input of knowledge they were receiving was from ponies they kidnapped from the life support chamber. Sometimes that got them a maintenance worker, like Cacha's father had been. This time it had netted them a pony with extensive engineering training. While I had not been trained specifically with the dynamics of a large ball containing ponykind being propelled through the great nothingness, I was quite versed with the physics behind propelling elevators up and down shafts, the stresses involved in keeping gravity from collapsing bridges, buildings and so on. I also had a pretty good idea of what gravity did to a hurtling pony body from personal experience. There was no way one could freerun without having an instinctive understanding of what path one would take through the air, after leaping from anything solid. "So, my conclusions were not quite what you were expecting?" I asked. "They surpassed it. We had the same theories about the gravity generator, but weren't sure where it fit into the big picture. We thought we were in a ship that was still traveling. We never quite understood the entire accelerating or decelerating bit, and how that could make gravity, but we had theories," Cacha said. "But there is no point sharing them with you now, because you've just gone and presented me with facts." "Inconvenient little things, aren't they?" "Such is life. But what do we do now? If what you say about how long we have left is correct, we have to break out of the habitat now. We have to find out what it is like out there, so we can prepare the rest of the ponies in the habitat for living out there. Can you imagine what it would be like if we need to convert everypony into Hellites? Could we even do that? Would we be killed trying? And then what? Ponykind dies out because they are still trapped in here when the power fails?" "The first thing we need to do is discuss the discoveries with some sane ponies. Brainstorm and Stormie will have to suffice." "You aren't filling me with confidence!" "Just kidding... about the sane bit. They may be mad scientists, but they are extremely clever. I think your father should also be involved." "What about Crimson, his... mare, and the others?" "All in good time. We don't want to start a panic. For the moment, I suggest that they go on with life as usual. We fix the old habitat or find them a new one, get the tank set up, and convert as many to mares as we can." "And if they want to be stallions?" Cacha asked. "We don't have a solution for that yet, do we, so we can't offer it as an option." "So we do what we can..." "Precisely. We also have to find a winged unicorn, or some way to emulate one, so we can get the ship's doors to open." "And how do you propose we do that? Get Brainstorm and Stormie to genetically modify a unicorn so it has pegasus wings?" "Maybe, but that wasn't what I was thinking. I was thinking we go and ask somepony who may already know where to find one." "Who?" "4J2." "What? Are you loco in the coco?" Cacha and I had made as many notes as we could from the displays to help convince the others of our situation. The hardest part of all that was finding something to actually write the notes on. Eventually, we settled on writing them on the clothes I had brought down here with me. For the writing implement, I used my magic. I'd turned Brainstorm's blue satin display case lining into red velvet, so it wasn't hard to modify the spell to change the colors of the cloth to replicate what was on the screen. Recording completed, I bundled the clothes back into the saddlebag. "With that skill, you really could have one outfit for every occasion," Cacha said. "Maybe, as long as I didn't need to change the style. I could design a pretty bridge or building, but a pretty dress is somewhat outside my experience." "That's still pretty awesome." "Do you have much in the way of clothing down here?" I asked. "There are some items that have survived the ages, and a few newer ones that have been made since, but mostly, no, we don't need them." "Can our bodies shape themselves to look like we are wearing them? After all, we can modify our hooves into tools and weapons." "Sort of. We can move mass around enough to emulate them, to some extent, but they are always black, and the muscular and mechanical outlines are impossible to get rid of. The hooves are the most easily manipulated. It isn't like we would need to transform our butts into knives, is it?" "Dunno. I can turn my shoulders into gun turrets, and presumably my butt as well." "Well, you are a freak, after all, dear Aneki. The rest of us neither have horns or inbuilt mad-scientist weapons." "Thank you so much for reminding me," I said, giving her a semi-serious glare. "Unless there is something else down here you need to show me, let's head back." "I can't think of anywhere at the moment. Let's go." Now we had to walk all the way back up to the Hellite habitats. Cacha revived the earlier conversation as she fell in beside me. "So how do we get to 4J2? We'll be shot on sight!" she said. I tapped my comms unit. "I call him, or try to. I don't know if he left the channel connected or not." "So what's stopping you trying it now?" "Location. There aren't any repeaters for the system down here in Hell. We will need to get back up to the underlevels of the life support chamber itself before we can even try." "And if that doesn't work?" "If that fails, we'll go up in fancy dress." "Wouldn't we stand out? Are clothes commonly worn up in the life support chamber?" "A few do dress up, but it's not a daily thing for most ponies, but there is one day where anything goes. We could almost walk up there exactly as we are, and get away with it. Marathon day!" "Marathon day?" "Yup. Once a year, Central opens the Mane Way to the public for a marathon. The theory is ponies get to run on it, but in actual fact, it's fairly chaotic. Some ponies try to get from one side to the other directly, while some try to use the ring roads." "If they aren't going to do it properly, why do they run it at all?" "There is a direct run from one side to the other, right through the center, that is host to the more serious runners. Marshals patrol the entries to that route, only allowing the fun runners in after the racers have passed. Mostly, though, I think it is more to allow the public to do something they aren't allowed to do all the rest of the year, to give them a thrill, and to suppress any desire to break the rules. After all, why break the rules today, if you can wait, and get to do it legally?" "Makes some sort of sense. So when is this marathon?" "We've missed this year by a few weeks. It's next year's problem now. I've got a foal to have first. Perhaps the father would like to meet his child." "Oh, yes. That." "Yes. That." "Umm, sorry..." "It's not your day is it? Washed your mouth this morning and can't do anything with it?" "Bah!" Despite Cacha's bout of hoof-in-mouth disease, we spent another night snuggled against each other, sleeping on the catwalks. The good night's sleep, and a couple of decent feeds did us good, which was just as well because it took us most of the day to get back up to the suspension platform and the Hellite habitats. Neither of us had felt like running up what was effectively a two vertical mile climb stretched over twenty or so miles horizontally. While we did have the ability to run a good portion of the distance if we were so inclined, walking was a more efficient use of our energy, and was more conducive to talking. We chatted about what we had just discovered, the Hellites' theories about the place, the colors of our parents' coats, possible fancy dress designs and whatever else crossed our minds. Eventually we turned along the catwalk that led to the ramshackle habitat of the sexless. It didn't take long for us to sense something was not right. It wasn't as well lit as usual, and it was too quiet. Even from outside it, we should have been able to hear signs of life, or see flickers in the light that escaped through gaps and cracks in the poor materials from which the structure was built. Cacha was the first to put the feeling of dread to words. "Something is off here." "Indeed. There's no movement at all, as if the place was deserted." "Or if everypony was dead..." Cacha said, shuddering. "Whoa down girl. There could be valid reasons as to why it's deserted." "I hope Aquamarine didn't survive and come looking for revenge, or worse, what if the death-squads from the life support chamber came down here after us?" "If either of those happened, there'd be either a very dead Aquamarine, or a pile of very dead ex-death-squad ponies. Crimson has a weapon. Stormie and Brainstorm are weapons. The sexless aren't pushovers either." What was it with Cacha at the moment? Had she taken a ditz-pill or something, or was this just one of the extremes of her usual range of her behavior? "But..." "Yes, you've never encountered it like this before. We've been away for a few days, so anything could have happened. What if your father convinced the others in the other habitat to share, and everypony moved over there?" "That is so not happening," Cacha muttered. Okay, maybe she wasn't as ditzy as she was acting. "Or what if in our absence, they found somewhere else they could use as a habitat, and simply moved out," I said as we reached the door. "I think you've simply spooked yourself with your imagination. Look, I'll go in first. If there are bad ponies in there, I'll shoot them. Okay?" "Oh, all right." I didn't even bother to deploy my weapons. Pushing open the door, I entered the mostly deserted building, Cacha following a few paces behind, when it was clear that no bullets were going to fly. This habitat was mostly of an open plan, narrow walls protruding into the width where support was needed. There was very little to get in the way of me seeing what was in there, and apart from the aforementioned walls, there were no hiding spots. The belongings and furniture that had been here on my previous visit were all missing, the materials used in the construction of the room reflecting warm colors from the few lights that were still running. Ahead, lying on the floor was a single body... hang on, let's not assume she was dead yet! Her pose was too natural, too comfortable. "Oh, it's her," Cacha muttered. "Yo!" I called. The pony's eyes opened, and she lazily directed her gaze at me. "You're back. Good." Her facial armor was not deployed, so I could see her coat was a cool grey, the muted coloring also extending to her dull-aqua mane and tail, eyes, and, apparently, to her intonation. "Is everything okay?" I asked. "Just wonderful, except for the bit where one of us had to wait around for you guys to show up again. That gets boring," the pony said, her voice continuing to convey very little in the way of emotion. "At least you get to sleep on the job," I said. "True." "So, where is everypony?" I asked. "In the new habitat you found for us, of course." "What?" Cacha said. "I thought Stormie was totally against living there, with it being the resting place of so many murdered creatures." "We live in one resting place for the murdered, or another. It's all the same. The bones don't care, do they, Cacha?" the pony asked. "I guess not. Once we have cleaned them away, it shouldn't bother any of us." "That's right. Crimson and Berry were pretty excited when they told us all about Habitat Ten, so by the time we heard Stormie's opinion, we were already packing and getting ready to move. Stormie and your other newcomer friends will just have to get used to it. It shouldn't be hard. It isn't like bones can do anything." The pony glanced at me. "You clearly missed when Brainstorm made the skeleton walk," I said. "All the same, it won't bother me. Some things will need attending to, though, such as preventing ourselves from being sealed into the habitat by hostiles. I expect you also had to wait for the air to be purified." "The air in the upper level was okay, not that it mattered. As long as there is oxygen we don't have any problems. I guess that is something you haven't learned yet." "I haven't learned your name yet either," I said. "Bittersweet," the pony replied in the same monotone voice she had been using since she first spoke. "Well, Bittersweet, we're back, so you can get on with whatever exciting thing it was you were doing. Thank you, for what it's worth," I said, again wondering at her attitude. "You're welcome. Don't get me wrong. I may sound like I don't care, but it doesn't mean that I don't." "So you don't have anything against me?" Cacha asked, surprised. "I always thought you didn't like me." "Nah, why would I have anything against you?" "You always sounded..." "Jaded? Bored? Disinterested? Yeah, I always do. I stopped sounding enthusiastic about anything a couple centuries ago. After a while, everything takes on a sameness. You kids are the first to interest me in decades." "We are?" I asked. "I'm here, waiting, aren't I?" the pony said. Indeed, she was. "So, Bittersweet, are you the oldest Hellite?" I asked the grey pony who was walking to one side of me. Cacha was virtually glued to my other side, as per usual. "No, I am not the oldest, although I am the oldest of those without true gender. I have been around but a few hundred years. The oldest Hellite is a mare. None of us are sure exactly how old she is, but stories about her suggest that she is at least a thousand years old," Bittersweet said. "What does she have to say about that, herself?" "Whatever it is she has to say, none of us can truly understand. She is quite mad, and her ramblings make little sense." "Could it simply be a language barrier problem? Does she simply speak the language of the older generations?" I asked. "You know about that? I'm impressed, but no, it is not the problem. We can understand her words, but not her meaning. How did you come to learn the language?" "I pulled it out of the heads of a couple of ancient reprobates that were trying to learn modern language by pulling it out of my mind with a crude spell. I rewrote the spell there and then, and pulled the ancient language out of their minds instead." "You met ponies that knew ancient?" Bittersweet asked. "Yup. They're over twelve hundred years old!" "And they haven't gone mad?" "That's debatable. You've already met the current incarnation of them. They rebuilt themselves using modifiers." "Surely, you don't mean that young unicorn couple." With Bittersweet's total lack of intonation, that sounded more like a statement than a question. "Indeed I do. And I'm the only young unicorn. To them, even you are a youngster!" "Humph! If only I could recapture the wonder of being a youngster again." There was the slightest hint of emotion in her voice this time. "You never know. Maybe you could be my foal's grandmother. Maybe you could have one of your own. That would be a new experience for you." Bittersweet looked at me grimly. "Those sort of jokes are not funny to our kind." "Aneki isn't joking," Cacha said. "She's pregnant, and I'm a mare, a real one." "How does that help me have a foal?" Bittersweet asked, the slightest fluctuation in her voice betraying her disappointment with her life in that respect. "I wasn't always a mare. Stormie wasn't always a mare. Brainstorm and Stormie have created modifiers and written spells to help us become real mares. It's meant to be a secret, so please don't tell the others until they have everything set up." Bittersweet bounded ahead a couple paces, stopped, and swiveled to face us, blocking our way. She stared at us intently, as if she was trying to read our thoughts, our souls. Finally, her stance relaxed. Apparently she had decided to believe us. "And if somepony wanted to become a stallion?" "They haven't worked out how to do that yet," I said. "They can prevent the faulty gene from being passed to your children, but as of yet, they can't fix the gene in your bodies, and that means you can either be as you are, or a true mare." "Do you want to be a stallion?" Cacha asked. "No. I have never wished to be anything other than what I am - a mare. It has been frustrating that my genetics did not do the job properly," Bittersweet said, "and if these unicorns really can correct the genetic malfunction, I will be most grateful indeed. Perhaps I might even go as far as to express some enthusiasm." "I am glad to see you still have a sense of humor," I said. "Nice of you to notice," she deadpanned. "You are welcome." "What is your relationship with Cacha?" Bittersweet asked, observing Cacha's proximity to me. "Parasitic attachment, I think," I said with a giggle. Cacha blew a raspberry at me, but made no comment. I continued. "Cacha was the first Hellite I met. In fact, she was responsible for my conversion. She also saved my life. Somehow, despite the less than optimal introductions, we get on really well. If she hadn't been converted to a mare, we may have become a couple. Now, I guess we are just a pair." "Your relationship is not sexual." Again her intonation made what could have been a question sound like a statement. "No, it is not. When either of us get around to doing anything like that, it will be with Brainstorm," Cacha said. "Will be? Then, Aneki, who is the father of your foal, and where is he?" I shrugged. "He's up in the life support chamber." "Do you miss him?" "No. I know where he is, but I do not know who he is. My pregnancy is the result of a laboratory experiment. Fortunately, the pony I believe to be the father helped me to escape certain death there. All the same, I do not know what he looks like, or even his name." Bittersweet's expression suggested she had a newfound level of respect for me. "Your journey here has not been a pleasant one." I shook my head. "Yet you hold your head high, and speak with kindness. A lot of ponies could learn from you." I didn't know what to say to that, so I said nothing. "Do you think I would be welcome in your herd?" Bittersweet asked. "You are certainly welcome to hang around with us," I said. "As for the remainder of the herd, I see no problems, but I will allow them to speak for themselves." And thus our herd grew.