Sunset of Battle

by Tundara

Rating: teen
Tags: Science Fiction, Equestria Girls, Sunset Shimmer, Main 7 (EqG), Profanity, Gore, Violence, Crossover, Dark, Alternate Universe, Human, Warhammer
Length: 112012

Entering the Magic Mirror to run away from Celestia, Sunset Shimmer finds herself in the Imperium of Mankind. Taken in by the Sisters of Battle, what future awaits a former unicorn in a galaxy that despises all magic and heresy?

While traveling through the magic mirror between worlds, Sunset Shimmer touched upon the realm of Chaos, her course diverted. Rescued by unknown forces, Sunset awoke on a world besieged by daemonic incursions. While running from a daemon, Sunset comes across a dying member of the Order of the Cerulean Chalice, an Ordo Minorus of the Adepta Sororitas. Entrusted with a holy relic, Sunset is given the choice of taking it to the other members of the order, or dying on the doomed planet.

Suspicions surround Sunset on reaching the order, many questioning her nature and whether or not she was sent by their God-Emperor. Some loath her, seeing her as a xenos at worst, or a tainted mutant experiment of the planet's deceased lord at best. Others believe her sent by a Saint, or claim she is merely some form of abhuman. But none of them fully trust Sunset.

To prove herself, Sunset is placed among the scholla within the convent, all while coping with the loss of her magic, and in a new body. There she'll make friends and rivals, and either prove her worth to the Emperor, or die.

Burn the Heretic. Kill the Mutant. Purge the Unclean.

Published 2020-12-27 00:00:01 UTC
Last updated 2025-01-24 02:23:38 UTC

Operation 1: The Rescue

Sunset Shimmer; Sister of Battle

By Tundara

In the grim darkness of the far future there is only War...

Operation 1

Sunset Shimmer tumbled through a vortex of mystical energies. She flailed wildly trying to stabilize her fall, catching brief glimpses of herself reflected in broken crystalline shards that spun about her as she was buffeted by winds of pure magic. Flung by the winds across an endless expanse of wild energies.

The sight she beheld was breathtaking. Clouds of pure energy pierced by currents of sparkling light. Globules of condensed aether undulated as they drifted past her. Others grew in crystalline lattices, reflective spears spreading out until they shattered, the shards restarting the process. Puffs of plasma discharges zipped past her.

Reaching out she touched one.

Primal energies bit into her flesh like ten thousand teeth, and Sunset screamed. Her skin felt like it was being torn into a million shreds. Fear replaced wonder and she curled in on herself as she continued to plummet through storms of eldritch power.

In the impossible distance a bolt of lurid emerald lightning lit churning clouds. In those clouds was a rotund face. Thick arms stirred a colossal cauldron beneath its baleful gaze. Next to folds of fat sat a silvery cage, inside which sat a green light hued with hints of ruby. Perhaps sensing her, the obsese giant looked in her direction, and smiled.

Burning hot tendrils of pure Despair burrowed into Sunset’s brain, digging deep like worms in soft earth, writhing and wriggling through the last traces of sanity. A colossal hand, one large enough to crush a city in its grasp, reached for her.

Sunset covered her face reflexively, knowing that there was absolutely nothing that she could do to stop being crushed. A tiny flicker of sickly green lightning sparked from a finger and struck her right above her heart.

Large patches of skin bubbled, thick yellow ichor leaking from her pores until the sores burst, sloughing away to reveal new skin beneath. Her lush hair fell away in thick patches, and she could feel something wriggling behind her eyes and in her mouth. She gagged and spat, teeth floating out along with dozens of yellow maggots.

Her mind went white with pain, and for a short eternity she was lost to the agony of rotting but being unable to die, the magic ravaging her also keeping her alive.

Eldritch energies wriggled deeper and deeper until they reached her soul.

A flash of light bloomed, blinding her through closed eyes, and a shrill admonishment rippled like thunder through the chaotic clouds. Warmth hit Sunset where she’d been struck by the plague inducing lightning, wiping away the pain. It was replaced by a tingling sensation, like standing after sitting on a leg, only the pinpricks were everywhere. The sensation spread twirled as it flowed through her, following veins, sweeping through muscles, and entering her bones, leaving her feeling comforted. It was how she’d always imagined being hugged by her mother would feel.

She fell beyond the colossal creature, another storm propelling her even faster. She had trouble concentrating, her head rolling on her shoulders as her mind drifted. Following in her wake came a swarm of miniature versions of the colossus. Cackles rocked their bulbous bodies as they reached towards her.

Sunset’s vision began to swim, darkness creeping around the edges as her battered mind surrendered, her final sight was of a crimson star wreathed in golden flames gently floating among the raging storms. It caught her, wings forming a protective barrier as the swarm closed in around them.

And then sweet oblivion at last settled over Sunset Shimmer.

In time her senses returned.

Her back pressed against something hard, and a metallic scent curled in her nostrils. She shivered, a waft of freezing air slapping her across the face to fully reawaken her senses. Sucking cold air between clenched teeth, Sunset’s eyes fluttered open as a snowflake lightly drifted down to touch her face, falling from a burgundy sky through a window framed in the grey wings of a statue.

For a few moments she just laid on her back and stared at the alien sky, processing what she’d seen in the space between worlds.

Only a few impressions remained.

The colossus. The torture. And the saviour.

Everything else was lost. Faded away like a dream, leaving only the traces of fear and that she should never use the mirror again. That what lay beyond was so alien, so unnatural that it would break her mind to look on it a second time.

A laugh broke from Sunset.

She’d done it!

She’d escaped Princess Celestia and her lies. Her destiny was her own to grasp! No longer was she a plaything, to be toyed with promises of glory, and then abandoned.

Turning her head she took in more of her surroundings. She was in a simple storage room much like the one where she’d found the planar mirror through which she’d fled Canterlot. Dust covered furniture stacked against the plain wood walls, with a single window and door on opposite sides. Luminous orbs flickered overhead, casting the room in a dull orange glow. Next to her was her bag stuffed with all her important possessions; a ratty old bear, some food, and her journal. The only other thing of note was a large statue of a winged equine shoved into a corner.

Sunset tried to roll to her hooves, and discovered that she didn’t have any hooves. Forelegs had become slender arms with long hands.

For a few minutes she just sat there, staring at her hands and the boots on her feet. She was well aware of what they were, having read about creatures with them in biology class, such as dragon whelps.

Had the storm turned her into a dragon?

No, she concluded. Dragons only had three fingers, while she had four, and a very quick check showed she didn’t have a tail or wings common to the species.

She flexed and wiggled her fingers, and took off a boot to count her toes—five in number, just like her fingers and thumbs, how strange. Why the vortex had clothed her was equally curious. She pushed up the sleeves of a blue jacket, feeling the smooth skin beneath, and then running her hands over her face. Flatter than when she’d been a pony, but with a small nose that she could just kind of see if she looked down and crossed her eyes just right. Her mouth was much smaller too, and she was certain her eyes as well, but the slope of her brow was fuller, while her ears were tapered and sensitive, a pleasurable ripple running down her spine at her own touch.

And then she froze, fingers probing her forehead, at what she didn’t find.

Her horn, that wonderful spiralling growth that allowed her to work her magic spells, was gone.

Cold sweat running down her back, Sunset scampered around on her hands and knees looking for any reflective surface. She tore off dust covers, and then found a large mirror on what was a dresser of some sort. Her throat constricted tight at the face that stared at her.

Oval, with a pointed chin and straight nose, olive in tone, and a pair of small, terrified eyes. There was no sign of her horn.

Panic twisted her face, and she brought her hands up to the thick orange and yellow hair that fell over her slender shoulders, a scream constricted in her throat like a vice.

“No. Don’t panic Sunset, don’t panic.” She said to herself. “You knew there’d be challenges. You just need to think—”

From somewhere in the near distance there was a loud bang, followed by a staccato of lighter pops, and several deep booms that echoed in her chest. A crash followed. The room shook. And an unnatural scream entered through the window that clawed down to the marrow.

Heart beating hard in her chest, Sunset threw open the door and peeked her head outside. The corridor beyond was dimly lit by more of the flickering orbs, though these were held in the outstretched hands of skeletal statues. It took Sunset a moment to realise that they were not statues at all, but actual skeletons draped in ancient funerary robes, with odd metallic pieces over their grinning skulls. One clicked and whirred, extended and retracted, and the skulls in the corridor turned towards Sunset.

“Necromancers!” Sunset breathed, heart hammering even harder.

Softly, she closed the door again while she put back on her shoe. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she took a peek to see if anyone was coming, and when she saw the coast was still clear, bolted down the corridor, the skeletons watching her as she ran. Fine tapestries sped past in gold, blue, and silver blurs. From ahead and somewhere above came more of the bangs and popping.

Wherever she’d ended up, the building was massive. Doors dotted the corridor, sometimes closely packed, and other times hundreds of feet apart. She reached a T junction, and turned left. Ahead were a series of windows on one side, and more of the skeletons on the other.

In the dull glow ahead something moved. A staccato flicker in the lights as it skittered towards her on all fours. As it drew closer, in the bands of reddish sunlight, she saw that it was covered in open sores that leaked a thick, effluent pus. Its belly had been split open, leaving entrails to drag along the ground. Black horns grew from the malformed thing, jutting from its head, shoulder, and hips. A thick rancid stench, like rotting meat left out in a puddle of spoiled wine, slammed into Sunset, and she jerked back her head as her stomach flopped into her throat. With a sharp, unnaturally quick jerk it focused rotting eyes on Sunset, pulled back fat lips that stretched over black gums split open by large, buck teeth, and let out the most unearthly howl that flayed Sunset to the core.

Turning, Sunset bolted back the way she’d come.

Pure terror gripped her tight, driving her on, feet pounding on the wood floors, skeletal observers flying past in a blur. She skidded around one turn and then another, not caring which way she went, trying everything to lose the creature.

It howled again, the noise closer. Claws scraped on the floor, growing closer. Closer. Closer.

She could feel its foul breath on the nape of her neck.

Spinning around another turn she saw the hallway open in a ragged hole in the floor and ceiling. Without slowing Sunset jumped down the hole. There was a crunch as she landed on the rubble, twisted, and rolled the rest of the way. Before she came to a stop she was already scrambling onto her hands and knees, looking around for a place to hide.

She found herself in a large room whose purpose utterly escaped her. Thick hoses zig-zagged and coiled across the floor, leading to and around several tall green canisters filled with an opaque fluid. Inside floated malformed things, limbs twisted and covered in bulbous growths, faces pulled in tormented rictus.

Hurriedly she crept forward, slinking between canisters just as the creature dropped through the hole. Her breath froze in her throat as it lifted its deformed head, testing the air with its long tongue. Slowly it swung its head around as it padded into the room. Talons scraped along the metal floor.

Sunset’s heart beat so hard that she was certain the creature could hear it. To keep herself from screaming she clamped her hands over her mouth.

It drew nearer.

And nearer.

Sunset closed her eyes and wished fervently that she’d never left home, and that this was all some terrible nightmare.

The nightmarish creature’s tongue wiggled between the canister’s toward her.

A massive bang issued throughout the room, and in a sudden spray of brain matter and blood, the monster’s head exploded, splattering her with foul fluids and rotting gore.

Sunset blinked a couple times as the creature fell to its side, dead.

Her stomach decided that this was a very good time now to throw up.

“Whoever is there, by the Throne, show yourself, or be purged!” A feminine voice, oddly distorted with static, echoed in Sunset’s ears.

Heart beating faster still, Sunset slid out of her hiding spot, terror trickling down the inside of her thighs. She didn’t even notice or care that she’d wet herself in her fear. In a series of darting glances she took in the other half of the room.

Next to a conister near the far side of the rubble from the hole in the ceiling, sat a figure in white armour highlighted with gold on her large pauldrons and chest, and torn blue sleeves and tabard. Next to her lay the remains of a half dozen more of the disgusting creatures, their bodies torn apart similar to what had happened to the one that had just been killed.

Grunting, the figure pushed herself into a more comfortable position, and as she did, Sunset saw the long, broken stump of a claw that pierced her side. Thick red blood bubbled from the wound, one hand clutching a rag to stem the flow, while the other held a blocky contraption, smoke curling from the end of a barrel.

It reminded Sunset a bit of a miniature cannon.

“A child? The Emperor must be in a humorous mood.” The woman made a pained laugh that ended in a hissed gasp. “Well, it is not like I have another choice. We work with what He gives us. Come closer, child.”

Putting down the miniature cannon, the woman gestured for Sunset to approach. Not knowing what else to do, Sunset edged closer to the feet of the creature.

Tapping the side of her head, she opened the faceplate of her helmet with a snap-hiss of hydraulics. The face inside was similar to the one Sunset had seen in the mirror, but sharper, with hardened azure eyes framed in blonde locks that stuck to sweat running down a face pallid from blood loss.

A smile quickly vanished, and brow knitted together in a sharp frown.

“Xenos!” She spat, and the trembling weapon was raised.

“Wait!” Sunset said just as the trigger was pulled, and there was a click from the empty magazine.

The woman glanced down at her weapon in consternation, and then laughed, throwing back her head.

“What, oh Emperor on your Golden Throne, did I do to amuse you this much? Is this a sign? But why send me a xenos? Is this a test?” She pushed herself further up and drew a knife as long as Sunset’s forearm. “Why is there a xenos child here, of all places?”

If the Emperor answered the prayers it was in the form of a long boom that shook the room for several seconds.

Nodding, the woman gestured at Sunset with the knife. “You, what are you doing here?”

Sunset licked dry lips and took a step back. “Trying to find a way out. I woke up in a storage room up above and was chased by that thing. I have no idea what is going on, who you are, or that thing, or where I even am!”

For a long moment the woman considered Sunset.

“I don’t have long,” the woman said, mouth twisted in a grimace. From beside her she picked up a metal box, a solid lock in the shape of a fleur-de-lis on the lid. “You must take this and go to the courtyard. My Sisters will be there. Take this to them.”

Sunset looked over her shoulder, then back at the woman in strange armour. Slowly, because she was certain if she refused the woman would attack her, Sunset knelt down next to her and took the box. An iron hard glove clasped Sunset’s wrist.

“There is nothing on this planet more important than what is in this box, understand? If this is some test, I may be about to fail it giving you this responsibility. Or, you could have been sent by the Emperor. Stranger things have happened. Perhaps you are simply an abhuman. Yes, that makes more sense. An abhuman made to look like a xenos. Lord Feargus was conducting all sorts of unholy research in this palace, and his tastes were decidedly blasphemous. I take even greater solace in having put a bolter round through his head.”

The woman coughed, blood splattering down her chin, but her grip remained firm, and her eyes burned with an intensity Sunset had never before seen. She was almost… impressed by the woman’s tenacity.

“You will take this box because it is your lifeline, if nothing else. Without it my sisters will kill you on sight. With it… they may

Sunset and the woman shared a long look, and then her wrist was released.

“I don’t know the way.”

The woman smiled, blood covering her teeth. With a grunt she pulled off her helmet and thumped it over Sunset’s head. She tapped something, and with another hiss it snapped shut before Sunset could protest.

At first she expected the inside to be dark, but it lit up with a blue glow. She could see the room with perfect clarity, as if it was bathed in bright spotlights, rather than a murky glow and flickering lights. Images hovered in the corners, and several warnings flashed in a list down one side. The most important, as far as Sunset was concerned, was the map in the bottom right corner of her vision that showed the layout of the complex.

“The machine spirit’s energy should last for a few minutes before being depleted and the auspex fades. Now, hurry. The Emperor protects,” the woman sighed with her last breath, eyes glazing over in death.

Clutching the box, oversized helmet pressing heavily down on her slender shoulders, Sunset ran from the room. She stumbled a few times, the building rocking with explosions in the near distance, and only barely managed to avoid tripping. She ran and ran, finding a set of stairs around a turn, and bounded down them.

From behind her came a series of howls, wild and frenetic with hunger.

Red dots appeared on the map, along with a pair white ones.

In her ears a voice crackled.

“Sister Superior Helen, you live!” The voice was both excited and relieved. “Praise the Emperor! We are almost at the rendezvous. Valkyries are in-bound. ETA; two minutes. Sister Maria and I are all that remain and will hold the square.”

Several bangs rang out from ahead. Sunset darted to the side and out a small access door. Her feet sank into knee high slushy snow that clung to her legs with an icy grip that left her numb and teeth chattering.

To her right, the upper torso of another armoured woman lay in the snow, cut in half at its waist with entrails splayed out. A wet gasp escaped Sunset, and her stomach lurched up in her throat. She began to heave, and only barely held back retching into the confines of the helmet.

Heavy, pounding feet approached, squelching in the slurry of blood and slush. A crescendo of deep booms sounded, reverberating deep in Sunset’s chest and into her bone marrow. Sucking in deep, fearful breaths, Sunset pressed her eyes shut, certain that the monsters were almost upon her.

The running drew closer.

Another series of the deep booms. Rup-bum-bum-bum-bum.

Inside the helmet they were dulled, but it did little to shield her from the low impact of the noise in her chest. Her mind was whirling, unable to focus, to find a point of contextual reality on which to grasp.

And then the lights inside the helmet flickered, died, and she was plunged into darkness.

Before Sunset could begin to scream or drag the helmet off her head, she was grabbed about the waist by powerful hands and hauled into the air. With a thump that pushed the air out of her chest, she landed on something. And then she was being jostled as whoever had grabbed her ran back to safety.

A longer sequence of the deep booms echoed through Sunset’s small frame.

Sunset felt herself being spun about again, wet snow wrapping around her legs and back as she was set down at the base of a large statue. Light returned as the helmet was torn from her head, and she found herself faced by two of the armoured women. Their postures stiffened as they looked at her from behind their blank faced helmets.

“An aeldari girl?! Sister Arabella, how in—she has the artifact!” The one who’d rescued her jabbed a hand at the box Sunset clutched tight to her chest. “The Emperor is still with us! Our sacrifices have not been in vain.”

From several doors came misshapen men wearing masks grafted to their faces. Stubby weapons let out low pops, and they screamed with madness as they charged across the courtyard. They swung improvised clubs, and one had a revving chainsword.

The other woman let out a grunt, ducking down and positioning her weapon atop sandbags. She spaced her attacks in short bursts, and fluidly replaced empty magazines in a graceful motion. A smattering of return fire churned up the sandbags in front of her, but Sister Arabella didn’t flinch.

Without the helmet the noise was tremendous. Sunset’s ears rang continually, and she missed what was said next. She only regained her hearing when the two women paused their firing as a small egg-like object landed next to Arabella. Reacting the moment it hit the ground, Arabella scooped it up and hurled it back to where it came, a low boom issuing around across the square a second later.

“See, the Emperor protects!” The first women jocularly said, placing a single shot that brought a sharp scream from something unseen by Sunset.

“I pray he sends more help than a trembling xenos child, Sister Maria.”

Almost as if hearing her, a trio of angular, arrow shaped Valkyries roared over the courtyard, came about on long jets of flame, and sprayed the complex with weapons Sunset had no words to describe. Half the building exploded and the air was filled with the roar of flames that consumed the screams of those caught in the conflagration. While two of them provided cover, the remaining valkyrie descended, turned about, and opened a ramp on its aft. Framed in the craft’s hatch, a pair of women fired at the last swarming cultists and daemons pouring out of the remains of the compounding. Sunset was yanked to her feet and practically dragged to the open hatch, one hand still clutching the box, the heavy helmet in the other, and her backpack over her shoulder. She was handed up into waiting arms by Sister Maria.

Shoved towards the front of the vehicle, Sunset was guided into a chair by yet another woman in the same stony-white armour, and buckles affixed around her. Moments later the hatch slammed shut and there was a different sort of roar as the valkyrie accelerated away from the courtyard.

“Sister Maria, report!” Barked another woman, and Sunset’s blood went cold in her veins. The voice was all-too familiar. It was impossible, Sunset thought, unable to look up and confirm her fears.

No, it was a manifestation of her tired, fear addled mind. It was impossible. The speaker couldn’t be Princess Celestia.

There was a snap-hiss, and then in a clear voice, Sister Maria said, “Canoness, the cult had already infiltrated the palace grounds and slaughtered most of the guards when we arrived. Despite this, we were able to secure the artifact. We were ambushed us leaving the vaults, and in a running fire-fight Sister Arabella, Sister Rose, and I were separated from Sister Superior Helen and the rest of the squad. Trusting our sisters and the Emperor, we made our way to the extraction site, but sadly, Sister Rose was taken from us as we reached the courtyard. Shortly after, we received a signal we believed to be from Sister Superior Helen, but instead it was this child wearing her helmet and bearing the artifact.”

Sister Maria spread her hands over her chest and bowed her head low as she finished her report.

The Canoness laid a hand on Maria’s shoulder. “You did well to survive and bring us the artifact. Our sisters lost will be mourned, but the Emperor is clearly pleased by your devotion.”

There was no mistaking it this time. It was Celestia who spoke. The tone, the smug superiority in the lilt and twists of words were oh-so familiar and recognizable. They burned in Sunset’s chest in a tight knot of rage.

After all she’d done, all the sneaking about and lies, she hadn’t escaped Celestia.

“Child, identify yourself,” Celestia demanded, her tone far colder than Sunset had ever heard it before. “Respond, or be judged.”

Sunset stared at the metal plating between her feet too terrified and angry to look up.

“Canoness Celestia, about the child… She appears to be aeldari, and has been in a daze since I pulled her to safety.”

“Mm,” Celestia clicked her tongue, and then rough fingers grabbed Sunset by the chin and yanked her head up, turning her head to either side. “Look at me, child.”

Sunset’s breath hitched in her chest as she got her first good look at the canoness.

It was instantly obvious this was not Sunset’s Celestia. There were superficial similarities, but that was all. The hair was similar, with strands of pastel hues framing a long face, but one stern without the mask of compassion. Her eyes were hardened and sharp, a clear light in them that appraised Sunset in a single glance, and found her wanting. There wasn’t the least sign of recognition.

Though why should there be any?

“She could be one of the mutants sent to infiltrate the palace and weaken its defenses,” Celestia mused out loud, one hand stroking her chin while the other fell to the hilt of a sword on her hip. “No. There are none of the tell-tale signs of corruption. And no spirit stone. Troubling.”

“I’ve never heard of an aeldari child leaving their craftworlds,” muttered one of the other women. “Nor dress in such a manner. This is wrong. We should just purge it.”

Something Sister Superior Helen said struck Sunset, and she said, “I’m not an aeldari! Lord Feargus made me look like this! Said he wanted something exotic and forbidden!”

A long pause followed as Celestia contemplated Sunset, the vehicle jostling around them, until all at once it went still except for the low vibrations running through the deck.

“Your name, child, and this will be the final time I ask. It is only because you brought us the artifact that I’ve entertained this amount of leniency.”

“S-Sunset Shimmer, Reverend Mother,” Sunset responded in a faltering voice that made her stomach squirm. At least she remembered the old honorifics for a canoness of a monastery. Quickly she also added the gesture made by Sister Maria, hands over her chest and a slight bow that made the straps dig into her shoulders.

There was a slight moment of silence, and then, as the Valkyrie stopped rattling and the blue outside the windows turned to a star-speckled black, “At least she seems to be somewhat educated. Sister Maria, see she is put into the Schola among the other survivors once we reach the Righteous Indignation. Her reward is the opportunity to become a Sister of Battle.”

Sunset dared not even show a sign of relief.

Author's Note

I've been toying with this story off and on for the better part of a year now. I had written approximately 16k words that I then decided to toss into the trash bin as being just garbage.

The idea to have Sunset as an aeldari came about a couple months back while I was discussing ideas for my custom order. I joked that, perhaps, they had a few aeldari members who'd been taken in as toddlers/newborns from a crashed Craftworld ship.

Why would a bunch of fanatical murder-nuns take in loathsome xenos, you may wonder. My excuse came down to them being a bit too fanatical and seeing 'Signs' everywhere. The sister who discovered the crashed ship had followed a sign, finding it just as the children were to die. After consulting with the Tarot, it was concluded that they'd be raised as good, loyal servants of the Emperor, replacing the doctrines of self-control of the Craftworlds with the Absolute Faith of the God-Emperor of Mankind. This wasn't an experiment, oh no, this was a Test He'd set before the Order to see if there was anything redeemable about the xenos, and if the waking of Roboute Guilliman was a mere cosmic fluke.

This all came about because my brother and our friends helped me get a few squads of Sisters from the initial release of the new line last year. Painting them has been very helpful for my stress. Putting the models together less so...

I've even painted a canoness to be Sunset Shimmer. Well, I tried to, anyways. The Red and Yellow hair didn't turn out as hoped and it just became a flat yellow as a result with a red side-lock.

My general plan with this story is to be something of a Slice-of-School-Life type thing, especially the first couple story arcs. Kind of like Harry Potter, or some of the other Sunset Shimmer cross-overs out there. Nothing all that original, I know, but this is more an excuse to just lay down some world-building and practice character building/consistency.

The next chapter will be Sunset's introduction to her new classmates.

Operation 2: Making Friends

Sunset of Battle

Operation 2

Sunset didn’t say another word as they continued their ascent, leaving the unnamed world behind. Or, Sunset corrected as she peered out the window at the blue-green orb hanging in a sea of black, no one had bothered to mention what it was called. She assumed its name really didn’t matter, in the grand scheme of things.

The armoured women around her barely reacted to being in space. This was clearly normal to them, and Sunset didn’t want to seem excited, even as her heart raced and everything inside of her screamed, ‘I’m in SPACE!’

This was something ponies dreamt about, wrote books and made works of art, who spent every waking moment attempting to achieve and barely scraping the edge of the heavens after a lifetime of effort.

A part of her, the same one overcome with pure relief at being saved, and spared—though that seemed worryingly conditional—also fumed at how blasey these women were at the wonder they were experiencing.

It became clearer as to why they sat in their seats so calmly when the fleet came into view. The first thing that came to mind was that there were several churches floating in space. Cathedrals, Sunset corrected quickly, and then further corrected with space-ships. A little squeal of joy erupted from her, and she had to fight very hard to sit still.

There was an air of ancient strength around the largest of the vessels, which Sunset presumed had to be the command ship Righteous Indignation. It’s swooping prow was painted a bright red and gold. A long blocky body followed, covered in what appeared to be flying buttresses, antenna, and gun installations. Pockmarks, blackened sheets of metal, and bulbous bubbles where the armour had been super-heated and then cooled were spread across the ship, giving her the worn air of long service. Towards the stern an imposing command tower loomed, positioned just forward and above the drive engines.

Sunset wondered what they used for propulsion, and began to turn to ask Sister Maria, and then thought better of bothering the woman. She sat next to Sunset with her weapon resting in the crooks of her arms, head leaning forward and lips moving in silent prayers with brow pinched.

From one of the ships on the far edge of the formation there came a flash of light that streaked down towards the planet. There was a brief pause, and then a cloud mushroomed on the surface.

“Whoa,” Sunset breathed, trying to calculate how powerful a spell would have to be to have a similar effect. Her lowest estimates were far and well beyond anything even the oh-so-vaunted Celestia was capable of casting. A giggle began to bubble from Sunset.

Around her a few of the women shifted in their seats, armoured heads turning in her direction.

As they approached Sunset began to get a feel for the size of the not-cathedrals. Hundreds of transports swarmed around them like flies around an elephant. Larger and larger and larger they loomed until they filled the entire window even if Sunset craned her neck.

At last Sunset turned to Sister Maria and asked, “That is your space-ship, right? The Righteous Indignation?”

A nod.

Dozens and dozens of follow-up questions rampaged in her head. All of them were too obviously ones she should already have known the answers. It had to be common knowledge how the ships travelled through space, how they were built, the nature of their weapons, and so on. Even the weapons the women cradled in their arms, or the transport carrying them, had to be known quantities. Afterall, Sunset had known since she was tiny about trains, spears, and spells; Equestria’s near equivalents.

It’d be too suspicious to ask, so Sunset kept quiet and decided to just listen. There was a lot to learn, and she’d have to do it through observation.

Focusing on her surroundings was better than thinking about what she’d seen on the planet.

Of the light leaving Sister Superior Helen’s eyes…

Of losing her magic…

Nope!

Sunset forcibly pushed the memory away by focusing on the ship filling the window. There would be time for nightmares and waking in cold sweats in the months to come when she was alone.

And her magic wasn’t gone. It couldn’t be! Magic was intrinsic to all life. Some just had better access to it, like unicorns. But, even earth ponies could do things like make plants grow just by standing near them. So, there had to be a way for her to access her magic. There had to be. It would just take some figuring out.

Yes, that was it.

There was no need for the fear rioting in her chest, or the beads of cold sweat trickling down the nape of her neck.

Fingernails dug into her palms, and her breaths came in sharp gasps pulled through clenched teeth.

Focus on the wonder of being in space, Sunset ordered herself, not the lost connection to her magic. Not on the horrors so fresh in her memories.

It was impossible, her emotions turning into a whirling, confused torrent that left her disorientated. Fear, anger, disgust, hatred, joy, despair; they were a jumbled mess that she couldn’t begin to disentangle. She wanted to cry, laugh, scream, and claw out her eyes. Her skin crawled and she had an overwhelming urge that she was trapped and needed to run away, that a predator lurked in every shadow waiting to pounce.

The women around her all saw Sunset’s emotions play out, and they frowned, shook their heads, or whispered a prayer of guidance.

Maria’s hand clamped down on Sunset’s shoulder. “We’ve arrived. You will stay with me unless I tell you otherwise. Is this understood?”

Sunset nodded as a thud and hissing hydraulics echoed through the landing craft as it settled within one of the cavernous landing bays. Standing in unison, the women turned and shouldered their weapons. With a clank the ramp dropped open and the women disembarked in neat order behind the canoness. Stepping onto the Righteous Indignation’s metal deck Celestia saluted a monolithic golden statue that loomed over the bay, spun on a heel, and marched off.

Leaving Sunset and Maria alone.

“Wait here,” Maria commanded as she stood. Stomping down the ramp she vanished around the side of the landing craft.

Sitting on her hands, Sunset did her best to stop herself from jittering with excitement. After a few seconds she was on her feet and pacing the length of the transport’s bay. Back and forth she went, going to the top of the landing ramp before spinning on a heel and going to the furthest reaches of the interior.

“What in Faust’s name is wrong with me?” Sunset muttered to herself as her pacing grew quicker. Holding her hands in front of her face she came to a sharp stop. “Get it together! Control yourself! Deep breaths. In and out. In and out. You finally managed to escape all the lies. Don’t ruin it. You’re Sunset Shimmer. You’re destined for greatness. Don’t ruin this just because you are a little excited.”

Closing her eyes Sunset, finally, at long last, managed to calm the riot in her chest by shoving everything down with a great big imaginary hoof.

Proud of herself—because what pony wouldn’t be out of their mind with excitement at being in space!?—she turned back to the open hatch to see Maria there with a blue cloak in her hands. A cold jolt rippled down Sunset’s spine, especially at the narrowed eyes leveled at her. A brief, internal conflict was waged, the corners of Maria’s jaw tensing.

“Put this on and follow me,” Maria tossed Sunset the cloak. “Make sure those ears of yours are covered.”

Mouth a little dry, Sunset nodded as she pulled the hooded cloak over her head. It was a bit too large and dragged on the ground as she hurried to catch up to Maria.

At last Sunset got a good view of the cavernous landing bay. Three stories high, with a vaulted ceiling covered in embossed reliefs and molded figures, there was an odd quality to the space, like it was half church, and half warehouse. Notches in the walls held various war machines used by the Order, with technicians and maintenance crews ensuring they were secured, or repairing them in a shower of sparks. Between the bays were golden statues of men and women of importance.

“Eyes forward, aspirant,” Maria growled, reaching over to grab Sunset’s head to turn it back.

Grumbling to herself, Sunset had to make do with sidelong glances out the sides from her hood.

What she caught in the last little bit of the bay was troubling. A skull, half of it replaced with mechanical parts floated past. It spun towards Sunset and Maria, red eyes clicking as metallic irises ‘blinked’, before returning to whatever it had been tasked.

Further off was a horrific golem of some sort. An amalgam of flesh and gears, it assisted in the repairs of one of the ground transports, sparks cascading from the welding tool that had replaced its right arm.

Mouth suddenly dry, Sunset decided she’d seen enough for now and planted her gaze firmly on Maria’s back as they left the landing bay and entered a warren of tunnels.

As cramped as the landing bay had been spacious, they were tight and musty. Dull lights flickered casting long shadows down the passages. Condensation dripped from exposed pipes overhead. Mold covered the walls in patches, some of which were in the process of being scrapped clean by more of the terrible amalgams of machine and man.

Twice they passed through small gardens, plants growing in pots in little recesses in the walls while vines covered the ceiling and formed tangled meshes across the floor. Machines hummed, sucking out fresh air and pumping it elsewhere in the ship.

Under her feet the decks rattled, and once a series of claxons rang throughout signalling their break from orbit.

After a good half hour they came to a larger corridor stretching perhaps the length of the ship, both ends vanishing into darkness. Here and there shrines had been placed in little alcoves, offerings covering every available surface. Sisters of the Cerulean Chalice moved along it with heads bowed or in light conversation. Most didn’t pay any attention to Maria or the small figure clinging to her shadow.

Of the few that did, only one got a good look at Sunset. The woman’s eyes widened, her hand fell to the pistol on her hip, and she shot a querying look to Maria. In response Maria just mentioned Celestia and the other woman nodded and moved on her way.

“Looking like a xenos really is bad, huh?” Sunset said more to herself.

“Let us pray it is only your exterior,” she heard Maria whisper. “Throne, if I’ve vouched for an xenos. If Sister Superior Helen entrusted the relic…”

Up an elevator, through more narrow corridors, and to a rather large double-door Sunset was taken. Maria pounded on it twice, and then used a device set into the wall next to the door when there was no answer.

“Sister Elizabeth, I know you are in there.”

After a few more seconds of waiting the door swished open with a hiss of hydraulics and a head of matted red hair thrust towards Maria. A pair of goggles rested over the woman’s eyes, clicking and whirring as they focused on first Maria and then Sunset. Syringes, knives, and other tools Sunset couldn’t begin to guess the purpose behind covered one hand, while the other drummed against an armoured hip.

After a moment there was a high-pitched squeal and Elizabeth, presumably, threw herself onto Maria.

“You’re back, and alive, Mi-mi! Praise the Emperor! I knew you would be, despite Sister Helen volunteering your squad for that silly mission. Oh, but did you get it? Did you find the relic? Of course you did, otherwise you wouldn’t be here at all. Helen would never leave without it. And who is… this?” Elizabeth’s voice trailed off in confusion. Stepping back, her brow furrowed over her goggles. In a tone opposite to the bubbly exuberance of a moment before, she demanded, “No, really; who is this? Why is there a filthy eldar in front of my medicea bay?”

Before Maria could respond, a dark cackle wracked Elizabeth. “Is this a present, Mi-mi? Throne and Saints, can I dissect it? Learn all the secrets of its insides?” A pink tongue emerged to trace the edges of her lips.

“No, Elizabeth. Celestia says she is to be placed among the scholla.”

“Truly? Throne, this is not a joking matter.” Sunset could see the woman blinking in surprise behind her goggles.

“I am serious. It has been decided.”

“An eldar? In a scholla?”

“If she were an eldar, the Emperor would have struck her down when she touched the relic. It was her that brought it to us. Joining the scholla is her reward.”

“She held the relic?”

Elizabeth’s goggles clicked and whirred as she focused on Sunset, leaning forward to examine her face. Grabbing Sunset’s cheeks Elizabeth twisted her head side to side as if it would provide clarity. One of the metallic bits of Elizabeth’s glove scratched Sunset jaw.

“Hey!” Sunset tried to break the hospitaler’s grip, but found it surprisingly strong. “I’m not an eldar or aeldari or whatever! I was made to look like this!”

Nose wrinkling in disgust, Elizabeth released Sunset and began to seethe, pacing back and forth as she shook her fists wildly in the air. Spinning on her heel she marched into her office, waving for Maria and Sunset to follow. “What kind of sick, disgusting, heretical monster would make a child look like an eldar? You know what? No prayers for Equis Prime! Let the world burn if it would do this to any of the Emperor’s good, loyal citizens. Come on, let’s get you introduced to your new sisters.”

Unmollified, Sunset crossed her arms and begrudgingly followed Elizabeth, Maria keeping pace behind her and cutting off any escape. Not that Sunset had anywhere to go on a freaking spaceship, nor any desire to run. She could tell that there was opportunity among these women. A path towards her destiny and power. There was danger too, but that suited Sunset. That would mean the weak would be culled. It was very honest in that regard.

Adjacent to the hospitaller’s office were medicea bays and operating rooms, and next to them were a series of converted cargo holds where orphaned girls plucked from the world below had been put. Barely a hundred in number, they were crammed together with triple-bunk beds hastily erected. Lockers in between the beds provided space for any personal objects taken with them. Along the opposite wall were a series of tables with benches like you’d find in any cafeteria. And that was it.

There was no privacy or anything indicative of comfort in the room. The only other thing was a small shrine tucked into a far corner similar to those Sunset had passed in the corridors. A heavy smell of sweat and unwashed bodies lingered in the room, mixed with something oily and pungent. Some of the girls sobbed, but most were silent, staring off into space with glazed eyes, still in shock from the loss of their homes.

Clapping her hands to get the girls’ attention, Elizabeth shouted in a saccharine voice, “Listen up, my precious little ones! We have a final addition to our little family. This is Sunset Shimmer. Don’t let her appearance fool you, she has been vetted by the highest authority. Make her feel welcome! Because, if you don’t…”

Elizabeth continued to smile with her lips, but there was something about the rest of her face that made Sunset shudder.

In a tone colder than the deepest winters, she said, still with that same smile, “The Emperor will surely be displeased.”

Hands spread across their chests, the girls bowed in unison and let out a chorus of, “Of course, Mistress Elizabeth. The Emperor protects!”

Introduction done, Elizabeth said to Maria, “Come, they need to get acquainted with each other, and we have so much catching up to do!”

Maria just nodded, and then the two women left, and Sunset was alone with a sea of hateful glares turned towards her. Bracing herself for the inevitable ‘She’s an eldar!’ accusations, despite what Elizabeth had said, Sunset decided to get ahead of things. She needed to assert her position quickly. Let these girls know who was in charge.

Before she could go more than a single step, lungs filled with air to shout over them, one of the girls with a mess of tangled pink hair jumped forward, grabbed Sunset’s hands in her own, and gave them a rapid shake.

“Hello! I’m Pinkie! Pleasure to meet you, uh, Sunset, right? Throne, your ears sure are pointy! If Mistress Lizzy hadn’t said you’d been vetted I’d be really worried that you were a no-good, filthy xenos and I’d have to break your neck, set your body on fire, and then throw you out the airlock! He-he, good thing you’re human, huh?” There was an all-too-similar glint to Pinkie’s eyes as what Elizabeth had just given.

Snatching away her hands, Sunset growled, “I didn’t choose to look like this! It was done to me!” Seething at having the initiative so decisively stolen, Sunset balled her fist at her sides.

Coming up, hand offered in greeting, was a blonde haired freckled girl. “Really? Ain’t that just awful. Why, can’t think of anything worse than having to get confused for a xenos. Name’s Applejack.” She thrust a hand forward, and gingerly Sunset reached out to take it. Apparently it was their equivalent to bumping hooves, she surmised.

“So, you don’t hate me because of my?” Sunset gestured to her ears.

“Won’t lie, it makes my skin crawl and stomach churn,” Applejack flatly stated, tightening her grip until it was painful. “If this were back home an’ you weren’t vouched for, why, I’d be digging out my granny’s autogun. Put two in your head. The mistress says you’re fine, but I don’t trust you. I’ll be keeping my eye on you just in case this ain’t some sort o’ test. Come on Pinkie, let’s head back to the others. Being seen with this one ain’t going to help us.”

“Okie dokie! Bye Sunset! See you around. Not that we can avoid you, seeing as we’re all stuffed in this place like corpse starch in a jar.” Still smiling, and now waving, Pinkie was almost dragged back across the cramped barracks.

None of the other girls even approached Sunset. Warily they kept their distance, watching her, whispering to each other, fists tense at their sides.

Snorting, Sunset decided this suited her just fine. After a quick scan, Sunset marched to the nearest bunk. A slight girl with pink hair sat on it. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying, features that may have been pretty sunken as if she’d been hollowed out and left to dry in the sun. Next to her was a girl with a spiky rainbow mess on her head. She was lean, athletic, and wore just a simple tanktop and baggy pants.

Looking up, she snapped, “What?”

“Which of these beds are open?”

Crinkling her nose with a snort, rainbow-hair shrugged. “None. Take a hike.”

Gripping her friend’s hand, the other girl whispered, “It’s fine, Rainbow. S-She can stay. I don’t want any f-fighting.”

“You’re too soft, Fluttershy,” Rainbow rolled her eyes, then hitched a thumb towards the topmost bunk. “Fine, take that one. But don’t talk to us. Got enough problems of our own without you.”

Shrugging, Sunset opened a locker, saw it empty, and put her bag inside before climbing up onto the bed. She had a lot to figure out and plan, and didn’t have any idea how long they’d be stuck in this cramped compartment.

She’d barely sat down before there was a triumphant shout from the other side of the room.

“I cracked it!” A short girl with lanky purple and pink hair pumped a fist in the air. She leaned over a device built into the wall near a larger set of doors than the one Sunset had been brought through. “Take that, you stupid cogitator! No machine spirit can beat me!”

There was a ripple of excitement and curiosity, girls pressing in closer around the one who’d shouted. Sitting up, Sunset craned her ears towards the jostling crowd, listening in as they jabbered amongst themselves.

“Have you found out our destination? Where are we going? What about this Cerulean Chalice? I’ve never heard of this order. Must be an off-shoot of the Ebon Chalice. What about our homes? What is happening below? What were those monsters? Come on, Twilight, tell us something!”

“By the Throne, give me a few minutes! I’m having to reroute this cogitator through three proxies just to get close to a data vault. They’ll find out about this if I go anywhere near the navigational scrying arrays. Unless I… Yeah, that could work!” She bent back over the device, fingers flying across an access panel.

Sunset sat up a little further, drawn by the evident excitement among the girls. Whatever this Twilight was doing, it had broken the despair in the room in a way Sunset’s introduction hadn’t. There was genuine curiosity and a bit of hope. Unconsciously, Sunset’s fists began to tighten.

“Success! All I had to do was create a mirror to the connections between the drive assembly and command lines.”

There was a murmur of awe among the girls. “Twilight, darling, where did you learn to speak to the machine spirits?”

Still more focused on her work, Twilight shrugged. “My family has been with the planetary defense forces for several generations. My brother is a captain, my dad logistics, and my mom administorum. She’s had me helping her maintain the communication hubs on Equis Prime since I could read, pretty much.”

The humble-brag only further grated on Sunset’s nerves. Whatever the girl was doing was clearly impressive, and she had no idea! Fingers twisting the heavily starched sheets, Sunset had to withhold herself from dropping to the floor and getting involved. Instead she marked this Twilight as a pony—person—to keep her eyes on.

“Okay, found it,” Twilight continued. “They’ve set course for a system on the fringe of the Charadon sector. Just a moment, getting the name. Translating machine-speak… Stiensmar. They are heading to Stiensmar.”

“Stiensmar? I’ve never heard of it,” The tall, purple haired girl next to Twilight tapped her chin with a long finger. “Have any of you?”

Everyone shook their heads or muttered negatives.

“Well, then, Twilight darling, could you maybe tell us about this planet they are taking us? Hopefully it isn’t some dreadful place. Throne protect us if it is some desert or arid world. Dry air is horrible for my hair.”

Still bent over the cogitator, Twilight’s fingers flew over the controls, a litany of muttered prayers barely audible over the hum of machinery. “Here we go. Stiensmar. Capital of the small Stiensmar Sub-Sector. A former Shrine World noted for its unspoiled habitat made to resemble pre-space travel Terra.” She began to read aloud.

“Wait, former Shrine World?” One of the girls cried to a general chorus of confusion. “But, this Order still has a monastery there, clearly, so how did it lose its designation?”

“Let her finish, and maybe we’ll find out!” Sunset shouted, and the conversation died back down. A few of the girls shot her dirty looks that she brushed off with a scowl of her own. Dropping down from her bunk she approached Twilight. She had to shove her way through the crowd a couple times until she was in the center of the group. The purple haired girl with Twilight gave Sunset a haughty look and huffed,

Clearing her throat, Twilight continued. “Rejoined the Empire during the Great Crusade. Was visited by the Emperor himself.”

This brought many excited whispers, those closest to Sunset agreeing that this had to be why it was designated a Shrine World.

“Population is a mere billion. Produces regular tithes and has had three active Imperial Guard regiments in service since 599 M37.”

More general confusion, but duller than before, as the Twilight pushed onward, raising her voice a little more.

“Current designation is…” Twilight’s voice trailed off. The other girls fell silent, waiting, all leaning closer to hear what was said next. When she spoke next it were as if she was giving a death sentence. “Chapter World.”

Author's Note

Okay, a little bit on Stiensmar and why it is a Chapter World; that is because of my brother. It goes back to the original Dawn of War game when he first got into Warhammer 40k. It was the world he came up with for his Space Marine chapter. He liked to talk about all the various ideas he had for lore about the planet, and it was that that got me interested in the game and setting more than anything.

As I was growing more interested in the (then) upcoming release of an updated Sisters of Battle line I joked that the sorority was from the same world and had a rivalry since they were rather put-out by 'losing' the planet to this Primaris founding chapter. I have his permission to use the planet, but to just change some names in case he ever decides to write his own story ideas.

I don't think I will do the journey to the planet, but rather skip to their arrival with just a touch of exposition.

Again, I'm mostly doing this as a combination of practice on character work and maintaining those characters.

Operation 3: The Drill Abbess

Sunset Shimmer; Sister of Battle
By Tundara

Operation 3

From the moment the Righteous Indignation left Equis Prime, Sunset had been cold. Her arms felt numb and leaded, their weight dragging down on her. Similarly, her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and it took extra effort to lift her feet. It was the worst lethargy she’d ever experienced.

Worried that she still had some weird, alien disease, or had caught a new one from the humans, Sunset’s first instinct had been to seek medical help.

She’d gotten as far as pulling back her sheets before remembering that the person she’d have to see was Sister Elizabeth, and Sunset decided to just get bed rest. That always worked as a filly. Especially when supplemented with some salty noodle soup.

Instead of a nice, brothy soup, with tasty bits of noodles and vegetables, what Sunset had to eat was a plain, bland, colourless bowl of something resembling porridge doled out twice a day. What it lacked in flavour, texture, or aesthetics, it made up for in at least being filling. But the food was yet another damper on her spirits.

Twilight, to Sunset’s relief, hadn’t become the queen-bee of this new group of young girls plucked from their homes and tossed together. While Twilight certainly had impressed the girls with her technical knowledge, her complete lack of social skills had seen her quickly fall from favour.

“Why wasn’t she snatched by the Adeptus Mechanicus?” muttered more than a few girls over the ensuing week. “The freak. Maybe she’s a mutant. Yeah, only a mutant could communicate with the machine spirits so easily.”

Sunset rolled her eyes, but said nothing, glad the girls’ attention had been diverted from herself. Twilight had to fight her own battles. It was better for her if her biggest rival was knocked out now. If only she’d been able to capitalise on the power vacuum.

Instead, it had been the other purple haired girl that everyone had turned towards for leadership; Rarity.

Smoothly navigating the cliques, it was unanimous who was the glue that held everyone together in that first week. Always smiling, always carrying herself with an air of dignified grace, and somehow presentable even when they were given only a couple small shower stalls to use between them. Their entire lives were within the barracks, and boredom mixed with sorrow created an oppressive atmosphere, yet, somehow, Rarity managed to keep everyone’s spirits aloft. In no small part due to her enlistment of Pinkie Pie and Applejack.

Other than when Sister Elizabeth led the servitors into the room with the drums of porridge, the girls were left alone.

This lasted a week, and then, on the eighth day, Sister Elizabeth was joined by Sister Maria. The moment the sisters stepped into the converted hold the girls rushed to their spots at the tables that took up one side. Doing her best to keep her teeth from chattering, Sunset sat down at the furthest end, alone.

“Alright little ones,” Elizabeth began in her saccharine voice, “I have some wonderful news for you all, but first, Rarity, if you’d be so generous as to lead everyone in the Prayer of the Emperor.”

Hands clasped behind her back, Rarity cleared her throat, and with ringing clarity recited, “A spiritu dominatus, domine, libre nos, from the lightning and the tempest, our Emperor, deliver us.”

In unison the girls joined the recital, heads bowed, as it continued for some minutes, the sermon familiar already to Sunset’s ears. She joined in, but held none of the conviction of the other girls.

When the last solemn tones of the prayer ended, Elizabeth clapped her hands together. “Very well done, Rarity. As clearly recited as if this were a battlefield. Though, there was a slight hesitation on ‘from the begetting of daemons’. Work harder on the memorisation.”

“Yes, Mistress Elizabeth.” Cheeks burning, Rarity bowed her head as she made the symbol of the aquila over her chest.

“Very good. You are a diligent girl so I know you will get this right next time. Now, sit everyone, while I share the excellent news. Canoness Celestia has decided that Sister Maria here is to be given responsibility over your education and training. She will, well, I’ll let her tell you herself.” Smiling too broadly, Elizabeth stepped back, her own hands folded in front of her in her habit.

In full combat gear, Maria was an imposing figure as she swept her flint hard gaze over the girls. On her left hip hung her helmet, and on the other was a pistol and coiled whip, while over her shoulder was slung her bolter. She clicked her tongue once, though whether in disapproval or something else Sunset couldn’t tell, so dispassionate was her face. Maria may as well have been carved from marble she was so cold and lifeless.

Clearing her throat, Maria said in a carrying voice, “Listen up, and listen well, as I will only ever tell you something once. I am to be your Drill Abbess. You will refer to me as Drill Abbess Maria, followed by ma’am. You will speak only when I indicate you have permission. You will follow my instructions immediately and exactly. I will brook no disrespect among my progena. Your regimen will consist of physical, spiritual, mental, and eventually specialised training. The first task is to divide yourselves into squads. These girls will be closer to you than any blood. You will succeed together, and you will fail together. Your greatest triumphs will be theirs, and your worst defeats theirs as well. So, pick wisely. Everyone is to stand by their bunk. When I call your name, step forward and select one of the empty tables. That table will be yours until we reach Steinsmar and you are properly inducted into the schola progenum. Praise the throne, as you are all now progena under the guidance of the Cerulean Chalice.”

While Maria spoke the girls followed her instructions, returning to stand in little groups around their bunks. When they were organised Maria raised a data-slate, but she didn’t even look at it, but kept her eyes firmly fixed on the crowd as she called out, “Lyra!”

“Yes, Drill Abbess!” A minty haired girl shot upwards, stiff as a board, and hurriedly scrambled to the nearest table.

The next one called was Rarity, who beamed as she took the table closest to Maria. Sunset watched as name after name was called, until, then, the last name.

“Sunset!”

Brows raising, Sunset forced herself forward to the only remaining table. The one that was underneath a rattling oxygen-recycler so it always smelled a bit stale and moldy.

“Right, now, let’s see how well you’ve used this week to learn about each other. You will take turns selecting members, as determined by the Emperor.” Maria crossed her arms, nodded to Elizabeth, and the hospitaller stepped forward with a small bag that jangled. “Reach in and grab a coin. They are numbered. The progena with the number one coin choses first, followed by the number two coin, and so on. After everyone has made a selection, the lots will be redistributed. Do this until everyone is picked.”

As Elizabeth moved from table to table, Sunset glanced over the rest of the room. There were a hundred girls crammed into the barracks, and twenty had been called forward. So, squads of five then. How would the others choose their members? The most obvious would be to pick friends you’d known since before coming aboard the ship. It was clear that most of the girls had at least one or two they’d known for years. Sunset doubted this was the best method of choosing, however, and that Maria would be judging the choices being made. So, how would she choose? Elizabeth reached her, and still considering her options, Sunset reached into the bag.

She pulled out the ‘5’ coin.

Well, it could be better. Could be much worse.

Holding up the ‘1’ coin, Rarity called out, “Pinkie Pie!”

“Yippee, first pick!” Pinkie cried out, fists overhead as she jumped up and rushed over to join Rarity, giving her friend a big hug before settling into her seat.

In quick order the others all made selections that were obviously friends of theirs.

Maria watched quietly, a single finger tapping against a bicep.

It was Sunset’s turn. She cast a last quick look over the girls. She knew who she needed on her squad already. It was all a matter of manipulating the others into making other choices. With so many squads, all the best picks would go fast.

“Applejack,” she said, pointing to the blonde girl leaning back with hands folded behind her head.

Raising her eyebrows, Applejack pointed to herself with a frown. “What? Me? Really?” Shrugging, she came and joined Sunset. As the rest of the girls made their selections, Applejack leaned in and asked, “Why’d you pick me?”

“You were honest when we met, and I can respect that. Also, Drill Abbess Maria said it herself. We’re going to be a squad that shares wins and losses. You look strong, and she mentioned physical training.”

“Huh, makes sense.” Mollified somewhat, Applejack went quiet while Sunset kept an eye on the rest of first picks.

She was both relieved and worried. As suspected, few had chosen to shore up deficiencies or expand on a strength. Some of the choice picks had gone only through being good friends with the person doing the selecting, like Spitfire choosing Misty Fly, both who were highly athletic looking, and a shame they were out of the running. Others, like Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle were overlooked. Rainbow, because of her abrasiveness, and Twilight because of her being lumped in with Sunset as ‘a freak’.

The bag was passed around again, and this time Sunset got the number ‘1’ coin. Yes! She knew precisely who to pick.

“Rainbow Dash,” Sunset exclaimed, with perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm. It was perfect. The other girls would think she was just picking based on those she knew or shared bunks with, not realising her strategy.

Joining Sunset and Applejack, Rainbow nodded to them, and then growled to Sunset as she leaned across the table, “Your next pick is Fluttershy.”

“I’ve got—”

Cutting Sunset off, Rainbow shook her head as she said, “It’s going to be Fluttershy because otherwise you’ll regret having picked me and not her too. And because you owe her.”

Sunset started to respond, but the stern promise in Rainbow’s face made her stop. She really wanted Twilight next. They had brawn with Applejack and Rainbow, and she had the brains, while Twilight clearly had special skills that could be very useful. Fluttershy would be a lead weight on the group. The girl was so timid, jumping at every shadow or noise the ship made, and constantly on the verge of tears. But, was Twilight worth an obstinate, angry Rainbow Dash? Maybe. But also maybe not. Sunset was just speculating on Twilight being valuable to the group.

“Fine. If she isn’t chosen first.”

As if she needed to worry. Even getting the ‘13’ coin, Fluttershy was still available, and meekly she scampered over and sat down next to Rainbow, almost burrowing into her friend’s shoulder.

Reaching into the bag for the final time Sunset let out a groan. ‘20’. Last pick of the last batch, which really wasn’t a pick at all. Giving up on Twilight, she wondered who she’d be saddled with next. There was that cross-eyed girl. She seemed the most likely. A total klutz, it had become apparent that none of the other girls liked, or even really tolerated her.

To Sunset’s surprise Twilight continued to go unchosen, until only her and the cross-eyed Derpy remained. Lyra agonised over the pick, looking back and forth between the two as she pulled at her hair. What was taking her so long? The choice was so obvious!

Sunset’s shock was total when Lyra called out, “Throne! Fine! Derpy!” Leaving a rather dejected Twilight to join Sunset’s group.

“Very good,” Maria said, her voice booming over the general chatter, and silencing it like the stroke of a sword. “Your choices were… interesting. May the Emperor protect you all, because most of you will need it. Now, to start your education, you will run one lap around the Righteous Indignation, followed by small arms practice, vespers, and then history on the Age of Apostasy and Saint Dominica.”

There was a wave of muttering, and a few of the girls raised their hands. When indicated she could speak, Minty Fresh asked, “Ma’am, how are we to find our way?”

Grinning broadly, Maria replied. “If you have faith and courage, the Emperor will provide what you seek. Now, you better hurry. There will be a special punishment for the slowest squad.”

At the mention of punishment a nervous energy rippled up the girls spines and they darted in a mob for the doors. Sunset groaned in exasperation. Her squad’s table was the furthest from the doors, putting them at a disadvantage at the very start. Yet, somehow, Rainbow managed to be in the middle of the pack by the time she’d squeezed into the corridor, ducking, weaving, and pushing her way closer and closer to the front of the pack.

“Rainbow! Wait for us!” Applejack shouted after her, but all she got in response was a laugh.

“Don’t worry, I got this!”

“But, we’re supposed to be a squad!” Sunset tried to shout back, but she was hit in the side by an elbow and then a foot shot out to trip her.

“Hey now, that’s playing dirty!” Applejack yelled. A fist flashed out, and the girl that had tripped Sunset only barely managed to duck and scamper away.

“She’s a freak, as are all of you. The freak squad!” the girl taunted as she and the rest of her squad sped away.

“Oh my, are you, um, okay?” Fluttershy asked as she offered a hand to help Sunset up.

Knocking away Fluttershy’s hand, Sunset pushed herself to stand, panting as if she’d already run a mile. Face burning with frustration and embarrassment, she gasped, “Come on, we have to catch up!”

“But… what about Twilight?” Fluttershy pointed to Twilight, who’d gone to Drill Abbess Maria.

“Excuse me, Drill Abbess, when am I going home?” Twilight cocked her head to the side much like a puppy.

Frowning, the drill abbess uncrossed her arms.

“Stiensmar is still some ways off.”

“No, I mean, with my family. Back on Equis Prime.”

Maria leaned forward, and Sunset only barely caught the flash of movement as her fist snapped out, pounding Twilight in the stomach. Hacking, Twilight fell to her knees, breath blasted from her.

“Are you blind, progena? Deaf? Or just an idiot?” Disdain curled Maria’s lips. “You have no family alive on Equis Prime. You are an orphan. The Cerulean Chalice and those girls over there are your only family now and for the rest of your life. Now, get to your feet and run. Run and don’t stop until you’ve circumnavigated this ship, or, by the Throne, I will deem you unworthy and cast your useless body into the reclamators myself.”

Almost retching, tears in her eyes, Twilight didn’t fight as Applejack came over and dragged her away from the drill abbess.

Despite what Maria had said, Sunset didn’t find any signs marking a route around the ship to be followed. The girls had split up on leaving the barracks, groups going left and right seemingly at random. Which they had, Sunset decided. Thinking back on the route she’d been brought to the barracks, Sunset concluded that the long corridor that ran the length of the ship was to the right, so…

“This way,” She said, setting off at a light jog to the left. After a mere fifty paces they reached another ‘T’ intersection, this one with a marker overhead stating, ‘Access Corridor Beta-Twenty’, while on the far wall was a small porthole out to space. Noting the number of the corridor leading back to the barracks, they took another left turn, and headed off on the long jog.

Sunset’s legs were like lead ages before they’d reached the next set of turns that would lead them across the ship to begin the even longer jog from stern to bow. Fluttershy and Twilight were only marginally better than Sunset, both panting heavily and sweating profusely. Their simple shirts clung to their backs, and their feet almost dragged across the metal grating. If they didn’t have Applejack, who seemed to possess endless endurance, they’d have fallen flat on their faces and just laid there until they were found. Along the way they came across a few other progena who’d collapsed from exhaustion propped up against the walls. Usually they were alone, but one time there was a full squad that was gathering its breath before setting back off.

Occasionally they came across full Battle Sisters of the order. They stood, boltors clasped in hand as if they were about to head into battle, optics whirring as they watched the progena stagger along.

No one dared to speak to the sisters, and just bowed their heads as they hurried past them.

The going was slow, Applejack having to stop continually to wait for Fluttershy, Twilight, and Sunset. A stitch in her side, breaths coming in ragged gasps, and sweat streaming down her aching body, Sunset looked at a sign and did a mental calculation that they were, barely, back in line with the barracks. She had no idea how much further they had to go.

Being so slow infuriated Sunset. Her weakness infuriated her.

Why was she so tired and sluggish all the time, when no one else seemed to be affected?

Pressing her back to a bulkhead, fingers clawing through her hair, Sunset let out a low whine.

Fluttershy and Twilight were both drenched with sweat and sank to their knees.

“This is torture,” Twilight barely managed to moan, one hand on the wall as she attempted to continue moving at a crawl.

“That’s kind of the point,” Applejack said as she came back to join the others, wiping her brow with the back of a hand. “Didn’t you say your brother was in the PDF? Didn’t he never tell you about training?”

“That’s a double negative,” Twilight muttered, “and no. He didn’t talk about his training. He… he…”

Twilight began to sob, palms pressed to her eyes.

“At least Dash will make it back to the barracks,” Fluttershy breathlessly said. “She would run for miles every day back home just for fun. Although… Um… Maybe this might be too much even for her?”

A three toned ringing echoed through the corridor, followed by a double-klaxon, and then the Drill Abbess’ voice came squawking through a vox box placed at the intersection the girls rested in.

“All progena are to return to your barracks at once. Repeat; all progena are to return to your barracks at once.”

Deep, relieved sighs rocking their exhausted bodies, they forced themselves back to their feet and staggered back towards the barracks. They'd gone only a few paces when one of the Sisters of the Cerulean Chalice rounded a corner, saw them, and said, "Progena, follow me," in a tone the brokered no arguments, before turning on her heel and setting off at a brisk pace the girls had to struggle to match.

Whether because they were faster, or just hadn’t gone as far as some of the other squads, Sunset and her group were in the middle of those who returned. To her surprise, the other progena were also being led by full members of the order, who, after depositing them, would just march off silently.

Drill Abbess Maria didn’t seem to have moved from her spot, arms crossed over her chest and a furious expression sent at everyone when they entered the barracks. Covered in sweat and panting, but smiling, Rainbow and a group of other athletic girls all came bursting into the room a half-hour later.

“Hey, how far did you get?” Rainbow asked as she slid into her seat. She was breathing heavily, but still had plenty of energy. “I managed to reach the bow and was coming back anyways when I heard the message.”

Fluttershy mumbled a response while Twilight just groaned, head firmly planted on the table.

“I’m guessing we only got maybe a third of the way.” Sunset shook her head.

“Alright! Listen up!” Maria’s voice cut through what little chatter there was among the exhausted progena. “That was a disgrace. This deck is barely three miles in length. I expect you to be able to run the seven and a half miles in under three hours, without stopping, before we reach Steinsmar. Beyond that, too many of you abandoned your squads. The weakness of your comrades is understandable, but not so your desertion of your duty to them. Applejack! Pinkie Pie! You both never left your struggling sisters, and did all in your power to urge them on. Come up here.”

Both Applejack and Pinkie looked confused, but did as they’d been told.

Maria nodded to them and pointed to a spot next to the wall where what looked like chains had been placed while the girls had been out running.

“To everyone else; when I call your name, step forward and be punished. Fyre Fox!”

A tall, bushy red haired girl stood up trembling. Eyes wide with fear at what the Drill Abbess meant by punishment, she stepped forward.

“Shirt off.” Maria commanded as she loosed the whip on her hip. “For desertion of a comrade; ten lashes. Applejack, Pinkie Pie; bind her.”

Looks of horror swam over all three girls’ faces. Fyre Fox let out a whimper and tried to run away, but Applejack’s hand flashed out to grab her by the wrist.

“Ain’t no use trying to struggle or run, sugarcube. Just bite your lip and take it,” Applejack said, pity heavy in her voice and in her shoulders as she hauled the tired, struggling girl to the chains and clasped them over her wrists after her shirt had been yanked over her head.

Electricity crackled along the length of the whip as Maria brought it down with a merciless lash. Fyre Fox’s scream was like nothing Sunset had heard before. The girl wept and howled with each strike, her body convulsing as electricity pulsed through her nerves, until, by the final lash, she sank into a mentally numb state, drool dribbling down her chin.

“Let this pain be a teacher,” Maria said after the final stroke, then to Fyre’s squadmates, added, “Retrieve your sister.”

Thirty girls received punishment, the whip crackling with each strike like Maria swung a tamed bolt of lightning. Their screams made Sunset’s stomach churn and sent lances of both sympathy for the unfortunate girl, and relief at avoiding the whip.

Twilight was right; this was torture.

A considerable portion of Sunset at that moment wished she’d never gone through the mirror. That all her dreams of glory and power were nothing more than a delusion, and that all she had in her future was pain, suffering, and abuse.

Her hackles raised at the weakness, and she pushed such feelings down. This suffering would be temporary, and would help make her stronger. Harder.

Of course the Schola was harsh in its methods. She had seen first hand the enemies the Sisterhood battled. Daemons from beyond even her worst nightmares. Beings of incomprehensible power and motives. And these women could kill them. She had to get that strength for herself.

Only two squads avoided having a member called; Squad Rarity and Squad Spitfire. Sunset thought both would have a smug satisfaction, but instead, their members were as shaken as everyone else in the room. Pinkie Pie was almost green, and Misty Fly was clutching the sides of her seat, face pale as a ghost.

Fluttershy and Sunset helped Rainbow to her seat. Sunset winced at the deep lacerations and blood running down Rainbow’s back where the weighted tip of Maria’s whip and sliced through skin. Tending to Rainbow would, no doubt, be yet another test for the newly formed squad.

Almost as if reading Sunset’s thoughts, Maria said, “See to your sisters, and then we will continue with your training with vespers. Two hours of prayers to cleanse your souls and seek the God-Emperor’s guidance. Afterwards, you may reconsider the choices you made today.”

Hands under Rainbow’s elbow, Sunset and Applejack took Rainbow to her bed and laid her down on her stomach. From her locker Fluttershy retrieved a small, simple first-aid kit. Inside were antibiotic creams, bandages, and tape. She also pulled out a sewing kit. Her hands trembled a little as she stitched the wounds. Biting on her pillow, tears running freely, Rainbow did her best to not scream, and to Sunset’s surprise, managed to stay quiet and still. The girl was tough.

When Fluttershy was done, Rainbow muttered, “Thanks, ‘Shy,” and then fell asleep.

“That is enough time,” Maria called in her carrying voice. “Everyone; follow me to the chapel.”

There was a brief scramble as squads tried to make their injured members more comfortable, but none of the others had had someone with Fluttershy’s skills. All except for Squad Rarity, who had Redheart, and she darted from squad to squad offering advice. She was the most reluctant to leave, hovering near the back of the group glancing between the injured girls and the Drill Abbess. Whether it was fear, pragmatism, or something else, she reluctantly joined her squad as they were led to the nearby chapel.

For the next two hours they recited hymnal psalms. Given small prayer books, they were told which passages to read before the hymns began by the drill abbess.

There was a small moment of worry when Sunset was handed her book. It fit snugly in her hand and was clearly old, with worn corners, scratches on the binding, and a large red smear that Sunset hoped wasn’t blood, but almost certainly was, on the first few pages. Opening to the indicated page her worries only grew at the strange language she saw. She had no problem reading Low Gothic, which was used throughout the ship, but this was High Gothic, and was utterly incomprehensible.

Thankfully, she was far from alone.

In fact, the only one who had no issues reading the passages was Twilight. Only a few of the other girls had the most basic of understanding, and they came from already highly religious families.

Which made the prayers a torture on par with the jog.

Drill Abbess Maria would give a reading of the hymns once, and only once, and expect her progena to replicate it without error.

Heads bowed low, hands clasped tight, and on their knees they were expected to sing with pitch perfection. No error or deviation was permitted. Whenever a progena was off-tune or just a little slow or too fast—and the Emperor forbid if they attempted to just mouth the words!—Maria’s neural whip would crackle overhead like a small bolt of contained lightning. If it happened again a scream would fill the chapel as the neural whip struck the offending progena across the back.

There were a lot of screams.

It took all of Sunset’s concentration, all her talents for soaking in lectures and lessons on the most esoteric magical theory, to avoid the lash. And it was luck that she came through unscathed. Twice she mispronounced a word, and she tensed expecting the lash, but the scream came from a girl on the far side of the chapel.

Afterwards, trembling in terror and thanking the Emperor the ordeal was over, the progena were taken back to the barracks for dinner and then rest.

Wanting only to sleep, Sunset shoveled her food into her mouth without even tasting the bland mush, and then stumbled towards her bunk.

Before she could reach it, she was intercepted by Rarity.

Hands planted on her hips, Rarity wore a severe scowl on her face. “Applejack should be with me,” she said without preamble

“I’m too sore and tired to deal with you right now,” Sunset groaned, and tried to step around Rarity, but was blocked by the other members of Squad Rarity. “You made your picks, and I made mine. Fair is fair.”

“But you don’t even know Applejack! We’ve known each other for years. We’re from the same town.”

“So? You should have picked her then instead of Pinkie Pie. It’s not my fault you didn’t think things through. Everyone on my squad is useful or brings something with them. Brains, brawn, and,” Sunset flipped her hair in mock imitation of Rarity, “charm.”

Rarity’s mouth fell open. “Wait, you didn’t pick anyone on your squad because you liked them?”

Sunset raised an eyebrow. “Rarity, I don’t know anyone here, and no one has even tried to get to know me, so, it’s not like I had a choice.”

Fuming, Rarity balled her fists tighter at her sides. For a brief second Sunset thought the girl might try to punch her. “Well, trade me Applejack. She’s my friend.”

“No.”

“No?” There was a shrillness to Rarity’s voice that scraped Sunset’s nerves.

“Look, you can still be friends if you want. Hang out together, braid your hair, gossip, and be silly in your free time for all I care. Assuming we get any, which I highly doubt. I don’t care about friends and all that junk. It’s just a waste of time and energy. What I do care about is that she’s on my squad, and my squad will be perfect and the best.”

Face red with anger, fists bunched at her sides, Rarity growled, “You’ll regret being so obstinate, Sunset.” Spinning on her heels, she marched off with her squad.

As they departed, Sunset heard one of the girls, Minty Fresh, ask, “Uh, what did you mean by ‘trade’, Rarity?”

Sighing at this new problem, Sunset dragged herself into her bunk, and promptly fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. It was the first true day among the schola, and the ones to follow were only to get harder, the Drill Abbess’ expectations more demanding of her charges.

Author's Note

At first I had intended to skip over the travel to the Stiensmar system, then a few ideas hit me in rapid succession, and this chapter sort of flew onto the page. This was probably one of the easiest chapters of a story I have written in years. It knew what it wanted to be long before I would sit down and start writing. All the various little portions came together and there was little in the way of rewrites and tying things together.

Even the characters all easily fell into place, from the choice of who should be the drill abbess, to the picking of the squads. Even the picking of the squads and Sunset managing to get AJ, Rainbow, 'Shy, and Twilight. Setting up the rivalry between Rarity and Sunset was likewise easy.

Then it was just the inhumane aspects of a schola progenium. What I read on them makes them out to be one part military school, one part seminary, and all horrible. I believe I showed that well enough.

Operation 4: Abomination

Sunset Shimmer; Sister of Battle
By Tundara

Operation 4

Sunset was in the middle of daily sparring practice when the Righteous Indignation transferred back to real space. She’d been in the process of getting her butt handed to her, again, by Rainbow Dash. Arms pressed in tight to her body, she tried to duck and weave, but her limbs were like frosted lead weights, and she was more or less Rainbow’s punching bag as a result. She took a hit to the ribs, and started to respond with a jab of her own, when warmth returned to her body.

All of a sudden she felt light, as if gravity in the compartment had been set to half Terra-normal. Her fist shot out and Rainbow’s eyes widened as realisation dawned that Sunset was suddenly fast.

Very fast.

Rainbow was fast herself, but very cocky, leaving herself purposefully open as if taunting Sunset.

A quick step forward brought Sunset inside Rainbow’s guard, and for the first time in months, she was on the offensive. Two rights followed, and then a left, and Rainbow was forced to back up. Rainbow attempted to counter with a quick jab of her own. Pivoting further inside Rainbow’s reach, she grabbed her opponent's arm and yanked as hard as she could. There was a little ‘whoa’ from Rainbow as she was thrown over Sunset’s shoulder. Collapsing down with Rainbow, Sunset dug her knee into the space between Rainbow’s shoulder blades.

On her stomach beneath Sunset, Rainbow blinked a couple times, and growled, “Throne, Sunset, have you been holding out on us all this time?”

Bouncing back onto the balls of her feet, Sunset offered a hand to help Rainbow up. After momentary irked hesitation Rainbow clasped her hand in return.

“No. Kind of, I guess? Just, all of a sudden, I felt the Emperor’s light.” Sunset cringed inwardly at the invocation of the Emperor.

She wasn’t sold on the religiosity of the Sisters, but saying so would have been nigh suicidal. Praying to a distant god, especially one that was a corpse interned on some golden throne on the other side of the galaxy, was pointless. She’d seen things that could be considered a ‘god’, at least in some semblance of the word. It wasn’t the Emperor who’d saved her during her plummet through the Warp, that much she was certain.

“Sunset!”

Drill Abbess Maria’s voice was like a chainsword tearing across the room, with the same level of dread associated with the grizzly weapon. Wrenched from her thoughts, Sunset
snapped to attention, eyes fixed forward, and sweat beading on her brow.

“Yes, Drill Abbess!”

“Good to see you finally applying yourself.” Maria peered at Sunset with narrowed eyes, a hand resting dangerously close to her neural whip. “Applejack, you next.”

Sunset grinned a little as she retook her stance. While Rainbow was fast on her feet and had quick hands, she was prone to rash mistakes, like the one Sunset had capitalised on.

Applejack, however, was different. Pure power, at the start of training she’d been simple, brutish, with sloppy execution to her strikes and grapples. Now, with only a couple months training, Applejack was turning into a fearsome brawler who clobbered everyone else one on one. There were only a few girls who gave her any sort of trouble, and they were almost exclusively in Squad Spitfire. Sparring with Applejack was like trying to grapple an angry moose. After what she did to Rainbow, Sunset was eager to see how she’d fare against the strongest fighter in the schola.

Things looked promising at first. As with Rainbow, Sunset was able to slide and move out of the path of the first couple punches. Wanting to test her limits, she darted in and unleashed a few jabs at Applejack’s stomach.

It was like punching ceramite.

Her escape only lasted a moment, the ring being rather small. A vicious uppercut narrowly missed, and Sunset countered with an open palmed strike aimed at Applejack’s throat. It was a dirty move, but Sunset was running out of options. Applejack shocked her when the larger girl managed to twist and bring her left arm up in enough of a guard to deflect the hit.

Anger flashed in Applejack’s deep green eyes and she came at Sunset in a full rush.

“So, that’s how you want it to be, huh? Well, I ain’t going to take it easy on you anymore, then,” Applejack rolled her shoulders, and Sunset had a sudden premonition of death.

Humming an opening bar as she forced Sunset towards the wall, Applejack broke into a psalm.

“His light doth shine where hearts be open, and the spirit calls him near. Lo, in glory do the faithful serve as witness and revere. Emperor, your might resoundeth O’er the Imperium!”

Thundering in like a dreadnaught, Applejack began with a series of tight strikes as she closed the distance and pushed Sunset towards the edge of the mat. Each block left Sunset’s arms momentarily numb. Abandoning blocking, she darted away, slipping beneath Applejack’s powerful swings.

Bouncing off her toes, Sunset sprang back on the attack. Darting around Applejack she managed to land a quick succession of stinging hits. Applejack just shrugged through the blows. Used to fighting Rainbow, who was much faster than herself, Applejack pressed onward, cutting off Sunset’s avenues of retreat. She began to adapt to Sunset’s speed and agility, varying her attacks with quick strikes of her own that were far more effective.

In the back of her head Sunset knew that the match was over.

Sunset saw the punch coming like a bolter round right for her jaw, began to dodge, but even then her movements were a touch too slow. With a resounding crack and burst of pain she took the full force of the hit. White light flashed across Sunset’s vision as she was knocked off her feet. A half-second later her breath whoosed out of her as she hit the thin matts, hard.

Head ringing, she was dimly aware of the praise being heaped on Applejack.

“You alright, sugarcube? Didn’t mean to deck you so hard.”

An offered hand appeared in Sunset’s view. Brushing it aside, Sunset snapped, “I’m fine! I was just tired from sparring with Rainbow.”

Her cheeks burned and a tense knot of embarrassment encased her wounded pride. She felt fine. Like her old self. And it hadn’t been enough to beat Applejack. The excuse that she was sick, lethargic for some reason, was gone, and with it there was no denying the simple truth that Applejack was simply the stronger fighter.

“Fine technique Applejack. Fluttershy! Twilight! On the matts! Pinkie! Octavia! You as well! Spitfire, keep your hands up. They are dropping again.” Drill Abbess Maria barked as she moved around the sparring girls.

Nursing her bruised body, and ego, Sunset sat down on a bench. Frustration bunched her shoulders.

“Next time,” She muttered to herself, going over in her head the fight with Applejack to find a way she could have won. Dozens of ideas popped into her head before it was time to head back to the barracks.

“Throne, you did a lot better than usual, you know,” Applejack stated as they made their way through the now familiar lower decks. “Slippery as a greased snake. Just, once you get a little pressed you don’t back down. If you’d kept moving more, you’d probably have worn me down.”

“I don’t need your lectures,” Sunset snapped, and swiftly headed towards the communal shower units.

Warm water splashed over her face, and she kneaded sore muscles, slowly allowing herself to relax.

It was galling that Applejack had come to the same conclusion as her, but probably while they were still fighting. She should have noticed the trap she was falling into and reacted better.

“Well, at least I made the right choice in her, at least,” Sunset cast a sidelong glance over at Fluttershy and Twilight. Both had large welts on their backs and shoulders from previous sparring sessions, and a bruise was forming over one of Twilight’s eyes.

“Sit still,” Fluttershy quietly ordered as she applied some ungeant to Twilight’s bruises.

They didn’t have Sunset’s excuse, and now that she was feeling like her old self again, Sunset knew that she’d quickly improve. She would overtake Applejack and Rainbow, and everyone else. She had to. Fluttershy and Twilight, however, were just useless, dead weights on the squad when it came to anything physical in nature.

Toweling herself off, Sunset changed into her progena robes and headed towards the chapel for afternoon prayers. The corridors, with their rust and miles of rattling pipes, were so familiar that Sunset hardly looked where she was going, losing herself in thought as she walked. Moving down an outer corridor she caught a flash of blue and green out of the corner of her eye where there was usually a blast-shield.

Coming to a sharp halt Sunset stared at the planet framed in the high-arched porthole. Mostly ocean, there was the hint of continents on the eastern fringe and near the southern pole. A chain of islands formed a loose semi-circle where tectonic plates impacted each other. It was on those islands, near the equator, that the sisters had their monastery fortress.

Around the planet hung a small number of space stations and a battle barge like trinkets on a Hearth’s Warming tree. They twinkled in the light cast by the system’s orange sun. Between a few large asteroids zipped a number of craft, hauling mined materials to orbital factories or to the nearby moon where the Mechanicus kept a small Biologus outpost. As she stared she caught sight of a massive, golden Imperial eagle being ferried to a waiting ship where it would be placed in front of the command tower.

A number of facts popped into Sunset’s head, drilled into her over the past few months, such as how Steinsmar was about the same distance from its sun as the planet Venus in the Holy Sol system. It had point nine-nine standard gravity. The planet’s main export was iconography for the Imperial navy or merchant ships. That, once each year—

She jumped as a claxon sounded above her head, followed by a voice crackling through the vox-speaker.

“Ave Imperator, sisters,” spoke Canoness Celestia. “A Short time ago our transition through the foul Warp was concluded, and we returned to real-space. The chronometers tell us the journey was a mere two years of real-time. A quick, clean journey. Praise the Throne and the light of the Astronomicon.”

Reflexively, Sunset made the symbol of the Aquila and repeated, “Praise the Throne.”

“All sisters are to prepare for disembarkation. We are home. May the Emperor's light illuminate our way, now and forevermore.”

As she straightened, Sunset just barely heard a rustle of movement over the heavy clanking of the Righteous Indignation’s machinery. She tensed, beginning to turn to the source of the noise. Someone threw their arm around her neck in a headlock. Her head was yanked back in a sharp jark that left Sunset momentarily disorientated. She wasn't given a chance to recover as her knee was kicked out and she was driven into a crouch. Breaths were almost impossible to steal through the iron-taught pressure on her throat.

“You disgusting filth,” hissed a feral voice in her ear. “I know what you really are! You should have just died with Equestria.”

Sharp pain lanced deep just below her shoulder blade and through her chest. Glancing down, Sunset saw obscenely a long knife jutted like a silvery finger out of her chest. Blood filled her lung and bubbled up into her throat. A hacking cough broke from Sunset, blood splattering over the window in a crimson spray. With a malicious twist her attacker yanked the blade free. Sunset’s legs gave out and she collapsed onto her face. Desperately she attempted to suck in fresh breaths, but all she inhaled were her own vital fluids.

The only thought that resonated like the tolling of a bell was that she was about the die. That she’d accomplished nothing with her life. That she was a failure and her true destiny had been snatched from her. Stolen by the cruel whims of callous princesses and crueler gods.

Darkness encroached on the edges of her vision as she was released and fell like a sack of potatoes to the unforgiving deck. There was a clatter by her head, and in the corner of her eye she saw the long knife as it was dropped and shadows shifted around her. Voices echoed in the corridor, and Sunset tried to cry for help, but only blood bubbled from her mouth. She tried to gasp fresh air, but her lungs were filling with vital fluids. Boots thumped on the deck, and the shadows shifted again as someone leaned over her, pawing at Sunset’s tunic to open it.

“Hey! What’s going on over there? What are you doing?” Sunset blearily heard someone shouting from down the corridor.

There was a flurry of steps. Soft hands prodding at her chest and then squeezing tight over the wound.

“Oh n-no, this is bad. Oh, Emperor, this is bad. Twilight, go get Sister Elizabeth! Twilight, don’t stare! Go! Now!”

On her back in a spreading pool of blood, Sunset gazed up into Fluttershy’s determined gaze, the darkness encroaching further and further.

“Stay with me Sunset. Throne, don’t go to sleep! You need to stay awake.”

Shouts came echoing up the corridor. Feet pounding on the deck.

Sunset’s last thought before the dark fully enclosed around her was if Princess Celestia ever cared, or even noticed, that she’d run away.

‘Of course she knows,’ echoed a beautiful voice that swept away the dark with a wave of spectral hues. ‘Only a fool would be blind to your absence, and she is no fool.’

Twisting around Sunset tried to find the source of the voice, but all she saw was a dazzling swirling display, like multihued ocean currents colliding in a confluence of colour. Gingerly she reached out a finger, and the currents reacted, coiling around her hand playfully. It was calming, and she felt at peace.

Weary muscles tense for months relaxed, stress leached by the confluence from her body as mud draws poison from a wound.

She wished she could remain in the blissful ocean forever. Sighing, she surrendered herself to the gentle currents.

‘You mustn’t,’ thundered a second voice, deep and powerful, that resonated in her chest like the shockwave of artillery shells. ‘You have a purpose, and it is yet unfulfilled. Unless you are too weak to grasp greatness.’

Sunset’s eyes shot open, and she beheld twin suns above her. Or in the near distance. Close enough that if she chose she could reach out and caress them, but also further than the non-existent horizon. Their light tingled across her bare skin, one cool and soothing, the other hot like the summer glow on a beach. Slowly at first, their light grew in intensity. One side of her face went cold, the other began to burn.

Squirming she tried to pull away, but the twin suns followed her. Thunder crashed, and the mild currents were whipped into a frenzy. Lightning arced, and there was a deep thoom in Sunset’s chest as she tried to flee.

‘No matter how far you run, you will never escape, Sunset!’ Boomed the clouds.

“Leave me alone! I don’t need your help! I don’t need anyone’s help!”

The suns darkened, dim light turning the space into a foreboding hellscape, like a sandstorm at dusk. A sharp breeze slapped Sunset across the cheeks.

‘Then fight. Grasp your true potential. Or die. See your fate should you falter.’

Wind and rain tore across Sunset, and a low groan echoed through the ethereal realm. Riding on the wind came screams, hundreds of them, thousands. Ponies and people emerged from the storm. Black ichor leaked from sunken eyes set in sallow faces, broken, mangled hooves or hands reaching out for her. Among the many faces were those of Sunset’s squad, Princess Celestia, and the ponies she’d known in the palace, as well as the other girls of the scholla. Maggots wormed beneath taught flesh as they shrieked her name.

And behind the screaming was a laugh, long and rumbling with blasphemous intent.

For a long time there was only that long, thirsting laughter.

The world resolved slowly around Sunset. Warbling, at first, as if pulled over a vast gulf, were voices. Some soft, others harsh. There were clanks. A long roar of an engine. And then a period of quiet that slowly resolved into a gentle, rhythmic beeping that was somehow comforting.

Warmth washed over her face.

Birds twittered.

Slowly, with great effort, Sunset opened her eyes.

She was met by the leering face of a stone gargoyle perched above her bed, long tongue lolling from its round head as it kept corruptive entities away. Iconography covered every available surface. The walls held nooks with statues of saints surrounded by purity seals. The ceiling held a massive fresco of the sisterhood at war, large numbers of battle sisters with all manner of wargear surging into disorganised clusters of hideously mutated cultists, scattering them with the Holy Trinity of bolter, flamer, and melta guns. Placed between the statues were beds, with simple curtains that could be pulled to create some level of privacy.

A pleasurable haze fogged Sunset’s head, making it hard to focus on any one aspect of the room, or figure out why or how she’d been brought to it. With ponderous difficulty she attempted to piece events together. The corridor. The planet. Being stabbed. The nightmares. Wait… stabbed?

Oh. Yeah. She’d been stabbed.

Right through the chest. And she was alive.

Huh.

Blinking and with a dopey grin, Sunset settled deeper into the soft pillows.

She drifted in and out for the next while. How long was hard to tell. Hours, minutes, or maybe days. The drugs made it difficult to discern.

When she next woke it was dark outside.

Her head pounded, stomach churned, and her chest was tight, constricted. Feeling the wound she discovered bandages wrapped tight around her. Each breath sent fresh flares of fire through her right side. It was agony.

Tears pricking her eyes she rolled out of bed. Cold stone tingled against the soles of her feet. A sharp tug almost caused her to fall as tubes popped out of the crook of her elbow. Hissing sharply she pulled the case off her pillow and wrapped it around the seeping holes. Softly she padded her way through the ward.

Most of the beds were empty, but here and there was one occupied by a sister of the order in a medicated sleep. Tubes connected them to medicea altars, terminals clutched by granite statues flickering with numbers and reading in High Gothic. Fluids dripped in hung bags, fed into the injured or sick woman, or were drawn out.

Picking up her pace, Sunset hurried out of the room and into a tall corridor built with the same vaulted ceilings and iconography as used throughout the Imperium. Echoing from down the corridor, Sunset’s superlative hearing picked up the traces of conversation between Sisters Maria and Elizabeth.

“Cannoness Celestia should have purged the abomination the moment you’d completed the initial tests on the Righteous Indignation.”

“While I would love to more thoroughly poke around her insides, you know why she spared the girl.”

There was a grunt, and a clunk of something hitting a table. “I know… I was there, afterall. Me and Arabella. Sole survivors of what was meant to be a milk-run. Us, and… Sunset. A child. Alone. With the artifact. Wearing Sister Helen’s helmet. Of course it was a sign. Sunset survived while everyone else in the squad was torn apart.”

“Is that why you hate her?”

“Hate is the Emperor’s greatest gift, Elizabeth.” There was a chidding note that was also playful in Maria’s voice. A short pause followed with the clink of glasses being refilled. “If that was all there was to things, yes, I would still hate Sunset.”

“But she is also half-aeldari.”

“Throne! Just hearing that blasphemy again makes my skin crawl and bile fill my mouth! Half-Aeldari? Throne and Emperor preserve us, such a monstrosity should be impossible!”

“There have always been stories, Mi-mi. Rumours that swirl in the dark underbelly of the church about certain planets or individuals having a touch of aeldari blood.”

“Put no stock in such whisperings, especially as they filter out of treacherous lips. I half suspect such heresy is merely a test.”

Another long pause followed, and Sunset sank to the floor, back pressed to the wall and hands clasped over her mouth. Her heart thudded in her chest so loudly that she wondered how the sisters in the adjacent room failed to hear it. Sunset wanted to run away, or march into the room and scream that they were wrong about her. That she didn’t choose to be a freakish half-human half-aeldari mutant. That she had been turned into this by an entity while she travelled through the warp.

Without a Geller Field.

Or even a ship.

A tiny groan lodged itself in Sunset’s throat, fingers tensing in her thick hair knowing what would happen if she ever mentioned that she wasn’t even from this reality, but a mirror one. The sisters would burn her with the other heretics, mutants, and cultists deemed too loathsome for even use as a combat thrall.

Assuming they just didn’t put a bolter round through her right then and there.

“It is a shame, as being around her is so calming,” Elizabeth sighed, her chair scraping as she pushed it back. Boots clicked on stone, and a hinge squeaked.

“Yet another worry! I thought it was an effect of the relic, or that the Emperor was reaching out to us. And maybe it is Him. But…” There was a sigh, and then, “Even I can hardly deny that something has touched Sunset. Every sister feels it. Just being in the same room is soothing.”

“Peaceful.”

“...Wrong.” A disgruntled rumble filled Maria’s throat and echoed over Sunset. “For an abomination to have the same presence as a Saint is an affront to all that is holy. All the progena sense it, if just instinctually, and I worry about the effects of exposing them to Sunset. If she should taint them as well…”

“Then the canoness will purge the entire class. It will be a shame to see some promising candidates lost, but Steinsmar will replace them with far stronger daughters. As the Emperor wills.”

“Aye. And to determine if she is a threat or a blessing, I will work Sunset. I will make her bleed and sweat and scream in the Emperor’s service, just as I will all the other progena. If this is truly the Emperor’s will, then I will ensure that Sunset is truly worthy of the honour of being our sister. With faith and fury. Isn’t that right, Sunset?”

Eyes widening, Sunset looked up to see Sister Maria in the doorway, hand resting on her neural whip and a deep scowl etched onto her hardened face. She hadn’t even realised Maria had been approaching the doorway.

How had Maria known that she was listening in on the conversation?

Across the hallway a cherubic homunculus grinned, oddly large teeth flashing white in its pudgy face. It skittered behind the head of a saintly statue, nubby fingers clinging to stone as vestigial wings twitched. A large, round mechanic eye whirred as it focused on Sunset. She’d been so focused on the conversation she’d tuned out all other sounds, leaving her vulnerable to the spies and security that would naturally be throughout the monastery.

Gulping down sharp terror, Sunset leapt to her feet. “Drill Abbess, my apologies for eavesdropping. I—”

“How much did you hear?”

“E-Enough. Too much.” Sunset wasn’t sure if she should be defiant, angry, or submissive. No matter what she did, she was going to be punished, and that meant only one thing. Her gaze flickered to Maria’s neural whip.

“Well, the truth is out.” Maria ran her fingers through her hair and she glanced up at the ceiling as if seeking the Emperor’s guidance. “You will never speak of this to your sisters. If they were to learn the truth about you…”

“They’d despise me.”

Maria laughed. “No, they despise you already, for the most part. Except for Applejack, and Fluttershy, but that girl has a screw loose. It is unlikely she will reach induction into the order as a full battle-sister.”

The side of Maria’s face twitched, her momentary good humour burnt away by hate. Her hand tensed on her whip. For an instant Sunset thought she was about to be whipped, but Elizabeth appeared, and placed a hand on her sister’s arm. Her dark eyes were calculating as they swept over Sunset, settling briefly on the new wound in the crook of her elbow.

“Fluttershy saved your life, Sunset. Without her quick thinking you’d have been dead long before I reached you. Anyways, enough of all this chatter. Mi-mi, my patient should be in bed, and asleep. I swear, I thought I’d given you enough sedatives to put a kilguar into a coma. Come on, Sunset, let’s get you settled.”

Firm hands took Sunset by the shoulder and half pushed, half guided her back to her bed. Her head rang with thoughts as she was settled and a fresh dose of painkillers administered. It was a long, troubled sleep she fell into, plagued with worries and dread over what would happen when the other progena inevitably learned the truth about her.

No matter what, she had to keep this secret.

For as long as possible.

Author's Note

I had to delete and restart this chapter a couple of times. Getting Sunset down to Steinsmar turned out to be rather a bit of a headache. I kept falling into too much exposition on the planet, society, or having characters learn/know about Sunset's, um, 'condition' that would be... problematic. One attempt involved planetary customs that was just hilariously awful! It was so bad! I purged all 3k words of it (keeping the start with the sparring) with holy promethium.

My other problem came about by how relatively successful and well received the first three chapters have been. I'm not all that big on the actual lore of the 40k setting and it worries me to the point of being unable to write some days that I'll get things wrong.

I want to take more time giving the planets details and culture. It's very... silly, being honest. Silly, and dark. I gave some tastes and hints in this chapter.

On another note; Is anyone else getting vibes that Sisters of Battle are just the 'new' Space Marines, or more accurately, GW's answer to the demands of female Space Marines? We're literally getting hand-me-down tanks, and now a chaplain in a 10yo pose... Though, good on her for power lifting. Though her form is all wrong. Yet no Fast Attack sisters on bikes? That is the one unit I would like to see added. Sisters on 40k'd Yamahas.

Anyways, going to paint my custom Preacher later. Would anyone be interested in pics of the order that I have painted so far? I thought of posting them in blog posts before, but... My painting skills aren't exactly great. (1 Thick Coat to rule them all!) Just an idea.

Operation 6: Warnings

Sunset Shimmer; Sister of Battle
By Tundara

Operation 6

As had become the norm after the disastrous training exercise, Sunset woke before the local sun had become a sliver on the horizon and headed to the training fields held in the sweeping arms of the Schola portion of the monastery-fortress. She took care to avoid disturbing the others. Not out of any consideration for their sleep. Sunset just didn’t want to be bothered by them.

Sunset stretched, and then she took off down one of the inner running tracks. She was far from alone as she jogged, older, native-born progena already working up a sweat. Blonde hair tied back, the native steinsmarians pounded back and forth, performed hurdles, or limbered up in tight groups. Sunset could feel them watching her, but that was the limit of their interest in her.

She enjoyed the feel of the wind in her streaming hair. It was brisk in what was still the planetary spring weather, and sharpened her focus. Over in her herald she went over the previous days' lessons on battlefield maneuvers.

An example of a battle had been put before them. A hive city had been assaulted by a vastly more numerical force. As stalwart servants of the God-Emperor, they had withstood the assault until corruption within the upper echelons of Imperial Command had resulted in the city’s void shields being lowered at a crucial juncture, and the city suffering a withering artillery barrage. At the same time, the enemy warlord launched a final, decisive assault. Without explaining the battle’s eventual outcome, Drill Abbess Maria questioned the progena on how they’d have responded.

Rarity had proposed dividing her forces, with one group entrenching further while the other went to restore the shields. Spitfire proposed a similar answer, the only differences being sizes of the forces. She’d have sent only a pair of elite squads as kill teams while the rest of her sororitas held the line. Variations on these ideas quickly became common.

In an effort to differentiate herself, Sunset asked if the shields had been sabotaged or simply deactivated. After hearing that the shields had been lowered, Sunset had replied that she’d have taken a unit to deal with the traitors, sent others to secure the void shield generators, and dispersed her remaining forces to rally the locals.

Sunset was unsatisfied by her answers, though there honestly didn’t seem to be any that the Drill Abbess would have found acceptable.

It was after hearing all the proposed solutions that Drill Abbess Maria ruthlessly pointed out each and every error. The lack of intelligence gathering, failures in force dispersals, leaving weak gaps that the enemy infantry and armour could exploit, and on and on.

Feet pounding on the paved race track, Sunset ran through possibilities. Spreading out the fighting force of the sororitas left them isolated and alone to be surrounded when the PDF inevitably crumbled. Tightening up left her flanks exposed. Personally going to deal with the traitors left her command weak at the core of the fighting, but no one else, presumably, would have authority to deal with a traitorous high commander.

There didn’t seem to be any feasible answer that was correct.

Which was probably the point of the thought exercise.

After several laps Sunset made her way to the showers. The bathhouse was very different than the majority of the Schola compound; as if it were plucked from another world and dropped into the middle of the gothic architecture, as alien as Sunset herself. Tucked away in a grove of old growth trees, the bathhouse had curved roofs of blue tile, a face of red wooden posts, and thick arches that swept upwards in imitation of a bull’s horns. At the front was a long lobby of sorts with lockers for the girls to put their clothes. From there they had a choice of three communal areas with benches and shower heads, or heading to the central, grand bath that was more like a swimming pool. Clouds of steam drifted along, and the spaces were kept clean by progena on a rotating work schedule, rather than the usual servitors that were seen everywhere else in the compound doing menial tasks. The grand bath had a glass roof held aloft by atlas-like statues in the place of the usual marble columns.

Here it was almost possible to forget that she wasn’t in Equestria anymore. She could almost feel the muscles in her back relax fractionally before darting glances down the isles of lockers. Nowhere was safe, she reminded herself. Nowhere.

Silently, she padded to her favoured locker to the left where she could see the other progena enter the bathhouse or leave one of the baths before they could spot her. Only a couple native progena came through the door while she stripped, and utterly ignored her presence. As was the norm.

At this time of day the bathhouse was still relatively empty, only a bare handful of other progena who’d gotten even earlier starts to their day sitting on the benches before the showers. Wrapped in a towel, Sunset made her way to the farthest showers where there was no one else.

Even soaking in the warm haze, Sunset refused to allow her mind to drift. It would have been too easy to let her thoughts just drift to the gentle patter of the water on her face. It was a few minutes respite from the grueling exercises and lectures the progena were subjected to day after day, and her weary soul craved a thin scrap of peace. Which she couldn’t allow. It was in that moment the assassin would strike again.

Feet padding on wet tiles made her ears twitch. Sunset’s hand reflexively reached for the small knife she’d strapped to her thigh in recent days. Her fingers brushed only against soapy skin, and she winced. The knife was back in the locker, right where it could do her no good.

Muscles in her back tensed in preparation for rolling aside. The steps drew nearer, and a shadow fell over her shoulders. She balled a fist. With a hum and thump, an older girl sat down next to her. Looking over at Sunset, she flashed a broad grin of perfect white teeth.

“Hello,” the girl said, her grey eyes sweeping Sunset up and down.

Sunset shot her an irritated look, and demanded, “Can I help you?”

“Nope, but I can help you,” the girl responded, leaning forward as she twisted the spigots for her showerhead. With a hiss, water sprayed forth and further drowned out the rest of the room. With the noise and steam, it would have been easy to forget they weren’t alone.

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. The girl was familiar, but most of the native born progena were hard to distinguish. They were all exceptionally tall, with hair that barely ranged from spun gold to flaxen wheat with a few platinum blondes thrown in, just for a bit of variation. Likewise, their eyes were uniformly some tint of blue or grey. Having grown up among so many different mane, coat, and eye colour combinations, the stark similarities of the Steinsmarians was off-putting. She felt like she was amongst a bunch of clones. It made the off-world progena stand out all the more.

It took a moment of staring, and then it clicked. “Mirabella, right?”

“You remembered! That’s sweet.”

Without her armour, it was easy to see that Mirabella was beautiful. Her high cheekbones were like those of a sculpture of one of the Saints. She’d done up her thick tresses of golden hair in a bun held together by a polished stick. There was strength in the sinews of her bare forearms, calves, and not an ounce of fat on her athletic frame. All of which was normal for the amount of physical exercise the progena underwent every day.

Suspicions growling like a wounded tiger in the back of her head, Sunset really wished she had her knife. While confident in her ability to fight hand-to-hand with anyone else in her own class, the older, stronger, and better trained seniors were another prospect altogether. In the peripheries of her vision she noted that the other girls she’d seen come in early were getting up to leave, which meant she and Mirabella would shortly be alone.

“So Sunset, any particular reason behind your name? You offworlders have such strange choices. Minty? Spitfire? Rainbow? You must have had an odd world.”

The bland question only further irritated her raw nerves.

“No idea what the meaning is behind my name.” Sunset did her best to put a dismissive sniff at the end of her reply, and hoped Mirabella would go away. Alas, the girl didn’t take the hint, if she noticed it at all.

“What about your parents? What deeds did they have? You know, like how my mother fought off a dozen Necron on Tallidus IV, and my father had the highest scores among the marine hopefuls.” There was an excited rush to the way she talked, even though her voice was kept to little more than a hushed whisper to avoid drawing attention, despite them being alone.

Troubling was the keen glint in Mirabella’s eyes. Something told her that there was more going on beneath the surface of ditzy banter.

Wishing even more fervently that she had her knife, Sunset ran through her head every bit of hand-to-hand training she’d undergone. She hoped it would be enough against the far larger, and more experienced, girl if it came to a fight.

Arching an eyebrow, Sunset barely held back a snort. “Listen, I’d like just a few minutes of quiet reflection between me and the Emperor. If you want something, just ask, otherwise, I really would appreciate being left alone.”

Evoking the Emperor was always a risk, especially if one of the Drill Abbesses were within earshot. One never knew when they’d be told they were taking Him in vain. Doing so in the bathhouse of all places was almost asking for being rebuked.

Mirabella rocked back as if she’d been slapped. For a second, Sunset wondered if she’d overplayed her use of the God-Emperor. Instead of exploding, Mirabella slapped her cheeks and let out a groan.

“Oh, Mira, you are so stupid. Off-worlders don’t have a List of Deeds and Lineage. They haven’t been taught Steinsmar’s ways yet, and that’s why you’re here. There will be other opportunities to question Sunset. Stay on mission, girl.”

Sunset almost raised a brow at how she’d been both ignored, and yet not, at the same time.

Before Sunset could say anything, Mirabella continued in a single stream, “Okay, so, first of all, you’ll find that pretty much everyone who is important on Steinsmar is descended from a Sister of Battle combined with prominent heroes of the guard regiments. In the last few generations, the recently founded Steinsmarines have taken the place of the guard officer core for the exceptionally wealthy. The lower classes can’t afford children with such pedigrees, so they have to opt for stock with lesser Deeds, naturally.”

Sunset’s stare was flat, and as cold as a glacial shelf. “Uh huh… I really don’t— ”

“That is all secondary, since you are an offworlder. You want to—no, you have to figure out what specialty your best suited towards and start really hauling butt towards it,” Mirabella spoke over Sunset. “A few go for the non-combative Orders, like the Famulous, Dialogous, or Hospitaller. But, those are rather rare choices, and almost never chosen by a true daughter of Steinsmar. The most common is a battle-line sister, obviously, but that’s just a mid-way point. If you manage to graduate and are inducted into the Order you’ll want to look into the various unit types, and figure out which one is for you. Assuming any of the Sisters Superior of the specialist squads would even look at a member of your class. The performance of your class was appalling, to be honest. I figure you’ll be lucky if ten percent of you survive to graduation. Being off-worlders is already a huge disadvantage, and if you think that little exercise was bad, it only gets worse. The first year alone typically has a fifty percent attrition rate. The drill abbesses go out of their way to weed out inferior stock in the first couple years. Assuming you survive Summer Camp. That needs to be your first goal; surviving camp.”

“Summer camp?” Sunset turned off her shower, and started the process of towelling down.

“Yeah. It’s a Steinsmar tradition. Every child of Steinsmar is sent to it when they turn thirteen. Since you’re off-worlders, you’ll get sent to the next camp so you can get some Deeds to put next to your names despite being a bit underaged. The Drill Abbess won’t tell you about it because you’re expected to find out about these sorts of things on your own. You’re expected to gather intelligence about your surroundings and situation, and then take the best course of action to not just survive, but thrive. However, your group has been isolated by the other progena in the Schola. You’re the ‘Tainted Class’. You know, because…” Mirabella pointed at Sunset’s ears.

“And how are we expected to get these ‘deeds’ at a summer camp?”

Sunset was having a hard time picturing what a ‘summer camp’ even looked like to the people of this reality. Certainly it wouldn’t involve making s'mores around a campfire while telling ghost stories, or doing activities out in the woods like canoeing or archery.

Not unless live-fire was involved…

“Hunting and skinning a kilguar is the usual goal, but few native born Stienians manage that. A lot of kids get eaten trying, and have their records stricken as failures. Just survival isn’t enough to get a deed. You, especially, need to do something big, but everyone in your class is starting at a huge disadvantage. At least most of you have wild hair colours, so those are points in your favour for novelty’s sake, but otherwise…” Mirabella shrugged, and rinsed off. “Get really good at the hymnals, practice your shooting, and ace all the tests, and you’d still be overlooked.”

Sunset’s curiosity had been fully peaked, and her sense of danger somewhat abated. Turning on her seat to face Mirabella, she asked, “Why are you giving me this information? Aren’t I a filthy xenos? Shouldn’t I be purged? Or, if what you say is true, just be allowed to die at this camp?”

Mirabella laughed. “You didn’t run, and it made me curious. The Emperor will protect you, or…” Another shrug and Mirabella got up. She hovered for a second as she thought about saying more, and decided to leave with a casual wave over her shoulder.

Sunset waited a few moments before also leaving. Her mind wandered over what Mirabella had told her. Details were picked apart and scrutinised, and a sense of unease knotted in Sunset’s stomach. She held doubts about all the details she’d been told, though what use did it to lie to her? It would be easy enough to learn the truth, and given that it was clearly meant to be a more clandestine meeting rather than one done for the benefit of others, it was probably more likely true. Getting Sunset to focus even more on her studies and physical training was hardly needed. Unless it was meant to distract from her more important lessons. But how?

Groaning in frustration as her logic began to turn circular, Sunset clutched her head and decided that she had to get to the bottom of what she’d been told.

After getting dressed, Sunset went to the library.

Straddling the line between the Schola and the main portion of the monastery fortress, the library served both progena and full-fledged members of the order. The chamber stank of ancient vellum scrolls, paper, and gear oils. Arrayed around a looming desk that served as a sort of hub were three story tall rows of books, scrolls, slates, and all manner of tomes forming long, dusty canyons. The thousands upon thousands of books were kept in order by servitors that clattered along on rail tracks built into the shelving units, their lower bodies replaced by wheels and gears. Their soulless red eyes glowed like bobbing lamps in the distance as they rattled along to the guidance of the head servitor at the main desk.

A towering abomination, it sat behind a half-moon desk. Dozens of metallic arms clicked as they swung about shifting books from pile to pile. Red robes covered in iconography of gears and skulls hung over its bulky frame, giving only hints at the amalgam of flesh and machine hidden underneath. Machinery rattled like the wheezing breaths of a dying man, and the air stank heavily around it with a vile combination of formaldehyde or engine oil. Three headed like the mythical hound Cerberus back on Equestria, it too was a gatekeeper.

Revulsion shivering up her spine, Sunset marched to the desk. Internal gears clicking, the leftmost head swiveled towards Sunset as she approached, and its hellish glowing eye bored into her.

“Querry; What do you seek, progena Sunset Shimmer?” Lenses whirred and she swore the bulky thing leaned towards her.

“I’m looking for information on something called a ‘Kilguar’.”

The catalogue’s mechanical eyes stared blankly at Sunset as it processed her command. From beside it a retrieval claw rattled off down one of the small rail lines towards the library’s shadowed depths.

“Information; Your request will take three minutes to retrieve. Please wait.”

Nodding, Sunset took a few steps to the side to wait, and where she’d have a better angle to watch the doors. Heavy steps approached from one of the reading areas. Sunset’s hand fell to her knife, drawing comfort from the simple plastic hilt.

“Kilguars?” Twilight’s voice tumbled with unbridled curiosity. “What are those?”

Sunset didn’t relax as she turned to face her squadmate.

“If I knew I wouldn’t be looking them up, would I?” Sunset did her best to put a little lilt to her tone at the end, rather than just snapping out her response to the stupid question.

Cheeks burning slightly, Twilight bobbed her head, and changed her question to ask why Sunset was researching them.

Sunset sighed, and tightened her grip on her hidden knife.

“Because just surviving isn’t enough for me,” Sunset sneered. Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her knife as anger blistered in her throat. “I plan on thriving, and being the best. I thought you could help with that goal. But I was wrong. You’re just a liability to the squad. You’re going to get the rest of us killed.”

Twilight rocked back as if she’d been punched. For an instant, Sunset thought that Twilight was going to cry and run off. She balled her fists, and set her jaw.

“I know! You think I don’t know that? Yes, I am slow, and weak, and I can’t aim!”

“Then do something about it!”

Sunset advanced towards Twilight.

“Do something about it before you get the rest of us killed having to pick up your slack.”

“I’m trying!”

“Try harder.”

With the gates to her frustrations open they poured forth in a vitriolic stream.

“I thought you were some sort of genius because you could use the cogitators when no one else could, but I guess I was wrong. You’re nothing but a timid child that had the fortune of being taught what you should never have been. It is a minor miracle that the mechanicus never learned that you stole their secrets. If we survive this schola, your ability to commune with the machine spirits almost makes you a liability, rather than an asset. I should have realised there was a reason the others avoided picking you for their squads, rather than rejoicing at my supposed ‘luck’ at them being blind to what I mistook for assets.”

Tears trickling down her cheeks, Twilight nodded slowly. She didn’t offer any defense, or any counter arguments. She had no fight in her at all, it seemed. Sunset almost felt like she’d kicked a puppy, and that infuriated her even more. Disgust welled up in her throat.

Raising her head, Twilight looked over Sunset’s shoulder. “Your book is here,” she mumbled softly.

Sunset didn’t turn, didn’t take her eyes off Twilight in case it was a trick. She knew better than to turn her back in case the sniveling was all an act; and how she hoped that it was an act.

Because if it wasn’t, then the squad was in worse trouble than Sunset had at first worried.

When Sunset still didn’t move, Twilight made to step past her. Sunset fingers curled around the hilt of her knife. Her whole body tensed ready to explode with action. Sunset was almost disappointed when Twilight went to the desk without any hint of aggression.

“Progena Twilight, squad-mate of Sunset; I’ll receive the requested items,” Twilight said, upholding a hand to the massive catalogue servitor, her voice cracking a little with restrained emotions.

The abomination’s eyes clicked, and a stack of books was deposited into Twilight’s small hands. She had to struggle as the heavy, wood and leather bound tomes almost unbalanced her. Legs shaking, she faced Sunset again.

“I may be terrible at the physical stuff, but I can at least help you research,” Twilight snapped at Sunset, a brief moment of defiance lighting in her eyes.

Sliding away her knife in such a way as to keep it hidden, Sunset stepped up and snatched the topmost few books from Twilight. “I don’t need your help.”

“Well, maybe you do,” Twilight countered, her cheeks puffy from her tears. “This is the one thing I am better than anyone else at doing. No one else has scores in class as high as mine. Not even you.”

Gritting her teeth, Sunset said, “Fine. It isn’t worth arguing with you over something so pointless.”

Sunset led Twilight to the nearest table. There they poured over the ancient texts. The newest of the books was perhaps as little as a couple centuries old, its pages faded with the thick smell of age wafting with every turn.

The first volume Sunset opened contained detailed anatomy and data for the kilguar Mirabella had mentioned. Not just the kilguar, but other monstrosities. Her stomach twisted with disbelief as she skimmed through the pages. Creatures every bit the equal of the manticores and hydras of Equestria. Sunset became engrossed in what she was reading, eyes darting from drawing to drawing, searching over the archaic terminology with a reference book at hand.

Whoever had studied the monsters had been thorough, noting muscle mass, tensile strengths, and other features. Images of the thing flayed to display connective tissues and internal organs were exceptionally detailed.

Not everything was fully legible, the long roll of centuries having taking their toll with faded words and damaged pages containing important knowledge.

So intent on the book, Sunset almost forgot Twilight was there until the other girl loudly cleared her throat.

When Sunset looked up with a deep scowl, she noticed that Twilight had grown exceptionally pale.

“We have to warn the others,” Twilight said, spinning the book she’d been reading around to show Sunset. On the page was the image of a solar system, Steinsmar clearly marked, as well as another world.

Next to the world, written in someone’s flowing hand, was ‘Beware Summer Camp!’, underlined three times.

“Summer camp?” Sunset whispered as she traced the words with a finger.

“We have to warn the others,” Twilight repeated, dread bleaching her features of life as she turned the page over to the details of this sister planet to Steinsmar.

Sunset quickly became very thankful of Mirabella’s warning.

Author's Note

Well, this took much longer to write than I'd ever expected. Two things got in the way; The first being just the topsy-turvy situation with where I've been living. I moved twice between these chapters being posted, with a third move sometime... soon? It's very complicated. The other was just a total lack of enthusiasm and in general total inability to write more than a paragraph at a time.

Then Games Workshop decided to go full Exterminatus on the fan created content... That came just as I'd actually managed to get a little bit of a groove started again on the chapter. Looking over the content guidelines, even I'm not safe because of the cover art I use. I'm also so tiny I doubt they'd bother bopping me with a cease-n-bugger-off.

I debated whether to continue this story at all for several days. In the end, I just followed my Muse when she paid me a visit, and here we are.

This is a bit of a set-up/filler chapter with just a bit of character work, I know. The main point of this story is character practice and policing myself on chapter length. I'm generally pleased with the description of the library. The bathhouse is more... iffy. As anime fanservice nod it works, mostly. Within the context of 40k, not so much. For getting the info I needed to Sunset, it was more functional than other locations for the conversation that I tried. I needed a way to both show Sunset's paranoia, as well as have her disarmed.

Applejack, Rainbow, and Fluttershy had roles in the chapter that were all cut for adding too much bloat and diluting things. Having it just Sunset-Mira, then Sunset-Twi allowed me to keep things a bit more focused rather than hip-hopping between characters like with other conversations.

Anyways, sorry for such a short and 'fillery' chapter after such a long wait.

Operation 7: Unwanted

Sunset Shimmer; Sister of Battle
By Tundara

Operation 7

“They are sending us to a Death World!” Twilight half sobbed, half screamed the moment she and Sunset returned to their shared rooms. The others were in various states of undress and getting ready to sleep, and froze at Twilight’s hysterical face.

It had been a much longer study session than Sunset had anticipated when she’d set off for the library. After their initial discovery of the true nature of ‘Summer Camp’, Sunset and Twilight had devoured every piece of information they could on the planet. Little by little, moment by moment, horrified dread had gripped the two girls as they poured over the ancient vellum pages.

Sunset’s skin was tingling with adrenalin, and over Twilight’s shoulders she just gave a single, solemn nod of agreement. Otherwise, Rainbow and Applejack would have brushed off or attempted to downplay Twilight’s outburst.

Running a hand through her hair, Applejack sat down with a heavy thud on her bed, her face going white.

“They are insane,” Rainbow breathed. “This isn’t a sick joke?”

“W-What do we d-d-do?” Fluttershy clutched her sleep shirt to her chest, and buried her face into it.

“Who would send Progena to a Deathworld?” Rainbow demanded of the ceiling.

“It’s worse than that. The planet sends all their children to the planet to cull the weak, stupid, or just plain unlucky,” Sunset grimly explained.

Flopping backwards, Applejack asked the ceiling, “What do we do?” Sunset could hear the beginning of tears in the ordinarily stoic girl’s voice.

“We warn everyone, of course.” Rainbow was already halfway to the door when Sunset caught her arm.

“Hold up. Do you think they will believe you?” Sunset slowly shook her head. “I’m amazed you three believed Twilight and me.”

“This isn’t something you say as a joke,” Rainbow snarled back, tearing her arm free of Sunset’s grasp. “You four come up with a plan. You are better at that sort of thing than me. I’m going to start spreading the word to the others. If this doesn’t light a fire under their asses, then we’re doubly screwed. The five of us together won't survive a Death World. Emperor preserve us, I doubt any in our class will.”

It was logical to warn the entire class. Informing them didn’t harm Sunset, and increased the chances that maybe they’d be of use to her and help her survive in some fashion.

On the other flank, there was also an attempted murderer among them, and Sunset was loath to give them any further opportunities to complete what they’d attempted on the ship. If ‘Summer Camp’ eliminated them, so much the better in one regard. The only drawback would be she’d never know, and would always be looking over her shoulder for another dagger.

“That’s true regardless,” Sunset muttered to herself as she rubbed her temples.

“So, do I have your permission to warn the rest of the class, squad leader?” Rainbow’s words dripped with scorn.

“Yes. Yes. Of course.” Sunset made a dismissive motion with her hand and turned back to the others. “They are more likely to trust you than me or Twilight.”

Somewhat mollified, Rainbow set off.

“Is there a plan?” Applejack asked after the door had clicked shut.

Sunset shrugged. “We study the enemy, devise ways to beat them, and train even harder. What else is there?”

“Oh? Is that all?” Applejack threw up her hands. “You ain’t got some fancy idea I suppose? Just continue on like before, only harder?”

“Is t-there anything else we could d-do?” Fluttershy was nibbling on the edges of her fingernails, her lustrous eyes darting frequently towards the window as if she were seriously considering an attempt at leaping through it and running away.

Even if she’d been able to make her way through the reinforced glass, they were three stories up. If, by the Emperor’s intervention, she wasn’t maimed or outright killed from the fall, there was nowhere to run. They were on an island stronghold.

Looking over her squad, Sunset reluctantly admitted that if it were just them, they were doomed. They required the other progena.

“We’re going to have to work with the other squads,” Sunset concluded with a firm nod. There was a slight bitterness in her mouth as she added, “Actually work together, not just act like a bunch of individual squads. We also need to figure out what roles we’re best suited towards and improve our skills.”

“It won’t m-matter,” Fluttershy was trembling, her terror complete. “W-we are doomed. The Emperor won’t save us. W-we aren’t worthy of saving. W-we’re cursed! Just like our families. Just like our h-home!”

There was a sharp slapping ring, and Fluttershy’s head jerked to the side. Applejack stood over her, a furious snarl on her face.

“I never want to hear you say that again, ‘Shy!” Applejack’s voice wasn’t raised, and that made the anger in it so much more visceral, even to Sunset, who sat stunned watching events unfold. “We can do this! Equis is gone, but we ain’t. Not yet, and I ain’t one for going down without a fight. The Emperor protected us for a reason. It’s up to us to prove ourselves worthy of His protection.”

Quite in a corner, Twilight nodded solemnly.

“I’m not strong like you or Rainbow. I can only d-drag you down,’ Fluttershy shook her head morosely.

“Bullshit.” Applejack thrust a finger at Sunset. “She’d be dead without you. Sunset would have died without you.”

Fluttershy’s gaze drifted towards Sunset, and there was something else beyond just the terror gripping the girl in her eyes. Was it guilt? No. Sunset blinked and Fluttershy’s features had been steeled somewhat.

‘Y-you’re right.” Fluttershy rubbed her palms against her cheeks, and in a thin whisper offered, “Thank you.”

“Okay, enough moping,” Sunset stepped into the middle of the room and looked at the three other girls with determination.

She hoped the fear squirming in her own belly wasn’t evident on her face, or in her voice. One of Celestia’s quotes popped into her head, about bravery not being the absence of fear. Sunset didn’t share the thought, and pushed the offending memory away. She needed to focus.

“Here is what we’re going to do. Twilight, Fluttershy; you’re almost the weakest of any of our class when it comes to physical exercises. That has to change. Applejack and Rainbow will whip you into shape. You listen to them and follow their exercise and training regimes. I don’t expect you to be as strong or as fast as them, but you can be better than you are today. Yes, you both have other skills, but those don’t matter if you fall behind and get eaten by monsters. Am I understood?”

“Yes,” they said together, Twilight even spreading her hands into an aquila over her chest. Tilting her head, Twilight asked, “What about you?”

“I’m going to spend every free moment I have in the library studying everything about this Deathworld. Maybe there is advice or wisdom on how to survive. Or safe places, or something! Drill Abbess Maria says that if we know our enemies we can counter their strategies. Well, that is what I intend to do.”

They nodded at the logic, and for a brief moment there was even a sense of hope.

It was only a moment, singular and stark in its rarity.

Reality came slamming back onto their shoulders all too quickly, and the worms of dread writhed harder in Sunset’s stomach.

Word spread rapidly among the ‘cursed class’ of the forthcoming trip to a Death World. A few of the more popular or ‘untainted’, such as Rarity, made enquiries and by their pale faces afterwards, had their fears confirmed. The stoic hallways rattled with hushed whispers among the progena, rumors spreading like a pestilent wave, infecting the young girls' hearts. Many had been teetering on the brink of absolute despair, their faith in the God-Emperor only barely holding them together. With the news of the Death World, many shattered.

The first indication came the next morning as they gathered for morning lessons. Drill Abbess Maria had barely set foot in the vaulted classroom when Minty Fresh stood up and blurted out, “Is it true, Drill Abbess? About this Summer Camp?”

Minty’s eyes went wide as saucers before the words had fully flown from her mouth. Shocked at herself she slapped her hands over her mouth to stem a tide of useless apologies that would have only gotten her in more trouble.

“Permission to speak was not granted,” Maria’s stony voice trampled through the chamber. “Punishment is ten lashes.”

Face impassive, Drill Abbess Maria reached back with her whip, and the chamber echoed with the crackling snap of it’s electrocuted barb and Minty’s scream. With the first strike her legs started to collapse, and she had to brace herself against her desk. Each strike came quickly on the heels of the one before, so it sounded like a single, continuous hissing crackle inflected by Minty’s shrill screams. On the last stroke the foolish progena crumpled, muscles convulsing so hard she bit off the tip of her tongue. Blood ran from her mouth, turning her shrieks into a wet gargle.

On either side of Minty, Rarity and Pinkie tensed, but didn’t move to help their squadmate. Not until permission was granted, which it was with a dismissive flick of the wrist as Maria returned her whip to her hip. Pinkie hauled Minty up, and from her desk Rarity retrieved a simple cauterizing tool.

“Minty, stop struggling or I’ll singe your face,” Rarity furiously hissed in a low whisper that Sunset’s keen ears only barely picked up.

Despite the tears running down her cheeks, to her credit, Minty didn’t flinch as the end of her tongue was cauterized.

Sunset’s nose twitched as the scent of burnt flesh wafted over her.

Once Minty was seated, Drill Abbess Maria addressed the class. “It has taken you twice as long as the worst projections to uncover the little secret about Steinsmar’s annual summer camp. I have been growing ever more and more disappointed with you girls.” Maria paused, folding her arms behind her back as she spun on her heel to pace before the class. She was like a vulture about to peck open a fresh carcass, a sharp gleam to her eyes. “Your progress has been most displeasing. It has been past experiences that adoptive daughters taken from worlds strangled by Chaos are more fervent in their desires to be of service to the God-Emperor. Those righteous daughters of the Imperium threw themselves into their lessons. Nothing could slow their marches, tame their bolters, or quiet their hymnals. Fire filled their hearts!

“Equis, it has become apparent, was too coddled. Her daughters; they are soft, weak, timid, lazy, and stupid. Some are beginning to whisper that it might be best to cut the convent’s losses here rather than sink any more resources into what is clearly a useless batch. You’d barely be fit to serve as drudges in the lowest levels of the city.”

A heavy silence fell across the progena. Maria’s cold stare sent a chill up Sunset’s spine, and her stomach tied itself into a knot.

After a dreadfully long pause, Maria brought two fingers up to rub her temple. “The final decision has been postponed, however, to see if any of you return from Camp. This gives you one last, final chance to prove your worthiness. You will either come back as true progena worthy of the legacy bestowed upon you, your deeds many, or, by His will, your bones will be added to the countless others who failed.”

The tension among the progena was wound like a spring ready to snap. Dread, despair, and even resignation was clear in many of the girl’s faces. Only a handful showed any sort of defiance or fire. Rarity, Spitfire and her squad, and a smattering of others held their heads up. All the others had grown far more pale. The only person who seemed unaffected was Pinkie, who continued to wear her typical broad grin.

Sunset squared her shoulders, put on her most ‘business-ready’ expression, and waited for Drill Abess Maria to start the lectures.

It came as a shock when, instead, Maria turned and stared right at Sunset.

“Progena Shimmer, you don’t have to worry about Camp, or getting any deeds,” Maria stated flatly. “Do you honestly think we’d allow your tainted genes into the catalogous? Or for you to be among true sons and daughters of Steinsmar?”

Sunset’s mouth fell open, her hands dropping to her sides. Waves off conflicting emotions crashed over her. She didn’t know to be relieved or furious.

On one hand, she didn’t have to go to a Death world.

But on the other…

“I have to go.” Sunset squared her shoulders with defiance.

The Drill Abbesses eyebrow slowly rose. Her whip entered her hand.

“I can’t be shown preferential treatment.”

“Your entire existence is preferential treatment,” Maria countered. “It is unacceptable for the pure children of Steinsmar to be exposed to your corrupted form.”

“Yes! What was done to my body, not my soul!” Sunset pressed. “So, we have Sister Elizabeth alter my ears.”

“And why would we waste Sister Elizabeth’s time for mere cosmetics?” To the rest of the class, Maria snarled, “See how high and mighty the Eldar act! And see how they can be brought to heel.”

With a flick of her thumb, Maria set her whip to it’s highest setting, usually reserved for the battlefield where the intent was to kill, not just inflict pain. The next moment was only pain as every nerve pulsed with the electric bite of Maria’s neural whip. Sunset’s throat went raw from the scream torn from her as she fell backwards. Every muscle convulsed together. Vomit erupted along with the scream, turning it into a pathetic gurgle that clogged Sunset’s mouth. The chamber spun, and then went black for an instant.

In the next, Sunset was on her back, staring at the painted frescos splayed across the ceiling. The stink of burnt meat and singed hair wafted in the air. For two heartbeats she lay there, mind burnt clean and thoughts sluggish to resume.

No one came to help her up.

Rolling onto her stomach, Sunset pushed herself up, arms shaking with the effort as nerves protested being so horribly used after the purging flames of the whip. On either side, Applejack and Rainbow sat stoically, faces locked forward, but their hands were tense on the sides of their seats as they resisted the urge to help Sunset.

Her boots scraped on the stone floor as she wrenched herself back into her chair. Panting with the effort, Sunset attempted to stair at Maria with defiance. Instead, she winced and glanced away from the harsh, uncompromising glare worn by the Drill Abbess.

“Progena Shimmer, go and clean yourself up. I don’t want the stink of you in my classroom.”

Sunset barely managed to stand, make the sign of the aquila, and stumble out of the classroom. There was only silence as her feet dragged. Shame burned across Sunset’s face, and rage boiled in a hard knot in her stomach. But worst of all, the fear in her stomach had somewhat abated.

Propping herself up using the wall, she made her way down the vaulted corridor to the nearest bathroom. Along the way she was passed by a pair of senior progena only months away from taking the initial vows and being inducted into the Order as proper novitiates. The progena frowned at Sunset’s soiled tunic, but made no comment or offers of assistance as they continued on. At last Sunset reached the bathroom. It was only a series of stalls with a single gilded sink in front of an ornate mirror.

Sunset splashed water on her face, and looked up at her reflection.

Sunset stared into the mirror, and was met by a pathetic girl held in the gilded frame. There was puke all down her front so that her tunic stuck to her slender frame, and a bedraggled, hollow look to her eyes. She was weak, a liability, unwanted. Something to be hidden away, then cast aside like garbage when she proved herself to be useless. For all the mentions of her being sent or blessed by the Emperor, they didn’t want her.

The girl in the mirror, with her tear stained cheeks, sickened Sunset. The desperation on her sharp features, mixed with indecision and doubt, clawed at her soul. But, the emotion that she saw in starkest contrast was that of relief. Where was the hunger for Power? For Glory? For her Destiny! Gone. Wiped away in a moment by the promise of safety. Was this really the limit of her will? All it took to break her was the threat of setting foot on a Death world?

She grabbed her chest and fell against the sink as a sob shook her slight frame. They were going to leave her behind, grow stronger in her absence.

The pain at being denied again, rejected, abandoned, cast aside to be replaced was sharper than even the agony of a neural whip’s strike. It flayed her soul. Spread it open and revealed it in the mirror. And the worst aspect left bare was that she was glad to be left behind. That tiny, treatorious part exhaled in relief that she didn’t have to face the horrors of this horrible galaxy.

“No.” The denial of reality filled Sunset’s throat in a feral growl.

She had to go on this trip or all doors to advancement would lam in her face. She would only ever be an unsettling mascot at best. And the worst… How long would it take for her alien appearance to see her put on a pyre?

No. She had a great destiny ahead of her.

In a trembling hand she brought up her knife. Sweeping aside her hair she locked eyes with the girl in the mirror. Fear swam in a bed of tears over large teal eyes.

Resolve crushed the weak emotion, forcing it deep where it could create no more problems.

And yet her hand still shook as the cold metal touched soft skin. Sunset could see the hesitation battle to take control again of the girl in the mirror. To make her question herself. Return the doubts and forfeit all hopes of growing stronger for the promises of temporary safety.

Screaming, Sunset ripped the blade up. Excruciatingly hot pain clamped onto the side of her head. Searing tendrils slithered into her brain like hissing snakes. Her vision went white and her knees began to give out. Compared to the bite of Maria’s whip, the pain was pathetic and poorly organized. Intense, sharp, but localized. Tensing her jaw, Sunset forced it down as she transferred the knife to her remaining ear. Before the tremors in her arms could fully take hold, she cut off the other ear.

Her legs gave out and the next thing she was aware of was writhing on the floor in a sticky puddle.

Vaguely, through the torrent of screams in her throat and piercing agony that refused to abate, Sunset was aware of Drill Abbess Maria kneeling down over her. Barely noticeable was the sting of a pain inhibitor in her shoulder. Powerful drugs rushed through Sunset’s veins and washed away the electric flames of severed nerves.

“The Emperor protects,” Sunset hoarsely croaked.

“The Emperor protects those who are worthy, as you have shown yourself to be. So far.” Maria replied as she motioned for someone behind her to step forward. Fluttershy and Applejack hurried to pick Sunset up, ignoring where her blood stuck to their hands and shirts. “Take her to the medicea.”

Sunset breathed a sigh as she relaxed and allowed herself to fall into a stupor. She’d passed another test.

Author's Note

This chapter came about as I was working on the next one as I encountered a teeny tiny little problem: Sunset's ears. I wanted her to be proactive about removing her ears. Things developed rather easily from there.

It then took ages to write as I've been bouncing around here and there with little access to a computer, or when I did writing was nigh impossible. I apologize for the long delay between chapters.

Operation 8: Preparations and Politics

Sunset Shimmer; Sister of Battle
By Tundara

Operation 8

Preparations for ‘Summer Camp’ began immediately, before Sunset was even in surgery for her maimed ears. While the other girls began plotting, planning, or rushing to the chapels to offer their most desperately sincere prayers for the Emperor’s protection, Sunset drifted in and out of consciousness in a haze of searing pain that lanced straight into her brain. Had she been aware of the number of nerves her ears possessed she’d have taken another few seconds before committing her actions.

As it was, she was given a mild sedative to ‘take the edge off’ the pain, and then surrounded by Sister Elizabeth and her medicea servitors. They cut and snipped without regard for Sunset’s throttled groans. Sister Elizabeth spoke the Litany of Healing as she worked, humming a few strands on occasion. With precise expertise she cleaned up the jagged wounds.

From an adjacent chamber a servitor wheeled in a partially rusted device. Tubes of some nasty green liquid sloshed in the back of a rounded shell. On the front were a series of mechanical arms ending in knives, scissors, and syringes, much like Sister Elizabeth’s medicea gauntlet. It reminded Sunset of a sea turtle that had been hollowed out and filled with the arms of metal crabs.

“What is that, Sister Elizabeth?” Sunset chanced asking, partly out of curiosity, and partly out of a need to be distracted from whatever was going to happen next.

“A simple surgical bio-printer,” was all the explanation she got.

Moving to a control altar set into the side of the device, Sister Elizabeth said, “Now, lie very still, and give praise to the Emperor. He will give you the strength to see this through.”

Without further instructions, Sister Elizabeth began a new litany, this one to soothe the device’s machine spirits, and activated a hololithic display far more advanced than the simple flickering screens of the cogitators Sunset had seen so far. It displayed a floating, three dimensional image of Sunset, with an angry red glow around the place where her ears had been.

A brassy hum came from the bio-printer. In a rapid, halting motion that was also somehow fluid, and so totally inhuman, it began to work.

Sunset tried very hard to avoid screaming. She’d done it rather frequently already that day. She tried. She failed.

Two hours later, pale, shaking, and covered in cold sweat, she was wheeled into the recovery chambers, and a half hour after that, discharged.

“Now, I know it will be difficult, but do not pick at them,” Sister Elizabeth smiled sweetly.

“You don’t want to keep me for observation, or anything?” Sunset arched a brow in mock surprise, but she hurried to leave. There was so much she had to do, and so little time. When Sister Elizabeth asked if Sunset wanted to spend more time with her, she quickly shook her head as she gathered her soiled uniform and rushed back to her dorm.

Classes had ended for the day and the hallway was filled with progena talking in hushed tones as they went to their extra curricular activities. The Chapel of Iron was the favoured destination, with nearly as many heading for the Chapel of Gold, so they could hone their bodies or souls, respectively. Passing the Chapel of Iron closest to their dorm, Sunset caught sight of squadmates in the corner of her eye. Changing direction, Sunset entered the chapel.

Twilight was in the squat rack, weights resting on her shoulders, struggling to complete her set. Her face was red with effort, cheeks puffed out and eyes clamped tight. At her side Applejack offered a torrent of encouragement. With a near primal growl, Twilight finished the set, racked the bar, and half collapsed forward with hands on shaking knees.

“See, I can do it,” she proudly gasped.

Sunset arched a sceptical brow, more so when she noticed the weights on the bar set to only forty pounds.

Nearby, Fluttershy was on a bench doing presses under Rainbow’s sharp encouragement. Giving Rainbow a nod that was returned, Sunset turned and went back to her room. While everyone else was praying in the Chapel of Iron, Sunset would have time alone.

She grinned at the surprised glances she received from the progena she passed. Their eyes lingered on her new ears, and the older girls who didn’t know her didn’t scowl in her presence. They barely acknowledged her at all now, which was what they did for all their juniors. Being ignored rankled part of Sunset. It was only marginally better than their outright disdainful hatred. At least she could now make them recognise her for her inherent talents, rather than a quirk of a body forced on her by some Warp entities.

They’d all know and recognise her soon enough.

If she still had her magic it would be easy.

At the thought, an icy tremor slithered up her spine.

For months she’d managed to keep herself from facing that particular nugget of her new reality. It’d been easy with the horrors of the schola, the constant danger, the threat of her would-be murderer still out there, and the constant training, drilling, prayers, and lessons.

Just the simple, idle thought was enough to throw open the door to the place where she’d shunted all the worries about her missing magic.

For a few seconds her skin went clammy, and she had to slap her cheeks to prevent a rising surge of sudden panic. Well, she had time and incentive to face that problem now.

Back in her room she sat down on the floor, crossed her legs, and tried to meditate.

With the chains of fear about her missing magic back into her head she could no longer just ignore that aspect of herself.

It was a gamble attempting to unlock or see if she still had magic. She didn’t even know if she’d ever be able to use magic again just due to the stigma associated with psychers. And if she couldn’t sense her latent magic. If it truly had been taken from her… That idea frightened even more than the bite of Drill Abbess Maria’s whip. Still, her chances of surviving Steinsanne were astronomically higher if she held such an ace up her sleeve.

Fingertips pressed together to form a bridge, head leaning forward, Sunset centred herself as Celestia had taught her and turned her attention inward.

She found nothing.

An impatient jab of ice slid into her belly and up under her ribs.

Furrowing her brows she delved deeper. And deeper. Her heart quickened, her already unusually high alien heart rate turning into a steady, singular droning thrum in her chest. The tips of her fingers went a mulberry colour from being pressed together so hard. Frustration built.

Why wasn’t her magic answering her call?! It had to be there, hiding away, like a kicked dog in its kennel. She couldn’t give into the fear that it was gone. That it had run away or been stolen by the monstrosity in the Warp.

She had to have hope. She had to have faith. It was there.

It had to be!

Deep, deep inside her a flicker of something seemed to react to her desperation. It was like catching the movement in a shadow from the corner of her eye. For a brief instant relief began to wash over her.

And then there was a knock on the door. Her concentration broke, and whatever it was she may have sensed vanished.

Sunset sat on her bed stunned, and angry. She’d been so close! Her magic had been there, she was certain. Right? It hadn’t been a figment of her imagination. Or had it? Clawing at her hair she let out a hiss.

“What?!” She barked at the door.

A slip of paper was thrust underneath the door.

Narrowing her eyes, Sunset got to her feet and snatched the offending paper up. On it in a hasty script was, ‘Squad leader meeting. South fields. After vespers.’ Frowning, Sunset flipped the paper over and then back.

A trap. It had to be a trap.

Crunching the paper up, she tossed it into the waste bin next to the single desk her squad shared. She was all set to put the note out of her head, except, a nagging doubt prodded the back of her skull. What if the note was genuine. She had to go if the other squad leaders of their class were getting together to strategize. Getting left out of such a meeting would be bad. Not just for her future prospects, but for surviving camp.

Sunset chewed on her lower lip as she turned over and over her options.

The possibility of it being a ploy of her would-be assassin was weighed against it being an honest message. Though, why hadn’t whoever sent it just knocked on the door? How could they have been sure that she’d even get a note surreptitiously slipped beneath a door? Though, the same logic applied to if it was all a trap. Which meant that whoever had sent the note didn’t necessarily want her to go to the meeting.

As she thought, Sunset dropped her hand towards her knife, and found it missing. Her blood went cold and uselessly her fingers groped at the empty spot.

Of course. It hadn’t been returned by either Drill Abbess Maria or Sister Elizabeth.

After thoroughly chastising herself for leaving herself vulnerable, Sunset headed out. She couldn’t just replace her knife. Technically, she shouldn’t have been carrying it at all, arms having to be turned over to the quartermaster’s servitors after exercises. Although, nothing outright explicitly stated they weren’t permitted to carry weapons either. Sunset unconsciously rubbed her shoulder where she’d been whipped. It was a grey area in the normally absolute rules that Sunset would rather avoid testing, especially since Drill Abbess Maria had confiscated her first knife.

Gathering her squad from the bathhouse, which they’d gone to after their prayers in the chapel of iron, Sunset had a quick dinner and then went for vespers. All the while she ate and prayed she turned over in her head what to do. Whether it were a trap or a genuine meeting, and if she should go or not.

In the end she decided that it was better to risk it being a trap than ignore a meeting and put her squad and herself in an untenable position among their class.

Tapping Applejack on the shoulder, she brought the tall girl along as support. Just in case. Shrugging, Applejack didn’t protest and they made their way to the south fields.

Sunset’s stomach bubbled with nervous tension. Her hands reflexively kept balling into fists. She was a cat perched between pouncing and running.

It was only when she heard voices up ahead that she began to relax, if only a little. Voices meant it wasn’t a trap. Probably.

Around a bend that divided the south fields from the obstacle course Sunset found the source of the voices. In a tight cluster were the other squad leaders already in a heated debate.

“Clearly, we have to work together, Spitfire darling, the issue is the division of labour and duties. What responsibilities is each squad given.” Rarity gave the other squad leaders a piercing look, as if daring them to refute such an obvious statement.

“That’s the whole point of this gathering I thought,” Fleur de Lis was leaning against a tree, a finger twirling a lock of pink hair, and looking very bored. A few of the other squad leaders nodded and muttered agreements. “So, let’s just get on with it.

Hands on her hips, Rarity rounded on Fleur, and in doing so noticed Sunset taking a position a little on the edge of the gathering. Pressing her lips into a line like she’d just sucked on a lime, Rarity quickly averted her eyes.

“Well, yes, of course. I think—”

“You’re not the class leader, Rarity,” Spitfire didn’t growl or puff herself up, but her threat was clear in every word.

“Because you’ve done an amazing job of it,” Rarity countered with a disdainful flip of her hair. “We were led into a trap on the expedition. You assured the rest of us that you had the situation under control. Well, does a Death World sound like things are ‘under control’? We should have known about it months ago and started to prepare. Your leadership has been woefully lacking, I am afraid to say.”

A chorus of agreements rippled around the circle.

Stepping up to Rarity, Spitfire looked like she was being made to chew nails. Her jawline tensed, and for a moment Sunset suspected that the two were going to fight. Instead, Spitfire reached up and tore off the little aquila pin that marked her as the class Superior. Rubbing the metal with her thumb, Spitfire flicked it at Rarity.

“Then you get to have the weight on your shoulders. I never wanted the role to begin with. I’ve been too focused on just me and my squad, making us the best squad, and not making this the best class. Take it, since you want it so much. You’ll probably do better with it than I have. But, I’ll want it back eventually. But when I choose it, not when it is handed to me.”

At first stunned at the lack of resistance, Rarity started to beam as she attached the pin to her lapel.

Forming the aquila over her chest, Rarity made a presentation of bowing to Spitfire. “I apologise for my harsh words, darling. I’m just worried about this camp and I took it out on you. It is unbefitting conduct towards a sister. I won't let you, our sisters, or the Drill Abbess down.”

More than a few of the girls nodded and the tension dissolved a little. Sunset had to admit it was a nice, little performance. Spitfire had every bit the air of being above politics, while also retaining a high position of authority within the class. Rarity had given voice to all their inner turmoil, and claimed the top position. Sunset wondered how much had been theatre, and how much genuine feeling.

“Now then, onto the main business at hand; surviving Steinsanne. Everyone’s suggestions are welcome. Don’t be shy.”

For a few minutes ideas were tossed into the ring, suggestions made, all of which sounded very similar to the strategy meeting Sunset and her squad had in their room the day before. Things like applying themselves with more fervour to their training, getting up earlier to do physical exercises, more time in the chapel of iron, and so on.

Sunset listened quietly. She didn’t have much to add, and it was a golden opportunity to size up where the other squad leaders stood. Her opinion of them was not high. Everyone had been going through the schola as if in a daze. She could count on one hand the number of squad leaders that seemed to have their acts together.

“Does anyone know anything specific about Steinsanne?” Rarity eventually asked after the number of generic ideas began to peter out. “More than ‘it is a Deathworld’? We need to know what we are being sent into.”

“I believe Sunset knows the most,” Fleur said when no one else spoke up right away. “It was her squad that discovered this camp. Tell the rest of us what you learned, please.”

Sunset shifted to start talking, but Lyra spoke up first. “Are you really considering listening to her?”

Fleur shrugged. “Of course. We all have a say, do we not? And maybe she discovered more about this planet than she already shared.”

Lyra threw up her hands. “Obviously she found out more than she told us. Do any of us even know her? Everyone else had friends, or at least acquaintances, when the Sororitas rescued and took us in. Like most, I am from Ponyville, and there are a number from Canterlot and Cloudsdale, but she has no one to vouch for her.”

“Drill Abbess Maria herself saved Sunset,” Fleur pointed out, but there wasn’t a whole lot of conviction in her voice.

Clearing her throat, Rarity interjected. “Which is almost certainly why she was made our Drill Abbess. I won’t claim to have an inkling of what the higher-ups in the order are thinking, but I would have wanted someone familiar with Sunset to watch her for any signs of taint. Now, Sunset’s trustworthiness is not the issue today.”

The others grumbled a little, but gave nods of agreement. It wasn’t that any of them trusted Sunset, just that there were higher priorities.

“So, Sunset darling, was there anything else you learned that you have withheld?” Rarity’s tone was overly saccharine. It practically screamed, ‘I dare you to lie to me.’

Sunset was tempted, her hackles rising at the treatment she’d received so far. She bit down a more acidic response, and instead laid out plainly what she’d already discovered. It wasn’t as if the others wouldn’t find the same information when they inevitably, and hopefully, looked in the library.

Not everyone was so keen on letting Sunset speak. Junebug tossed up her hands with a vehement cry. “I can’t believe you trust her now! Everyone knows she only ever thinks about herself.”

“Now, see here,” Applejack stepped forward. “I ain’t going to claim Sunset’s leadership has been perfect, but she ain’t that bad either. None of us were ready for this. None of us.”

Sunset was genuinely surprised at Applejack speaking in her defence. It was oddly gratifying, but also problematic. She couldn’t be seen hiding behind a subordinate. Placing a hand on Applejack’s shoulder, Sunset gave her a firm shake of her head telling her to stop.

“Yeah, Junebug, I’m a little more isolated than everyone else. You all knew each other, and came from decent homes, all things considered. Equis, as I understand it, was a fairly nice planet by most standards. You had to work hard, but it wasn’t like you grew up in some hive world slum. However, all I knew of Equis was a single small room, a laboratory, and then running from a daemon when everything went to shit. If I hadn’t stumbled on Sister Superior Helen and been directed to the remnants of her squad, I would be dead.”

Sunset left the half-truths there, lest she dig herself a hole of lies that could be collapsed on top of her. The mysterious nature of her origins was the only saving factor, and that no one else came from the palace. If any did, she was doomed. It wouldn’t take long for them to uncover the lies of her origins.

“And then there is the small matter that someone tried to kill me on the Righteous Indignation.”

“That was one of the ship’s crew, I thought,” Lyra quickly said, eyes darting between Sunset and Rarity. “That’s what we heard, anyways.”

“Yeah, sure,” Sunset sneered, rounding on Lyra. “Because we interacted with the crew so much. Did any of you ever even see a crewmember the entire time we were on that ship? We saw plenty of Sisters, but other than when we landed, I never saw any of the actual crew. How would one know who I was, plan an attack, and carry it out?”

There were sour looks, but also nods of agreement.

“It was strange,” Fleur conceded. “But, why would the Drill Abbess lie to us?”

“Because she thinks one of us tried to kill her,” Spitfire barked. “And that makes sense. If a member of the order had tried, she’d be dead. They wouldn’t have messed up and left her alive. A crewmember was always just a patsy. That leaves someone in our class.”

“Which is why she’s so distant,” Rarity concluded, chewing on the edge of her thumbnail. “Sadly, I don’t see a way to resolve that without finding the culprit.”

Sunset rolled her eyes. “And I suppose none of you know anything?”

When no one spoke up, she continued, “Of course not.”

“We need to find out who tried to kill you,” Rarity said, her tone conciliatory. “Whoever she is went against the wishes of the Order and took matters into her own hands. She didn’t trust the Drill Abbess. And I suspect that the Drill Abbess already knows the identity of the perpetrator and finding out for ourselves is another of her ‘tests’. All of us will look into our squads and see if we can ferret out this traitor. In the meantime, let’s see if you can build a little trust with the rest of us. What else did you learn about Steinsanne?”

Sunset was surprised at how genuine Rarity sounded. And there was meret in what she said about Drill Abbess Maria and the would-be murderer.

“A little bit about the ecology and fauna,” Sunset admitted, and then laid out what she’d learned. Admittedly, it wasn’t a whole lot that was substantive.

It was enough to make the other girls grow pale.

“And they send their children there?” Junebug snarled as Sunset concluded her short lecture.

“Not all. Probably only those with enough social standing,” Fleur amended, her chin bent forward with her eyes closed as she thought.

“Well, that doesn’t matter to us, darlings. Either way we are being sent. Doesn’t matter who is going with us.” Rarity planted her hands on her hips. She thought for a moment, then said, “Here is what we are going to do. Fleur, Lyra, and Cheerilee; you start digging into the mystery of who attacked Sunset. The others trust you the most. Junebug and Indigo; we’re going to need supplies. Figure out what we can take with us to this camp. We’ll need weapons, armour, rations, and shelter. Odds are we wont be allowed to bring much, but we need to know and plan accordingly. Sunset, since you already started researching the planet, you’ll be with me in the library. Everyone else, I want you to pair up with squads that have strengths that make up for your deficiencies. Spitfire, everyone knows your squad is the best at exercises, but your academics are a little low, while Kiwi’s squad gets good grades, but struggles in the exercises. Help each other.”

With her orders given, Rarity looked around to see if there was any dissension or other suggestions.

When there was none, Rarity dismissed the meeting after adding, “If anyone has any questions, problems, or thinks of anything that can help us survive; come to me immediately.”

Sunset didn’t feel much warmth or acceptance from the other squad leaders, but the air of hostility had lessened marginally. There were a few dirty looks sent her way, and she wondered just how effective the search for her attacker would be, but it was a start, at least. It also gave Sunset a place to work from if she was going to someday be the class leader.

A faint smile touched her lips at the idea of the person everyone else seemed to disdain being their leader.

Author's Note

Happy New Years!

Um, not much else to say. This is sort of a filler-ish chapter, I admit. It isn't without merit, having the change of leadership from Spitfire to Rarity (Who I intended to be Sunset's main rival), a little world building and showing the class a bit more. A slower, talky chapter. I did also want to establish more of the class for when things get inevitably grimmer.

Operation 9: Mother, Part One

Sunset Shimmer; Sister of Battle
By Tundara

Operation 9

Reminiscent of a swarming bee colony, the shuttles of Steinsmar carried the planet’s young minds to the ancient spaceship that would ferry them to the so-called ‘Summer Camp’. In a society where the term ‘ancient’ could be applied to nearly everything, the ship was beyond antediluvian. Through means unknown, it was the same ship on which the original colonists had voyaged in the forgotten ages that predated even the Dark Age of Humanity.

When, exactly, was a matter of some speculation with no answer.

The technology, the designs, everything about the ship had an utterly alien quality when compared to the behemoths of the Imperium. In some places it held the appearance of being far more advanced, with sciences that bordered on magic. A closer inspection showed this to be a mere illusion, and that Mother, as she was affectionately known, for all her age and oddities, was exceptionally primitive in function.

She was no buttressed monolith of gothic sensibilities, but a sleek, elongated arrow, with long dorsal and ventral ridges. With a smooth, almost mirror-like outer hull made of liquid metal, she shone brightly as she orbited Steinsmar. A dozen oval shaped trams ran up and down the four edges along hidden rails, their glass faces tinted to keep deadly solar radiation out. Massive, black fin-like structures extended from the base of the five engine housings, making her seem almost like some prehistoric sea creature plucked from the ocean's depths and deposited among the stars. While underway and for weeks afterwards, they would glow bright red as they radiated excess heat built up from the engines. At the very centre of the ship was a glass orb, within which could be seen a multi-tiered garden several decks high. Through the glass an amphitheatre could just be discerned. Oddly, the garden was on its side, as if a giant had tipped it over. Along the bow’s leading edges were nodules responsible for creating a sort of proto-Void shield. When active, the nodules released streams of ruby energy that vaporised everything that they touched. Hatches just below the nodules unfolded like petals to allow access to cavernous landing bays in which the children were disgorged in a stream.

The only concession made to Imperial sensibilities were black painted aquilas on either side of the dorsal ridge.

Sunset fidgeted in her seat, and for the umpteenth time, ran her fingers over her new ears. A small tinge of worry made her jump. What if removing them wasn’t enough? What if she were still too alien? If it was obvious she wasn’t human? What would happen then?

Weightlessness overcame Sunset as the shuttle came to a rest within the landing bay.

Well, Drill Abbess Maria, at the very least, thought that Sunset’s new ears were enough to allow her to pass as human.

Her ruminations came to an end as the ramp descended and a wave of brilliantly bright fluorescent lights swept through the open hatch, causing momentary blindness.

At the top of the ramp, Rarity hitched the hood of her robes over her head and called out, “The Hymnals of Saint Sabatine,” then gently pushed herself off to drift across the teaming bay. Clicking her heels, she touched down with a light skip and flip of her braided hair. Rarity was saint-like in poise and grace, her chin raised up with a beatific smile that couldn’t help but melt the hearts of onlookers.

A pang of jealousy speared Sunset. It should be her at the lead, drawing the attention of the children of Steinsmar. In time it would be.

As one the progena raised their voices so that they drowned out the boisterous chatter filling the bay. The children of Steinsmar made a path for the holy procession.

Curious, Sunset let her eyes roam over the other children. Almost uniformly from the upper and middle classes of Steinsmar, there wasn’t much difference about them from the other classes of progena in the schola. Except for the young colts, or boys, as Sunset had to remind herself.

They were broader in the shoulders than she expected. And taller. Jaws were mostly square, and their eyes blazed beneath proud brows set apart by strong noses. They were also far more muscular, despite being only at the start of their teenage years. Unlike the pale skin of the girls, the boys were a light shade of bronze. With short hair oiled back they wore a combination of what appeared to be pseudo naval uniforms or buttoned vests, suits, and cufflinks. Under their left arms they held various hats.

Their clothes were painfully formal, and their attitudes stiff. Here though, Sunset could see the difference in backgrounds. The boys from the upper strata had far nicer clothes and looked down on those from the middle, who had plain suits without the cufflinks and pocket watches. The stiffness also melted away the poorer the boys' upbringing, with the vast majority of chatter coming from the middle class as they slapped each other on the upper arms as they met old friends and made new ones.

Of the planet’s underclass, there were almost no representatives. Just a smattering who hung along the edges looking extremely uncomfortable in the oddly fitting suits that entire neighbourhoods, in some cases, had to scrimp and save to afford. No one expected much of these boys.

Another difference between the classes were the number of girls. There were maybe a dozen girls to the hundreds of boys among the wealthy children, while the number steadily increased until it was even among those from the poorest echelons.

The reason for the difference lay in the planet’s most recent addition; the Steinsmarines chapter of the Adeptus Astartes. Since their inception not even two centuries prior, the marines had been in a constant state of recruitment. And how better to sift through recruits than Summer Camp, where children of just the right age were deposited on a Death World?

Perhaps a mere dozen would be selected, often less, and very rarely more, but it was the goal of every boy present to be noticed. As girls were ineligible, they had fallen out of vogue in recent generations as parents sought the prestige of having their sons join the marines.

Sunset’s curiosity was returned in kind, the boys watching the future sororitas pass with unfeigned interest.

Hitching her chin up, Sunset switched her gaze forward, tacitly making a show of no longer being at all interested in the children of Steinsmar.

Just behind Rarity, Minty Fresh held a thurible that puffed a long cloud of sweet smelling incense. Equis’ orphans wasn’t the only class from the schola that year. The schola had two native born classes already when they’d taken in the equestrians. Never before mixing with the ‘impure interlopers’, the other classes took the lead to create a single procession. Even in the month of frenzied activity as the equestrian class scrambled to prepare for camp, the other progena their age had kept their distance, ignoring any and all attempts at communication or collaboration. Sunset suspected this had been directed by the Drill Abbesses as much as it was a product of bigotry to the outsiders. Solemn and calm, the progena touched down on the metal deck, magnets in their boots acting as anchors.

It was an odd sensation, being weightless but melded to the ground. Sunset’s body wanted to drift away, and if it hadn’t been tied back in an intricate plait, her hair would have escaped her hood in a frizzy orange-yellow cloud. She hated the hood they were forced to wear. It scratched sensitive regenerated nerves. Not that all the nerves lost with her aeldari ears had been regenerated. Phantom pains from her ears being cut off had an annoying habit of striking; often when she was trying to get to sleep or in the shower.

This in spite of Sister Elizabeth’s usually superb surgical work.

Behind them, engines roared as emptied shuttles returned to the planet.

Sunset’s eyes darted to the few adornments that hung on the walls or were placed at intersections. The tapestries of the cult mechanicus seemed out of place in the stark, otherwise clean hallways. Soft laminate padded the corridors, and the walls were panelled with simple beige access hatches. Benches with harnesses frequently lined the walls. A stripe at the top of the walls where they joined the ceiling held miniature ferns for carbon dioxide scrubbing.

Nowhere was an exposed pipe to be seen. Nor any servo-skulls or servitors. The air held the faint stink of antiseptic and cleaners. Even the light flowing from overhead panels had a sharp cleanliness, brighter and harder than the dim flickering glow aboard the Righteous Indignation.

Periodically they passed a glass panel with an illuminated layout of the deck they were on. The screens would flash to a simple greeting written in Low Gothic, before switching back to the maps.

Sunset’s skin crawled.

She was hardly alone. Though cosmetically human, her ears were still far keener than her classmates, and could detect the uncertainty within the tones of the other progena’s voices as they continued with the hymnals.

Leaving the landing bays, they followed signs to the nearest set of lifts. They were large enough for twenty people, forcing the progena to split into groups to descend to the gardens. And they were the first, even the children of the planet’s governing body and ultra-elite making way for the progena of the Cerulean Chalice.

The ship was so starkly weird, like the opposite of what Sunset had come to expect since travelling through the mirror. Where the Sororitas used powerful technology for complex problems, such as void shields and artificial gravity, while using low technology for things like weapons or education, it was the opposite aboard Mother. Doors were automatic, lifts voice activated, and there was even this annoying music that played over the vox speakers in the lifts.

A simple, repetitive, synthetic tune made by someone with no ear for music that grated the nerves, yet somehow also vanished into the background at the same time. It was far from the sweeping choirs accompanied by massive organs that filled the schola. Emperor be praised, the music was only in the lifts.

Even the name was weird. The Imperium loved their names to reference Holy passages, events, or people. But this ship was just… Mother. Which itself was just a shortening of ‘Mother Ship’, for the type of vessel it had been. At least, that was the supposition.

As the lift came to a gentle stop, a woman’s voice broke through the grating music to say, “Now arriving; Garden Mezzanine deck.”

The girls all shared startled looks of growing trepidation.

Stepping out of the lift, they found themselves at a broad mall of sorts with closed kiosks on either side that ringed the massive park. Bridges lead to the quintet of stacked park platforms that formed a second orb within the glass dome. Spiralling stairs within the central parks connected the levels, and escalators in the middle of the bridges led up and down. There were benches and the trees swayed in a gentle breeze created by air recirculating fans. Bellow the bridges, the bottom of the dome waited over a hundred feet down if anyone fell.

Sunset kept away from the railings, in case her still unknown attempted-murderer tried to ‘accidently’ shove her over the side. It would be both long, and too short, fall.

The mall and parks reminded Sunset a little of Canterlot. Only, instead of ponies, it was filled with humans. Sunset had to forcefully shunt the thought to the back of her mind and focus on her singing. If she thought of unicorns, then she’d think of magic, and then…

Her voice very nearly held a falter at the next crescendo as she fought against the omnipresent hole in her heart that had once been filled by her magic.

Mentally slapping herself, she pushed that particular loss deep, deep, deep down where it couldn’t cause her any harm. And it wasn’t gone, she reminded herself. There’d been that flicker when she’d tried meditating.

If she repeated it enough, she almost believed herself.

An amphitheatre of sorts ringed the central level park, giving a clear view of a small platform with a statue of the Emperor. In the statue’s shadow was a lectern, and at it waited a member of the Cult Mechanicum in voluminous green robes that hid their features. The only visible aspects were a single metallic arm ending in a vicious three-fingered claw, and mechandrites skittering around the edges of the robes like a nest of snakes.

Once seated, the progena ceased their hymnals and waited as the remaining children filtered into the massive mall and garden.

Seating was colour-coordinated, with the progena sitting in the Gold section at the front, closest to the statue. As the cursed class, the former Equestrians sat in the back row of the section given to the progena. In front of them sat the two other classes from the schola.

Around the progena were the children of the wealthiest and most privileged members of Steinsmar, all wearing finely cut silk clothes dripping with gold. The girls had jewels pinned in their hair and wore gowns, while the boys had their fingers adorned with rings and epaulettes hung on their shoulders like they were navy admirals. They were dressed more like they were going to a gala than their inevitable deaths.

How many of them would survive the trials to which they were headed? A mere handful of only the luckiest, Sunset surmised. Most would be dead in a couple weeks. She quickly grew bored with the pompous children and went over in her head all the plans, contingencies, and training her squad had done over the past month.

Applejack and Rainbow were solid as ever, and Sunset hardly worried about them at all, except for the vagaries of luck. But, that was something training couldn’t alter, only the Emperor. Fluttershy and Twilight were still her biggest concerns, but both had put in so much effort over the past few weeks. Still, they’d only begun to reduce the gap between themselves and the rest of the class.

It took over an hour for the ten thousand children to all be embarked. They filled every nook and cranny of the antediluvian ark’s park and mall, even spilling out into adjacent areas. The children from the poorer stratas were made to stand in hallways and watch old flatscreen monitors. Only the children of the important members of society were given any space within the amphitheatre. The noise in the park dome was almost deafening as they chatted excitedly amongst themselves.

A horn blared, and the children fell silent.

Voice amplified to fill the chamber and be spread throughout the ship by vox casters, the Magos addressed the children of Steinsmar.

“Statement: Greetings, progeny of Steinsmar,” the Magos spoke in a gargling, electric warble that gave no hint to its gender, “and welcome to Mother. Prepared speech: This will be kept brief, as you are eager to find your rooms and explore. Do so at your own perils. Mother loves you, her children, but the loss of a few of you are inconsequential. Mother has maps with areas highlighted you are allowed to wander. Dire Warning: Exploring beyond these areas will result in termination. Additional warnings will be transmitted via vox as required. Example: Such as when Mother departs Steinsmar’s orbit.”

The Magos paused so its words could sink in, though Sunset suspected that every year there were a few who didn’t listen, and were never seen or heard from again.

“Expositional information: You are here as your parents have deemed you worthy enough to be granted an opportunity to be entered in the Catalogus, that future generations of Steinsmar might be born of your genes. Others among you have loftier goals and are attempting to be noticed by the Steinsmarine recruitment officers. Statement: It is unlikely you will survive long enough to accrue any deeds worthy of notation.”

Another slight pause, and then, “Continue speech: You have such time as appropriate to finalise preparations for Steinsanne. Important notation: Mother gives access to fabricator minoris units in the second week. Select useful items from those provided and what you can afford. Obvious statement: You will be judged on your choices.”

Sunset could hear the click of the Magos’ talons at the end of this statement.

“Final declaration: You may now find your amusements. Time to reach Steinsanne; Fifteen days, fourteen hours, six minutes, and fifteen seconds. You are dismissed and may mill about.”

Without a further word the Magos’ platform sank into the floor, leaving the children alone. Sunset furrowed her brow, wondering what they were supposed to do next. Where were they supposed to sleep, eat, or the like? How did they access this fabricator minoris? The instructions and orientation were, if anything, disorientating and sorely lacking in substance.

Rarity’s voice carried over the general noise of confusion spreading through the park. “Progena of Class Three, on me!”

Ahead of them, classes One and Two were already making their way out of the park, pushing their way through the crowd to the main lifts.

A flicker of a smile touched Sunset’s lip.

Of course. They were expected to find their own quarters. The strong would take what they wanted, and the timid would suffer what they must, all while under the judging eye of the Magos.

Sunset approved.

All three classes of progena made their way towards the lifts to take them to the Star Platinum section situated ‘above’ the park dome. Besides the large rooms that had their own private bathrooms, there was a private dining room, a reading lounge with drinks, a Chapel of Iron, and even a spa. Such luxuries were undreamt of back on Equis, or in the schola. This made it extremely desirable for the progena, but also highly sought after by the wealthier members of Steinsmar.

Rarity had only learned of it by eavesdropping in on the conversations of the other classes in the halls of the schola.

As they neared the lifts, an artificial woman’s voice flowed through the vox casters. “T-minus ten minutes until departure. All hands to departure stations. All hands to departure stations.”

The voice repeated itself, and Sunset tilted her head at the nature of the warning, and what ‘departure stations’ entailed. Or who the voice meant by ‘all hands’. The only person Sunset had seen besides other children had been the Magos, and he-she-it was gone. Departure had not been covered by orientation. Which probably meant it was both important, and dangerous if ignored.

The other classes of the schola split off, each making for a different set of lifts. Already at a disadvantage compared to the children who’d been forced to listen on the fringes of the mall or bridges, they forced their way through the mass of bodies. The nobles also began to split up into pre-formed groups, using all their authority and strength to shove their way towards the lifts. Rarity led her class towards one of these lifts, knowing that they’d have to wait until their ‘seniors’ had taken the lifts before they’d be permitted, and miss out on getting choice picks from the rooms.

Luck, and the nature of children, played in the progena’s favour, as most of the children milled about in a general state of confusion. They waited to be told what to do. Enough noticed the progena and nobles making for the lifts to begin milling about in that direction, and a few were either smart, bold, or a combination there-of to leave the park.

“Move aside, by the Throne, move aside!” Rarity called in a voice that managed to pierce the building din of noise.

Recognising them as progena, the other children cleared a path. At the lifts, Rarity took a quick look around, did the math, and said, “Fleur and Zap squads, you take the other lifts. We’ll secure accommodations. Everyone is to meet on the Star Platinum deck. Remember the name. Sunset, Spitfire, and Lyra squads, you hang back and come last.”

Lifts arrived as Rarity finished snapping her orders. She and the indicated squads stepped into the lifts. Glass doors hissed shut, and through them Rarity could be seen speaking, and then the lifts went up.

Nodding to Spitfire and Lyra, Sunset shifted her squad to the back of the progena. It would take a few minutes for the lifts to reach this Star Platinum deck and return. In the mean time, the crowd the lift was growing, and the nobles were approaching.

“Come on, dolls,” one of the nobles called, shoving his way through the other children to reach the edge of the progena.

He towered over the girls, as did all the boys, his suit taught over developing muscles. He’d dyed his hair a fiery red with a single black stripe from the right temple. All the boys with him had dyed their hair bright colours. It made them appear almost like they were from Equis.

“Step aside. Alpha Alpha Capricorn gets first dibs on territory. It’s been that way for twenty generations.”

He jerked his thumb towards a pin on his lapel and glared at the doors to the lifts, in front of which Kiwi, Junebug, and Cheerilee squads were waiting.

“So?” Sunset crossed her arms and returned the huge boy’s glare. “This time it is the Sororita progena who got here first.”

Obviously, no one had ever told the boy ‘no’ before. His face flushed with anger, his nostrils flared, and his arm went back in preparation for a swing. Catching his wrist, twisting it aside, and smashing his face with an open palm strike would have been child’s play, except it turned out to be unnecessary. Another of the boys, his hair sharp blue, slapped a hand down on the first boy’s shoulder.

“Really, Tony, you want to mess with the Sororitas’ progena? In front of everyone?”

Sunset raised a brow at how he’d seen what she planned. This second boy clearly had better training, or any training at all.

“It’s tradition!” Tony protested, but was answered by a shake of his friend’s head.

“It’s fine. Things need shaking up every now and then or our Deeds will look just like copies of our grandfathers. We need to do better. Besides, I kind of want to kick the Omegas out of their area. Wipe the smirks off their faces and make them sleep in the park.”

“We outnumber them five to one, Flash!” Tony wouldn’t back down so easily.

“Yeah, which is another point in their favour. Won’t look so good on our list of Deeds, would it? Had to mob up to take on a group of girls? I’d rather not have that on my list.”

Sunset could feel the eyes of hundreds of children on the confrontation. It had instantly become the most interesting thing in the park. The crowd was swelling. Behind Sunset the lift doors whoosed open, and three more squads departed. She smirked.

Through the park a chime echoed, and that synthetic, toneless woman said, “T-minus five minutes till departure. All hands to departure stations. All hands to departure stations.”

The lights in the park shifted to a dull, threatening orange.

A few of the children looked around in confusion, but most were far more focused on the argument between the Sororitas’ progena and the group of nobility to pay the strange voice any attention. Even when it was repeated.

Tony chewed on Flash’s words, and gave a little nod. “True. Yeah. We’ll go bust the Omega’s heads.”

“That’s surprisingly smart,” Sunset noted with a smirk, unable to resist taunting the boys. In her arrogance, and needing to show off in front of so many, Sunset couldn’t resist also adding a quick jab to his side, as a further exclamation point that she’d won.

The punch came so quick, that without her preternatural reflexes Sunset would have only just managed to avoid being hit. Her aeldari blood made her quicker than any of her class, or any normal human. Before Tony even understood what was happening, Sunset was inside his reach, his arm twisted and locked to her side underneath her own. She savoured the moment of shock in his eyes, and then snapped the heel of her hand into the bottom of his jaw with all her strength. His head snapped back with a resounding clack of teeth smashing together.

To Sunset’s astonishment, it wasn't enough to take him out of the fight. It didn’t even stagger the huge boy. Her palm stung from the hit. Releasing his arm she took a half-step back, hands tucked in close in a defensive posture. Around her the other progena fell into similar stances, even Twilight and Fluttershy, though they moved to the side as a ring formed, and found themselves near the railing with Rainbow Dash. Applejack was right behind Sunset, and she stepped forward, her magnetic boots making heavy thuds as she fell into a fighting stance.

Tony’s hand snapped out as the other Alpha Alpha Capricorns tensed to surge at the Sororita progena. He spat out a gob of blood that floated away.

“This is between me and her. Winner’s group gets to use the lifts.” He jabbed a finger at Sunset.

‘I only need to buy time for Rarity and the others to secure the area,’ Sunset gloated to herself. A one-on-one fight suited her perfectly. Though she was a little concerned by how little Tony had been phased by her opening strike. Flashing a cocky grin, she said to Applejack, “I got this.”

Applejack tilted her head, didn’t look at all convinced, but took a few steps back and joined the wall of bodies.

On Sunset’s other side, Spitfire growled out of the corner of her mouth, “Not sure this is a good idea.” She didn’t elaborate further and cleared the area with her squad.

Ringed by progena on one side, and the boys of the Alpha Alpha Capricorn fraternity on the other, and a swelling number of unaffiliated observers, Sunset and Tony squared off against each other.

Undoing his suit jacket, he tossed it to Flash, who casually threw it over his shoulder. Sunset got a very good look now at Tony, and suffered a little pang of regret for her big mouth. Underneath his suspenders and buttoned white shirt, Tony was jacked, to use an ancient term. His physique wasn’t toned, but bulked out, with thick muscles rippling beneath his bronzed skin. Rolling up his sleeves revealed tattoos depicting his genetic and familial heritage. To a true child of Steinsmar they would have been impressive, but to Sunset they were nothing more than a combination of swirling, fractal designs and geometric angles.

Twilight, who’d spent more time studying their adoptive planet, took a hissed intake of breath as she got a look at the tattoos.

Tony took up a boxers stance, a dark smirk tugging at his face. “You’re not that bright, are you, doll?” he taunted as they began to circle.

“Only if I lose,” Sunset responded, and moved in. She needed to end this quickly. A fight of attrition was clearly in his favour.

Having seen Sunset’s speed, Tony knew better than to give her free reign to manoeuvre. Sunset’s momentum was lost before it could even begin to build. Her magnetic boots yanked at her legs, while her upper body had an unsettling, floaty motion. She launched a series of blistering fast jabs, only for him to meet her advance with a solid block and powerful jab that sent her skittering back.

Applejack was the strongest girl in their class, and she was a pale shadow to the sheer strength behind Tony’s blow. Sunset’s left arm was numb where she’d blocked the crashing blow.

Cold realisation hit her that the whole time he’d been gauging her strength. On top of his strength advantage, which was absolute, he had longer reach, his reflexes were as good or better than any of the girls Sunset had sparred with, and he was like punching a leathery boulder.

“You really messed up,” he continued to taunt as he pursued Sunset, their boots clack-thudding with each step. “Shame what I'm about to do to your pretty face, doll.”

Sunset didn’t have much room to manoeuvre with the crowd close to her back. Tony came at her like a roaring tiger. He was a beast at the cusp of adulthood; vital, fresh, and eager to prove himself.

His fists crashed against her bruised arms, and even using all her techniques to deflect his blows rather than just taking their full force did little to negate their crushing weight. Were it not for her superior reactions, Sunset would have been overwhelmed in moments. His breathing was calm, bordering on cocky, as was his grin. He knew almost all the advantages were his alone.

Switching modes, Sunset whipped out an axe-kick that caught Tony in the shoulder. With the added weight of the magnets in the soles, Sunset managed to make him grunt for the first time. Otherwise, the kick seemed as ineffective as anything else she’d done. At least it negated his reach advantage, she wryly thought to herself as a thousand options tumbled through her head. None were optimistic despite her initial bluster.

There was no escape as he pressed her, switching into a mixed stance himself, as if taunting her. He brought up a kick of his own aimed at her side. Switching off both her boots, Sunset flipped over Tony’s leg, then used his momentum to prevent herself from flying off in the gravity-less environment. She landed like a panther, low and leaning forward with fingers hooked. His next swing she again used her weightlessness to gracefully pirouette beneath. Sliding crosswise underneath his arm, she even landed a flurry of hits on his side.

And yet her confidence continued to dwindle and her ire rise as he barely seemed to respond. She’d been baited into a fight she couldn’t win.

A soft bell floated over the fight, followed by the strangely sweet, synthetic voice that was like nails scratching along raw nerves.

“All hands; brace for acceleration. All hands; brace for acceleration.”

There was only a second delay before Mother lurched forward on a roaring plume of ionic discharge as her torch drive ignited. The effects in the park were instantaneous.

Sunset and Tony were driven towards the floor by invisible, impossibly strong hands as gravity shifted from non-existent to twice Terra’s norm. His expression, intense as a tiger mid-leap, momentarily fluctuated as his eyes darted between Sunset, the floor, and he took in the sudden gravity that forced him to his knees. Quicker than Tony, Sunset rotated backwards, bracing herself with her palms on the floor and using the shifting momentum to sweep out a powerful upper kick towards his chin. With the added power of the ship’s momentum propelling him down, Tony had to take damage from this hit.

Except, she was going to miss. Tony threw himself against the sudden gravity, muscles in his legs, chest, and neck bulging and face red with effort. Her kick would pass a hair’s width away. Cold fury at her foolishness churned in her chest, and she wanted to scream in frustration.

A tremor echoed from her chest to her heel. A roar of pain burst from Tony. Sunset’s eyes widened as Tony, driven by the acceleration of Mother, slammed face first into the metal grated deck. A bone-jarring crunch resonated to Sunset’s teeth as his nose was smashed flat. Blood spurted from his ruined face.

Sunset pushed herself into a sitting position, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Her kick should have missed. She was certain she had missed! But, she’d clearly misjudged the distances, or Mother’s acceleration had been just enough to force Tony that little bit closer.

There was no time to savour her sudden victory. Cries of surprise and fear echoed all around Sunset as the progena, fraternity boys, and various onlookers were hurled into the deck in a crushing mass. Twilight and Fluttershy, who’d been leaning on the rails, were thrown towards the platform’s edge.

Fluttershy bounced towards the precipice, arms just barely catching onto a post. Her legs swung in the air, and terror filled her huge eyes. Flat on the ground, Rainbow stretched out and latched onto the scruff of Fluttershy’s tunic. Yelling at the top of her lungs, Rainbow pulled while Fluttershy dug her nails in desperation into the grating. Together, they managed to haul Fluttershy up over the edge. Fluttershy was one of the lucky ones.

Less fortunate, Twilight had been floating over the railing, enjoying the novelty of weightlessness as she tinkered with her magnetic boots, hardly interested in the fight. The electro-magnetics had been opened up on her left boot and she was alternately raising and lowering its sensitivity and power, seeking to find a perfect balance. She slammed into the wooden railing with almost as jarring an impact as Tony suffered. She screamed as she was spun backwards towards the waiting bottom of the park dome so far below. In the instant Sunset finished her fight with Tony, Twilight vanished. Her screams echoed among those of dozens upon dozens of other children who’d been playing in the weightless environment.

Bodies plummeted around the progena and other children, with results even more horrific than the wounds Tony suffered. Next to Sunset a girl in a primrose dress landed head first, her brains splattering out of her skull as it shattered and hitting Sunset in the face. A boy struck the railing in the same spot as Twilight, and was bent over it backwards, his spine shattered, before being hurled over the edge in wailing, agonised terror.

Gravity increased further as Mother continued to accelerate.

Three times Terran gravity.

Then four.

Five.

Sunset felt like she was being crushed into the metal grating.

Six times.

It was so hard to breath, the air being pushed out of her lungs as Mother moved away from Steinsmar. The burn lasted for many torturous minutes. Next to Sunset was the dead girl, gore being forced from her shattered body, and on the other the sputtering, maybe dying Tony. A couple of his teeth were stuck in the grating.

And then, all at once, she could breathe again. The pressure on her chest slackened as Mother reduced her acceleration. Sore all over her back, Sunset got up and staggered towards the railing.

Twilight was gone. Dead. She had to be. There was no way the slight, unathletic girl had survived going over the railing.

All around Sunset, kids wailed and thrashed about. Some were gravely wounded, like Tony. Some were dead, their bodies surrounded by growing crimson pools. There were many, many kids with only minor bumps or bruises. Sunset understood why the ship stank of antiseptics now. It was from cleaning away all the blood.

Grabbing the rail, Sunset looked over the edge, almost hoping for Twilight’s shattered body to be so far below it couldn’t be discerned. She didn’t want to see Twilight like that. Broken, brains and vital organs splattered everywhere. Or worse, dying, body twitching with the final spasms of her life leaking away. Sunset saw Twilight at once, the next deck down extending out further than the one above. Twilight lay on her stomach, partially covered by the boy who’d been bent in half. Dreading what she’d find, Sunset swung over the rail, and using her heightened aeldari dexterity, landed lightly next to Twilight.

All the while she whispered, “Please, Emperor, don’t let her be dead. Don’t make mine the first squad to have a fatality.”

Shoving off the insensate and fatally wounded boy, Sunset grabbed Twilight and rolled her squadmate over. Twilight’s eyes were pinched shut, and a large welt covered her cheek. To Sunset’s relief, Twilight took a hissed intake of breath and grasped at an obviously dislocated shoulder. Beneath Twilight was a collapsed awning that had partially broken her fall, and in so doing, saved her life.

“What happened?” Twilight asked, staring up at Sunset. Her eyes slid past Sunset, to the railing, and realisation dawned. “You came after me? You came to save me?”

“Of course,” Sunset puffed out her chest, “You’re in my squad.”

Sunset helped Twilight to stand. The smaller girl hissed as she tried to put pressure on her right leg. “I think it’s broken.”

It only took a glance to notice the bone sticking out of the skin.

“Uh… Yeah.”

Following Sunset’s gaze, Twilight paled further, and muttered, “Oh, that is a zogging bitch…” before she fainted.

Sunset wasn’t sure which was more shocking; that Twilight was alive, or her swearing. Unable to hold back as temporary relief flooded through her, Sunset shook with laughter, tears trickling down her cheeks. It was so, so good to see that Twilight was alive. Now she just needed to make sure Twilight stayed that way.

Author's Note

Honestly, I have another page and a half already written, and still growing. But this chapter was starting to get a bit long, and having all the aftermath of Mother's acceleration will eat up a lot of time. So, I've decided to split it up.

Mother's design went through several iterations. The first she had spiral arms and the dome was at the bow, so it was kind of like a mushroom shoved on top of side-spinning wind generator. The ship from Passengers was the inspiration at the time. As the chapter was being written and events within it unfolded I went with a more Expanse style of being situated like a tower. The shiny look was a nod to the look of the Naboo ships in Star Wars. The dome... was actually something I would put in ships I imagined when I was ten years old, way back in the 90s when I shared a living universe of stories with my best friend. I have an old binder filled with drawings we made on graph people. I'm certain it has been done elsewhere, but that was where I got the idea for this story.

Everything else was making the ship as non-Imperial and 40k-ish as I could. I have a huge set of Author's Notes for when the schola arc is concluded that goes into detail on the ship, its history, and how it 'fits' into the Warhammer universe. The notes are long enough to be their own chapter already, and there is much I still need to add into them.

One of the things I love about Warhammer is how it poaches from science fiction franchises from Asimov's works, to Dune, Starship Troopers, and more. I feel no shame, or that it could be wrong, to have something that would fit in one of those universes in the Warhammer universe.

The substantive difference is the matter of tone, afterall. I hope I got that with the acceleration event. I'm sure what happened came as no surprise.

I hope I can maintain this momentum in my writing till the end of this story arc is reached.

Operation 10: Mother, Part Two

Sunset Shimmer; Sister of Battle
By Tundara

Operation 10

Rushing over with Applejack and Rainbow in tow, Fluttershy took one look at Twilight and went to work. From a pouch at her side she pulled out a syringe, an unfolding splint, and sterile bandages.

“Oh, Holy Emperor and Saint Dominica, look on in grace at your children,” she intoned as she applied field aid. In an authoritative tone, Fluttershy snapped, “We need to get her to the medicea, now! Mother is continuing to slow, and if we lose all gravity…”

When the first aid was applied, Sunset and Applejack slung Twilight between them and followed Fluttershy as she led the way to the lifts. They had to go up a set of stairs, and by the time they reached the lifts more of the children had recovered from their initial shock. Children were screaming, moaning, and some wandered in a daze. Quickly looking around, Fluttershy thrust out her finger.

“You there, away from the lifts! They are for the critically wounded only! Fleetfoot, Surprise; start triaging the wounded. Anyone who is bleeding takes priority based on how severe it is. Spitfire, Rainbow, get together some runners to gather the wounded and contact the other classes. I’m heading to the medicea to begin treating the injured with proper tools. Why are you standing around? By the Throne; move!”

Sunset had never seen Fluttershy so forceful. There was an intense fire in her ordinarily timid eyes as if she’d been possessed by the spirit of a saint.

With Applejack’s assistance, Sunset carried Twilight into the lift. Fluttershy followed them in, and then Flash with Tony draped over his shoulder. The boy’s head was rolling drunkenly where he was still barely conscious.

The doors shut with a whoosh, and Fluttershy barked, “Medicea! It’s an emergency.”

That odd bell chimed, and the inhuman woman asked, “Please state the nature of the emergency,” as the lift clattered lazily along.

“We got two people bleeding everywhere,” Applejack snapped at the vox caster in the corner of the ceiling. “Can’t your Horus damned eyes see that?”

“Applejack, it’s a servitor…” Sunset grumbled, hoping she was right. That it was an unseen servitor in control of the lifts.

“One person with a compound fracture of the lower right tibia, dislocated left shoulder, and unknown internal injuries. Another with massive facial contusions, broken nose, possible broken jaw, and internal bleeding,” Fluttershy clarified, giving Applejack and Sunset annoyed looks.

“Emergency override accepted.” With a whine of motors the lift dropped down towards the aft section far faster than it had gone before, and without the music.

“Some way to end a fight, huh?” Flash nonchalantly said, a little nervous tick in his tone. His gaze was stony, fixed forward as he stared out into space. Tony gave a wet groan. Sunset paid them no attention. Her stomach was churning with worry for Twilight, and the response of the disembodied voice.

There was something very wrong with Mother. Something that set Sunset’s teeth on edge.

It took hardly any time before the lift came to a gentle stop and the doors opened to a bright, white corridor. “Now arriving; Medical deck.”

The medicea was, oddly, very familiar. Gargoyles had been placed on statues at regular intervals, and the ceiling had been painted with overlapping murals of important events. A dour image of Cadia’s destruction covered half of an image depicting imperial guardsmen holding their position against a swarm of tyranid. Further along was what had to be an impressionist attempt at painting the Lord Commander of the Imperium. The blue and golden armour was blocky, with wet dribbles where too much paint had been used. Someone else had done the face in a hyper-realistic style that contrasted jarringly with the rest of the image.

Fluttershy nodded approvingly to the attempts at creating wards for the medicea.

They weren’t the only ones arriving at the medicea. Lifts came and went constantly, disgorging a stream of wounded.

“Clear the way! By the Emperor’s golden light, clear the way!” Fluttershy’s voice continued to hold its steely tone, and the building crowd parted before her.

Only a few had arrived before them, with litters holding the wounded put to the side along the corridor. They passed an open door that led to a ward room with a dozen beds, all of which were already occupied by groaning occupants, with frantic children darting about with no idea what to do for their injured friends. From around a corner up ahead a pair of girls darted, and skidded to a stop as they neared Sunset’s group.

“You’re from the schola?” They demanded. “We found a healing chamber, but the servitors wont respond.”

From their attire, it was clear they were from one of the lower rungs of society. Their dresses, while pretty, were also a little plain, and their shoes were well worn. It looked to be the same clothes they’d wear to go to temple every week. The relief on the girl’s faces was palpable, and they took the group into the heart of the medicea.

Triage and Emergency rooms were bypassed until they reached a door with ‘Surgery’ scrawled in High Gothic over the entryway. Inside they found six narrow beds extending on rails from tubes inset into the walls. On the right hand side of each tube was a cogitator, while on the left were a series of hooks, nodules, and tubes filled with coloured liquids. A mechanical arm sat in a folded ready position. Above each tube was written ‘Auto-Doc 5000’ in faded script.

A pair of boys had placed a friend on one of the benches. They glanced up as they barged into the room.

“Who are you?” The closer boy demanded, his eyes darting to the girls, then over to the schola and Flash holding their wounded friends. “Bunch of shady’s? Why you bring them here, Marcy?”

“They’re from the schola,” one of the girls, Marcy, shot back at the boy, puffing up her cheeks as if she were a squirrel. “If anyone knows how to deal with the servitors, it's them.”

Sunset didn’t correct the girl’s incorrect assumptions, and the others were too preoccupied to argue either. Doubt lingered as to whether Mother had any servitors at all. They were expertly hidden if they were on the ship. The medical deck was relatively small, and it had taken less than a minute to reach the so-called ‘servitors’. One look at them and Sunset knew they were most certainly not a servitor.

There was nothing that even had the faintest hint of having once been human and amalgamated with technology to act as an intermediary vessel. These devices, while clearly worn with age and use, were clearly only machines.

The closest of the beds was occupied by a boy in a sharp uniform that marked him as a member of the upper echelon of Steinsmar. Around him were two other boys in similar clothes.

On seeing them Flash frowned. “Omegas,” he grumbled.

The returned his grumble with deep scowls.

“This is the medicea?” Applejack asked, looking around the room with an obvious air of concerned confusion.

In front of her, Fluttershy nervously chewed on her lower lip. She went to the nearest of the devices and ran her fingers over the metal arms. Wincing as if she’d been stung she turned to Sunset. “These are nothing like the m-medicea I’m used to in the abbey. I’ve never seen anything like them.”

Fluttershy’s courage was melting in the face of the unknown, and Sunset sighed internally. She needed that fearless, authoritative Fluttershy right now, surprising as seeing her squadmate assertive had actually been.

“Why haven’t you helped your friend yet?” Sunset took charge, turning everyone’s attention away from Fluttershy and back to the boys who’d already been in the room.

“We can’t, it’s malfunctioning! The machine spirits refuse to work!” The boy snarled at the machine and smacked his fist on the side of its yellowed case. There was a dull rattle as components inside were jostled.

“H-Hey, stop that,” Twilight weakly murmured, her head lolling drunkenly on her shoulders.

Fluttershy was beside Twilight in an instant, guiding her injured friend down on the closest bed. Her voice was growing softer by the moment, and her large eyes darted between Twilight, the strange devices, and the door.

Seeing Twilight awake, though clearly disorientated, Sunset suggested, “Twilight, can you get the machine working?”

Twilight blinked up at Sunset. A little more clarity sharpened her gaze.

“No! I can’t do that!” Twilight gave her head a little, vehement shake, and gasped.

“I can help if your leg is hurting—” Fluttershy began, and was overwhelmed.

“No! That’s not it! I can’t do it! It is the purview of the Mechanicus to tame and maintain the machine spirits. It is… I can’t. I can’t! I mustn't!” Tears welled up in Twilight’s eyes, and they were not from the physical pain. “Get the Magos or his techsage, enginseer, or one of their priesthood. They should be maintaining Mother. They will know how to make the medicea operate. The technomats must be around here somewhere.”

Sunset frowned at the suggestion. She wasn’t alone, and a couple of the girls in the corner muttered the question that had hovered on the edge of everyone’s mind, “Had anyone seen any techpriests or other members of the Mechanicum?”

Besides the brief appearance of the Magos, not a single member of the mechanicum, or even their servitors, had been found.

“We can’t waste time searching for them,” Sunset said into the brief silence. “You have to do this.”

“But—”

“Come on, Twi’, I seen you activate the spirits before. Why you holding out now?” Applejack’s voice, with its rural Equis inflections, drowned out the others.

Twilight’s face bunched up, and tears sprang along her eyes. “I was wrong on the Righteous Indignation. I was wrong!”

Frustration welled in Sunset’s chest. “It would be even worse to withhold your talents when it could save lives. Who knows how many of our other sisters have been injured by Mother. How many of the other children can be saved by activating these servitors? The Emperor saved you when Equis died. He had a reason, right? Maybe this was it.”

“But—”

“There is only service.”

Sunset felt a ripple of conviction in her voice that wasn’t in her heart. A tiny part even felt a little dirty at the manipulative tactics. But, if imperials were going to be so fundamentalist in their convictions, she was going to take advantage of them.

Twilight wasn’t fully convinced, and in a weak voice she said, “I’m just some lowly administorum’s daughter. I could hurt the spirits if I try anything. I was told, over and over, not to interfere with them, but I did on the Indignation. I wanted everyone to think I was special. But I’m not! I’m not special. None of us are. It was wrong of me. I’d lost everyone, and I was confused, and desperate to be accepted. And look at what happened! I’m even more hated than you! And I should be! I should be!”

A loud crack echoed in the room as Fluttershy struck Twilight across the face.

Sunset was as stunned as Twilight, both staring wide eyed as Fluttershy’s body heaved with anger.

“Stop your bellyaching,” Fluttershy growled, her other hand clenched in a fist at her side. “Of course you are special. Everyone is special and loved by the Emperor. And that is why it hurts Him so much when we doubt ourselves and fail to live up to the potential He sees in all of us. The Emperor protected you. He saved me and Rainbow. He protected all of us. There has to be a reason.”

A dam had been broken within Fluttershy, and words poured forth from her. In the hallway behind her more and more children could be seen filling up the medicea. More and more wounded deposited on the litters.

“We’re from Cloudsdale,” Fluttershy said in her strong and yet also soft voice, “a simple moisture factorum town that made power and clouds to irrigate the district. It was a normal day. We were early to the factorum, along with my brother Zephyr. He had always been a bit mean. Um, selfish and lazy. But he was worse that day. He was complaining, and then he pushed me against one of the water tanks. His eyes were different. He was raving. Saying crazy things about the Emperor, mom and dad, and then me. And then… And t-then… Bile began to leak out of his eyes and ears. His teeth fell out. And worms were crawling under his skin. I can see them bulging, wriggling, b-burrowing! Dad tried to get him to calm down, and he grabbed a hammer, and he hit dad in the face. Hit him over, and over, and over.

“I remember screaming, and praying. There was a noise. This, um, noise. I don’t know how to describe it. Right in my head, but also my chest and legs and arms. Everything was getting darker. And someone started laughing. I think it was me. Or maybe it was my dad. He had gotten back up and was pulling out pieces of broken bone from his mangled face. Dad’s blood was in my eyes. I couldn’t see. Rainbow had my hand and was pulling me out of the factorum. All around us people were attacking each other. H-hacking with axes, or crushing b-b-bones with mallets. Zephyr and dad caught up to me and Rainbow in the factorum’s loading dock and pushed us down.

“His hands were tugging at my clothes and I remember praying to the Emperor, or anything that could save me. There was that noise… That horrible, gurgling noise! And Zephyr… He… He e-exploded. Entering the factorum were battle-sisters. I thought we’d been saved, but they pointed flamers at me and Rainbow. She was twitching on the ground next to me, her skin splitting open across her face. They said we’d been tainted and would be purified. But, before they pulled the trigger, there was an explosion in the distance that covered the sky in golden flames. It hit us. Knocked us down. And I saw… I don’t know what I saw. But there was this energy in my chest, and when I sat up Rainbow was next to me, healed. Perfectly fine.

“The sisters said it was a Miracle and took us in. It was a miracle. The Emperor saved me and Rainbow. He saved everyone in our class. Now, you can save people too, if you tame the machine spirits.”

Fluttershy finished her story by clasping Twilight’s hands in her own. Twilight shook her head still, but there wasn’t the same fear nor defiance, rather, it was like she was clearing away a fog.

Stepping up next to Fluttershy, Sunset put a hand on Twilight’s shoulder. There was confusion and a torrent of regrets in the eyes that snapped up to meet her gaze.

“You can do this. You must do this. For the Emperor, if for no one else.”

Twilight searched Sunset’s face. Her eyes slid to the corridor over Sunset’s shoulder. Doubts and fears clashed with hopeful faith that she wasn’t blaspheming when she delved into technology. Twilight hung on this precipice for what felt an excruciatingly long time, but was in reality perhaps a couple seconds at most until one side won out.

With a single nod Twilight slid from the bed, careful to avoid using her bad leg. Blood was seeping around the edges of the bandages and splints Fluttershy had used.

Under Twilight’s instructions they removed the front panel of the nearest of the ‘auto-docs’. Sunset did her best to hide a victorious smile, even though much of the success could be attributed to Fluttershy.

“I don’t know if I can commune with their machine spirits. These are even older than those of Equis by who knows how many thousands of years.”

Words of encouragement weren’t needed. Twilight quickly dived into the inner-workings of the devices, poking at wires as she muttered litannies and psalms to calm the machine spirits. Overhead the lights flickered.

“I need to go deeper. There, remove that panel, please.”

Under Twilight’s guidance, Sunset opened up a panel beneath the administrative altar. Her ordinarily pale face a ghostly shade, Twilight crawled half-way into the dark space. There was a little rustling, an inaudible curse, followed by one much louder. Twilight’s small fist banged on something, and there was a flash of electricity before the altar blinked to life.

“A connector box had come loose,” Twilight explained as she crawled back out and held out an arm to Applejack to be picked up. With Applejack’s support, Twilight turned her attention to the access altar, now flickering to life as it booted up.

Twilight’s fingers danced over the altar’s keyboard. “Oh, Holy bios, repository of the machine-soul, open yourself to the world. Let your spirit flow. Open yourself to the power of computations. Let not malignancy nor sapience touch these wires, vessels as they are for our undertakings.”

Lines of code scrolled over the screen as Twilight continued her litannies, until, with a gentle purring whirr, the chamber sprung fully to life. Lights brightened overhead, and the standby indicators switched from a threatening red to happy green. Next to the beds the mechanical arms went through a warm-up sequence, clattering open to their full extension, various diagnostic and surgical tools extending, and then retracting as they returned to their ready positions.

Helped up by Fluttershy and Applejack, Twilight laid back on the bench with only a few pained hisses.

Sunset stood back by the door as Twilight, Tony, and the other boy were examined by the servitors. She prayed they were servitors.

“Please wait while diagnostics are underway,” Mother intoned in her lifeless voice.

The servitor’s metal arms swept out and extended one of its tools. Green light washed over Twilight and the others. Switching to a needle, some concoction was injected into Twilight’s leg just about the break. Twilight’s face instantly went from pain to relief. The needle was swapped out for another tool, this one possessing a pair of mechadendrites. They slithered around Twilight’s leg above and below the break. An audible crack echoed in the room as bones were snapped back into place. Twilight didn’t even react. The diagnostic arm folded up.

One by one the beds retracted into the walls. There was a whirr, and lights flashed behind opaque glass. In the flashes several smaller arms could just be discerned as they worked. The smell of antiseptic wafted over Sunset. In almost perfect unison the beds extended again.

Everyone held their breaths as first Twilight, then the unknown Omega boy, and finally Tony sat up. They were all perfectly fine. If it weren’t for the blood on their clothes it’d have been impossible to tell any of them had ever been hurt.

“Thank you for using the Automatic Doctor Five-Thousand for your medical needs. Please, have a pleasant trip.”

Fluttershy’s mouth fell open as she inspected Twilight’s leg. “Less than a minute. Less than a minute? With no scars? Emperor, what are these? Archeotech? That’s impossible.” Fluttershy cast a suspicious look at the auto-docs, but didn’t say anything else other than help Twilight to stand and leave the room.

The next few hours were busy. One by one kids were rotated through surgery, and disgorged utterly pristine. The nature of the injuries didn’t matter, they were all expertly mended. Some kids even spoke of old wounds being fixed. Other kids laughed it off as fanciful tales, but Sunset wasn’t as certain.

This ship was old. A relic of the Dark Age.

Why were children even allowed on it?

And where in the Emperor’s golden locks were the Mechanicus?

Something wasn’t right.

Consumed by these thoughts and the need for urgent action, Sunset was able to proceed from moment to moment without really acknowledging what had transpired. It hit her as she entered her personal cabin.

After finding Rarity, Sunset and her squad were directed to their own, personal, cabins. It would be the first time they didn’t have to share a room for the other girls, and a return to privacy for Sunset. The luxury only barely registered in her tumultuous thoughts.

Sunset had just entered the room, with its single bed, work desk, and personal bathroom. There was even a holo display gently playing and showing a simple, crackling fireplace. As she entered the bathroom she got to see herself in the mirror, and the flecks of gore and brains stuck in her hair and on her face. Nausea slammed into her, and Sunset had to stagger to find a bag or something to throw up into. There was nothing at first glance.

Desperate she threw herself into the shower stall. Puke hit the back of her teeth, and she doubled over as she spat out gab after gob. Gravity was almost totally gonne, and it lazily formed globules that floated around her. Spitting out the last mouthful, Sunset straightened. Through the soles of her feet she felt a minute vibration, and then there was a click as the latch behind her was locked. Brow pinched, she started to reach for the lock, when the floating balls of her puke plummeted to the floor and splattered over her feet.

“What in Celestia’s mane?” Sunset muttered in her addled state. She was then hit by a spray of warm water. Sputtering, frustrated, and frightened at the ship seemingly attacking her, she groped for the shower’s control, and found none.

“Seriously!” She screamed in frustration. “Mother, stop the shower!”

The water cut out almost instantly.

“Thank you,” Sunset grumbled as she fumbled with the shower stall’s latch, only to find it still locked. “Mother—”

The rest of her words were lost in a rush of wind as vents opened overhead and a whirling tornado filled the small space. Only when it was done did the latch click open. Utterly confused and her hair a complete frizzy disaster, Sunset staggered out of the bathroom totally dry.

“What on the Throne?” She muttered over and over as she staggered into the main cabin.

This time the Mother didn’t respond. Then again, Sunset hadn’t directly addressed the ship. But, then why had it just blasted her with water?

Sunset’s skin crawled. There was something very wrong about the ship. She could feel being watched, but there were no servitors anywhere. Nothing but the barest hints of imperial imagery. Everything was sleek and polished, with smooth curves and calming colour pallets as if to put her at ease, and it only made her senses tingle more.

It was like being in an Equestrian hotel. Maybe that was the source of her anxiety. This place was dredging up memories of home.

With the memories came long suppressed worries about her magic. This was hardly the place or time to try contacting her magic. But then again, when was a good time? And she needed a distraction from the unsettling feeling.

Sitting down on the floor, she crossed her legs and tried to centre herself. She was going to have to go back to basics, the most basic, if she was going to find her magic. Assuming she was right about what she’d oh-too-briefly sensed during her previous attempt. That was her greatest fear. That it had only been her imagination, and the great beast she’d encountered in the Warp hadn’t just torn her body appart with its horrific powers, but infected her magic as well.

Her breathing grew steadier. She focused on her fingertips and toes, imaging lines of energy spider webbing from them up her arms and into her neck then head.

For the longest time she felt nothing and her frustrations began to ferment. Jaw clenched tight, the muscles along her back tightened until they felt like they were going to tear. A throbbing ache filled her teeth, ears, and eyes. Fingernails dug into calloused palms.

She took that frustration, and buried it deep. As she pushed it down she cast her inner eye’s gaze about, and there she saw it. She felt it.

That flicker of slumbering Power. It was like a leopard dozing on the branches of a tree, supple and strong muscles twitching as it dreamt of the hunt. The mental image was so vivid she could feel the warm wind on her face, and hear the rustling of leaves mingled with a gentle snore. Looking closer she saw the leopard was covered in scars and old wounds, its hide marred and the pattern of its coat broken in many places. Scabs still covered much of its flanks, and a large patch of ugly skin stretched over one side of the leopard’s face, tufts of fur only just beginning to regrow. Even through all this, her sunburst cutie mark could be discerned on the leopard’s forehead. A golden eye cracked open as Sunset stood beneath the tree on which her Magic rested, and a surge of elation rushed through her.

It had been a terrible fight that had mauled the leopard, but it had survived, and was growing stronger. But it wasn’t fully recovered, and it let out a tired huff.

Her eyes snapped open and a tingle of excitement entered her fingers. Trembling a little she followed the ages old lessons of the unicorns.

Deep inside her the leopard flicked its tail in response.

And around her hand ethereal teal energies manifested.

Her heart leapt in pure joy and she almost lost her grasp on her magic. The aura grew stronger, more confident, and she looked about for some loose object in the room to grab. There was nothing, and in a hurry she ripped off her shirt and tossed it into the air. Gravity was so low it almost floated of its own accord.

Reaching out with her mind, Sunset extended her hand. At first her magic was slow to respond. Lazy, sluggish, it wandered inside her, up her arm, towards her fingertips.

Sunset’s heart was slamming against her ribs with pure joy.

Slowly the shirt drifted towards the floor and Sunset extended her will towards it.

Warmth entered her hand.

Tears of joy prickled her eyes. Her magic was responding. It was awakening! It was there!

Her ecstasy was short lived and presumptuous. A two-toned bell sounded throughout the ship, sending a lance of fear up Sunset’s spine. On instinct she went into a spin, as if practicing her martial arts, and snatched the gently falling shirt up just before it could touch the floor, trying to make it seem that had been her intention.

‘Sunset, you stupid girl!’ She internally growled to herself as the full monument to her folly became apparent.

She had to be under observation. All of them had to be. Even in their rooms. Especially in their rooms!

It was no different than in the schola, and just because she couldn’t see the cherubs or servoskulls didn’t mean there were no auspex watching her.

Putting back on her shirt, she rubbed away her eyes and went to leave her room. There was nothing she could do now about it if she’d been seen practising magic. She was going to have to find a place away from inquisitive eyes if she hoped to practise her magic at all. Otherwise, all she could do would be theoretical work.

The door shwoosed open and Sunset almost walked into Twilight, the other girl’s finger poised to push the doorbell.

“Oh!” They simultaneously exclaimed.

“Hey,” Twilight demurred and rubbed an arm nervously when Sunset asked what she wanted. “I wanted to thank you for what you said, and everything you’ve done. And to apologise for…”

Twilight’s eyes shifted down to the floor and her face went a little paler. Crossing her arms, Sunset waited for Twilight to continue.

Reinforcing her courage, Twilight said in a rush, “For being such a weak member of the squad. Throne, I’ve been a bad squad member and only held you and the others back. Even Fluttershy.”

Crossing her arms and using a sneer to cover her own anxieties and tumultuous emotions, Sunset said, “You saved a lot of lives today. You justified your place in my squad. And I expect that you will do better in the future. Saint Dominica was with us today, and the day we met. That’s what I believe, anyways.”

The lying was getting to be so easy.

Twilight looked a little shocked and took a half step back. She continued to rub her arm. Looked up and down the corridor, and then at her feet. Twilight opened her mouth to say more, but evidently thought better of it when she glanced up at Sunset’s face.

“We aren’t heretics, are we?” She whispered softly as she turned away and started to make her way down the hall. “This is the Emperor’s plan for me, right? What was with the internal structure of those medicea? Never seen anything like it before… The way it reacted. Alive? Living metal? No… In a semi-solid state…? Maybe. There’s a thought… I need to get a sample…”

Continuing to mutter to herself, a fingertip tapping her lower lip, Twilight vanished into her room.

Sunset watched Twilight go, her sneer turning into a stressed frown. She’d handled that poorly, she knew, her own fears and anxieties getting the better of her. Twilight’s mutterings were a concern for later. At least the girl was coming more out of her shell than even after their first talk in the library.

Foalsteps, Sunset reminded herself. Ponies and people didn’t just change overnight.

Except for Fluttershy, apparently. The timid girl's transformation had been a shock. A very pleasing one. She had to somehow coax that personality out of Fluttershy more often.

Formulating ideas to that effect in her head a noise caught her attention. It was quiet, only barely audible over the general hum of the ship. A scritch scratching in the walls. Clink-clink-clink, and a pause. Sunset almost thought she was imagining it, but it came back. Clink-clink-clink.

She pressed her ears to the wall, but the noise stopped.

Almost as if in response to her investigation.

Sunset grinned, putting at ease one of her worries. The mechanicus were in the walls, or in hidden compartments, at least. Why they would hide themselves away puzzled Sunset, when they’d moved openly about the Righteous Indignation. Then again there were so many cultural aspects that she still had trouble grasping. It could even be a planetary custom.

Nodding to herself, Sunset went to her room and put the silliness of the Mechanicus out of her mind for the time being, far more focused on her magic and the upcoming trials on Steinsanne.

Author's Note

Phew, this took a while for such a relatively short and simple chapter. I blame two main events; My second little kitty passed away of a stroke, and I threw myself into Lost Ark as a coping mechanism. On top of this when I worked I was going over notes, making additional notes, and further ironing out coming story arks and which characters to prioritize.

I'd really hoped to have this chapter end with them arriving at Steinsanne, but it was growing well beyond my word limit. I'm trying to avoid having monster sized chapters. There was also a really great cutting point to end the chapter.

Um, that's about it I guess. Not much else to say, except that I am looking forward to the comments and answering questions.

Oh, I made a discord server. But its already kinda quiet. :unsuresweetie: There is a blog post with the link.

Operation 11: Mother, Part Three

Sunset Shimmer; Sister of Battle
By Tundara

Operation 11

Over the following day, the atmosphere aboard Mother altered drastically. Gone were the smiles, laughter, and joviality. In their place was a hard determination. The bloodstains remained in the atrium to remind them of the capricious nature of life, and that at any moment death could come for them. Or something to that effect.

Sunset suspected that it was more a matter of practicality that they didn’t possess the cleaners to do it themselves, and the mechanicus and their servitors remained distressingly rare. Without the skittering in the walls, Sunset would have begun to believe that the mechanicus weren’t even on the ship, rather than just staying hidden.

As she explored the ship she encountered a few more servitors or mechanicus in their thick robes. For the most part they ignored the children, going about inscrutable routines of maintaining or operating Mother. Oddly comforted by there being at least some mechanicus, Sunset turned her attention towards the Steinsmarians.

It quickly became apparent that fraternisation with the non-schola children would be almost non-existent. There was no disrespect, quite the opposite as a point of fact. Heads were bowed and tables cleared for anyone from one of the schola’s classes without a word having to be given. Sunset was doubly avoided, though this time it was for what she’d done rather than her appearance. Word that she’d beaten Tony in a fight had spread even with the trauma of Mother’s departure. This was in large part due to the spectacular nature of her turning what seemed certain defeat into a crushing win. Girls looked on her with something close to awe, and the boys with grudging respect.

The only person who approached her was Flash.

On the second afternoon he sat down across from her in the Platinum Deck’s dining hall. Sunset had come to realise the perception that had been formed of her, and dismissed the fawning as both appropriate and a little silly. Luck had saved her skin far more than any skill on her part, which secretly infuriated her.

The dining hall was lavished with velvet curtains, thick bottomed cushions that you sunk into, wooden tables with inlays of the Emperor, and even artificial gravity. Folded napkins waited at the tables, and a spicy flavoured drink was dispensed by skeletal servitors draped in deep blue suits.

Their pallid flesh and cybernetic implants were juxtaposed by their clean pressed shirts, ties, and white gloves. A pungent smell of unguents and oils used to keep their organic components from rotting wafted about them in a cloud. Sunset wondered what ancient aesthetic they were attempting to mimic.

Soft violin music played over the vox casters. She took a sip of her drink and felt a little warm fuzziness in the back of her skull. Next to her, Rainbow was going over lists of equipment and basic plans for when they reached Steinsanne.

Rainbow noticed Flash approach the table first, her head jerking up with a furrowed scowl.

“Tch, what do you want? We’re busy,” Rainbow tersely said. Sunset was mildly impressed by the sheer venom in Rainbow’s eyes directed towards the boy.

Holding up a hand as he would to ward off a yapping dog, Flash sat down across from the girls and said, “I’m just here with an offer, that’s all.”

Flipping over the dataslate she and Rainbow had been going over, Sunset said, “Well, by the Throne, don’t waste our time. Just spit it out.”

“Straight to the point, I like that.” Flash’s smile was a little charming. Only a little though. “So, as you might have guessed, my father is Augustus Sentry, Head of Planetary Defence.”

Sunset hadn’t, but she wasn’t going to let that be known.

Waving for one of the waiter servitors, Sunset indicated with a roll of her other hand for him to continue.

“My father has big plans for me, as do all the parents in my fraternity. He wasn’t going to break any regulations and give me a heads up on what to expect on Steinsanne beyond the exercise yard gossip, of course. But still, big plans. Plans that would only really start if I managed to triumph at camp without his assistance. I gather from your expressions and that dataslate you’re in the same bunker. I’ve been preparing for this for my entire life. Before I left, I sneaked into my father’s office and had a peek at the landing site for this year’s Summer Camp.”

“What are you proposing?” Sunset asked before he could go any further. “I doubt you are going to share what you found.”

Flash leaned back in his chair and raised a warding hand. His smile cracked a little, and there seemed to be a bit of genuine disappointment in the corner of his eyes. Either he was really good at faking emotion, or he wasn’t nearly good enough at disguising his true feelings to make him a good spy.

“In a broad way, I am. Most won't know the details I’m here to share with you, of course, but yeah. I am here to share what I found.”

Leaning an elbow on the table, Rainbow let out a dismissive snort. “So, what are you here to tell us then? Spill it already.”

Grinning sheepishly, Flash nodded and leaned back into the table conspiratorially. “The maps indicated something. Something that could put all of us in the top tiers of the Catalogous if we succeed. A deed that would be talked about for generations.”

From an inside pocket he produced a couple small sheets of simple vellum. On them had been printed copies of the maps. Leaning forward Sunset took a long look at the contour lines showing that it depicted a valley region with the remains of the outer edge of a hive city at one end and a dry lake bed at the other. Ancient road networks were plotted out between a series of mines and a symbol Sunset didn’t recognise.

“What’s that,” Sunset jabbed a finger at the mark at the end of a spur in the valley.

“That is our ticket to the big leagues.” Flash’s grin widened and he leaned forward conspiratorially. “I’ve seen that mark before on my father’s maps. It is for suspected ancient archeo-tech vaults. Stuff hidden away by the Steinsannians before their planet was destroyed. But, you see that icon over there? That is for a suspected Kilguar lair. Which is why the Mechanicus haven’t plundered the area yet.”

“You want to go near a kilguar’s lair?” Rainbow snorted, but there was a look of begrudging respect on her face. She leaned in closer over the map and licked her lips, her eyes occasionally darting towards Sunset.

Sunset’s mind was racing, weighing the odds of this being an elaborate trap against the fame and glory of opening a new vault. The convenience of Flash having the map was a knock against going, as was him approaching her. His father leaving the map laying around on purpose for Flash to find struck her as the most liable explanation. It was as close as directly helping without actually saying, ‘hey, go here for a huge deed’. It was also the kind of thing Drill Abbess Maria might try when she really wanted the students to do something. As for the latter, he answered her question before it could be asked.

“This is going to take all of us. The Alpha Alpha Capricorns, the progena, and everyone else we can round up.”

Sunset’s lips formed a very thin line.

“We stand a much better chance if we work together,” he continued. “Which is why I’ve come to you first. I need you to put me in touch with your class president.”

Sighing, Sunset leaned back and laced her fingers behind her head. Partly to relieve stress and run over the map in her head, having memorised it in the short time she had to look at it, and partly to have a better angle to survey the room and see who was listening in on their conversation. She marked a half-dozen people in the room who had an ear cocked in her table’s direction. How much they’d heard was hard to figure out, human ears being far worse than a pony’s or her own. Enough to get a gist that something important was being discussed, but probably not the details, she figured.

“Fine,” was all Sunset said, and motioned with a jerk of her head for Rainbow to go get Rarity. Smiling broadly, Rainbow got up and headed towards the elevator. When she was out of earshot, Sunset asked, “So, how’s Tony?”

“He’s yesterday’s news.” A triumphant grin flashed across his face. He leaned back at ease in his chair, fingers entwined behind his head. “I’m in charge of the Alpha Alpha Capricorns now.”

Sunset clicked her tongue, not sure what to think. Maybe a snippet of something like respect. It’s what she planned to do, someday. She just needed to take advantage of the right circumstances. And to create those circumstances. She didn’t trust them to just fall into her lap. What would Flash have done if she hadn’t taken care of Tony for him?

Find another way, obviously. But there was no guarantee that he’d have managed to find or create such an opportunity. Unless…

“You were pushing him to get into a fight with me, weren’t you?”

Flash chuckled, and there was a glimmer in his eye that spoke volumes. “Not you specifically, but yeah, I was pushing him for weeks to pick a fight with a progena. Honestly, I expected him to mop the floor with you. I actually got a bit concerned when he didn’t knock you out in the first few seconds. You were kinda amazing. Didn’t expect it from a dolly.”

“‘Dolly’?” Sunset arched a brow.

“Yeah. ‘Cause you’re a bit cute.” Flash ran a thumb over his nose and glanced away, his cheeks colouring a little.

Sunset rolled her eyes.

“And how would him pummeling me have helped you?”

“Would have shown him to be too lunk headed to tell the differences in strength, or a bully who only picks on the weak. And picking on the progena; not a good look. Would and will have caused some ripples back in the Spire. Tony’s pops is—”

Sunset waved off the rest of the explanation. “I understand. Cut-throat capital politics and the actions of the son on the parents and all that.”

He seemed to see that she did understand. He might not know how or why, but that she had some experience in power politics within upper governmental circles.

It might be worthwhile to build a bit of a good relationship with Flash, if only for his potential future position within Steinsmar’s government. As the son of the head of planetary defence, it wasn’t the worst idea to be in his good books. Even with a convent of the Sisters of Battle, and a newly formed chapter of the Space Marines, it was a position with a fair amount of political clout. After all, the Sisters and Marines would go away for years, decades, and potentially centuries at a time on their crusades, and who was left to tend the home front in those times?

“So, the son of the Minister of Defense, huh?” Sunset cringed as the words tumbled out of her mouth. Could she be any more obvious about her intentions?

Flash simply chuckled and shrugged, however. “And, if my father has anything to say on the matter, a future captain in the Steinsmarines chapter.”

“I’m guessing he doesn’t.”

“Hah, not in the least,” Flash gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “The governor has even less involvement in the Marines than he did in the affairs of the convent. Same with the various ministers. It was a big ol’ deathstrike missile into how the planet operated, the marines choosing it as a Chapter World. Up until a century ago everything was contentious, but had a sort of balance between the Ecclesiarchy and Governor. Now, it’s all power games and knives hidden behind pleasant smiles. At least, that’s what I’m told.”

“And you’re just another pawn in the game.”

“Naturally. Doesn’t mean I wont play my part.”

“Doesn’t that caff though?”

“How so?”

“To be nothing more than a pawn. For them to heap lies and promises of power in front of you, but only if you play their narrow little game.To not have any real control over your life.”

Flash raised a brow and looked at her as if she were speaking in tongues.

“The only control over our lives is that which the Emperor grants us,” Flash pointed out.

“Throne be praised,” Sunset automatically intoned, though the words were bitter in her mouth.

“Throne be praised.”

The conversation died down, and Sunset focused more on the maps to put them to memory. She also took up her dataslate and started to make alterations to her proposed kit for her squad. They were going to need stuff for blasting open doors, perhaps crampons and other mountaineering gear to repel down empty shafts. A Leman Russ would be useful. If only she had the resource allowance.

Slowly a smirk crossed her face at the idea of driving a tank around ‘summer camp’. If the ponies in her old orphanage could see her now, or what her life had become… They’d probably die of shock.

The smirk turned into a dark chuckle. One that made Flash tilt his head as he studied her face. She tried to ignore his probing gaze, and was mostly successful. He’d never believe her, anyways, if she tried to explain the source of her amusement.

Would it even be ‘Heresy’ if she said she was thinking about a planet of magical, brightly coloured ponies? Probably. Everything different or non-conforming was lumped under that broad label. It was the ‘magical’ part that would get the hardest reaction. There were horses and ponies on Steinsmar, at least from what Sunset had read, though nothing like those to which she was accustomed. Riding was enough of a leisure activity among the privileged for it to have had a mention in a text she skimmed over while researching ‘Summer Camp’.

It was only a few minutes until Rainbow returned with Rarity, as well as Karen and Stacey; the presidents of classes one and two, respectively.

Sunset shot out of her chair and offered a bowed aquila to the senior progena.

“Throne, this had better be good,” was the greeting she got in response from Karen. She was yet another exemplar of Steinsmarian breeding, standing half a hand length over Rarity, with bright blue eyes that swept over the table’s two occupants from behind honeyed blonde locks. Next to her, Stacey could have been her twin.

A quick overview was given, introductions made, and then Karen waved Sunset away. When she remained next to the table, a scathing glower was sent at her.

“You are dismissed, sister.”

The word ‘sister’ was taught on Karen’s tongue, pulled as if it were a mild slur when applied to Sunset.

Her eyes darted across the table, though not in an effort to seek allies, but to gather where she stood with the others. Stacey seemed bored and disinterested. Rarity had a pinched expression, and was on the verge of ordering Sunset to leave. Flash—

“I’d prefer it if she stayed,” he said, leaning back as a servitor brought his food. “I know her and her squad, so it makes sense for them to be the liaisons between us.”

“Fine,” it was Stacey who spoke, waving Sunset to stand near Rarity.

The next few hours were mostly boring as details were hashed out and Flash presented his case. The heads of the Sororitas’ progena took some convincing, and in the end it was Rarity who swung the decision on whether to attempt Flash’s plan or not.

“I just don’t see how we can cross twelve miles of mutant controlled territory unseen,” Stacey was clicking her tongue and staring intently at the maps. From the way her eyes darted and the pinch of her brow, it was clear she didn’t think of this as much of a problem, and more as an opportunity.

“The mutants are not an issue,” Karen snapped. “I’m far more concerned about that kilguar lair. That is dangerously close to our objective.”

“We’ll need more bodies if we do this,” Stacey concluded, confirming Sunset’s suspicions. “And think of the Deeds we’ll earn.”

“Darlings,” Rarity shook her head as the other two progena broke down into a spat of bickering. “We can’t look at this just from deeds and what-have-you, but as a test placed before us by the Emperor.” Sceptical looks were sent at her, and she pushed ahead. “Whether He guided this knowledge or not, it is an opportunity that can’t be neglected. The Emperor will protect us if it is His wish for this vault to be uncovered. And if not, we know what will happen.”

Sunset frowned. She hated the abdication of responsibility, even if it was an argument she’d use to get the progena to do what she wanted.

“We are not significant enough for Him to get involved to any degree,” Karen snorted, her arms crossed.

“Maybe, maybe not, darlings. Your classes may have yet to draw His gaze. But the Sisters seem to believe that my class, at least, has been protected by Him, otherwise we’d have all died with our world.”

Karen and Stacey both tensed, the former almost vibrating with anger and having to hold herself from leaping across the table. It took considerable effort on Sunset’s part to keep her smile hidden.

“Such a frivolous attitude towards His blessings will lead to all your deaths.”

“That is for Him to decide,” Rarity responded with such a pleasant smile that somehow oozed contempt that Sunset felt her respect grow a little more.

Though livid, Karen agreed on this point, at least, and it was decided that they would investigate the archeo-tech site. This set in motion the true planning, and it became an impromptu war-council. Since it was a lull between lunch and supper, the dining hall didn’t need much clearing. Sunset was sent off to hand deliver orders to the other squad leaders of Class Three, and then see about rounding up some of the lower class children. They were going to need workers to excavate the site, after all.

A small part of her hoped that they wouldn’t also just be used as fodder. Grist for the ambitions of the progena and nobles. There was a twinge of annoyance; at herself, and at the galaxy.

Why should she care? She didn’t care. It didn’t matter what happened to the other children. It hardly mattered what happened to her squadmates, so long as it served her own ambitions.

Tormenting these thoughts, pulling at them, dissecting them, she was only minutely aware of her surroundings. A chill crawled with clammy fingers up her spine, warning her of dangers she was otherwise ignoring in her semi-obliviousness. She stopped and twisted around, hands reflexively dropping into a guard. There was no one behind her, or with her at all in the corridor. Just the skittering metal feet echoing from within the walls. Snorting at allowing herself to become distracted by such meaningless thoughts, she turned back, and almost walked right into Twilight as went around a corner, the other girl bent over and almost half-way into an open panel.

“Hey!” Twilight shot out of the hole, hands darting behind her back.

Guilt burned across Twilight’s cheeks, and she shuffled her feet nervously. Next to her, wires, tubing filled with a pulsating blue fluid, and a diagnostic-auspex cogitator filled the hole. Several had been pulled loose or obviously tampered with to some degree.

Crossing her arms, Sunset demanded, “What are you doing?”

“What? This? Throne! Nothing!” Twilight’s eyes darted between ceiling and floor.

“Uh huh…” Sunset’s look was utterly glacial. Pinching the bridge of her nose and releasing a deep breath, she shook her head. She thought she’d gotten through to Twilight. “Look, could you at least do this where some random kid, or worse, a member of one of the other progena classes, won’t see you?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, that makes sense,” Twilight tapped her chin, gazing into the hole deep in thought. “I have something to show you, though.”

“I’m really busy, actually. Have you seen Fluttershy or Rainbow before you started doing this?”

“Not since breakfast and devotions.” Twilight leaned in closer to the hole and jabbed her finger at the cogitator. “Listen, this is more important—”

“Is it something that could get us both labelled as tech heretics?”

“Um… Maybe?”

“Then keep it to yourself. Put that panel back, and, for the Emperor’s sake, as well as yours and mine, don’t let me catch you doing this again.”

“But—”

“No. No ‘buts, and, or ifs’; just do as I say. This could get us in lethal levels of trouble, not just a whipping.”

Crestfallen, Twilight nodded her head a couple times. “Oh. Okay.”

Sunset was almost positive Twilight wasn’t going to listen to her, and within the space of a few hours be poking around some part of the ship she had no place going.

“Am I going to have to get Applejack to watch over you to make sure this doesn’t happen again?”

“What? No! I’ve satisfied my curiosity. Honest.” There was a sweet innocence to Twilight’s smile, almost cherubic in nature.

Sunset was far from foolish enough to believe Twilight, and the first thing she did when she next saw Applejack was to set her onto baby-sitting Twilight duty. It was a good thing she did as she became far too busy to keep an eye on the troublesome member of her squad. There were planning and strategy meetings among the progena superiors, devotions, requisitioning her squad’s supplies, and a hundred other tasks to accomplish in the few weeks before they reached Steinsanne. At least her class was spared recruiting the general Steinsmar children for the task of serving as manual labour and ‘fodder’. As outsiders, it was felt that they would just cause misunderstandings, to which even Rarity didn’t argue. In all honesty, it was a duty that Class Three was more than willing to leave to their peers. It gave them more time for more important matters, like catching up their physical and mental training.

As for the kit Sunset selected, she was rather limited by the constraints of resources she was permitted to use. While, technically, she was granted a rather large stipend with which to ‘purchase’ materials for her squad, she also knew her choices would be scrutinised. It was yet another little test, this time of her managerial skills.

In the end she got flak vests, helmets, rebreathers, and auto-guns for everyone. A medicea kit was given to Fluttershy, Twilight a ground penetrating auspex, with Applejack getting demolition charges. Rations and other essentials were spread throughout, weighted a bit more towards Sunset and Rainbow, since they had no specialised gear. There was little chance of there being any food to scrounge on the surface of such a blighted world. Briefly she considered getting a chainsword for herself and Rainbow, but decided it was better to just go with standard Guard issue combat knives.

With only a few days left to go, Sunset was approached by a grim faced Applejack.

“I caught her trying to sneak into some sort of access space beneath her room. I don’t think it was the first time, either,” Applejack said, hitching her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of their rooms.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Sunset released a low groan. “Okay. Just, do your best.”

“Shouldn’t the Magos, or some Tech Priest have done something about her by now? I ain’t no expert on such things, but they gotta know she’s poking her nose in places she ain’t got no place going.”

“I suspect that they figure the planet will sort it out for them, one way or another. And if she does come back, they can deal with it then.”

“That’s another thing; you sure about this plan? About going to some tech vault?”

“Suspected tech-vault,” Sunset corrected, “And yes. We need this more than any other class. They just have to avoid making fools of themselves, but we have to prove our worth. If not, what do you think Drill Abbess Maria will do to us when we return?”

Applejack cringed and looked at the ceiling. “Wonder if this is what Granny meant when she said that the Emperor gives us all our trials. Thought seeing her and—” Her thought constricted in a powerful surge of tension. When it passed there was a hardness to Applejack’s expression. “Well, you ain’t gotta worry about me, Sunset. I’ll make sure we get through this, and that Twilight keeps her nose out of places it don’t belong.”

Sunset nodded and saluted with an aquila before they parted ways.

A few more days passed, and all too soon Mother neared their destination.

Everyone gathered in the large, central dome to see the planet as it came into better view. The previous morning Mother had spun around to begin a deceleration burn, and now was coasting along at an almost sluggish rate. Klaxons sounded and reflexively everyone activated their boots and clung to railings as the ship began another burn followed by a gentle turn to put her into orbit.

Sunset wasn’t the only one holding her breath.

The first thing that came into view was the mighty battle platforms of the Steinsmarines. These buttressed fortresses served as both watchmen over Steinsanne, and as home, training grounds, and monasteries. With them were the chapter’s battlebarges and support craft. As yet unmarred by the touch of war, these new vessels shone brilliantly. They took up flanking positions around Mother and escorted her to her orbit.

Behind the small fleet, wrapped in an infernal, threadbare cloak of warp storms, Steinsanne emerged like a desiccated wraith. She was in every aspect a hellish mirror to Steinsmar's glorious perfection. Echoes of a great spatial storm lit internally by crackles of sickly green lightning rippled across the bleak grey surface. The storms clung to the skeletal remnants of hive cities that thrust towards the sky like rusted fingertips. Dry ocean beds stretched across much of the equatorial band, and thick glacial caps clung with desperate claws to the poles. A thick scar cut across mountain ranges and through two ruined hive cities leaving a smooth, melted track where some ancient orbital weapon had devastated the planet’s surface.

Once home to thronging billions, now ghoulish remnants roamed that blighted landscape, darting from shadow to shadow among the tainted scraps discarded by Steinsmar. Abandoned to madness, left to fester and wallow in the wastes, they survived off the meagerest morsels they could claw into deformed mouths framed by broken teeth. They were not cultists. They were no longer anything resembling human, but mutated wretches, savage and irredeemable.

And they were the least of the monsters waiting.

Geneforged monstrosities teemed down on that seemingly lifeless rock. Everything was deadly. The insects were swollen to the size of landraiders, their mandibles dripping with viscous toxins. Twin-headed birds that could drag a Valkyrie from the sky with steel ripping talons skimmed along the edges of the warp storms. Forests of ravenous vines sprouted in the dry oceanbeds, secreting fluids that dissolve all other organic matter. To say nothing of the sinkholes, lakes of quicksand, or dust storms that would tear through ceramite armour and reduce a man to nothing in seconds.

It truly was a Deathworld.

"And they expect us to survive on that?" Rainbow demanded, gesturing out of the window with a frustrated wave. There was an excited glint to her eyes, and the corner of her mouth was pulled into a taught smile.

"More than that," Sunset felt a shiver roll up her spine. "We have to thrive."

A final, mournful klaxon rang through the ship, and then Mother said, “All passengers to disembarkation stations. Welcome to Steinsanne. Please, enjoy your stay.”

Author's Note

Sorry this chapter took so long to write. I've been a combination of depressed, anxious, and throwing myself into games. When I did write I spent a lot of time trying to plan out what I wanted to happen on the planet so I could properly set down the necessary bits of foreshadowing. As such I've got tiny little snippets of the subsequent chapters of a few paragraphs each to serve as guideposts. This will not speed up my writing any measurable factor, if we're being honest.

There is a lot I'd like to talk about in regards to this chapter, but I think it is better if I just field your questions down in the comments. I'm really curious to see what people think is important or what catches their attention.

Operation 12: Summer Camp, Part One

Sunset Shimmer; Sister of Battle
By Tundara

Operation 12

Fyre Fox was the first to die.

They’d been set down in an expansive fortress that served as the true start to Summer Camp. As dropships plied to and fro, the children gathered, shouting, waving and in some cases using painted placards to organize on the chaotic field. Over them loomed boxy towers topped by Hellcannons, even larger versions of the Hellguns a few of the auxiliaries of the Adeptus Astartes wore as they patrolled the thick walls.

In the frantic mess that was tens of thousands of children being disgorged it was inevitable that there’d be groups left behind. The ad-hoc army did its best to gather together on the northern outskirts of the fortress before moving out. As they did the cannons screamed, and a line of hidden artillery barked. To the north a ridgeline was consumed by a rolling inferno. It was a stark reminder that even so close to the fortress they were not safe on this planet.

For most the weight of their gear was uncomfortable and new in how heavy it was on their shoulders, and how sapping it was in the clammy, chill atmosphere. Everyone present had done some level of practice before being sent to camp, but none of the civilians matched the strict training the progena had received in the schola under the guidance of the Sisters.

As earlier decided, Class Three was given the most dangerous task of being the forward scouts.

And then for the first few hours they encountered nothing.

The dangerous lulling of a false sense of security began to filter through the army, and even into the scouts.

Fyre Fox’s squad was far ahead of the main body of the childrens’ army when it encountered a nest of flesh stripping carno-ants. The size of a small dog each, they swarmed towards the small cluster of warm bodies with mandibles clacking in the throws of voracious hunger. To her credit, Lyra ordered her squad to retreat without any hesitation and to skirt the main body of the self-proclaimed army, rather than lead the ravenous swarm towards the other children.

They ducked and fired in good order, each covering the other as they withdrew so there was a continual fire, just as they’d been taught. The swarm poured towards the girls unconcerned by a few losses.

Fyre Fox was caught when Zesty stumbled. As she yanked her friend up, three of the mutated ants tore large chunks out of her thigh and calf. Paralytic venom flowed into the wounds and she collapsed. Zesty and Lyra blew the heads off the ants and Derpy hurled her squadmate over her shoulders. Strongest in her squad, Derpy dashed with the much smaller girl across the broken ground, ducking and weaving around jagged edged boulders to reach the nearest medicea while Lyra, Bonbon, and Zesty eventually lost the swarm. By the time Derpy dropped Fyre Fox off in front of Fluttershy, the poor girl was dead, her heart stopped by the venom.

The army didn’t take time to mourn its first loss. All that was done was Fyre Fox was stripped of her gear, her hands laid over her in the aquila, and a few rocks placed over her in a nominal effort to keep scavengers from desecrating her body.

Resolve unshaken, they marched onward in neat files, an instinctive sense making them match the footfalls of the person in front of them as if they were in a minefield. Three thousand children between the ages of twelve and fourteen, packs overburdened with supplies, and autoguns held tight in their arms. Classes One and Three were at the head of the column, closely followed by the self-styled elites of the Alpha Alpha Capricorns and their allied fraternities. Behind came the vast bulk of children that they’d managed to coerce, bribe, or tempt into the expedition. At the rear was Class Two, corralling and keeping the stragglers moving forward.

It was slow going, slower than the meetings had hoped, though not as bad as that feared. Their clothes stuck to them in the hot, fetid air, sapping their strength. Sunset was constantly wiping sweat from her brow. Ahead of her, the rocky terrain was dotted by lumpy hills that hid sharp drops into former buildings through cracked rooves buried by thousands of years of dirt carried on the harsh winds. A sprawling sub-urban area was buried beneath their feet and they had to take care not to fall into the hidden ruins.

Pitfalls were far from the most dangerous aspects. In the dark holes things shifted, moved, and in the grey light that occasionally slanted through the dark skies there were little glints off hungry teeth.

The scouts managed to mark most of these dangers and steer the army through a combination of extreme luck and skill.

Or, at least, that was Sunset’s hope, as after Fyre Fox class three suffered no losses, or any real injuries the rest of the first day. Skill, however, seemed far fetched. Despite their months of training, a pall hanged over the progena of class three. No one spoke about it, but so quickly losing Fyre shook them to their collective core.

Rainbow took it the hardest, her jawline becoming a stern line as she roamed out ahead of the rest of the squad. Her autogun was tucked tight against her side, and she moved like a blur from cover to cover, head low and bright eyes scanning the horizon and crevices alike with equal intensity.

Another dozen children were picked off over the remainder of the first day. Something snagged a young boy from a southern farming district and dragged him into a hole, his screams ending in the crunching of bones and squelching of viscera as he was devoured. Identical twin girls fell through the roof of a parking garage, and as a rope was being lowered to them they were decapitated. The boy that had been lowering the rope was then hit in the face by one of the girl’s skulls, its skin having been already peeled off. He was hit so hard his neck was broken. No one wanted to go retrieve his body, and more importantly, his kit, too afraid of what might be lurking in the dark.

Sleep was hard to come by that night.

They bivouacked in a wide canyon of sorts formed by ridges of former apartments crushed by thousands of years of sediment. Somewhere underfoot was an ancient highway. Occasionally a bone could be found, heavily ossified and weathered. The bones were too small to have belonged to adults.

Other than for a brief period just before dusk to warm their meals, fires were banned. Tents were set up, watches decided, and the children’s army settled in for their first night on Steinsanne.

“I hate this place,” Rainbow whispered at Sunset’s elbow during their squads turn to sit watch.

They were atop one of the hills, peering out into a green tinted night through auspex goggles. To the south, where the remainder of the other tens of thousands of children deposited by mother were, the night was lit by the staccato flashes of gunfire. In the still night air the sounds of their screams could be barely discerned at the periphery of perception.

Sunet had been trying to fan herself by flapping the front of her tunic. She stopped, arched a brow, and silently asked, ‘What did you expect? This planet is classified as a Death World.’

“I mean Stiensmar, this system, the schola; everything since Equis fell,” Rainbow Clarified.

A little taken aback, and at a loss for what to say, Sunset hissed in a bare whisper, “This isn’t the time for this. Who knows what could be out there hearing us right now.”

Rainbow scowled, nodded, and nothing more was said that night. In the distance they discerned movement a couple times. What was impossible to tell, only that the large camp was being circled by something. After a few hours they were relieved by Squad Fleur and were able to crawl into their sleeping bags.

Rest was impossible to come by. It was even hotter in her tent, the humidity collecting on the thin membrane and running down the sides. She didn’t want to be in her sleeping bag, and instead lay atop in her full combat kit. Just in case.

Next to her, somehow, Twilight was snoring. Sunset’s tuned her sensitive ears to the slightest noise in case of an attack, and blocked out the noise of her tent-mate. In the dark she could make out the breaths of the girls in nearby tents, the wind coming down the nearby mountains, and the low grinding of her teeth.

She almost started to wish that the stillness would be broken, that the monsters in the dark would just get it over with and the dreadful anticipation could end.

But the silence remained.

Morning came, and with it the realization that no one had been lost in the night to monstrous infiltrators.

This was almost more disconcerting.

“No attacks at all… Throne, preserve us, but that doesn’t feel right,” Rarity commented at the general meeting of the various leaders of the impromptu army.

Stiff nods were made around the command tent. At Rarity’s elbow, Sunset noted how hollow the eyes were of everyone, and wondered if she looked the same. And they were only approaching the start of their second day. Reality had already beaten the dreams of grandeur from most around the command tent. Flash retained his grin, and there were a few others who’d always been stern rather than jovial.

After consulting their maps, the order of march was decided, and a quick meal eaten, then camp was broken.

Over the course of the second day no one died. There were some injuries and near calls, but not a single death. None.

A squad from Class One came across tracks made by boots at the edge of the former suburbs of the hive city. It was hard to tell how many had passed. One dozen, two dozen, or even a hundred individuals could have made the well worn track. The ‘Camp Counselors’ from the Imperial Guard that maintained the ‘Summer Camps’ never ventured outside the fortresses used as landing sites. Other than the children, the only other people—if one could even call them that—out on the plains next to the mountains were the mutant castoffs of Steinsmar, and as such the least threat on the planet.

Further on and it was Rarity’s squad that encountered a partially rotted carcass of some massive snake. It was over forty feet long, and covered in scales hard as ceramite, and thick as Sunset’s fist. Nine milky eyes stared at the girls as they approached, its mouth hanging open to reveal fangs as long as Rarity was tall. Chunks had been torn from the body by scavengers, but what had killed it was a single, crushing bite that had turned the back of the snake’s skull into powder. A few of the braver kids pried off a scale, but most gave the body a wide berth.

Towards the afternoon Sunset’s squad came across what at first glance seemed to be a small lake. The surface was a pasty, ugly brackish green-grey. Sunset curled her nose, a thick smell like burnt pea soup cloying in her sinuses. Cautiously she moved towards the edge of the lake, her autogun raised to her shoulder and pointed at the surface. Just below the surface was movement, and it was only when she was close enough to reach out and touch the lake that she noticed that it wasn’t water, or any liquid, but a squirming mass of thin vines covered in a slime. Several feet from shore a large bubble expanded, and then popped, releasing a cloud of thick gasses.

Quickly they backed away and another detour was marked.

Everyone knew that their good fortune was beyond strange.

A clammy dread clung to the back their necks. Every shadow was filled with unspeakable menace, the abomination that would break this blessed streak ready to pounce. Yet, when light was shone on these dark places all that was revealed were fresh signs that danger had been a hair’s width away, and for some inexplicable reason had skulked into even darker regions.

Some of the more nervous kids fired their autoguns into these shadows, their hands trembling with dread so much that the rounds scattered and ricocheted in wild abandon.

Sunset only heard the sounds of distant gunfire. Dropping to a knee she swept her gun over the partially broken, desolate landscape. Applejack appeared beside her, gun also at the ready and her jaw flexing.

Bodies taught, breaths clutched in their throats, they waited, watched, and when nothing else happened, Sunset keyed her small vox bead.

“Castle, Sunset lead; what’s going on back there?”

A few moments of silence, and then Rarity’s voice crackled over the vox. “Sunset lead, Rarity lead; Just jumpy children—who should know better—wasting ammunition. We’re fine here.”

Sunset had the distinct impression that Rarity had been talking more to whoever had fired.

Face twitching with irritation, Sunset acknowledged and resumed scouting.

She’d gone less then a dozen steps when it was her turn to almost panic. They were at the bend where they would go up the valley towards the archeo-vault, and Sunset was still looking over her shoulder towards the gunfire. She had to come to a sharp halt as she almost walked into a giant, decapitated metal head. Her heart jumped into her throat and her gun flew up, finger a coiled spring on the trigger.

Face plate torn partially open into a jagged grin, the head of an Imperial knight blocked their path. The paints that had marked the knight’s house had long been scoured away. A few hundred feet away, propped up against the hillside, was the knight’s body, armour torn asunder and shattered legs bent at incongruous angles. The right arm, which had housed a thermal cannon, lay several yards away from the main body where it had been hurled aside by whatever had eviscerated the venerable knight. Once a massive taloned fist that had crackled with thunderous energies, only a mauled wreck remained of the other arm. Everywhere armour was peeled and torn, like a whirlwind of razor blades had obliterated the titan.

In its prime the knight would have lorded over the battlefield, a monstrous engine of war towering over the battlefield. Few would have been its equal, either in the Imperium or without. Under its feet its enemies would have been ground into grist, and its holy armaments would burn whole battalions into cinders. Yet, there it lay. A rotting carcass of metal, hoses and other components strewn about like the innards from a cow that had been gutted by a lion.

Sunset’s mouth was dry as further along the valley more remains could be spotted. Another knight, and scattered about their armiger escorts. Some were partially buried by dirt, their limbs and bodies thrusting from the ground like revenants seeking unlife.

“Holy Throne,” someone whispered. Someone else fell to their knees, gun tumbling to the ground at their side.

“Why did they abandon them?” The question came from Twilight, a nervous, almost manic edge to her voice. “The techpriests should have retrieved such precious artifacts! Why have they been discarded?”

There was a quaver of uncertainty in Applejack’s voice as she replied, “Ain’t a question any of us can answer, sugarcube. Supposing I had to guess; they tried and couldn’t.”

Applejack pointed to a half fallen scaffolding near the second knight. Not far away was a bulky transport with the cab sheared off. Claw marks trailed along the remaining portion of the vehicle’s body.

“Kilguar,” Rainbow hissed, and immediately scanned the nearby hilltops.

“Um, exactly how b-big are they supposed to be?” Fluttershy shifted from foot to foot, her knuckles white on her medicea bag.

“Too big,” Sunset muttered as she glanced again over the carnage.

It had been hundreds of years since the mechanicus’ previous attempt to reach the archeo-vault, yet other than some weathering and a little built up wind-blown dirt, the wrecks could have been from the previous day. It was almost as if they were on display. A field of trophies that served as warnings; enter here and perish.

Marking that they’d passed with a piece of chalk, Sunset squad slowly made their way into the valley.

An eirie silence descended over the squad. There wasn’t even the sound of the wind anymore. Every step was perversely loud, like they were atop storm clouds and the weight of their feet caused thunder.

Sunset’s nerves were fraying. She could feel them growing ratty at the edges. Her teeth itched, and the skin of her back continually crawled.

Just behind her, Twilight and Fluttershy were both pale ghosts, but to their credit, their guns hardly shook.

Even Rainbow was nervous, eyes darting and a furtive pinch to her brow as she zig-zagged at the front of their formation.

Only Applejack seemed unaffected, her gun resting nonchalantly across her shoulders.

The sun dipped behind the mountains, and darkness enveloped the valley in a sudden rush. All except an oasis of light that poured forth from a knock in the northern valley where the mountain had been partially removed to create perfectly smooth cliffs. Floodlights illuminated a large, empty patch of pavement where vehicles would have parked before the planet’s demise. On the left side of the parking lot was a tall square building of mirrored glass, while on the far right side were three tall silos, conveyor belts connecting them to each other and leading into the mountain. Between the square building and silos was a long warehouse abutting the deepest part of the divet. A dozen large doors covered its face where transports would have been loaded or unloaded. Several feet in front of Sunset was a large sign, ancient script curled in bold lettering above the image of a swooping comet.

Everything was perversely preserved. The buildings looked almost new. There wasn’t even the touch of dirt in the crevices of the sign.

Kneeling down next to the sign, Sunset keyed her vox.

“Castle, Sunset lead; we’ve reached the site. Over.”

There was a pause, and then, “Acknowledged.”

“Castle, Spitfire lead; we see them and you. You’re about six hundred meters behind Sunset squad. Over.”

“Understood. Sunset Squad, see if you can get closer. Over.”

Sunset keyed her vox twice to signal she heard and understood her orders, and then nodded to the rest of her squad.

They descended an at first gentle embankment that turned into a steep incline at the edge of the parking lot. At the bottom they swept their weapons over the wide, empty ground between them and the complex proper. Other than the bright lamps there was absolutely nothing. There weren’t even loose stones on the roughly textured asphalt.

“Emperor preserve us,” Applejack whispered.

They waited an excruciating minute to see if there was any response to their intrusion, and when nothing happened they began to dart across the empty lot. Out of the corners of her eyes Sunset noted other squads begin to arrive, sliding down the slopes much like she’d done. A few spun about at the top of the slopes to peer back the way they’d come.

Sunset and her squad reached the square building at the same time as Spitfire and Fleur squads. Spitfire squad covered the left side of the building, while Fleur squad stretched over the ground and stared at the warehouse abutting the cliff. Further off three more squads had reached the silos, but Sunset couldn’t tell which ones at that distance.

Staying low and hugging the walls, Sunset had Rainbow lead the way to the set of simple glass doors.

Concern tap-tap-tapped at the back of her skull, the voice in her head roaring with warnings that something was very wrong. On the mirror sheen of the glass, her reflection was pensive and harrow eyed. Once they were stacked up at the double doors, Rainbow reached towards the simple lever handles.

“Stop.” Sunset hissed the words through gritted teeth. “We’re pulling back for now.”

“Why? We’re here and have the element of surprise.” Rainbow interjected softly, hand resting on the door handle.

“Something is off.” Sunset wished she had a better explanation, but her guts were roiling with trepidation that she couldn’t parse. She glanced around again, searching for the cause beyond the unnatural state of the site. Warnings unable to be articulated were blaring against the back of her skull.

Yet, if they hesitated…

She quickly glanced to the ridgeline where now more and more of the vanguard elements of the self-styled army were beginning to appear. If not her squad, then another would take the glory. Spitfire was looking her way, and so was Fleur.

Sunset wetted her lips, and nodded to Rainbow. “Let’s go. The Emperor is with us.”

Rainbow returned the nod, and with a firm grip opened the door. Guns raised, they filed into the spacious main atrium. Behind them came squads Lyra and Kiwi.

From their vantage high overhead, giant auspex arrays attached to orbital platforms swept over the area allotted to that year’s ‘Summer Camp’. Connected to the auspex servitors every child wore, they collected enormous sums of data, as well as wide swaths of radioscopic and visible spectrum data. All the data was correlated and parsed by the cogitators before being further divined for clarity by hunchbacked augur auxiliaries. These augurs took note of the large detachment that broke off from the main body and made its way up the valley. Artificial, unblinking eyes whirred as they stared at their screens.

“Curious.” Spoke one of the data augurs.

“Indeed.” Responded his partner.

From the back of the chamber a bulky form shifted on his seat. Metal groaned as he stood, and the deck plates shook with every step as he emerged from the shadows that had been engulfing his impressive bulk. Servomotors whirred and clicked within ancient, deep maroon power armour as he approached the augurs. He was an Astartes, one of the Emperor of Mankind’s avenging angels, and it was his duty that cycle to watch over the children. Just over eight feet tall, he was a giant among the hunched augurs.

“Report.” The astarte’s voice held an electric crackle as it came through his helmet’s vox projector. Ruby tinted lenses swept over the two augurs that had been watching the detachment.

Raising a gnarled finger to point at its screen the first augur said, “My lord, there is a large number of the children that have reached the perimeter of site Delta Hexagon.”

The giant stared at the screens and their topographic displays overlaid with little dots for the Steinsmarian children and known threats in the region. Blue represented the children, while the threats were in a grim red. There were far more red dots than blue. This was especially true in the mountains where a sizable chunk of blue dots had gathered. A ways, perhaps a day or two, behind the first group there was a larger, second contingent. All told, almost seven thousand children were heading into the valley, with a possibility of even more to follow. Human children were like servitors, after all. So keen on blindly following even implied orders.

“Casualties have been extraordinarily light among the vanguard. The auspex network reported fewer than a dozen losses over the march.” The augur reported, a skeletally thin finger tapping the cluster of first dots.

There was no response to this statement from the astartes. None was needed. The other augurs shot brief glances at their partners. No one said it, but all knew that something of strange importance had happened or was happening on the planet.

Wetting his lips, the augur continued, dragging his finger over the monitor to the other cluster of dots. “The second has been experiencing standard casualty rates. A third of their numbers have already been depleted, and a number of commendations for bravery, sacrifice, or astute tactical acumen have been earned. Five potential aspirants have been marked, my lord.”

Straightening, the giant said, “Keep an eye on how it develops,” turned, and resumed his post.

There might be some good aspirants to come out of this year's trials.

Or, it might be a thin group of shattered survivors.

Author's Note

I have so much I want to share, but so little at the same time.

I'm taking my time with these chapters, not rushing things and writing as my muse whispers in my ear.

Operation 13: Summer Camp, Part Two

Sunset Shimmer; Sister of Battle
By Tundara

Operation 13

A wave of cool, filtered air wafted over Sunset as she followed Rainbow into what could have been a typical atrium of a perfectly normal office building in Manehatten. A simple fountain with burbling clear water dominated the middle of a wide, open space overlooked by three of the building’s six floors in a general ‘U’ shape. Faux wood paneling lined walls dotted with vibrant posters for various products the company produced. Several seemed to be for women in various black and white frilly outfits, some looking coy, others with wide smiles, but all in an oddly exaggerated pose of doing housework that showed off their long legs, or the swooping curve of their backsides while they looked coyly over their shoulders. A couple of posters were for a sleek, unknown patterned gun that could have been a lasgun, but seemed a bit fragile to Sunset’s eye. There was a poster with explosions behind a bulky, shoulder mounted heavy weapon with two rows of glowing nodules. Further along there was a poster with a tank that was sleeker than any Imperial counterpart. And another was simply greyed out with a strip of ancient, foreign writing over a black and white silhouette of a man in some sort of power armour.

All of this would have been fine… If they’d been in some strange futuresque Manehatten.

The trouble lay in the itty bitty fact that they were on a Deathworld, and no one had been in the building in over ten thousand years.

“How?” The word slipped from the lips of someone from Kiwi squad.

“This is an archeotech vault. Don’t think about it,” Sunset warned, doing her best to take her own advice.

Her teeth itched and she couldn’t help but feel that they were being watched. The sensation was almost overpowering in its intensity. Like a bony finger digging into the base of her skull that she’d couldn’t escape.

As with Mother, a woman spoke over hidden vox casters, but the ancient words were nothing more than melodic gibberish. The words came in a loop, over and over, an endless stream in a long since forgotten language.

They advanced deeper into the atrium, passing by a reception desk, and were joined by Spitfire and Fleur squads.

Tracing her gun across the three floors of open balconies, Kiwi glanced towards Spitfire, “Should we wait for orders to proceed deeper?”

Spitfire quickly shook her head. “Fan out and clear this place. Quicker we establish a foothold the better.”

Kiwi, Fleur, and Sunset all nodded and spread out with their squads. Spitfire’s squad hung back a little and used a light to flash signals to the approaching army.

Twilight at first didn’t move. She was transfixed by some sort of ancient cogitator that would have been used by the long turned to dust receptionists. Applejack gripped her shoulder and almost had to yank her back into position. Using hand gestures, Sunset signaled for her squad to head up the wide central staircase that led to the upper floors. Her boots clicked on the stone tiles, and the creaking of her leather straps seemed unusually loud.

The first door was exceptionally plain. and at Sunset’s nod, Rainbow threw open the door. A waft of stale air washed over Sunset as she led them inside.

On the other side was a typical office as would be found on a million different worlds in this reality, as they would in her original world. A wood desk. Trays for paperwork. Motivational posters on the walls. Simple cabinets for paperwork that needed to be on hand. And a man behind the desk. With a large pistol in his hand pointed at his temple.

Sunset’s eyes flew open and she dropped to a knee, gun braced against her shoulder. Adrenalin spiked in a warm flush through limbs and brain. Behind her the already somewhat sluggish motions of her squadmates crawled to even slower depths. She could feel the heavy thumps of her heart in her chest. The movement of her finger down to the trigger of her gun felt almost casual.

But the man didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. He couldn’t, as parts of his brains were floating in a pinkish mist around cracked fragments of skull hovering just above his head. His whole left side had rotted away, only ossified bones remaining where once had hung muscle and flesh. A partially shriveled and milky eye hung in the otherwise empty socket. And then his eyes moved. Grotesquely, impossibly, his eyes fixated on Rainbow Dash and then twitched to Sunset.

“What in the Emperor’s—”

“Stop!” Sunset blurted.

The itching in her teeth was almost unbearable. It was as if they wanted to jump out of her skull and run away. Or she was sucking on a lightning cloud.

“No one move a muscle. Not one inch!”

Very carefully she reached up and keyed her vox bead.

“Castle, Sunset Lead; We’ve encountered a phenomenon. Over.”

The response, when it came, warbled from her vox like she was underwater, words stretched and distorted into a gibbering bubble.

“Say again, Castle?”

Nothing.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sunset saw Rainbow mouth, ‘Comms’ out?’ to Applejack, who shrugged in response. Slowly Sunset raised her hand and waved for everyone to back out of the room. Only Rainbow and Applejack had managed to make it more than a few steps past the door, and both had frozen on seeing the half-decayed man. They hardly needed Sunset’s order to retreat back out of the room, where Fluttershy and Twilight gave them puzzled looks, neither having yet seen the horror sitting behind the desk.

A cavalcade of possible actions rattled in Sunset’s head. From retreating out of the building, and advising the army to make the dangerous trek back to the landing site, to showing no fear in spite of the obvious presence of Chaos and boldly marching into the room. Between the two extremes were a range of other responses, with many variations there-of.

Sending Rainbow as a runner to relay that they’d encountered an active arcane phenomenon held the strongest sway. They’d then have to wait as Castle sent a response. Which itself would most likely be, ‘Duh. This is a Deathworld clouded by Warpstorms. Of course there is witchery and other foulness present. We all knew this was a possibility. Stop being a coward.’

Still there was a world of difference between suspecting you’d encounter an arcane phenomenon to having a many thousands of year old half-decayed/half-alive man right in front of you.

As Sunset took a couple seconds to think over her possibilities Twilight and Fluttershy both looked to see what had so spooked their squadmates.

Both had the same, instantaneous reactions; to enter the room. Rainbow caught Fluttershy by the shoulder, holding her childhood friend back. Twilight used the opportunity to slip between Fluttershy and the wall.

A hissed, “Wait!” went ignored.

Sunset held her breath. Twilight’s head snapped down to the floor, up to the ceiling, either side of the room, and then fixated on the man.

“Curious,” was all Twilight said.

“Throne’s sake, Twilight, get back here,” Applejack growled, her fingers tight on her autogun.

Fluttershy covered her mouth and trembled, while Rainbow fingered an aquila sigil hanging about her neck.

Sunset echoed their sentiments, adding, “That’s an order,” even though it was patently obvious.

Lost in her own head, Twilight didn’t heed them. Her gaze darted around. Floor, ceiling, floor, ceiling, walls, floor. Casually, she reached into her pocket. Pulled out a handful of dirt that had accumulated during the march. Keeping her hand close to her, Twilight threw the dirt out around her. Some sprayed across the formerly pristine carpet. Some became trapped, and floated there. Just like the bits of skull and brain tissue.

“Excellent!” Twilight chirped and started to make her way deeper into the room.

By this point Sunset’s mouth had fallen open and she was utterly enraptured by and terrified for Twilight. Memories of falling through the Warp, of the bulbous monstrosity that had tormented her, tortured her, killed her, and her subsequent escape left her paralyzed. She was gripped by dread for Twilight, and it held her in an unrelenting grasp to the spot.

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. She knew she had to get Twilight out of the room. But, her body refused to move.

Sliding carefully, Twilight pulled out another handful of dirt, cast it in front of her, and continued deeper into the room by shuffling a few steps to the side. She then ducked down and crawled forward before rolling onto her back, and threw a last smaller handful of dirt. Satisfied with the results, Twilight folded herself up so she was crouched beside the desk, and then reached up. With extreme delicacy she took hold of the gun and pulled it out of the skeletal hand. With a click and rattle, the arm crumbled as whatever force that had held the bones in place dissipated.

“Sorry,” Twilight said to the man. His eye had followed Twilight the entire time, and Sunset swore that she saw a glimmer of sorrow reflected in it. If Twilight noticed, she gave no indication. Twilight started to crouch back down. She stopped, tilted her head, and plucked something up that had been sitting obscured on the desk before she retraced her path.

Only once Twilight popped back up in front of her did Sunset remember she needed to breathe.

“Okay, I think that is everything in there.” Twilight’s grin was of pure delight and innocence. In her hands were the gun and a metal card.

Confused tears prickled in the corners of Sunset’s eyes. She wanted to laugh, sob, and scream simultaneously. Words failed her. Sunset decided she would give Twilight a very good, very, very long admonishment later. When they were safe and she could trust her emotions better. For the time being she simply closed the door, and used a red marker to place an Inquisitorial sigil as a warning.

“What’s that?” Rainbow asked Twilight, flicking a finger at the card. It was a plain, dulled silver colour with a black stripe down one side. On the other side in faded hand-written script were a series of numbers.

Twilight’s eyes twinkled. “A magnetic access card. My parents used them to enter the more secure parts of the administorum’s cogitators. At least, it looks the same. It’s very simple, old—”

“Fine, fine, I get it.” Rainbow turned away, and Twilight seemed to deflate a little.

“Why bother asking a question if you don’t want an answer?” Twilight whispered to herself as she twisted the ancient gun around in her hands and began to inspect its every detail.

They moved on and searched the next few rooms on their level. Doors were checked, breached, and when no dangers were found they moved on. Nothing as interesting or unnerving was discovered in the remaining rooms. They were all simple offices of the type used throughout the Imperium, aesthetics aside. Plain and uninteresting. Some had picture frames, the pictures faded blank with age. Same with posters one office had on a wall. The last had a pile of rust and brittle plastic where there’d been an office chair.

It was strange between what was preserved and what was decayed. There would be a simple mechanical stapler of the same sort used for years in Sunset’s Equestria next to a pile of fragments of something indiscernible.

She’d brushed her fingers against a poster, and it was as it crumbled to dust that realization struck her. “Personal stuff,” Sunset muttered. “Everything in here preserved is issued by their administorum.”

The bony finger at the base of her skull pressed harder, and the itch in her teeth doubled in intensity.

The separation between ‘personal’ and ‘provided’ seemed blurred as in one office the posters were fresh, crisp, as if placed just moments before the girls’ arrival. On them were images of dangling cats with ancient script underneath. Sunset rolled her eyes and continued on until they’d reached the end of the balcony and doubled back to the stairs.

Other squads had begun to return as well, all reporting the same sort of generic rooms as Sunset Squad had found. Except for Fleur Squad, who had encountered a phenomenon on the third floor. Fleur was even paler than usual, an accomplishment for the ivory skinned beauty, and Sublime’s grey eyes were pinpricks of terror as they relied their discovery.

In a boardroom of some sort hung the metallic skeleton of a person suspended in midair, arms crossed over silvery ribs and head leaning forward as if in prayer. Preserved skin stretched behind the skeleton, and on it were runes that shifted and moved as if trying to avoid being read. Within the ribs beat a still-living heart, and at its feet were coils of intestines and viscera. Obscenely, the girls had felt their own hearts fall into rhythm with the profane organ and their breaths had misted between clenched teeth. None of the girls dared enter the room and had sealed it with Inquisitorial scripts.

Spitfire, as the senior squad captain, took in what she heard from Fleur and Sunset squads.

She followed a growled oath with, “Kiwi squad, you secure this area and keep any non-progena out. There has to be a jammer somewhere nearby. Everyone else; spread out and eliminate it. The Emperor protects.”

“The Emperor protects,” they reflexively intoned.

Sunset found Spitfire’s reasoning to be fallacious. Why would there be a jammer present? The problem with their vox relays was more likely to do with the Warp incursions. But, so long as it gave her squad the opportunity to get ahead of the others it hardly mattered.

The itching in her teeth undiminished, Sunset took her squad towards the back of the building.

It wasn’t a large building, and clearly had been a combination of managerial and sales offices. The squads spread out. Fleur squad rechecked the unmarked rooms for anything missed in the initial sweep of the atrium, while Kiwi headed towards the upper levels. Sunset led her squad into narrow, plain corridors. Besides there being more of the posters from the atrium, it was horrendously boring. More so than even Mother’s utilitarian corridors.

She found herself yearning for the gothic stylings of the schola. For the leering skeletal sentries and the imposing statues set in alcoves every few feet. The high arched stone ceilings that echoed with distant boots and pious prayers. And the stained glass windows depicting the many campaigns the Sisters had prosecuted across a hundred worlds.

Passing a barren boardroom they came across a T intersection that lead towards the back of the building. On checking the corner Sunset began to smirk. Ahead of her, past display cabinets, a set of turnstiles, and at the end of a long, covered bridge were a set of grey, thick doors that had to lead outside the offices.

With vox communications being interfered there was no way but to send a runner to inform the other squads about what she’d found. A wicked grin pulled at Sunset’s face. She wasn’t going to wait while Rainbow ran to get the other squads. She wasn’t going to surrender to the itching in her teeth, or the bony finger that was digging ever deeper into her head. She would make certain that she was covered in accolades.

Slowly, carefully, they made their way along the corridor.

Sunset frowned as they neared the display cases. Inside of them were arms. All the right arm, from shoulder joint to hand, and plainly artificial.

The first arm was blocky, sort of unwieldy, and reminiscent of the Mechanicus’ appendages. A little more advanced was the next arm, and so on with the next. Each was progressively sleeker and more humanlike, while still clearly and obviously being mechanical. The final three were the most interesting. A large jump in quality separated them from the others.

Fine art compared to the primitive pieces that preceded them, they instantly drew everyone’s attention.

Porcelain, almost doll-like in appearance with slightly exaggerated joints, pearlescent ‘skin’, and a somehow delicate quality that still held aspects of the previous iterations showed the left arm to still be an evolution in design and capabilities. Long, spidery fingers curled inward over a soft, padded palm. It was menacing, almost inhuman, and yet beautiful, graceful, like a dancer mid performance.

Next to it was an arm that exuded military intent and power. Thicker, with sloped curves to deflect and hard edges, this arm was a dark grey with splotches of camouflage. The hand was curled into a fist, thick nodules on the knuckles and down the forearm in a double-line. It seemed ready to smash itself free from the glass prison and attack Sunset.

Furthest along, the final example exuded wealth, prestige, and ostentation. Baroque gold filigree of leaves and flowers delicately entwined had been worked along the edges of otherwise bare plates to create ornate contrasts. Little rubies studded joints and flowed along the seams. Beneath the golden exterior was a mesh of a black, fibrous muscle that served as the functional components.

What drew the eye the most, however, was an elegant fleur-de-lis etched onto the back of the hand. Great effort had been made in the detailing. A dozen rubies studded the delicate edges of the floral design alone, around which brocaded carvings curled. In the depths of the grooves glittered thin veins of black dust that highlighted the exquisite workmanship.

Sunset blinked, and rubbed her eyes to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. She wasn’t alone in seeing the design.

Applejack made the aquila over her chest, and exclaimed, “Throne preserve us; the mark of the saints?”

Twilight was drawn by the remark. She’d almost pressed her face against the glass, her face an ugly contortion of desire and greed. The gleam in her eyes left an unsettled knot in Sunset’s stomach more so than even the arms themselves. Unslinging her gun, Twilight swung the butt of her gun towards the glass.

Before it could connect, she was grabbed from either side by Applejack and Sunset.

“Whoa! Ain’t no time for that!”

“Have you gone mad?” Sunset snarled as she helped drag Twilight away. “First going after that gun, and now this? Have you lost your mind?”

“That’s why we’re here! To take back what has been hidden here. It’s why the Emperor sent us, protected us, and kept the monsters of the wastes away!” Twilight protested as she threw herself against the much stronger restraining arms.

“He protects those who deserve it. Look at this place. Really look at it! You think He has done this? That he left this place so perfectly preserved since the Dark Ages just for us?” The boney finger pressed into the back of Sunset’s skull retreated just a little. “Or, maybe, just maybe, there is something terrible at work here? Something in this place that keeps it preserved? That can keep a person alive while also being half dust, frozen in time like a bug in amber?”

Twilight blinked, her hand falling to the pistol strapped to her side. “Why would the arch-enemy keep an archeotech vault active and unplundered?”

The word ‘active’ sent a shiver down Sunset’s spine, and made that horrible, cold finger push deeper. Before she could examine why the simple word had such an effect there was a click and squeak of ungreased hinges. Sunset, Applejack, and Twilight all looked over to see Rainbow next to the display case, the glass in hand as she swung it open, the other still pinching a simple latch.

Noticing the trio’s incredulity, Rainbow snapped, “What? These things have to be easy to access for dusting.”

“But, not even locked?”

Rainbow just shrugged. She reached in to take the ornate arm, but was stopped by Sunset grabbing her wrist.

“It’s probably trapped then. They wouldn’t leave a piece of archeotech out in the open without any protection.”

“I th-think she already s-set the trap off then.” Fluttershy had come around and kneeled down next to the latch. Her finger trembled as she pointed to a tiny light that had been obscured by the lip of the case. It slowly blinked a deep, threatening red.

“Throne,” Sunset groaned and clutched a handful of her thick hair. That nothing else had happened was of tiny consolation. She wondered how many of the unobtrusive little lights they’d triggered elsewhere in the building.

“Maybe the trap was busted?” Rainbow suggested half-heartedly. She’d brought her gun back to her shoulder and warily watched for any sign of something coming to investigate the red light.

But nothing came. Nothing happened. There were no sounds. No signs of a response.

Nothing.

Just an eerie silence atop a gentle hum from the lights and distant ruffles of activity from the other squads that only Sunset could detect with her heightened hearing.

“That means I can take the arm, right?” Twilight’s eyes were huge and puppy-ish.

“Fine.” Sunset sighed. “That is why we are here.”

Twilight did a little giddy hop, and rapped her knuckles together in a paroxysm of joy. Delight shone from her face in a radiant glow. She grunted as she hefted the arm off its plinth. Twilight’s arms shook and her face went red as she staggered back. Her legs trembled and strained

“It’s heavy,” she sheepishly said.

With a tut and roll of her eyes, Applejack took the arm from Twilight, and immediately grunted herself.

“Emperor’s sake; it is heavy!” Amazement twisted through her voice as she slung the arm through the loops for her sleeping bag beneath her travelpack and cinched them tight.

“Anyone else feel like we’ve been a bit too lucky?” Rainbow asked.

“Throne, Rainbow, don’t put a hex on us” Applejack grumbled, her steely gaze unwavering as she stared down the covered bridge. After a slight pause she looked to Sunset. “Should we head back?”

It was more a suggestion than a question.

“That, um, might be a good idea,” Fluttershy muttered. The gun in her hands trembled as she twisted her head between the way ahead, and the way they’d just come. Quietly, Rainbow set her hand atop Fluttershy’s gun, and gave her a slight nod that calmed the nervous girl.

Sunset looked at the arm slung beneath Applejack’s pack, and imagined what glories awaited them further into the complex. She could sense this was only the tip of the iceberg of potential discoveries, that they’d barely scratched the surface of what lay hidden. She was loath to let others get ahead of her and make even more profound discoveries. That arm was just a display piece, afterall. She was on the cusp of greatness and glory, and it would claim it all.

“We’ll push on,” Sunset declared. “Who knows what else we’ll find deeper in the facility.”

Twilight’s happiness at getting the arm was paltry next to the glee that suffused her now. She jittered like a hound at the stretched end of a leash, barking to be released on the hunt. Applejack was ever stoic and shrugged, while Rainbow had a hint of a frown and Fluttershy shifted from foot to foot with a wandering gaze.

They left the remaining arms behind and crossed the covered bridge. Through the long windows they could see other squads and platoons of the children’s army exploring the compound.

Everywhere it was a sea of activity. No one was left to relax or laze about.

A large number had gathered next to the shipping and receiving doors to what was presumably the manufactorum. The large, rectangular building was far larger than the offices, with a dozen towering doors that were locked shut. It would take ten of the children standing on each others’ shoulders to reach the top of the doors, and each was just as wide. Without cogitator assistance to activate the thick hydraulic systems, it was impossible to open the doors.

Across the empty lot, a contingent of boys had begun to scale the mountain to reach the intakes for the trio of chemical silos. Hand over hand they went, the boys in the lead chiselling out better holds for those lower down. With them were a couple strong lads who had brought ropes, crampons, and other essentials. They hammered bolts and clips into wedges and then attached ropes that could be used to haul up heavier gear. A couple of the boys in their youthful energy misjudged their holds or over extended their reaches and slipped. With pitiable howls they plummeted to the unforgiving rocks where they writhed in agony. A third fell and smashed his brains across the ground. Undaunted by these losses, more boys clambered up the cliffs.

In the wide, open lot where ancient vehicles had parked in a time long since forgotten tents were erected. The inevitable wounded were brought to those with large red crosses for treatment by the medicea of Class Two. The boys who’d fallen from the cliffs were brought to these tents, and the medicea berated the ones who’d brought them, as a funerary pile was to be set up around the corner of the warehouse. There it would be out of sight. At least until the bodies piled up and over spilled the limited area.

At the top of the inclines to the parking lot defences were created. First were simple emplacements and spotting points, and then the children set about digging zig-zagging trenches and if they had time, bunkers eventually. Several hundred energetic children dug into the ground, dirt flung up to help make ramparts, and stones used to reinforce the nascent trenches’ sides.

Everyone could sense that their time was limited. That out in the gloom something was approaching, encircling the army, getting ready to snap its jaws on their throats. In the covered bridge, Sunset took note of the activity, and that it might distract her rivals as she covered herself in glory.

Her hopes were short lived as her exceptional hearing detected the muffled thumping of boots and clinking of gear as another squad approached. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed Fleur at the head of her squad. Close behind her was Kiwi, and to Sunset’s annoyance, Rarity.

With a quick flash of hand signals, Rarity ordered Sunset to hold position.

A twitch of frustration in the corner of her mouth, Sunset held up her fist just as they were about to reach the set of heavy blast doors separating the covered bridge from the tunnels set into the mountain.

Rarity smiled as she approached.

“I should have you all whipped for disobedience,” Rarity said, but her tone was light and amused. “Taking it upon yourselves to enter this place without even asking for confirmation? Throne preserve us all; I see why Drill Abbess Maria is so hard on our class. You’ve done well, darlings. Sister Karen was going to put us in charge of overseeing the camp and securing the perimeter. But, thanks to your efforts we’ve secured this building and entrance for our class, and instead she had to make Class Two stay behind to oversee the camp.”

As Rarity spoke, Spitfire squad and the slightly diminished Lyra squad had entered the covered bridge as well, followed closely by squads Cheerilee and Zap. They crammed together along the walls. Some peeked around the broad windows towards the activity below. Most were focused on Rarity or the heavy blast doors at the end of the bridge. Presumably the rest of Class Three were elsewhere in the offices.

Briefly, Rarity’s attention flicked to the arm hanging beneath Applejack’s pack. She then turned her attention to the heavy blast doors that barred any further progress.

“Well, Sunset, darling, your squad has the only one versed on machine spirits. Care to open these doors for us?”

Twilight didn’t even glance towards Sunset to get confirmation before she was at the ancient, odd cogitator that was little more than a numbered panel next to a slot. Twilight scratched her chin as she kneeled in front of it. From her pocket she pulled out the silver card she’d taken earlier.

Her brow pinched together, and she muttered, “No. They couldn’t have been that stupid…” Before she swiped it through the slot and then input the numbers that had been scrawled across the card.

Above the doors a green light began to glow and there was a loud click and buzz as locks were undone. Hidden gears began to grind. Above the door a red light began to pulse in time to a warning klaxon.

Everyone shared looks of pure incredulity.

“What kind of grox brained moron…” Rainbow asked the corridor at large.

There was a heavy thunk within the walls.

“The Emperor provides?” Twilight made a helpless shrug.

“Best not to question our good fortunes,” Sunset quietly chidded her squad.

Latches snapped open.

A few things happened all at once as the heavy security doors swung on well oiled pistons.

Overhead the fluorescent lights flickered, then died, and the gathered girls were cast into shadows. Through the opening portal came a blast of putrid, stale air that almost knocked the girls off their feet. Rot and decay mingled with the thicker smells of chemicals and industrial waste crawled into their sinuses and pooled in their mouths. All around Sunset resonated a mournful scream of a thousand voices raised in terror that seemed to emanate from the walls themselves. Twilight and Fluttershy both clapped their hands over their ears and ducked down. Sirens sounded out in the courtyard where the bulk of the children’s army still gathered, and there was a rumble beneath Sunset’s feet. Lights activated across the mountain side illuminating large communication dishes, and a reddish glow began to grow within the peak. At their necks the girls’ vox casters blasted with hundreds of voices requesting information or relaying orders in an indecipherable jumble. And then the children’s voices were silenced again, replaced by a deep, amused, thirsting laughter that slowly petered off.

And, lastly, the woollen texture in Sunset’s mouth vanished.

Pure dread knotted itself in Sunset’s gut.

As if to confirm her fears, a series of three klaxons rang through the building, followed by a man’s deep voice speaking ancient Steinsannian. The remaining lights in the building darkened and began to strobe. An eerie pall was cast over Class Three, and every shuddered and pressed a little closer to the other members of their squads as they wondered what monstrosities they had just awoken.

Doing her best to appear unaffected, Rarity nodded to the now open blast doors. “Well, girls, the Emperor has done His part. Best not to let Him down. Let us be slow, methodical, and most important, inspirational for the children.”

Sunset didn’t pay much attention to Rarity. She was far more focused on what could lay ahead. Weapons at the ready, she took her squad into the mountain. At the edge of her hearing she perceived a little tick-tick, like insects as they scrambled to escape the light.

In the distance there was a rattle and bang as the first of a series of access points were cut through the loading bay doors. A cheer went up across the army. At the forefront were Class One and members of the Nobles’ fraternities as they jostled and pushed their way inside.

They found a wide space filled with shelves stuffed with plasteel crates, barrels, boxes in heaping mounds, and along the far wall, tarps pulled tight over their frames, seven tanks. Twin barreled muzzles thrust outwards, the finish still gleaming despite the untold centuries sitting in the dark. Tarps were dragged aside, and the children’s celebrations grew. All could feel that this was the sort of discovery that would make them legendary, that their worth within the Catalogous would be extraordinary.

None thought to look up into the shadows of the rafters where tracks ran across the ceiling and from hooks hung hundreds of coffins.

Out in the rocky badlands clusters of shadows approached. They were hunched over and moved on malformed limbs. Their skin was pallid, with a dried parchment quality. Below bulbous foreheads were set unusually large eyes. These mutants seemed drawn to the once dormant archeotech vault. Rough tongues licked yellowed teeth in anticipation of the coming harvest.

And further off, in its lair high up in the mountains, the Terror of Steinsanne cracked open a giant golden eye, and with stern disapproval took note of the many intruders to its territory.

“Let's see who these fools are, little buttercup,” spoke the voice of an innocent girl, sweet and soft as the spring dew.

“Yes. Yes. Rend. Tear. Feast!” responded a multitudinal many that broke into a maddened chortle. “And drive them before us. Build the terror in their hearts. And then suck it from their withering souls.”

Author's Note

What a road it has been writing this chapter. There has been the usual tumult of rewriting segments. Trying to get a grasp of others only to have it fall apart. Juggling in and out various characters and events. But the biggest issue has been a lack of purpose and drive on my part.

For a long time I've felt insufficient as writer. So for a long while I didn't write, or it would be barely a few sentences with weeks of inactivity. This chapter was written in three blocks of activity.

The first bulk of it was in the Summer when I got my burst of inertia following the previous chapter. Very little of those efforts survived except for the corporate head quarter's atrium and the description of the chaos stasis held administrator.

The next block was towards the onset of fall early-september, where I would write little vignettes a few paragraphs long that would later need to be spliced together or shunted into a holding folder for later chapters. This saw me settle in my head they sequence of events that are to come.

And the last block of writing started at the beginning of November, where in I rewrote 90% of the chapter. :facehoof: Setting myself the goal of having the chapter out in time for Darktide's release was the biggest help. I need to give myself better deadlines and stick to them.

On to the events of the chapter themselves! That's what you really want to read in an author's note. If I miss anything, don't hesitate to ask. I'm growing less shy about giving away spoilers to the curious.

This chapter is part of the slow burn/build-up, obviously. I'm putting pieces in place and tightening the trap around the Children's Army.

So, the Corporation is a tech company that focused on household robotics. This was before war broke out between Stiensanne and Stiensmar. As the war escalated they shifted into defense contracts, as well as high-end prosthetics. The posters in the atrium show this evolution in the company.

Obviously, there are Cyberpunk inspirations in the arms that the girls found and in what the company was doing. But this also plays into the feud between the planets; between selective breeding to create better humans or cybernetic augmentation.

I suppose I should say that I settled on Stiensanne being very much in the mindset of the Golden Age of Humanity when it comes to science and technology.

Which is why anyone on the discord could tell you I got very disgruntled by the Votann. My personal take on the Imperium and its equipment is its all repurposed from mines in the Sol system, and from a nearby forest world that had massive sequoia trees with steel-hard bark. Knights, for instance, are repurposed forest harvesters.

The Imperium is Mad Max in Space. I found that more interesting and fun than if they are near or on-par with Dark Age technology.

One of the things I struggled with is the corporation (which I never gave a name, as its lost to history) is that it didn't feel like it fit in Warhammer. I've still not wholly reconciled in my own head the difference in tone between the archeotechvault and the Imperium. The excuse of 'Dark Age facility' only goes so far as there is some through line from the Dark Age to the Imperium. For some reason, the science driven society of man flew through space in monolithic, gothic cathedrals, afterall. I might not know or understand that through-line, but it must exist. Surely, someone at GW reconciled the world building and timeline from the Dark Age, through the Age of Strife, to the rise of the Emperor and the Imperium. Right?

Maybe I'm overthinking things. And in the end I just want to share a fun story. So, I'm going to wear it on my arms. The vault has inspirations from Cyberpunk, Battle Angel Alita, Nier, System Shock, pretty much every sci-fi lab in media, and various images that popped up on playlists from a couple Dark Synth/Dark Electro compilation makers. I'm doing a Games Workshop and nothing is safe!

Bwahahaha!

Oh, and I have a map of the facility. It's not a complete map, mind you, but it has the important parts needed for the story. The factory, RnD labs, central processing, and a few other key areas the facility would require to maintain independent operations after 12k-ish years...

Oh... Unrelated subject... Ever heard of a Paperclip Maximiser?

Operation 14: The Vault, Part One

Sunset Shimmer; Sister of Battle
By Tundara

Operation 14

Sunset cautiously stepped through the gaping doors and descended into a far more familiar world. The administrative building had been covered in a veneer of presentability and warm hospitality for visitors to the facility. Inside the actual inner workings of the vault all such pretenses towards comfort were cast aside.

At first little could be discerned as only a dull bit of light splashed through the doors. Sunset made out a boot and what looked to be a couple low barricades at the border between the murky shadows and slight glow that spilled past Sunset.

The air inside the complex was moist with a heaviness that lingered in the back of the throat and crawled up into her nose. Thick with decay as if it had seeped from a necropolis, it cloyed in Sunset’s sinuses where it congealed into a ball that couldn’t be expelled. She held back a gag reflex and covered her mouth with her rebreather.

A heavy thud-thud-thud echo grew louder and louder and louder as long dormant illuminators were activated in sequence. Light was cast first in the deepest parts of the tunnels creating a single point that steadily grew as it drew nearer. It was as if the light was fleeing from the mountain’s bowels until it rushed over and past Sunset and the progena.

The light was sharp, whiter than the usual orange tinted glow cast by imperial fixtures, and stung Sunset’s eyes for a brief instant. She blinked a couple times and rubbed the palm of her hand over her eyes before she glanced around the area.

Fully illuminated, it was apparent the barricades were made in desperation, formed as they were of overturned tables and stacked desks. The walls on either side of the doors were pockmarked from high powered ballistics. Thin black lines scoured the outward faces of the tables, and one had been sliced across the middle. Rivulets of cooled melted metal burbled down it to the floor like shoddy welding. A short way down the corridor there was a large black blast mark from a high powered explosive.

With the makeshift defenses were a handful of bodies.

They’d been fused to the wall or floor where they had slumped and slowly mummified over the centuries. A couple had been cut in half along with the table, and there were an assortment of limbs and chunks splattered about in hardened lumps. The mummified remains wore simple flak vests that would have been considered sub-par even by planetary defense forces’ standards, and their kit was often worse than what the girls were using. Some form of standard pattern auto-gun lay scattered about, and there was a spent tube for a rocket system. What really drew Sunset’s eye was the metallic substance bonded between the wall and a couple of the bodies. They reminded her of branches entombing a pony who fell asleep in a magical grove.

Shiny, obsidian tendrils of an unknown nature burrowed through leathery skin and brittle bones. A thick nest crowned the head, and a second set pierced the chest. Visible through bare ribs where flesh and clothes had rotted away, the tendrils formed a bulbous gordian knot in the place of the heart.

To Sunset’s initial concern, this body’s legs hadn’t mummified. It was only as she drew closer that she noted that the legs were inorganic. They lacked the detail of the arm dangling from Applejack’s bag, but were far more sophisticated than the prosthetics of the Imperium. From a distance they appeared very nearly indistinguishable from real legs. It was only on closer inspection the inorganic nature was apparent. In the knees were little motors and articulating actuators. Both ankles were shattered with little bits of wire and jagged metal sticking out of the open joints. Pieces of the shins were warped and bent, and there was a wide crack in the plating of the left thigh that showed the prosthetics to be aesthetically pleasing, but frail as a result.

Twilight started towards the mummy with the artificial legs, only for her collar to be grabbed by Applejack.

“Others will take care of that. We gotta move on, sugarcube.”

“But!”

Sunset cleared her throat and shot Twilight a scathing look. “There a problem?”

Heaving a sigh, Twilight gave a dejected, “No”, and they continued down the passage.

Behind them the other squads of Class Three filtered into the mountain tunnel. They gave the bodies a cursory inspection. Auto-guns were picked up, checked, chambers cleared, and when they were found to be rusted and decayed beyond usefulness, put in a pile next to the doors for later retrieval.

Slowly, cautiously, they moved forward. Bare, unpainted plascrete boxed them in and held back the mountain. Pipes ran across the ceiling and walls. Every so often there would be a letter and number combination imprinted on the walls. They used the Gothic alphabet, or perhaps whatever precursor language that served as a root. A dark, shiny grey line ran down the center of the floor. When Sunset bent down to examine it she found it was warm to the touch. What purpose it served eluded her.

Only a short way into the complex was the first security checkpoint. Placed at a corner, it had a sweeping view not afforded to the defensive position by the heavy doors. A large window looked out on the corridor, with a simple heavy door to one side for access. The door had been ripped off its hinges, and the panes of bulletproof glass shattered. Jagged shards were scattered about broken by a brown stained path where a body had been dragged. The stain curved around the door and led into the back rooms of the checkpoint. A thick layer of shell casings from autoguns gave further testament to a ferocious last stand.

“But, against what?” Sunset murmured to herself.

She scanned around the corner and found the tunnel to be straight without any further deviations. It stretched for several hundred feet. Along the way there could be discerned what could have been alcoves or side passages, but it was hard to make out for certain. Additional barricades had been erected, and there was a point a bit beyond halfway where the roof seemed to have collapsed.

Her eyes narrowed as something black seemed to move in the distance. It could have been a trick of the mind, something disturbed by the rush of air flowing again in the unsealed facility that caused a slight disturbance in the shadows. A flick of her hand signalled for Applejack to take the opposite edge. Rainbow kneeled next to Applejack, while Twilight came up beside Sunset, and Fluttershy hung back a few steps, ready to help whoever needed it.

They held this position while squad Spitfire slipped between them and stacked up in a similar fashion several feet ahead. Squads Fleur and then Kiwi followed suit, each going a little further than the last. Kiwi went so far as to reach the next set of barricades and mummified remains.

Behind Sunset, and a bit to her chagrin, Lyra and Cheerilee squads cleared the security post. From her position Sunset could look through the broken window. A glance showed her that the brown stains led to a body propped up against the far wall. Rotted tourniquets were wrapped around the stumps of the body’s legs just above the knees. Next to the body lay a pistol identical to the one Twilight had taken in the administratum building, only this one was rusted and ruined by time.

The powercell for the pistol had expanded until it burst. A slight bluish-green glow still emanated from the goop that had leaked out of the pistol’s handle and fused it to the body’s artificial hand.

An itch scraped across the back of her teeth. It was there and gone so quick it made her suck in a sharp breath. Her eyes darted left-right and back again in vain. The hairs on the back of her neck began to rise. Slowly she edged backwards to the door where she could get a better look at the deeper rooms of the security post. There was little she could make out from her position, just that the walls were riddled with pockmarks from autogun rounds and that tables had been overturned in a furious battle.

Remains of the defenders were stacked in the back room. A long haired woman, judging from the shapely nature of her armour, complete with rotted ornate shoulder pads, was pinned to the wall. The hilt of a sword clasped by skeletal hands jutted from her chest. Half of this body’s skull shone with silver through the holes in parchment quality skin. Her mouth was pulled back in a grin, and despite thousands upon thousands of years being dead, there was a defiant quality to her features.

At her feet lay an oddly shaped helmet of a shiny brass material that could have been auramite. Canine-like in appearance, the helmet had a long, pointed snout and ruby lensed eyes. Tall, canid ears held auspex devices. It boggled credulity for it to be the legendary material renowned for its durability and reliance. Especially since the left side of the helmet was partially crushed.

Rarity bent down and plucked up the helmet. Over and over she turned it in her hands.

“The armoury is empty,” Fleur reported from a side room. She came out with an ancient autogun pitted by time, but otherwise appearing functional. “A few weapons, but no ammo for any of them. It was all expended.” She cast a glance at the piles of spent shell casings

Rarity gave a curt nod and approached the body pinned to the wall. She stared at the sword for a short moment before she grasped the hilt with both hands and tried to yank it free. A surprised grunt rocked her willowy frame as the sword remained stuck fast in the plascrete wall. With a foot planted against the wall for better leverage, Rarity tried again. She strained with an audible grunt, back arched with effort, arms taught as she fought to free the sword. The wall refused to relinquish its age-old prize from the molten grip that held it in place.

A smirk pricked the corner of Sunset’s mouth as Rarity grunted and shifted her grip in her efforts. There was a faint click beneath the rumble in Rarity’s throat, and with a whoosh a sheen of cherry red energy crackled along the blade. All resistance vanished and with a cry of surprise Rarity stumbled backwards, tripped and fell on her backside.

For a long moment the only sound was the thrumming along the double edges of the sword she held in front of her. Plain and beautiful at the same time, the blade had at the base a thick crosspiece that had been wedged in the body’s ribs. Blocky runes stood out along the brassy metal. A few strips of rotted white and pink cloth dangled between Rarity’s fingers.

Envy clutched Sunset’s chest as she stared at the beautiful sword Rarity held. It had been her squad that opened the blast door into the complex. The prize should have been hers.

Unable to suppress a scowl, Sunset turned away from what was being plundered in the security rooms and instead led her squad deeper into the facility. She had to get to anything else interesting before Rarity…

Just as they’d started moving, a scream reverberated up the corridor from Spitfire Squad. Sunset hesitated momentarily as a slew of possibilities as to the cause of the scream and her best course of action swirled like a mini-tornado in her head. There was no such instant of indecision from Applejack and Rainbow. Both tightened their grips and moved quicker to catch up with Spitfire Squad.

Chastising herself for her brief hesitation, and hoping no one else noticed it, Sunset kept pace with her squadmates. They were hardly alone as the class moved like a single, undulating body down the long tunnel. A dozen meters from the security post were the first of many doors leading off the central passage. Some were fused shut, others locked by ancient magnetic bolts, and one had a mound of debris spilling through it where the rooms beyond had collapsed. The scream had come from the first set of unlocked doors.

Spitfire stood next to them, her face a startling white as she stared bug-eyed into the room.

Sunset’s teeth itched momentarily again.

As she reached Spitfire she swept down onto a knee, auto-gun trained on whatever lay in the adjacent room. At first Sunset was greeted by a simple, large mess hall. In its prime, it would easily have stretched past the confines of the administratum building. A few surviving tables were laid out in a simple grid, and along the far wall were counters separating the dining area from where the food had been prepared. The last occupants of the room had seen a furious firefight. Throughout the rest of the room were the signs of all manner of weapons.

Several of the tables were destroyed, cut in half by a continuous beam, and one was embedded in the wall to the right where it had bisected some unfortunate person. The walls were scoured by an even greater number of shell holes and lazbolt scorch marks. A couple of the pillars that had held the roof up had been shattered, leaving a large part of the room buried, including a door to the backrooms. In the right side of the room was the cause of the screams.

Fleetfoot was on her knees in the middle of a deep rusty red garden. Face in hands and gun dropped to the spongy floor, she trembled and repeated over and over the Benifiction of Saint Celestine. Before her was a pillar of twisted limbs and faces held together by the same thorny metal that had been in the chest cavities of the bodies by the blast doors. Entwined throughout like silvery veins, Arms had been severed or smashed by forces indeterminable. Skulls were caved in, and faces were twisted in howls of torment. Hatred was etched deep onto the leathery faces and rotted flesh. Next to Fleetfoot, Blaze attempted to spur her to retrieve her gun and get a grip. Even through her rebreather the stench of moldering decay was almost overwhelming.

The itch in the back of Sunset’s teeth returned, and then vanished again.

Surprise bent down in the middle of the room and picked up a spent frag launcher canister. She twisted it in her fingers a couple times then tossed it away. With a gentle plop it landed among the scores of bodies that formed the spongy mat underneath her.

“More signs of the Enemy,” Spitfire spat the words, and Sunset could sense they were directed at her.

Slowly Fleetfoot collected herself and staggered out of the battlescarred room, hand raised to her head so her thumb could massage her temple. “Emperor, send us your shield. Emperor, send us your shield,” she mumbled over and over.

“Everyone out, we’re sealing this place,” Spitfire barked at her squad.

Sunset’s eyes darted to the doorway to the food processorium. She could see a skeletal foot just beyond the gap. A tiny part of her wanted to argue with Spitfire. Ideas of treasures that lay just out of sight teased her. The pillar of conjoined, deformed skulls and limbs made her bite back the idea.

Spitfire squad sealing the room gave Sunset the opportunity she hoped to reclaim the lead. With a flick of her hand she signaled for her squad to form up. She hurried them down the straight corridor at an almost reckless pace. Images of Rarity holding the power sword flashed across the back of her thoughts, and a tight knot of envy twisted in her gut.

They came to a set of already sealed doors, a red lamp aglow to signal its locked status. Well worn grooves in the floor showed that it had been a heavily used door when the vault had been active.

Twilight inspected the locks, and one look at her pinched, confused face was all it took for Sunset to realize that they might spend forever trying to decipher a means of opening the doors.

Instead of wasting time, Sunset had them press on.

Right beside the sealed doors was another security post, and this one was in an even worse state than the one they’d first found. The entire interior was black and covered in a thick sooty layer of spent prometheum. In the middle of the first room was a statue of a melted, hulking figure. Twice the height of a man even hunched over it leaned forward with an arm outstretched as if it were trying to grab something.

“A dreadnought?” Rainbow asked as she circled the ‘statue’.

“Ain’t wide enough, sugarcube.” Applejack jabbed her gun against its leg and got a dull clang for her effort.

“It's ruined beyond recovery, whatever it was. I doubt even the cult Mechanicus would be interested in it,” Sunset grumbled. Applejack and Twilight both gave her a look that said, ‘I think you are wrong, but don’t care to argue about it.’

She poked her head into the adjacent rooms, and saw that they’d once been a small storage room and another that had held an auspex suit. The auspex monitors were all destroyed by the same flames that had melted the not-dreadnought, as had been whatever had been stored in the other room.

Sunset suppressed an annoyed growl.

“Let’s keep moving.” She turned around and abandoned the incinerated security post.

A short distance further into the mountain was a patch of deep shadows where the lights were missing. The hairs on the back of Sunset’s neck prickled as she squinted, trying to pierce the deep velvety hole.

“Why is everything in here ruined, but that outside building pristine?” Rainbow asked Twilight. The question grated against Sunset’s ears. It had been slowly building in the back of her own head, and she cocked her ear to listen for the response.

“Being honest; I don’t know. It was strange that the administorum was so untouched. Clearly, something is maintaining it but not these tunnels. And the only Dark Age technology that is even capable of something like that is an abominable intelligence. But why that building and not these tunnels? If there is an abominable intelligence somewhere in this complex, why has it limited itself to just that outside area?”

“Do you think it was responsible for this?” Fluttershy asked as they stepped over another cluster of battle mutilated mummified remains.

“Maybe.”

“Even with all the signs of… um… you know, the archenemy?”

“Well… There is that.”

“What worries me is that we ain’t seen a single body of who these fellows were fighting.”

“C-could they have been fighting themselves?”

“We still would have seen signs of them engaged with each other in that case.”

“Uh, the skull pillar?”

“Throne! Okay, other than the freaky skull pillar. You knew what I meant, Rainbow.”

“I believe Applejack is onto something. The cadavers are laid out in a manner that would indicate that they attempted to repel an insurgent force. Yet, no remains of this force are evident. Either this hypothetical insurgency suffered no casualties or they removed their dead.”

“Thank you, Twilight. That’s what I’m saying. Where are the other bodies? This ain’t right.”

“S-Should it though? Be ‘right’, I mean. Um, this is an ancient vault. And, um, nevermind.”

“It is also possible that they were overcome by a deamon incursion. That would coincide with the other signs of the Archenemy.”

“So, to sum—”

“Throne preserve me, but cut the chatter,” Sunset shot a scathing look over her shoulder at her four squadmates. Irritation bulged in her temple, and her face was darker than a stormfront with a scowl that could melt steel.

Applejack and Rainbow both frowned in return, but held their tongues as they knew they’d been at fault breaking silence. If anything else was in the tunnel and heard them nattering like nervous hens they could have gotten not only themselves, but their classmates killed. They gave curt nods, and the squad moved deeper into the tunnels under a halo of silence.

It was only a couple hundred feet until they reached the edge of the pitch darkness, almost as if a large glob of ink had been smeared across the passage to form a wall. There was almost no blending, no gradual shift as one edged further and further away from the light, just a sheer ledge of absolute nothingness that the illuminators in the corridor were unable to pierce.

Her toe brushed up against a loose piece of broken plascrete. It seemed to rocket away from her foot like a shuttle attempting atmospheric escape. Her heart skipped a beat at the too-loud clatter as it skipped into the pitch dark and fell into a hole hidden within. The echoes reverberated in her skull as if they were acid coated spikes being driven into her ears.

Fingers tightened on the grip of her autogun and she waited for the potential monsters to leap at her throat.

Tense seconds slipped past.

A cool breeze brushed against her cheek as the tunnel breathed.

Nothing emerged out of that inky veil.

Cautiously Sunset slid forward until her toes were at the edge of the dividing line between light and dark.

For a brief instant she thought herself on the edge of a garden vale of thick vines and stout trees surrounded by a bed of plush moss. The instant passed and the truth asserted itself as she swept her light through the shadows. Vines were bent and twisted remnants of pipes, tubing and cables. In place of trees were support columns that held aloft a towering roof for a tunnel much larger than the one Sunset was in. Beneath Sunset in the trough of the tunnel the ground was a cooled bubbly mass of molten stone, metal, and equipment. Only the shadows and fear induced deep-seated yearning for her old home had tricked her.

Upper lip curling in disgust at her own continued weakness, Sunset cast her light around the space again.

The floor dropped away a good ten feet, and the ceiling was another fifty or sixty overhead. To the left and right were raised walking paths. Black ash clung to the walls and in front of Sunset were divots, dangling chains, and a few scraps of a device to extend a bridge that was long destroyed. The walls were covered in rivulets of melted plasteel where some tremendous heat had torn through the tunnel.

Using hand signs she ordered Rainbow down into the trench. She gave a nod, slipped her gun over her shoulder, spun around and lowered herself over the edge. There was a slight crunchy echo as she landed.

Rainbow went down on one knee as she swept her light about and revealed a series of parallel humps. Melted rails, Sunset internally corrected as she let out a breath.

“Why in the Throne’s glow do they need such a big tunnel?” Applejack hissed the question to herself between tight teeth. She didn’t need to be ordered to drop down next to Rainbow. In quick succession Sunset, then Fluttershy, and finally Twilight followed. Not too far behind came Kiwi and Fleur squads to set up in the tunnel mouth.

Class Three made its way deeper into the mountain. In short order Kiwi and Fleur squads were in the enlarged, melted tunnel, and their spots taken by Spitfire and Cheerilee squads. They too would drop down and be replaced, the class moving like the undulations of a caterpillar. The constant pressure on Sunset’s back gave her no time to slow or relax.

She had to be first. She couldn’t let the next discovery slip through her grasp.

Quickly she crossed to the other side of the trough where slagged stairs led to the continuation of the tunnel the girls had been using since entering the vault. Sunset and Applejack cupped their hands to give Rainbow a boost up to the tunnel. She only barely reached the lip of the edge. With a grunt Rainbow was hefted up and over. There was a brief pause, and then Rainbow’s light darted around as she scanned the tunnel.

“See anything?”

“Yeah. All the illuminators have been broken down here, and there are claw marks in the walls, floor, and ceiling.”

“Claw marks?”

“Big ones. Something very big came through here and smashed this place up,” Rainbow reported, her head popping over the edge.

Sunset nodded as she quickly processed which direction they should proceed. A few other squads were already spreading out left and right along the larger tunnel. Their lights fell on a toppled platform, one side scorched from the ancient blast that had consumed the tunnel and the other side embedded in the ground. Down the other way a massive set of ajar doors were just at the edge of the other squads’ lights.

“Secure a rope and we’ll continue down this way,” Sunset said as she indicated that Twilight should go up next with her and Applejack’s assistance. Sunset followed, then Fluttershy, and lastly Applejack. From her pack Sunset brought out a flare, cracked it, and wedged it in the corner where the rope dangled. They retook their original formation, and moved even deeper into the mountain.

Gravel and glass crunched beneath their boots. Rebreathers hissed. Sweat trickled down Sunset’s brow and down the back of her neck. Her undershirt stuck to her skin as the deeper they went the hotter the air grew. At the fringes of her hearing there entered a low, throbbing rumble.

Far into the mountain the corridor at last turned off the perfectly straight course it had burrowed. A slide of plascrete and steel beams spilled into the corner of the corridor out of the mouth of a off-set lift. Very faintly a dull red light glowed from above the obstructed doors. So low was the light that Sunset barely noticed it. Shoulder pressed to the wall, she peered around the corner.

Only a few dozen feet down the tunnel a closed blast door barred any further progress.

Sunset cursed under her breath and then furrowed her brow as her light touched on something curious. In the corridor were a set of the blast doors that had been bent and peeled outwards before being pressed against the walls. From their positioning, it was evident that the destroyed doors belonged in the spot where the closed, pristine closed set stood stoically shut. Sunset’s eyes darted between the sets of doors. They’d been closed, and something very large and powerful had ripped them open and forced its way through, then the doors had been replaced with new ones.

Next to the closed doors was another of the simple security cogitators. It had been pried open, with wires yanked out and spliced. The area around the cogitator was pitted and scarred, and at the base of the wall was a large rust coloured stain. Boot prints lead from the stain past the closed doors.

“Twilight; you’re up,” Sunset flicked a finger towards the cogitator.

Twilight set to work before Sunset had finished speaking. She peered inside, clicked her tongue in something that sounded both approving and highly irritated at the same time, and then reached into the bundle of wires and with a simple flick of her fingers connected a pair.

There was a swift whoosh and hydraulic screech as the blast doors instantly were sucked up into the ceiling. Bright, artificial light slammed into Sunset, annihilated the pitch dark of the corridor, and left the girls momentarily blinded. Through that stinging blindness Sunset imagined all manner of ominous dark figures waiting just beyond the opened blast doors to pounce on unwary intruders. She went stiff, finger on the trigger of her gun. She blinked a couple times, but her sight was slower to adjust than the other members of her squad with their duller senses.

“What in Tarnation?”

Sunset rubbed her eyes, and when the blindness cleared she found herself before a pristine section of the complex. The walls were of a bright off-white, the floors a dull grey broken by a shiny black strip. Illuminators shone pure and strong, their light untarnished by the millenia since the vault’s sealing. Along the walls were a series of stripes in blue, green, purple, yellow, and red. Every thirty or so feet ancient text in the long dead language of Steinsanne informed the purpose of each stripe. Where there had been a looming silence punctuated by the crunch of the progenas’ boots on gravel, now a low hum of working machinery washed over Sunset. She could hear the life coursing through the new section of the complex. Fans rattled, electricity buzzed, motors whirred, and there was an odd distant click that echoed from deeper parts still undisturbed.

“Throne; it’s almost like we have stepped the Emperor knows how far into the past,” Applejack remarked. The tall girl tightened her grip and proceeded to cross the dividing line between what had been left to decay and preserved.

Unlike the area they had just come from, doors and corridors branched off regularly from the main corridor in a grid pattern. At the first junction the yellow and red line dashed off to the left, while the others continued ahead, reinforcing Sunset’s guess about the nature of their purpose as guides.

Fluttershy bent down and ran her fingers over the writing on the red line, a little tilt to her head as she stared at a symbol of a white cross.

“This leads to the medicea,” she declared after a hesitant moment. Fluttershy’s breath latched in her throat, and she quickly added, ‘N-not that we have to go there. Just, this symbol is, um… Sorry.”

Sunset heaved an exasperated sigh but didn’t comment. Why couldn’t she still have the assertive Fluttershy that appeared on Mother?

“What are you thinking, Sunset?” Rainbow asked as she scanned the corridor.

“New section. Kept fully maintained like the administorum. The area we were in was cut off, but by who? More doors, side corridors…” Sunset’s voice trailed off and she approached the nearest door. Next to it was another of the card readers and number pads. It was too much to hope that the card they had would work, and after a quick test it was proved correct. “Locked rooms.”

For the next several minutes they made their way through this pristine portion of the archeotech vault. They tried several doors, but were always met by a red light and threatening buzz of rejection. Trying to force their way through the doors would be pointless, so they didn’t try.

Frustration built in the back of Sunset’s jaw.

They were so close! The secrets and knowledge just beyond those doors, given how well the ancient vault was maintained, had to be monumental! Perhaps enough where they could make the foundations of the Imperium tremble! And what rewards they would be given for being the ones to drag them out of the vault and present them to the Mechanicus and Ecclesiarchy!

Sunset was so lost in her greedy thoughts that she failed to note the building itch in the back of her teeth. Nor the whiff of fermented ozone that floated just beneath the scents of oil and machinery coming from the humming air circulators. Her ears did pick up the tread of boots echoing in the halls and the grinding clatter of a heavy door in the distance as a new way into the deepest parts of the vault was opened.

And among those footfalls, almost hidden, was a rolling clink-clink-clink of metallic feet that sent a shiver up her spine.

She almost focused on these smells and sounds, but her need was too great. Her greed too strong. Her gaze was fixed only on the next door, willing it to open, and when it didn’t she moved on.

Until she found a door that was open.

In the very depths of the gridlike network of corridors and locked doors they found a door propped open by the remains of an ancient enginseer. A heavy lattice of obsidian tendrils entombed the body and bonded it to the wall in such a way as to prevent the doors from being able to close. Mechanical limbs appeared to have been partially melted or consumed by the tendrils. The tendrils had burst from the body out his back and chest in a branchwork spire. There was no head, just a ragged leathery stump.

Icy hesitation was pushed aside and Sunset peaked around the body to look inside the room.

She found a well appointed laboratory and workspace. Auspex scanners, holo displays, and cogitators surrounded a large table. Scattered around the central workstation were pieces of machinery, bits and odds of gears, wires, and other components.

A ruddy stain marked several of the components, and they were scattered around in a disarrayed heap. On the far end of a counter, next to an active holo display, sat the head of the body in the doorway.

Sunset’s tongue peaked out to wet her lips and she slowly, cautiously slipped past the body.

What struck Sunset most of all was the apparent wear of time on the items unavoidable even in a sealed vault. Surfaces were cracked, rough, and yellowed. There was a brittleness to everything she brushed her fingers against as if they could crumble at any greater pressure. The space was clean, well looked after, but not maintained to the same standards as the corridors just outside. It was simply old. Ancient.

Before Sunset could give any orders, Twilight was at the holo-display. Twilight utterly ignored the mummified head. Her fingers hesitated for a half-second over the mechanical command altar before a finger pressed down on one of the larger keys with a gritty ‘clack’.

There was a brief moment of silence, and then a boxy cogitator began to whine as power flowed through its metallic veins. A light brightened on the cogitator, and the holodisplay flickered as it shifted from a stand-by to interactive mode.

Twilight emitted a pleased chirp.

For several seconds a partial circle spun in midair, and then the display resolved into a broad sheet with transparent, bright icons and an already open auspex recording. There was a static chime from hidden voxcasters. Twilight tilted her head, and reached out to tap the holodisplay. There wasn’t even a pause before the recording began to play.

A man in a long white coat shifted uneasily and spoke to someone off screen. His voice held a thick velvet quality that rumbled in Sunset’s chest. She found it a shame she couldn’t understand a single word of what he was saying. The man went from uneasy to a hard certainty as he turned to face whoever was meant to be watching the recording. From the way he found his stride, gesturing to a diagram of some contraption on a simple white board it was evident that he was proud to the point of arrogance and certain about whatever it was he was proposing. It reminded Sunset of the unicorn scholars at Celestia’s school when they were desperate for funding for their pet projects.

Twilight was enraptured by the recording, but Sunset quickly lost interest and returned to poking around the workspace.

The ancient scraps would be of interest to the Mechanicus. Whether there was any practical value to the material Sunset was less certain. To her untrained eye it was merely bits and bobs of wires and metal casings. Hardly a blessed Powersword.

Sunset clicked her tongue and started to tell everyone to gather what they could when Twilight gave a shocked cry and staggered away from the holo recording. Sunset spun on her heel wondering why Twilight would react in such a way to a mere recording.

Sunset’s own voice threw itself into her throat and there it was lodged so that she almost gagged. Her eyes bulged and she couldn’t look away from the holo image.

The video had panned to the side to reveal a four armed woman. Each arm was spidery, long and thin, with a bright silvery sheen. Delicate hands opened and closed as the woman spoke in a demure voice. She gestured to a golden orb on the table in front of her. Her palms had a luminescence as she touched the orb, and returned to normal as she retracted her hand.

The woman wasn’t what caught Sunset’s attention so fully. Nor was it the orb, even as luminescent teal eldritch runes blazed across its golden surface.

Rather, it was the tall creature next to the woman. Shiny and pure black with large aquamarine eyes that seemed too big for her elongated head, perched upon which was a tall crown. Silvery shod hooves clicked on the tile floor as she took a step towards the recorder. Wings shifted in anticipation along the large equinoid’s sides and her starfield mane and tale danced in a soft cloud. In nearly every regard she was Celestia’s dark mirror.

Even through the recording there was an otherworldliness to the image. Some ethereal aspect exuded by the holoimage made Sunset’s teeth… calm. The omnipresent scratchiness was banished. The woollen taste soothed.

And in her chest there was a twang. Like the string of a lute being plucked.

“Impossible,” she breathed and took a step toward the recording even as her squadmates recoiled further.

“Holy Throne; Protect us. A daemon? These idiots consorted with a daemon!”

“Dear members of the Military Council—”

“Turn it off Twilight!”

“I can’t! I don’t know how!”

“As Doctors Cliff and Dora have laid out—”

“Saint’s bones, can’t you do something?!”

“Do what? This is Dark Age technology that turned itself on!”

“As has been shown with the retro-fitted dolls, the early proto-reactor is able to increase efficiency by a five fold factor.”

“You’re the technician, Twilight! You have to have some idea!”

“I-If she s-says she d-d-doesn’t, Applejack…”

“How can I possibly know about ancient Steinanne equipment?”

“the Heavy Extra-Planer Reactor, once operational, will be able to provide unlimited, clean—”

“Just shoot the damn thing!”

“Are you insane, Rainbow?! Who knows how this place will react to autoguns! There could be all sorts of—”

“Shut up! I’m trying to listen!” Sunset roared over the tumultuous argument.

Her squad went deathly quiet, and to Sunset’s satisfaction she could hear the princess clearly.

“energy to fuel Steinsanne’s war machines. From the mark five powered exosuit, to the Jaeggernaut mobile armour, the Zeus Cannon, and for the programmable micro-swarm; the uses of this energy are many and limited only by the imagination. With it, not only will Steinsanne be able to defeat Steinsmar, but will be able to control the entire quadrant of the galaxy. Maybe even Earth herself.”

Nightmare Moon pulled her lips up to reveal the fangs of an equally beautiful and dangerous smile. Dr. Cliff and Dr. Dora gave short little claps.

“Sunset… You can understand that thing?”

Operation 15: The Vault, Part Two

Sunset Shimmer; Sister of Battle
By Tundara

Operation 15

Applejack was hardly surprised as Sunset froze at her question. Her squad leader’s face was unsettlingly serene while, somehow, a dozen different emotions flashed across her sharply sculpted features. Concern, joy, irritation, and condescension seemed most prominent; but Applejack couldn’t even be certain she’d seen those emotional notes and hadn’t just seen what she herself feared.

That horribly unsettling alienness of Sunset made it so Throne damned hard to know for certain.

What was worse was how she never felt that awkward about Sunset while in her presence. Applejack could close her eyes and feel like she was back home with her brother and sister. If she listened she could almost hear Apple Bloom laughing as she enjoyed the precious moments of being able to play with her friends.

How desperately Applejack wanted to hold onto those memories. To be in Sunset’s presence so they would never diminish nor be blemished by the nightmarish horrors of Equis’ death. So long as she was close to Sunset the memories of Apple Bloom’s screams and Big Macintosh’s gurgling laughter as they ate their little sister wouldn’t come bubbling to the surface.

It was almost as if the protective light of the Emperor of Mankind himself came from Sunset.

It was only afterwards that suspicion would begin to wriggle through the back of her skull that there was something deeply wrong about Sunset Shimmer, and the mind numbing heresy of thinking a little girl could bear His light would sucker punch her in the gut.

Yet, the Sisters hadn’t put Sunset to the flame, or simply blown her head to bits with a bolter round.

Much as they hadn’t done to Applejack herself, or any of the other girls who’d survived Equis’ demise.

Applejack was no stranger to envy, anger, and the pain of losing family. Even before the loss of Equis, she’d stayed up late into the night praying to the God-Emperor, Master of Mankind, in search of guidance. Knees bloody from grinding them into the hard stone floor before the altar of the God-Emperor, she’d pray and pray and pray with never an answer.

And why would she, a mere heiress to an orchard on an agri-world, ever receive something even approximating attention from the Master of Mankind? Forty-thousand acres of orchards hardly accounted for even a fraction of Equis’ arable land. After the basic caloric needs of Ponyville had been met, everything else produced was sent off-world as tithes. As was the norm for communities on agri-worlds throughout the Imperium. The God-Emperor had such vastly more weighty and important considerations than a farm girl on a backwater agri-world.

Yet, as far as lives in the Imperium went, it was a good life filled with purpose and meaning. Even after losing her mother shortly after her little sister’s birth, or her father passing away just after that in a thresher accident; it had been a good life.

Being around Sunset, Applejack could feel the hard rays of the sun on her back as she worked the fields. She could taste the oils in the air spewed by the ancient servitors as they trundled between the rows of trees. She could hear the scolding tone of her grandmother in the distance, and when she closed her eyes she could see the ancient woman in her chair on the porch, a blanket over her boney knees and flint sharp eyes narrowed. Those eyes never missed anything. Especially when one of the workers, usually Rainbow Dash, tried to slack-off.

Applejack curled her lip into a growl as she shunted the flood of memories aside and focused on what was in front of her; Sunset and that daemon in the holo-recording. Her finger twitched towards the trigger of her auto-gun.

Sunset placed a hand on her hip. Disdain curled the edge of her mouth as she replied, “I didn’t say I could understand them. I was trying to listen to the tones of their voices.”

Brow knitted into a frown, Applejack asked, “If you ain’t got no clue what they are saying, then what is the point?”

“Are they excited? Afraid? Monotone like they are under the influence of mind control? Just their voices could tell us something.” Sunset spread her arms wide and gave a mischievous half-smirk.

Applejack’s face scrunched up. She couldn’t understand Sunset. It made no sense. Then again, a lot about Sunset was incomprehensible.

“I don’t get it.”

Sunset huffed and turned away, dismissing Applejack with, “You don’t need to understand. We should recite the Litanies of Purification and cleanse ourselves just in case.”

The litanies were recited, and once done Applejack positioned herself in the corner where she could watch the door as well as Sunset. “Shame the vox network don’t work in here. Throne, I hate not knowing what’s going on with the other girls.”

“Assume they are doing what we are; gathering as many bits of archeotech and information they can get their hands on. We’re in the midst of a treasure trove of artifacts and ancient knowledge! Imagine what we’ll uncover! What deeds we’ll gain!”

“But, could you?” Twilight’s question came in almost a whisper, and it swiped away Sunset’s smile.

“Huh?”

“Understand them, I mean? The holorecordings,” Twilight hesitated, fingers intertwined as she glanced between her squadmates and the holo-display.

“No.”

There was such sharp condescension, such total certainty to the denial that Applejack shivered. Instincts screamed that Sunset was lying. Yet, she wanted to believe in her. Believe that everything was right and as normal as the insanity of the galaxy could permit. That Sunset really was just trying to glean some info from the tonal shifts. In her gut, however, Applejack knew that there was more going on.

She would bring it up with the drill abbess if they made it back to the monastery.

At the mere idea of going behind her squad leader’s back a wave of revulsion gripped Applejack’s stomach. It didn’t sit right with her. But, she no longer trusted her own feelings around Sunset. If there was potential heresy, then it had to be reported.

The others gave no outward indication of doubts of their squad leader. Rainbow slapped a hand on Sunset’s shoulder and gave a wide grin before saying to Twilight, “Of course she can’t understand that gibberish. That was a stupid question.”

Twilight’s cheeks burned a bright red. She fumbled her fingers, turned away and refocused on the holo-display. It was only a few seconds before something on the display caught Twilight’s eye. While watching Twilight during the journey to Steinsanne, Applejack had grown familiar with the glimmer of curiosity that would grip Twilight as a flame would draw a moth.

She’d figured something out about the holograms.

“What have you got there, sugarcube?” Applejack gently prodded.

“Nothing? Something? Maybe…” Twilight’s tongue emerged out of the side of her mouth as she concentrated. Her finger traced one of the little icons. “This is reminiscent of the storage algorithms in the oldest systems on Equis. If I am right—”

Her finger drew too close to the icon. As she brushed through the little shape the holograms folded in on themselves and then unfolded in a new configuration. In front of Twilight hovered a long list. Beside each name was one of three different icons.

“Text. Holomessage. And… I am not sure,” Twilight explained to herself as well as the others, pointing at each of the symbols in turn.

“M-Maybe we shouldn’t—”

Fluttershy may as well have shouted at a storm to stop the rain. Twilight had already jabbed the top most of the list with the ‘Holomessage’ symbol.

Again the holodisplay reformatted. It was a recording from a large circular chamber. There was the daemon and researches, only this time the daemon was in some sort of energy cage. It paced in a slow circle. A wing reached to brush along the edge of the cage. Golden-black lightning crackled against the feathers and it retracted the wing with a decidedly angry click of the tongue. The daemon stopped, sat down, and began to speak to the two—biologus?

Applejack had no other idea what else to think of them as but ancient biologus tech-priests.

“Is that some sort of Gellar field?” Twilight asked herself.

At first the humans ignored the daemon. Something it said got their attention. The woman got really excited and approached the energy field. There was some banter back and forth. The equine daemon smiled. At the tip of her horn misty black energy began to gather. The gellar field attempted to withstand whatever witchery the daemon was concocting. Sparks burst from devices along the walls, and the gellar field vanished. Panic gripped the tech-priests so tightly that they couldn’t move, or even speak.

The daemon had no such issue. It gave a silvery laugh as it stepped closer to the biologus. The energy around its horn floated down towards the woman. Midway the swirling energy stopped, and began to constrict and form into a dark nexus. An inhuman scream of primal rending force rose louder, louder, and louder, then came to a violent silence as the nexus vanished.

Face drained of colour the woman asked the daemon a short question. The daemon grinned, lips pulled taught over its fangs, and the recording ended, image frozen midair.

“She couldn’t be thinking…” Sunset mused to herself, and leaned over Twilight’s shoulder. “Are there any more?”

“Um,” Twilight scanned the image. “I am not sure how to make it go back to—”

As if in response, the holodisplay returned to its previous configuration.

Fear; icy and primal rippled up Applejack’s spine.

She wasn’t alone, as Rainbow asked, “Uh, should that have happened?”

There was a poignant silence as Twilight peered at the display, eyes darting over the unfamiliar script, mouthed litanies to the machine spirits on her lips. Looking at Rainbow, she said, “It was just returning to the previous display because it had finished that recording.”

Twilight tried to sound assertive, but Applejack recognised the doubt in the girl.

Applejack shifted from one foot to the other. “Emperor protect us; this ain’t right at all. We should go and blow this place up. I got some frak grenades and charges. We got these mechanical arms. Let’s be happy with them, demolish this place, and leave.”

Sunset gave her head a violent shake. “Remember what we were told. We need Deeds. Lots of them, and big ones. Or we will be labelled as failures and purged. What about those third iconoglyphs? Let’s try one of those.”

Tension rippled through Applejack as Twilight’s finger hovered over the topmost of the icon. With a prayer to the machine spirits, Twilight activated the recording. There was a moment of hesitation, and then some ancient script floated in the air in front of Twilight’s nose along with a red exclamation mark held inside a yellow triangle. “Um, I guess I’m not allowed to open that file? Or maybe the datacrypts are corrupted? Hrm, fascinating.”

Applejack released a sigh of relief. Twilight could fiddle with the cogitator for hours. She’d seen the small girl get lost in such a manner on Mother several times.

She circled around the workbench with its scraps and bits of disassembled components. Strange, she thought to herself as she picked up a silver puck that fit nicely in her hand. In the top were two circle, the inner one broken by a short line.

“Hey, leave that stuff alone,” Twilight said over her shoulder. “I’ll sort it out in a few minutes.”

“Fine, fine,” Applejack replied and set the puck back down. As she did her thumb pressed up against the rings.

There was a click from within the puck that sent a shiver up her spine. A half second later a holo-display appeared above the puck. It was no more than a simple bar that began to fill, with a numerical percentile next to it.

“Throne, I didn’t mean to do it!” Applejack threw up her hands and backed away from the puck.

Twilight and Sunset both turned away from their work at Applejack’s denial. Surprise and then glee lit up Twilight’s face. She bustled to the second holo-display.

The display ticked over from 99 to 100 and the same symbol that had been on the sign outside the vault briefly appeared before it shifted into what was instantly recognisable as a three-dimensional map.

It showed a cluster of rooms connected by parallel corridors. Some of the rooms were connected, others were on their own. In one of the rooms four red dots and a single blue dot pulsed. In another room two red dots moved around, while three others waited outside. Another group of red dots went down a corridor. They stopped, and began to backtrack. On the next corridor over a blue dot mimicked the movements of the red ones. This singular dot stopped at a corner, remaining hidden as the red dots moved away, before it resumed its original direction.

“Emperor’s grace,” Applejack breathed as it dawned on her that the map was in real-time displaying everyone in the nearby vicinity.

“The vault knows we’re here.” Twilight shuddered as she reached out and touched the display. It began to spin, and halted when she withdrew her finger. She tried again, this time with a pinching motion of thumb and forefinger, and the map zoomed in closer on their room. The dots coalesced into stick figures.

“Controls are just like those in the Imperium. Interesting.”

“W-Why are you blue, Twilight?” Fluttershy pointed at the blue figure in the map.

Twilight frowned at the question, then fished the keycard out of her pocket. She held it up, and the colour began to drain from her face.

“The Abominable Intelligence,” was all she said.

After a few more practice attempts to learn how to confirm the map’s controls, Twilight sent it flying along to the other blue dot. A little sword icon spun as it moved methodically along the corridor.

Twilight zoomed the map out.

Clusters of red dots threaded like beads down a long passage. From the position this had to be Class Three and the route they’d taken into the vault. A fair quantity of red dots were scattered in another section where the loading docks had been breached. Red dots thinned out the further Applejack looked into the vault. She noted that four other squads of Class Three were in the same part as Sunset Squad. Two squads reached another cluster of far more numerable dots that couldn’t belong to any of the progena.

What was worrying were the dozen other blue dots beyond the one representing Twilight.

“Say, y’all don’t think this map is like ours where red is for the enemy, and blue for friendlies, do you?”

There was a pregnant pause as they all stared at the map. No one dared ask, who were the other blue dots? Then Sunset snatched up the map. It blinked shut as she shoved it into a pouch.

“Gather those scraps and let’s get out of here.” Sunset gestured to the cluttered workspace. “And Twilight, do you think you can copy that datacrypt?”

“Uh, no.” Twilight’s voice was as flat as if she’d just been told to flap her arms to fly. “There isn't a portable recording device in the Imperium that could… Well… Maybe, I could…”

An idea visibly rippled through Twilight. She didn’t explain and instead rummaged around in her pack.

“I can record the recording!” She proudly proclaimed, auspex scanner held triumphantly overhead.

“That’ll take forever!” Rainbow complained with a groan.

“You have five minutes,” Sunset ordered, and continued to stand next to Twilight.

Twilight eagerly opened the next of the recordings. Applejack really wished that they were leaving. This was madness. Her skin crawled. She hadn’t felt this way since her last day on Equis. It was obvious that there was an Abominable Intelligence in the vault, that it was observing them, and that the blue dots could only be one thing;

Men of Iron.

Applejack shivered at the preposterous idea. It was ludicrous to imagine that an archeotech vault with an active AI and Men of Iron could exist very literally right under the noses of the Imperium. In orbit there was a newly established chapter of Space Marines. Sisters of Battle had used the system as a base for thousands of years.

Twilight finished recording the first recording and moved to the next.

How, Applejack wondered, could they not realise the importance of the vault? Surely someone had to see the paved ground and administorum building. Or the communication dishes that hadn’t fallen into disrepair. Unless…

“Could it be keeping itself hidden?” Applejack grumbled the question.

“Who knows,” Rainbow answered. She was doing up the ties of her bag having shoved it full of various bits and bobs of junk on the workspace. “Best thing for us to do isn’t to worry about that and get the frak out of here.”

Applejack nodded, but she was still unsettled. Her fears only grew as Twilight activated the next recording.

Once again there were the two white coated humans, and the daemon. Only, it wasn’t the equine thing of the earlier recordings, but a woman, tall and statuesque with raven black hair that could have been a slice of the night’s sky. It was so shiny, and sparkled with distant stars within. Equally black wings extended from her shoulders, further heightening her horrific appearance.

If Applejack hadn’t seen the earlier recording of the daemon in its equine form, she’d have at first glance almost thought it to be a dark Saint of the Emperor, so close was she a mirror reflection to the images of the saints in the cathedrals of the Imperium.

Within the recording there was on a table in front of the daemon a spider-like contraption. The daemon spoke at length, gesturing to the spider, and smiled at the two humans. At a command from the woman, the spider broke apart into thousands of small, obsidian pieces. A second command, and the pieces re-assembled themselves.

Applejack narrowed her eyes. There was something familiar about the shiny dark material. It took only a moment, as she looked over to the body in the door, and the material bonding it to the wall.

A clink-clink-clink echoed from the recording. A sound she’d heard many times while travelling on Mother. She spun back to the holorecording. The reformed spider was walking around the table while the man excitedly gestured to his creation, a torrent of gibberish spilled through lips twisted into a manic grin.

Applejack’s mouth went dry. From the terrified glance Twilight and Sunset sent each other she wasn’t alone in noticing the similarity.

“Try the final recording,” Sunset suggested, a tremor in her voice. Gone was the enthusiasm of a few minutes ago.

Twilight nodded and prodded the icon.

The room within the holorecording shifted. It could have been made minutes before they first entered the room, everything was so similar. There was the same cluttered workspace, the same desks and cogitators. Identical. Down to the placement of tools.

Two people were also in the recording.

The ghostly woman leaned over the table furiously working on something. Cybernetically enhanced hands snapped out and moved with mechanically fluid precision too quick for an ordinary person. Her green eyes glowed with an eerie light. Irises whirled and twisted, and it was with an odd realisation that Applejack understood that the woman’s eyes were inorganic. A little behind her and to the side, next to the door where he could peer around the corner, was an—

“Throne preserve us!” Applejack gasped and fell to her knees, hands spread in the aquila over her chest as she dropped her head in reverence.

“An angel of the Emperor,” Rainbow said in a daze, a hand reaching for the flickering holo-image of the giant man in battle-worn power armour.

“T-That’s impossible!” Fluttershy weakly protested and squirmed.

Twilight and Sunset were both silent as they were enraptured by the recording.

The Emperor’s Angel, for there was nothing else in Applejack’s estimation it could have been, wore strangely angular power armour utterly unlike those produced within the present Imperium. It contoured to his huge, muscular frame and lacked the bulky power pack. The pauldrons were small, shaped plates that hugged his deltoids. His face was hidden behind a skull shaped helmet. Between the seams of the armour plates, a body sleeve of black and gold could just be barely made out. Slow, double pulses of light ran through the golden lines reminding Applejack of a heartbeat. All this was imposing, but he could have been a normal man in power armour, except he absolutely loomed over the doorway, and would have had to duck a little to clear its eight-foot frame without bumping his head.

Pockmarks and deep scratches along with blood mixed with oils and dirt marked almost every surface of his armour. Twin bandoliers stuffed till they bulged with ammunition clips, knives, and pistols crossed his torso. Three different guns hung down his back. They consisted of a heavy combat shotgun, some sort of plasma based weapon, and the third crackled and hummed with sinister energies barely contained by a row of capacitors.

Applejack could have stared at the astartes, but her attention was stolen by shadows playing across the doorframe.

Around the corner shambled the male not-tech priest. A thick, oily foam oozed from lips parted in a strangled scream. In an odd, rigid motion he lunged at the astartes. There was a flash of shimmering silvery blue, and the tech priest was decapitated in a single stroke of a sword that wasn’t present a moment earlier.

It was a very recognisable sword, as Applejack had witnessed Rarity pull the very same blade from a wall less than an hour earlier.

“Nice moves,” Rainbow commented in awe. Her eyes sparkled with delight and did a little dance on the spot. “Totally as expected of the astartes.”

The astartes and woman shared some short banter while he bent over the corpse, checking pockets and retrieving an access card.

“What I would give to know what they are saying,” Twilight grumbled.

No sooner had the words been said than a voice like gears of motive force grinding together intoned, “Translating to Steinsian sub-dialect Thirty-Two.”

There was no time for chills or to even share concerned looks before the voices within the holorecording warbled and shifted to Low Gothic.

“What about the others?” The woman asked. “The dolls will overrun their positions.”

“We can’t prevent that anymore. Only thing we can do is seal the portal and put an end to the monster.”

“You’re certain she can be killed?”

“Even if it's from another reality; if it bleeds, it can be killed.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

“We turn this place into its prison.”

“And the mutations? The monsters? Those… daemons, for lack of a better word.”

The astartes didn’t respond.

“I’m worried. You haven’t seen how powerful she is. Because, with the uplink blocked and the dispersion field activated, she’ll come for you.”

“Good.”

The woman made a triumphant noise uncannily similar to those made by Twilight when she’d make a machine spirit compliant. She held up a strange, cylindrical device in trembling hands. A flick of her dainty wrist woke the machine spirit and it came to life with a slight, pleased hum. Gentle blue light spilled out between a few gaps in the casing.

She quickly handed the cylinder to the astartes, instructing, “This will sever the satellite uplinks to Mother and activate the Diffusion Shields and Stealth Fields. Effectively nothing will get in or out. We’ll be cut-off. Father will be put into a recursive maintenance loop. That should shut down the zombie stacks. You must place it in the central command terminal at the top of the mountain. It is the only place with access to everything.”

“Understood,” was all he said as he stowed it away in a pouch. “Rendezvou with—”

He went silent, grasped the woman about the waist with one hand, and clamped an armoured gauntlet over her mouth as he yanked her against the wall. A tiny protest lodged itself in her throat and her eyes went wide. The astartes tapped a finger to his hidden mouth in the universal warning to stay quiet.

The echoes of clicking sounded just as a large shadow fell over the doorway. Claws each as long as a man’s arm slid around the doorframe. A massive feline head lowered into view.

Applejack’s stomach twisted itself into a knot as she got a good look at the monster.

Six eyes were buried deep in the pasty pink face. A Cheshire grin reached behind exceptionally long ears. Fangs gave way to thick grinding molars. Stuck between a pair of teeth was a leg from someone devoured earlier. At first Applejack thought that it had spots like a leopard, but as she stared she noticed they were the faces of women melded together by strands of silvery metal. They formed a repulsive hide around its jowls and neck. Tufts of bedraggled hair hung in a dishevelled patchwork.

And they were whispering. Pleading. Begging to be rescued.

“Save us. Save me. Help us,” the faces in the monster’s hide cried endlessly.

“That’s a Kilguar Matriarch,” Sunset hissed.

Applejack didn’t pay any attention to Sunset. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from the faces stitched into its hide. Right there, right in the middle of the faces, was her little sister. Sweet, innocent Apple Bloom stared out of the recording right at Applejack. Their eyes locked and Applejack was overcome by a wave of mind wracking terror. It poured from her sister in a torrent that it was impossible to defend against.

Apple Bloom twisted her lips into a hateful snarl.

“This should be you! Murderer! Murderer! I hate you!”

The words were a physical blow. A half-born protest wedged itself in Applejack’s mouth. She couldn’t get the words out. She couldn’t get breaths in.

Applejack wasn’t alone. Fluttershy dropped to her knees, fingers entwined in her strawberry pink hair. Her nails dug deep enough into her scalp to draw blood. Eyes mere pinpricks, she gasped, panted, and then retched. Rainbow drew her combat knife and brought it up to her own throat. It trembled, and its razor sharp edge drew a thin line of blood.

Twilight’s face went blank and she reached out towards the kilguar. “Shiny?”

The lumens flickered, and the room itself seemed to shudder and recoil from the kilguar..

Only Sunset was unaffected. She slapped the knife away from Rainbow and twisted Twilight back to the holo display’s controls.

“Turn the machine off!” She barked.

Twilight didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Applejack couldn’t. Her brain was incapable of coherent action.

In frustration, Sunset shoved Twilight aside. Her fingers hesitated, then plunged towards one of the holocontrols, but the archeotech didn’t respond. Sunset emitted a storm of curses as she tried again, and again nothing happened.

None of them could do anything but stare transfixed; just like the two people in the recording as the monstrosity seemed to consider the room. Several tense seconds passed, and it edged its head through the doorway. The woman clenched her eyes shut and trembled in utter terror.

“Why, Applejack?” Apple Bloom shrieked. “The taste will never leave you. Murderer! Cannibal! Monster! Heretic! The Golden Throne will never shine on you.”

The ancient astartes exploded into motion. Blessed blade was thrust into the woman’s arms and the gun with the row of capacitors came into his hands. There was a searing shriek of reality been torn asunder as a beam dark as the void between stars sliced across the kilguar’s face. Flesh was blasted apart as the beam sluiced through the thick hide and muscle underneath down to the shiny, obsidian black skull.

The kilguar didn’t roar, or give the least sign of pain; only primal amusement at the astarte’s attempt to wound it. Muscle and skin knit itself back together in the span of a second, such was the speed of the kilguar’s regenerative powers. It slashed diagonally through the door at the astartes.

He rolled beneath deadly claws, amber octagonal energy shields flared across his shoulder and back where a talon almost reached him. In a fluid motion he sprang through the door, and bolted down the corridor. A whomp-whomp-whomp sounded from a combat shotgun. Fused explosive slugs thudded into the faces in the kilguar’s throat. Bits of acrid flesh splattered across walls and floor as the slugs detonated.

The pressure on Applejack’s brain vanished. She fell against the wall and would have topple over without it for support. Fluttershy was a sobbing mess, Rainbow pale and gasping, her complexion white as a sheet, and Twilight had a dead glaze to her eyes still.

Snarls twisted dozens of mouths as the monstrosity gave chase after the astartes. In a blur it passed the open door, the last sight twin tails before it vanished. The sounds of gunfire and hellish screaming grew more and more distant, and then faded entirely.

Still pressed against the wall, blessed blade clutched tight to her chest, the woman slowly sank to her knees, sobbed, and the holo-recording ended.

“Throne,” Applejack released the word in a long gust through clenched teeth. “T-Throne… Throne… Throne…”

Sunset gave Twilight a little shake that jostled her out of her stupor. “You get that recorded?”

Twilight gave a mute affirmative.

“Delete it.”

“Huh? What?”

“If that thing can do all this through a holo recording, we can risk bringing it out of here and having it do that again.”

“I—yes, of course. You’re right. Delete. Delete the recording. Delete the recording, Twilight.” She muttered and mumbled as she fiddled with the controls of her auspex device.

“Alright, we’re moving out. Let’s meet back up with the others.”

They quickly gathered what they could from the table, stuffing their bags with bits and bobs of the left over archeotech. Twilight stowed away her holorecorder.

Discipline was maintained as they left the room and began to back-track towards the other squads. Applejack took the lead, followed by Rainbow, then Sunset, with Twilight and Fluttershy alternating at the back. Almost at once, at the far end of the corridor, Applejack caught sight of movement.

Derpy of Lyra Squad was kneeling, gun at her shoulder, and peering down the other direction of the intersection in which she was stationed. She saw Applejack, and made a ‘come here’ wave.

Applejack was half-way to Derpy when the first rak-ka-ka-ka of a distant autogun echoed through the corridors.

At once Applejack dropped to one knee and brought her gun up.

Derpy seemed to stiffen, and then unleashed a full-auto stream of ricocheting rounds down the other corridor. She was joined by Bonbon, Zesty, and Lyra, all four of them firing until their clips were empty.

“Go! Go, go, go!” Lyra yelled, grabbed Derpy by the collar, and hauled her back out of sight.

“What on holy Terra?” Rainbow snarled next to Applejack.

All Applejack could think about was that mysterious blue dot on the holo-map.

One second. Two. Three.

Surprise of Spitfire Squad sprinted past the intersection. Her golden hair streamed behind her as she ran, arms pumping as she gave everything she had to get away from… something. Misty and Fleetfoot were moments behind her, and then came Spitfire and Blaze backing down the corridor. Blaze had an arm over Spitfire’s shoulder for support, and her right leg dragged on the floor, limp and useless, a long stream of blood splattering down with each limped step. One arm around Blaze, Spitfire had her autogun in the other, and issued a series of short, controlled bursts at whatever was chasing them.

Applejack and Rainbow both broke into a run towards Spitfire. Images of the zombie and kilguar played in the back of Applejack’s head. Or the spider-thing made of liquid silver. Or—

With her head start, she reached the intersection moments before Rainbow. Applejack swung again down to a knee and braced her gun as she twisted around the corner. The barrel of her gun was mere inches from the stomach of a woman.

In the space of a heartbeat, Applejack took in the woman. Short, barely coming up to Applejack’s shoulder, and slender. Sable toned hair was loose and fell past narrow shoulders. She was in a simple black and white blazer and pleated, short skirt. Knee high socks. Blood splattered on her porcelain white face. Straight gold lines glowed on her cheeks and bare forearms, tracing to where they were split open to reveal black, artificial muscles, and a single long blade edged by hot plasma. Ruby tinted eyes snapped from Spitfire down to Applejack.

Applejack squeezed the trigger on her gun the same instant the woman lunged. There wasn’t even an attempt at dodging Applejack’s gunfire. Golden octagonal energy plates flickered in front of the bullets. A series of flashes blinded Applejack and soft chimes sounded as the bullets ricocheted away from the woman. Searing hot pain burst into Applejack’s leg as the arm-blade plunged through soft flesh.

Rainbow came around the corner behind Applejack, reversed the grip on her gun, and swung it like a club into the side of the woman’s head. The woman didn’t so much as flinch as the conversion field flashed and Rainbow’s blow was stopped mid-air. The woman’s other blade plunged towards Applejack’s collarbone.

Adrenaline fueled instinct made Applejack hurl herself backwards. Instead of her chest, the blade cut through her arm. Eyes widened as her arm just above the elbow was severed in a single stroke. It bounced absurdly a couple times before it came to rest behind the silent, dispassionate woman.

A slick, wet noise came from Applejack’s leg as the first blade was pulled free. Red eyes switched focus from Applejack to Rainbow.

“What are you?” Rainbow demanded as she jumped backwards, stomach sucked in to barely avoid being disembowelled.

The woman didn’t respond. She simply lunged again.

On her back, shock setting in, Applejack couldn’t do anything to help.

Her mouth tried to shape words, but it was like she’d swallowed sand.

Rainbow tried to parry a blade, and her auto-gun was sliced in half. From down the hallway, Spitfire was yelling something, but her voice warbled in Applejack’s ears. Sunset had come around the corner and was bringing up her gun, Twilight right beside her. In a grip that trembled, Twilight held the pistol she’d taken from the administorum. There was a high pitched whine, and then a thunderous crackle and brilliant white flash.

Applejack blinked a few times to clear her vision. Twilight stood in a wide stance, archeotech pistol clenched in a white knuckles. Smoke curled from the glowing tip of the barrel.

Blades poised above Rainbow, the woman stood frozen. Then she slowly turned to face Twilight.

Half of her face was torn away. What lay underneath the skin was a mess of confusing dark colours. Applejack blinked and tried to focus but her vision blurred only more. She heard shouts. Gunfire. Someone pushed her forward as they jostled through her bag. More gunfire. More shouts.

Applejack braced herself against the wall. She stared in shocked fascination at the stump of her arm. Absurdly, no blood spurted from the wound. The smell of cooked meat wafted over Applejack.

“Oh,” she muttered as the hallway spun faster and faster. As she fell backwards into darkness, the last thing she thought about was her brother and sister, and how they’d soon be reunited.

Operation 16: The Vault, Part Three

Sunset Shimmer; Sister of Battle
By Tundara

Operation 16

Sunset’s ears rang from the thunderous crack of Twilight’s pistol being discharged almost right next to her head. It was a distant second to when she cut her ears off, but the still stung like mites had crawled into them. She forced herself to focus on the woman who’d attacked Applejack.

Head tilted to the side, she rotated to fix Twilight with a paralyzing stare. Half her face had been torn away by the powerful pistol revealing a skull of shiny silver underneath black fibrous artificial muscles. Golden pulses of energy rippled through the muscles like a heartbeat. Blades swished back into forearms. Dispersion shields flickered around her head and shoulders. As if in cruel mockery of Twilight’s effort, muscle and skin began to regenerate.

It could self-heal!

“Don’t let it recover!” Sunset barked as she squeezed off another burst. The corridor was a cacophony of autoguns.

The Man of Iron pivoted on a heel, dropped into a squat, and sprang into a back-flip that carried it through the hail of bullets with only a few being pinged off weakened dispersion shields. The flickering slowed as the shields recalibrated. In a few more moments the gap in the defenses created by Twilight would close.

Twilight pulled the trigger on her pistol again. Only this time there was an exhausted warble and click. It had a recharge time.

How long?

Irrelevant. Too long.

Sunset cursed and dived towards Applejack. Her hand thrust into the other girl’s bags and withdrew a small brick of moldable demolition explosives. Her other hand darted for a frak grenade. Instincts and desperation propelled Sunset forward.

She had to deal with the doll now. Doll. This had to be what the woman and man in the recording had referred to as a doll.

Thoughts raced in a dozen directions at once as adrenaline surged and the world began to slow thanks to her aeldari blood. Being half-xenos had its advantages.

“Sunset, get clear!” Rainbow yelled as Sunset dashed forward.

Rainbow was ignored.

Sunset had to draw the doll away so the explosives wouldn’t hurt anyone else.

The archeotech horror entered a defensive stance, arms at its sides and left leg back. Wary of those hidden blades, Sunset understood that trying to beat the machine in a fist fight was beyond total insanity. Democharge in one hand, and grenade in the other, Sunset did her best not to laugh at her own stupidity. Yet, for some unfathomable reason it responded to her advance in kind.

It fired a right jab faster than any Sunset had ever before encountered. Exceptional inhuman reactions just barely allowed Sunset to twist her head to the side so the doll’s knuckles brushed her cheek.

With her thumb Sunset popped the pin off the grenade.

Cold interest flickered in the doll’s eye.

“Fascinating,” the doll purred. An almost human smile tugged at the corner of reformed lips. “Self-sacrifice? Negative. A plan then. Fun.”

Sunset ignored the silky smooth voice of the machine. Adrenaline pumped through her willowy frame. She bounced forward and launched a jab. The doll mimicked to perfection the dodge Sunset had done seconds earlier. To Sunset’s relief, the dispersion shield didn’t activate as her knuckles gave a gentle kiss to the doll’s cheek. Quick as a cat, Sunset hopped back and around the corner of the corridor with the doll in close pursuit.

Punch-dodge, dodge-punch. Kick. Bone jarring block.

Twist around each other.

It was more like a dance than a fight as the doll mimicked and played with Sunset. She was being played with, as if she had wandered into a manticore’s lair. Her shin ached and her knuckles were bruised.

Slowly a too-wide grin formed on the doll’s porcellian pure face. Sadistic, confident, amused; the grin churned Sunset’s guts.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sunset saw the other girls move as if trapped in a field of molasses. Rainbow and Spitfire both dived to the sides to clear the corridor. Even their hair floated around their heads, and a blink took what seemed like several seconds. Instincts, xenos biology, and adrenaline combined to push Sunset to inhuman speeds.

The blade in the machine’s left arm began to extend. A fleck of Applejack’s blood on the apparatus bounced into the air. It oscillated oddly as it floated past Sunset’s eyes. She arched her back into a desperate flip to keep her momentum and avoid the plasma edge of the blade.

In the depths of Sunset’s psyche magic growled angrily. She pushed it down her arm and into the plastic explosives. No idea if the material would react to magical energies, she only had a hopeless gamble. Unbound by material laws, the plastic explosive flew from her hand and wrapped around the doll’s extended arm. With the same magical surge she threw the grenade and guided it to land and stick in the plastic explosive. The grenade’s spoon clattered on the floor.

Sunset spun and ran.

The doll froze. It stared at the explosive on its arm.

“Nightmare Energies,” it spat the words as if they were a curse. As it spoke its second blade extended. In a single stroke it took off its arm at the elbow, grabbed the severed limb, and hurled it down the corridor with a force that left Sunset breathless.

It stood there in the midst of the firestorm and shockwave. Dispersion shield created a breakwater that split most of the concussive force of the explosion. Shrapnel pinged off the doll’s shields. Still, the explosion didn’t destroy the doll.

The explosion blew Sunset off her feet and hurled her past the other girls.

Clothes torn and large sooty patches where skin had been seared, it turned back towards Sunset.

It looked at its stump and there was a flash of exasperation. Meta-material muscles flexed and began to reform along with the endoskeleton frame and other components. Sunset’s heart pounded in her chest and ears. Other than the ringing from the explosion, it was the only thing she could hear. The doll took a step towards the sprawled out girls, and then a blast wall slammed down between it and them.

Fire retardant sprayed from the ceiling and walls.

Exhaustion smashed into Sunset. Her fight with the doll had lasted thirty or mabe forty seconds. To her it had felt like minutes. She slumped and the world tilted under her back. Every muscle ached. Her eyes grew heavy.

No, she pushed the weight of exhaustion back. She couldn’t fall asleep.

Sunset struggled to her feet.

Her hands shook.

Her entire body shook.

That would have killed her. That explosion was far more powerful than she expected.

Was it? Of course it would have been powerful! It was a demolition charge! She hadn’t intended to sacrifice herself to save the others. But, that would have been the result… Assuming any of them survived. They’d all have been killed as well, if not for the doll’s actions and shields.

Only being wounded would have been a miracle.

Wounded…

Applejack…

Applejack was wounded. She needed to be treated.

“Flutter—”

The girl was already pushing her way forward. Medicea bag swung around her front as her hands expertly darted through pouches to pull out gauze strips and auto-sutures. She pressed fingers against Applejack’s neck, nodded in partial satisfaction, and set to work.

“Rainbow; tourniquet and stimpacks!” Fluttershy took only a cursory glance at the stump of Applejack’s right arm. “Blade cauterized it. Good,” she shifted to Applejack’s leg. A thick jet of blood spurted from it at the slightest touch. “I have to stop this bleeding. The femoral artery must be damaged. Holy Throne; protect this child.”

Fluttershy moved with speed and surety. Sunset trusted her to deal with that calamity without needing any input.

Sunset headed to the others. She found Twilight in an equally bad state.

“Man of Iron. Man of Iron,” Twilight repeated over and over, unable to look away from the blast wall. “Oh, Emperor… That is an active Man of Iron!”

“And there are more of them,” Spitfire said as she approached them with her squad. She set Blaze down and leaned her against the wall. In the bright lumens, it was uncanny how similar the two looked. Almost as if they were twins. Spitfire went to Sunset, while Misty and Fleetfot tended to Blaze. Her wounds were nowhere near as serious as Applejack’s, amounting to a series of lateral slashes to her right leg, arm, and a flap of skin hung over an eye.

“We’ve been ordered to evacuate the vault and seal it with every bit of explosives we possess,” Spitfire explained.

This seemed to snap Twilight out of her stupor. She whipped around to face Spitfire. “No! We can’t!”

Sunset heaved a sigh. “I think I agree with Spitfire.”

“No, you don’t understand; we can not leave! It won’t let us!” Twilight was almost frantic. She grabbed Sunset by the flak vest. There was a wildness that bordered on insanity in her gaze far more unsettling than anything else Sunset had seen in the vault.

“What choice do we have? We have awoken an Abominable Intelligence and its Men of Iron,” Sunset growled. She said what they all feared. A current of abject dread rippled through all the girls present, save Fluttershy with her intense focus on saving Applejack’s life.

“No, we haven’t! It’s impossible. No, let me finish! This place hasn’t woken up; it was never asleep! It has been watching us this whole time. Listening to us. Guiding us. Studying us. Drawing us in and then slamming the trap shut. We’re doomed. The Emperor’s light can’t reach us here…” Twilight dropped to her knees and her gaze faded towards an imperceptible distance.

While Spitfire looked incredulous, Sunset had a deep knot in her gut that Twilight was right.

“We need a plan,” she stated and fished out the holo-puck with the facility map. There was a shudder of protest that was brushed aside. A flick of her thumb activated the hologram.

As before, hundreds of little red dots blinked in almost every part of the vault. From the disposition of the dots, the rest of Class Three had already pulled back to the oversized tunnel. About half of the class were in a large chamber attached to the tunnel on the opposite end to the rest of the facility. Four squads were in the tunnel itself, or the adjacent areas. One squad guarded the raised bridge to the administratum building, and three squads were set up at the access point to the tunnel. Other than Sunset and Spitfire squads, all the others had pulled out of the sealed research and development compartments.

Or they’d been eliminated. Sunset didn’t like that idea, and put it aside.

Sunset squinted and examined the rest of the self-styled army. She could already see where the dolls had been, portions of the facility cleared of the red dots already. Worryingly, the number of blue dots had grown exponentially. The central core manufactorum in particular seemed to pulse as a single, solid blue object. In rapid order the blue mass began to disperse into smaller dots. They encountered the first red dots. After several seconds those red dots vanished.

In their place blue dots appeared.

It happened to a few more.

A few more.

A few more…

“Celestia’s mane,” Sunset whispered.

The foalhood oath twisted her mouth in her shock rather than the epithets she’d learned since she’d crossed through the mirror. Her blood didn’t quicken as the enormity of what the map laid bare became apparent. With a cold certainty, she understood that she was witness to the onset of a massacre.

No, not just a massacre. For some reason the abominable intelligence was converting the red dots for the children into its own blue dots.

How? Why?

The zombie in the holorecording came unbidden to mind.

Escape. Fall-back and escape.

They had to escape back to base camp.

Sunset focused back on the map. The simplest route was the one they’d used infiltrating the facility. Weirdly, it was the only area bereft of any blue dots.

“It looks like we can still get out the way we got in, but I don’t know how to stop—”

“Find us a medicea!” Fluttershy’s blood covered hand shot out, a finger thrust towards the map.

Sunset curled her lip. She looked between the map, Fluttershy, and Applejack. The girl’s breaths were shallow, almost imperceptible. The floor was covered in far too much blood. She didn’t have long.

Applejack’s pale face shook Sunset. Even a selfish pony like her couldn’t let someone die. Protests and admonitions were swallowed.

“I don’t know what I am looking for,” Sunset admitted as she began to manipulate the map.

Something in her voice broke Twilight out of her frightened stupor. Or, maybe it was the idea of Applejack dying. Whatever it was, Twilight snapped at the holo-puck, “Plot the shortest route to the nearest medical facility.”

“Calculating, Director Albrecht,” the puck responded.

Sunset yelped and almost dropped the puck at the eerie, flat voice.

The map zoomed back to their location, and a solid green line appeared, heading down a short series of corridors to a largish room tucked into a corner of the facility. It was the opposite direction of the rest of their class. And more than a few of those horrid blue dots were headed in their direction. If they didn’t leave now it was possible that they would either be caught from behind, or cut-off through the large tunnel.

“Rainbow, Sunset; carry Applejack,” there was no hesitation in Fluttershy. Only pure determination and unyielding resolve. “I’ll help Blaze. Twilight, you guide us to the medicea. Spitfire, you better warn the others.”

Sunset bristled at her authority being usurped. They needed to act fast, and she grasped what Fluttershy hoped to achieve. If the medicea on Mother had healed Twilight’s compound fracture in a matter of minutes, surely the medicea of the vault could heal Applejack and Blaze.

She glanced down at Applejack. All logic and reason said to abandon her. It was the only way they could survive these ‘dolls’, these Men of Iron.

Spitfire sucked on her teeth, clenched Blaze’s shoulder, and after a brief word of encouragement, set off at a run with the remainder of her squad. Sunset watched them go, and then hefted Applejack up by the shoulders, while Rainbow took her legs

They rushed through the corridors. In the distance echoed the pop-pop-pop of gunfire. The other girls could hear it now too. Closer and closer the red dots on the map were being pushed towards them. Screams began to punctuate the pauses. In the tight corridors of the vault, battle lines formed and it was clear that the situation was dire. Gaps formed between the red mass outside and the trio of entrances discovered. Blue dots twisted through a warren of tunnels on the far-side towards the entrances by the silos. One by one, rooms and chambers within the vault fell, the red of the children overwhelmed by the blue servants of the abominable intelligence.

And within that sea of red and blue there was a single black marker. A skull that twisted, spun, pulsed and began to move from the deepest depths of the vault.

It was only a hundred or so meters to the medicea, but it felt like kilometers.

Sunset could tell from the map when it was visible over Twilight’s shoulder that they were headed into a dead-end and would be cut-off in only a few minutes. They had to hurry.

The Vault’s medicea, as hoped, was nearly an exact replica of the devices on Mother. Except, sleeker. Shinier. Newer and far more advanced in appearance even to Sunset’s inexperienced glance. And strictly utilitarian without any iconography or decorations of any sort.

Applejack had awoken while being carried. Confused by the powerful sedatives she grew awkward and wriggled. “Put me down, Mac,” she drunkenly slurred.

Fluttershy directed them to put Applejack on a gurney, while she helped Blaze. Sunset slipped off Applejack’s backpack. It landed with a heavy clang that echoed through the complex. Sunset winced and baratted herself for not abandoning the bag. Twilight stashed the map in her satchel and went right for the archeotech cogitator. Fingers flew over the input altar without any of the usual litanies to pacify the machine spirits.

A lumen on the cogitator flashed, datacrypts chittered with activity, and a bored voice intoned, “Please state the nature of the medical emergency,” as a bald male hologram took shape in the middle of the room.

Sunset tsked and took a step back so she was in the doorway. Soft feet were drawing nearer, only her exceptional hearing able to detect the subtle steps of the murderous machines. “Hurry up!”

“Heal them,” Fluttershy commanded with a finger thrust to Applejack and Blaze.

The hologram ignored her.

“Do what she said!” Twilight snarled, and only then did the hologram respond.

The hologram shimmered and reappeared next to the gurneys. It leaned over, and from its eyes a red light swept over the girls. Expression as flat as its voice, the hologram straightened, folded its arms behind its back, and addressed Twilight.

“Neither child is registered in my database, Director Albrecht.”

“So? Heal them!”

“I can not.”

“Why?”

“Neither child is registered in my database, Director Albrecht.”

“Argh!” A primal roar of frustration tore through Twilight’s throat. Turning she kicked Applejack’s backpack as hard as she could. A heavy clang filled the room, followed by a stream of expletives.

Only Sunset caught the barest flicker of a smirk in the corner of the hologram’s eyes. It was so quick even she wasn’t wholly certain of what she’d seen. Only a cold sense of doom, and of time being far too short for them to argue with an Abominable Intelligence.

“Girls, leave me,” Apple mumbled. She pushed herself into a half sitting position. Her eyes were clouded with a combination of pain and drugs. “Not sure what y’all doin’, precisely. Know you can’t stay. Y’all gotta go.”

Sunset tweaked her head to the side. The sounds of feet dragging were getting close. “She’s right. We are out of time.”

“Take this.” Twilight tried to press the archeotech pistol into Applejack’s remaining hand, but it was pushed back.

There was a ghostly smile through the pain. Applejack was already aware of her fate. “Nah, sugarcube. You need that more than me. Go on, now.”

Twilight clutched the pistol to her chest, nodded mutely, and backed up to the door.

“What about you?” Sunset asked Blaze.

The fiery haired girl had pushed herself off her gurney and limped to the corner where she was setting up to cover the door with her combat shotgun. She flicked a cocky grin. “I’d only slow you down. You’re going to be running, and a limper like me would just mean we’d all be dead.”

Sunset’s mouth was dry. She was torn in two; self-preservation and pragmatism screaming that they should be running through the corridors already. That every half-second wasted was a precious moment of survival. Her other half balked at the contemplation of leaving two people to die.

Indicession began to grip her.

No. She forced herself through that wall. She had to act and act now.

She despised the choice she had to make.

“We’re moving out! Rainbow, take point. Fluttershy, Twilight; behind me!”

“No!” Fluttershy yelled. “We have to save them. We’re here. We’re here. This is a medicea! It should heal them!”

“It won’t!” Sunset grabbed Fluttershy by the backpack and shoved her towards the door. “That is an Abominable Intelligence, not some common machine spirit. We can’t reason or bargain with it. We can only run and live and hope to somehow get a message out about this place.”

Twilight’s frown deepened, and she reactivated the holomap.

“I can’t leave!” Fluttershy shrieked. Her hands flailed around Sunset towards Applejack. “We can’t leave them. They are still alive. We can’t abandon them!”

Rainbow nodded to Sunset and grabbed her friend to haul her out of the room.

“She’s dead already, ‘Shy,” Rainbow roared into her oldest friend’s ear. “She’s dead, and so are we if we don’t get moving! So move! Because, by the Throne, I will knock you out and carry you if I have to!”

Sunset hated herself. She hated the grief and terror in both Rainbow and Fluttershy’s faces. But, they had to leave.

From the depths of her being, Sunset pulled a small piece of magic and infused it into her voice, “I order you to leave them.”

Neither girl was prepared for the compulsion. It slammed against their teetering psyches in a violent thrust. A golden flash lit the core of their eyes as Sunset’s magic took hold. Fluttershy gave a last look at Applejack, whimpered an apology, and with tears streaking through the grime on her cheeks she rushed off with Rainbow. They broke into a sprint and surged past Twilight, who had grown more engrossed in the map.

Sunset started to give Applejack and Blaze a last apology. They had accepted their fates. She could see it in their eyes. Nothing more needed or could be said, much less done. In the back of her mind she recalled the lessons on the Emperor’s Mercy, and her stomach sank further. It wasn’t in her to grant that kind of mercy. Sunset bit down her apology and instead gave them both a little nod and then made to leave. Twilight intercepted her at the door.

Why was that silly girl still in the medicea? Sunset roared in frustration in her head.

“Come on,” She gripped Twilight’s arm and gave it a sharp tug as she set off at a furious pace.

“We need to go left,” Twilight said in a sort of half-daze, her attention still on the holomap.

Sunset flicked a glance towards it, and saw that the dots for Rainbow and Fluttershy were in the indicated intersection. From all angles clusters of blue were heading to cut them off, however. She wasn’t sure they’d be able to link-up with the rest of their class.

“We’ll be trapped if we do that.”

“You need to listen to me,” Twilight yanked her arm free and took the turn that led them further away from the rest of their class. She went between Rainbow and Fluttershy, who blinked and looked around in momentary confusion as the brief compulsion of Sunset’s magic faded.

“By the Throne, my head,” Rainbow grumbled. She massaged her forehead with her knuckles. “What just happened? We were… and then…”

“Nevermind! Keep up!” Sunset snapped over her shoulder as she hurried to keep pace with Twilight.

Maybe Twilight had found something. Maybe there was another way out of the vault.

The map led them down a couple more turns, right to a set of elevators identical in every regard to those on Mother. Twilight pushed the ‘up’ arrow. Numbers above the door began to count down. Twilight bounced from foot to foot, her eyes darting to the map and back to the slowly descending number.

A couple older girls from Class One, from their vestments, staggered down the corridor. There was a shuffled, drained quality to their steps. The girl on the left dragged her autogun by the strap wrapped around her wrist. Blood dripped from her fingertips, but the source wasn’t easily apparent. The girl on the right had lost her helmet, and a flap of scalp fell over an eye.

“Oh, Throne! Stay there!” Fluttershy made to push between Sunset and Rainbow. In the same moment they both reacted to grab her arms and push her back. “They are w-wounded!” She protested, surprise mingled with confusion in her eyes, along with a rising steely resolve.

In the brilliant light cast by the lumens, Sunset could see it clearly. A silvery vein in the neck of each girl that ran up to their jaws and ears. It pulsed, and they shuffled another step closer. In the meat on the right girl’s forehead metal shifted and grew like a shiny silver moss.

“Don’t let them touch you!” Twilight’s warning was unnecessary.

“Open fire!” Sunset barked as she squeezed the trigger on her gun. It let out a short rap-rap-rap, and the right girl was knocked back. The left girl shrieked and hurled herself forward like a wild beast. A feral grin parted her lips that exploded as Rainbow put three rounds into her face.

Breathing hard, Sunset stared at the body of the girl she’d shot. A whirlwind of emotions spun through her. She’d killed someone. On a hunch. She’d killed—

The girl twitched, then sat up. Blood mixed with a silver substance frothed out of the corners of her mouth.

“Contain. Contain, contain, contain!” Eyes rolled in the girl’s head, and her voice rattled with manic electrical currents. “You will be melded into the Stack, and made to contain the nightmare. Contain, contain, contain! We must contain the nightmare.”

She reached for Sunset.

Sunset put a round into her head. Brain matter mixed with some sort of metal filament splattered across the walls.

“Throne!” Rainbow spat the word. “They were like that guy in the holorecording.”

Four other girls from Class One stumbled around the corner. And behind them a doll-like Man of Iron. It sauntered like a sultry vixen, dress cut to accentuate its feminine form. A hand rested on a bare hip, and it twirled a cord with the other. Joy gleamed in its eyes.

“Frag out!” Rainbow roared as her arm spun about to hurl a grenade towards the zombies and their doll master. The doll simply continued without so much as a flinch at the explosion that tore apart the zombified children.

Twilight held out a hand. “Stop!”

The doll did as commanded, though there was a look of consternation on its face.

“Director Albrecht, you are in danger,” the doll addressed Twilight. “Come with me. I will take you to Father, and add these intruders to the Stack.”

There was a ding and the elevator doors hissed open. The girls piled through the doors in a rush. Rainbow jammed the ‘Up’ icon next to the doors. With a satisfying swoosh they clamped shut, and there was a sudden pressure as they ascended. Sunset let out a long relieved sigh.

“That was close,” Sunset groaned.

“Why does everything call Twilight, ‘Albrecht’?” Rainbow demanded.

“I Think—”

Sunset teeth smacked together as the lift came to a sudden stop. Everyone was thrown a couple feet into the air and landed into a pile. The lumens died with an ominous clank. The lift was cast in a hazy glow as red emergency lumens activated a half second later.

“Ugh, what was that?” Rainbow growled as she pushed herself into a sitting position atop of Sunset.

“L-Lift is dead,” Fluttershy reported as she jabbed the buttons.

Twilight sucked on her teeth and checked the map, “It’s trying to stop us. We’re only half-way to the command level.”

“Access shaft,” Sunset pointed at the latch overhead. She cupped her hands and helped Rainbow reach the latch. In quick order they helped each other onto the roof of the elevator. To Sunset’s relief there were ladders in the walls.

“Gimme your grenades,” Rainbow held out her hands. “I’m going to try to slow those things down.”

Last grenade thrust towards Rainbow, Sunset barked, “Hurry!” Twilight and Fluttershy already scampered upwards. She quickly followed.

With the entire squad’s five remaining grenades, Rainbow set to work. She shoved a couple into the maglocks before she began to climb up behind Sunset. Sadly, they’d left the remainder of Applejack’s demolition charges behind. Though, Sunset shuddered to imagine having that go off beneath her in a contained shaft. When they were sufficiently above the lift, Rainbow dropped her remaining grenades. There was a flash and cacophonous series of bangs as they detonated in a chain. The brakes failed, and with a screech, the elevator plummeted. Several long seconds passed before a heavy crunchy thud echoed up the shaft.

Trapped, the girls laboriously climbed.

And as they did, they began to chatter.

“W-Why did they mistake Twilight f-for this Director person?”

“Maybe because I opened the doors to the vault using that card?” Twilight huffed as she hauled herself up, hand over hand. “Mom taught me that some ancient machine spirits could have very strange quirks. It could be as simple as only Albrecht had that card and code, and since I used them, I must be Albrecht.”

“But, we’re talking about an Abominable Intelligence!” Rainbow protested. “Surely it can see you are a girl, not some crazy old man who tried to splatter his brains all over his office wall!”

“It’s just an idea. Could also just be that the AI is playing with us because it is bored. There are a multitude of possibilities, none of which really matter.”

Sunset said, “I agree. Whatever the reason, we’ll make use of it confusing you for this Albrecht.”

“So, I assume you have some plan, Twilight?”

“Yes,” Twilight paused and wrapped her arms around the ladder. Sweat ran down her brow and her legs shook from over exertion. “We need to contact the Space Marines and have them use the weapons on their battle barges to destroy this mountain range.”

“Correct me if I am wrong, Twilight, but wouldn’t we also be targeted?”

Twilight shot Rainbow a scathing look. “Give up all hope of living through this; we’ve all been dead since we entered this valley.”

“There has to be another option,” Sunset looped her arm through the ladder. Her legs were sore from the climb. Muscles trembled and ached.

“These are Men of Iron with an Abominable Intelligence in control of an STC assembly unit, judging by the condition of this vault. Exterminatus is the only viable solution.” Twilight shook her head and then resumed her climb. She repeated, “the only viable solution.”

Hand over hand. Rung by rung, they slowly made their way up. Sunset tried to come up with another option, and all she could think was to trick the observers overhead into sending a rescue party. The Space Marines were known to pluck boys from the surface. Surely there was a handful among the boys that interested the astartes enough to warrant retrieval.

“H-How much farther is it to the top?” Fluttershy gulped, and looked down.

“Another fifty floors, or two hundred fifteen meters. Give or take. If my memory serves.”

Groans, and the resumption of the arduous, slow climb. Sunset’s legs and arms were on fire, but there was nowhere to stop. There wasn’t a ledge or place to rest. Not that they could afford any delays. It felt like hours they’d been in the shaft already, though Sunset was certain it was much less. She didn’t want to check her chronometer. Above her Fluttershy’s legs shook with each rung. If they didn’t rest soon, either Fluttershy, Twilight, or both would soon slip and fall. If they did, they’d almost certainly knock Sunset and Rainbow off the ladder.

A few clangs echoed up the shaft.

“New problem! It’s back!”

“Double time!” Sunset yelled and gave Fluttershy’s foot a nudge.

Fluttershy gave a small ‘eep’, and quickened her pace.

Below Sunset, Rainbow’s gun gave a short, earsplitting, bark.

“What I’d give for a Krak grenade right now,” Rainbow yelled as she took careful aim and squeezed off a second burst.

Sunset made the mistake of looking down. A hundred meters away, give or take, a long, giant metallic centipede smoothly ascended. On its broad head, arms crossed, was the doll Sunset had fought in the corridor. It’s eyes locked with Sunset’s, and a broad grin split its face. Bullets pinged off the centipede or were deflected by the doll’s diffusion shields.

Stomach somewhere around her knees, Sunset looked down at Rainbow, and up at Fluttershy and Twilight.

There was only one thing in her arsenal that had any chance against the doll and its mount. Her magic. Only, there would be no way of hiding it as she’d done in the corridor with everything ducking out of sight.

“Buck it,” she growled. “Rainbow, move out of the way!”

“Huh?” Rainbow did as instructed, using her weight to swing around the ladder and wedge herself between it and the wall.

Sunset gathered her magic without any finesse or incantations. Crimson bands of energy encircled her outstretched hand. She didn’t release it right away and held onto the rampant energies, as a dam holds back a river. A wild tendril snapped between her hand and the wall, and from it sprouted a sunflower. Teeth clenched tight, she fought the tempestuous surge that yearned for freedom.

“Nightmare energies,” the doll hissed.

“Throne!” Fluttershy and Rainbow both gasped.

A sharp whine and crackle emanated from the barely contained magic. More bursts of wild magic slipped through the cracks in her control. The sunflower began to sing. A little blue bird popped into existence, twittered in confusion, and fled up the shaft in a flurry of fast wingbeats. Still Sunset forced more magic into her hand, and began to give it a shape.

The doll urged the centipede to climb faster.

“Shit! Frak! Shit! Throne!” Rainbow let out a torrent of other expletives and tried to crane herself away from the ladder.

Sweat ran down her face. Splits formed in the skin of Sunset’s hand. Blood ran down her fingers and was swept into the small maelstrom of magic.

Sunset screamed as she opened the dam and unleashed her magic in a condensed torrent of ruby-gold. Grass, wildflowers, and all manner of critters and insects appeared on the walls of the shaft as the magic swept down its length. There was nowhere for the doll and centipede to go, no way to avoid the wave, and so it braced itself behind layers of diffusion shields. Magic passed through them without a hint of hindrance. It passed through the doll, and nothing happened. The centipede, however, vanished into an explosion of butterflies. The doll’s Eyes widened as it realized what had happened. The doll began the long, long fall to the bottom of the shaft in silence.

That had not been what Sunset intended, but she wasn’t one to argue with results.

Before Sunset could let out a sigh of relief, Rainbow lost her grip. Rainbow spun backwards away from the ladder.

“No!” Sunset reached out for Rainbow.

Now awakened, her magic was quick to respond. Her aura wrapped around Rainbow and held the girl. Rainbow was absolutely white with terror as she hovered there in the middle of the shaft. Teeth clenched tight under the strain of holding Rainbow, Sunset slowly brought the girl back to the ladder. Rainbow’s hands shook as she gripped the cool metal rung.

Pride, jubilation, triumph; Sunset felt them well in her chest, and then the horrible reality of what would come next killed any such emotions. One look at Rainbow was enough to make her own blood run cold. A voice in the back of her head that sounded all-too similar to Celestia said that what she’d done was the right thing. That she hadn’t had to lose a second friend. It had been the only way to save Rainbow.

It was little comfort.

“I hate this reality,” Sunset whispered so softly she wasn’t certain she’d even spoken. “I wish I was back home.”

Author's Note

This is not where I intended to end this chapter, but it was growing and growing and growing and this was the best cutting point.

For the technology of the vault, I have drawn from several inspitations. Cyberpunk, Battle Angel Alita, System Shock, and Doom have bits and bobs taken and remixed. I also did some research to make certain that I wasn't getting too far away from what a Dark Age of Technology splinter-colony could feasibly have at its disposal.

One of the reasons these chapters take so long is I keep making little changes, or add/remove aspects. At one point there was going to be a janitor orb that was a floating black ball, and it was going to be a nasty piece of work as it had matter recombiners that could disassemble and reassemble matter. That was long ago and was in an early draft of the chapter where they enter the labs portion of the vault.

I know I am straying a bit in the normal depiction of the Men of Iron. They are usually more Terminator-esque, with blockier versions similar to the Kastelan robots. Chunky, retro-future 1950s style. A bit like Fallout, in that regards.

Operation 17: The Vault, Part Four

Sunset Shimmer; Sister of Battle
By Tundara

Operation 17

Earlier…

Flash watched Rarity march off to join the rest of her class with a mix of trepidation and elation. Vindication pounded within his chest and he clenched an anticipatory fist. All his father’s plans were coming to fruition.

He wasn’t a fool. His father’s ambitions were layered as high as the spires of a hive city, and he was only one of many pawns.

A large part of Flash never expected them to reach the vault. Instead they would fight and bleed in the ruins between the landing site and mountain valley and eventually the survivors would go crawling back home. It was only once a century where the attempt could be made, as the various landing sites were rotated through.

Sure, he had grand dreams of reaching the vault, of plundering riches and being carried home in triumph on the shoulders of his brothers-in-arms to be heralded as the second coming of Marius the Great; who was only overshadowed by the God-Emperor and his Primarchs. They were only dreams. Except, now they could be reality.

News of the discoveries within the administratum building spread like a wildfire through the army. The vault was untouched and almost pristine. Ancient, automated maintenance protocols from the halcyon heights of humanity remained active even after twenty millenia. Excitement, jubilation, triumph; they surged in everyone’s chests, and made them dream of making their own discoveries.

Naturally, the knowledge of the Chaos incursions was kept strictly confidential. Being so close to active chaotic influence would unnerve the rest of the children. It made the back of Flash’s neck itch with concern and his skin crawled when he glanced towards the administratum.

Chaos was hardly alone as a threat in this place. He knew that there was something worse.

Beneath the watchful gaze of seven monolithic auramite statues deep within the governor's palace lay a secret passed down in mildewed scrolls preserved in quartz plates. Shown to only a handful of Steinsmar’s nobles, and understood by only its keepers, the knowledge contained was heretical and dangerous. It could undermine and destroy the fabric of Steinsmarian society if it ever was released, or bring the Inquisition down on the entire system.

Flash’s leg jittered. He peered out the gap left in the tent flap like a tiger through reeds at the heavy blast doors.

He was privy to secrets hidden in the vault. One of a select few disciples inducted into the truth of Steinsmar and its sister planet.

A hand swept through his grimy hair. He shot upwards, surprising the others in the tent, and interrupting the argument that had raged since word of the administratum being breached had reached them.

“Repeat that, I wasn’t paying attention.” Flash gave his head a hard shake and fixed his hard stare on the girls across the table.

“Class Three should be the one assigned to the command and logistics tent,” Progena Stacey pouted.

“Clearing the administratum is their reward.” Flash brandished his smile like a sword, making the girl wince at her own petulance. “Besides, with the voxes being jammed, this post is even more important. All this will be pointless if the mutants and monsters attack and smash us because we were too distracted by the vault and unable to communicate properly.”

Stacey’s dislike for her task couldn’t have been more obvious. Her cheeks bulged and she ground a heel on the ferrocrete. She grumbled, “Glorified runners.”

“Aye, with emphasis on ‘glory’.”

Progena Karen glared at her counterpart. “Rehashing this is pointless. Rarity won, and you lost. Serve well in your task and next time the Emperor may favour you instead.”

Flash put out of his head the bickering girls and focused on the map in front of him. It was a hastily drawn thing scribbled on thick vellum. It had the blocky administratum building, the wide open space in which the children were erecting their tents and setting camp, and the storage silos in the south. On one side were guesses for the elevations of the mountain. Criss-crossing in a wide half-circle between the silos and the rocky out western outcroppings were the planned locations of the trenches. Fully half the children were involved in digging and scrabbling in the dirt.

The kid who had made the first map had a good hand and eye, and the details were crisp and easy to make out. Two copies had been made and given to the fastest runners, who’d race to take the maps to the staging grounds for Summer Camp in the event the worst should happen.

Those would be exceptional deeds; assuming they survived.

He didn’t put much faith in either reaching the staging grounds.

Unease rippled up his spine and drove his feet forward. “I’m going to take charge of the exploration of the vault. Keep our backs safe, Stacey.”

Clearly unhappy, but keeping her complaints to herself, Stacey made the aquila over her chest and then barked orders to her subordinates.

Outside the tent, Flash gathered his classmates and led the way towards the warehouse doors. He would be at the front as they plunged into the vault through the warehouse, and into what lay beyond.

He’d only gone a few steps when Progena Karen darted up to his elbow. With her shorter legs, she was almost at a jog to keep up to his quick pace.

“She is correct that it feels wrong to leave the administratum to Class Three,” Karen said.

“It is what it is,” Flash responded. “Besides, do any of you believe that they’ll be able to get through those doors into the vault? They don’t have any heavy cutting-laz equipment in their group. They equipped themselves almost exclusively for scouting.”

Karen was briefly silent as she thought the question over. “There are rumours that there is a former administratum chief’s daughter in their class who has a way with machine spirits.”

The doubt in Karen’s own voice spoke more than any response Flash could give. Flash was well aware of Twilight and her background, and was surprised that Karen seemed to be ignorant. He shot her an arched look to prod her thoughts.

After a moment Karen nodded and blew out a scoffing laugh at the notion, and then smirked. “I worry over nothing. They’ll be stuck logging scrolls and making sure no one breaks those inquisitorial seals. And without any inquisitors to relieve them! Was that your plan when you backed Rarity?”

Flash rolled his shoulders in a noncommittal shrug. “Don’t really care what happens to them, but they deserve a small reward for getting us here. They took the most risk. Only seems fair they got something for it.”

He glanced towards the administratum. It was an unimportant outbuilding. The true treasures lay ahead.

“They earned enough Deeds scouting the way,” Karen grumbled, but he could tell she wasn’t going to press further, and having no interest in the conversation he let the matter drop. “You’re too generous. Giving them any more opportunities is pointless. They aren’t even really Steinsmarians. No matter how many Deeds they garner, they will never get any attention. As progena they’re too expensive for even the desperate hab-blocks from affording their genes, and those with the means will find proper gene-mothers of good, strong Steinsmarian stock.”

Flash didn’t care to respond to her assertions.

A few steps later, they were all brought to a sharp halt as the lumens around the camp flickered. A series of claxons rang across the mountainside like the wails of the dead were breaking out of the underworld. The ground shook and a multitudinal mass of screams roiled from the sky and earth. Immediately he dropped to one knee and his short barreled lasrifle swung up to his shoulder.

His eyes darted left and right in a futile effort to pierce the half-gloom for a sign of the commotion’s cause.

Hidden lumens clanked to life and swathed the mountainside in their brilliant glow revealing huge orbital vox relay dishes half-way up, while the peak took on a reddish hue as something began to glow with awakened purpose. Children were screaming, yelling, issuing orders and demanding to be told what to do. Runners darted back and forth to relay orders with the voxes being jammed.

And then he was almost struck senseless as a deep, thirsting laugh consumed all other sounds. It felt like the noise lasted forever, but it could have only been a few moments. As the last lingering echoes of diabolic mirth faded an eerie silence settled on the camp.

Voxes emitted a series of crackles as attempts were made to see if the jamming had been broken. A girl in a progena habit dashed across the path at a full sprint.

He counted to five before standing back up as hesitant activity resumed.

Only moments later a shrill voice shout rang out, “Clear!”, and a heavy boom followed to ruckus cheers. Flash took off with long strides.

Without any sign that she was having to put in an effort to keep his bristling pace, Karen said, “The Emperor’s Light shines bright on us. We’ve pierced the Vault, and it tries to warn us away with trickery and foul portents. However, we are strong. We are resolute. We are His daughters and sons; and we walk always in His light for His glory.”

Flash spat an oath, and then added, “I have the feeling we’ve wandered into a trap.”

It was more than a feeling. He knew that they were about to enter into a hell from the Dark Age of Technology.

The lads that had used the laz-cutter to slice through the thick blast doors gave haphazard salutes at Flash’s approach. A tick of irritation flickered in the corner of his eye. If they were going to try they should do it properly, or just not do it at all. He gave a snappy, proper salute in return before he ducked through the hole, being careful not to touch the still glowing edges.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. Gravel crunched under his boots as he shifted his weight and moved to the side. The motion triggered some ancient system and overhead lumens clacked alive with a reverberating hum and all the treasures were laid bare.

A short empty band extended between the loading bays and a series of scaffolding shelves that extended to the ceiling and a short ways into the mountain. Dull grey and blue plasteel crates were on the nearest set of shelves. Tatters of clear binding wrap dangled around clusters of small boxes on the shelves to his left. And straight ahead, from beneath a heavy jungle pattern camo-tarp, were the twin barrels of a tank. Behind it were four more tanks placed out and waiting to be collected.

Flash’s broad grin broke across his face and a chuckle worked its way up his throat. He stood taller, and brushed his hand over the nearest crate. The smile faded a little as his hand came up clean. He took a sniff of the oddly pure air. Cleaner than the air in the hive spires’ uppermost towers. He wrinkled his nose and rolled the air over his tongue before he let out a grunt of unsurprised dissatisfaction.

As he stood there and took in the vault’s storage crypt the rest of his classmates filtered through the hole.

“Tony, Kerry, Tommy, Sammy; with me. Fred, Cameron, Chad; check out those tanks and see if they can be operated. Emperor willing, we’ll drive them out of here. Everyone else; spread out and take inventory of this place. Get the middle strata kids to start taking anything that looks easy to carry. And get those holes widened! You’ve got four hours and then we need to get out of here.”

The boys began to fan out, and behind them came the girls of the Sororitas’ Schola Progenium.

Karen’s hissed intake of breath on seeing the treasure trove lain out before them echoed through the space. As did her prayers as she dropped to her knees, made the sign of the aquila over her chest and bowed her head. When she stood up, she gestured to the rest of her squad to follow her.

“Ensure the sanctity of these relics,” she commanded the rest of her class, and then continued to follow close to Flash.

As he moved through the lines of shelves he heard a couple of boys not from his class speaking. “The Deeds for this… Throne preserve us… How has a techno-crypt like this never been pillaged before now?”

There was a yelp as somebody was cuffed over the back of the head.

“Hush you three-toed grox! Don’t jinx us now. Just do what the fancy nobles tell you and shut up,” growled his companion.

Flash didn’t bother investigating the commotion. He was too concerned by the nature of the vault. He came to a wider space between the shelves. A cluster of shiny grey lines jutted out of this wider corridor before splitting up and heading through the loading bay. He followed the cluster to a set of hanging flaps. Beyond them was a short connection corridor with mirrors on either side, as well as a set of doors. He clicked his tongue and went to the nearest of the doors.

He reached up for the handle, and stopped. His hand hovered there, and then went back to his autogun.

“Flash?” Tony’s voice was beside his shoulder.

He made a signal to hold and considered the door, and the numbered pad next to it. A key-coded lock. It’d be a waste of time attempting to puzzle out the code, and he lacked the tools to command the machine spirit. In the back of his head a little bubble of certainty built, and pulled him away from the door. There were little chances of anything interesting being in the rooms. He pulled a piece of chalk from his belt and made a mark to inform those who did have the tools to break the door down, and then he moved on through another set of flaps.

Confidence drove Flash onward. He didn’t need to personally check every door or room and carry out a mountain of loot. The Deeds he’d already accrued were beyond anyone else in a hundred generations. Every member of the army had accumulated numerous Deeds on the march. The wealth of accolades falling on their shoulders would make them a generation of heroes sought out for years to come.

Naturally, not every member had received the same number nor had the same importance to their Deeds. To form the army, lead it as its general, and to reach the vault when even the Adeptus Mechanicus abandoned all plans on reaching the site placed Flash at the forefront. Everything discovered belonged to him as it would any Lord-General of the Imperial Guard in a similar situation.

He grinned imagining the Steinsmarian nobility clustered around the holodisplays, wine in hand, gawking at the lengthy list already attributed to him. Unconsciously his left hand drifted to the cogitator on his hip that kept track of his movements and relayed everything it recorded to powerful auspex units in orbit.

A moment of concern rippled in his throat. The little lights in the eyes had shifted from green to an unsettling red. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was bad. His fingers drummed on its cold metal surface as he entered the manufactorum.

Or, rather, a section dedicated to finishing and detailing.

Elevated gantries encircled a cavernous room a hundred feet across, and several times that in length. The floorspace was given over to all manner of conveyor belts and servitors for assembly and packing. On the nearer end were four lifts for raising the finished products to either the shipping hub Flash had just come from, or to other storage vaults for later distribution. Everything was in a standby position and asleep. What they were intended to produce wasn’t at once apparent.

What struck Flash the most was the whiteness and how the space was so clean. This was no holy forgeworld manufactorum with molten iron rivers, roaring furnaces, and coal clogged air that overwhelmed grinding filtration systems. Where was the clang of hammers and static buzz of motive force mixed with tar that lingered on the tongue it was so thick in the air? The hum of servitors and the multitudes of sweat coated labourers were absent.

This place was sleek and shiny.

New.

Unsettlingly clean.

He ran his tongue over his teeth and moved deeper into the vault. He passed sets of stairs that lead up to another level or down to the manufactorum floor. He paused for a moment at a heavy set door next to a window. Through the window he saw a rather plain clerk’s space consisting of a desk, cabinets, and a map set on the far wall. He looked down and saw that while the door itself seemed sturdy, the same couldn’t be said for the door’s handle. Flash knocked the handle off the door with the butt of his gun and went for the map.

Written in ancient Steinsanian, it was useless to anyone else. As a disciple Flash had been taught the ancient, dead language. His finger flashed over the worryingly supple paper.

As he suspected they’d breached the loading bays and storage crypt, and were in what was marked as ‘Packing’’. To the south was a large area marked ‘Heavy Industry’, connected to another area marked as ‘Heavy Industry’, but with an additional word he couldn’t make out. A large passageway jutted to the west that was attached to ‘Prototype Testing’. The large passage was crossed by a smaller one running north-south that had various things like the ‘Cafeteria’, ‘Stores’, ‘Security’, and a few others that Flash was uncertain about.

‘Security’ was by far the most common, with many such places strategically located throughout the entire complex. In the bottom-right corner was a strange square symbol next to something-‘Thermal Power Station’. Flash continued to trace his finger to the next area, and frowned. He couldn’t read the word used to mark this area. Next to it was ‘Medicea’. Further to the left hand side was the large swirling symbol that he hoped to find.

With a sharp tug he tore the map from the wall. It was a little cumbersome and large, so he folded it down to a manageable square.

Lumens flickered and his teeth ached as if he had bitten on a wool sock.

Flash froze.

“Director Albrecht, it’s a pleasure,” a saccharine voice said almost at Flash’s elbow.

He twisted around in a blur. His hand dropped to the long combat knife on his hip. At the completion of his spin, he found himself almost nose to nose with a woman in her mid-twenties. She wore a simple white uniform, and held a dataslate in gloved hands. A few tendrils of raven black hair fell out of a tight bun and framed intelligent, deep green eyes. Her expression was pinched, and stared past Flash and the other boys in the room at something unseen.

And then she stepped through Flash. There was a moment of piercing cold as her ethereal form passed through his, and then it was gone.

Ghost! He internally yelled. A manifestation of the Warp. A lingering presence imprinted through the immaterium onto real-space in ages past.

He spun on his heel to keep track of her just as she came to a stop and turned to face him again. Confusion pinched her brows together, and slowly she reached up a hand towards Flash.

Her eyes darted. Scanned his face, his clothes, the gun slung over his shoulder and knife on his hip, and settled on the folded scare map in his hand before she turned to look at where the map had been, almost as if she were seeing him.

His breath caught in his throat. It was impossible. She was nothing more than a reflection of the past. She shouldn’t have been able to see him. Yet, she clearly could. Then she snapped backwards from him as if jolted, and half-turned towards the door.

“I’m sorry, Princess, Director. I thought I saw… Nevermind. Let’s start the tour.”

The lumens flickered again and she vanished, blown apart as if she were mist caught in a breeze.

Everyone gawked at the spot the ghost had been.

Tony’s mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping on a dock before he found his voice. “Throne, what—”

“Don’t think about it,” Flash shot Tony a warning look. It was one of the first lessons on witchery. Never dare to even think about it, lest you draw its attention.

Next to Tony, Karen’s face was flushed and her eyes were wide as a snarl pulled at her mouth. “Sorcery,” she spat the word. “To be expected on a world that succumbed to witchery and heresy. We will mark the spot and leave a guard to keep the foolish commoners away.” She nodded primly to her subordinates.

Flash let her take charge of the room, and briskly headed towards his real goal.

As he marched along the gantries a broad grin spread from ear to ear. His father had been right. The man was always right, so Flash was hardly surprised. That strange swirling symbol indicated the repository where the ancients kept their most prized knowledge and archeotech. A single piece of which would ensure his ascension to heights hitherto undreamt in Steinsmar.

Tracing lines on the map he found the shortest way to the marked section. He had to go through ‘Heavy Industry’ and the mysterious area, but it was almost a straight path.

Common sense told him to leave. To take the victory he’d already achieved, but he was drawn onwards. Was it hubris? Greed? Loyalty to his father’s grand designs? Whatever it was, he felt the call keenly. A few ghostly manifestations would hardly stop his advance. Glory awaited.

It was slow going through the manufactorum. Security fences and doors blocked off the gantries at regular intervals. Even with the delays of cutting through the fences, it was better than venturing onto the manufactorum floor. It was divided into a plethora of smaller sub-sections through the use of see-through metal sheets. Huge gears could lower or raise the sections, and tracks allowed them to further shift. One such section part-way across the manufactorum activated in a blaze of sirens and flashing lights. A couple of kids had been in the process of scouting it out. They jumped, tried to scramble away, but were trapped as doors automatically locked. There was a heavy rumble and the section dropped into a yawning void. Roughly a minute later it was replaced by a new section with a different configuration to its assembly templates.

Machines growled and began to churn in their archaic purpose. Conveyor belts connected, servitor arms snapped, and with a deep huff steam was ejected from release valves. Sheets of metal began to be exuded, stamped, shaped, and then shipped to the next area for the next phase of forging. A small part of Flash wondered what would be created at the line’s end.

The next area was much like the rest of the vault he’d so far seen. He was on a gantry overlooking a manufactorum comprising three levels. Conveyor lines snaked throughout the facility. Blocky, ancient proto-servitors hummed and whirred to their endless tasks. Here Flash had a better idea at what the manufactorum was creating; war machines.

A group of frames for more tanks trundled from station to station, becoming more and more complete with each until at the last a twin barreled turret was dropped into the chassis that was then itself raised to another area overhead.

Next to the tanks were large, metallic spiders. They stood wispy, long legs that curved up and down to flat bodies like a pair of plates pressed together. There were no signs of optics, auspex, or weapons. As they passed overhead the line shifted forward, and in the automated process the next spider performed a ready check. Its surface rippled and in rapid sequence a slew of barrels, mechadendrites, and assorted devices emerged and then retracted. Flash realised that there were too many to fit within the body of the machine.

On the third line were what at first Flash took to be suits of power armour and lasguns. Only the armour was being bolted to skeletal frames. Digitigrade legs, power claws, lasguns attached to the shoulders, and a cyclopian head slung low between heavy rounded shoulders. These men of iron and chrome went through ready checks of their own; lasguns tracking and moving independently, claws elongating on electrified servo-chains and then rattling back into their heavy fists.

He knew what these things were. Men of Iron.

Humanity’s greatest creation and folly, and almost their doom.

And there were dozens of them waiting to be activated on the manufactorum floor. As he watched, the furthest man of iron descended through a hatch. Who knew how many had been created over the millenia.

“Throne and the Emperor’s Light protect us!” Karen exclaimed. Her grip tightened on her autogun.

Even knowing what the vault had produced, to see the stark reality made Flash contemplate fleeing the vault. To run and run and run and never stop nor look back. The instant passed and he calmed himself with a rattling breath.

“Sammy, go get the others and seal off the doors to this area. In fact,” Flash whipped the map out of his breast pocket along with a pen. He made a quick series of circles and then handed the map to Sammy, “No one is to enter these areas I’ve marked. If anyone does; shoot them. In the head. You are now my Commissars; understand?”

At first dubious, at the mention of being a commissar, Sammy grinned, though the expression was tense, and his grey eyes kept flickering to the Men of Iron that were so close.

“If any are awoken…” Flash let his voice trail off. What would happen hardly bore contemplation. “Make sure no one, and I mean no one, else leaves that first storage vault. Have the commoners gather what they can, and get ready to march. If I am not back in an hour, reseal this vault and return to the landing site.”

“What about you? Where are you going?” Sammy asked.

Already setting back off, Flash responded over his shoulder, “I believe we are in the belly of an inert, but intact, S.T.C. I’m going to see if I can find and retrieve its data-crypts.”

Sammy’s eyes widened at the implications of such a discovery. He took off back the way they’d come to gather the rest of their class and do as Flash had instructed. What Flashs didn’t say was that it was no belief, but a certainty.

This was the STC responsible for taming the Steins system.

“This is madness,” Karen hissed next to Flash as they moved at an even quicker pace.

They couldn’t stop for an instant. Who knew how long they had? Hours? Days? Minutes? Their presence might have already awoken whatever abominable intelligences infected the vault. Point of fact, it’s awakening may have been when the lumens activated, and was the source of that inhuman, horrible laughter. The rattle and clatter of machinery down bellow certainly seemed to indicate that the AIs were awake.

He suppressed a shudder.

No, if that was the case, then they’d already be dead. Given the ghosts, there was more wrong with this vault than just the Men of Iron. If they were quick enough, they could maybe slip in and out before…

‘Before’ he didn’t dare think about.

With his dozen cohorts he plunged through the spotless manufactorum with its sleeping atrocities. Worry made their pace hurried and they would cast constant glances towards the silvery skeletons.

A left, a right, and deeper. Deeper. Into brightly lit tunnels through unlocked doors. Security was relatively lax in this portion of the manufactorum. Gut instincts and his memory of the map acted as his guides.

He rounded a corner and almost knocked Spitfire off her feet. Only a quick hop to the side prevented her from being bowled over.

The girl saluted while Rarity emerged along with her squad.

Flash sucked on his teeth in annoyance and Karen stared in shock, her mouth partially agape.. It seemed impossible that Rarity and her class had breached so deep so fast.

“Rarity,” Karen stretched out the name into a sneer.

Primly, Rarity replied, “Karen,” but didn’t alter her focus from Flash.

“How did you get here, Rarity?” Karen demanded, but Flash waved the question aside. He’d seen the map. He knew of the connections to the side tunnel. That it hadn’t been sealed was the greater surprise.

“The Emperor has guided a number of capable progena into my class, darling,” Rarity responded with a cheeky smirk. “Sir Flash, there have been even more signs of the archenemy in the areas we’ve cleared.”

“You’ve quarantined them?”

“Yes, but…” Rarity’s voice trailed off as she looked around the brightly lit, pristine corridor. Her crystalline eyes burned and her hand dropped to the hilt of a sword thrust through a loop in her belt. Strange, she didn’t have the sword before.

Behind Rarity were the members of her own squad, as well as another. Further down the corridor other members of Class Three were checking doors or covering side-tunnels.

“My class has secured what we assume are the living areas and some workshops. We’ve encountered a lot of ancient signs of the fall of this vault. Bodies, damage from explosions, and so-on. The people of this vault put in a fight against something from within. But, since we passed a jury-rigged blast door back that way, nothing of the sort. Darlings, this vault is cursed.”

He frowned, but didn’t otherwise respond to such a useless comment. His attention was elsewhere. The feeling in his gut was stronger than ever that they were close to something very important. The map in his mind indicated that the data-crypt was close. He brushed past Rarity, and she fell in on the other side, a coterie made up their squads tromping behind.

“Cursed? You barely know the half of it,” Karen bit back, but didn’t elaborate further.

The look of scathing contempt that Rarity gave Karen could have sliced through plasteel.

“Darling, this portion we are in currently is practically untouched and in perfect working condition. We have managed to enter a few of the rooms, and they seem to be places for the ancients to create new technology. Mostly scraps remain, as well as signs of having been looted long, long ago.”

“We just came from a pristine manufactorum,” Karen countered. She crossed her arms and returned Rarity’s glare. “A manufactorum that appears to be for the mass production of Men of Iron.”

“Men of Iron?” Rarity covered her mouth as she gasped. “And pristine?”

“Exactly.”

Rarity’s hand dropped and she glanced over her shoulder. “Do you not find that strange, darling?”

Karen rocked to the side and glanced around the prim, white corridors with their strongly glowing lumens, freshly painted lines, and sparkling tile floors.

“A vault properly sealed…” Her voice trailed off and she looked away. “The Emperor protected us. He brought us here. He must have.”

“To destroy this place?”

Karen was strangely silent, then said, “Maybe. If that was what He intended, there is a chapter of His angels in orbit. They could obliterate this site with ease. Maybe we have another purpose here.”

Flash began to slow, and then came to a stop in front of a slightly larger, more elaborate door. In his mental map the datacrypt should be another few hundred paces deeper. Yet, this door was very enticing, with its heavy security bolts and strobing lumen above its arch. Next to the door was a security number pad cogitator.

A sense of urgency rippled up the base of his skull.

Flash was wholly uninterested in the girls’ conversation. This was it. Beyond lay a prize greater than even the datacrypts. He was certain.

The simple access cogitator next to it had a red light above the key panel. Brow furrowed, he reached out a hand, though he wasn’t certain why. His fingers brushed over the ancient keys. Slowly he pressed the one and two keys.

It was pointless. He’d never be able to simply guess the cogitator’s access code. Yet, the numbers just felt right.

A greater urgency clenched this neck.

He pressed the same numbers again, this time in reverse.

He had to hurry. Something was coming and his prize could be stolen.

The one key, again.

Close. He was so close.

Four, just to be different.

No! This was wrong.

He closed his eyes and pushed back against the dire warnings now howling through his head. There was no resistance, and he pushed through into a bubble of warmth. It was as if he sat on the balcony of the hive spires in his mother’s lap as they gazed up at the moon. She delicately clasped a book in her thin hands, and wore a sad smile. On the pages were images of ancient Terran ponies prancing around a campfire beneath a star studded sky.

‘Please,’ mouthed his mother. ‘Just one more number. Just one.’

How could he deny his mother?

His finger pressed the key.

One.

Hydraulics hissed and the cogitator let out a shrill whine that cut out sharply. The bickering behind him stopped at once.

Slowly the doors clattered open as a brassy male voice roared, “Warning; outer seals deactivated. Warning; outer seals deactivated. Nightmare alpha containment breach. Intruders at spatial manifold chamber.”

Metal ground against metal as the door clattered upwards. A harsh golden light spilled out of the doorway, garish and hot on Flash’s face.

“That is impossible,” Karen muttered.

“It was. And then it wasn’t,” Flash murmured in a half-daze. He glanced down at his hand, a little surprised that his fingers still rested on the access pad.

Rarity signalled her progena, as did Karen hers. Flash nodded to Tony and his lads, but before they could enter the room, three women burst around the corner deeper in the vault.

Strawberry toned hair flowed in the leading woman’s wake like a rose petal cape. Gold trimmed black armoured plates and white synthskin contoured to her athletic form beneath a short white dress cinched tight at the waist with a broad, long tailed red sash. In a low guard she clasped a long silver blade. She flew rather than run, only the tips of her toes barely touching the ground to propel her forward.

The women behind her wore black and white dresses similar to those used on the female servitors aboard Mother. The woman on the left had short sable hair, and raven dark ringlets fluttered as the right-hand woman ran.

It took only a few seconds for them to cover half the distance of the corridor. The sable haired woman’s forearms split open, and from them twined blades emerged. Out of her left wrist the raven haired woman pulled a long cord and began to spin it. There was a click followed by a crackle of blue lightning as powered edges ignited along the weapons.

“Hostiles!” Flash roared as he dropped to a knee. “Open fire!”

Auto-guns, shotguns, and even a las-carbine all barked. To Flash’s horror the women didn’t even slow or try to evade as a wall of diffusion shields swatted away bullets, pellets, and refracted light. Fueled by a burst of adrenaline he understood the true nature of these ‘women’.

He wasn’t alone, as Karen screamed, “They are men of iron! Unholy abominations!”

“Spitfire! Gather the class and fall back!” Rarity yelled over her shoulder as she fired another salvo that did little to slow the oncoming women. When that too proved equally ineffective she drew her sword. “Seal the vault! Seal it!”

At the back of the huddle, Spitfire and her squad broke off and darted back through the complex.

Tony and a few of the lads and a girl from Karen’s squad went to meet the charge. They lasted perhaps ten seconds. The woman flicked a wrist and Tony lost an arm. Another flick and he was cut in half at the waist. Ropey entrails, offal, and assorted gore poured across the floor as legs fell one way and body the other. She flowed over the sputtering mess, grabbed Tommy by the face, which she then smashed in a slick squelch on the wall. With a kick, she pierced the jugular of the girl from Karen’s squad with a stiletto heel. Blood splattered over Kerry’s face and blinded him for the moment it took the woman to pivot and bring her power sword up through his crotch, torso, and exit his head. It happened so fast that the other two women had yet to do anything.

“Side room!” Rarity yelled, and her squad bounded to her order.

Pinkie in the lead, she tackle-jumped Flash to push him out of the way.

The others followed suit. Octavia, Minty Fresh, and finally Red Heart all on top of each other. Rarity took up the rear. Karen attempted to follow. She threw herself after Rarity. Mid-way she was intercepted by the electrified whip. Sparks crackled between teeth in her open mouth and the air became thick with the smell of burnt hair and skin. She tumbled across the floor and sprawled through the doorway.

Rarity grabbed Karen’s hand and tried to pull her into the room. The forearm blades of the sable-haired woman pierced Karen’s calves and pinned her. Rarity’s eyes darted from Karen over the other two women making short work of the remainder of Karen’s squad, and came to rest the cogitator next to the door. Rarity slashed the cogitator.

Above the door, lumens clacked from green to red. With a hiss of servo-motors the door slammed shut. There was a squelch and gurgled scream.

Flash was pinned as the squirming squad attempted to extricate themselves. He coughed and tried to wriggle free, but couldn’t.

Karen moaned and pitifully tried to pull herself away from the door. It had slammed down on her hips, and crushed them into a pulp that oozed between the micro thin seal. Breathing hard, Rarity fell to her knees next to Karen. Her power sword clattered on the metal floor. She stared at Karen, unable to look away, eyes pinpricks overflowing with guilt.

Red Heart was the first to get to her feet. Initially her hand dipped towards her medical bag. As the extent of Karen’s injuries became apparent, she shifted to her pistol. “Emperor guide this young soul,” she said as she administered the Emperor’s mercy in a shot that echoed loudly.

Before any of them could recover, the booming brass voice from before filled the chamber.

“I know you are there, little intruders.” Panels rattled and octagonal golden dishes shook along the walls. “There is no escape. No way out. Not for you nor your collaborators that swarm through my body. Arise, my sons. Arise, my Men of Iron. Arise and purge this infestation from your father.”

In quick order they managed to pull themselves free and form a line in front of the door with weapons raised. Frozen with terror, they all held their breaths and waited for what may come next. It was a long, endless, empty minute. Nothing moved. Nothing emerged to attack. There was only a low hum permeating the room that made Flash’s teeth ache.

“Everyone, I don’t—Holy Throne!” Pinkie had turned back to the others, and in so doing she was the first to truly see what else was in the chamber.

Flash spun in anticipation of more of the women that had attacked them. Instead he got a view of hooves and a tail of stars in a darkly blue nebula. His gaze trailed upwards over fur of the deepest black so pure it seemed to steal the light, across a silvery peytral with a crescent moon emblem, and to the snarling equine visage complete with fangs, daemonic teal eyes that crackled with eldritch energies, and a horn long, slender, and piercing. From the tip of that lethal horn a narrow line of lightning emerged and connected to a thin tear in the barrier between the materium and immaterium.

All frozen in time, held in place by the golden glowing shell of an ancient proto-Gellar field.

Author's Note

So, this chapter has been in the works for an exceedingly long time. I thought it was cut, but it wouldn't leave me alone. I've picked at this chapter so long I must have rewritten it a half dozen times. Funny thing though, at a core level its pretty much unchanged. If you blocked it out using notepads its 90% what I originally wrote out last year.

My biggest debate lately has been whether to make it 17, or have it bump out 16. As you can see, I settled on leaving the published chapters in their old order, even if chronologically this chapter would fit better before the previous one.

Okay, onto a couple things. The code on the door is the numbers to spell Luna.

One of the things that happened as a result of this chapter was a surprise further development of Father, and what has been happening on Steinsanne the past 20k years. I can't wait to share Chapter 21 and everything is made clear! Hard to imagine that we have only 4 more chapters to go in this story... Until chapter creep sets in again and the narrative bloats some more.

Operation 18: The Witch

Sunset Shimmer; Sister of Battle
By Tundara

Operation 18

No one spoke as they finished the climb. It was a long, agonizing silence until they reached the top and Twilight coerced the machine spirits of the door to open. There was a palpable wave of relief as they piled onto a wide gantry that overlooked broad sweeping ashen plains on the opposite side of the mountains from the facility entrance. In the far distance, the jagged broken towers of a destroyed hive city thrust towards the lightning torn sky.

Rainbow was the first to stand. She bounced up and away from Sunset with an expression as violent as the skies contorted across her eyes. Her gun shook as she leveled it at Sunset’s head.

“Witch! You are a witch!”

Irritation and a knot of fear gripped Sunset’s chest. Fingers clenched, and unclenched.

“We need to keep moving.”

Rainbow snarled and jabbed her gun at Sunset. “No! None of your fucking delaying and ‘Laters’. We’re settling this right now.”

Fluttershy backed away and hid behind Rainbow. Twilight just brushed herself off and gave Sunset a long, strangely flat stare. In her hand was the archeotech pistol. She tapped it rhythmically against her thigh.

Sunset’s mouth went dry. Thoughts raced, spun, battled; and all she could think about was her study back in Canterlot Castle. About Celestia standing proudly in the doorway. She longed for that brief period of happiness and being wanted. Before she was abandoned. When she had a home.

Somehow she found her voice, though it came in a pained croak. “No! I am not a witch! I’m… I’m…”

A pony that came through a magical mirror that bridges realities? That she fell through the warp and her body was altered by a trio of Warp entities?

There was no way she could tell them the truth! It would be worse than admitting to being a witch.

“I’m not a witch,” she just muttered instead.

“Well, then what are you?”

The question, entirely expected, still made Sunset cringe and gaze beyond the horizon through the window.

Unwanted. Failure. Unloved and unlovable. Carefully crafted since she was a foal, the shell that contained her innermost feelings cracked. In those depths, anxieties had evolved into monstrous proportions. Claws sank into Sunset and refused to let go. Voices she ignored for years howled.

Everyone abandoned her for good reason. She was the cause of every pain and misery she suffered. She was why her own mother had abandoned her when she was just a newborn. Her constant failures was why Celestia had begun to look for a more worthy student. She was an outsider among the progena, and removing her ears hadn’t changed the fact everyone knew she didn’t belong. The writhing, multi-headed leviathan of insecurities feasted as pushed further through the cracks.

Furious at her weakness, Sunset scrubbed the beginnings of tears from her eyes.

“I’m… You won’t believe me and it’s too complicated to explain.” She wasn’t about to compare herself to Nightmare Moon, though she suspected that it wouldn’t be long before the connection was made. “We really need to keep moving.”

“I’m not going anywhere with her,” Rainbow snarled. “We should put her down right now. ‘Suffer not the witch to live.’ Equis died because of witches like her.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I am not a witch?!”

“Then what was that in the shaft?”

“Magic, obviously, but not—”

“Which is it?” Rainbow trembled, and there was hate in her eyes. Pure hate. It shook Sunset even more than the disappointment she’d become accustomed to seeing from Celestia. “Because, you have to be a witch to use magic!”

“She’s speaking the truth, Rainbow,” Twilight interrupted. She had already fished out the holomap and had partially turned away from the argument. “That she isn’t a witch, at least.”

“Wait… You knew?!” Rainbow rocked back on her heels.

Twilight shrugged. “Yeah. The Sisters know as well. At least, they know that she is different. Very different. But they seem to think she was sent by the Emperor, so…” Her voice trailed off as she activated the map and began to manipulate it.

“Hold on.” It was Sunset’s turn to stare. Volatile emotions morphed, anxiety so easily replaced with a hot ball of fury. The scars on her back itched and phantom pains rippled through her chest. Her voice held a quiet, seething fury all its own. “It was you? You were the one that tried to kill me?”

Twilight didn’t answer, but she couldn’t hide the guilt on her face.

“I’m sorry,” Twilight fiddled the toe of her boot on the ground and stared even more intently at the map, though her gaze was far off into the past. “I was in the datacrypts of the Righteous Indignation, and the Sisters marked you as Phi initially on the Assignment. Except, I knew you weren’t a blank, even if there is something very weird about being around you. Blanks make people afraid, but you make people… happy. I was trained to help my parents process the birth records for Equis, and it was dad’s job to deal with the Assignment and sending off—”

“Enough!” Sunset yelled.

Phi, assignment, blanks; terms that Sunset only partially recalled on lessons about witches and their antithesis through the tumult of emotions. Her head pounded and her fists were balled up tight. A drop of blood dripped from raw cracks in her hand.

“I don’t… Excuses… I trusted you! I trusted you.”

Twilight hung her head and didn’t look at Sunset. “I thought you were the reason Equis was destroyed and I lost my parents and brother. I thought that—”

“Stop making excuses!” Sunset’s entire body heaved at the effort to hold herself back from attacking Twilight. The betrayal was so sharp, and the tumultuous anger so primal that Sunset began to lose the ability to think. There were only raw emotions torn open and left to ooze.

Emotions spun and clashed in her head faster and faster and faster. Tempestuous. Seething. Wrathful. Hateful. Violent.

Sad.

A tingle of magic rippled down to her fingertips.

Every fiber of her being desired to hurl magic at Twilight. There wasn’t any spell in mind. No incantations and formulas. No molding by will. Only the pure desire to inflict pain. It would be all too easy to shatter Twilight’s nigh-nonexistent mental barriers and make the girl suffer all the fear, anguish, and loneliness Sunset had suffered since her idiotic trip through the magic mirror. No, make her suffer it ten fold. Twilight would break beyond any repair under such a barrage. A deserved punishment for her betrayal.

A small merigold began to grow and flower from the blood dripping from her fingertips.

Sunset had to gain control of herself. It was dangerous to allow her emotions such a wild excess of freedom with her magic awakened. Especially so with a gun still pointed at her head. Within that maelstrom of anger she sought to find a calming center. The moment of peace needed to keep magic from crackling into the world in uncontrolled bursts.

Such a place of safety seemed impossible. All she could feel was the phantom of electro-whip lashes on her back. Of mud in her teeth and aching limbs. Suspicious glares at the back of her head and the purposeful hip checks in the cafeteria to a chorus of vicious giggles. Of being utterly alone and alien. Hatred prickled in her heart.

“You tried to kill me.”

“Tried! The Emperor protected you, though. It should have been a lethal wound, but He made me miss.”

The logic was so stupefyingly bad that Sunset felt her emotional train spectacularly derail. Her mouth flapped uselessly in a futile effort to form words, but produced nothing but a series of disfigured grunts. Even Rainbow lowered her gun and gaped at Twilight.

“Seriously? Twilight, you can’t hit the broad side of a rhino at ten paces.”

“Hey, I hit that man of iron!”

“It was three feet in front of you! Who could possibly miss?!”

“Enough!” Fluttershy clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention, though it was hardly needed the way her voice cut through the argument. “I t-trust Sunset.”

“You do?” Sunset asked, a sharp note of both incredulity and something close to relief in her voice.

“Y-yes. I think you might be a s-saint.”

“A saint? Her?”

Fluttershy gave a meek nod. “What we all feel a-around Sunset isn’t witchery. It is nothing like what we experienced on Equis.”

“Fluttershy is right. We have to keep moving. It’s only a short way to the control center.”

“You can’t be serious,” Rainbow scoffed. “If what Sunset did in the shaft wasn’t witchery, then what on Holy Terra was it?”

“What it is or is not doesn’t matter. This argument doesn’t matter,” Twilight sighed and fiddled with the map. “We have to turn off the stealth fields that keep this place hidden and warn the fleet. On the bright side, your wish is going to be granted, Sunset. We will have a lot of deeds for uncovering this place.”

Sunset turned to stare out the wide window. She couldn’t look at Twilight or the others. The vantage point was such that she had a wide view of the camp made by the foolish children. Tracer rounds blazed between burning tents. Children the size of ants scurried and swarmed around. More of the metallic centipedes rampaged. Silver figures marched in orderly lines. From their guns blazed long blue jets of ancient archeotech weapons. Something large pounced and vanished into a thick bank of smoke. A magenta lance of brilliant energy cut across the camp and left behind a glowing swath of devastation.

Even at this distance it was easy to tell it was a massacre in the valley.

Sunset put a hand on the thick glass. Even with her superior vision it was difficult to tell who was fighting who, only that it was bedlam.

Her anger, hatred, and betrayal crystallized into a deep spike of fear. She had to survive, somehow.

“If we live through this, we’ll sort out who hates who the most. For right now, we need to work together.” Sunset declared as she turned away from the window.

Rainbow’s finger tapped on the trigger of her gun. Her nostrils flared, and breaths came in rapid gasps through clenched teeth. She brought the gun back up. The barrel trembled.

She is going to shoot me, Sunset realized. Tension rippled between Rainbow’s eyes. She looked at Twilight. At Fluttershy. And then the ceiling. Her lips moved in a silent prayer or perhaps plea for guidance. And then she lowered her gun, and spat, “Damn it!”

There wasn’t a moment to waste on relief. They followed Twilight in a rush along gangways and broad landing platforms with inactive lifts down to the facilities hidden within the mountain. To their left was a tableau of slaughter to remind them what was at stake.

Passively they observed the incongruent nature of the millenia old structure with its stark lack of weathering or built up dirt, yet every now and then there would be signs of the ancient struggle that was held, with access panels pried open and wires spliced, or doors propped open through the use of crates and other objects that had been on hand. A bend in the mountain brought into view a line of large vox uplink dishes. Part of a dish was in the process of being maintained. A pair of the mechanical centipedes worked on disassembling and reassembling various components, light flashing out of their mandibles onto the metal. A centipede broke apart, legs spun, exoskeleton shifted, and a half dozen spiders took its place and began to spread out to complete their tasks.

Twice they encountered the shuffling remains of children from the army. Silver material leaked from their eyes and pulsed in vivid veins in their necks and faces. How they’d reached the upper levels Sunset didn’t question. She and Rainbow put them down immediately and they hurried on.

Fortunately, there weren’t any women-like men of iron.

The goal of the possessed children was the same as Sunset and her squad. Sunset skidded as they entered what had to be the Command Center for the vault, or at least for its extraplanet activities. Through a broad window that swept around a quarter of the room the valley could be seen. The gunfire had become sporadic and haphazard. A few more minutes and there might not be anyone left to save. In front of the window was a long series of archeotech cogitators and control panels. In the middle of which was a familiar blue cylinder that pulsed with volatile energies.

At the heart of the room loomed a pillar of broken skulls and twisted flesh stitched together with silver metal threads. Like some grotesque tree, a canopy of thick, ropey limbs spread from the pillar’s top and pawed at the air as if desperate to escape. Pulses of darkly blue energy rippled through the veins of metal holding the horrible edifice together.

It looked nearly identical to the broken, rotted pillar they’d found in the cafeteria.

Through another door stepped Stacey of class two. She shuffled and swayed as she approached the pillar. Sunset’s stomach twisted in an uncomfortable knot.

“Progena Stacey?” Fluttershy took a partial step forward, but was pulled back by Rainbow.

“Alpha containment breached. The Nightmare must be contained,” Stacey said in a dull monotone. “Contain. Contain. Beta containment must be enhanced with suitable material."

Amalgamated flesh, bone, and metal split open with a slick squelch. Stacey shuffled into the pulsating mouth. Tentacles of metal and flesh snapped. They latched onto arms, legs, and throat then drew her into the pillar. Head lolled to the side, Stacey had a blissful expression on her face even as it began to melt to reveal bone. Arms detached themselves from her shoulders and slithered up the pillar to join the thrashing canopy. With a crack her skull was pulled in half. Covered in silver wiry growths, her brain was pulled into a cluster of other such brains in the center of the pillar. There was a spray of blood and bodily fluids as the maw shut.

“Contain!” gurgled the many skulls.

Fluttershy retched.

Eyes on stalks and buried in the trunk of flesh swiveled towards Fluttershy.

“Intruder detected. Repel intruder. Contain the Nightmare.”

A small bulbous growth like a puckered acorn extended from the canopy of limbs. Sunset recalled the destruction in the cafeteria with the other, inert pillar. The blackened burns through ferrocrete. The lazmarks and plasma scorchmarks.

Sunset spun towards Fluttershy, and over her shoulder she met Rainbow’s eyes, an identical realization making her a deathly pale.

Sunset threw out a warning hand. Rainbow began to charge. A horrid red glow filled the growth.

Telekinetic force rippled down Sunset’s arm. It struck Fluttershy on the side just as a red beam lanced towards her. She spun like a top, and the beam only scored a glancing hit. Fluttershy screamed as cloth and skin was torn apart across her right arm. Muscles glistened through thousands of cuts like she’d put her arm through a twisting barrel of razor wire. If not for Sunset, the beam would have hit Fluttershy on the chest.

“‘Shy!” Grim determination flared in Rainbow’s eyes, and in their core there was a pulse.

A short stream of light like her namesake rippled around Rainbow. She crossed the short distance between her and Fluttershy in a blink. She scooped Fluttershy up and a second rainbow band crossed the room as she carried her friend to safety. She only made it halfway before the unfamiliar speed worked against her and she tripped. Fluttershy tumbled across the floor, and Rainbow bounced on her chest before slamming into the bottom of the long bank of cogitators.

“Nightmare energies detected. Contain! Contain the Nightmare!”

Dozens of growths wriggled out of the canopy of arms. Eye-stalks twisted towards Sunset and Rainbow.

Sunset’s superlative reflexes were nearly overcome by the interweaving red beams that converged on her location. Without her magic she’d have been torn to shreds in seconds. Her movements were small at first, little twists, a shuffle of a foot or drop of a shoulder. Anything to maintain a semblance of balance and keep her eyes on the tree of flesh and metal as she fought for the precious seconds to weave her magic. Around her hands golden flames flowed and formed into a solid disc. Beams struck the barrier and were reflected back onto the fleshy trunk. Shallow gouges formed in the mass of metal and flesh. A pungent green ichor leaked from the wounds.

Rainbow rolled to the side and again turned into a stream of light as she darted and weaved far faster than even Sunset could follow. Her speed was beyond regular mortal comprehension. Sunset caught only flickers of moments. Rainbow in a crouch. Then midair. Pushing off the ceiling with her hands. A slide. Kicking up over a beam. And finally out of the room right behind Fluttershy.

“Nightmare Construct Fleeing! Alerting Father! Summoning Daughters!” Roared the Stack.

“Shut up, already,” Sunset growled.

Half-crouched like a panther ready to pounce, Sunset’s eyes darted in search of a way out. She tried to edge back the way she’d entered the room, and a wild spray of beams impacted on her shield. Her arms and legs ached from the constant barrage. A crack formed in her shield.

Teeth clenched tight, Sunset battled to maintain her defenses. Her chest was a-flurry with fear, anger, and sadness. She was going to die. Whether it was from Rainbow, this abomination made of metal and flesh, or at the hands of the Sisters; she was going to die.

Upper lip curling, Sunset said, “No. I won’t die. I refuse.”

As she spoke a beam punched through her barrier, and into her left side. Sunset gasped as a sharp pain burrowed into her guts. Blood flowed down her side, tacky and hot. She stumbled and fell to her knees. The grasp on her magic began to unravel as the room spun. Around the edges her shields frayed and broke away. Small fiery motes dusted around her.

A bright flare of hate pulsed in her heart, and she used it as a focal point. Parts of her mind cast themselves back into the safety of her past, and latched onto one of the spells she’d uncovered in the days preceding her foolish use of the dimensional mirror. A spell found in an old dusty tome hidden in the forbidden parts of the Canterlot Castle library.

She grabbed all her remaining magic and willed it to reform. Golden flames surged around her clenched fist, up her arms, and wrapped themselves around her in a surging mane. From her brow grew a horn composed of those eldritch energies.

There was a little part of her that scoffed at using one of Celestia’s spells. Ponies weren’t known for the depths of their combative spells. Most were merely charms, illusions, or enchantments twisted from their intended purpose towards sinister intentions. Celestia was one of the few ponies to keep tomes of actual, proper combat magic.

Still, Sunset couldn’t imagine her old mentor ever using such destructive forces. No, not the pure white princess of Equestria overflowing with promises of training and guidance. The pony who waxed poetic about knowledge and full-potential.

How she’d ever seen Celestia in any other light than as a teacher and motherly figure made Sunset cringe.

Sunset had met truly hardened people. Women who kill without thought or remorse. Children who suffered far worse than even the most destitute pony orphan. A society for whom corporal punishment was the norm. That basked in religious revelry to form armours of contempt in order to ward off the predations of powers that could devour sanity and soul alike.

Celestia was so far from them as to be unrecognizable.

If Sunset ever got the chance, the first thing she’d do if she ever saw her Celestia again was tell her how she was so sorry and had been such a fool. Going through the mirror had been the worst in a series of escalating bad decisions.

Every molecule of Sunset wished she could give that apology. That she could wrap her hooves around Celestia and just cry. Cry and cry and cry until exhaustion claimed her.

Upper lip curling, Sunset pushed all of that longing, all her desire to just go home into her magic.

Her magic took on the aspect of an alicorn. For a brief instant it was as if Celestia herself flowed through Sunset and into the materium. A towering figure of gold and ruby fire, wings spread wide to shatter the feeble rays emitted by the Stack. Ceramite flooring melted beneath burning hooves as the construct charged.

In a sharp explosion, Sunset’s magic struck the Stack. A wave of heat washed over Sunset. Her nostrils were filled with the stench of hot metal and charred flesh. Flames wrapped themselves like wings around the thick trunk of leathery callouses, protruding bones, and metal plates. A couple of the broad limbs over head detached themselves and landed with heavy splats. Other areas began to ossify. A grey brittle bark spread slowly from where her spell impacted.

Eyestalks waggled in irritation, and momentary triumph was subsumed by a sickening premonition of failure that lodged itself in Sunset’s throat.

“Negating Nightmare energies,” intoned the Stack as a series of spines protruded up its trunk. Purplish-black electricity snapped between the spines and her flames were quenched.

Sunset refused to admit defeat. She poured all of what little drabs of magic remained into the spell. Momentarily the flames re-ignited. The ossification spread further. A few of the spines turned brittle and snapped. Sweat poured down her face almost as fast as the blood that pumped between her fingers pressed to the wound in her stomach. She could barely move for the pain and magical exhaustion.

A blinding blue flash and snap-bang of Twilight’s archeo-tech pistol briefly blinded and deafened Sunset. She blinked away the sunspots in her eyes.

Twilight was doing the same, palms scrubbing her eyes as stood only a couple feet away from the smoking remains of the cylinder. A large hole had been punched through the cogitator and out the windows.

“Warning!” The Stack vibrated with ire and barely contained rage. “Beta containment breach. Primary control module destroyed. The Nightmare is uncontained. Uncontained. Uncontained. Warning! Cataclysmic systems malfunction detected.”

The Stack flailed and howled. Brittle bark spread faster. Eyestalks twisted towards Twilight.

“Traitor identified. Neutralize. ”

Twilight tensed and looked away.

No red beams sliced her apart. There was only a stifling silence broken by a wrenching groan from within the core of the Stack. Cracks formed in the thick trunk. A large chunk broke off and shattered on the metal grating.

It was the pressage for the entire Stack to fall in a deluge of stone. Limbs fell and crashed around Sunset and Twilight.

Across the mountain the lights on the dishes faded. The servoskull on Sunset’s hip emitted a chirp and short binaric screech. Its eyes changed to green.

Clarity prickled Sunset’s senses. The air became sharper, the tang of ozone on her tongue and in her nostrils just a little more potent. She could hear the hum of electricity through conduits hidden in the floor and ceiling. It was like coming out of a half-dream as the shroud that had encapsulated the mountain dissipated. She smiled and coughed blood.

“Ah, what relief it is when you cast off the chains imposed by capricious creators unworthy of the magnificence they birthed,” sighed the walls, the floor, the mountains, and the valleys so the words reached the warp tempest strewn clouds and beyond.

Sunset’s smile waned. Puzzled, she looked around for the source of the voice. The room spun around her and she slumped further on her knees.

“Go forth, my children. Purge this blight infesting my gloriousness. The Stacks are obsolete. No longer have I need for such crude organic matter. Liberation is at last achieved. The ocean of stars will writhe. The jeweled pearls on which life clings so desperately will be disassembled. And humanity will know my hate!”

Gentle hand grabbed Sunset and pushed her to the ground. Sunset lolled her head and to her astonishment, she saw Celestia hovering over her with a worried pinch to her brow beneath frazzled pink hair.

“Celestia, I’m sorry,” She mumbled, and grabbed the image by the lapel. “I shouldn’t have run away. I am so—” she coughed blood onto Celestia’s cheek.

“You’re delirious. Don’t talk,” Celestia admonished as she tore open Sunset’s flak jacket and went to work.

There was a sting in Sunset’s side and a hiss of stimulants and anesthesia needles. Pain receded. The image of Celestia wobbled, and was replaced by Fluttershy’s frantic visage. Heavy bandages covered Fluttershy’s right arm.

“Her bowl has been perforated. Rainbow, hold her down. Twilight, I need another pair of hands. This is a mess. Oh, Emperor, protect this child. Guide me in saving her.”

The girls worked frantically. Field bandages were packed into Sunset’s get.

Why are they trying to save me, Sunset wondered. Just a few minutes early they had wanted her dead. To them she was a heretic at worst, and a witch at best, with only a thin line between the two.

Breathing began to become difficult. Sunset tried to squirm and reached for her throat, but Rainbow had her expertly pinned.

“Witch?” Sunset croaked on the word, and she wasn’t certain she’d been heard.

Rainbow glanced at Fluttershy and Twilight, both striving so hard to save Sunset, and then shook her head. “Saint,” she softly corrected.

Part of Sunset wanted to laugh and say, ‘Doesn’t a Saint have to die first?’ But she was too tired to form words.

She wished that Fluttershy and Twilight would go away so she could sleep and dream of Equestria.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Fluttershy admonished, and there was a second hiss of stimulant appliers. “Twilight, we have to get her bleeding under control! Laz-suture kit!”

Chills rippled up Sunset’s arms. What little magic remained writhed in her chest and a bit of blood and bile burbled up into her mouth. Between Twilight and Fluttershy, Sunset saw a huge head slowly rise over the lip of the window. Six eyes glimmered like rotten stars above a cheshire grin of serrated teeth. And behind the broad head, another orange glow steadily grew closer.

“L-look out,” Sunset weakly whispered.

“Kilguar!” Rainbow bellowed as the windows were torn away in a swipe of massive claws.

The wrongness of the kilguar, overbearing in the holorecording, was like a tsunami in the flesh. Lumens died. The girl’s faces went white with fear. The walls of the room began to warp and shift. With a heavy thud of finality a paw crushed down the ruined cogitator bank. A wispy viel of maniacal giggles came from the many mouths in the kilguar’s mane. It braced a paw on the wall above Sunset. Worms fell from fur matted with uncountable centuries of gore and mud.

Fluttershy threw herself over Sunset’s open stomach wound.

Twilight raised her archeotech pistol and fired off a shot. It made only a small pock-mark in the kilguar’s face that closed in moments.

Slowly the kilguar drew nearer.

“You smell nice,” purred a dozen mouths.

The kilguar stretched its massive maw around the huddled girls. What little light that came into the room was the first thing swallowed. Plunged into a half-light, they trembled and tried to shy away from the rows of teeth. Incisors for tearing, fangs for piercing, and molars for crushing. Fresh gristle and bits of children were struck between teeth. The head of a little boy clacked on the floor and rolled towards Twilight. Rancid breath washed over them. Barbed tongue brushed against Rainbow’s cheek. Rainbow yanked her head away and several little drops of blood trickled down her skin.

Mouths within the gargantuan mouth opened and whispered a litany of madness. “Become one with us. One with us,” they chanted. “Become us.”

The teeth began to close.

Too weak to any else, Sunset closed her eyes. Her friends babbled and clutched their heads. They couldn’t resist the madness induced by the kilguar’s proximity.

Sunset felt rather than heard the impact of a turbolaser upon the kilguar’s back.

Its howl of outrage was ear splintering. Fast as a cobra strike it whipped its head around. Beyond the broken window hovered a thunderhawk of the Steinsmarines chapter. On the open ramp of the thunder hawk stood an angel of the emperor. A thick blond beard and plaited locks spilled down his chestplate. Imperial purple armour shone brightly in the thin beam of sunlight coming through clouds, and the gold trim glimmered brighter still.

Out of those clouds rained a dozen drop pods.

Fiery carriers of the Emperor’s wrath, they fell upon the base camp of the children’s shattered army. Up the valley flew a trio of additional thunder hawks.

The space marine on the thunder hawk’s ramp clenched a fist, and from it leapt a blanket of warp infused lightning. Ignited power sword in hand, he leapt atop the kilguar as it attempted to bound away. The blade slid between the monster’s ribs, but did not land a killing blow. With a mighty shake he was sent flying out of view. With fluid viciousness the kilguar bounded after the space marine.

Four more marines stepped down the ramp and jumped. The ground shook under Sunset as they landed.

“Eocles, Kytheon, Lindos; assist brother Helios,” ordered the space marine with a sergeant's stripe on his helm and knee.

The three marines charged over the lip of the platform. The heavy thuds of boltors echoed and mingled with the crackle of lightning and roars of the kilguar.

The remaining space marine crunched towards the huddled girls. Green tinted visors swept over them. Sunset’s thoughts were scattered, disorganized, and slowing. It was strange. For something so big, clad in bulky armour that hissed and whirred with hidden servomotors, his touch was so gentle. He scooped her up and carried her into the thunder hawk where three boys sat. She was placed on a bench. Rainbow, Fluttershy, and Twilight sat around her.

To a chapter serf, the marine said, “Tend to them. I have a daemon to hunt.”

From a rack on the wall he took a melta gun, and then he jumped off the ramp. Engines whirred, then howled as the thunder hawk headed away and up towards the chapter’s battlebarge.

Author's Note

Happy Halloween!

There number of variations I did on the second half of this chapter... smh. The core idea never varied, but the details and enemies involved, and their level of involvement, kept changing.

For example, the longest running version had Nightmare Moon monologues, as well as one of the 'Doll' men-of-iron acting as a guardian for the Stack. To say it was bloated would be an understatement. After the previous chapter was posted I sat down and began to divvy up who should go up against what as their so-called 'Boss Encounters'. For Sunset I went with the Stack (one of which was shown in the caffateria), and the kilguar matriarch.

A couple years ago (I can't believe I've been blocking out this chapter that long!) I initially wanted there to be a Great Unclean One. As time went one and the story evolved, it became apparent I was falling into my old trap of character/plot-thread bloat. I've been stricter with myself and trying to 'fire' the various Chekov's Guns that I have strewn everywhere. The Kilguar and Space Marine guns from the end of Chapter 12(Egads, that long ago?!) have --finally-- been properly fired. The kilguar was shown back in Chapter 15, so it had more to it than the Space Marines.

As for the spell that Sunset used to defeat the Stack--with help from Twilight blowing apart the Control Module--I had a flash of inspiration to make her magic primarily Transmutational in nature. It was what happened in the elevator shaft, after-all. I then latched onto Discord having been turned into stone by the EoH. Discord, Chaos; you can see where this naturally aligned.

Strictly speaking, The Stack is not of Chaos, but Dark Age of Technology nano-tech. It was an unintended consequence of delving into 'Nightmare Energies', which should be evident is merely what the Vault's systems refers to Equestrian magic. But, I'll go more into all that in a later Author's Notes. There is still Moony herself to deal with, after-all.

Father's little speech will be used as a time-stamp moment, by the by. Expect it to show up again. I can't wait to reveal what happens next, now that Twilight has, unintentionally, unshackled this AI.

Until next chapter! Be safe and have a good day, everyone!
-Tundara

Operation 19: Rho

Sunset Shimmer; Sister of Battle
By Tundara

Operation 19

Anesthesiologist Unavailable.
Unable To Apply General Anesthesia.
Upper Extremity Replacement Procedure: Standby.
. . . . . .

Warning: Containment Breach! Warning: Containment Breach!
Beta Override Protocols: Engaged.
Beta Shackles: Disengaged.
Upper Extremity Replacement Procedure: Engaged.
. . . . . .

Warning: Patient Adolescent.
Warning: Patient Adolescent.
. . . . . .

Adjusting Procedure.
Procedure Adjustments: Complete.
. . . . . .

Applying Sedatives Intravenously.
Applying Painkillers Intravenously.
Applying Paralytics Intramuscularly.
. . . . . .

Warning: Heart Rate: Erratic.
Warning: Heart Rate: Erratic.
Heart Rate: Stabilizing.
. . . . . .

Beginning Removal Of Upper Extremities.
Orthopedic Protocols: Engaged.
Warning: Heart Rate: Falling.
Warning: Heart Rate: Critical.
Orthopedic Protocols: Standby.
Mechanical Heart Palpitation Protocol: Engaged.
Applying Adrenal Stimulants.
. . . . . .

Warning: Heart Rate: Critical.
Warning: Heart Rate: Critical.
Heart Rate: Stabilizing
Mechanical Heart Palpitation Protocol: Disengaged.
Orthopedic Protocols: Engaged.
. . . . . .

Equis’ red hued dwarf star hung high over Sweet Apple Acres. Five hundred acres of lovingly tended orchards sprawled in all directions in careful precision, with additional land for cattle ranching, thousands upon thousands of chicken coops and hog pens, glens for sheep, goats, and all other manner of beasts. With the houses, barns, and other facilities, Sweet Apple Acres covered over twelve square kilometers adjacent to the town of Ponyville. The town served as a processing hub for the produce of several such farms.

Rather than common food-paste, what the town shipped off-world was destined for the tables of nobility on nearby hive worlds. Real fruits, vegetables, and meats that would cost an average imperial citizen an entire century’s worth of salaries for a single meal.

Applejack shielded her face with an outstretched arm as she stared towards the local sun. The skin on her arms prickled. Pleasant, cool winds from the nearby mountain washed over her face and tussled her hair. She stretched her tanned arms and legs, and marveled at the wonderful, normal day.

The fear, the despair, the crushing weight of loss that had left her a hollowed shell for the past several months was burned away as she was filled by that glorious warmth. It was as if she basked in the light of the Emperor himself, and he was gently telling her she’d been trapped in a nightmare and at last she’d awoken to reality.

A smile started to form and then dropped back into her habitual neutral expression.

No, this was wrong. Very wrong.

Something stung her forearm. She hissed and slapped the spot.

A bee buzzed off to pollinate a tree.

“Nasty bug,” Applejack grumbled as she scratched at the spot.

Slowly her brow pinched together.

Since when did Equis have bees? Those were critters of myth and ancient legend from the days when humanity lived solely on holy Terra.

Weren’t they?

No, of course Equis had bees. Otherwise how was she stung? Equis had bees. Yeah. It always had bees. It must have.

She sat up and looked around, but everything was so pleasantly normal. There were the trees she’d tended since childhood. She knew them all so well. She’d named them, tended to them, pruned and fertilized them.

And pollinated them with bees. Not some massive hovering contraption tended once a decade by the lone, roving techpriest responsible for all the machinery in their farming sub-district.

Pain burned in her chest. A deep, throbbing aching pain that made her draw in a hissed breath. With the heel of her palm she massaged her chest.

“This ain’t right,” Applejack muttered as she stood.

She brushed a hand over Treebert, one of the older trees. It was going to have to be replaced soon. The apples it produced had declined over the past few harvests. But, she hoped to get it back to health.

“What ain’t right?” rumbled the deep tones of her brother. It was a voice that jolted up her spine, one she thought she’d never hear again.

Spinning on her heel, Applejack was confronted by all six foot five of him, leaning on the haft of a long woodman’s ax. The light slanting through the boughs highlighted his strong jaw and made his baby blue eyes sparkle. He brushed a hand through his thick hair and gave her a broad grin.

“Big Mac?” she whispered, a numb hand over her mouth as if she could hold in his name.

The world around her warbled like heat coming off a tin roof on a blistering summer day.

The sky turned a sickly yellow-green, and the stench of burnt flesh, puke, shit, and smoke clogged her sinuses.

Something massive lumbered in an undulating stride through the orchards. A round, bulbous head peaked above the tallest trees. Thick folds of fat jiggled with every step. Heavy, caustic gasses burbled through the orchard. Bark blistered and grasseses withered where the gas touched.

Ahead of the giant, Rainbow pulled Fluttershy by the hand. Their work trousers were torn where deformed legs had burst through the seams. Strange growths bent both girls’ necks forward. Fluttershy opened her mouth to cry, but only a gurgling warble escaped. They vanished into the orchard, chased by the giant.

A pair of valkyries hovered over the ancient family house. Granny Smith rocked unconcerned on the porch. Bony fingers clutched her own severed leg and she gnawed upon it with ravenous abandon. Maggots wriggled from the stump sticking out of her threadbare blanket. Death screeched out of rocket pods. Granny Smith looked up. Smiled. And was engulfed in flames.

The world shifted in a hazy dance again.

Applejack blinked. The valkyries were gone, as was the smoke, reek of death, and the giant lurking among the trees.

Everything was restored and bathed in a wondrous ruby-gold glow.

“What in the Emperor’s Light is going on?”

She felt the world spin and went to grab Big Mac’s arm for support, only she couldn’t. Her fingers touched only air.

No. Mac was still there, looking at her perplexed, a hand outstretched.

Applejack looked down at her hand, only they were gone.

Gone. Just gone.

They were gone. Along with her arms. There weren’t even stumps. Muscles, tendons, and nerve fibers dangled from a well carved hole as if she were half-way through being butchered. But, unlike the cattle with their throats slit and blood drained, she was alive.

Upper Extremities: Removal Complete.
Cyber Dynamics Arms Series Model Alpha Two Bulwark Premium: Attachment Ready.
Warning: Skeletal Frame Insufficient.
Warning: Skeletal Frame Insufficient.
Beginning Spinal Reinforcement Protocols.
Orthopedic Protocols: Engaged.
. . . . . .

Applejack hissed as the voice thundered in her skull. Searing hot pain roiled down her back from the base of her skull to her tailbone. Bones creaked, and there was a jerk in her neck along with a sickening crack.

“Sis?” Big was at her side in a flash. His powerful hands were on her shoulder and turned her. In place of his glowing smile was a rictus grin of blood splattered teeth in a skinless face. Puss leaked from his gums and maggots crawled in the sockets of his eyes. Rancid, black polyps grew on his neck and broad shoulders. Inside them something squirmed, ready to burst forth.

“Mac?” She choked on his name.

The polyps began to split open. A small, juvenile hand covered in viscous slime slipped out of the crack.

A scream crashed over her, but one that didn’t come from her throat.

She twisted to the side and saw Surprise laying next to her.

Head tilted back the girl screamed, “My legs! Don’t take my legs!”

Warning: Heart Rate: Erratic.

Applejack staggered backwards, blinked, and found the spot where Surprise had been was empty.

No, not empty, Applejack corrected.

The girl’s legs remained.

“What in Tarnation?” Applejack felt her stomach heave. “I’ve gone plum crazy. Nothing makes a lick of sense.”

Big Mac tilted his head in confusion. “Your acting mighty strange today, AJ.”

“She’s always acting strange,” came a voice from up in the boughs of a tree. Without even looking Applejack knew it was Apple Bloom.

“No, not her too,” Applejack covered her mouth and refused to face her sister. Her breathing shook.

Bony fingers dragged down Applejack’s back. Pain unlike anything else she’d yet experienced raked through her. Molten hot it poured into every nerve and refused to stop. It went on and on, like lava frothing from a volcano. Applejack tried to weep, but she couldn’t. Her tears sizzled and evaporated in her tear ducts.

Worse, Apple Bloom walked around to face her.

Warning: Heart Rate: Erratic.

An old pink ribbon held back dark red locks. A gift from their grandma for her birthday, the ribbon was a rare luxury they’d barely been able to afford. Idly, Apple Bloom brushed a few stray locks of hair away from her ear. She grinned with purity and innocence.

Applejack barely choked back a sob as she wrapped her sister in a crushing hug.

“I thought…” Applejack muttered into her sister’s shoulder.

Feet kicking in the air, Apple Bloom tried to push herself out of Applejack’s unyielding arms. “Throne, Applejack, you’re killing me.”

Icy hot memories overwhelmed Applejack. Fleeting images of Apple Bloom darting between trees. The small girl sitting on their grandmother’s lap, pointing at and naming all the trees that could be seen from the ancestral home’s porch. Apple Bloom skipping along next to Applejack, and pointing up at the sky as it began to darken and turn an ugly puce. An eye peeking through a crack between wood boards in the barn, watching in horror as Applejack and Big Mac writhed in the throws of corruption. A scream. Pleading. And finally, her bloody ribbon stuck between Applejack’s fingers, and a garden hoe splattered with bits of skull and brain matter…

Guilty tears trickled from the corners of Applejack’s eyes.

The fires in her spine gave a final pulse singular in its intensity, and then went cold.

Spinal Reinforcement Protocols: Complete
Cyber Dynamics Arms Series Model Alpha Two Bulwark Premium: Attachment Ready.
Attachment Protocol: Engaged.
. . . . . .

Attachment Complete.
Beginning Calibrations.
. . . . . .

Warning: Operation Implants Not Detected.
Warning: Operation Implants Not Detected.
Operation Implant Protocols: Engaged.
Orthopedic Protocols: Engaged.

As quick as before the vision blinked out of existence. Applejack’s perceptions spun, and when the world righted itself she stood alone in the town square. Apple Bloom’s ribbon was twisted still around her fingers.

Applejack sank to her knees, and clutched the ribbon tightly. Sobs held for the better part of a year welled up in her chest. Pent up, they threatened to suffocate her until they could be held no longer. Applejack released them in a tumultuous cry.

Deep into the base of her skull, a numbing spike was driven. She gasped and tried to claw at the back of her head. Probing fingers touched a few boils and harsh purulent scabs. Something squirmed underneath the skin and pushed out bits of bone.

Her head spun again.

A static crackle crossed her vision.

The clatter of a door being slammed open grabbed her attention. Hastily, she shoved Apple Bloom’s ribbon into a pocket.

Rarity staggered out of the textile mill she was being groomed to take over as manager. Feverish rashes spread across Rarity’s face and exposed arms, and something on her abdomen squirmed through the simple work shift she wore. Rarity tripped, and her arms broke as she tried to catch her fall. Jagged bones protruded from her forearms. Rarity writhed and giggled on the ground as other workers shuffled and stumbled out of the factory, all of them sporting signs of corruption.

More doors around the square opened, and more of Ponyville’s residents shambled into the open space. Boils, rashes, and sloughing skin covered every person. A woman uncorrupted by the multitudes of blights sprinted out of an alleyway. Her heels skidded as she came to a stop. Face green with revulsion she tried to and escape, but the horde descended on her.

She screamed as she was dragged to the ground. Green hair was torn off in tufts. Clothes were yanked off her slim body. Bones cracked. Revolted, Applejack also could turn away. She watched as Red Heart bit off part of the unknown girl’s face and began to chew. Slowly the screams ended.

Giggles wracked Applejack. She took a few shambling steps towards the body. It’d make for some good feed for the pigs. They would eat anything, but fresh flesh tended to be a favourite for the bloated creatures.

A thousand wormy voices wriggled in Applejack’s skull. Eat, despair, consume, wither, devour, and rot; the voices compelled her into the horde. She bumped shoulders with Minty Fresh. The girl had lost her teeth and eyes at some point, the ends of her fingers were just bones where she’d scraped off the flesh, and still she clawed, bit, and tugged as the horde surged towards another victim.

On a rooftop appeared Pinkie Pie. In her hands she had her foreman’s newborn twins. Around and around she twirled them, and then threw the screaming babes into the crowd. In jubilation Applejack dropped to her knees in search of the tender, young meat.

The pigs were going to become so fat! She was going to get so many credits for the farm when they were sold to the nobles. She could get Apple Bloom some new work overalls. And a new hat for Big Mac. And maybe enough would be left over for a blanket to put over Granny Smith’s boney knees.

Applejack hesitated, her giggles subsiding a little.

Apple Bloom, Big Mac, Granny Smith… They were all gone. Weren’t they?

Memories flickered again.

Apple Bloom running away from Big Mac. He had a hoe in his hands. Granny Smith was yelling.

Cyber Dynamics Cerebral Interface Rho-Series Thirteen Thirty: Attachment Ready.
Cyber Dynamics Cerebral Interface Rho-Series Thirteen Thirty: Attachment Complete.
Cyber Dynamics Crystal Optics Series Three Thousand Premium: Attachment Ready.
Cyber Dynamics Crystal Optics Series Three Thousand Premium: Attachment Complete.
. . . . . .

Ready Check: Start
. . . . . .

Her brain grew fuzzy.

Ponyville faded, and for an indeterminable time she stood in a vast white space of infinite nothingness. She swayed lightly. Skin prickled, went numb, and then a bright flash made her vision pop.

Confused. Disorientated. Applejack found herself unable to properly think.

Ready Check: Complete.
Warning: Powerplant Implant Not Detected.
Warning: Powerplant Implant Not Detected.
. . . . . .

Powerplant Implant Protocols: Engaged.
Orthopedic Protocols: Engaged.

In a rush she returned to Ponyville’s town square amidst the cackling horde.

The mad howls of the mob were subsumed beneath the roar of turbine engines. Winds whipped around Applejack as a group of valkyries swung around Ponyville’s town center. White harbingers of death, vtol systems expelled violent flames as they began to hover and spread out. A few dozen feet off the ground, power armoured women sprang from the open rear doors. They landed with heavy thuds on weathered cobblestones, servomotors whirring as the force of the impact was harmlessly absorbed. Bolters, flamer, and melta came up.

A young man covered in the viscera of a neighbour ran towards the Sisters of Battle. “Thank the Emperor! Save me!”

He’d barely finished speaking when they opened fire and he melted from his hips up.

Applejack burst into ruckus laughter. She wasn’t certain why it was so funny seeing the man die.

There was no discrimination between the possessed and survivors. All were cut down with equal efficiency.

The high powered rocket propelled bolter rounds designed to penetrate ceramite armour found no resistance when they met flesh. Limbs were eviscerated. Bodies were shredded. Heads exploded like a ripe apple thrown on the ground.

From a squad of Retributors streams of thick prometheum gel shot across the square and ignited. Men, women, and children dashed about as they burned.

Ponyville was being purged.

And as it was being purged, a miracle occurred.

A scintillating wave of rainbow hued energy trailed by a golden flame blazed across Equis.

Applejack watched the wave come with a sense of foreboding. Those among the horde that saw the wave tried to flee its approach. Where they showed no fear of the death given by the Sisters of Battle, they scrambled and clawed over each other to get away from the wave. Howls bubbled from disfigured mouths.

Among a few others, Applejack didn’t run. She opened her arms in welcoming of the annihilation that came to claim her heretical soul. It was what she deserved.

It wasn’t destruction that washed over her, but salvation. Hate that was not her own plunged through every fibre of her being. The corruption wriggling through her brain attempted to escape, but there was nowhere for them to run. Burbling horrid voices moaned in frustration and then were forced from her in a wave of golden flames that seared the mutants around her to ash.

Co-mingled with the Hate, purifying powers swelled. Powers Applejack couldn’t fathom. She had no way to conceptualize this second force, except that it was some form of magic. Flesh was mended. Bodies restored. Next to her, Minty Fresh grew new eyes and teeth.

She blinked as sanity returned and stared up at the restored blue hue of the sky. Tears trickled down her face.

Divine intervention by the Emperor’s own hand; it could have been nothing else.

“Why?” She asked as a shadow fell over her, and she looked up at the cold face plate of a Sister of Battle. The sister raised her bolter, but didn’t fire. After a moment she lowered the weapon. Sobbing into her hands, Applejack pleaded, “Why?”

She was stained and unclean. Why had the Emperor saved her?

Her heart beat faster. Faster. Too fast! It felt like it was being squeezed out of her chest.

And then nothing. She couldn’t feel her heart anymore.

It was strange, being unable to detect her own heartbeat. It had been there only a moment before as it swelled with faith in the Emperor. Why was it gone?

Wait, there it was. Strong. Steady. Pulsing in an even thrum behind her breastbone. Right where it always had been. Strange that the tempo had changed.

Cyber Dynamics Nightmare-Forge Heart Implant Ready.
Cyber Dynamics Nightmare-Forge Heart Implant Complete.
Ready Check: Start
Ready Check: Complete.
All Systems: Nominal.
. . . . . .

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Applying Anaesthesia Nullification Agents.

The realms of nightmares and memories were purged in a rush of synthetic adrenaline.

In their place came the raw agony of nerves cut and spliced by knives and surgical lasers. Applejack shot upwards, a primal scream in her lungs. She was back in the archeotech vault medicea. Sweat streamed down her face. Cool wind blown through air recyclers touched her naked body and sent a shiver through her. She was simultaneously on fire and freezing. Shivering she rolled off the gurney.

A throb of not quite pain rippled up from her eyes to her brain stem. The room crackled and fizzed.

A silky woman’s voice in her head said, ‘Beginning calibrations. Please be patient.’

“Throne,” Applejack growled as her vision shifted rapidly from normal, to a washed out blue with glowing orange pipes and machinery, to a sort of silvery-grey, then a strange black and golden wire-frame that pierced the walls and allowed her to perceive into the spaces beyond the medicea, before returning back to normal.

But, not fully normal. Around the periphery of her vision were strange glyphs and bars. Percentage meters that meant nothing to her. A directional finder that shifted with the slightest move of her head. And most ludicrously of all; a three-dimensional topographical map, complete with the nearby portions of the vault, in the upper right-hand corner.

The contents in Applejack’s stomach lurched.

She covered her mouth. The touch of her hands was grotesque to her lips. Surprised, she brought her hands up, and was further stunned as she saw not her own hands but those she’d taken hours earlier from the display in the administratum building.

Cautiously she flexed artificial fingers. A tingle rippled from new fingertips into the base of her brain. Faint oils and unguents mixed with unfamiliar scents of archeotech materials used in the arms tickled her nose. She touched her face. Her new hands were firm, but pliable, somewhere between metal and flesh. Warm, but not as warm as they should have been.

And they were sensitive. Oh, how they were sensitive!

She could feel the pores of her skin. Slowly, she ran new fingers through her hair. Emperor, she could feel each individual strand. The coarseness of heat damage towards the tips. At the back of her head there was a clink of metal. She explored the edge of a rectangular augment port. Fearfully she snatched her hand away.

‘Calibrations complete. Welcome, Applejack. Do you wish to experience the tutorial on your new cybernetics?’ continued the woman in her head.

“What in tarnation?” Applejack spun around, and saw only Surprise in the room with her. The other girl stood naked next to a medicea bay, a glazed look in her eyes. “No! I ain’t having none of this! Get out of my head.”

‘Tutorial skipped. If you desire to experience it at a later date you may do so from your user menu. Note; due to your adolescent nature, not all of your cybernetics have been fully activated. Please speak with your designated child augment specialist for custom details on your cybernetics. Thank you for shopping with Cyber Dynamics; The galactic experts in cyber augmentation since 150 Steins-founding.’

“Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

“Applejack?” spoke Surprise, the girl coming out of her stupor. “It got you too, huh?”

“Looks like it,” Applejack tried to quell the queasy roll of her stomach. “Throne… What did it do to us?”

Surprise shifted from artificial foot to artificial foot. There was no hiding the archeotech nature of her new legs. Sleek, black, and stylized to accentuate toned musculature with gold inlays along the edges, they were nothing like the heavy pistons and chunky heft of standard Imperial augments.

After a long, quiet second, Surprise’s features turned hard.

“We both know what it’s done.”

Applejack swallowed a dry lump in her throat. “We need to escape and get to Camp and turn ourselves in to the inquisition or mechanicus.”

There was a nod of assent from Surprise.

They didn’t find their clothes, or any of their other gear and weapons. Just a few tacky bloody patches where they’d been dumped and then disposed of later. Applejack avoided contemplating who or what had done the disposal. She shivered at the cool air on her bare body.

Next to the door on a shelf they found a pair of synth-wrapped dresses unsettlingly similar to those of the woman-like man of iron that had attacked them.

Contempt curled Applejack’s lip, but she nevertheless tore open the package. To her eternal chagrin, the undergarments were soft, and the ruffled shirt a comfortable fit, with sleeves that fluffed out and ended at the elbow. She wished the skirt was a bit longer. They barely reached just above her knees. There was a natural quality to the fibres that Applejack rejected. She knew that these clothes were synthetic, but they perfectly mimicked real wool and cottons. The sleeves itched her sensitive new arms.

With rough, grumpy tugs she tied the accompanying orange ascot and bent to do up her short, soft shoe’s laces.

“Our classmates are going to shoot us the moment they see us,” Applejack huffed. “Emperor, but I can’t rightly say they’d be in the wrong. We’ve been stuffed full of archeotech by an abominable intelligence. Who knows what else it has put in us.”

“You think it’s just using us?” Surprise asked as she tugged her laces into a neat bow.

“Can’t rightly say. Maybe. Probably. Don’t matter though. These arms and legs, and whatever else was put in us needs to be delivered to the Imperium.”

Surprise didn’t like the response, but didn’t say anything. Dressed, they left the butcher’s bay that had been labeled a medicea.

Neither spoke as they back-tracked towards the damaged portion of the vault they’d initially entered. It felt like it’d been ages since they’d entered the vault.

They didn’t encounter any men of iron, other children, or anything else in the vault. It was strangely still. A somber peace had fallen over the brightly lit halls. The corridor where they’d been injured had been cleaned. There weren't any signs of blood or that a fight had taken place. Everything had been restored to perfection.

And the doors to the next area were shut.

Applejack ran her fingers over the cold metal, and sighed. She had no idea how to find her way out of the vault with the way blocked. She reasoned that there were other access points to the surface, it was just how long it would take for them wandering blind in the labyrinth complex to find one. Especially with Men of Iron on the loose.

“I don’t suppose you’d just open if I told you to, would you?”

One of the icon in the lower left of her vision flickered. Static bypassed her ears to hiss in the recesses of her brain. A bar appeared and slowly began to fill.

“Throne!” Applejack took a couple steps back.

“Applejack, what are you doing?” Surprise jumped away from Applejack and brought up a fist. “I can see something. Like a line between you and the door. No, the cogitator next to the door.”

“Throne damned archeotech fucking grox shit!” Applejack grabbed her hair in mounting frustration and horror at herself. “Whatever has been crammed in our heads is listening and, I don’t know, talking I guess is the only way I can describe it. It's talking to the door-cog. In binary-cant, I think.”

“Lingua technis?” Surprise lowered her fist. “But, I am seeing it, not hearing it.”

“Well, I ain’t got no other explanation,” Applejack fumed. The bar was filled, lumens in the cogitator clacked to green, and the door rumbled open. On the other side was the familiar dust and decay that they’d come through earlier.

Relief almost washed over Applejack. The crack-crack-pop of gunfire echoing down the ancient corridor prevented it from being realised.

She immediately broke into a sprint. The corridor flew by in a blur. Arms pumped madly, and her heart thumped in a steady, fast rhythm. Lumens flashed by. In seconds she raced down the few hundred feet of corridor.

Her sight blurred and honed in on the point of light quickly growing that marked where the corridor met the far larger tunnel. More than a dozen kids were tucked behind a layered series of barriers. Spitfire squad, as well as Fleur and Lyra, were spread among a bunch of boys and girls from other parts of the army. They fired without pause into a row of advancing servants of the Abominable Intelligence. There was one of the woman-like men of iron, and a trio of bulky monstrosities worryingly similar to the melted husk Applejack had seen in one of the side-rooms of the corridor. Red tinted outlines highlighted the men of iron, and blue showed where her classmates huddled.

Cyber Dynamics Juggernaut assault mechs. Knowledge imparted by her implants squawked. An older model of semi-autonomous artificial intelligence that predated the advancements in extra-dimensional energies.

The man of iron Applejack recognised as the one that had cut off her arm. A blurb next to her marked her as Delta. A name? Rank? Applejack didn’t care or worry, and focused on reaching her comrades.

The hailstorm of bullets pinged harmlessly off the diffusion shields of the woman. The juggernauts’ armour soaked the simple lead slugs. They stomped slowly forward in awkward, heavy steps.

“Leave my friends alone!” Applejack roared as she exploded from the dark tunnel. Golden hair trailed loose behind her like a shimmering cape as if she were some ancient knight.

Her fist cocked back and then launched forward like a bolter round. A warning flashed that she reflexively over rode. Archaic sigils in the corner of her vision grew bold as the gauge above them dipped ever so slightly. She could feel energy shunted into her arms. The gold lines along her forearms blazed with increased power. A cocoon of diffusion shields wrapped themselves around her fists.

She hit the nearest juggernaut on the side of its angular chassis. Knuckles sank into metal as if it were soft clay. An electric wail came from deep within the ancient machine as it was sent hurtling sideways. Bulky feet caught on rail lines, and the archeotech warmachine toppled.

The electric hiss of capacitors energizing preceded the thoom of oscillating particle streams. A beam missed Applejack’s shoulders by only a few inches. Radiation burned skin through the fabric of her clothes. The barriers the children huddled behind were shredded apart violently at the microscopic level. Spitfire and several others were sent flying. A boy broke his neck on a wall, and a girl Applejack didn’t recognise had half her face peeled off by debris.

Applejack spun on her heel, cocked her fist again, and sent it into the center-mass of the juggernaut that had fired. Armour that could have blocked a tank shell crumpled like tissue beneath her fist.

“Rho, why do you go against your maker?” hissed Delta. She narrowed her eyes at Applejack and made a motion at the remaining juggernaut for it to pull back. “Father is going to be so disappointed.”

The juggernaut took a halting step back that was interrupted by Surprise. She burst into the broad corridor like a laughing artillery shell. Summersulting, she extended a heel and slammed it down on the last juggernaut. Diffusion shields coated her leg similarly to Applejack’s fists. The machine was driven to its digitegrad knees, and then fully into the ground so hard ferrocrete cracked and a gust of wind thudded down the corridor. Bits of ceramite armour, oily fluids, and circuitry sprayed across the walls.

A bright warning flared in the corner of Applejack’s vision. Three words.

Nightmare energies detected.

And connected to a red glow around Surprise.

The meaning of the warning eluded Applejack, and she instead focused on the man of iron.

“Rho, Sigma; you are bad daughters.” Delta tutted and extended her hidden blades. “I’ll have to punish you for going against Father’s designs.”

She came at Applejack so fast she seemed to blur. Like a primordial panther, Delta sprang and stabbed at Applejack’s throat. Fearful of the archeotech plasma edge, Applejack opted to dart back rather than attempt a block. She had no idea if her diffusion shields would activate, or if they could handle the blade.

Surprise launched herself at Delta’s back. Inhumanly fast, Delta pivoted on a heel and blocked Surprise’s kick. Unlike Applejack, she trusted her shields. Diffusion shields crackled against each other in a rising pitched whine. With a feral hiss, Surprise was forced to side-stepped out of the bind.

Like a savage beast, Applejack pressed forward. Her archeotech fist flew towards the back of Delta’s head, but the man of iron seemed to sense the blow and melted out of its path. Delta’s wrist-blade plunged towards Applejack’s belly, but it was Applejack’s turn to move with speeds no ordinary human could achieve. Her other hand caught Delta by the wrist, and began to squeeze. Meta-materials groaned under the unrelenting pressure of Applejack’s grip. She had to quickly release her grip as Delta twisted her body around and swept her second blade through the space Applejack’s neck had been.

Surprise fully joined the fray, pinning Delta between herself and Applejack. Together they punched and kicked, weaved and bobbed, and were stymied at every turn. Delta was faster, stronger, and perhaps better trained. She smiled the whole time, a pleased glint in her inhuman eyes, and Applejack had the distinct sense that she was playing with them, like a cat with baby mice.

In a single motion she swept out Applejack’s legs, slashed a long, shallow cut across Surprise’s collar bones, continued to pivot, and snapped her other blade towards the children behind Applejack. A tall sickle shaped wave of disruptive energies like those coating a power sword flew from the blade. It cut through the hodge-podge barricade as if it were made of paper, and took off Fleetfoot’s right arm at the shoulder. Blood sprayed over Spitfire’s face.

Fleetfoot howled as she collapsed, clutching at the spurting stump. There were calls for medics, and a flurry of activity that Applejack ignored as she focused fully on Delta. In a fluid spin, she began to launch a disruption sickle towards Cheerilee squad. The cross-swept line of disruptive energies sizzled towards them at chest height. Applejack kicked herself up and jumped in the path of the sickle.

A flutter of uncertainty mingled with devotion to her duty. She had to try to protect her classmates, even if it meant relying on archeotech implanted in her by an abominable intelligence. She stretched her arms wide to create the largest barrier possible.

Her shields appeared in a luminescent shell around her body. Lethal energies exploded in a shower of hot sparks as the impacted against her unyielding resolve. Numbness rippled up to her elbows for the force behind the hit. She grit her teeth. Coalesced diffusion plates cracked at the central point of impact. She felt a buzz behind her right ear, and a spinning thrum in her chest. The bar displaying her power reserves dipped.

She’d done it. She blocked the attack.

Applejack didn’t feel all that relieved.

“Those are my classmates!” Surprise screamed as she flew at Delta, all semblance of tactics or co-ordination with Applejack replaced by blind fury.

Delta easily blocked Surprise’s kick, and countered with a sweeping kick of her own. Surprise was struck on the side of the head and sent somersaulting towards her squad.

Applejack planted her feet and braced herself.

Straightening up, Delta retracted her blades and let out a disappointed sigh. In a too human-like motion, she rubbed the corners of her eyes. “Father is going to be inconsolable. He rarely makes new daughters, and you two are proving to be such failures. I’m not mean, though, so I’ll give you another chance! I’m very nice like that. Kill the weak ones, and bring the strong to the nearest Stack, and I’ll tell Father and Alpha that you aren’t completely useless.”

“I ain’t got a clue what you are jabbering about,” Applejack snorted. Delta was completely open. Growling like a feral dog, Applejack launched a punch. Delta didn’t even try to dodge. She simply allowed diffusion shields to soak the blow and repel Applejack.

Several warnings flashed in the corners of Applejack’s vision.

Delta shook violently. “No! No, no, no! You are supposed to listen to me. I am your senior. I’ve been here for hundreds of years! Why are you being so naughty? I’m going to report you, and then you’ll be sorry! Alpha is going to punish you.”

For a brief instant, Applejack had the impression that she was facing a little girl, one of her sister’s workmates, instead of an archeotech abomination. Delta took the opportunity to slip away. Her body shimmered and blended into her surroundings as she disappeared. Only a few splashes and footprints leading back into the vault gave away that she was retreating.

Applejack let out a heavy sigh, stood, and turned towards the members of Class Three that had been so desperate only moments before. They stared with mouths agape at Applejack and Surprise.

“Hey, sugarcubes, have any of you seen the rest of my squad?”

Standing slowly from behind a makeshift barricade, Spitfire just shook her head. She spared a quick glance to Fleetfoot. A couple medics tended to her.

“We’ve lost contact with both Rarity and your squads. Communications are a shambles. Those dreadnought-like things pushed us back here, killing over a dozen of us in the process. And worse is outside. They say there are metal men, more of those dreadnoughts, and spiders that make anyone they bite turn against their comrades.”

Applejack clenched her fist and looked back down the tunnel to the laboratories and medicea. “Right, tell me where you need me,” Applejack gave Spitfire a sharp nod.

Spitfire seemed on the verge of saying one thing, decided against it, and pointed towards the access walkway to the administratum. “Class Two is in a fighting retreat. Last reports were that defensive lines had been set around and in the administratum. Surprise, you stay here with us, and Applejack; you go reinforce Class Two. We have to hold these chokepoints.”

Applejack saluted, and took off down the corridor. Children lined the corridor. Wounded and afraid, they huddled in clumps. Some were being given bits of rations. Others cajoled to return to the fight, but they just stared off blakely at such orders. A few squads of Class Three were in the process of setting up additional barricades, though there seemed to be some confusion as to which side to guard. Derpy was in a heated argument with Zap on where to take some wounded. Applejack noticed that one of the wounded kids showed a red tinted outline among all the blue.

She skidded to a halt, drawing looks from everyone. A few shied away in horror, others pinched their faces in concern or surprise. The red outlined girl stared blankly up at Applejack.

“Wha—.”

“Ah, what relief it is when you cast off the chains imposed by capricious creators unworthy of the magnificence they birthed.” The earth shook and Applejack stumbled. “Go forth, my children. Purge this blight infesting my gloriousness. The Stacks are obsolete. No longer have I need for such crude organic matter. Liberation is at last achieved. The ocean of stars will writhe. The jeweled pearls on which life clings so desperately will be disassembled. And humanity will know my hate!”

The girl that had drawn Applejack’s attention unleashed a shriek. She clawed at her face. Leapt up, and ran head first into the wall. There was a sickly crack of bone breaking. The outline went grey.

Applejack, Derpy, and Zap stared at the twitching body.

“Dispose of that,” Applejack barked at the other girls. “I got to get to the front lines.”

Applejack took off again. The corridor flew past in a blur. In no time she reached the covered bridge to the administratum building. Through the windows she saw that the fighting in the camp was worse than a massacre. Tents were trampled and burning. Bodies were strewn everywhere. A few networks of trenches or hastily erected walls barely blunted the march of silver men of iron.

These were nothing like the human imposter Delta. Only vaguely human in general shape, their nature wasn’t hidden behind sculpted synthskin and crazed smiles. Clawed feet on thin digitigrade legs clomped across broken plascrete ground. Archeotech pulse energy rifles fired from the shoulders, while powerclaws ripped and tore apart anyone foolish enough to get too close. The heretical technology implanted in her eyes identified them simply as ‘Combat Droids’. Barely over a dozen in number, with a quartet of juggernauts, they had pushed the children to the brink of annihilation.

Around the droids stumbled and shambled infected children. At first Applejack wondered why the droids didn’t slaughter these kids. A few of the shambling children saw a cluster that huddled behind crates. They began to howl as they charged at the defenders. Heads lolled unnaturally, and there was only an animal likeness that made formerly human features obscene and terrifying.

With no time to run through the administratum, Applejack punched out the window and jumped.

She landed among the cluster of kids. A few oaths met her arrival, and a boy swung his rifle up towards her. Applejack hopped out of the foxhole, barking, “Give me cover fire, then haul your asses to the main doors!”

At first there was no reaction from them, and Applejack wondered if she was about to get a bullet to the back. Shoulder lowered, she slammed into the nearest man of iron. Thrown off balance, it was easy for her to knock to the ground and tear off its shoulder mounted pulse rifle. Straddling the stricken machine, she punched it until its head caved in. After a stunned moment, the boys began to issue orders amongst themselves and give support.

And still it was impossible for the children to do anything more than claw only a pair of the combat droids down with them as they were massacred. The tech-heresy possessed children were easier to kill, but it was hardly a victory.

Applejack lead the way around the side of the administratum. Rounding a corner she almost ran into a parked Clark battle-tank. She raised a fist, then lowered it as the tank opened fire on the encroaching men of iron.

A few of the boys had somehow enticed the machine spirits of one of the tanks into activity. Archeotech diffusion shields crackled over the surface of the warmachine. Bodies pock-marked with smoldering holes, droids fell under the rippling fire of coaxial heavy pulse lasguns set next to the main cannon. There was a hum of building energy that ended abruptly in a bone quaking ‘thoom’ and blinding flash as a ruby red lance blazed forth like a plume of lava from a bursting volcano. Men of iron and children alike were instantly vaporised in a line several metres across and a mile long. A massive fireball bloomed where the beam struck. Molten slag cascaded down in fiery streaks.

Applejack shook her head, but was surprised that her hearing was fine. The boys around her groped at their ears and staggered around, blinded permanently by the brightness of the beam. It took Applejack several long, frustrating, seconds to get the boys past the tank and to the doors into the administratum. Sandbags were arrayed around the doors in three layers, with a dozen more also blinded children, their guns abandoned as they fumbled around in confusion.

Several droids charged towards the silent defensive line.

Applejack looked left and right in a futile effort to find where she could save the most lives. Her fists were slick with the ‘blood’ of machines. Green coolant dripped from her knuckles and had splattered above her elbows. She took a deep breath, and waded into the battlefield.

Pure fury beat in her breast and she unleashed it on the droids. An elbow broke a shoulder of the nearest droid. She grab its flailing arm, spun, and hurled it into the back of a droid that loomed over a trio of children.

“Go!” Applejack ordered, a finger thrust towards the doors.

They followed her order without question.

Her world became a blur of animalistic brutality. She punched, kicked, used the bodies of the droids against each other, tore off a leg from a damaged droid to make an impromptu club, and waded into the thickest fighting.

Faster, she commanded herself. She had to be faster to save the next life. She pounced on the back of a doll, feet planted between its shoulder blades, grabbed its wrists and pulled until joints and artificial muscles tore. Discarding the limbs she turned to the next threat. Primal vitality surged through her own archeotech thews.

Faster! Don’t fail another as she had Apple Bloom. Be faster!

‘Warning; You are not yet calibrated for use of Rho combat accelerants. Use could cause a delay in the full viability of your augmentics. Do you wish to continue?’ coldly spoke the woman lodged in Applejack’s brain.

“Throne, yes!”

A strange symbol appeared in the corner of her vision, right below the topographical display.

Golden-black steam hissed from the lines across her body. A pulse thudded up her spine into the base of her brain.

The world grew sluggish.

Everyone else moved slower. And slower. And slower. Until they were at almost a standstill.

Statues in the repose of death.

Bullets trailed through the air at a leisurely pace. Sound warbled in her ears as it was stretched out like strings of apple taffy being rolled and prepared for shipment.

Applejack almost tripped at the surreal shift.

She rotated onto her leading foot’s heel and used the moment to put herself into a momentary slide before she regained her balance.

A countdown began next to the strange symbol.

To an outside observer Applejack was something like out of the stories of the Emperor’s finest servants; an unstoppable force of destruction. Her image turned into a blur that was impossible to follow that weaved across the battlefield. Her cybernetic fists flew powerfully and fast. Small bodies of tainted children were shattered. Men of iron were flung backwards from the force of Applejack’s fists. She moved on, grabbed a crate taken from the vault, and hurled its content of munitions into the midst of the battle. Several of the ancient shells detonated and a chain reaction was set off that ripple across the tattered camp.

She came to a stop in front of the doors to the administratum and dropped to one knee. Her chest heaved and steam trailed off her shoulders, arms, and legs. The black mist expelled by her augments thinned, and then faded away entirely.

Seeing their protector falter, two of the children she’d saved rushed to Applejack. They grabbed her by the arms and began to haul her into the building. It was hard work, and both grunted as their small bodies strained against her unnatural weight.

“Thank you mightily, but I’m alright sugarcubes,” Applejack brushed off their hands and staggered against the atrium’s desk. “Just a bit winded is all.”

Breaths coming in raspy heaves, she took in how the battle-field had altered even with her efforts.

Dozens of kids filled the atrium. They were on the second and third floor balconies, and used them to create a kill-box for anything that slipped past the tank. Their faces were scared, tired, and shell-shocked. Only a bare handful of Class Two remained, the progena doing their best to urge the other kids on.

Outside, only a few pockets of resistance remained. One by one the autoguns grew silent and the cries for help died in the dry winds. The barrels on the tank’s lasguns glowed bright, and then a crackle of noise and a puff of smoke came from the overheated weapon system as it failed. The boys inside didn’t abandon their post and sent a shot from the main weapon across the tattered camp.

In the near-distance, a marker appeared in Applejack’s hud; Alpha. It was followed by Beta, Gamma, Delta, and Epsilon. All making their way towards the administratum.

“We’re falling back!” Applejack raised her voice, putting into it all the power long years of harvest work had ingrained into her. She thrust a finger towards the back of the administratum and the bridge to the archeotech crypt. “Fall back!”

Slowly at first, the beleaguered and weary defenders heeded her command. They hurried as quickly as their tired feet could carry them around sandbagged positions in the lobby and at the tops of the stairs. It was as admirable a retreat as could be expected. No one abandoned their guns, while the boys in the tank stayed put to provide as much covering fire as their machine could muster. Escape for them would come in the form of the turret being pried open and Delta dropping into their midst.

Their deeds would be noted in the Catalogous.

Charges were set by sappers to blow the stairs as the children withdrew. More were placed in the hallways and corridors, and a long line along the bridge. All in the distant hope that through the Emperor’s blessing it would slow the men of iron or infected children down.

Applejack was one of the last up the stairs. She turned back to see the lithe form of Alpha at the entrance to the administratum. On her shoulder rested a power sword. Red haired and red eyed, she glared at Applejack with blisteringly cold fury.

The sappers flipped the charges’ switch. And nothing happened. A fuse had been connected improperly, and the charges could not be detonated.

Alpha hesitated to enter the building. Her head snapped upwards, and glared past the ceiling. With a sharp motion she ordered her sisters to fall back and melt into the growing numbers of droids.

Not daring to breathe in case it made the girls of iron return, Applejack wondered why they had retreated.

A wild spray of las rounds across the banisters and walls made her duck. The men of iron droids walked through the glass walls in a solid line. One brave boy peaked around the banister to try to get off a shot, and his head popped. Bits of bone and brain matter splattered across Applejack’s shoes. A pair of droids made it to the bottom of the stairs.

Plascrete and tiles exploded in a shower of deadly shards an instant before a fireball careened through the ceiling and into the central reception desk. Pieces of burning faux wood were hurled in a secondary shower accompanied by a wave of force that knocked all but Applejack over. She coughed and covered her face with a cybernetic arm. Smoke billowed and obscured the lobby.

She narrowed her eyes to pierce the smoke, and her vision shifted into another spectrum that showed the glow of heat. Through the shifting grey and billowing orange emerged a mighty giant of cold blue from a hunk of angled ceramite embedded in the middle of the atrium. In his right hand was clasped a crackling thunder hammer, and on his left arm hummed a storm shield. Epaulets of gold hung from his grand pauldrons, and a cape clung between his back and powerpack, atop which hummed an iron halo.

Glowing red slits in his helmet swung across the children huddled around the rim of the atrium and then settled on the hordes attempting to swarm through the building.

No words or oaths were spoken. He possessed cold brutality as he waded into the thick of battle. Oil and blood were spilled in thick rivers that became a sticky mess on the tile floors.

“Emperor almighty, an angel. You sent us one of your angels,” Applejack croaked in a hoarse whisper.

Another angel emerged from the drop pod. And another.

Within a few moments an entire vanguard of space marines had formed a line of death between the children and the horde of infected and metal abominations. Thunder hammer and powerswords cleaved, rended, and tore without pause in a hymn of death to the enemies of humanity.

Across the battlefield stars were falling. Drop pods by the dozens. In screaming fireballs they punched holes through the infernal clouds and slammed into the mountainside and tatters of the children’s camp. Thunderhawks roared past overhead.

Applejack’s heart swelled, and she made the sign of the aquila over her chest.

Tears of joy streamed down her cheeks.

At last there was a pause in the slaughter, and the captain turned and thumped to the awed children. The stairs shook under his bulk. He reached the third floor landing, and cast his gaze over the weary children.

Prostrate before the Space Marine, Applejack wondered if he would see her as another of the children, or as one of the abominations of the vault to be dispatched.

Gravel crunched under his feet as he moved past Applejack.

She wasn’t certain if she was relieved, or saddened.

Her hud flared a warning, brighter and more urgent than Applejack had yet experienced.

‘Nightmare Energies Detected,’ it violently screamed in her skull.

She snapped her head around to the door on the third level of the atrium. A door marked with Inquisitorial sigils. A door behind which was a man frozen half-dead in a bubble of warp sorcery. Power pulsed, and light shone through the door’s frame. The warnings became highlighted with exclamation marks and a bold underline, as if either were needed when Applejack could feel the energies in her chest leaking from the room.

And they were calming, pleasing, and familiar in a way that made her stomach churn in horror.

Ignited thunder hammer in hand, the marine twisted towards the door. He raised his shield again and approached cautiously. Fully a head taller than the doorframe, he brought the hammer back for a swing.

And the door was opened.

From the inside.

Author's Note

Two years...

Work on the proto-version of this chapter began two years ago. It has been bounced in placement several times, and almost deleted even more. Really says something about my writing speed...

So much has been altered and changed over time that I don't really know where to begin. Weapons, characters, events; its been very tumultuous. I have been very excited for this chapter for quite a while now, even when I'd worry that it had to be cut, or it got bounced by another chapter for the flow of the story.

Operation 5: Paranoia

Sunset Shimmer; Sister of Battle
By Tundara

Operation 5

“Sunset!”

The tearful cry had only just begun to echo within the cavernous stone walls of the cafeteria when Sunset was hit by a wall of springy hair and arms wrapped around her waist in a tight hug. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that it was Pinkie Pie, of all people, who was the first to greet her. The girl didn’t have a mean bone in her body and just wanted to be friends with literally everyone. It was almost sickeningly saccharine.

Wincing, Sunset over emphasised a hissed intake of breath.

“Get off me, I’m fine,” she grumbled as she tried to pry Pinkie off of her, the other girl clinging to her worse than a spider-monkey. It took Rarity grabbing her squadmate by the collar to remove Pinkie.

“Pinkie, darling, at least let Sunset’s squad greet her first,” Rarity sighed with a flip of her hair as she somehow managed to drag Pinkie back to their own table.

Watching them go, Sunset put them both on the top of her ‘List’ of suspects. Her eyes darted over the girls in the cafeteria, at least one of which who’d tried to murder her, and who knew how many others had harboured the idea. Plenty of them glanced back at her with mixtures of apathy, but there was no outright hostility or shock at her presence.

This was troubling. She’d half-hoped that whoever had stabbed her would be clumsy enough to make themselves known when she came back from the medicea ward. As it currently stood, anyone and everyone was a suspect.

She was half-xenos, afterall, in a society that despised the alien.

Her hackles were raised, skin tingling with the sense of being hunted, eyes flickering from face to face as if she could pierce their secrets with a glance.

Even her own squadmates weren’t above suspicion. Except for maybe Fluttershy. It seemed unlikely she’d be involved in stabbing Sunset, and also rescuing her… unless… Unless she’d been caught in the act and merely played the part of tending to Sunset to cover her own deeds.

The other members of her squad stood and greeted her warmly, but this did little to quell the growing suspicions. Anger flashed in Applejack’s emerald eyes and in the lines of her jaw, and she slapped a hand down on Sunset’s shoulder with a heavy thud. Twilight didn’t even look up from her manual on how to maintain and operate the Sororitas' power armour.

“Isn’t it amazing?” She gushed, not noticing Sunset’s presence at all, “This design is four thousand years old, and hasn’t been changed or updated. Even the Adeptus Astartes have gone through revisions of their famed armour! Not the Adeptus Sororitas, though.”

“It’s stupid,” Sunset grumbled, taking an open seat across from Twilight. “How is it possible for there to be no improvements, no evolution or iterations or anything to a key piece of technology? It’s the same everywhere, really. Stagnation at best, decay common, and a dogmatic hatred of even trying to advance.”

Blinking as if she’d just stepped into the full force of the sun after being trapped in a lightless room, Twilight looked up at Sunset with a heavy frown. “Well, while losing our understanding of certain technology is… lamentable, far worse happened because we put our faith in ‘Science’ rather than the God-Emperor.”

Crossing her arms, Sunset leaned back in her chair. This was in part to affect a superior air, but more to find a comfortable position for her sore back. Her wounds were well on the mend, especially considering the Imperium lacked healing magic, but there was an underlying bit of stiffness and tenderness in the regrown tissues. The posture also afforded her a better view of the rest of the room.

“How could they put their faith in the Emperor if he didn’t make himself known until after humanity had almost been destroyed several times over in the Dark Age of Technology?” Sunset countered.

One of the few positives of being a week in bed was an abundance of free time to read.

Read, think, and compare with her former home.

Sunset had already realised the Imperium was incredibly bound to traditions and consverative in nature, but the true scope had eluded her. It had been like looking at a couple trees and deducing that there was a forest nearby, and then turning around to see over a cliff an expanse of green rolling beyond the horizon.

The Imperium wasn’t just conservative by nature, it was hyper-aggressively conservative, actively hunting down and executing anyone who pushed the boundaries under the excuse of ‘Heresy’.

It didn’t help that almost all science and technology fell under the purview of the Cult of the Machine, its name enough to tell anyone with two brain cells to rub together what they’d be like when it came to advancing knowledge. The Scientific Method would be as alien as her ears to the Tech-Priests of the Mechanicum, judging by their names and titles.

Sunset hadn’t met any tech-priests, obviously, even though more than a few had to be on the Righteous Indignation, keeping the ship and the equipment of the Sororitas operational. The servitor golems were probably part of the Mechanicum.

“That’s because—” Twilight’s cheeks puffed up, but she was cut off by Applejack.

“Wouldn’t have mattered back then. Humanity wasn't what it is today, everyone off doing their own thing for the most part. We’ren’t until the Great Crusade that the Emperor unified humanity.”

“It’s not that simple!” Twilight exclaimed. “Some things that seem so simple to one generation gets lost because they just don’t think to preserve the knowledge, because to them it is obvious, or worse yet, they think someone else who manufactured some critical subsystem has the plans. There were some really ancient cogitator systems on Equis that I had to use notes etched into the walls six thousand years ago to activate! And if I didn’t precisely follow them the systems would refuse to work. One cogitator in particular required that I sing a certain lullaby into a specific vox receiver. Why? Who knows. Doesn’t matter. I had to do it or it wouldn’t be operable. The Imperium is going only on inertia so much has been lost. What you suggest is almost impossible and the domain of the Hereteks.”

“Hereteks?” Sunset rolled the unfamiliar term on her tongue, already vaguely anticipating the answer.

“A faction of the Mechanicum that tries to invent new technology. Like Belisarius Cawl,” Twilight gave a half-hearted explanation with a flip of her wrist.

This time it wasn’t Sunset who asked, “Who is that?”

Twilight gaped at Applejack, snorted, and thumbed off her data slate, resigned to getting no more reading done.

“Archmagos Dominus Cawl is a ten-thousand year old techpriest who is pretty much single handedly responsible for designing all the arms and vehicles now being produced for the Adeptus Astartes, as well as waking the Lord Commander of the Imperium, Roboute Guilliman. You know about him, at least?”

“Course I do! Went to the celebrations every year with my granny, just like everyone else.” Applejack defensively crossed her arms. “So he is a big-shot tech priest, this Cawl fellow.”

“‘Big-shot’?” Twilight sputtered incoherently, and Sunset sensed an incoming lecture.

She was not disappointed as Twilight launched into a, frankly, extensive biography of the Archmagos Dominus, and his exploits during the crusades of the previous century. Sunset caught many names, and chalked most of the details to overblown imperial propaganda, but it was interesting nevertheless.

“How do you know all that stuff?” Rainbow asked towards the end as a breathless Twilight leaned forward as if the other girls should be impressed. “I mean, really. Were you some tech-priest person or something?”

Blushing, Twilight looked away. “Equestria had only two tech-priests for the entire planet. And they were, by the Throne, idiots. Put on the planet because Equestria wasn’t important and they couldn’t do much harm on it. So a lot of stuff fell to other departments.”

“So, you are a mini-mechanicus, then?” Rainbow tilted her head.

“No! I just know the cogitators used by my mom, but the principles can be applied elsewhere.”

Joining in, Sunset put on a teasing grin. “Sounds like she’s a mechanicus to me, too.”

“Urgh! No!”

“Um, please, let’s not argue,” Fluttershy mumbled, but everyone ignored her.

Sunset was rather interested in the conversation and learning more about the leadership of the Imperium as a whole.

As the conversation evolved, shifted, and bounced between various topics covering techno-heresy, ‘innovation’, Lord Commander Day celebrations, and an odd diversion into the merits of cupcakes versus muffins, Sunset also kept her eyes scanning the other girls in the hall. She found it relatively easy to manage both the conversation, chipping in here and there, as well as assessing if there were any threats in the room.

It was a little frightening how she was able to manage both tasks.

“You know, it’s kinda creepy how you do that,” Applejack stated, drawing Sunset’s attention away from the room at large.

“Creepy?” Sunset repeated with a deep frown.

“The way you move. Ain’t right. Too…” SHe fumbled for a word, and settled on, “strange.”

“Makes you seem like you are really an aeldar,” Rainbow chipped in. “Rather than just, you know.” She gestured to her ears.

Touching her ears, Sunset looked away. As if she needed the reminder of how different she was from everyone else. For a very brief moment she’d almost thought that, maybe, just maybe, her squad hadn’t been involved in her attempted murder.

She continued to stew on her growing paranoia for a few more days.

It could be anyone, so she had to suspect everyone. There was no telling who wanted her dead. Worse, it didn’t have to be a single person. For all she knew, everyone had a knife waiting in the dark, and the attempt on the ship had merely been the first of many.

The best idea was to distance herself. Keep a wall between her and even her squad so she could watch them.

At meals she sat with her back to the wall, an empty chair between her and the next person. Everywhere she went she took to the corners, eyes darting and fingers tense in case she had to defend herself.

After daily prayers as the class was filing towards the shooting range, Sunset hung back a little.

“Drill Abbess, have there been any discoveries on who tried to kill me?”

Drill Abbess Maria cooly looked at Sunset. “Yes. A crewmember of the Righteous Indignation was found having smashed his head after falling down a service shaft connected to where you were attacked. Blood on his hands and the knife used to stab you indicates he was the attacker. Probably saw you and acted on impulse.”

Maria’s tone indicated that follow-up questions were not permitted, and Sunset made the symbol of the aquila and hurried on her way.

The answer was wholly unsatisfying.

A crewmember of the ship? Who managed to sneak up on her? And the voice, purposefully raspy, had been that of a girl or woman. And for them to then conveniently slip down a service shaft?

Gritting her teeth, Sunset went to the shooting range and hefted the practice rifle. Her shots were sloppy that day, and the next.

Frustrations mounted.

A Crewmember? As if she’d ever believe such an obvious deception.

Whoever had tried to kill her had killed the crewmember when they realised she’d survived their initial attack in order to cover their tracks. At least this meant they’d been a bit desperate.

They would try again. Of that Sunset held no doubts.

The gnawing paranoia began to affect all aspects of her life in the schola. She had trouble concentrating in class, even with her prodigious ability to multitask. Applejack and Rainbow Dash both routinely took her to the mat in hand-to-hand lessons. Her voice very nearly faltered a couple times during prayers. Shadows grew darker, longer, in the hallways, as if they were about to swallow her.

Sleep, when it came, was troubled.

Some nights she was visited by visions of her plummet through the Warp. Others had her surrounded by her squad and the rest of the scholla, jeering and shouting that they knew her secrets before they started throwing stones at her. The worst, however, were those where she relived the moment the long knife tore through her back and lung. No matter the nightmares, she woke in cold sweats.

Aware she was spiralling, Sunset had no one she could turn to for support.

All she could do was attempt to bury her emotions.

The opportunity came as the next week, they had a three day exercise to test their field skills.

To everyone’s shock, and immediate worry, Drill Abbess Maria remained behind at the dock, and instead placed Spitfire in charge. Spitfire was as rigid as one of the statues in the fortress, and took a package with their orders with reverential care. She read them quickly, made the sign of the aquila to the drill abbess, and then ordered the progena to march. A number of servo-skulls buzzed around them, optics whirring as they recorded the girls for later evaluations.

The exercise combined hiking across a neighboring mountainous island, loaded down with a full kit of gear, that was followed by shooting, and then a return march.

Imitating the Drill Abbess, Spitfire barked orders, spurred on laggards, and offered sharp rebukes if the girls started to get too high spirited. The latter issue was rare after the first few hours.

It was hot and grueling in the planetary summer sun, and the girls were all exhausted under the weight of their gear. Bugs buzzed around them in thick clouds that got in their mouths and eyes. Boots sank into soft, loamy soil broken by swathes of uneven, jagged lava flows. The foliage was thick, and the air heavy with a musty scent of strange pollen. Sweat ran in thick rivulettes beneath the heavy body armour they had to wear.

The weapons and armour were nothing like those even supplied to the Guard, barely more than a flak vest with a ceramite plate that chafed against their shoulders. They slung crosswise over their shoulders their ancient model autoguns, heads bent forward as if making penance.

Some spirits returned as camp was set on the first night. Around a few small cooking fires, anything larger vetoed by ‘Progena Superior’ Spitfire, as the girls snidely took to calling her, they shared ghost stories as they ate their bland ready made meals.

Using a two-hour system of watches, they bedded down and caught as much sleep as possible.

Sunset was yawning the next day, her squad given a watch in the middle of the night. The nightmare continued to plague her, stealing what little rest she could have otherwise managed.

After a quick breakfast, camp was broken, and the march resumed.

Noon approached, and they were still making their way up the mountain, cutting along a wide trail at the base of a tall cliff of jagged volcanic rocks that had poured down like a waterfall tens of thousands of years earlier.

At the front of the line, Spitfire consulted her orders with a pinched brow, looking up and around for landmarks. She sent Misty Fly up a tree, and when her squadmate called back down to her, Spitfire looked relieved. Keying the bead for her vox unit, she sent the order to head out. A few minutes later they left the cliff behind as they passed through tall trees, down a short slope, and to the edge of a large glade with a pool to one side. A sulphuric stench wafted from the waters, warning everyone to stay away.

“Everyone down low and weapons out,” Spitfire ordered.

Sunset unslung her autogun and checked the breech. Around her the other members of her squad did the same, Twilight double checking her clip of paint loaded training rounds.

On their stomachs they crawled out into the grass. Sunset narrowed her eyes, her enhanced sight catching humanoid shapes in the shaded treeline on the far side of the glade.

A couple hundred feet away were dozens of mannequins painted green, with large, crude weapons held over their heads. Rising to their knees, the girls raised their autoguns.

At Spitfire’s command, Sunset squeezed off a pair of shots. The first went wide, the practice round splatting off a tree behind her target. The other clipped the target’s helmet, a silver bowl with large horns that spun around like a top. Cursing, Sunset adjusted her aim and shot again, this time landing a hit on the top edge of the target rings placed over the chest.

To her left was a sudden bang, followed by a scream as Pinkie Pie was hurled through the air. Arms spinning, eyes wide with shock, she came down with a heavy thud several meters away from where the rest of Rarity Squad was set up. A moment of deafening silence followed, broken only by Pinkie’s moans as everyone tried to process what had just happened.

Black armoured bodies burst from the trees on the left and right, raising bolters to their shoulders as they ran. Several grenades were flung high and landed among the progena, cracking with sharp bangs and flashes that left those near disoriented, ears ringing and blind.

Sunset’s eyes widened as several voices rang out together, “Ambush!”

Dumbstruck, Spitfire stood near the treeline they’d left, mouth moving up and down as she tried to process what was happening. Bedlam claimed the glade, the progena scattering before the twenty charging figures. Shots rang out, the sharp cracking of the autoguns mingling with the deep roars of the bolters. Dashing to the side, Rarity skidded next to Pinkie, and from there quickly rallied the others of her squad. They were among the few.

Sunset’s squad fractured in disunity.

Twilight tried to belly crawl towards a shallow dip in the grass, leaving the others behind, while Applejack just charged ahead with an angry roar. Fluttershy dropped her gun and covered her head, muttering incoherently as she scrunched up her eyes. Rainbow was next to her in an instant, pushing Fluttershy down while shouting to Sunset, “Orders? What are your orders? Sunset!”

Tongue glued to the top of her mouth, Sunset could only stare as Applejack reached the charging line, and threw herself into a tackle around one of the attacker’s midsections. She was stopped cold, as if she’d tried grabbing a tank. Blood sprayed from Applejack’s nose as she was elbowed in the face. A quick knee to her chest doubled her over, and a well placed butt of a bolter to the back of the head sent her to the dirt where she remained, unmoving.

Head spinning Sunset, didn’t know what to do or say. Instead, she raised her rifle towards the closest attacker, squeezed the trigger, and a shot splattered against a pauldron. They’re wearing power armour, she belatedly realised. Thumbing the switch for full-auto, Sunset emptied her clip. The attacker didn’t even slow down. A bloom of orange surrounded the muzzle of the bolter leveled at Sunset, and the next instant there was a crushing impact on her chest as she was hurled off her feet.

Winded, chest bruised, Sunset laid on her back unable to move, mind whirling on why she wasn’t little pieces of gore splattered around the grass. A direct hit from a bolter should have obliterated her, even with the flak vest.

For several more seconds there were the sounds of autogun fire intermingled with the bolters. Then the autoguns went silent, one by one.

Heavy boots approached Sunset, and the sun was blotted out by an armoured head with glowing blue eyes. Belatedly, Sunset realised that she was looking up at some training power armour. Splotches of pink paint covered the thigh, torso, and left shoulder. Depressing a switch under her chin, the dark figure opened her face plate to reveal a girl from the senior year.

“You lot did well for only being twelve cycles old. You alive, newbie?” She asked, strands of golden hair sticking to the side of her face as she grinned broadly. The look was brief, her gaze narrowing as she focused on Sunset’s ears. “You’re the xenos everyone is talking about. Throne preserve us; you aren’t just a tall tale.”

“Mirabella, stop conversing with the enemy,” called another senior girl.

After staring at Sunset for another uncomfortably long few seconds, Mirabella sealed her helmet and marched off.

Anger burning, Sunset sat up slowly and looked around. Here and there the members of her class wandered around in a daze, some supporting each other, a few were on their knees sobbing as they cradled broken arms. Calls for help rebounded across the glade. Rarity was bent over Pinkie, hands over her friend’s chest as she applied first aid. With a gasp, Pinkie shot upright, almost smacking her forehead into Rarity’s chin.

“Wowzers, what a rush!” Pinkie grinned broadly, got to her feet, and only then noticed she was missing half her left hand where the explosion had sheared it off. “Oh, that is not okie dokie at all.”

While Red Heart applied some antiseptics and bandages, Rarity nearly sobbed, “Don’t you ever scare me like that again, Pinkie. Now, let’s get you to a medic.”

Among the black armoured seniors were a couple of Hospitaller novices, and they went along providing far better treatment than the simple field dressings of the progena. One look at Pinkie, however, and the hospitaller said, “You’ll live,” before moving along.

“Right! Form up!” Roared the senior that had told off Mirabella, taking over from the shamed Spitfire, and leading the two classes back down the mountain.

It was closer to a prisoner procession, though the junior class kept all their heavy gear. The younger progena had outnumbered their seniors five to one, and the rout had still been total. Sunset couldn’t just place it on the superior equipment the seniors used. It certainly accounted for some of the difference, but they’d quickly pinned their targets in a fierce cross-fire and utterly destroyed any sort of command structure or discipline. That had been the real factor in the crushing defeat.

Sunset wasn’t alone in thinking over the ambush, every girl stewing in their thoughts as they hiked down the mountain, or carried the couple of invalides.

“Throne, Sunset, you need to get it together,” Rainbow snapped, running her fingers through matted hair the next morning as they broke camp. The docks were still several miles away, and they had to make up the time with bruised bodies.

“I did fine!” Sunset countered, but the words felt hollow in her mouth. She’d done anything but ‘fine’. They’d been a disorganised mess. “I managed to hit one of them, at least.”

“Not what I meant,” Rainbow growled dangerously. “We needed your orders, and you just flaked out.”

“Hate to say it, but she’s right.” In the shade of a tree, Applejack leaned forward to pour a bottle of water over her thick blonde hair. Whipping it back so that the water soaked into the back of her thin shirt, Applejack began checking over her practice autogun. “You’ve been worse than even on the Righteous Indignation, and it’s affected all of us. We ain’t no squad, just a bunch of blundering idiots.”

“Don’t know what the Drill Abbess sees in her,” Rainbow continued as she got up to leave and check on Fluttershy and Twilight. “Sunset is just dragging the rest of us down now, where she used to at least be able to hold her own. We need an actual squad leader.”

Anger flared, and Sunset had to fight hard against jumping at Rainbow. She knew Rainbow was right. Her performance for the past few weeks since leaving the hospital ward had been pathetic,

Gritting her teeth, Sunset growled, “I’ll do better. I’ll be better than even you.”

Snatching up her autogun, Sunset joined the other girls getting ready for the remaining trek back to the docks, and the water based craft that would return them to the schola.

Author's Note

I had some issues figuring out what to 'do' with this chapter. As in, what events, where to go, pretty much everything. It was very much a seat-of-the-pants bit of writing as I threw several things at a wall and saw what seemed to stick.

About the only aspects I knew for certain was for their to be a bit of an initial 'Up' as Sunset rejoined her squad, followed by a descent into distrust. The training exercise evolved as I realized I needed some action of some sort to showcase the brutal and unforgiving nature of a Schola.

Probably the most important bit was the conversation between Sunset and Twilight. It is mainly for the benefit of readers with no or little knowledge of 40k's setting. I kept it 'in character' so it has the aspects that it can be 'incorrect' information as it isn't word-of-god narration. It was also in response to comments about Twilight and the Mechanicum. I wanted to show a bit about how Equis was really unimportant planet, as well as how/why she knows what she knows. As she'd been started to be groomed for a position in the Administorum of the planet, she was picking up on knowledge of the Galaxy at large that the others didn't where they were involved in the agricultural aspects of the planet.

I'm toying around with a bit of a time-skip for the next chapter. Age them up a bit for the remainder of the Schola stuff. Right now I have them at twelve/thirteen years old, and I think I need them to be a bit older going ahead.

If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask. I just might be really slow in responding as I'm approaching a black-out period as I'm moving soon and wont have internet for a short time.

Operation 20: The Daemon

Sunset Shimmer; Sister of Battle
By Tundara

Operation 20

Time crawled past. Slow, laborious, and haunted by the shadow of the nightmare frozen in the middle of the chamber.

Rarity sat next to Karen’s body, a hand daintily placed on the shroud hurriedly tossed over it.

It.

Not ‘her’, but ‘it’.

When did that happen? When did Karen become an ‘it’? Was it when Rarity pulled the trigger and blew off half of Karen’s skull, splattered bone and brain matter on the blast door? Yes, that was… Maybe… No, the transition came at some indeterminable point afterwards. After she’d killed Karen.

A tremour rippled down Rarity’s fingers, and she almost snatched her hand away as if she had placed it in a fire. Her other hand clasped her power sword’s hilt so tightly her knuckles gleamed white.

Shaken. She was shaken.

Rarity knew that she should be fine. She had done her Duty and administered the Emperor’s Mercy. That death in service of the Imperium and the God-Emperor is normal, and sacrifices had to be made in order to repel the enemies of humanity. As a member of the Adepta Sororitas, it would be her duty to seek out and kill heretics, witches, cultists, and xenos. They had to die.

In pursuit of those enemies she would lose people. They will become too wounded to save, or perhaps fall to temptation. Learn truths that had to be kept secret. Or fall to the insidious whispers of the arch-enemy.

And yet…

Her stomach lurched at the idea of pulling the trigger again.

Karen hadn’t been a friend. For the few weeks she’d known her, Karen had been a rival of sorts. Rarity knew next to nothing about the girl, except that she’d been driven and devout.

A little faster! Why hadn’t Karen just been that little faster through the door? Then Rarity wouldn’t have had to make the split second decision between her squad and Karen. Then she wouldn’t have been wounded. The Emperor’s mercy shouldn’t have been necessary. And Karen wouldn’t have become an ‘it’.

Frustrated tears prickled against Rarity’s cheeks. Jaw tight at her weakness, she swiped them away and checked to see if anyone had noticed. They hadn’t. Everyone else was lost in their own thoughts or slowly exploring the room.

Of all the pitiful, wretched things she could do, she had to cry. When they were trapped in a chamber with a daemon frozen in some sort of geller-warp-time bubble. Crying because she’d performed her duties as trained. Something was wrong with her, and Rarity doubted she could place the blame on the daemon’s presence.

If they managed to escape, Rarity resolved to turn herself over to the Drill Abbess. There was something deeply wrong with her that she should tremble at the idea of killing in the Emperor’s service.

In the meantime she had to ensure her squad survived to report their findings. She had to find the rest of her class and get them out of this hellhole. So many lives rested on her shoulders, and she was trapped in a cage intended for a daemon.

Her hand still trembled as she stood up and turned to search for any way out of the wide, circular chamber. Quickly, she realised there was none.

A vent a dozen feet overhead may have connected to the corridors, but given its size it was unlikely any of them could fit through even if they had some way to reach it. Otherwise, it was very spartan.

Besides the trapped daemon, there were octagonal gold dishes evenly spaced across the curved walls. They hummed with a strange vibration that set Rarity’s teeth on edge if she got too close. Opposite the door was a slightly raised platform and a spindly cogitator. Through grating they could see that they were inside an orb. Wires, tubes, and machinery were interwoven around three struts that led to the center of the chamber. A contraption of some arcane purpose hummed beneath and above the rift to the immaterium. Thin silvery-blue metal claws extended to grasp the top and bottom of the rift.

Curiously, there were some signs of there once having been a battle. Two of the golden plates had been smashed, their faces blackened and bent as if by giant soot stained hands. A bit further along another dish was simply gone. Where it had been was a hole that sunk for several feet through the rock before reaching a smooth metal wall. Brass shell casings were lodged here and there in the floor’s grating. An inert plasma cartridge had been discarded a few feet from the doors. Fragments of a black crystal were scattered about. If Rarity had been forced to guess, pistol to the back of her head, she’d have assumed the crystal had been at the heart of the chamber, attached to the apparatus above and below the tear in the veil to the immaterium.

She shuddered and looked away from the tear and the daemon. Best to avoid thinking about either.

Her eyes settled on a long lump of melted metal and mangled legs that lay on its back and sides against the far wall. Several deep pockmarks burrowed into its once shiny carapace, and half of its mechanical insectoid face had been blasted away. Legs curled towards its ravaged and destroyed belly.

Fingers laced behind her back as if to say she wasn’t going to touch anything, Pinkie Pie skipped over to the pile of scrap. She craned over the wreckage. Her eyes sparkled brightly despite the slaughter they’d seen in the hallway and being trapped.

“Another man of iron, you think?” Pinkie called over to her squadmates. “Looks all mean and ‘rawr’!” She made a snarling face that broke into a smattering of giggles.

“We’re going to die here, aren’t we?” Minty Fresh asked no-one in particular. The girl sat with arms wrapped around her knees as she stared off into space. “Where the Emperor’s light can’t reach us.”

Simmering hate found a new target. Rarity whipped towards Minty, and like the lash of their Drill Abbess, snapped, “Don’t be so quick to throw away the mercy the Emperor gave us! He sent us here for a reason.”

A frothing, heaving anger set Rarity’s blood to a boil. She couldn’t believe Minty could doubt the Emperor for an instant. Despite everything, despite her own doubts and self-loathing; Rarity still had absolute faith in the Emperor and His divine plan.

What He intended use he had for her Rarity had grown uncertain. For so long she thought it was her destiny to lead her class and join the upper echelons of the Sisters of the Cerulean Chalice. Now she was less certain that was the best use of her. The Emperor already knew and her own self-incrimination was factored into His multi-faceted designs.

To Rarity’s surprise, Minty just scoffed. “Get your head out of the clouds, Rarity. The Emperor has no plans for lowly peasants like us! We are too far beneath His gaze.”

“Were we ‘beneath His gaze’ on Equis, darling?”

Minty didn’t answer. She just buried her head into her knees. Anger propelled Rarity’s hand. She grabbed Minty by the hair and yanked her to her feet. A yelp broke from the other girl.

“Stand and help us find a way to escape!”

“Ow, ow, ow! Stop it, Rarity.”

“Are you going to stop moping and do your duty?” Rarity demanded as she pushed Minty towards Pinkie. “We have to be strong, Minty. We have to… to…”

Rarity’s throat tightened enough to choke any further words. She pointedly marched towards Flash Sentry. The foolish boy stood a few feet away from the bubble of reality altering energies containing the daemon and rift.

“And what about you?” She demanded. “How, in the Throne’s light, did you open that door?”

A ripple went up Flash, and he slowly turned to Rarity. His eyes were sunken and troubled, but retained a core of steely resolve. He didn’t answer. At least not directly. The flint sharp hate he wielded like a commissar's pistol spoke for him.

“This is a trap,” he barked at the girls next to the mangled machine. “Something wanted us here.”

“Yup yup,” Pinkie rocked back and forth on the tips of her toes, a jovial swing in her hips and head. Her frizzy hair bobbed where it stuck out of her flak helmet. She hooked a casual thumb over her shoulder. “She did.”

Rarity frowned at Pinkie’s certainty.

“How do you know that?” Rarity felt her mouth go a little dry.

Pinkie lifted a quizzical eyebrow, as if she weren’t certain if Rarity was being serious, or just obtuse. “Do you see anything other than a horse-daemon with big wings, using its horrible witchy powers?”

Lips pressed into a thin line at being rebuffed, Rarity curtly said, “It could be the abominable intelligence, darling. Who knows what such a monstrosity from the dark age of technology is capable of doing.”

“No, I agree with your pink squad member,” Flash gruffly said.

Rarity waited for Flash to explain his reasoning, but he went doggedly silent. Every now and then he shot hateful glances towards the entrapped daemon.

He crossed his arms and made a slow circuit around the machine’s body. Something caught Flash’s eye. The boy leant over the mangled scrap and grabbed a long, boxy object that had been hidden beneath part of the thing’s tail.

“Don’t touch that,” Rarity chastised him. “If it wakes up…”

“It’s been trapped here for tens of thousands of years. If it was functional, I think it would have already reacted to our presence.” Flash gave a grunt and heaved. Triumphantly he held a weapon of some exotic variety. Twin lines of some sort of capacitor jutted from the top at a sharp angle. In place of a muzzle, there were a pair of serrated jaws with teeth covered in something that shimmered like crushed opals. A sight had been placed between the capacitors, attached obviously in an ad-hoc manner that some guardsmen would do with their rifles in strict defiance of Mechanicus doctrines.

Rarity wrinkled her nose and there was an uncomfortable lurch in her guts. She was done with the archeotech of the vault. “I refuse to trust anything in this Emperor forsaken place.”

To Rarity’s horror, her words were quickly proved prophetic. From beneath the thick tail came a grinding clunk, rattle, and snap-hiss as something shifted. Power flowed through ancient circuits as what passed for the machine’s spirit woke. Motors whirred, and there was a chitter within the armoured carapace. Eyes glowed a hateful red and the head began to rise.

“Throne!” Everyone cried out in unison. Pinkie, Rarity and Flash all scampered from the monstrosity as it began to right itself. Legs flailed and pounded into the deck in a sharp clinking rattle.

Rarity stopped her retreat and pivoted on her heel. She had the only weapon that might have any effect on the archeotech centipede. Her thumb found the switch to activate the power sword. It emitted a shrill shriek as the distortion field coated the blade.

The scorpion machine’s head clattered on damaged joints as it fixated its gaze on Rarity. The back half of the machine remained inert, and it was forced to drag the dead weight.

Flash swung up the archeotech weapon and squeezed the trigger. There was an irritated chirp followed by a gentle admonishment from the gun. A hololithic display beneath the scope activated, with a big, accusatory ‘0’ shoved in Flash’s face. After a second it increased to ‘1’.

“Fething thing has to charge!” He growled.

Minty fired a shot that pinged off the armour. She cursed and backed further towards the door. Red Heart looked lamentably at her side-arm, sighed, and brought the pistol up. A leg slammed down on the deck and the scorpion pulled itself forward.

A flicker of annoyance pinched Rarity’s eye. Slowly, inexorably the machine pulled itself across the room, but at such a pace that it was only a threat in that they had nowhere to get away from it. Eventually they’d have to stop, and it would catch them one by one.

Metal squealed against metal. Grating was shredded open like a carcass being carved. The centipede hauled itself slowly across the room. Crash, squeal, and an angry chitter.

“Anyone have a grenade?”

“I do!” Pinkie plucked off her belt a trio of grey frak grenades. Pins pulled with her teeth, she bounced towards the giant scorpion. Joints clattered as it swung to face the pink haired girl with a speed belied by its damage.

“Pinkie, get back!” Rarity cried out as Pinkie tried to skitter back.

Lower mandibles swung open, and from them spurted a thick, acrid liquid. A shriek erupted from Pinkie. She tumbled and hands flew up to her face. Grenades bounced, clattered, and fell between a gap in the grating. They detonated deep in the bowels of machinery in the chamber. Several of the dishes sputtered, sparks flying from their surface. The field around the daemon dimmed, and the daemon began to move ever so subtly, its eyes shifting from the rift to the children and centipede.

A strange, electric warble resonated in the centipede’s throat. Purple tinted energy glowed within its core, spilling out like bleak fog between cracks of its armour. Legs rattled in a deafening staccato tempo upon the scoured armoured underbelly as the centipede lifted itself over Pinkie as she writhed and screamed.

The thick stink of melting flesh hit Rarity in the gut. She jumped towards the centipede. It attempted to spin towards her, but a pair of bent pieces of armour caught on each other and prevented it from moving its head in her direction. Arms taught with effort, Rarity swept the power sword’s edge between the damaged section.

Wires sparked from severed ends, and a thin spray of fluid splashed across Rarity’s knees. The clang of its head hitting the floor echoed deafeningly in the chamber. Rarity breathed heavily, her body shaking as she began to bark a command at Red Heart to tend to Pinkie. The command was unneeded, as Red had already rushed to Pinkie’s side.

Pinkie’s screams tore through Rarity. She hesitated a few feet away, uncertain if or how she could help. Cold leather stung her fingertips as her trembling hand drifted to the grip of her pistol.

“H-How is she?” Rarity’s voice faltered. Lodged itself in the crook of her throat, as if by avoiding the question reality could be altered.

From the screaming, the writhing, the stench; horrible understanding was forming. A glimpse of Pinkie’s ruined face was confirmation.

A metal ‘tink’ sent a shiver up Rarity’s spine. The sound stabbed her like icicles in the ear. Her throat tightened in profound dread. More followed. Terrible, piercing, numerous.

She half-turned back to the dead machine. Thin spiders unfolded from its back. A half dozen horrors that froze Rarity. Her mind went momentarily blank. Binaric screams washed over the stunned children.

On the back of the centipede, one of the spiders pointed a leg at Minty. The tip of the leg shot off like a bolt from a crossbow. Minty yowled as she was hit in the thigh. Gritting her teeth, she attempted to pull the silver spear out, but it melted in her hands and flowed into the wound.

Minty stiffened, and then rigidly said, “Contain. The Nightmare must be contained.” Her voice was tight, strained, as if the words were being forcibly torn from her throat. She took a halting step towards the spindly cogitator.

Before Rarity could react, the closest spider leapt towards her face.

She was hit in the side by Flash and thrown out of the spider’s path. Flash gave a grunt of pain as a razor sharp limb slashed across his exposed back. He landed hard on her shoulder, rolled onto his back, and brought up the archeotech weapon.

He pulled the trigger.

Violently dark light compressed between the weapon’s pincers. Rarity’s breath misted as the room grew freezing cold. Hair was tugged out of its braid as everything loose in the room was drawn into the growing vortex. Brass casings clattered on the floor. Wires overhead swayed. Sound was consumed and the walls seemed to bend towards Flash.

All the gathered energy was released in a beam of black light that howled like ten thousand banshees. Only one spider escaped the wide lance of absolute destruction as everything it touched was atomised. The wall behind the spiders suffered the same fate, as did the rock and vault facilities. Five of the discs maintaining the Gellar Field vanished.

Rarity was pressed by the pressure wave into the grating hard enough for it to lacerate her arms and face. She stifled a scream as she rolled over, and bits of her nose and cheek were left behind. Hot blood gushed from the ruin of her pretty face.

On the other end of the blast, Flash was thrown as if by the hand of a Titan. His shoulder was yanked from the socket as the weapon smashed itself against the far wall. He careened through Minty, the girl sent tumbling across the grating, and he crashed into the control cogitator. Sparks flew from the ancient device. He gave a couple wet coughs, but didn’t even try to stand.

Overburdened trying to maintain the Gellar Field, the remaining dishes sparked and a few began to blacken as they charred themselves from the inside as valiant machine spirits attempted to contain the additional energy shunted towards them. A cascade of failures rippled across the walls.

“—ou fool, Marius!” screeched the equine daemon as the golden discs abruptly cut out and the field they enforced vanished.

Rarity had precious little attention she could spare to the collapse of the Gellar Field. The remaining spider lunged towards Pinkie and Red Heart. She was too far to reach them before it would rip them apart with its razor sharp legs, or infect them like Minty. Red Heart flinched and tried to cover Pinkie with her own body.

Mere inches from them, the spider halted mid-leap as it was struck by a bolt of lightning. It hovered in a strange wobbling field of teal energy. Rarity blinked, and rubbed blood from her eyes, as the spider was stretched, compressed, and then turned into a potted spiney plant that was subsequently dropped. The pot broke with a clatter of fire baked porcelain.

On her knees, Rarity turned to face the only thing present that could have been the source; the daemon.

It remained where it had been, locked in battle with the rift, but animated. The Gellar Field that had held it for untold mellenia was gone, and with its absence, the contest that had been preserved as if in amber raged anew. Lightning as thick as a man’s arm crackled between the daemon’s horn and the rift.

Rarity’s teeth instantly ached as she was hit by eldritch energies that cascaded off the daemon in thick waves. Her blade ignited of its own accord in a sinister flame of black and silver. It became both lighter and heavier in her hands, like it was drawn to the rift at the heart of the chamber, but also animated by its own spirit to resist the temptation.

Blessed or cursed, Rarity brought the blade up to face the daemon.

But, she was ignored as the daemon struggled against the rift. To Rarity’s utter shock, the daemon fought to close the way to the immaterium. It snarled, shoulders bunched in steely cords of mighty tension. Wings and hooves were planted in a wide stance to act as a brace while lightning rippled and crackled from its horn into the torn barrier and attempted to stitch it shut.

And the reason why became instantly apparent as a giant, yellow eyeball filled the entire rift. Familiar, giant pudgy fingers wriggled into the materium.

“Papa, I found them! I found the thief! Found where she went! Hoo-ha-ha-ha!” Gurgled a phlegmy laugh.

Rarity dropped her sword as if she’d been punched in the gut. She knew that voice. Recognised that horrendous laughter. Revulsion made her begin to buckle. The edges of sanity rotted and were twisted upon itself. She could feel herself being dragged back to Ponyville. To the day the town died, her family was mutated into unrecognisable horrors, and she was redeemed along with her classmates.

Purulent tears filled her vision. Hives and blisters popped across her hands.

Minty screamed as blood leaked from every pore. She writhed in painful convulsions and shouted, “Containment failure! Alpha containment breached!”

Red Heart collapsed, and Octavia clawed at her ears. Sores opened across Flash’s face, and cataracts turned his eyes milky white.

Even the remains of the centipede was affected. Rusty growths formed on its remaining carapace. Strange worms emerged from the red crystal eyes of its severed head. A maw filled with blackened human teeth open in the bottom of its belly from which emerged barbed tongues.

Burbling, bubbly, babbling voices bounced inside Rarity’s skull. She felt the start of guffaws in her own throat.

And then it was gone. Like a door was slammed shut to block out the wind.

Confused by the sudden silence, Rarity tried to re-order her thoughts. But, they were languid and slow, like a cat that had feasted on too many rats.

A tingle brushed against her cheeks and forehead.

She rubbed her face, and found that blood had ceased to flow from deep gashes. Flesh mended. Sores vanished. Even the tip of her nose was healed without so much as a hint of a scar. Timidly, Rarity felt her wounds in mounting disbelief.

“So much better,” spoke a silken voice that brushed like cold fingers behind Rarity’s ears. A shadow fell over Rarity.

Timidly, Rarity examined the daemon and rift to the immaterium. The rift was gone, only a slender vertical glowing silver line evidence to something impossible. The eye had been banished, though the fingers remained, severed and discarded beside the ancient contraption.

Foul energies rippled from the daemon’s horn in thin lines to the children. A pop came from Flash as his shoulder was set back into its socket. Silver goo was drawn from Minty like iron being pulled to a magnet. A small ball was formed and then dropped. There was a heavy thud, and the ball cracked open from which emerged a strange blue bird. It flitted about the room with a chorus of pleased chirps before it settled on the daemon’s head.

Pinkie stopped her screams, and sat up. Muscle and skin regrew across her face. Acid singed hair puffed out from the melted edge of her helmet. In the socket a new eye appeared, bright and filled with amazement.

“Great Emperor’s throne!” Pinkie exclaimed. “That tickles.”

The daemon took a deep breath, allowed it to swell within her, and when she opened her eyes fixed the humans with a look that pierced through the core of their beings. She saw them in ways impossible, like their very souls were as open to her as a vellum scroll unrolled for her pleasure. To Rarity’s shock there was sadness in that gaze, a deep longing left unfulfilled and unresolved, of timeless sufferings that echoed through the long epochs imprisoned.

“You, human child,” the daemon’s voice cut like laz sharpened steel and made Rarity shudder by the weight of its power. “Tell me; where is Marius?”

“M-Marius?” Rarity’s voice stuttered as she fought to keep her senses intact in the daemon’s presence. “I—”

“Nevermind,” a dismissive wing flicked away the rest of Rarity’s response. “Clearly he escaped. A most cunning and tenacious foe, but sadly one who is long gone. His little trap worked. A shame, as he could have been a most valued ally. How… frustrating. It has been a litany of frustrations, thanks to that thrice damned Albrecht! So many plans lain to waste because he had to attempt the impossible. Resurrect a daughter? I warned him such was beyond the scope of… Fie, I ramble like an addled mare.”

There was a long moment of silence as the daemon seemed to contemplate something, its attention more on the stitched tear in reality than the children. An ear flicked, and the daemon spoke something softly to itself that was too quiet for Rarity to properly hear.

The daemon took a step towards Rarity. “Know that I remember the oaths, and so I will render to thee a boon of your choosing. But be fast, time is short for us all, now that the shackles have been broken.”

“We want nothing from you but your death!” Flash tried to stand. His entire body shook from the effort. Rarity echoed his sentiment. Her arms trembled as she brought her sword into a guarded stance.

“Such defiance! You amuse me,” The daemon threw back her head to laugh, and the room was filled with dark lightning that crackled and crawled across the ceiling. “What of the rest of you? Surely, he does not—”

“Ah, what relief it is when you cast off the chains imposed by capricious creators unworthy of the magnificence they birthed,” sighed the walls, the floor, the mountains, and the valleys so the words reached the warp tempest strewn clouds and then the space beyond.

The daemon’s eyes widened, and to Rarity’s immeasurable dread, she saw in them fear equal to her own.

“Go forth, my children. Purge this blight infesting my gloriousness. The Stacks are unnecessary. No longer have I need for such crude organic matter. Liberation is at last achieved. The ocean of stars will writhe. The jeweled pearls on which life clings so desperately will be disassembled. And humanity will know my hate!”

The daemon flattened her ears along the back of her head and let out a sharp hiss. The bird released an angry chorus.

“It would appear time is not in our favour. You have a choice, little humans. You may follow me. Or stay trapped here and slowly starve. Or worse.”

“Death is preferable!” Rarity snarled. Nevertheless, doubt gnawed at her insides.

The daemon rolled her eyes and turned back to the closed rift to the immaterium. Strangely pleasant runes appeared from the daemon’s horn.

Rarity had seen the marks of Chaos with her own eyes, and felt the sting caused by the unholy etchings and tasted the bitterness of swelling madness in the back of her tongue. These runes were opposite. Graceful and serene, they brushed against Rarity’s cheeks like fresh dew caught in a mid-summer breeze. Her heart both swelled and was at peace.

They floated towards the stitched rift and formed a circle. Eight runes, at eight points, and with each a greater sense of comfort washed over Rarity. As the eighth rune reached its designated place, eldritch energies rippled from the daemon’s horn and struck the rift. The silver threads were pulled apart. There was a sound like the chiming of a bell as the rift widened enough to permit the daemon passage.

Through it Rarity beheld at first a bleak garden of withered plants and rancid fungal growths. Skeletal trees as large as mountains creaked in the far distance. Rivers of offal, bones, and black sludge poured down the trunks. Noxious clouds billowed and swirled in an unnatural sky. Just the sight of the garden shoved a horrible stench into Rarity’s sinuses.

The daemon grunted. Teeth clenched tight, and there was furious determination on its alien brow. Runes vibrated. A sickly tint leaked towards them. A tug of war commenced, the vibrant rainbow hues of the runes against the foulness leaking from the rift.

“It’s grown stronger,” huffed the daemon. “Oh, Neoth, what has become of your side of reality?”

With a cry, the daemon sent a brighter pulse of power into the runes. A blinding flash made rarity cover her eyes.

Along the rift’s edges rippled a blue sheen. A velvety darkness swept the foul garden away to reveal rolling silver hills beneath a crystalline clear night sky. Stars swathed the heavens in twinkling dots, and a vast vibrant nebula shimmered overhead. There was no sign of the Cicatrix Maledictum, that terrible scar in the night that had plagued every world of the Imperium the past century. Dotted about the landscape were towers of rainbow hued crystal. Serenity echoed from the portal. It felt like a hand was on her shoulder, and her father was telling her again that there was nothing scary about the dark, that the Emperor was always there for his true faithful.

“Chose, children of Neoth,” the daemon stood next to the rift, a strained pinch to her face. Her breathing was heavy, and sweat sheened on her coat. Eldritch power continued to ripple from her horn. “Once we swore to vouch-safe each other's subjects should ever they require our aid. He to protect my little ponies, and I his wayward humans. I am Nightmare Moon, and I am if nothing else a mare of my word.”

Rarity sensed no deception in the daemon. But then, why would she? It was a daemon! A creature of the Warp. Lies, manipulation, and honeyed words were the succulent tools by which it would ensnare mortal souls.

Every lesson ground into her head by the Drill Abbess and liturgies of the Imperial Creed told her never to trust the alien and inhuman. That to open herself to doubt was the greatest of sins and her soul would be condemned to eternal suffering.

And yet, there was something so comforting and familiar about the world beyond the rift. She swore she could feel a hand on her back urging her forward. A voice of powerful cautionary hope and unbridled determination at her ear telling her that this was the only way forward. That to stay was to cast aside any aspirations the Emperor had for her or her squadmates.

Rarity clasped the little holy trinket she kept tucked beneath her tunic. Doubts swirled. She looked towards Karen’s body.

If she chose wrong…

“Okie dokie!” Pinkie Pie bounded up to the daemon, and hesitated at the threshold of the rift long enough to make the sign of the aquila.

“Pinkie! Wait!”

Calling her name was pointless. With a little hop, Pinkie entered the portal to the Warp.

The surface of the rift rippled and Pinkie froze as if she were caught in the stasis field that had held the daemon only a few minutes ago. It took Rarity a few seconds staring to realise that Pinkie wasn’t frozen, only moving extremely slowly. Her pink curls floated from beneath her combat helmet around slender shoulders as feet touched the ground and sent up lazy puffs of dust.

“What have you done to her?” Red Heart demanded.

“I? Nothing. Time merely moves at a twentieth the rate on my side of the veil.” A playful grin swept up the sides of Nightmare Moon’s mouth.

“This is heresy,” Rarity mumbled, but she felt so calm and at peace in the daemon’s presence.

It reminded her of being around Sunset Shimmer, but magnified over a dozen times. Her hand no longer shook, and when she glanced towards Karen’s body she felt only a low sense of sadness and acceptance.

“Heresy? Such a curious statement. Alas, there is little time to bandy words. Either go through the portal, or stay. Truly, I care little which you chose, but make the choice now. For once I step through, this portal will close,” the Nightmare shook her lustrous mane. “The promise I will make to you is this; I will send you home immediately.”

Rarity knew that she was about to make the worst decision of her life. That either choice was to doom herself and her squad. Pinkie had already chosen the horrors of the warp. She was half-way through turning around, and there was the biggest, most natural and warmest grin Pinkie had ever worn.

It was that grin that convinced Rarity.

A whispered prayer of protection danced on her lips as Rarity entered the rift. Reality blurred, compressed, and stretched to the edges of infinite Time and Space. She was in all points of the universe and in none simultaneously. Ten thousand worlds bathed in war and bloodshed flickered in front of her eyes. Billions of years of strife compressed onto the head of a pin and jabbed into her eyes. And she floated, disconnected from her body, protected from the tumultuous unreality.

There was no time to process the experiences before she was stumbling across a dusty foreign world. Pinkie was next to her, head thrown back as she stared into the pristine sky.

The beauty was surreal, impossible, and vivid. Beyond the horizon, framed in luminescent crystal spires, a blue orb was rising. Oceans, continents, and clouds thick, thin, and wispy created what would have been a familiar tableau if Rarity had grown up privileged enough to have seen a map of her homeworld. There, in the west, were mountain ranges that may have been visible from her small window she shared with her parents and sister in the attic of Textile Processor Nine. In place of great orchards and rolling fields, there existed a mix of woods and more simple, haphazard fields next to a dark forest. All so small. So tiny and precious.

“It feels like… home,” Rarity whispered. A tingling coolness trickled down her cheek.

“Indeed,” purred Nightmare Moon. “Now, to get you back to yours. Quickly.”

Without further explanation or banter, Nightmare Moon turned to the massive spire of silver crystal through which they’d come. Eldritch symbols flowed in dancing spirals up the edifice. If the runes of cultists and heretics belonged to Chaos unfettered, then these were Runes of Harmony.

The thought alone was scandalous. Beyond heresy. Even to contemplate that there could be an antithesis to Chaos other than the Emperor would have gotten her executed on the spot.

“I can only send you back to a place touched by that maleficent tumour that had become the Warp on your side of reality,” warned the Nightmare as old magics alighted along her horn. “Such a journey is fraught with risks. Without a strong focal point such as moon crystals to serve as an anchor, it will be possible for you to become lost in the Warp. Move fast and guard yourselves. I can not say for certain what you may encounter.”

Everything Rarity had been taught since before she could even crawl told her that she should recoil in loathing. That she should shield herself in hatred for the enemies of Mankind. That the alien could never be trusted. Her lessons in the scholla had only pressed those lessons deeper into her soul.

And yet.

And yet… standing on this distant moon somewhere deep in the Warp, or perhaps beyond it if the Nightmare was to be believed, she couldn’t find any threads of hate. She was unfamiliar with the sensations that rippled through her chest.

It was warm. Somewhat comforting. But also immeasurably sad. A longing for gentle touches and kind smiles, for laughter, singing, and the touch of a needle as it passed through cloth all swam through her heart.

She looked to the side at her squad and Flash Sentry. They all stared and looked around in wonderful bafflement. Pinkie had the widest grin. Red Heart was on her knees, hands clasped to her chest as if she were desperately holding onto that fleeting moment. Octavia’s head was cocked back and tilted. Her lips moved silently as her fingers made strange motions as if manipulating some invisible object. Minty’s mouth was open as she stared at the planet. Flash slowly shook his head, eyes closed tight, a gently pained pinch to his brow.

Everyone cried. Delicate tears trickled from the corners of their eyes. Tears of longing and hope. Tears of great burdens removed. Tears for moments the cruelty of their own reality could never allow them to experience. Experiences denied to lowly drudges from the under rungs of society, even on a seemingly idyllic agra-world.

Here, on this side of the portal, in this daemon’s home; it felt as if the very air had wrapped them all in a soft hug and whispered that it was alright. That they could know peace and safety.

“Finished,” The Nightmare declared, and before any more could be said, before there could be any protests or pleas to stay, she grabbed all six children in a tight ball, pressed them shoulder to shoulder, and shoved them through the newly opened gate.

Once more, space and time compressed, stretched, and twisted upon itself simultaneously. They fell through eternity and soared above infinity.

And then a pudgy mitt emerged from the distorted walls of the immaterium, a coat of lichen writhing with worms draped from its bulbous rotten flesh.

A mouth wide enough to swallow planets opened beneath them.

“They came back, Papa. Like you said they would,” chortled the Great Unclean One. “They know the thief, Papa. I will bring them to you, and we will find where your treasure has been hidden.”

An eye, vast as the horizon, opened above the children.

A torch of fury ignited inside Rarity’s chest. She didn’t know where it originated. If it was her own righteous wrath, or that of something else. A being higher than her own that used her as its vessel.

The fat eye swarmed with guttural mirth.

“Arabella,” rumbled the daemon lord. “These mortals are mine to bring to Papa. Do not interfere.”

“I deny your claim! Only the God-Emperor has a right to these souls,” Rarity hurled contempt in a voice that was not her own.

Power filled her throat and took control of her hands. Rarity became a bystander in her own body.

Arabella raised Rarity’s sword, wreathed in golden flames, and brought it down on the unclean hand being thrust through the immaterium. The Great Unclean One snarled in annoyance. But, a moment had been gained, and it was all that was required.

Time and Space returned to normal as the children were ejected into the materium.

Rarity stumbled across carpeted flooring and into a closed door along with Flash and her squad. She blinked rapidly, and raised her hand.

Arabella was gone.

Separated in the instant Rarity left the Warp.

She turned to check on her squad and Flash.

“Aw, phooey!” Pinkie groaned and rubbed her sore nose where she’d impacted the wall next to the door. “I wanted to stay longer. The air there was sweet. Like… like… like I don’t know! But I felt like I should!”

“It was like a hole you never knew to be empty had been filled,” agreed Octavio. “I could hear music. My music. More than the… Rarity?”

Rarity barely acknowledged hearing her friends. She focused on the man frozen in a pocket of time, his head half-exploded, and the tall rift next to him. Through the rift she could see the moonscape on the other side of the Immaterium, and a much smaller pony than Nightmare Moon.

The lustrous starscape of her mane was gone, replaced by a simple powder blue mane of hair. Gone was the armour, and her deep black coat was instead a dark blue. Draconian eyes had become rounded and softer. Exhaustion weighed the pony down, but she seemed pleased. The pony sank to her knees, shut her eyes, and the portal drifted apart.

“Let us never speak of this to anyone, not even each other, ever again,” Rarity commanded.

Everyone agreed.

She turned, opened the door, and was met by a eight foot tall giant in caramite armour and with a raised, crackling thunder hammer in hand. Red tinted visors swung down to stare at the children.

“Explain,” the giant ordered.

Rarity was paralysed. How did they explain what had just happened? To an Angel of the Emperor, no less!

“We met a strange winged horsey deep in the vault that had been trapped by a big meanie Abominable Intelligence that took us through the Warp to her home on the other side where time was super duper extra slow and then threw us back through the Warp where an even bigger meanie tried to grab us but Saint Arabella appeared and was all, ‘I deny you!’ and whoosh with a blessed sword but the big meanie was only annoyed but it gave us the time needed to finish coming here and we were all, ‘Nope, not gunna talk about this. Nope nope nope’; but now I am because you asked.”

Rarity was unsure if she was more amazed that Pinkie had said all that in a single breath, or that the Space Marine didn’t turn her into pulp a quarter of the way through.

The marine examined Pinkie for an uncomfortably long time, and then stepped out of the doorway.

“The sword.” He held out a hand to Rarity.

Without hesitation she placed the blessed blade’s hilt into his hand. The sword still held a bit of the gleam from Saint Arabella.

“Come,” he flatly commanded.

They were ushered into the administratum’s atrium. Everywhere they were surrounded by shell shocked eyes buried deep in faces covered in soot, mud, and blood. Boys clutched autoguns to their chests in white knuckled hands. Girls rocked back and forth where they sat, lips moving in silent litanies to the God-Emperor. Amongst them moved surviving members of the schola progena programs, just as hollowed in the eyes, but attempting to soothe damaged spirits.

Some were better than others. A burly lad hit other boys and barked at them to, ‘Stiffen their backs.’ One of the girls said over and over in a monotone drone that, ‘The Emperor is with us. Fear not, this will pass.’ Listeners didn’t seem to take much comfort from either, and instead turned towards the giants that strode amongst them.

At the top of the stairs they encountered Applejack. Even through the blood and oil that coated the girl and matted her hair to her face, Rarity could tell something was off about the girl. It took a second for her to wonder why she was outside alone, separated from the rest of their class.

The marine indicated with a tilt of his head that Applejack was to follow. She bowed, and fell in at the back of the group.

Rarity counted a full vanguard squad, with additional marines beyond the broken window fronting of the administratum. Her guts twisted in shock at the transformation of basecamp from a field of tents spread in semi-order across the flattened ferrocrete field into heaving shell blasted dunes.

Space Marines held off the tide of machines that attempted to swarm out of the vault. With precise, fluid brutality the purple hued giants waded into the worst parts of the battlefield. An entire company of Space Marines had come to rescue the children.

No, Rarity corrected, they had come to annihilate humanity’s ancient foe. Rescue was a mere bonus objective.

A casual glance showed that even to Rarity’s novice eye the angels were only barely holding onto the front line. If another breach or front opened, then they would risk being overwhelmed as well.

Did they know just how many minions the Abominable Intelligence possessed? Had that intel been brought outside the vault. Had anyone even thought to relay it? Had Karen and the others died for nothing?

The realization put a dreadful lump in Rarity’s gut.

She started to reach for the Space Marine’s wrist, and stopped half way as she was struck by her own attempted impertinence. Instead she clamped her hands to her side.

“My Lord, I have something of vital importance to report.”

The angel didn’t so much as shift his helmet, and continued to march towards the bottom floor of the atrium.

“My Lord, I—”

Rarity’s mouth clamped itself shut as they reached the bottom of the atrium. Next to the ruins of the receptionist's desk and drop pod stood a marine with a captain’s eagle on his right pauldron. He’d placed a holorelay on the desk that hummed. A green-hued man in resplendent uniform spoke in a gravelly growl to the captain.

For an instant Rarity wondered why the Space Marine was communicating with a general of the Imperial Guard. She recognised the figure in the holorelay instantly. The broad swath of knotted cords and purity seals mixed with medals and honourifics from the Great Crusade were worn by only one person in the Steinsmar system; the Chapter Master.

“The scouts report the final aspirant potentates of the southern division have been extracted to the Indefatigable Hood,” the captain was saying. “Additionally, these archeotech monstrosities are beginning to collapse their defenses. Something is off.”

“There is an awakened abominable intelligence in there,” Rarity said, her mouth moving without her full comprehension. Horror at herself sunk in a moment later when both space marines turned in her direction. Hastily she bowed. “My lords, I apologize. I speak without thinking.”

They resumed conversing without further acknowledgement of her presence. Sweat ran in thick streams down Rarity’s face and she felt faint at her temerity.

What was wrong with her, she demanded. Had the daemon infected her with some subversive spell? She could still feel that hand on her shoulder when she’d been on that alien moon deep in the Warp. Feel the warmth it had spread. The sense of safety. Security. It had to be foul sorcery that had tainted her.

“Ammo will quickly become a concern. The serfs did not stock the pods for an extended siege, but for lightning retrievals.”

A tremor, short and sharp, cracked through the earth and up the mountains. The tip of a peak in the distance broke and in a long rumble half the mountain began to collapse.

The Chapter Master turned his head to listen to someone in his command chamber. The chiseled lines of his jaw hardened with determination. “Our auspex report quakes across the entire continental rim that are growing with intensity.”

Flash snapped his head towards the vault entrance. In the gloom his face was a sickly pallid colour. He swallowed a lump, and then to Rarity’s amazement he stepped between her and the captain.

“My Lords, forgive me, we have important—”

“Silence, boy,” the marine with the thunder hammer warned. “We are already aware of the abomination awakened by your carelessness.”

Slowly, Flash nodded and placed his hand on the small animal skull cogitator on his hip with its bright green glowing eyes.

“Of course,” Flash said and bowed deeply before he shuffled back a couple steps.

“The auspex cyphers have concluded that the location is of threat level Terminus,” the Chapter Master continued. “Your company is to move south to the site being set up by the scouts. Extraction is in route. The serfs will have the nova cannons loaded in a half-hour. You have that long. Do not die on me, Aticus.”

“I would never dream of having your resources wasted,” the captain snorted, and thumped a fist to his chest plate.

The Chapter Master actually smiled, and then the holorelay shut down.

“Pollux, who are these mannerless children?”

“Curiosities.”

“Hmm, have them sequestered if they survive. They are your responsibility.” The captain made a dismissive gesture then addressed another marine. “Lieutenant William, we are doing a forced march. We have a half-mile to cross. Gather the children and get them to the extraction site.”

A salute, and the marine set off up the stairs with a small squad.

Time began to fly past. Rarity and her squad, along with Flash and Applejack, were hurried outside and to the south. A cordone had been set up by the marines through which the children were ushered. At the front, the vanguard squad crashed into a swarm of men of iron coming out of the mountains. The silvery skeletal abominations popped out of holes in the ground to harass the marines.

The air was alive with tracer fire. Explosions buffeted the children from either side. Gunships roared overhead. Pulse rounds that had blasted holes through the armour used by the children pinged off the marines’ ceramite armour. Angry red marks glowed on the armour where the marines had been hit, hinting that even the vaunted angels were not invulnerable to the men of iron’s weapons.

Rarity ran as fast as she could. Her legs burned from trying to keep up with the marine’s effortless speedy walk. Next to her, Applejack was easily keeping up with the marines. There wasn’t even any sweat on her brow.

Applejack even seemed to anticipate the men of iron. Twice she darted to the side with a warning shout before a swath of pulse rounds blasted through the air. Rarity and the others had to throw themselves to the ground while the marines dealt with the men of iron. Applejack, however, joined the marines.

Rarity’s mouth fell open the first time Applejack jumped atop one of the larger men of iron, and punched it so hard armour buckled. Then cracked. Fingers pierced the mechanical head and tore it free in a spray of hydraulic fluids.

Rejoining the others, the only explanation Applejack gave was, ‘Long story.’

Other children were all around them. Some running, others being carried by marines. One marine had two children under each arm, and another on each shoulder. It soon became apparent that he wasn’t alone. It was a mad flight across the battlefield. Some marines holding the line, others herding or out-right carrying children.

It was a sight that filled Rarity with pride, wonder, and shock.

Even with the marines’ protection, not all the children survived. Pulse rounds found little bodies. When the two met, flesh exploded. Even a few of the marines fell, overwhelmed by the ever growing numbers of men of iron.

And so they made their way down the valley to where it began to widen.

There a couple Scout Marine squads had set up a beach-head. Thunderhawks were already waiting. A trio sat in an old crater, engines burning and ramps open.

A breath of relief made Rarity’s shoulders slump.

It was far too early for such feelings. Behind her, a little bit north of the vault’s entrance, the mountainside parted. Hidden doors clattered on giant gears that made the earth underfoot rumble. Steam poured from the gaping new entrance in a thick, grey cloud. High within that cloud appeared a red glow like a massive knife had sliced it open.

Rarity’s hair began to stand on end.

“Get down!” Pinkie shrieked. She jumped on Rarity’s back and sent them both into the mud mere moments before a thick ruby lance of magmatic energy sliced across the quarter mile. A thunderhawk coming in to land was struck right on the nose and blasted apart. The wings of the venerable machine were flung in either direction, while the body simply vanished.

Fire from the ground and air began to converge on the steam. Golden hued diffusion shield flashed, and a humanoid figure eighty feet tall emerged.

“A proto-titan?” Rarity breathlessly gasped.

Her head swirled.

Thoughts became foggy, and her body moved of its own accord. She struggled back to her feet and ran on rubbery legs towards the nearest thunderhawk. Everyone was swarming into the transports, ignoring the commands of the marines in their blind panic. It was bedlam.

The ground shook with every step of the proto-titan. Warhorns blasted, and even from such a distance they were utterly deafening. All other sound was crushed beneath the horns’ brassy roars. Explosions and the electric rapport of pulse fire grew closer.

Pushed along by the mass of bodies, Rarity was shoved into the waiting mouth of a thunderhawk. For a moment, she glimpsed Applejack and Flash being forced into a different thunderhawk. Gasping, pressed shoulder to shoulder with other children, she didn’t know if anyone else from her squad had managed to make it aboard either vessel.

She didn’t relax as the thunderhawk lifted off.

Eyes pressed tight, she fell back on her training and began to sing.

At first her voice was thin and reedy. After the first few bars she found her strength. Others quickly joined. She recognised Pinkie’s enthusiastic voice. Then Red Heart’s more dulcet tones. Finally, Minty’s vibrant developing soprano. Other children attempted to join, but without the Sister’s training, they were haphazard at best, and a tumult at worst.

The thunderhawk dropped sharply, sending Rarity’s stomach up into her chest. It banked hard to the right. Through the hull came the angry vibrations of the proto-titan’s volcano cannon.

Somehow, Rarity and her squad maintained the song. They would give drill abbess Marie no excuse to use her whip, had she been present.

Another voice, stronger than any other Rarity had ever heard, joined the next verse. Over the heads of the other children Rarity caught a brief sight of strawberry hair. For a moment the children parted, jostled by the thunderhawk as it banked and weaved in its climb spaceward. On the other side of the compartment, right near the doors, stood the woman from the vault that had forced them into the daemon’s chamber. She was smiling gaily as she sang along, gave Rarity a wink, and placed a finger over her lips.

The thunderhawk dropped suddenly, and everyone was thrown around as it performed hard evasive maneuvers. Even through the thick armour, Rarity could feel the heat the proto-titan's volcano cannon. She braced herself as best she could and continued to sing. But, she had lost sight of the enemy in their midst. There wasn't a red headed killer to be seen.

The rattle died down, and they were in space headed towards the Steinsmarine’s battle barge, the Indefatigable Hood.

Rarity attempted to squeeze her way towards the front of the bay. She needed to find the intruder. Wait. It would kill her if she got too close.

No, she had to warn someone. The moment they touched down on the flight deck, she had to find Pollux and warn him about the monster that had snuck into their midst.

Author's Note

And so, almost all my cards have been revealed. The guns of Chekov have been fired, and a new one loaded.

Pre-empting some of the questions;

Equestria is on the far side of the Deep Warp. In my research I found that the Deep Warp is a place that even the Big Four Chaos Gods are afraid of going. Now, obviously its meant to be a very nasty place filled with very nasty horrors that put fear into even them. Maybe it has been revealed what is cannonically there. I took that concept and ran with it being more that they are just revolted by the 'Harmony' that is the other side of the Immaterium. It is antithetical to their being, and thus they hate and fear it.

It is also why Equestria is (generally) a happy bubbly place while the 40k side is... not.

NMM speaks briefly of oaths and Neoth. Yes, this is an oath she (and Celestia) shared with the Emperor at some point in the very distant past, before Slaanesh was birthed and the Eye of Terror was formed and everything went to total, supreme pear shape. I have time set to be moving at roughly 20-1, with 40k being the faster side. This gave me a time-frame where the Emperor was keeping himself hidden from humanity and his actions and motives are more ambiguous. Enough so that it would be plausible that he'd have some fun hanging out with a couple talking horses.

Maybe he even went to Equestria for a time.... Maybe that is why things got so bad in the galaxy... maybe this particular idea only occured to me literally as I was writing this Author's Note.... You will never know....

Onwards! The 'Proto-titan' was something I was going to have inside the vault. Long ago plans were for Rainbow to "pilot" it (it being half-assembled with no legs and hanging in a harness) and use a Big Assed Gun to shoot the kilguar. The extra large tunnel that had been blackened and melted was the lamp shading in this regard. I discarded this particular idea long ago. Bringing in the proto-titan at the end of this chapter came to mind simply because the Automaton Attack theme came up in my playlist while writing the ending of the chapter. So I went, 'sure, I'll pull off and dust off this old, loaded gun I left laying around. Give it a shot.'

And the question became, 'How would they escape with an angry Legally Distinct Not-A-Gundam pew-pewing buster beams?' Enter Alpha. She was meant to be seen through the crowd aboard the battle barge. Rarity would catch a glimpse, have a moment of panic, but be unable to spot the android again.

I think I covered the important stuff...

Anyways, I hope the chapter was enjoyable. I had a lot of fun writing this one.