Chapter 03 - The Dusk of Hope

PV-01 orbit
Planetary defense vessel Dusk of Hope

Like everything about this world, the orbital defence fleet was underwhelming yet efficient. Ponyville stood as a paragon of that very concept. The Dusk Squadron had been put in charge of the system for a few decades now and it had been a rather uneventful task. There was once a wannabe pirate lord who tried to test the defences of the planet, and there was another time when the imperial squadron needed to escort an important Inquisition ship, but that had been the peak of excitement so far, something Rolling Die was more than happy with.

The deep voice of her commanding officer sliced through the silence. “Retry contacting the ships, operator.”

But I guess that couldn’t last, she thought as she focused her attention back on her screen.

She could feel the tension on the bridge, just like everypony else. Captain Typhoon Snivel hated coffee. Everyone knew that. He tried to hide it every time he had to drink it, but his bionic forelegs always tensed when he opened the flask – the same kind of tensed spasm they had when someone mentioned the griffons to him. That’s why he only drank it at two times: when he absolutely needed to stay sharp, and when the situation was about to get ugly.

He had been sipping his flask for hours now.

She really hoped he had a very bad night.

Dominating the bridge, Captain Typhoon Snivel tried to keep an air of serenity despite the lingering, bitter smell of coffee and his instinct yelling at him that something was wrong. The maroon unicorn checked his screens once again as his operator worked on her interface and ran the scans. The data stream in his bionic eye sent him all the information his crew extracted from their cogitators, and the result was invariably the same, whether it came from his optic or his crew.

The Crusader of Tartarus, the Just Retribution and the Last Barrier transmissions were cut off.

His metallic forehoof got on his temple, displacing some locks of his white mane, the coolness of the prosthesis soothing his worried mind. There had not been any problem in the system prior to that. No signs of incoming attack, no ship intrusions, nothing. They had detected the loss of transmissions less than ten minutes ago – well within acceptable margins. There were perfectly reassuring and plausible reasons for those ships not to respond; most of them were very probable even. Local electromagnetic anomalies, basic maintenance issues, solar flares... heck, even coincidences couldn’t be totally ruled out. But Typhoon Snivel knew things were never that simple. The first thing he had learned during his forty-seven year of service was that believing the reassuring options was most likely to kill you and the millions of ponies you were supposed to defend. He had learned this lesson the hard way.

In truth, Typhoon Snivel had already made his mind, he merely needed the thought to crystallise before he committed to it.

After a few seconds of tensed silence, he finally gave his order.

“Alert the rest of the squadron. Unknown threat detected.” Typhoon took a sip of coffee. “Navigator, I want us in interception trajectory with the Crusader. All hooves in quarters, raise the shields and don the weapons. I want this ship as ready as if the Warp itself was coming down on us. Which may very well happen.”

Typhoon Snivel emptied his flask. This time he could not prevent disgust to take control of his face.

Empress, I hate this thing, he thought.

“And bring me more coffee,” he ordered, motioning his empty flask.

So long for enjoying a quiet life... Rolling Die thought, repressing a sigh. This is going to be a long day.

☽☾

“This plan is terrible! We should have attacked them directly!”

Death Scream said nothing.

She was the veteran of countless battles. She had once fought for a week without ever rest or stop against the griffons in the Ultima Segmentum, playing hide and seek with death, hacking and slashing without end with no hope of escape. This had been the most excruciating and draining experience of her life. And now, she was starting to regret it.

She and her battle sisters had been drifting in space for two hours, thirty-three minutes and twenty seconds. And Smallpox had been ranting nonstop for the whole time. There was something in the way the spacemare talked, in the way she complained, that was nerve-grating, that was almost supernaturally unnerving, frustrating, but it was usually contained into occasional one-liners or witty remarks. This constant monologue, this incessant whining noise that none of them could ignore nor mute – for they needed to stay in contact at any moment – was torture only the Gods could have devised.

Had Death Scream known that Smallpox would be so annoying, she would have sabotaged her armour beforehand. Her helpless suffocation would have been a way sweeter melody.

“This is beneath us! We are the scourge of the galaxy, not torpedoes!” the annoying spacemare continued.

Tapping in lengths of willpower she didn’t even know she had, Death Scream once again ignored her irritating sister by concentrating on her objective.

To her defence, this plan was a lot of things and crazy was the least of them. When the Sorcerer told her that she, along with two squads would be sent into space for hours, in hope to catch a frigate and get inside using unknown Chaos magic, and then capture said frigates, her first reaction had been to laugh. Her second had been to catch her breath and try to get up after Moon Terror had hit her in the barrel.

Damn her and her pet Sorcerer!

Yet she had to admit, the whole scheme was ingenious, even considering its borderline suicidal part.

Their target was close now. So close in fact that, without any other mark, it just looked like a big metal wall dividing space in two. Up so close, it was easy to forget that it was in fact ridiculously small compared to other battleships. Death Scream wasn’t duped at all. This was but an escort ship. A small thing made to harass and distract the enemy while the true war vessels, bigger and better armed, were made to wage war, destroy whole fleets and burn worlds.

Pathetic.

It was truly pathetic.

That the Imperium was too weak to even defend its worlds was truly a testament to its decadence and further proof that its fall was a long time due.

She didn’t dwell on it much longer. Long rants were Smallpox’s prerogative, and she needed to focus. Soon the sun would be eclipsed by the planet below and plunge the place into the darkness which would mark the moment for them to “go inside”.

She reflexively pressed on her power armour, where she could feel the strange relic the warp wizard had given them. The contact made her feel both reassured and nauseated. Funny that their lives depended on such a small trinket. The Sorcerer had given them these star-shaped medallions and told them to hold on them. Nothing more. She didn’t even know exactly what it did nor how to use it!

“We should have brought our ships and bring them death!” continued Smallpox.

“BY NURGLE’S ROTTING TAIL WILL YOU SHUT UP?” shouted another angry voice in the vox.

Damnit, sister, Death Scream cursed in her mind.

“Make me, sister,” the insufferable warmare taunted. “Oh wait a minute... YOU CAN’T!”

“I swear on the Gods’ names that if you don’t shut up, I’ll make sure this long insufferable monologue of yours will be the last coherent thing you’ll ever say!”

“Bold talk. Is there another spacemare inside that armour of yours to help you back it up?”

Death Scream annoyance went up a notch. The number of frustrating mares to deal with had just been doubled. She was about to join the verbal fray when something caught her eyes. She could see them. The area was growing more luminous as time passed instead of getting darker.

This could only mean one thing and it was bad news.

“THEY’RE ACTIVATING THE SHIELDS!”

“THE SORCERER LIED TO US! I KNEW I SHOULD HAVE GUTTED HIM!” Smallpox complained one last time.

“If you survive this, I swear to the Gods that I will kill you, Pox,” promised Death Scream. Even if I have to get back from the very depths of the Warp to do so, she added mentally.

The space around the ship got brighter as the energy was directed from the generators to the hull. The spacemares braced themselves, praying to the Ruinous Powers that they would be able to get inside before it was too late. The relic on Death Scream’s grew hotter and hotter, searing her fur and burning her flesh. It glowed, brighter, the unnatural light somehow passing through her armour, adding itself to the blazing lights of the shield. Soon, the spacemare went blind as the filters on her helmet gave up, unable to deal with such aggression. Even her eyelids couldn’t protect her anymore. The temperature rose, quickly becoming unbearable.

In the vox, a familiar voice howled in pain. Death Scream smiled at the sound. Even in death, Smallpox was a loud mouth... but for once, Death Scream liked what she heard.

☀☀☀

Typhoon Snivel was trying to stay as rational as possible. He kept his head on the task before him and tried not to let mere hunches get the best of his logical thinking. Yet, this time, he could not shake the feeling that something awful was about to happen. An unknown and powerful fear was twisting his entrails more than the black brew he was torturing himself with. And it didn’t help that most of the other captains were sceptical about his intuition. Most of them had acknowledged his call and promised to stay on alert, but he knew they would likely not do much until there was confirmation of the attack.

“Do we have an answer from the ships?” he asked once again.

“No,” one of his subalterns responded. “We’re trying to get them through other means, in case of a malfunction, but it has shown no result yet.”

The Captain nodded absent-mindedly. I hope I’m mistaken, he thought ominously.

☽☾

“Status,” Death Scream whispered in her vox.

Only static answered her call. There was a chance the shield had jammed the communicator or that the others were not able to reach her yet. But somehow, she doubted it.

Until further notice, she was alone and probably the only surviving member of her team. Moreover, she was unable to say how long it had taken her to get inside the ship. A few seconds? Minutes? Hours? Playing with the energies of the Gods’ realm always impacted the way time flowed... As far as she was concerned, months could have passed. So time was also a factor to take into account. As things were supposed to go, each of the members of the group was to sabotage a vital part of the ship, rendering it momently unable to function. Then sever the head, and finally go to the Warp-Drive. Now, things had gotten a lot more complicated. She had to carry out the same mission, faster and alone.

She would have to adjust her objectives.

She had to prioritise the main targets: the bridge and the Warp-drive. She was a spacemare facing ants. It was perfectly doable. No matter how many they were, ants were still ants. The real problem was to do it before they could raise the alarm. A quick detour to the communications would be necessary before she could focus on the main dish.

She had orders. She had a plan. She was ready.

“For the Warmistress,” she said as she drew her dagger and left the room.

☀☀☀

Rolling Die was sure she had not imagined it. For a few seconds, there had been a surge in the shields, as if it had been hit by energy weapons. It was gone as soon as it had appeared.

There was a chance it was just a dysfunction of the shield, but she had a feeling it was not so.

Better safe than sorry.

“Captain?” she ventured. “I’ve had weird readings from the shield and from this part of the hull.’ She pointed the middle of the Dusk of Hope on her screen. “It was fast and relatively small so it’s probably nothing but…” she shrugged. “Given the situation, I thought it was worth mentioning.”

Typhoon Snivel looked at her intensely. She gulped but didn’t avert her gaze. The expression of her captain suddenly soften; for a second, she thought she saw the shadow of a smile. Whether it was real or not, it was gone as soon as it had come.

The red optics returned to the deck as he gave his orders: “Send patrols in this sector. Check them every five minutes.” He then turned toward Rolling Die, nodded and, with a solemnity that took her by surprise, he added, “Keep up the good work.”

“Sir! Yes sir!” she half-shouted with enthusiasm.

This time, she was sure she had seen a smile.

☽☾

Death Scream hated a lot of people.

The list encompassed the entirety of the Imperium, xenos, pirates, renegades and other rebels alike. But some were pretty good at annoying her and, when she was lucky, she was allowed or even encouraged to kill them. By his constant interfering with her progression, the captain of this ship had earned a special place at the top of said list.

Her hope of being quick and unnoticed had been shut down when patrols started to navigate the area. At first, she managed to avoid them but her progression had become way too slow for her liking, and it had been a matter of time before bloodlust and exasperation got the best of her tactical thinking. Now she advanced as fast as her chain axe permitted – which would be even quicker if she didn’t enjoy killing the feeble ponies so much. Flesh and blood painted her armour and her face, now unprotected so she could enjoy her slaughter to its fullest.

She was getting lost in her rage when she felt an impact on her head. It tilted due to the shock of the laser impact – nothing more than a mosquito bite for her – then came back on its initial position. She slowly turned her gaze toward the perpetrator, the hungry smile still on her face. It was a middle-aged earth pony, wearing the uniform of the soldiers in charge of protecting this puny vessel. Death Scream could sense his fear, hidden behind a mask of courage. He tried to reassure himself, and his companions probably, with an angry “Heretic” shouted at her.

How original.

“You noticed?” Death Scream smirked as her blade butchered a servitor in half. “I can’t believe you noticed... What gave it away?” Another crew member died, his throat reduced to a pulp by a kick. “Was is my armour?” An auto-turret was shot silent. “Are the skulls too much? Or maybe it’s on my helm? The chaos emblems are pretty obvious, aren’t they?” A bolter shot exploded amongst three ponies. One of them died immediately, the other two were swiftly executed.

Death Scream walked calmly toward her designated victim, not even exhausted by the massacre. He was the last one alive, his useless lasgun at his hooves. His mask had fallen. He trembled in fear now, pathetically, watching the emissary of death silently making her way toward him.

“So? What gave me away maggot?” she asked with mocking disdain.

Her blade cut a forelimb. The pony fell on the ground, too shocked to scream.

“Did your false Empress get your tongue?”

Another limb was gruesomely detached from its owner. Death Scream purposely slowed her blow to make the wound messier. Blood and shredded flesh splattered the walls with a wet ‘splat’. This time, the pony howled. The chaos spacemare glowered at the sound. She got around him, slowly getting out of his sight. Unable to turn toward her, he desperately struggled to flee his torturer, wiggling pitifully, leaving two trails of blood on the ground. He didn’t go far. There was a sickening sound as both his hind legs were crushed by a set of powerful hooves.

The shriek echoed in the halls. Death Scream smiled like a madpony as she felt the Ruinous Powers influence grow stronger within her.

“I know! It must be my blade inside your corpse!”

And with that, she slid the chainsaw on his flank. Organs fled the battered corpse as if trying to escape the pain that filled it.

“Congratulation, your observation skills served you well,” she mocked one last time, leaving the pony to die a painful and way too slow death.

Still smiling, the renegade went deeper inside the ship.

☀☀☀

There was a deathly hush on the bridge.

Five patrols had ceased to respond, two more had had time to confirm that they were under attack before going mute.

And then... there had been that... execution.

Captain Typhoon Snivel quaffed a long sip of his newly refuelled flask.

“We are boarded,” he stated calmly. “Lock everything lockable, from the centre of the ship to the decks, until we know the menace has been eliminated. Protect the communication centres in priority. Call the battlefleet and tell them the system is under attack of undetermined scope. Warn every captain in the system and tell them to consider any non-responding ship at the hands of the enemy, including ours of course. And may the Empress be with us.”

This is going to be a long day.