The End is the Beginning

+++++Transmitted:--N/A

+++++Destination: De-Phi 37-425 'Aggripa'

+++++Origin: Logistics Officer Briggs

+++++Decode Authority: Cyan

+++++Subject: Re: Recall Progress

+++++Thought for the Day: "Power resides in the will of the righteous."

+++++Time Remaining: null + 23 hours

Upon receiving this message; effective immediately you, Sergeant Verticora, are to abort mission and return to the coordinates provided. Your companion will know the directions and will guide you back. Excuse the Colonel’s decision to recall you, but the situation has changed. And no, it’s not the type of situation that excuses you from arriving guns blazing, we are fine. If you have learned something in the past several hours, or encountered any of the natives, if there are any, the Colonel will like to know about them. May the Emperor ensure your safe return.

+++++Transmission Terminated

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"Truly remarkable.”

After the reconnaissance team’s hasty return, Colonel Constantine personally accompanied them on their second mission back to the ruined stronghold. Thankfully, the Chimera was deemed fit for duty this time and the duration of the trip cut to less than ten minutes. Carving a way through the forest, Dale dropped the team off before the bridge and was ordered to begin consolidating cargo.

“And may I ask what are we planning on doing here?” Dale asked before he left.

“This will be our new headquarters. Once we renovate the place of course,” replied Constantine, calculating the amount of labor to accomplish this.

“Inform the Commissar to prepare everything they can for transport and get the Enginseer to fix a flatbed to the back of your vehicle. I want those freight containers to be moved first before we manage the smaller wares.”

“Affirmative, shall I bring more personnel along too?”

“I’ll leave that decision up to you. See how many guardsmen it takes to load up, and bring that same number to unload. I want this done before sunset.”

The moment Dale left to begin ferrying the goods, Constantine joined up with Brennr, Raf and Korin. For the second time they surveyed the place, this time sharing what they found before to the Colonel. First they went to the monument in the foyer, exchanging a brief observation.

“Fascinating, it seems that this place was visited upon somewhat recently.” Constantine said a while after examining the monument. “Something appears to have been removed.”

The three guardsmen continued to show the Colonel around the areas they’ve already explored. After several minutes, they reached the throne room in the tower; visibly impressed by the layout of the chamber as the reconnaissance team before, Constantine started to examine the room just like he did in the foyer. Walking near the base of where a throne would belong, he paused for a moment. Looking down, he noticed burnt streaks on the stone floor.

“Have anyone noticed this?” Constantine asked the guardsmen.

“It was dark when we first explored this area, we must have overlooked it,” Brennr replied.

Thinking for a moment the Colonel began to piece things together. Modified knots on the bridge, missing objects from the monument, and now burn marks in this chamber. There must be an active civilization on this planet. Perhaps one could be closer then we imagined. What could they be like? There are no obvious battlements on the structure or evidence of a conflict that doesn’t involve erosion. The situation is getting curious as it is intriguing to speculate the causes lead to the current state of the place.

None the less, they have work to do. If the ancients abandoned this place then, for good or ill, they will claim it for as long as they are marooned on this world. They ended up back where they started, back at the bridge. A fair amount of time has passed since the Chimera left and should be arriving soon.

“Brennr, you are to probe the area for any unstable points in the structure and mark rooms for improvement. Raf, go to the bridge and take measurements of the rift; we’re going to replace it with something stronger to hold the weight of our wares. Once the Enginseer arrives, I will consult with him on the specifics. Korin, until we receive the more delicate surveying equipment, I’ll need you to find a vantage point in the throne room and keep a look out.”

“Yes Sir,” the three said in unison.

“I trust that our first shipment will be arriving momentarily, carry on and be vigilant!”

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Throughout his years of service in the Imperial Guard, Sergeant Verticora has seen a variety of equine breeds. Most of these encounters have been with joint operations involving cavalry units from other regiments, since the 82nd haven’t any of its own. Never in his career had he seen one so colorful, let alone one that talks. A pegasus no less. He’s no expert in mythology, but he knows what a pegasus is through the many artistic renditions of battles that line the corridors of the more privileged sectors of star ships. What astonished him most is that this pony spoke clearly and in his own language: Low Gothic.

Even with this knowledge, there was nothing to prepare him for the next line of dialogue, no matter how frantically Verticora thought. ‘Fluttershy, so that’s her name? Wait, did I say her?! By the Emperor what will I say next?’ Lost for words, he just kept on staring at the creature before him, no matter how hard he reasoned with himself the facts remain the same; he is talking to a pony.

“Uh, would you like to come inside? It’s kind of chilly out this morning,” she said after an unknown period of time.

In truth, Verticora hadn’t notice the temperature since every inch of his features were covered in protective gear and attire. Nonetheless, he felt compelled to comply with this friendly gesture. Anything to make progress at all is a welcome thought and he accepted the chance for an opportunity to learn more about this world.

“Of course, I appreciate your concern miss F-Fluttershy,” he fumbled her name which felt eerie and alien on his tongue.

Following her inside, he took caution not to bump into the door frame, being only slightly shorter than he stood. The interior was just as strange as it was from the outside; made even stranger by the somewhat identifiable furniture placed throughout the room. He also took note of the many eyes that seem to be staring at him as he walked in. The critters don’t seem to mean him harm, but he felt the aura about them; it didn’t take a Psyker to see it. They all feared him.

“So uh, mister Vendolant sir,” said Fluttershy with unease. “What are you?”

Verticora paused, mentally trying to see past the part about talking to a pegasus. He wished that there was another one of his comrades around to confirm what he’s seeing, but at the same time he didn’t want to be humiliated by talking to animals that usually don’t talk back. The shame he will have to endure will be worse than any previous mishap. But that was then, this conversation is now; he considered the question and prepared an answer.

“My name is actually Verticora, Vendolant is the name of my homeworld,” he finally said, getting used to the strange situation. “As to what I am, I am a soldier of the Imperial Guard.”

Another moment of silence was shared between the two, each looking for a way to keep the conversation moving. Pretending to be talking to another member of his species helped with the fabrication of follow-up sentences, and eased his nerves. This strange encounter was already awkward enough; the only remedy to keep his sanity was to keep talking.

“Um, what is Vendolant the 82nd of?”

“It is the order of which my regiment was raised, meaning there are 81 other regiments before mine was founded. But that is only one in the countless other worlds in the Imperium. Would you mind if I asked you a question?”

“S-sure, I mean, I’ll do my best.”

Asking one’s permission to acquire information was rare for an Imperial Guardsmen; almost unheard of since citizens of the Imperium are usually more than willing to share what they can. And for those who retain their knowledge are met with dire consequences. However, since this Fluttershy is obviously not Imperial, or even human, Verticora felt it would be necessary to take a diplomatic approach.

“Are there anymore of your kind nearby?”

“Well, yeah there is a town close to us full of others like me, but there are also earth ponies and unicorns too.”

Seeing how there is a talking pegasus right in front of him, unicorns didn’t surprise him. The only thing that sort of surprised him was that there is a city full of them. His fruitless attempt at imagining what a pony city would look like proved hard conjure, but observing the dwelling he currently resides asks even more questions about what they are capable of. Before he could ask another , Fluttershy took the initiative to ask him another.

“By other worlds, do you speak of lands beyond Equestria?”

“So that’s the name you’ve given to your realm. I think the word ‘beyond’ is a bit too near for your comprehension. The Imperium’s dominion stretches across the stars,” Verticora gestured towards the ceiling for emphasis. “I come from one such a place I mentioned as Vendolant, a hive world, cities that cover the surface of much of the planet.”

Verticora wasn’t quite sure why he’s telling her all this. Perhaps the familiar subject was a bit calming to his nerves after being on edge from the moment they made planetfall on Medusa; for calling down a warhead on themselves in their last stance of defiance; and finally the ghoulish encounter in the forest. He has also taken some enjoyment with sharing a conversation with this one named Fluttershy. Amazingly she was an attentive listener, taking in every word without any obvious difficulty.

“It must be a terrible place to live,” she said after the brief description of what is a hive world began sink through.

Initially he thought to be offended by the remark of his homeworld, but a split second later he was reminded of why he never missed being there. Hostile neighbors, skies choked by the foul smog of industry, famine, disease; nothing would beckon him back to his homeworld, maybe for good if there was no way off this place. Then a question about Fluttershy’s foresight floated into his thoughts.

“Why do you say that?”

“To have achieved something so grand must have come at an unspeakable cost. Did you say you’re a soldier?”

‘There is never a dull moment with someone as inquisitive as her,’ Verticora thought to himself, now very interested in what responses could be generated from this Fluttershy.

“Indeed I am, more specifically I am Sergeant of the 63rd Sentinel squadron,” he said. Almost expecting her to ask what a Sentinel was, he began to fabricate a response when she asked something that almost derailed his train of thought.

“What wars must there be that requires soldiers like yourself?”

“Good question,” Verticora said, undergoing a quest to find words to describe a state of eternal war.

There are very few words to describe an empire that has known only war. Many millennia of strife had dulled how they see war almost to a genetic level. The countless horrors that dwells in the void will never let up, each who want nothing more to see humanity’s destruction.  That and the soul crushing labor forced upon the average citizen blinds them from the reality of how fragile humanity’s foundation really is. A thankless task that will go unnoticed; failure equals death for yourself and everyone else around you in an instant of lax and neglect. Every day they must give their all for the Emperor, for tomorrow they may all be dead.

“Wars like you wouldn’t believe,” he said darkly.

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The third freight container had arrived and around seven more remain at the arrival site. Those that were not involved with distribution were charged with clearing the debris out of their new fortress. A task Brennr, Mathias and Davir had taken with zeal; chopping off vine growth, shoveling out dirt n’ dust, and salvaging any materials that can be used for construction. Already the container with enough adhesive mortar to reconstruct the castle ruins had arrived, but Constantine wanted Voltis to be on hand before any actual construction were to take place.

“Hold your horses,” the Colonel said, cutting off Brennr’s objection. “We are in no rush to erect a fully operational command centre just yet. It’s not that I don’t trust your craftsmanship, I need an adviser on duty in case something goes wrong.”

And so for the past hour now, clearing out the debris had been their chore. Occasionally when more freight arrived, they would be recalled to assisting with the unloading. This time however, the Colonel had a slightly different mission for them.

“The time to begin upgrading this bridge draws near. In a couple more trips, we will have all bulk we need to get through, but this weak structure could barely support the weight of a single guardsmen.”

Although true, it’s seemed inevitable that replacing the bridge will be necessary if they were to store their wares in the castle. They had been getting by, sending one person at a time; but once everyone was gathered here, sending personnel one at a time would be irritatingly slow. Unless the bridge was as strong as an Atlas’ deployable bridge, which it isn’t, it will have to be upgraded to support the immense weight.

“Enginseer Voltis will be arriving with the next payload and will give council on how to proceed from here. After which, you can finally begin the construction you’ve been so eager to start,” Constantine said, glaring at Brennr.

“Also, Sergeant Verticora has failed to respond for a while now and I need to establish radio connection with him as soon as possible. Brennr, I want you to find Korin and tell her to send him a transmission till you get a response. If he still doesn’t answer send the transmissions to his Servo skull instead, it has a greater vox range anyway.”

“Yes Sir,” Brennr replied and just before he left, Constantine paused him once more.

“Oh, and don’t bother coming back for a while. Once you cross the bridge, upgrading it will most likely put the current model out of order till a replacement is found.”

Clear of debris, not that there was much to begin with, Korin kept watch from a vantage point in the throne room. Being on look out wasn’t entirely exciting since the only notable disturbances were their own. Making her duties more fulfilling, she’d taken on scanning the horizons for anything interesting. The vantage point from the tower was just high enough to overlook the tree line, and beyond the trees were what looked like the mountain range Briggs mentioned long before dawn.

Now that the sun was up and the fog evaporated by the heat of day, visibility was practically crystal for Korin’s view of the scenery. Scanning through her magnoculars, the mountain range in the distance seemed very odd compared to other mountains she’d seen on other worlds. These ones however, had impossibly steep slopes and most seem to resemble large lumps than geographic formations. Then there was one near the horizon that took the appearance of what a normal mountain should look like, but just like the geo-lumps there was something strange on the face of the mountain.  There is something built on the slopes, but the zoom on the magnoculars was already at maximum magnification. She’ll inform the Colonel on the first chance she got.

“Enjoying yourself,” said a new voice which almost startled Korin, but quickly recognized who it was.

“Forget to knock much,” She said with a hint of annoyance.

“The non-existent door was open,” Brennr replied, countering her logic. “Word from the Colonel, he wants you to hail Sergeant Verticora on the vox. Needs him to come back and to report if he’s found anything interesting.”

“Alright, take this for a moment,” Korin handed him her magnoculars. “Look at that mountain near the horizon and tell me what you see on its cliffs.”

He complied with Korin’s request while she fired up her vox caster. It took a minute for his eyes to focus on the point she suggested, but not quite seeing anything of importance just yet other than its awkward shape.

“The one that looks like a big lump,” he asked. “Or the really tall one.”

“The tall one, hold on a moment I’m transmitting.”

The vox speakers crackled to life as she adjusts the instruments of her vox caster. Pressing a hand on the ear piece on her mask, she began talking on her mic. Just like hailing the Colonel hours ago, opening with author code, transmitter and transmittee.

“Union, epsilon, variable; this is command voxing, uh…” Korin paused for a moment, forgetting Verticora’s call sign.

“Hey Brennr, do you remember the Sergeant’s call sign?”

“Hmm,” he responded, pondering for a while. “I think it had something to do with his Sentine-”

“Ah,” Korin cut him off. “Now I remember.”

“Union, epsilon, variable; this is command voxing orange chicken, please respond.”

Verticora’s call sign was the product of a chemical accident that stained the Sentinel’s hull with an orange hue. Since it was his choice, some would say negligence, not to repaint it to the regimental colors; it was only a matter of time before names were thrown about to describe the misfit Sentinel. The orange chicken was the most common of nicknames used. The embarrassing dubbing is probably why the Colonel hasn’t ordered him to fix it. The shame was its own punishment.

As time passed with nothing but white noise, Korin proceeded to repeat the hailing for the next several minutes to be curtain that he won’t respond. Remembering what the Colonel said earlier, Brennr spoke up as she was about to give up.

* buzzsh *

“Try sending the transmissions to his Servo skull, it should be still with him.”

“Hope so, that thing doesn’t really talk back.”

She prepared her device, adjusting the frequency to accommodate to the servo skull’s audio channels. Finishing adjustments to her instrument, Korin resumes her broadcast.

“Union, epsilon, variable, command voxing orange chicken, do you copy.”

*buzzsh*

“Union, epsilon, variable, command voxing orange chicken, do you copy.”

* buzzsh *rustle*

“Did you hear that?” Brennr whispered, suddenly tense with anticipation.

“Shut up, I’m trying to listen too. Union epsilon, variable, command voxing orange chicken, over.”

* buzzsh * It soun---ming from---hedges---* buzzsh *

“Is that even him?” Brennr asked, his attention averted towards the speakers.

“I’m not sure; there must be some interference, perhaps they’re still in the forest.”

“Try again; I’m sure he’ll hear you this time.”

“Union, epsilon, variable, command voxing orange chicken, do you copy.”

“Ah think it’s talkin to you, Scootaloo.”

Both Guardsmen jumped as the high pitched voice emitted from the caster. This was defiantly not Sergeant Verticora. Unsure of how to proceed, they remained silent and listened.

“Nah uh, it was looking at you when it talked. ”

“It’s still here, somepony say something to it."

“Um, hello there little guy, you look lost.”

There was a pause, as whoever was on the other side expected them to reply. Questions started forming in their minds if Verticora had been captured, or worse. Perhaps they could tell them of the Sergeant’s fate. Or they could be hostile and should reframe from responding. Assuming the latter wouldn’t get them any closer to their goal, so Korin took the next steps into the unknown.

“This is Corporal Korin, 82nd Vendolant, whom am I speaking with?”

Another pause between the broadcaster and recipient persisted as an inaudible conversation seems to be taking place behind the white noise. Korin was about to try again when she finally got a response.

“Name’s Scootaloo. “

“And I’m Sweetie Belle.“

“Apple Bloom. What are you 82nd of anyway?“

“Pay no mind to that, do you happen to know where the owner of this servo skull might be?”

“Nope, there isn’t no pony who carries around no serv-; wait what are you now?”

“Excuse me?”

“Come to think of it, you don’t look too well at all.”

“Wait, hold on a moment. That’s nothing for you to concern yourselves with.”

*Buzzzsh* No wonder you’re not well, you’re cold as ice.

“Yes, servo skulls are technically not alive.”

“It’s even worse than ah imagined. We should take you to see Fluttershy; she’ll help you get well.”

On edge, and swiftly losing control of where the conversation was headed, Korin turned to Brennr hoping to have a more meaningful dialogue than the chaotic noise coming from her headset. By the looks of his expression, he was just as confused as she were.

“Brennr, inform the Colonel that we’ve made contact with the indigenous residence.”

“I would, but the bridge will be out of order for some time. I could shout for him, but I doubt he would be happy to with the lack of a curtain Sergeant on the other line.”

“Great, I’ve got no clue of how to proceed with this.”

“CUTIE MARK CRUSADERS: EXOTIC CREATURE SEARCH AND RESCUERS, YAY! *Buzzzzzzzzsh*”

Their somewhat of a resemblance to a battle cry ringed from the vox caster. No one else is around to hear it since labor was prioritized to replacing the bridge a while ago. It would have been better to have others around to help process what had just happened. Korin muted the vox and turned to Brennr.

“What in the Emperor’s name just happened?”

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“Oh my,” Fluttershy finally responded after Verticora’s answer. “But why?”

“It is a very dangerous galaxy out there, I am a little surprised that the concept of war is difficult for you to grasp.”

“Fighting is not what’s strange to me; surely there must be an end in sight.”

Verticora would have laughed if it the idea to end war didn’t sound so tragically hopeless. Everyday there are more warzones developing all across the Imperium and fewer regiments to answer the call. It’s been so bad that the more superstitious of Imperial citizens claim that the times of ending is swiftly approaching.

“Just out of curiosity, how would you describe fighting?” Verticora asked, doubting that they shared the same meaning for war.

Fluttershy hesitated, sounding unsure of her own description. No matter how vague and limited her retelling of what a war is, the lack of what really mattered spoke volumes to Verticora.

“Well, um, lots of shouting and ponies getting hurt from resentment of others. Most of the time, they could be talked out of it with a little persuasion.”

This time Verticora laughed; to Fluttershy, it sounded unsympathetic, but to him an almost joyful relief that these ponies will never be considered a danger to himself.

“Hey, don’t laugh,” anxious and hurt by his reaction. “You can hurt somepony’s feelings by laughing at their grief.”

“I mean no disrespect,” he said, silencing his chuckle. “But where I come from, feelings are ignored and often trampled on.”

“Since it’s clear that you are not from his world, if I may ask, how did you get here to begin with?” She said, aggravated by his previous reaction.

“To my knowledge, neither of us knows how we got here. We all are pretty much grateful to be here and not where we were.”

“And where were you before?”

“We were on a planet named Medusa V, sent there to rescue the inhabitance of the world from a celestial event known as a warp storm; a rift between reality and the immaterium, no one survives the shift from material and immaterial. We answered the call to war and arrived to assist along with hundreds of other regiments from hundreds of other worlds than my own.”

To Fluttershy, this started to sound like the beginning of a heroic adventure. Although she knows nothing of what the Imperial Guard is capable of, the act of coming to one’s aid is an easy scenario to imagine. Eager to hear about what happened next, she did her best to form a verbal cue to continue his tale.

“That sounds very interesting, so how did it go?” She asked, drawn into his retelling.

“It went exceptionally well for the most part, it was a swift and harsh campaign for the millions that were deployed on the surface. Across every battlezone, the Imperial Guard did their best to defend the citizens of Medusa from those that seek to thwart our efforts. And from those that succumbed to the madness of chaos. In the end, we accomplished our mission and got everyone off that rock.”

“How wonderful, they must have been so grateful for you to rescue them.” She said, her spirits lifted by the seemingly happy ending.

“Indeed,” Verticora said grimly. ”Grateful enough to abandon us when it was our turn to escape the dying world.”

Fluttershy said nothing as her thoughts of a noble quest crumbled apart as she tried to imagine the cold act. She could sort of picture what abandonment was, but nothing as dire as Verticora made it sound.

“How does a world die?” She whispered, afraid of the answer.

“The first thing that happened was that the sky began to burn with colors that could not be named; sending time into limbo between night and day. The sky bleeds with the ordinance from the fire of our own weapons and that of the forces of chaos. Air choked by foul smog that does unspeakable corruption to the fallen. Quakes and tremors split the earth, defacing the landscape as the planet writhes in rejection to the warp storm swallowing the world. Daemons descending upon the surface; grotesque creatures of the warp spreading their sick plagues onto those unlucky enough to be exposed without protection.”

Silence between the person and pony persisted while Verticora struggled to recall what happen next and Fluttershy fearing the conclusion to his story.

“All this happened before the warp storm licked the surface. It is unknown as to what comes next once the warp storm plucks the planet out of the material space, and into a place where not a single soul gets through to recall the horrors that infest that realm. We’ve gone indoors to shield ourselves from the madness, and this is where my recollections get a bit hazy.”

“So, now you find yourself here alone?” She said, guessing the ending.

“Yeah pretty much, but I wouldn’t say alone,” Verticora said, concluding his story.

“There are others like yourself?”

Fluttershy was about to press him with a new question when a harsh, urgent knocking rang against the door making Fluttershy leap. Verticora tensed, looking at the door with apprehension.

“Hide yourself, I’ll handle this,” she whispered to Verticora. “Coming!”

Unsure of how to mask himself in an open room, he positioned himself in an adjacent room, blocking any vision of the door. Fluttershy glanced back towards him to check up on his status before proceeding to open the door. The moment she touched the handle, the door flew open and the sounds of three newcomers entered the threshold.

“Fluttershy Fluttershy!” one of the voiced said. “We found a creature that needs your help!”

“Oh goodness, where is the poor thing?”

Verticora kept still, listening to the commotion from around the corner. Suddenly he heard dim humming blend into the sounds of the three strangers, the soft vibrations of a propulsion device that could only mean one thing.

“Aggripa, is that you?” Verticora said, giving himself permission to reveal himself.

If the servo skull’s logic engine were capable of displaying any kind of emotions what so ever, it would have felt relief. Having no such capabilities, it just floated idly between the two parties that stood in silence, staring at each other.

“Uh, girls, this here is mister Verticora,” said Fluttershy, attempting to break the stare down. “Verticora, this is-“

“Sweetie Belle,” said the short white unicorn.

“Apple Bloom,” said the equally short yellow pony.

“Scootaloo,” the orange pegasus said, who is also as short as the other two.

“Sergeant Verticora, 82nd Vendolant, nice to meet you.” he said stiffly.

Comparing these three to Fluttershy, he assumed these were equivalent to children, but something else other than their shortness was different about them; he just couldn’t put a finger on it.

“Say, that sounded just like what that creature thing said a while ago,” said the one identified as Scootaloo.

“Ah still can’t figure out what it’s the 82nd of,” inquired the one named Apple Bloom.

“It is the order of which his regiment was founded,” contributed Fluttershy.

“What, was it lost or something?” asked Sweetie Belle.

“Mars and Terra, one at a time please!” Verticora said exasperated. “Did you say my companion talked?”

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Korin and Brennr huddled near the vox caster, working up enough nerve to listen to it again. For almost ten minutes now, they had been analyzing everything that was said during the brief exchange between them and the natives. More specifically, they’ve were discussing some of the key words that they used.

“Somepony,” Korin asked.

“Cutie mark crusaders,” replied Brennr.

Pondering on the strange phrases, the two guardsmen tried their best to make sense of it all. Temporary unavailable to the rest of the regiment, they had to make do with their own skills at interpreting what they heard.

“Perhaps ‘somepony’ is a spinoff of the word someone or somebody,” Brennr said after some time.

“Sounds probable, what bothers me is that their language is similar to our Low Gothic. It would be curious to know how these xenos are fluent with our language.

“Maybe, there is also the possibility that they are not xenos. Based on this structure here, their architecture is similar to human craft. This might be a world isolated from the Imperium until now.”

“Your reasoning is plausible, but this doesn’t quite explain the strange use of the word ‘pony’. I am no expert in linguistics, but ‘pony’ is definitely not a normal term referring to other humans. At least there will be no language gap, and their engineering skills are somewhat of a shadow of our own based on this structure we’re in. I guess all we really need to concern ourselves with are compliance issues, “Korin finished, un-muting the vox caster to listen in on the situation.

“*buzzzsh*-was looking at Apple Bloom saying something weird like variable, union, epsil-something and- ”

“And then ah went up to it n’ asked if it was lost.”

“Yes yes, you found Agrippa. What did it say next?” A new, but familiar voice was added to the chaos which prompted Korin to switch to transmit.

“Sergeant Verticora, is that you?”Korin almost shouted into the mic.

“This is Verticora.” replied the Sergeant, the background noise quieting itself to allow him to speak.

“The Colonel has been awaiting a response regarding your mission status. Also, he wants to recall you back to our position. “

“What has caused the situation to change?”

“Reconsolidating priorities most likely, now that we have a place we can call headquarters.”

“Very well, I’ll be on my way. When you cross the Colonel, tell him I’ve made contact with the indigenous population.”

“Are they human or xenos?”

There was a delay in the next replay as if Verticora hesitated on the answer. Korin and Brennr looked towards each other in confusion over what should be a 'yes' or 'no' question. Moments ago they had reasoned that this was most likely a human inhabited world based on what they had seen and heard. But the one thing they heard casts this assumption into doubt; 'somepony'.

“Neither.”

“What do you mean neither,” Korin replied half-hoping for a more tangible answer.

“It’s a little hard to explain; however if I did, your faith in my judgment would surely be doubtful. You pretty much have to see it and draw your own conclusions.”

“Acknowledged,” Korin sighed, disappointed by his vague answer. “Do you think you can bring a representative back on your return trip.”

I’ll see what I can do, we’ll be there as soon as we can, out.*buzzsh*

Korin clicked off the vox caster and turned to Brennr, who seemed a little anxious that they were about to be visited upon by the neither xenos nor human natives.

“Well, you can go back now that your duty is done. Be sure that the Colonel knows that the Sergeant’s bringing some visitors as well.”

“Already on it,” he said back as he left the room.

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Ever since they had arrived, the sanctioned Psyker known as Karos had been unconscious. Doctor Graff had moved him onto stretcher to keep his form straight as he examines the patient. Once again, finding nothing physically wrong with him, he abandoned his work to assist with the distribution of freight. Karos is only one of the twenty survivors that remain in a state between life and death.

‘Healing Psykers is a very complicated procedure,’ Graff reasoned with himself. ‘Their physique and tolerances are the same as any normal guardsmen, but there is no medicine to help out with mental complications unless there was another with the same skill.’

Once it was clear that Karos won’t be waking like the rest, Commissar Holt had Graff perform a thorough examination of his condition. Because he was covered from head to toe in the protective gear, just like everyone else, the Doctor had ruled that there was no bleeding; otherwise there would be dark crimson stains on his attire. However, the last thing Karos did when he was still conscious was teleport them all from Medusa. Or at least that’s what everyone assumed since the warp storm is gone and the true capacities of Psykers were always a mystery.

Leaving Karos with his comatose, he caught up with the Lieutenant who was doing all she could with the repairs to her Valkyrie. Before the Enginseer left for their new headquarters, all exterior damage had been restored to satisfactory condition. Apart from the armament attachments missing from the hull, the Valkyrie is fit to fly. The lieutenant had been diagnosing the electronic devices and pilot controls since Voltis left.

“Lieutenant, I have the update on Karos’ condition; there is nothing to update. Also word from Briggs, the Colonel is asking for the status of the Valkyrie. He says he may need it to help with construction.”

“Let him know it’s ready for duty, all he needs to do is point out the task.” Dalia said from the pilot seat, testing the wing flaps. “It is unfortunate that Karos is still not with us. I would like it very much if he would describe what had happened, knowing that he could explain it better than any of us could.”

“I don’t quite follow,” Graff said in a questioning tone. “Should we just accept that we are not on Medusa and disregard the issue?”

“Maybe, but I suspect that we did a little more than transcend from one planet to the next. Van Gothes’ Rapidity could be seen from hundreds of light years and seeing absolutely nothing of it asks the question of how far we were shot into the void.”

Graff blinked as he took this into consideration. True, the warp storm Van Gothes’ Rapidity is a landmarked space phenomenon that takes up a noteworthy piece of the Ultima Segmentum. They would have to be shot halfway to Ultramar to escape every visible trace of the storm. Beginning to see where she’s coming from, he added something else to her suspicion.

“But not even the Emperor himself, beloved by all, could teleport himself plus the contents of a hundred meter radius across vast distances, even with a sophisticated teleportation device.”

“But consider if we haven’t moved at all,” added Dalia. “Perhaps we shifted dimensional space instead of material space. What may seem most likely is that we’ve crossed over into another dimension. Meaning…”

“Meaning we are completely isolated from the Imperium,” Graff finished her sentence.

“True, but we weren’t going to be rescued anyway since our campaign fleet left us to die on that rock. The Colonel sees this as a brave new world for settlement, where I see a dangerous situation brewing on the horizon.”

“Do you think the locals might be hostile?”

“The what?” asked Dalia, thrown from her train of thought.

“Yeah, Sergeant Verticora’s encountered the natives. Briggs got the vox transmission from Korin. We estimate that he’ll be back at around dusk with a more detailed report.”

“Oh uh, that’s good, but that isn’t quite the danger I was emphasizing,” she said, returning back to her topic.

“And what got you more worried than dimensional phase shifts?” Graff asked, almost nervous about the answer.

“What if they’d followed us?”

Of all the things the word ‘they’ refers too, there is only one kind of ‘they’ the survivors of the 82nd Vendolant fear; they who seek to end them when their final hour was upon them; they who clawed their way into the hangar as the Imperial Guard made their last stand; the foul rot corroding everything in their path, spreading blight and corruption with joyful relish; they who brought unfathomable destruction upon the Imperium for more than ten thousand years and would do it again for ten thousand more. They were the Death Guard, the XIV Legion.

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“How much further is it?” Scootaloo said for the 7th time.

“Depends on what your definition of a destination is,” Verticora shot back from his Sentinel; followed by silence as the orange pegasus failed to mount an argument to his own.

Nearly a half hour before, Verticora had asked for volunteers to accompany him on the trip back to headquarters. At first Fluttershy was reluctant to go, but the overwhelming enthusiasm from the three who called themselves the Cutie Mark Crusaders convinced her to go along. Initially, he was a bit hesitant of accepting the fillies for the trek back to base for a few reasons; they might set a bad first impression for their kind; and having anything to do with minors, peace and war times, is generally frowned upon. But the more the merrier, and if it was the incentive to get the yellow mare to tag along, then so be it.

Introducing his Sentinel to the ponies was a bit more eventful than he would have wanted. Again he asked himself why he was telling them about his proficiency, these were ponies for Throne’s sake! But for some reason or another, he was compelled to share this information like he disclosed to Fluttershy many moments before. Perhaps he somewhat took an enjoyment to darken their blissful ignorance with the truth of war in the worlds beyond theirs. Just like asking for volunteers for the trip, their personality traits reacted the same way.

“W-what is that thing?” Asked the frightened Fluttershy, while the CMC approached it with an almost careless zeal .

“This here is a Catachan Pattern Sentinel, it’s my mode of transportation and- ,“ started Verticora, before he was cut off by a comment by one he thought is named Apple Bloom.

“Woah, it’s got chicken legs.”

Ignoring her comment, he continued briefing them on the specifics, like keeping their distance from it and not going near the operational end of the Heavy Flamer.

“It will be an hour or two before we reach my comrades in the forest if we start now.”

“You mean your friends are in the Everfree Forest?” Fluttershy objected.

“Why yes, I guess, if that’s what this forest is called,” Verticora replied, and was about to ask if this was a problem, but after encountering problems of his own the night before, he reconsidered asking the question.

As he climbed to the driver seat, his Servo Skull floated ahead of the group. Clearly knowing the way back, Agrippa positioned itself as if it were going to lead them home. Not objecting to this new sense of purpose from the skull he called back to make sure his new companions know they were going. He noticed only two of the CMC displayed an overly enthusiastic sense of adventure, the yellow earth pony looked almost as nervous as Fluttershy.

Paying no mind to this behavior, he began to stride forward, the mechanical stomps signaling the advance. For a brief moment, the ponies hesitated as they watched the machine’s locomotion move so fluid, almost life-like. Staring as if mesmerized by the hundreds of moving parts working together to allow a hulk of a machine to move with such grace. Noticing the pause, Verticora halted the machine to let them catch up.

“You ponies coming or what?” He called back to them.

One by one, they began to catch up with him. Keeping their distance, they tagged along at the Sentinel’s side. Surprisingly to Verticora, they had caught up with no trouble at all and have maintained a position between himself and the leading Servo Skull. He half thought of returning ahead of them, but thought that it would be better to be able to watch over them instead of hoping they were still following.

And so a half hour has passed, and they were still navigating through the forest. Occasionally, the worried Fluttershy would float beside his vehicle and ask various questions. Mostly they were about things like where they were headed, which was kind of in vain since he didn’t quite know himself. Sometimes she would ask questions regarding his comrades.

“So are your friends as friendly as yourself,” she asked once.

“Friendliness is sometimes a regrettable necessity for some, but for the most part they are. Especially the Commissar, you should count yourself lucky that Holt is a reasonable person. I’m quite curtain all my comrades would like to meet you, if they’re not weirded out first. Once we are there, let me do all the talking and don’t speak unless spoken to. It’s kind of a formality when talking to officers of rank.”

After nodding, she returned to the three fillies, saying something he couldn’t hear from his Sentinel; probably relaying the message to them. The journey continued its awkward march when all of a sudden the yellow filly stopped. The others continued to chase the servo skull and Verticora soon caught up with her. He noticed that she was staring at a gap in the forest wall that opened onto another slightly camouflaged path.

His guts tensed as he recognized the path. Even in the bright of day, or as much as the forest canopy would allow, he remembered the strange descent down that fateful road less traveled. Eventually it leads to a thick twisted path that ends at the threshold to a dark archway. And beyond that veil of darkness, a living nightmare stalks the blighted soil. He looked down at the yellow pony and called down to her.

“You’re Apple Bloom, correct?”

She nodded.

“You know what lies at the end of this road?”

She nodded again.

“Let us not linger,” he said urgently.

The memory of the horror rose and his head ached as he remembered the deafening buzz in his mind from being chased by those monsters. Looking at Apple Bloom, he thought she must be feeling the same fear he felt. How on Terra’s Throne had she got out when he barely escaped with his life the night before? Perhaps these ponies command a respectable amount of wit and courage than he gave credit for.

He looked ahead and saw that the group has gone without them, not noticing their delay. Still rooted to the spot, Apple Bloom continued to stare into the darkness as if frozen by fear; and sadness? He crouched the Sentinel, opened the door and beckoned her to climb on.

“Climb aboard, we don’t want to aggravate them now do we,” he said, searching for a spot for her to occupy.

She listened to the summons and leaped on the Sentinel’s leg joint; then jumping into the space indicated by Verticora. There was a compartment on the hull of the vehicle for miscellaneous equipment, usually reserved for kit or ammunition; and since he was carrying neither, the urgency of the situation deemed this a necessary modification to its function.

To his Surprise, the kit compartment was large enough to oblige her. As soon as she secured herself, he commanded the Sentinel to dash off, leaving that dreadful road behind. Thankfully the group hadn’t gotten too far ahead and their absence went unnoticed. Verticora wanted to inquire more details from Apple Blooms encounter, but thought against the idea for the time being. They weren’t out of the woods yet, metaphorically and literally, and there were more things to worry about once they reached headquarters.