Gearing puts a hoof over his eyes as he snorts out in frustration. He warned him. He knew R&D was going to be trouble. True, this isn’t exactly what he had in mind. He feared some kind of engineered mutant disease. Not mutated insects. He wonders what kind of research they were doing there, and he starts picturing the entire R&D department being turned into a massive mutant roach nest. He does some quick math, thinking of what he knows of the general size of most R&D sections in stables. Dividing the general volume by the size of the monstrous creatures.

Math. Easy.

D by H by L.

Demons of Hell by the Legions. Equals one terrifying equation.

“Handy, we need to get down there sooner than later to get this figured out,” Gearing says as he’s looking around quickly, half expecting some random insect to materialize and attack him at any moment.

“Already on it. I just closed off the ventilation separating different areas. We’ll be-“ Handy is cut off by a loud fwump sound. Gearing looks at the pipbuck with a raised eyebrow and wonders what’s going on as he hears Handy start coughing, which quickly turns into a hacking cough.

“You alright, Handy?” Gearing asks as he starts wondering where he should go.

He’s unable to understand most of what Handy’s talking about through the coughing fit, and the only word he makes out clearly is “later” before the transmission is cut off.

Gearing doesn’t like what’s going on and debates on the best course of action. He decides that, if nothing else, he’ll keep an eye on the foals while Handy sorts out whatever he’s dealing with. Handy didn’t feel inclined to tell him about what he was working on before, and didn’t clue him in this time either. As he’s stepping back in the decontamination chamber, a massive alarm blares about some sort of contaminate being detected in the stable. Gearing looks around in fear, but relaxes a bit when he gets hosed down with a variety of soap and water. Then air dried. As he’s stepping into the medbay the multi-armed nurse bot comes in from the opposite direction and the door quickly shuts behind it.

As soon as it does the door chimes, “Quarantine has been initiated. Medical bay now locked down until unknown pathogen has been analyzed and destroyed.”

Gearing looks around quickly, then stares at Nahlah. “What the hell’s going on? What’s this about a pathogen?”

“I don’t know.” Nahlah shrugs. “Cure just suddenly took off without warning. She’s normally more up my butt than Ivy, and that’s saying something.”

Gearing tilts his head and looks at Nahlah with a raised eyebrow.

Nahlah giggles, “You know… Making sure I’m eating right. Eating enough. Have the proper nutritional balance… and of course the hormone shots so I’ll keep producing…” She rocks the little bundle up and down a bit as she says with a smile, “Little babe eats a lot for her size…”She looks at Gearing and smiles with a shrug. “But she should be okay to wean to formula and more actual food in a few more weeks. At least that’s what Nettlekiss keeps telling me Cure ‘says’.”

“Cure’s the robot I guess?” Gearing points a hoof towards the exit.

Nahlah nods and grins. “She’s a real sweetie too. Though a bit demanding at times.”

Gearing nods slowly and glances over at the children. His heart sinks as he sees them all huddled together in the middle of the room, looking around unsure and obviously scared. None of them have any idea of what’s going on or why the loud sirens are blaring.

He opens a channel on his pipbuck. “Stable-Tec. Kindly mute the contagion alarm in the medical bay.”

“I apologize, Subject Gearing, but you do not have authority to bypass safety protocol,” the familiar voice of the Stable-Tec AI comes through his pipbuck.

“Who does have authority?”

“The Overmare is the only individual that has proper authority to cancel the alert.”

Gearing rolls his eyes then says into his pipbuck. “Stable-Tec… I’m not asking you to turn off the alarm.” He smirks and continues on, “The alarm volume is at an unacceptable level. This alarm volume runs the risk of damaging sensitive foal’s hearing. Permanently… You hear me, Nettlekiss?”

“Don’t try that shit with me, stallion. I’ve already figured out how you operate,” Nettlekiss’s typically annoyed voice comes across his pipbuck.

Gearing sits down and looks at his pipbuck. “So you know I want to keep the foals safe… We’re already aware of the situation, and you have us sealed in here. So… just turn down the volume in here. You’re scaring the kids.”

“Reducing volume of emergency alarm to 20%,” the stable AI’s voice states. And the blaring alarm drops down to a level that it’s barely noticeable.

Gearing grins into his pipbuck and says partially sing-songily, “Thank you, Nettlekissss… now how about an update on what the hell’s going on?”

His response is a text notification that the channel has been closed.

He looks at one of the speakers nearby and blows a kiss at it with a wink. “Well, we love you too, Nettlekiss.” He walks over to Nahlah and says softly, “If you hear any bugs, or anything that even sounds like a bug… especially from the ventilation, let me know. Don’t wait, okay?”

“Bugs?” Nahlah tilts her head, then starts looking around. “What bugs?”

Gearing looks back at the children and says, “Oh, you know, roaches… mantises… anything that skitters and needs to be squished.”

Nahlah nods with a grin. “Oh, yeah… those bugs.” She looks up at the vents and lays her ears back at the thought of them jumping down on her. “Oh you’ll know… trust me.”

He chuckles and trots over to the children huddled together and asks how they’re doing. They don’t really respond. He tries a variety of methods of engaging them, but they’re having none of it. They’re thoroughly spooked. And, even though he’s there to protect them, they haven’t lived this long by only relying on others. Every now and then he sends out messages to the network, especially Handy, asking for an update, but he gets no response.

The decontamination protocol triggers, and a moment later the bell chimes completion.

Swift and Apple Armor walk into the medical bay, and Apple Armor runs over to join his friends as Gearing walks over towards Swift.

Swift looks around the room, and then her head zips back and forth between Nahlah and Gearing. “What’s going on here? Where’s Handy and why did he have all authority transferred to me when I got back?”

Gearing shrugs. “That’s the first I’ve heard of that. But, there’s some kind of biological contaminate… somewhere… I’m thinking something from R&D got out. But Nettlekiss has the stable locked down and won’t tell me shit.”

“Handy did that,” Nettlekiss’s voice comes over the speaker with a groan. “Not me. He locked down the whole thing till Swift got back and could take care of things.”

Gearing slaps a hoof over his face. “Great. Fucker still doesn’t trust me.” He looks at Swift, who’s staring balefire level daggers, and adds, “I can’t get infected with anything! I should have been the first choice to clean this shit up. Instead we’re stuck in here with that shit spreading gods know where and infecting anyone and everyone else.”

Swifts eyes go wide, and she zips around the medical bay. She does a quick head count just to make sure, then she runs over by the door and asks, with more than a hint of desperation, “Nettlekiss! Nettlekiss! Where are my babies? Where’s my children! They aren’t here!”

“They’re safe, Handy made sure of it,” Nettlekiss’s voice comes across cryptically.

Swift sits down for a moment then looks up at a random speaker, “Where are they? I want my children, Nettlekiss.”

Nettlekiss’s voice comes across as soft and apologetic, nothing like she’s ever used on Gearing, or any other stallion for that matter, “They’re safe, for now, but you can’t get to them, not without risking them getting contaminated as well.”

Gearing looks at the speaker and says with a grumble, “You going to actually clue us into what’s going on now, or just tell me to go sit and spin again?”

Nettlekiss grumbles, “Don’t give me any shit, stallion. I’m not the one that set up the lockdown. Not the way it is. But I do have full override permissions and I’m not letting you in that room just to contaminate the rest of the stable. Not going to happen.”

Swift hops to her hooves and screams, “I want my children!”

Gearing waves his hooves around and yells, “Everypony just calm the fuck down! Alright? We can deal with this… I just need some information…” Swift just turns to stare at him with a raised eyebrow that simply oozes contempt.

Nettlekiss’s voice chimes in, “The genius shut areas of the ventilation system. That caused a pressure back up that blasted out some contaminated particles from deeper in the stable… He caught a snoot full of the powder and locked the kids in the bathroom, before having Cure and Sarge restrain him.”

Gearing looks at the speaker and asks with a snort, “Let me guess… the ‘deeper part of the stable’ was from the R&D department?”

“Yup,” Nettlekiss says flatly.

“Called it,” Gearing mutters grimly.

Swift turns around with her eyes wide and pulls her powerhoof laden limb back as she yells, “What’d you do!?”

Gearing rolls his eyes and points at the exit door with both hooves. “I did nothing! I tried to warn him! R&D departments have a host of nasty pathogens. Even if they aren’t using them for some supreme evil, which, given this stable’s history, they probably were. You need pathogens to work on cures and vaccines… but if the containment equipment fails… and all that shit got out…” He leans towards her. “You catching any of this yet? Do you understand my concern?”

Swift lowers her hoof to the ground and starts breathing heavily. She’s feeling rather helpless and this isn’t a situation she likes being in.

“I have a bit of experience with this stuff. What can kill, can cure… But what can cure… well, it can also be deadly in the right doses… We just have to find out what is what. And, for that, I need samples.”

“Not going to happen,” Nettlekiss says sternly.

Swift looks at the speaker and screams, “Dammit, Nettlekiss! That’s my husband in there! My children! Don’t you dare leave them there to die!”

Nettlekiss’s voice comes across as soothing as ever, “They’re fine, Swift. They’re in the bathroom. They have plenty of air. There’s plenty of water. Hell, they have toilet and shower access! They’ll be fine while we figure this out.”

Gearing waves a hoof. “I just said it. The first step is samples. You’re not getting around that, Nettlekiss.”

There’s a long silence as Nettlekiss tries to figure out what to say.

“Your choices are, right now, to either admit that you’re just going to kill Handy… or help us get samples and let me work out a treatment plan,” Gearing says flatly while looking up and to the side with just his eyes at a camera in the corner with a cold glare.

Swift looks at him in abject horror, but the truth of the words starts filling her with a burning hatred.

“That’s not fair, Gearing! It’s not that cut and dry,” Nettlekiss objects.

“Yes, it is, Nettlekiss,” Swift says softly as she looks at the ground. She looks up at Gearing and stares daggers at him as she comments, “He’s cold. He’s brutish. He’s a disgusting pony with no heart to just say that. As hard as his metal hide… but he’s also right.”

Gearing bows towards Swift before sitting down. “I’ll take it. I’ll own it.”

Swift has tears on the edge of her eyes as she chokes out and waves her powerhoof at him, “You’ll own a hoof sandwich in a minute if you keep that up…”

Gearing looks at the speaker and says, “Nettlekiss. I can do this. I’m the logical choice. I can’t be infected. Cure can’t be infected. And Sarge can’t be infected. Though he’s a bit damaged at the moment so I’m not sure he’ll survive typical decontamination protocol for drones.”

“Smart ass stallion. How are you going to get to him? You open that door, and you expose the entire area? And you’re not taking him back to medical. That shit’s not getting anywhere near my foal,” Nettlekiss’s snotty voice snaps.

Gearing puts his hooves together. “Actually, I think the best place to take him is R&D.” He can feel the intense stare of both Swift and Nettlekiss on him as he tries to think of the best way to answer the coming questions.

“You’re kidding? Why would you take him to a place you know is contaminated?” Swift asks with a huff.

“And just how do you plan to get him there? Walk him there and contaminate the entire stable along the way?” Nettlekiss asks with a mocking laugh.

Gearing looks at the speaker and says flatly, “Stick him in his hazmat suit. Then sterilize the room and the outside of the suit… The suit’s designed to keep contaminants out, and healthy air inside… but the system technically works both ways and could keep the contaminants inside the suit, at least until we get him to R&D.”

He looks over at Swift and nods. “And that’s the exact reason we should use it. The equipment we would need would be there. And, the area’s already contaminated, so there won’t be any expansion of that.”

Swift looks down and starts thinking through everything. But Nettlekiss remains unconvinced. “Swift can’t go, then. Can’t have both of them infected.”

Swift stomps a hoof. “I’m going! You’re not keeping me from my husband. Especially if this might be our last time together!”

Nettlekiss’s voice comes out softly, apologetically, “I’m not trying to hurt you, dear. But what happens to your foals if something happens to you too.”

Swift stomps a hoof into the ground, keeping herself from crying. “That won’t happen. Because we’re going to cure him. Right, Gearing?” She shoots him a look that seems like it’s almost as much of a demand as it is a bit of hopeful begging.

Gearing nods. “That’s the plan.”

“This is reckless,” Nettlekiss moans.

Gearing shakes his head. “No. It’s not. We take every precaution, and ensure complete sterilization as we go. This’ll work. With both of them in a hazmat suit, we can get this done with minimum risk.”

Swift looks over at him and asks, “What about my children? I don’t want them locked up in there while we’re working on their father?”

Gearings looks at her a moment, then looks at the speaker. “How small are they?”

Swift stamps a hoof and points over to Nahlah. “They’re foals!”

Gearing nods and smirks, then runs a hoof through his brass mane. “Well… How many hazmat suits do we have?”

“Two,” Swift says flatly. “Gauge had one, but he got a bunch holes in it being stupid. So that won’t work.”

Gearing tilts his head and asks, “Sorry for this, Swift… Nettlekiss, Would you be okay with: putting Handy in his own hazmat suit, torching the vents in the room, seal them, then chemical sterilize the room, then have Cure put the kids in Swift’s hazmat suit, all of them at once, and bring them to medical for decontamination and isolation?”

Swift tilts her head, and Gearing apologizes again.

“I’ll allow it,” Nettlekiss replies. “They shouldn’t need isolation if we follow that well enough.”

Gearing gives a sheepish grin. “They’ll be crowded in that hazmat suit, but they’ll be safer here than-“

Swift cuts him off with a wave and stamp of her hoof. “They’ll get over it. They can handle piling up for a bit. They’re used to it.”

Gearing was not expecting that sentiment.

After the convoluted juggling act with the hazmat suits and various round robins of ‘kill it with fire’, all orchestrated by a micromanaging Nettlekiss, the group manages to make it to the decontamination chamber of the R&D department with relative ease. However, Nettlekiss had made some alterations to the plan. Including a flash burn of their previous quarters that destroyed most of their meager possessions by turning the room into an improvised oven.

After the decontamination process in the airlock finishes, Gearing turns towards Swift and offers, “Stay in the suits. And stay in here. I’ll go in with Cure and make sure it’s safe before you come in.”

Swift tilts her head, looking odd in the hazmat suit, as she asks, “What’s the point in that? He’s already infected?”

Gearing shakes his head. “We don’t know what else is in here. We’ll gather samples, secure everything, and that’ll let us get to work. We don’t need him either getting re-infected if we get him cured, and certainly don’t want him to catch some other deadly disease that might be down here.” He looks at Handy’s unconscious face, and flinches. His lips have been removed, apparently from him biting them off himself. This is worrisome.

Gearing motions for Cure to follow, and the pair enter while Sarge, who’s in a slightly better shape than he had been previously but still considerably damaged, uses restraining cables to hold Handy to the gurney they had used to transport him. It was an extra precaution, given he was currently unconscious courtesy of Cure’s regular and repeated use of drugs. But, judging from what he’d heard, and what he’d seen, Gearing is not liking the chances of this turning out well.

It’s apparently something like rabies. He’d bitten himself repeatedly, and left mouth sized pockmarks on his own forelegs before being restrained by Sarge. Then, with nothing else to bite on, he bit his own lips off before Cure could arrive and knock him out. Worst of all, if what they’d said is to be believed, he was somewhat lucid, like he was trapped and couldn’t stop himself from doing it. He’d had enough presence of mind to lock the doors, and get rid of his own authority to unlock them after ordering the kids into the bathroom.

The worrying aspect of that means, he could very well try to bite others. Meaning he’d had a strong impulse… against his own children. All while being actually conscious of the fact. This disease, whatever it is, is the stuff of nightmares.

One of the reasons Gearing wanted to come down to R&D so bad, was based on a hunch. Without giving any further information, Nettlekiss had gone full-blown maximum-security lockdown mode when this disease was first discovered. Everything was shut out. And she invoked her powers as Overmare to make sure all of the rules were followed to the letter.

Which means the stable already knew exactly what it was, or, at least, had a file on it that was ranked high enough for maximum precautions to be enforced.

Cure floats around, checking the entire area, and declares the room habitable, after flame kissing a few areas. One of the areas draws Gearings attention, and he can’t help staring at it for a few moments. The air vent in a corner above the consoles. The grate on it is missing, and inside he can make out the shapes of a cluster of hatched eggs. Large eggs. Bunched and semi-fused together as if whatever substance that came out with them, acted like a cement to hold them together and to whatever surface they had been laid on.

Cure gave that particular hole a thorough cremation, before moving on to another area. Gearing replaces the vent cover, which he finds on the ground near the consoles, and has Cure give it a tack weld before they go any further.

Despite his fears, the R&D department is not only intact, but the only access points for anything, pony or insect alike, are the air vent, which had just been welded closed, and the door to the decontamination air lock.

In the back area behind a bank of workstations Gearing finds a dead earth pony on the ground, bones long since scattered and gnawed over by whichever creatures. Next to the remains is a 10mm pistol, with a full magazine, short the one shot that had been fired. His first impulse is that this was an obvious suicide case, though he didn’t know why.

He confirmed the hunch as soon as he gained access to the earth pony’s work terminal. Hopping from terminal to terminal gives him a clear, and grim, picture of what had taken place in the stable. Of all the things that could have caused the stable’s collapse, so much more so with the horrible experiment that was taking place in this particular stable, it wasn’t the sex crazed maniacs that did it.

Not exactly, anyway.

The terminal entries from Butter Churn, the apparent suicide at Gearing’s hooves, sends chills across his shoulder gears:

Last Day
It happened today. We all knew it was coming, but hoped it never would. Bombs fell. Ponies died. Momma. Pappa. My old hoofball team. Everypony else. All gone.

They used to give me a bunch of shit for being interested in science. But, who secured a job that got them into a stable? I hate to seem petty about it, but really. I’m alive, they aren’t. Just wish they’d done more with their lives than they did. But, as much shit as they gave me, I knew it was good natured ribbing. And, at least on some level, they were jealous. Earth pony farmboy like me getting in on a scholarship? Didn’t happen often.

But, it’s time to start working on the future of Equestria, which starts right here. In this lab. My first task is to help medical determine the health and fitness of the population, and then continue with the provided research on different cures and treatments.

Strangely, the equipment is already powered up and, quite obviously, been used recently. Some of it is still going through various processes. I’m eager to know about my colleague’s project.

Horseapples
Someone screwed up somewhere. While doing a census and getting samples from everyone to make sure no one came in with one disease or another we made a very unfortunate discovery.

This stable has a single mare in it.

Genetically speaking, we’re doomed. Maybe if someone has a spell for gender switching or some way of moving foals around. There was a surrogate spell that could transfer the fetus from one mare to another’s womb. Maybe if we find something similar and develop a way for them to artificially gestate them.

I brought my concerns up at the science meeting with the Overstallion. There was a pompous unicorn prick there named Blackbriar. Seemed really creepy. Also wanted to entirely discount my ideas because of my accent. So, I haven’t been able to lose my farm drawl. As far as I’m concerned, that’s the badge I wear of my family, and I’m not even going to try and lose it anymore. It’s all I have left of them.

Bad to worse
The stables already falling apart. Murders. Rapes. Nettlekiss is getting the worst of it, obviously. She’s had more medical supplies used on her to keep her alive than probably the rest of the stable combined.

Some big buck tried it with me. He found out why it was a bad idea to corner a farmboy hoofball player. I threw his sorry ass in the decontamination chamber, after breaking three of his legs, two of which were compound fractures, and let it run a couple cycles. Those chems couldn’t have felt good. Serves him right

But that makes me worry about myself as well.

We have to find a way out of this. Ponies aren’t supposed to be like this!

Nettlekiss is gone
I would like to think Momma would be proud of me. I know Poppa would be.

Her getting raped had become such a regular thing it wasn’t a matter of ‘if’ but who with. Turns had been established and they’d even used them as betting chips in card games!

I couldn’t leave her like that, so… I got enough private time with her that I made her an offer. And she accepted.

Her foal, as underdeveloped as it was, was put into stasis in a hidden part of the maneframe room. Nettlekiss herself, with the help of myself and an amazing gay unicorn gentlestallion, was uploaded into the computer system of the maneframe. It was the only way to free her from it. We removed all of the equipment so no one could tell what had happened, then left her body in the maneframe room. Propped up against some shipping crates.

As much as I would love to give her a proper burial, or at least a cremation, this is the only way.

War 2.0
When her body was discovered, the stable went mad. Even more than it already was. Fighting has slowly escalated to full blown skirmishes with stallions taking sides and claiming territory like some kind of animal.

I was wrong
It wasn’t simply a lack of a fuck toy. The stable is sick. In a very real sense. Darling Night, the gay unicorn that helped me put Nettlekiss out of her misery, has been working with me to try and find a cure for whatever this is. Mental faculties seem to slowly deteriorate and the victims slowly descend into madness.

A madness where eating other ponies starts seeming like a GOOD idea.

Darling’s gone
We stayed down in the relative safety of R&D as long as we could. But eventually we had to go out and get some food. This bunker. Stable. WhatEVER you want to call it. It’s not a place of safety anymore. It’s a personification of a nightmare. Blood and gore everywhere. Not just from fighting. Intentionally placed. Like macabre decorations.

We managed to get to a supply storage area, and were on the way back when we were swarmed by a mob of crazed psychopaths. We almost made it, when two jumped on me. I managed to buck them off, but not before one took a bite out of my foreleg. One was impaled on the others’ crude spear weapons and it got them out of the way.

However, it was just enough of a slow down for the rest to catch up, and jump on Darling. They skewered him from multiple directions like a pin cushion and down he went. He tossed me his bag, and the look in his eyes said it all. He knew he was done for. So, I ran. And he screamed.

But, despite the pain in his voice, and how I could tell his lungs were filling with his own blood, his screams were telling me to run. To get away. To live.

It was the studliest thing I’d ever seen in my life.

One of them made it into the R&D department with me while the others were ripping Darling apart and eating him alive. I broke his windpipe with a kick, and just left him thrashing around while he slowly died. Bastard was still trying to snap at me with those wild yellow eyes focused on me when he couldn’t even breathe!

My leg worries me. But I have medical supplies and now I have food stuffs for a while. Plus a volunteer sample for further research.

Darling died a gods damned hero.

Research Crap. Meat Good.
I’m infected. But. I’m okay. I’m not crazy. I can work. Cure close. Maybe?

Protein! Protein is the key! If I just eat enough. I’m fine. See?

That bastard that came in with me. Plenty of food. Just enough to take edge off.

Want to try brain. Soft. Tender. Must be good. Right? No. Need samples. Maybe just a bite? No. I know me. If good, won’t stop. Like Grandma’s pies. I wonder what Grandma would taste like? Tough? A longer chew maybe?

Gearing transfers the most recent file, the audio file, to his pipbuck and listens to it quietly with his ear piece as he stares at the terminal screen in front of him.

He’s greeted with the file opening with soppy chewing noises before the stallion’s voice emerges with a thick agricultural drawl to it.

“... Ah’m done… Shoo good.”

More chewing noises.

“Muh meat. MUH MEAT! They can’t have MUH meat…”

Sickening sounding tearing followed by more chewing noises.

“So tasty heh heh hehehehehe.”

A long sad sigh comes through the speaker. “Ah’m sorry, Momma. Ah wanted t’ be a good boy. Like ya said.”

Sound of a pistol chambering a round.

“But Ah’m just not tough ‘nough…”

Whimpering noises assault Gearing’s ear as Butter Churn sniffles and obviously has lost the war of wills against the need to cry.

“Ah gotta save myself now… no choice…”

There’s a momentary pause in sound before he says, “Thanks, Darlin’… Y’know, ifn’ there was any feller that’d flip my barn door, it’d be you…”

A loud gunshot echoes in Gearing’s ear, with the recording even catching the reverberations off the inside of the R&D department walls. The unmistakable sound of a pistol clattering down to and across the ground precedes a meaty thud as a wheeled office chair goes skittering across the floor.

Then a lot of silence before the audio cuts off from no further input after a while.

Gearing slowly shakes his head as he removes the earpiece and looks around at the nearly two hundred year old scene around him. Despite what all he’d thought, this wasn’t even in the roster for the reasons for the stable’s collapse.

They were no longer sex crazed by time their full fate was sealed. They had other concerns. They had other worries. And they had other reasons to fight and kill each other.

The flesh of their fellow ponies.

This disease was insidious. In its earlier stages, it took a long time to manifest. But, there were a few cases where the person accelerated through the symptoms much quicker than typical. The advantage of this was that is was quickly spotted and able to be dealt with. The disadvantage was that it could spring up spontaneously with no warning.

With the typical cases, it would take much longer for incubation, and behavior started changing, gradually. This was problematic because they could infect far more ponies before it was realized they were infected in the first place. Especially with the rampant fighting and sexual assaults.

In one of the terminals, one of the lab technicians had a theory that the rapidly advanced cases were, in actuality, artificial in nature. That they were engineered to act as fast as they did and that it was actually a weaponized version of it. The lab technician admitted what a grim possibility that was, but he couldn’t think of any other reason that there would be such a stark contrast between the two pathologies.

With the speculators files, Gearing finds a treasure trove of information for the research that had been done on the disease. And a possible cure. There’s also logs of many samples they had, and the terminal grants access to the long term storage in the back near the workstations.

Gearing unlocks it, and opens the door carefully. He peeks in, and almost instantly regrets the decision.

Science he understands. The need to have working samples. To study. To analyze. To test various synthesized combinations against.

But this would only fit into that sort of benevolent thinking with the widest net cast possible.

There are samples. Yes. Many samples. The racks are full of pieces of ponies. A head here. A hind leg there. On a large tray a torso, just the torso, lays dissected. Next to it are a collection of small lunch sized containers holding many organs. Several of the limbs have bite marks, all of which are pony in origin. There’s one hind leg that looks like it had been bitten repeatedly. Over and over. Over a course of time. It lays half eaten, and parts of the thigh bone were peeking through the dried fleshy coating.

In one small section of the freezer a tray with more sensible samples lays distinguished from the rest. A couple Petri dishes and other items that have many clear markings with dates, times, and sample codes cover the tray’s surface. The rest of the cold storage freezer looks like a cross between macabre decorations and a cannibal’s larder.

Cure floats up next to him, torch at the ready, but waits for him to move. He removes the tray of samples, and looks at Cure. “Hold off on torching the remains. I’m sure they’re infected too. But we might need more infected tissue samples for comparison… The freezer should function well enough to hold in the contamination, but, just to be safe, scorch the outside once I close it, okay?”

“Confirmed, Subject Gearing. Incineration protocol postponed until samples are no longer needed,” the Stable’s AI reports through the surrounding speakers.

He shuts the door then quickly hops away as she uses her sanitization torch on the outside. He sets the tray down nearby, and Cure gets to work cataloging and examining samples as Gearing goes around and gets the rest of the equipment up and running. While working on a particular console, a pulse is sent out, and a notice pops up on the screen.

Programming of Subject: Cure has been detected to be faulty, beginning reinitialization of firmware and updating protocols to latest version…

Gearing spins his head around in time to see Cure stop in mid-transit from one workstation to another, then float down to the ground and almost cease to function as the hover bot starts randomly beeping out codes.

“Really, Celestia? Both forehooves this time? Why not get Luna to lend you a hoof and we can make this a triple prostate examine!” Gearing rears up then comes down and bucks a chair across the room. “Damn it! This is not what I need right now.”

Swift asks from the decontamination room, with more than a little concern in her voice, “Everything okay in there?”

“Peachy!’ Gearing says sarcastically.

A momentary pause later Swift asks, “Anything I can do to help?”

Gearing sighs and waves a forehoof as he looks at her. “Got a time machine hidden in your saddlebag I could use?”

Swift snorts a laugh. “No…”

Gearing grins at her. “Then not really… But I think I’m probably going to have to do this all myself now. Cure just shut down because of some program and-“

He’s interrupted as Cure suddenly pops up, back online, and spins around. Cure looks at him will all three eyes and says happily, “Cure reporting for duty! Have no fear. We shall have this problem solved shortly!” Then Cure flies off and begins working at the testing equipment.

Gearing points a hoof and chuckles. “Never mind, forget I said anything… But, did Cure always talk?”

Swift stares wide eyed and slowly shakes her head.

Gearing sighs, “Greaaaaat… let’s hope this really is an upgrade, and not just a wagon to fuckallville.”

Cure takes over at full speed, soaking up the data from the various sources in the R&D lab. Gearing quickly decides to step out of the way and let the robot do its thing. He wasn’t really sure how helpful he’d be to begin with. He has a firm grasp on various techniques in the process, and synthesizing different substances and compounds. So he could, in theory, use the tangentially related information to make the correct version himself. If he had the proper supplies and instructions to follow. Venom and poisons have their antivenom and antidotes. He knows all about them. So this certainly couldn’t be that far different could it?

Yes. Yes it could. And he damn well knows it. But, what else was he going to do? Swift wasn’t thinking straight, and likely would have gotten the entire stable infected in her irrational attempts. Foals included. Her foals included. Not to mention the other seventeen that would have perished in the aftermath. It’s straight math. One adult buck, verses the lives of everyone else. Hopefully she’ll at least be able to forgive him if she’s sure he tried his best, and Handy died anyway. After it was already done, she’d be able to move on. To take solace in her children.

That’s his hope anyway.

Not that he’s going to just sit on his hooves. He’s not that kind anyway. He’ll definitely try his best, but his best might not be good enough. The odds are not in his favor. He’s not a biomedical technician. His skills are derived from experience with other less wholesome goals in mind. But, there’s still a chance. As long as there’s a chance. There’s hope. And as long as there’s hope, he’s not going to give up.

And then the universe, for once, tosses him a bone.

Cure comes back and looks at Gearing. “I have finished analyzing the data, Subject Gearing. If you would assist me we can begin synthesizing the correct treatment serum.”

“What?!” Gearing looks at her, his eyes wide in disbelief.

Cure points over to one of the consoles with a claw. “They were not in the proper mindset when they were doing the research. Near the end they were doubling up on work and wasting their efforts. However, after combining the results together, I have the process necessary for creating the serum. In theory it should work.”

Gearing nods and starts walking over to the lab equipment. “Great! Just send me what you need me to do to my pipbuck, and I’ll get started.”

“Confirmed.” After Gearing’s pipbuck dings with the arrival of a new message Cure continues on, “However. There is a critical component that we require to make the serum, which we are sorely lacking.”

Gearing’s head hangs as he asks with little hope of a happy ending to this, “Do we need to go get something? What component are we missing?”

“No, no. We have enough to synthesis the serum. However, we only have enough to synthesis two doses, at most. In reality it might only be enough for one individual. Not enough of the dose would simply be wasting it.”

Gearing nods and looks at his pipbuck. “But, we could potentially get more after we get Handy cured, right?”

“Theoretically, yes,” Cure replies. “However, the organic compounds needed have an unknown origin. Nothing in the files explains where they got them from. I’m afraid some of the segments have become corrupted over time. I am unsure where such organic compounds could be acquired. However, should you come across them in the future, and bring them back I am certain we can synthesis more… You’ll just have to figure out what they are based on in-the-field analysis and comparison with the data on file.”

“Well.” Gearing rubs his hoof through his mane and sighs. “That’s better than nothing. And we’ll keep it in mind for later. For now. One fire at a time.” Gearing kicks on a Bunsen burner and starts following the instructions on his pipbuck dutifully.

“Yes, sir,” Cure replies before heading off to another section of the lab.

Cure’s work is repeatedly interrupted by warnings from Sarge, as Handy comes to semi-consciousness. Each time, Cure has to administer another dose of drugs to put him back under, to prevent him from hurting himself and others.

Gearing works silently, with a precision that would make any Ordnance Disposal team proud. He doesn’t screw up by trying to do too much simultaneously. He can only control so much at once, and he knows it. He can’t risk burning anything. Loss of materials could be a fatal mistake. However, with his multitasking skills taking over, he even hops over to manage the work that Cure had been processing each time she has to stop to go take care of Handy. The pair work well, and in the early hours of the next morning Cure finishes the last of the process.

Gearing and Cure look at the small beaker of life, but neither say anything for a few moments as they hope more drips down. But, it does not. After longer than necessary, and Cure giving yet another round of sedatives to Handy, Gearing makes the call, “Cure. That’s all there is…”

Cure bobs one of her claws in agreement. “Yes, sir. By my estimates, if we divide the amount exactly in half, there is a possibility that it would be enough for two doses. But, I cannot know with certainty that this is true.”

Gearing looks at it a moment, then asks, “How much of it would you need, just to keep a sample on file, for further research and synthesis?”

She shakes her claw. “None, sir. We’ve already analyzed it and determined this is the correct serum. Any left in storage would soon spoil as it is rather… unstable.”

Gearing stands back and motions towards the beaker. “Fill a syringe with it, but don’t waste a drop. We’re giving it all to him then. If it’s almost enough for two, then that should be good enough for him.” He looks over at Handy, unconscious, still in the hazmat suit, with just his head exposed, and tied down to the gurney. “Why do damn earth ponies gotta be so big?”

Cure carefully removes the liquid with a syringe. It takes her a while, as she uses the beaker to force out the air, then recollects any fluid that had managed to escape. Once she’s satisfied she moves over to Handy and says flatly, “Subject Gearing, I need you to hold him down, and very carefully, for me to administer the shot.”

Garing trots over, and looks Handy over before he waves a hoof at him. “How hard is it to administer a shot to an unconscious hogtied buck? Just stick it in his neck.”

“No, sir, that will not do,” Cure replies. “The infection is localized in the brain. The shot has to be administered directly to the brain near the brain stem. If he suddenly moves, the needle may damage critical tissue and Subject Handy Hooves may perish.”

Swift’s eyes go to their widest, and she looks back and forth before saying quickly, “I’ll do it. I’ll make sure he won’t move!” She turns Handy’s head, so that he’s looking at her, and begins using her muscle to hold him in place.

“Good. Hold him like that,” Cure confirms before moving forward with the needle.

“Stop! Wait!” Gearing screams as he hops over near the gurney.

Cure freezes in mid movement and turns an eye towards him. “Yes?”

Swift looks over at him and the rage can be seen clearly building up on her face. She already knows that this brassy pegasus has had several run ins with Handy. And he’s way too free with murder for her liking. Even if the ones involved did deserve it. That’s not the point. He’s stopping her love from getting the treatment he needs, and she’s not going to let that go easily.

Gearing waves a hoof, then waves his hooves over Handy. “Hold on. Just wait a second… Swift, do you really want to do this?”

Swift looks at him with her eyes going to their fullest. She can’t believe he’d just said that. Why would he say that? Was he jealous of Handy? Was he trying to get rid of Handy?

She practically snarls at him, “Just why should we? What are you talking about? And don’t try any of your manipulation shit, Handy and Nettlekiss already warned me about that.”

Gearing slaps a hoof over his eyes, then says as evenly as he can, “Look, I know you all don’t trust me. I don’t entirely blame you, but there’s just something you need to know.”

She snorts. “And what’s that?”

Gearing points a hoof at Cure. “That’s it. That’s all we have.”

“Then give it to Handy, how hard is that to understand?!” she screams out at him.

Gearing leans forward and says as flatly as he can, “You’re not thinking clearly.”

“You just wanna kill Handy!” Swift screams in response.

Gearing looks at her and tilts his head. Tick. Tick. CLICK.

“Swift. If I wanted him dead. He would be.”

She grinds a back hoof into the floor. “I wouldn’t let you hurt him. You won’t get away with it.”

Gearing sits down and points a hoof at her. “Not me. You.”

Her eyes go wide, and she freezes. This is something she needs to sort out. Now.

Gearing folds his forelegs across his chest and says as he raises an eyebrow, “You were too busy arguing with Nettlekiss about getting in that room. It wasn’t happening. If it wasn’t for me we wouldn’t have gotten this far.” He shrugs and grins at her. “If I wanted him dead… All I had to do was… nothing. You would have taken care of that yourself pretty assuredly, and I wouldn’t have had to raise a single hoof.” He leans towards her and grins. “Thanks to you, he’d be as dead as sure as my ass is shiny.”

And that was the limit of her restraint, as she hops over and swings, coming in full contact with Gearing’s jaw. He saw it coming. He knew it was going to happen. He was ready.

And he let it happen.

Footnote: Alerting local intranet for assistance, please stand by. . .

Local intranet not responding, seeking alternate reboot procedure. . .

Internal failsafe activated, please stand by. . .

This, Chapter 7 was one of the chapters that I had a raised eyebrow on if I needed to put a CW on it for a specific section. The think the general tag for the story may be enough, if not please let me know and I'll apply that version of CW using the spoiler mechanics.

Thanks to everyone that's helped me with this project and to Kkat and Somber for their fabulous works that have inspired this piece.

-Quillsy