Black Horizons
By SFaccountant

Chapter 16
Chosen

Inquisition battlecruiser Aesir’s Justice
Medicae ward 4-A
WARNING: Beta-level quarantine in effect
Authorization Codex 7712.031-I

Twilight’s jaw stretched into a wide yawn as her eye fluttered open. The dim lumens of the medicae ward gradually brought the space above her into focus, and she blinked sleepily as she beheld a large rotary disk mounted on the ceiling with numerous servo arms attached to the circumference. The mechanical arms ended in various needles, blades, pincers, and the odd (unnecessarily large) saw blade, and some of those arms were currently positioned over and around her. Each of her legs was held firmly in place by padded clamps, elevated above her body while she rested on her back. Her wings were likewise pinned in place against the surface of the examination bed she found herself on, with large, soft pads attached to heavy metal pincers. It was not a comfortable position, but it wasn’t painful, either.

Twilight slowly rolled her head left, and then right. On the right side she could see the back of what was obviously a Techpriest. It had a servo arm mounted over one shoulder and numerous cables emerged from its peaked hood and wound down into some kind of device on its back. It’s robes were a deep red though, which Twilight found unusual and quite pretty.

Blinking her eye blearily, she tried to recall what the red robe signified. She was sure she’d seen it somewhere before, but it escaped her sleep-addled mind. Licking her lips, she was suddenly overcome by how thirsty she was, and she released a spontaneous cough.

The Techpriest froze, turning slightly to regard a bright green monitor. Then it slowly turned around fully to face her. Optics lights of bright blue gleamed from beneath the right side of the cultist’s hood, and the biological eye on the other side met Twilight’s gaze with some visible trepidation.

“Good morning,” Twilight said, her tone polite if not cheerful, “may I have some water, please? I’m really parched.”

The Techpriest slowly approached the bedside, his movements deliberately over-cautious. Twilight thought that was bizarre, but maybe he was just being careful due to all the machinery around. This medicae room was smaller and was a more crowded than Twilight was familiar with. When he reached the bedside, he drew a small tube from somewhere beneath the table, and then held it up over Twilight’s nose.

Twilight frowned. “Can I have a cup? I don’t-”

The Techpriest stuck the tube in her mouth while she was speaking, and Twilight’s ears pinned back in annoyance as the cultist quickly backed away and then twisted a dial. The Techpriest scurried back to the console, chittering quietly with a series of beeping noises and refusing to look upon his patient further. Water started trickling through the tube at a gentle pace, and the young Princess quietly drank up while observing the room some more.

The room was… odd, somehow. Like all ponies she had grown up without much exposure to heavy machinery and the thrumming, hyper-industrial constructs of the Mechanicus, much less the sorts of architecture that supported void travel. Twilight still felt some degree of wonder every time she entered a room that had been crafted entirely from human industry, and marveled at the small but meaningful differences in each type. The extractium outposts of the Dark Mechanicus differed from the barracks of Ferrous Dominus, which were quite different from the decks of the Harvest of Steel, which were quite different from the decaying shell of Ishrem station. This one too seemed different from the other medicae wards she’d visited in various subtle ways. It was cleaner, for one thing. While the 38th Company employed menials and worker servitors to clean the ships and Claret Heartthrob was very diligent about disinfecting her workspace, the stains of blood and decay seemed impossible to eliminate completely. There were also less jagged blades among the surgical tools, which she broadly approved of. Finally, there were fewer skulls. Not zero skulls, which she would have considered ideal, but she could only spot two from her vantage point.

About at this point, Twilight realized something was wrong: her optical augment wasn’t working. Usually it booted up when she awoke, but she could only see out of her right eye at present. She tried to blink her left eye, which was – generally speaking – the main nerve activation that controlled it. There was no response, which started to worry her.

Twilight shifted the water tube to the side of her jaw so she could speak relatively unobstructed. “Excuse me, Techpriest! Hi! Can I ask your name?”

The Techpriest again seemed to freeze up, and several second passed as if he was deliberating on such a simple and petty request. “Negative,” he finally said, turning just enough so that the light of his optics glimmered from around the edge of his hood. “Interaction with subject Alpha-003 is restricted.”

“Charming as always,” Twilight said sourly. “Fine, I guess ‘Techpriest’ is enough. Do you know what’s wrong with my bionic eye? It’s shut off.”

“Affirmative,” the Techpriest replied.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Response restricted,” the Techpriest replied.

“Why would you be restricted from telling me that?” Twilight asked, her annoyance increasing rapidly.

“Response restricted,” the Techpriest replied again.

The mare fumed visibly for a few seconds. “What about this ‘subject Alpha-003’ thing? Can you tell me why you’re coming up with weird names for me all of a sudden?”

“Response… permitted. Designation assigned in accordance with shipboard experimental registrar.”

“You don’t need to assign me a designation! You KNOW my name!” Twilight retorted.

“This statement is false,” said, his vox-distorted words somehow sounding scornful to her ears. “This unit is unaware of alternate designations for subject Alpha-003.”

The mare was incredulous. “I’m Twilight Sparkle. You’ve never heard of Twilight Sparkle? My face is on a holo-screen in front of every tech-shrine in the city warning not to let me in!”

“Intriguing,” the unnamed Techpriest admitted. “What is this city that has been so warded against your blasphemous influence?”

Twilight stared at him, utterly baffled. The grogginess of her waking was fading rapidly, and the various observations she had made were starting to worry her. She could not remember where she had been when she’d fallen unconscious, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t here. What happened? Where was everybody?

“Where am I? What medicae ward is this? What ship? I am on a ship, right?” she demanded, her tone hardening.

“Response restricted.”

Twilight’s horn filled with magic as she began to cast a spell, intending to tie up the Techpriest with his own mechadendrites. However, the surge of magic that filled her horn was accompanied by something else. She would have struggled to put the sudden sensation into words: not quite pain, definitely not pleasure, but brutal in its intensity and coming from her neck. There was something there; a collar? The sensation coming from it washed all thought of her spell from her mind. Her body convulsed, and her vision went hazy.

+Observation: Psychic suppressor is functioning within expected parameters,+ the Techpriest said in Binaric, returning to the console.

Twilight gasped, spitting out the hose that leaked water down her throat. She wrenched her legs back, trying to pull them free, and was not especially surprised to find they didn’t budge. She was helpless.

“What happened to me?! Where am I?!” the young alicorn shouted at the Techpriest’s back. “Answer me! Who are you?!”

The Techpriest didn’t bother to reply. The locking indicator lumen on the door blinked green, and a soft hiss came from the mechanism. The door opened, and then a man briskly strode through. Twilight could make out the backs of several soldiers in powered armor through the doorway before it closed: she didn’t get a good look, but she could easily tell none of them were Chaos Space Marines or Dark Mechanicus cultists.

The man who entered was completely unfamiliar, but Twilight noted several icons on his polished, resplendent power armor that indicated she was no longer in the company of her allies. She was unfamiliar with the stylized “I” of the Emperor’s holy Inquisition, but she had met plenty of enemies bearing the Imperial Aquila. Her face went pale and her heart started to thunder in her chest. What had happened to her?

Inquisitor Gholth stood in front of the examination bed, studying her silently as she studied him back. “You’re awake,” he said finally, his voice brimming with barely concealed excitement. “Splendid. We can begin.”

“What’s going on here?!” Twilight demanded again. “Who are you?!”

“You have been confiscated by the Imperium’s Holy Inquisition, xeno,” he said politely. “We were searching Ishrem for you and eventually we found you. I am the leader of this expedition. You may refer to me simply as Inquisitor.”

Memories came rushing back to Twilight, burrowing through the fog of her mind. Her friends under fire from Sisters of Battle. War hymns from the station vox net. Gaela sealing a hull breach in the lifeless, airless tunnels…

“Where’s Gaela?! And Solon? Where are my friends? What happened to them?” she growled.

“I can speculate on the fate of your former companions, but I cannot confirm it and it would be unproductive,” Gholth offered, scratching at his chin. “There is much to do, little one.”

“My name is Twilight Sparkle!” the mare snapped.

“Noted! Welcome to my ship, Miss Sparkle.” The Inquisitor furnished a polite bow, but then grimaced. “This is a somewhat awkward question to ask, obviously, but it would be negligent not to: I’m aware of your psychic powers and have taken measures against them, and I must assume that those wings of yours are not merely for show. Do you have any other unique, innate skills or powers granted to your species?”

Twilight fumed angrily before answering. “Ponies possess the power of Friendship!”

Gholth needed several seconds to digest that claim. “Friendship. Really.” He didn’t seem completely dismissive so much as he was lightly skeptical.

“Countless foes have underestimated this power and every one of them now fights with us as allies or rots at the bottom of a blasted crater,” Twilight warned, her eye narrowing furiously. “Release me now and you won’t have to choose between those fates for yourself!”

Gholth regarded her silently for several tense seconds, his hands clasped behind his back. Then, ever-so-slowly, he turned a decisively suspicious glare on the Techpriest. The tech-cultist stared back obliviously, unable to properly interpret the alien’s babbling.

Twilight’s ears pinned back again. “Friendship… doesn’t seem to work on Techpriests,” she admitted regretfully.

“Excellent. Magos, have Miss Sparkle taken down from the servo-restraints. Ensure the wings are firmly immobilized, but unharmed. She will join me in the Captain’s hall.” He paused, tilting his head slightly. “Does your kind have any particular dietary preferences? If it’s anything particularly exotic I’m afraid we may have to suffice with nutrient injection.”

“Can we go over what I’m doing here first? Or what you did to my magic?” the mare growled.

“Your psychic abilities have been curtailed with the use of an archaeotech inhibitor. I will decline to explain further for reasons I’m sure are self-evident,” Gholth said apologetically. “Do not be alarmed; I believe that as this affair progresses there will be need to dispense with it, at least temporarily.” He hesitated, then straightened. “We will discuss your capture further after you have eaten. The sedative used was VERY powerful and I’m sure you’re famished.”

Twilight kept glaring at him. “I’ll have two ration tins of reconstituted starchy gruel and a mug of recaf. Black.”

“Ah, you’re familiar with our human cuisine! Splendid!”

Gholth backed up and snapped his fingers. The machine above Twilight rumbled into action, and the Magos shambled toward her with his servo arms creaking open.

Mining Nexus Ishrem
Deck A-3

A shrill whine came over the vox casters as they all turned on in tandem, followed by a screeching pulse that echoed throughout the massive cavern of the asteroid’s interior.

“CITIZENSH OF ISHREM!” Solon boomed, his voice projected from dozens of points at once all across the settlement. “I AM WARSHMITH SHOLON OF THE 38TH COMPANY! WE HAVE CALLED YOU HERE TODAY TO SHPEAK ON THE UNACCEPTABLE BETRAYAL THAT HASH BEFALLEN YOUR HOME!”

An enormous crowd of bedraggled residents and human mercenaries were gathered on the side of a plaza, many of them roaring in agreement and thrusting their fists into the air. Atop the plaza was a tall Chaos Star mounted upon a pole and hammered into the middle of the open space. Tied securely to the pole was Executor Nathaniel Gaines. The man was still alive, but his cranial augmetic had been disassembled, with a large metal pit exposed on his face that was covered with inlet sockets.

To one side stood Serith, who towered over the crowd while resting on his force halberd. On the other side was Mantis, who cut such a slight figure in comparison that some of the crowd further back hadn’t noticed him at all. Iron Warriors ringed the area, each of them constantly scanning the surrounding decks restlessly. There were few ponies in attendance, and most of them were roosting on nearby shacks and viewing the spectacle with grim fascination.

“BEHOLD, YOUR EXECUTOR! BEHOLD, THE MAN WHO YOU CHARGED WITH YOUR SHECURITY! BEHOLD, THE MAN WHO CLAIMED YOUR LABORSH AND WEALTH FOR HISH OWN WHILE LEAVING YOUR HOME TO RUSHT AND ROT!” Solon snorted, the noise bouncing across the station. “BUT THISH ISH THE LEASHT OF HISH CRIMESH, IT SHEEMSH!”

Gaines glowered at his captors, but didn’t interrupt. It didn’t seem likely to rise above the booming vox casters anyway.

“HE SHOLD YOUR FUTURE TO THE IMPERIUM’SH INQUISHITION!” Solon spat. “HE INVITED THOSE WRETCHED ZEALOTSH INTO YOUR SHTATION WITHOUT A WORD OF WARNING! THEY MASSHACRED YOUR NEIGHBORSH AND HE CONCEALED THEIR MURDER! AND WHEN THE PURGE BEGAN AND THE IMPERIUM MARCHED ON YOUR HOMESH, THISH RODENT HID IN A CLOSHET DESHIGNATED BY HISH IMPERIAL MASHTERSH!”

Solon’s chassis lifted him higher and he turned his glowering optics onto the hapless man. The crowd was bellowing along with every sentence now, baying and howling at the Executor. A few of the closest ones stepped forward like they were going to rush the plaza, but Serith chuckled and gestured toward them. The rabble were harshly pushed back into the mob as if blown over by an invisible wind, and the crowd very quickly became more respectful of the space.

“ON ISHREM ONLY ONE FATE AWAITSH THOSHE WHO TURN THEIR FELLOWSH OVER TO THE FANATICAL IMPERIUM OF MAN…” Solon stepped closer to the icon of Chaos, his smokestacks vomiting clouds of foul ash into the air.

Gaines turned his head toward him, his teeth clenched. “You know I didn’t have a choice,” he seethed.

“I don’t know that, actually,” Solon said, disconnecting himself from the vox network, “but I know you had a choice of hiding placesh, and you choshe poorly. Hierophant?”

Twin flames of purple seemed to alight on the ends of Mantis’s horns. “My apologies if this spell is incorrect. This is my first time, erm, executing someone.” He pressed his hooves together and then started whispering to himself.

“She wouldn’t have wanted this,” Gaines hissed, sweat beading on his forehead and rolling down the folds of his neck. “I knew the witch for but a few minutes, and in that short time she showed grace and mercy! You cannot avenge her like this!”

Solon looked upon him silently, and then stepped closer. The great pistons in his leg hissed loudly, and the joint assemblies creaked as the Warsmith leaned over the hapless human. A foul and entirely unique odor reached the Executor’s nose, and he held his breath as he met the glowering optics of the Warsmith.

“You’re right,” Solon admitted. “Shparkle would beg me to shpare you, shpeak on behalf of your pershpective, and expect nothing in return for her benevolence.” He shifted away again. “But Shparkle ishn’t HERE, Executor. And you will die with that regret.”

Mantis chanted louder, his eyes fluttering open as caustic energies started to emerge from the deck and slither up the Executor’s legs like worms. Where the magic touched, flesh churned, swelling and drying out and splitting like overripe fruit. The Executor coughed and heaved as the pain spread, and then he sucked in a deep breath.

“I saved as many of you ungrateful wretches as I could!” he shouted to the mob, his voice an angry, spiteful snarl. “I cut a deal with a fragging Inquisitor under the shadow of an Imperial battlecruiser! You scum think you could have done better?!”

“Mediocre final words,” Serith mused aloud as the crowd roared in anger. A few small objects were flung up onto the platform to strike Ishrem’s former leader, and Serith turned aside any of the projectiles that looked deadly with a few gentle waves of his hand.

“You won’t find better than me! Gaah! The dark powers, Chaos… it… you can’t… urkg…” the Executor’s words failed him as the magic crawled up into his lower torso, and his expression was twisted into a grimace of agony.

At the rear edge of the mob, Delgan and Varya conversed while mostly ignoring the spectacle. Rarity and Jewel Bracer stood behind Delgan, the latter of whom tapped away on a dataslate. Captain Varya held up a scroll in one hand, a rueful smile on her face.

“Not a great haul is it? And if we assume Ishrem itself is truly lost, this conflict has been quite unprofitable,” Varya sighed.

“There are hundreds of other rocks crawling with desperate men,” Delgan retorted. “Some of them have better eateries, too. Not many, but a few.”

Screams of pain finally emerged from the execution, followed by the cheers and jeers of the crowd. The humans merely waited for the noise to subside, but the mares cringed and flattened their ears in unease. Delgan idly reached out and scratched Jewel’s head, and she quietly leaned into his hand.

Rarity cleared her throat once the crowd had calmed. “The munitions you requested are transferred to your ship, Lady Captain. 200 macro shells, 10 plasma accelerators, and a weapons-grade class III lens array.” Her voice was subdued and no smile reached her lips, but she still gave the accounting with a courteous tone.

“Splendid. And tell me, little pony, is there some trinket I could possibly offer to lure YOU onto my ship as well?” Varya leaned over the seamstress with a haughty grin.

“I am not for sale,” Rarity said, her tone much less courteous than before. “Please refrain from making offers on my enslavement. We’ve had quite enough bloodshed in the last two days.”

As if to underline her comment, a mournful wail and a sickening crack came from the plaza, followed by a deafening cheer from the crowd. Jewel Bracer shuddered, and Delgan gave her another pat on the head. Varya stood up straight again and wiped her cheek as if removing a tear.

“Ah, what a miserable end to a truly remarkable shore leave,” the Captain sighed. “Plenty of void dregs desperate to leave and join a crew, but Chaos has claimed all the cute aliens. You always did hoard the best treasures for yourself, Delgan.”

“I would apologize for being a better pirate than you are, but I wouldn’t mean it,” Delgan admitted. “Until next our paths cross, Captain.”

A crackle of static came from the vox again.

“And sho the jushtice of the void hash been delivered. Let all witnessh the price of betrayal,” Solon announced, standing high before the twisted mass of flesh that used to be the Executor. Blood spurted from it seemingly at random in twitching spasms, and numerous spectators shielded their eyes from the revolting sight or vomited on the decks.

“This is the end for Ishrem, friends. But it is not the end for you!” Mantis reared up next to the Warsmith, planting his front hooves on a leg. “Our ships are open to all bold enough to carve a better life out of this wretched, blood-soaked galaxy! Join us, and show the Imperium the true spirit of humanity!”

A triumphant roar came from the mob. “Long live Lord Sholon!” someone shouted, accidentally mimicking his slur. The crowd jumped in immediately, a hundred voices rising to follow the cheer. “LONG LIVE THE WARSHMITH!!”

“… Closhe enough,” Solon grumbled as Serith laughed.

Harvest of Steel
Medicae bay 2-7A

“Man, I can’t believe you managed to find an enemy army on the neutral pirate station. And like, real soldiers, too! Not sissy boarding mooks! I really need to follow you guys around more.”

Tellis sat on the edge of a bright white recuperation casket with Rainbow Dash laying in it. The pegasus was laying on her side, looking quite miserable with more bandage wrapping and patches over her body than ever. The casket lid was lying on the floor at the Iron Warrior’s feet, having obviously been ripped off rather than removed normally.

“I wish you HAD been there,” Rainbow mumbled, looking away. “I’ll bet YOU could have saved Twi.”

“Yeah, I guess, but I’m not really the saving type,” Tellis responded.

The Iron Warrior was leaning forward to rest his hands on his thigh plating while he conversed, looming over the cyan mare. The huge, claw-like wings of his flight pack scraped against the wall with every move, scratching up the covers of the other recuperation caskets that were plugged into the wall. The containers typically contained sedated subjects who were recovering from wounds and surgeries, and they were slotted into a bulkhead wall to keep them out of the way and simplify access to hydration and feeding tubes.

“I screwed up real bad this time, Tellis,” Rainbow said miserably. “The moment Twi separated from us, they snatched her up! We knew that they were looking for her! We should have never let her go with just Gaela to protect her!”

“It was her idea though, right?” Tellis asked. “I know you’re upset Rainbabe, but this was her mistake, not yours. And she also lost! C’mon!”

“I dunno. Maybe,” the pegasus grunted, rolling over, “but this isn’t about whose fault it is! Twilight’s gone! The Imperial ship escaped! Are we ever gonna see her again?!”

“That part is pretty terrible, yeah,” Tellis agreed with a chuckle. “Those Inquisition weirdos are a tricky bunch. Usually they’re as quick as any of them to burn and purge and stuff, but they went through a lot of trouble to take the nerd alive. When they do that sort of thing they always have some sort of scheme. This Gholth guy is up to something.”

Rainbow turned over again, looking up at Tellis with fear in her eyes. “What’s gonna happen to Twi?”

“She’s gonna die,” the Iron Warrior replied without hesitation. “Sure, they may want something else from her, but any time these guys seize some kind of special specimen or whatever it ends up being used for a desperate and suicidal gambit against the enemies of the Imperium or part of a bloody lab accident that kills a dozen Techpriests. Every time.” He gave a thumbs-up. “So at least we know she’ll take some bastards down with her! Hopefully it’s not us.”

Rainbow cringed. “How could this happen? I just wish-”

“Hey! What are you doing here?! Did you break her out of recuperation?!” Claret Heartthrob demanded, standing in the entrance doorway. She had a dataslate hovering in front of her as she scowled up at the Iron Warrior.

“Yeah, I wanted to talk to my pony friend! So what?” Tellis answered her.

“Lord Tellis, I believe that by order of the Warsmith you are EXPRESSLY FORBIDDEN from these premises!” Claret said through clenched teeth.

“Look lady, I can’t keep track of EVERY place in the ship I’m not allowed! Do you have any idea how many of those there are?” Tellis retorted.

“It’s just three decks! There’s signage and everything!”

“Oh, so now you expect me to READ too?”

Claret’s horn sparked angrily, and the chain that hung from base to tip started to glow slightly. “Lord Tellis, Miss Dash has been GRIEVOUSLY wounded and by now I’m convinced that locking her down in an artificially induced coma is the ONLY prospect for her to actually recover fully! PLEASE remove yourself from the medicae ward! It’s for her own good!”

“You’re such a drag, Doc,” Tellis grumbled.

Mining Nexus Ishrem
Primary dock access

“So it ain’t comin’ with us after all? Kinda surprised it would wanna stay here where it was locked up.”

Applejack and Pinkie Pie stood back as Fluttershy offered comforting whispers to the feline alien that they had encountered and freed on Ishrem. The eyeless beast sat on its haunches, looming over the ponies and occasionally licking its lips in a way that would have left them very nervous without Fluttershy’s gentle cooing and reassurances. Most of the foot traffic in the area was heading to the docks to board the remaining void ships, and those people gave the aliens a wide berth while gawking at the sight.

The alien beast licked the top of Fluttershy’s head, and the pegasus giggled. “It doesn’t like guns. It really, REALLY doesn’t like guns,” she said, her tone clearly approving of this particular aversion. “After the battle it’s not crazy about swords, either. And there’s a lot of weapons on the ship.”

“Did you ever find out if it was a boy or a girl?” Pinkie asked.

“It actually seemed confused by the question, so I think its species may reproduce by other means. Or maybe it was raised in captivity and it’s never seen another of its kind and doesn’t understand its own mating process. One of those,” Fluttershy explained while nuzzling the beast. “Isn’t nature just fascinating?”

“Ah hope it’s that first one,” Applejack grumbled. “Anyway, have a good life, spess critter! If we see ya again, don’t try’n kill us, okay?”

The alien released a rumbling murmur, and then nosed Fluttershy’s head one more time. Then it turned around to walk away.

“It says that it will remember its friends,” Fluttershy said brightly, a flush blooming on her cheeks. Then her expression darkened a bit and she coughed. “It doesn’t find you very friendly though, and said you had it coming.”

“Tch! Ungrateful varmint,” Applejack sneered before turning away toward the docks.

Pinkie and Fluttershy followed her, an uneasy silence settling over the group while they trekked back to the flagship. They were generally aware of other projects still going on in Ishrem before the Company’s fleet departed again: stripping the few useful munitions and components from the station, mostly, as well as all the patrol craft still in the hangars. There were dark preachers milling about the place pressing the reluctant residents to abandon the station and sign a service contract. Applejack also suspected the Dark Mechanicus was snatching up suitable servitor materials among the wounded residents, of which many still remained on the station.

None of these projects interested Equinought Squadron. They trudged back to the massive horror that ferried them across the stars, each one in their own quiet turmoil. Fluttershy’s contentment at seeing off the feline rapidly corroded. Pinkie Pie’s steps lacked their usual exuberance, and although she smiled calmly – already a dramatically less energetic expression than usual – it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Applejack was tight-lipped and rock-steady, but her heart ached nonetheless.

Of the three, only Applejack was wearing her combat armor, despite it still bearing extensive damage from the earlier firefights. She was the only one that found the ceramite shell, blinking autosenses, and the heft of its weaponry comforting rather than a cruel reminder of what they had endured here. That extended to Rarity, who they spotted standing next to a pile of crates on an embarkation ramp. Her pearly white coat and bright purple mane stood out very well among the dingy metal environs, although even the fashionista wasn’t in perfect shape under the conditions. Her hair was slightly matted and unusually pale, her coat was blemished in places, and though she had clearly spent a great deal of time correcting it, her makeup had run a lot. A sure sign that she had been crying.

“Ah, good. You’re back,” Rarity said, looking far more relieved than their meeting really warranted. She turned toward a small cluster of other ponies who had visors and electro-monocles on. “You have your instructions. Remember, anything that arrives late goes into the special overflow cargo chamber. Don’t forget, or the Trademaster may well stuff you in there with it.”

The other equines nodded silently, and Rarity quickly trotted up to her friends before nudging her head toward the embarkation gantry. “I can hardly express how relieved I am to see you girls. Let’s go, please.”

“We were only out fer like ten minutes,” Applejack remarked while she trudged onto the ramp.

“Ten minutes too long, if you ask me,” the unicorn sniffed. “Bad enough we had to actually return to this awful rock at all, but to have to split up like this while you’re in the presence of that alien beast…”

Fluttershy cringed, her ears pinning back.

“… I’m sorry, that was rude,” Rarity admonished herself, sighing. “Fluttershy had the alien under control the whole time. I’m just glad we can finally leave.”

“We weren’t on Ishrem for very long, though,” Pinkie noted.

“Just long enough for a bunch of Imperial thugs to foalnap Twilight,” Rarity hissed, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

Pinkie Pie winced as the group entered the flagship and started heading down one of the main halls. Soldiers, Techpriests, servitors and ponies were rushing every which way through these sections as the vessel made its preparations to leave. Groups of disheveled humans without Chaos amulets or marks entered the ship from the gantries as well, usually looking quite scared and escorted by a towering Iron Warrior. The Equinoughts shuffled by without a word and reached the mag-lev bay, entering the pod that would carry them to the deck with their quarters.

The mares were silent at first while the vessel accelerated toward the bow. Rarity sometimes lifted her head as if to speak, but each time she would falter, coughing lightly and turning her head away. Applejack grimaced and sighed.

“C’mon Rares, let it out. We’re listenin’,” the farmer said.

Rarity’s ears pinned back, and she chewed her lip briefly. “I’ve spoken to both Delgan and Solon about Twilight.”

Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy perked, staring at the unicorn intensely.

“They… say that tracking the Inquisitor’s ship through the Warp is impossible for them,” Rarity said, sounding very tense. “They captured some of those Sisters of Battle and are interrogating them, as well as gathering evidence of where they’ve been. Things like munitions and seals origins, as well as their training worlds.”

Pinkie and Fluttershy’s hearts sank. The tone of Rarity’s explanation said it all. This was not an explanation that would give them hope.

“The systems they’re coming up with are… very well defended, supposedly,” Rarity said, looking away to the wall of the mag-lev pod, “but frankly, they don’t think the Inquisitor would bring Twilight someplace where the soldiers came from.” Rarity scowled. “Solon was very forthcoming about the situation. This Inquisitor… he wanted Twilight for something special. He wasn’t here to simply seize an enemy for judgment.”

“Okay, but… but they’re gonna look, right?” Pinkie asked, her voice quivering.

“Yes, they will,” Rarity grunted, “but despite everything… all their technology and sorcery and… the monsters dwelling in the bulkheads… they don’t have any real expectation of success.”

A deep sigh came from Applejack. Fluttershy cringed, tears already crawling down her cheeks. Pinkie hung her head, her mane flattening out.

“Right sportin’ of them to try,” Applejack admitted, “… If they actually bother.”

“What? Why wouldn’t they?” Rarity asked, turning her head.

“C’mon Rares. Ya really think they’re gonna bring the whole dang fleet around t’look fer ONE pony?” the farmer asked.

“It’s not JUST one pony! It’s Twilight!” Pinkie protested.

“Yeah, an’ she’s done pretty good in the pirate life an’ the Warsmith is right fond of ‘er, but let’s be serious ‘bout this,” Applejack said darkly. “This’s a war fleet. People die and disappear all the time. Shucks, Ah heard they lost a CHAOS LORD wanderin’ ‘round the ship’s core a while back. Gone, without a trace. Whole place was up and ready to go ten hours later. Ya really think they’re gonna hold up this whole operation fer Twi even if they knew exactly where she was?”

An uncomfortable silence settled over the mares. The mag-lev car slowed, and the access barricade sunk into the floor. Applejack walked out into the next hall, and the others trudged after her miserably.

“… I think they will,” Pinkie Pie said.

“What?” Applejack asked, stopping.

“Shmithy is… he’s… more than just Twilight’s commander. Or… Or owner,” Pinkie insisted hesitantly. “He’ll save her. I believe in him. I believe in their friendship!”

Applejack didn’t respond and started walking again.

“Do you think he can do that, though? Even if he wants to?” Fluttershy asked fretfully.

Pinkie nodded rapidly, her face a firm but determined frown. “Even if Shmithy can’t build a machine to do it, we have Serith and Mantis! They can do all sorts of stuff he can’t!”

“Serith would certainly help Twilight if he could, if just so he could hold it over her and demand favors,” Rarity mumbled.

“Look, Ah’m hopin’ fer the best like y’all,” Applejack said, standing in front of her dorm room. Her expression was grim and she looked at the door like she was staring it down. “Just… Just don’t git ready to give up on everythin’ if that hope runs out, alright?”

Rarity sighed. “Of course. Our obligation is to the fleet, not Twilight. It’s going to be hard, though. Very hard.”

Applejack nodded somberly. Then she spotted Daniels jogging down the hall toward them. “Wyatt?”

The mercenary was carrying a sack with him, and he dropped it at his feet in front of Applejack while beaming at the ponies.

“Hey, girls! Who wants some stimms?”

Inquisition battlecruiser Aesir’s Justice
Guest hall 2-A

Twilight tenderly held the silver bowl of nutrient gruel in her hooves and tilted it back toward her lips, slurping up the revolting but highly efficient foodstuff. By force of habit she tried to levitate the steaming mug of recaf behind it, but was promptly hit by the suppression pulse and a wave of vertigo. The bowl slipped from her numb hooves and clattered onto the table, thankfully landing so that it didn’t spill much of its contents.

“Careful now,” Gholth said conversationally. He sat at the other end of the table, delicately cutting his grox steak cooked in a light gravy.

Twilight grimaced and took the recaf up with her hooves, lifting it to drink with exaggerated care. She sighed contentedly as she put the mug down and licked her lips. “I think there’s something in this. Is it a sweetener? When I said ‘black’ I meant to not put anything in it.”

“Yes, I apologize for that,” Gholth said, pausing to take a bite of his food. “There’s some trykobarbitol added to it. It’s a mild psychoactive serum, to make you more agreeable and diminish your capacity for deception.”

Twilight frowned deeply at the mug. “… I like the recaf on the Chaos ships better,” she sniffed before putting it aside.

Gholth took a sip of his own drink and then leaned back in his chair. “You’re not at all what I expected.”

“What did you expect?” Twilight asked between mouthfuls of gruel.

“At first, I thought I was looking for an artifact. Then I supposed a mutant or a witch would be the most likely bearer of the mark. When I saw you and realized what had been delivered to me through the Emperor’s providence, I was… slightly underwhelmed, honestly.” Gholth smirked. “You have a rather diminutive form for one of the Archenemy’s beasts.”

Twilight continued eating, not obviously bothered. “We have small bodies, but big hearts,” she informed him matter-of-factly.

The Inquisitor drank his own beverage some more, studying the mare. He spoke again after putting his glass down. “If I may be more blunt: you do not look or act like an agent of Chaos, Miss Sparkle.”

At this, Twilight hesitated. She was well aware of the lethal enmity between Chaos and the Imperium, and as such was quite surprised at the humane treatment she’d received so far. She didn’t want to test the Inquisitor’s beneficence, but she imagined that she would eventually have to even if she had no idea what he wanted.

“You are an agent of Chaos, obviously. You wore custom-crafted power armor marked with profane emblems. You assaulted the soldiers of humanity with Chaos weapons and fought against the Emperor’s chosen warriors. When you awoke you were quite upset to find that you had been separated from your former allies. You belong to the dark gods, and yet…”

He trailed off, and Twilight interjected. “Not the dark gods. Solon.”

Gholth tilted his head to the side. “Pardon?”

“I serve no gods,” the Princess said firmly. “At least, not directly. I am an agent of the Iron Warriors, and the Chaos Space Marine Solon, specifically.”

“Do you imagine that makes some great difference?” Gholth asked, again returning to his food.

“Obviously, it does. You said I’m different before I’d even told you anything important,” the mare retorted. “I serve the Iron Warriors due to a personal debt. The Chaos Gods mean nothing to me.”

“Your armor bears their symbols,” Gholth reminded her between bites of his steak.

“That’s true, yeah.” Twilight grimaced slightly. “I don’t really like that, but the armor is pretty great, so I live with it.”

The Inquisitor put his fork down while he chewed his food, looking thoughtful. “You claim to serve the traitors and heretics, but not their gods. Surely you see the error in this logic? You said yourself that you do not serve the Archenemy directly.”

“Yes. Obviously, if I’m working for them, and they serve the dark gods, then one way or another I’m going to be doing some work that the dark gods wanted and that’s pretty bad,” Twilight admitted, leaning a foreleg on the table and scratching at her chin. “I realize that this is probably meaningless to you, but I do regret having to fight and kill on behalf of a malicious power like Chaos.”

“It is little comfort indeed to look upon the Sisters you’ve slain with the knowledge that you would have rather not,” Gholth agreed.

“Oh, no, not those ones. Those fights were in self-defense. But there are lots of other Imperial humans I killed who didn’t do anything to me!” Twilight insisted.

After a few awkward seconds, she cleared her throat. “I think that’s the trykobarbitol talking. I didn’t mean to say that.”

“Please, go on,” the man opposite her drawled, pushing his empty plate aside. “It does not surprise me that a slave of heretics and traitors has killed loyal servants of the Emperor, and that is not why you’re here. But I would nonetheless like a full accounting of your crimes.”

“That’s… not why I’m here?” Twilight asked cautiously. “I kind of got the impression that I wasn’t taken as some sort of elaborate punishment, given that you were after me specifically but didn’t know who I was. But… what do you want with me, then?”

“I would really prefer we cover your offenses against the Imperium first,” Gholth mused, resting his fist against his cheek. “But I suppose you’ve been waiting long enough for an explanation for,” he made a gesture that seemed to encompass the meal and the ship itself, “all of this. You’ve obviously been taken into custody under the Inquisition for a reason other than being drilled for information or a swift execution.”

A squad of naval armsmen stood at attention along the walls, and Gholth gestured to one of them. “Bring her to section L.” As the man nodded and rushed off, the Inquisitor straightened and looked across the table at Twilight. “To begin broadly: you are here to serve as a weapon, Miss Sparkle. My intention is to use you to destroy the most hated and malevolent foes of mankind.”

The alicorn blinked. “A weapon? … I guess do have some experience in that…”

“I’ve little doubt. What manner of enemies have you faced before, Miss Sparkle?”

“Well, there’s the human soldiers, unfortunately. And the occasional Astartes. There’s been some Tau, some Genestealers and infected cultists. Some other assorted Tyranids. A LOT of Orks.” She scratched at her chin. “And then the daemons. There have also been several threats I faced on my home world which you would probably classify as various aliens and psychic phenomena. I think that’s everything.”

“Tell me about the daemons,” the Inquisitor said, his voice quiet yet carrying an sense of intense anticipation.

Twilight felt her heart seize up briefly, and she blinked at the man across the dining table. His face looked like it could have been made of stone (and some third of it was anyway full of metal), but it was very obvious he was far more interested in this topic than the Imperial soldiers she had killed. She wet her lips nervously.

“Well, there were some of them in…” she almost said “Ferrous Dominus” and hiccupped, “-in the Chaos base. Those were different, though. They only seemed to exist for whatever reason the Iron Warriors summoned them for. And, er, the parties, I guess. They were mostly under control.” She furrowed her brow. “The other times I’ve seen daemons, they fought me.”

“Go on,” Gholth pressed.

“The Iron Warriors can summon daemons, but whenever they appear outside of the prepared rituals they seem invariably hostile,” Twilight explained with a tired sigh, as if the creatures were pests rather than lethal nightmares manifest. “There was an incident on… on my home planet, and a few on our ship, and one on a ship that WASN’T our ship, and some kind of Warp artifact, and then there was the Eye of Terror.”

Gholth’s augmetic eye gleamed. “You’ve been to the Eye of Terror?”

“Yes. Was hunted by daemons, betrayed by allies, and the ship almost ate me. Awful place. Do not recommend.” Twilight lifted the recaf mug as if to take a sip, remembered that it was drugged, and then put it back down with a frown.

“Superb,” Gholth said, his voice very deliberately calmed. The man was excited, but Twilight didn’t quite know why. “This is the enemy you will be called upon to face, Miss Sparkle.”

“What? Daemons? Why?” Twilight was perplexed. “You have thousands of soldiers. Millions? More? Why would you go to all this trouble to make me fight Warp beasts for you? What can I do that they can’t?”

While she was speaking, the soldier that had left earlier returned to the hall and approached the Inquisitor. He whispered into Gholth’s ear, and then quickly fell back into a guard position alongside the others.

“That is a good question, Miss Sparkle. Albeit one I was hoping you already knew the answer to,” Gholth stood up from his seat. “Come. There is someone I wish you to meet.”

Twilight dropped down from the chair and onto the deck, and then trotted after the Inquisitor. The guards followed her every move, glaring at her through visors of deep electric blue or lenses of jeweled green, but not a one kept their hands on their weapons. It was a bizarre feeling, to say the least, to be surrounded by dangerous enemies but unharmed and mostly unrestrained. The Inquisitor had gone to some lengths to keep her safe during her capture, ensured she wasn’t harmed, and even left her free to move and act beyond binding her wings and magic, but the message he wanted to send was very clear: she was entirely at his mercy.

She followed him into the hall, studying everything she could see. Alternate paths, bulkhead reliefs, augury nodes… and the guards, of course. Sisters of Battle stalked the halls outside of the guest hall, their boots hitting the deck plating in perfect lockstep. Candles and incense burners decorated their armor on backpacks and pauldrons, swaying with their march and leaving a smoky trail behind their patrol.

Twilight tapped the side of her head, feeling the bolt that had been added which – she was guessing – disabled her augmetic eye. She dearly wished it could be taking pict-captures and doing analysis of the various soldiers right now. Among everything else, a constant deluge of interesting but likely irrelevant information would have been EXTREMELY comforting in her current predicament.

“This way,” Gholth announced, not slowing his pace as Twilight lagged behind. The mare reluctantly sped up, and they soon approached a door being guarded by several Sister of Battle.

Unlike the naval armsmen, the Sisters brandished their weapons freely. Flamers and boltguns were carried at the ready, capable of blasting away the approaching guests at any moment. One of the warriors had her chainsword drawn, and her finger grazed the trigger as Twilight stepped past. The weapon murmured, its engine stirring but failing to awaken fully. The mare studiously avoided eye contact.

Gholth glared balefully at the woman, but said nothing while he started punching buttons on the access cogitator next to the door. After a few seconds the access lumen blinked and the door opened. A man stood on the other side, just beyond the doorway.

Twilight’s eye widened. “Daniels?!”

Apprentice Inquisitor Regil recoiled in surprise, his eyes equally wide. Gholth didn’t quite know what to make of it, and he was further confused when the young novice turned a furious glare on him.

“I thought you said the xeno’s psychic power was suppressed,” Regil said tightly, his hand already on the laspistol in his holster.

“It is.” Gholth arched his eyebrow. “She did not utilize her psychic abilities. I have been keeping a careful watch for any such breach.” He tilted his head to look down at the pony. “Why did you refer to Apprentice Regil as ‘Daniels?’”

“What? That is… he just, uh, looks kind of like someone I know, that’s all. Sorry!” Twilight’s ears pinned back in embarrassment, her eye darting around to avoid that of the men in front of her. “You know how it is when you meet a new species and you mix some of them up. Heh heh! … Ugh.”

Upon brief observation the man in the next room was not Wyatt Daniels: His eyes were the wrong shade of brown, his jaw was narrower, and his stature slighter all around. He also possessed a cranial augmentation that fed a pair of tubes from the left side of his head to the base of his neck while the mercenary she knew had no augmentations, or at least none that he had shown off to the Equinoughts. Yet the resemblance between the man in front of her and the man who had shown up at Sweet Apple Acres that fateful day to hunt for Tau reconnaissance was quite remarkable.

Gholth stared at Twilight Sparkle critically for a few seconds, and then looked back at Regil. “And why are you so shocked to hear a name that is not your own, Apprentice? Why do you jump to accusations of telepathy?”

Regil glared at the Inquisitor and adjusted the collar of his jacket. “We possess many names, Lord Inquisitor. That one means nothing to me now, but I…” he trailed off, his glare shifting to Twilight briefly. “Never mind that. It is not something to discuss before the menagerie.”

“Do not refer to them as ‘menagerie’ where they can overhear,” the Inquisitor snapped back. “Your conduct is becoming a problem, Apprentice. If your behavior does not improve, you WILL be removed from this operation.”

Twilight watched anxiously as the younger man was dressed down, deeply regretting that she had said anything. She really shouldn’t have identified him; even if it had been Daniels, such an outburst would have just gotten him in trouble. Watching Regil fume silently under the Inquisitor’s lecture wasn’t really pleasant either.

“If we are quite finished with these tedious delays…” Gholth said, gesturing to the room.

“Of course,” Regil replied, his irritation once again buried under a mask of cool deference. “This way, Lord Inquisitor.”

Twilight cautiously followed Gholth and Regil into the next room, casting a glance over her shoulder at the veritable wall of armored Battle Sisters blocking any other routes through the hall. The place Regil was waiting in seemed to be a shrine, if she were to make a guess. There were several statues of winged humans and people in armor, skulls adorned nearly every wall and mantle, and there were clusters of candles EVERYWHERE. The ceiling was high, even by the standards of the wastefully roomy human warships, and had a domed ceiling that was covered by a series of heavy shutters. The room’s lighting was obnoxiously dim, with some underpowered track lumens on the walls to add to the delicate glow of the candles. A few large metal lanterns hanging from the statues provided the most illumination, and censers hung from them on heavy chains that steadily leaked incense smoke into the room.

In the middle of the room was a larger statue of a man in power armor holding a sword in front of him. Purity seals and scrolls were attached to the base and to the statue’s legs, and the lantern-slash-incense burners hung from each of its massive shoulder pauldrons. At its base was a short woman kneeling with her face toward the statue and her hands clasped in prayer. Twilight presumed this person was who she was here to see, since she was the only person who seemed to be waiting in the room.

“Vija. She has arrived,” Gholth said, beckoning to Twilight. “This is Miss Twilight Sparkle. She is the Light.”

The woman flinched. She was a slight figure, slim and short compared to the human women Twilight had met in the past (who, to be fair, were almost all soldiers). Her hair was very pale blue, almost the color of ice, and it hung loose past a pair of plasteel tubes built into the back of her head and running to some sort of metal bulb built into the small of her back. She wore a tunic that was clean but well-worn, and a pair of delicate sandals could be seen under the hem. The clothing was frankly quite primitive even by pony standards and although she wasn’t too familiar with Imperial crews, seeing it on a void ship probably marked the woman as someone special.

Vija slowly turned around, and Twilight confirmed the woman was definitely someone special.

One gentle blue eye peered out from beside a lock of hair, widening immediately at the sight of the purple pony. Twilight’s remaining eye widened similarly at seeing her face. Where the left side of Vija’s face was not unusual, the right side was covered in thick, oblong blisters that started with a single bulge in the middle of her forehead and then spread down the right half of her face, covering her eye, cheek, ear, and then tapering off over the side of her neck. Twilight gulped, immediately recalling some of the disfiguring afflictions of the Nurgle cults in the fleet and wondering which one this might be.

Then the blisters split open, one after another in rapid sequence, and the mare’s jaw fell open. They weren’t blisters at all. They were eyes. Nineteen of them in total, including the one that was positioned normally. They were all different; some looked normal but had different colored irises, some had strange, luminous pupils, and one was a solid black riddled with ice blue veins without any visible iris or pupil at all.

Twilight felt bad for staring, but the woman seemed equally stunned at the sight of the purple pony. Vija’s eyes fixed on Twilight’s face, then her cutie mark, and then she looked up at Gholth with an expression that contained both confusion and fear in equal measure.

“Not what you expected, is she?” the Inquisitor chuckled.

“What… IS she?” Vija asked, clutching her hands together over her stomach. She held a rosary of silvery beads with the Imperial Aquila attached, and they rattled gently along with her nerves.

“It’s still early in my research,” Gholth admitted, “but Miss Twilight is a pony. A xenotic equine. A psyker. And an… ally, it seems, of the Great Enemy. Formerly, that is.”

Vija flinched, her many extra eyes blinking. It was a surreal, somewhat grotesque sight the way the eyelids flickered in uneven sequence from top to bottom, like a rolling wave of flesh and hypnotic color. Twilight turned her head up at Gholth.

“Miss Sparkle, this is Vija. She is an… advisor of mine, you could say,” he gestured warmly to the woman. “She is a mutant, obviously. I’m sure that means little to you, given your previous employers.”

Suddenly Twilight’s ears perked. “Wait, you… you called me… the Light? Why? What does that mean?” she asked suspiciously. “The only things you knew about me were that name, my cutie mark, and that I would be on Ishrem station. How?”

Gholth made a strange, subtle gesture with his fingers, and Regil grimaced and stepped aside while tapping at a bracelet. A strange, opaque bubble shimmered into being around them, encompassing the middle of the shrine room. Twilight’s ears flicked, picking up a very slight, uncomfortable noise, and she stared suspiciously at the bubble’s perimeter.

“I realize this probably isn’t the most convenient time for this request but can you undo whatever you did to break my optical augment?” Twilight asked sourly. “It usually offers me some kind of brief, esoteric explanation or analysis whenever I see something unfamiliar, and I’d really appreciate that capability now.”

“I must decline,” Gholth said politely. “Knowledge is power, Miss Sparkle, and it must be guarded carefully. I will tell you what you need to know, but I’m sure you understand that you will not be given leave to peruse a warship of the Inquisition and mine its secrets for yourself.”

Twilight looked extremely unhappy to hear this; Gholth hadn’t seen such a scowl on her since she had first woken up and realized that she had been captured. “First the Dark Mechanicus, now you,” she grumbled. “Fine, then. Am I permitted to know what that bubble is? Is it some kind of internal security measure that will electrocute me if I try to escape?”

“The white veil is a secondary security measure. It will keep any eavesdroppers from overhearing this conversation, and cut off any transmission impulses from hidden devices that could record us.” He gestured to Vija. “She was my source, Miss Sparkle. It was she who witnessed a magnificent disruption in the Warp, and overheard the whispers of the damned. She brought to me a word: the Light. A place: the husk of an asteroid, hiding a pirate’s den. And an emblem: your… ah, what did you call it?”

“My cutie mark,” Twilight repeated.

“Hmm. Strange name. Slightly embarrassing,” Gholth admitted, “but yes, that too. All meant for the eyes and ears of the Great Enemy.”

Twilight arched an eyebrow, and then looked over at Vija. She squirmed, her many eyes all shifting to look away in various directions and avoid eye contact.

“Vija has Warpsight,” Gholth continued. “A marvelous, unique Warpsight. We have many mutants who can see into the Sea of Souls in ways that defy mortal calculus and understanding, but Vija can do so much more than that.”

Regil suddenly interjected. “Lord Inquisitor, is it completely necessary that Miss Sparkle be told the particulars of this power?”

Gholth turned to look at Regil. Their eyes locked, and thought neither said anything, Twilight could only imagine there was a great deal of meaning that crossed between them. She had seen the Inquisitor admonish the Apprentice before, but on this occasion Gholth furrowed his brow and turned away.

“This is, of course, a slight diversion from your ultimate question: why are you here?” Gholth continued. “It’s time I got to the point. You are to be my weapon, Miss Sparkle, because you can destroy daemons.”

Twilight blinked. Twice. “Well… sure I can. If you give me a gun. I’m just not sure I’ll be more help than the angry ladies in armor.” She paused. “I can do it even without the gun, of course, but I’d need you to unlock the suppressor. And even then, guns are generally more convenient.”

Regil’s stare was measured but withering, his eyes practically boring holes into Gholth’s back. Vija stared at the Inquisitor and cringed, and then kept fretting. Gholth was obviously unhappy with the answer, but his reply was calm and confident.

“Miss Sparkle, do you know what happens to a daemon when you shoot it?”

The pony Princess brightened substantially. “Yes, I believe so! I’ve only read three works on daemonology and can hardly be considered a journeymare, partially on account of it being inherently unfathomable to those of sound mind and partially because I’m still new to the prerequisite scientific literature on Warp Harmonics and Psykant Neuro-Diffusion. But combat against daemons is a fairly elementary concept, and one that I decided to study early once it became clear that I would be doing a lot of daemon shooting!”

Vija gulped and Regil sighed and started massaging his head.

“When a daemon is exposed to violent kinetic force or – in the case of las, fire, or plasma weaponry – extreme thermal discharge, the ‘flesh’ of the daemon suffers a catastrophic reaction similar but not necessarily equivalent to that experienced by normal material composites such as metal, dirt, organics, and so on. This reaction destabilizes the ‘false atomics’ that make up what WE perceive as the daemon’s material body, and it undergoes a rapid conversion back to Warp energy. This explains why daemonic wounds often appear to be leaking prismatic gases: the Empyreal non-matter is being forcibly reverted and loses the coherence of the daemon’s material form. Now: this Warp energy itself sometimes reacts in unexpected ways to the incoming gunfire…”

Twilight trailed off, looking left and right like she was searching the shrine for something. “Do you have a diagramming slate? Or a chalkboard? A chalkboard would be perfect.”

“No. Move it along, please,” Gholth commanded, gesturing with his hand for her to hurry up.

“Right. Okay. So, once a daemonic body suffers sufficient damage, it will USUALLY collapse as the remaining Warp-associated matter loses integrity and can no longer maintain a working quasi-biological state. Again, this is usually accompanied by a shroud of prismatic gas-like emissions as the daemon’s remains rapidly disintegrate. I can attest to this observation personally.” Twilight felt moderately proud of that admission, but the humans in the room did not look impressed. “After a daemon is destroyed in the material universe, its animating energies bleed back across the dimensional veil. In addition to this personal energy being returned to the Warp, the daemon’s soul – as in, its intellectual sentience – reconstitutes itself somehow, effectively reanimating the daemon back in the Warp. The psykant matri-”

“That’s fine, you can stop now,” Gholth interrupted blandly. “I’m rather impressed, Miss Sparkle, and quite pleased. You’ve made this much easier for me to explain.” He again clasped his hands behind his back. “As you said, a daemon that is destroyed in the Materium simply retreats to the Immaterium to be reborn. Even if harmed in the Warp, such damage tends toward even lesser permanence in a realm where the physical laws of mortality have no sway. Daemons are immortal in the truest sense of the term: they do not fear death, because they do not and cannot die. Neither age or illness or even violence can leave an enduring mark upon them, much less remove them from existence. Yet in battlefields across the galaxy the defenders of humanity perish by the hundreds, thousands, or more simply to press them back to their abyss. Victory over our greatest enemy can never be achieved; we can merely purchase respite while they plot their next blasphemy.”

“Yes, that’s all true. Very unfortunate,” Twilight agreed. “So…”

Then the Inquisitor pointed to Twilight. “You, Miss Sparkle, may hold the secret to turning this bloody, impossible stalemate. You can destroy daemons.”

Twilight blinked. “What?”

“Utterly. Permanently. Vija has seen this,” Gholth insisted. “This ability is not unheard of, but in all the galaxy there have been but a few such weapons or individuals. You are one of them, Miss Sparkle.”

“Uh… no. No, I’m not, and no, she hasn’t seen it. I never met or heard of Vija until today,” Twilight said with a somewhat anxious chuckle. “And if she was somehow observing me before now with all those eyes… well I really doubt that, given how surprised she was to see me. But even if she did, I don’t know what to tell you, Inquisitor. She’s wrong. I haven’t destroyed any daemons. Except in the traditional, non-permanent way.”

There was a tense pause. Gholth frowned deeply, thinking. Vija bit her lip, clutching her rosary. Regil’s clenched fist trembled slightly, and he looked like he was desperately restraining an outburst.

“… I hope this doesn’t mean you have no use for me and have to dispose of me now,” Twilight said nervously, chuckling while her ears pinned back. “I can still fight daemons with you if you really want! I just don’t think I’m going to be nearly as effective as you expected.”

“You-” Regil started to speak, but Gholth held up a single index finger, silencing him.

“Vija,” the Inquisitor said, “explain what you’ve seen of the Light. It seems Miss Sparkle does not understand…”

“THAT is your assessment of this farce?” Regil asked icily. Gholth shot him a glare, but the Apprentice just crossed his arms over his chest, having said his piece.

Twilight noted the tension and then returned her attention to Vija. The mutant woman was clearly steeling herself, whispering under her breath while clutching the rosary and squeezing her normal eye shut tight. Her other eyes all focused on Twilight uncertainly, shifting away in uneven sequence, blinking, narrowing, and sometimes changing colors in ways that were both fascinating and repulsive. Then she dropped her arms and addressed the pony properly.

“Many of my eyes are able to see into the Warp. Each of them can focus in a different manner or sense some unique phenomenon. The… The Inquisitor has sanctioned my service because these abilities allow me to observe daemons in the Warp and interpret clues as to their plotting.”

“You can… spy on daemons?” Twilight asked uncertainly.

“That’s a decent enough explanation, yes,” Vija began, sitting down so that she could more easily look the mare in the eye. “Many Solar months ago, I was observing a Warp storm far to the galactic East. There were curious aspects of this Warp storm, as there are for many such phenomenon. The Inquisitor requested I search for evidence of Chaos sorcery.”

Twilight gulped loudly. Assuming the mutant was referring to the right system, the storm had, in fact, been a creation of Chaos magic, and one that Twilight absolutely did not want the Imperium investigating. Had this woman identified the Centaur system as the source?

“I had many findings to report, but among my survey I felt a significant surge within the Warp, like a…” she trailed off, looking frustrated. “I’m… unsure how to describe it in ways that could be of use to you. Its power was not unheard of, but its nature… Among my trainings, studies, and missions, I’ve never witnessed anything remotely like it. It briefly shook and redirected the nearby eddies of the Empyrean, and in that moment, thousands of alien souls perished, as if their spirits were plucked from their bodies all at once and dragged through the veil with brute force.”

Beads of sweat collected on Twilights head and slowly rolled down her neck. “Okay, yes, that did happen. Those were Orks, though! I killed Orks! Did you want help killing Orks?”

“While the thought of a psychic power that can eliminate a greenskin army in one fell swoop is intriguing, that is not what we are here to discuss,” Gholth nodded to Vija.

“During that moment, immediately before the surge, a daemonic presence I was observing was… undone,” Vija said, her voice almost breaking. “It was destroyed, utterly and completely. I’d never seen anything like it.”

Twilight blinked.

“The flow of time is not constant in the Warp, and as a result many daemons exist simultaneously in the past, present, and – I assume – the future. After these daemonic spirits were unmade, a hole was burned in the continuity of the Empyrean. They were removed from any sense of time itself. These… holes are still there. They will always be there, surely. To the denizens, perhaps they always were. And each one is marked indelibly with a psychic imprint of the soul that slew them. The purple star…”

“Whoa, whoa, WHOA,” Twilight held up her hooves, still sweating anxiously, “I think I know what specific event you’re referring to and I’ll confirm that it was me, but I don’t remember destroying any daemons! Like I said, I was fighting Orks! If that happened and it really held my magic… ‘imprint’ or whatnot, then it wasn’t intentional!”

“You destroyed two immortal daemons, carving them out of unreality itself, and it wasn’t even a deliberate act?” Gholth asked, a somewhat smug smile forming across his face. “Impressive, Miss Sparkle.”

“What I’m trying to say is that I still doubt it was me, and if it was then it probably isn’t repeatable!” Twilight protested.

“The daemons believe it was you,” Vija mumbled.

Twilight’s head jolted up and her eye shrank. “They… They think… I…” Her jaw hung slack as a few key mysteries were suddenly solved. “The daemons think I can destroy them! THAT’S why they’re plotting ambushes and creating needlessly complex schemes to kill me!”

Vija nodded. “Many whispers have I witnessed that called for the denizens of the Warp to rally against the Light. It was… difficult to interpret at times, although knowing how you are associated with the mark does help my understanding now. You have inspired FEAR in them, Miss Sparkle.”

“So you’re saying the Warp itself really IS trying to kill me?!” Twilight asked, understandably horrified.

“No, that is an overstatement,” Gholth interjected. “The Warp, despite everything, is not a unified, gestalt will, and even among daemons you aren’t quite as infamous as you would think for being one of their few truly lethal threats in all the galaxy,” the Inquisitor started pacing, his power armor whirring and clanking gently as he walked a circuit around the mutant and pony. “Many daemons simply have no intellectual wherewithal to comprehend mortality. They could watch another of their kind be obliterated and the thought would not occur to them. Others may not fully grasp the significance, or they might consider – perhaps correctly – that such a threat cannot slay ALL of them, so there is little to fear. And Warpspawn have never been a well-unified force at the best of times.”

Gholth stopped his circuit. “Now then, as for it being repeatable…” Twilight winced. “Explain the procedure.”

Twilight glanced up at him, and then dropped her gaze immediately. “I, uh… I don’t think you’re going to like what I have to say about it…”

“Proceed, Miss Sparkle,” Gholth commanded.

Twilight considered refusing. She didn’t really want to explain the Elements of Harmony or go over any details of the second siege of Canterlot. To simply decline to cooperate further MIGHT not result in an immediate execution, considering the lengths the Inquisitor went to capture her safely and even keep her (somewhat) comfortable. On the other hoof, he had also casually attempted to drug her already and she didn’t believe for a second that he didn’t have other coercive methods or wouldn’t use them.

“It used a… magic booster. Or I guess, to you, a psykant booster. A power source so great it had to be split into six pieces to be used by me and my friends. We gathered together while the Orks were sieging a city around us.” She wet her lips briefly. “The spell used was some sort of huge ritual casting by the fleet’s most powerful Chaos Sorcerer. The idea was to tap into the Orks’ gestalt psychic presence to destroy them. The Sorcerer said he needed an incredible amount of magic energy to do it, so me and my friends were to act as a power source.”

Gholth was listening very carefully, his optical bionic slowly swiveling in its socket. Regil had a large bracelet with a screen on his forearm and was tapping at it in a manner that suggested he was typing rapidly.

“The spell didn’t work at first. But then I… I seized control of it for myself.” Twilight’s eye dropped briefly before she forced it back up to meet the Inquisitor’s. “There’s a lot that went on in that few… uh… seconds? Minutes, maybe? I lost track of time too, but it wasn’t that long. The Orks were assaulting the casting chamber. I had to draw in even more power and force the spell to conclusion when I didn’t really understand it. When it was over I didn’t really comprehend what I had done, but I knew that it had worked. The Orks in the city were dead. All of them.”

“I see. And this power source? The ‘psykant booster?’ What is it?” Gholth demanded.

“It was a set of legendary enchanted jewels. They did not survive the spell,” Twilight sighed. “Also I kind of blasted the Sorcerer’s soul out, too.”

“Splendid,” Gholth said happily.

“He got better,” she added.

“Unfortunate,” Gholth amended, frowning.

“So… that was it. Somehow, I guess, I obliterated two daemons when I did that. I also had a direct encounter with one a little later, but I’m positive that one escaped alive.” Twilight hung her head. “I’m sorry, Inquisitor, but I do not know how to do what you wish.”

“Of course you don’t,” Regil snapped, his expression seething as he finished his notes. “What a complete and utter waste of time and lives.”

Gholth turned his head to look at him, his expression distinctly disappointed. “Really, Apprentice Regil? Is that all you have to say after a story of such a remarkable feat?”

“If any of what she says is true, which I still doubt, how is this creature of any use to us?” the younger man asked, once again forcing his tone toward a more neutral tenor.

“It is very likely true, given how well her story matches Vija’s observations,” Gholth said, scratching at the side of his chin. “In addition, I’ve been probing her thoughts for signs of dishonesty. Her words are not deceptive, although I sense great fear from her.”

Twilight’s eye twitched. “You can… read my mind?”

“No, of course not,” Gholth said, brushing off her question without elaboration. “If her story is true, then this power exists. It may not be a simple matter to harness it. It may prove infeasible as a regular weapon in the great war against Chaos.” His eye narrowed at the other man. “It will require much more research, but make no mistake: what we have here is something of inestimable value to the Imperium of Man. I will study it, and I will use it. Is that acceptable, Apprentice Regil?”

The younger man met the Inquisitor’s eyes, and then he straightened his posture. “Of course, Lord Inquisitor. If you believe this project is of worth, and I may supervise the research, then I have no objection.”

“Good,” Gholth said coldly. Then he turned sharply to Twilight. “We will begin when we reach our destination. I have an initial trial in mind, so prepare yourself, Miss Sparkle.”

“Normally preparing myself would mean donning my power armor,” Twilight pointed out, “so-”

“No,” Gholth replied curtly. “Your armor is a profane artifact. It will be studied, melted to slag, and then discarded into the void once we reach real-space.”

“What?! Why?” Twilight demanded hotly, her anger rising in a manner that she hadn’t felt since waking up. “If the symbols bother you, you can just take them off! Hay, give it a new paint job if you want and stamp that mutant bird thing on the front, I don’t care! Don’t destroy it!”

Both men gave her quiet, withering stares.

“Okay, well… are you going to replace it, at least? The Imperium can make power armor too, right?” Twilight demanded.

Regil actually chuckled, which was a surprising sound to hear from him. Gholth started heading for the entrance.

“We don’t make that type of plate in your size, Miss Sparkle. I will requisition… something for you, eventually. For now you needn’t worry about that.” He swiped a hand toward the door’s access panel and the door opened. “I’ll have the security team supervise this room until we’re ready for you. You may get to know Miss Vija in the interim.”

The Inquisitor stepped out without waiting for a response, and Regil swiftly followed. The moment both men were through, Inquisitorial armsmen started moving into the room to surround the shrine. Vija shied away from them, most of her eyes closing as she cringed.

Twilight groaned and looked up at the blast shutters protecting the shrine’s dome.

“Girls, wherever you are out there, I hope you’re okay…”

Harvest of Steel
Deck C-13 – equine bunks

Warp translation complete. All vessels accounted for and holding formation. The fleet seeks fresh victims…

Suuna shuddered at the growling voice over the vox caster, and then sped up a bit to keep pace with Trixie. The unicorn was trotting down the halls in her power armor and hat, glancing left and right at each door they passed. The odd crewman passed them by – usually pausing briefly to marvel at the pony in power armor and a wizard cap – but there was little traffic in this part of the ship so soon after Warp translation. Most of the combat crew were resting or cleaning their wargear, and most of the non-combat crew were still organizing what little useful cargo the Company had taken from Ishrem before leaving.

It wasn’t clear to Suuna where Trixie was leading her, but the mare had stopped several times to briefly peruse cogitator consoles before moving on. She was unusually quiet in this, and it was making Suuna a little bit worried. Her expression was quite serious, and occasionally she seemed lost in thought before shaking her head and grimacing.

“Are you cold, Suuna? You look uncomfortable,” Trixie asked.

Suuna shook her head slightly. “No. Just nervous. It feels like there’s a… frustrated energy among the soldiers,” she said hesitantly. “What happened on the space station?”

“Imperial ambush. Or something like that,” Trixie mumbled, not looking back at her assistant. “Quite unfortunate that Trixie put off visiting the station right away. It seems the Equinoughts could have used some backup.”

Trixie sniffed haughtily and Suuna arched an eyebrow. It wasn’t like Trixie to lament missing out on a fight or, for that matter, show much concern for the other members of the Company. She distinctly remembered Trixie scoffing after seeing a readout of the mining nexus and claiming that the place looked like a run-down death trap. Which it had been, apparently, but not for the reasons she thought.

“Ah, here they are,” Trixie said, turning toward a storage room and tapping her boot against the access panel.

The door opened, and Trixie recoiled. Fluttershy was racing around in a circle frantically biting like she was trying to catch her own tail. She was still without her armor, and after a few seconds she started flapping her wings wildly and rolling around on the floor. Trixie gawked at the sight, but before she could recover from the surprise Rarity had suddenly rushed in front of her.

“Trixie, DARLINGGG, do you have any food?” the snow white unicorn asked, drawing out the word “darling” to a bizarre degree. Her eyes were intense and rather bloodshot, and her horn was glowing and dimming intermittently, like a dying lumen.

Trixie stared for a moment. “Do you want a ration? There’s probably a crate of them in here somewhere.”

“No! Not a ration! By the sun, isn’t there any REAL food in this wretched monster’s iron belly?!” Rarity cried, rearing up and kicking her feet. “DARLING if I don’t get some real calories I am going to do something DRASTIC!”

Then Rarity suddenly fell back down, her head hanging to one side slightly. “Drastic. That’s a nice word, isn’t it? I should use it more often. DRASTIC.” She giggled, her eyes staring vacantly at nothing.

“… What the HAY is going on here?!” Trixie asked after a stunned pause.

“We’re copin’. Whatcha want?” Applejack asked. She was sprawled across Daniels’ lap, looking like she was on the verge of falling asleep while he slowly brushed her mane. Her armor suit was lying on the deck next to them, its rear section peeled open like a cicada’s abandoned shedding.

“Trixie wanted to ask about Sparkle,” the magician said, taking a large step away from Rarity. “What’s the plan on getting her back?”

“TWILIGHT!!” Rarity howled, suddenly falling over and wailing toward the ceiling. “I’m so sorry! We failed you! DRASTICALLY!!”

Fluttershy stopped rolling around and sniffled, looking like she too were about to break down into sobs. Then she suddenly bit onto the end of her tail like a predator attacking a victim who had let its guard down. Then she fell over.

“… Coping, huh?” Trixie asked, arching an eyebrow.

“We ain’t done yet! Leave us alone!” Applejack sniffed.

Trixie groaned, her ears flipping down. “Is there anyone actually working on fixing this rather than moping about it?”

“Pie is in the next room pitching strategies to the Warsmith,” Daniels replied.

Trixie stared at him incredulously. “WHAT?”

Daniels leaned over toward another access panel and tapped it, and then a door opened to a smaller room with a logistics cogitator. Pinkie Pie was standing up in front of it, her rear legs on a chair and her front legs propped up on the console desk. Warsmith Solon’s face was projected on the screen, staring at something out of frame while the pink pony spoke.

“-and put it in the main hive’s water supply, causing a mass infection with clearly supernatural origin,” Pinkie said, her voice and expression uncharacteristically serious. “Launch a few raids in the interim to let people know there’s Chaos Space Marines but keep most of the army on the down-low. Then they’ll dispatch an Inquisitor to check up on things, and BAM! We nab him!” She punched a hoof into the monitor like she was socking the Inquisitor, and the display briefly flickered into static before reforming.

“Ashide from the dangeroushly long time-frame – it could take monthsh before an Inquishitor ish dishpatched to inveshtigate the attacksh – mosht Inquishitorsh do not have operational knowledge of their peersh’ activitiesh. That’sh by deshign, to limit the damage from capturing and interrogating one,” Solon explained. “The chancesh of a random Inquishitor having a lead on Gholth ish very near zero.” Gentle flickers of light flashed briefly on the face of his helmet as he spoke, cast from whatever machining tool he was working with.

“Darn. Okay… let’s see…” Pinkie frowned and rubbed her chin with a hoof.

“… WHAT?” Trixie said again, even more incredulously.

“Mare, Ah dunno what ya want from us,” Applejack grumbled.

“Trixie WANTED to hear how we’re going to rescue Sparkle,” the unicorn snapped, “but instead you’re all hopped up on space drugs and goofing off!”

“Hey! You can’t talk to us like that,” Fluttershy complained, “I’m invisible!”

“You’re not invisible,” Suuna pointed out helpfully.

The pegasus yelped and ran, almost tripping over her own hooves to hide behind one of the empty storage containers.

“There are very few optionsh available to ush, and none have a high likelihood of shuccessh,” Solon explained. “We have no meansh of tracking Missh Shparkle sho long as she’sh in the Warp. Once she ish shecured by the Imperium it will be posshible to locate her, but there will be many, many more obshtaclesh.”

“And you’re going to let THAT stop you?!” Trixie demanded, bristling.

“Okay, wait, new plan,” Pinkie Pie interrupted. “First, Shmithy invents a time machine. Then we go back to Ishrem and travel backward in time and stop Twilight from being abducted in the first place!”

“Absholutely not,” Solon replied firmly, “I hate time travel.”

“That… That’s your main objection to it?” Suuna asked, baffled.

“Well we would need him to build the time machine, so obviously he gets a veto,” Pinkie reasoned aloud. “All right then, let’s talk magic options. What if we sacrificed people to Tzeentch? Like, a LOT of people.”

Trixie’s magic turned on to smash a fist-shaped ball of magic against the door panel, and it quietly slid shut. Then she turned around and started heading back toward the exit.

“Ya done already?” Applejack asked, yawning.

“This is going nowhere. What a waste of time,” Trixie grunted, stepping out into the hall with Suuna following.

“Can you bring back snacks?” Rarity asked. “I still want snacks. Trixie? Miss Assistant? Please?”

Trixie again summoned a magic hand to slam the door shut behind her. Then she turned and continued down the hallway, fuming quietly. Suuna hesitated, glancing the other way, and then rushed to catch up with the unicorn.

“Mistress Trixie, our room is back that way,” the assistant helpfully informed her, pointing behind them.

“Yes Suuna, Trixie is aware,” Trixie replied curtly.

“… Are you going to bring the Equinoughts some food after all?”

“No Suuna, Trixie has better things to do,” her voice was a little colder this time, apparently annoyed that her assistant could come to such a conclusion.

“Like what, if I may ask?”

Trixie glanced back over her shoulder. “Trixie isn’t sure why Sparkle is so important to everyone all of a sudden. She’s apparently expendable enough to send on doomed missions all the time, and it’s not like most of our enemies are trying to take her alive.” She scowled. “But the daemons wanted her badly enough to do some longshot psychic dream plot and even roped Trixie into their schemes, and Trixie resents that. A LOT. So Trixie needs to keep an eye on her.”

“Uh… okay, that… makes sense,” Suuna said dubiously. “But you can’t do that when she’s been captured by the Imperium, of course.”

“Correct. Who know what sort of stupid drama she’ll get caught up in while enslaved by the Imperium?! With the daemons still hunting her, her cycles are numbered!”

“So what are you going to do?”

Trixie narrowed her eyes. “If Warsmith Solon and the Equinoughts aren’t going to get her back, then Trixie will have to do it herself.”

Trixie evidently found the location she was looking for, and she stopped in front of another door with a large purple symbol painted on it. Suuna had never been in this section of the ship before, but the area looked like it was devoted to crew quarters that were (slightly) larger than the normal ones for combat personnel. At first she assumed it was Twilight Sparkle’s room because of the marking on the door, but a brief study of the purple symbol in the door changed her mind. It was an octagram, not a starburst, drawn in thick, dark purple line without the interior being filled in.

Trixie tapped the access panel, and then recoiled when the lumen flashed red and nothing else happened. “What’s the matter? Why isn’t it opening?”

“It’s locked, Miss Trixie,” Suuna explained with a slight smile.

“Do you know how to unlock it?” Trixie asked, frowning at the barrier.

“A sufficiently ranked officer could do it. Probably any Iron Warrior, or a Techpriest…”

“Trixie keeps telling the Astartes that she needs greater access to their secure areas! They never listen!” Trixie scowled and banged her greaves against the door, filling the hall with the ring of ceramite slamming against hardened steel. “HEY, OPEN UP!! TRIXIE NEEDS TO TALK TO YOU!!”

Suuna looked back and forth, a rather embarrassed expression on her face while Trixie continued making a racket. When the unicorn paused she could hear some kind of muffled sound coming from the room, but it was not a reply and the door didn’t open. Increasingly frustrated, Trixie glared at the access panel and her horn lit up.

“Trixie has sure been getting a lot of use out of this haywire spell,” she remarked as she started flooding the internals with magic energy.

The panel started blinking rapidly, and then the lumens changed colors. First they flashed red, then green, then yellow, and then bright white before blasting out in a burst of sparks. Tortured squeals and rapid beeping came from the device, and a flood of corrupted data-screed consumed the monitor display.

Trixie walked up to the door and pushed it to the side with telekinesis. It resisted at first, groaning and rattling on the frame’s rail, but then the access panel made a rude-sounding noise. The door slid open smoothly, and a shout of alarm came from inside.

“What the blazes do you think you’re doing?!” Hierophant Mantis roared while he rushed to the entrance. He was sweating and breathing hard, with his pale face flushed a bright red. While he was obviously very angry, Trixie doubted that accounted for the exertion.

She arched an eyebrow, and then leaned slightly to one side. Trixie could see Snow Fallie laying on a bed with her head sticking out from under the covers, and once spotted she squeaked and ducked under the blanket entirely. Mantis growled, his face darkening further.

“I had the door locked for a REASON, Miss Trixie. Now what do you WANT?” the Hierophant demanded angrily, and a spark crackled between his curved horns.

“Trixie wants to make a deal,” Trixie said, her tone curiously grim.

“Oh? And what are you offering? It had better include getting a Techpriest to fix my door,” Mantis said, his eyes narrowing.

“Not with you,” Trixie clarified.

The goat-horned cultist hesitated, and then glanced behind him. “With… Snow Fallie?”

“Don’t be stupid,” the unicorn said flatly.

Mantis looked up at Suuna, obviously baffled. She shrugged helplessly. Mantis look at Trixie again.

“Cool off, clean yourself up, and follow Trixie,” the magician ordered, backing up and seizing the door again with her magic. “We’re going to save a Princess.”

She slammed the door shut.

Inquisition battlecruiser Aesir’s Justice
Reflection shrine, room 2-L

“So… Vija…” Twilight’s gaze darted back and forth uncertainly, wondering what sort of social mannerisms were appropriate to a mutant servant of a daemon-hunting Inquisitor. “Uh… wanna swap eye stories?”

She smiled as broadly as she could, which made her expression look painfully forced. Vija sat on her knees, staring dubiously at the purple pony. Her hands still clutched the rosary, but her overall posture had relaxed a lot since she first saw the alien mare.

“I don’t want to do that at all,” the girl replied. Her mutant eyes were closed now, leaving one side of her face looking like a swollen, lumpy mass of tumors or welts. It was far more disturbing this way than when they were open, Twilight decided.

“I think it would be a good start to building up a little trust,” Twilight said, turning her smile down a few notches in intensity.

“I don’t think we should be trusting creatures of Chaos,” Vija said dubiously.

“Ah, but I’m not a creature of Chaos at all!” Twilight retorted, pressing a hoof to her chest. “I’m a creature of HARMONY contracted to a particular Chaos Lord because he’s done me several favors.”

“That… doesn’t sound like much of a difference.”

“I kind of thought the same before you told me I was some sort of living anti-daemon weapon,” Twilight said with a chuckle, “but now the difference seems quite meaningful!” She coughed into her hoof. “Anyway, I lost my left eye when a Chaos Space Marine shot me in the face with a bolt pistol. Then the Warsmith who he had usurped made me this bionic replacement!”

Vija blinked owlishly. “Your ally shot you?”

“No, they weren’t allies. Well, I guess they sort of were, given they were the same Legion and had usurped my friends, but I think it shouldn’t count,” Twilight argued, pouting cutely.

“Did this traitor hurt you because you are a threat to Chaos?” Vija asked, cocking her head slightly to one side.

“No, he was just a big jerk, that’s all.” Twilight snorted. “He didn’t think I was a threat at all. And then he died.”

“What happened to him?” the mutant asked, leaning forward slightly in anticipation.

“Friendship,” Twilight said, her voice turning strangely grim.

Vija leaned back again, an eyebrow arched skeptically.

“It’s more dangerous than you’d think,” the mare insisted, still looking very serious. “Is the Inquisitor your friend?”

“Hardly,” Vija replied, trying not to scoff outright. “He is my lord sponsor.”

“Meaning…?”

The girl grimaced. “People who look like me are not allowed to live in the Imperium normally. There are many on this very ship who believe my life is an unacceptable heresy that is best redeemed with holy flame.”

“I’ve heard of the Imperium’s treatment of mutants. And the Inquisitor saved you?”

Vija hesitated. “Well, yes, but…”

She trailed off. Twilight was watching with a polite but clearly intrigued smile. She looked up and glanced at the armsmen standing guard in the room. Ten faceless masks staring at her from behind glowering blue visors, holding lasrifles wired to their backpacks. The most familiar sort of companionship for her, but none the more comforting for it.

“I was born to a Navigator house,” Vija said, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Do you know of them?”

“A little bit, yes,” Twilight replied. “A strain of sanctioned mutants with genetically heightened Warpsight who are needed to travel through the Empyrean, right? If I recall correctly they’re an essential component of the Imperium’s FTL travel networks and so the Navigator houses enjoy significant political and economic influence.”

“… Yes. That’s right,” Vija replied, reluctantly impressed. “These houses must breed new Navigators constantly, and some of them engage in experimental biomancy to perfect their stock. I am the result of one such experiment.”

“A successful experiment?” Twilight asked.

The mutant girl shook her head.

“I figured as much, but I didn’t want to be sound insensitive,” Twilight admitted.

“My eyes are… they see a great many things, but it’s too much. The subtle currents of the Warp elude me. I cannot concentrate on the immediate Empyrean region around me. My whole perception is much greater than that of a Navigator, and yet I cannot perform their vital task. I am a failure.” She clutched the rosary to her chest again. “Once it was clear that my eyes did other things, I was of little use to them. I was scheduled for a series of increasingly destructive experiments that would eventually kill me. Then…” her expression firmed. “Then the Inquisitor arrived. He had been given a tip, apparently, of my existence by retainers who wished to see me destroyed more quickly and decisively than the experimentations would manage. They thought my presence was a heresy and a threat, and sought to bring the judgment of the Imperium’s Inquisition upon the house.”

Twilight leaned in closer, totally engrossed. “What happened when he arrived?”

“When the Inquisitor arrived he studied the reports and took me away. Since then I’ve been with him, searching the Empyrean at his direction.” She raised a hand and gently rubbed at one of the eyelids on the right side of her face. “It is thanks to the Inquisitor’s protection that I yet live. But his sanction comes with the price of servitude.”

“Oh yeah, I know what that’s like,” Twilight giggled. “But you’re still not friends? You don’t trust him?”

“Trust? I have no right to such a luxury,” Vija said, looking away. “I do not make my own decisions.”

“You should,” the young Princess retorted. “Maybe you still can.”

Vija hesitated, glancing back at the purple pony.

“Servant or not, mutant or not, everyone should have a friend,” Twilight scooted closer, almost touching the woman. “Everyone needs someone you can trust and rely on. Even the genocidal, corrupted monstrosities back in the fleet have friends!”

Vija chewed her lip anxiously. She had so many questions now, but felt ashamed to ask them. That she was so intrigued by the prospect of companionship was a terrible weakness by itself. To feel this way from speaking briefly to some blasphemous purple alien…

A door slid open.

“Miss Sparkle, with me,” Gholth announced as he strode into the white veil and then out through the other side of it. He did not address Vija or make eye contact with either of them while he walked through the shrine toward a door on the opposite end.

Twilight hesitated, looking up at the mutant girl next to her. Gholth paused his stride, backed up into the veil perimeter, and then snapped his fingers sharply. Vija flinched and hung her head in submission, not uttering a word. Twilight frowned but did as instructed, trotting after the Inquisitor. The armsmen guarding the room turned and left, some retiring their shift and others following Gholth into the hall. Regil emerged a few seconds later, his face utterly ashen and fixed into a cold scowl.

While Twilight and Gholth left, the Apprentice Inquisitor stopped in front of Vija, removing a large pill from his pocket. “Here. The Inquisitor requests you search the Empyrean for any threats or impediments to our progress.”

The mutant took the pill carefully and then slipped it into her mouth, chewing it slowly. It had a revolting, distinctly chemical flavoring as it coated her tongue, and Vija felt an energetic sensation down her spine as it dissolved. The pills generated a euphoric rush amidst a surge of calories, and she could feel her heart start to race almost immediately. She did not need the substance to use her Warpsight, but Gholth sometimes used them to expedite and improve her assistance.

“Our progress… where are we going?” Vija asked, sitting down on a bench.

“Classified,” Regil said curtly. “You can simply explore the region around us, or focus on the ship itself, I suppose.” He snorted. “Do not strain yourself, mutant. I do not expect any serious challenge to our next berth, and if there were I would not expect you to predict it.”

Vija nodded miserably, and then her human eye closed. It was like a switch was flipped immediately, and all of her other mundane senses immediately went silent. She could no long smell the incense in the room or feel the coldness of the metal deck. The gentle tremors of the void ship, which she had grown quite used to over the years, gave way to a strange sensation like being carried along in a stream.

Her other eyes searched. Some gleamed with eldritch light. Some dilated. Some changed color, went completely white or black, or seem to roll backward in their sockets. One of them seemed to adopt a curious runic symbol over the iris, like the ritual patterns he’d seen from some of the more advanced psykers. The eyes shifted back and forth, up and down, searching independently (or randomly) to track whatever strange energies they each perceived.

Regil found the image grotesque, of course, but he waited calmly as her eyes performed their blasphemous duty. While more skeptical of Vija’s abilities than Gholth, the girl had picked out and located Twilight Sparkle; while he didn’t think much of the equine alien either, the chances of Vija imagining the “cutie mark” in a fever dream and then somehow tracking its interstellar location a week ahead of time by sheer coincidence was obviously impossible. He could admit there was something unique in her Warpsight, but he doubted it would be of any use without better direction. What was she supposed to see in the wake outside the gellar field?

Vija’s eyes started twitching to the side. One after another. Some of them remained oriented that way, staring to her right. More and more of them glanced in that direction, and her breath quickened. One of them pulsed with an eerie yellow light, and Regil’s hand twitched toward his laspistol.

“No… No… Not again… How…?” Vija mumbled, turning her head. Her body seemed to withdraw, and she gripped her shoulders with her arms. “They’re everywhere… Reflections of their prey… So… So many eyes… they’re still there…? How? HOW?”

Regil frowned. He placed his hand on his pistol properly, fingers wrapping around the grip.

“Shhh sh sh shhhh…” she made a whispering noise to herself, and then more twitching, staring, and pulsing. “They’re here… but I can’t… SEE it. Something… in the way. Driving it… a path… opening… to…”

One of her eyes bulged, swelling out of its socket like it was going to burst. It had a bright yellow pupil and was riddled with veins. It twitched back and forth, up and down, staring at something intensely that only it could see. A wisp of smoke started to leak from it, and Regil drew his sidearm.

“All right, that’s enough!” He grabbed Vija by the shoulder and shook her roughly, his other hand holding his weapon pointed at the ceiling.

Vija’s left eye snapped open, and she began shivering violently. The rosary she carried slipped from numb fingers, bouncing onto the floor at her feet. The eyes on the right side of her face rapidly returned to “normal,” with many of them closing and others losing whatever supernatural glow or trait they had briefly taken. Then she slowly turned to look at the apprentice Inquisitor with an expression of heightened trepidation.

Regil let go of her. “Well?” He did not holster the laspistol.

Vija raised a trembling hand to the right side of her face. “I… saw it again. The threads of fate winding through the tides. The hall of eyes! They were staring, watching, whis-”

“Expedite your report,” Regil said icily.

Vija flinched. She took a calming breath and then lowered her head, searching for her dropped rosary. She found it and reached down toward the floor, only for the man in front of her to suddenly bat it away with the side of his boot.

“The Emperor’s word is not yours, mutant, and I dislike it when you profane His holy symbols with your touch,” Regil said, his voice increasingly grim. “Your salvation will not come through prayer, but SERVICE, so get on with it.”

Vija choked back a terrified sob, wringing her hands anxiously. After several deep breaths, she managed to compose her thoughts well enough to speak.

“The trail that led us… to the space station. It’s still there. It reaches further, now. I don’t understand, but they know,” she said with a whimper.

“Who is THEY?” Regil demanded.

Vija shook her head. “I don’t know. Daemons, maybe? It doesn’t feel like it.”

“So some unknown THING knows something. What is it they’ve determined?” Regil asked.

“They’re… I think… they’re hunting her still. The Light. It was hard to make out. Something shielding it. Like trying to eavesdrop on a conversation in an armored vehicle.”

“Really? And where did they divine her presence?” Regil asked.

Vija looked away, trembling.

“… Well? Your other observation tracked her to Ishrem. Where does this presence sense is her next location?” Regil demanded. “Why do you hesitate?”

“The next location is… this… this ship. Twilight Sparkle is here,” Vija said, looking up into Regil’s eyes.

He stared back blankly, and then massaged his forehead with his free hand. “’They’ have identified the Aesir’s Justice?”

“Well… no. It doesn’t quite… work like that,” Vija admitted, shivering.

“Then ‘they’ have located us within the Warp? Is there a need to retreat to realspace?”

“I… I don’t think so, no. The whispers within the tides didn’t-”

“Then what PRECISELY is the nature of the threat?!” the Apprentice boomed. “I don’t want to hear more of your arcane mumbling! The Inquisitor tolerates your presence because your intelligence is ACTIONABLE! What is the matter?!”

Vija hung her head miserably. Part of the problem with her vision was that it was difficult to interpret and prone to interference, but another was that Regil had shaken her out of it too early. Nonetheless, she didn’t dare blame him for the failure. It wasn’t as if she could promise better results if she tried again.

“… Useless,” Regil hissed, finally holstering his laspistol. “It is a black mark against the Inquisitor that he seeks aliens and mutants to aid his machinations, and another that he sanctions such incapable ones,” he turned toward where the Imperial rosary had fallen and picked it up off the deck. “Remain here. I will have the guards escort you to your room until you are needed.” Regil turned an acidic glare on the girl as he pocketed the rosary, and then headed for the hallway exit. “As such, you should expect to remain there until the Inquisitor departs my ship.”

“Yes… Of course, my Lord,” Vija said weakly.

The doors had slid shut and locked before she’d finished the sentence.

Inquisition battlecruiser Aesir’s Justice
Deck 3, section 8

A set of heavy blast doors began their long unlocking procedure, and Twilight looked up at one of the armored women standing guard. The Sister of Battle looked down at the purple mare with a long, silent stare, her expression hidden by the helmet of her power armor. Then she aimed her boltgun directly at Twilight’s face. The pony gasped and recoiled in surprise, and Gholth turned sharply to address the warrior.

“Put your weapon DOWN, soldier,” the Inquisitor growled, his eye glinting ever so slightly with an eldritch glow. “What exactly has this creature done to provoke your ire?”

The Sororitas obeyed his command immediately and lowered her boltgun, but she kept staring at Twilight. “It should be manacled.”

“What? Why?” Gholth asked, his tone quite impatient. “Miss Sparkle’s wings are immobilized and her psychic powers disabled. Are you afraid she’s going to KICK you?”

“It can still flee freely if it wishes,” the Sister replied.

“Flee to WHERE? This is your ship!” Twilight retorted before Gholth could.

Twilight was actually hoping to goad the Sister into giving her some good ideas for escaping or hiding, but the woman instead straightened up and finally broke eye contact (or visor contact, as it were).

“Simply musing aloud, Lord Inquisitor. My apologies for the distraction.” She did not sound like she was sorry.

The blast door finished opening with a distinct, heavy thud, and Gholth quickly led Twilight into the hallway beyond while casting a withering glare over his shoulder. Twilight immediately guessed that this section of the ship was not the sort that saw a great deal of casual traffic, judging not only by the heavier security but also by the look of the doors beyond it. There were gun turrets mounted in the ceilings, all the doors had additional mag-locks, and there was a lot of warning text and chevrons stamped onto the walls.

Twilight eventually looked up at Gholth. “I thought your Apprentice was pretty hostile, but the crew of your ship don’t seem to like you much either.”

Gholth released a grim chuckle. “Regil is not my Apprentice, and this is not my ship,” he admitted.

“Really? I guess that makes sense, given how reluctant he is to defer to you…” Twilight mumbled. “So whose Apprentice is he, then? Are they on this ship?”

“Ah ah ah, no more of that, now,” Gholth chided the pony next to him. “I won’t be interrogated about my allies, Miss Sparkle. You will content yourself with what I divulge, and seek nothing more. This is part of your training.”

Twilight looked rather offended at the idea, but the Inquisitor continued. “I have decided to inform you of my relationship with Apprentice Regil and this vessel because it is immediately relevant. After speaking to him at length about the potential risks and benefits, it has been decided that you are to be locked in stasis for the duration of our trip through the Warp.”

Twilight frowned, remembering an overview of that particular technology from the Company archives. “So I’ll be frozen in time until we get to wherever we’re going? Why?”

The Inquisitor seemed annoyed at the question at the end, but he answered anyway. “To be blunt, the Apprentice and the Adeptus Sororitas find your active presence on this vessel intolerable, and do not trust my countermeasures to restrain you. Stasis was the most obvious compromise to ensure you remain unharmed yet unable to sabotage anything.” He pressed a hand against a red screen, and then a humming sound came from the adjacent room. “I would have preferred conducting some psionics exercises and evaluations right away, but it is also to our benefit if this project proceeds in more favorable environs.”

Gholth entered the room, which was a tiny cell that could have accommodated but a few humans standing. Dominating one side was a machine that Twilight presumed was the stasis device: It had a glassine capsule covering that looked large enough to accommodate a Space Marine, built over a metal bed covered in bulbs and wires that leaned up against the wall. A visible mist leaked from the device, and Twilight felt colder just looking at it.

The Inquisitor tapped at a control panel for a few seconds. “Enter the vessel, Miss Sparkle, and you’ll be spared a tedious and stressful week of Regil’s complaints and being threatened by random guards. I will awaken you when we have reached our destination. For you, it will seem as if I had turned the device on and off as quickly as I could flip the switch.”

With a loud click and hiss, the glassine shielding slid open. Underneath was an uneven cushion extending from the bottom to the top of the vessel, surrounded by projection nodes. It was clearly not made for anything shaped like a pony, but at least it was big enough.

“It will seem like that if nothing goes wrong, you mean,” Twilight corrected, stepping up to the machine.

The Inquisitor raised his eyebrow. “And what do you imagine might happen to go wrong?” he asked, crossing his arms over his breastplate.

Twilight looked up at him. “They’re going to come for me, you know.”

“… The daemons?” Gholth guessed.

“No,” Twilight replied. “Well, actually, yes, that’s a very good guess and at least as likely as what I was talking about. But no.” The mare coughed lightly into a hoof, and then looked back up. “My friends. They’re coming. You can’t stop them.”

“Doubtful,” Gholth said with a patronizing smile. “You will be brought to my laboratoriums, Miss Sparkle. And after some training and study, you will become humanity’s holy sword: a vessel of the Emperor’s wrath that strikes down those abominations which thinks themselves immortal. Now. Enter the machine.”

Twilight said nothing further, climbing into the bed and laying on her side. It sat at a rather severe incline, and she couldn’t “stand” nearly as well as a human, but when the glassine cover descended it covered her without difficulty.

The projectors above and around her pulsed.

Then the projectors pulsed again.

Twilight blinked, wondering if the machine had malfunctioned. A descending hum was coming from the machine around her, as if it were powering down. Several clicks came from the glassine shield covering her and sealing her inside the stasis device.

It then occurred to her that the machine had in fact worked perfectly. The shielding opened, and mist – a curious, abundant, and uncomfortable byproduct of this procedure, apparently – started leaking out of the bed onto the floor.

“Did you enjoy your rest, Miss Sparkle?” Inquisitor Gholth asked.

The purple pony frowned. “No, not really. I don’t think I slept at all, technically.” She hopped out onto the floor, testing her limbs. “I think my wings are starting to cramp, though. Can you unbind them for a bit? There isn’t even anywhere to fly off in here.”

“No,” Gholth said curtly, walking out the open doorway. “This way, Miss Sparkle.”

Twilight made an inarticulate growling noise and followed. The ship was shuddering slightly, and she was pleased to see that the heavy blast doors protecting this section of the ship were already open this time. She didn’t bother to make eye contact as she and Gholth strode briskly past the guards, and then the Inquisitor took a sharp right down another major artery of the vessel.

“Are we back in realspace?” Twilight asked while they walked.

“No. But soon,” Gholth assured her.

“May I know what system we’re approaching?”

“You needn’t worry about such trifles, Miss Sparkle,” the Inquisitor assured her. “You’ll see the world soon enough.”

Ignoring the pony’s aggravated, one-eyed glare, Gholth made another turn and approached another guarded door. The Sisters of Battle keeping watch straightened on his approach, although their visors lingered on the purple creature following him.

“Lord Inquisitor. The Captain is conducting our Warp exit. The Navigator has almost completed the ritual,” one of the warriors said, inclining her head.

“Good. My men are already making preparations to depart,” Gholth said. “Open the door to the bridge.”

Two of the power-armored women shared a glanced, and then faced the man once more. “We were instructed not to let anyone enter the-”

“And I am instructing you to open the doors and let us in,” Gholth interrupted. “Think wisely on which order you obey.”

The Sisters did not hesitate further. One turned to a console, and after a few seconds the double-doors slid open. Gholth stepped through without another word, and Twilight followed closely.

The bridge of Aesir’s Justice was very different from that of the Harvest of Steel, which was hardly a surprise. An oblong island was raised in the middle of the cavernous room, surrounded by two stories’ worth of cogitator banks and control consoles. A cluster of screens covered the front of the room, dominated by a central monitor that must have been at least 20 feet tall and half again that in length.

On the central island sat a woman in large chair. Twilight had to guess she was the ship’s Captain, judging by her post and outfit, which was much more well-decorated than the rest of the bridge officers. Next to the chair stood a similarly well-decorated Sister of Battle Twilight had never seen before, but Gholth knew as Palatine Arthwin. Looming above and behind the Captain’s chair was a much larger and more elaborate throne covered in candles and purity seals. Upon this throne sat the Apprentice Inquisitor Regil.

Twilight spotted him right away, and he her. The Apprentice scowled, and then directed his displeased expression toward the Inquisitor, but did not interrupt; the Captain was speaking with the Navigator on one of the smaller frontal screens. Most of the rest of the bridge crew did not notice the intrusion, being too busy with their own preparations for Warp exit. Tech-clergy swung censers of incense and prayed to the cogitators and crewmen labored over control panels (while also praying to the cogitators, but less formally).

The ship began to groan and the deck under Twilight’s hooves started to shudder. The Navigator’s voice shrank to a whisper, barely noticeable over the ruckus by the rest of the bridge crew. The shuddering intensified.

“We are beginning detranslation! All systems nominal! Emperor, deliver us from the sea of souls!” shouted the Captain.

The process for a normal ship to exit the Warp was quite different from that of the Harvest, Twilight observed. The process was clearly more difficult, with the vessel shaking much more than the daemon-ship ever had. Frost started appearing on the bulkheads despite the perfectly normal temperatures inside. Most of the crew, not afforded large, secure chairs like the Captain, braced themselves against something, including the Inquisitor. Twilight had an easier time with four legs, but she was surprised by the violence with which the Warp released the ship.

“Detranslation cycle complete. Gellar field is disengaged,” announced a Techpriest as the shuddering finally stopped. “We have arrived.”

The large screen flickered, and then blinked on. A distant sphere of blue flame was in the center of the image, and a much smaller – but clearly much closer – brown planet was sitting between the system’s star and the ship. Data-screed poured across several of the secondary monitors, while others switched to additional scopes to pick out particular details of the system. Orbital stations, moons, cities, fleets. Twilight was deeply interested in these displays, but Gholth clasped his hands behind his back and promptly began giving orders to the crew.

“Contact the system patrol fleet immediately and submit authorization codes. We require escort to nav-point omega,” the Inquisitor declared. “Advance in-system with void shields up and periodic augury scans. We’re almost there, but we must keep our guard up.”

Some of the crew visibly resented being ordered by the man in the pit with them, but they went to work immediately. Twilight nudged her head toward the planet on the screen.

“Is that my new home?” she asked.

“Your new home is by my side, Miss Sparkle, no matter where I take you,” Gholth explained. “This world will host us for a time, but we have SO much to do…” Then he looked up at the command throne, locking his eye with its occupant. “Just a little further, Apprentice, and you will be rid of me at last. But before I depart I have a message to your master as thanks for her aid, and a warning for what may come next. I-”

The Navigator screamed.

Everyone on the bridge fell silent, including the Inquisitor. A painful, wheezing rasp came from the man in the monitor, and his third eye was wide open, staring up at nothing. The Navigator shrank back in his chair, an expression of shock and horror written across his features.

“Im... Impossible. No, it… NO! STAY BACK!! IT’S COMING!!” the Navigator howled.

“What’s coming?” Regil demanded, standing up from the Command Throne. “Get ahold of yourself!”

“My Lord! We’re reading another Warp breach nearby!” shouted a crewman.

“Where? From what?!” the Captain demanded.

Before anyone could answer her a deep, rainbow-colored crack opened in space ahead of Aesir’s Justice and then yawned open. The crew watched, dumbfounded, as a massive void ship erupted from the breach directly perpendicular to the Aesir’s path. The vessel was huge, and seemed somewhat familiar to the augury crew, but there was only one individual who recognized it immediately.

“Told you they’d find me,” said Twilight Sparkle, unable to suppress a delighted grin.

Harvest of Steel
Bridge

“Proximity alert! Enemy vessel within 1,000 meters!”

“Shields are up. Weapons primed. Defensive turrets are active.”

“Teleportarium relay is charged. Boarding pods loaded. Combat crews awaiting orders.”

“The great eye opens! The Harvest sees what has been lost! It HUNGERS!! Find it! Take it! KILL THOSE WHO TOOK IT!!”

Warsmith Solon regarded the screaming, mummified crewman, and then looked down at the center of the bridge. The Destiny Cube was suspended within a crucible of probes and wires, and electric arcs hummed noisily as they lashed between the octahedron’s corners and the machine’s prongs. On the deck below the device sat Trixie, a thick bundle of cabling plugged into the back of her neck and a look of intense concentration on her face.

“Well done, Missh Lulamoon. It sheemsh you were correct,” Solon said with a grim chuckle.

“Told you T-Trixie would find her,” the pony magician said, her voice cracking slightly from exertion.

The Warsmith lifted his right arm attachment, which was clearly some kind of laser but had a focusing apparatus that looked more like an egg beater. “ALL COMBAT CREWSH, PREPARE TO BOARD!! FIND SHPARKLE AND RETURN HER TO THE FLAGSHIP!! IRON WITHIN!! IRON WITHOUT!!”

Author's Note

Now that's a cliffhanger!

In-chapter art by Charlot, while the above little icon is by Loom!