//------------------------------//
// Chapter 53. Doors 
// Story: H'ven Sent 
// by otherunicorn 
//------------------------------//

So this was it. We were exiting the safety of the habitat again. Technically, the hangar was part of the habitat, but like the bridge, it was outside the thick, multidimensional material of the hull that had kept us safe for the last two thousand years. The last time we had dared to step out of this very door, we had been sliced to bits by a weird, mechanized monster. If it had not been for Brainstorm's calm and precise shooting from this very tunnel, we would have ended up permanently dead, as distinct from revivably dead.

The sensors Brainstorm had placed out there, when he was last out here, indicated we would be alone, but we were taking no chances.

The last revolving section of the passage through the hull slid into place and stopped. We stepped into the next section, one at a time, and stopped, resulting in all three of us standing side by side, just a step into the final cylindrical tunnel. The curvature of the floor caused us to bunch together. I was now sandwiched between Cacha and Snow.

As one, we formed our weapons, and aimed them in the direction of the high security door, as it slowly cycled. Snow had formed long-barreled turrets, mounted one on each hip. Yes, the left barrel was digging into my right flank.  Cacha had done much the same, but with shorter-barreled turrets, one on each shoulder. To avoid us accidentally locking weapons together, I chose to form a single barrel directly from my chest, and a smaller weapon on my foreleg. I could make changes later, as combat required.

Did these doors always take this damned long? After an apparent age of its innards whirring, the door began retracting, inching out of the opening.

"Oh, come on!" I muttered in impatience.

Finally, just before I died of old age, the door began to lift.

Every muscle in my body tensed, preparing to spring. My eyes searched the widening crescent of darkness, trying to locate a possible target for my weapon. I could feel the mares on each side of me tense, as well. All of us remained totally silent, to the point we were even holding our breaths.

"How goes it?" Maisie's voice spoke into my mind.

Bah! I nearly discharged the next reload for my food generator! As my pulse steadied at a lower, but still elevated rate, I addressed the pest on the communicator. Well, to be truthful, that wasn't being fair. Maisie was one of the ponies who was monitoring us from the safety of the habitat's lower levels, behind that appealingly thick hull. Nonetheless, her timing sucked!

"Way to break the mood," I subvocalized. "You nearly launched us in fright! Anyway, the door has just opened and we are about to enter the hangar. So far, it is dark and quiet out there."

"Um, sorry," Maisie offered, "but we are in the dark, here. It's hard to offer support when we have no idea what is happening. If the first thing we were to hear from you was screaming, it would be too late."

"I guess I should start a running commentary, then," I said.

"Please do," Maisie said. "That, or at least give us the highlights."

"First highlight," I said. "The door is open, and we are still alive."

That was when I first heard the faint strains of music, elusive and tantalizing. Flicking my ears about did nothing to determine from which direction it was coming. I tentatively took a step forward, the volume and pace of the music increasing as I did. I could understand it getting louder, but not faster. It was as if had reacted to my movement.

The mares to each side of me also took a step forward, to keep up with me.

"I hear music," I subvocalized to Maisie.

"Odd," she said. "There is nothing registering on the sensors left by Brainstorm."

I took another step, again accompanied by a crescendo. The music was becoming quite the orchestral storm.

"It's so... quiet," Cacha whispered.

Huh? I had heard her quite clearly despite the volume of the music.

That's when I caught on to what was happening.

"Snow! Can it!" I snapped.

The music immediately ceased, Snow quietly giggling. She had been transmitting it directly into my mind.

"Bah! This is ridiculous!" I shouted, abandoning stealth.

It was almost painfully obvious that there was nothing hostile outside the door, so I stomped out into the hanger itself.

Nothing cut me. Nothing surprised me. Nothing hit me – well, nothing until Cacha collided with my butt.

"What was that about?" she asked.

"Snow was projecting a fanfare into my mind," I said. "It seems the current trend is to play jokes on the queen."

"Ah, yes. Sorry," Cacha said quietly.

"Girls, please attend to the problems at hoof," Maisie said. "We really don't want to send in a clean-up crew."

"I didn't know we had one," Cacha said.

"We don't, unless you count us," I said. "All the same, I'm almost certain there isn't anypony or anything near us, just as Brainstorm's sensors indicated."

An image of us being totally alone appeared in my mind.

"Snow is certain of it, too," I said.

"Up!" Snow nodded, her illuminated eyes bouncing in the dark.

"Perhaps you would care to turn on the lights," I said. "I presume you don't usually work in the dark."

"Up!" Snow said, turned on the spot and bounded a few paces. How any pony that old could be so youthful, so upbeat, I didn't know. Snow's nearest equivalent, at a fraction of her age, was Bittersweet, the champion of deadpan.

In the light cast by Snow's eyes, I could see the outline of a switchboard, its door open. Snow drummed her fingers against it for a few moments, before selecting a switch and pushing it closed.

An image flashed in my mind. Snow had turned the lights on in manual mode. Rather than illuminating just the area in which we were standing, the whole of the hangar would be lit.

Despite being switched on at once the lights came on in sequence, starting near us, and radiating out until the far walls were reached. The size of this hangar was only starting to become clear. The ceiling was way above us. It was hard to judge, but the distance may have even been a quarter mile. While the ceiling-mounted lamps were quite bright, the sheer volume of the hangar seemed to swallow much of that brightness, leaving us with a light level reminiscent of early dusk. It was more than adequate.

Now that we could see more than a few pony-lengths in front of us in mere monochrome, we were in for a forgotten surprise.

The area was splattered with old, dried blood, debris, and marred by char marks. So, this was the scene of our fight to the death? Ugg!

A thoroughly disgusting, quite disturbing, and totally irrelevant image flashed into my mind. It took me a few moments to realize its source and meaning, but at least it took my mind off the grizzly scene.

Before I could react to it, Cacha spoke.

"Snow!" she said. "Don't you ever swear like that again! When we use cuss words, mentally, we are not picturing the true origins of the word! We are merely expressing annoyance, distress or some other abstraction."

"Yeah," I said. "I'm going to have trouble forgetting what my mind made of that transmitted thought. So, yes, Snow, please don't do that again."

"Forgive." Snow said. Sorry.

The image of a syrup-coated, dark-purple mare, with a paler, flowing mane, sprung into my mind.

"Sweet Luna? Yes, better, but perhaps a fillyish, innocent Luna would be better still," I said.

A syrup coated version of me flashed into my mind. The source was quite different, this time, as was its meaning.

"Please, no, Cacha..."

"Sorry," she said. "Or not." She giggled.

"What are you girls on about?" Maisie interrupted, via the comm link. Fortunately, the link wasn't quite up to transmitting our spell-driven thought-talk.

"Sorry, Maisie," I said. "We had a communication glitch with Snow. We are currently at the rather gruesome site of our encounter with the clockwork spider. Apparently nopony thought to clean it up."

"Sorry, girls," Brainstorm said, also through the comm link. "I was too fascinated with the alien machine to give it any thought. How is it, out there? Are there any signs of further activity?"

"I can't see any. Snow?"

"All the same," she thought to us.

"There is no change since our last visit, apparently," I relayed to Maisie. "I'm going to go check the point of ingress now."





For something that had allegedly been smashed or torn open, the place through which the clockwork spider had broken in was surprisingly secure. It was a door, much like any of the other high-security plug-doors throughout the habitat, but at least twice the diameter. It was securely mounted exactly where it should have been. The hinges and mechanism above were twisted and broken, clearly demonstrating the considerable force that had been used to break through.

"How did Brainstorm get the door back in place, and what's holding it there, now?" Cacha asked.

"I imagine he used telekinesis to push it into place," I said. "I can't imagine even him having the strength to lift that monstrosity."

An image of multiple ponies flashed into my mind.

"Or, as Snow says, maybe he had help. As for how it is staying there now, it's been welded into place."

"That would be strong, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, but no way as strong as the mechanism. We can't see what damage was done to the other side, either. Whatever the case, we will need another way out."

"Up," Snow said, pointing her hoof further along the wall. There was an even bigger door there, of a somewhat different configuration. It was big enough to allow the craft to leave the hanger.

As for the craft, they were there too, and from where I was standing, no damage was evident.

"So that's the craft you built?" I asked, pointing at the nearest, sleek, aerodynamically styled... building? Wagon? Ship? Yes, that was the correct term, despite it looking like a building lying on its side.

Snow shook her head. "Cross."

"Huh? I thought you said you made a new craft."

"I did. That isn't it. That is one of the landing craft, designed to shuttle ponies from space, down to a planet's surface," Snow thought to me. Hmm... she was transmitting to my language centers again, instead of to my visual centers, as she had been doing earlier.

"So, we are meant to use that to get to the surface?"

"I think we are already there. We never launched. If a clockwork spider could get in through a door that is half way up a twenty mile high hull, it is very likely we are still half buried."

"You've been outside, before, haven't you?" I asked.

"Yes, but not for a very long time. I came aboard with everypony else, and haven't been outside since."

"Oh, of course. You are as old as this habitat, aren't you?"

"Up!" she said out loud. It was funny how she reverted to her muddled speech to confirm things, and with an incorrect word at that.

"Well, I guess we had better get on with checking the hangar for intruders. Snow, you said you had some sort of craft that would help us." I could recall the image she had shown us when she first told us about them, but these transport things were outside my experience, and my memory of what she had shown us had distorted beyond anything recognizable.

"Up." Snow said, and again she sent the image she had shown me of the weird vehicles, which were a mish-mash of ovoids and toroids. My mind still couldn't make sense of it.

"I guess I will just have to wait until I see them," I said.

Snow pointed a hoof at the landing craft again. No, she didn't. One of her fingers was extended, and she pointing at some small things below the landing craft. That was when I realized how far we were away from it, and how big it actually was!

"What about the other ships you are meant to have made?" Cacha asked.

"Up!" she said, grinned, and pointed up.

Oh, we were standing under one of them. It was quietly floating above us, near the ceiling of the hangar, and well out of our reach.

"What's it doing up there?"

"I commanded it to move up there after I saw the clockwork spider scanning it," Snow thought to me.

"You mean...?"

"Yes, moments before we were sliced and diced," Snow confirmed. "It can stay up there until we need it."

I shuddered. How could she be so casual about something that still haunted my dreams, even a year later?

"Race you to the... things," Cacha suddenly declared, and took off at full gallop. Caution was clearly forgotten – a highly disciplined military unit, we were most definitely not.



"Okay, Maisie, it's still quiet here. I'm looking at Snow's smaller craft, now. Small is relative – they are taller than us. I've never seen anything like them before. They are  grey and black. There are two fat, black toroids in line with each other, one at each end – wheels, I presume, but the middle of them appears to be fixed to the body. Ah, no, I see. Those parts are covers. Somehow the thing is managing to balance on these wheels. Don't ask me how. I don't have a clue. The middle section is just a big ovoid pod. I can't see any way into it."

"Bizarre," Maisie said. "I recall Snow's image of them, but your description just confuses the matter!"

"Thanks a bunch."

"Mo." Snow said. "Mo. Ta." She stopped again, the battle she was having with her mangled speech centers painted all over her face.

"Why don't you just transmit it to us?" Cacha asked.

"It is a word not used in Habitat Eleven. Even if I did transmit it, your brain would not be able to understand it."

"Can you break it up? Use charades or something?"

An image flashed into my mind, that of a motor. Ah.

"Motor? We know that word."

Snow held up two fingers, then bombarded us with a series of images, the most notable being the machine that controlled the behavior of the artificial sky in the life support chamber.

"Day? Night?"

Snow shook her head.

"Time?"

"Cross," Snow said. Cross? How was that a cross? Ah, yes, that was how she said no.

She drew a circle with her hoof.

"Circle?"

She drew a cross then drew the circle again, starting and finishing at the cross.

"Oh," I said, but before I could continue, Snow interrupted.

"Cross!"

"Context, my dear Snow," I said. "I didn't mean you'd drawn the letter "o". I simply realized what you meant. Cycle. You meant cycle."

"Up!" Snow bounced again.

"So these things are called motorcycles?"

"Up!" More bouncing.

"These, I believe, were called motorcycles, back when we lived in Equestria. They were briefly popular with young stallions, before their loutish behavior had the princesses ban them," Snow sent to our language centers, and now that we had the word, we could understand.

Okay, so these motorcycles had two inline tyre-shod wheels, grasped within grey ovoid wheel covers. Each of these wheel assemblies partially extended from a larger ovoid body. And that was it. There were no other features. None at all. They were positively boring to look at. There was nowhere obvious to sit or stand, and nothing that resembled any sort of control system. What was interesting was that they were balancing on their wheels, with no other stabilizing support or stand visible.

"Ha ha," Cacha said. "Where are the real craft?"

Snow blew a raspberry at her, then pushed her hoof into the body of nearest motorcycle. The grey material flexed, before stretching out, almost becoming liquid as it flowed around her body. With the mare secured in its grasp, the material retracted, lifting her up and into the main body, from which just her head protruded. A leg appeared moments later and she motioned for us to approach two of the remaining motorcycles.

"I think I'll walk," Cacha said. "I don't fancy being swallowed whole by a machine I do not know how to operate.

"Wings!" Snow announced, then her motorcycle began to levitate, stopping just above our heads.

"They have wheels and fly?" I asked.

At Snow's command, the flying vehicle did a slow loop above our heads, before descending to the floor. As soon as the tyres touched the floor, the vehicle sped off at quite the pace.

I looked at Cacha. "I don't think walking is an option. Remember that the world outside the habitat is so big we could walk forever and..."

"Perhaps she would care to teach us how to use them, then," Cacha said.

"Perhaps."

I approached the machine nearer to me, reached up and pushed my hoof against it, as I had seen Snow do. As had happened to her, the grey material of its body reached out, embracing me, drawing me to itself. Once it had me in the correct position,  some of the material retracted, leaving me comfortably suspended. My hooves remained encased, but were free to move around. I could even extend my fingers. A series of gauges projected themselves into my mind, much as my mapper did. Speed, altitude, direction, and a map, for that matter, were all there. How to make it go, however, eluded me.

Snow's machine pulled alongside me, stopping. Glancing across, I saw she was now completely encased by it.

"Snow," I said though the communicator, "Where did you get the technology to make these things?"

"The wheels came from carts that were meant to be used when colonizing the destination planet. They were large, multi-wheeled and self propelled, designed for traversing various terrains. Other parts came mostly from escape pods from the landing craft. They were meant to be single-use items, but I upgraded them with the wheels, new power plants, new control systems and so on," Snow thought to us. Evidently, her telepathy was not restricted by the shell of the motorcycle.

"The way they can morph reminds me of..."

"HELaTS bodies," Snow interrupted. "Yes, the technology for the escape pods is from the same origins."

"You know what, Snow? I think these things would be better called pods than motorcycles, and it's a lot easier to say!"

"As you wish," came back the thought.

"Now, could you please show me how to operate this thing?"

She didn't wait to be asked a second time, and my mind was flooded with instructions and visual demonstrations. Our year of practicing our coordination with 3G1 and his training was certainly proving its worth. By the time Snow was finished with the lesson, the only thing lacking was actual practice to lock the skills into my mind.

"Bah!" Cacha exclaimed. "I wasn't ready for that memory bombardment! I do think I understood it, though. Give me a second to get into one of the pods."

Following Snow's instructions, I lowered myself the rest of the way into the pod, and closed the shell above me. As I did, a full view opened around me, projected directly into my mind. The interior of the pod itself went completely dark. The light from my eyes did not even generate a reflection. No distractions. That was good. I closed my eyes, as it seemed more natural.

I was ready.





It did not take long before controlling the pod felt natural, as if it was simply part of my body. Movement of my hooves controlled the speed, direction, and when needed, the altitude and tilt. It was even possible to do a roll while airborne, or to use the flight function to push the pod against a wall or the ceiling, allowing one to drive along it.

The use of a small gravity/anti-gravity unit to provide the flight function had the added advantage that within the pod apparent gravity was always below the pilot. That certainly helped with one's sense of balance, even if it did confuse one as to which way was up or down! If desired, the effect could be lessened, so that one could feel the effects of sudden turns, acceleration, and being upside down. Doing so made it feel more like freerunning, which I liked.

The tension of our arrival evaporated as we skylarked about the hangar. The behavior could be justified as practice. While we were doing so, we searched for any other signs of clockwork spiders, or anything else they may have done. There was nothing obvious enough that it was visible from the moving pods.

Cacha's initial reluctance was soon replaced with enthusiasm, and the three of us chased each other around the parked landing craft – five of them in this section of the hangar, if you didn't count the one Snow had cannibalized to make her new ships.

There were more of her constructions than I had realized, too. The craft hiding up near the ceiling, near the entry was the last one she had been working on, and as of yet was not complete. Others were tucked into odd corners, sitting in the cargo bays of the landing craft, and in some cases were languishing in piles of discarded material.

"Early designs," Snow thought to us. "Not so good. Build. Try. Make changes. Then take everything learned and build a new one. First ones only had wheels. Later ones float. New ones can travel over sea and land, over rocks and over sand. It does not matter how rough."

That a single mare had designed, built and modified so many pieces of technology was amazing. For the better part of two thousand years, she persisted. Everything was documented as best she could, using nothing but hoof-drawn pictures mixed with technical diagrams and text cut from other technical manuals, as she was quite capable of reading, even if writing eluded her. This library of manuals, in effect became her extended memory, as even a HELaTS augmented mind couldn't hold over two thousand years of memories.

And unlike us, elsewhere in the habitat, Snow had not been starved of resources!

Cacha's pod slowed, coming to a stop near the main hangar doors.

"Are you okay? I asked her via the communicator.

"I'm pretty sure I'm familiar enough with this pod for us to head out," Cacha said. "Aneki, how are you managing?"

"These are just so cool!" I replied, "and yes, I'm ready. Let's go, right now, before we have the chance to stress ourselves again."

"Let's go," Snow thought to us.

"Through the main hangar doors?" I asked, landing my pod beside Cacha's.

"There is another, smaller access port, like the one the clockwork spider broke through," Snow thought to me. "It will be easier to defend, should we find more of the clockwork spiders."

"Don't we have to worry about what the pressure out there is?" Cacha asked.

"it's more or less the same as what it is in here. Last time the clockwork spider broke in, the door was left open until Brainstorm could fix it."

"Oh yeah. That's awfully convenient, isn't it?"

"That, or it is the optimal pressure for life this far from the sun," Snow thought to us. "I am opening the door now, so be ready to deal with anything that comes through."

"You can do that without leaving your pod?" I asked.

A quick sequence of visuals from Snow explained to me how even I could remotely open the door from my pod.

"Snow, how are we meant to shoot, if we do see an enemy?" Cacha asked. "Do the pods have weapons?"

That was quite a valid point!

"You are the weapon," Snow thought back. "Open the pod, stick your barrel out, and fire."

"Um... okay?" I replied, wondering if I could form some sort of weapon that could extend from the pod without me sticking a part of myself out there with it. Whatever the case, there wasn't really time for that at the moment, so I opened the pod, raised myself, and extended the barrel.

"Okay, let's go. Snow, you go ahead and open the door for us. I'll stick my dumb ass out first."

"Up!"

So here we were, about to head out into the realm of the clockwork spiders, and, if anything, I was almost blasé about it. It was such a nice change from the tension of the last door-opening.