//------------------------------// // Chapter 42. The Triumphant Return // Story: H'ven Sent // by otherunicorn //------------------------------// Having escaped 2B3 and her examinations, we, the Hellite trio, had decided it was time to return to Habitat Eleven Lower Levels, or Hell, and fill in the Hellite ponies down there on what we had been up to. Although only a few days had passed, the political landscape in Habitat Eleven had changed drastically. Hellites themselves, in principle at least, were no longer enemies of H'ven, and were to be welcomed instead. Hopefully the Hellites' fear of those from above had not turned into hate, and they would be glad to reintegrate themselves into pony society. How the general populace were going to respond to us was about to be discovered, at least in the case of the few workers we could see up ahead. They were repairing the damage done to the power distribution node when it had been converted into the trap they used to catch us. None of the workers were wearing isolation suits, indicating a lessened fear of catching anything from Hellites. They looked more like service ponies than the soldier ponies that had made the trap in the first place. As we stepped into view, they paused, regarding us warily. "White, cream and pink? You mean they aren't completely black?" one of them said quietly to his workmates. I guess they had never heard that we could retract our facial armor. "Uh, hello," another of them said, "Are we interfering with your work? If you wish us to get out of your way, please say so." "No, please carry on with what you are doing. I see you heard the queen's edict regarding us," I said. "We did, though you knowing about it is surprising. The last Hellspawn we saw ran for her life when we spotted her." "We've just come down from Central, so we know of the edict. You could say the edict is the result of us negotiating." Well, it was the truth! "As we are not bothering you, we will get back to work." "Please do." I wondered what their reactions would have been if they knew they were addressing their queen. The distribution node was looking somewhat better than the last time I had seen it. The damaged rear wall was currently being repaired, and the systems compromised during the creation of the trap had been restored. A second computer had been installed along side the original one, but the original one remained in circuit. A few stray cables suggested that the while the rewiring was complete, installation was not. "I see you survived," the disembodied voice stated as we approached the terminal. It sounded male, not that it made any difference. I doubted the computer had any sense of gender. "You could say that," I said. "Prospered, even." "What's more, you even remembered to come and visit me!" "We did say we would." "And you were true to your word. Thank you. I do not get many chances for conversation, so I appreciate it." "I see the other computer I had sent down has been wired in," Maisie said, nodding towards the second device. "Is it my replacement?" the computer asked. "When I saw it, I was scared they were going to disconnect me again." "That depends on what you want to do. Is it sapient? Have you been able to converse with it?" "Nope. It's perfectly functional as a computer, but as a person, it's as dense as they get. It has, however, given me something to do. I programmed it to take over the basic tasks, and that gave me more time to mess about with the more advanced programs. I've managed to improve the efficiency somewhat, and create a nice set of automated exception handlers for it. The programs won't ever be as smart as a sapient, but if I ever get the chance to take a vacation, it's ready to go. I just hope it will be a vacation, and not retirement." "If retirement was to be the case, programming it was kind of self defeating, wasn't it?" I asked. "Yes, but I was just so bored I couldn't help myself," the computer said. "Are many computers sapient?" Cacha asked. "Nope, I don't think so. It isn't like I have access to many of them, though. I'm restricted to the control and error reporting networks. That gives me access to a few dozen computers, none of which have the smarts. Through a bit of creative programming, and sending of non-standard packets through the reporting network, I have managed to find a few others out there. Our communications are limited to what we can send through these non-standard packets. It's kind of like bouncing things off a distant wall and hoping somepony out there can catch it. It's one message a day stuff." "That's better than nothing, I presume." "Only just. It is tantalizing, but very frustrating," the computer grumbled. "Changing the subject; what do you know about yourself? What can you remember?" I asked. "I presume I am, or was, a pony, although I suspect there is very little left of me, physically. Mentally, it is much the same. My memories of life as a pony, assuming I am correct about that, are spurious, fleeting things that give me little more than a basic concept." "That's right. You started out as a pony," I said. "I suspect you died in an accident at a young age, leaving you with a flexible brain, suitable for repurposing. Have you always been sapient as a computer?" "That's hard to say. I think awareness came to me after a while, but when it did, I found I could remember a lot of what I had processed. I could remember right back to when I was first activated. That led to curiosity and experimentation. After all, I had to find ways to amuse myself during the times of low load." "How long have you been down here?" "It has to have been a couple hundred years, at least. I only have so much memory, so I have to constantly erase out-of-date stuff. Older memories, except for the spurious stuff, are long gone, or are so compressed they only pop up of their own volition, due to association. I suspect the spurious stuff lives in the same part of me as my personality, and sense of self." "So, are you up for a challenge?" Maisie asked, flicking her lemon mane from her blue eyes. "Anything for a change. Well, anything except sensory deprivation," the computer answered. "I want you to find all the sapient computers in the systems of the life support chamber. I want you to help them interconnect, and if they wish it, program replacements for themselves." "I could understand why they would like to interconnect, but why would they want replacements? Doesn't that spell the end for them?" "It would give them freedom to socialize, to learn new tasks, to have something resembling a life," I said. "Yes, that does sound appealing. So, how would I go about this?" "We could upgrade the cabling to this place, connecting you to the network hubs. Or we could move you physically down to a node closer to the reporting system, negating the need for new cabling, and assist you in making a new protocol or modifying the network as needed. Or... we could find a way for you to move around in the real world as much as you need, with the bonus of being able to mix with ponies too," Maisie said. "Why would you do this?" The virtual voice sounded puzzled. "No pony has given a damn about me, outside of my use as a computer, for as long as I can remember." "No sapient should be a slave," I said. "Woo! Somepony who says it like it is!" the computer cheered. "Do you have the authority to do this?" Cacha and Maisie chuckled. "Aneki got a promotion. She can authorize anything!" "Good for her. Good for us. So, what happens now?" "I'll see what I can arrange, then I'll get back to you. If you need to chat to me before I am back, flag an error, and we'll see it on the monitors down below," Maisie said. "What are you doing, right now?" the computer asked. "We thought we'd better put in an appearance down in Hell. They are probably thinking we are missing by now, if not dead." Leaving the distribution node and our new friend, we continued with our trip to the lower levels, heading towards the nearest elevator. This time it wasn't as if Central could pull priority on me and kick me out of the elevator half way through a trip. The 1A1 card trumped all! For a while, Maisie discussed her ideas on how to give freedom to the sapient computers, but one annoying problem kept raising its head - resources. In the end, I promised her access to the stores hidden on the bottom floor of the recycling center. I didn't know if much down there would be of use to her, but it was a start. There was very little down in Hell that would be of use... unless there were more stores stashed below the sky and soil chamber of Habitat Ten, and exploring down there would be a resource draining exercise in its own right. I was inclined to let what was buried there remain that way. "So... Aneki... You look a bit depressed. What did 2B3 have to say about the father of your foal?" Maisie asked. "She didn't know who the father was," I answered. "How could that be?" "There was no information recorded about the father," I said. "And then she insists that it wasn't her who got me pregnant, that what she did failed." "So, someone else got you pregnant? I thought they were all scared to even go near you," Cacha said. "They were. There are no records of anything else being done. 4J2 and his alternate shift buddies cannot recall seeing anything suspicious either." "That leaves us with 2B3 as the primary suspect again," Cacha said. "Yet she insists my body absorbed and destroyed the embryo she implanted." "Hang on a moment," Cacha said. "You said embryo , not sperm ." "I did, didn't I?" "So, which do you actually mean?" "I meant what I said." "Oh... do you know who the mother of this embryo is?" "Not me." "What are you going to do about it? Could Brainstorm scan the fetus for details? Can he retrieve the genetic information?" "I don't want to know anymore," I said. "Whatever its genetic source, it will need looking after, so I have decided to forget all this queen's eyes only crap, and all the other theories, and hopefully by the time the foal is born, my hormones will have convinced me it's my own little treasure." Cacha threw her forelegs around me and hugged me hard, saying nothing. Really, that was the best thing she could have said. The secret entrance to Hell was still hard to look at, with its warding spell, reminding me of when Crimson had backed into it to fight its effects. The easiest way to approach it was to watch where you were stepping, then reach up and feel for the hidden scanner. As I had managed to fit in the airlock with two stallions, we decided to try cramming all three of us in at once. It was cozy but comparatively easy. Cacha and I used it as an excuse to share a hug. Maisie muttered something about ponies being obvious. Cacha muttered something about a pony being jealous. The trip down the ladders and along the catwalks felt strangely like coming home, ironic in that my home was once up, above, in the life support chamber. Somehow I was going to have to integrate these Hellites back into pony society, assuming they did not wish to remain down here. Habitat Ten wasn't a bad place to live. Maybe the Hellites would simply go for day trips up into H'ven. Unlike the situation with the changelings, there would be no softening of the public to our presence via the media. If anything, we would be introduced as a lost tribe of repair ponies that had been discovered living in the lower levels or something similar. For the bulk of the population, that would be close enough to the truth. After all, we were ponies, even if we looked a little different, we did do the repairs vital to the survival of Habitat Eleven, and we were not the children of evil conquerors. If anything, the curiosity about the lower levels themselves would be greater than curiosity about us, assuming the former regime's brainwashing by media hadn't killed off curiosity altogether. As we passed through the shadows of pillar, a sudden movement from behind it caught my eye. In the dim light, something reflective flashed towards me, and I dodged, stepping back to avoid it, but alas, too slowly. Pain exploded through my chest and shoulder and I stumbled. Blood spurted as the silver rod that had pierced me was withdrawn. A spear; somepony had just speared me! I tried to form my gun, but the pain and the darkness clouding around my vision prevented me from doing much. Perhaps the spear had actually hit part of the weapon itself, preventing me from activating it. After all, I had somehow managed to get off a shot when under attack from the changeling queen's spell. As I toppled, my facial armor deployed itself, but the most it achieved was to cushion the blow of my head against the catwalk; it wouldn't be much use against a weapon that had gone through my body with such ease. Screams filled the air, some mine, some not, some of pain, some of anger. My mind raced. Who had attacked? Why? To come this far, to have achieved so much, only for somepony to try to kill me now. Had Kakuun betrayed me and sent a hit squad? Surely not! I was a better judge of character than that, so who? Suddenly, and with a little relief, I realized that it had to be a Hellite that had attacked. Kakuun had never sampled our form, and as such would be barred entry to the lower levels by the scanners, and even if she had, only she would have been able to enter. The spear flashed towards me again, but was stopped by Cacha, who deflected it with a kick. Immediately she extended her boot pistol and fired several shots at the attacker, driving the black pony backwards until they stumbled and fell. There was a limit to how effective high velocity pieces of carrot could be against a Hellite, so while the initial response was good, what Cacha did next would be critical. The next volley of Cacha's shots knocked the spear from the grasp of the veiled pony and it clattered to the catwalk. Immediately, she kicked the spear, and it slid and rolled along until it came to a rest near me, well out of the attacker's reach. Maisie leaped over to me, using her fingers to close the entry wound on my chest, apparently a difficult task, because her fingers kept slipping in the blood. Ten seconds: that was how long she needed to hold it before modifiers could stop the blood flow. Only then could she work on the exit wound on my right shoulder, and that would be difficult because I was lying on it. She may have not even realized I had two wounds. I tried stringing some words together to alert her, but my brain was currently too stunned to be coherent. "Lose the veil and peel your face, you fucker," Cacha demanded of the pony her barrage of non-lethal rounds had knocked over. "I know who you are, you having balls and all, so if you are trying to hide your identity, you have failed." The attacker obliged, and for the first time I could see the khaki color of his coat, and the stubble of his regrowing mane. Turning towards us, Cacha spoke. "Aneki? Maisie, how is she?" "Bad, I think. This wound is mostly closed up, but she's still bleeding. I'm amazed she wasn't killed outright. So, who's the bastard?" "Richard the Great," Cacha said. "Dad, you asshole," Maisie spat. "Why are you trying to kill the one pony that could save us all?" "Worry about that in a minute. If that wound has sealed, turn Aneki over and find the exit wound. I have my hooves full with this asshole." Cacha turned back to Richard the Great as Maisie edged me onto my stomach, so she could work on the exit wound on my shoulder. Holding my wound closed with one set of fingers, she pulled the spear close with her other hoof, lifting it, examining the wickedly sharp blade at its end. Even from my poor vantage, I could see that the blade was hoof made, and honed to a razor's edge. "Richard, whatever happened to Revenge would serve no purpose. I have been beaten, my authority totally destroyed. My personal code of honor demands that I respect this change? They were your words, weren't they?" Cacha asked. "Words, mere words to let me get away at the time," Richard muttered. "Since my defeat, the other stallions no longer respect me, treating me with disdain. My mares could no longer stand the embarrassment, and left me for the others. No pony wants to breed with me. What is left for me? Nothing. Nothing at all." "So, you decided to reestablish your rule by murdering a mare?" Richard the Great laughed. "My time is over. Nothing I do will ever return things to how they were." "Then, why? Why try to kill Aneki?" "To share the suffering. To make it known that I will not be mocked. And when I am done here, I will take care of those arrogant new stallions one way or another." With that, he leaped, forming blades with his forelegs, slashing at Cacha, who, stepping back, retaliated by firing more carrot. "Hurk..." Everything seemed to pause. Richard the Great was standing there on his rear hooves, bladed forelegs extended. Cacha was a couple of paces from him, also up on her rear legs, boot pistol targeting his head. Cacha wasn't bleeding. That was good. Slowly, Richard the Great lowered his forelegs. In fact, he didn't just lower them: they became limp, as did the rest of his body. That was when I noticed the only thing that had kept him from falling was the silver shaft sticking out of his mouth, the other end of which was firmly grasped by Maisie. She gave it a couple of jerks before pulling it free, allowing Richard the Great to collapse on the catwalk. "Severed his spinal cord. Let's see him get up after that." Maisie muttered. Cacha relaxed her stance, folding her weapon, and dropping to all fours. "It's really sad, Dad," Maisie said, closing the gap between herself and the mortally wounded stallion. "The pony you just tried to kill is Her Majesty, Aneki, the queen of Habitat Eleven. Through her efforts, we are now able to go up into the life support chamber. You could have gone up there and started a new life. There are mares up that are not related to you. A new wife. New foals. Colts, even. Imagine that." Richard the Great gurgled, blood foaming from his mouth. "That's right, Dad. You could have been free. Instead, you have been condemned to death for the attempted murder of the queen. Your name will be an embarrassment to be forgotten by those whom you fathered. What little remained of your greatness will be gone, and if you weren't already dying, we would have to kill you. Goodbye, Dad. You weren't much of a parent, but you are my father, so for begetting me, I thank you." Richard the Great gurgled again, before letting out one last, long breath. I wondered how long he had to ponder Maisie's words, or if he was already too far gone by then. "I'm sorry you had to kill your father, Maisie," Cacha said. "So am I, but somepony had to do it." Maisie shook her head. "He had his own way for so long, he could live no other way. Forgive me, Aneki, I know you do not approve of killing." "It was him or us," I managed to say. "You are forgiven, commended even. Feel no guilt, for blame will not be placed on any but Richard, himself." "Anyway, we have more pressing matters to deal with now," Cacha interrupted. "We have a wounded queen, and very few medical supplies. I will clean the area of her wounds and bandage her. Maisie, if you would be so kind, could you please fetch Brainstorm, and tell him Aneki needs a vial of blood, and some sort of transport. He knows her type. Same as Crimson." What a triumphant return that turned out to be - getting lugged into Habitat Ten on a stretcher, my right leg unusable because the nerves had been severed by the spear, and my chest aching due to the damage within. Right there, on the catwalk where I had been wounded, Brainstorm had used his magic to weld the cut muscles and blood vessels after topping up my blood levels. He had elected to leave the nerve repairs to the Hellite systems of my body, hoping it would work out which nerve connected to what, where as he could only guess. Down the ramp we went, into the vestibule, where curious ponies gathered around, asking questions. They always assumed the attacker was a member of a death squad from the life support chamber, and were becoming quite agitated. "Enough of this!" Maisie exclaimed. "Ponies, Aneki was attacked down here, in Hell, by one of our own." A collective gasp rippled out through those that had gathered, followed by twittering as ponies started nominating their choice of villain. "We do know who the guilty party was," Maisie said. "It was my own father, and the father, grandfather or whatever of a lot of you, Richard the Great." That caused a mixture of exclamations, shocked silence and quiet discussion. "What should we do about him then?" one pony asked. "He has broken his word," another said. "He has gone too far!" "You could organize a party to go up and retrieve his corpse," Brainstorm said. "He was killed during the fight, with his own weapon, what's more." "We could organize a party to celebrate his demise," a pink faced pony suggested. That brought a mixed response. "A funeral then? Whatever." "Excuse us please, but we must take Aneki to the hospital," Cacha said. A grey faced pony worked her way through those who were gathered, and up to my side. Bittersweet. "Are you okay, love?" Surprisingly, there was concern actually audible in her normally deadpan voice. "Not really," I said, "but I will recover." I offered my good hoof to her, and she held it until we reached the elevator. Once I was in the hospital, I was examined, fussed over, then carefully bathed and dried, before being tucked into bed. I hadn't been treated like that since I was a foal! One advantage of the hellite body was that it was very easy to dry, not being covered in hair. My neck, head, mane and tail still took the same amount of effort, but this time, it had been somepony else putting in that effort. It would have been hard trying to do it one-hoofed. Lying on the bed, a sheet and blanket over me, I took time to look around at what the sexless had done in here. They had done a great job on returning the hospital to operational. It was clean and fresh, despite being millennia old, and much like everything up in the life support dome, cream in color. The ceiling seemed to be whiter, but the lighting was making that hard to see from where I lay. This room contained only one bed, unlike most which held two. I wondered if that was because somepony had told the others that I was the queen. I closed my eyes, deciding I would enjoy being pampered instead of worrying about my body, my little passenger, or anypony out there. At the moment it was just me in a comfortable bed. "Good morning, love. How do you feel?" a pony asked. Morning? What? Already? "I just got comfortable, and closed my eyes for a moment, and you tell me it's morning," I grumbled. "Morning, two days after, love. You've been sleeping very soundly for some time," the nurse pony explained. She had the most pretty powder-blue mane tied up in a bun. Her face was paler version of the same color, and her eyes a pastel pink. "You drugged me, didn't you?" "You needed the rest, and for your severed nerves to heal, and that happens best when you don't move around." "I hate being drugged. Ponies did horrible things to me last time," I said, picturing the horrors of what had been done to me in Central's lab. Brainstorm's lab hadn't been any better! "We know how you feel about it. That's why we didn't tell you." "Thanks, I think." "Try moving your leg now," the nurse suggested. I did, and it did, if you follow my meaning. "Yay! It works!" I said. "When can I get out of here?" "After the head surgeon says you may. She'll be here soon enough. In the meantime, why don't you freshen up, and have something to eat and drink?" Now, that was an idea! The nurse rolled a food generator up to the bed, then walked from the room. The machine wasn't offering any food, so I sat, and leaned closer to see what was up with it. Above the empty bowl was a panel bearing an array of lamps. Several were lit. Lettuce, carrot, mixed salad, grass (type 1), grass (type 2), oats, hay (dried grass), clover, apple, lucerne, sampler, random. That was quite the selection! Not sure which to try, I tapped the sampler button, nibbling on each sample as it was delivered. The meal was finished off with a large drink of pure water, which, of course, prompted my next set of actions. It was time to... well... freshen up! By the time the head surgeon visited, I was back on the bed, relaxing. I really should not have been surprised to see the head surgeon was none other than Stormie. "You must like all of this attention, my little pony," Stormie said, as she approached, giving me a motherly pat on my head. "I would rather I could go through life without everypony wanting to put holes in me. I can get plenty of attention without injuring myself to attract it." "True, true. Do I need to bow? I've been hearing strange stories from Maisie and Cacha." "Speaking of which," I said, "Why isn't she, Cacha, currently attached to me?" Stormie laughed. "That would be because I banned all visiting. She's out in the waiting room, driving the nurses nuts!" "So, am I good to go?" "Let me scan you first." "I've been wondering. All my hellite modifiers were destroyed via an electromagnetic pulse, so how do I still heal up so quickly? And Brainstorm mentioned modifiers would look after my severed nerves, too." "You have a number of the conversion modifiers in you, from when you were walking back and forth through the shake-and-bake room while Brainstorm, Crimson and I were being converted, but they are mostly dormant. Once converted, your body creates its own modifiers to deal with healing, shape changing and so on. Even though your initial set would have been destroyed, your body would have rapidly replaced them." "And they aren't dangerous to any other pony? What about through transfusions?" I asked. "Don't forget that all of the hellite modifiers lock themselves to your DNA, rendering them harmless to other. As for the transfusions, the method we use filters out all foreign matter, but even if it didn't, it really wouldn't matter." "So, we really are not even slightly contagious." "Not even slightly. Now hold still while I scan you," Stormie said, the glow of a spell forming on her horn. After several minutes of running her horn over my body, Stormie finally dropped the spell, stepping back. "Your Highness, you are fit to leave this facility," she said with a smirk, "but before you do there's..." "I'm just going to get the corrective modifiers now," a voice out in the corridor announced, accompanied by sound of walking hooves. "Corrective modifiers, down here?" I asked Stormie. "You, out there," Stormie called. "Get yourself in here, pronto." A nurse, head armor deployed, mane and tail bound in cloth, walked into the room at Stormie's command. Apparently having the head armor deployed was a good way to keep hair out of patients, and the smooth black skin of the armor was so much easier to sterilize. "Yes, Ma'am, what can I do for you?" the nurse asked. "What is this about a corrective modifier?" "We have a newborn foal with a harmful deformity on its head. It happens roughly once a generation, and when it does, there is a specific modifier we inject, and that saves the foal's life." "Baloney!" I almost shouted. "How the hell did this sham of a practice get down here?" Stormie raised an eyebrow. "A deformity on its head? A unicorn?" "Yes, we have a baby unicorn, and for some unknown reason, appear to be enforcing Central's no-unicorn policy!" "Lead us to this foal, now," Stormie instructed. The nurse nodded, leading us out the room, down the corridor past two unoccupied single-bed rooms, and into the third, where a mare I recognized lay, a tiny bundle held in her forehooves. "You put me in the maternity ward?" I asked Stormie. "Yes. With your bulge, it seemed fitting. Besides, only the rooms in the maternity ward have single beds." "Oh, okay. Makes sense. Anyway, Mayleen, may we have a look at your newborn, please?" I asked. Mayleen adjusted her position so we could see her foal's forehead, and the lump thereon. It was a small growth, covered in skin and fine, gold foal-hair. Unconsciously, I reached up and felt my own horn, and its position relative to my other features. The foal's bump was undoubtedly in the exact same location. I had never seen a foal's horn before. The skin and hair were unexpected. Mine was already a bony protrusion by the time I had enough wits to notice it. Stormie formed a spell on her horn, bending down to touch the newborn with it. After a few minutes, she lifted her head, smiling. "Mayleen, congratulations on giving birth to a fine unicorn filly." "There is nothing wrong with her?" Mayleen asked. "Nothing at all, my dear. She's a genuine filly. With time, that little lump on her forehead will grown into a horn like the ones Aneki and I bear." "Magnificent! But what about... our problem?" Mayleen asked. "I've taken care of that too. I've corrected the damaged gene on her ovaries and eggs, and placed a protective spell on them. She will be able to bear true colts." A squeak of delight escaped from Mayleen's lips. "Thank you so much, Stormie." Stormie turned to the nurse who was standing patiently to one side, watching. "Windy, I would like you to bring me or Brainstorm a sample of that corrective modifier. I would also like you to mark it, at the source, as not to be used, and that any inquiries should be directed to me. I will make an official announcement about it at our meeting tomorrow." "Yes, Ma'am." Windy nodded, then exited the ward. "I'll have to make a similar edict up in the life support chamber," I said. "It may cause us a few problems, with young unicorns running about, doing their thing, but I'd much rather have more of them available in the future." "Somepony needs to set up a school specially for them," Mayleen suggested. "Teach them how to behave." "Not a bad idea, Mayleen. Thank you," I said. "I will do exactly that." "Come now, let us return to your room," Stormie said. "We need to talk about the new school's second pupil." "Second?" "Come," Stormie insisted. Stormie led me back to my room, indicating I should sit on my bed. Once I was settled, she briefly scanned me again, then turned to me, concern written on her face. "I wanted to be completely sure before I told you this, but I've detected that, unfortunately, something is not quite right with your little one. She has strange..." I held a hoof to my lips. "Hush. Some things are best left unsaid. Let her reveal her remaining secrets when she is born."