The End is the Beginning

by Commissar Elusive

Rating: teen
Tags: Crossover, Dark, Human, Adventure
Length: 54843

Survivors of the Imperial Guard on Medusa V escape their fate to find themselves on a bizarre world.

The Age of the Imperium is coming to an end. The Emperor's light glows dim as time continues it's endless march. There can be no peace among the stars. No safety can be found in the void. Attacked from within by separatists and heretics, besieged from without by xenos and daemons. His domain dwindles, planet by planet and system by system. The High Lords of Terra are forced to partake in wars ever more costly and apocalyptic. Survival is no birthright, but a prize wrestled from an uncaring galaxy by forgotten heroes. As the darkness close in, the Imperium of Man are at war as never before. A hundred thousand warzones are spread across the galaxy, wracked in constant endless unremitting war. This is humanity's darkest hour.

In the Eastern Fringe of the Ultima Segmentum, the Medusa V campaign is coming to a close as the Warp Anomaly Van Grothes' Rapidity moves to consume the planet. Facing this bizarre and deadly celestial phenomenon, the Imperial Guard are deployed to evacuate as many citizens their cargo can hold will while fending off the heretical forces of Chaos and opportunistic xeno raiders taking advantage of the discord. But their efforts comes at a terrible price and the Guardsmen of the 82nd Vendolant are abandoned to their doom. In their final act of defiance, they'll have to make a decision between duty and destiny.

The Imperium (as well as myself) thanks these individuals for helping me proofread this fiction:
Macharius
Falling Brass
Voskhod
and Dozy Dreamer

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-01-02 13:28:33 UTC

Chapter One: Impending Doom

+++++Transmitted: *undisclosed location*

+++++Destination: All Imperial Guard and allied elements

+++++Origin: Lord Marshal Harazahn

+++++Decode Authority: Magenta

+++++Issue: RE: Final Mission

+++++Thought for the Day: "A Man with nothing can still offer his life!"

+++++Time Remaining: 2 Days--error-- [Estimate revision:  5 hours]

Soldiers of the Imperium: Victory is ours! Once again we deny the efforts of the Ruinous Powers and saved the citizens of Medusa V from a horrible fate. You were there to blunt the Arch Enemy's offensive and protected the evacuation zones on ever hive city on this planet. You have withstood the horrors of our fallen and displayed unfaltering vigilance to the xenos who fought to thwart our mission.

But on this solemn day, Victory has come with a terrible cost. Our Total Victory was won from the sacrifice of many millions of our valiant guardsmen. In that, we honour their lives with the billions we have saved and are now far in the safety of the void. Unfortunately the warp storm has made it impossible for any further evacuations. As reality breaks down around us, the Imperial Navy withdraws with their bulkheads filled to capacity, leaving us stranded. The fleets has already departed in the wake of the impending storm for fear of becoming entangled by the Rapidity, we are not getting off this planet.

In the light of this dreadful news, I order this final mission: Ensure our enemies do not escape. If we are to face oblivion, we will sell our lives dear!

The Emperor Protects!

+++++ Transmission Terminated

The remaining Imperial guardsmen on the ground looked up in envy as the last transport shuttle receded from view, silhouetted against the raging warp storm swallowing up the sky. Though the war had been won, their districts secured, this was a moment that they should embrace with pride. But fear and despair was all they felt at that moment as a cold realization dawned on every guardsmen's mind, "They've left us to die."

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"This is insane! All this time we were at war and High Command neglected to fabricate an exit strategy?!"

Many High Ranking Officers and the General Staff of the Hydra Zone have been recalled for an emergency meeting concerning the dire situation. There were around fifty occupants gathered in an oval chamber overlooking a holographic image of the planet in the center. The diversity of the occupants varied from the proud Mordians, to the tough looking Catachans, the stern Vostroyans and everyone else in between.

"And the Observers neglected to inform us of actual time the storm is about to hit?!"

"The fact of the matter is what's done is done". A Cadian Officer took control of the conversation as the last visual representations of the Imperial Fleet winked off the holo-display.

"The topic for which we are gathered here is to discuss methods on how to endure the storm".

Colonel Constantine's mind trailed off as he recollected the last several days. The drop to the planet's surface was largely uneventful due to the relatively tame airspace of their landing zone. It had been all downhill from then on as relentless attacks from daemonic incursions materializing from nowhere inflicted severe damage to all regiments station in the hive. Within days, the great majority of his regiment was lost in conflicts spread across Sybilla Primus. Two Days ago the hive city was declared a lost cause and was abandoned to avoid close-quarter engagements with chaos forces, his 82nd were one of the last to make it out of that dreaded hive alive.

Now he found himself in Geryon Airbase, the last stronghold remaining, along with whatever was left of Imperial leadership in the region. Other surviving regiments had also consolidated at the stronghold to make their last stand before fate pried the life out from them all.

"The vast subterranean networks will most likely be our most valuable stratagem to survive the warp storm. With the very earth utilized as a buffer, our survival will fare better than any stronghold on the surface."

The meeting drove onward as officers contributed to the topic. Despite the dire circumstances, the debate was everything but disorganized. Always moving forward; never shooting down a suggestion, but never perused those with unfavorable outcomes.

"Indeed, but we must also account for the number of access points all over this complex."

There was some muttering until an Officer of Krieg jumped in.

"Our engineers can see to it that the access points are limited once demolition teams make short work of them."

"Or perhaps there should be none at all." Constantine added, the occupants in the room looked at him in silence. Intentionally trapping themselves underground was not a comfortable thought and their silence demanded explanation.

"Once the warp storm reaches the surface, no one in the right mind will want to bear witness as the very ground we stand transform into a hellscape. Better that we entomb ourselves underground then be destroyed utterly by the endless onslaught of daemons and other warp twisted things that will infest the surface. Either we attempt to preserve ourselves from the apex of the storm or we die in a blaze of glory that will be remembered by no one."

A moment of silence passed as his words were digested. Even though the idea was blunt and uninspired, he knew that doom and destruction was the only alternative, an outcome that everyone wanted to avoid at any cost.

"Your suggestion is sound." The Cadian broke the silence. "I agree that it would be folly to consider blunting the storm head on. We should also fabricate long term goals if we are to survive indefinitely. Eventually, we may be able to make contact with other regions if they survive as well."

"I wouldn't dwell on the thought," added a grim Vostroyan Officer.

"Satellite links have been severed by the warp storm, cutting off all intercontinental communications across all battlezones. As far as we know, we are the only ones left on this forsaken planet."

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Far from the military installation where the conference dragged on, past the air terminals that had once been busy with non-stop shuttle activity, a lone sentinel stood guard overlooking the trenches positioned just before the vast airstrip stretching out towards the Ash Wastes. Scattered throughout the airstrip are warehouses and hangar bays ranging from all sorts of material goods and vehicles. Under normal circumstances, the Imperial Guard would have had these structures guarded and extend their trench networks beyond the perimeter of the airstrip. But in an effort to concentrate troops into a feasible defensible posture, such actions were necessary to abandon these structures.

The lone orange sentinel turned and scanned the horizon, its multi-spectrum targeter scanning the surroundings.

"4th sweep, still nothing." Verticora had been spending a considerable amount of time keeping watch over the airstrip as the rest of his comrades dealt with fortifications.

"Acknowledged," replied the voice in his vox-caster, "might as well cool your engines now. Voltis has returned and his servants will keep a look out for the time being."

"Copy that Briggs, I already see them now."

He paused for a moment to watch a pair of Servo Skulls float past him. He knew these two skulls had names given to them by the Enginseer, but could never tell them apart. Agrippa and Helix for the most part are almost exactly alike in appearance, but their behavior was less than subtle. One was annoyingly intrusive while the other was shy, but creepy when things get claustrophobic. One of the ongoing problems with this identity crisis is that Voltis usually addressed the pair rather than called them out individually.

"Inform the others, I'm making my approach."

Carefully, he navigated the Sentinel down into the trench before maneuvering the length of the system towards the holdout shelter. For the most part, the trench was unoccupied, passing a guardsmen every hundred meters or so. If it were any other day, one might say that their security detail is woefully inadequate, but ever since they arrived at Geryon Airbase, there haven't seen hide or hair of anything remotely hostile other than the celestial event choking out the sky. That and their inevitable doom have caused the garrison to become slightly lax on discipline.

Verticora noticed the trench walls widening, he was close to his destination. Another turn and the gap grew to a large clearing with several vehicles parked along the edges. He dismounted his Sentinel and proceeded to travel the rest of the way on foot. As soon as he turned one last corner, he found himself at the doors to the holdout shelter. No one was guarding it, but that's what he kind of expected.

As the metal door slid open, he caught a waft of a bitter scent of smoke. At the threshold of the shelter, several guardsmen were lounging at a table set up in the center of the room. They were in the middle of a card game, exchanging laughter and smoking Lho sticks. Up on the metallic catwalks on the floor above, a couple guardsmen were idly stationed near the view ports. Passively enjoying the ambiance in the room, glancing at the view outside every so often.

After taking in the surroundings, Verticora proceeded towards the men at the table.

"Derrick, any word of the whereabouts of our Colonel?"

"No Sergeant, not since he left after we got that last message from the Lord Marshal." He said this as if he was bored, but a faint aura of anxiousness could be felt. "The Lieutenant and the Commissar left with him as well. We expect he'd be back soon, he's never left us out of the loop before and he won't begin now even in our final hours."

"It's good to know your faith in our Colonel is still strong Derrick, but do you really believe we’re all going to die?"

Verticora also believed that they were doomed, but one could still hope. Even if hope is often the first step on the road to disappointment, it is the drive that keeps them focused. No one knows what it's like to be stuck in a warp storm, but no one was curious to find out.

"There are legends of Astartes warriors who've gone into the Eye of Terror, emerged from its depths alive and victorious."

"Aye Sergeant, but we are but mortal men. We will eventually succumb to fatigue on our first few days if we are not slain first."

"Still, it is not the guard's way to take that lying down. If we are going to die here, we are going to resist that destiny for as long as humanly possible!"

"Hear hear." Chanted the few within earshot.

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In an empty observation deck, a man in a black coat stood still observing the scenery. High above the airbase, he took this time to enjoy the quiet ambiance broken only by the occasional thunder of distant war. Far beyond Geryon, Hive Sybilla Primus could be seen on the horizon as if part of the mountain range itself. Another sound disturbed his peace, someone was approaching.

"Commissar Holt, I knew you would be here", called Colonel Constantine, stepping through the threshold. The two men shared a moment silence before the Commissar spoke up.

"I assume you realize where this leaves us."

"The part about that there's still a war to fight or the part about the forecast of this seemingly anything but normal day."

"You still maintain your sense of humour even the face of our hour of doom," Holt glared at the Colonel for his calm stance. "Or have you become ignorant the world falling apart all around you."

"If you wish to express your opinion on the matter I would gladly hear it." Constantine returned as he approached his side.

Commissar Holt turned to face the window overlooking the vast airstrip. Somewhere out there, their regiment was within the trench lines; most likely idle due to the lack of action in this side of the Ash Wastes that made up most of this side of the continent.

"Moments before our descent, you remember what you asked of me?"

"Of course, I also recall that you had no objection to stow your pistol and leave judgments to me. I am very thankful for your cooperation and I hope that you too can feel the appreciation from me and the guardsmen."

"Indeed I have, but there is something more to behind my decision not to embrace the way of the executioner."

There was a pause as the Commissar thought up a way to deliver his piece. Medusa's sun was beginning to set on the world, illuminating the room with a blood red light.

"Decades ago on my assignment to the Lord Commander of Volistad, I had learned many things that proved to be worth more than the tactical value of Tank Battalions. I discovered something as valuable as any strategic asset that cannot be requisition by order or decree. Can you guess what this may be?"

"Exterminatus?" Constantine guessed followed by the Commissar nodding 'no'.

"Respect, Colonel. A universal language that speaks louder than vox commands or the barking of orders. It is respect that can make a regiment withhold their competitive nature among themselves, to embrace cooperation and efficiency mirroring that of any Astartes chapter. It is respect that can unite entire campaigning assets into one coordinated effort that can rival crusades. It is what drives the Imperial guard to accomplish the impossible and look upon their efforts with pride."

"I can see where you are going with this, but a Commissar such as yourself must have thought intimidation can earn you the same results here and there."

"Yes of course, but intimidation is a double edged sword. Sure it can be useful if you don't intend on rejoining the same platoon ever again. Fear begets resentment and resentment can turn to hatred if a Commissar executes the wrong person, and it is all up to imagination as to what would happen next."

"How had you become enlightened to this revelation in your previous campaign?" Constantine was intrigued by this enigmatic Commissar as he could see a grin forming on his face.

"On my arrival on Volistad, I was to meet with one of the most inadequate and disgraceful Planetary Governor that shamed the name of the Emperor's Proxy. Over looked an entire Ork invasion and expected his servants to deal with this threat as if it were common civil malcompliance. Haven't it not been for our intervention, Volistad would had fallen. Our forces were varied, but not united. It then became an effort to unite all the regiments that made planet fall before we were able to take back the region. Eventually communication with all Imperial Assets was re-established, including a Titan Legion whose Tech Adepts were all too grateful for us breaking the Gargaunt blockade keeping them hidden within their mountain strongholds."

There was another pause; Commissar Holt squinted as the sun was now more than half way beneath the horizon.

"Grateful for our efforts, they no longer listened to the orders given to them by the incompetent Governor, but to my General Staff. It was there when we reformed the command structure into a more efficient and carefully thought out configuration. If it were any other world, getting any two different regiments to cooperate will be a battle in its own right, but through a common allegiance won by our Lord Commander, Mordian, Tallarn, Volistad and even His XIII Legion fought with unprecedented unison. It was not long before the continent was retaken and Skrull, the Ork Warlord, neutralized. It was with great honor that we saved another Imperial world from the xenos threat, but it was made ever more significant by lessons learned and what respect can invoke."

"I'm surprised that you haven't ascended to Commissar Lord with this insightful tale."

"Indeed, but unfortunately, the Departmento Munitorium is more interested in the ends rather than the means. It is to my dissatisfaction that there are curtain 'prerequisites' that's needed to be fulfilled before then. I am more likely to become an Inquisitor than a Lord Commissar. Even so, I don't believe I will get a chance for either now, as we bear witness to the last sunset we will ever see with living eyes."

"Not to mention this will be the last that will ever graces this planet," Constantine said as the blood red colors began to cool into a darker shade, the light retreating into the horizon as if it too wanted to escape the storm.

As soon as the last rays of the sun fell below the horizon, a new source of light began to penetrate now that the sun could no longer interfere. A purple and pink glow began to overwhelm all that could be seen in the distance. The warp storm was approaching. The sky itself, with the strange spectrum of colors, changing as it absorbed the energies licking at the atmosphere. Inky trails began to weave through the sky, liquid-like in description, it spread until it was thick with the immaterial substance. The storm currents began to influence this new phenomenon, mixing the ink trails. There was no pattern, no direction, and no purpose. This is the nature of Chaos and Emperor have mercy on the unfortunates that stood in its way. It was still a few hours or less before the storm actually reach the surface as what little atmosphere between them acts as a buffer zone; temporarily damming the storm as it adapts to the new world.

"It's time for us to go," said Constantine in a more urgent tone. "We need to get back to the regiment and rally the troops. If we are to follow through with the plan, the demolition teams mustn't be disturbed.

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Back at the holdout shelter, Brennr, Larn and Sketch were preparing the meals in the mess hall. This was not as complicated as it seemed, only involving the mixing of tasteless nutrient rich substances in several great pots, and converting it into an oatmeal-like paste. A ration bar was added to the side of the meal, also tasteless, also a necessity for a decent source in protein.

"Hey Brennr, do you remember what it was like to have a real meal back on our homeworld?" Sketch said to pass the time.

"What real meal?" he replied to scattered chuckles. But there was a slight truth to the answer; most of the regiment was recruited from the lower hive districts from their homeworld on Vendolant. Back there, lower society was organized into gangs, those that were not had to endure the many turf wars that plagued the city. Supplies and foodstuffs were always hard to come by as the gangs fought over what little they had. With that incentive they were all the more willing to being conscripted in to the guard just to get out of that hellish pit. Even in their final hours, they still haven't regretted that decision.

"I suppose we are no better off than before, right?" Brennr said as the chuckles subsided.

"We're always no better off," Larn added as he tasted their product. "No one in this galaxy is better off."

"Perhaps so, but it wouldn't look so grim if we focus on the 'now' instead of what will." Alicia had entered the room. She was a different person now that she's not in space. Much calmer after the drop, but acutely aware of what's going to happen. She continued speaking, grabbing a tray and ration bar.

"Sergeant Verticora is back by the way. Nothing new, but I'm sure the mood will get a whole lot worse when the Colonel returns."

"How can it get any worse?" Sketch said as she turned off the heat to the pot. "We've been abandoned, and the storm is almost here. The fact that the Colonel is still here to remain should be an inspiration."

"Agreed, but I'm more worried about the part when we all die. Even if he comes back with something I just cannot foresee how anything good will come of it." Alicia left after receiving a scoop of the pasty meal to find a seat at one of the tables scattered throughout the mess hall.

Not long afterward, many of the guardsmen stationed in the shelter started filling in for their meal. Brennr, Larn and Sketch remained to distribute the foodstuffs. As more personnel arrived they were able to identify most of the guardsmen by name. There was Raf and Anders, part of a Heavy weapons platoon along with Alicia. Davir and Samson, including Sketch are Exotic Weapon Specialists. Darrick and Korin are vox casters; usually there was one in each squad, providing the means to communicate between other squads. Dale the driver for the Chimera and Mathias, another Guardsman like Brennr and Larn. Then came Sergeant Verticora the Sentinel pilot, he bore the highest rank among the guardsmen in the room before the Lieutenant. Briggs and Doctor Graff were next, soon afterward the Psyker appeared.

Karos was a Sanctioned Psyker. Most of the time he operated alone whenever he was not needed, his self imposed solitude is more of a precaution as well as a habit. Because of the inevitable warp storm, some in the regiment are a bit wary of his presence. No one knew if he is getting stronger or weaker, neither thought is comforting, but arriving in the mess hall normally like everyone else was reassuring. He must've known of the impending doom better than anyone else in the room, which made it all the more frightening to be around him.

In about 5 minutes, the mess hall was crowded with most of the survivors in the regiment, somewhere near a hundred strong. The mess hall was small and bland with concrete walls and steel framing. Above them, standards from each platoon hung from the ceiling. Some of which were still active, but many are there in remembrance to the fallen. Most of the guardsmen were already finished with their meals, but having nothing to do and with everyone here in the same place, many were engaged in conversation.

Finished with distributing the foodstuffs, Brennr and Larn seated themselves next to Karos, each taking a spot on both his flanks.

"So, exalted Psyker, you go by Karos, am I right?" Larn asked nervously.

"I know you are not here to ask me my name, Guardsman Larn." He replied coldly. "I also know the answers you seek will not satisfy your curiosity."

"I'm not too interested in what the warp is up to or how to fight it. I am more concerned about your well being." Brennr leaped into the discussion causing Karos to face him instead.

"I am well, thanks for your concern." There was sarcasm in what he said, but after foreseeing the next questions from Brennr and Larn, he decided to give up early and give them what they wanted.

"The warp screams all around us, breaking down reality as we know it. It has not touched down on our battlezone yet, but I hear the writhing and screaming as the immaterium encloses on every corner of Medusa V. It is all I can do for my mind to block out the noise, but as the darkness gathers around us, I don't know how much longer I can resist."

The two guardsmen stood their ground as they took in the new info. Karos was right, they didn't like the response and their looks of fear showed it.

"On a lighter note, the Colonel is back," Karos finished.

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"At ease." Constantine immediately said as he entered the mess hall. "The General Staff had come up with a contingency plan that may be our only salvation."

Everyone in the mass hall was at and attention staring at the Colonel. The idea that a plan was actually fabricated in the wake of the storm lifted their spirits and the guardsmen wanted to know more. There was no need for a microphone; as long as everyone remained quiet, the echo in the room would be sufficient enough to reach every occupant in the room.

"Back at the command centre, within the airbase, the subterranean levels below Greyon Base is believed to be adequate enough to shield us and all the regiments stationed in this base from the worst of the storm."

This news was very welcome to the guardsmen in the room. The mood was almost cheerful now that there is a reason to hope.

"But the problem is the number of access points to the underground levels. Demolition teams are currently at work at closing all but one access point. Once all others are sealed, we will withdraw through the final entrance, then and only then will the last exit be sealed, we'll be safe from the eyes of the Arch enemy's minions and it is our hopes that they will not detect our presence once we are safely underground."

There was a murmur of agreement and confusion spreading throughout the mess hall.

"I'm sure you might be thinking, what next? What are we going to do afterward? Unfortunately, there isn't much I can say on the matter because we haven't thought through with what will happen next. No one has done this before and we are treading in unfamiliar territory, but we need to be put on high alert. We must stand ready to move out once the engineers are finished with their duty. Until then, we must stand guard and prepare for anything to happen between now and the moment we deploy."

"Colonel Sir!" Karos' unexpected interruption startled many of the occupants in the room including the Colonel. There was complete silence as everyone waited for the Psyker to follow through.

"They.. are.. coming.." He finally blurted out. Their horrors were confirmed when the vox casters suddenly became alive with sound.

"Unknown contacts sighted along the perimeter!"

"Everyone to you positions and prepare for battle!"

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As the guardsmen quickly filed out of the holdout shelter, some paused to gape at the scenery before them. A fog was slowly moving in, but from an unknown source. A light mist was fuming from the grounds as if frozen, but the temperature was still relatively warm. The mist went largely unnoticed as the attention was focused at the sky, or what was left of it. The star lit night was now swimming with a large assortment of colors ranging from magenta to bright pink that overwhelmed nearly all corners of the sky. The surface was illuminated by the warp storm as if it were day, but with none of its warmth. As the trench lines began to fill, the sentry turrets sprung to life and heavy bolter teams signaled that they were good to go, it was around this time they realized that the fog was not as it seemed to be. It appeared to be controlled; it held its ground several hundred meters from their positions and steadily accumulating more gasses from the surroundings.

"Colonel Constantine to all units!" He shouted into Briggs' terminal. "Equip your re-breathers and lock them down, whatever you do, don't take them off under any circumstances!"

For several moments the fog held its ground. After about what felt like an eternity did the fog began to drift towards them.

"Targets on the move! 800 meters and closing!"

"What targets?!" Someone objected back through the vox.

Vox chatter was beginning to flood the air waves. Many of them are the repeat of the same question, "When do we open fire?"

"Infrared can see them as clear as day! Trust me! 700 meters! Hold your fire till they are 200 meters away."

"Sir, there is a call from the Cadians!" Briggs shouted over the vox chatter coming from his station.

"Let me see that," he said, taking the comm link from Briggs.

"The 91st Cadian Basilisk Battery, call-sign Nemesis, are awaiting orders!" replied the speaker.

"Acknowledged Nemesis, calculate your battery vectors, sector two-one-two, designation null plus 200! Acquire your targets and await orders to fire salvos!"

"600 meters!"

"I can see them, targets are emerging from the fog! There are thousands of them!

"What are they?! Can you identify them?" Constantine shouted back hoping the transmitter will copy.

"Bloody heretics! They're charging!"

"500 meters!"

"Wait till their within 200 before you open fire!"

They started to hear the traitor's charge, their screams for blood was audible through the gusts of wind that was beginning to pick up in the wake of the storm. Had the impending warp storm whipped them into a frenzy or this was desperation maneuver, no one cared. All they cared about was that they were being attacked.

"400 meters!"

Constantine continued shout orders, "Keep yourselves cool and sharp, no firing till they reach the kill zone!"

By now, every Guardsman had their lasgun trained towards the charging masses as well as several of the adjacent trench lines garrisoned by their counterparts. A faint tremor could be felt as the traitors stampede towards them.

"300 meters!"

"Enemies closing in," Constantine said. "Prepare to fire!"

The anxieties that had been present on board the Bulk Lander were returning to some of the occupants in the trenches, but unlike before, they were in control of their fates now.

"Bringer of death, speak your name; For you are my life and my foe's death." Brennr whispered to his lasgun.

"200 meters!

"On my mark, FIRE!"

At the same instant, every guardsmen on the line opened fire, sending a bright fusillade of lasfire burning through the air towards the incoming traitors. With it came a sudden flurry of airbursts as dozens of earthshaker shells thundered into no-mans-land, exploding in a deadly hail of shrapnel. Then came the blinding flash of lascannon beams, and the deafening rat-a-tat cracks of heavy bolter rounds. The withering torrent of fire tore into the charging traitors, delivering swaths of carnage throughout their suicidal charge.

In a few moments the heretical forces were meet with an untimely end. Several seconds after the second salvo of artillery ended, no more movement could be seen besides the fog that encroached ever closer. It was then when they realized what the true purpose of the gas.

As the fog reached where the dead traitors lie, their bodies appeared to absorb the foul gasses. Before their eyes, the dead began to rot at an alarming speed, transforming them into rotting parodies of their former selves. One by one they began to rise, and one by one, they resumed their advance.

"Their getting back up! Resume the attack!"

Once more the torrent of fire began as volley after volley was sent screaming towards the undead horde. But unlike their living counterparts, they were a lot more resilient to most of their weapons. Fewer were dropping as shots hit their mark.

"100 meters!

"They're getting closer, said a panicked voice from the vox, "should we fix bayonets?!"

"If it comes to that, we're good as dead!" Constantine replied as shock at what was going on was unfolding before his men.

"Keep firing!"

"There's no stopping them! We're going to be overrun!

"Damnation! Stand fast and don't stop firing!"

Sentinel squadrons sprang to action, spewing flames into the rotting masses. Scores of the undead were incinerated and the charge lost momentum as the ground burned. Even with the momentum blunted, the horde continued to advance, pushing and shoving their fallen brethren. Relentlessly, the advance regained momentum. Slowly and purposefully, the undead began to climb the final hill before they could roam among the lively guardsmen protected behind the trenches.

The first of the zombified traitors had reached the trench lines and not long afterwards the vox chatter degenerated into panicked shouts and screams. Standards began to fall as scores of guardsmen were dispatched by the crude blades of the plagued traitors. Several pockets in the trench lines began to rot at alarming speeds as more of the undead masses leaped into the trench lines to engage the doomed guardsmen that were unlucky enough to occupy them.

By now, many of the trenches were lost, and all they could be heard were the cries of pain from the guardsmen unfortunate enough to still be alive as they were possessed by the rot.

"Nemesis, awaiting orders Colonel! Are you still there!?"

"Affirmative Nemesis! Realign your target vectors, sector two-one-two, firing solution designation: null, danger close!"

"Target acquired!"

"Emperor, give me strength to carry out the deed, and Brother, grant me forgiveness for what I am about to do," Constantine said to no one in particular. "Fire!"

The next salvo of earthshaker shells pounded into the forward trench lines, annihilating whatever remains within, Imperial and traitor alike. As the dust settled, much of the landscape was in ruins. Nearly everything but the holdout shelter was left standing. Only a few guardsmen were left standing after the assault.

"All remaining units, fall back to the shelter, we need to concentrate our-" Constantine couldn't finish his orders when a tremor rocked the world around them.

The grounds quaked, throwing everyone to the ground as the demolition teams work took a disastrous turn. A torrent of lightning from the warp storm had struck a nearby entry point rigged to detonate on command. Amplified by the warp energies, the premature detonation split the earth separating the trench system from the air base behind them. The crack continued to grow until a great chasm lay between them, dashing any hope of salvation. Whatever remained of the 82nd Vendolant, they were stuck in the trench with no way out.

"What are we to do now sir?" Several guardsmen were arriving, and the Colonel was too distracted to tell who it was.

"We're doomed, we'll not make it out of here."

"Colonel Sir! We're getting a transmission from headquarters, they want to talk to you." Briggs said carrying his master vox.

"Put it on speaker, we can all listen in."

"Colonel Constantine, we've become aware of your situation, and we have prepared a Deathstrike Warhead for launch. The atmospheric interference has rendered the targeting system useless and we feel that it should be your honour to designate the target."

No one spoke a word after this news. They all knew what they meant when they said 'designate'. They expected the 82nd Vendolant to call down the warhead on themselves.

"Stand-by." Constantine replied back. "How long is the window of opportunity before it is lost?"

"Lockdown will commence in about ten minutes, after that you are on your own."

"Acknowledged, remain on stand-by and we will provide you your target."

He looked to his regiment to see that there were no longer a complete squad. Nearly every Guardsman was a last survivor from a lost squad. Some were wounded, but were still able to stand tall. A single orange Sentinel, with its armored canopy lost after the bombardment, emerged from the dust. No more than forty guardsmen remain in the regiment that had once been several thousand. Knowing that it was hopeless to consider an attempt to save themselves, he could not bring himself to order his men to die.

"Surely, when faced with such a foe all notions of strategies and tactics must be cast upon the wind." Commissar Holt appeared suddenly from the trenches, his black coat ripped in several areas, but he appeared unwounded. He continued to speak through his gas mask.

Constantine remembered that text from the tome 'Tactica Imperialis'. He turned to the Commissar as he continued to listen.

"Instead he must reach deep into his soul and the souls of his men, and there he will find there the greatest, most terrible weapon in his arsenal," the Commissar continued. "Utter devotion to die in the service of the Emperor, even as death itself reaches out to claim him."

"Very inspirational Commissar Holt, but are you also willing choose to die now than wait it out as long as you can."

"It doesn't have to be here, but it will be all the more worth it if this also means to hit the enemy where it hurts most in the process." Commissar Holt paused as he considered his next question. "If anyone has an idea of where we should designate the target?"

Lieutenant Dalia stepped forward. "There is an Ammunition Warehouse across the airstrip, but it is beyond the fog and we cannot see what may be there. If we were to rush into that Warehouse with everything we got, we could then transmit the coordinates to guide down the warhead. The blast yield will definitely be amplified by the volume of ordinance stored within, it will be a parting gift that will not be forgotten by our enemy."

"Resourceful as always Lieutenant." He looked towards the rest of the guardsmen. "Are we all ready to do this men?"

"Ready and willing sir!" Verticora said from his sentinel.

"Ready to die for the Emperor! Brennr called from the crowd, followed by affirmatives and similar pledges from the others.

"Prepare yourselves men, we shall show these traitors the meaning of valor!" The Commissar replied back to the survivors.

"Sir," Karos said while clutching his head. "They're coming back!"

"Quickly men! We must beat them to it or we're gonna get stuck here! Over the top!" Barked Constantine, raising the regimental Standard, climbing up the dirt walls to lead the charge.

What ever remained of the heavy weapons swiftly piled into the last remaining Chimera. As they did so, the remnants of the 82nd Vendolant climbed up from the steep trenches. Weapons blazing, the survivors went over the top and blasted their way towards glory, death or whatever awaited them as they followed the Colonel's regimental Standard. The Chimera and Sentinel easily caught up with the advance and were the first ones to plunge into the fog, disappearing from view. One by one, the infantry followed suit, trailing behind the massive silhouette of the vehicles at the lead. Had it not been for their masks, one could easily stray from the group without the aid of acute senses hardwired into their helmets; or worse, they could be dangerously exposed to the unknown gases surrounding them.

Before them was the product of the last assault, remains of victims littered the grounds as they passed over heretical and Imperial in equal measure. The very air screamed with the plaintive wailing of the dead as the regiment advanced, voices from beyond entreating the 82nd to turn back lest they too be enslaved for all eternity. They did not turn back, but continue to sprint forward through the disease infested hellscape, into the wailing winds thrown up by the unquiet dead. What horrors called forth from the realm beyond only made the advance all the more frantic.

They passed several anchored down aircraft in their advance. From Marauders, Thunderbolts and finally Valkyries all lined in neat rows, but rendered unusable in the event of a warp storm. The Chimera was the first to reach the distant structures, the heavy weapons teams had already disembarked and with their combined efforts were sliding the doors to the ammunition warehouse. By the time the rest of the advance caught up the doors were wide enough for the troop transport to squeeze itself through.

"Hurry and close the damned door before those horrible things catch up with us!"

No sooner after Constantine spoke those words did gunfire erupt from outside the outside. The newly arrived Chaos forces were armed with bolters, which can mean only one thing.

"Chaos Space Marines! Close the bloody doors!"

Several guardsmen threw their weight at the door trying to close the door faster. Shots exploded against the thick door as it slowly closed shut. Darkness swallowed the occupants in the room after the door slammed shut. They were safe now for the time being. Constantine stepped back from the door to try to pear into the darkness.

"Can someone get a light here!"

Searchlights flashed on from the Chimera at the request to illuminate the room. Before them was a massive hangar filled with pallets of ordinance, creates of many varieties of ammunition and rows of tanks full of promethium. This was the ideal place to target the Deathstrike warhead.

"Who were those chaos marines outside," Dalia asked the Colonel. "I didn't get a chance to identify their marks."

Commissar Holt approached her after examining the hangar.

"Noxious gasses, rotting landscape, plagued minions; there can only be only one possibility; The XIV Legion."

A loud booming voice rang through the building, vibrating the foundation.

"Greetings faithful servants of the Corpse Emperor!"

The voice chuckled though gurgling sounds as if the speaker's lungs were filled with a foul liquid.

"I am Lord Ignatis, herald of a thousand plagues. Your futile efforts amuse the Great Grandfather and we offer our mercy. Lay down your arms and we will promise you a quick demise.

He ended the demands with giggling that degenerated into wheezing laughter that could make one gag at the foul sounds of sick.

"Briggs, open a channel to HQ, we need to launch that warhead now!" Constantine almost shouted at the Logistics Officer.

"The signal is weak sir! I can't get any reception!"

"You what?!"

The enemy outside began pummeling at the doors attempting to wear them down with their rapid decay.

"Form a firing line men, we need you to buy us time!"

Not having to tell them twice, the guardsmen retreated to seek cover around area the Colonel demanded. Because of the cramped space, there was no room to spread out, heavy bolters were deployed along side with the Chimera and stock troops. All training their weapons at the doors they recently closed. But the pummeling sounds were not coming from the doors alone, soon they realized that the pummeling noise was coming from the walls as well as the entrance. They were coming from every direction.

"Voltis! Verticora! Get over here on the double," the Colonel shouted.

The Enginseer and Sentinel approached the Colonel with haste.

"Quickly, I need you to see if you can boost the signal strength with the multi-spectrum module in your Sentinel!"

"My Sentinel is yours Colonel," replied Verticora.

"I will commune with the Machine Spirit and see your will be done," responded Voltis.

"Sir, whatever you’re doing, you've got to do it fast!" Shouted the Commissar over the pummeling.

Commissar Holt was among the guardsmen waiting behind cover and keeping a close watch over Karos, who was on his knees holding his head.

"Are you alright Psyker?"

"I... I will endure, Commissar," he managed to say.

No two guardsmen pointed their weapons at the same spot, as the pummeling seems to be coming from every direction. Even the ceiling appeared to be in on lashing as sheets of the roof began to peel off.

"Voltis, I need you to hurry!" insisted the Colonel as his tone became more desperate.

"Agrippa, Helix, awaken from your slumber and serve your master!"

The twin servo skills appeared from somewhere in the Enginseer's robes and hovered up to the sentinel to assist with hard wiring the master vox to the module.

"Verticora, divert all power to the support sub-systems!"

"Colonel, I'm starting to get a signal, but it is still too weak!" Briggs shouted over the noise.

"Too late!"

The roof began to buckle and peel off in chunks revealing the sky, the swirling sea of madness looming above them. At the same time, breaches were seen everywhere at ground level. They were getting through.

"This is it, we're done for!"

"I don't care! Open fire!" He barely got the last syllable out before every guardsmen engaged their targets as they cleared the breach.

The skirmish had erupted, each side exchanged shots. The limited visibility forbade them from seeing whether or not their aim was true, but the explosion of flesh and bone coming from their own was convincing enough that their enemies were making theirs. One by one more guardsmen fell as bolter rounds tore through their ranks. These were going to be their last few seconds, they were going to fail their mission.

'This is it,' Brennr thought, 'Merciful Emperor, please! This is so unfair. We cannot die here!'

Suddenly a scream echoed from their ranks and the room became illuminated by a light nearly a hundred times brighter than the searchlights the Chimera produced. Karos was firmly holding his staff which was emitting an intense light that appears to be protecting them all. Incoming shots were rebounding, energy weapons were being absorbed into the light. Most of the Guardsmen held their fire when they realized that their shots were not penetrating. Some took their sights off the walls to glance at Karos's work. It became obvious that they were all within a protective bubble provided by Karos, but this effort was taking a toll on the strength of the bearer.

"Colonel... Help me hold this straight..." He was gesturing towards his staff, approaching it reviled that it was vibrating madly.

Upon touching the staff, pain shot up his arm, like an electric shock that threatened to numb his limbs. The vibration was almost uncontrollable.

"Commissar! Help us!"

Confused by everything around him, Holt complied and gripped the staff. The only thing that could be seen from outside the sphere were the lightning strikes from the warp storm. Like a lightning rod, the protective shield reacted and absorbed each strike, splashing its ethereal plasma and accumulating the energies stored into the light. The Death Guard could have gone almost unnoticed if it weren't for their gurgling of jeers and rage.

"Colonel, we've made it through! HQ is on stand-by and still ready to launch the warhead," Briggs shouted with a relief and dread.

With his other hand not holding down Karos' staff, he reached for the vox caster mic.

"This is Colonel Constantine, confirm firing solution designation: on my coordinates," he shouted into the mic.

"You honor us with your sacrifice Colonel Constantine of the 82nd Vendolant. May Eternity's Gates swing wide for you and your men. Deathstrike missile is inbound now. The Emperor protects."

He clicked off the vox caster and faced his men with pride and grief.

"It has been nearly two decades since I've become your Colonel, and in these two decades you have always come through to the end! But in the face of death your faith in me did not falter, and in that, it was an honour to have lead you!"

As Constantine finished, he notice the brightness within the bubble was increasing in luminosity as lightning strikes continued to slam into the shield. When he looked up, he could barely see the streak lines of the missile bearing down upon them. The guardsmen followed the motion, to witness the event that will bring about the end of their world.

"So this is the end." Constantine said softly.

"The End is the Beginning." Commissar Holt replied as blinding white light consumed the world around them.

Chapter Two: Destiny Denied

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

+++++Destination:--N/A

+++++Origin:--N/A

+++++Decode Authority: --N/A

+++++Subject: --N/A

+++++Thought for the Day: "Every lone spirit doubts his strength."

+++++Time Remaining: null +15 hours

***********static***********

+++++Transmission Terminated

A steady stream of rain fell from an overcast sky. The evening was early, but much of the village folk of Ponyville retired early this night. The soft splashes raining down on the rooftops created a calm atmosphere that lulled the citizens to slumber. This was the beginning of a typical autumn night. Time proceeded its usual course when a flash of lightning interrupted the peace.

A new sound is added to the ambiance, the quiet boom of distant thunder rumbling into the scene. Quickly, the noise diminished and was accepted to be a normal weather phenomenon, but was swiftly followed by another flash and boom. More lightning strikes pounded into the distance, far beyond the Everfree forest, gaining in frequency with every minute. Only the curious postponed their sleep to observe this bizarre event from the safety of their homes.

In but a few short moments, the thunder started to sound more like a distant battle than a typical lighting show. The sky above the lightning impacts were stained with ethereal hues, a cacophony of shrill and strident screams mixed with the boiling thunder. The residents of Ponyville looked into the distance with wonder and fear for strange and terrifying noise flooding the ambiance. Only after the storm seems to have reached its apex, did the lightning strikes ceased. The rumbling thunder began to calm and the weather resumed its normal schedule of gentle rain.

Many moments passed before the last observer wrenched her eyes from the window. Slowly climbing back into bed, recollecting what she had just witnessed, Twilight Sparkle asked herself the same question everypony was asking that very moment: 'What in Celestia's name was that?!"

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Colonel Constantine awoke to find himself surrounded by darkness. He realized that he was on his back and proceeds to get up, but his joints partially refused the command. When he thought he was sitting up, his vision did not improve as the absence of light masked everything from view. Rain was falling overhead; he looked up to see the dim light of stars through patches in an uneven canopy of some sort. Almost as if he was in a forest.

Suddenly he realized that in fact this was a forest and the sky was as no longer filled with the luminous colors of the warp storm. He looked up again and felt the cool droplets of rain hit his mask. Excitement filled his heart as his joints relented and allowed him to stand. But then he took in his surroundings, his joy sinking as he stared into the darkness of the forest. Quickly his joy was replaced by uncertainty as he stumbled on the uneven earth. There were only a few classes of planets that are known to have such a dense abundance of growth. The one on the top of his mind were Death worlds; an entire planet covered in forest; from the hot steaming jungles to the cold thick temperate; where every animal was a carnivore and every plant was poisonous; such was the nature of a Death world.

A red flash began to emit from the distance. He held out a hand to shield the light as a silhouette of someone approached him.

"Colonel Constantine Sir?" Asked the silhouette.

"Doctor Graff?" Replied Constantine.

As Graff approached, he noticed the flare stick he was holding.

"Where did you find that?"

"Got it from the emergency kit on board the Chimera, Enginseer Voltis is working on restoring the search light so we can get a proper look about this place."

"Wait, the Chimera and Voltis are here too?"

As if on cue the search lights from the Chimera flashed on, illuminating the portion of the forest. The ground was littered with unconscious guardsmen, but it wasn't them that fascinated the Colonel, for there seem to be debris everywhere they looked. Freight containers, pallets, creates and parts of the hangar are everywhere; several of the trees appeared uprooted as if knocked over by the foreign objects. Several of the unconscious guardsmen began to stir when the search light passed over them.

"By Terra's golden throne, what happened to this place?"

"Your guess is as good as ours Sir," Graff snapped. "Now if you excuse me, I've got wounded guardsmen to attend to."

Constantine left Graff to his duties and made his way towards the Chimera, continuing to observe the surroundings. While he remembered the abundance of ordinance before the Deathstrike missile detonated, he didn't quite remember the quantity of the freight containers. Perhaps they were from one of the other hangars adjacent to the one that stored the ammunition; if so, a thorough inventory should be undertaken before anything else can be done. Then again, the forest isn't quite an ideal location to establish a makeshift base. The cover is technically great, but a clear terrain would be better for organization and early warning.

Putting these thoughts to the side as he approached the Chimera, he overheard a bit of the conversation between the Enginseer and driver.

"The treads are buried in the mud and will take a considerable amount of time to clear. Apart from that, the Machine Spirit is injured; the engine's condition will have to be diagnosed before attempting activation. Voltis spoke in fatigued, but re-energized tone as he returns to his element.

"You do what you can," replied the driver. "The sooner we get this beast moving the better."

When the Colonel approached, the driver gave him a salute.

"Dale, 49th mechanized division, at your service Sir."

"Glad to hear Dale, we can skip the formalities. There are more important issues that need to be rectified before we return to protocol."

Dale retracts the salute.

"So, for a moment I thought we were all dead, until Graff started knocking on my door. Would you happen to know what the Throne is going on here?"

"A mystery to us all I'm afraid. What I can say for certain is that we are no longer on Medusa. Where we reside now is most likely a better place, but we cannot let our guard down now that the immediate danger passed. We must assume we are on a dangerous world until proven otherwise."

"I suppose that means we should keep our re-breather's on then."

"Indeed, there's no telling if the micro organisms of this world are harmful to us, best be safe than dead."

"Just like in Meekion Station?"

Constantine winced at the mention of that slime pit. Meekion was an orbital mining colony that had a unique eco-system within the continent sized hab-modules; unique being a polite euphemism to describe the place. The 82nd Vendolant were only there for a few weeks as their host fleet stopped for resupply, but the acquisition of said supplies was less than pleasant. Assisting Navy personnel inside the disease ridden labyrinth, the regiment was required to wear protection gear for the entire duration of their visit, even when in their own sanitized stations so there would be absolutely no chance to receive any of the contagious respiratory sicknesses that infest the station.

"Don't remind me of that foul place."

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In only a few moments, the surrounding area was well lit by a variety of light sources. Of course there was the search light from the Chimera plus scattered uses of flares, but the one to quickly overwhelm the shadows were the lamp fixtures that had once been part of the hangar ceiling. Swiftly following the logic that they and the immediate vicinity were transported with them, Enginseer Voltis tasked himself to restoring these lights. With the help of his servo skull servants, the lamps were fixed to several of the low branches of the forest canopy.

A single belch from a mortar tube was heard as heavy weapons personnel launch a probing round into the sky. The pict device within the shell should provide a sense of orientation as to where they are once the device returned to earth. Briggs was standing ready with Alicia and Mathias, his master vox ready to render the information. Constantine observed this from a distance as the Commissar approached him.

"Exactly twenty of us are left," informed Commissar Holt as he returns to his advising role. "However, Karos is unconscious at the moment, Graff is diagnosing his condition, but his physical well-being seems satisfactory."

Like most of the guardsmen, Commissar Holt was quick to shake off confusion and disorientation. All these years of service have trained them to adapt to new environments on a whim, although not as swiftly as such, but within human tolerance. After coming to his senses, Holt proceeded to begin a head count of those that are still alive. With a precise number of able guardsmen, they can begin dividing labor or send out recon elements to scout out the new world.

"There are about a dozen dead. No one squad is complete, every guardsmen appears to be a sole survivor of his/her squad. I have the specifics if you wish to know the details."

"We can mourn our loses another time. For now we must regain our bearings. I need an inventory of everything we've got and a reconnaissance mission must be conducted immediately." Constantine looked around for a place to begin and spotted the Sentinel parked by the Chimera.

"Spread the word and find volunteers to start a thorough inventory while I seek recruits for reconnaissance."

"As you will it Sir."

He parted from the Commissar to check up on the Sentinel and her driver. With the vehicle's agility and protection, more ground will be covered than infantry. Constantine approached Verticora who was pre-occupied with removing the splinters of metal left over from the barrage that blasted off part of the hull.

"Sergeant Verticora I presume?" Constantine inquired.

"Yes Sir, have something for me?" replied Verticora as he chiseled off more metal.

"Indeed so, I would like for you and you’re Sentinel to volunteer for a mission."

"Certainly Sir, hopefully not a mission that requires an Armoured Sentinel," Verticora let a malformed plate of metal fall from above for emphasis.

"A Scout Sentinel will be sufficient for the job; the nature of the mission is reconnaissance. It will be in our best interests if we find out more of this world. Your primary mission is to find out where the forest ends, secondary objectives would be to find civilization, Imperial or xeno if at all; the manner in which you deal with either is discretionary."

Constantine paused to let the details sink into Verticora. After a brief silence, he acknowledged.

"Mission accepted," Verticora replied with a hint of enthusiasm. "When do I ship out Sir?"

"In a moment, once I consult the team that launched a probe moments ago, we'll have a vector for you to follow."

Before Verticora made his move, Briggs approached them with the results from their findings.

"Sir, we have sighted a mountain range towards that direction," Briggs pointed out towards said direction as he spoke. "We estimate that it is around 100 or so kilometers distance."

"Thank you Briggs, is there anything else we should know about?"

"Nothing as of yet Sir. The weather impairs most of the auspex sensors, these two land marks were all we can make out from the blurred returns."

"Well, you heard him Sergeant, make your way to the mountain range and report your findings, I will ask Voltis to send one of his servants with you so we never lose contact with you when you leave vox range."

"Yes Sir." Verticora said with a little nervousness.

Just like their decent from orbit, Verticora was slightly worried about what he may find in the unknown. If this were a Death World, he would flatly refuse to go alone. But there has yet been an incident regarding the new world, so his nervousness was put aside with optimism.

"Now you be a brave little servo skull and obey your new transitory master." Verticora overheard Voltis soothing the machine. He would be laughing if it weren't for his curiosity to finally figure out the name of the servo skull.

"Your directive is overwatch Agrippa, maintain designation protocol and don't startle the human."

It took a moment for Verticora to prepare himself, but once he'd finished cleaning off the metallic remnants of his repair, he disappeared into the forest followed by the servo skull designated 'Agrippa'. Before the heavy thumps of the Sentinel's locomotion faded, Constantine was approached with more news.

"There also seems to be an area of interest significantly closer that should be investigated as well," Briggs mentioned shortly after Verticora's departure.

With that, Constantine resumed his search for volunteers; Briggs was close behind, trying to refine the results from the probe. The Chimera was still grounded, so he will have to look for the next best thing. He spotted a group of guardsmen who have yet to hear from the Commissar's rally to begin an inventory and approached them. They rose when he was within proximity.

"May I ask for your names?" Constantine said, repeating the tone as he did with Verticora.

"Brennr, 12th Light Infantry."

"Raf, 9th Missile Team."

"Korin, 21st .Recon."

"Excellent, just the variety I need. I will like to employ you for a mission of utmost importance. You will be informed on the specifics if you choose to accept."

"Sir yes Sir!" The three said in unison.

"I'm glad to see your enthusiasm. The mission is reconnaissance of a landmark our probes picked up, your mission will be to scout out the area of interest."

"What is the nature of this landmark?" Korin asked as she hoisted her vox caster.

"I'll let you try to explain, Briggs."

"Of course Sir. The site appears to have an unnatural arrangement of rock formations. The coherency of which doesn't suggest a complete structure, it could just be a geological anomaly of perhaps a xeno presence. The latter being the sole reason why it is in our best interest to explore this phenomenon."

When Briggs finished, Constantine and the three guardsmen were intrigued by the mission.

"Point out the direction and we're there," Brennr exclaimed with eagerness.

"If you can manage to head straight that way," Briggs pointed the same manor he had done for Verticora, "you will eventually come across the edge of a cliff. From there, you should be able to find it, if you travel along the edges."

"We would like for you to stay together in one piece," Constantine added. "If we are on a non-Imperial world, losses of any sort will be unacceptable. In the event that you encounter anything along the way, it is at your discretion on which method you choose to deal with it. With that said, I would like to keep conflicts down to an absolute minimum. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, Sir," Raf said as he slinging his missile launcher.

"I'm serious, unforeseen consequences is not on my agenda."

"It's dangerous to go unprepared Sir. It is only for assurance, in case there is something legit dangerous in the forest."

"Very well, I trust your judgment. Good luck and vox a report back to me as soon as you get there."

"You will have it Sir."

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It has been a couple hours since Verticora's departure from the arrival site. Thankfully the rain has ceased, making room the moonlit night. Even in the dense forest, the radiance from the moon provided a somewhat visible path for the Sentinel, if he wasn't already using the infrared filters his vehicle provided. Occasionally he would look behind him to see if his servo skull was still following him. Surely enough, his companion was still hovering behind him, at a range somewhere between tagging along and stalking.

'So, Agrippa was the shy one,' Verticora thought to himself. 'I wish he would keep up and not lurk behind me like that.'

The further he traveled from his comrades, the more penetration the darkness had on his nerves. Looking behind him soon became out of the question, not wanting to see the skull glare back at him from the distance. Cursing the claustrophobic atmosphere caused by the dense forest, the Sentinel all of a sudden found even ground. Verticora commanded his mount to halt as he examined the path he stumbled upon. Agrippa caught up and floated ahead, also staring at the path way.

"Let us see where this leads to Agrippa," Verticora said to the faithful skull. "You lead the way this time."

For the next several minutes, the two navigated the length of the trail until the wall of vegetation became too thick and narrow for the Sentinel to navigate. Verticora stopped for a moment to contemplate on whether or not he wanted to go on. He had already deviated enough from his course, but his curiosity to where this path lead conflicted with his doubt.

Remembering what the Colonel said regarding secondary his objective, he determined that it was his duty to investigate what lies beyond this road less traveled. The darkness feels strange and unnatural here. Many of the low branches obstructed his view, and pushing his Sentinel through would very likely snag itself in the dense plant life. The servo skull made an impatient beep sound and Verticora made his decision.

He dismounted the Sentinel and resumed his investigation on foot. Holding a las-pistol ahead of him, he carefully advanced up the road. No longer using the visual filters provided by the Sentinel, his helmet’s built in flashlight served as an acceptable alternative. Moonlight no longer penetrates the forest canopy here, as the thick vegetation overwhelmed the terrain. The shadows seem to be having an effect on his sense, turning minutes into hours. Before him, the road began to make awkward turns; a sharp right turn immediately turning back left. Agrippa began to lag behind; he paused, letting the skull catch up. The path ended with a natural archway formed by the trees, hiding the area behind the threshold in darkness. His light was unable to penetrate beyond the dark veil.

"Agrippa, go on ahead and see if it's safe. Beep twice if it’s all clear, if not beep thrice."

Reluctantly, the servo skull drifted into the archway, leaving Verticora alone in the dark. Pointing his las-pistol ahead, his head turned sharply at each of his flanks, the light from his helmet reacted to the sudden jerks revealing nothing behind the shadows. He was beginning to think it was a terrible idea to investigate this path when he heard the humming noise from the Agrippa's propulsion mechanisms. Looking back to the archway he saw the servo skull zoomed right past him. The lack of a response from the machine worried him and his instinct begged him to follow suit; but what's in there that cause such a fearful reaction? He looked behind him, expecting to see his companion, but Agrippa was nowhere to be found. The servo skull has abandoned him, he was now completely alone.

Verticora’s fears began to rise, forcing him to look forward, terrified of what lurks in the darkness. Deep beyond the archway, a faint sound like roots ripping from the ground reached his ears. Two dim red dots blinked open in the shadows from a considerable distance. A high pitched buzzing prickled the back of his head when he realized the red eyes were moving closer. Slowly, whatever vessel was holding these abyssal orbs, crunched towards Verticora. Stunned with terror, he stood absolutely still, the buzzing gradually getting louder as the thing approached. His trance was only broken when he heard a voice, a whisper of like an icicle piercing his heart, similar to that of the dead on Medusa.

“The curse has befell her this very night,” said a plaintive echo from beyond. "She had to die."

What curse? Who died? These thoughts rushed though Verticora’s mind as he tried to move, but his limbs stood rooted to the spot. Staring into the abyss, he began to make out the outlines of the thing approaching his position, the red eyes growing as the creature moved with inevitable purpose. He could almost hear the cold wheezing as it moved under the archway right in front of him, but still hidden under the dark shroud.

Rushing back to his senses, Verticora turned tail and fled, refusing to stick around for it to be revealed by the light. Praying to the Emperor that this horrible thing wasn’t following him; the buzzing noise in his head suggested otherwise. He sneaked a quick glance behind his shoulder and saw several more pairs of red eyes behind him.

‘Oh, Throne! There are more of them!’

Zigzagging his way through the awkward path, he continues to hear more uprooting sounds along the edges of the road as if it were reacting to his presence. His flight became more frantic as he saw more of those creatures emerging from the blighted earth from the corners of his vision. The persistent buzzing seemed to have quiet down when he felt he put enough distance between himself and those monsters. His retreat was halted when he discovered his way was barred by a fallen tree. Verticora hadn’t recalled such a thing as large as a tree was eroded enough to break his first time walking through.

His head buzzed ever louder, almost deafening and he felt within his soul that something grim was rapidly approaching. Unwittingly, he turned to face the entity, limbs acting on their own accord. No longer under the veil of darkness, the thing entered the radiance of the light from Verticora’s helmet. To his horror, the creatures following him were worse than he imagined. Revealed before him is a black skeletal husk on four legs covered in blighted dead skin. Eye sockets, empty as the void, entombed a hellish glow that locked its gaze upon Verticora.

“Don’t be afraid, we’ll protect you. Forever!” gnarled the sickly voice of the dead.

“Fear is naught; my faith is strong xeno scum!”  Verticora yelled, firing a single shot of lasfire into the closest undead creature.

The skeleton recoiled from the shot, but didn't fall. Echoing in the surroundings, the blast from the las-pistol temporary stopped their advance. A newfound bravery ignited within Verticora’s heart; regaining full control of his limbs he scaled the height of the trunk and resumed his retreat.

“All we ever wanted was friendship, moaned the abyssal voice.

Stopping for no one, Verticora ran for his life. The sounds of his own footsteps’ crunching the fallen leafs replaced the buzzing within his skull. Back under the light of the moon, he spots his Sentinel in the entrance of the path. Joyful of being back with something familiar and powerful, he made no delay on activating his mount once again. Thankful for no other mishaps, the Sentinel began its stride, putting distance between him and that terrible place.

Many moments passed before calm returned to Verticora, he began to wonder about where Agrippa might be. His worry was replaced with anger at the thought of that servo skull for abandoning him to those things.

‘That cowardly machine could go spike itself for all I care,’ he thought viciously.’

Remembering the function that was imposed upon it, he abandoned his vengeful thinking. ’Agrippa’s my only way to get back to the regiment. I suppose I should go look for it.’

Once again, Verticora returned to his original mission before the disastrous detour. Undisturbed, he navigated through the forest until a revelation dawned on him.

‘Wait. How was I able to understand them?’

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Brennr, Raf and Korin had been on the journey for several hours. Navigating passed the river a couple kilometers back was strangely simple. The only obstacle was the uneasiness they felt as if they were being watched. Even though that sensation persisted throughout the length of the mission, the feeling was less than subtle in the river. Something underwater was very aware of the team disturbing the calm stream. Holding their las-guns, or missile launcher, above their heads, they crossed the river without incident. To control their moods, they passed the time by sharing tales from past missions.

“Then he said, ‘I am so ready. I’ve been locked on this guy’s left eye for ten minutes’,” laughed Korin, recalling one of her deep strike missions.

“Then all of a sudden the squad leader said, ‘safe those weapons. We have to wait till next pass. Somebody moved!’ It took another five hours before we got our next opportunity!”

Quietly, they laughed at the unfortunate timing. It was common knowledge to assume recon teams had to excel at patience more than anything, but when patience turns into endurance, everyone gets their share of laughs in the after action reports. Even the team actually conducting the mission will get caught in with the humor after they get over the embarrassment.

“If you think that’s funny, you should hear about the Commissar Hale’s wardrobe malfunction,” Raf added with relish.

They found the ravine Briggs mentioned, but no note worth landmark as of yet. The rain had stopped, but a slight fog was dampening their view. Across the chasm, they could make out a faint outline of the other side.

“Well, I guess we should spread out and look for a way across. Surely there must be someplace where the two sides connect or a natural bridge,” said Korin, getting back on task.

“Or maybe an unnatural one,” added Brennr, pointing at an area up the way.

Consolidating at the spot pointed out by Brennr, ahead was a carrick a rede bridge. An old one, but appeared to have been used in recent years, judging by the noticeably different knots used by each end. The three guardsmen stood before it, staring with amazement.

“When we get back, we need to tell the Colonel that we are not alone on this world,” Raf said quietly.

“Before we do such a thing, we need to see what’s across. This might be the very outskirts of the site he wanted us to scout out,” replied Korin with unanimous agreement from the other two.

Cautiously, they crossed the bridge one at a time. The fog was less dense across the chasm and by the time they had formed up on the other side, what stood before them were the ruins of an ancient stronghold.  Obviously abandoned centuries ago, the walls seemed to be the only part of the structure that had withstood the eons of neglect. After a closer look, gaps in the wall indicated that there had once been windows and the interior wall was lined with stone columns. Passed the central structure, a tower appeared to be mostly intact with the ceiling still holding.

Shock and awe was the initial reaction from the guardsmen. The architecture was so simple in design, yet sophisticated by the amount of detail that survived the centuries of erosion. Despite the complexity of the structure, there is no imprint of the civilization that had constructed the castle. It could have easily been assumed that humans had fabricated it, but they would have known by now if there were had been colonists on this planet.

Beyond the front gate appeared to be the foyer, at the end was what looked like a monument. It was a very simple piece of art; a marble sphere held up by a wide base with five arms originating from where the sphere contacts the base. Due to the markings or the lack of, the reconnaissance team was as clueless as ever. The Imperium was rarely subtle when it comes to decorations; one could easily tell at a glance what a single symbol can represent. The Imperial Aquila. Still, the lack of an Imperial Aquila doesn't automatically mean that is was not human. Lost colonies are always being found, each with varying degrees of compliance issues.

Assuming this is a xenos structure, the question remains the same; where are they now? What could have warranted a structure as magnificent as such to be abandoned? They were no xeno-archaeologists, but the environment couldn’t have been that different centuries ago. Not even evidence of conflict suggest reasons for abandonment, there is no sign of intentional destruction, no instruments of war. Everything seems to have eroded in peace. The idea of such a thing was foreign to the three guardsmen finding themselves at that conclusion.

“Alright, I think we’ve seen enough,” concluded Brennr after it was obvious that they would not find any occupants within the structure.

“Agreed,” replied Korin, “I’m going to vox back to the Colonel and consult with him our next task.”

“Looks like you’ll get a better signal from an elevated position,” Raf pointed towards the tower behind the main structure. “It would make an excellent vantage point if things get dicey.”

Slowly and purposefully, the guardsmen followed the flight of stairs up the tower. Treading carefully, so not to disturb the masonry incase it too was eroded. Thankfully the structure proved stable, as they reached the end of the stairs. This room was intriguing as the foyer; this chamber looked very familiar, as if it were a throne room. Even though there was no throne present, every column, every window frame revolved around a single vantage inside the chamber.

Korin began to establish a comm. link to the regiment while Raf and Brennr, explored the contents of the room.

“Union, epsilon, variable; 42nd provisional reconnaissance voxing forward command,” Korin reciting voxcode, author and destination.

Raf and Brennr stood by the window overlooking the scenery. Passed the horizon, faint rays of light were beginning to spill into the night. Dawn was approaching.

“Union, epsilon, variable; this is the 42nd provisional reconnaissance voxing forward command,” Korin recited again. “Acknowledge, over?”

“This is Commissar Holt responding. Report your findings.”

“This is Korin, reporting that we have reached our destination. Where is Colonel Constantine if I may ask.”

“He has busied himself with something of great importance. Have you encountered anything of strategic value at your location?”

“Yes Sir, we have discovered an abandoned structure. It is primitive and resembles that of a castle ruins. There are no occupants within the ruins.”

“Thank you for the report. Begin making you way back to us. I will let the Colonel know once he returns from his excavation.”

“Just out of curiosity, what is the Colonel excavating?”

“Something for the Lieutenant to pilot.”

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During the time both recon teams had been away, remnants of the Imperial Guard had been conducting a thorough inventory of the debris that transported with them. Apparently there was much more than just the assumed ordinance, but a large assortment of materials as well. Ranging from construction materials like concrete and sheet metals; to electronic equipment, display monitors and command consoles; and everything in between,

Later they assumed the hangar next to the ammunition warehouse must had stored the jettisoned cargo from makeshift passenger shuttles. To their fortune, all that equipment now belonged to the 82nd Vendolant and they were going to be put to use once they find some place to consolidate all this cargo. And they were still finding more, as they extended the search radius to almost a kilometer from the arrival point.

“Six hundred barrels worth of promethium fuel, twelve hundred tons of ordinance and Emperor knows how much other miscellaneous goods are out there!” Lieutenant Dalia reported to the Colonel.

“I cannot even begin to imagine what twenty personnel can do with such an abundance of materials. Emperor be praised, we are fortunate to be graced by his generosity, but this is starting to sound ridiculous!”

“Are you not happy by the news that we’ve discovered a Valkyrie,” inquired Constantine almost jokingly.

Almost an hour before, when it was decided to extend the search radius, Alicia, Derrick and Ander’s uncovered the downed Valkyrie nearly at the edge of the permitted zone. The only time they had remembered seeing the airborne troop carrier was during their frantic charge for the warehouse on Medusa. It was a fair distance away from the warehouse which asks the question of how much was actually teleported with them.

Immediately upon hearing the news, he had Voltis inspect the downed craft to see if he can get it operational. The fact that is was still whole and in good condition was very lifting for their spirits. So much can be accomplished with such a machine. They wouldn’t have to rely on ground based surveyor missions or handicapped by difficult terrain. The sky was the literal limit.

“No, I am very grateful by the news, it is what to do afterward? Let us assume this is an uninhabited world, civilization is non-existent, what do we do afterward? What do we do if there is no way back?” Dalia continued, becoming a bit aggravated.

“I hope you’re not suggesting that we go back to that damned planet.” Constantine replied as her last question confounded him.

”Let us assume there is a way to get back on Medusa V, will you take it? Will you go back to the dead world or will you count your chips and be thankful of what the Emperor provides.”

Dalia was silent for a moment as she considers what she had suggested a moment before.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t think that one through. According to protocol, we are supposed to attempt to make contact with Imperial forces, but after realizing that to do such an act would be folly when our previous position must surely be desolate beyond redemption. Even so, we are the Imperial Guard, and it is our duty to wage war in the name of the Emperor.”

“Indeed we are, but there is more to the Imperium than strife. Too soon we are shipped away before we are to witness the glorious reconstruction of worlds won by our efforts. Never getting the chance to hear sounds of progress, we forget what we are fighting for.”

They shared a moment of silence. The light of dawn was beginning to shine through the forest canopy. In the distance, Commissar Holt was approaching them.

“Besides,” Constantine resumed finishing his conversation with Dalia.”If my hunch is correct, war will come to us.”

“Colonel, Korin’s Reconnaissance have reached their destination. The landmark picked up by the probe turns out to be an abandoned castle,” informed Holt.

“An abandoned castle?!” exclaimed Constantine and Dalia in unison.

“And what is the condition of the structure?” asked Constantine.

“Unsatisfactory, Sir.”

Pondering for a moment, Constantine clapped his hands together and turned to face the direction where the other guardsmen continued their task at inventory.

“Well, it’s time to bust out the nine-seventies; there is more work to be done,” he said before turning back to face the Commissar.

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Morning has finally arrived; Verticora’s journey has lead him to the edge of the forest. For the first time since their arrival, he was relieved to be out in open terrain. To be able to command his Sentinel to move at cruising speeds again are both reinvigorating and comforting. In the light of day, the view of the mountain range described by the probe was clear as Sybilla Primus was from Greyon airbase.

He was about to surge forward when he was caught off guard by something in his peripheral vision. Near the tree line, a small cottage stood, nearly concealed by the vegetation surrounding it. In the distance, it could had easily been overlooked as being part of a shrub, but the variety of ornaments and decorations surrounding the place gave the location away. Strangely, this effect seemed to be intended; nothing about it seems prepared for any sort of forced entry or any other kind of aggression. It looked delicate.

Back tracking a bit, he parked his Sentinel back under the concealment of the forest before disembarking once more. Even though the last time he went out of his way to satisfy his curiosity got his servo skull misplaced and nearly killed by the creatures in the darkness, he was confident that this detour would yield favorable results. Keeping his las-pistol holstered this time, he walked towards the path leading up to the cottage.

His mind began to wonder again, first thinking of how he was able to understand the language used by the wraiths in the forest; second was the design of the structure before him was astonishingly similar to what humans were capable of. Then he thought of who might be inside the house and how will he/she would react to an Imperial guardsmen knocking on their door, especially with his gas mask still attached. Even though he couldn’t do anything about that, orders were orders, it gave him a sense of cleanliness to breathe sanitized air.

Stopping at the door, he hesitated for a moment, suddenly feeling nervous. The door was slightly shorter than he was, going up to his shoulders he thought. Perhaps a Squat lived here. Overriding his anxiety, he balled his hand into a fist and gave the door a gentle knock. His heart began to beat faster as he waited for a response. This was the moment of truth to find out what the indigenous population was like.

“Coming,” replied a feminine voice behind the door.

‘Uh oh, this will not end well,’ thought Verticora.

A moment passed as Verticora’s mind raced to find an appropriate response. Before he knew it, the door began to open. His jaw dropped and all plausible response ideas drained from his brain as he stared at what stood before him.  A yellow pegasus with a pink mane stared back at him, both stood in silence waiting nervously for the other to make a move.

Suddenly a crazy idea drifted into Verticora’s mind

‘Perhaps she was the one who replied to my knock. I must be going insane; first zombies, now talking ponies? Thank you Immortal Emperor for making my day very interesting! Alright, I’ll play along, I suppose I owe you that one for rescuing us from that warped forsaken rock!’

Before he knew it, the door slammed shut, leaving Verticora hanging on the threshold. Maybe he was too slow to react and the creature did the only sensible thing when only silence was offered. Reviewing through what he had just seen, he concluded that there was more to this world than he initially thought.  Without further delay, he knocked again, hoping for a second chance to communicate.

Slowly the door opened once more and the apparent resident peaked from behind the corner. Once more Verticora was lost for words, willing himself to look past her strange appearance, he began to fabricate a sentence. What came out was what he often recited to civilians or other foreign counterparts.

“Sergeant Verticora, 82nd Vendolant; may I ask your name?”

Mentally he kicked himself for sounding cryptic, what were the chances that a pony would understand. Wait, this was a pony he’s talking to. Not even the Colonel will find this funny. What if word of this reached the Commissar?

“I’m,” said the yellow pegasus, which caught Verticora off guard and he silenced his thoughts to listen.

“Sorry ma’am,  didn’t catch that.”

“I’m Fluttershy.”

Chapter Three: Vox Disruptions

+++++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.

Chapter Four: Precious Cargo

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

+++++Destination: --N/A

+++++Origin: Lieutenant Dalia

+++++Decode Authority: --N/A

+++++Subject: --N/A

+++++Thought for the Day: "Zeal is it's own excuse."

+++++Time Remaining: null + 31 hours

---Machine Spirit, hear my most humble request and ignite the fires of your venerable engines.

---...

---Your operations sing praise to the Omnissiah, trust your steward to take over from here.

---Initiating flight check.

---Flaps and stabilizers: Green.

---Promethium Fuel Tanks: Green.

---Vertical thrust settings calibrated to gravitational pull.

---Auspex sensor capacitors: Green.

---Weapons check: Rocket pod ammunition count zero; Multi-laser capacitor charge: Low.

---Disregarding unsatisfactory munitions load-out, moving on.

---Primary Engines one and two status: Green.

---Flight Check: Complete.

---Powering up thruster; sustaining vertical lift; registering null faults.

---Tempest Two-Five lifting off.

---…

---Tempest Two-Five maintaining low altitude, vector set for HQ.

---…

---No Briggs, nothing is wrong.

---What do you mean I’m broadcasting?

+++++Transmission Terminated

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“Can I ride next!”

“No I want a turn!”

“But ah just got on!”

“Emperor’s Oath, stop talking!”

The moment the group noticed Apple Bloom riding in the Sentinel’s side compartment, all but Fluttershy and Agrippa wanted a chance to ride. He explained to them that his mount wasn't for everyone to ride, but quickly realized the great irony of ponies wanting to do things normally reserved for humans. Abandoning attempts to silence them, he caved in to their pestering. Taking the initiative, Verticora designated who would be next.

“Fine, the unicorn will be next followed by the pegasus, each cycle will last no more than ten minutes. Are we clear?” Verticora said leaving all enthusiasm out of his tone.

Before, the fillies stayed within proximity to the servo skull though out the trip; making observations or trying in vain to talk to it. Now that they knew the Sentinel was capable of accepting passengers, they formed up on each of his flanks. Retaining some common sense, they took heed of his warning to keep a reasonable distance, so as not to get caught under its locomotive stride.

“Just so you know, my name's Sweetie Belle, not 'The Unicorn',” the unicorn replied.

“Terra’s-,” Verticora started, but immediately stopped himself. Not wanting to instigate another reaction, he chose to ignore her and resume the march.

Yesterday if he had been told he would be escorting ponies to seek an audience with his commanding officer, that individual would have gotten an earful from the Regimental Commissar. Alas, it is so. A part of him is afraid of how his comrades will react; he did tell them that they were neither human nor xenos. Such a vague description should hopefully prepare them for their arrival.

“How come you don’t just walk like everypony else?” Inquired Scootaloo. “I mean this contraption you got is cool and all, but does it go any faster than this?”

“It’s amusing to me for you to question the practicality of a Sentinel,” Verticora answered, suppressing his annoyance from their previous squabble. “I assure you that this machine is capable of faster speeds if it weren't for the difficult terrain. Also, notice the device mounted on the hull. It would take superior strength for an individual to carry a heavy flamer without any sort of assistance.”

The orange pegasus appears to be absorbing his description, but with extreme difficulty.

“Is being a dictionary necessary for your, uh duty?" she said after a moment of thinking.

“In a sense, one must have the skill and vocabulary to convey information across vast distances. Being able to accurately describe something to someone is essential in my field of work.”

“Like how you couldn’t say we were ponies to that voice in your floating friend?”

Until now, Verticora had taken his acquaintance’s ignorance for granted. He hadn’t expected any of them to catch on to what he withheld from Korin on the vox. This could have been much simpler if he just told them that he found a village full of ponies and been done with it, but this wild account would no doubt put his credibility into question. From there, he could easily be labeled a liability by his comrades long before he could bring proof to confirm his claims. Bringing the four ponies along would provide a more favorable outcome. Perhaps the Colonel would appreciate the opportunity to interrogate his company. However, if he were to encounter the Commissar before seeing the Colonel, the situation may turn sour if the Departmento Munitorium officer judges him too quickly.

“It’s a matter of precaution,” he responded back to Scootaloo. “Pay no mind to it. I’m sure there will be no problem.”

Remembering about the passenger cycle he promised, he commanded the Sentinel to stop. Turning towards the opposite flank, he addressed the unicorn.

“So,” Verticora hesitated, searching for the nerve to pronounce her name. ” Sweetie Belle, it’s your turn. Don’t attempt to climb till the vehicle comes to a complete stop.”

Switching passengers was less of a hassle than he thought. Coming to a halt, one hopped off and the other jumped in as quickly as reloading a las-pack. Back on task the Sentinel surged forward, following the servo skull who had been guiding them back to headquarters for the last hour or so.

Abandoning the thought of how the regiment will react, he turned his attention to his new passenger. The thought that his Sentinel was considered an amusement device unnerved him. The Enginseer would be livid if he were in his seat. However, the sounds of her enjoyment of the machine’s pace had a strange appeal. He could not attach a name to that feeling, but it was comforting. The unicorn, who went by the name Sweetie Belle, turned to watch the view from behind; which happened to be close to the engines exhaust.

“Don’t breathe in the fumes, no matter how good it smells,” he informed her.

“Huh,” she said turning in confusion. “Oh, so that’s what that stink was. What is it for anyway?”

“It is the engine expelling used fuel. It is a necessary byproduct to power the machine spirit.”

“You mean it’s haunted?”

“No, of course not, it’s a term used by our tech priests to describe the inner workings of the machine,” he said, surprised she would think it was haunted.

“What are tech priests?”

“They are venerated individuals who preserve the integrity of our machines when war or weather hampers their function.”

“So, what other kinds of machines do you have?”

Not liking where this conversation was headed, he thought to divert the questions towards something other than disclosing the variety of Imperial devices.

“We have a specialist who is adept with the knowledge of machines back where they want me, you may ask him those questions only if he wishes to answer them.“

There was a pause in her torrent of questions as she accepted his answer. Before Sweetie Belle could renew her string of questions, Verticora asked one of his own.

“So, are there any characteristics that distinguish unicorns from common equines?” Verticora said, wanting to learn something from them for a change.

“You talk fancy,” she replied, failing to answer his question. ”You’ll get along with my older sister. Speaking of Rarity, your outfit looks very weird. I’ve never seen a suit anything like yours before.”

Sort of satisfied with the additional insight, he was intrigued at what she suggested. Imagining ponies geared with any sort of attire was humorous as well as curious to him. It didn’t even occur to Verticora that they were capable of being that sophisticated. But since there is a town full of them, perhaps he should quit underestimating their capabilities. They might even have a form of government for all he knew.

“My armour is designed for protection over appearance,” he answered. “Nearly everyone wears the same uniform as I.”

“Is that thing you have on your head for your protection too?” Sweetie Belle said pointing at his re-breather.

“Right,” he simply said.

“How come?” she asked.

“You don’t want to know,” replied Verticora, trying to project his lack of enthusiasm.

“Why wouldn’t I want to know?” she persisted.

“Because I doubt very much that you would like for me to describe the variety of toxins and diseases that can dissolve you from the inside out,” he said, trying to be prompt so as not to remember the events on Medusa.

Sweetie Belle finally dropped the subject, looking confused. Whether or not she was capable of comprehending the images usually invoked by such a description, he couldn’t tell.  What he did know was that the cheery mood hadn’t changed the slightest in his companions.

‘Ignorance sure is bliss,” Verticora thought to himself. Wanting to get an answer to his original question, he inquired once more.

“So, tell me about unicorns. What abilities do they have that sets them apart?”

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“Are you certain this will be enough to support the weight,” asked Constantine.

Colonel Constantine and Enginseer Voltis had been discussing methods of how to improve the bridge ever since the tech priest arrived in the latest delivery. The quickest and simplest they had concluded was to piece together the hangar’s frame beams into a coherent pattern wide enough for the Chimera, including its freight. It was decided that the freshly repaired Valkyrie will airdrop the materials while ground personnel assist with positioning and assembling.

“But of course Colonel. This design with, such materials, can hold an excess of a hundred tonnes. Add a hundred more if the foundations weren’t made of soil,” Voltis replied, his voice distorted by his augmentations.

Since early morning, the remnants of the Imperial Guard 82nd Vendolant had been setting up headquarters at the newly discovered castle ruins. Throughout the day, they had been consolidating their resources to their new command centre, but they had to stop short for the chasm that bars their way. There had once been a simple rope bridge that connected the rifts, but it was not the ideal construct to hold up the many tonnes of equipment needed to establish a satisfactory fortification.

In the mean time, the Chimera had been unloading it's cargo just before the rift, so it was at least within line of sight instead of hidden among the vegetation. Dale had quit returning with the bulk creates and was now delivering the more delicate materials like the promethium tanks and ordinance. Nearly every guardsmen had been assisting with distribution; loading and unloading, working to get everything moved with all due haste.

Fatigue bore heavily upon every guardsman. It had been almost two days since they were all together in the mess hall on Medusa. That was where they shared what was thought to be their last meal. Although their impending doom was averted, they were still vulnerable. Until they had a place they can call a barracks, no one would complain about individual needs. Knowing some unknown cascade of events had prolonged their lives, preventing the end that was rightfully imminent, was all the motivation needed to get through the day.

“Colonel Sir,” Briggs addressed, arriving besides Voltis’ carrying his master vox. “The Lieutenant’s Valkyrie is on stand-by and awaiting your instructions.”

“It’s about time. Proceed with the delivery. We haven’t any guidance instruments or established any coordinates, so I will need to rely on you to mark a NAV point for her sensors to follow.”

“Of course Sir, it shall be done,” Briggs finished as he returned to his post.

“Good to hear, we’ve only a few hours left of daylight and I want to have this place fortified by night fall.”

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The group halted at the edge of a cliff, Verticora couldn't recall seeing this his first time through. However, he had been following his servo skull, who should be following where ever his counterpart’s located. Pausing for a moment, he began to devise a way of getting down the steep terrain.

“Oh, I remember this place,” spoke up the yellow pegasus. “We’re on the path to the ancient castle of the royal pony sisters.”

Fluttershy had rarely spoken during the entire expedition; it was a pleasant change from the ramblings from his other companions. Initially, he was interested in what he could learn from them, but very quickly the subject started to sound like nonsensical gibberish. Accomplishing nothing on finding out what unicorns do, the conversation began to revolve around something they called a ‘cutie mark’ or whatever. At the mention of the word, the three fillies became excited for reasons he could not fathom. Letting them squabble amongst themselves again, he focused on the road and thought nothing more of what they were saying.

“We made our way down this very hill a long while ago. The path continues on at the bottom,” said Fluttershy in her quiet tone.

“If you feel like it I mean,” she added after glancing back at the Sentinel.

Having no objection to Fluttershy’s directions, Verticora accepted this new information in silence as he continued to scan the surroundings. Dismounting his Sentinel, he approached the point where the ground began to decline. Following suit, his company peeked over the edge.

“Can your Sentinel jump?” asked Scootaloo, as if egging him on.

“I can see where this is going. Yes, but the drop would surely damage the hydraulic components,” Verticora replied.

“Come on it’s only a hop, skip and jump. And not the whole way down, I meant between the flat breaks scattered along the way down,“ she continued.

At a second glance, he indeed noticed several sections where the decline didn’t seem too steep. There were notable drops along the way down, but nothing his machine couldn’t tolerate.

“Very well, I suppose it could be done. I’m not accepting rides for this task, so you will need to find your own-”

“Look over there!”

His instructions were interrupted when Apple Bloom became very animated. Before he could speak out against this behavior, a low distant rumble of a turbofan entered his senses. He looked ahead and saw an aircraft hovering above the forest canopy. Focusing on the craft he quickly he realized what it was.

“Praise the Emperor, we’ve got a Valkyrie!” Verticora exclaimed, replied with looks of confusion from the others.

“What’s a Valkyrie?” Apple Bloom asked, squinting to get a better look.

“A Valkyrie is an airborne assault carrier used by my comrades,” he replied, not taking his eyes off the craft. “Where it lands is where we need to go.”

Their vantage point provided an excellent view of the forest, granting vision for many miles before them. Verticora tracked the Valkyrie traveling at a lower than usual velocity till he noticed that the vehicle had been carrying something under the fuselage. Not compelled to share this observation with his company, he wondered about what that lengthy material’s purpose was. Not a moment later the aircraft came to a stop, hovering above a position which he assumed to be their destination. The ejection of its cargo more or less confirmed this assumption and he turned to board the Sentinel.

“Listen up you lot,” Verticora said abruptly, bringing attention back to himself. “Our objective is to reach that general area below the Valkyrie before sunset. I shall navigate to the bottom of this slope first. Once I’m there you may begin your descent.”

“Oh, uh, there is one thing I think you should know about what’s at the bottom of the hill,” piped up Fluttershy, a little apprehensively.

“Well, go on. Any sort of intel will be appreciated.”

“Last time, we found a Manticore down there. I’m not sure if he’s still there, but I thought you should know.”

Highly doubting that she’s referring to a mobile multiple rocket launcher, he began to imagine the creature the rocket battery was named after. Verticora checked the promethium gauges of his heavy flamer, convincing himself that he’s in control.

“I’m sure this Manticore will be no big deal.”

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Standing well away from the rift separating the castle from the forest, Davir faced the descending Valkyrie. He held up illuminated batons, directing the movements of the aircraft. Under the fuselage, a long steel beam that had once supported the hangar, was being positioned above the rift for even clearance to deploy its cargo. It was to be the first of many that were to complete the bridge, placement of the first piece was always essential to encourage quality for the following deliveries. A point the Enginseer had impressed upon the guardsmen charged with bridge construction.

“Perfect! Tell her to bring it down before the wind rotates it again!” Mathias shouted from the ledge, holding the beam steady with all his weight.

Immediately, Davir signaled the Valkyrie to descend. The pitch of the vertical thrusters weakened as the aircraft reacted to his commands. Wish a heavy thud, the steel beam touched down, bridging the chasm altogether. Mathias balanced his way to the middle, released the tow link and the Valkyrie was signaled off to fetch another beam.

“You’ve performed exemplarily,” Voltis said in his usual augmented tone. “Five more deliveries should be sufficient for the Chimera to cross.”

Having nothing to say in response, Mathias and Davir took this moment of idleness to sit at the castle steps until the next shipment arrived. Navigating across the beam, they could now link up with Korin and Brennr, who had been stationed in the castle after they tore down the old bridge. Those two had been temporarily isolated up until now. Not long ago, Briggs had gotten a little excited over a vox transmission from them. The contents of the message hadn'’t been disclosed, so what better way of finding out than asking the source itself? A figure emerged from the threshold to greet the two guardsmen.

“Ahoy there, I see we’ve got a bridge now,” Brennr said, sounding a little anxious.

“Yeah, no thanks to you,” Mathias said jokingly.

“So, spit it out what did you two hear? Asked Davir, sensing Brennr’s anxiety better than his partner.

“The Sergeant’s made contact with the natives,” Brennr stated frankly.

Expecting Brennr to tell them more, the two took this info in silence. No one expected contact this soon with or without communication tools. With their previous questions of the Logistics officer answered, they asked the next follow up question regarding natives of unexplored worlds.

“Are they human or xenos?”

“The Sergeant said neither,” Brennr replied. “So I suppose we’ll find out soon enough when he returns.”

“You mean he’s bringing them here?!” Mathias exclaimed. “How many are we talking here?”

“Judging by the number of voices we heard over the vox, there should be three or four individuals currently being escorted by Sergeant Verticora.”

“Well, suppose we now know why the higher ups were so worked up,” Davir said. Switching on his signal batons, he beckoned Brennr to follow. “The next shipment will be here soon, how ‘bout you help us out this time.”

“Let’s go then,” Brennr replied.

The Valkyrie hadn’t arrived just yet, but they were greeted by the noise from the Chimera returning sooner then it usually did. Paying no attention to this, Davir took this moment of idleness to ask Brennr of the impending arrival of the natives.

“So, do they sound friendly?” Davir asked, no longer caring what they were.

“Personally, I think they sound a bit immature.”

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Dusk had arrived when the Chimera returned for the umpteenth time. This new shipment was less voluminous than previous loads, which prompted the Colonel to ask of the remaining materials.

“Nothing but gravel and scraps back there Sir,” Dale replied. “There’s still only a handful of munitions, but the guardsmen remaining back there could easily make room along with their existing kits.”

Doctor Graff had emerged from behind the Chimera, wheeling the unconscious Psyker from the ramp. Taking the hint that the castle is their new headquarters, he and Anders hoisted Karos’ stretcher. They were about to cross the bridge when Constantine interrupted them.

“Hold that thought Doc. Let them widen the bridge a bit before you cross, I don’t want any accidents.”

“Of course Sir,” Graff said, taken aback by the Colonel’s doubts.

“What’s the condition of our Psyker?” the Constantine asked, taking notice of who was in the stretcher.

“By all means he is a healthy patient. Whatever ails him is beyond my skills; the best thing we could do is make sure he’s physically fit and pray to the Emperor that he will awaken from his coma.”

“Very well, at least he is still alive. Not including the Psyker, what of the casualty report?”

“Fifteen are dead, all appeared to have sustained fatal injuries from bolter fire. They have been bagged and their remains are still back at the clearing,” Graff replied in monotone as he addressed casualties.

“Are you able to include their remains on the final run?”

“It can be arranged.”

“Make it so, pack everything left from the site and be sure to make this the final trip,” Constantine said, wanting to get this over with.

Consolidating materials all day was starting to strain on his patience. Despite his eagerness to be done, he knew how necessary this all was to ensure survivability; only then could he divide labor and shifts. His next priority would be to regain their bearings and learn more of the immediate surroundings. How to proceed from then on was still up in the air, preserving his own would have to come before the Imperium.

“I want the regiment gathered here before night, both the living and the fallen. We owe them that for the sacrifice they made so that we continue to live.”

“It shall be done Sir,” the Doctor said before departing with the Chimera.

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Fortunately, there was no Manticore. All that was there was an empty canyon corridor. Even with no dangerous creature in sight, there was a persistent feeling of unease. Perhaps it was the breeze rebounding off the rocky walls; or maybe what ever still lived here feared the mechanized construct of Imperial might striding through their habitat.

“Vox check: helix, echo, vermillion; is anyone hearing this,” Verticora spoke to his headset.

“Ah hear ya clear as day,” Apple Bloom replied.

“Not you, I’m trying to open a channel with headquarters,” he answered, switching off his vox. “They’re either not listening or there’s too much interference.”

“How come you say those fancy words?” Sweetie Belle asked.

“They are code words,” he started. “These measures are taken so no one could impersonate any of us and hear things they're not allowed to. It also adds length to my transmission so they will have ample time to hear it if they are around.”

Still under the guidance of the servo skull, they navigated the way through the unknown. It had been a while since he last heard the Valkyrie’s distant engines; following the noise was reassuring, but no longer a reliable compass. His bearings were brought back into doubt when they exited the rocky terrain and came back into the dense forest.

“Halt,” Verticora shouted towards the servo skull. “Are you certain we are going the right way?”

The skull obeyed, but lacked the ability to form a response. Realizing this, Verticora groaned and dismissed his inquiry.

“Never mind, just continue on,” he replied, trying to keep the impatience from his tone.

“Um, this is the correct way,” said a small voice besides him.  “We are not too far from the castle now.”

Once again, speaking only when necessary, Fluttershy stepped in to provide some guidance. Reassured by her input, they pressed on into the thick vegetation. His doubts vanished when he recognized a different texture to the ground.

“Tread marks!” He said so suddenly that the whole party paused to glance at him.

“Did you say cutie marks?!”Apple Bloom asked in a hopeful tone.

“How come-,“Verticora started. “Never mind; these tracks were caused by one of my own. All we’ve got to do now is follow them and we’ll be at camp before you know it.”

“My turn to ride!” Scootaloo exclaimed.

“Fine, let’s make it quick,” Verticora complied. Being in a much better mood to be on the final stretch of his journey, he could care less if he had a passenger or not.

With their course set, it became apparent that the Chimera had had to carve a path through the forest, leaving behind a relatively clear path.

“So,” Scootaloo asked, remembering something the Sergeant said earlier. “Can your machine go faster now?”

‘The tenacity of this pegasus,’ Verticora thought to himself. If she only knew what my proficiency was, or the circumstances surrounding my situation, would she even think twice about asking something so trivial? ’

“Affirmative,” he replied in the stern fashion he reserves for addressing officers. “Vector set; increase speed beyond reason.”

Before Scootaloo could comprehend his strange lingo, the Sentinel suddenly sprung forward. Surprised by the abrupt burst of speed, she held on tight, adjusting to the momentum. After holding the acceleration for several seconds, Verticora commanded the machine to decelerate, allowing the rest of the party to catch up.

“Not bad. Nowhere near as fast at Rainbow Dash, but still not bad,” she commented, loosening her grip on the Sentinel

“Well sure, ground vehicles are typically not the fastest mode of transportation,” Verticora said, not caring to ask who this Rainbow Dash is.

Shortly after his companions caught up, they came across a river barring their path. Dusk was already transitioning into night and he couldn’t tell how deep the water was or the speed of the current. His search lights were able to illuminate the tread marks leading into the stream, so he figured that it couldn’t be that deep if the Chimera drove through it. Returning to his authoritative attitude, Verticora addressed their next course of action.

“Looks like we’re gonna have to take this one at a time. Since we’re not jumping down a cliff side this time, I’ll help ferry you across.”

They were just about to act when a low rumble began to invade the scenery from behind. Abandoning the thought of crossing the river, the ponies consolidated besides the Sentinel. As the rumbling drew closer, the fear in his company grew with its volume.

“Stand fast my little ponies, and show no fear. My comrades approach.”

Behind them, the Chimera’s search lights began to shine through the trees. In only a few moments, they would be illuminated and Verticora would be reunited with is regiment at long last.

“T-These are your friends?” Fluttershy stuttered.

“Yes, these are my friends,” Verticora said; uncomfortable with the term, but used it reassure his companion.

“Don’t hide, don’t make any sudden movements, and let me do the talking.”

The Chimera, now visible, rolled towards them with inevitable progress. It was only a handful of meters away when the breaks shrieked. Riding shotgun were several guardsmen he couldn’t identify from the glare of the searchlight.

“Ahoy there,” said a voice from someone in the turret. “Emperor be praised, look whose back.”

The voice sounded familiar, but the sergeant couldn’t identify it.

“It’s good to be back,” he replied. “You mind pointing the light someplace else?”

The guardsmen complied, or he thought it was a guardsman. Even with the face concealed behind a mask, his attire told all; the black trenchcoat and peak cap, the last person he wanted to see.

“Commissar Holt, Sir!” Verticora said, addressing him with a salute.

“At ease trooper, this is not the place to be formal,” Holt replied in his usual calm fashion. “Have you anything to report.”

“Yes Commissar, I’ve made contact with the indigenous population and secured an envoy. I’m currently escorting them back to base for further evaluation by the Colonel.”

Commissar Holt looked down at the creatures cowering besides the Sentinel. Verticora couldn’t read what the Commissar was thinking; he remained silent, awaiting his next move.

“Care to explain why you think these animals are representatives of anything?” the Commissar asked, still maintaining his collected manner.

“Yes Sir, well,” Verticora desperately thought up the least absurd way to explain his position. “Upon arriving at the edge of this forest, I’ve encountered a civilization. A civilization of ponies and-“

He didn’t finish his sentence when the guardsmen on top the Chimera began chuckling at this humorous detail of his mission. They were silenced with a glance from the Commissar.

"There is a fine line between madness and heresy; if you exhibit neither I expect you to prove yourself before I pass further judgment," Holt stated coldly.

Concerned by the Commissar’s threat, he looked down at Fluttershy, trying to convey that his credibility depends on her to confirm his story. He made eye contact and gave her a nod. Silently giving her permission to speak, he braced himself knowing only she can convince the Commissar.

“I’m sorry, um, what is an envoy supposed do again?” She finally said.

Even though every guardsman’s face was hidden behind their re-breathers, Verticora could sense everyone’s jaw drop just as he had done earlier that day. Although he got the reaction he expected from everyone else, there was still the Commissar who remained unreadable.

“Is being an envoy fun?” asked Scootaloo .

“An envoy sounds like serious business,” added Sweetie Belle

“What would an envoy cutie mark look like?” inquired Apple Bloom

‘Oh no, please don’t mess this up,’ Verticora thought as they rammed their way into the discussion. Thankfully everyone still seemed too shocked by Fluttershy’s previous statement to notice the fillies. If only they knew how dire this confrontation could be for them and, more importantly, for himself. Unlike Colonel Constantine, whom he had served throughout his entire career, Commissar Holt was foreign to the regiment and could not begin to imagine what he would do. If he decides that they were xenos, he was as good as dead, but if he were to think otherwise...

“Well, this is very interesting,” Commissar Holt stated with an uncharacteristic attitude somewhere between humor and surprise.

“Since these creatures, talk, I suppose this changes everything,” the Commissar said, hesitating briefly at the word ‘talk’.

“So, about returning to base?” Verticora suggested, trying not to sound hopeful.

“Yes, of course, let us not delay,” continued the Commissar as if nothing was wrong. ”The Colonel needs us back before night and this development must be brought to the Colonel’s attention at once.”

Considering this as being let off the hook, Verticora allowed himself a quick sigh of relief. Remembering why he stopped at the river side in the first place, he thought to press his luck to be absolutely sure of the Commissar’s position.

“Say, could you accept more passengers?” he asked, sheepishly.

“Sure, I suppose,” the Commissar said almost unwittingly.

Without questioning the Commissar’s authority the guardsmen hoisted Sweetie Bell and Apple Bloom on board the Chimera while Scootaloo climbed back on the Sentinel. It was around this time the guardsmen realized Fluttershy was a pegasus when she took flight. Not knowing what his comrades were thinking about his strange company, he was certain he would get an earful from them once they got back.

As they crossed the river, no one spoke to each other. Still recovering from the shock of talking animals in their presence, and the Commissar’s decision to take it in stride, they each kept to themselves riding shotgun on the Chimera. Little did the newcomers know of the grim cargo inside the vehicle’s hold. Now with the new passengers, they felt less compelled to talk about their fallen comrades.

Chapter Five: Divide and Conquer

+++++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

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“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.

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“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.

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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.

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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?”

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“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.

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“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.

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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!”

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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.

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“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.

Chapter Six: Flight of the Tempest

+++++Transmitted: N/A

+++++Destination: N/A

+++++Origin:  Provisional Command Centre/exterior

+++++Decode Authority: Cyan

+++++Subject: Vox Recording:  0-943999M41

+++++Thought for the Day: Victory needs no explanation; defeat allows none.

+++++Time Remaining: null + 43 hours

+++++A shovel plants into the soil, followed by a long pause+++++

“Should someone say something?”

+++++Sound of Colonel Constantine clearing throat+++++

“I suppose now would be the time to pay our respects to our fallen as they repay their debt to our Emperor. It is the life of a soldier to die, and it is our decision to send them where they can fulfill that destiny. Being conscripted into the ranks of the Imperial Guard was probably the best thing that ever happened to these poor souls. Although service to the Imperium is a noble undertake and hazardous career, we all know the true reason why we left our homes. Unwanted for by their kin and uncared by their homeworld, the choice was simple to throw our lives for the greater works of the Imperium; all in the Emperor’s service. Although the freedom they win for His citizens will go un-thanked and forgotten, we shall forever be grateful for the sacrifice so that we continue to hold our banner.”

“We may have prolonged out own lives for the time being, but it will no longer be spent in the warp infested planet where time will slowly leech our souls from us. However, being clear of the warp does not mean we are relatively safe. It is now apparent that we are not on a world that belongs to the Imperium. That much is certain, but we may not have been the only ones to have escaped Medusa V. We all know what happened before we arrived and we all know who was outside those walls. Stay vigilant and uphold the final command of our Lord Marshal.”

“The Emperor Protects!”

+++++Transmission Terminated

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In the throne room, Commissar Holt stood near the hololithic table scanning the device for damage. The guardsmen who hauled the hardware had already vacated the vicinity, not wanting to linger during the Commissar’s interrogation session.  Unfortunately, Commissar Holt was not progressing well in gathering any information, let alone getting her to speak at all.

The yellow pegasus remained rooted to the spot on the opposite side of the chamber, refusing to approach the Commissar. Holt allowed this to go on for a long while, hoping the pony would eventually get oriented, also to work up the nerve to accept that he is going to take to a pony.  As this standoff persisted, his patience began to deteriorate.

“You there, quit cowering and approach the table,” Holt ordered.

As expected, she behaved no differently from his previous summons. As she hid herself from Holt; he started to feel pity for the creature, an emotion that was rarely felt by a Commissar. Although he was deeply aware that his presence often invoked fear amongst his own, he couldn’t fathom how she could already be so afraid. He turned shifted his attention towards the inactive hololith, pondering on how to proceed. Typically his interrogation methods were more direct with no regard to collateral damage, but the unusual circumstances surrounding this session commanded a tactful amount of delicacy on a subject this fragile.

Ultimately, the Colonel wants to seek a mutual standing with their kind, given that their preliminary investigations warrants this as a viable goal. Because Holt was assigned the eldest of the subjects, his duty to collect a more reliable wealth of intelligence rests on the Commissar, and his most difficult task thus far was to get her to even talk.

From the corner of his vision, Holt noticed the creature glanced up at him again. Unlike her previous efforts, she didn’t retreat back behind her hoofs as she had done before. It dawned on him that her name probably held a higher significance than merely for namesake. Placing an emphasis on ‘shy’, he noted that making direct eye contact had probably discouraged any dialoged with Fluttershy to begin with. Adjusting strategy, he began fabricating his next course of action to test out his assumption.

“You go by the name ‘Fluttershy’ am I correct?” Holt said, taking caution as to not look directly at her.

A squeak emitted from her general direction, and he accepted it as an acknowledgement. Satisfied by the first steps of progress, Holt processed additional follow up responses, searching for those that would result favorably.

“I am Commissar Holt. I understand you had been escorted here by Sergeant Verticora from your home; from somewhere outside the forest I assume,” the Commissar asked, presenting this as a statement instead of a question to provoke an answer or substance he would work with.

“Yes.”

“May I ask where?”

“Ponyville.”

“I see,” Holt said, pretending it was a perfectly normal name for a town. “What would you describe to be your occupation?”

What followed was incomprehensible mumbling from Fluttershy for approximately ten seconds. Not thinking it was necessary to know the specifics of what she was muttering, or asking her to repeat herself clearer; he acted as though he understood her.

“Very well,” acknowledged the Commissar.” Might I ask how you made contact with Sergeant Verticora.”

“He was at my front door,” she said apprehensively. “So I welcomed him inside.”

Glad to finally get a clear reply out of Fluttershy, he thought of something more difficult to answer. Perhaps something to give an insight about what they think of humans.

“Tell me, what were your thoughts in regards to the Sergeant’s appearance?” He asked slowly, to deny any room for misinterpretation.

As she constructed her response, Commissar Holt was already processing follow-up responses. If she had never seen any human prior to that moment, then this would confirm their suspicions of this world. However, if there were others like him, then that would be an entirely different story.

“I thought he seemed like a nice person,” she finally said. “I was a bit surprised by the sudden visit, but it was alright, I guess.

“No doubt we are the only ones of our kind in this land,” he said, masking his irritation from the lack of anything useful he can work with.

Like last time, there was a delay in between the exchange of words, but notably longer than before. Holt was about to speak up when Fluttershy took a different tone with her next reply.

“He mentioned that you are not from this world,” she said with more confidence than her previous answers. “What do you plan on doing here?”

Surprised by the sudden shift in direction, Commissar Holt accepted this and searched for a way to exploit the moment. Maybe even see if Fluttershy can comprehend the dire circumstances behind their arrival.

“We are just as unsure of how to proceed as you are. No precedent exists for the displacement of Imperial forces under these conditions, so what we learn from you shall dictate our next course of action,” Holt said, finally turning to face they pony before him.

“How about an exchange,” Holt inquired. “I’ll share something about myself; in return you share something about yourself.”

Pleased that she ceased flinching from his gaze, he was about to prepare his first question when Fluttershy took the initiative.

“May I ask you the first question, that is, if it’s alright with you Mister Holt,” she asked, stumbling as she asked his permission.

“Commissar Holt if you please,” he said, trying to act politely, as opposed to the other time someone forgot his title.

“You may ask, but choose your words with exceptional care, for what I may share might not settle well with you,” Holt added as a caution.

A compromise with captured personnel was typically frowned upon, even more so if sensitive information were to be surrendered in the process. But ever since they’ve arrived on this world, the only Imperial directive they’ve unquestioningly obeyed was their hierarchy. Therefore, if the Colonel wanted to learn more of this world, then it would seem reasonable to disclose some details in order to draw a comparison. Also, the conversation with a pony seems to have a rejuvenating effect on him, almost as if he was feeling calmer, despite what had gone on in the last few days.

“Mister Verticora hinted that you were in a conflict before you arrived. I am interested in knowing about what happened, and how you ended up here,” she asked. “If that’s okay with you.”

The Commissar paused. He hadn’t fully expected her to ask for any details regarding their campaign on Medusa V, but he will try to make this interesting for the both of them.

“If you wish to know about the world we hail from, then you must know why we were called to it in the first place.”

“You were there to evacuate the planet, weren’t you?”

“Correct, I assume Sergeant Verticora was the one who informed you of this.”

“He also said that you succeeded,” she added, hesitating for a moment before continuing. “But then they forgot about you.”

“Aye,” he said reluctantly, not forgiving what had unfolded in the closing days of the campaign. “And I don’t blame them. With the warp storm approaching, it would seem reasonable to cut their losses and salvage what they can.”

“They knowingly abandoned you?” She said with genuine shock. “But how could they do something this terrible?”

Intrigued by Fluttershy’s compassion, Commissar Holt’s mental illustration of the pony civilization was beginning to take form. Revealing parts of his world was proving to be an interesting method of investigation.

“The soldiers of the Imperium are an expendable commodity. It is the way of life for the Imperial Guard that we will inevitably be sent to die in battle.”

“But no pony is expendable,” she exclaimed, horrified by the term being used so loosely. “I don’t know why you would think that, but many of our own would gladly go out of our way to make sure everypony is well.”

“Understand this, from where we come, survival is no birth right, but a prize wrestled from an uncaring galaxy. To be among untold billions, living under the cruelest conditions is the way of life for the greater part of the Imperium. ”

“That doesn’t sound fair at all.”

“All is fair when on the brink of extinction.”

“How can you bear to live like that?”

“We endure,” Holt said firmly.

“Have you ever wanted to leave? I’m sure you will find peace on our world or somewhere, relatively speaking,” she asked, trying to think of a solution to the misfortune. ”If you like to.”

Throughout the many decades of service as Commissar, the thought of retiring crossed his mind in some occasions. Although the Departmento Munitorium hosts post-campaign lotteries to be discharged from service, that ticket is never offered to the Commissariat. Not that he didn’t want to be dismissed, there has yet to be a world that he felt an affinity towards. Still, the thought of not being in the Imperial Guard was a little unsettling.

“A generous offer, but I am not at liberty to accept. We have all made an oath to the Imperium that we shall serve till we are triumphant, or fall into oblivion.”

“So, what do you want with us then?”

“It all depends on what you are willing to disclose with me. Now that I’ve shared something about myself, would you kindly return the favor?”

“S-sure, what would you like to know?”

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Catching up with the Colonel in the entrance hall, Doctor Graff delivered what he thought was a matter of great importance.

“Colonel Sir, I think I may have something you want to know,” Graff said, breathless after his flight.

“Well, let’s hear it then,” Constantine replied. “We’ve just restored power and I’m in a hurry.”

“I have a suspicion that these unicorns might be harboring powers equivalent to that of Psykers,” Graff said returning to his professional tone.

“And what proof do you have to that fuels your concerns?”

“The specimen I’ve been observing spoke of elder unicorns harnessing powers that they call ‘magic’ and that word is common when describing the capacities of Psykers.”

“I’m sure you are also aware that ‘magic’ is not mutually exclusive among other cultures,” said Constantine, hoping for something concrete. “Do you have any other evidence other than the anecdotal description from a child?”

“Yes, when I removed Karos’ protective gear, the specimen had a strange reaction to his presence. Said something about hearing voices, but that was all I can get out of her.”

“Right,” Constantine said, thinking hard about what to do next. ”Keep her away from Karos. I don’t know what influence they have with the warp and I don’t want to find out at this time. I’ll send for Dale to relieve you from her so you can continue with your duties.”

“On it,” Graff said as he dashed off.

“Disregard that order,” Constantine shouted before the Doctor got far. ”Here he comes now; take him with you to so he can retrieve the pony from you.”

Disembarking from the Chimera; Dale Anders and Apple Bloom were greeted by Doctor Graff. Surprised by the Doctor’s presence, Dale was the first to approach him.

“Hey Doc, you weren’t waiting on us were you?” Dale asked.

“No, I’ve only just arrived,” Graff said, speedily. “Come with me, you’re going to be in charge of my specimen from now on.”

“Your what?” he asked, then he realized that’s what he’s calling them. “Oh yeah, the ponies. How come? You’re finished with them?”

“Because our Sanctioned Psyker might complicate things with the specimens, or at least with the unicorn type,” Continued Graff. “Since Karos’ well being depends on my skill, the Colonel thought it would be best to transfer responsibility to you. And since you’re getting help, I don’t think this would be a problem for you, would it.”

“Yes Sir”, Dale said compliantly.

Before leaving with Graff, he turned to Anders to issue directions.

“Find out where they’re setting up the mess hall and get them to help you haul those barrels. It’s not a big place so I think they should be close by.”

Leaving Anders alone with the pony, he followed Graff through the stronghold. Being that this was his first time inside the castle, he was impressed by what had been done to the place in the last twenty hours or so. There was already a barracks set up in one of the chambers they past, as well as an armory and munitions storage. Passing by in opposite direction were other guardsmen, rigging the place with power cables or lining the halls with light fixtures.

“And here we are,” the Doctor said, pushing passed the mesh screen of the medicae ward.

“Excuse me Doctor, but you forgot this,” said something close to the floor holding up Graff’s re-breather.

“Uh, thanks,” Graff said, snatching his mask.

“Aw, the little pony cares about you Doc,” Dale mocked.

Embarrassed, Graff walked past the unicorn to resume his work on the Psyker. Switching on monitoring equipment without even glancing back at Dale, or Sweetie Belle.

“Sweetie Belle, he said distastefully now that someone else was in the room to hear him address her by that name. “You are now under the supervision of Dale, you’re dismissed.”

Doing his best to not laugh at the way Graff said her name, Dale gestured for her to follow before he lost it.

“Let’s be off then, your friend’s waiting with my comrade.”

It didn’t take long for them to find the mess hall. After a few referrals and awkward stares, he was surprised to find that there was a floor below ground level. What was shocking to Dale was that it closely resembled the holdout shelter back on Medusa, switch the stone masonry with concrete and it would be spot on. Inside the mess hall, along with Anders and Apple Bloom; Brennr, Sketch, Samson and Larn were also present. Some occupied themselves with watching the ponies enter the room while the others continued with what they were doing as if it were any other day.

Just like the night when the warp storm trapped them on Medusa, Brennr, Sketch and Larn were busy with preparing the victuals. Dale stopped and looked up at the ceiling, almost expecting to see the platoon banners where they had been on that night. Of course there were none, without the usual bantering amongst the guardsmen, the chamber felt hollow. Knowing that he will not be whole with a regiment or never again see his friends; for the first time in what felt like centuries, he felt a little grief for the fallen.

“I’m going to miss those poor bastards,” Anders said, placing a gloved hand on Dale’s shoulder catching on to what he was thinking.

“Yeah, I forgot how many tens of thousands of us they sent us to that misbegotten planet. It’s amazing that we are all that’s left. I suppose the Emperor was smiling at us when we took a Deathstrike warhead on our heads,” Dale said gloomily, focusing on the empty tables around them. “I haven’t a clue on what’s going to happen next, or what the Colonel wants with the ponies.”

“Me neither, but I suppose those things in the forest would give us something to get occupied with,” Anders replied. “Anyways, I’m going to get something to eat.”

Removing his re-breather, Anders went ahead; Dale heard the mechanical rasping of something approaching from behind. He turned to see Enginseer Voltis approach him.

“For you,” Voltis simply said. “It will be many years before she learns from the might of machines.”

Dumbfounded, he was about to ask what the Enginseer meant, when an orange pegasus rushed from behind him to meet up with the other two ponies under him. Before he could answer, the Enginseer was already gone.

“That metal moron!” he said out loud. “We’re supposed to learn from them, not the other way around!”

“Maybe switching him off and on will fix lord chips-for-brains,” Anders wondered jokingly.

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Commissar Holt had lost track of time when probing for anything Fluttershy shared about this world. Many of the things she talked about were uninteresting to him, but didn’t find the heart to interrupt after taking so long to get her to even talk at all. Ponyville, Canterlot, Princess Celestia were all keywords he mentally stored as potential items of interest to pursue. After a while, she stopped talking to listen to the new sounds coming from the stairs.

Briggs, Mathias, Enginseer Voltis, Lieutenant Dalia and Colonel Constantine entered the throne room, carrying electronic equipment for the hololith in the center of the room.

“Continue with what you’re doing Commissar Holt,” Constantine said, his upper half hidden by the crate he carried. “We’re only here to install our hardware.”

“Right, come this way miss,” Holt directed at Fluttershy who hid from the others. “It’s going to get loud in here.”

Consolidating down the stairs, Commissar Holt took a moment to observe the progress that had been taking place during his interrogation session. He felt vulnerable being outside in the open and wanted to get indoors. Eventually they found themselves back inside where the other guardsmen have already established a mess hall. An awkward silence ensued as every occupant stared as the Commissar entered. It was typically rare for Commissars to have any interaction with the common guardsmen, whenever they do usually spells trouble for at least one of them.

“At ease guardsmen, my business does not concern you,” Holt said, trying to reassure everyone in the room.

Before the few occupants could resume to their meals, three fillies shot out from under the tables to meet up with Fluttershy.

“Fluttershy!” the three said in unison.

“Everyone here is really nice,” said Apple Bloom. “I got to ride that Chimera thing again.”

“And one of them can talk to machines,” added Scootaloo. “He’s a big hulky scary thing, but he’s alright.”

“I saw the Doctor take of his mask,” Sweetie Belle interrupted. “Something freaked him out, but I’m not sure what.”

“Okay,” Fluttershy answered, trying to keep up with their rambling.

“I got to ride that contraption again,” Sweetie Belle said hopefully.

“That’s nice, but-“

“This machine spirit thing is kind of interesting, had to sort of sing to it for it to turn on.”

“So was that guy in the black coat cool too?”

“That guy in the black coat could hear every word your saying,” Commissar Holt intervened, seeing that Fluttershy had no control over the fillies. “Perhaps you can show some decorum and take turns instead of spilling your experiences all at once.“

In the background, some of the guardsmen were quietly laughing. The sight of the Commissar arguing with a bunch of ponies invoking humor in those who dared.

“Oh, alright,” all three said.

“Fluttershy, want to sit with us?” asked Apple Bloom.

“I -,” she started. “I suppose I can. Are you coming too?” she asked the Commissar.

“Fine, but I won’t linger for long,” Holt said, as the laughs from the guardsmen switched back to silence.

If the ponies joining the guardsmen in the mess hall weren’t strange enough, the Commissar’s presence was more than enough to put everyone on edge. Acutely aware of his surroundings, he chose to seat himself close to someone he could exchange information with.

“So, have the natives been giving you trouble?” Holt said to Dale.

“No, of course not Commissar Holt,” he replied, nervous that the Commissar was speaking directly to him.

“Is there anything you’ve learned about the particular one assigned to you?”

“Well, I suppose the most interesting bit of info we got out of her is that her kin specializes in agriculture. I know, weird huh?” Dale said, trying to sound more confident.

“Apparently there is a whole city of them just outside this forest,” he continued. “And about the forest, they said something about it being dangerous, particularly at night.”

While Dale disclosed what he learned in the last couple hours, Anders kept watch over the ponies as they clumsily accepted the victuals offered to them.

“What is this paste?” Scootaloo asked, staring at her tray.

“Looks sort of like oatmeal,” Apple Bloom answered. “But it’s so tasteless and feels sandy.

“It doesn’t seem too bad,” added Sweetie Belle, struggling to open the ration bar.

“It’s all the essential nutrience needed to keep a guardsman healthy, nothing more,” Anders said, assuming they were dissatisfied by the blandness of the foodstuff.

“And you’re alright with this?” Apple Bloom exclaimed, shock at their apathy towards good food. “Just wait to you see Ponyville, the variety of treats they have don’t compare to what you guys have.”

“Uh, Apple Bloom, it’s not nice to complain,” Fluttershy whispered.

“It’s alright, none of us truly like the stuff anyway,” Anders said dismissively. “We see it as more of a necessity than a luxury.”

“Hey Anders,” Samson said as he walked behind him. “When you guys are done, how about helping us out front with our dugout.”

“You’re finished with the interior already?”

“Yeah, this place didn’t seem that bad after we shoveled out the debris,” Samson went on. “Add a roof, board up the windows and ‘bam’ instant holdout shelter. The Engineer corps would laugh at our faces if they saw how sloppy it looks, but if the Colonel is satisfied, then I’m satisfied. And we can’t really do anything else while the cement dries, so some of us are headed outside.”

“A sound idea, alright you lot,” Anders turned to the ponies. “We’re going to head outside.”

“Wait, they’re with you?” Samson asked, stopping as if he hit a wall. “On second thought-“

“Nope,” Anders firmly said.  “We’re coming with you. Dale and I had put up with them for the last couple hours and it’s your turn to have that burden shared with you.”

“Fine, just be sure they don’t get in the way.”

“Go ask them yourself, they are good listeners.”

“Oh right,” said Samson, surrendering to Anders demands. “I forgot they can talk.

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“Honoured Enginseer, are you certain that there is nothing else you can do to enhance the map?” Briggs asked, looking at the empty map.

“The cogitators are only translating what information it currently knows,” Voltis replied. “The insufficient data is not the fault of logic engines but the lack of radar instruments.”

The Throne room had been busy with guardsmen delivering, installing and activating the essential electronics for a minimally adequate command center. The hololithic had just come online, displaying an empty plain. The only entities being displayed were the Chimera and Valkyrie; the castle they were held up in was completely invisible.

“This is what to expect when reformatting the machine spirit to take into account that we are on another planet,” the Enginseer continued with his expressionless tone. “Once we have a broadcast relay established, we would be able to start recording data on the map.”

“What’s with the delays?” Constantine had just walked in, unimpressed with what he saw on the hololith. “Is anything else missing in this picture?”

“The Enginseer says we need more eyes out there to record the terrain. Until then, we are stuck with a blank map,” Briggs replied, addressing the Colonels dissatisfaction.

“If the need is urgent, I could provide a rough scan of the immediate area if I had access to a vox caster.”

“Did someone say they need a vox caster?” Korin said dropping her task to see if her talents were needed elsewhere.

“Right, go with the Enginseer and follow his directions,” the Colonel ordered.

As Korin and Voltis left to seek a vantage point, Constantine stayed with the hololith, idly adjusting the instruments.

“Colonel Sir, have you learned anything from the natives?” Briggs asked.

“I did, but I’m not sure whether to be encouraged or disturbed.”

“I don’t follow,” Briggs said apprehensively.

“Encouraged in a way that suggest that these creatures don’t display any hostile intent; disturbed that these creatures don’t display any hostile intent,” Constantine said, leaning against the hololith. “Let alone speak low gothic.”

“I still don’t follow.”

“In my service, I’ve learned that respect had to be earned, and not taken for granted,” Constantine said. ”Seeing that these individuals only seem to respect us because we are different doesn’t settle well with me.”

“Could it be possible that these ponies are only anomalies within their society,” Briggs asked, now that he was familiar with what the Colonel’s concerns. “If you ask me, that yellow pegasus acts like a scrub.”

“Perhaps, we shall find out in due time.”

“Might I also ask what your next course of action is?”

“Currently developing as we begin to know more about this world the warp dumped us on. Obviously we cannot go back, and unless there is an Imperial vessel orbiting this planet, the possibility of linking up with Imperial forces is practically zero.”

He paused for the moment. Everyone knew they were marooned on this world, and no rescue attempt will be made since they are supposed to have died on Medusa. And because so few of them made it off that rock, the worries are not about the short term as it is more of a long term concern.

“Technically with a regiment decreased to barely a handful of personnel, we are to be disbanded and absorbed by a successor,” the Colonel continued after a moment of thinking. ”Since there is no regiment to be absorbed into and disbanding is out of the question, we would have to fabricate our own alternative.”

The hololith began to render outlines of the castle. The chunks were choppy and littered the map with broken vectors, but it was enough to work with to be able to see the scope of the perimeter.

“I was able to use the vox caster’s broadcast signal to produce a rough survey of the immediate vicinity,” Voltis returned from his tinkering. “Unfortunately, this method is only effective for a radius estimated at a hundred meters.”

“I appreciate the effort. What would you recommend for a broader survey?”

“Our Valkyrie can be fitted with an array of sensors and other devices required for a thorough scan of any medium to long range missions. The auspex scanner mounted on the hull will not be adequate due to the task and will require additional instruments to replace the heavy bolter mounts.”

“Are you suggesting that we strip some of the armaments off the aircraft to fit these devices?”

“That would produce a more favorable result. It is understandable that sacrificing fire power for a more detailed survey of the region is a risky endeavor, but is necessary if you want a full rendition of the region in a timely manner.”

Constantine thought for a moment on his choice. A survey of the region would be very helpful to devise any long term goals. But if they encounter any hazards on the way, losing the Valkyrie would be a disastrous set back they may never recover from. On the other hand, being marooned on an alien world was already a dire enough.

“Very well, as for the crew required for the mission?”

“The competencies are similar to that of operating a heavy bolter, one crewman each to hold the device steady and one to manage the data flow, preferably a vox castor operator.  The minimum personnel requirements is three plus the pilot and co-pilot.:

“If I am not mistaken, we haven’t a co-pilot.”

“Then the Lieutenant will need to find a proxy.”

“Right, I’ll let her know of the mission right away. We shall reconvene at daylight, I want fully rested soldiers for the operation so I’ll be assigning shifts for the evening.”

Voltis nodded and return to his duty while the Colonel went about the throne room, ordering personnel to retire for the night.

“Briggs, Korin; take the rest of the night off.”

“Sir,” Korin said, holding out her headset. “I think I’m receiving a transmission.”

Without hesitation, Constantine snatched the ear piece to listen in. There was only a light static that persisted for several seconds when he heard something penetrating the background noise.

‘…count…the…seven…’

“Turn off your caster and immediately inform Derrick and Sketch to turn off theirs.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Just vox ghosts,” he lied. “I’d encourage you not to think about it too much. Radio silence would probably be the best thing to exercise for the time being.”

Taking the hint, she dashed off to search for the vox caster operators in the camp. While the Colonel left Voltis to work on the command center.

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Near the hastily constructed bridge, a pair of guardsmen was digging a fortification to watch and defend the chasm if things were to go that way. Larn and Alicia had just finished lining the foundation of the dugout and had started filling sandbags with the soil they had just unearthed. Approaching from the stronghold, Dale, Anders and Samson had come to join their efforts.

“It’s about time you’re back,” panted Larn. “Grab some nine-seventies and start filling sandbags.

“Yeah, slight problem,” Samson said, jumping into the dugout. “They are here too.”

“They who?” Larn asked, but knew straight away when he looked up and saw who trailed behind them. “Why are they here?”

“Who else is going to keep an eye on them?” Dale retorted.

Larn was about to propose an alternative idea to get rid of the ponies, but abandoned the thought.

“Fine, just make yourselves useful,” Larn pointed to a nearby crate. “In there are the empty sacks; be sure to apply plenty of cover and leave an opening for the heavy bolter.”

“Right,” Alicia spoke up for the first time. “Need to grab one of those.”

She climbed out of the dugout and headed towards the stronghold.

“I’ll be back in a few with the heavy weapons,” she said as she walked past the ponies without showing any interest.

“Is she not surprised by them?” Anders asked, puzzled that she didn’t react like everyone else did when they saw the brightly colored ponies.

“We’ll, she was with us when we found Verticora,” Dale answered. “Suppose she gotten used to the idea quicker than others.”

“Yeah, or just indifferent,” Larn said. “Get going, I’d be more comfortable if we had descent cover.”

“Anything we can do to help?” Apple Bloom asked hopefully. “Ya know, following you guys is alright and all, but when will you let us go home?”

After being dragged here and there all day, with very little choice offered to them, the CMC’s restlessness and fatigue are beginning to tax their resolve.

“Yeah, it would be cool to go back to what we had planned for earlier in the day,” added Scootaloo.

“I wouldn’t say what we had planned would get us any closer to earning cutie marks anyway, but I would like to head back home, now that it’s dark,” said Sweetie Belle.

“Perhaps you can bring that subject back up at daylight. For now, the hazards in the forest are too dangerous to navigate through,” Dale said without pausing construction.

“He’s right,” Apple Bloom said, seeing the logic behind waiting for morning.”There are ‘things’ out there that go bump in the night.”

Larn looked up at Dale. Trying to convey his concern about what these hazards are. What he got was Dale nodding ‘no’ to discourage the question.

“Forget about it. Once we have a heavy bolter covering the bridge, nothing will get by,” Anders said to ease the mood.

“What’s a heavy bolter?” Sweetie Belle asked, peeking in the dugout to see what their talking about.

“It’s a heavy caliber weapon,” said Larn as if reciting from a manual. “With its high rate of fire and stopping power against light and heavy infantry, the heavy bolter would be the ideal anti-personnel weapon.”

Seeing the confused expression from the ponies, Dale proceeded to fill in the blanks.

“It’s a huge gun that fire bolts the size of your hooves,” he said trying to make it simple for them to understand.

“Alright, so what do they do exactly?

“It’s a little tough to explain what if does if you’ve never seen how we conduct warfare,” said Larn, realizing his explanation went completely over their heads.

“You see that tree down yonder,” he pointed towards the forest. “A single burst fire can tear the tree from its trunk. Though, we won’t be demonstrating anytime soon; it’ll give the whole camp a scare.”

“That and give away our position to anyone listening within ten or twenty klicks away,” Alicia said, entering the dugout with the weapon they were talking about.

Assisting Alicia with lifting the heavy bolter was none other than Commissar Holt. Larn stiffened and stood at attention the second they saw the Commissar.

“Commissar Holt,” Larn said confidently. “We didn’t expect to see you out here.”

“Spare me the formalities,” Holt said promptly. “How soon can you get a canopy set up to cover your nest?”

For reasons beyond the guardsmen’s comprehension, the three ponies giggled at the word the Commissar used to describe their fortification.

“As soon as we sandbag the foundation, we could hang up a canopy.”

“Excellent,” Holt stepped down to check the visibility of the bridge. “I feel that we should mask our position as best as possible this evening. To that, we are ceasing most of our non-critical operations for the night and shutting off all exterior lighting. Furthermore, those who are not tasked with something at the moment are ordered to retire for the night.”

The four guardsmen’s spirits were lifted at the thought of finally getting some sleep after being deprived for nearly two days.

“Larn, Anders; once the canopy is set up, you are dismissed for the evening. Dale, Alicia; you two will have to stay out here and guard the bridge,” Holt said. Sensing their disappointment, he added,” you two are welcome to alternate in between rests if you wish.”

“Yes Sir,” the four said in unison.

“You three,” Holt addressed the ponies. “At the request of your associate, you are to join up with her inside for the rest of evening operations.”

“You mean we’re going to be with Fluttershy?” Scootaloo asked, assuming that’s what the Commissar meant by ‘associate’.

“Yes of course,” he said hastily. “Come with me.”

It was a few moments before anyone spoke again after the Commissar left.

“If I were a suspicious man,” Dale started. ”I’d say the Commissar is weirded out by the ponies too.”

“Who wouldn’t be,” Alicia said after deploying the heavy bolter. “It’s not like we encounter talking equines every day.”

“You seem to have gotten over it quicker than most,” Anders said, amazed by her indifference about them moments ago.

“Yeah, well I’m not going to be reluctant about accepting reality, even if they a bunch of multicolored ponies. But hey, as long as they don’t try to kill us, I don’t care.”

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Adjacent from the room designated as the barracks was a room with equal size, but less congested with kits and cots. Inside, Fluttershy paced from one end to the other, listening to whatever chatter leaked from the other room. Although she trusted them enough to know they wouldn’t harm any of them, she still wanted to learn more about these foreigners. Not wanting to look like she was eavesdropping, Fluttershy kept a reasonable distance from the threshold, occasionally picking out keywords like ‘missions’, ‘ponies’ and ‘chaos’.

The first two key words, ’mission’ and ‘ponies’ she thought were self explanatory, but the word ‘chaos’ had a more troubling meaning behind it. Based on what she learned from Commissar Holt and Sergeant Verticora, she strongly doubted whatever Discord can do is nothing in comparison to a force capable of destroying worlds. Even though her confidence in her friends and the Princess was unyielding, she couldn’t help but be greatly disturbed by ruinous powers.

“Fluttershy!” said three familiar voices.

“Girls, I’m so glad you made it back.”

“So, where’ve you been all night, we only say you for a minute in their cafeteria, or something.“

“Well, um, I was with their Commissioner and we sort of just talked the entire time.”

“Isn’t it pronounced Commissar?” Apple Bloom corrected her.

“Oh yeah, that’s what I meant,” Fluttershy said apologetically. ”He seemed interested in making contact with everpony, so we shared stuff about each other’s background and a little bit about what they’re going to do next.”

“Did he say anything about how they got here,” Scootaloo asked. “Or who were they fighting to begin with.”

“Oh, I can answer that,” exclaimed Sweetie Belle. “Something about a Psyker, who sounds like they have magical abilities like unicorns, brought them all and everything around them to Equestria; but he’s unconscious right now.”

  “Thank you Sweetie,” Fluttershy said gratefully. “So I’m not sure who they were fighting with, but they sound really scary.”

“So what makes them so scary?” said Scootaloo.

“I’d rather not talk about it. It’s getting late and I want you three to try and get some sleep. Apple Jack and Rarity are probably worried sick about you being gone, so I want you to be up bright and early so we can get home.”

“Aw, but we’re not tired yet,” Apple Bloom said. “Ah still want to know what a heavy bolter does.”

“No buts. They were generous enough to provide us some bedding and it would be rude to refuse.”

“ Oh alright,” the CMC said simultaneously.

“So since they want come see Ponyville, do you think they’re going to follow us or something?” Sweetie Belle asked.

“Or ride that tank in,” Apple Bloom exclaimed. ”Ah love to see the look on everypony’s face when they see a machine spirit roll into town.”

“The machine spirit is actually the life energy within the vessel, not the actual vessel itself,” Scootaloo said, going back to what Voltis told her.

“What? I can know stuff,” she added after receiving stares from everypony.

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Morning arrived without incident. Between preparing the Valkyrie and managing the command centre, the Imperial Guard was gearing up for their first mission over Equestria. Fluttershy and the CMC were brought up to the control room to observe the activity. They were huddled around the hololith, fascinated by the projection of the castle they reside in.

Enginseer Voltis had left to fit the aircraft with all the necessary components for the mission, leaving Briggs in charge of the installation of other essential devices.

“Korin, I need you to fasten a vox sensor amplifier to the highest place you can reach in this castle,” he ordered, gesturing towards an antenna leaning against the wall.

“Once you have it fixed, hardwire it into the secondus console, I’ll give you the com-codes when you get back.”

Without hesitation, she packed the antenna and left to seek a high place to deploy the device. It didn’t come to her immediately that the most obvious place was the roof, and seeing how there wasn’t any stable area to climb, Korin thought for a moment about how to get around this.

“Pegasus, can I get some help here?” Korin asked, stomaching her pride.

“Uh, sure,” Fluttershy said, hesitating as to whom Korin was talking to.

“Hold on, I think she was talking to me,” Scootaloo said, capitalizing on the vagueness of Korin’s requisition.

“I don’t care who, I just need one of you pegasi to fly this antenna to the roof,” Korin held up the device in emphasis.

Nearby, Constantine was on the radio with the pilot, relaying details and procedures.

“I know Derrick is not a qualified co-pilot, but we need eyes on radar for the duration of the mission,” Constantine said into the mic.

“Understood Colonel, but the role of co-pilot also adopts the role of gunner and I don’t want some chickenshit amateur unloading my rocket pods on impulse.”

“This is why I want you to lock down all armaments, Lieutenant. I have confidence that the Corporal will be competent at what is asked from him,” Constantine continued. “If all goes according to plan, we wouldn’t need to resort to using our weapons.”

“Yes sir” Dalia said, reluctantly.

“I appreciate your cooperation; now patch me through to the cabin.”

“Sketch here, terrain probing devices are secured and ready for calibration.”

“Synchronize broadcast code: ‘breaker eco red zero zero niner’,” Constantine said, reading off the console.

“Acknowledge, ‘breaker eco red zero zero niner’.”

The hololith began to render additional lines and vertices around the Valkyrie; even refining the rough image of headquarters.

“Very good, continue with preparations and we’ll get this mission underway in a few moments.”

“Sounds good Sir. Sketch out.”

It took another ten minutes before ground personnel vacated the area around the Valkyrie. Some left to go watch the events inside while the others continue to monitor from the outside. In the end, nearly half the all Imperial personnel chose to be in the command centre to observe the events unfold.

“Tempest Two-Five on stand-by. Control, how’s the signal strength,” Lieutenant Dalia said over the vox.

“Reading you loud and clear Tempest Two-Five,” Briggs responded. ”Logic engines are designating magnetic north; establishing connection to electronic cartographers.”

Being the only logistics officer on duty, Briggs had been bestowed the role of mission coordinator. Constantine stood nearby along with Commissar Holt, ready to offer any input on his progress.

“Connection green; Tempest Two-Five, you are clear for takeoff when you’re ready.”

“Copy; Derrick, your en charge of monitoring the transmission output and auspex scanner devices. “

“Yes ma’am.”

“Everyone else buckled in?” the Lieutenant directed towards the cabin.

“That affirmative,” Sketch replied.” All kits and personnel secured.”

“Copy; warming vertical thrusters, hold tight and remain seated during takeoff.”

The turbojets began to rev up, directing power to the vector thrusters located at the end of each wing. The Valkyrie began to lift off slowly and surely, only after they were a good distance over the tree line did they started to pick up speed. Reaching cruising speeds, they began to circle around, heading back to base.

“Gear up; speed’s up. Crew, you are clear to activate surveyors.”

Unbuckling from their restraints, Brennr and Davir slid open the fuselage doors. Swinging out the mounting bar, replaced by scanning devices, they fixed them to a position with an excellent vantage of the ground below.

“HQ, we are beginning to transmit data from the surveyors. Requesting feedback.”

“Acknowledged, signal strength is looking good. Circle around the base and standby for the logic engines to translate the data.”

As the Valkyrie flew over the castle ruins, rapid clicks could be heard from the Surveying devices monitored by Brennr and Davir, transmitted back to base by Sketch. Inside the control room, the electronic cogitators processed the feed before creating a 3D rendition on the hololithic table. The hologram became more detailed and refined after each cycle the Valkyrie flies.

“Excellent, the map generation looks like it’s in order,” Constantine commented. “Proceed with mission, direct the Valkyrie north by northwest.”

“Tempest two-five, you are go for release; turn heading three-four-zero,” Briggs translated to the pilot.

“Two-five copies, bearing three-four-zero. Derrick keep your eye on the auspex scanners. Sketch, be sure we keep transmitting and warn us if we begin to exceed our range.”

For the next several minutes, the Valkyrie streaked over the forest, gaining altitude as they add distance between them and the base.  Apart from the oddly shaped hill tops they pasted, there wasn’t anything note-worthy about the region. They had reached the altitude where they were about to penetrate the cloud cover when the craft began to shake violently as the turbojets choked.

As if landing in water, but in the opposite direction, the clouds behaved like a thick sheet of noxious gas produced by heavy industry trying to repel the Valkyrie’s climb. But these clouds appeared natural and the Lieutenant was bewildered as to why the clouds were resisting them this aggressively. The craft was on the verge of stalling when Dalia blasted the vertical thrusters to finally breach the clouds. Only when they were above the cloud layer did the shuddering cease.

“We are experiencing some minor turbulence,” the Lieutenant said, disregarding what had just happened. “Increasing altitude to avoid further anomalies.”

Back at base, the ground team observed hololithic map expanding in real-time as the Valkyrie recorded the region. Eventually the data returned with fewer and fewer trees, indicating that they were nearing the end of the forest.

“And you mentioned that your home town is this direction,” the Colonel asked Fluttershy.

“Y-yes,” she said without taking her eyes off the map. “It should be any second now.”

Back in the Valkyrie, Dalia began to notice an exponential decrease in the overcast, eventually flying into a region with very few blots of scattered clouds. Ahead of them, she noticed the unmistakable signs of civilization.

“Two-five here, we’ve spotted an indigenous settlement. “

“Circle around the perimeter of the settlement,” Constantine ordered. “I want to know the size of this city.”

“Two-five, modify flight pattern to record the circumference of the settlement. Check back when you’ve completed your objective.”

“Two-five acknowledged,” replied the Dalia. “Also, our spotters have sighted indigenous flyers in the city limits. What are our rules of engagement?”

“Ignore them, we’ll deal with the situation as it develops, for now focus on reconnaissance.”

“Copy, beginning first pass now.”

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Rainbow Dash was lying in bed when she heard the penetrating roar of a turbojet passing over head. Bolting from her slumber, she flew outside to get a good look at what was making all this racket. Expecting to see a dragon, she was troubled to see something other than a giant flying reptile. It was roughly the size of one, but looked so unusual that she was anxious about get a closer look. She then became aware that everypony she saw had stopped what they were doing to stare at this aircraft.

Forcing herself to look away, she wanted to do something a little more proactive than idly staring at the metal box thing. Dropping to ground level, she dashed off towards the library. The logic driven unicorn will probably have the best plan of action, or at least instructions from the Princess about what to do.

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“Pass complete, Tempest two-five awaiting results.”

The hololith had finished rendering the city. Initially, they thought they would discover a thriving metropolis, but to their disappointment the settlement seemed no larger than a mere village.

“I could see my house from here,” Fluttershy said, pointing at a tiny representation of her cottage.

Her statement went unnoticed as the guardsmen’s attention was directed at the largest structure in the village, the town hall. It appeared no bigger than the castle they currently reside in. Surely the size of the village would warrant a structure with more volume to fulfill the administrative duties as any other town they knew. However, these were ponies they’re talking about, but the similarities they shared were astonishing.

“Right, we shall proceed with the primary objective,” Constantine announced to the Briggs before turning to Fluttershy. “So Miss, using this map as a reference, which direction is the Throne of your Princess?”

Hesitating for a second to process what the Colonel just said, she suddenly got the hint that he was referring to the map.

“Oh, um,” she said as she looked at the holographic city, trying to find the location without the mountain range assisting her sense of direction.

“Somewhere about here,” Fluttershy said, pointing at a blind spot on the hololith.

“Tempest two-five, realign route, bearing zero-six-zero,” Briggs commanded.

“Tempest Two-five, vector course zero-six-zero.”

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“An incredible technological masterpiece,” Twilight Sparkle exclaimed, scrutinizing the Valkyrie from her telescope. “Its power plant looks like it’s running off some kind of highly potent fuel. No magic what so ever.”

“Yeah yeah Twi, so do you know what it is, or where it came from?” Rainbow Dash asked, not getting a word she’s said. ”Because I’ve never seen anything like it, at least to my knowledge.”

“No, I’m not sure where they come from,” Twilight said, not taking her eye off them. ”but what I do know for certain is that they are not ponies.”

“Have you received any mail from the Princess or something?”

“Not yet, but I think I might get one very soon,” Twilight stepped away from the telescope. “Looks like their headed straight for Canterlot!”

“Right, I’ll follow them for a while and see if I can get a better look at them,” Rainbow Dash said, zooming off without hearing Twilight’s objection.

Watching her scurry after them, Twilight sighed and returned inside the library. She was about to go look for Spike when she heard a knock at the door.

“Good morning Twilight,” Rarity greeted. “Might I ask if you’ve seen Sweetie Belle around?”

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As the hololith rendered the Valkyrie’s flight path, the data feed returned a gradual rise in elevation. Abnormal peaks and impossibly steep slopes began registering on the map. Cloud cover was minimal like the previous village, which translated into fewer inconsistencies on the reading. Watch towers began to appear on the map and a rail link trail, the Valkyrie must be very close.

“Command,” the Lieutenant said, breaking the silence. “We’ve spotted some kind of structure on the face of the mountain. Starting perimeter sweep now.”

“Be advised, Intel suggests that this is their capital city. Keep your distance while you scan the site. If you provoke a reaction from the garrison, disengage immediately to a randomized heading until further notice.”

What data the Valkyrie transmitted was exceedingly fascinating than the reconnaissance of Ponyville. The castle that rested on the mountainside was a marvel of engineering and ingenuity. Although the structure could never hold a candle to Imperial Architecture; for ponies, this stood as a testament to a sophisticated civilization.

As the occupants of the control room watched as the details rendered with every pass the Valkyrie made, some of the personnel made comments about the structure. More notably were the comments made by the Enginseer, whose profession provided a more credible analysis than those who are judging it by appearance.

“The architecture suggests an inadequate resistance to prolonged defense,” Voltis said in his indifferent monotone. “Drawing comparison from Imperial construction protocols, a structure this delicate can only establish itself considerably far from hazardous regions; the materials composites are adequate for proximal zones of conflict; or had been fabricated through unconventional means.”

“Or it could be a palace,” Holt added. “Seeing how we’ve yet to see the military might of these ponies, or anything than inept comprehension of warfare as we know it from the ones we have in our custody, this castle could be the administrative arm of their sovereign. However, that is no reason to assume they are not dangerous.”

“Indeed, Commissar Holt,” the Colonel said, pointing at some moving objects indicated as a red icon. “I’m sure they are quite capable of defending themselves against invaders.”

“Auspex scanners are picking up activity!” Derrick said over the vox. “The natives are mobilizing, flyers incoming!”

“Two-Five disengaging, plotting vector two-seven-zero,” replied Dalia.

“Copy Two-Five, proceed with heading; we’ll inform you of your next course of action after we review the data.”

As they flew off through the open sky, the Lieutenant mentally began to review the last tense moments at their capital. She allowed herself to exhale after enough distance was put in between them and the castle.  Never in her whole career had she flown a mission this easy and free of incident. Although the most damage she received on what she previously thought was her easiest was minor shrapnel, this was the only mission she flew with absolutely no perilous hazards.

For the first time since she flew over the spires of her homeworld, Dalia felt a little joy in flying the free open skies. As far as the eye can see, there were no signs of scars from war on the lands; no atmosphere choked by centuries of industry; and most importantly, no hive cities filled to the brim with lost souls who sacrifice their dreams on the altar of false hope. It all seems peaceful from way up here. ’But, looks can be deceiving,’ Dalia reminded herself.

“We’ve got company!” Derrick shouted, startling the crew.

“Emperor’s mercy,” Dalia shouted back. “What’s got you-“

“This one’s much faster than before! Possible incoming missile! Break right!”

Immediately after the Valkyrie evasion, a blue streak zoomed past the port side of the aircraft.

“Lock all doors and hold tight for evasive maneuvers! Derrick, do you have eyes on the bandit?”

“Negative, radar detects no airborne fighters. HQ did you see anything?”

“Nothing behind you, the only thing we’re tracking is the projectile at the forefront,” replied Briggs. “Wait, it’s decelerating. That wasn’t a missile!”

“Is that one of them?!”

The Valkyrie caught up with what they thought was a missile, turns out to be a pegasus. If it weren’t for the rainbow mane, it would have been invisible in the blue sky.

“That pony zoomed past us?” the Lieutenant said incredulously. “I want a good look at this creature!”

“Contact, starboard side!” Derrick informed the crew. “Command, are you seeing this?”

Brennr cautiously disengaged the door locks to resume recording. Opening only wide enough for his surveyor to see, he got a glimpse of the pony flying about fifty meters parallel with them.

“Acknowledged Two-Five we have visual,” replied Briggs, sounding distorted.” Break off and correct bearing one-nine-zero, your signal strength is getting weaker.”

“Tempest Two-Five copies, target is now pursuing us, will this present a problem?”

“If you can shake em’ off, that would be advisable,” Briggs suggested. “We cannot have them following you back to base.”

“Acknowledge,” Dalia replied, searching for a way to lose the pegasus.

Several minutes passed the Valkyrie’s size and agility proved difficult to shake off something small and just as fast with no signs of exhaustion. The pegasus didn’t dare fly any closer, as if it were monitoring them as they had to the terrain. Neither side able to do anything but continue the chase. In the distance, a massive cloud formation came into view. The Lieutenant suddenly had an idea and aimed the Valkyrie straight towards the clouds.

“Everyone hang on and expect severe turbulence!” Dalia announced to the crew. “We’ll see who the better flyer here is!”

As the Valkyrie approached the clouds, the pegasus broke off from the pursuit, letting the aircraft continue uncontested.

“Heh, must have tried out the creature, I knew they were weak,” Dalia said congratulating herself.

“Uh Lieutenant, these clouds don’t look natural!” Derrick said in a doubtful tone.

“Don’t be ridiculous, there’s nothing to fear from- Holy Terra!” Dalia shouted as a building whipped by. “Everyone brace yourselves!”

The rapid deceleration and inevitable impact threw the guardsmen from their restraints and scattered them all over the cabin. Somehow much of the energy was dampened by whatever they crashed into, leaving the fuselage intact. Emerging from the mess of displaced objects and gear, Sketch reoriented herself from the floor. Pulling aside what was left of her restraints, she slowly regained mobility in the cabin. Puzzled about what had just happened, she stumbled over to the side door to peer outside. Brennr and Davir were also recovering from the shock and shared a common concern.

“Are we stopped?” Davir asked, finding it bizarre for the aircraft to become stationary after going so fast moments ago.

“I think so; did anyone notice the heavy fog before we hit the ground?” Sketch asked, seeing nothing but a dense white mist through the crack in the door.

“No, could it have been concealing a mountain?” Davir replied, comforting his injuries.

“No way the Lieutenant’s that stupid to crash into something that ominous,” Brennr said as he crawled to his seat.

“Then what did we hit; and how are we still in one piece after a crash like that?” Sketch said, approaching the rear of the Valkyrie. “No matter, we must assess the damage; I’ll assist the pilots, you two can start examining the aircraft for any critical damage.”

Punching the release for the ramp, they were welcomed by scenery obscured by a dense screen of mist. Sketch paused when she didn’t hear the familiar thump of metal on rock, or whatever indication of the ramp resting on something solid. As she stood there in confusion, she started to wonder if they had crashed in snow. It would be sensible to think the snow cushioned the impact, but this was defiantly a gaseous substance. From a distance, she noticed some silhouettes materialize behind the fog. Immediately she reached for her lasgun and aimed at the approaching figures.

“Guys, we got company!” Sketched shouted back to her comrades.

The fog began to disperse rapidly, revealing what the shadows really were. Uncovering the Valkyrie from the fog, the aircraft was in full view of many pegasi. Speechless by what beheld her, Sketch looked beyond the first response teams, towards the structures behind the crowd surrounding the craft. Every structure bore the same color as the clouds, some even looked like they adopted the same texture. She was about to dismiss the thought if it weren’t the new arrival. The rainbow maned pegasus that had been chasing them had landed in close proximity to a soft puff of mist displacing where she landed.

Swiftly, Sketch came to realize they were resting on the clouds; they were still in the sky. The high pitched noises from the vertical thrusters entering her senses told her that they were still in action, and opening the ramp was a very poor decision.

“Hold onto something!” shouted Brennr as the Valkyrie leaned backward.

Before she could react, the turbo fans roared to life and Sketch was thrown forward as the Valkyrie accelerated without ample warning.

“DAMMIIIIIIIIIT-!” she shrieked, trying in vain to grab hold of something solid.

Tumbling as she fell through the cloud cover, Sketch caught a glimpse of the Valkyrie escaping, zooming away without her towards the horizon.

“Emperor, don’t let me die like this!” Sketch screamed to drown out the rushing of wind.

Hearing a faint voice, she looked up and saw that rainbow maned pegasus diving towards her.

“Hold still!” the pegasus shouted.

Sketch complied, followed by a sharp tug from her shoulders. The descent was slowed, turning from a terminal plunge to a steep glide, but the ground was still rapidly approaching, promising a dangerous landing.

“Whoever you are,” the pegasus hollered. “Hold on!”

Before Sketch could answer, she saw a tree in their path. Covering her eyes, she accepted her destination and was obliged with broken branches, fractured bones and drowned leaves before getting the wind knocked out of her after tumbling down to the ground where she promptly blacked out.

Chapter Seven: By Order of the Departmento Munitorium

Alone on a patch of dry ground in the swampy terrain, an armour clad figure of azure and gold stood still, meditating about the events leading up to this moment. His ornate staff, a tool for enhancing his unspeakable energies, laying discarded in the mud; burnt out and no longer humming with power. But that isn’t what’s troubling the Sorcerer of the Thousand Sons. What drew his attention is not the fact that they were cut off from their respected warband; nor is the idea of being surrounded by the most despicable and hated of allies he had the misfortune of sharing this misadventure with.

Makaan’s mind is concentrating on the absolute silence about this world. Not for as long as he dare remember that there ever exists such a thing as this beautiful calm quietness. No Psyker is spared from the endless wailing from the warp; no amount of protection of distance can choke the noise. And yet, this tranquility is what’s most disturbing. He having endured many occasions of being dragged through warp rifts, intentionally and otherwise, but never had he been so disoriented from the experience.

The warp storm is definitely gone; being stranded on this planet for a day more than proves that point, but whether or not this is a world controlled by the Imperium will take some time. However there is a strong sense that their trouble is deeper than merely being on the wrong planet. Makaan’s power being inert is evidence of that, but he will not be disclosing that to his allies any time soon.

‘Those servants of the false Emperor had a Psyker among them’, he thought, reliving the events before reaching the point where recollection ends.

‘No,’ he replies to himself. ‘It is not possible for one man, a measly sanctioned Psyker to summon a rift as potent as one made by an Aspiring Sorcerer. ‘

Then he remembered the protective dome the Psyker summoned. How it started out weak, but grew stronger with every lightning strike from the warp storm licking the surface of Medusa V. Then something from the sky rained down to release all the energy, doing Tzeentch-knows-what. The full scope of their situation has not been fully realized for many hours after the energy release when he regained consciousness in this deafeningly quiet world.

The Death Guard and their minions immediately went about reconnecting with those scattered throughout the forest while he made considerable effort to isolate himself from their involvements. Only in solitude can he truly find out why he can’t even lift his staff from the mud.

Stumbling from the forest, one of the Followers of the Plague interrupts the sorcerer.  He is a shadow of his former self, a rotting husk from the war on Medusa V before reaching its crescendo. Makaan turns to glare at the cultist’s intrusion, not wanting to hear what this cretin has to say.

“What matter of importance requires you to disturb my meditation?” He growls, giving no effort to mask his venom.

“A thousand pardons sorcerer,” the heretic said, wheezing with every other spoken word. ”But my Lord wishes to share with you that they’ve found the Imperials.”

“They survived?” Makaan said, genuinely impressed that those untouched by the Immaterium can live through the experience. “And what does your Lord plan on doing with them?”

“Lord Ignatis is sending forward every able follower to storm their position.”

“And your Lord is abandoning his brethren yet to accounted for?” He added, mildly amused by their disregard of their own.

“We will return to our task once we finish them off. Our Lord believes that they are disorganized, leaderless and alone as we are; vulnerable and presents an easy target.”

“That is very unwise to assume, but I will not question your Lord’s wisdom.” Makaan said, mockingly. “And what will Ignatis have me do?”

“Lord Ignatis wants to inquire about reconnecting to the warp, a task that should be no problem for the likes of you.”

“Of course,” he lied. “I will seek out your Lord when I conclude my meditation. Also tell him that I will be addressed as ‘Makaan’ if he wants to court my service.”

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Pinkie Pie bounced merrily through the outskirts of Ponyville following the source of that strange noise that zoomed overhead moments ago. At first she thought it’s a hot air balloon, but quickly abandoned the thought when the sky filled with the roar of turbo fans after zipping by.

‘I wonder why that thing’s heading for Cloudsdale,’ she thought, seeing the great formation of clouds in the distance.

Suddenly the aircraft appeared again. Bursting out of the clouds, the olive coloured aircraft soared above her. Pinkie stares in awe at the machine, comprehending how it can achieve flight with its wings locked stiff. Disappearing into the horizon, Pinkie felt a little frustration that she cannot greet the newcomers.

“Twitcha-twitch-twitch-twitch,” Pinkie said aloud, her twitching tail warning her of a falling object, she dashed for a spot under a tree.

Looking up, she caught a glimpse of something crashing into the same tree she stood under. Tumbling down, something large and olive drab landed with a splat in front of Pinkie Pie. She gave a yelp of surprise, trying her best to distinguish what this creature is. It looked like a minotaur at first glance, but dismissed the thought when she trot closer.

“I wouldn’t get close to that thing if I were you,” Rainbow Dash said from the tree tops. “Actually, do whatever, it’s passed out.”

“Hey Rainbow Dash!” she exclaimed, pleasantly surprised by her arrival. “Who’s your friend here?”

“It’s not my friend; I just saved its sorry hide when it fell through the clouds.”

“That’s very nice of you Rainbow,” Pinkie said, poking the creature’s helmet. “I’m sure they would be very grateful for the rescue.”

“I hope so, because they’ve got a lot of explaining to do about the damage they caused in Cloudsdale. Anyway, you wanna help me drag this thing to the hospital, I heard something broke on the way down. ”

“Awe, poor thing. Sure I’ll help you out Dashie.”

Sharing the weight of the creature between them, they start the long trek towards the Ponyville Hospital. To pass the time smoother, Pinkie Pie began commenting about the creature’s particulars.

“Rainbow Dash?”

“What.”

“Haven’t you notice that we don’t even know what this creature actually looks like?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s just that every inch is covered by something or another. The face, the mane, tail or anything; everything seems to be covers by something thing stiff maybe even metal.”

“I’m pretty certain that it has none of those features, but I suppose you have a point. That would explain why it’s so heavy. I think I saw lights on its backpack a while ago.”

“Gasp! Do you think it could be a robot?!”

“Definitely not a robot, it was saying stuff before I caught it.”

“Did it sound like a guy or girl?”

Considering Pinkie's question, Rainbow Dash tries to discern it's gender solely on it's voice.

“Ya know, I'm not sure," she finally said after a moment of pondering. "The mask kind of muffled everything it was saying so I can’t tell.”

“I really wish I can ask why it’s wearing so much protection, the breathy tubes looks cool and all, but this seems a bit excessive. “

“Well once it wakes, feel free to ask.”

The hospital was coming into view and a pair of security guards were swiftly approaching.

“This fella took a really nasty fall and I’m not sure what broke,"Rainbow Dash explains to the guards. "This guy is from that thing that flew overhead not long ago.”

The guards acknowledged and haul the lump stranger into the lobby where it can move to Intensive Care. During the exchange a small booklet fell from one of the pockets from the backpack. Pinkie Pie picked up the book and waits for Rainbow Dash to finish describing to the attendants what had happened.

“These guys here don’t know what this thing is either,” Dash groaned. “Makes me wonder if we have an alien in our hooves.”

“Hey RD, check this thing out,” Pinkie said, holding the book up to her friend. “I think this belonged to that person.”

Rainbow Dash looked at the title underneath what looked like an aquilia with two heads.

“’The Imperial Infantryman’s Uplifting Primer’, say that one ten times fast,” Rainbow commented, but quickly resumed reading before Pinkie took it literally. “Van Grothes’ Rift Edition.“

Catching on to a brilliant idea, she shoves the book back into Pinkie’s possession.

“Bring this to Twilight immediately,” she shouts as Pinkie smiles, knowing where this is going. “I’ll go look for Fluttershy to hear her two bits on what she thinks this creature is.”

Dashing off to Fluttershy’s cottage, she quietly hopes that these were aliens; that would be so awesome.

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“And the thing was huge!“

Pinkie Pie arrives at Twilight’s library and right away started to recall what had happen.

“But it didn’t seem scary at all. So we brought it to the hospital, we found the book and now Rainbow Dash is going to ask Fluttershy about what she thinks.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Twilight said, keeping her full attention on the book.

Flipping to the first page, she stopped at an ominous warning printed in bold and bordered with a grim skull to push the warning forward.

By order of the Departmento Munitorum

This guide book and the documents contained within must not fall into enemy hands.

Failure to ensure this document’s safekeeping carries the penalty of death.

368/Publis Custodes Imperialum/579

Her blood went cold at the thought of a simple book carrying such dire consequences. What in Equestria would bestow such harsh punishment on something simple as a book? Turning a few more pages, Twilight finds something that might be important.

“Oh Pinkie Pie, it looks like her name is Sketch,” she exclaimed, but her excitement turns to confusion when she continues reading.

“Serial number: 8157-389-42-1? Rank: Corporal? Born: Vendolant Hive district 11744, 314975M41? Call Code:  Union, Juno, Tetra? Any of this ringing a bell Pinkie?"

“I have no idea,” Pinkie Pie said, blissfully unconcerned.

“Maybe there’s a table of contents somewhere,” Twilight sighs. “Oh there is!”

The next page turns to the content’s list, on the opposite page had a picture of a winged figure in decorative armor, hovering above a column of faceless figures with a banner header reading ‘Vitae Morte’. Unsure of what that means, she scans the table of contents.

“’Chapter 4: Imperial Guard vehicle recognition charts’, this might help us identify what that thing is. Let me just find that page.”

Twilight turns to that section and levitates the book in front of herself and Pinkie. What they found is an array of silhouettes, many of which bore absolutely no resemblance to what they seek, but there were a few that looks very similar.

“Marauder?” Twilight asked, naming off the first silhouette with wings.

“Nah, the wings weren’t that long,” Pinkie answered. “Nor was the tail so ridged. Ooo, how about a Thunderbolt.”

“The fuselage wasn’t that short from what I can tell from here. And the wings seemed to have tipped downward. Ah! Here we go!”

Turning another page, Twilight spots a shape that shares the most resemblance to the aircraft.

“The Valkyrie assault carrier is a twin-engine attack craft used for rapid aerial insertions and drop missions,” she read. “Modifications to the chassis or fitting can fulfill other various roles from vehicle transport to logistical missions. A Valkyrie utilizes vectored engines for vertical take-off and landings, making this the ideal aircraft for operating in uneven and/or dangerous terrain.”

“I still couldn’t picture what they’re trying to do,” Pinkie pondered. “If this is their way of saying ‘hi’, this is a very strange way of accomplishing it.”

“Or perhaps they are trying to learn about us before they visit us,” Twilight replies as she browse the rest of the book. "Maybe if I learn more about them, we’ll figure a way to make this easier for the both of us.”

Without knocking, Rainbow Dash burst through the front door, causing both ponies to leap in fright.

“Guys! Fluttershy’s gone!” Dash shouts over their protest. “There’s something there that you need to see! Come on!”

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“Is our specimen’s X-ray developing?” asked Doctor Stable.

“It will be ready in a moment,” replied Nurse Coldheart. “And why are you referring to our patient as ‘specimen’?”

“Because I have no idea of what else to call it,” the Doctor said, almost afraid of what he’s saying. “Nowhere on Equestria have I ever seen anything so strange, and frightening.”

A table at the corner of the room lays everything they were brave enough to remove from the specimen. Surprisingly, the strange backpack, the largest item they successfully removed, was the easiest. Alongside it were a collection of unidentified trinkets and loose items, a long rectangular-ish tool with a barrel, both shoulder guards and the helmet with its mask still attached. The medical team is unable to remove the carapace, because it fits tightly on the abdomen and probably protected that general area from any trauma from the drop.

Removing the helmet had been an interesting experience, the attendants in the room were mesmerized as were they bothered by what the features on the specimen’s head. The creature was mostly hairless, a long scar stretching from the right cheek and disappearing somewhere in the only place where hair grew.

“Who knows what this poor creature’s been through,” commented Nurse Sweetheart. “Stitching a scar that large shut must have been terrible.”

“I have a feeling the scar is only the tip of the ice berg,” Doctor Stable said solemnly. “That gear we removed is most definitely for protection, and I don’t even want to know what its protection against.”

“Doctor! The X-rays are done!” exclaimed Nurse Redheart.

“Well, let’s see it then,” Doctor Stable said, flipping on the display lights.

Sticking the X-ray photos on the wall, everypony recoils in horror at the images displaying before them.

“What in Tartarus is that?!”

“Is that metal bar the only thing holding that femur together?!”

“Who in the right mind thinks stapling bones together is a good idea?!”

“Is this what they call shrapnel?!”

In the commotion, Sweetheart fell with a flop, feinting from the disturbing photos. The other Nurses exchange glances at the patient, still out cold, on the operating table.

“Are we sure it’s even alive?”

“There is a pulse, and it’s still breathing,” Doctor Stable said, trying to return to his calm attitude. “I’m not entirely sure of what we can do other than making sure our specimen hasn’t sustained a concussion.”

“I’ll begin prepping the CT scanner once I help Sweetheart up,” said Coldheart, helping Sweetheart out out of the room.

“Thanks Coldheart, I’m going to double check the restraints before we move the specimen again,” Stable said, tugging the straps. “Nurse Redheart, can you summon security, just in case?”

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“Sentinel, Insurgency Walker,” Twilight read aloud as Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash examine the prints left on the ground. “Lightly armoured mechanized units crewed by a single pilot. Sentinels usually fulfill reconnaissance and fast attack function. Useful in rough terrain where tracked vehicles are prohibited.”

“So they’ve been here already,” Rainbow Dash said, worrying for their friend Fluttershy. “We should go in there after them! Come on who’s with me?”

“Cool your jets Rainbow. We can’t go after them hastily,” Twilight said trying to convey the weight of how important this is. “We might trigger a hostile reaction from them and all our efforts will be for naught! “

“What makes you think they’ll just attack you without knowing you?” Rainbow asks, frustrated with Twilight's indecision.

“Because of this,” Twilight said, holding up the book for emphasis. “I’ve only read a hoof-full of pages and everything in it suggests that they don’t take too kindly to anyone but their own; and even that is a fragile friendship, if you could even call it that!”

“What! Are they Tartatus-bent on fighting anyone and everything they don’t like?”

“Precisely, and making sure we don’t get off on the wrong hoof is of dire importance!”

“If we can’t go in after them, then what do you suggest we do?” Rainbow Dash said deplete of argument.

“Maybe if we ask Sketch nicely, she can take us to them,” Pinkie suggests.

“That actually sounds like a good plan,” inquires Twilight, noticing an entry on Vox-Casters. “Or maybe she can open a channel with whomever’s encharge and I can speak with them.”

“Wait, that was a she, Rainbow Dash asks. “And her name is Sketch? How did you- oh.”

She stops after seeing Twilight holding up the book again.

“Let’s giddy up!” Pinkie Pie said joyfully. “I really want to give her a proper welcome to Ponyville.”

“Actually Pinky, maybe you should leave that to Twilight,” Dash advises. “You’re overly flamboyant attitude might scare her.”

“Awe, not even my welcome wagon?” Pinkie pouts.

“Definitely no welcome wagon,” Twilight sighs, trying to perceive every means of damage control.

While she understands that Pinkie Pie's intentions were suppose to be friendly, she didn't want to take any risks of Pinkie ruining their standings with a potentially intolerant empire. They’ve made it partially through the market district in Ponyville when Pinkie Pie stops dead in her tracks, staring at the direction where they just came. Twilight and Rainbow Dash halts as well and approached their friend.

“Hey Pinkie, what’s wrong?” Twilight asks.

“Shhhh, do you hear that?” Pinkie said quietly.

One by one, Twilight notices everypony in the proximity stopping what business they were conducting and succumbing to confusion as she began to hear light popping noises traveling through the air. Suddenly a low rumble erupting in the distance, emanating from the Everfree Forest.

“Yes,” Twilight wispers. “I hear it.”

‘dakka dakka dakka’

The cacophony of sounds steadily grew, without rhythm, only chaotic crackles and booms. The shrill and strident screams are much more subtle than from a couple nights before; but without the storm to buffer the noise, it was impossible for anypony not to notice.

“Come on girls, double time,” Twilight said trying to get her friends attention.” Let’s get to the hospital before things escalate.”

The market residents watched with dread and sought for shelter afterwards, fearing what clash is taking place in the Everfree Forest.  Rapidly approaching the hospital, Twilight, Rainbow Dash and Pinie Pie were confronted by the same two security guards, this time their expressions are of distress.

“Thank Celestia you’re here!” one of the security ponies said. “The patient you brought in woke up and is extremely uncooperative.”

“Take me to her,” Twilight answered, trying to put on her brave face.

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Sitting in the middle of an empty room, Sketch makes another attempt to free her bindings. Shaking in her chair, she realizes that they’ve pretty much have her firmly secured to the seat. The only part that doesn’t seems tied down are her boots, unfortunately there isn’t enough slack to free herself, or even move.

“Emperor forgive this embarrassment for being held prisoner by a bunch of ponies,” she grumbles.

Grateful that these ponies are not threatening torture, yet, she began to rethink about the Colonel’s mission.

‘That reconnaissance mission went on fine before that idiot Lieutenant fouled up at the last minute, ejecting me into the sky,’ Sketch bitterly thought to herself. ‘Still, I better fight on and what better way of gathering intelligence on these ponies other than firsthand experience.’

‘But no,’ She interrupted her thoughts. ‘I can’t be meddling with ponies. I am a soldier of the Imperial Guard! I am better than this.’

The door opened and two more ponies clip-clops into the room. The pegasus that rescued her and a unicorn. Remembering that unicorns are this world’s equivalent of Psykers, she wills herself to alertness incase repelling any mind attacks were necessary.

“My name is Twilight Sparkle, the unicorn said. “And I believe your name is Sketch, am I correct.”

Sketch said nothing, unwilling to surrender any information, the least she can do to uphold the integrity of the guard.

“We would like to ask you a few questions, like how you got here and how to find your friends,” said Twilight, trying to be discreet.

“The only thing you’re getting from me is my name, rank and serial number,” Sketch spat back. ”Which is Cor-“

“Corporal Sketch, yes I know,” Twilight interrupted. “Serial number 8157-389-42-1, I found out from this book here.”

The unicorn levitates her copy of the Infantryman's Uplifting Primer between them and her stomach fell as if she is falling off the Valkyrie all over again.

“I also learned that you are from Vendolant and your Commander’s name is Colonel Constantine,” Twilight continued, oblivious to how tense Sketch is getting. “It must be a pleasant place, and how’s the weather there at this time of the year?”

‘This is got to be a sick joke,’ Sketch thought to herself. ‘This unicorn, Twilight Sparkle, is saying things that will more than convict me of treason!’

“Alright,” Twilight persists. “Your call code is Union, Juno, Tetra, whatever that means; and your attached Commissar is Commissar Holt.”

“Stop reading!,” Sketch pleas, frighten by how much this unicorn knows. “Give back my book!”

“I will give it back after I finish reading it,” Twilight replies, not comprehending the weight this book has over the guardsman. “It’s a really fascinating read I might add. There is some amazing stuff in those pages.”

Desperately thinking of a way to get Twilight’s attention away from that book, Sketch thought of something else that might attract this pony’s affinity for books. Doing so will deviate from protocol, but whatever it takes to get that book back without killing her for it.

“I’ve got plenty of other books other than that old thing,” Sketch said, trying to downplay the value of that book. “That book you have there has a lot of private information that would get me into deep trouble if you delve any further.”

“Oh that order of the Departmento Munitorum thing,” Twilight suddenly realizing why she wants it back so badly. “Well, we do not want to be enemies; we would really much prefer to be friends. I’m trying to learn more about your background so we can proceed from there. If you are willing to oblige, I will make this easier for the both of us.”

“Yeah, we’re not enemies,” Rainbow Dash said, jumping into the conversation. “If we’re friends, then there’s no need to worry about those silly rules.”

‘These ponies have absolutely no idea,’ Sketch thought, astonished by their unrestricted lenience.

A great majority of Imperial officers will not tolerate any deviation from regulations and there were always Commissars on duty to enforce their harsh and unforgiving rule. Thinking about what the Colonel said prior to the mission, and the unicorn’s offer of cooperation with that common goal, she concludes that it will be necessary to disregard Imperial regulations for the time being.

“Fine, as long as I get that book back after this,” Sketch said, calmer, but still distraught by how easily the unicorn won her cooperation. “Be glad that my Colonel also wants to learn more about you too.”

“Really? That’s great!” Twilight said excitedly.

There was one final blast of sound from the battle in the forest that penetrated through the hospital. Opening a window, Twilight and Rainbow Dash poked their heads outside to listen.

“Hey girls! Pinkie shouted from the courtyard. “The ‘sploading stopped!”

True to her word, the Everfree Forest was silent once more, a thin trail of smoke puffing above the tree line indicating where the battle was held.

“What’s happening out there,” Sketch said, still tied down to the chair. “Are my comrades in trouble?”

“I think your friends are fighting or something,” Rainbow answers. “It’s been going on for almost twenty minutes, before it finally gave out. “

“So they finally decided to show their ugly faces," Sketch said under her breath.

"Excuse me?" Twilight asks.

You really want to know who we’re fighting?” Sketch inquires.

“Of course we do,” Rainbow Dash said exasperatingly. “Twilight said we want to know everything about you, and your enemies are also part of the deal.”

“Right,” Sketch replies. “Release me and I’ll tell you all about the Fourteenth Legion.”

Freed from her restraints, she thought for a split second to make a break for the exit, but diminishes the idea after thinking of how that would accomplish nothing. If the Death Guard were attacking their base, she can’t return on her own.

“Alright sit down, it's story time,” Sketch said with humor and seriousness. "Hope you’ve brought a change of pants."

“What are pants?” asks Twilight.

“Nevermind”

Prologue: Welcome to Medusa V

The Age of the Imperium is coming to an end. The Emperor's light glows dim as time continues its endless march. There can be no peace among the stars; no safety found in the void; for the Imperium of Man has known only war for the last hundred centuries. Attacked from within by separatists and heretics, besieged from without by xenos and daemons.

His domain dwindles, planet by planet and system by system. The High Lords of Terra are forced to partake in wars ever more costly and apocalyptic. Survival is no birthright, but a prize wrestled from an uncaring galaxy by unsung heroes and unremembered battles. The Imperium of Man is at war like never before. A hundred thousand warzones are spread across the galaxy, wracked in constant endless unremitting war. To be a man in such times is to be among untold billions; to live in the cruelest and most bloody regime imaginable. Forget the power of technology and science. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for this is humanity's darkest hour in this eternal war.

Settled in the early years of the 38th millennium, Medusa V has enjoyed a relatively peaceful history and only recently had descended into turmoil. The warp phenomenon known as Van Grothe's Rapidity pulses on the Eastern Fringe of the galaxy. It is a bright colorful whirlpool of destruction that spans light years and spells disaster for those desperate or careless enough to enter it without caution. For thousands of years, the warp anomaly has been stable, and when traversed correctly can shorten interstellar voyages by months if not years. Because of this hazardous way point, the Rapidity has earned the nickname "Hell's Slingshot". Throughout history, warp storms will occasionally flare up and disrupt travel in the system from a couple of months to several decades. And on every opportunity the storm subsides, contact is swiftly restored;

Each time the message from the citizens of Medusa were the same:

All is well.

Only in the past few years of this dark millennium had events began to change, casting the safety of the system into doubt. The Rapidity has begun to boil over. Initially, this change of events did not warrant the attention of Mechanicus Observers, but now there is little doubt that it is growing at a dangerous rate. Theories and speculations surrounding the explanation as to why reality is breaking down so swiftly as the phenomena unfolds vary. Boastful soldiers suggest that it is trying to become a second Eye of Terror, agents of the Ordo Malleus suggest Chaos insurrections are invoking fury of the storm towards the system. For every plausible explanation, there are a dozen insane allegations. The fact of the matter is that they are all irrelevant. As the Rapidity extends its reaches at terrifying speeds, every outpost, waystation and satellite it touches is lost - all signs of life eradicated. Adeptus Mechanicus vessels attempting to monitor the storm have estimated that it will reach Medusa V in months, if not weeks. Regardless to the theories concerning the growing storm,

all are in agreement on one thing:

Medusa will die.

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Prologue

+++++Transmitted: Hive Megaera, Command Centre - Medusa V

+++++Destination: All Imperial Guard and allied elements

+++++Origin: Lord Marshal Harazahn

+++++Decode Authority: Topaz

+++++Issue: RE: Welcome to Medusa V Commander - Regional Status Reports

+++++Thought for the Day: "None who died for the Imperium died in vain!"

+++++Time Remaining: 14 days

Welcome to Medusa V. You and your men have been brought here to fight for the glory of Mankind and deny this world to the enemies of the Emperor. The High Lords of Terra have issued a declaration that Medusa V must not fall into the hands of the alien or the heretic. Enforcing that mandate falls to us, the fighting men of the Glorious Imperial Guard.

Make no mistake; Medusa V is a world ready to die. In just a matter of weeks, the malignant Warp storm that approaches this world will scour all life from it. It is our duty to see that Medusa V has a clean death. The forces of Chaos would ravage this world for their own debauched aims, turning it into a playground of filth. The Tyranids seek to devour it, feeding their inhuman appetites. The Necrons too are perpetrating some vile works; even as the Eldar stalk the land enacting unknown evils. Medusa V is beset on all sides by enemies that would benefit from its death — preventing them from succeeding is your duty.

From the vast trench works of the Mortise Line to the cramped and crowded hives of Euryales, Imperial Guard units are ready for battle. Military Command predicts that the attacks by the vile enemies of the Golden Throne will intensify as the storm approaches. Stand your ground; don't allow our foes to take advantage of any stratagem that can be used against us!

Unit commanders are instructed to keep a watchful eye on their soldiers for signs of weakness and impiety, and company Commissars are advised to watch any Sanctioned Psykers with increased vigilance as the approaching Warp storm worsens.

Fight onward! The Emperor Protects!

+++++Transmission Terminated

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Emerging from the cramped corridors, Constantine let the sea of bodies lead him in the direction of the massive launch bay. Everywhere around him, the intercom speakers screeched instruction to the squabbling masses in transit.   Dominating everything in sight is the Bulk Lander, its true size hidden by the dozens of boarding ramps, clamps and cables from end to end. Thousands of Tech Adepts were on the move, operating the fuel lines, calibrating the vessel's auspex instruments, and other logistical concerns to ensure a smooth separation of such a vast medium. Through the cacophony of Infantry flooding the bridges connected across multiple levels and heavy mechanical rumble of vehicles flowing into the carrier’s lower levels; whatever directive each individual contributed, they all strive for one grand commitment; they were going to war.

Constantine continues traveling with the slow current of personnel. Cabin by cabin was filled to the brim with guardsmen as far as the compartment's length. With everyone trying to restrain their kits and buckling down for the departure, he would have to be delicate with his navigation through the mess before he reached his destination. Every compartment he passed showed varying degrees of readiness, improving as he transcended the length of the vessel. The last compartment before his goal was all set to go. The guardsmen here, those who weren't occupied with the restraints, all looked up at Constantine as he strode past them. Finally, he reached the end of the corridor, and steps past the threshold.

"Officer on deck!"

Nearly everyone within earshot rose to the occasion and saluted as Constantine entered the flight deck.

"At ease." He said quickly returning the salute and began to take observation on who was in proximity.

To his left, was a man in a black coat; his face was like stone, cracked with scars and drained of color by endless deployments; his left eye replaced by a mechanical replicate with a red glow coming from the iris; his hat wore a grim skull engraved on its peak. This was without doubt, the Commissar attached to his regiment. Commissar Holt. There was an aura of intimidation about him for the Departmento Munitorium's legendary role, but Holt had a reputation for his respect for front line personnel.

Beside the Commissar, there was an Officer who had the same attire as any other guardsmen in his regiment. The only difference was the helmet, which had a microphone integrated into the side, and a lightning bolt insignia on his right shoulder guard. This was Logistics Officer Briggs. His exceptional reliability to manage communication channels makes up for his lack of combat proficiency.

To the right of Constantine was another Officer in a guardsmen uniform. Just like Briggs, the right shoulder was what distinguished him from the rest; the insignia of the Medical Corps. This was Doctor Graff. Again like the Logistics Officer, his skill is not adept to combat, but that would be a dangerous assumption to make.

Next to Graff was someone that stood out as much as the Commissar. He wore a pale green overcoat and was leaning against a metallic staff. At the tip of the staff was the ornament of an Imperial Aquila perched on a single eye. This was a Sanctioned Psyker, known only as Karos. His helmet was different from the guardsmen issue, because it blocked his vision just like that of a welding mask, but instead of blocking out eye-melting beams of light, it was for deterring something darker and more elusive than anyone could control.

In front of Constantine, by the control consoles, were one of the co-pilots of the ship; Lieutenant Dalia. A proficient Valkyrie pilot, but for the descent she will be assisting the primary helmsman for the descent.

Constantine stopped next to Dalia. "Lieutenant, when do we depart?"

"The ship will be fully loaded and fit to deploy within the next ten minutes." She responds without hesitation. "The super carrier, however, will not arrive at the deployment zone for another 20 minutes."

Quick and to the point, that was her usual response. 20 minutes to relax and learn more about what we are up against. He's pretty much aware of how the war down below was progressing, but the situation has turned to the worst as the days stacked up. Not to mention the impending warp storm that was about to consume the whole planet.

"I appreciate the update; let me know when we are about 5 minutes from deployment so I can address the regiment."

"It shall be done, Colonel."

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Several compartments away from the flight deck, preparations to launch were moving by.

"Take note of the quality your restraints lock as you buckle down!" barked Sergeant Verticora over noise of armor in motion rumbling below them.

"Emperor have mercy for the poor fool to slip from their restraint harness when in free fall!"

There was no objection to this order; no one really took heed of the warning anyway; imagining the sensation of the descent was more than enough incentive for every guardsmen strap themselves in as best they could. For many that were not already panicked by their imagination, their anxieties were already getting to some.

Brennr was scared shitless, but remained lucid as a few guardsmen nearby succumbed to their terror.

"Calm down or you’re going to pass out!" Brennr called to his comrade adjacent to his seat.

"I'm trying!" replied the voice of Alicia. "The anticipation is getting to me."

Every guardsmen knew that they could all die at any moment in flight without any warning or means of escape. There were tens of thousands of them on board and indistinct tonnage of Armour tucked into the cargo holds. Countless things could go wrong. What if any of the tanks came loose and starts bouncing around the cargo bay during the descent? What would happen if something ruptures the hull? What if they were attacked on the way down? The Bulk Lander is a large target and won't be safe until they've landed. And everyone's survival depends on the skill and agility of the pilots. Once they get down planet side, it would be an all out war; up against overwhelming odds: xenos, heretics and daemons. But there was the Emperor, He who keeps watch over all his servants. Although they all knew their deaths were inevitable, the Emperor would at least provide a fighting chance.

"Don't worry Alicia," Brennr said back at towards her direction. "We'll get through this, I know it."

This reassurance wasn't convincing, but the hyper-ventilating eased a little.

"She'll get over it once we start moving", came a voice in ahead of him. "Which won't be for another 15 minutes or so."

Brennr looked up and was about to ask him about how he knew when they were departing; then he saw Derrick with his Vox Caster.

"So is there anything else we should know about from that box of yours?"

"I could only tune into local frequencies, but I don't think I can get anything else out of it, besides all the Tech Adepts babbling." Derrick replied, slightly discouraged by how little he could share. "Plus all the noise outside is drowning out whatever they're saying."

Next to Derrick, Larn joined the conversation.

"So, you think this will be the shortest campaign we'll ever get?"

Like every guardsmen in this compartment, they were from the same platoon, so jumping in without permission was tolerable. Even with this, Brennr was puzzled by this new set of info.

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, the whole reason why we’re here is to help evacuate the planet. We were called from half a Segmentum away for duty that's practically trivial in writing. So why call out to hundreds of regiments, many Astartes Chapters and everything in between. Nearly all walks of life are converging on Medusa V, and if you put two and two together, something terrible is about to happen to the world below us."

Brennr and Derrick were silent with this intriguing foresight. Perhaps the drop was the least of their concerns.

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"Before I mention Battlezone: Hydra, to the north Euryales has all but fallen as the Archenemy's advance spreads like a plague, leaving whatever's left of the local PDF forces into disarray," continued Commissar Holt.

For the last several minutes, Constantine listened to Holt's report of the situation on the surface, his optimism sinking as these current events were not corresponding to the Lord Marshal's enthusiasm. Alas, this was what to expect from Imperial Propaganda; informing the bad news was not the method to instill confidence in their officers.

"Governor Soloman was evacuated and whatever Imperial forces remain inside the Euryales Hive is are on their own if they are not already withdrawing. The Marshal is ordering the area quarantined, but the impending warp storm, relentless xenos attacks and heretical insurrections are making this effort nearly impossible to accomplish. On top of that, every continent is reporting unconfirmed sightings of daemonic incursions."

There was a pause as the information settled. Constantine broke the silence.

"I would assume these incursions will intensify as Van Grothe's Rapidity grows ever more unstable."

"Unfortunately, that scenario is a certainty." The Commissar replied grimly.

"Very well. So, about Battlezone Hydra?"

The Commissar continued.

"Sybilla Primus will be our assigned station. Fortunately for us, the city's loyalty is in check, but evacuation efforts had had severe setbacks due to increased traffic of refugees now that Euryales is no longer a reliable evacuation hub. It will only be a matter of time before the blight that fell Euryales makes its way towards us."

At the word loyalty, Constantine was reminded of a Commissar's secondary function. While he was all for preserving order among the ranks, he would not resort to crude summary executions.

"Our time to get acquainted will be limited upon arrival before we are thrust into battle. At that I'd like to request that there will be no executions without my consent. I'd like for this campaign to proceed with no regretful acts."

Commissar Holt paused for a moment while he digested the Colonel's request.

"I would have it no other way. Despite what some of my colleagues say, most of us believe that respect is more powerful than fear. Respect earns favors, while fear invokes resentment; neither of which I desire, but the latter is what encourage some to sleep with one eye open."

Pleased with the response, Constantine pushed the issue aside, as it was no longer necessary to continue that conversation. Perhaps there was more to Commissar Holt than he initially thought. He would get back to him on that later, but there were other matters to attend to.

"I'm glad to hear that. That's one less problem to worry about when the time comes to wage war."

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From an elevated position, Sergeant Verticora observed the Tech Adepts securing the Sentinels to their bindings. His attention was set on his own mount which stood out from the rest of the squadron. It used to be as green as any other Sentinel in the regiment, but after one misadventure being splashed by some chemical during an engagement with an Ork mob, turned the pigments into a slight orange hue. Ever since then, he never thought about repainting his mount, because he thought it complemented the heavy flamer he often fitted to his Sentinel.

He saw a Tech Adept deviating from the pack overseeing the lock down. Enginseer Voltis, who was attached to the Regiment, was coming along for the ride. He thought of saying something rude, but friendly rude, to acknowledge his presence. Saying anything erotic about machines always confused him greatly and occasionally he would get some hilarious responses. Once he inquired on a 'crush' fabricated between Voltis and one of the Sentinels in his squadron. "Crush, why would I do that to the poor Machine after the abuse you put it through?" He had to admit that was a pretty good comeback even if he didn't understand the question. After recalling that humorous encounter, his mind wondered about this war.

'Something strange was bothering me about the campaign,' he thought to himself. 'I know that we're to help everyone evacuate it before the warp storm reaches Medusa V, but surely this could be done without deploying troops en masse to the surface. Everyone seems to be in a hurry to get off that forsaken rock, while Segmentum Command is throwing everything they got at it.'

After this thought, an alarm sounded and the Tech Adepts begun to evacuate the cargo bay. Voltis climbed in through the hatch Verticora had watch over and was his cue to lock it up. In the short instant he caught the Enginseer's attention; he gave a short nod before they parted ways. As Verticora got buckled up, he continued to think to himself as his thoughts explored topic on the war down below.

'There will be Arch Enemy forces on that world as well as xenos, but surely there should be more efficient ways of getting everyone off that planet with fewer armies.'

With the hatches sealed, kit and gear secured, he proceeded to double check the quality of his restraints. All the while, ignoring the nervousness of his neighbors as their deployment could begin at any second.

'Besides,' he gave a final look down the corridors, down the other crew compartments, 'how do they plan on evacuating us when it's our turn?'

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The vessel gave a very subtle quake as the launch bay floor slowly retracted into the super carrier, exposing the vacuum to the Bulk Lander. In time, the entire length of the vessel would be open to the planet below and all the clamps had to do was release the ship from its grip.

"5 Minutes to launch Sir," announced Lieutenant Dalia, as Constantine was finishing his meeting with Holt.

"Thank you Lieutenant." He walked over to Briggs. "Is it ready?"

"Ready and waiting Sir," replied the Logistics Officer holding out a microphone to the Colonel.

After taking the device, he positioned it close to himself and gave Briggs a nod. He clicked the switch.

"Men and Women of the 82nd Vendolant! This is your commanding officer: Colonel Constantine. In a matter of moments, we will be on the surface of the dying world of Medusa V. In only seven weeks, the once orderly Imperial world has succumbed to destruction and chaos. What defenses they once had are now in disarray. Worst of all, enemies of man from all walks of life has descended upon the helpless Citizens of the planet; Xenos, Heretics and worse. Like carrion birds they search for easy prey, but to their demise they will run straight into the Emperors Hammer! As the Emperor protects, so must we! Our duty is to crush all enemies of the Immortal Emperor and with our glorious Imperial Navy above our heads, not one of our enemies will escape from our wrath!"

"As the fleet evacuates our citizens from this doomed world, they also provide the means to escape the warp storm that will consume the planet. We will be long gone before the storm lands, and there will be plenty of time to ensure that our citizens are safely evacuated. Once the storm arrives, our enemies be trapped and we will have the last laugh, as their crude and pitiful plans at finding easy targets crumble before Imperial justice!"

"We are ready to launch sir!" Dalia called up to Constantine.

He nodded his head, giving the pilots an affirmative; he was not quite finished yet.

"I know what you all might be asking yourselves. What role does the 82nd Vendolant have to play in this campaign? We are deploying at the Sybilla Primus Hive City in the Battlezone Hydra. Our assignment will be to take up defensive positions inside the hive, assisting in crowd control and reinforcing Imperial battle lines. We are expecting the enemies to flow in from the north, but we must also be vigilant for any forces that may have already infiltrated the Hive.

"Engines awakening", the Pilot recited in a deep mechanical voice hidden through the filters of his mask. He flipped a couple dozen switches, following through with the rites of activation.

Constantine continues shouting through the noise as the devices on board buzzed to life.

"Remember! Trust the Emperor to see us through to the end!"

"Power flow nominal, calibrating sub-system networking." continued the Pilot.

"Do Vendolant and Terra proud and stand against the heretic's vile corruption. You and what you do are the pride of humanity!"

"Machine Spirit, hear thee and grant us your cooperation."

A small vibration can be felt as the engines became fully alive with power.

"Behind you stands billions of men, women and children, all breathing their thanks to you! Before you stand billions more!"

"Launch Bay depressurization complete, standby for response from external guidance."

They were moving, the ship began to sway as massive machines, which had once been used to restrain the Bulk Lander, lowered through the floor to a position outside of the Carrier.

"Ours is not to reason why!"

"Mooring Clamps disengaged"

"Ours is to do and die!"

"We are Away"

"The Emperor Protects!"