“Goose! Goose!” Chief struggled against Lancet’s restraining hoof. The dancing arc of flames confined him to the cement pad.

Tiny Spartan lay popping and hissing in the flames behind him, his bulk blocking their way out of the orchard. He’d been so distracted by the now blazing behemoth he hadn’t noticed when three of their group had fled into the orchard. I let her run off, I failed.

“Let me go, Doc! I have to go!”

“She’s gone. She’ll either find a way to survive or she won’t, but you can’t make it! If the fire doesn’t kill you, those apple things will.”

Chief continued to struggle. “Fuck that, Doc! Let me GO!” A magic aura surrounded his horn and a telekinetic shove sent Lancet sprawling back several feet. Chief leveled his shotgun at the doctor’s recovering form. “Stand. Aside.”

The two stallions glared at each other, stubborn obligation locking them in stalemate. Dammit Doc. Just move!

A roaring chorus bellowed off in the distance. Chief looked out into the orchard, jaw dropping as the sickening sound washed over him. The blow snapped his jaw closed with a loud clap. His shotgun clattered to the ground. Lancet stood balanced on his hind legs in front of him, his right foreleg raised.

“STAY! PUT!” Lancet brought the heavy blow down. Chief crumpled into blackness.

Tumble stood in the quickly deforming shed. The drugs coursing through his system distorting the world around him. Everything was a shade of blue, and it all happened so slowly. He turned his head to casually observe a deep navy branch lance through the side of the shed, with a thought the nearest saw cartwheeled to intercept the offending limb. Ichor and wood chips splattered across the shed, the severed limb crashed down and writhed on the floor.

I shouldn't stay here. I need to find Sunny.

He turned his attention to the front of the shed. With a snort he enveloped the door and the wall in a magic aura and pushed. The wall exploded forward powered by his drug-induced might, crushing the things that had assembled beyond. He trotted from the destroyed shed, a cloud of whirling death in tow. His pace ate up the distance unnaturally, the shattered building disappearing behind him far faster than his drug-addled mind could comprehend for a mere trot.

Watching the infected trees reaction was like watching a spoon move through jello. The six roaring saws made quick work of the striking branches while Love and Peace kept the apple abominations at bay. The bullets didn't keep them down, but it slowed them down enough for him to easily pass them by.

The trees screamed as he cut his way through them. He paused to think on the surrealness of it all. How do they scream? They have no mouths, and yet they scream. Perhaps they...

Pain.

Pain brought him back to the moment. He looked down at this foreleg. Velvety fronds struggled to consume his hoof, to assimilate him. It seemed so much slower than when Rough had suffered a similar injury. Is the Hydra regeneration fighting it, or does it just seem slower? Probably a bit of both. How did it get me? He lifted his foreleg up, separating what was once his hoof from the root that jutted up from the soil. Clever.

The floating chainsaws intercepted several more scything branches, Love and Peace barked a few more times. He absentmindedly levitated up fresh ammunition for the pistols as he regarded his leg again. The infection had made it up his cannon. Can't have that. The saw roared through the meat of his shoulder, bogging down a bit when it hit the bone. Regardless, soon the infected limb tumbled to the ground amid a fount of red, pony blood. The rushing stream petered out as the medical cocktail flowing through his system stemmed the bleeding.

He adjusted his stance and bounded through the orchard. The loss of the limb pushing the urgency of the situation back into his drug-altered mind. Ahead of him loomed Sunny's shed, surrounded on all sides by the plant-things. The crashing of their bodies against the shed drowned out the screams of the panicked mare inside. He spurred himself on, revving up the saws and bursting through a particularly thick web of branches. Woody splinters peppered his hide as the chainsaws spat out streams of gory chaff. A final lunge sent him careening into the small clearing. A procession of bullets wound their way to his smoking pistols as he swept the scything blades through the ghastly menagerie before him.

“Calvary's here! Come on!” He stared a moment at the shed, the seconds seeming to stretch out forever.

“Fuck this! I'm comin' in!” He wrapped the front of the shed in his magic and wrenched it from the building. The metal sheeting cartwheeled into an encroaching tree at ballistic speed. Inside the three-quarter shed huddled a small pegasus mare, showing up a soft blue-green in his altered vision. A far cry from the inky navy of the plant multitudes. He glanced to the rafters and tin roof, a plan forming in his mind. A half grin cracked his lips, letting a long string of drool leak out. Sunny looked to still be in shock, her face still slowly contorting from surprise to recognition, a scream forming in her mouth.

“Quiet, Bitch! I'm about to be BRILLIANT!”

Snatching Sunny up in his magical embrace, he ripped a goodly portion of the roof from the shed. Bringing it parallel to the ground, he pointed the triangular structure down the row toward the exit. After cramming Sunny into the relative safety of the mangled roof, Tumble barreled down the row at a three-legged gallop with the metal roof parting the monsters like a massive plow.

“Chugga, Chugga! Choo! Choo! Motherfuckers!”

Sunny clung screaming onto a rafter near the center of the improvised ram. I'm doing a good thing, Brother. He stumbled, the lapse in concentration causing him to lose control of a saw which flew in a flat arc off into the orchard. The ringing impacts on tin, Sunny's screams, the swinging and stabbing of the infected branches all seemed to speed up. He pushed on.

Sunny sat in the claustrophobic confines of the shed. Just outside the thin metal walls of her sanctuary the horrors of the orchard threw themselves at the tiny structure. Dents had already appeared in several places and the door itself barely held. Through it all they screamed an otherworldly scream. A hundred voices in a sickly, discordant chorus. She sobbed. I'm going to die here. I was safe, Doctor Lancet and Unca' Uppity would have protected me. But now I'm going to die.

A baritone roar overpowered the chorus outside, loud pops punctuating the change. The screams died away, the mechanical roar idling down to a muted rumble. Over the din she could hear a voice call out.

“Cavryear! Gmon!”

What?

“FFuggit! Ammgummin!!”

The battered front of the shed became enveloped in a vivid blue aura before being ripped away. Her mind struggled to process what she saw in front of her. It was Tumble, or so she thought. Her eyes scanned him from the hooves up. Only three hooves, he was missing his right foreleg. The wound oozed thick congealed blood. Around his neck was a tight collar, so tight it seemed to cut into his neck. Some digits ticked by on a small screen, but she couldn't make them out. Around the collar the muscles were corded and taut, the veins popped out and danced under his skin. Her eyes locked onto the collar until a thick, dribbling mass slowly dropped through her vision. The long string of drool descended from his foaming mouth. A strange device was attached to his horn. Its eight segmented fingers formed something akin to a dish around his horn, or maybe it was more of a flower. However, it was his eyes that chilled her to the bone. Bloodshot and bulging from their sockets they focused, quivering, on a point above her. She opened her mouth to scream but was quickly silenced.

“Klah, bith! Ahmbadabe BILLINT!” Spittle and foam spattered the ground as he yelled.

Her whole body tingled as his magic surrounded her. She saw a fair portion of the roof be ripped away before she was crammed, screaming, into it. The pistols continued their steady barking as he turned and started galloping.

“Fugga! Fugga! WOO WOO! muhfuggersh!” The chainsaws roared in response.

He's drugged out of his mind! I'm still going to die! He's gonna drag me off cavepony style and ravage... The heavy impacts of Celestia-knows-what on the improvised ram pulled her from her dazed stupor. She focused her mind and did the only thing she could. She wrapped herself around a rafter and screamed incoherently.

The charge was a blur of sounds and motion, but suddenly the artificial sunlight seemed to burn brighter. Through tear-obscured eyes she could see the edge of the orchard passing behind Tumble as he charged into the clearing. Through the layer of foam she could almost make out a smug grin on his lips as he secured his saddlebags around her. As a pegasus, she was uniquely qualified to pick up on the transition from being magically suspended to being tossed. She screamed, more.

The Dash had nearly run its course. The last few trees had moved far too quickly for the speed enhancer to still be working at full efficiency. But it had worked long enough. He had lost another saw, leaving him with four still suspended about him. And sawing through the thickest of the things had left him splattered. Well, I can't cut my skin off, but at least the drugs are holding up.

An arc of fire burned around the concrete pad, keeping him back. Burning apple-things fueled it around most of its circumference. Past a low burning section he could just make out a blue-green form with a large mechanical contraption on its back. That must be Cider. Behind her lurked a blue-black shape. The fuck you do! Calculations danced through his head and he smirked. He quickly wrapped his saddlebags around Sunny then galloped forward a few steps. With a flick of his horn he sent the roof careening, with its cargo screaming, through the flames. The metal mass struck the inky pony and sent it bouncing hard into the wall. The improvised missile deflected off and landed spanning the flames.

“Sunny-side up AND picked up the spare! WOOOO!”

He could see movement heading toward Sunny as she climbed out of the wreckage, but his focus shifted to the crumpled, black mass Cider was heading toward. She was shouting something, but he couldn't make it out. Regardless, she was getting way too close to it.

“NOPE!” He wrapped his magic around the struggling pony and pulled him screaming across the concrete. Cider was waving wildly and yelling, but he paid her no mind as he dragged the flailing thing into the flames.

It blazed with unnatural vigor. “He's on FIRE!” It thrashed and screamed as he tossed it into the entangled canopy of the orchard. The flames raced across the infected branches as the whole orchard screamed in pain.

Tumble gave a triumphant yell, “BOOMSHAKALAKA!”

He wobbled on his hooves a moment and collapsed. It started as a chuckle and quickly became a full on laugh. The few weapons that remained suspended crashed to the ground. Somehow the pain still seemed distant. Med-X is good shit. He rolled onto his back and looked toward the massive sun lamps suspended from the high ceiling. The crawling sensation seemed to move faster over his back as the chips and splinters that splattered him ate their way past the last of the Hydra regeneration. He tilted his head back to look toward the exit.

Standing behind a low section in the protective fire stood Cider. This close he could see her mouth moving, but couldn't make out the words. It was all gibberish to him, but the serious look on her face made him chuckle. “Why so serious?” he asked. She tilted her head, saying something animatedly. “Hey, can you spare a light?” She still seemed confused, and the smoke must have been getting in her eyes.

“Aww, come on!” He flailed his remaining legs excitedly. “You know. Fwoosh!”

She nodded, taking Betsy's yoke in her mouth.

Heading your way, brother. You bring the beer, I've got the BBQ.

Betsy sang him off.

Chief held a slightly singed Sunny in his forelegs, shielding her from Cider putting Tumble down. He tightened his grip on his niece and sent a silent thank you to the stallion, wherever he was. I hope you come out the other side of the Well in paradise.

The orchard screeched in pain. The piercing cries echoed through the cavernous space. Cider turned from her grisly task and trudged over to him. Chief turned to the busted roof in the flames and flattened it as well as he could with his magic. Sweeping Sunny onto his back, he turned to Lancet and Cider. “It's going to be hot, but there's nothing for it. Just move as quick as you can across.” He galloped across the heated tin, his hooves sizzling as he charged through the bulkhead.

Darting through the airlock, Chief whirred around the corner. Lancet followed quickly behind, passing behind him into the hall. Cider trotted across the tin sheeting, ignoring the unavoidable injury to her hooves. Once past the flames she turned and looked back sadly on the firestorm behind her.

“Come on. No time to mourn the trees; we need to keep moving.”

She slowly turned her head and stared daggers into Chief. She kept him locked in her withering gaze as she cantered toward him. She stopped, bringing her face inches from his own. The biting smell of fuel and smoke emanated from her. Bloodshot eyes bore into his before she spoke, “There's a lot more in there to mourn than trees, Chief.”

His retort died in his throat as she turned and walked toward Lancet. A slow, deep breath cleared his mind and restored his calm. We can't waste time fighting, and she's right. Damn it all. He cleared his head with a final shake and brought his attention back to the control panel. He pressed a button to seal the orchard back up, but the door refused to comply.

He cursed under his breath. “I don't suppose any of you have recently discovered a hidden talent for electronics?”

Lancet took his hoof from Cider's shoulder and took a few steps over. “What's the problem? Didn't Tumble fix it?”

“No. He forced it with his thingamajig.”

“Excuse me...”

“So what? We can't seal it up?”

“Excuse me...”

“I can't. I don't know enough to hack this door even if I had the tools. I could probably do it with his whatsit, it looked pretty automated...”

“Umm... Unca' Uppity? Dr. Lancet?”

“Well, I doubt he'll give it to you, considering.”

“That's a mite inconsiderate, Stitches. He jus' saved us.”

“Miss Cider Press? Umm...”

“Maybe we can barricade it with something. Or weld something over...”

“STOP FUSSING AND LISTEN!” Sunny yelled, causing the arguing trio to turn her way.

“Now, Goose.” Chief spoke placatingly, “We need to focus on closing this door and...”

He didn't get a chance to finish as a yellow hoof buried itself in his chest. Sunny stood before him, wings flared and steely eyed. “Don’t you ‘Goose’ me! I was in there, Uncle. I saw the first infected tree crack in half and take Apple Snap's legs when he bucked it. I saw the scientists run, and I saw them get caught. I saw the security ponies charge in, they were my friends too!” More tears threatened to follow the tracts down her cheeks. Chief moved to put a reassuring hoof on her shoulder, but she slapped it away. “I saw... I saw Problem Solver waving them off, but he wasn't looking at Tentation, and he...”

Her eyes blazed with more than just the reflection from the burning orchard. She took a breath. “I understand as well as you what’s going on. And I’ve been trying to tell you that I HAVE TUMBLE’S SADDLEBAG!” She turned her head and gripped the saddlebag Tumble had strapped on her and spilled the contents on the floor. Nestled in the drugs sat Tumble's skeleton key.

They stood in silence as Sunny fought to rein in her emotions. Silently, Chief levitated Tumble’s invention over the keypad and pressed some buttons experimentally. After a few tries the door hissed shut. He tucked the key into his saddlebags and turned to the ponies behind him. He appraised each one again. A doctor who doesn't get flustered when the shit hits the fan, a farm mare who is willing to do the dirty work that has to get done, and a pegasus with more backbone than she lets on. Not the worst squad I could put together. He was about to say something stirring and motivational when Lancet broke the silence.

“Cider”

“Hmm?”

“Can I have a light now?”

The mare halted her prosthetic hoof just short of knocking on the heavy bulkhead door to the orchard. The quartet of ponies continued to talk in the corner of her vision, but she paid them no mind. “Dad was standing right here, Junior. Somehow coping with all that.”

Junior beeped a half-hearted response.

She turned to look at the insectoid machine perched on her withers. His pincers and tail sagged wearily and his eyes were slow to focus in on her. “Awww. You must be plum tuckered, lil' fella,” She drawled, chuckling. She offered her leg to him. “You've been off the charger for a long time, and doing a lot of hackin’ to boot. Plug in for a spell.”

He shook himself from side to side and whistled.

Her affected accent dropped in agitation. “I am not helpless without you!”

He waved his pincers as emphatically as he could and tutted sternly.

“I will not apologize for raising my voice! You are my assistant and you will plug into my hoof and charge when I tell you to!”

A high pitched mechanical whine answered her.

“You are too tired!”

Whine.

“Are too!”

Whine.

“Are too!”

Whine.

“Ugh! Fine!” She popped the energy cell out of her laser pistol. “Here! I hope you like it, cause it's our last one!”

He squealed victoriously as he munched on the cell, opening its protective casing in a few enthusiastic chomps, then jamming in his tail probe with an electric pop. A few moments later he tossed the spent cell away and scuttled to the crown of her head.

She sighed. “So, the creepiest shit I have ever seen could be behind door number one. Do we crack it?”

He tugged on her ear, rather hard.

“OW!” She turned her head, which did nothing to bring the offending machine nestled in her forelock into view. “I get it, geez. This place sucks. No cool loot and a genetic monster plant that eats ponies. This place is a total bust.”

Junior hopped excitedly.

“Hey! Cut it out!” She swatted ineffectually at him. “I'm serious! We have no more energy cells, so conserve. And... hey. Hey! Compound eyes down here! If we do run into anything, you have to kill it. I’m countin’ on you.” She glared up at him, he offered a crisp salute. “Yeah, yeah. Let's just get what we came for and leave.”

She turned from the massive door and headed off in search of another stairwell. The group in the recording trotted down the same hall.

The boys chatted by another locked door. Cider looked between them and the shuddering mare sequestered off in the corner. From the looks of it Sunny was still recovering from her uncharacteristic outburst. Cider sauntered towards her. If Chief's soft cursing was any indication, it would be a while before that particular door opened. A perfect opportunity.

Sunny looked up as Cider's hoofsteps announced her presence. Her eyes still glistened with unshed tears, but they only threatened to trace down her cheeks. Cider smiled at the shaken mare who answered with a half grin of her own. From out of a pocket on the front of her battle saddle, Cider pulled an oddly pristine white kerchief. Wordlessly she sat in front of the smaller pegasus and cupped her chin in a hoof. With the other she began to maternally scrub at the tear stains and grime.

“Umm... Miss Press...”

“Shhh.” Cider cooed. Sunny wasn't nearly young enough for this kind of treatment. Truth be told, Cider wasn't quite old enough, either. But Sunny was the youngest of her workers, and that made her the baby of the family. Stable life dictated small families, but deep in her soul she had always yearned for a big one. The orchard workers all became hers by proxy. She was Foremare and Momma, even to the ones who were technically her elders.

She sighed, looking at her progress. “I've gone 'n done it now. Reckon I gotta finish, cain't leave ya with just a spot of clean.”

She continued scrubbing. Sunny for her part didn't protest. Task completed, she backed up a pace to admire her work. “There, all better?”

Sunny paused a moment weighing the words, then smiled. “Yes, I think so. Thank you.”

Cider started to say more when the hissing of a nearby door stole her attention.

“Chief, we need to go by my quarters.” Lancet stood beside the Chief while he worked.

“Not happening.”

“I have supplies there that we can use. It would be a waste not to take advantage of those resources.”

“This has nothing to do with ‘resources.’ We both know it.” Chief huffed and turned back to the device as it flashed green.

Lancet continued pressing his argument as the emergency door opened. “It's a detour we need to make.”

“Listen, Doc, I appreciate you want to go by your quarters, but that's three doors I don't have to crack if we skip it. We need to get to the Overmare's office. Your stuff can wait.”

“You think it's about my stuff?” He poured incredulity into his voice. “Sunny's wing is badly sprained. I have supplies in my quarters to reduce the swelling and properly immobilize it.”

“We will be going by medical, it can wait.” He turned and trotted down the hall toward the next sealed door.

“I didn't know you had cross-trained as a medic, Chief. But if that is your informed medical decision...”

“Stow it, Doc. We have more important...”

Silver hooves spun him around to face the stern doctor. Lancet's words spilled out in a harsh whisper. “More important? I seem to remember having to hold you back from diving through FIRE to get to her, now you’re willing to let her suffer in silence when relief is just three doors down?”

“She's tough, she can handle it until we get to medical. And I’m making it a point to ignore the fact you assaulted a security officer” He turned and fitted the device over the panel for door to the stairwell.

“Assaulted! I saved you from getting yourself killed!”

“I can save myself, and Goose can handle a little sprain!”

“Just because she can handle it doesn't mean we should inflict it on her.”

“Get off your high horse, Doc.” Chief whirled and gave Lancet his full attention. “We both know you just want to check on Rack and Pinion. We all have ponies we want to check on. I'd like to go to each of the families of my officers and be sure they’re safe. I'm sure Cider has more workers she’d like to check on. We all have friends and family locked somewhere in here, but we don't know if they are themselves. Each door we open could be full of death. We need to get to the Overmare's office and come up with a plan to beat this thing. The fewer doors we open, the less chance we have of running into something that can kill us before we can fix this.”

The two stallions stubbornly locked eyes in silence. The hooffalls of Cider and Sunny rang through the tense air, snapping their attention from each other.

“What's this pissin' contest about?” Cider asked with her usual tact.

“I’ll make it simple Chief, either we get supplies from my quarters, or you don’t have a doctor.” He sat down stubbornly.

“Be serious, Doc.” Chief gave a dismissive wave. “What are you planning to do, stand here until you die. This key requires a unicorn to use, and that means me. You can’t go anywhere without me leading the way, so stow it. We’re moving.”

Lancet’s eyes narrowed. “Chief, as the Head of Medicine, I order you to escort us to my quarters for supplies before continuing to the Overmare’s office.”

Chief smirked. “Nice try, Doc. We’re under a state of emergency, that gives me override authority to make decisions in the best interest of security. You’re overridden.” He scowled and took a menacing step forward. “When this lock is popped, you will march yourself up those stairs and obey my orders.” He punctuated his words with strong jabs to Lancet’s chest.

In a swift motion Lancet brought his right foreleg up and locked Chief’s hoof in his pastern. A quick twist forced Chief’s joint back against itself, locking it painfully.

Straining, Chief swept up his shotgun and leveled it at the doctor. Lancet released him.

A soft fwoosh cut through the silence hanging between the two stallions like a knife. “Chief, I reckon the stress is gettin’ to ya, maybe you better take some breaths, calm yerself.”

Chief backpedaled a few steps and lined up his weapon with Cider. She snatched up Betsy’s yoke. Both ponies managed to bring their weapons to bear at the same moment. Shotgun and flamethrower pointed menacingly at friends.

“Whoa!” Lancet raised his forelegs between the two ponies. “Whoa! Let’s use our words.. Everypony calm down.”

“Sunny, get behind me.” Chief backed away. “What happened with you and Sprout, Doc?”

“Me and... What are you talking ab...”

“You know damn well what I’m talking about!” Chief bellowed. “He led you off! Cider ran after you! You were alone with him! And now you want us to follow you on some detour? No.” He tried to sweep his shotgun from Cider to Lancet. But Cider kept herself interposed between them. “Get out of the way, Cider. I don’t want you hurt.”

She stood steadfast.

“Think about it, Cider! Have you ever seen him move like that? Doc doesn’t know how to do something like that!”

Lancet cocked his head. “What? You mean the joint lock thing? I learned it from some magazines! Some kinda zebra fighting technique. I studied it to improve my balance during surgery!”

“A likely story. I think Spout got you! Cider, listen, you tried but you didn’t get to him fast enough! HE’S NOT DOC! You have to light him up!”

She hesitated only a moment. “Nah hattnin’. Unny, git.”

A strangled yelp pushed past his lips as the fire cut into his foreleg. The intensely focused pilot light seared through fur, skin, and muscle. The burning stink of cooking pony flesh wafted through the hall. Cider hopped to the side, shocked, as Lancet held out his smoldering cannon to Chief. He hissed out a few words through clenched teeth, “See... I’m me...”

Sunny swooped in and cradled Lancet’s injured leg while Cider recovered. “Are you two done?” Supporting his foreleg with a hoof, she searched through Tumble’s saddlebag. It was mostly filled with exotic contraband, not a single healing potion to be found. She grimaced as she continued to search, giving the bag her full attention while Lancet withdrew his hoof from her’s and staggered over to Chief.

“Chief, I won’t make it to medical on this leg. Luckily I have the supplies I need to treat this severe burn in my quarters.” Lancet fixed him with steady eyes. “Would you be so kind as to open the way?”

The stairwell door slid open as the forgotten device finished its task. Chief’s face was an impassive mask as he answered, “Nothing for it, then. Let’s go.”

The display on the key turned green and another door whisked open. Chief moved wordlessly to the next one. Beyond it would be the door to Lancet’s quarters. Part of him still fumed at having his authority overridden. Can’t dwell on that. We make this detour then back on track.

Behind him Cider was busy lending a shoulder for Lancet to steady himself against while Sunny fluttered about heaping concern and encouragement on the struggling doctor.

He snorted in time to the familiar hissing of the door sliding open. He groaned inwardly as he heard Sunny continuing to smother Lancet with well-meaning praise. ‘You’re doing so good, Dr. Lancet.’ ‘You’re being so brave, Dr. Lancet.’ ‘Not much farther, Dr. Lancet.’ If she pours it on any thicker he’s gonna drown. Looks like me and Doc are gonna have to have a friendly chat about age appropriate relationships.

They approached Lancet’s door, the doctor taking a position in front of the door with girls standing a few paces back. The residential lock gave up easier than the ones in the hallway proper. The door opened on a mare and foal curled up on an overstuffed sofa. They blinked their eyes owlishly as the light from the hall washed across them. Lancet hobbled in only to be tackled be a pink bullet from the couch.

“Docta Lanthet!” The pink growth on Lancet’s neck giggled excitedly.

Rack rushed over and collected her daughter from around the doctor’s neck. “Now, Pinion, don’t pounce on the poor stallion. Can’t you see he’s hurt.”

Pinion looked down, her brown and grey mane tumbling over her face. “Oh no! Docta Lanthet! You’ve got an owwie?” Her pale blue eyes started misting up, her lower lip quivering slightly. “Are you okay?”

Lancet gave the foal a reassuring smile. “I’m fine, I just need some doctor stuff from the back.” He glanced to Cider. “Why don’t you play with Cider?”

The group of ponies made their way into Lancet’s relatively large quarters. Lancet and Sunny went to the back room to gather the supplies needed to treat the burn and the sprained wing. Pinion lead Cider off into a corner to show her her toys. Rack returned to the sofa and took a seat. Without much to do while waiting for Lancet to finish, Chief joined her at a respectable distance. He heaved a troubled sigh as he sank into the familiar old couch.

“Credit for your thoughts?”

He turned to Rack, a gentle smile cracked her face. It was hard to believe he had been here talking with her not too long ago when he first got called away. Before their little world started to come crashing down. He lowered his voice to a strained whisper. “Rack, I’m going to be straight with you, cause there isn’t time to explain everything and you wouldn’t believe half of it. Something is seriously wrong out there. Ponies aren’t themselves. You and Pinion are going to come with us, and we are going to keep a close eye on you.”

“Close eye? What’s going on, Chief?” She looked at him coolly.

“Some experiment went really wrong. Tentation made... something. It’s been pretending to be ponies, and attacking others. I’m pretty sure the four of us are clean, but I’m not positive. And I don’t know anything about what’s happened to you while I’ve been gone. I hope you’re you, but I’ll be watching.”

Rack looked him in the eyes and stood. “Well then. I’d better get some things together.” With that she turned and walked to the back room.

Chief allowed himself a moment of relaxation as he swept the room with his gaze. Lancet was binding Sunny’s sprained wing so she would still have some movement if she needed it. He could see Rack’s hindquarters through the doorway to Lancet’s room, she seemed to be packing away a few keepsakes in a saddlebag. Cider was waving an ax menacingly over Pinion.

What?

His head twisted back so he could fully grasp what he was seeing. Cider bounced around her blackened, monacled ax and spoke in a ridiculously accented baritone while Pinion held two dolls in her forehooves. He smiled as he watched Cider play with the filly. Damn, she’s got grit. Facing down all that and still being herself.

He watched them for some time until Lancet trotted over. “We’re squared away Chief.”

He nodded and stood. “Alright, listen up. Plan’s still the same. We make it up to the Overmare’s office and take stock of the situation. It’s the safest place and we will have access to the Stable’s monitoring systems. We don’t know how far this thing has spread, but we know it is out of the Orchard...”

The assembled ponies turned to the open door and the green colt framed within.

“Can I come with you guys? I’m lost...”

Rack took a few steps toward the lost foal, smiling a motherly smile. “Sure you can... umm... ?”

“Gizmo.”

Junior whistled as they walked into Dr. Lancet’s quarters. The fire had caused just as much damage here as the rest of the Stable. The little shelf of photos was covered in ash and melted blobs of plastic. The spartan furnishing were caked in dust and morphed by heat, except for the plush couch in the center.

“What is that thing made of?”

She cantered forward and gave the indestructible couch a swift kick. Ash swirled up in a cloud, exposing the resilient covering. She poked it a few more times experimentally.

“Hmmm... Junior! Jump on the couch!”

Junior hooted questioningly.

“You heard me, jump on the couch. If it tries to eat you, we know it’s dangerous.”

Junior crossed his pincers and pouted. With a quick nod of her head the little robot found itself careening toward the possibly evil couch. He landed in a puff of dust. Panicked, he righted himself and scurried up the back of the sofa.

The mare chuckled, as he hopped angrily. “You’re so brave, Junior.”

“Anyway, stop screwing around and come over here. I need a hoof with this safe.”

Junior continued to pout.

“I’m not singing the song again. We both know you were the best choice to test the couch for traps. Come help me.”

With a whistling sigh he scurried over. He slipped his tail probe into the electronic lock and hacked it. The safe yawned open, displaying its bounty.

“Lemme see!” she dove ravenously into the contents of the safe, only to be gravely disappointed. “Dammit! What is this shit? A half dozen hoof-to-hoof combat manuals!” She pulled the magazines out, revealing a small box. “Ooo... Now this is promising.” Splaying her prosthetic hoof’s digits, she pried the top off. Nestled in soft fabric sat a quartet of glossy orbs. “Memory orbs... and I don’t have a recollector. Perfect.”

“Well, Junior: not the haul I’d hoped. Some magazines and some memory orbs I can’t view.” She plopped on the oversized couch, sinking in. “And apparently the most awesome couch in the wasteland. Shame we can’t drag it topside. Close the door, Junior. We can watch the rest here.”

Junior closed the door and rejoined her on the couch, circling three times clockwise before collapsing beside her.

The group made steady progress through the halls of the Stable. Lancet stayed to the rear of the group as the mares talked and kept watchful eyes on the foals. There was a tenseness about them, an undercurrent of distrust. Chief lead the way, stopping at another closed door. This one lead to a stairwell that would take them to the cafeteria and the infirmary.

The familiar red of Tumble’s device turned green and the door obediently slid open like the many before. Chief looked up lazily and started. Shotgun spinning off his back, he called out to the shadowed forms. Cider drew up defensively behind, the rest of the group forming up behind the two armed ponies with the foals protected in the middle.

Two ponies walked out of the shadows and under the red emergency lights. The old white stallion spoke, “Security Chief Heads Up, I’m glad to see you. Perhaps you could enlighten me as to why Nurse Inkblot and I have been locked in this stairwell for hours?”

The brown and white unicorn mare stepped around him. “I’m sure what Dr. House Call meant was, ‘Thank you for showing up.’”

“I’m quite aware of what I meant, Nurse.”

“And I’m quite aware that you asked me to help you sound less like a pretentious ass.” The old doctor colored a bit. Inkblot took a breath. “Forgive me, that was unkind and unnecessary. We’ve just been cooped up together long enough to get on each other’s nerves and... Chief? Why are you still pointing a gun at us?”

“How long have you been here?”

House Call responded, “Since the damn doors closed. I was on my way to the infirmary when the first warning went out, since somepony got himself locked in the brig. After rounding up a few things and Nurse Inkblot here, we started heading up. We didn’t want to get stuck anywhere so we took the stairs.” He snorted a half-laugh. “Lot of good that did us with this damn lockdown.”

“Hey, Doc?” Both Lancet’s and House Call’s ears perked. “Any test we can do?”

“We could set them on fire.”

All eyes but Chief’s turned to him incredulously.

“I’m serious. It proved I’m not an imposter. Of course I don’t have enough burn salve to go around.” Lancet looked around in thought. “I suppose we could peel back the dermal layer. When I examined Zip Tie’s flank, there was discoloration of the subdermal layers.”

“What the Well are you talking about, setting us on fire and flaying off our skin? What’s going on?” House Call started to stomp down the stairs but an indication from Chief’s shotgun was enough to have him pull up short.

“It’s a long story and we don’t have time to go into details. Tentation cooked up some kinda parasite. It takes over the host’s body and uses it to get close to other ponies to infect. Sprout was with us for a long time, a perfect imitation. We didn’t even know. Luckily, the imposters burn.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’m the only security pony still alive. The trees in the orchard tried to eat us. And a pony I loved sprouted vines and tried to kill me. I am dead serious.”

House Call pondered him for a moment. “As serious as you may be, you are not burning me or Inkblot. And I surely won’t allow him...” A hoof was pointed angrily in Lancet’s direction. “...to perform an invasive procedure in a stairwell without proper...”

“Hold your horses, Call.” Lancet went up a few steps. “I actually agree with you.”

Dr. Call raised an eyebrow.

“We are, what, two doors from the infirmary? Cider can keep an eye on them while Chief cracks the last few doors. Then we’ll have all the tools in the infirmary to make testing as painless as possible.”

Chief nodded. “Sounds like a plan. Watch ’em Cider, I’ll get the doors open.” He went to work on the next keypad. The device lit up and the red symbols started turning green. A few minutes passed as it made slow progress hacking the door.

“That’s an interesting device you have there, Chief.”

He turned to see Inkblot standing near him. Cider stood nearby keeping her eyes on the nurse and the doctor, the latter of which had started an argument over the bandaging of Sunny’s wing. He looked back to Inkblot, her interest clearly piqued.

“It’s a contraband hacking tool Tumble built, Inky. I just slip it on, give it a little magic nudge, and it does the rest on its own. Ingenious really.”

“I’m surprised Tumble parted with it, I can’t imagine him or his brother giving up anything without smashing if first out of spite. How’d you pull it off?”

“They’re dead.”

She went to put a hoof on his shoulder but he recoiled with a glare. She sighed and withdrew her hoof. “Right, I might not be me. Well, once we prove I am me, if you need to talk, that’s what I’m here for.” She smiled conspiratorially. “It’s why I have this bitchin’ bat on my flank.”

“I always thought it was two pegasi holding a bell.”

“Well, that’s not the strangest response I’ve gotten.”

Chief inquired with a quirked brow.

“That would be ‘a six legged pony with a purple polka dotted mane and shooting stars coming out of its eyes who flies air all over the world to hide magic sparkly eggs.’”

“What nutjob said that?” he asked with a chuckle.

Inkblot pointed to the younger doctor arguing in the corner.

“No kidding? Hmm...” Further musing were cut off by the opening of the door. “Alright, everypony. Let’s keep moving.”

Most of their little group moved up toward the next door, but the two doctors continued arguing about Sunny’s wing. The pegasus in question cowered in the corner.

Chief trotted between them. “Doc, Doc, Goose,” interrupted Chief, looking first to Lancet then to House Call, “come on. You can argue later.”

“Chief, you’re her uncle, you should be more concerned. That wing should be completely immobilized.” House Call pointed angrily at Lancet. “Even an idiot of his caliber should know that.”

“She needs to be able to use the wing in a pinch, Dr. Call here isn’t familiar with all the things we’ve seen.”

“Both of you stow it.”

“But...”

“Doc.” The both looked at him. “Lancet, if you drop it, I’ll give you a light.”

“You’ve had a light this whole time?”

Chief levitated out the blowtorch he had swiped from the storage room down on G level. With a click he lit it, the focused blue flame burning bright at the tip. Lancet smiled, the absentmindedly gnawed cigarette dancing at the corner of his mouth.

The leafy green spider dropped on Chief’s face and sank its fangs into his eye.

The burning torch started falling when Chief’s magic vanished. Lancet lunged forward, cigarette dropping from his mouth as he clamped his teeth around the top of the blowtorch. Torch in mouth, he brought the thick tank around in a wide arc, catching Chief in the head. The olive unicorn crumpled to the ground, the spider smeared across his face. I fucking HATE spiders!

He straddled Chief’s prone form and adjusted the torch in his mouth. He laid his weight across Chief’s neck. Velvety fronds were already spreading out from the wound, trying to bury themselves in his flesh. Lancet brought the flame down on the smeared, twitching remains of the spider. The infected remains and seeking fronds burned brightly, the searing pain causing Chief to writhe and buck.

“‘old ‘im!” Lancet yelled around the blowtorch.

Heavy hoofbeats sounded as Cider added her strength to restraining him. Lancet seared the flesh around the wound, pouring more fire on while Chief thrashed and screamed.

“‘octor, sssed’tive!”

“I don’t take...” Call was interrupted by a strong shove as Nurse Inkblot barreled past.

“Right away, Doctor.” She levitated several vials out of his bag while they continued to hold him down. “Don’t have a general, have to go with a local,” she said as she jabbed a syringe near the wound. “Should we apply some potion to...”

He sat the torch aside. “No. We don’t know how it would affect the plant. We can’t give him anything regenerative until we are sure all the infection has been burned away. Get the infirmary door open, Nurse.”

She nodded and disappeared up the stairs.

Chief was still struggling, but his strength wasn’t holding up. A soft fluttering gave a moment’s warning before Sunny lighted nearby. “Unca’ Uppity?” Her voice calmed him somewhat. “Stop fighting, ok?” She stroked the back of his neck tenderly. “Dr. Lancet is gonna help you, but you need to stop.”

He stopped struggling. Lancet pushed himself up, allowing Chief a few easier breaths. The air whistled through the side of his ruined face. Sunny stood over him, speaking softly while looking down with misty eyes.

“Infirmary’s open!”

“Good, prep surgery! Cider, help me get him there.”

She nodded and hunkered down next to him. They managed to get him straddled across Cider’s back with the unmarred side of his face resting on her shoulder. He mumbled deliriously as the trio got him up the stairs. The door to the infirmary was open on their right, the hall continued off into the distance with a few branching passages. An emergency door loomed closed far down the hall.

It was a tight fit in the small infirmary. Once inside, Lancet began barking orders. “Nurse, you’re assisting. I’ll need a basic surgery kit and a cautery kit. Rack, I want you to get in that closet over there and find a PI-20-20M Ocular implant. Sunny, talk to him. With all the trauma, I won’t risk a general anesthetic, keep him calm. Cider, if... if he goes weird, do what you need to do.”

“Dr. Lancet! What the Well do you think you are doing! You burned half his face off! Are you ma...”

“Dr. House Call, I do not have time to argue. This is the shit we’ve been dealing with all day. Get a good look, ‘cause it doesn’t get more serious. If he’s lucky, I burned it all and he won’t be slowly turned into a murderous plant monster. Now, as the director of medical, I must observe that only one of us has seen this infection in action before, and that’s me. It would be downright irresponsible to assign the Chief of Security a to a physician who wasn’t familiar with the morphology and progression of his disease, wouldn’t you say, doctor? Ergo, I’m attending, and you are going to take the foals out into the hall so I can work!”

“Listen here...”

“NOW, DOCTOR!”

Cowed, Call gathered up the foals. “Come along, little ones. Let’s wait outside.”

Inkblot returned levitating a roll of canvas and a black case. Lancet nodded to her and administered the local around the wound. The lights above him burned bright as he peered at the charred flesh. “Cautery tool, then push IV fluids.”

Inkblot pulled the tool from the case and passed it to Lancet. He reared up and walked closer to the table. Forelegs braced wide for support, he moved the cauter in his lips. He pressed the red hot tip into an discolored splinter. The offending fragment popped and burned. Just like Zip Tie. It’s still alive and dangerous, but the massive trauma to the larger organism stunned it. The fragments aren’t trying to infect him, yet.

The last few splinters of the thing smoldered to nothingness under the heat of the cauter. “Wound’s clean. Flush, please.” Inkblot flushed the wound with a saline solution. He looked at his relatively clean field and grimaced. “Alright, I’m going to excise the burned tissue then take the eye. Rack, open the container and lay out the cybernetic.” He spared a moment to look at the tearful pegasus holding his good friend’s hoof in hers. “You’re doing just great, Sunny. Keep talking to him. It’s gonna get dicey even with the local when I go in for the eye. Be strong for him, I know you’re strong. He needs that.” He smiled at her a moment before turning back to Inkblot. “I need a surgical sleeve and a scalpel.” He balanced on his hind legs and held out his right foreleg. She slipped the blue sleeve up past his cannon and attached the pivoting blade to his hoof.

He took a deep breath and started cutting.

Cider stood back watching the surgery unfold. Dr. Lancet was in the thick of it now. Rack had finished laying out the cybernetic eye and joined her.

“I hope he makes it.”

“It’d be damn rude it you didn’t”

Rack was taken aback. She sputtered a moment before settling into silence.

Chief spasmed a bit on the table as Lancet removed the last of the eye. He piled more encouragement on the demure pegasus whereto Cider started cursing under her breath.

“What was that, Cider?” Rack asked.

Cider turned to the older mare. “I just don't think he should be talkin' all sugary ta her when he's been shackin' up wit' you!”

“Shacking up? Shacking up! Is that what you think? You think I'm some kind of harlot?”

“I know yer a married mare staying with a single stallion!”

“How dare you! How dare you think Dr. Lancet has been anything but a gentlecolt. He’s spent his nights on the couch so that Pinion and I could have his bed. He’s a good stallion, and you should be ashamed for thinking otherwise.”

Cider backpedaled, “Whoa, I didn’a mean ta...”

“Yes, I am still a married mare, and I haven’t broken any of my vows. How dare you... and to think I thought you were perfect for him... you... you suspicious, jealous HARPY!"

“Quiet! Both of you!” Lancet looked up with cold fury from the bloody surgical field in front of him. “If either of you say one more word, I’ll toss you out!”

The pair stood in silence.

Dr. House Call brooded as the foals played. It should be me in there, I’ve forgotten more about medicine than he’ll ever know! He huffed and brought his attention back to the foals. The filly was trying to teach the colt some nursery rhyme.

“From the top!” she exclaimed. Gizmo shuffled in front of her ready to give the motions another attempt. “Thunthine, thunthine, ladybugth awake! Clap your hooveth and do a little thake!” Pinion burst into a fit of giggles as GIzmo shook his flank with particular gusto.

Their antics warmed him a bit. If there was one thing he was undeniably better than that upstart Lancet at, it was handling foals. A ghost of a smile threatened to break on his face when hooffalls behind him drew his attention. Out of the red of the emergency lights walked a stallion. House Call crouched defensively on creaky knees as it approached. “Who’s there?”

“That you House Call? It’s Splice, from engineering.”

Pinion froze at the sound of her father’s voice, quivering a bit in place. Gizmo stood protectively nearby.

Picking up his pace when he saw his daughter, Splice soon found himself with a hoof firmly in his chest. He snorted menacingly. “Move, old timer. I’m going to see my daughter.”

“The Well you are, son.”

“Doctor Call, you best get out of...”

A firm thrust of a hoof in his throat quieted his protests. “Look here, son, you are not getting near those foals until I give you a once over. There are things going on in here, and I won’t have you getting near them if you aren’t you.”

Splice massaged his throat a moment, contemplating the situation. He decided to humor the old doctor. “Fine, but be quick about it.”

Call took a step back and pulled a small, rubber mallet from his saddlebag. Lifting Splice’s foreleg, he gave the knee a quick hit. Satisfied with the results, he repeated the process on the other foreleg. “Mmmhmm...”

Scrounging in his bag again he pulled out a tongue depressor. “Open wide and say ‘ahhh.’ That’s a good lad.” Splice rolled his eyes as he complied. The old doctor poked around his mouth for a time before tossing the used depressor back into his bag. He pulled a small scope out and peered intently in both ears.

“Is this really necessary, doctor?”

“Yes, hold still.” Call removed the scope and placed it back in the bag. A moment later he pulled out a stethoscope. “Alright, let’s give you a listen, shall we.”

Call breathed a hot breath on the metal disc before placing it against Splice’s chest. “Deep breaths, please.”

Splice complied. His chest expanding with each full breath.

Dr. House Call straightened and with a nod turned to stow his tools. Splice took that as an invitation and took a few steps toward his daughter and her little protector. He shared a meaningful glance with the colt as Call pulled his head back from his medical bag.

“Looks like you’re right as rai...”

The impact sent the old stallion sprawling hard to the floor, legs splayed out. Heavy pressure held him in place as he started to struggle. He felt Splice’s wheezing breath on the back of his neck, the weight of him making breathing difficult.

“What are you...” He tried to yell before a sharp, burning pain stabbed into his neck. The piercing vine severed his vocal cords, causing the rest of his question to be lost in a deflating hiss. Splice leaned over him, pressing their cheeks together. It could have almost been an affectionate nuzzle, if House Calls face wasn’t so contorted in anguished pain. The flesh of their faces ran like hot wax, dripping and melding together. One eye bulged, bloodshot and full of fear, the other gazed out calmly. both wheeling orbs locked on the two foals huddled together.

Gizmo grabbed Pinion’s hoof and dragged her urgently away. “Come on, we gotta get outta here!” She reluctantly followed, leaving the horror behind.

Splice smiled and stood, the as yet unassimilated legs of Dr. House Call dragging below him as he trotted back into the bloody red glow of the hallway.

Lancet twisted the lense in place, finishing the cybernetic installation. The door whizzed open and a pink filly stumbled in.

Pinion sagged to her haunches, crying. “Daddy drug off Dr. House Call! He was scary! Gizmo ran away!”

Lancet looked to Cider. She nodded and galloped off into the hall.

Rack swept up the sobbing foal and shushed her, humming softly.

“Nurse, pull a gene-neutral skin graft.” Lancet focused back on the task at hoof. “Once we...”

Rack’s soft humming faded into a pained wheeze. Her panicked eyes rolled down to look at the filly sobbing into her neck. Where before Pinion’s body shook with wracking sobs, now her body quaked from the writhing of something inside.

The filly’s back parted with a rip, soft fronds unfurling. Rack was frozen in place, either by fear or disbelief. A velvety stalk trailed the side of her muzzle gingerly, almost lovingly, carrying with it a single tear. It then reversed itself and pierced the soft flesh of her eye. A wheezing scream tried to push itself past her alien throat. The group stood transfixed.

An explosive bark startled them from their frozen states. Rack’s head disappeared in a red mist. Chief’s magic fluctuated as he tried to rack another round.

Lancet scrabbled around the table and threw open a cabinet. “Nurse! Cauter!” He fumbled with the cap on a large bottle. “Stick it! Now!”

Inkblot thrust the cauter into the thing devouring Rack. A small flame burned where the cauter seared a path. It screamed, thrashing viney appendages, its attention turned.

“Not so fast!” Lancet tossed the open bottle towards the thing. The liquid splashed over it, burning blue when it splattered against the tiny flame. He kicked the wall as mother and daughter burned in the corner.

Lancet screwed his eyes shut against the image. Cursing inwardly he pushed his feelings down and locked them away. With a fresh veneer of professionalism in place he turned back to Inkblot. “Nurse... we need to finish the graft. Chief, lay down.”

“I couldn’t find no sign of...” The words died in Cider’s throat. A smouldering husk sat to the side of the room. “Stitches... what happened?”

Lancet finished securing the last of the graft and looked up. “Nurse, bandage the site please.” He folded the scalpel along his cannon and walked heavily around toward her. “Cider... Ci’. Pinion... wasn’t. She attacked Rack after you left. You didn’t find Gizmo or Dr. Call?”

She failed to swallow the dryness in her mouth. She shook her head. She felt a hoof raise her head. She opened her eyes to see a yellow face looking back to her. Sunny wrapped her in a tight hug.

“Dammit!” Everypony turned to look at the source of the outburst. Chief stood wobbling near the table. “What the Well did you do to my eye?”

Lancet turned to him with dead eyes. “What’s wrong, Chief?” He moved toward the wobbling stallion, pulling a small flashlight from a nearby counter and shining it into Chief’s eyes.

“What’s wrong is that my right eye sees in color and the left sees in blue! It’s... ughh... I’m gonna be sick...”

“No you’re not, close your eye.” Lancet held his chin and examined the cybernetic. “There’s your problem.”

“Ya, Doc?”

“I’m a doctor, not a mechanic.” He fitted a patch over the cybernetic. “Your other eye work fine?”

Chief blinked his good eye owlishly. “Yeah, nothing for it, I guess. Thanks, Doc.”

Cider pulled herself from Sunny’s embrace. There would be time to hurt later, or there wouldn’t. Either way, they needed to keep moving. “What’s the plan?”

“We go up. It’s a straight shot now.”

Chief staggered by her, leading the way to the stairs that would put them at the Overmare’s door.

It was a slow and tedious climb up several flights of stairs before they arrived at the Overmare’s office. Mercifully, the thing that had attacked House Call was nowhere to be found.

Chief affixed the key onto the keypad and with a hiss the door to the Overmare’s office slid open. The beleaguered party staggered in. Bureau Carrot sat reclining behind her massive desk.

“Overmare,” Chief began, “we need to...”

She sat motionless in her overstuffed chair, her head hanging back at an unnatural angle. A long slash gaped across her neck. Her underside was stained red with the bulk of her life’s blood, a dark dried red. A few of her words hung softly in the air before a muted click left the room in silence. The door slid closed behind them.

A different mare’s voice floated over the speakers as the recording repeated.

“Hello! My name is Scootaloo. You probably know me (since I am pretty famous) for my awesome performances at events like last year’s GALLoPS, or maybe just as the founder of Red Racer.

A pop in the silence denoted a hard cut as a new baritone voice poured out.

“And I’m Nature Prism, founder and CEO of Prism Consolidated Industries. We will be partnering with Stable-Tec for the construction of the stables within our wonderful city. If you are listening to this recording, then congratulations are in order. You have been selected as the Overmare of Stable 48, or have been selected as her replacement in the event of her incapacitation or death.

If you are familiar with Stable-Tec designs, you may have noticed some differences in the design of this facility. This isn’t Fillydelphia or Hoofington, this is the City of Broad Withers, we do things our own way. Now you may be wondering why there is only room for a hundred fifty ponies in here. Well, that’s so we could fit in all the science stuff you’ll need. The behavior of magical radiation isn’t my forte, but the lab folks tell me that after twenty years or so it shouldn’t be strong enough to strip the flesh from your bones. That’s why we put all our best geneticists, biologists, and botanists in your Stable. It is also why you have an oversized orchard and extensive laboratory space. The most thorough catalog of genetic material we could compile is at your hooftips. All you need to do is splice ‘em together so they can survive once the radiation levels go down. You are the best chance of a bright future for Equestria.

Now the lab folks tell me due to the small size of the Stable if a prolonged stay is required, you run the risk of inbreeding. Don’t do it, it makes you stupid. You are sitting on top of a massive repository of genetic material from the best and brightest of our time. If your family tree isn’t going to fork otherwise, squirt some genius DNA in her hoo-ha and call it good. Better for everypony that way.

We’ve given you the tools to rebuild. There are contamination suits and survival gear located in the chamber accessible from your office. You are the future, don’t fuck it up more.”

Another hard cut was followed by the familiar voice of Overmare Bureau Carrot.

If you are hearing this, our blunder hasn’t yet killed you. Or that you aren’t you and talking to you is pointless. We should have listened to you, Mr. Prism. We should have followed our instructions. Instead we decided on isolation. The second Overmare decided we would say inside, focus on living the best we could here. We could have been helping ponies on the outside, instead we squandered generations merely surviving. Now our tinkering with life has caught up with us. There is life in the Wasteland, and it must be protected from out taint. If you are from the outside, leave the way you came and seal this tomb back up. There is nothing but death and ash here. I’ve made sure of that. I’ve set the whole place to burn: no loot, no riches, just charred remains and a chance at contracting the most deadly plague history has ever seen.

I’ve watched the only pony I ever loved be devoured. I won’t suffer this life anymore. I’m leaving this world to find my House beyond the Well. Goodbye.

The group stood in silence a moment, stunned.

“Umm... Chief. What ya reckon she means by ‘set the place to burn.’”

Chief approached her desk and peered over the side. All but one monitor showed locations within the Stable, many of those were places he was happy he wasn’t. But the center monitor showed readings from the air monitors throughout the Stable. They were tracking the alarming increase in the levels of ethane gas. The lower levels of the Stable were already at alarmingly high levels.

With a telekinetic shove he rolled Bureau Carrot, chair and all, into the corner of the room. Now behind the desk, he paged through several screens. He didn’t like what he saw.

“She’s rigged the whole Stable. Once the ethane level gets high enough, all the the doors and internal vents will pop. Then it is just a matter of overloading individual terminals. Whole place goes up in a firestorm.”

“What can we do?”

“Nothing.”

“Whaddaya mean, nothin’?’

“She set it up on her authorization. We would need three section heads to override her. And we only have Doc and I.”

“So after all this, we’re all just gonna die here.”

“I don’t think so. Ethane isn’t being pumped in here, and that message makes me think she wants this room intact. Act as a deterrent to keep anypony from the outside from getting nosey.”

“We’ve gotta go back down, get who we can out!”

“No time, we’ve got five, maybe ten minutes before she goes.”

“So, what, we just leave?”

“Nope.” He levitated his shotgun around and then pulled the blowtorch from his saddlebag. “First we make sure we’re all still ourselves. Considering my recent makeover, I think I’m clean, but I’ll go first anyway.” Lighting the torch, he ran it along his shoulder, the intense flame parted the skin like a plastic refuse bag. The stink of burning pony flesh wafted through the closed room. He hissed between his teeth as he pulled the flame away from himself.

He walked around the desk toward the group, shotgun and blowtorch floating in front of him. Cider, I’m gonna need you to take off Betsy and...”

With a pop Betsy’s pilot lit and Cider swept her head in line with the nozzle. The flame licked hungrily at her neck. She winced as she slowly rolled her neck in the flames. “That good enough for ya, Chief?”

Lancet’s cigarette tumbled to the ground as his mouth flopped open from the shock of their sudden self-mutilation. “What the Well are you idiots doing?”

“Making sure.”

“I have locals, ya know?” He rummaged in his bag for a vial and several syringes. “I’m not about to let you do that to Sunny... and Inkblot. Or me for that matter. Nurse, if you would be so kind as to inject me in the withers and perform the test.”

“Hold on, I’m not giving her the torch, she hasn’t been tested yet.”

“For fuck’s sake!” Lancet drew a dose of painkiller from the vial and moved to Inkblot’s flank. “You’ll feel a little pinch,” he said, just before injecting her.

“What happened to the withers, Doctor?” She asked with a smirk.

“Chief needs a marked target.” He stepped aside and nodded to the olive unicorn. “Well, Have at her. Just don’t make it any harder to guess.”

Chief ran the flame along her flank above the cutie mark. She grimaced. “There, satisfied?”

Satisfied, Chief allowed her to take the blowtorch and Lancet surrendered the vial and two syringes.

Under Chief’s watchful eye she administered the test to both Lancet and Sunny with negative results. She nodded as she concluded Sunny’s test, Chief let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“That’s everypony. Let’s find that chamber.”

“What about her?” Sunny asked, eyes locked on the corpse in the corner.

“She’s dead, Sunny.” Chief’s voice grew softer. “She’s already gone, Kudzu said it couldn’t take over dead tissue.”

“But what if she wasn’t her when...”

“You think she would set the Stable to burn and then off herself if she was one of those things?” A slight tint of incredulity flavored his words.

“I don’t know, but...”

“Alright. Cider, hit her.”

Cider took the yoke in her mouth and sent a truncated blast of liquid fire at the corpse. Betsy sputtered, but the flame struck true. The Overmare’s corpse screamed and danced in the flames.

“Fuck! Hit her again!” Chief pushed Sunny away from the crescent desk and the thing beyond.

“I’m out!”

The writhing form wreathed in flames shuddered and flailed. Fire consumed its upper half, but its hind legs kicked out, unraveling at the hips. Dozens of small fronds burst from the sides of the legs, the weeping wound at the hip stretching and morphing into deformed mandibles. The two centipede-things skittered across the floor.

Chief took a step back, watching the desk. He heard a yelp to his right, he turned in time to see Inkblot sprawled on the ground, the thing attached to her face, smothering her screams. She looked at him with pleading eyes. He ended her suffering with a slug to the head. She slumped over the thing, pinning it even as it absorbed her. Chief swept up the blowtorch and set the animated leg ablaze.

“‘ook out!”

A loud crack rang out, followed by a fizzling pop and the silencing of the Overmare’s voice. He wheeled to see Cider’s ax pinning the other thing to the large desk. The monocled blade half buried in the metal top. He whipped the torch around and set fire to the struggling monstrosity.

Cider released her grip on Mr. Splitter’s haft and turned a knob to pull fuel from a small tertiary tank. She grimaced as the motion pulled the burn on her neck taut. With two quick streams of flame the last of the Overmare’s legacy went up in smoke.

The Stable rumbled.

Two stallions sat in a tin shack, the glow of several monitors bathing them in sickly light. The junior of the two paused as his eyes locked in on an anomaly. “Hey, Stake, what's this light mean?”

“Umm... something tripped Monitor #3”

“And that means?”

“Wake the Boss.”

The heavy metal bulkhead locked into place, sealing them from the Overmare’s office and the horrors that were roasting inside. Chief looked at the little band of survivors, a grin threatened to break across his muzzle.

The four ponies stood in the pool of light by the entrance, the cavernous room stretched off into inky blackness. He concentrated on a flashlight spell, its bright beam splashing against the near wall.

He trotted forward, sweeping the beam over the room. It was a thin corridor that stretched off into the distance. The beam paused as it washed over several lockers, then continued on a path up to the ceiling. Light fixtures hung intermittently down the corridor.

“Look for a switch, if there are fixtures then there...”

The hanging lights sputtered to life, illuminating the corridor.

“Should be a switch, right?” Sunny called from the behind him.

“Yeah. Good job, Goose.” He motioned for them to follow and approached the lockers.

The butt of his shotgun worked marvelously to bash open the combination locks. Inside each locker hung a blue environmental suit, their bubble helmets glinting in the light. “Alright, suit up ponies.”

“I don’t reckon that’s happenin’, Chief,” Cider drawled.

“Why not?”

She nosed Betsy’s yoke in response.

“Fair enough.” Chief turned to Lancet, but he was already half in a suit. “You’re up, Sunny.”

She eyed the suits suspiciously. “There’s no place for my wings.”

“It’s a stallion size suit, it will fit over your wings.”

“But... No. I’m not wearing it. I’m not going to be bound up like that.”

“Goose, put on the suit.”

“No.”

“Put on the suit.”

“Couldn’t ya just cut a couple holes fer the wings?”

Sunny brightened at the idea.

“No. What use is an environmental suit if you cut holes in it? Put on the suit.”

“I don’t wanna!” She crossed her forelegs, pouting.

“Dammit, Goose! That isn’t going to work on me. Put on the suit!”

She looked up at him with big, sad eyes.

He scowled so deep his eyebrows nearly touched. “I will put you in this suit if I have to.”

Sunny sat heavily and turned up her nose. The picture of juvenile resistance.

Lancet trotted up, his face backlit inside the bubble helmet. “It isn’t so bad, the helmet nice.”

Cider chuckled. “Stitches, ya look ridiculous.”

“He does not, he looks well protected,” Chief said with a cross glance at Cider.

“Fine, ya look ridiculously protected.”

“It’s a great helmet. You’re just jealous. Like Rack...” Lancet turned and trudged down the hall away from them.

Chief heaved a heavy sigh. “Goose. We just survived a horrible thing. I almost lost you. When you took off into the orchard... I’ve never been so scared. We don’t know what’s out there, Goose. It may be sunshine and rainbows, but we just don’t know. Put on the suit, Goose. For me. Because I love you, and if I lost you to something that could’ve been prevented by you wearing this suit... I’d never forgive myself.”

Sunny wrapped her forelegs around her usually stoic uncle. “Ok, Unca’ Uppity. I’ll wear the ugly suit.”

He kissed her tenderly on the forehead. “Thank you.”

It took a little work to get her all in, but they eventually accomplished the task. A clear section on the left cannon left her PipBuck visible, and several of the readouts were automatically displayed on a HUD inside her bubble helmet.

As well equipped as they could manage, they moved to the far end of the corridor. After removing several thick crossbars, and with a strong buck from Cider, the old door yielded to them. They staggered out into the darkness, their PipLights the only illumination. They were in a cave, The heavily reinforced door closed behind them, blending seamlessly into the cave wall. To their right was a heavy, cog-like door, ‘48’ painted across it in big block letters.

The small group moved away from the massive door. The cave lightened in the distance and they moved toward the dim light. “Listen. We don’t know what’s out here, but we’ve survived worse. As long as we stick together, work together, and look out for each other, we’ll be alright. There’s nothing for it, but to do it, as my Pappy used to say. Keep alert and keep your heads down, we don’t know what to expec …”

The retort of a rifle sounded in the distance.

The security unicorn on the monitor slumped to the ground, a fair portion of his head rolling back into the cavern.

>>Playback Complete

The mare reclining in Lancet’s old quarters brought a hoof up to her mouth. Those two words floated in her vision, Playback Complete. She shook her head then pulled herself off the battered old couch.

“Junior, take a letter.”

Junior straightened up and appeared to give her his utmost attention. The mare cleared her throat and started to dictate to her metal assistant.

“Dear Daddy,

“Hey, it’s Tink. I haven’t recorded one of these for a while, sorry. I went to 48 today. South Side’s always been the meanest part of Buckago, I guess that’s true underground too. I never knew how hard it was for you in here, what you and the rest went through. I can see why you didn’t talk about it. I-I just saw Chief die... I didn’t put it together before. He’s the one Mom would talk about from time to time. I’m sorry I never knew him. To die like that after all you did to try and save him? And you didn’t give up after... through it all you didn’t give up. That’s what I learned here, Daddy. When the wasteland shits in your oatm...”

A loud gasp behind her cause her to wheel around.

“You just said a bad word! To your DADDY!”

Junior hissed threateningly at the little green colt.

The colt cocked his head quizzically at the little robot, then looked up at her with apologetic eyes. “Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. I'm Gizmo.”

Author's Note:

All hail Kkat, crafter of the sandbox we play in.

I want to thank Mysecsha for being my Alpha reader, sounding board, and general entertainer. Also my distraction, scapegoat, and pretty, pretty princess.

I also want to thank Wirepony for giving it the beta brushies.