The End is the Beginning

+++++Transmitted: Unknown

+++++Destination: Provisional Command Centre

+++++Origin: Commissar Holt

+++++Decode Authority:  Cyan

+++++Subject: A Warning

+++++Thought for the Day: "A warrior’s faith in his commander is his best armour and strongest weapon."

+++++Time Remaining: null + 39 hours

Colonel Constantine, Sergeant Verticora has made contact with the natives. We are bringing them in for further evaluation.

+++++Transmission Terminated

▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪

“Initiating reanimation protocols,” Enginseer Voltis said to the device. “Come forth from the cold vessel Machine Spirit and awaken your glorious circuitry.”

He flipped the switch to the generator; nothing happened.

“What’s the hold up with that generator?” asked Sketch.

“Be patient, the Machine Spirit cannot be awakened at a whim,” Voltis said with annoyance. “Have you ministered the sacred lubricants?”

“Already have.”

“Check the readings on the promethium gauges?”

“All full up.”

“Are the valves positioned to open?”

“Aye.”

“Try lighting some incense.”

“Of course, the cure all for every mechanical predicament,” Sketch sighed.

Immediately after the bridge was completed, the regiment was divided between installing electronic hardware and general repairs to the castle. The freight containers, many of which had remained sealed since Medusa, were being opened and their contents sorted. Apart from construction materials and other electronic devices; supplemental necessities like victuals, kit replacements and medi-packs were plentiful.

“Bring in that master vox console,” Constantine ordered. “Hold those provisions for now; bring in the hololithic projector and set that up in the throne room.”

The mood among the regiment was improving after switching tasks to something more fulfilling than moving stuff from point A to B all day. Voltis and Sketch were assigned to restore the power generator; Graff and Derrick were setting up a more efficient life support system for Karos in the hastily constructed medicae ward; Raf and Anders were laying sandbags for a heavy bolter nest towards the front of the castle.

As Constantine browsed through the contents on the freight containers, he happened across a guardsman who seemed occupied with something other than what he was ordered to do.

“Stay on task trooper,” he said to the guardsman. “Davir, if I am not mistaken.”

“S-sorry Sir,” Davir said as he turned swiftly to face the Colonel. Almost fumbling the object he was examining, he rotated it so Constantine could see what it was.

“I think I’ve found the shipping manifest for this freight, Sir, minus the fuel and munitions that is.”

Handing the data slate to the Colonel, he took it with a hint of relish. A glance at the heading of the manifest told him all what he wanted to know.

“Departmento Munitorium Pioneer Corps,” he read aloud. “Designation: Adeptus Mechanicus 12th Exploration Task Force; Stationed on Medusa VII. Well then, the Medusa system is lost to us now, so I suppose they wouldn’t mind if we keep their jettisoned equipment, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Aye Colonel.”

“Carry on then,” Constantine was about to leave when he remembered something important. “Davir, if you happen to come across any sleeping equipment, I want you to haul that stuff in so I can start assigning shifts.”

Leaving the cargo containers behind, he took a moment to observe the night sky. Strangely, the night was anything but dark; with an exceptionally bright moon providing a tolerable vision and a deep violet sky, they could probably get around without lighting, but the interior was a slightly different story. The sooner power was restored to the generator the better, and then they would be free to begin the more sensitive tasks like cartography and re-establishing contact if that was possible.

Commissar Holt was still absent from the base along with Dale, Alicia, Samson and Larn who should be on their way back by now with the final load from the arrival site. Sergeant Verticora was also missing, but was assumed to be on his way back with an ominous package. Briggs mentioned he was escorting locals, but said nothing more, which made Constantine uneasy about how to proceed. He could simply follow Imperial doctrine, but with a woefully inadequate presence to enforce that unforgiving directive, he would have to employ a more unconventional approach.

▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪

“You think that is enough aerosol?” Derrick asked Graff.

For almost a whole minute, the two had been spraying disinfectant chemicals in the newly constructed medicae ward. The whole interior was saturated with a white mist that made a slight sizzling noise as it evaporated. The room was almost pitch black, lit only by the light attachments on their helmets.

“Hmmm, yes,” Graff replied. “ Yes, I think that would be enough to purge whatever filth this ecosystem has to offer.”

Before they thought of switching Karos to a different source of air, they had to be thorough with their sanitizing. They were not taking any chances, and any further escalation of the Psykers condition could be disastrous for his health; perhaps even fatal if they couldn’t revive him.

“How would you like to be the first to breathe the air of this alien world?” Graff asked with morbid humour.

“Gee, thanks,” Derrick replied sarcastically. “What if something goes wrong?”

“Don’t worry, I’m a doctor,” he said, trying to hurry him along. “I need to test if this air is breathable, but I’m sure it is with this environment’s variety of flora.”

Removing his re-breather, he slowly inhaled the air. He coughed as the sanitized air remained fresh in the room, but he got used to it and his intake of air returned to a normal pattern. After about a moment, Graff broke the silence to ask him some probing questions.

“Do you feel any unnatural pains - or perhaps you feel nauseous?”

“Nope, none of those.”

“Good, then I declare this room fit for human life.”

“Just like that?”

“Well, seeing that you haven’t passed out yet, we can assume that the chemical makeup of this world’s atmosphere is satisfactory by our standards. The only things to worry about now are the unknown bacteria that surely must exist out there. You can go ahead and put your re-breather back on.”

Derrick did so without question, he felt better with it on anyway.

“I’m no longer in need of your assistance,” Doctor Graff said abruptly.” You may return to your duties with the general repairs. As for the Psyker, there is not much more we can do until the power comes on, so I’ll remain here for a while.”

As Derrick left without another word, he began to hear a low rumble outside. The final load from the Chimera had returned, which meant the body bags were here too. Knowing that the Psyker was in no condition to move, and without power he could not continue his labors, he decided to put him off till later. Exiting the castle, he noticed a new sound accompanied the Chimera’s own, that of the mechanized thumps of a Sentinel.

▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪

It didn’t take long for anyone to notice the strange passengers riding with the guardsmen on top of the Chimera. With everyone’s face hidden behind their re-breathers, no one knew if this occasion were to be comical or dead serious. Despite the bridge being complete, the Chimera still stopped just before it as if it still wasn’t there. One by one the crew disembarked; Commissar Holt displayed an uncommon agility as he left to seek out the Colonel.

The four creatures huddled close to each other as it dawned on them how serious the situation was turning. Keeping silent, they kept close to the base of the Chimera, afraid of what may happen next. Pitying his companions, Sergeant Verticora approached them as his comrades continued to do nothing, merely staring at his company.

“Remember, show no fear and we’ll get through this,” he said in a low commanding tone.

“Well, you’re right about them being not human,” Brennr said, breaking from the quiet welcome.

“You brought xenos to our encampment!?” shouted a disgusted voice from behind the guardsmen.

Lieutenant Dalia appeared in front of him as the guardsmen shifted sideways to let her pass. Although she took the appearance of every other guardsman, her authoritative tone was unmistakable. Verticora stood his ground as he braced himself for the coming verbal assault, knowing that he had done nothing wrong. She out ranked him, and he knew that any argument he mounted against her could and would be seen as insubordination; an infraction punishable by death. All he could do now was glare back at her until she ran out of steam.

“You better explain to me right now why you thought it was a good idea to bring these aliens here!” she shouted. “If the Commissar were here, I would have you shot for fraternizing with these things!”

“Don’t make assumptions you’ve no authority to enforce,” Commissar Holt said coldly.

Before the situation could escalate further, Commissar Holt had returned with Colonel Constantine. The Colonel said nothing as he observed the aftermath of Dalia’s rage, his gaze eventually fell upon the creatures huddled by the Chimera, visibly shaken by the outburst. No one spoke a word as the anticipation for Constantine’s orders mounted.

“Lieutenant Dalia,” he finally said. “Sergeant Verticora, the Commissar and I would like a private word with your two.”

“Aye Sir,” Verticora replied, worried for his standing with the Colonel.

“You two,” Constantine directed at Brennr and Korin. “Keep an eye on our ‘guests’ while we’re away.”

Without waiting for a response, he departed with Dalia and Verticora, closely followed by Commissar Holt. It wasn’t until they were out of earshot before anyone could breathe normally again.

“Well, what are you lot staring at?” Korin said to the idle guardsmen. “Get back to work!”

“Good luck with those ponies,” Alicia said, relishing the burden they would soon have to suffer through.

“Brennr, help me get these animals across the bridge,” she said, ignoring Alicia’s remark.

“You could just ask,” the yellow pegasus quietly muttered. “If you want to, I mean.”

Stunned by the response, she and Brennr stood there in shock at what they had just heard. The guardsmen who rode with them on the Chimera, including Alicia, laughed at the two’s lack of a response to the talking animals.

“You sound kind of familiar,” said the earth pony.

“You!” Korin almost shouted, as the memory from the earlier vox transmissions rushed back to her.

“Me!” Apple Bloom shouted with matching excitement.

“Us!” Scootaloo said, jumping into the game.

“And don’t forget Fluttershy!” Sweetie Belle chimed in.

As the tension among the ponies began to fade, the awkwardness among Korin and Brennr was simmering. The crowd of guardsmen had already resumed their duties, leaving the two alone with the ponies. For better or worse, it was their problem now.

▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪

The castle’s throne room had endured the centuries of erosion better than any other section of the ruins; as such, those involved with construction duties would not stray into the Colonel’s debriefing session. Standing by one of the view ports overlooking the ruins, the Colonel gestured the Sergeant to approach. As Verticora did, Commissar Holt and the Lieutenant stood in the shadows, eager to hear the Sergeant’s story.

“Sergeant Verticora,” the Colonel spoke for the first time since they went indoors. “I would like to debrief you on your mission from the time you left the drop-off zone to where we stand at this very moment.”

“Of course Sir,” Verticora said.

He started off by describing the strange characteristics of the forest. Being designated the Everfree Forest by the locals; he recalled his observations of the unnatural darkness in a sector of the forest; the ghastly encounter with undead of Sunny Town; to the separation with his servo skull counterpart. He then described what had happened the following morning when he finally cleared the forest; coming across Fluttershy’s house; retrieving Agrippa from the minors; and finally the return trip back to the castle they mention to be the ancient castle of the royal pony sisters.

“So, these ruins were somehow constructed by these creatures,” Constantine inquired.

“I would assume so seeing how there is no evidence of an Imperial, let alone human, presence in their civilization despite our similar construction patterns and linguistics,” Verticora answered.

“Well, this has been a very interesting development you brought to light. Perhaps there will be a time in the future where we may be able to start diplomatic talks, or consider them allies on occasion,” Constantine said before a sound came from the shadows.

“Do you wish participate in this meeting Lieutenant?” the Colonel said, anticipating this after seeing her actions moments ago.

“Colonel Constantine, don’t tell me you are inclined on defending these xenos. Having no involvement with them I understand, but considering them as allies is boarder lining heresy!”

“Technically the equine species is not defined as xenos,” Verticora added, hoping to sway judgment on his favor.

“Xenos or not, it is a crime against the Emperor to consider any parties not affiliated with the Imperium as friendly,” Dalia objected.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t be so quick to judge without reviewing our current standings. We are on our own after all, it is inevitable that our paths may cross with their civilization and with so few of us and so many of them, it is more practical that we be in good terms with their kind.”

“But, we are in no short supply and equipment; surely we can take them on without any problem what so ever,” Dalia suggested desperate; refusing to surrender the debate, she looked to her last resort. “Commissar Holt, don’t you agree that we must stay compliant with Imperial Doctrine?”

“While I agree with your concern to uphold Imperial Discipline, however I must disagree with your over-confidence. Inevitably we will deplete our resources, how many months that may be, and we will not be doing ourselves a service by denying what opportunity’s provided us. And if that means co-existing with another non-Imperial sovereignty, then by the Emperor, it shall be done,” Commissar Holt finished.

“Look at it like this,” Constantine said, seeing the Lieutenant’s despair. “An entire nation pitted against barely twenty of us is an unwinnable ratio. We are not Astartes, this is only common sense. For that, we need to swallow our pride and break tradition for the time being.”

“Understood,” she said reluctantly.

“Now that we got that out of the way, we must prepare for how to proceed from here,” the Colonel said, turning to face the window. “Since we have custody of four of these individuals, we must be quick to extract any information from them so we can better anticipate what to do next.”

Constantine began to ponder. Verticora, relieved to be off the hook and that his companion’s fates were secured, was compelled to maintain his silence, not wanting to rock the boat. As for Dalia, he worried that she may cause problems regarding future encounters with the ponies. However, he trusted that the Colonel was aware of this as well.

“Commissar Holt, fetch me Enginseer Voltis, Doctor Graff and the Chimera driver, Dale I think. Bring them here and we shall proceed from there.”

“At once Colonel,” Holt said, and with a turn of his coat, he vanished from the room.

“Sergeant Verticora, what can you tell us about our guests?”

▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪

“You!”

“Does she say anything else?” Scootaloo asked Brennr.

For several minutes Korin stood frozen, pointing at ponies in disbelief. Brennr had gotten over the initial shock, but couldn’t find the nerve to speak to their captives. He wished he could be someplace else like fortifying the ruins or carrying hardware into the stronghold. But he had a duty to fulfill, and he would not be found wanting at a task this trivial.

“So, um, can we go free now?” asked Fluttershy.

“That’s a negative,” he blurted out, returning to focus on the mission.

He nudged Korin to stop pointing and gestured towards the entrance of the castle as Commissar Holt emerged. He passed right by them in a hurry, not even glancing at them and their strange company.

“Focus Korin,” he snapped at his partner. ”We’re in the presence of a Commissar.”

“Why can’t we leave?” Fluttershy asked, starting to sound worried.

The two guards refused to answer. Not that they didn’t want to, more like they knew not how to respond to a situation as awkward as this. With the Commissar out and about, they would much rather be safe than sorry if they happened to say something that would invoke the wrath of a Commissar.

“Hey, she asked you a question!” Apple Bloom objected.

“You will find your answer soon enough,” Korin replied, providing neutral answer.

“Will we find out what your helmets protect you from?” Sweetie Belle asked.

“Wait, what does that have to do with anything,” Brennr said, irritated by an out of nowhere question.

“I see you two are getting comfortable with our guests,” said the Commissar.

Commissar Holt had returned. Following behind him were Dale, Graff and Voltis, their uncomfortable shuffling suggesting confusion amongst them. Brennr didn’t ponder as to what they’re uneasy about; he was just as clueless as to what’s going on anyway.

“N-no of course not Commissar,” Korin said, wiping all annoyance from her tone.

“Well, you should be. We’ll probably be seeing more of them soon,” Holt said.

He and the others entered the castle, leaving Korin and Brennr alone with the ponies again. Trying to figure out if the Commissar was serious or sarcastic was a futile task, even if the likes of him were always known to be serious. Still, not minding that they could be friendly with the captives spoke volumes of what might be transpiring inside the castle.

“Did he just give us permission to socialize with our captives?” Brennr asked as soon as the doors shut.

“It seems so, although I can’t believe I’d be hearing that from a Commissar,” Korin answered, uncertain about what she heard as well.

“You have to be given permission to talk to us?” Scootaloo asked. “What kind of place has to give permission to be allowed to speak?”

“It’s nothing personal. That’s just how our organization operates,” Korin replied, trying not to think too hard on whom she’d spoken to.

▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪

“Prompt as always Commissar Holt,” Constantine said as the Commissar returned with the staff he requested.

“I’ve called upon you all for a special duty,” the Colonel began. “As I am sure you are all aware, our unusual ‘guests’ appear to be part of a larger civilization. Because of the state in which we find ourselves, I see the need to deviate from Imperial doctrine and learn as much as we can from them before we conduct missions that will lead to the eventual contact with their kind.”

Constantine paused, letting this information sink.

“This is where you come into the picture,” the Colonel continued. “I am going to assign each of you to watch one of these individuals as you carry out your duties. Your main goal is to probe them for intelligence that may give us some insight into their society. Any questions?”

“Would it be fine if I asked why you need me exactly to keep an eye on a pony?” Graff asked. “I’m a Doctor, not a xeno-biologist.”

“I as well.” Voltis said, sounding indifferent about the whether he would have to watch them or not.

“Not to complain, but couldn’t we keep them in one spot so you don’t need so many of us to act as a chaperone,” Dale asked.

“A fair point,” Constantine answered. “I feel that isolating them from one another, as advised by the Sergeant, would be the most favorable way of extracting information from them. I know diplomacy is not included in your list of professions, but I believe a diverse lot such as yourselves would yield an equally diverse set of intelligence to work with.”

This explanation appeared to satisfy whatever grievances they held over this issue, seeing that their posture, except for Voltis who’s usually indifferent about anything asked of him, seemed a bit more relaxed.

“Being that our ‘guests’ exhibits no hostile intentions, nor have they demonstrated any tendencies to be so, I expect you to treat them with respect,” Constantine finished.

“Supposedly, these creatures are the region’s dominant species and we would prefer to be on favorable terms with their kind,” Commissar Holt contributed. “As for what you are allowed to disclose to them, I ask whatever you share with them should be discretionary and only to be used to incite a response that may be useful.”

“Are there any more questions?” Constantine asked one more time. Seeing that there were none, he proceeded to the more humiliating part of the meeting.

“I believe the Sergeant knows these individuals by name, so I will leave it up to him to help identify your ‘associate’,” Constantine continued, as he moved towards Verticora. “Once you have your assignment, you are dismissed from this meeting and may resume your duties.”

“Doctor Graff,” Verticora said, speaking up for the first time. “You are assigned to Sweetie Belle, the unicorn.”

Graff made a noise which could be confused as a grumble or sigh, but was muffled under his mask. He left the room without another word.

“Dale,” the Sergeant continued. “You will be watching over Apple Bloom, don’t underestimate her.

“I’ll take your word for it,” he said without enthusiasm, heading the same direction as did Graff.

“Voltis; the orange pegasus will placed under your watch. Her name in Scootaloo.”

The Enginseer gave a slight nod, acknowledging the order. After Voltis’ departure, the only ones remaining in the room were the Commissar, Sergeant and Colonel.

“Sir, I do believe there are four of these individuals waiting idly outside,” Commissar Holt spoke up as it dawned on him that there was still one more pony outside. “Or are you planning on interrogating the last one yourself?”

“Actually,” Constantine said, turning towards his direction. “I am planning on assigning the final one to you, Commissar Holt.”

The sudden stiffness in the Commissar’s features almost screamed in objection to this order. Verticora did his best to mask his laugh with a cough when the Colonel suggested that he watch over a pony, but he was very careful not to let a sound exit his mask. Taking the hint, the Colonel proceeded to address his concerns.

“Since this last subject appears to be the eldest, based on the Sergeants reports, I figured she’ll have the greatest knowledge of the region; more so than any of the pre-adolescent individuals. That combined with your charisma should yield a wealth of information by sessions end.”

Still saying nothing, the Commissar appeared to be a little more inclined towards accepting what was asked of him. Only after the tension calmed down did he speak again.

“May I ask again which one this leaves me with?” Commissar Holt said, still uncharacteristically unnerved by the assignment.

“That would be Fluttershy.”

“Fluttershy,” Holt said slowly, reminding Verticora of his discomfort with that name earlier that day. ”I hope the rest of their names are not this awkward to pronounce.”

“Only the Emperor knows,” the Sergeant replied, hiding his amusement.

▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪

Had this been a routine medical tour, he would have declined all occupations which included associating with natives; even worse, working alongside them. If this weren’t personally requested by the Colonel, he would never have accepted the job. Prying Sweetie Belle from the group was a bit too easy for his liking. Tasks involved with medical personnel were usually meet with uncooperative volunteers, to which he had grown used to. The fact that pretty much all of them were more than willing to be separated in the name of finding their ‘special talent’ was both intriguing and suspicious.

However, the fact that these specimens could speak low-gothic could amount to an interesting perspective on their civilization, or at least a decent conversation; or perhaps not. The clip-clopping of hooves against the stone floor unnerved him as it constantly reminded him of what he was escorting.

Maneuvering under the makeshift webbing separating the medicae ward from the rest of the un-sanitized castle, he paused to watch how the specimen reacted to a ‘clean’ environment. Observing how nothing dramatic happened, he turned away so that he didn’t look like he was staring. Turning on a lamp to illuminate the room with something more stationary than the lights from his helmet, he then proceeded to release the locks to his re-breather.

“May I ask what your name is?” Graff asked.

Of course, he already knew her name. Just for the sake of a normal introduction, he wanted to exchange names before starting the conversation in this all-but routine day.

“My name is Sweetie Belle,” replied the unicorn.

Hearing that name for the second time was no less discomforting to hear. It was inevitable that he would have to address her by that whether he liked it or not.

“I am Doctor Graff, head medical support for the regiment. Just so you’re aware of what’s going on, you have been assigned to me so that I may learn more of your kind.”

“Alrighty, so what would you like to know? Wait, you’re a doctor, you’re not going to practice medicine on me are you?”

“That could be arranged,” he replied, not giving in to her attempt at humor. “But that will not be necessary, unless you are feeling ill.”

“Nope,” she simply said.

At that moment, she noticed the patient behind Graff, and tilted her head to get a better look.

“Is that guy behind you sick?”

“Indeed he is, but as of yet there is nothing I can do for him in his current state.”

“So what’s the matter with him?”

“Whatever he did to get us on this world left him in a coma. With his special abilities and all, there is little I can do to bring him out of whatever predicament he’s gotten himself into.”

“Would it be a good idea to take him to a hospital?”

Graff was stunned at the mention of a hospital coming from a pony. It didn’t even cross his mind that they were capable of medical professionalism. A hospital implied the use of sophisticated instruments, along with a support staff, technicians and perhaps other doctors such as himself. However, because of the underdeveloped state of this world, he doubted he would be impressed by their hardware. Nonetheless, this was relevant to his interest and he would wish to see such a place in the future.

“Very interesting. So does your kind have the medicae facilities for Psykers?”

“What’s a Psyker?”

“They are ‘unique’ individuals who are adept at skills with immaterial energies.”

“Like magic?”

“Um, yeah I guess you can call it that,” Graff said cautiously.

The mention of magic set off alarms in the Doctor’s mind. Putting aside his concerns regarding magic he proceeded to follow up on this additional insight.

“How do you know about magic?” he said, using her terminology to minimize confusion.

“It’s kind of what unicorns are good at, you know.”

“No, I don’t know, tell me more about what unicorns can do.”

“Well, I don’t know much about how to use it just yet, but my older sister uses it for designing dresses and stuff.”

“I suppose that means I couldn’t ask for a demonstration from you then.”

“Nope, sorry.”

“Very well,” Graff said, with a little disappointment. ”If you excuse me for a moment, I’m just going to check up on my patient.”

“Can I watch?” she asked, a little too enthusiastic for the Doctor’s liking.

“Fine, just don’t knock into anything. Nothing in this room has been secured to the floor yet.“

Now that the room was sterile, he could perform some of the more intrusive operations on Karos. Sweetie Belle turned away when he punctured the psyker’s arm to feed fluids into his system to eliminate dehydration from the list of imminent dangers. Noticing the unicorn’s discomfort at his use of needles, Graff thought of injecting some of his own humour to the unicorn.

“If the patient wakes, I will need you to help me hold him down”, Graff said seriously.

“WHAT?!” Sweetie Belle nearly screamed.

Graff chuckled at the unicorn’s shocked expression. It was a common joke to play on novices, but if it were a genuine precaution the consequences could be dire if the patient were to start flailing around during surgery.

“False alarm, that wouldn’t be necessary,” Graff replied, satisfied with his own scare. “Karos will not be waking anytime soon so I will not ask for you to restrain him.”

“Oh,” she said, the surprise wiped from her expression.

As the Doctor continued with his duties, the unicorn went over to the table holding Graff’s re-breather. Observing how similar the device looked compared to Verticora’s; then she remembered the conversation she had with the Sergeant regarding the helmet piece.

“So Doctor Graff, how come you’re not wearing this thing anymore?” Sweetie Belle asked.

“What thing?” he replied, confused at the question. “Oh that thing. A while ago I had this room sterilized of any native bacteria this environment produces. Even though the original purpose was for a more extreme environment, the reason we continue to wear them is for more of a precautionary role than for imminent danger.”

“I see, so you want to build immunity before you remove them,”

“Yes exactly, this should be about a few days or so before we can declare this air safe to breathe. Having experienced the environments of several worlds including our homeworld, I’m sure this world would be simple to develop immunity towards. Speaking of which, may I ask of you of your hometown?”

“Sure, I guess you can ask me about Ponyville.”

Graff cringed at the mention of another strange name for a city. Silly names and now silly locations; perhaps they had equally silly holidays as well.

“What can you tell me about Ponyville?”

“Um, well it’s not too far from these ruins; it’s pretty much where we all live and stuff. There is just so much to talk about, I’m not even sure where to begin.”

“First off, could you tell me of what kind of economy does your town specialize in? Does it have a standing security detail? And if there are other cities on this continent, I’m curious as to what your primary mode of distribution is that your citizens employ.”

The look of confusion from Sweetie Belle was discouraging as it suggested that she knew little about the way the world worked, or that he wasn’t putting it into language that she understood. Figuring that it was most likely the latter of the two, Graff searched for a way to simplify what he had just said.

“What do folks such as yourself do for a living?”

“Oh, that I understand. Well, I’m still in school and not really that awesome at using magic just yet; but as far as I could tell, Ponyville is kind of like a farming community mostly. “

“ Interesting, and does Ponyville have some sort of law enforcement.”

“Well, I don’t really think much about guards since they’re mostly seen in Canterlot.”

As the conversation proceeded onward, Graff continued to tend to the Psyker. Preparing a new source of air for Karos, he continued to probe for information about this strange world.

“And this Canterlot place is another city?”

“Yeah, it is a castle in the mountains where the Princess lives.”

“You have a Princess that rules this land?” Graff asked as he began to loosen the restraints on the Psykers helmet.

“Yes, Princess Celestia is the ruler of Equestria and-“ Sweetie Belle’s voice trailed off.

“Celestia is the ruler of Equestria and?” Graff inquired as the atmosphere in the room turned cold.

For a second Graff thought the oxygen tank was leaking, but then he saw her gaze locked onto Karos. Her eyes were dilated as she stared at the Psyker. It dawned on the Doctor that removing the Psyker’s mask may be the cause of this strange phenomenon and he rushed to fasten the mask back into position.

Sweetie Belle blinked, her senses restored. Graff approached her with caution.

“What did you see?” he asked apprehensively.

“I don’t know, but I heard something weird,” Sweetie Belle said as her focus recovered.

“Then what did you hear, I really need to know if you want to preserve your safety,” he asked utmost seriousness.

“It was some kind of echo-ish thing. I couldn’t understand what I heard.”

“You mentioned that older unicorns are better suited for magic, right?”

“Yep, that’s how it works.”

“I’ll be right back, stay here for a moment, I’ll be right back,” Graff said urgently.

At that, Doctor Graff bolted from the ward to inform the Colonel of this critical discovery that may lead to the Psyker’s recovery.

“Hey Doctor Graff, you forgot you mask!”

▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪

The generator remained inactive, as it had since the Enginseer had it hauled from the freight crate. Sketch had been dismissed long ago - before Voltis was called in by the Commissar to receive his pony. Although the Colonel’s expectations for the Enginseer to yield anything useful from the orange pegasus was a bit too optimistic, restoring power to the camp would be his primary focus.

Alone with the pegasus known as Scootaloo, Voltis continued his greater work of restoring the device. As he labored, Scootaloo observed from a distance trying to follow his progress.

Being paired with Voltis, Scootaloo had been both fascinated and frightened by the Enginseer’s appearance. His features were covered by a strange red robe that seemed to be made out of anything but fabric. It moved and curled like regular cloth, however the clanks and hums emanating from the material suggested otherwise.

He wore what looked like a back pack with a mechanical arm which performed like an extra limb for the Enginseer. On the opposite side of the device were several glass vials of colorful luminescent liquids that Scootaloo could not even begin to describe or guess at what they did.

What stood out from the rest of his strange appearance was his head, the hood of his cloak completely hiding his face in shadow. The only things that escaped the shadows were several green orbs underneath the hood. Scootaloo’s imagination suggested that they were supposed to be his eyes, but as to why there were many more than two was beyond her. Taking in his appearance as a whole created a fearful aura about the Enginseer.

As he occupied himself repairing the power generator, the Enginseer acted as if Scootaloo wasn’t around. She didn’t worry for a while, not minding not being noticed by this hulking scary thing, but as she grew more used to his presence, a question began to rise as she recalled little bits of the conversation shared with the Sergeant.

“So, is this the machine spirit thing Verticora mentioned?” Scootaloo asked.

“You are familiar with the might and wisdom contained within this vessel?” Enginseer Voltis asked, stopping what he had been working on.

“Wha-?“ she answered, clueless to what he had just said and unnerved by the sound of his mechanized vocals.

“The machine is injured by the many years of neglect from its previous master,” Voltis continued in his strange mechanical monotone. “My duty calls me to rejuvenate the machine spirit and awaken it from slumber.”

“So it’s asleep,” Scootaloo said, giving up on trying to fully understand what the Enginseer says and interpreting the parts she understood.

“A manner of speaking, yes. Awakening the machine spirit from its dormant state is an elusive task. Often the device accumulates faults inside its husk throughout the time it spends inactive. As such, the power generator must undergo a factor of disassembly.”

Scootaloo listened in awe as her fascination with the way the Enginseer spoke outweighed her previous fear and cluelessness.

“Commodities such as promethium fuels and machine lubrications had been administered prior to my current progress in activating the power generator, but critical errors remain underneath the chassis and will have to be attended before another awakening procedure can be performed.”

“Okay, can you explain to me what you just said? If you tell me what you’re doing then maybe I can help you out since no one else is helping. ”

Halting his progress once again, the Enginseer turned to look at the pegasus. It was rare for the Enginseer to be offered help; even on occasions shared with Verticora as his interests were more focused on results than the labor spent on maintenance of their war machines.

“To fully understand the function of this machine, one must understand the composition of its engine. The device in question is only a simple combustion engine so the material requirements will not be an issue as with the more sophisticated plasma based containment mechanisms. If you wish to know more, you can start by paying attention to how I nurse the machine back to health.”

“Uh, right. Can you explain it to me in terms that a filly can understand?”

Strangely, it was around this time the Enginseer realized he was talking to a pony. The word ‘filly’ sent alerts through his logic engine, causing him to re-evaluate his surroundings. The apertures of his eyes readjusting to accommodate the being that stood before him.

“You’re a pegasus,” Voltis said with genuine shock.

“You just realized this now? I’ve been talking to you for a while,” Scootaloo said, unsure as to why he hadn’t notice up until then.

“I have no eyes so I cannot see the world as an unaugmented person would.”

“You are blind?” she asked, almost feeling sorry for not being considerate.

“My bionic replacements filter the visual noise so that I can remain focus. I am not entirely blind, just geared towards my role in the regiment. So, I am curious as to how your motor functions allow you for vertical flight?”

“You’re talking to a filly, can you use terms I can understand?” Scootaloo said, trying to convey her lack of vocabulary to Voltis.

The Enginseer paused as he searched deep through his memory coils to form a more acceptable response.

“How do wings that small allow you to fly,” Voltis said after a slight delay.

“I can’t really yet, but I’m sure they will when I get older.”

“I see. So do you still hold interest in learning the function and maintenance of machines?”

“Uh, sure I guess. Are cutie marks included?” she asked with a hint of excitement.

“This is a mark IV model if that answers your question,” Voltis replied, not detecting her discouragement. “The Priesthood of Mars regard machines as living creatures, perfect in form, unrestricted by mortality by flesh and blood. But like organic life, machines have prerequisites to function as do each of us. Like I mentioned before, this here is a simple combustion engine. As for myself, being knowledgeable of the almost uniform function of this engine type, I can perceive the device’s impairments.”

With his third arm, he grips one of the exterior cogs to manually crank it.

“Now, observe and listen to the noises from within the machine. Listen and try to perceive the errors.” Voltis said as he turned the wheel.

Scootaloo listened and tried to follow his instruction. A moment has gone by without luck and she began to feel a little stupid as she had no clue what to listen for or what they were trying to accomplish to begin with.

“I’m not hearing anything,” Scootaloo said after watching him turn the cogs for a minute or so.

“I hear it as clear as day, but that is typical of the untrained ear when listening for a sound they know not of,” Voltis answered as he continued to turn the gears. “Come closer and listen to the clicking of gears as they turn without power.”

She did as was suggested and listened to the clicking the Enginseer described.

clickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclunk clickclickclick

“Did you detect an inconsistency within the pattern?”

“I think so, but what does that mean?” Scootaloo asked, glad to be on the right track after being clueless for so long.

“It could mean a number of things, but the one more likely is that one of the gears is making contact with another, which in turn could mean one wheel is out of sync or out of place. Whichever it may be, one thing is for certain: there is a jam in the works.”

“Um,” Scootaloo started, but withdrew her question knowing that this had nothing to do with jelly. “So should we move it or something?”

“A sound suggestion, but easier said than done,” Voltis said as he lifted the shield containing the gearbox.

There were so many moving parts inside the chassis machine for Scootaloo to keep up with. Unable to isolate the problem, she looked up at Voltis for advice.

“Trust me when I say that this isn’t as complicated as it gets, but I’ll make this simple for you. “

With that, he snatched a stray cog from the mess and swiftly refitted it back into position. After some tweaks here and there, Voltis closed up the shield and rewired the control console for operation. All the while, Scootaloo stared in amazement at the swiftness of the Enginseer’s progress.

“And how long did it take you to learn all of that?” she said with astonishment.

“Many decades of experience and training. It is an art as much as it is dogma. But this is only a novice’s task compared to the greater works of the Adeptus Mechanicus,” Voltis said, not taking her statement as a complement. “Now, stand back as I initiate the final rites of activation”

“Toll the bell once,

Push lever forward

Engage piston and pump

Toll the bell twice

With press of button

Bring turbines to life

Toll the bell thrice

Engine sing praise

To Mars and Omnissiah.”

With that, the machine roared to life. Energy started to flow into other devices installed throughout headquarters; lights flickered to life, consoles winked on and other lesser devices functioned all the same.

“Woah, now that was awesome,” Scootaloo whispered in amazement.

“Indeed,” answered Voltis. “This concludes my task with restoring the generator, but there is always more work to be done. Follow me back to the fortification.”

“Don’t you mean the castle?” she asked, following him towards the threshold.

“It makes no difference, they were all constructed to serve the same purpose,” he replied.

▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪═▪

“So, you talk huh?” Dale asked the earth pony.

“Why is it so difficult for you to wrap you head around this?” She replied.

Dale didn’t respond, still a little unsure of how to proceed. Returning to his Chimera, he found Anders waiting with a newfound purpose.

“Dale, you’re back. The rest have finished-“Anders began before he noticed the earth pony following him.

“Anders, say hello to our new liability. Apple Bloom, this is Anders; Anders this is Apple Bloom,” Dale said unceremoniously.

“Did the Colonel say why we have to escort this creature along?” Anders asked.

“Not too sure, I got the impression that we just let them tag along and observe what they say and do while we go about our business. “

“Uh huh,” Anders said doubtfully. “Speaking of which, Brennr found some empty water tanks and needs us to haul these out to the nearest source of water to get them filled. He mentioned that they’re establishing a mess hall and needs the necessities to set up a proper meal.”

“No argument from me,” Dale said eagerly. “So have the deceased cargo been removed already?”

“Of course, the Doctor had them removed almost immediately after the Sergeant got yelled at. While others are tasked with burying the body bags, we are to collect the water for camp.

“And how many tanks do we have to fill?” Dale asked, peering into the cargo hold.

“The Chimera could fit five in the hold, but we’ve only found three,” Anders said, approaching Dale.

“Right, it would still take a good chunk of time to fill those,” Dale said, predicting the workload ahead of them. “Let’s get on it then.”

“I’m still coming with ya, aren’t I?” Apple Bloom peeped up, feeling left out.

Dale and Anders took this time again to look at their pony, trying to find a way to get her involved. Of course, that couldn’t happen till they got used to her presence.

“Aye,” Dale replied. ”You need help climbing aboard again?”

“Nah, I’ll do it myself,” she said, eager to prove herself to the guardsmen.

Leaping onto the forward hull, she climbed past the viewport and hoisted herself next the multi-laser turret. The two guardsmen followed shortly afterward.

“A swift learner you are; we value that kind of grit in the guard,” Anders said, standing up beside the turret.

“The Sergeant said not to underestimate her, but I’m not that impressed,” Dale said, carefully grabbing hold of the handles hear the hatch.”Let’s get going”

Climbing through the turret hatch, Dale descended down to the driver’s compartment leaving Anders alone with the pony.

“Aren’t I going in there too?” Apple Bloom asked.

“No can do, that seat’s for Dale since he’s the driver,” Anders answered.

“How about you?” she objected. ”You look like you’re about to climb in after him.”

“I’m staying here at the turret; the hold is a bit cramped anyway with the water tanks and all,” said Anders, as he held onto the handles near the searchlight. “Now hang on, Dale’s about to start.”

Not long afterward, the Chimera started on its way down the road created by its previous passes through the Everfree Forest. Slowly rolling onward, the light from the moon began to shine on them less as the density of the forest grew. Operating the searchlights, Anders kept the area ahead of the vehicle illuminated. As time drew on, Anders began to develop questions for his passenger.

“So, tell me about yourself,” Anders said, attempting to break the ice. “What does your lot do for a living?”

“Well, I’m not sure what ever ah say could impress you,” Apple Bloom started. “But my family manages an apple orchard past the other end of the forest.”

“So, these apples, are they part of the vegetation?” Anders asked.

“Apples are fruit silly,” she laughed. “Don’t apples grow where you live?”

“Technically nothing grows on our homeworld,” Anders said as he thought hard about Vendolant.

“Really?! Apple Bloom exclaimed, troubled by the thought. “Then what do you folk have to live on?”

Anders chuckled as he thought of life under the hive, eventually it deteriorated into laughter when the deepness of the question seemed tragic in retrospect. Much of his memory is shut off from the events he lived through before conscription, and the little fragments that he did remember never made him regret forgetting about his home.

“What’s so funny?” Apple Bloom asked, worried about the awkward laughter.

“Nothing,” he lied. “I suppose you can say we import foodstuff from other worlds. There are entire worlds dedicated to agriculture to compensate for what we cannot produce ourselves.”

“So like a farm stretching across a whole region?”

“More like the whole planet, but you get the idea,” he corrected.

“That sounds amazing, that’s got to be a neat place to live,” she replied enthusiastically.

“I guess it does, as long as no xenos try to invade or anything. So about these apples, what kind of preparing do they need before they’re edible?” Anders asked, interested in talking about food now that some of the crew back at the stronghold were constructing a mess hall.

“Well, you can eat it raw if you like, but there are so many uses,” Apple Bloom started like she was going to pitch at the market, but was interrupted.

“Raw? Isn’t that dangerous?” asked Anders.

“How the hay could apples be dangerous?” Apple Bloom exclaimed as if amused by the prospect. “Maybe when you come to town I’ll show you how not dangerous apples are.”

The search lights began to illuminate the edges of the river. Anders cut off the conversation to duck down under the hatch to inform the driver.

“We’re coming up at the water source. Back up towards it so we can make this quick,” he called to Dale.

Backing towards the river, the Chimera’s rear hovered slightly above the water. After commanding the vehicle to stop, Anders climbed down to the cargo hold, maneuvered though the tanks stored within to deploy the ramp. Hurling a vacuum tube into the river, he activated a pump to feed the tanks. Climbing back topside, Anders found Dale sitting at the edge, watching his progress.

“It should take almost twenty minutes for the pump to fill all three, so I guess we’re allowed to relax for a bit,” Dale suggested as Anders slumped down at a different corner in response.

“So, is there anything we should be worried about?” Dale asked Apple Bloom.

“Nothin’ much really, I suppose the most dangerous thing I heard being out in these parts is a dragon, but they don’t usually stick around long,” she said casually.

“And I thought you said dragons,” Dale chuckled. “So what else are there, manticores; hydras; maybe a basilisk?”

“Yes on two of them, but I’m not sure what the third one is,” Apple Bloom said, maintaining her casual tone.

“Can we talk about something else,” Anders peeped up. “I kind of want to enjoy the peace without thinking of potential dangers.”

They shared a moment of silence with only the ambience of the river with the added sounds emanating from the pump providing them company. Dale suddenly noticed Apple Bloom staring at his shoulder pad.

“What is bothering you now?” He asked.

“That mark on your uh,” she paused, searching for a word to describe a piece of clothing. “Shoulder? Is that a cutie mark?”

“A cutie what?” He replied, cringing at the word.

Curious about what she meant, Dale looked frantically around the area she described in case there was something on his flak armour.

“Hey Dale, I think she’s talking about your insignia,” Anders said, pointing at his shoulder guard.

“Oh that,” Dale said, relieved by the false alarm. “We don’t call them marks. This here is my insignia, 49th Mechanized to be precise. Anders’ is insignia is from the 31st Grenadiers.”

“So they’re like teams?” she asked, thinking about the assignments given during the transitional event dividing winter from spring.

“More like platoons,” Dale corrected. “Each tasked with a different role when we go to war. Obviously my task is driving this vehicle, while Anders is organized into mortar battery.”

“Okay, so how do you earn your cutie- ah mean, insignia?” Apple Bloom asked, hoping to learn some pointers on how she can get her own.

“It was given to us way back when we were conscripted,” Anders added. “We are divided into whatever spots are vacant and we are trained to operate the tools or weapons to be proficient in.”

“So you don’t earn it when you find your special talent?” She asked, her spirits sinking as their methods doesn’t sound helpful.

“Not really,” Dale answered, becoming confused at the direction of this conversation. “Depending on how well you perform is how they decide on promoting some to Sergeants and above. So, are your kind also divided into teams.”

“Not really, pretty much everypony’s cutie mark is special to them and is earned when they discover that talent,” Apple Bloom said, silently envying those who’ve already received them.

“So, who bestows this ‘mark’ on the individual?” Dale asked, kind of interested if this subject could provide some insight on their society.

“They are supposed to magically appear at the right moment,” she said vaguely.

“Riiiight,” Anders added in a strange tone that caused Dale to look up. “What in Holy Terra’s that across the river?”

Forgetting the conversation they were sharing, Apple Bloom and Dale immediately focused their sights where he indicated. After seeing nothing out of the ordinary, Dale stopped searching and focus his attention elsewhere, like looking for his lasgun.

“I’m pretty sure you’re just seeing things,” Dale said dismissively, inching his way towards the turret. “The tanks should be full up in the next five minutes or so.”

He then noticed that Apple Bloom was still staring at what Anders pointed towards. Taking this as a confirmation for his comrade’s concerns, he crawled towards the turret hatch to grab a weapon. Tossing a lasgun to Anders, they both pointed their firearms towards the darkness. Suddenly, Dale saw what they were staring at as his eyes adjusted to the dark.

A pair of dark red orbs was seen across the river. Not waiting for permission, Apple Bloom leaped into the turret hatch to hide while Anders and Dale held their position. It suggested that there is only one of them, but that didn’t put the guardsmen at ease. Holding their fire, the two continued to aim their lasguns at whatever it was as they contemplated on what to do next.

“It’s just standing still,” Dale whispered. ”Apple Bloom, do you know what they are?”

“It’s a zombie,” she replied, poking her head from the hatch. ”But ah didn’t think they’d wander out this far from Sunny Town.”

“A fitting name,” Anders replied, trying to keep them talking so as not to lose his wits. “Dale, should we open fire?”

“Negative,” he answered swiftly. ”A las-shot could be heard all the way from camp. They’d be put on high alert and Emperor knows how many more we’ll attract with that noise.”

“What do you propose?” Anders asked, lack of movement the red eyes made were unnerving him.

“I’d say, we wait for the tanks to fill and we bolt out of here,” Dale ordered, sharing his spooked tone.

“Right, but the moment it tries to cross the river, we open fire,” Anders said.

As they waited in anticipation, the suspense began to chew on their nerves and they wanted desperately to put an end to this standoff.

“Apple Bloom,” Dale whispered, making her flinch. “Do these things talk?”

“Uh, yeah they should,” she said unconvincingly.” Or at least they spoke to me when ah first saw them.”

“Dale, whatever you’re thinking,” Anders said warningly. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Oi! Dale shouted across the stream. “Are you dead?!”

Anders was about to curse his comrade for the idiotic statement, but then a voice replied. A ghostly echo from beyond crept into their senses that made all three of them listen.

“Count the seven,” said the abyssal voice, barely audible from the sound of the water.

“Oh great,” Anders exclaimed his annoyance. “It’s cryptic.”

“Seven what?!” Dale replied, but the red orbs began to fade back into the darkness.

“Answer me!”

“Are you dense,” Anders objected. “Don’t call it back.”

“I guess that ended better than we could hope,” Apple Bloom said, relieved that the creature was gone and not concerned by its warning.

“Quick, now that it’s gone, let’s pack up,” Anders ordered as he leaped onto the ramp and reeled in the pump.

Not a minute passed before they were hauling back to camp with their cargo clamped down and the hatches secured. This time, they unanimously decided to be inside the Chimera instead of riding top side for the return trip. The brightly lit interior was calming as they recovered from the strange encounter.

“You sure that was a zombie,” Dale asked. “Because zombies don’t have glowing eyes and or give riddles.”

“It sounded like a ghost to me,” Anders pitched in. “Perhaps it was trying to warn us?”

“If only our Psyker was awake,” Dale wondered. ”He’d decipher whatever secrets are in this strange forest.”

“I’m glad to be inside for a change, ah hate the forest at night,” Apple Bloom stated.

“I take it that the forest is more dangerous at night,” Anders suggested. “Or whatever brought us here scared the denizens off, and now they’re coming back.”

“Ya mean that thunder storm last night was your doing?” Apple Bloom asked.

“Could be,” Dale answered, keeping his sights on the trail. “We should be back any second now.”

Not a moment later they heard a gasp from the driver which made the passengers stand up with caution.

“By the Emperor, looks like they got the power restored,” exclaimed Dale, followed by relief from the others.

Anders opened the hatch to see what got Dale excited. The once old ruined castle was now lit up with activity. Some areas were beginning to resemble the holdout shelter that they garrisoned back at the Greyon air base on Medusa V. The masonry arranged into sturdier rigid patterns; windows downsized into smaller slits to minimize exposure; sandbag fortifications overlooking the bridge; and to top that off, the Regimental Banner flew freely above the strongholds entrance.

“It looks,” Apple Bloom started. “Different.”

“Indeed it does,” Dale replied. “Let’s get our delivery to the mess hall; I’m ready to chow down.”

“Hear hear,” Anders said in agreement.