Exodus

*Note: This is a prologue to the main series. The technology gap is intentional.

Solar Emperor Galaxis stood on the balcony of one of the last intact sections of the Imperial palace and looked over what remained of his dominion. Canterlot city, the city of his forefathers, and the city which he had raised to heady heights of glory and prosperity, was in ruins. Its famous spires, each more than ten kilometers high, had collapsed. Their fall was marked by enormous ravines which bisected entire city blocks. In each of them had been contained tens of thousands of years of Equine history and culture, starting from the reign of King Cometes himself, long before the Imperium had even been conceived of.

A constant shower of shrapnel and debris rained through the layer of smoke which blotted out the sky, a byproduct of the massive space battle occurring for control of Equestria Prime. Here and there, the enormous wreck of a warship made it through the atmosphere intact and landed in the city to destroy dozens of buildings and leave craters kilometers wide.

Galaxis scowled at the destruction being visited upon his city. This was Canterlot! The greatest center of culture, arts and sciences in the entire galaxy! It did not deserve to be desecrated in this way by the foul weapons of vile and inferior species which had once scraped and bowed before him.Though his pride rebelled against such notions, Galaxis supposed that in end, it did not matter what state the city was in. He would put an end to its misery all the same.

The clatter of hoof steps interrupted Galaxis’ musing, and he nodded to a nearby praetorian bodyguard.

“Leave us.” The praetorian, a huge, muscular horse clad in elaborately filigreed powered armor, dipped his head in respect and filed out. The sound of heavy, adamantium shod hooves resounding from other the other corners of the room signaled that his cohorts were doing the same. When the last hoofstep had stopped echoing across the vast throne room, Galaxis turned to regard his visitor.

Dictito Contemplorae was Emperor Galaxis’ most trusted friend and advisor. At two hundred years old, the purple unicorn horse was also one of the oldest living Equines and had personally tutored both Celestia and Luna. Though positively ancient by normal equine standards, his movements were still youthful and energetic. Galaxis had never been sure whether such strength was the result of a spell or a byproduct of Dictito’s boisterous personality. As he raised his lined, baggy face to regard Emperor Galaxis, the edges of his eyes crinkled with amusement, and his mouth creased in a smile which immediately soothed Galaxis’ simmering anger.

“Ever the brooding worrier, old friend. What are you doing here, alone in the dark?” Dictito’s once booming voice had lowered significantly over the years and was no longer as great and stereotypically didactic as it used to be, yet it still retained warmth, humour and a healthy dose of harmless irreverence. As Dictito had spent more than a hundred years in Galaxis’ household, the Emperor had long ago decided that such informality was a privilege only the old unicorn would be allowed.

“Somepony needs to think about our future. Poseidon knows you have little time for such concerns with the riotous manner in which you live your life.” Galaxis smiled warmly and trotted forward, lowering his head a little to make direct eye contact with Dictito. “It is good to see you, Dictito. What news do you bring?”

“More of the same, I am afraid.” Now the unicorn’s smile dropped, and he narrowed his eyes as he spoke.

“The Federation has just destroyed Fort Triaritus with an orbital bombardment. Canterlot is the only city which remains to oppose them.” Galaxis merely nodded. Such news had been expected.

“When will they arrive?”

“They will be at our gates by tomorrow morning. They will seek to take the city through force of arms in order to make their victory that much more glorious.” Dictito’s expression turned grave. “Our pegasi tell us that they number in the millions. They are supported by all the panoply of war. Armored vehicles, artillery, air support. Enough weaponry to destroy us ten times over.”

“Old friend, you still think as a scholar does, not as a soldier. We do not need to defeat them in battle. We merely need to delay them.” Galaxis turned his head away to regard a portrait which hung over the throne. It was a portrait of his family. A reminder of happier, better days. “Are my daughters secured? Is our plan ready?”

“It is. The Ark has just finished final preparations. It has been generously supplied and all aboard have been prepared for the voyage.” At this, Dictito averted his eyes. Galaxis turned back, finding the sudden silence telling.

“You know that I would have you on board the ship, old friend. I do not wish for you to die here.”

Dictito looked straight at Galaxis, his old eyes burning with conviction. When he spoke, his words were impassioned and hard.

“And you know that I could not simply abandon my Emperor nor my home to their fate. Duty until death, as your father used to say.” Dictito turned and began trotting towards the throne room door, his tone returning to its normal, mirthful and irreverent state.

“Besides, without me to take care of you, you’ll probably trip and break something before you get your chance for a glorious last stand.”

  Under the imperial palace, within a grand chamber hundreds of kilometers wide, a mighty behemoth was primed for its first and greatest mission. Dubbed “The Ark”, it was designed to take fifty thousand of the Imperium’s finest citizens to safety. To bring them to a new home, and to a new beginning for the Equine race. All aboard had been chosen for their exceptional skill and knowledge in their respective fields. Master craftsponies and expert farmers rubbed shoulders with engineers, doctors and scientists. Yet, as diverse as their skills were, all were equal in their misery.

  They were to be the last of the Equine species. Soon, millions of their brothers and sisters on the surface would die, that these last few might live. Many were wracked with agonizing guilt, but none more so than the two alicorns at the core of the ship.

At the core of the ship, the two Princesses thrashed and raged against their restraints. Their cries deafened all who dared approach, and their wild movements threatened to tear their restraints out of the walls, despite them being solid steel and adamantium armatures designed to accommodate tens of thousands of tons of force. Their chamber was sealed, the crew chief giving strict orders not to intrude upon the two princesses until the ship was well away from Equestria Prime. Horn restraints prevented the two princesses from bringing their massive powers to bear, enchanted as they were by Emperor Galaxis himself, who would not see his daughters die in the fighting on the surface of Equestria Prime. At the core of the ship, Celestia and Luna begged to go to their father. Under Galaxis’ own orders, they would not be released, for they were the future of the entire Equine race.

Emperor Galaxis stood patiently on his balcony as attendants fastened a gleaming adamantium breastplate to his muscular chest. Greaves were fastened to his legs, and his hooves shod in gold filigreed adamantium boots. Another attendant fixed a resplendent, blood red cape adorned with golden thread to his shoulders and carefully arranged it to fall over his right side, in the traditional Equestrian manner. His flowing golden mane was brushed and expertly styled, sweeping back and flowing on its own volition, as if carried by a magical wind. Finally, with the extensive preparations complete, his attendants stepped back, and the captain of his praetorian guard presented him with the sword of Poseidon. The magical, living blade pulsed red with bloodlust, as if it eagerly awaited the coming battle. Perhaps it did. Galaxis marveled, drawing the sword and examining the masterful craftsponyship which had gone into its construction.

According to legend, the blade had been gifted to King Divinus, the very first alicorn monarch of the Equine race, by Lord Poseidon himself, creator of the Equine species. Since then, the blade had been passed down through successive alicorn monarchs over tens of thousands of years, until King Cometes had presented it to Galaxis on his death bed. Emperor Galaxis drew the blade telekinetically and raised it. Stepping forward to the front of the expansive balcony, he regarded the final remnants of the imperial army.

Five hundred thousand trained soldiers stood arrayed in neat columns on the parade square before him. Their armor was worn and battered, their weapons were on the verge of breakage, and their faces were exhausted and fearful. They were all that remained of a once glorious and unmatched force which had numbered in the billions.

Taking in a deep breath, Galaxis cast a spell of projection and raised the sword of Poseidon high in the air.

“Strength. Duty. Honor. Loyalty. Discipline. Magic. These are the foundations of our society which we have upheld for ten thousand years. These ideals are the most powerful force in the universe. They are greater than the Federation which has come to destroy our people, our works, our culture and our ideals. Take heart! Our ideals will assure us final victory in the end!” Galaxis stared straight down at his soldiers, a spell causing all below to feel as if he was looking into the eyes of each individual soldier simultaneously.

“Do not mistake our sacrifice here as the death of our civilization. For it is instead a new beginning. A new chapter in our glorious million year history.  Trust in your Emperor as you trust in your brothers. Trust in me when I say that our people will not die today!” Galaxis observed the straightening of shoulders here and there, new expressions of resolute determination present on many faces.

“This day, fight knowing that your sacrifice will give life to countless future generations! Fight knowing that I will be alongside you! Know that each and every one of you who goes into battle today will be as my own brother!” His audience was rapt, and Galaxis raised his horn and illuminated each and every soldier below with the warmth of sun itself.

“Soldiers of the Imperium! I salute you!”

The cheers of the five hundred thousand reverberated across the entire city. All who heard it knew one thing. The Equine were ready to die.

  Within several short hours of their attack, the Federation’s troops had breached Canterlot’s walls. Human and Barathi shock troops stormed the streets of the city, their muscular, large frames serving them well in the brutal hand to hoof combat which followed, while the avian Funahr swooped and dived in aerial combat with pegasi air units. Towering Mastodon assault platforms bearing the emblem of the Federation smashed their way into the city, the quadrupedal mechs going toe to toe with Equine tanks in duels which destroyed entire city blocks. Corpses fell and blood ran in rivers as the multi species army drove deep into Canterlot, exacting harsh vengeance against the Imperium’s citizens and soldiers alike. Equines died stoically in their homes and on their hooves, never surrendering an inch to the invaders without a struggle. Inevitable death gave many a sense of fearlessness and courage, and the Federation paid dearly for its slow victory. Lasers and bullets lit the night as a cacophony of warfare and death filled the air. A chorus of screams followed an instrumental accompaniment provided by the roar of guns and crack of lasers, punctuated by the heavy, plodding feet of Federation battle mechs.

Captain Bellus Acie of the Equestria Prime Homeguard pulled the firing lever, sending a high powered armor piercing shell into the side of a Federation Mastodon assault platform as it smashed through the side of what had once been a hotel building. The shell tore through twenty centimetres of armor plating and detonated, exposing bundles of artificial muscle and wiring and causing the quadrupedal battle mech to stumble.

“Load high explosive!” Bellus barked to his crew. A second later, a loud click signaled that the Warhorse battle tank’s railgun was primed.

“Ready!” Came the response from the loader. The shell was fired and detonated just inches short of the exposed innards of the Mastodon, shattering armor and spraying the immediate area with shrapnel. The Mastodon’s pilot quickly recovered his balance, violently forced the mech onto its feet and sent it into a loping head on charge towards the Imperial tank.

“Full speed reverse!” Bellus shouted “Load armor piercing!”

The Warhorse tank’s powerful engines sent the tank moving rapidly backwards at thirty five miles an hour, still slower than the Mastodon’s powerful running gait. The third shell was loaded, but before Bellus could pull the lever, the Mastodon fired its shoulder mounted rocket pods. A storm of twenty armor piercing rockets sped towards the Imperial tank and peppered it with detonations, shaking the crew around and shaving large chunks of armor off the tank’s chassis. Before the tank crew could recover, the Mastodon jumped the final few meters and landed within arm’s length of the Imperial vehicle.

Powerful actuators in the mech’s neck and legs activated, and the Mastodon slammed its massive diamond edged tusks into the Warhorse tank’s side, tearing an enormous rent in the armor and almost breaching the crew compartment. Bellus was violently jerked to the side, his helmet impacting on the cushioned wall of the command pod with such force that he rebounded off just as quickly. Desperately rotating the turret to the side, he pulled the firing lever, attempting to shoot off one of the Mastodon’s shoulders.

The shell tore into the armor and detonated at point blank range, jerking the mastodon to the side. However, its tusks were still embedded in the Warhorse tank’s armor, and a great chunk of armor was simply ripped off as the mech flailed. The crew compartment was finally exposed, and Bellus’ loader died messily as a tusk ripped him in half. The Mastodon shook its tusks free of the armor and took a great step backwards, creating distance between the two vehicles.

“Rotate ninety degrees and present frontal armor! Reverse! REVERSE!” Desperation tinged Bellus’ voice as he realized what the Mastodon intended to do. Just as the tank’s threads began to grind on the concrete ground, the Mastodon triggered its head mounted flamethrower and created a furnace inside the Warhorse tank.

Bullets peppered Captain Swift Shot's forward command post, showering him with shrapnel and debris. When the enemy fire ceased, Swift peered over the sandbags and loosed a barrage of hot steel at the advancing enemy formation.

"Third squad, fall back to secondary defensive line! All squads, suppressing fire!"

At his order, all the surviving soldiers in Swift's third and fourth companies popped out of cover and fired every weapon they had at an oncoming wall of solid steel formed by a line of Federation Battlemaster powered armor. The five centimeter thick shields mounted on each infantryman's arm had formed an impenetrable defense for Federation troops, allowing them to advance up the wide thoroughfare of the Canterlot market district in safety.

As Swift's ponies fired at the Federal battle line in an attempt to slow them down, Third Squad galloped from the safety of its cover towards the forward command post. They had barely gotten half way across the thoroughfare when they all keeled over, bleeding profusely from wounds in tops of their backs and necks.

An avian screech of triumph resounded through the air as a formation of Funahr swooped down on the command post, their rifles blazing and hitting several of the Imperial soldiers who had leaned over their cover to fire.Through the tattered cloth roof of the command post, Captain Swift saw the Funahr wheeling back around for another strafing run. With the command post unprotected from aerial attacks, his troops would be easily slaughtered where they stood.

Glancing back towards the relatively clear thoroughfare, and then at the solid steel wall slowly advancing on their position, Swift came to a realization. If they advanced, they would be crushed. If they retreated, they would be cut down as they fled. If they stayed put, they would be slaughtered anyway. They were dead ponies walking and they hadn't realized it yet.

"For the Emperor!" Making the final decision of his life, Swift picked up a bandoleer of grenades, pulled the pins, and galloped towards the advancing Federal troops. Through the roaring in his ears, he faintly heard his troops taking up the battle cry and following him over the top.

The Federal troops broke ranks soon after as they climbed over the ruined command post, stopping only to execute what wounded ponies they saw. The journey to the Imperial Palace brooked no further delays.

Behind the front lines, a crowd of equine civilians huddled together in a bombed out shop. Dressed in tattered clothing and carrying homemade weapons, they had been organized into rough militia units. Their task was to act as a mobile reserve and as shields for the trained soldiers should the need arise. Thus far, their involvement had been limited, and many had spent the past few hours simply waiting for death. Their chance did not take much longer to arrive. Imperial soldiers began retreating before the Federation's relentless attack. They abandoned their fortifications and ran back to the Imperial palace in droves. As they did so, the militia would charge the Federal forces and sell their lives to buy time for the Imperial army to redeploy.

“For the Emperor!” The cry went up across the Imperial battle line, and hundreds of thousands of civilians raced out from behind the fortifications, crude weapons clutched in their teeth or levitated alongside them. The prospect of inevitable death and an ingrained sense of duty and honor rendered them fearless, and most accepted their deaths with barely a moment’s hesitation.

And die they did. Two million of the Imperium’s citizens charged the Federation’s forces across the circular battle line. Half an hour later, none were left standing.

Solar Emperor Galaxis stood on the kilometer long courtyard of the Imperial Palace, his praetorians arrayed behind him in neat, ordered rows. Each horse was a muscular and courageous veteran of the Imperial army, the very best the organization had to offer. Their powered armor gleamed and shined, even with a thick layer of smoke blotting out the sun. Red banners bearing the symbol of the Imperium, a blazing sun emblazoned over two crossed and bloodied swords, fluttered in the mild breeze. At the bottom of the kilometer long staircase leading up to the palace, the last soldiers of the Imperial army held the line, fighting admirably as they attempted to hold the great gate against the tide of Federal troops. It was a lost cause, and they were soon swallowed up by the swarm of alien invaders.

Emperor Galaxis turned to regard Gladiato Ferre, the enormous and valiant horse who commanded the praetorian guard, and Dictito Contemplorae. Galaxis betrayed not a hint of fear or despair on his features as eyed his two oldest friends.

Dipping his head, he spoke his last words.

“My friends, it has been an honor.”

When the two horses returned the gesture, Galaxis drew the sword of Poseidon and levitated it into a guard position.

With a bestial, animalistic roar, the Emperor led his praetorians to their last battle.

Within the mighty inner workings of The Ark, great engines whirred and spun, powering up for the first time in their lives. A great thrum vibrated through the vessel as life was breathed into it. Thousands of pipes and gantries connecting the ship to its berth popped off with hisses and clicks loud enough to deafen an unsuspecting individual. Within the berth's control room, the operational staff saluted the last hope of the Equine race, then, as one, drank poison. Maintenance workers jumped off the gantries into the vast depths below the berth. In the chamber of the Princesses, Celestia and Luna wailed even louder as they realized that they were being taken away from their father and their home.

Galaxis dodged and weaved as a barathi with steel wrist blades adorning each of its four muscular arms attempted to perforate him. The dark skinned alien’s powerful arms were a blur as they stabbed towards him, and Galaxis found himself quickly getting overwhelmed. It was like fighting four coordinated and lightning fast opponents instead of merely one. Leaping backward, out of range of the barathi’s weapons, Galaxis telekinetically grabbed a nearby human soldier and threw him at his opponent.

The barathi was forced to use its two left arms to swat the corpse aside, allowing Galaxis to dart in with magically enhanced speed and slice off both arms with the sword of Poseidon. The alien screamed in pain and collapsed, writhing on the floor as purple blood began pumping from the stumps. Galaxis silenced it by stomping on its throat with his adamantium shod hooves, then turned to fend off a bayonet thrust from a charging human.

All around him, praetorians and equine civilians were engaged in their own duels to the death. Galaxis’ praetorians were all warriors without peer. They had been the very best members of an organization which had numbered in the billions, a fact which spoke volumes for their skill and experience. They were among the best soldiers in the universe, second only to Emperor Galaxis himself. Yet they were mortal. Powerful and courageous as they were, even they had to fall to the hundredth stab of a bayonet. Even they had to slow when their armor disintegrated under a hail of bullets and lasers, piercing them with thousands of shards of shrapnel.

Slowly but surely, through sheer weight of numbers, the Federation was prevailing. Galaxis knew that it wouldn’t be long before they were overwhelmed entirely.

Galaxis parried a bayonet thrust from a second human and swept his sword through the barrel of his opponent’s rifle, bisecting it cleanly. The buck which followed smashed in the human’s faceplate and sent him flying. A winged and feathered funahr soaring above screeched a challenge and dove towards him, its laser rifle cratering the ground around Galaxis’ hooves. Galaxis unfurled his enormous wings and shot straight toward the funahr, his horn lowered. The avian alien panicked at this unexpected turn of events and fired wildly at Galaxis. A lucky laser bolt rebounded off the alicorn’s adamantium breastplate and singed his mane. Closing the distance rapidly by magically enhancing his speed, Galaxis rammed his horn straight through the funahr’s light body armor and through its chest.

Not pausing for a second, Galaxis turned and telekinetically threw the corpse at a human fighting below, and was satisfied to see him distracted long enough for a mob of equine civilians to engulf and hack away at him with their crude weapons.

Scanning the battlefield, Galaxis located Dictita Contemplorae at the rear of the melee. He was flinging fallen weapons and sharp objects telekinetically at high speeds, felling aliens by the dozen. As Galaxis wheeled around to land beside Dictita, an extremely close explosion flung him away from the battle and onto his back. Shaking his head to clear his vision, Galaxis found a crater where Dictita had been. A moment later, his killer revealed itself.

Ascending the palace steps slowly and ponderously was a Mastodon assault platform. Its heavy metal feet shattered marble and debris as it moved, and its back mounted battle cannon was smoking from its recent discharge. The Mastodon triggered its head mounted flamethrower and enveloped every remaining equine on the palace courtyard in an agonizing furnace. It paid little heed to the injured humans and barathi it incinerated at the same time, the price deemed acceptable for such dangerous targets.

Emperor Galaxis reacted quickly, throwing up a magical shield which prevented the flames from reaching him. It was time for the final part of his plan. Galaxis quickly unbuckled his breastplate, greaves and cape. He telekinetically arranged them so that the jewels embedded in each item of clothing faced upwards, then planted the sword of Poseidon in the ground. He removed his war crown, then placed the golden artifact on the sword's pommel.

Galaxis lowered his horn and summoned as much magical energy as he could muster. When no more would come, he cast a spell to consume his own body, converting it into raw magical power.The effort caused him to stagger, so monumental was the task allotted to him. Thinking of his people and of his daughters, the living God struggled through the pain and poured all of his power into the Elements of Harmony within his armor. His immortality, his godlike powers and his millennia old will were transferred into the Elements and consumed to perform the task required. As the shield dropped and Galaxis’ now frail body was consumed by the flames, the Elements activated. Honor, duty, discipline, strength, loyalty and magic combined to destroy the planet itself.

The entire planet shook with such force that buildings collapsed and men were thrown off their feet. Lava spurted from the planet’s core and erupted in great fountains across the surface. Mountains shook and exploded, sending rocks the size of skyscrapers into space even as smaller boulders whizzed through the air like bullets, shattering buildings and creating massive furrows in the ground. Oceans boiled and rose above the clouds to consume entire continents. Trees shattered and the very ground buckled and crumbled. Equines and aliens alike tumbled into massive chasms and holes which appeared to swallow everything in their wake.

Recognizing the results of the emperor’s final act, the captain of The Ark, an old naval officer by the name of Admiral Argo Nautilus, directed the bridge crew to launch the ship through the ruins of the Imperial palace. As the great ship burst from the rubble and sped towards the stars, its thrusters incinerated all who might have reported its existence, destroying half the city in the process.

In the space battle above, the few remaining ships of the Imperial navy prepared to sell their lives dearly. The last mighty Equine battleship prepared to fire a fierce broadside, its lasers and rail guns groaning and whirring into position, while the smaller surviving ships formed a battle line and prepared to meet the Federal fleet head on one last time. The captains of the ships led their ship's crews in final prayers through the speaker systems. Weapons were loaded and chambered for a final time, and crewmen hugged each other and said their goodbyes.

The enemy attack never came. The Federation had frantically diverted its entire fleet and dispatched tens of thousands of ships to the surface, rescuing millions of troops from Equestria Prime but leaving many more to die. In this chaos, it did not notice The Ark burst forth from the ruins of the imperial palace and leave Equestria Prime to travel to the edge of the solar system, as preoccupied as it was with saving its sons and daughters from the deadly planet. The dozen remaining ships of the once million strong imperial navy followed. As one, the last of the Equine race opened a hole and escaped the solar system at faster than light speeds as Equestria Prime exploded behind them.

Aboard the ships of the Exodus fleet, as it was now termed, an air of depression and grief took hold among the assembled Equines. The entire empire had crumbled. No world remained under imperial control. Nothing was out there, save the hostile forces and citizens of the Federation. Where could they go in a galaxy which despised them? The destinies of one hundred thousand Equines lay in the hooves of two alicorns about to go mad with grief and anger. Would Celestia and Luna be fit to lead? Would they even care? None aboard the ship had the answers to these questions.

Each pony and horse shared a single thought as the ships forged their silent journey into the dark beyond.

What future could there possibly be?