Nightwatch: The Elements of Destruction

Chapters

Portents
Preparations
Dark Ditch
Scream
Truth
Pain
Carnage
Prologue

Portents

Nightwatch – The Elements of Destruction
By SFaccountant

Chapter 1
Portents

Ferrous Dominus sector 12
Smelter facility 9

The labor horn blared, announcing the end of the shift.

Dusk Blade jolted at the noise, his drooping eyelids snapping open and his ears perking. On the streets below menials were already flooding out of the smelting complex, eager to get home after a day’s hard labor. The chatter was a rising cacophony below the anti-air turret that he was perched on, creating a stream of echoes that sketched the world around him to his sensitive ears.

As it so happened that sketch was currently scribbled rubbish. As soon as the horn stopped blowing and he adjusted to the noise from below, the same old memories returned and again demanded his attention. He just couldn’t focus, albeit he couldn’t claim to be putting great effort into it. Patrols in Ferrous Dominus were not typically exciting affairs and he was still exhausted.

Down below, most of the menials had already departed and the slaves were being transported out. A long chain gang of minotaur and diamond dogs were being marched into the streets, their coats darkened with soot and char. Unlike the menials, who were issued respirators and protective cloaks of varying make and quality, the forced labor usually had mere bandannas and towels to filter the soot and toxins that filled the manufactorum and constantly spilled into the air. The air condition inside the smelter was considerably worse than the city’s general quality, to the point that some of the menials took off their respirators and cloaks in the streets to cool themselves off after having endured the choking heat and poisonous fumes all day.

Dusk looked over the prisoners in passing interest, but it was a brief distraction before his mind returned to the dream of that ridiculous glade again.

“Good evening, Lieutenant! You look a little lonely!” came a voice from behind him.

A bat pony stallion slightly bigger than Dusk swooped down above him, landing on one of the barrels of the quad cannon. He briefly glanced over at the crowd below, but immediately dismissed them; clearly he was here for the other thestral.

“Hello, Gloomy,” Dusk mumbled, not bothering to look at him.

Gloom Fang wore the same night-blue armor that Dusk had, complete with the same moon patch and squadron designator, and a similar tactical respirator to protect him from pollution in the city and gaseous hazards in the field. The armor and mask mostly obscured his coat, which was a mix of dull purple shades; the color was darkest along his wings, which had a thick, sharp claw on each peak. His mane was a wave of pale blue with darker blue stripes that hung on one side of his face.

“The sector patrol is complete. Two irregularities. Crates with broken seals. Pretty innocuous, but we reported it anyway and checked for any hazards. Nothing serious,” Gloom Fang said, slowly walking out to the very end of the cannon barrel.

“Hmmm,” was Dusk’s reply.

Gloom paused, and then he hopped down to land on one of the cannon barrels closer to the Lieutenant. “You seem… lethargic. Is it the dreams again?”

Dusk’s eye twitched. “Yeah. They’re getting worse. It’s basically every day now.” He still didn’t turn to face the other bat pony.

“Sounds bad. You’re not the only one, either.”

Dusk whipped his head around. “What? You too?” he asked.

Gloom chuckled. “Heh, no. I still sleep like a rock. Nacht, on the other hoof…” his expression turned more serious. “She hasn’t had a good day’s rest in weeks. And three days ago, Neuron had one, too.”

Dusk blinked. “Did Nacht say what hers were about?”

“Yeah, kind of. They’re all different each day, unlike yours,” Gloom explained, settling down to lounge on the cannon barrel. “Mostly they’re about us, but she says that sometimes a dream starts and she thinks it’s one of our missions or memories but then at some point she’ll turn around and all the ponies are different.” He paused. “She even got one like that where it turned out she was dreaming about the Elements of Harmony. Everything was perfectly recalled, like a vid-capture, and none of it from what she’s read or seen in her waking hours. Really weird stuff.”

Dusk silently thought that over, and then he frowned. “What was Neuron’s about?”

Gloom’s expression darkened. “She dreamt about… her. She wouldn’t say anything more about it.”

Dusk Blade grimaced, and then went back to staring at the crowd below. There was some shouting going on now between one of the chain gangs and the menials.

“… You know what this means, don’t you?” Gloom Fang asked.

“No, of course I don’t know what it means,” Dusk snapped. “I know what YOU think it means, but you’re always wrong.”

“I am not!” Gloom huffed. “Look, Dusk, I get that you actually-“

“Do NOT start with this again, Gloomy,” Dusk warned. “It’s not happening. Not for me, not for you, not for the others. Magic is real. Gods are real. The army of fusion-powered primates toting laser guns and chainswords are real. But prophecies? Prophecies are fake. We’ve been down this road too many times to keep chasing after fate like this.”

Gloom didn’t look impressed. “Oh yeah? If gods are real, why haven’t you joined a cult?”

“Listen here, you smug little-“

A scream came from below, startling the thestrals from their argument. A minotaur slave had seized an earth pony worker by his leg and was hauling him up into the air. The other slaves and menials were backing away, and down the street a pair of Dark Mechanicus Scavurel were alerted to the situation.

“I’ve had enough of you!” barked the slave, his voice on the edge of a wheeze. He seized the stallion by the mane and then hauled him up, wrapping his meaty, soot-blackened arms around the pony’s rear legs and neck.

“Let me go! Are you crazy?! I didn’t do anything!” the equine shrieked.

“Take off these chains, now!” the minotaur bellowed. “I’ll break this pony’s neck! Don’t test me!”

“They’re not going to let you go to save me!” the stallion protested desperately. He tried to kick his legs free, but the minotaur’s grip on them was as unyielding as the metal shackles on the slave’s hooves. “They’re going to kill us both, you maniac!”

A growl rose in Dusk’s throat. The Scavurel were pushing through the pedestrians and workers rushing the other way. He could hear their lascarbines charging already; the capacitors releasing a high-pitched whine that was discernable to him above the rest of the noise. It would only be some ten seconds until they had a clear line of fire.

“We should probably do something,” Gloom said, his blue eyes narrowing. “I’ll try to-“

Dusk dove off the platform.

“Help! Somebody help! Please don’t shoot me!” the pony wailed, only for the arm hooked around his throat to tighten and silence him.

“The chains! Now!” the minotaur bellowed, his eyes darting back and forth wildly at the spectators backing away. “I know one of you can remove them! Get back here! I’ll, uh, wuh?”

A dark streak descended from above and the minotaur tensed, ready to break the equine in his arms. Much to his confusion, however, rather than flying at him it dove into the empty rockcrete in front of him. The curious phenomenon passed through the ground instantly, vanishing underneath the surface without leaving a trace or making a sound.

The minotaur blinked repeatedly, completely flummoxed. Another bat pony began a dive toward the slave worker during his moment of diversion. The Scavurel pushed through the last of the laborers in their way.

Dusk Blade shot up from the ground and punched his hoofblades into the arm holding the stallion around the neck. It flinched, but did not pull away entirely until Dusk kicked off of the minotaur’s stomach, prying it off of his hostage.

The minotaur didn’t have a chance to react to the assault before Gloom Fang reached him, biting hard into the other arm. Teeth like paring knives sunk through the leathery flesh and steely muscle, and a wash of crimson splashed across the legs of the hostage before he was finally released.

The minotaur staggered backward, wrenching his arms away from each of the thestrals that had cut them open. Gloom Fang let go immediately, flapping his wings to get some distance. Dusk stayed close, bouncing up in the air and then spinning around.

Both his rear legs lashed out, smashing into the minotaur’s jaw. The slave reeled and fell backwards, overwhelmed by the speed and ferocity of the assault. The stallion he had seized scrambled away, his coat spattered with blood that was not his own.

Dusk and Gloom hovered in the air over the minotaur, glaring silently. Gloom licked his fangs, which were still wet with the slave’s blood. Dusk didn’t say anything as the minotaur stood back up, his attention fully focused for the first time all day.

Behind the thestrals, a pair of lascarbines suddenly opened up. A storm of red beams filled the space between the bat ponies, and after about two seconds of rapid fire, they stopped. Gloom Fang detected the distinct scent of burning meat as he replaced his mask, which he had removed in order to attack.

“Labor disruption neutralized,” buzzed the Scavurel enforcer, lowering his carbine.

The two soldiers of the Dark Mechanicus were short and rather thin compared to the ordinary human soldiers and cultists, but they were no less intimidating for their paltry frame. Dark cloaks of charcoal black covered their bodies and heads, such that all that was visible of their faces were a few bright green lights peering out from the shadows of their hoods. Their arms were long and it was not clear among the wrappings, clothing, and tubing how much of them was still flesh.

Gloom Fang started building altitude and Dusk swung around to join him, but a sudden command from one of the cyborg soldiers stopped him immediately.

“Designation: Lieutenant Blade. Remain stationary and submit to interrogative,” the Scavurel said. The charge on his lascarbine was still quite audible to Dusk; clearly this one was still ready to shoot something.

“Yes, Scavurel? Is there a problem?” Dusk asked, hovering in the same spot while the cyborgs approached. He wasn’t especially nervous, but dealing with Dark Mechanicus personnel was always an unpleasant prospect (with one very specific exception).

“Query: At time of engagement ident-signum was non-responsive for 2.71 seconds. Chronometric register 911571. Visual contact was lost shortly after impact with rockcrete surface with no apparent disruption to physical matrix. Chronometric register 911586. Visual contact was re-established 2.31 seconds after this register stamp, with ident-signum re-established immediately after. The velocity and vector of ascent from exit point defies conventional explanation.” The Scavurel walked a circuit around Dusk while he spoke, his optics fixed on the bat pony. “How is this possible?”

“I don’t really know what that means,” Dusk mumbled. The dream was already starting to come back, distracting him from the enforcer’s words.

“Alternate descriptor: you appeared to fly into the ground,” the enforcer said, still slowly circling the thestral. “Then you appeared to fly back OUT of the ground. Electro-aura scans confirm this was not an illusory projection. Explain.”

Dusk held back a groan. “It’s an ancient bat pony technique. Very secret stuff. Can’t share any more than that, sorry.”

The other Scavurel stopped in front of Dusk Blade opposite its partner, and a bleating pulse of static erupted from its mask. The other enforcer replied, his response equally unintelligible to anyone without a cogitator drilled into their brains. Dusk had no idea if the soldiers were mad, confused, or just bored. Mechanicus cyborgs often lacked expressive facial structures and body language in addition to preferring a mode of speech that sounded more like a vox malfunction than a language. It was one of the reasons dealing with them was so unpleasant, in addition to the tech-cultists having all the social graces of a pit viper.

Eventually the Scavurel turned away sharply and walked toward the dead slave to flag the body for removal. Neither of them addressed or dismissed Dusk now that they decided he was no longer relevant. The bat pony glared at their backs and then gained altitude, flying away from the streets to rejoin Gloom Fang on the turret.

“Not bad. Not bad at all.” Gloom licked some of the blood that had splashed on his vambrace, a grin plastered on his face. “Minotaur blood is real savory and lean. Heavy on the iron. I think the slaves actually taste better than the soldiers.”

“Gross,” Dusk remarked, taking his perch opposite the vampiric stallion. “Anyway if you want to drain the body you’d better wait until the Scavs leave.”

Gloom looked up at the other stallion cautiously. Without his mask on, one could see that Gloom Fang’s eyes had two dark slashes running under them that bent along the curve of his cheeks. At a glance they would have been mistaken for war paint, but on closer inspection it almost seemed like a pair of slits were cut into the skin.

“It was kind of risky doing that in the middle of the troops, don’t you think?” Gloom asked. “Those Scavs probably recorded the whole thing.”

“Maybe. They don’t care,” Dusk retorted. “I’m just one more weirdo with bizarre powers and a bad attitude as far as they’re concerned. What’s it matter?”

“You’re, uh, usually more concerned about it,” Gloom said carefully. “I think the lack of sleep is getting to you.”

“I agree. What am I supposed to do about it?”

“I think they have some serums for that. I hear they’re pretty popular with the mercs. Lot of shell shock and PTSD out here and not much in the way of treatment options other than ‘become a servitor.’ Plus all the Warp nightmares, although that’s mostly from people who sleep on their daemon ship.”

“Drugs, huh? Not the worst idea.” Dusk jumped into the air again and started flapping his wings. “I’m gonna do a route through sector 4. Catch you later.”

“A ‘route?’ You’re always loitering around sector 4 these nights,” Gloom complained.

“And I don’t plan on stopping! Later, bloodsucker!”

Ferrous Dominus – sector 4
Mechanicus forge temple Delta 3-8

Dusk Blade silently alighted on a coolant pipe, searching the room below. The temple was a cavernous hall littered with scrap metal and machines, most of which had been salvaged from various battle zones. The devices among the salvage were used to disassemble, machine, and reassemble the other materials. Lathes, welders, solders, carvers, and data-engravers were scattered about the walls and alcoves, some of them built into dedicated shrines or integrated with an assistant servitor.

There was a single occupant down below. A stallion dressed in the standard uniform used by the 38th Company’s Dark Mechanicus contingent: a black cloak of vulcanized rubber. A respirator mask was affixed over his muzzle so completely that it completely concealed his flesh a shell of armaplas, and a hose extended from the snout only to loop back and vanish under the folds of his robe. The rest of his face had likewise been replaced by Mechanicus artifice, with a dark screen built over the mask and extending up to his hairline. The screen had about a dozen aqua-colored lights visible on it, scattered across the surface from one end to the other. The lights shifted, changed shape, and even vanished or multiplied frequently; perhaps according to need, but Dusk suspected it had more to do with emotional expression. On the pony’s back was a long servo arm, while his tail had been replaced by a segmented metal tendril capped by a dataspike.

Gear Works of the Dark Mechanicus. The only pony Techpriest in all the galaxy.

Dusk Blade stepped off the pipe he was standing on, dropping down to another closer down. Then he glided lower, alighting upon a larger servo claw that was mounted in the wall.

Gear Works was surrounded by a series of holo-screens, most of them filled with streaming data screed that Dusk couldn’t hope to read. One of the screens appeared to have a bionics schemata on it, and the thestral crept closer to the very end of the servo claw to get a better look. It was a leg, as far as he could tell, but the diagram kept shifting perspectives rapidly and breaking the model into constituent parts.

Gears, for his part, was completely absorbed with his work. A metal part was clamped into a table vise while he carved away at it with a series of lasers built into the work bench. Several other parts were already scattered around the table surface, while others had been discarded into a nearby bin to be recycled.

Dusk Blade dropped onto the ground, his wings slowing his descent. He touched down with barely a tap against the steel flooring; a veritable alarm bell to his sensitive ears, but it was otherwise lost in the noise of Gear’s labors.

Smirking, Dusk lifted one wing and crept closer. Taking his time to line it up perfectly with Gear’s biological leg, he suddenly slapped it across Gear’s flank while screeching loudly.

“AAAAAAAAGH!!” Gear Works howled in terror, stumbling forward and smashing his head into the laser array. The holo-screens flickered chaotically for a moment, and then winked out of existence.

His tail whipped about like a snake, coiling high and pointing at Dusk Blade. In an eye blink it struck, stabbing for the bat pony’s chest. Dusk slapped it down with a hoof mid-strike, not even bothering to evade. The spike struck the floor and sliced a long scar into the metal plating, a wash of sparks blooming along behind it.

“Hi, buddy! Keeping busy?” Dusk asked happily, stepping on Gear’s tail to keep it from trying to kill him again.

“GAH! Lieutenant!” Gears tried to whirl around to confront the other stallion, but missed a step when his tail went taut. The Dark Acolyte slipped and crashed onto his side, his head impacting the floor with the clang of metal striking metal.

Dusk’s smile quickly transformed into a wince. There was a long black mark that cut across Gear’s visor and mask from the laser tool, and one of his leg servos was making a strange grinding noise as he tried to stand back up.

“Wow, okay, sorry. Didn’t mean for you to be quite THAT surprised,” Dusk mumbled, stepping off of Gear’s tail and also backing out of convenient stabbing range.

“What are you doing here?!” Gear Works huffed, finally standing back up and facing the Lieutenant. His servo arm hovered overhead threateningly, the pincer yawning open as if to grab at Dusk, but as a rule it was a much slower and less dangerous tool than his tail.

Dusk grinned again. “Just checking up on my favorite Techpriest! Whatcha working on?”

Gears bleated something aggravated in Binaric, and then turned back to the workbench to switch off the laser cutter and check on the device on the table.

Dusk heard the grinding noise again, and his ear twitched. “Yo, is your shoulder still acting up? I can hear something rough in there.”

“Yes, well, the spill on the ground didn’t help,” Gears grumbled, his servo arm pushing the lens array for the laser aside. “There’s a bad bearing in there but I haven’t broken the shoulder assembly open yet to fix it. I’ve been very busy.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Dusk mumbled. Lying on the workbench was a metal frame of some sort. Probably a bionic leg, given the schemata he had glanced earlier. “Is this normal DarkMech stuff? I thought they had you cooking up more Striders.”

“This is not part of my Mechanicus duties, no,” Gear Works admitted. “This is a bit of a side project. After constructing more-or-less workable bionics for miss Shrike I decided to expand my knowledge of the field.”

“’More-or-less’ nothing,” Dusk scoffed. “Those wings were great! I know you hoped to do even better, but take the win.”

“I cannot consider a wing prosthesis that cannot sustain flight to be a success,” the cyborg pony grumbled. “Anyway, soon after I began studying more components, that layabout Capper started selling them on my behalf. Also without my permission. So now I have ‘clients,’ apparently. And deadlines.”

“Couldn’t you just… say ‘no?’ Like, just explain that they were ripped off by an unscrupulous cat and that you don’t owe them anything,” Dusk suggested.

“YOU try telling a mare with two legs left that she spent three month’s wages on nothing and will be discharged in a week,” Gears retorted.

“… Okay, sure. I’ll do that. Is she nearby? I can do it now.”

“No. Never mind. My fault.” Gear Works sighed and shook his head. “Anyway, if I can manage to build workable bionics, I would like to help these clients. Using the technology I’ve studied for the benefit of ponykind is the entire point of my membership in the Dark Mechanicus. So here I am.”

“It’s really cool you’re willing to help them out, Gears! I just think the stray cat-person you picked up in the desert shouldn’t be able to profit off of your good will,” Dusk explained. “Somepony should probably track him down and break a few ribs so that he understands what the problem is.”

“Lieutenant, while I appreciate your enthusiasm for harming people who annoy me – aside from yourself of course – I must decline this offer,” Gears replied wryly, turning over the frame and inserting a shaped plate.

“Okay, fine, but if I see that smirking weasel on my own don’t be surprised if he has a little ‘accident,’” the thestral snorted. Then he slapped a hoof onto Gear’s bionic shoulder. “Also, let’s fix this thing right now, while you have some help. That grinding noise is getting on my nerves.”

“How would you know how to fix a bionic leg?” Gear Works asked, his servo arm reaching for the laser welder.

“I don’t. You’ll need to talk me through it,” Dusk replied. He lifted up his left wing, which was partially wrapped around the handle of a screwdriver.

“Or you could leave,” the tech-cultist grumbled, guiding the laser array in a brief, highly precise pattern to weld the pieces together.

“We both know that’s not happening,” the Lunar Lieutenant chuckled. “So how do I open the shoulder casing? Can I just wedge this thing in the well and sort of pry it out?”

“Ugh… there’s an access bolt on top of the shoulder. Here,” Gear’s servo arm reached over and tapped the correct spot. “That holds the exo plate, with another four bolts holding the servo well in place. I’ll disengage the mag link.”

“Got it. You just lock that thing down and pretend I’m not even here.” Dusk fixed the screwdriver in place and then used his wing to twist it, pressing his hoof against the joint.

The two ponies worked in silence for some time after that, the only noise coming from the crackle of the laser welder and the creaking of Gear’s leg while it was gradually disassembled.

Dusk removed the outer servo frame and then started poking around inside the servo housing. Gear Works glanced over at him with a single sensor light in the corner of his optics visor, and then summoned a new holo-screen over the workbench.

“Here. The bearing is within the shoulder joint. You’ll need to remove the limb to get to them,” Gears explained. “Go ahead, I disengaged the mag-seal and I’m braced for it.”

The screen showed a part-by-part dissection of the bionic, with the assemblies slowly moving away from the rest of the mechanism and back again to show how they fit together. Dusk squinted at the holo-screen, and then shifted to get a better angle to pry the servo apart.

“Huh. You know, this is… kind of nice,” the bat pony mumbled while bracing a hoof against Gear’s side.

“Well it’s not a class IV ligament but it gets the job done,” the Dark Acolyte replied.

“No, no. It’s just… uh… my thoughts… are… it’s…” Dusk trailed off, uncertain how to explain it or of he should even try. “Never mind. Got it!”

Using his wings, Dusk wrenched the bionic leg free. Gear Works barely budged as the limb was removed, and only briefly paused in his work. Dusk Blade dropped the leg on the floor and then flipped it over, inspecting the shoulder assembly.

“Ah ha! Found it!” Dusk plucked the malformed sphere of metal from the assembly, squinting. “Yeesh, something ground this up good. You training for a marathon or something?”

“No,” Gears replied, “just the everyday wear of working around violent sociopaths.”

“The other Acolytes really doing a number on you, huh?” Dusk frowned, his lip curling subconsciously to expose his fang.

“No. I was not referring to anyone in the Mechanicus.”

Dusk Blade coughed and turned away, walking up to a canister with ball bearings of numerous sizes. He started picking through them, picking up one sphere after another with his wing and squinting at them.

“What were you thinking about earlier that had you flustered?” Gears suddenly asked.

Dusk hesitated for a few seconds. “Well… I’ve had a lot on my mind recently, that’s all.”

“I imagine you do. The fleet is due back within the week. Princess Sparkle will be with them, assuming nothing happened to her on deployment.”

Dusk plucked a particular bearing out of the container and then almost dropped it. “What? She is?!” He tried to recall the date. “SHE IS!!” he suddenly announced, looking stunned.

“…… Then it would seem something else is bothering you,” Gears mumbled.

“No, no! I mean, yes! But that’s not important now!” Dusk returned with the bearing, quickly spit on it for lubrication, and then jammed it into place. “I completely forgot! I’ve gotta find some kind of gift!”

“Why? Didn’t she tell you off quite decisively last time?”

“Yeah, but so what? If I quit now then I never deserved her to begin with!” Dusk Blade reasoned. “Besides, I’m still allowed to show my appreciation even if we’re not dating, aren’t I?”

He propped up the leg and then pushed it back into place. Gears wobbled a bit as he fought to stay upright, but once the servo assembly clicked into place Dusk relented. The mag-seal engaged, and a hum came from the servo micro-motor.

“Hmm… not terrible,” Gear Works admitted, using his servo arm to close the assembly case. “Install the securing bolts, please.”

“Sure, sure.” Dusk retrieved the screwdriver and got back to work, now even more animated. “Say, who owns that big room in the back of the temple? The one with the really hefty blast doors?”

“That used to belong to Warpsmith Kessler,” Gear replied. “Why do you ask?”

“Used to? Did he move out?”

“Warpsmith Kessler was killed fighting a dragon during the last assault on Ferrous Dominus,” Gears explained with a sigh. “The Mechanicus has already picked through his creations and belongings, but my understanding is that a suitable replacement has not yet been named. When there is a Warpsmith promoted to his office, that will be his personal forge.”

“Oh, so nobody’s even using it, huh? Wow that is SUPER interesting.” Dusk Blade couldn’t keep a smile off his face as he finished tightening the bolts, and then he slapped his hoof onto Gear’s shoulder. “All right! Fixed it!”

Gear Works stopped and stood up, wheeling about and taking a few experimental steps. There was still some friction in the shoulder joint, but it was minimal and quiet. The Dark Acolyte nodded.

“Well… thank you,” Gears said after a moment of hesitation. “That’s much better.”

“Anything for you, buddy!” the bat pony said brightly.

“Then I would like to ask an additional favor: do not break into and/or loot Lord Kessler’s forge,” Gears said bluntly.

Dusk recoiled, blinking rapidly. “What? Me? Would I do something like that?”

Gear Works did not have to speak in response to that, simply staring at Dusk with his optics lights narrowed slightly.

“… Okay, point taken. But there’s no way I could break into a place like that! Security is WAY too tight! Even if it is abandoned!” Dusk assured him.

“I would prefer a straightforward assurance that you will not steal from the temple rather than an explanation of why you wouldn’t try it,” Gears insisted.

“All right, all right, have it your way,” Dusk patted the cyborg on the head with his wing. “I promise I won’t steal anything from Kessler’s forge.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Gears said. He was still suspicious, of course, but felt better now that he had a promise he could directly refer to if Dusk broke his word.

“No problem, man! I’ve gotta go, but it was nice checking in on you.” Dusk Blade turned and trotted toward the exit, waving a wing and grinning the whole time.

The doors to the salvage forge slammed shut behind him, and Dusk Blade took a moment to stare at the huge, empty hallways of the Mechanicus temple. The halls were mostly wide and bare, allowing for transport lifts to easily navigate the space. Massive reliefs were carved into the walls, forming looming cyborg skulls or circuits that formed eight-pointed stars. At the end of the hall was a statue of a daemon standing on a dais, carved from glassy obsidian. Its arms were wrapped in chains that fed into the walls, and around its neck was a big cog that resembled a slave collar.

Dusk Blade lifted off into the air, took off the Chaos Star amulet that hung around his neck, and tossed it over one of the demon’s horns. Then he zipped down the hall the other way, making sure to stay as high as possible and fly as quietly as he could. At the end of the hall was an especially large vault door, flanked by two suits of Iron Warrior power armor holding a broadsword point-down. Dusk was reasonably sure they weren’t actual Space Marine guards, but beyond that it wasn’t possible for him to tell if they were actual suits of power armor, decorative facades, or something more insidious. He decided to keep his distance.

He landed on one of the pipes that ran along the ceiling, carefully creeping across it toward Kessler’s forge. The piping ran straight into the wall over the vault door, and he crept all the way to the end and pressed a hoof against the wall.

Dusk’s face broke into a smirk, and his body suddenly changed. A shroud of inky darkness seemed to seep out of his coat, totally wrapping around him. His eyes became glowing orbs of amber, and then shifted into bright streaks as he surged forward into brushed steel surface.

Dusk emerged on the other side of the wall and then dropped down onto a storage locker, touching the surface with barely a sound. The dark shroud around him vanished, and his eyes gleamed as he looked down on the Warpsmith’s forge. There were many empty containers, open lockers, and cells that had been forced open with melta cutters; no doubt the work of Techpriests who had gotten to Kessler’s belongings soon after his death.

The missing artifacts didn’t matter to Dusk. He didn’t want to take anything TOO valuable and important that might get Twilight in trouble if she were caught with it. Numerous mechanical wonders still littered the room, apparently beneath the notice of the first wave of looters: servo skulls, optical bands, mag-cores, arc capacitors, and a collection of data wafers with very unambiguous warning labels on them. The walls held numerous weapons, from various bolt pistols to much larger machines that looked too heavy and power-hungry for even a Space Marine to carry into combat. There were even a few dataslates on a central desk that had been largely stripped bare and even had the memory coils torn from its integrated cogitator.

Dusk Blade reached up for the optics visor that usually rested on his forehead, and slipped it down over his eyes. A few clicks of a button enabled the electromagnetic filtering, and much of his vision turned to a nonsensical mesh of blue panels. Very few of the devices were actively channeling enough current to show up on the scan, and he looked over the walls.

You don’t deserve victory.
You don’t deserve supremacy.

“Aw, c’mon, not now,” Dusk huffed as the strange whispers reached his ears. “Concentrate!”

You don’t deserve hope.

A careful scan of the walls revealed a single vid-capture unit feeding data through a relief of the Dark Mechanicus emblem carved high on the wall, above the weapon racks. There were two others like it in the forge, but the observer sensors currently had no power; Dusk assumed that the other Techpriests had disabled them before looting this place for the most valuable artifacts. This one they had neglected for some reason, or they had turned it back on after leaving.

“All right. Smash and grab, just like old times,” Dusk said under his breath, crouching and flipping open the saddlebag under his right wing. “Three, two, one.”

Leaping from his perch, he sped toward the carving, hugging the wall as best he could to stay out of its area of observance. As soon as he could reach it he punched a hoofblade into the ruby red lens, and a blast of sparks burst from the device. Dusk leapt off the wall, gliding down to the table in the middle of the forge.

“Showtime,” he whispered, landing on the table surface.

The inactive servo skull went first, plucked from the meat hook it was hanging on and stuffed into the bag upside-down. The cables that trailed under it hung out the side, dragging behind Dusk as he moved to a series of thick vials with labels written in some tech-cult script he couldn’t even identify. He snatched them up with his wing, one by one, and slipped them into his pack.

Next came the data wafers, and he opened the saddlebag on the other side in preparation to stuff that one full as well.

The sound of heavy metal footfalls slamming against the flooring came from the hall outside.

“What? Already?!” Dusk hissed, scooping all the wafers into his bag. “What’s with this response time? Nobody even works here anymore!”

The footfalls were getting louder quickly, and the power cores were on the other side of the room. Dusk quickly grabbed the only loose items still in immediate reach – the dataslates on the desk – and then dove underneath a table as the forge blast doors unlocked.

A bright green ray of light poured through the crack between the blast doors as soon as the mag-lock disengaged, and a moment later the barrel of a heavy lasblaster stuck through the opening, already whining with its ignition charge. It did not open fire, luckily, and the detector ray started sweeping back and forth across the forge interior as the doors opened fully.

A heavily armored Dark Techpriest Secutor, as big as a Space Marine and holding a weapon in each of its four arms, stepped into the room. Crackling intonations came from its mask while multiple green rays of energy swept the room, searching for targets. One ray scanned up and stopped over the broken vid sentry.

+Analyzing damage pattern… complete. Expanding search.+ A string of harsh, deep Binaric came from the iron mask of the Secutor, and the detector rays started sweeping down across the desks and lockers in the forge.

One such ray swept over the table Dusk was hiding under. The Secutor’s optics suddenly turned from green to red, and it surged forward.

+ANOMALY DETECTED. HUNTER-KILLER PROTOCOLS ENGAGED,+ it bleated, throwing the table aside the moment it was in reach.

Spare parts were scattered all over the floor, and the table landed against an empty munitions locker. There was nothing underneath. The Secutor twitched left and right, detector rays sweeping the empty floor.

After several seconds of this, the Dark Techpriest stood up fully and continued its search. Detector rays and infra-readers covered every bare inch of the forge, seeking any signs of movement, heat, electro-aura disruption, or breach in the building superstructure that could have been used as a method of entry and exit. After that the Techpriest connected to the local noosphere register, recalling the coordinate logs of all ident-codes within the last several minutes and searching for any that could be triangulated to this room.

Nothing. There were many ident-codes active in the temple, including one from an obnoxious visitor from the Lunar Guard. However, the stallion’s ident-marker had been detected in the hall the entire time during the alert, and was still there even now. The only signum identifier that had ventured into the forge was the Secutor’s.

+Target not found. Search inconclusive. Escalating investigation.+

Ferrous Dominus – sector 20
Nightwatch, Lieutenant Dusk Blade’s quarters

Dusk staggered through the doors, quickly slamming a hoof into the switch on the inside to close them. He looked exhausted, although there was little sign of physical strain. His mane was askew, his eyelids drooped, and his expression was miserable.

“Dang it, I got so comfortable talking to Gears that I completely forgot to ask about the sleeping drugs,” Dusk grumbled to himself.

The dream was already clawing at the back of his mind, trying to draw his focus away from the waking world. He dreaded the prospect of falling asleep, but his body demanded it. The intrusive vision had completely sapped his energy, and it wasn’t even midnight yet.

With a grimace, Dusk trotted over to a coffee table and then flipped up the top with his wing. It opened up to reveal a padded cavity inside; there was already a small pouch and a vox-recorder inside, but they were soon buried as Dusk unloaded his saddlebags into the hidden storage space.

He picked up one of the vials he had taken, wrapping it in the tip of his wing. He squinted at the indecipherable string of markings on the label, and then shifted it around. There was another sticker with a skull surrounded by lightning bolts.

“Ominous. Still confusing, but ominous,” he mumbled to himself before dropping the vial into the storage space. Then he crammed the servo skull in on top of it, stopping briefly to ensure it was deactivated fully and not in some kind of standby mode that could track and transmit information.

After the servo skull, he withdrew the data wafers. These weren’t labeled at all, and he worried about how he was going to find a way to identify them for gifting, sale, or personal use without letting Gears knew he had them. A plan for another time.

With only the dataslates left, Dusk flipped his secret stash closed and dumped his final acquisitions onto the top of the coffee table. There were four slates, none of them possessing any external markings or labels. They also didn’t have gene-encoders or any other sort of obvious security device, suggesting their contents weren’t locked, or at least not locked very securely.

Dusk lifted up one slate and flicked the button on the side with his wing.

“Hmmm… looks like a technical report from the orbital. Useless.” He dropped it and activated the next one. “A letter from somepony named ‘Hope Springs.’ ……… Dang... I don’t think I’d have the gall to talk to an Iron Warrior with that kind of tone. Wasn’t she supposed to be a diplomat?”

The next one was some kind of technical readout that was completely unreadable to him. The characters were all familiar, but seemed to be jumbled up at random. Encrypted. There was almost no chance of getting it deciphered then, as anyone with the key would also know he wasn’t supposed to have it.

Images of a monstrous bat pony started to crystallize as his concentration faltered. Eyes of deep crimson and fangs like carving knives loomed large in his thoughts, and his vision started to blur. Voices started rushing to the fore, spouting dialogue he had heard dozens of times already.

With a disgusted grunt, Dusk Blade put down the dataslate and turned away, leaving the fourth device without turning it on. He walked up to the cogitator on the side of his room and flicked the power switch with his wing. Once the vid-screen turned on, he swiped a hoof up to the corner of the control screen.

The vid-screen flickered, and Dusk sat on his haunches as the image rapidly crystallized.

“Such was the slaughter that came of the Southern interdiction that NO prisoners were captured to grant further intelligence as to their activities! LORD KHORNE IS PLEASED!! MANY MORE SKULLS WILL GARNISH OUR LORD’S THRONE THIS DAY!!”

The familiar face – or rather the burlap mask covering his face – of Kilroy the CNN anchor filled the screen while the man shook his fist in the air angrily. His co-host, Scoops the pegasus, waited patiently for his shouting to peter out and then held up a wing.

“Although the string of victories have ensured Company dominance of the Badland regions, military analysts remain stumped by this force of resistance fighters known as the Keepers,” Scoops explained, her tone grim. “It’s not so strange that a reasonably advanced species lived on our world in such isolation that Equestria had never encountered them as a civilization. The badlands have always been known as a dangerous frontier, and the lands beyond have never been subjected to any serious exploration. But even so, these creatures are puzzling!”

“They are small and WEAK!” Kilroy snarled, pounding a meaty fist on the table. “Look at them! Pitiful!”

The screen behind the CNN hosts switched graphics to show a short, four-armed creature with dark, bristle-like hair and thin eyes. It wore a set of goggles and a bandanna over its face, along with extensive protective clothing; not quite armor, but adequate enough to easily protect it from the elements.

“As of yet, it is not publicly known what these Keepers want or why they’re attacking the 38th Company. Their aggression toward human soldiers, Mechanicus automata, and even the Iron Warriors themselves is remarkable, as they are one of the few species on our world who have not been contacted or obviously affected by the incursion and occupation by alien life so far! Kilroy, do you have any insights?”

“DEATH TO THE XENO SCUM!!!” he screamed, standing up and kicking his chair away. It crashed off-screen, and the vid display flickered.

“… Anything more specific?” Scoops asked.

“We have captured a handful of these creatures and subjected them to interrogation,” Kilroy said, standing up straight and absently adjusting his tie. “Our use of psychic examination of prisoners is faster and more reliable than simple torture, but it is not flawless. It is possible the captured Keepers have some sort of unique defenses or do not know the information we want from them. It is also possible, of course, that our leaders have extracted the necessary intelligence but not made it public. Perhaps they are awaiting the return of the Astartes regiments before launching a higher-intensity offensive.”

Dusk Blade felt his ears and eyelids droop as the cultist continued, and he laid down on the floor fully to get more comfortable. He dozed off almost as soon as his belly touched the floor.

???

“One thousand years?! Outrageous! Do you really think our order will survive that long unaided?”

“With Starsong Ebony at the head I might have thought it possible. But the wretched mule even took that from us.”

“The Bloodborne’s betrayal must be punished. If an attack on the order of the Moon Mages isn’t answered-“

“Answered?! Answered with WHAT?! You want to try shooting your little glittery darkbolt arrows at the legion of bloodthirsty warrior mares led by the Element of Carnage?!”

“Well… no, but… maybe a curse would-“

“The Bloodborne know of all of our alcoves and shrines. In our eagerness to curry favor with the strongest thestral tribe, we bared our throat to them and now we’ve paid the price. We must relocate and rebuild now. We cannot afford to show weakness OR provoke retaliation.”

“The other tribes surely see this debacle as a weakness already. Right now the bat ponies are nursing their shock from the betrayal, but they may eventually decide the Bloodborne have a point if we cannot provide a path to their salvation.”

“It’s BECAUSE of the Bloodborne that we can’t help!”

“Correct. How long that will matter to ponies scrambling to survive under the constant threat of extermination is anypony’s guess.”

“ENOUGH.”

A glow from a horn lit the room, finally illuminating the setting. Five unicorn mares were sitting on cushions and blankets around a large wooden table. They varied in age from teenagers to middle-aged ponies, and all of them were dressed in elaborate sorcerer’s robes with numerous lunar-themed ornaments. Incense candles burned away on the table, filling the dark room with a heady aroma, but they did little to ease the tension. The Moon Mages were scared, exhausted, and uncertain.

“We must act, but the timetable is now set. A thousand years is the Nightmare’s sentence, so for a thousand years we shall keep our existence hidden from the hated sun. Equestria knows that Princess Luna possessed sympathizers, but they still think the only substantial opposition is the thestrals. It is necessary this deception continue. Secrecy or annihilation. Now… what of the remaining Elements?”

“The tribes still have them. They are apparently treating them like treasured artifacts, but Eisenwing has reached out to ask if the fruits… spoil. I’m not sure what to tell them, although I’m leaning toward ‘no.’”

“I don’t understand. Why haven’t they eaten the fruits and commanded their power?”

“Caution. They are not so bold as Queen Norn as to toy with powerful magics, and they know less of what we were doing with the Tree of Turmoil. They have many questions about the side effects of consuming such a thing, and whether there is still hope to use them for a greater purpose.”

“A greater purpose?”

“Yes. The tribes have little desire to go to war with the Bloodborne, and less still to challenge the supremacy of Equestria without them. They hold out hope that something else can be done. With some effort, we may yet give them that. I have a plan.”

“And why should we give them hope? Do you think they deserve it?!”

“What?! What are you saying?”

“I’m saying those insipid rodents just stood there gawking as Queen Norn killed the Matron! They flailed uselessly at a cohort half their number while she consumed the Element of Carnage! The blasted thestrals have delivered to us DISASTER AND BETRAYAL, and I for one-“

A buzzer cut through the voices, and the scene suddenly blurred into a white void.

“Hwuh? Wha…” Dusk jolted upright in alarm, shifting to combat readiness with his wings spread and his ears perked.

“I’m sorry Sir, but we don’t really have any, uh, weapons or mechanical industry in Silver Meadows. We mostly cater to tourists and flower merchants.” An earth pony mare was rubbing her hooves together anxiously, sweating. Kilroy was seated on a stool with an interview card in his hand, looming over her.

“PATHETIC. Why do your people not answer the call to war?! Do you wish the Orks to claim supremacy over your labors?!”

“W-Well, no, we don’t, but I just don’t see how our primary export of buttercups can help…”

The door buzzer went off again, snapping Dusk out of his distraction. He turned away from the cogitator and trotted over to the door console. With a tap and a swipe, it displayed the ident-codes of the individuals on the other side. A worthwhile habit for someone who had recently burgled the Dark Mechanicus, even if he hardly expected an angry Techpriest to use the doorbell (unless it was Gear Works of course, the sap). Dusk opened the door.

“Hey Lieutenant! Hiding anything interesting while we were waiting for the door?” greeted Nacht.

In the hall were two bat pony mares, one slightly taller and one shorter than average. The shorter one, Nacht, had a coat and hair of black, her body only slight lighter than her pitch-dark mane. Aside from her eyes, which were a rosy pink color, Nacht also had a few magic tattoos singed into her coat in the color of ash and the tips of her mane were dyed a variety of wild pastel colors to add some color to her body. They lent her some eye-catching variety, although as a tactical officer Dusk would have preferred the plain black for the camouflage.

The other pony was a drab purple in color, with a mane that was split between light and dark pink. Her eyes were bright red, although a closer look would reveal them to be bionic replacements. Her iris had layered striations like a camera shutter, and the pupils would occasionally pulse with light when something caught her attention.

“Can this wait? Like, until next evening? Or maybe never? Never’s good, too,” Dusk grumbled.

“Are you really going to just turn away two lovely mares who showed up at your front door?” Nacht asked, smirking.

“This probably can wait, though,” mumbled the other pony.

“No it can’t, be quiet Neuro,” Nacht quickly retorted, slapping her wing over the other mare’s mouth.

Neuron Dialect didn’t object, waiting silently until Nacht removed her wing. Where the smaller thestral was cheerful and mischievous, Neuron was subdued and deeply introverted. Some ponies – usually of other pony breeds – often mistook her quiet behavior for anxiety or apathy. Dusk knew better; Neuron had nerves of steel and could be quite intense when motivated, and he had a feeling that she was behind this encounter and not Nacht.

“Gloomy said you’ve been having weird dreams again,” Nacht said while stepping past Dusk into the room, uninvited. “Wanna talk about it?”

“No,” Dusk said immediately.

“Okay. We’ve been having some funny dreams too, so we can talk about those instead.” Nacht sat down next to the coffee table and tapped the floor next to her.

Dusk growled, but he didn’t protest. “Fine. Neuro, get in here,” he commanded, gesturing with a wing. Neuron promptly slunk past him, her ears pinned. It was the only indication of her concern, but he took such subtle indicators seriously. Whatever this was about, she was worried.

“Oh! Is that Kilroy? I thought he died!” Nacht said brightly, watching the vid-screen on the wall while the other Lunar Guards took their seats around the table. The cultist anchor had finished with his interview and was now jabbing at a large vid-screen full of patrol deployments.

“Nah, he had medical leave for two weeks but he survived,” Dusk replied. “Well, that’s what the station says, anyway. I guess it could always be a clone, but do you really think anyone would bother to replace him?”

“A clone? Wait, the Company can CLONE people?” Nacht asked, alarmed.

“No, actually that’s a pony magic thing. But enough about CNN.” Dusk leaned forward, one foreleg on the table. “What’s this about? You don’t usually stop by for social visits.”

“We would if you didn’t always act so eager to get rid of us as soon as we’re off-duty,” Nacht retorted, pouting.

“No, I really prefer it this way. Now what do you want? Let’s move it along.”

“We’ve been having dreams,” Neuron said, her tone subdued. “Strange dreams. Like before. Playing clear as a holo-vid and perfectly memorized upon awaking. Often they feature places we’ve never seen and ponies we’ve never met, but the imagery leaves no doubt that they’re real.”

Dusk grimaced. “Yeah, that sounds familiar.”

“I’ve been having them every night. A lot of variety to them, which is nice, I guess.” Nacht huffed. “I’ve kind of gotten used to them, honestly. But a few nights ago Neuro had one.”

Neuron Dialect nodded slightly. “Lieutenant… I dreamt about Banshee.”

“Well that’s somepony you’ve definitely met, so it’s not really as spooky, is it?” Dusk said, his voice tense.

“I talked to her,” Neuron continued. “She said-“

“I don’t want to hear it,” Dusk interrupted.

Neuron’s ear twitched. “… No?” Her expression didn’t shift much, although Nacht seemed taken aback by the comment.

“No. I don’t want to hear the conversations you had with a dead pony that may or may not be related to the stupid magic dreams I’m having,” Dusk growled. “I’ll be straight with you girls: I’m over the whole dark prophecy thing. I’m not doing it again! But whatever’s beaming weird, excessively detailed imagery into my brain while I sleep needs to cut it out, so if anypony has any bright ideas on how to find it and stop it that would be super. Did the pony ghost have any insights on that?”

Neuron looked down at the table, avoiding eye contact.

“I didn’t think so,” Dusk huffed. “Was there anything useful in any of these dreams, or are we done here?”

“Yeesh, you sure woke up on the wrong side of the stalactite this evening,” Nacht mumbled, her ears pinning back.

“I haven’t been getting the best sleep lately, as a matter of fact,” he griped, “but honestly the dreams are more annoying while I’m awake.”

The mares blinked.

“I’m constantly having images and dialogue from my dream running through my head during my waking hours,” Dusk confessed. “It’s driving me crazy! I can’t concentrate! I feel like I might go insane if this keeps up!”

“Perhaps it’s the influence of Chaos. It wasn’t quite like this when you had them before, in Canterlot,” Neuron pointed out.

“Decent theory. Maybe an extended patrol circuit outside the city would help,” the stallion mused.

Nacht and Neuron made eye contact briefly, and then the latter arched an eyebrow. Nacht grimaced and steeled herself.

“Okay, so… one of my dreams, I think, was about the future,” Nacht began. Her earlier mood of impish cheer was gone now, and her voice was nervous. “It was about us. Us three, plus Gloomy.”

Dusk didn’t interrupt, but his expression was quite scathing on its own.

“In the dream, we… we returned to the Vault of the Ancients. We were searching the wasteland together.”

“Why would we go back to the vault?” Dusk asked, tapping his hoof on the table surface in agitation.

“I think it was to find the last Element,” Nacht asked. “In the dream we made it there, but…”

“But what?” Dusk pressed impatiently.

“We were attacked. Or, I was, at least. Everything went dark and the dream ended.” Nacht looked away, grimacing. “The dream is still very clear, but the… well, actual imagery wasn’t. I think there was an explosion of some kind, and there was smoke everywhere. The sound was overwhelming and everyone was panicking. Then I woke up.”

“So it was a bad dream with a bad ending. So what?” Dusk asked.

“So what?! Are you serious, Dusk?!” Nacht barked, suddenly standing up with her front hooves on the table. “You can’t seriously think this is all just a big, empty coincidence! These visions MEAN something!”

“Of course they do,” Dusk agreed. “And I ask again: SO WHAT?” He got up and stood his own legs on the table, which left him almost a head taller than Nacht. “What do you want me to do, Nacht? What is the upshot of all of this? Do you want to journey into the badlands to make your deadly ambush a reality? Is that it?”

The black thestral grimaced, looking down at the table. “No, I guess I don’t. But… I just feel like we should DO something! Like last time.”

“Why? You know what happened last time,” Dusk was visibly angry now, his teeth bared and his amber eyes glowering. “You want to go through that again? FOR WHAT?!”

“The prophecy may yet be fulfilled,” Neuron answered.

Dusk’s wings shot up, his rage building further. He started sputtering in anger, but she didn’t let him interrupt.

“I know you despise it Lieutenant, but fate is calling to us. You ignore it, and it presses on your mind all the harder.” Neuron shook her head.

“There’s no such thing as fate,” Dusk spat through clenched teeth.

“You know that’s not true,” Neuron retorted calmly. “We live among thousands of ponies running on the leash of destiny every day, even if they don’t think of it like that. We’ve listened to tales of gods weaving and rending time and reality to fit mysterious purposes. We’ve seen precognition.”

“Not the same!” he shouted, slamming a hoof on the table. One of the dataslates was unsettled by the impact, and it slid off the edge and onto the floor.

Neuron Dialect pursed her lips, trying to decide on her words. “… Maybe prophecy is a lie. Maybe it’s some other kind of foresight disguised as divine vision. I want to find out. But we need you.”

“Need me to do WHAT?!” Dusk demanded angrily. “Lead you on another expedition to disappointment and misery? If you two believe in this prophecy garbage shouldn’t you be viewing all this as a warning and not an invitation?! You’re talking to dead mares and dreaming up futures where our squad gets jumped; why would you want to pursue that?!”

Neuron wilted, but Nacht was distracted. She was looking at the dataslate that had fallen off the coffee table, and her forehead creased in growing concern. She looked up at Dusk Blade, lifting the slate in her wing.

“Hey Lieutenant, are you planning a mission? What’s this for?”

“That’s classified, Nacht,” Dusk said without his angry and stubborn mood slipping one iota. “You shouldn’t be reading mission briefings you find lying around your superior’s room.”

Nacht arched an eyebrow. “This isn’t a mission briefing. It’s a patrol report. From the 11th Mech Infantry, looks like.”

Dusk scrunched up his muzzle. “I… I didn’t actually read that one yet,” he admitted, reaching his wing across the table and snatching away the dataslate. “What’s so interesting about it?”

“It said they were doing a follow-up on a scouting unit that went missing. A Sentinel and a Chimera. They found them. Everyone was KIA,” Nacht said.

She sounded fascinated, which Dusk thought was strange. They had all faced their fair share of grisly deaths and horrifying casualty reports among the Company’s human soldiers, and this didn’t seem to be remarkable by comparison. Dusk held up the dataslate and started scrolling through it.

“What’s weirder is that the vehicles weren’t badly damaged or taken. There was no clear projectile damage on any of the corpses. Definitely not an Ork attack!” Nacht said, nodding her head grimly.

Neuron cocked her head to the side, which the smaller mare interpreted as deep interest. “They recovered the bodies and the vehicles, but the corpses were totally shredded. I didn’t see where they found it though,” Nacht continued.

“It was in the badlands,” Dusk interjected, scrolling down further through the file. “Looks deep enough in that it could have been Keepers, I guess.”

“Would Keepers shred the infantry and crew and just leave the equipment?” Nacht asked.

“No idea. Guess we’ll never know,” the stallion mumbled, scrolling faster through the content as his boredom grew and his dreams threatened to creep back to the forefront of his mind. “Anyway, if you don’t-WHAT THE HAY?!?!”

The dataslate slipped from his wing and fell flat onto the table. Nacht and Neuron glanced at Dusk in surprise, and then down at the dataslate. Nacht’s eyes bulged, while Neuron’s eyes pulsed red and started rotating, suggesting that she was switching vision modes. All three bat ponies leaned in over the table to get a better look at the screen, which featured a pict-capture attached as part of the patrol’s report. The resolution was terrible, and the pict itself was rendered in low-light mode, displaying everything in crude patches of green.

Despite the abysmal quality, the thestrals were able to at least clearly identify the form of the subject. It was a bat pony, rearing up in front of the transport, its wings spread as if it was landing from a dive. It was very big for a thestral, perhaps even bigger than Empyra, and its hoof was aimed to punch into the front of the vehicle’s hull (to what effect, Dusk could not guess). The creature’s head was mostly obscured by a halo of light erupting from one or both of its eyes, making it impossible to discern any details around the face. However, it was possible to make out a curved, pointed protrusion coming from its forehead that was itself wrapped in a coil of visible light.

A horn. The bat pony had a unicorn horn.

The three soldiers were silent for several breathless seconds. Then Nacht suddenly gasped and slapped a hoof down on the table.

“Changeling! It’s gotta be a changeling!” she announced.

Neuron arched an eyebrow. “Those are bat wings…”

“A changeling can have any kind of wings it wants! It’s a shape-shifter! And what better way to ambush a Company patrol than to turn into one of their trusted pony allies?” the smaller mare reasoned.

“There are no pony allies that have bat wings and a horn, that doesn’t make sense,” Dusk shot back, picking up the dataslate again. “This is all wrong. The changelings are on our side now!”

Neuron arched her other eyebrow.

“… Kind of. They will be, I mean. If we ever let them out of the labs.” Dusk coughed and went back to studying the dataslate . “ANYWAY. I don’t think it’s changelings. But whatever it is, how come this is the first I’m hearing about it? Did the Company really uncover pict-captures of an actual bat alicorn and not even ask anypony about it?”

Nacht furrowed her brow. “What do you mean? They sent you this report, right? Isn’t that why you’re hearing about it now?”

Dusk didn’t answer, still reading the dataslate. Nacht’s confusion faded.

“You stole that dataslate, didn’t you?” the black thestral asked bluntly.

“Could we FOCUS, please?” Dusk griped, scanning back up to the top of the file to find the date stamp. “So this is… uh… stupid space calendars… I think this is from back during the changeling attack on Ferrous Dominus! No wonder this hasn’t been seen until now!”

The mares didn’t quite understand the significance of this, and Dusk groaned as he set the dataslate down. “Something like two thirds of the Company command died in that attack when the Tau turned on us, and they even killed the Warpsmith high lord. This report must have been submitted around the same time, and it was ignored in the aftermath. Everyone who knew about it before now is either dead or wouldn’t care.”

“So… you think it’s the real deal, then? A bat alicorn? A thestral Princess?” Nacht asked, her eyes widening in wonder. “We’ve gotta meet her!”

Neuron’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

“To find out what her deal is! Duh!” Nacht was standing up on the table now, her wings fluttering in excitement. “Is she another Nightmare? Or is she like the other alicorns that have an associated profile? Like how Cadence is the Princess of love and Celestia is the Princess of the sun and Twilight Sparkle is the Princess of… uh… violence, I guess.”

“The Princess of WHAT?” Dusk jolted upright, his wings spread straight out. “You take that back! She is NOT the Princess of violence!”

“She doesn’t have a profile really, but if I were to pick one for her it would be violence.”

“She would be a Princess of knowledge! Or wisdom!” Dusk retorted firmly.

“Yeah, sure, the knowledge and wisdom of how to rip the souls out of a thousand Orks at once,” Nacht snickered, “anyway I really want to meet this bat Princess! I’ll bet her profile is really hardcore, like the Princess of revenge or murder or something!”

“Speaking of murder: it’s a slight wrinkle that whoever this pony is it’s a hostile,” Dusk explained. “Not that I’m real sentimental over the human casualties, but there aren’t many ponies out there these days who would rip apart a Company squad without understanding who they were dealing with.”

“So what are you going to do? Give this over to the new garrison command so they can hunt her down?” Nacht quirked an eyebrow at that and crossed her forelegs over her chest.

“That WOULD be the smart thing to do, but I’d rather not. All the same, I really feel like we need to figure out who the hay this is.” Dusk sighed, reaching a wing up onto his head to massage his temples. “I guess that only leaves one option. I’m going to have to ask the Moon Mages.”

Ferrous Dominus
Sector 20 – sub-level B-9

The Lunar Guard seemed like a very baroque and mysterious leg of the 38th Company war machine, but Dusk Blade figured that was mostly a reflection of its physical characteristics. The Lunar Guard was composed of nocturnal creatures with an obscure cultural history led by the Princess that had been corrupted and imprisoned for a thousand years. Lunar Guard soldiers tended to be cagey and defensive, and were very different from the other ponies that populated Equestria in their mannerisms and their diet (Dusk believed eating insects and blood was a serious driver of mistrust, minor as it seemed). In Canterlot they were known as a shadowy cabal of enforcers who seemed to serve Princess Luna exclusively. In Ferrous Dominus they stood out less but also possessed a massive black tower that loomed above the rest of the city.

There were secrets within the Lunar Guard, of course. Dusk himself carried many. But the mystery of the bat ponies were dramatically overstated. Their cultural hoofprint was hollow because they had not been part of a productive society for generations, which incidentally also made them hesitant to trust others and far less cheerful than the average Equestrian. Overwhelmingly the bat ponies that had come to follow the purified Princess of the Night did so because she was willing to vouch for them as a race and it was the easiest path to joining a modern society where they didn’t struggle to survive.

The Moon Mages were… different.

“Ident-code registered. Access granted. Welcome, Lieutenant Blade.”

The vox caster above the door growled its cheery recorded greeting in the distinct tone of an Iron Warrior snarling into a vox recorder, and Dusk grimaced while the doors slowly yawned open. By now most of the recordings for automated messages had been changed to the pleasant, syrupy voice of Spice Sunrise, an earth pony singer who inexplicably left Manehattan make her living in the fortress city. Some still used the old vox packets, however, either because they found it funny or genuinely preferred the angry, static-laced growls.

The Moon Mages were the latter.

The hall beyond the doors was as strange as any you’d see outside of the temple district. Bones and charms hung from strings and chains suspended from the ceiling. The walls were painted with messy glyphs in a luminescent yellow material, mostly featuring moons and stars. The paint was almost certainly radioactive, and Dusk took a moment to put on his respirator mask before he ventured inside.

After he stepped a few feet inside, the vox caster above crackled to life again. This time, however, the voice that emerged was very different.

“Why, Lieutenant! What a wonderful surprise! Here, let me make you more at home!”

The doors slammed shut behind Dusk, and the lumens switched off. The hall was cast in darkness, illuminated only by the strange paint on the walls.

“So, my precious little bat… are you here for business… or pleasure?”

Dusk felt his hair stand up along his neck at the question. The voice was sweet and cloying, and such a tone was not at all enhanced by the distortion of the vox system.

“Business,” Dusk responded firmly before trotting forward.

A sigh came from the vox caster above. “You NEVER choose pleasure,” the voice griped.

“You run a magic cult, not a red light district,” the stallion barked back, already extremely annoyed.

The dreams were already back, tugging at his attention. The last time he had fallen asleep had featured a new addition to the saga, albeit a short one without any meaningful imagery. The argument the dream had exposed to him seemed to echo that much louder here; as it should, he supposed. Why wouldn’t the debates of ancient Moon Mages be on his mind while he consulted their descendants?

Reaching the end of the hall, Dusk was presented with three sets of blast doors, each one carved with a relief of daemonic faces. None of them opened at his presence, and there weren’t any obvious mechanisms around with which to open them manually. This was not a place in which others were free to wander.

The door to the left beeped, and then unlocked. The barrier yawned open, and light seep into the hall from the opening. Dusk Blade stood there in front of the opening, staring into the next room.

And why should we give them hope? Do you think they deserve it?!

Dusk growled, baring his fangs.

“Did I do something wrong, Lieutenant? That’s a rather scary face you’re making.”

Dusk Blade quickly schooled his features. He had completely zoned out for a moment, and was standing in the doorway while glaring at nothing. Taking another few steps to get inside, the door closed behind him and he took stock of the room.

There was a round table in the middle that hosted an array of candles, cards, and scrolls. Around the table were three unicorn mares seated on colorful plush pillows decorated with beads and charms. Two of them were young; barely teenagers. The third was an older mare, although she was hardly elderly. She wore fine silks that wrapped around her body, and a silver circlet was perched on her head. A pair of wire-rim glasses of the same material sat on her snout, which clashed somewhat with the tarnished iron amulet bearing the Star of Chaos that hung around her neck. A polished copper pipe was clenched between her teeth, leaking a wisp of smoke up into the air; he didn’t recognize the smell, but it was different from the herb she had been smoking the last time he was here.

“Welcome Lieutenant! Welcome!” the older mare said, grinning happily. “Young ones, that will be all for today’s lessons. Me and Mister Blade have much to discuss!”

The younger unicorns quickly stood up and gathered their things, each of them sneaking coy glances at the stallion on their way out. Dusk Blade ignored them, walking up to the table and taking off his saddlebags. Soon they had vanished into an adjacent room, the doors sealing shut behind them.

“Good evening, Miss Shard. I was advised by my colleagues to consult you,” Dusk said evenly, sitting down on the cushion opposite the Moon Mage.

“Please Lieutenant, call me Penny,” requested Penumbra Shard.

“No,” Dusk said flatly.

“Are we already done with polite niceties? You just got here,” Penumbra pouted.

“I haven’t been having a great week, and I’m not expecting this visit to make it better,” Dusk grunted. “Let me cut right to the chase: have you ever heard of a bat pony alicorn?”

Penumbra cocked her head to the side, taking a few quick puffs from her pipe. “You mean a bat pony becoming an alicorn? As Princess Sparkle ascended from a unicorn?”

“Close, but not quite,” Dusk clarified. “I mean an alicorn with bat wings. Or a bat pony with a horn, I guess.”

“Ah, that is different. Or maybe that’s the form a thestral like yourself would take if you were granted that power,” Penumbra mused. “We don’t know, as our history – and therefore yours – doesn’t contain a bat alicorn. Baticorn? Hm. Might have to workshop that a little.”

Dusk frowned as she continued. “There are stories of that kind, of course; myths and fairy tales to lull children to sleep within the damp recesses of the caverns. Dreams of thestrals spontaneously obtaining the power to challenge Canterlot or rescue Nightmare Moon from her imprisonment. Stories of heroes arising from the depths, usually told by word of mouth for want of writing materials or scribes.” Penumbra shook her head. “All fiction. There has never been a thestral that ascended.”

“You’re sure?” Dusk pressed. “The Moon Mages spent a thousand years trying to cook up magic powerful enough to challenge Equestria while Nightmare Moon was imprisoned. It never occurred to you guys to try and turn us thestrals into super-ponies?”

“Well of course it did. We pursued that and a hundred other desperate and unlikely ideas. But no, we never uncovered the secrets of the alicorns, much less how to create them ourselves. Nothing but dead ends and wasted lives.”

“Practically the order’s motto,” Dusk interjected.

The Mage twitched in annoyance, but quickly continued. “We did have some successes, as you’re quite aware, but our research on alicorns wasn’t one of them. The closest we got to anything useful – and it wasn’t very close – was the blasted alicorn amulet.” A thick puff of smoke came from her pipe as she huffed irritably.

“Oh yeah, whatever happened to that thing?”

“Astra Lumines lost it in a card game two hundred years ago,” Penumbra sighed miserably. “For the most part I say good riddance, but it’s obviously another black mark on our order that half our weapons have been lost or stolen away over the millennium.”

“But no chance this is one of them, huh?” Dusk asked, withdrawing a dataslate from his bag and sliding it across the table.

Penumbra blinked, taking the pipe out of her mouth while she stared at the pict-capture. “……… Well. That’s new.”

“And you and your cult had nothing to do with it, huh?” Dusk asked flatly.

“No, we did not.” Penumbra levitated the dataslate closer, and then touched a hoof against it to scroll up to the attached text. “Hmm. Attacked a Company patrol? That’s not good.”

“Yeah that part’s gonna be a problem,” Dusk sighed. “It’s got human blood on its hooves. If we take this to the officers then they’re going to want it dead or in a Mechanicus vivasection pod.”

The Moon Mage blinked. One of her eyebrows arched higher. “Take it to the officers? This is a recon report. YOU’RE an officer. What are you talking about? Aren’t you investigating this creature to complete a termination order?”

Dusk coughed into his hoof. “Due to extraordinary circumstances, most of the 38th leadership isn’t aware of this report. Or… any of the leadership, probably. I’m still working out what to do about it.”

“Wait, then how did YOU get it? None of the people marked on this file are involved with the Lunar Guard.”

“I have my sources.”

“So you stole it.”

“Shut up Shard.”

Penumbra snorted and put her pipe back in her mouth. “Well, aside from not having the slightest clue where this Princess came from or who it is, I also have no idea why it would be attacking Company troops. Equine-kind is on very good terms with the humans, obviously. That’s why we’re here now.”

“Right, but there are still bat ponies out there that haven’t returned to Equestria,” Dusk pointed out. “Not many, but is it possible that a hidden enclave of Moon Mages have a new plot to take down Equestria?”

“No,” Penumbra said flatly. “It is not possible. Me and my sisters are the last of the cult, and we all live here now, training the next generation of battle magi and diviners for the forces of Chaos. It’s all we can do, really.” She snorted again, puffing her pipe. “The ancient dream of usurping the sun is dead, twice over. First they purified the Nightmare and took her away from us. And then, when the forces of darkness descended from the very stars on mighty chariots of steel, carrying the will of the Dark Gods with them, Equestria co-opted them as well.”

The Moon Mage took a deep drag on her pipe, and then released the smoke with a weary sigh. “If there were, hypothetically, some band of hidden Moon Mages that discovered something so monumental, I can’t imagine what they would hope to accomplish by making an enemy out of Chaos. I would expect they’d bypass the Company entirely and make war on Equestria.”

“Is that what you’d do in their place?” Dusk asked.

“If I were in their place I’d be hunting greenskins or maybe preying on the grays,” Penumbra replied, clicking her tongue. “The Moon Mages and what’s left of the thestral tribes have surrendered our old grudges and now work to combat a greater threat.”

“Sure we did, after your last ploy failed,” Dusk grumbled.

“Yes, yes, I know. Our bond with Chaos and the Company is a result of weakness, not conviction. We are just ponies after all, and it’s a big, scary galaxy out there.” She chuckled and slid the dataslate back across the table. “This baticorn doesn’t change that calculus. Ugh, that really is a terrible name.”

Dusk Blade stood up and took the dataslate with his wing, slipping it back into his saddlebag. “Well, thanks for absolutely nothing, Shard. Guess we’re done here.”

“Oh, I don’t think we’re done just yet,” Penumbra Shard replied, grinning. “Isn’t there something else you wanted to ask me? Something more… personal?”

“Are you hitting on me again?” the stallion asked defensively, his ears flipping down.

“No, not this time,” Penumbra said, her voice clearly regretful of the fact. “Private Gloom Fang visited me yesterday.”

Dusk frowned. “I take it he was also not here to make out with you.”

“Obviously,” Penumbra said wryly. “He spoke of his troubled dreams, as well as those of the rest of you.”

“What?!” Dusk recoiled slightly, and then scowled. “He said he didn’t have any dreams!”

“He lied,” the unicorn said flatly. “And I, in turn, lied that I would not tell you or the mares of his troubled visions.” She chuckled around the pipe in her teeth. “You’ve all been having the dreams. Vivid memories that are not your own.”

Dusk reluctantly sat back down, looking somewhat defeated. He didn‘t really want to have to discuss this, but at this point it would be foolish not to hear her out. “Okay, fine. Lay it on me. What’s going on with these dreams and how can we get them to stop?”

“There are two likely possibilities. One is that the threads of-“

“If you say ‘threads of fate’ and then start going on about your stupid fake prophecies I WILL flip this table over and flatten you with it,” Dusk interrupted, his eyes narrowed to slits.

Penumbra pursed her lips, and beads of sweat started appearing on her face. “Okay… well the OTHER possibility is that the Element itself is calling to you.”

Dusk’s ears pinned back, and he grimaced.

“The Warp storms that constantly surround our planet has leant great power to stray artifacts and magic constructs that lay hidden across the world. That power does not rest easily, and demands release. The Element is not really sentient, of course, so it seeds your sleeping hours with echoes of the past that it carries imprinted upon its creation.” Penumbra tapped her pipe on the edge of an ash tray to empty its smoldering remains and then set it there. “That’s my theory, anyway. Ferrous Dominus being what it is, the veil between realms is thin and frequently pierced by questionable magics, so it may reach you more easily here too. If you want a more sophisticated scrying, I can tell you more. For a price.” She grinned.

“And what would that price be?” Dusk asked, sounding doubtful.

“I want you, my precious bat,” Penumbra said, her tone turning sultry.

A telekinesis field took hold of the mask under Dusk’s chin and slowly pulled it forward across the table. Penumbra got up and stood her front legs on the table, her horn pulsing in tune with her heartbeat.

“Take a tour of my bedchambers, Lieutenant, and I will give you all the knowledge you require,” she cooed, lifting a hoof aside her head and throwing back her mane.

“No,” Dusk said flatly. He took his mask between his hooves and yanked it back, breaking the magic hold on it. Then he placed it over his snout and started to secure it in preparation to leave.

“Don’t be so shy,” Penumbra said, stepping up onto the table and walking toward the stallion. Her hips and tail swung with every step, and her tongue emerged and slid over her lips. Her horn lit up with a pale turquoise halo, and threads of similarly colored magical energy started snaking through the air toward Dusk.

Dusk took a deep breath, a sharp hiss coming from his respirator mask before he shifted his expression fully into a glare. “Shard, if you don’t knock it off I WILL write you up and you’re going to be taking the regiment’s sexual harassment training again.”

Penumbra Shard froze in place and her muzzle scrunched up. Then the glow of her horn faded away and the magical ribbons vanished.

“So it’s the Element, huh? Fine. I can work with that.” Dusk Blade stood up from his pillow and stretched out his wings.

“Okay, maybe I came on a little strong. My fault,” Penumbra said anxiously. “How about a kiss? One kiss! A hug, maybe? Second base, that’s all I ask!”

“Open the door, Shard.”

The unicorn slumped, and then climbed down off the table while her horn glowed again. Dusk didn’t see precisely what the magic did, but after a few seconds the door to the hall slid open again. Penumbra Shard looked away and crossed her forelegs with a sour expression.

“Why does an evil space army even HAVE a sexual harassment policy?” she griped.

“I asked the Colonel about that, actually! They said it’s good for catching Slaanesh cultists. He wouldn’t explain what that is, but the humans are REALLY nervous about the Iron Warriors finding any before they do.” Dusk stepped out into the darkened hall, leaving the Moon Mage behind. “Goodbye, Shard.”

Author's Note

They lock her up beneath the tower and they only send fillies for magic instruction it's torture a mare's got NEEDS :raritycry:

Art of Penumbra Shard is by Rozmed, and the one of Dusk Blade is by Calamity

Preparations

Nightwatch – The Elements of Destruction
By SFaccountant

Chapter 2
Preparations

Ferrous Dominus sector 20
Regiment hall

Rain beat down on the armorglass windows, punctuated by the occasional crack of thunder. Night had fallen yet again and the lumens of Ferrous Dominus glittered across the fortress city, distorted as they were from the storm. Occasional bellows from vox systems announced train schedules or warned against exposure to the rainfall; substantial acidic fluid and heavy toxins were routinely part of the weather, as any resident knew.

Within the halls of Nightwatch, bat ponies lined up in ranks in full combat gear. Most of the thestral soldiers wore a MkIII equine combat suit; a light armor mesh that was combined with a few key plates and covered by tough, leathery fabrics that could have been mistaken for normal outerwear. The suit protected from penetration and helped absorb intense heat but did little to deflect or block impacts. The benefit was that it weighed little and made little noise during rapid movement, allowing for maximum stealth and aerial mobility.

Other ponies, including Dusk Blade himself, wore the older MkII equine armor, a suit of ceramic plates mostly recycled from Tau equipment. The armor was much more effective, but also much heavier, and some ponies couldn’t fly easily while wearing it. Rows of black splinter rifles, the alien weapon adopted by the Lunar Guard, stood next to most of the soldiers in their ballistic braces, but there was a block in the middle that carried more elaborate weapons.

The echo cannons were strange, baroque constructions; tubes with weird carvings on the mouth to look like the jaws of daemons or the grille of a large vox caster. They were riddled with strange devices and had long cables that wound back into the user’s armor, connecting the gun to battery packs. The cannons were surprisingly lightweight but still quite cumbersome, and also required the heavier MkII armor to integrate the weapon and protect its battery.

Dusk spotted Nacht, who was almost completely obscured by the pair of big stallions on either side of her. The neon highlights of her mane and the shock orange face mask let her stand out among the rows of gray, blue, and purple heads, but frankly it was easier for his echolocation to just pick out the smallest pony in the heavy weapons group. Her cannon was strapped onto her back between her wings, and from the sight of her it was hard to imagine the mare could fly at all with all the wargear clamped onto her body.

Neuron Dialect was on the opposite side of the hall, standing stock still with her head down. She was wearing the lighter MkIII armor, with a ragged hood added on top of the suit. In one wing, butt placed on the floor and barrel aimed straight up, she held an ornate long gun that was very different from the twisted, blade-tipped rifles that most of the other ponies had.

Dusk detected something approaching from above. Many somethings. He twisted his head around to watch as several more bat ponies entered from hatches in the ceiling, flying onto the awning perches that hung over each side of the hall. These soldiers all wore the heavier MkII suits, and they all carried personal combat blades along with the rest of their armament. Most distinctively, however, these thestrals all had colorful, unique markers painted onto their flank plating, and every one of them was female.

Bloodborne.

“Ah, I see the Queen decides to grace us with her presence,” Midnight Blaze mumbled while standing next to Dusk. “She didn’t show up for the last inspection. I guess she got a talking to.”

Empyra, the self-styled Queen of the Bloodborne, swooped down to land in the middle of the row of armored mares. She was considerably larger than the ponies around her, especially in wingspan, and the other mares quickly shifted to make room, with a few simply jumping off into the air to clear out and find a different spot. She wore no armor herself, but possessed a night-black magical cloak and a necklace of Ork teeth. Dusk doubted she took them from Orks she had personally killed, but it was hardly outside the realm of possibility. While her humiliating loss to a single human mercenary was well-known, and she wasn’t organized into a combat unit herself, she was rumored to be a terrifying opponent with an array of strange powers.

Empyra started scanning the ranks below, and for a brief moment she and Dusk made eye contact. The Queen’s gaze lingered uncertainly but then broke away, studying the other thestrals. Dusk finally looked away several seconds after she did.

Across the room from him, staring straight forward among another row of Lunar Guard, was Gloom Fang. Like Dusk he had the more common Lunar Guard armament and wore the heavier MkII armor, complete with a pair of adamantium talons on his boots. Dusk made eye contact only briefly, and the purple stallion immediately winked back.

The doors to the hall yawned open.

“ATTEN-SHUN!!” Midnight barked, staring straight ahead. The ponies that weren’t already similarly posed quickly moved to copy her. The Bloodborne stopped milling about and stood up straight, shoulder-to-shoulder. Even Empyra adjusted her poise, although she continued to study the hall below her.

A hoof clad in charcoal black armor stepped onto the deck, and Princess Luna entered the hall. She wore her full suit of armor along with the helmet, but soon after entering the helmet disengaged. The plating broke apart into tiny hexagons of metal that each then slid down into the gorget to form a disordered morass of black and gold shards. It was an utterly bizarre – and as far as Dusk could tell, totally unique – mechanism, and it fascinated him each time he saw it.

Walking beside the Lunar Princess was General Harlin. An old man by Chaos standards, his face was weathered and scarred, with one eye replaced with a bionic peripheral that was extended over about a quarter of his head. The other side of his face was scrawled with odd tattoos, including the obligatory eight-pointed star.

“GOOD EVENING, LEGION OF THE NIGHT!!” Luna shouted while she advanced, immediately causing a wave of cringing bats among the ranks. “THIS IS TO BE THY-“

Harlin cleared his throat loudly, interrupting her. Luna glanced over to him, and the man shook his head firmly with an irritated expression.

“Ah, it seems the good General shalt handle thy briefing then. Very well.” Luna seemed somewhat disappointed, but she relented.

“I will dispense with the pleasantries and move on to the strategic outlook,” Harlin said, slowly walking down the hall with Luna by his side. “As many of you know, we have engaged in multiple skirmishes with a new enemy in the western badlands. These… Keepers are still a mystery in many respects, the most important of which being where they nest and manufacture their weapons.”

Harlin stopped walking and craned his neck up, staring straight at Empyra. “We have deployed many probes and regional augurs to aid us, but almost all of them have been destroyed and salvaged, thanks to our OLD enemy: the Orks.”

Hisses and grumbles came from many of the thestrals, and even Dusk found it in him to offer an irritated sneer. Although the Ork presence within Equestria had been purged, the warmongering aliens had quickly spread to nearly every other corner of the continent, and perhaps the entire world. They were a constant, permanent threat now, and it was only through constant skirmishes and extermination raids that they would be stopped from amassing an army that could overwhelm the rest of the planet.

“Numerous warbands were pushed into the badlands after the battle of Ponyville. The environment is hostile and resources sparse, which means that the xeno thugs are thriving, of course. Our recent activity in the area has brought even more, as the Orks who retreated from our armies before regroup and seek out the next battle. Camps and nomadic raiders have propagated rapidly throughout the region, and any strike force or patrol is at serious risk of being encircled.”

“At our request, the Company hast granted this next task to us!” Luna announced, apparently unable to keep her excitement to herself. “Upon the morrow, once We raise the moon, our army shalt take to the wastes under cover of darkness!”

“This is a reconnaissance operation, not an assault,” Harlin continued, giving the Princess an annoyed frown. “While we have the assets for a major deployment, the fleet possesses most of our aerial units and frequent dust storms obscure our orbital scopes, so we will use Equestrians to find the enemy’s camps and patrols. Your units will be split into small deployments and sent on long routes through the hostile zone to locate outposts and assets for bombardment and assault later. The identification of barracks, vehicle manufactures, and munitions stockpiles are a priority.”

“We are to seek out the enemy, yet not slay them?” Empyra suddenly leapt from her perch, spreading her wings and swooping down to land in front of Luna and Harlin. “Why do you not simply send your tanks and soldiers to follow us? We should attack together, immediately, while they are unaware and vulnerable!”

Luna frowned, but General Harlin replied calmly. “We do not know if and where they are vulnerable, which is why we require your aid, Queen.” Harlin approached the mare while she glared at him. “You may engage the foe at your discretion should you find a sufficiently ripe target, and we will have beacons available for you to request artillery support. But this is not an assault mission and I advise against rushing into the teeth of an Ork warband.”

Empyra snorted, walking around the General while glaring up at him. “I dislike how we were forced into this alliance under the premise of creating a unified front that could vanquish these wretched aliens, yet we are constantly asked to perform petty tasks far away from the support of your mutated super-soldiers and monstrous war machines. Yes, we are spared the harshest fighting, but we are also denied the highest glories,” she complained.

Harlin smirked, reaching out and petting the thestral queen atop her head. She flinched at the contact, and a flush crossed her cheeks when he started to rub her head.

“You are a formidable lot, and I respect your battle lust, Queen. Perhaps a more dangerous assignment can be arranged if you wish to challenge your warriors. And if the presence of our machines brings you comfort, you will have the support of a few Strider packs during this mission, meager as they are.” He shifted his hand to scratch her behind the ears, and a slight quiver rolled through her body. “But for now, I ask that you leave the strategy to us. Orks are to be fought with superior tactics and technical efficiency, not raw valor.”

Empyra started to nod reluctantly, and then heard a stifled giggle coming from behind her. Suddenly realizing what she must look like, she twisted her head around, biting at Harlin’s hand. The General pulled his arm back just in time, her jaws snapping shut bare millimeters from his fingers.

“Now then, we shall proceed with inspection,” Harlin announced, clasping his hands behind his back and walking forward as if nothing had happened. “Once complete, your squad leads will join us in the strategium for assignment.”

Princess Luna arched an eyebrow at Empyra, who scowled and turned away with her cheeks burning red enough to see through her coat. “If thou art finished, ‘Queen,’ is this the attire thou wouldst don to face the alien hordes? How bold!” From her expression one could tell she was less than impressed, despite her words.

“Some of us don’t have the luxury of bumming around the fleet’s Warsmith until he makes us some toys to get rid of us,” Empyra sneered back. “You don’t have to worry about me, Princess.”

“How could I not? After thy humiliation in single combat by a human, to face the greenskin hordes-“

“I WAS HAVING AN OFF NIGHT AND HADN’T FOUGHT IN THE ARENA FOR YEARS OKAY HE GOT LUCKY!!”

General Harlin ignored the mares arguing behind him and walked stiffly through the hall, his eyes darting back and forth. The thestrals stared back at him with cold glares and irritated sneers wherever faces could be seen instead of respirator masks and multi-spectrum visors. The humans were not terribly popular among the bat ponies; while the equines held some respect for the mercenary soldiers and treated the Iron Warriors with enough strict deference to avoid getting ventilated by bolter fire, the human officers were widely resented. The other humans that labored in the fleet – from the exhausted menials to the mysterious Dark Techpriests – were mostly treated as servants, with polite indifference so far as their labors were useful. Such an attitude toward the workers was easily accepted by the 38th Company, given that most of the sapiens felt the exact same way.

Harlin stopped in front of Neuron Dialect, tilting his head to the side. Neuron didn’t look up at him, still staring directly ahead with her eyes hidden by her hood. A few of the nearby thestrals tensed, wondering if they too would be subjected to the strange and humiliating habit that humans had of stroking ponies’ manes and ears uninvited. Neuron Dialect didn’t react in such a way, giving no recognition at all of the man’s presence.

“Present arms,” Harlin commanded, turning toward the purple mare.

Neuron’s ears twitched. Then she flipped up her rifle into her wing, wrapping it around the barrel and holding it out toward the General, stock-first.

Harlin wordlessly took the weapon and held it up parallel to the ground. It had the look of an antique hunting rifle, with a stock and body of polished wood. The frame was an ornately crafted silvery alloy with a revolving ammunition cylinder and brass fittings. It looked completely unfamiliar to most of the bat ponies, including those who knew the rest of the armory quite well.

“This is a galvanic rifle,” Harlin announced, rolling the cylinder open and checking the ammunition. “How did you acquire this?”

“The previous owner didn’t need it anymore,” Neuron replied, still staring straight forward.

Harlin’s lip twitched into a smirk. The property of fallen soldiers technically belonged to the Company’s armory of course, but the 38th Company was, in the end, a pirate fleet; looting the dead was second nature and only punished in special circumstances. This didn’t sit as well with the Dark Mechanicus, who were doubtless the division previously in possession of this particular gun and frequently objected to their more exotic weaponry falling into “lesser” hands. As far as Harlin was concerned, if they couldn’t keep their tools secure from mere ponies then the equines probably deserved them more.

“I see you don’t have a ballistic brace. Can you fire this weapon without it?” Harlin asked, holding the rifle out for Neuron to pick up again. The gun had not been modified in any apparent way to accommodate non-humans, which meant it retained an ordinary trigger under a small metal guard. Quite inaccessible to hooves. It also lacked a scope of any sort, or even simple iron sights.

“Yes,” Neuron Dialect replied, placing her front hooves under the rifle to take it back. She still didn’t make eye contact, her upper face shrouded by the hood.

Harlin turned around to face the other side of the room and approached the tallest stallion in the front row. “Remain still,” he ordered, removing a water canister from his belt.

The stallion arched a brow as Harlin placed the canister on top of his head, settling it between his ears. “What is this?”

General Harlin turned back around to address Neuron. “Show me.”

“WHAT IS THIS?!” the bat pony asked again, this time with much more urgency.

Neuron Dialect flipped the rifle around in her hooves, lifting the barrel with one foreleg to aim while using the other to hold the stock against her shoulder. Then her wing wrapped around under her foreleg and slipped the finger on the peak behind the trigger guard, giving the trigger a firm squeeze. The entire process took barely a second, so quick that most of the observers missed the brief red glow of her bionic eyes under her hood.

The galvanic rifle fired, emitting a blue flash and a fierce crack from the muzzle. The stallion yelped as the canister on his head was ripped in half by the gunshot, spilling water over his head. The thestrals next to him flinched away but quickly reigned in their sense of alarm as it became clear that no one had been hurt.

“Superb,” General Harlin said, withdrawing a cloth and dropping it on the soaked stallion’s head. “As you were.” Then he continued walking down the line.

Harlin walked by Dusk Blade without a lingering glance, performing the rest of the inspection without interruption or distraction. Luna and Empyra followed him at a sedate pace, with the former looking over her troops with pride and approval and the latter with grim contempt. Dusk’s attention lapsed, and soon his thoughts were consumed by the mysterious dark glade and bat ponies long dead.

Eventually General Harlin reached the end of the hall and he turned around. “Tactical officers are to proceed to the strategium for route assignment. The rest of you are dismissed, although you will be expected to review the terrain of your patrol area before sunrise. That will be all.” Then he straightened and shouted, “IRON WITHIN!”

“IRON WITHOUT!!!” Luna added excitedly, her flight pack spreading as she bellowed the words loudly enough to send the nearest bat ponies reeling.

Absolutely no one else in the hall joined her chant, and the other thestrals started breaking ranks and moving to leave. Luna looked somewhat embarrassed at the lack of reaction, with her cheeks puffing up while she looked back and forth at the Lunar Guard. Harlin took it in stride and headed for the tower exit.

“And here we go again,” Midnight grumbled while she and Dusk headed for the stairs. “Another night, another sortie, another handful of green freaks sent to oblivion. Sometimes I think it’ll never end.”

“It’ll never end,” Dusk assured her. “Well, that’s not totally true. If we screw up then the aliens kill us all and it will end that way. But this world is never going to be free of the Orks again. And I really doubt they’ll be the last alien threat that Equestria has to take down either, Warp storm or no.”

“Well aren’t you just a regular ray of moonlight,” the other Lieutenant griped.

Dusk smiled. “We’re not going to screw up, Blaze. Now then… what’s the wager going to be this time? Body count? Most greenskins put in the ground wins?”

“Nah, I don’t want to encourage anything stupid,” Midnight replied. “And the most assets identified would rely on mostly luck… how about speed? Last squad back to the line after completing their route owes the winner a round of drinks and will cover their cleaning duties for a week.”

“It’s a bet!” Dusk laughed. “C’mon, let’s go see what we’re working with.”

Ferrous Dominus sector 20
Residency hall C-6

The images from the dream were coming stronger than ever as Dusk returned to the upper levels of Nightwatch with a new dataslate under one wing. Many bat ponies were gathered here, either discussing their assigned patrol routes or talking with other soldiers about other things. The conversations surrounded him but failed to penetrate his attention; Dusk Blade’s eyes seemed to gaze into nowhere as he weaved between the groups of other thestrals.

“Lieutenant. Over here.”

The Tree of Turmoil loomed large in his imagination in this particular replay of his dream. It was a pathetic thing, quivering under the weight of its own power while its life force rapidly burned away. Merely a vessel of the Moon Mages’ rituals, it was created and sustained in a state of rotting near-death and then discarded like a used scrap of paper. What kind of magic seethed at the heart of such a thing, that even in such a state it could consume nightmares? What sort of things could the Tree of Harmony do, then?

“Lieutenant! Hey! Lieutenant Blade!”

The memory of the tree pulsed, bulging and receding like a beating heart. Bright crimson veins ran through the bark like arteries of lava. The flowers – those wretched, wilting blossoms that birthed calamity into the world in some kind of vile parody of floral life – bulged and inflated like balloons.

“Banzai!”

Dusk could almost hear something… underneath the monologue from the Moon Mage, like a whisper meant just for him. He narrowed his eyes and pinned his ears back, and the tree loomed closer in his mind’s eye.

Then Nacht landed on his back.

“Gah! Hey!” Dusk staggered from the unexpected weight but caught himself, managing to remain upright.

Nacht laughed and hopped off of him, her echo cannon bouncing on her back when she landed. “Time to wake up, Lieutenant! Did you get the briefing?”

“Yeah, as long as you didn’t step on it,” Dusk grumbled.

“This way! We’re waiting for you here!” Nacht trotted off toward her room, racing around the other bat ponies meandering in the hallway.

Dusk Blade felt a bit of unease but shook it off when he couldn’t discern a reason. He followed Nacht into her room, and then the door slid shut behind him.

“Make yourself at home, Lieutenant!” Nacht chirped, lifting off her echo cannon to place in her storage locker.

Nacht’s room was plastered over with colorful posters on the walls, almost all of them belonging to musicians and music bands. Her cogitator had been built into a large sound system, with cables running out of the casing to speaker towers that made Dusk cringe when he imagined the kind of volume they were capable of. On the other side of the room was her bed and a bookcase that was being used mainly to store bottles of neon mane dye.

In the middle of the room was Neuron Dialect and Gloom Fang. Dusk grimaced. He was pretty sure he knew what was going on already.

“Nacht, where’s the rest of the squad?” the Lunar Lieutenant said, glaring at the night-black mare.

“They don’t need to hear this,” Gloom Fang said. “Lieutenant… No. Dusk. Dusk, we have to go back.”

Dusk’s eye twitched. “Stick to Lieutenant, Gloomy. Also: It turns out our recon route doesn’t run through the cave labyrinth under the badlands, so no, we will not be ‘going back.’ Maybe next time.”

“Dusk, please, be serious,” the other stallion said, his ears pinning back.

“Okay, then I withdraw my joke about possibly agreeing next time. Not gonna fanging happen.”

Neuron Dialect shook her head. “Please, Dusk. Hear us out.”

“Why? Why do you need to waste half an hour of my time before I say no and shout at you all to go study the patrol charts?” Dusk demanded, a vein popping up on his head. “Why must you torment me first with more of your nonsense about fate and prophecy and the rantings of dead unicorns? I think it would be better for all of us if you didn’t!”

“Dusk, come on,” Nacht said, her voice uncharacteristically shaky. “We’re not asking you this lightly.”

“Aren’t you?! You all had some dreams – some of which, by the way, involve us DYING for pursuing them – and now you’re ready to desert and run off to a magic hole in the ground that isn’t even accessible anymore. That seems pretty light to me! And for what?!”

“The Element of Terror,” Gloom said without hesitation.

“We can’t GET the Element of Terror,” Dusk spat back, his anger visibly building. “And if we COULD, so what?! What would we do with it?! Are YOU gonna take it?!”

Gloom recoiled slightly. “Well, uh… maybe? I was thinking we could cut it up into four pieces actually, and then we could all-“

“THAT’S NOT HOW DARK MAGIC WORKS, NUMBSKULL!!” Dusk screamed in the other stallion’s face, his voice reaching a intense shriek. Gloom Fang cringed away, properly cowed, but Dusk quickly slapped his wings over his own mouth in recognition of his error.

Nacht shook her head. “Don’t worry about eavesdroppers. The walls on my unit are completely soundproof.” She kicked the nearest wall, and even the bat ponies’ sensitive ears struggled to pick up the thump of the impact. It was unclear what material the room was shielded with, but it wasn’t the usual metal construction.

“Convenient! Now I can feel free to shout ‘no’ over and over again rather than whispering. Thank you, Nacht,” Dusk said. “So! Are we done here?”

“Dusk-“ Gloom Fang began again, only to suddenly have the other stallion in his face again.

“That is ‘Lieutenant’ or ‘Sir’ to you, Corporal,” Dusk warned, his amber eyes seeming to glow threateningly. “The next time you call me ‘Dusk’ you lose a fang. That goes for ALL of you! Understood?”

The other thestrals nodded rapidly, stiffening their stances. Nacht and Gloom looked cowed by the command and clearly didn’t want to continue this encounter. Neuron Dialect, however, wasn’t ready to give up.

“Lieutenant,” she began, her voice cool and firm, “I believe it is necessary for us to pursue the Element, even at the risk of our careers here in the Company. There’s more at stake than we realized.”

“Oh? What’s at stake then?” Dusk asked.

“The future of Equestria,” Neuron answered.

“Really,” Dusk answered, clearly unconvinced.

Neuron looked over to Gloom, and then nudged her head. “Tell him.”

Gloom Fang wet his lips in preparation, clearly anxious. “So, uh… you know how you’ve all been having the weird magic dreams? Well… I actually had one too.”

“You told me you didn’t,” Dusk retorted acidly.

The other stallion cringed again, staring at the floor. “Well… uh, yeah. I did say that. The dream seemed so crazy that I didn’t think it made sense, so I kind of brushed it off. But now…” he took a deep breath. “Okay, so… in my dream, there was this… this creature. An alicorn. Except it had bat wings.”

Dusk flinched. Gloom noticed.

“Yeah. Sounds ridiculous, right? There’s no such thing,” he chuckled weakly. “And then Nacht, um… told me that it was real.”

Dusk shot a glare at the shortest thestral, and she smiled back nervously. “Nacht, why are you telling other ponies about the baticorn?”

“It was just Gloomy, I swear!” Nacht replied, waving a hoof in front of her. “I had to trade him a secret to get him to spill his dream! That’s all! Just us!”

“‘Baticorn?’ We’re not really calling it that, are we?” Gloom Fang asked. “That’s a terrible name.”

Neuron shrugged. “Continue,” she ordered.

“R-Right. Anyway.” Gloom Fang took a deep breath. “So the… baticorn is there, in the Vault of the Ancients. And it takes the Element of Terror. And eats it.”

“How did it get there?” Dusk demanded. “How did it get to the Element when we couldn’t?”

“I don’t know; that wasn’t part of the dream.” Gloom shifted uncomfortably before he continued. “I couldn’t make out much of the pony. The entire time it was surrounded by this weird shroud. But I could make out its form, and saw that its left eye glowed constantly, like… like something was shining a light from the socket, I dunno.”

“Okay, so it ate the Element of Terror? Then what?” Dusk asked.

“Then it consumed the other Elements of Destruction.”

Dusk recoiled, his eyes wide. “What?!” How?!”

“I don’t know. That part wasn’t in the dream,” Gloom grumbled again, slumping and looking away. “It wasn’t like yours, like you’re watching a recording through a vid-display. My dream was a bunch of disjointed images. So at that point I just saw more darkness swirling around the baticorn and it grew bigger and bigger and I just somehow knew what was happening. Eventually it had the power of all the Elements, and then… uh…”

“It attacked Canterlot?” Dusk guessed.

Gloom Fang looked up and slowly shook his head. “No. It attacked Ferrous Dominus.”

Dusk’s jaw fell open.

“Again, I’m not sure HOW any of this goes down, but I got some pretty… dramatic imagery. Void ships falling to the planet’s surface in pieces. Tank regiments being consumed by shadows. Temples ablaze. The manufactorum sinking into the ground. Corpses everywhere: human, Astartes, pony, Tau, even some Orks and changelings were among the heaps of dead.”

“It makes no sense. It’s impossible,” Dusk mumbled.

Gloom swallowed. “And then… at the end of the dream… the baticorn stood in front of the ruins of Nightwatch. The Astartes champions of the 38th Company were dead, their smoldering armor sitting among the rubble. Princess Luna was there too, lying at the baticorn’s hooves… dead.”

All the thestrals shifted uncomfortably at that, but it seemed like Gloom Fang wasn’t finished. “Atop the ruins, though, were the Elements of Harmony, Equinought Squadron. They were alive, and in full armor. And Princess Celestia was with them, glowing with a fantastic, furious light!” His voice sounded slightly haunted now, and his eyes were unfocused. “Celestia wept. She was crying, sobbing desperately. I think they all were. Staring down the baticorn and getting ready to strike it down.”

There was a long pause, and then Gloom Fang set his jaw, his eyes focusing on Dusk again. “Then the baticorn fled. It retreated. Not out of fear or regret, but because it just didn’t want to hurt them. That was the end of the dream.”

Dusk Blade slumped onto his rear, an expression of awe and disbelief on his face. He didn’t say anything, silently staring at the other stallion. Gloom shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, rubbing his wings together and fiddling with his hooves.

“After I woke up I was spooked, but I didn’t think too much of it. It was a dream about some kind of monster I’d never heard of before, and if the dream was an omen it might obtain ultimate power and kill everyone except the Equestrians for some reason at an indeterminate point in the future. Sure, whatever. Nothing I can do about that, right? But… then I learned it was real, and that it’s already hunting Chaos…”

“That’s why we need to get to the Element first,” Nacht said with a nod. “If we can get to the Element of Terror before she does, we can eat it first and that should end her killing spree before it begins!”

Gloom looked annoyed. “Nacht, we don’t know it’s a she. It could be a guy.”

“It’s a Princess! All Princesses are mares!”

“It’s an unknown creature that RESEMBLES a Princess! Besides, how do you know stallions can’t be Princesses? Just because that dumb sun hag is a sexist and won’t coronate-“

Neuron Dialect hissed sharply, and Gloom Fang immediately stopped speaking. She looked over at Dusk Blade, who was staring at the floor, deep in thought. Gloom and Nacht waited nervously, unsure what else to say.

“We know what we have to do,” Neuron said calmly. “Search and destroy. Either the baticorn or the Element itself must be neutralized, and we cannot ask the Company to do it without exposing everything to them. Even then, they would probably just dissect us and ignore our warnings.”

Dusk’s scowl returned. “And how do you expect to find either of those targets?”

Neuron pursed her lips. “I can’t. That’s why we need you, Lieutenant.”

Dusk did not seem pleased by this vote of confidence. “The Vault of the Ancients is within the Dead Barrows, through miles of labyrinthine cavern networks filled with threats only we and the Moon Mages have ever seen and survived,” Dusk reminded them. “We only got into it and out again last time thanks to the Mages, and that group didn’t live through the experience. That isn’t happening again. Nopony alive knows a way to the Vault. You understand that, right?”

“Um… no? I thought we could just sort of… go to the depths and fight our way in,” Gloom admitted, holding up his splinter rifle. “I mean, we have guns and armor now! We’re way stronger than before! The pit beasts can’t beat us!”

“I was thinking we might be able to trick the Company unicorns into making the portal like the Moon cultists did before,” Nacht suggested. “There are a ton of them here, even after the fleet left.”

“Can’t we simply map the cavern network with some kind of Mechanicus probe and sneak through once we know the way?” Neuron asked. “Surely they have a device that can do it.”

Dusk Blade looked from one bat pony to the other, staring at them silently. Then he rubbed his forehead with a hoof. “Moon help me, I’m surrounded by idiots.”

“Wow, okay,” Gloom Fang wilted again, his ears flattening against his head. “That’s kind of why we needed you to come along, but you don’t have to be rude…”

“Lieutenant, I know you don’t believe in destiny,” Neuron began, only for Dusk to interrupt.

“You’re right. I don’t. But I DO believe in dream omens, unfortunately.” The Lunar Lieutenant seemed very annoyed to have to admit this. “Whether some echo of the Element, bits of Warp stuff filtering into our minds from all the Chaos mojo, or even this baticorn directly projecting illusions to us somehow, it’s definitely not random nonsense and we can’t ignore it. For one thing, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get a good day’s rest again if we can’t kill whatever it is. So… yeah. I’m in.”

“Okay. Great. So do YOU have a plan, then?” Nacht asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Dusk said, heaving a deep sigh.

“What? Already?!” the other three thestrals perked up in delight, but then Dusk held up a hoof.

“Yeah. Already. It has a lot of details to hammer out and I need to get it all ready in ONE DAY because you dolts brought it to me on the night before a deployment, but… yeah.” Then his eyes narrowed. “HOWEVER… if I do this, I’m doing it on two conditions.”

“Which are?” Nacht gestured with a wing for him to continue.

“One: If and when we get it, the Element of Terror is mine,” Dusk said, immediately getting dubious looks from the others. “I might eat it, or I might stick a melta bomb on it, or I might hand it over to Equestria to lock away in their big Element Room which is apparently empty now. I’ll decide on the way there.”

“What?! Don’t give it to Equestria!” Gloom objected.

“I’ll take your opinion into account, but probably not in the way you hoped,” Dusk retorted. “Second condition: If I’m doing this, I’m running it like a real mission. That means I’m in charge and you three follow orders to the letter. I also don’t want to hear any complaints about my plan, which will be explained on a need-to-know basis.”

“You’re not going to tell us the plan? Booo!” Nacht pouted.

“I’m not telling YOU the plan so you can’t gossip it all away,” Dusk snapped. Nacht winced and started sulking. “The rest of you because you’re going to start complaining and pestering me. Now I’ve got to go and start making preparations.” He paused, looking back and forth among his subordinates. “What do you say, Dagger Squad?”

“Sir, yes Sir!” the three bat ponies barked, albeit Nacht was still sulky about it.

“Good. DISMISSED.”

Ferrous Dominus – sector 4
Mechanicus cybernetics foundry Beta-6

“Please hold still, it’s almost done. Let me know if you experience any intense electric shock, as that indicates that the nerve socket may be misaligned.”

“Wh-What about l-little sh-shocks?”

“Totally normal. I know they hurt. I’ve been through this process too. But we’re almost done now.”

“Okay… Okay… Eep!”

Gear Works tapped at a holo-screen sitting off to his side, and then returned his attention to the pony on the other side of him. She was an earth pony mare who was being suspended by a large sheet hung from the ceiling and under her belly, leaving her three legs hanging down and exposed. Only two of them were biological, with the rear left leg already replaced with a bulky bionic. The left shoulder had an augmetic linkage installed into the joint, with a frayed cluster of wires hanging down around a central rod.

Gears turned his servo arm toward the wires, a needle probe attached to the upper claw. “There we are… a little feedback is to be expected,” he assured her as he gently attached the wires one by one to different points on the linkage well.

“The back leg-AH!-it didn’t feel like this! Ow!”

“Forelegs have more delicate and sophisticated nerve integration since you need greater dexterity. The pain will subside.”

Gears finished the last wire, and then checked the holo-screen again. “Parameters set. All systems green. Beginning final assembly.” A servo arm mounted on the floor wheeled around while carrying the bionic leg to be installed.

“This time any intense electric shock indicates successful nerve integration, not an error, so please inform me if you’re NOT in sudden and intense pain.”

“Wh-What? You never said-“

The bionic’s sleeve was pushed onto the rod, and the mare suddenly screamed.

“Omnissiah, once again you have blessed us with steel to renew our shattered flesh. Close the circuit, and restore this broken vessel to completion. Let mind give purpose and direction to motor, and once again join machine and flesh in enlightened harmony.” Gears spoke a prayer of convalescence as he worked at the holo-screen, his words rising above the gasps and sobs of the pony above him.

Though it felt like quite a long time for the hapless mare, soon the procedure was complete. The servo arms withdrew and the suspension belt started lowering itself to the floor. The pony laying on the belt whimpered, tears streaming from her eyes while her breath heaved. When she touched the floor, however, her breath caught in her throat.

The pony lifted her new front leg, and then the rear one. She looked down at her bionic hoof, shifting it back and forth. Then she took a few steps as fresh, happier tears started welling in her eyes.

“It… It works. They really work. This… I…” she quivered.

“You may find some lingering discomfort from the installation, but it should pass,” Gear Works said, banishing the holo-screen. “The procedure is complete, Miss Hearth.”

“Thank you! Thank you so much! I didn’t know if it would really work! I can really walk again!” she cried, racing over to the Dark Acolyte and seizing him in a hug while she wept.

“You’re welcome, Miss Hearth.” Gears waited patiently for her to stop crying, and then started to disentangle himself. “I am relieved that this operation has concluded to your satisfaction. Please ensure you review the user manual and perform weekly maintenance checks so that repairs can be completed in good order. I also advise you practice greater skepticism in the future when presented with feline scam artists selling the services of others. I take it you can see yourself back to your home sector?”

“I sure can! Thank you again!” she said brightly, trotting to the door with a highly exaggerated gait.

She stopped in front of the door, staring at the set of wheels and straps that she had used to carry herself around before her augmentation. Then, with a grin, she raised her bionic hoof.

“Don’t need THIS anymore!” she chirped, stomping on the center bar of the mobility aid. It folded instantly before the superior alloys and electro-twitch motors of the bionic, snapping in half and sending one wheel rolling off across the room behind her.

“Uh… we could have reused that for somepony else…” Gears mumbled as the mare walked out the door triumphantly. Then he sighed as the door shut. “Well, never mind. Time to clean up.”

Gear Works turned around.

“Hi, buddy!” said Dusk Blade.

“BWARGABWAA!!” said Gear Works, stumbling backwards. The Dark Acolyte managed to steady himself before he fell over, and after steadying himself the sensor lights on his visor narrowed. “Lieutenant! What are you doing here?!” he demanded.

“Looking for you, obviously!” Dusk said brightly. “I was worried you might be asleep. Great job on the mare’s legs, by the way. You’re really getting the hang of this!”

“What do you want?” the cyborg pony asked sourly.

Dusk coughed into a hoof and his expression turned more serious. “I need your help with a little something.”

“Let me guess,” Gears said irritably, walking past the other stallion, “you want me to produce some sort of document full of forbidden lore or esoteric technical data for you to present to Princess Sparkle as a gift.”

“No, no, I-” Dusk stopped mid-sentence, blinking in surprise. “Wait… that’s a great idea! Why didn’t I think of that?!”

“Then I guessed wrong. Oh well. Go ahead, explain this newest trifle,” Gear Works said as he started shutting down the machines around the assembly rig.

“Right. Yeah. So…” Dusk wet his lips, filing away Gear’s idea for later. “We’re planning a new offensive against the Orks to clear out the badlands. I’m not sure if you’re aware, but things have gotten pretty bad out there. The next phase is to do a big recon operation tomorrow night, mostly using the Lunar Guard.”

“I am aware. A few Dark Acolytes have been assigned to the forward garrison to assist with the artillery battery and defensive perimeter.”

“Right! Good. So anyway, you’ve been assigned to Dagger Squadron as a support unit,” Dusk informed him.

Gears froze, his hoof hovering just millimeters from the holo-screen. “That is incorrect. I have already been assigned to a temple maintenance detail, a lascannon inspection, three power cell replacement routes, and then some routine Prayers of Vigilance to a malfunctioning perimeter augury. All here within Ferrous Dominus. That will preclude any possible deployments outside the city.”

“Yeesh, that sounds like a lot of work. Lucky I got you reassigned!” Dusk said brightly.

“WHAT?! HOW?!” Gears demanded, shock and fear briefly turning his optics screen to static. “You don’t have the authority to demand a Mechanicus deployment!”

“That’s true, yes.” Dusk was still smiling. “I had to ask Princess Luna to secure support, and she had to ask General Harlin to make the actual request because the Techpriests flag her support requests as low priority. So it was a lot of trouble getting your detail changed without your knowledge or permission, but we did it!”

“This is absurd! I’m not a combat enginseer! I’m not optimized for battlefield operations!” Gear Works was starting to panic now, his servo arm swinging back and forth as if seeking an exit. “I have no weapons! I have no armor! My augmentation possess inadequate combat utility ratings!”

“Whoa! Whoa! Calm down, buddy!” Dusk Blade’s voice was uncertain now; he hadn’t been expecting such a reaction. “C’mon, don’t tell me you’re afraid of a few Orks!”

“Yes, I am VERY afraid of a few Orks!” Gears retorted. “And we don’t know if it’s going to be ‘a few!’ That’s what the entire mission is about!”

“They can’t even shoot!” Dusk countered.

“I’ve scraped dozens of dead crew out of tank wreckage, Lieutenant; don’t presume to tell me that those green maniacs are no threat!” Gears barked.

Dusk was very surprised at the vehemence of Gear’s resistance. “But you’ve fought aliens before! What about the Tyranids?”

“They were a feeble gene-strain that contaminated an agri-complex! Barely a shadow of the creatures detailed in the data stacks!” Gear Works retorted, stepping forward while glaring at the thestral. “These Orks have been warring with our frontier detachments for months until they became too great a threat to be contested with patrol divisions and precision strikes! Don’t act like this is a trivial deployment!”

Dusk Blade grimaced and decided to change tactics. “Okay, okay! You’re right! I was way too cavalier about it! I’m sorry!” He sat on his haunches and clapped his hooves together. “I know you’re not a combat guy! Me and the squad will protect you! I promise!”

“Oh, you PROMISE?!” Gears sneered, immediately raising further alarm bells in Dusk’s head. “What exactly are your promises worth, Lieutenant? A servo skull and a vial of rejected septic technopage?!”

Dusk blinked owlishly. “A servo skull and… what? What’s a technophage?”

“You looted the Warpsmith’s forge, you insolent rodent!” Gear Works snapped, stamping his bionic hoof onto the floor.

“What?! No I didn’t!” Dusk lied.

“Of course you did! Do you really think you were being clever dropping off your ident-key before infiltrating the facility?! As if I wouldn’t notice it was hanging on the temple décor while the forge was being looted! I was interrogated for nearly three hours thanks to you!”

Dusk gulped. This conversation was getting out of control very quickly. “Look, we’re getting off-track here. This is a mission assignment and you are CRITICAL to the success of our deployment!”

“How?! Why?!” Gear Works demanded. “None of the other scout teams have Mechanicus support!”

“Er… well… the reason…” Dusk started to sweat as he realized he hadn’t come up with a plausible story to tell the Dark Acolyte. He had expected Gears to immediately submit to a proper deployment order, but not only was the tech-cultist resisting, he seemed to have something vaguely resembling leverage in this confrontation.

With no decent lies available, the Lunar Lieutenant braced himself for the final resort: telling the truth.

“I need you with our team to draw raw data from a series of seismic pylons and then to run a drilling platform,” Dusk admitted, hanging his head.

Gear Works didn’t respond right away, doing a quiet noosphere search of the logged mission objectives for the Lunar Guard’s operation. “You need me to do what? None of the mission plans involve a drilling platform.”

“My mission is special. Obviously most of the Lunar Guard are locating Ork encampments for the upcoming strikes, but there’s a different objective target for my team somewhere in the badlands.”

“What is this target?” Gears asked.

“That’s classified.”

Gear’s sensor light narrowed again. Dusk winced.

“I’ll tell you later, okay? For now what I can tell you is that there was a DarkMech mining operation attacked and looted by the Orks while their presence in the badlands was expanding. There were numerous sensory devices that were set up to collect data on subterranean mineral formations, and they got swept up by the greenskins a week ago. They hit a drilling rig at about the same time and stole it. Our mission is to recover the data and the rig.”

“So the rig is the objective?”

“No. We need the drill rig to… well, drill down into the objective area. And we need the seismic data to find the objective area first.”

“I don’t understand. Why don’t we simply deploy new machines after the greenskins have been pushed back?”

“This mission is time-sensitive, and the Dark Mechanicus isn’t going to send more equipment so we can use it. So we’ve gotta use the ones they already sent, but we’re going to have to take them back from the Orks first.”

“Recovering several machines from the Orks sounds SUBSTANTIALLY more dangerous than the original mission of simply scouting their forward positions and encampments,” Gears pointed out.

“It is, yeah. But I’m not asking you to do any fighting. Just hang back and let my team do the dirty work.” Dusk cautiously placed a hoof on the Acolyte’s shoulder. “If things get too messy out there and we scrub the mission, then you turn right back around and retreat to the forward base, you hear me?”

“Your squad consists of fliers. If you give the order to retreat – or your squad decides to do so of its own volition – I will most assuredly be the slowest pony trying to escape the Orks’ retribution,” Gear Works reminded him, blasting a puff of steam from his mask ventilation.

“That… Well, uh, that’s true, but we won’t leave you behind!” Dusk assured him.

“Yes you will,” Gears scoffed.

“No, no! I’m not lying about that part, really!” Dusk insisted.

Gear Works swatted his hoof away. “I’ll be clear, Lieutenant: I know you’re up to something, and I suspect this is not a sanctioned mission at all. Nonetheless, you DID go through the necessary channels to have my orders changed, and I do believe you when you say you need my assistance.”

Dusk’s ears perked. “... Okay… so… you’re in?”

“I have little choice, do I?” Gears grumbled, “but I demand to know one thing first: is this entire ‘secret mission’ just a plot to get a sufficiently impressive gift for Princess Twilight Sparkle?”

“No! Definitely not,” Dusk scoffed.

“So you found a present for her in the forge?”

“Yeah, I think that servo skull will actually do-” Dusk winced. “GUANO. That, uh, I meant-”

“Don’t trouble yourself trying to excuse yourself to me,” Gears spat, his eye lights narrowed. “I’ll be on the deployment dock with everyone else tomorrow. Now begone. I need to organize my personal projects to accommodate my absence and probable demise.”

Gear Works turned back to the cogitator and summoned another holo-screen. Dusk Blade turned away too, but then hesitated. He had gotten everything he needed out of this confrontation but felt very uneasy about the outcome. Part of that was obviously the ease at which the Dark Acolyte navigated and picked apart his lies, but more than that was an uncharacteristic concern about the other stallion’s safety.

“Hey, Gears?” Dusk asked, twisting his head around.

The cyborg pony didn’t respond, so Dusk continued. “I was being serious before. I’ll protect you out there. It’s going to be okay.”

Gears paused in tapping at the holo-screen. “… I appreciate the sentiment.”

“I know you don’t trust me, Gears, and… well, I don’t really have anyone else to blame for that,” Dusk said more firmly, “but I need you. There’s nopony else I can rely on around here. Especially for something like this.”

“I still don’t believe you,” the cyborg grumbled, “but I appreciate that you’re trying to appeal to my competence rather than slugging me in the jaw to ensure compliance. Good day, Lieutenant.”

Dusk Blade raised a hoof and opened his mouth, a protest on the tip of his tongue. But nothing came out, and after a few seconds he gave up. His ears flipped down and he trotted to the exit.

???

“Then… It’s over. It’s really over. Equestria has won. All because of… All because of HER.”

“I would say Norn deserves most of the blame, yes, but none of us exactly covered ourselves in glory up until now. You remember how well Cutlass did.”

“At least Cutlass TRIED. Where was Eisenwing’s vaunted ferocity when the Bloodborne stabbed us in the back? You pitiful-”

“ENOUGH. No more squabbling. If you will not heed our tidings, then you may leave.”

A trio of unicorns stood atop a raised platform, each of them dressed in old silks and decorated with silver jewelry. On the floor below them were the bat pony tribal leaders, standing in a semi-circle at attention. Notably absent, for obvious reasons, were any representative of the Bloodborne.

“Welcome, friends and allies in darkness. We appreciate you taking the time to meet with us in this troubled age,” offered one of the unicorns.

“’Troubled’ is quite an understatement,” Sturm said gruffly. “The tribes are in anarchy. Several ponies have already left our caverns and set out on their own, convinced that we’re only a few moons away from being annihilated by either the Bloodborne or Equestria itself.”

“We’ve had constant fights breaking out,” warned Bleak Attica. “Some ponies are claiming that the Moon Mages are leading us to destruction, and others are clinging more desperately to their faith, accusing those doubtful ponies of betrayal like the Bloodborne.”

“Which lot of them do you suppose is right?” asked Rattle.

The unicorns offered the last speaker an aggravated glare before taking control of the meeting again.

“It has not been easy for the Moon Mages either, I assure you,” grumbled one of the mares on the platform. “But we did not bring you here to commiserate. We must look to the future now. A future without her dark grace, Nightmare Moon.”

Another unicorn quickly added. “Eventually, of course, she will return to this world and plunge it into darkness! However, a timetable of centuries rather than decades poses… many challenges.”

“A future mired in glorious shadow… that none of us will live to see,” growled Cutlass.

“In that respect, the order of the Moon Mages will continue amassing weapons and arcana, preparing for that eventuality and maneuvering for advantage in the shadows. However, most of our resources must go to propagating, maintaining, and protecting the cult to ensure it survives over such a vast timeline,” announced the Moon Mage.

“Oh, what a surprise, no help for us lowly rodents starving in the caverns,” Drakk said bitterly. “At least you’re consistent, I suppose.”

“No help? NO HELP?!” another unicorn snapped, bristling like an enraged cat. “We concocted a plan to empower you ingrates directly and return the Nightmare from her banishment, and YOU-”

A sharp electric crackle interrupted them, and they recoiled as a flash surrounded a different unicorn’s horn.

“ENOUGH. Squabble with each other on your own time.” The front mage let her horn dim, and then straightened. “We will do what we must to ensure there is still a future for all our people. But I’m sure you can appreciate how tenuous our order’s future is right now. Equestria can never learn of our existence or the existence of the Elements of Destruction.”

“Ah, yes. The Elements. What is to be done about yours?” Rattle asked, turning to Sturm. “We were going to give ours to a chosen champion after a tournament.”

“Absolutely not. The Moon Mages will take them,” snorted another unicorn.

“What? Why?!”

“Because if you use them yourselves then Equestria would inevitably learn of them, and then they would learn about us, and then we’re all out of luck. To try to stand against Celestia when she still wields the Elements of Harmony is futile without our Mistress.”

“It’s bad enough that Norn consumed hers… if she makes a move on Equestria herself then we may all pay the price.”

“What was the point of all this if the first real, tangible achievement of your cult is locked away, never to be used?!” Sturm complained.

“Oh, they will be used. In due time, my little bat. In twenty years or a thousand, the tribes WILL see themselves triumphant over the decadent foals of Equestria.”

The horn of the lead unicorn flashed, and her eyes started to glow brightly.

“HEAR MY WORDS MASTERS OF THE NIGHT, FOR OUR VICTORY IS WRITTEN IN THE STARS THEMSELVES! WHEN THE GREAT DARKNESS DESCENDS UPON THE LANDS OF EQUESTRIA, FIVE NOBLE THESTRALS SHALL IN TURN RISE UP FROM THE DEPTHS! BEARING THE ELEMENTS OF DESTRUCTION AND UNITED WITH THE NIGHTMARE, THEY SHALL BRING LOW THE ENEMY OF THE MOON AND DEFEAT THE WRETCHED USURPER! AND THEN, FINALLY, THE NIGHT WILL LAST FOREVER!!”

Ferrous Dominus: sector 20
Nightwatch – Lieutenant Dusk Blade’s quarters

Dusk groaned and cracked his eyes open, looking up at the chronometer display next to his bed. 13:00. His eyes shifted into a glare, staring accusingly at the display like it owed him an explanation.

“I think I preferred it when I only had the same dream over and over. At least that one was pretty long,” he grunted, pushing himself up and stretching his wings. “Blasted magic thoughts are going to get me killed if I’m half asleep on deployment.”

He rolled out of bed and then crossed the room to his cogitator. With a few taps the device started up, and Dusk turned around and headed toward his armoire. Swinging it open, his gaze lingered only slightly over the many pictures of Twilight Sparkle before he started putting on his armor.

A crackle came from the cogitator. Attention! Deployment order designation: Dagger Squadron. Reconnaissance operation Gamma 41-2702. Presence requested in sector 24 at 17:00. The voice was bright and pleasant, and was clearly recorded from a mare.

“Another night, another handful of greenskins sent to that big green cloud in the sky,” Dusk mumbled to himself while he fit his mask into place. “Among the… other goals.”

After loading his wargear and setting the splinter rifle into place, Dusk closed the armoire and turned around. He walked up to his coffee table and lifted up the lid, and then reached in with a wing. He withdrew a green vial, and then squinted at the decidedly unhelpful label with variously sized and positioned blocks that ran the length of the tube.

“What did Gears say this was? A ‘techno phage?’ Hmm. Sounds like something you’d use on… well, him. Maybe it would be useful to chuck at a walker if we have to fight one.” Dusk shrugged and slipped it into his chest pouch. “The vial seems to be diamantine, so it’s not going to break on any minor impact. Probably don’t want to get this stuff all over me even if I’m not metal enough for its taste, though.”

He closed the top of his hidden stash and then slapped his cheeks with his hooves. “All right Dusk, this is it. Time for your big plan. You have an ancient artifact entombed who knows how many miles under the ground in an enchanted vault. You have an enemy army of violent lunkheads who want to murder you for giggles. You have a friendly army of corrupt psychopaths who can’t learn what you’re up to. There’s a THIRD army of inventive freaks that may be involved who nobody can figure out. Finally, there’s some unholy magical bat-beast out there who kills Chaos troops for no obvious reason. You’ve got three clueless but well-armed idiots and a brilliant but severely under-armed cyborg to help. We have to capture a bunch of looted contraptions from right under the Orks’ noses, use them to drill down to the vault, and then SOMEHOW break into the element vault itself. Then, FINALLY, the stupid dreams will stop. Probably. You can handle this!”

His stomach rumbled, and the bat pony winced. “But first: breakfast.”

Ferrous Dominus sector 20
Primary mess hall

Dusk sat on a steel bench, staring down at the dataslate he had brought from his room. An empty ration tin and water cup sat on the table next to him; the standard meal for soldier and laborer alike within the city. His gaze was unfocused, and he hadn’t touched the dataslate in over ten minutes.

Bits and pieces of his dreams swam before his eyes while the Moon Mages’ prophecy echoed in his ears. Visions of Queen Norn transforming, the Tree of Turmoil dying, and unicorns shouting at each other. Over and over the dreams played in his head, and this time Dusk Blade surrendered himself to the visions of the distant past. It occurred to him that the dreams may somehow help him in the mission ahead: seeing and hearing the very ponies who had made the Elements of Destruction and hidden them away could yield clues as to how they work and were protected by their custodians. Alas, it appeared that most of his dreams consisted of ponies bickering and making angry denunciations. A fascinating drama, perhaps, but useless to him.

“Hey Lieutenant, you’re up early.”

Dusk flinched, breaking out of his stupor. He blinked repeatedly and then turned his head around, spotting Gloom Fang trotting toward him. The purple stallion already had a ration tin and water cup, a wing clutching each one. He dropped them on the tabletop and then jumped, flying over the table to land on the bench opposite his squad commander.

“Good evening, Gloomy. Any interesting dreams today?” Dusk didn’t mean it to sound accusatory, but the other stallion winced and his ears pinned back.

“No, not today. My dream was a one-off event, I think. That’s why I didn’t think it was some kind of omen like Nacht’s.”

“Do you think it’s a warning? That there’s any chance to change it? Or is this some thread of magic just playing a holo-vid of our future to taunt us?”

Gloom’s ears twitched and he blinked repeatedly. Then his forehead creased deeply in thought. The blood-drinking thestral always adopted an awkward, straining expression when he was ruminating on something difficult. Dusk found it rather endearing, although sometimes the results made him want to throw things at the other stallion.

“… I think we can change it,” Gloom Fang said finally, frowning. “The future isn’t set in stone, right? You always say that our choices are still ours.”

“Yeah, but you usually disagree,” Dusk grunted. “You believe in the prophecy.”

“Prophecies are different,” Gloom Fang said matter-of-factly, lifting the tip of his wing into the air and wagging it. “Specific tidings handed down from gods and seers are different from random bits of a future being pushed into your dreams by… I don’t know, Chaos or artifacts or whatever.”

“That’s true, it is different,” Dusk agreed. “But in the opposite way, I think.”

“You believe the prophecy is guano and these dumb dreams are true? Really?”

“Yes. Bat ponies and unicorns lie, Gloomy. But magic? Magic does what it’s told. If it forms a vision of the future you’d better believe I take it more seriously than something a unicorn said a thousand years ago to make up for her plan blowing up in her face.”

“Okay but if magic does what it’s told what if something tells it to lie to us?” Gloom asked, picking up his ration tin.

Dusk jabbed a wing at Gloom Fang and opened his mouth as if to argue, but after a few seconds he just snorted and slumped onto the table.

Gloom chuckled and then suddenly bit into the ration tin, his fangs punching through the top. Then he raised the tin and started gulping it down. Dusk Blade watched the affair and grimaced.

“You know, I appreciate the human technology more than most but I’ll never get used to this nutrient slime. Absolutely horrid stuff,” the Lieutenant complained. “It’s probably the thing I like least about Ferrous Dominus.”

Gloom put down the half-empty tin and then took a sip of water before he replied. “Really? The pollution and dark sorcery are no big deal but the tasteless gruel bothers you?”

“The pollution sucks but I actually really like the gas mask aesthetic we’ve all been pushed into and appreciate how everypony showers every day now,” Dusk explained with a shrug. “As for the dark sorcery, it’s kind of why we’re all still alive so I find it hard to complain.”

Gloom’s eyes narrowed as he glared across the table. “I DID wash every day! I was in the barracks showers more often than you were back in Canterlot!”

“Sure, but sometimes you were getting dirtier in there, not cleaner.”

Gloom Fang flushed deeply, and his muzzle scrunched up. He quickly picked up his ration tin again and shoveled the remaining contents into his mouth.

“It wouldn’t be hard to accommodate a big population of pest insects, either. There were plenty of roaches in Canterlot. But it’s just too… well, not clean, exactly, but it’s not the kind of dirty that’s good for bugs around here.” Dusk sighed. “Fruit-eaters like Neuro probably have a hard time too. They import lots of hay and greens into Ferrous Dominus but not so much fruit. And almost all the fruit is apples.”

“What’s wrong with apples?” Gloom Fang asked between gulps of water.

“They turn into weaponized alien insects. That are also themselves apples.” Dusk made a gagging sound.

“That… wha… what?”

“Look it up.” Dusk Blade returned his attention – waning as it was – back to the dataslate, pressing his wing tip to the screen and scrolling down.

Gloom looked perturbed, but he put down his empty water cup and then leaned across the table. “Say, uh… Dusk?”

“Lieutenant Blade,” Dusk corrected acidly.

“What? We’re in the mess, c’mon.”

“That’s why I warned you again rather than making good on my earlier threat to remove a fang. Social grace is important. Now what is it?”

Gloom grimaced. “About the… the baticorn… where do you think it came from?”

“I don’t know,” Dusk replied.

“You don’t know for sure, fine. But you have some ideas, right?”

The blood-drinking thestral looked somewhat anxious, and Dusk quirked an eyebrow. “What, you don’t have any theories?”

“Look, I’m not as smart as you, all right?” Gloom huffed. “None of it makes any sense to me. Celestia wouldn’t really turn a thestral into a Princess… would she?”

“Probably not, no,” Dusk admitted, “so this one probably ascended some other way.”

Gloom’s eyes bulged. “What? Ponies can turn into alicorns without her help?”

“Probably, yeah. If we accept that Celestia didn’t do it, this new Princess is proof of that.” Dusk scratched at his chin with his wing claw. “Now, personally, I subscribe to the theory that every pony has an alicorn body inherently, and they’re just locked away somehow. Princess Celestia is obviously capable of magically unlocking it, but there might be other means.”

“You mean that maybe I could be an alicorn?” Gloom asked, looking awed at the prospect.

“Technically, yes. But in practical terms, almost nopony actually does become an alicorn, so the conditions must be very difficult. And they’re a secret, obviously.” Dusk frowned. “I asked Shard if the Moon Mages had ever come up with anything regarding the alicorn ascension and she said no. I believe her, because if they could turn thestrals into magical weapons they would have done that, even if there were extremely dangerous side effects.”

“So this baticorn found a way to grow a horn on their own? But how? How would somepony even think to do that, and how would they start?”

“No idea. There’s a lot of weird and secret magic out there, though. Everypony thinks there’s only one set of Elements, for example.” Dusk frowned. “Well, actually, I guess now there are only one set… weird to think about.”

Gloom Fang seemed intrigued, leaning across the table excitedly. “So there might be, like… a magic spring, or a jewel, or something like that, and when you touch it you can become an alicorn?! That would be awesome!”

“Keep your voice down,” Dusk chided.

“Oh, right. Sorry. But just think of it. If we could find that artifact, we could become baticorns too. Imagine a whole squad of magic-using fliers. That would be so cool,” Gloom’s eyes gleamed. “I’ll bet if we became baticorns we’d get power armor.”

“If we became baticorns the 38th Company would probably vivisect us to figure out how to make more,” Dusk drawled. “Nobody actually told the Iron Warriors where the class of Princess ponies came from. They think Princess Twilight Sparkle was born like that. If they knew the truth they’d probably force Princess Celestia to raise an army of alicorns.”

“Huh. Yeah. I guess they would.” Gloom frowned. “Wait, why is that bad again?”

“Princess Celestia is probably the only person in the world who knows anything about the alicorns beyond the silly legends, so I, for one, am not about to suggest to the Iron Warriors that she could magic up an army of super ponies any time she wants to but just doesn’t feel like it,” Dusk explained, “and since we’re on the topic, the other possibility here is that Celestia actually DID create this baticorn after all.”

“What? Why would she do that?”

“Don’t know. But if she was going to start upgrading ponies in secret, thestrals wouldn’t be her worst choice. We tend to be secretive and no one would care if a bunch of us went missing one night for no apparent reason.” He paused. “Also, not to put too fine a point on it, but Princess Celestia would not be heartbroken to learn that such a creation was murdering human Chaos soldiers.”

A buzzer suddenly rang from above, and every bat pony in the mess hall cringed at the intensity of the sound.

Alert! Deployment group alpha, delta, and lambda are to report to the landing pads for combat deployment within 20 minutes. Failure to report on time will be strictly punished. Have a nice night! The mare’s voice coming from the vox caster giggled and cut out.

“Welp. Back to work,” Dusk said, fitting his mask in place and hopping off the bench.

“So are we deploying with the others, or what? You never told us when and where we would be breaking off to do our own thing.” Gloom Fang joined his squad leader, using his wing to fix his own mask into place.

“Just follow your orders, Gloomy. We’ll get there.” Dusk smirked. “And along the way maybe you’ll get to ask the baticorn about what happened in person.”

Gloom shuddered and trotted after the Lunar Lieutenant.

Ferrous Dominus – sector 24
Landing pads

“Squadrons Dark Arrow and Nightfall! Form up!” barked the human commander over the howling wind. “Your lift is on pad 9! You have 5 minutes to embark!”

One of the squad leaders let out a sharp, sudden shriek, and several other bat ponies around the lots jumped into the air to land behind her. Once they had all landed they skulked past the human officer, casting glares in his direction from behind the glimmering green lights of their optics visors. The mercenary watched them pass, glaring back from the cluster of bright red optics sensors that had replaced much of his face. The thestrals walked up a ramp into the waiting transport bay of a Valkyrie gunship, their manes whipping back and forth under the engine backwash.

“May the dark gods preserve you and bring death to your enemies. The green tide will break upon our ramparts!” the man shouted, slamming a fist against the Chaos Star hanging against his chest.

After all the ponies had entered, a loud clunking noise came from the ramp and it slowly lifted up and closed. The aircraft’s engines built up to a deafening roar, and after a few seconds the gunship lifted off into the air.

Dusk Blade watched the Valkyrie pass overhead, picking up speed as it shot westward. Numerous other transport gunships were on standby, either waiting for the pilots or cargo. Gloom Fang kept his head down, his ears pinned back while he had to endure the constant rumble of gunship engines.

They approached a particular group of bat ponies talking amongst themselves, but the conversation stopped as soon as the two incoming stallions were spotted. Nacht and Neuron Dialect were waiting quietly at the periphery of the group, but another mare immediately stepped forward. Like all the ponies she was wearing her respirator and he couldn’t see much of her expression, but her scowl was evident in her tone once she spoke.

“Well, well, well! Look who finally showed up to lead his own unit! Here we were thinking we might have to launch a second mission to the Mechanicus district to find you!” she growled. “Cutting it a little close, aren’t you? We could be dropped from the deployment if you were late!”

“Good thing I wasn’t late, then,” Dusk retorted. “Also – not that it’s any of your business – I was busy eating, not loitering around the DarkMech.”

“Every other unit lead was here before the pilots were! Queen Empyra even showed up and gave a big speech about how we have to bide our time until we can seize the enemy by their throat,” the mare said bitterly. The other thestrals of Dagger squad didn’t seem nearly as aggrieved, and some of them looked away and coughed awkwardly.

“Can’t say I regret missing that,” Dusk Blade said, reaching his unit and stopping in front of the frustrated mare. “Anyway, calm down Sting, I’m here now. Listen up, everypony!” Dusk stretched a wing out to point at one of the platforms. “There’s been a change to our mission parameters! When Dagger Squad first gets called, six of you will embark and head out. The rest of us will be leaving on a separate craft!”

“Wh-What? Why?” Silver Sting demanded, almost stumbling over her words in surprise. “Who’s going in each group?”

“Me, Nacht, Neuro and Gloomy will make up the smaller group,” Dusk explained. “We’ve been given a secondary mission at the last minute that requires us to deploy and route separately. The rest of you will proceed with the original mission parameters. Sergeant Silver Sting is in charge.”

“Are you serious?! We’ve barely heard a squeak out of you since the last mission and now you’re abandoning us in the field?!” Sting snapped.

“No, of course not!” Dusk retorted sharply. Then, after a pause, he clarified, “I’m abandoning you before we even reach the field. Sorry about that. Orders are orders.”

“What is your new mission, then?” asked a different bat pony.

“Have to secure some seismic thingamajigs for the DarkMech,” Dusk said, “most of the details are classified, but the Orks have been stealing stuff in the vicinity and we’ve been tasked with getting some of it back.”

Neuron Dialect and Nacht shared an intrigued look, but Silver Sting was still extremely unhappy about this new information. “You’re going to be attacking an Ork’s stash directly? And you’ve got FEWER ponies in your team than we do? Shouldn’t Dagger Squad stay together for this if it’s more important than our recon objective?”

“It might seem that way, sure. But no.”

Sting arched an eyebrow, waiting for her superior officer to elaborate.

Dusk Blade turned around and started walking away. “Anyway, we have to meet with a few tactical assets before we take off. Also I made a bet that you would complete your run before Blaze’s team or we would all have an extra week of cleaning duty, so keep that in mind. Have fun!”

Silver Sting shrieked in aggravation as Dusk broke into a gallop, racing toward a garage on the edge of the sector’s landing pedestals and refueling towers. Gloom Fang bolted after him, shaking his head while his ears were pinned down. Nacht snickered before taking to the air to follow, and Neuron Dialect offered the agitated Sergeant a brief, silent bow before she joined Nacht’s pursuit.

Dusk trotted up to the garage and pressed a hoof into the access console. The panel lumen flashed green, and then the main doors started to slide open. Nacht and Neuron landed on either side of him, and the smaller mare slapped their Lieutenant on the shoulder with her wing.

“You know I’ve always said Sting needs to lighten up, but you’re REALLY pushing it, Lieutenant,” she snickered.

“She’ll make a better Lieutenant than I do when she gets promoted again,” Dusk replied, “I’ve just gotta stop getting in her way. She spends more time trying to keep me in line than our subordinates.”

“Okay, sure, but dialing back to the topic of our secret super-important objective, what’s the plan here? What was with that weird cover story about stealing a thing from the Orks?”

“That wasn’t a cover story,” Dusk replied. “Well, I guess the implication that it’s a sanctioned mission for the Mechanicus is a cover story, but no: we really are stealing back some seismic pylons that the Orks looted.”

“Oh. Why would we do that, though?” Nacht asked.

“Need-to-know basis, kiddo,” Dusk said, stepping forward once the door opened fully. “Now come meet our team.”

“I thought we WERE the team,” Gloom said, looking doubtful.

“We were, yeah. But that team wasn’t good enough, so I asked for some extra help. Check it out!”

Standing within the garage, on top of a raised platform and under the wholly inadequate glow of the ceiling lumens, was a single Strider battlesuit. It was connected to several cables, chains, and hoses, and on its flank someone had painted a cartoony image of a rocket blasting off. A lascannon was mounted on the right side of the walker’s head, under a large spotter lumen and a targeting scope.

Dusk trotted up to the walker but the other thestrals stopped, staring at it and looking quite unimpressed. There was an earth pony laying atop the Strider, apparently asleep, and it jolted when the Lieutenant jumped up and kicked the machine in its leg. Slowly the pony climbed upright, releasing a displeased groan followed by a heavy yawn.

“This is our team’s Strider. Meet our pilot!” Dusk looked up at the new equine, sounding pleased. “What’s your name, jockey?”

The pony sluggishly turned its head to stare over the edge of the Strider’s torso. “Zariyah. Zariyah Backfire. You are my command?”

Once the thestrals heard the pony’s voice – with a rich Stalliongrad accent, curiously enough – they could tell the pony was a mare. Up until that point it had not been obvious; her mane was a golden yellow run through with threads of black, and styled into a Mohawk. She was also fully clothed, which was hardly rare for a pony prepared for a combat deployment but helped to obscure her body and much of her ash-gray coat. She wore baggy camouflage pattern pants and a green shirt, along with a black leather jacket over it. An unusual outfit, and obviously not one that was issued from the 38th Company itself.

“Good evening, pilot! I’m Lieutenant Blade, and this is Dagger squad! We’ll be your attachment for this mission.”

“Whoa, wait, hold on,” Gloom Fang interrupted, “what is this? Why are we taking this thing with us? I know the Colonel said something about Strider support but we can’t have one in our unit! It can’t fly!”

Zariyah snorted and banged a hoof against the Strider’s top hatch. “My Icebreaker is faster than she looks, but yes, she does not fly. If that is a problem it is one you really should have worked out before now.”

“It’s not a problem,” Dusk assured her, ignoring Gloom’s questions. “Is your rig ready to deploy? The final pony in our group should be here any second now.”

“What? Final pony? Who? You didn’t tell us about any of this!” Gloom complained. Nacht and Neuron shared a concerned glance.

“That’s correct, Gloomy. What I DID tell you was that you were not to question my decisions in the execution of this mission. Do you remember that?”

The other stallion grimaced but immediately backed down, his ears falling flat against his head again. Zariyah tilted her head to the side and quirked an eyebrow.

“I will prepare to head out once everyone is accounted for, Lieutenant.” She cracked another yawn, blinking repeatedly. “I am not exactly night owl, so you’ll have to excuse me if I seem a bit worn out. A few Ork fusillades should wake me right up once we are in the field!”

Dusk’s ear twitched as he detected a pony with a distinctive half-mechanical gait approaching the garage. “Good to hear, Backfire. You’re primarily running transport in this operation, but with our luck you’ll get to use the big gun too.”

Zariyah smirked and saluted. Then she spotted a pair of ponies approaching the garage. “Are they with us?”

One of the ponies was a unicorn mare with a coat and mane in various shades of ruddy, dull purple: half pale, and half very light. She was a familiar pony to all the thestrals, and Nacht brightened considerably when she spotted her. Following a few steps behind her was Gear Works.

“Penny! Oh wow, we’re getting support from a Moon Mage? That’s awesome!” Nacht exclaimed, her rosy eyes shining. Penumbra Shard smiled back at her happily.

“No. I don’t know who let her out of the basement, but I’ll make sure to have them reprimanded severely. Shard, you can go home,” Dusk replied, pointing a hoof past the unicorn. “Our last team member is him.”

“We’re taking a servitor?” Gloom asked, looking doubtful. “Is this one of the cool servitors with guns? I don’t see any guns attached to it.”

Gear Works sighed, his ears drooping. Dusk Blade bristled and whirled around on his subordinate.

“Are you serious?! You don’t recognize the only pony Techpriest in the fleet?!” he snapped, causing the larger stallion to recoil.

“Uh… no?” Gloom Fang replied awkwardly.

“There’s a pony Techpriest?” Nacht asked.

Neuron said nothing, but started looking over the cyborg pony more carefully now that she knew he wasn’t a servitor.

“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Zariyah volunteered, still watching the confrontation from atop her Strider. “The Dark Mechanicus despises ponies. And human technomancy is an art that baffles our most dedicated masters. I doubt it is possible.”

“You’ve never heard of him either?! He designed the Strider battlesuits! He’s the reason you have a job!” Dusk shouted up at her.

“Nyet, the Strider was designed by Fio’el Fennin, one of the cowardly grayskins,” Zariyah said, pausing to turn her head and spit over the edge of her walker. “He sometimes stops by hangar to complain that we are over-stressing the leg servos by jumping over things. Feh! Engineers.”

Dusk looked ready to argue the point then and there, but Gear Works interrupted to cut him off. “Fio’el Fennin certainly contributed enough to their design that he could be mistaken for the sole inventor, yes. Anyway.” Gear Works took a step ahead of the mare he had arrived with. “My name is Gear Works, Dark Acolyte – not, as Lieutenant Blade said, a full Techpriest – of the Cult Mechanicus. I will be assisting you on this deployment.”

“Why?” Gloom Fang asked, narrowing his eyes. “Are we bringing you along in case we need to fix the Strider? Because I’m not totally sold on the Strider, either.”

“No. My understanding is that my skills are necessary for the completion of some key objectives,” Gears replied. “Of course, if you disagree, I will be more than happy to retire from this deployment immediately and return to Mechanicus business.”

Dusk stared hard at the other thestrals, his eyes daring them to say anything. Gloom wilted, and Neuron shrugged.

“Okay, fine; if the Lieutenant says you’re in, then you’re in,” Nacht agreed. “So with that out of the way, why is Penny here?”

Penumbra Shard patiently waited for everyone’s attention, and then she pressed a hoof to her chest. “I too am here to aid your deployment.”

“Since when? I didn’t requisition your support,” Dusk said suspiciously. “You’re not even supposed to be out of Nightwatch without an escort.”

“Since I sent a plea directly to Princess Luna to be added to the mission, of course.” Penumbra bowed her head, smirking. “I assured her that since your task required a Strider, it would not be such a burden to add another grounded pony to your team.” Then she gestured to Gears. “As for an escort, this kind stallion offered his aid, so it was not necessary to find additional protection.”

“That’s not true,” Gear Works said immediately. “She’s been following me for three sectors and didn’t say a thing until we got here. She probably thought I was a servitor too.”

Dusk groaned and rubbed his head with a wing. “Okay, look: I’m not really in a position to turn down extra help from somepony who actually knows what we’re doing here. But if you come along, you’re going as a SOLDIER. You follow orders and you answer questions. No arguing, no lies, and no mystical ambiguity. Understood?”

“Of course, my dear Lieutenant,” Penumbra purred. Her tail swung gently back and forth as she spoke, and Dusk immediately felt a chill crawl down his spine.

“Also – I felt like this should go without saying but I should make sure – no flirting when we’re in the field. Keep your hooves to yourself, understand?”

Penumbra tilted her head to the side, still grinning. “Absolutely! I can think of LOTS of loopholes to that.”

Dusk glared at her for a few seconds, and then looked over to Gear Works. “Gears? Do you know where we can get one of those shock collars they use for the slaves?”

“ALL RIGHT OKAY I GET IT PLEASE DON’T,” the unicorn yelped, her sultry, teasing demeanor breaking in an instant. “No more fooling around! I promise! I just want to help!”

“I don’t believe you, but you would be a lot of help and your real goal is probably aligned with ours anyway. Bringing you along is likely worth the headache,” Dusk decided, much to Penumbra’s relief. “You’re in, Shard.”

“Dagger Squad! Group one, get going! Your lift is on pad 5! Venom Squad, you’re with them! Five minutes until liftoff!” came a shout from outside.

Dusk perked his ears. “All right, we should be next.”

“So how exactly is this going to work now? Isn’t this supposed to be a dark ditch?” Nacht asked.

“It is!” Dusk confirmed. “For those of you unfamiliar, dark ditches are high-speed deployments where transport aircraft dump a squad of bat ponies out the back in mid-air at night! It’s generally not done with non-flyers, but you’ll have grav chutes and the terrain shouldn’t be too challenging!”

“I need to get Icebreaker ready,” Zariyah grumbled, moving to the back of the Stider. “These technicians, they cover her with hoses and chains and such and then leave, and it always takes too long to disconnect everything.”

Gear Works looked up at her while she bit onto a hose and tried to wrench it loose, and then he started walking toward a cogitator on the far wall. Neuron Dialect watched him, her eyes glinting bright red from beneath her hood.

“Isn’t a dark ditch supposed to be pretty dangerous for other ponies?” Nacht said, briefly eyeing Penumbra. “Most pegasi are bad at it even with night fighting gear, and they can at least fly. We’re not going to have a deployment beacon and the Company outpost is some twenty miles from the drop zone if they get lost in the dark.”

“That’s true! Nice to see SOMEPONY reviews the battle plans,” Dusk said, coughing. “Look, I’m not going to mince words: this is going to be dangerous. We’re going to have to look out for our grounded allies. Although I should remind you all that Shard’s survival is not mission-critical.”

Penumbra recoiled with a gasp, looking appropriately offended. Across the room, Gear Works reached the console and activated it with a tap of his hoof. The holo-screen booted up and then vanished just as quickly as he navigated the menus at the speed of thought.

“And on that topic: it might sound like a drag, or even starkly unfair, but I’m telling each one of you now: Gear Works is the critical asset. He must reach the objective zone in one piece, and then he must get out of there ALIVE,” Dusk pressed. “When we’re in the field you look out for our Techpriest. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Lieutenant!” Gloom Fang and Nacht replied.

“He’s only a Dark Acolyte,” Neuron Dialect corrected while nodding her head.

“Now don’t YOU start.”

A startled yelp came from the mare atop the Strider, and Dusk glanced behind him. The hoses that were attached to the Strider were popping out of the ports of their own volition, dropping down to the floor and then rolling back up out of the way. The chains securing the Strider from the deck and ceiling broke off their mag-locks, and a loud rattling filled the garage as they were withdrawn into their respective winch drums. The ladder on the side of the walker dropped into a slot in the floor and the platform slowly sank until it was level with the rest of the garage. Several yellow lumens turned green, indicating that the vehicle bay was no longer in use.

Gear Works turned from garage console. “Pilot Backfire, I’ve reviewed the maintenance check on your war machine, cleared it for deployment, and disengaged the refueling and safety rigging. Would you like me to employ a blessing before we depart? Perhaps something related to targeting entreaties.” The holo-screen above the cogitator was awash in unreadable data-screed, words and symbols speeding across the length of the projection.

Zariyah Backfire looked back and forth from atop the Strider, and then kicked the access lever to open the cockpit. “All right, maybe you are Dark Techpriest after all.”

“Once again, that is the wrong rank. But I am pleased to have earned your recognition,” Gears replied. “Shall we depart for the transport? They have not called for us yet but I saw that we are registered for pad 3.”

“Let’s take to the skies!” the Strider pilot said, suddenly sounding more energetic. “Maybe we will be lucky and find the fabled baticorn out in the wastes, yes? I would love to paint THAT marker on Icebreaker’s kill board. Ha HA!” She slipped down into the Strider’s body, and then the top hatch dropped down and clicked shut.

Gear Works tilted his head to the side. “The what? The baticorn? What is a baticorn?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Dusk Blade said, his eyes narrowed to slits as he glared at Nacht. “Just a dumb rumor that some dumb pony has been spreading among the line troops, that’s all.”

Nacht said nothing, her ears pinned down and sweat beading on her face. Gloom Fang was also giving her a stern look, but Penumbra was giggling into a hoof. Neuron didn’t seem to be paying attention, watching silently as the Strider trotted across the garage.

“I… I see,” Gears mumbled, shifting one sidelong optical light to focus on the black thestral. “Well I hope someone comes up with a better name for it if the rumor spreads further. Shall we go?”

Dusk Blade took a deep breath, his wings pushing his optics visor down over his eyes. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

Author's Note

More of the DARK TRUTH revealed!
Will Dagger Squadron succeed? Will Gear Works survive this violent endeavor? Will Penumbra get any (no) :raritydespair:

Got some good images for this one. The first picture of Neuron Dialect is by Dorkmark (please ignore that the grass does not match the narrative setting). The second of Zariyah Backfire and her Strider is by Adagio String.

Here's another great picture of Neuron, again by Dorkmark

And a prototype design for Penumbra Shard, done by the infamous Beardie

That's all I have for you today! Stay tuned for more terrible, awful ponies and the evil space pirates who love them :rainbowdetermined2:

Dark Ditch

Nightwatch – The Elements of Destruction
By SFaccountant

Chapter 3
Dark Ditch

Badlands
Geolocation redacted

“So that’s the plan. The first part of the plan, anyway. The Orks have seismic pylons they looted while the DarkMech was prospecting here, and they have the data we need on what the local deep cave network looks like. Assuming the Orks haven’t completely torn them apart for extra armor plates or something.” Dusk explained, standing in front of a holo-screen map of the badlands. “Of course, we’re going in dark, literally and figuratively. We don’t have any good recon in this area.”

“And the mission to GET reconnaissance on the area is the one you’re skipping so we can get to this secret other objective,” Gear Works mentioned from the other side of the holo.

“Yeah. Well, kind of. We ARE getting data on the region, so really you can think of it as an extension of the original mission.” Dusk paused briefly, and then coughed into a hoof. “By the way, Gears: you are not to transmit any of the data we gather on the Orks’ location or the recovered subterranean mapping to anyone outside Dagger Squad. Not until I allow it, anyway.”

“That is against operational protocol,” Gear Works said, his sensor lights narrowing.

“Your mom is against operational protocol,” Nacht interjected. She was laying against Penumbra Shard’s side, and the unicorn snort-laughed at the comment.

“Nacht, quit it,” Dusk snapped.

“What? I’m not allowed to rib the nerd a little bit?”

“Not if that’s the best you can do, no. 2 out of 10. If you’re going to bully our support, at least be clever about it. You’re embarrassing me.”

The Valkyrie shuddered as it encountered turbulence, and the pitch of the engines changed while it adjusted its speed. Each bat pony perked and swiveled their ears, instinctively trying to collect information on their surroundings by the changing noise.

A vox link spat a burst of static, and then Zariyah’s voice came through the console. “The winch is rattling an awful lot out here! Are we nearing drop zone?”

“No Backfire, just some turbulence. Sit tight,” Dusk ordered. “We still have a little while.”

“I still do not understand why we cannot make normal landing!” the Strider pilot complained. “It is in dead of night and the green filth have no idea we approach! Would take at most two minutes!”

“You’d be surprised by how much ground a bored Ork patrol or scavenger team can cover in two minutes when they hear a gunship descending in the distance. These tubs make a LOT of noise,” Dusk replied, his voice grim.

“Yeah, and baticorns can fly and probably hear as well as we can!” Nacht added, twitching her ears. “Maybe even better! It’s really dangerous to make too much noise!”

“Baticorn? Why are you talking about baticorns?” the Strider pilot asked. “I thought that was a silly rumor! Why would there be bat pony alicorn, and why would such a creature want to harm us?”

“No idea, Backfire! Just ignore Nacht, she doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” Dusk said, glaring hard at the smaller thestral. “I know this isn’t the kind of deployment you’re used to, but we’ll get you on the ground soon enough.”

“So as long as we’ve got a few minutes, you want to tell us your story, metalhead?” Gloom Fang asked, staring suspiciously at Gear Works. “Did you cut off your legs as a sacrifice to the Machine God or what? How does a pony become a Techpriest?”

“He’s just an Acolyte,” Neuron Dialect interjected before Gears could. She promptly fell silent again, her eyes hidden under the rim of her hood.

“Miss Dialect is correct, of course,” Gears said with a nod, “but that aside I feel like we shouldn’t breeze past the Lieutenant insisting I withhold mission data from the 38th Company.”

“Okay, then let’s address it head-on,” Gloom agreed. “You’re going to do exactly what he says, and you’re not going to bring up ‘protocol’ again. How’s that sound?”

Gears’ optical lights blinked off and on again. “That does not sound viable. I am not under Lunar Guard command, but am assisting your mission on orders from my own division. Protocol is the reason I’m here. Of course I’m not going to abandon it at your request.”

Dusk just groaned, but the other bat ponies clearly didn’t like that answer. Nacht stood up, a dangerous look in her eyes, Neuron lifted her gun upright with her wing, and Gloom made an intense growling noise that Gears had never heard from a pony before.

“You’re new here, friend. It’s understandable. But in the Lunar Guard we do things a bit differently.” Penumbra Shard interrupted, her voice smooth as silk.

The thestrals hesitated at her voice, and she made a brief gesture with her hoof. They all relaxed immediately, but had their disdainful eyes fixed on Gear Works. Dusk bristled, but he didn’t interrupt as the Moon Mage continued.

“Out here, in the battlefield under the gleaming stars, the bonds of harmony and friendship don’t amount to much,” she said tenderly, like a mother giving a sensitive lesson to a colt. “And silly rules made up by lazy apes sleeping peacefully while we’re dropped into a warzone account for much less. Follow our leader, young Acolyte, and you may yet see the dawn. Your protocols and machines will not protect you here.”

Gear Works blinked again, his ears slowly pinning back against his head. “… Why are you speaking as if we’re not being carried into the warzone by one of those very machines, guided by a human pilot? You know he can hear all of this, right?”

The thestrals suddenly looked alarmed, but Penumbra snickered into a hoof. “Oh, my dear little Acolyte… you don’t really… really think that… um…” her smile twitched slightly, and beads of sweat started appearing on her forehead. “… You’re being serious? He really heard everything we’ve said?”

“He did. As did I,” Zariyah’s voice volunteered over the vox. “You know I am also in human machine that will be protecting you, yes? What are you going on about?”

“Wh-What?! How?!” Gloom yelped, visibly nervous now. “Everyone’s been listening in on us?! Can they do this all the time? How do we turn it off?!”

Gears silently levered his servo arm toward the console generating the hololith map and flicked off a switch. A few lumens on the console switched from green to red. Dusk sighed deeply, scooted over next to Gear Works, and then placed a hoof on his shoulder.

“So, one of the important things you have to know about the Lunar Guard is that, generally speaking, we are NOT smart,” he admitted in a regretful tone. “We do our best to hide it by being grim and mysterious, but my entire unit is rock stupid. Darkwind has been here for months but she still gets nervous around automatic doors because she thinks there are little creatures in the walls opening them for us. Mist Breaker is functionally illiterate. Silver Sting is pretty clever in some ways but she cannot do any math more complex than subtraction. Seriously, if you say the word ‘percent’ she starts hissing like an angry cat.”

Nacht pouted and Gloom winced. Neuron found something intensely interesting to stare at on the hull of the Valkyrie. Penumbra coughed into a hoof, rebuilding her earlier demeanor of amused confidence.

“The Lieutenant exaggerates, of course,” the Moon Mage chuckled. “Most thestrals were considered outcast until several years ago and grew up in caverns scrounging for food every day. It’s understandable that they have a less… erudite outlook than those ponies who walk in the sunlight.”

“The Moon Mages are pretty stupid too,” Dusk assured Gears.

“WHAT?!” Penumbra jumped upright, a furious scowl on her face. “I’m not going to be called stupid by somepony like you! You spent your life up until now hunting roaches in the depths for food and stealing scraps from farmhouses! I went to university!”

“You didn’t graduate, though,” Dusk countered.

“I would have if my professor hadn’t died!”

“Sure. And whose fault is that?”

Penumbra and Dusk locked eyes, growling at each other, and Nacht made a whimpering sound. The other thestrals looked around at the gunship interior, like they were suddenly deeply fascinated by the levers and cables. Gear Works looked increasingly distressed as well, his optical lights tilting toward an outward slant.

“ANYWAY,” Penumbra Shard huffed, suddenly breaking eye contact and dropping back down next to Nacht, “the skills of my thestral siblings may differ from that of our ‘enlightened’ brethren, but they are not lesser. It hardly needs to be said that Equestrian society has found ample use for ponies who hunt their prey at night. We each have our own talent and part to play and the group becomes stronger for it. And THAT is more important than petty protocols and tedious doctrines.”

“… I want to know whose fault it is that your professor died,” Gears replied, his ears pinning back. “Was it you? Is that why you were unable to graduate?”

The vox suddenly crackled, much to the unicorn’s relief. “We’re coming up on the deployment area, Dagger Squad. Prepare for drop. Remember that we’ll be comms dark out here until you reach the waypoint alpha. If you turn on a distress signum the only thing to pick it up out there are the Orks and the Strider squadrons, and the Orks will probably get there first.”

“Yeah, I think we know better than to expect the evil Chaos space pirates to launch a rescue mission for us, but thanks,” Nacht replied.

“Of course. May the dark gods guide your fire and the blood of the greenskins flow like rivers,” the pilot continued.

“Yeah, great, guiding rivers, cool,” Gloom Fang said, leaning toward the vox caster. “Hey, quick question: do you guys ALWAYS listen in on your passengers’ conversations?”

“Yes,” the pilot replied breezily. “Disengaging the ramp in T-minus thirty! Watch out for baticorns down there!” Another static burst came from the vox unit before the connection was finally cut.

“Nacht, I swear to the stars…” Dusk growled.

“Sorry! I’m sorry!” she wailed. “I didn’t know the vox was on!”

“Shard, metalhead, you got your grav chutes?” Gloom Fang asked.

“Affirmative,” Gears replied, poking his servo arm at the plasteel boxes strapped to both sides of his body. “I’m slightly concerned about the lack of thrusters on this unit, however. It’s generally considered an important feature of the device.”

“Yeah, and having wings is generally considered an important feature of aerial drops too but we’re improvising tonight I guess,” Nacht shrugged.

A clunking noise came from rear ramp, and a series of vent hatches opened up to steadily depressurize the transport bay. Then the rear ramp dropped open and the bay lumens went out. Gears was barely affected by the change in pressure and visibility given his mask and optical veil, but the thought of leaping out the gunship in mid-flight still made the remnants of his stomach turn.

“SEE YA ON THE GROUND, NERDS!!” Nacht bellowed, suddenly sprinting out the back and leaping into the air with a whoop.

Penumbra laughed and raced after her, showing admirable enthusiasm for a pony without wings. She leapt out into the sky and promptly dropped out of sight. A brief magical glow pulsed from below a second later.

Neuron Dialect trotted out to the embarkation ramp without a fuss, stopping at the edge and then dropping down after the others. A loud clunk came from below a second later, suggesting that the Strider had been released. It too carried a grav chute for the drop, although the Strider’s size was very near the upper bounds of what the device could safely deliver.

“Gears? You want me to jump with you?” Dusk offered, poking a hoof toward the ramp.

“Uh, well… I suppo-“ Gears was suddenly shoved from behind, and he yelped in terror as he stumbled toward the exit.

“Down we go! No turning back now, dweeb!” Gloom Fang laughed, jumping forward and planting a hoof on Gear’s back.

“Gloomy! Wait, don’t-“ Dusk shouted, jumping forward himself a little too late.

Gear Works squeaked in fright as Gloom Fang shoved him down the ramp. Unsurprisingly, the biggest pony in the group was also quite strong, easily launching Gears off into the air while also leaping out himself. Dusk scrambled after them, bolting out of the transport bay and into the night sky right before the Valkyrie gunship started to bank for a turn.

Gears, naturally, plummeted like a rock, flailing his hooves in a panic while a whimpered string of Binaric cant from his mask. His servo arm, rattling dangerously among the robes flapping in the wind, clamped down on the sides of the grav-chute. A second later it activated, and both boxes lit up with a strange yellowish glow as they started to slow his descent.

“GLOOMY!!” Dusk barked, promptly spotting the other thestral stallion with the shout. “What the fang was that?! Are you trying to get somepony killed?!”

Gloom was descending with the other bat ponies, and he seemed startled to be yelled at. Below the other members of Dagger Squadron Penumbra was slowly floating down to the ground, kicking her feet lazily like she was swimming. Her grav-chute was thrumming away, rendering her effective weight feather-like, but the Moon Mage surely could have arrested her descent through her magic anyway.

“What’s the problem? He’s fine!” Gloom Fang protested, pointing a hoof down at the pony in question.

Gear Works was upside-down and making very unhealthy wheezing noises, but at a glance it appeared that Gloom Fang was right. The grav-chute was active and the Dark Acolyte was visibly slowing in his fall. Dusk narrowed his eyes and turned back to his subordinate.

“Don’t ‘what’ me! You know EXACTLY what you did wrong!” Dusk barked angrily. “This isn’t the Nightwatch locker room, idiot! We’re on a mission here! No hazing or ‘kidding around’ that involves pushing our support into potentially lethal falls!”

“I really don’t see what the big deal is,” Gloom replied with a snort. “He was going to have to jump eventually, right? Who cares if I did it for him rather than you goading him like a foal?”

Gear Works, unable to control his path of descent in any meaningful way, struck the top of the Strider on his way down, yelping in surprise. Thanks to the grav-chute the impact didn’t hurt very badly, but one of the pieces of the device struck a protruding hook used for carrying cargo and soldiers. The plasteel box was torn off, and Gear Works went spiraling away into the darkness at a much faster pace.

“No big deal?! You think it’s FUNNY to terrorize our Techpriest support?! You think it won’t matter whether he trusts us when we’re on mission and we need his help?!” Dusk shouted.

“I do believe both those things, yeah. You don’t?” Gloom asked.

“I also agree it’s pretty funny but you have a point about us needing to work with him,” Nacht admitted, “I vote for not picking on the Nerdpriest anymore.”

“It’s not a VOTE! I’m giving you orders!” Dusk shouted. “Leave our Techpriest alone!”

“He’s just a Dark Acolyte,” Neuron Dialect reminded him, “and I think half of his grav-chute broke.”

“What?!” Dusk whirled around in the air.

“You keep calling him a Dark Techpriest but that-”

“NOT THAT! WHERE IS HE?! WHAT HAPPENED?!” Dusk shouted, searching for the glow of the grav-chutes among the darkness.

His echolocation only detected the ponies hovering nearby and the Strider below; apparently Gears had descended or strayed too far for him to pick up that way. Once he spotted the dim yellow blob in the distance, Dusk pulled his wings closed and dove downward without another word. The other thestrals quickly moved to follow him, while Penumbra just kissed her hoof and waved.

“See you at the bottom, sweeties!” the Moon Mage chirped, not obviously distressed by the sudden emergency.

Dusk Blade growled as the wind whipped through his mane and tail, focusing everything on the distant light. As he understood it the grav-chute would still work well enough with one unit to let a pony survive the landing, but it would dramatically affect the angle of descent, scattering him far from the intended drop zone. This would be bad enough on a drop in broad daylight, to a staging area far from the enemy, but at night during an insertion directly into Ork-held territory it was much, much worse.

“I can’t see him! Does anypony see him?!” Dusk shouted as the light seemed to fade away.

“He landed,” Neuron replied, her voice barely loud enough to hear over the rush of air surrounding them. “… Or crashed.”

“Why didn’t you tell me something was wrong right away?!” the Lieutenant demanded.

“You were busy yelling at us. If I interrupted you would have been mad,” she replied.

“WELL I’M PRETTY MAD NOW, NEURO!!”

Dusk sensed the ground was approaching fast, and he flipped backward and spread his wings, rapidly shifting into a glide. The other bat ponies did the same, their training taking over. They mapped out the terrain from the reflected noise of Dusk’s shouting, identifying the scattered objects below and finding the best potential cover and most likely vector for an enemy interception.

Gloom Fang shrieked, his voice aimed at a particular outcropping and resonating in a signal that stood out like a beacon to the other thestrals. Nacht and Neuron immediately adjusted their glide paths, following the stallion to the landing zone he had picked out. Dusk Blade ignored it, flapping his wings to gain altitude and turning on his night vision optics.

A vast web of large wooden vines stretched over the ground from a series of pits, like tentacles reaching out from an aquatic den under the sea. Big splinter-like needles, each of them as long as a bayonet blade and looking nearly as sharp at the tip, decorated the network, creating a deadly-looking carpet. Surely the vines protected more than one nest of nasty wasteland animals as well as being a serious hazard on its own, and Dusk’s panic increased as he flew over it.

“GEARS!! GEARS, WHERE ARE YOU?!” he shouted, his eyes and ears searching for any signs of ruptured spikes or scattered mechanical parts.

Suddenly he found it: a pincer claw sticking up out of the treacherous, curling roots. Dusk swooped down on the location, alighting on one of the spikes and stooping over the claw.

“Gears! Gears, speak to me!” Dusk begged.

“… I am not well,” the Dark Acolyte replied weakly.

It was hard to tell through the low-light optics and echolocation whether there was blood splashed on the vines below, but it would have been truly remarkable for the tech-cultist to have landed without cutting himself to some extent. Currently Gear Works was laying crosswise on a vine, with his servo arm clamped onto a spine jutting out above him. Below him, in the underbelly of the thorn patch, Dusk sensed something moving.

“Okay, look, can you hold that position? If I go get Shard I’m pretty sure she can levitate you out,” Dusk offered.

A crack came from the spike held by the servo arm. A loud creak came from the vine under Gear Works. A strangled whimper came from the Dark Acolyte.

“That sounded like a ‘no’ to me, so plan B is for me to scream for the others to get…” Dusk trailed off, his ears twitching and pivoting about. “Oh you have GOT to be kidding me!”

The rumble of an overcharged engine rolled over the hills, and Dusk soon spotted the high-beams from an Ork Trukk zipping across the hard-packed ground. It was still some distance away and Dusk had no reason to think that they had heard him calling for Gears, so he had to assume they had seen the glow of the grav-chutes in the air. The vehicle was racing along the empty flats around the vine cluster, and as far as he could tell there was no plausible entry point for such a vehicle.

“Okay, we have Orks. Not a huge surprise. Maybe they’ll just-” Dusk was promptly interrupted by the sound of machine gun fire coming from the incoming vehicle. “Fine, no shouting for help. Shouting would be bad. Plan C it is.”

“What is plan C?” Gear Works gasped.

“Still working on it,” Dusk admitted.

The Trukk revved its engine louder, speeding up and edging closer to one of the larger thorn-covered roots lying beside its path. Its big shoota blazed away in uneven bursts, cutting jagged tears into the enormous vines.

“They’re not shooting at us, right?” Gears whimpered while he tried in vain to climb up higher.

“Yeah, that’s right. They haven’t located us yet,” Dusk whispered back. He jumped onto the vine above Gear Works and grabbed onto his servo arm as best he could. “Everything’s gonna be okay, buddy. They can’t find-”

A peal of deep, guttural laughter came from the passing Trukk, and then a pair of burnabomms were hurled from the passenger cab onto the strange roots. The charges exploded on impact, blooming into bright clouds of flame that clung to the dry wood of the vines and quickly began to spread. Dusk’s ears pinned back and he resisted the urge to scream.

“Okay, I know what plan C is now.”

“Wh-What?”

“I’m going to try to soften your drop to the ground. When you’re on your hooves again, we’re cutting East. Do NOT stop, even if you see something dangerous in front of you. Copy?”

“Machine God preserve me,” Gear Works gasped, doing a quick check on the height of the fall. Five meters. Quite survivable. “On your mark, Lieutenant.”

Another burst of machine gun fire boomed through the night, and Dusk took a deep breath. “All right: Three. Two. ONE!”

The servo arm released the spine and Gears slipped down the side of the root, releasing himself to the merciless grip of gravity. Dusk kept his grip on the mechanical pincer and kicked off the vine, plummeting along with him. His wings beat desperately, slowing their fall, and then Dusk let go a second before Gears reached the ground.

Gear Works grunted at the impact, but the sound was lost among a series of thick, disturbing crunching noises. His optics could see dozens of crawling and slithering things bolt away from him in the darkness, but he ignored them as best he could and surged upright. Pain bloomed in his rear leg (the organic one, naturally), but in the panic of the moment he couldn’t tell if he had been bitten by something or just cut himself on a rock during the fall.

“This way! Come on!” Dusk shouted, skimming over the ground ahead of the cyborg. His voice rendered the path ahead for his echolocation, marking out low-hanging spines and muffled areas that were probably wrapped in webbing.

A serpent with a body thicker than his leg rose from the darkness, its eyes glinting. Dusk doubled his speed, charging straight forward with an ear-rending shriek. He twisted into a corkscrew turn, and the blades on his hooves lashed out and sliced a serious gash through the creature’s scaly hide.

“AAAAAAAAAAAH!!” Gears charged through after the thestral, howling in terror the entire time. The serpent, already reeling from getting slashed, released a sharp hiss of pain as its tail was trampled.

“You jerks! What was that for?!” it cried, whimpering and slithering away into the shadows.

“Oh, hey, some of these things can talk. Interesting,” Dusk mumbled before punching his hoofblades into a needlessly large spider and ripping open both the arachnid and the sheet of webbing behind it. “We’ve got a tunnel up ahead! Keep moving!” Forced under an especially low cluster of spines, Dusk finally landed in a run, his wings spread but held low.

Gears finally ceased wailing long enough to check where they were going, his optic lights expanding to take in as much light as possible. Unlike Dusk he could rely on complex night vision rather than sonar, and his more detailed view of the entrance let him see that the debris piled around it were mostly large bones. The Dark Acolyte didn’t have a greatest sense of wilderness survival, but as his gaze wandered over a skull that definitely looked equine in form he was able to draw a few logical inferences.

“Lieutenant, I believe that’s a large predator’s nest!”

“Probably, yeah!” Dusk swatted some kind of spiny-shelled beetle out of the air with his wing. “That’s good! None of these little creeps will follow us in there!”

“And the predator?”

“You let ME handle it! Nothing in here is scarier than the fire spreading on top of this place or the Orks shooting up everything that moves and a bunch of stuff that doesn’t!” Dusk insisted, racing into the tunnel without hesitation.

Gears wasn’t quite so confident, but the reasoning made sense and he was anyway inclined to trust Dusk’s experience. He tucked his servo arm closer to his body and charged after the thestral with a brief, anxious groan, breaking a skull under his bionic hoof in the process.

The tunnel was cramped, but the space was blessedly free of spines, webbing, and other creatures. It wound up and down and from side to side in seemingly random patterns, although Gears assumed the paths shifted to avoid rocks and large roots. Every once in a while there was another tunnel that crossed through to form an intersection, but other than slowing to check for anything waiting in ambush Dusk ignored the potential detours.

“We don’t have a lot of time before the fire above starts sucking all the oxygen out of here,” Dusk informed him. “You’d probably handle that pretty well, but my mask just filters air, it doesn’t provide any. This should take us to the edge of this vine patch or whatever it is, and then we can sneak out while the Orks are shooting at nothing.”

“Why would you assume this tunnel has an exit outside this vine growth? Your echolocation can extend that far?”

“No, but those skulls at the entrance weren’t from creatures that live down here,” the bat stallion explained. “So it’s definitely getting food from somewhere topside, and therefore it needs an access point!”

“I see! And we’re still generally unconcerned with what or where this beast is?”

“Not totally! But it’s definitely low-priority!” Dusk replied. “Since we’re on the subject: stay sharp! It might show up to defend its egg cache!”

“What egg cache?” Gears asked, right before Dusk stopped ahead of him. “Oh.”

Sure enough, the tunnel widened into a large round chamber, and scattered within that chamber were numerous eggs. Each one was the size of a pony’s head and was half-buried in the dirt, creating an awkward obstacle course before the next section of the tunnel. Dusk jumped into the air and simply flew over all of them, but Gears started picking his way across carefully so as not to step on any of the eggs.

“What are you doing?” Dusk demanded, looking back over his shoulder. “C’mon, just charge through! We don’t have time for this!”

“I’m not going to just trample a nest belonging to some unseen apex predator!” Gears hissed back, still stepping between the (presumably) fragile orbs.

“Gears, everything down here is going to be broiled alive soon and whatever laid these things obviously isn’t here to get mad about it!” the thestral retorted. “Let’s just… wait. Did you hear that?”

Gear Works froze, his front right hoof quivering just inches from the ground. He didn’t hear anything, in fact, but was well aware that bat ponies’ ears were far more sensitive than his. Sweating fearfully, his optics sensors spread out, analyzing the surrounding chamber for any hints of movement.

A bit of dirt fell from the tunnel’s ceiling onto Dusk Blade’s head, and his ear flicked it away. “It… kinda sounds like-“

The wall of the tunnel suddenly burst open, and Gears released a squeal of fright as Dusk vanished behind a mass of rapidly moving scales. It happened so fast that he didn’t realize what he was looking at until the body moving across the width of the tunnel tapered to a claw-tipped tail and then disappeared into the newly burrowed hole. The sound of rapidly churning earth faded away, leaving only a few bits of crumbling dirt dropping from the ceiling tunnel in its wake.

Gear Works didn’t dare to speak as he crossed the rest of the nesting chamber, being even more careful than before not to step on the eggs. Once he reached the compromised tunnel, he stopped and slowly leaned forward into the freshly-dug tunnel intersection, peering into the earthen tube where his “friend” had been carried into.

“… Lieutenant? Was… Was that a giant rockwurm? … Hello?” Gears said, his voice a trembling croak. He felt numb at the prospect that Dusk had been killed and eaten in front of him, and the wider implications were rapidly sorting themselves out in his thoughts beneath the sense of horror, sorrow, and panic.

Perhaps he could find his way out on his own, but could he really evade the Orks without a stealth and combat specialist to lead the way? What would happen when he found the rest of Dagger Squadron and informed them that their commander had perished trying to rescue him? Assuming they didn’t tear his throat out, was the mission even possible without Dusk? What if the burrowing monster came back for the other intruder?

“Lieutenant…” Gears whimpered again.

“You’re still here! Good!” Dusk said from behind him.

Gears screamed, jolting in surprise and nearly tripping into the tunnel he had been staring into. “Wh-What?! How did you-“

“I stabbed it in the tongue. It’s real mad now, so we should probably keep moving,” Dusk said, giving the Dark Acolyte a gentle shove in the direction they had been traveling.

“But even if you-“ Gear Works started to protest, only to receive another, less gentle shove.

“Gears, you don’t need to believe me about how I escaped but you DO need to believe me about the critter being mad and not dead! Let’s GO!” the thestral barked.

This argument was convincing enough that Gear Works bolted, moving into a gallop as quickly as he could. Dusk was right behind him, his ears straining to pick up the sound of shifting dirt. The bat pony soldier had been caught badly off-guard, unaware of how quickly something that large could dig through solid ground and how odd its approach sounded to his senses. He wouldn’t let it surprise him again.

Gears twisted his head enough so that a peripheral sensor could see the other stallion, and he did a minor scan as they made their escape. Dusk’s armor was scored and cracked in several places, but not fully penetrated. He was also damp with some kind of acidic slime; not strong enough to be a threat to his armor or equipment, but hopefully he hadn’t gotten any in his eyes.

Dusk Blade had definitely been bitten, and probably even swallowed by that rockwurm. He had probably stabbed it in the tongue to get out like he said, if only because Gears couldn’t imagine a more likely way he could have gotten free. But how had he escaped the monster and returned so quickly without using the tunnel he had been carried off into?

Gear Works supposed it didn’t really matter. The Lieutenant had survived and most of his fears about proceeding alone were put to rest. Not all of them, of course, given that the burrowing predator was still alive, very upset, and almost certainly hungry after its previous meal managed to flee.

“Below! It’s coming from below!” Dusk shouted suddenly.

Gear Works wailed in terror, mostly for lack of any other options. Dusk jumped toward him and spun around in the air, landing his back hooves on Gear’s flank. Then he kicked as hard as he could, hurling the cyborg stallion ahead while launching himself in the opposite direction.

The ground between the ponies burst upward in that split second, and a trio of jaw parts snapped closed on nothing. Dusk back-flipped and landed on his hooves, releasing a brief, loud shriek to seize the creature’s attention. The giant rockwurm’s neck bent to face the bat pony, and its tripartite mouth yawned open.

“Not this time, freak!” Dusk shouted, firing his splinter rifle into the beast’s open mouth.

A dozen toxic crystal shards sunk into the exposed flesh of the wurm’s inner mouth, setting its nerves alight with agony. It shut its jaws and recoiled, releasing a quivering groan from its enormous throat. Dusk fired another burst at its body, but only one or two splinters managed to penetrate its tough, mud-caked hide.

A strange noise came from the other side of the rockwurm, like a spearhead punching into the side of a tree. The monster groaned again and began to sink back into its emergence hole, evidently pushed into retreat. Its massive tube body twisted back and forth, loosening the ground around and beneath its body, and then the giant wurm slipped back into its hole.

“Hah! Not so tough when I know you’re coming!” Dusk taunted, darting over the new pit in the floor.

He was about to yell at Gears to get up and run, but stopped and stared instead. Gear Works was already standing and gasping heavily through his respirator, trying to get a grip on his panic. His tail was held aloft, quivering in the air and curled sharply around his right flank to point forward. The dataspike at the end had blood on it.

“Hot dang, pony! Did you actually STAB that thing?” Dusk asked.

“Y… Yes? Was… that wrong?” Gears asked hesitantly.

“No! No, it was very right! Just kind of out of character for you,” the other stallion explain before rushing ahead down the tunnel.

“Well I HAVE been in combat situations before, much to my chagrin,” Gears grumbled, his demeanor returning to a state somewhat closer to normal.

“Yeah, no, I get it! Way to go, bud!” Dusk Blade cheered. “I know you have more guts than you let on, but it’s still kind of surprising each time it shows. Any Ork that gets too close to you is gonna lose an eye! Ha!”

Gear Works grimaced, his tail rubbing the spike against his robe and twisting in an effort to clean it off. “The dataspike is a weapon of desperation, Lieutenant. This is not its primary function, and damaging the tip WILL degrade its utility when interfacing with proper machines. A function I believe we require to complete your mission.”

“Right! Yes! Excellent point! You have our priorities straight!” Dusk agreed. “The exit’s just a little farther, around the next bend! We’re almost back in action!”

Dusk Blade rounded the corner, and sure enough there was a hole framed by giant bramble thorns up ahead. He whooped for joy, creating another pulse of sound to help identify any potential threats skulking about the exit, but the reverberations spotted nothing of interest. Lowering his head and closing his wings, the thestral officer prepared for a high-speed escape.

“What’s that light coming from?” Gear Works asked.

Dusk slowed immediately and cracked his eyes open. The tunnel had been totally dark, naturally, to the point that Dusk had just closed his eyes while he ran and fought to better protect from irritants and avoid any sensory confusion. Looking outside the tunnel exit, he could see a bright spotlight being cast against the ground from an elevated position. He had almost run right into it.

“Well that’s weird,” the bat pony grunted. “Looks like a trap.”

“I believe that is a vehicular search lumen,” Gears pointed out.

“Do Striders have those? Could be Backfire’s.”

“Striders do have those, yes. However, I am not detecting any friendly IFF signums within a radius of 200 meters. I do not think it is Miss Backfire.”

Dusk stopped to think for a few seconds, and then reached up for one of the large spines reaching into the tunnel from around the exit. He jammed a blade into the base and then broke it off from the greater vine, leaving him with a shard of wood nearly the size of his leg. Then he gently tossed the spike out into the beam of light.

Heavy machine gun fire instantly greeted the movement, and the entire space in front of the tunnel was raked over with bullets. The ponies yelped and hugged the walls, watching nervously as some of the less accurate shots struck the dirt path between them.

“The Orks! Of course! Why would I think we were almost home free?” Dusk grumbled.

“I don’t understand! How did they find us? Why are they going to such lengths to track us down?” Gears gasped, flinching when a bullet struck close enough to tug at his cloak.

“They didn’t, and they’re not. They probably don’t even know what we are. This is a hunting trip,” Dusk replied.

“Hunting? What?”

“For food. They find something flammable that provides lots of cover, set it on fire, then shoot and kill whatever comes out. There’s probably a couple other Trukks parked all around this patch,” Dusk grimaced as a bit of wood shrapnel scraped at his ear from a bullet impact. “It’s kind of cunning, if not stupidly wasteful. And of course we got stuck here by coincidence. Classic Orks, right?”

The gunfire finally let up, and the spotlight beam started shifting from side to side, searching for any signs of a corpse.

“What are we going to do? Go back into the tunnel and hide until they give up?” Gears asked.

“No, I’ve still got that oxygen problem I mentioned before. Plus it’s starting to get REALLY hot in here,” Dusk grumbled. “I’m gonna call in the others.”

“You mean your squad? But they don’t have vox links. How will you…?”

Dusk Blade sucked in a deep breath, and then he screeched.

The Orks waiting in the Trukk suddenly straightened as they heard a strange, high-pitched shriek come from the tunnel exit they were covering.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!”

“Da zog iz dat?” grumbled the driver, moving the spotlight up to cast its light directly into the tunnel. He couldn’t see anything from his elevated position in the Trukk’s cab, but the screeching noise did stop a moment later.

“Oi, we shood git down dere an’ find wotevah’s screemin’,” suggested a boy hanging on the edge of the Trukk bed.

“No, I told yas arredy: youz gonna scayr da food,” grumbled the gunner. He seemed quite content to wait, despite his fingers drumming on the ammo feed of the twin big shoota.

The fire had already spread over most of the huge, thorn-ridden vines that concealed their prey, lighting up the sky and blasting embers and smoke into the air. The flames were crawling closer toward the Orks and the exit they were covering, and was probably minutes away from walling off the tunnel. The aliens checked their weapons with growing impatience, annoyed that the only sighting they’d gotten so far was a chunk of wood.

“Ya arredy scayd off da food!” complained another Ork. “Youz wuz shootin’ up da dirt loik it lookd atcha funnee!”

The gunner spat over the side of the Trukk. “Shut it, ya git! Yoo wuz shootin’ too! We’z waytin’!”

The driver adjusted the spotlight again, a growl rising in his throat. “If sumfin’ dozn’t zoggin’ HAPPIN soon we’z leevin’!” he declared.

“Oi! You’z not da boss ‘ere!” the gunner shouted, standing up over his seat. “Yoo want sumfin to happin so bad?!”

Presumably he was going to make a proposition or a threat after that, but once he completed the sentence a single gunshot came from behind the Trukk. The gunner’s head pitched forward sharply, and blood splashed across the windshield as his body folded limply over the backrest of the driver’s seat.

The other Orks blinked, and then immediately started brandishing their weapons and leaping out of the Trukk.

“Oi! We gotz a fight, lads!”

“Ha! A’right! Sum akshun!”

The driver grabbed the spotlight and twisted it around, sweeping the darkness behind the Trukk in search of a target. It crossed a dark shape on the ground, and then shifted back and centered on it.

A unicorn pony mare sat out in the open, her coat a dark gray and her mane a pale, muted violet. Her cutie mark was a crescent moon nestled beneath a dark circle, and matched her coat in color well enough that it could have been mistaken for part of her coat. She didn’t flinch away as she was illuminated, and her lips curled into a smirk while magical light swirled around her horn.

“Lovely night out, isn’t it boys?” Penumbra Shard asked, her eyes pulsing while an electric arc writhed around her horn.

“A HOSS!! KILL IT!!” the Orks roared, opening fire on the lone figure.

The night sky once again filled with the rattle of unrestrained automatic gunfire, and muzzle flash joined with the light cast by the towering bonfire behind the Trukk. The bullets that came anywhere near Penumbra vanished in pulses of bright turquoise, creating colorful ripples in the air like the surface of a pond disturbed by heavy rain.

Another gunshot came from the darkness, the flash briefly outlining a dead, twisted tree where the gunner was hiding. Another Ork pitched sharply to the side, blood spattering over his mob-mates. The driver shifted the spotlight again, casting it behind the unicorn to try to find the shooter.

“Oi! Hurree up n’ krump da magik hoss so’z ya can get da dakka hoss!” the driver bellowed, kicking the dead gunner out of his seat so he could man the big shoota.

“WAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!” Three of the Orks rushed to charge the unicorn, their guns firing wildly.

Penumbra reared up, her magic swirling around her like a glowing ribbon. “I love the way blood looks in the moonlight,” she giggled while a runic circle appeared on the ground around her, “ushr kalis venu raahl!”

Another gunshot rang out from behind the unicorn. The bullet zipped through and over the sprinting Orks, punching into the Trukk’s spotlight and ripping out the back. The space around Penumbra was again blanketed in darkness, with only the barest glimmer of moonlight to illuminate her.

Whip-like tendrils of magic shot out from the ground just before the Orks reached her, slamming into two of the aliens with shocking force. The boys were thrown into the air from the impacts, and their flesh split open where the magic touched them, as if the bands of turquoise were edged with blades. The third Ork dodged out of the way through either luck or slightly better-than-average reflexes, avoiding the initial burst from the ground, but the magic curled in the air to follow him, lashing around his leg while another tendril bound an arm.

“This is the ebon vector, my favorite spell! I hardly ever get to use it, so I’m very happy to have volunteers!” Penumbra beamed while the Orks got back to their feet.

The boys once again trained their shootas on the glow of her horn, and two of the vectors crossed in front of her and flattened into a shield of force. Bullets spattered against the ghostly tendrils, each one decelerating and dropping to the ground. The entangled Ork was lifted off the ground while he thrashed, and then another of the ghostly tendrils slithered up and wrapped around his waist.

Penumbra nodded her head gently, and two of the vectors pulled down while the third, around his waist, pulled up. There was a sickening crack, and then the Ork was ripped in two amidst a shower of blood. The vectors promptly released the corpse and then slithered toward the other soldiers.

The driver grunted as he finally got the big shoota turned completely around on its mounting and aimed it. “Lessee ya majik yer way outta dis!” he shouted, just before a blade sunk into his shin.

The Ork howled angrily, but a moment later another blade punched into his side. Dusk shrieked and leapt into the air, dodging away from the driver’s attempt to punch him back. Then he dropped back down onto his target, kicking the Ork in the head.

“Lieutenant Blade! What a wonderful coincidence to find you here!” Penumbra shouted, her voice barely audible over the sound of burst fire and Ork howls.

“Yeah, wonderful! Sure!” Dusk punched his hoofblades into the driver’s throat. “Hurry up with those goons before another patrol finds out there’s a fight!”

An ebon vector wrapped around an Ork’s leg and tightened, crushing flesh and splintering bone in an instant. Another simply dove into a shoota boy like a spear, slamming him to the ground while it drilled through the alien’s chest. The mob fought back by clubbing and slashing at the tendrils, and to their credit physical attacks did seem to have some effect: vectors would bounce away from blunt impacts and even be severed by a choppa slash. Each time the tendrils would simply reform and return, however, their amorphous magical nature making them difficult to stop for long.

“Oi! It’z no gud! Leg it!” barked one soldier, kicking away a vector slithering toward his ankle. “Bakk to da Trukk!

He turned and ran, as did the two other Orks who hadn’t succumbed to Penumbra’s spell. Another gunshot came from the trees, and another of the soldiers collapsed into the dust. The magical vectors were slower to follow, mostly snaking around the victims on the ground who were still alive; drilling, choking, and carving apart the aliens in a gory frenzy.

Seeing some of her foes retreat, Penumbra reared up again while more power built up around her horn. “Ah-ah-ah! You’re not getting away that easily!” she sang, falling back to the ground and pounding one hoof into the dirt.

A wave of turquoise swelled and launched from the impact, crawling across the ground much faster than the Orks could run. It passed by the retreating soldiers, and then vanished under the Trukk.

“Wait for it…” the Moon Mage said, her eyes glittering.

A huge spike of dark blue punched up through the bottom of the vehicle, tearing the Trukk in half and throwing the pieces into the air. The Orks stumbled to a stop just a few feet away, and then immediately turned back around.

“A’roit ya zoggin majik freek!” bellowed one soldier, lifting his shoota again. “Com’n git me!”

A brief, loud shriek was all the warning he got before something zipped around the towering magic spike and slammed into the back of his head, digging a pair of blades into his neck. The other Ork promptly jumped in to help, using his own shoota to club the pony off of his mobmate. He also struck the bleeding Ork in the head in the process, knocking him flat on his back, but it was still largely a success.

Dusk rolled across the ground and bounced upright, grimacing under his mask at the pain in his leg. Then he seemed to blur into the darkness, the glow from his optics goggles sinking into nothingness.

The Ork howled and fired his shoota, sawing across the ground where he had last seen the bat. Bullets kicked up waves of dust as the spray swept back and forth, emptying the rest of the magazine into the cold night air. His shoota clicked empty, and a wash of gunsmoke curled around the mouth of its barrel.

Then another gunshot rang out from behind him, and he lurched forward. The soldier wobbled briefly, his gun slipping from his fingers. Then he slumped into the spreading pool of blood at his feet.

Gear Works waited about a minute after the final discharge of a firearm before he dared to peek out from behind the boulder he was sheltering behind. He didn’t move any further, instead staring at the giant glowing spike slowly shrinking back into the ground. He hadn’t gotten a great view of the combat, but he’d caught a few glimpses of the ebon vector hurling Orks around before tearing their transport in two, and he really wanted to ensure that the spell had run its course before he approached. The tentacles must have been capable of SOME degree of autonomy in order to function as they did, after all, and he had little idea how discriminating Penumbra’s magic was.

“Gears!” Dusk yelled from behind him again. “You okay? We need to go!”

Gear Works squeaked in fright, but managed to restrain anything more before he calmed down and twisted his head around. “Are the Orks all dead? Is it safe now?”

“All the Orks from THIS mob are dead, and no, it’s not safe so we should leave immediately,” the thestral explained, landing atop the boulder. His leg was bruised from the hit he’d taken, but the pain was tolerable. “Shard! Neuro! Get over here!”

A plane of glimmering turquoise appeared to draw itself in the air in the space of two seconds; sparks ran along a sharp trapezoid-shaped geometry, leaving pulsing blue light behind before the space between them suddenly flashed and filled with energy. Penumbra trotted out of the space, her horn crackling and a lazy smile on her face.

“Shard, where are the others?” Dusk demanded.

“We were looking for the Strider when the thestrals heard you,” Penumbra explained. “I thought it would be best to finish with that in case we needed to make a quick retreat from here, so we split up.”

“Good call. Then our next objective is the Strider,” Dusk said with a nod.

“183.92 meters at 71.43 degrees relative North,” Gear Works interjected. “It is moving, but not very fast and not in this direction.”

“You can sense it from this distance? Great!” Dusk Blade’s relief and approval was evident even through the mask and goggles. “I knew you’d come in handy!”

“We only needed to bring the Strider to accommodate him to begin with,” Neuron Dialect pointed out.

Gear Works managed to keep himself from making any noise this time, but the way his tail and servo arm bounced as Neuron spoke up behind him betrayed his surprise. It didn’t really surprise or distress him that bat ponies operating in the dead of night were extremely stealthy, but there was really no reason for them to constantly approach him from behind.

Dusk didn’t seem at all surprised by Neuron’s sudden appearance, but he did seem annoyed at her commentary. “First off: did you forget the part where we need him to complete the mission? And second: we have Shard, too,” he retorted, jumping off the rock and landing in a brisk trot.

“Shard can fly,” Neuron mumbled while she and the others moved to follow.

“Yes, but I don’t really like that spell,” the Moon Mage sighed, “better we have a transport, although I’d prefer something like those Ay-Pee-Cee things the humans use rather than clinging onto a scout walker.”

“Complain all you want, but I spent a lot of leverage and favors getting us Gears and Backfire on such short notice,” Dusk sniffed, turning the glare of his optic lights on Neuron in particular. “It’s not like any other Dark Techpriest was going to agree to leap out of a gunship to help us!”

“I was quite opposed to it myself!” Gears interjected.

“And he’s a Dark Acolyte, not a Dark Techpriest,” Neuron added.

“Neuro, go dark and cover us from the trees,” Dusk said, lowering his voice without changing his pace.

A twinkling red glint was the last thing Gear Works saw before the sniper pony ducked away and vanished. He froze in place, his optics clusters centering on the space where she had disappeared and zooming in. Nothing. The space around it was perfectly visible to him, with the nearest bit of foliage several meters away and the darkness of night of little to no benefit to a pony trying to hide from his augment’s sensoria. But hide she had.

“Gears, what’s the hold-up? I need you to tell me if my heading is off!” Dusk said.

Gear Works bolted into a run, putting the mare’s suspiciously effective stealth skills out of mind. “Your heading is correct, Lieutenant. I believe the Strider is approaching us directly now, albeit slowly.”

“Backfire probably noticed the combat and is coming to get us now that it’s over. I’m sure another Ork hunting mob or two is on their way too.”

Gears glanced behind him, checking for any distant lights that may have indicated pursuit. “Is that why you told Miss Dialect to hide for tactical advantage?”

“No. I’m just tired of listening to her arguing,” Dusk sniffed, “we should be well clear of any Orks by now; even if any of them are smart enough to track us in the dark we have too much of a head start on them.”

“You know, we could just kill them too,” Penumbra offered, smiling as her eyes glimmered with magic. “I’m up for another three or four mobs.”

“No,” Dusk said firmly. “We already had a crash landing and a firefight. We’re behind schedule, both me and Gears are scuffed up, and Neuro’s down a magazine. And of course, the more Orks we kill, the more will show up looking for action. We’re going to find our Strider and move out.”

Penumbra sighed dreamily and then turned to Gear Works. “Isn’t he dashing when he’s all serious and responsible? I could just listen to him admonish me all night…”

“I must admit his demeanor on battlefield deployments is very different from the norm,” Gears replied, “it’s no wonder his squad respects him even when absolutely no one else does.”

“Hey!” Dusk complained, “That’s not true! I served on Princess Luna’s honor guard, come on!”

“It is your oft-expressed opinion that such roles are completely ornamental and select for Lunar Guard that look good, not those most capable or reliable.”

“And you DO look good, Lieutenant,” Penumbra purred.

“Shard, go dark and cover us from the shadows,” Dusk suddenly commanded.

The unicorn blinked. “I… don’t really do that.”

“Worth a shot,” the stallion grunted before he sensed the Strider up ahead.

The equine-form walker was moving in a gentle trot, it wide, circular feet pads making muted thunking noises with every step. A series of orange lights peered out from the armored box that was its head, casting just enough glow around it for anyone to see it reflecting off the lascannon barrel extending from the right side. That lascannon swung down and to the side suddenly, pointing straight at Gear Works.

The Dark Acolyte stopped, his ears perking, but otherwise didn’t seem especially bothered by having the weapon aimed in his direction. “Hello, Miss Backfire. I hope your landing was gentler than mine.” He could see two lumps atop the walker that were difficult even for his optics to identify but were definitely not part of the battlesuit’s construction; Nacht and Gloom Fang, he presumed.

“IT WENT WELL ENOUGH!” Zariyah Backfire announced through the obnoxiously loud vox caster. “THE REAR ACTUATOR-”

“Hey! HEY! Quiet down!” Dusk Blade snapped, his ears flattening against his head. “We have who knows how many Ork patrols scooting around this place looking for something to fight or eat! I don’t want another battle before we’ve even got our bearings!”

The Strider bowed its head silently, signaling its submission. Dusk snorted and then looked up higher.

“Gloomy, get down here.”

One of the dark shapes clinging to the top of the scout walker spread his wings and dove over the side. Gloom Fang landed almost noiselessly despite the heft of his armor, and then rose to stand up straight in front of his squad leader.

“Okay, now, I know what you’re thinking,” Gloom said while Dusk approached him, “but really, can we say for SURE the nerd pony wouldn’t have crashed in exactly the same way whether or not I shoved…” He stopped speaking once a hoofblade touched against his throat.

“Now Gloomy, I want you to listen REAL carefully, because I’m only going to say this once,” Dusk Blade said, his voice oozing venom and his eyes glowing a bright amber in the darkness, “dark drops are dangerous. You’re very stupid, but you know that they’re dangerous. You endangered the mission and you endangered my friend’s life. And you did it for no reason besides your brief amusement. That’s not okay.”

Gloom Fang quivered where he stood, his armor rattling slightly while beads of sweat dripped down his head and neck.

“Now, I’m not going to hurt you because this place is swarming with potential threats and I need the extra pony power. But I want you to know that if this happens again then I’m going to have to revise what the bigger threat to our mission really is. Did you get all that?” Dusk asked.

“Y-Yes, Lieutenant…” Gloom Fang whimpered.

“Good.” Dusk took his weapon away from Gloom Fang’s throat and then looked back over his shoulder. “That goes for the rest of you, too! No more bullying or hazing the Techpriest! That INCLUDES mocking him for being a nerd or being funny-looking or making weird noises or whatever! Okay? Save it until we get back to base!”

Penumbra Shard nodded solemnly, and Nacht leaned over the edge of the Strider’s back so that she was sure the others could see her nodding too. Neuron Dialect dropped down out of nowhere (Gears was quite certain he was looking in the correct direction to spot her approach, but saw nothing until she touched the ground), landing on the other side of Dusk.

“Does pointing out his correct rank count as hazing?” Neuron asked blandly.

“No, although that is ALSO getting on my nerves,” Dusk admitted.

“I appreciate it, actually. It saves me the trouble of constantly correcting the Lieutenant myself,” Gear Works admitted.

“Whatever. Everypony get aboard the walker,” Dusk ordered, his voice sounding bitter. “We should be at the site where the DarkMech deployed the seismic pylons within the hour, as long as we don’t have to creep around anymore greenskins.”

“I can help with that, Lieutenant,” Penumbra purred. “Miss Backfire, if you would?”

The Strider adjusted the spacing of its legs, and then slowly laid down onto the dirt. The bat ponies all latched onto the carrying hooks on the side, with Gloom Fang eagerly taking the opposite side from Dusk Blade. Penumbra bounded onto the Strider’s back, and Gear Works followed her up with considerably less grace, clambering up the access rails on the back.

“Is everypony ready?” Zariyah called out, her voice coming from the body of the machine rather than being amplified from the head.

“Yes. The path lay West by Northwest. Keep speed to a good trot and minimize light,” Dusk instructed.

“Don’t worry about the lights,” Penumbra said as magic started swirling around her horn.

A cloud of strange mist started to swirl around her, and then it expanded to surround the battlesuit entirely in a dome-shaped barrier. Gears was perplexed to find that the mist completely blocked his visual sensors; cycling vision modes was useless. The Strider looked back and forth as its stood back up, and then Zariyah’s voice again came from the cockpit.

“What is this barrier? I cannot see a thing ahead of me!” she complained.

“We can guide you,” Penumbra said, her eyes flashing turquoise, “the night shroud doesn’t block sound, and I can see through it. You just have to keep your head down and keep from tripping on anything.”

“Why do you have to blind me to evade the greenskins?” the pilot complained while she started moving forward. “I would rather be able to see and risk a patrol!”

“I’m sure you would,” Nacht said flatly, banging her hoof on the Strider’s thick outer plating. “We’ll all feel the shootas way before you do.”

“Backfire, listen: I know it sucks, but it really is more important that Orks be unable to spot us than it is you be able to see the route,” Dusk explained. “Speaking of which: cut left.”

The walker jerked sharply to the side, avoiding a tree that its pilot couldn’t see in time. Gears stumbled from the sudden motion, and then yelped as a stray branch struck him in the face. He might well have fallen off the back of the battlesuit entirely, but a tendril of magic gently hugged him from one side and then pushed him back into place.

“Okay, move right about 10 or so degrees… yeah, that should do it,” Dusk instructed.

Gear Works kept quiet as the vine of glowing turquoise slowly withdrew, grazing the hair of his flesh leg as it did. Penumbra Shard laid on her belly in front of him, a lazy smirk on her face while the tendril sunk into the topside of the Strider’s hull. He hadn’t had a close look at what the ebon vector could do in battle, but he’d seen enough; he didn’t dare speak until the spell’s manifestation had vanished.

“Thank you, Miss Shard. You must be a very talented magus to control both the shroud and the vector at once,” he offered.

Penumbra tittered into a hoof, her bright blue eyes gleaming in the darkness. “Oh, you flatter me! This much isn’t anything special.”

“I am… unfamiliar with the Moon Mages’ arcane profile. I’d never heard of them before tonight,” Gear Works admitted, “and when I located your personal data log in the noosphere personnel stacks, almost all of it was empty.”

“Mmmm… a bit nosy, aren’t you?” the unicorn teased. “Unfortunately if you’re curious about Moon Mages I can’t really help you. Our history is secret for a reason.”

“Can you tell me why Moon Mages are on indefinite lockdown, restricted to Nightwatch? You’re not allowed to leave without an armed escort, correct?”

“That is correct, but I’m afraid I have little else to tell you,” Penumbra sighed. “The rules placed upon us by the Company Commanders are based on mere superstition and senseless fear.”

“Also, they’re criminals,” Dusk interjected.

Penumbra’s eye twitched. Gears turned his head around and leaned over to address the bat pony clinging to the Strider below him.

“Criminals? I saw no disciplinary records among that personnel bank.”

“Of course you didn’t. They weren’t crimes against the Company. They were crimes against Equestria,” Dusk explained. His tone was completely serious, if not a bit glib. “The Iron Warriors don’t really care, of course, but their imprisonment was a condition of their recruitment.”

“Lieutenant, I know you hold this half-mechanical zealot in high esteem but I would appreciate it if you didn’t go any further with your teasing,” Penumbra said sharply. Then she coughed and turned back to Gear Works. “Lieutenant Blade isn’t completely wrong, but it’s much more complicated than that. We’re not criminals or prisoners in a literal sense.”

“… But you ARE living together under a tower and you can’t leave unless under the supervision of someone with a gun?” Gears asked hesitantly.

“Well it sounds bad when you put it like THAT, sure!” the unicorn groaned. “I prefer to think of it as having an unusually short commute to work.”

“I… suppose you don’t look or act like a penal conscript,” Gears admitted awkwardly, “but it’s strange that every other equine unit was recruited, armed, and trained by the 38th Company for their purported battlefield role. The Moon Mages alone seemed to have just… appeared one day, and are deployed sparingly. At least, as far as I could tell from the records. You’re a complete mystery.”

Penumbra smiled again, pleased at the description. “That we are… It would be nice to get more experience on the battlefield, in my opinion, but our power isn’t quite trusted, if you can believe that!”

“I can believe that,” the Dark Acolyte mumbled.

“Also they’re useless during the day,” Dusk interjected.

“Would you STOP divulging my secrets to the only pony here with an internal data transmitter?!” Penumbra snapped, leaning over the edge of the Strider while her horn crackled dangerously.

“What do you care? I’m not telling him anything the Iron Warriors don’t already know,” Dusk retorted, smiling beneath his mask. “Who do you think he’s going to tell?”

“That’s not the point!” the unicorn growled. “I don’t-”

“Shush,” Neuron Dialect said suddenly. “Incoming.”

All conversation halted, and the ponies strained to hear over the whir and thumps of the Strider’s gait. A distant rumble of engines, and getting louder. A burst of gunfire cut through the night, followed by deep, bellowing laughter. More Trukks and more Orks.

Nacht banged her hoof against the Strider’s hull. “Hey! Stop! Remain absolutely still!”

The Strider came to a stop, although there was a barely audible grumbling coming from the cockpit. Penumbra stood up, an electric arc curling around her horn. Gear Works laid down, much more nervous about being hit by stray bullets or getting thrown off during a retreat.

The Trukks raced by one by one; three of them, each one packed to the railing with Orks. The headlights didn’t stray far from the path directly ahead of the convoy, but what little light crossed the Strider’s position revealed only a pall of swirling gray dust. The Ork patrols didn’t give the phenomenon a second glance, although they did fire a few more bursts from their machine guns into the air at random.

“… Okay, we’re well out of earshot now,” Dusk said after a few minutes passed, his ears pivoting toward the tracks the Trukks had left in the dirt. “I don’t think they dropped off anything, either. All clear.”

“I think they’re heading toward where we were fighting before,” Penumbra said while the Strider started moving again.

“Yeah, I’m not surprised. You could see that giant glowing spike from a mile away,” the Lieutenant replied. “That’s not too bad, though. They’ll be busy looting the dead and trying to sniff out our tracks while we’ve already passed them.” Then he banged a hoof on the Strider’s hull. “Backfire! Rock outcropping. Cut right.”

The walker shifted its heading, and Gears perked up his ears. “We should arrive at the initial deployment site of the seismic pylons shortly. I think. I assume you’ve been directing us correctly but bizarrely, this shroud also confuses mag-directional guidance.”

Penumbra tittered into her hoof again, smirking at the Dark Acolyte. “Useful, isn’t it? It can even blind scrying and detection spells!”

“As long as they don’t cast them during the day,” Dusk mumbled.

A vein popped up on Penumbra’s head. “All right, seriously, STOP THAT,” the Moon Mage demanded, her eyes flashing with magical energy while she leaned over the edge of the Strider’s body again.

“You don’t give me orders,” Dusk countered, staring up into her eyes fearlessly, “and it’s my prerogative to make sure my squad knows your weaknesses.”

“Don’t think that just because I’m hopelessly in love with you I’ll let you bully me!” Penumbra warned, her horn crackling.

“I do not think that you’re hopelessly in love with me, don’t worry,” Dusk retorted before making a gagging sound. “That’s just another dumb ploy you use to get what you want.”

“Excuse me?!” she gasped, sounding scandalized. “I’ll have you know there’s NOTHING I want more than the intimate, passionate touch of a mighty stallion! Everything else is trivial in comparison! The very idea that I would betray my feelings for something else!”

“C’mon Lieutenant! Be nice to Penny!” Nacht whined. “We never get sent on missions together!”

“Yeah, I know. She didn’t get sent on this one, either,” Dusk reminded her.

“Is THIS the thanks I get for destroying an entire Ork mob and saving you?” Penumbra complained, scrunching up her muzzle. “I didn’t come with you to be treated this way!”

“So why DID you come along?” Dusk asked.

Penumbra glared down at the Lunar Lieutenant silently, and then huffed and turned away. Nacht made a disappointed sound and climbed up on top of the Strider to sit next to the sulking unicorn, patting her on the back with her wing. Gear Works watched in silence, and then leaned over the edge again.

“Lieutenant, if you believe Miss Shard possesses an alternate mission objective, why did you not refuse her request to accompany us?” the tech-cultist asked.

“I stand by what I said then: she has her own agenda, but even so I’d rather have her help,” Dusk Blade admitted. “You’ve seen some of what she’s capable of. I’d bet she can handle any Ork or other hostile we come across… as long as it’s nighttime.”

“And don’t you forget it!” the unicorn in question interjected with a sniff. The Moon Mage was resting her chin on Nacht’s head, looking sad as the smaller mare hugged her.

“The thing is, we don’t really need her help for our mission. But I’d wager a week’s rations that she needs our help for hers,” Dusk mused. “Anyway, we’re here. That didn’t take nearly as long as I thought. Full stop, Backfire.”

The Strider slowed to a halt, and Dusk and Neuron silently disconnected themselves from the carriage hooks. They dropped to the ground with barely a sound, and then carefully exited the night shroud. Listening carefully for anything moving nearby, they advanced on a large hole that had been drilled in the center of the open space.

“Shard, it’s clear! Drop the shroud! Backfire, give us some light!” Dusk ordered.

Still looking somewhat dejected, Penumbra dispelled the cloud of magical darkness around the equine battlesuit. Zariyah, finally able to see her surroundings, turned and lowered her machine’s head to point toward the grounded bat ponies and then turned the lumens all the way up. Dusk winced away from the light, his eyes needing time to adjust. Neuron’s cybernetic vision adjusted much faster, and she started searching the ground.

The hole was about four feet across, with several divots in the ground nearby for the support struts. The ground was covered by dozens of vehicle tracks going every which way; this particular section of ground saw considerable vehicle traffic. One particular set was almost certainly the Mechanicus prospecting rig that had drilled and deployed the seismic pylon. This pair of tracks was deep and straight, running across the field with the hole spaced perfectly between them. But it wasn’t the vehicle they were here for.

“Looks like this is where they dragged it out of the pit. I see a few metal pieces dropped here. Thugs couldn’t even wait to get back to camp before dismantling it,” Dusk muttered, peering at a rougher trail that lacked the repeating groove patterns of tracks or tires. “The problem is: which vehicle took it, and which way did it go?”

Neuron Dialect stood silent, her head slowly turning back and forth. Glimmering red light peeked out from beneath her hood while she studied the tracks in minute detail and disentangled each one, determining its age and where it went. She looked up at Dusk Blade.

“How long ago was the machine seized? Do we know?” she asked.

Dusk turned around and beckoned up to the Strider. It approached slowly, its head arched down toward the Lieutenant. Then Dusk flew up and landed next to Gear Works.

“Hey, do you have any idea when this thing was taken? The report I saw didn’t list a lot of details.”

Gears paused, and then a holo-screen appeared in front of him. Data screed swam across the page while an outline of the device itself – a tall cylinder with a piston hammer under the base – hung in the corner. Gear’s eyes pulsed for a moment, and then he looked up at Dusk.

“The particular pylon installed in this location ceased transmission approximately 130 hours ago, presumably when Ork looters tore it apart for salvage,” Gear Works explained.

Dusk whirled around. “Five days ago!” he shouted down to the sniper.

Neuron stared down at the tracks, her hood obscuring her gaze while she studied the minute creases in the dirt. Dusk Blade landed on the Strider’s head, waiting patiently for her to complete her analysis. Gear Works watched her as well for a few seconds, tilted his head to the side, and then turned to look at something off to the side.

“This way,” Neuron said, raising her head and then pointing a wing Eastward.

“We’ve got a heading!” Dusk shouted, banging a hoof on the Strider’s head. “Backfire, we’re due East! Neuro, sit up here on the head. If we see the tracks branch you’ll need-” he stopped when a servo arm gently poked at his wing.

Gear Works pointed a hoof off to the side. “If you’re trying to track the Orks that made off with the pylon, I believe they went further Southwest.”

The Lunar Lieutenant blinked, and then looked off in the direction Gears had indicated. The Strider also turned its head to illuminate the path. There were several vehicle tracks leading off that way, as there were in every other direction, but the bat ponies could not see anything distinctive about them.

“What makes you think they went that way?” Dusk asked while Neuron flew up and perched behind him.

“The Orks damaged the casing badly enough that it ruptured the power cell. Its leaking radioactive material, albeit in such small quantities that it’s barely detectable,” Gear Works explained, “the trail leads off that way.”

“What does any of that mean?” Gloom Fang asked suspiciously.

“It means he can see the magic that allows the Company’s gear to work,” Nacht explained, looking somewhat smug as she did so. “It’s like how unicorns can see spells when it all just looks like colored light to the rest of us, and pegasi are super sensitive to air currents and stuff!”

“… That’s not totally wrong, I suppose,” Dusk mumbled. “Neuro, how confident are you about being able to detect the age and precise heft of those tracks?”

Neuron’s bionic eyes glowered from beneath her hood, two points of ruby red glinting through the darkness. “I trust the machines. If he says there’s a trail, we should follow it.”

“All right! Backfire, take the new heading! Shard, bring up the shroud again; we’ll need to be extra careful approaching an Ork camp. Gears, you keep an eye on the tracks for any turns!” The Lieutenant smiled under his mask and gave the tech-cultist a slap on the back with his wing. “If this pays off then the biggest hurdle of this whole operation is done with!”

“Finding the seismic thing is the biggest hurdle? I thought it… uh…” Nacht trailed off as all the other ponies of Dagger Squadron turned toward her, and she could feel their glares through the masks. “Yes, well, if you say so, Lieutenant!” she said, her voice sounding very nervous. Penumbra silently patted her on the head, smirking.

“I do say so, yeah,” Dusk growled. Then he banged a hoof against the top of the Strider. “Let’s move out!”

The equine battlesuit started trotting in the direction Gears had indicated. Penumbra began casting her spell again, while Nacht and Dusk Blade climbed down to the hooks on the side of the walker. Neuron Dialect moved to join Dusk like before, but then her ear twitched and she froze in place.

The mare’s head swiveled around, and her augmetic eyes zoomed in on a rock outcropping a good distance away. There was a strange sliver of something in the air, like a loose flame floating off of some invisible candle. Her vision stuttered slightly, went to static, and then reset, all in the space of a second. There was nothing there. Just a boulder jutting out of the ground.

“Neuro, what’s the hold-up? You spot something?” Dusk asked.

“… No. There’s nothing,” she mumbled back before joining the Lieutenant.

Author's Note

Man every time I introduce an OC now I can't help but order a bunch of art pieces for them. Sometimes even before I introduce them!
Anyway have some sneering anime Penumbra:

This picture was drawn by Alus, while the picture in-chapter was done by Spoopygander

Scream

Nightwatch – The Elements of Destruction
By SFaccountant

Chapter 4
Scream

Badlands
Geolocation redacted

“Okay, here we go… I’m seeing a watch tower on each side and a fence with a gate for defense. Not exactly hardened stuff. They set this camp up quickly. And probably recently.”

Dusk Blade, Nacht, Gloom Fang and Neuron Dialect all sat in front of a glowing holo-screen Gear Works was projecting, studying the imagery. The Dark Acolyte was inloading vid data from the Strider, which loomed above them while it studied the enemy camp. Penumbra Shard lay curled up behind the other ponies, dozing on the ground like a cat.

“All right, let’s see about some of these structures… These look like barracks. Of course any structure in an Ork camp usually doubles as a barracks; I’ve seen them napping on ordnance boxes and on fuel silos. Is that a workshop there? I need a better angle to be sure, but it looks pretty likely from here. The scrap yard will be behind it. That’s our target.”

Nacht tapped a hoof against the Strider’s leg. “Hey, can you get another look at the place from a different position?”

“Where do you want me to go? There’s no room up here!” Zariyah retorted. “Is already miracle we have not been spotted by greenskins racing about in dead of night!”

“My magic is very powerful, but I don’t know if I would call it a ‘miracle,’” Penumbra mused.

“Then use magic to survey enemy camp! This is the best view I can obtain!” the Strider pilot snapped.

The ponies were huddled on a narrow bluff overlooking an Ork camp erected within a barren crater. The terrain mostly consisted of jagged rock spires that sat atop the ground like misshapen trees, with some of them smashed or blasted away to clear roads for the Orks’ vehicles. A few distant fires flickered from within and atop the outpost’s palisade, marking the settlement to distant observers without illuminating too much of the interior. As Zariyah had suggested, there were no other obvious vantage points that a Strider could access, at least from this side of the camp.

“Okay, fine. Yeesh. You sure are cranky,” Nacht sniffed.

“Of course I am! I should have gone to rest hours ago and instead I am facing down a small army of Orks! And you say I am not even permitted to tag base for artillery?!”

“The objective will not survive heavy bombardment. We’re here to recover the pylon, not destroy it,” Neuron reminded the others.

“Enough arguing,” Dusk Blade said firmly, “I have a plan.”

The other thestrals perked up with varying levels of excitement, and Penumbra started paying more attention as well. Zariyah made an aggravated noise, but otherwise went silent. Dusk stepped closer to the hololith and pointed to the watchtower.

“Neuro, you take out the guard here at range. The rest of Dagger Squad and Shard will wait over here behind this outcropping for the enemy to investigate. Neuro, after taking the shot, check to make sure someone noticed and then come join us.”

“We’re alerting them and waiting for them to gather together?” Nacht asked.

“Yeah. We’ve got to eliminate them so we can search the camp, so we want them all together.” Dusk turned to Gloom Fang. “Gloomy, when we have a good mob riled up, you’re going in. I think the beggar routine would work all right; we just have to confuse them for a second.”

Gears blinked his optic lights. “Beggar routine?”

Dusk turned his attention to Gear Works. “Don’t worry about it. You and Backfire retreat to that weird petrified glade we passed a minute back. Some of the Orks might head this way after Neuro takes the shot, so you need to have a better hiding place. Stay there and do NOT engage the enemy. Shard will contact you via familiar when it’s safe enough to proceed.”

“I do not understand,” interjected Zariyah. “Keeping Techpriest back is one thing, but surely you could use a lascannon for support when trying to ambush an Ork camp.”

“He’s a Dark Acolyte,” Neuron Dialect said immediately, “and he needs the protection more than we do.”

“Besides that, having a Strider for fire support is… just not part of our usual attack plan,” Dusk admitted. “Does everypony understand?”

“I am concerned about the ability of five ponies to overcome an entire outpost of greenskin warriors,” Gear Works mumbled, “particularly if they are alerted to an attack first.”

“You let me handle the tactics, buddy,” the Lieutenant replied, trotting over and slapping Gears on the back with a wing. “Dagger Squad, let’s go!”

Dusk turned and galloped down the bluff, followed by Nacht, Gloom, and Penumbra. Neuron Dialect walked up to the top of the bluff while the Strider walked backward, and then she drew her galvanic rifle. Letting the barrel rest on the rocks, she adjusted the stock with her hooves while her wing tip reached for the trigger.

Gear Works flinched at the gunshot, surprised at how fast it was made. Neuron flipped the rifle over onto her back, slipping it into a sling with practiced ease. She turned her head to the side slightly, a faint red glow peeking out from her hood.

“They’ll spot the body in a few seconds. You’re going to have to hurry up.” Without another word, Neuron Dialect leapt over the front of the bluff.

Gear Works was perplexed that she would choose that route to depart from, as it was fully exposed to the camp she had just attacked. He was tempted to walk over and explain this point, perhaps by shouting down at the bat pony during her descent, but ultimately decided to take her advice and leave. Zariyah lowered her Strider into a sitting position and Gears clamped onto the support hook with his servo arm before scrambling up top again.

Once the Dark Acolyte was fairly secured, he tapped his bionic hoof against the cockpit hatch. The Strider lurched upright once again, and then rushed down the incline at an easy trot. Soon the battlesuit and its lone passenger had disappeared into the darkness, headed in the opposite direction from the thestral commandos.

Badlands
Ork camp (non-designated) perimeter

Dusk glanced over his shoulder as Neuron Dialect appeared. Her body seemed to emerge from empty air, slipping out of the darkness to stand in the glow cast from Penumbra’s horn. Dusk nodded slightly and then returned his attention to the unicorn.

Penumbra’s eyes were murky pools of turquoise light, and her horn had a swirling magic aura of the same hue. Her jaw hung open slightly, moving as if she was speaking words that never quite emerged. Every once in a while her head would turn or tilt, staring at something in the air that only she could see.

“How many do you think are in this camp?” Nacht asked, sitting with her echo cannon laying on the ground in front of her.

“This isn’t a big place. Probably an outpost for harvesting food and scrap that mostly gets traded with the bigger bases. So I want to say… 50 Orks? Maybe 50 again in Gretchin.”

“There’s always more than you think,” Neuron grumbled.

Penumbra gasped, and her eyes quickly returned to normal. She blinked repeatedly and shook her head, and then looked up as a single bat flew overhead. The bat released a gentle squeak, hovering in place for a moment, and then took off, speeding away from the alien camp.

“They’re gathered just inside the gate,” the Moon Mage warned.

“Are they arming up to hunt down the enemy?” Dusk asked.

“No. They’re arguing. Three of the Nobs got in a fistfight.” She shrugged. “I didn’t see any more of them coming from the buildings, so I think this is all the Orks that could be bothered to wake up.”

“All right, then we’re doing this. Gloomy?”

Gloom Fang started fiddling with his ballistic brace, unfastening the bands that secured his splinter rifle to his foreleg. He discarded the weapon, and then took off his mask as well. He shook his head violently to unsettle his hair, and then looked over his armor.

“You think this is good enough? Maybe I should scratch up the plating or leave some of it behind,” Gloom wondered aloud.

“You’re fine. Orks aren’t much for details and you’ll probably need the armor,” Dusk replied. “You ready?”

“Show time,” Gloom replied with a small smirk before walking around the rock spire and heading toward the camp.

The palisade was formed of scrap metal plates hammered together unevenly over a combination of wood logs and rusted scaffolding. It was barely five feet high and riddled with gaps big enough for a pony; a weak attempt at defensive engineering even by Ork standards. Torches were bolted on the sides to provide light, although half of them were burnt out. A large searchlight was mounted on each of the watch towers, providing the only substantial light, and most of them were sweeping across the top of the rocky crags to look for elevated snipers’ nests.

Gloom Fang slowly approached the camp’s front gates, adopting an exaggerated limp in his rear left leg. His forehead creased and his ears pinned back. He extended one wing and let it hang off his body, and then he took a deep breath.

“Help! Someone! Please, help me!” the thestral cried, ending the plea with a loud whine.

The closest searchlight immediately swiveled around, casting a bright light over the stallion. Gloom winced and turned his face away.

“Hello? I need help! I think my leg is broken!” he shouted into the cold night air.

A loud, guttural laugh came from the palisade, followed by a burst of gunfire. Gloom Fang yelped and dropped flat on the ground in a completely sincere display of panic, and he covered his eyes with his hooves as bullets sawed across the dirt next to him. While Orks frequently took prisoners from creatures who couldn’t offer them a fight, the alien thugs hardly had a particular code of conduct or strategy in doing so. It was mostly up to the whim of whichever Ork had the immediate opportunity to enslave a helpless target or dispose of them immediately.

This particular gunner snorted in contempt after seeing the stallion quivering on the ground, and he stopped shooting. “Oi! Sumbody git dat hoss! We need da extree grub!”

“G-Grub?!” Gloom Fang asked, his voice quivering. “You mean you’re gonna… you want to…”

The gates swung open, and a veritable horde of greenskins tromped out of the camp. Gloom remained on the ground, shaking under the searchlight’s beam while the alien warriors crossed the distance. There was no reason for so many Orks to address the capture of one prisoner, but they had converged anyway since they had been alerted and had nothing better to do.

Exactly as planned.

There were four Nobs at the head of the group, and one of them scowled and stepped ahead of the others when he got a good look at the stallion. “Oi! Dis hoss iz wun o’ dem dark fighty gitz! Lookit dat armah n’ da wings!”

The Nob suddenly shoved his weapon forward, and Gloom Fang flinched. The weapon was formed like an axe but had some kind of small, motorized buzz saw blades mounted where the blade edge would be. With a squeeze of the grip the saws sputtered to life, turning into a dark red blur barely an inch from Gloom’s nose.

“Awrite hossy, wayr’z yer mates?” the Nob snarled.

“My… My mates? I don’t know, I-GRK!” Gloom Fang was cut off when the mob’s boss seized him by the throat and lifted him up.

“Yer mates shot da lookowt!” the Nob complained, shaking the stallion violently. “Spill it n’ mebbe Ah’ll let ya livv ta cleen da drops, ya unnerstand?!”

The Ork revved his axe again, the twin buzzsaw blades whirring closely enough to Gloom’s cheek for him to feel the air pressure whipping over the edges of the saws’ teeth. He considered trying to choke out a false reply to buy more time, but first glanced left and right. The Orks were surrounding him but staying behind the main Nob so that they were all facing him. Many were laughing or jeering, or menacingly reloading their guns.

He would never get a better chance than this.

“C-Can’t… s… speak…” Gloom gasped out, one wing curling around and pointing to his neck urgently.

The Nob narrowed his eyes and then reluctantly loosened his grip. Gloom Fang gasped in air, and then spoke again.

“Look into my eyes.”

The dark marks running over his cheeks suddenly split open, revealing themselves to be eyelids. A pair of bright golden eyes stared out at the Orks, each of them positioned just below his larger blue ones. Several Orks blinked or leaned in to see better, all of them mildly surprised but hardly impressed with the mutation.

Gloom Fang’s lower eyes pulsed bright yellow.

“Hmm… that wasn’t a lot of gunfire. I can’t imagine they spotted the thestrals and killed them so quickly, given their agility and typical Ork accuracy. They’re probably just firing blind out of boredom or paranoia.”

Gear Works sat on the back of the Strider battlesuit, his ears perked toward the alien outpost. They were some way away from the camp, but in the still night air the sound of greenskin weaponry traveled quite far; Orks, never much for subtlety, loved having the biggest and loudest weapons available. It was hardly the only bark of burst fire in the region either, but Gears kept his ears and attention aimed toward the target area.

A groan came from the Strider’s cockpit.

“By Celestia’s sun, I can feel myself dozing off,” Zariyah complained, the Strider rocking slightly from side to side. “Why did they bring me along just to leave me here in the dark with the most boring passenger?”

Gear Works looked down at the access hatch. “I’m the most boring passenger?”

“Do not take it personally,” the pilot said breezily before emitting a yawn that was big enough to hear through the battlesuit’s composite armor. “What do you think all of this is for, anyway? What is objective?”

“I wasn’t told what we were here for, unfortunately,” Gear Works replied. “I know that it’s trapped underground for some reason, so I presume it’s an object of some sort, but scouring the data stacks did not reveal anything of particular interest. Either this object is unknown to the Dark Mechanicus or is simply classified beyond my access level.”

“Take a guess,” Zariyah requested.

“Uh… I… suppose it might be…” Gear Works fretted a bit uncertainly, “a… magic… crystal?”

“Feh. Tedious,” Zariyah complained. “I believe the device we are looking for found evidence of hidden Keeper nest or factory. This is a scouting mission to recover this data and then confirm location by drilling into their underground sanctuary!”

Gear Works blinked his eye lights. “That’s… very interesting and dramatic, but not strategically plausible.”

“You see? This is what I mean. Boring!” the Strider pilot scoffed.

Gear’s ears flipped down and the Dark Acolyte, bizarrely, felt somewhat ashamed. “What’s boring about a magic crystal? Those can be very exciting!”

“We have countless magic crystals in Canterlot. So numerous are they that they trade at discount against common lumen tab, despite lasting longer and providing more light.”

“Well obviously we’re not mounting an expedition to find more everlight gems, but you can’t-”

A distant screeching noise and subsequent explosion cut through the air, and Gear Works immediately dropped the subject. “Echo cannon. The attack has begun in earnest, then.”

“I do not understand these thestrals at all,” Zariyah grunted. “Would the ideal tactic of bat ponies not be to sneak into camp undetected and kill enemy leader in sleep, or perhaps mine fuel supply, or other stealthy sabotage?”

“I suppose that makes some sense, but bat ponies are actually as blind as we are in total silence, so their command of covert tactics is… limited,” the tech-cultist admitted as another distant echo blast rolled through the sky. “They prefer ambushes and night raids, which obviously utilize some degree of stealth, but can turn appropriately noisy very quickly.”

“Won’t this noise and destruction attract the Ork patrols that we were so careful to avoid before?” the pilot asked.

“Probably, yes. I doubt that hadn’t occurred to the Lieutenant.”

Another blast from the echo cannon reached Gear’s ears, although he couldn’t help but notice the general absence of other gunfire. There were a few loud reports that barely managed to be heard over the whining pulses of the sonic weapon, but certainly nothing like the din of a proper firefight.

“So then plan is to sit back and let them get flanked?” Zariyah pressed, the Strider’s head lifting. “Because I am already tracking incoming transport on the path running by this glade. We are in perfect range to intercept.”

“The plan is to sit back, yes,” Gear Works confirmed. “That is what the Lieutenant ordered and-” he squeaked suddenly as the Strider jolted into motion. “Wait! Stop! Where are you going?!”

“I am just observing road to detect nearby threats, do not worry,” Zariyah replied as the Strider moved into a brisk trot.

“No! Don’t do that! You’re not hidden anymore and if you’re spotted the Orks WILL engage and destroy us!” Gear’s head swiveled back and forth in a panic.

“If Orks engage us, then I destroy them first and there is no violation of orders, yes? Everyone wins!”

“Miss Backfire, I am begging you, please don’t do this!” Gears could hear the approaching Trukk now, and the light from its headlamps was visible through the twisted branches of the stone trees.

The Strider slowed and then stopped. “All right, all right,” the pilot sighed, turning her battlesuit around. “I suppose it is quite dangerous for you.”

A beam of bright light briefly crossed over the Strider’s side, and Gear Works squeaked. The light cut back, illuminating the battlesuit and the large rocket painted on its side. The heavy tires of the Ork Trukk screeched as the brake was applied, and a whooping cheer arose from the passengers.

Zariyah jolted in surprise as the first volley of gunfire erupted from the road. Between standard Ork accuracy, the range, and the darkness, the vast majority of the gunfire was wasted, some of it not even aimed in the right direction. Still, Icebreaker was a large enough target that a few shots managed to hit by sheer chance, cracking against the composite shielding with little more than a scratch. Gear Works screamed in terror and tried to flatten himself against the top of the Strider to present a smaller target.

“Run! Hurry up and run!” Gears shouted while more and more Orks on the Trukk opened fire.

“They’ll just chase us down!” Zariyah retorted, swinging the walker around.

Gear Works yelped as the movement threw him over the side of the Strider’s body. He managed to snag one of the carrying hooks with his servo arm, keeping him from falling all the way to the ground, and he swung helplessly next to the walker as it started to speed up. More bullets whipped by with each passing moment, and more impacts clashed against the battlesuit’s armor.

“Zap!” Zariyah said brightly, tilting her head down and firing her lascannon.

A bright red beam lanced through the engine block, reducing much of the engine and the axle below it to glowing slag. Smoke vomited out of the ruptured housing and the vehicle promptly swung out of control, slamming into one of the large stone trees that were scattered around the landscape. Most of the passengers were flung out onto the ground, and the driver smashed his forehead through the poorly-repaired windshield and into the tree’s iron-hard trunk.

“Blast! It did not explode!” Zariyah cursed, turning around again to gallop away from the wreck. Gear Works screamed, flailing his legs as he was nearly dislodged from the cargo hook and bounced painfully against the Strider’s hip. “If they are on foot then I can keep to long range and pick them off. Do not worry, Techpriest.”

“I am very worried!” Gears retorted, feeling a severe strain in his back from where the servo arm was joined.

As the Orks either disembarked or picked themselves up off the ground, Zariyah raced away through the trees. A few bullets chased after the battlesuit, but without the Trukk’s lights it was even harder to aim at the scout walker. After several seconds of retreat the Strider started to turn, and its head snapped to one side to bring the lascannon to bear.

A low-pitched whistle cut through the air as a beam of high-intensity light cut through an Ork, removing a good portion of its upper torso. The alien coughed up a bit of smoke from his remaining lung, and then keeled over while his peers raced past. The lascannon began its recharging cycle, and Zariyah again started running.

“It takes a long time for gun to recharge! Hold on a little longer!” the pilot announced.

“Set the capacitor’s trigger threshold to 50%! Ow!” Gears advised, again bouncing off the Strider’s hip.

“What?”

“In the power settings! You can reduce the charge time for the lascannon by reducing the total capacitor drain!” the cyborg stallion explained. “The beam will be substantially weaker, but most of the lascannon’s killing power is wasted on a single infantry trooper anyway!”

“That sounds good! How do I use that? What menu is it in?” she asked brightly.

“Power settings! I already said it’s in-” Gears squeaked in fright as a lucky burst of gunfire slapped against the hull above him. “P-Power settings! It should be bottom-left access rune! And PLEASE fall back so that this side of the battlesuit isn’t facing the greenskins!”

“Ah, of course. My apologies!” Zariyah turned sharply again, and Gear Works wailed as he was swung about and again slammed into the walker’s hip. “Found the button! Now it… huh?”

The Strider twisted around to seek a target, but the pilot found herself distracted. “I hear a strange noise. Is that coming from the weapon? Is it supposed to do this?”

Gear Works heard it too, albeit it was competing with the ringing sound in his skull. “No, that’s… that’s not coming from you.”

A low howling noise, slowly building in intensity and pitch, was coming from… well, it wasn’t immediately clear where it came from. The sound seemed to roll over them, digging into their eardrums and smothering their other senses under a thrumming vibration. Gears and Zariyah flattened their ears in an attempt to block it out, but it barely made a difference.

The Orks were clearly affected as well, as the gunfire coming at the Strider quickly trickled to nothing. The aliens roared, howled, and cursed, slapping their hands over their ears or shooting their guns blindly into the air next to their heads, apparently finding the noise of shootas far more pleasant. The sound only intensified, however, and the air around the greenskins started to distort and blur as the sonic pulses reached their apex.

With a last, bone-chilling shriek, the ground under the Orks cracked and exploded, the hard-packed ground rupturing around and under the warriors. Sand and dust was hurled into the air in a swirling cloud, not unlike the result of a bomb detonation. A quick check of his thermal scanners assured Gear Works that it was nothing of the sort, however.

“Ha! What timing!” Zariyah cheered. “It looks like the fools attracted some friendly fire support!”

“We cannot presume it’s friendly!” Gear Works warned.

“What do you mean? That was an echo cannon. Who else possesses them?” the pilot asked.

“That was NOT an echo weapon!” the Dark Acolyte retorted. “The temp ratio and diffusion scoring are all wrong! That was not even a sine convergence detonation! I think the force vertices were broken through sheer power!”

“… What?”

Flashes of light were visible from within the dust cloud, and Gear Works could hear the sounds of combat. There was an occasional burst of gunfire, but most of the noise was the gruesome rending of flesh and bone and some sort of odd pulsing sound.

“I’m sorry, there’s no reason you should know the particulars of high-energy aural fracture ballistics,” Gears admitted, sounding panicked but still very apologetic, “but I assure you it reliably informs my conclusion that we are not being assisted by a member of the Lunar Guard!”

An Ork went flying from the shroud, flailing end over end, and slammed into one of the stone trees hard enough to splinter the wall of the trunk along with a number of the warrior’s bones. The dust was starting to dissipate now, and through it the Strider’s thermal optics could now clearly detect an equine form leaping upon the aliens. It was unusually large, and possessed big, thick wings with a profile that Zariyah quickly identified as a bat pony.

“You worry too much, Techpriest,” Zariyah laughed. “A bat pony is assailing our enemies and you prattle on about scores and signs! You are, what is the saying? Missing forest for trees!”

Another wave of dust swept away as the bloodied remains of an Ork was send rolling through the dirt, its chest caved in and split as if from an axe strike. The pony within looked back and forth, checking for enemies, and then it stopped and looked up at the Strider. Zariyah was still chuckling as she switched vision modes from thermal back to low-light filtering. She stopped chuckling.

“Uh… huh. That is… er…”

As the last of the obscuring dirt fell away, an Ork bleeding profusely from one arm started using the other to drag himself toward a shoota lying just out of reach. The mysterious pony whirled on him immediately, jumping to the side and stabbing a hoof toward his back. In a flash of dark pink magic, a curved talon of shimmering energy extended from the hoof, driving into the alien’s back. A crackling hum came from the contact, and the Ork grunted and twitched. As his arm fell slack the bat pony again turned its full attention to the other equines, a sheathe of magical energy pulsing over its horn.

“H-Horn…” Zariyah stuttered, her voice barely strong enough to be heard outside of the battlesuit. The walker took a nervous step back, shifting in subtle ways to prepare for an imminent retreat.

“That’s… an alicorn? A bat alicorn? What?” Gear Works asked, perplexed. “Wait! What was it you mentioned before? When we were in the hangar! And in the gunship!”

The newcomer started walking forward, eyes locked on the Strider’s cannon. Or rather, a single narrowed eye locked on the cannon; a deep red iris set against a baleful yellow sclera. Only the right eye seemed to be intact, while the left side of its face was a mess of criss-crossing scar tissue.

“IT’S THE BATICORN!” Zariyah shouted, re-activating her external caster and taking several nervous steps away.

“Yes! That! Where did you-GAH!” Gear Works shouted in surprise as the Strider’s side brushed against the iron-hard branch of a tree. The spread of sharpened stone fingers barely scratched the advanced armor of the battlesuit, but they did catch on the servo arm and wrench it loose of the hook it had been latched on to. Gears swung back through the air, flailing desperately, and then dropped to the ground.

The fall was not especially dangerous hanging from a Strider’s height, but it was jarring enough that Gear’s sensors briefly reset. When they were recalibrated and active, the Dark Acolyte found himself staring up into the glowering eye of the mysterious pony, who had apparently crossed the distance during the brief diversion.

The baticorn was a mare with a charcoal-colored coat that had markings of lighter ash gray on her face, legs, and side. These marking resembled bones, bizarrely enough, making her face look like a grinning death mask. Her long mane was reddish violet that turned to dark purple along its length, and the horn parting it had a distinctive upward curve and an unusually sharp tip.

“Hello. I am Dark Acolyte Gear Works, apprentice engineer-mystic to the 38th Company,” Gears said, pushing himself up. “May I assume you were the source of the earlier sonic detonation?”

Her horn started to glow a dark pink. “Yes.” Her voice was rough, with an unexpectedly deep tone.

“Ah! Good! I thank you for your assistance, Miss…?” Gear Works trailed off, waiting for her name.

Instead of replying, the mystery mare summoned a large skeletal hand of seething red energy. It seized Gear Works by the head and shoved his face down into the dirt.

“WHAT IS IT YOU WANT?” demanded Zariyah, still backing Icebreaker away from the strange pony. “YOU ARE PONY, YES? DO YOU NOT FIGHT GREENSKINS AS WELL?”

The horned bat pony glared up at the Strider. “There were others with you. Where are they? What are they doing here?”

“Urk! I’m afraid disclosing that is against protocol,” Gears volunteered, despite still being mask-down in the dirt. “Security code 7-1 section-”

“Quiet.” The mystery mare stomped on Gear Work’s back, silencing him. Then the floating skeletal hand seized the hose of his mask. The mare’s horn flashed, and the hand jolted upward sharply. A loud, agonizing crack accompanied by the squeal of metal tearing cut through the night as the stallion’s head was wrenched too far to one side, and the lights of his optics went dark.

“TECHPRIEST!!” Zariyah screamed in shock, immediately lining up her lascannon.

The mystery mare shifted her magic just before the weapon fired, and a lance of bright red slashed upon a similarly colored magic shield. The bat pony cringed in pain as the laser burned a run of bright pink over the barrier, but when the laser petered out she was unscathed. She launched into the air, leaving Gear’s body in the dust underneath her.

“One shot is all you get,” the mare snarled, swooping at the Strider.

Zariyah bolted, turning completely around and ducking under one of the larger stone trees that dotted the field. Icebreaker accelerated rapidly, its long, nimble legs smashing loose stones and petrified roots to powder as it moved to a full gallop.

“Blast!” she cursed to herself while making adjustments to her path. “I need to find the Lieutenant! If Techpriest is vital to mission success then we are done here!”

A horrible shriek came from above, barely reduced by the cockpit seal, and Zariyah felt a sense of sudden, intense vertigo. Pain surged in her head, her vision swam, and she felt her legs start to numb. It only lasted a second, but by the time she shook her head and focused her vision on the Strider’s cockpit display again she found the battlesuit’s legs stumbling and a petrified tree looming in front of her primary sensors.

She turned the walker’s head away, avoiding a face-first collision before the rest of the machine crashed into the tree. Branches cracked and the bark crumbled from the impact, and Icebreaker lost its footing entirely before hurtling to one side and skidding sidelong against the dirt. Zariyah grit her teeth as the impact with the ground wrenched her body hard, with the safety cuffs on her legs digging deep enough to bruise.

As soon as she stopped moving she started to shift her legs, and the internal gyro started spinning to assist in standing. She managed to place one of the battlesuit’s feet at an angle to push the rest of the machine up, and then braced another to catch the walker once it was upright. Then something slammed into the Strider’s side with explosive force, knocking it back to the ground. Zariyah growled through clenched teeth, and her armor display flashed brightly to indicate minor damage on the right side.

The bat pony hovered overhead, her horn crackling. The Strider twisted its head around and fired on the mare, but the angle was bad enough that she easily shifted a few inches to the side and the beam missed completely, slicing upward into the darkness. The bat-winged mare didn’t even have to use her barrier.

With a snarl, the bat pony landed on the side of the Strider, one foreleg lifted as if in striking position. A bright crimson blade formed over her hoof, and then she stabbed it into the Strider’s side armor.

“GYAH!” Zariyah shouted in shock as the blade punched into the cockpit, the glimmering, bright red tip emerging from the frame substructure and stopping less than an inch from her hip. She bent one front leg as far as she could to get an angle that she hoped could reach the baticorn, and then tried to kick the attacker off.

The bat pony easily lifted up out of reach as one of the Strider’s legs awkwardly swiped at her. “Make it easy on yourself. Don’t make me cut you out of there!” she threatened, landing on the battlesuit’s side again.

“All right! All right! You win!” the pilot shouted. “I am getting out! I surrender!”

The bat pony watched as the Strider’s head went limp, dropping onto the ground. The machine’s engine also deactivated, and the smoke stacks at the rear end stilled. The mare didn’t back off, still standing atop the Strider’s body and summoning her magic blade back to her hoof.

“Good. No tricks, now,” she growled.

“Tricks? Me? Perish the thought,” Zariyah assured her before biting down on the ejection lever and pulling sharply.

Small explosive bolts within the armor frame all fired at once, and a large panel of the Strider’s side armor launched into the air. The horned thestral’s eye went wide as she was launched along with it, but she didn’t even get the chance to spread her wings before her head slammed into the branches of a petrified tree overhead, breaking through several in rapid sequence. The hostile mare was sent spinning through the air with her new concussion, and a second later Zariyah herself was launched along the same trajectory.

“COMING THROUGH, TRAITOR!!” the pilot shouted, flying over the enemy pony.

Zariyah’s legs were still locked into the block of mechanisms that acted as the Strider’s movement interface, and once she reached the apex of her “flight” a small parachute popped out of one side. The fall was short and still quite a bit harder than Zariyah liked, but when she landed the wells for her legs promptly unlocked and she spilled out onto the dirt.

The Strider pilot scrambled upright, and then glanced back and forth. Her heart was pounding in her chest hard enough to ache, and she could barely see anything at all now that she was without the battlesuit’s sensors. Zariyah also didn’t know exactly where the enemy pony had landed or what her status was, and she had no intention of finding out.

She did have a very good sense of direction, however, and immediately bolted in the direction of the Ork camp they had been observing. She sped up to a gallop, but other than the slap of her hooves against the hard-packed dirt she made an effort to make as little sound as possible. She didn’t know all that much about thestrals and their echolocation, but she knew that the less noise there was, the harder it was for them to detect their surroundings. Hopefully the strange alicorn would at least have to scream first and give herself away in order to find her prey.

As if on cue, a screech came from the middle of the glade. It was short and lacked the intensity of the pulse that had sent Zariyah into a dizzy spell, but she felt a chill run down her spine nonetheless.

The pilot kept running, not daring to look behind her.

Ork camp (non-designated)
scrapyard

“Pleez! No moh! Yoo win! We, uh, we soo-ren-dah!”

A mob of a dozen Gretchen cowered behind a half-built buggy, with one of their number crawling forward on hands and knees while begging pitifully. At the entrance of the small shack was an armored pony not much bigger than the puny greenskins. The grot at the front quivered, staring into the tinted diamantine visor while wringing his hands. The pony stared back without reply, her breathing quite audible through the respirator mask she wore over her muzzle.

“Dun kill uz! We’z no danjuh to yoo, yeh?”

Then the mare reared up, swinging a wide-barreled cannon around to aim at the alien slave.

With a scream of terror and a little bit of desperate anger, the grot leapt forward while pulling a sharp sliver of metal from nowhere. Nacht thrust her echo cannon forward to meet the alien, smashing the weapon’s mouth into his chest. Gretchen were anything but hardy creatures, but even so the strength behind the blow was surprising. The greenskin slave was knocked clean off his feet and hurled into the exposed machinery of the vehicle.

“I love mopping up the weak ones,” Nacht chirped cutely, pulling back her echo cannon as it released a rapidly rising whine.

Across the Ork camp, Dusk’s ears flipped down as a pulse of high-pitched sound came from the workshop. The pitch suddenly dropped, and then it was followed by a thumping detonation and the screams of dying Gretchen. The scrap sheet roof of the building jumped, and a wave of dust and a splash of blood blew out over the adjacent ground.

Dusk paid it little mind, plunging his hoofblades into the throat of another Ork. The greenskin twitched and gurgled, and dusk pulled his weapon free and flew onward. He moved with no sense of urgency, caution, or military efficiency. He seemed almost exasperated as he flew up to the next Slugga Boy just a few feet away.

“Why are there always so MANY of you?” he groused, staring into the eyes of his next target.

The Ork stared back angrily, steam puffing from his nose, but he otherwise didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He did nothing but glare as the thestral plunged his blade into the Ork’s vitals.

Gloom Fang was doing the same thing several feet away, although he seemed to be having more fun with it, at least. The larger stallion jumped, swung, and kicked at his entirely immobile victims with an energy and ferocity only slightly less than that he reserved for targets that could fight back. His jaws and teeth were stained dark red, which at least partially explained his mood; Gloom Fang always felt energized after a good meal, and by all indications he had fed very well already.

“Lieutenant, I’m all done here!” Penumbra Shard sang. She was surrounded by a spread of magic tendrils and veritable pile of Ork corpses, and one of her Ebon Vectors was curled in a circle on the ground around her to keep the pooling blood from tainting her hooves.

Standing next to the massacre was an Ork Mek, locked in the same apparent paralysis as the others. His bionik arm twitched up and down, sparking angrily while the rust-caked claws opened and shut repeatedly. His face, capped with a metal dome that had been firmly bolted directly into his skull, was frozen into an enraged scowl, which conveniently matched his current mood while watching his outpost crew get slaughtered by a handful of ponies.

“Should I take care of the big one now, or are we saving him for something?” Penumbra asked, gesturing to the Mek.

“We might need his help to find the specific part. Leave him be for now,” Dusk commanded before cutting the throat of another alien.

Penumbra stepped away from the pile of gore she had created, if only so that she no long had to protect her coat from being stained. “How long does the paralysis last? Maybe I should bind him.”

“That’s probably wise. We’ve observed it wearing off between one and eight minutes. We’re not really sure what affects that range; we haven’t done too much experimenting,” Dusk replied. “Gloomy thinks it’s based on willpower, but I think it has more to do with actual mass.”

Penumbra’s magical vectors emerged from the ground with a gesture, winding around the Mek’s legs and arms. One of them wrapped around his throat, and the alien’s dark red eyes seemed to quiver with fearless rage. She found it slightly galling to kill enemies in this sort of state, but she could hardly deny the tactical efficiency. Even she couldn’t incapacitate so many Orks this quickly and easily.

Suddenly the thestrals perked, hearing a sound that was too high-pitched for Penumbra to hear. She definitely noticed when Gloom Fang and Dusk Blade landed, though, and the two stallions started rushing for the camp’s entry gate. Before they got very far Neuron Dialect appeared in front of them, her body seeming to simply materialize from the darkness.

“Contacts?” Dusk asked.

“Friendly. Backfire is coming,” Neuron said evenly.

“The Strider’s coming back? Shard, you didn’t send anything out yet, did you?”

Penumbra was about to confirm she did not, but Neuron corrected him first. “Not the Strider. The pilot. Backfire is approaching on hoof.”

Dusk was utterly perplexed by that, but a more urgent question suddenly occurred to him. “Is Gears with her?”

“No,” Neuron said, imbuing the single syllable with an impressive amount of frustration.

Dusk’s eyes lost focus as the other ponies stared at him, awaiting their orders. Dozens of harrowing thoughts rushed through his mind in quick succession, and he felt his pulse start to race in his ears. He closed his eyes and gulped, forcing himself calm again.

“… Gloomy, get your mask back on. Shard, execute the remaining greenskins. All of them, including the Mek. Dagger Squad, we have to intercept-” Dusk’s voice made an awkward squeaking sound as Zariyah Backfire galloped straight into the camp before he was done giving his orders.

The Strider pilot’s breath was heaving, but still she stopped short at the sight before her. Illuminated by torches and a few electric lights scattered around the camp was a complete and utter massacre. Ork bodies lay heaped in small piles or splayed out next to each other in groups. Gretchen lay shredded or partially ruptured, like their bodies just popped. But most odd, of course, were a handful of greenskins that were still standing on their own, seemingly alive, but doing nothing while surrounded by the carnage and their enemies.

Zariyah wasn’t new to the horrors of warfare, and the scene immediately set off some of her soldier’s senses that normally informed her that she’d wandered too close to the enemy’s defenses or heavy armor contingent. Everything about this scenario seemed off, from the unmoving Orks to the thestrals staring silently at her to the suspicious lack of collateral damage. If she were any less desperate she would have turned right around and waited at the entrance until the bat ponies were ready to receive her, but instead she set her jaw and trotted up to Dusk Blade.

“Lieutenant,” the pilot said grimly, saluting, “would you like my report first or should we first go over why the Orks here are frozen in time?”

The Ebon Vector wrapping around the Mek suddenly shifted violently, tightening and tearing the alien engineer apart. It barely released a grunt in defiance, and as the magic tendrils seeped back into the ground Penumbra turned a gentle smile onto the earth pony.

“Just some magic shenanigans, that’s all. I’ll clean up; you go ahead and tell Lieutenant Blade what happened,” the sorceress tittered while trotting over to the remaining enemies.

“Very well,” Zariyah grimaced. “We were engaged by some stray Orks racing by in their transport not long after we reached our ‘safe zone.’”

“Orks took down your Strider?” Dusk asked.

“Negative. After engaging us the Orks were attacked by another hostile that wiped them all out. Then it attacked us as well. Lieutenant… it was the baticorn.”

The other ponies flinched visibly. Even Penumbra missed a step. Dusk felt a hundred new questions bubbling from his throat, but he pushed them all aside.

“What happened to Gear Works?” Dusk Blade asked.

“Dead. The Techpriest spoke to the baticorn with no hostility, and it broke his neck in response,” Zariyah admitted.

The statement wasn’t completely unexpected, but Dusk still felt like he had been sucker-punched. His chest tightened and his thoughts turned to mush. Neuron seemed to pick up on this and continued.

“The Techpriest was mission critical,” Neuron said, her eyes gleaming from beneath her hood, “and you let him die?”

“That… is accurate enough, yes. I have no good excuses,” Zariyah admitted bitterly. “I attempted to neutralize the baticorn afterward, but it was no use. Now Icebreaker too is a pile of scrap in the badlands.”

Dusk took a deep, calming breath, and then called out behind him. “Shard! Are you finished here?”

“Affirmative!” she sang pleasantly, her mood unchanged despite Zariyah’s news. “Everything is dead! We can leave this dump at your leisure!”

Dusk nodded, although his mood visibly darkened at her cheerful tone. “Backfire, take us to where you ejected.”

“Yes, Lieutenant,” the pilot replied, wheeling around and trotting out the front of the camp.

Dusk Blade followed. “Neuro, go dark. If we find that… that THING, you take the first shot you have. Gloomy, stay close to me until I say break. Nacht, if we have contact, you dive for cover and keep low until you have a perfect shot.”

“Neuro gets to shoot right away, but I have to wait?” Nacht asked as Neuron melted away into the darkness.

“This is a bat pony we’re talking about. It can probably detect the charge-up and avoid the blast,” Dusk reasoned. “Hopefully not, but if you have a good angle and take it by surprise, it won’t matter.”

“Before we start strategizing we should probably ask what it can do, yes?” Penumbra asked. “What did the baticorn do, exactly? What did it look like? Did it say anything?”

Zariyah grimaced, sorting her observations to best answer the question. “Well, first off: she was definitely a mare.”

“HA!” Nacht shouted at Gloom Fang, jumping up and pointing a hoof. “Told you! There are no stallion Princesses!”

A sharp hiss from Dusk promptly silenced the shortest thestral, and she meekly ducked her head in embarrassment. Gloom Fang still seemed quite sour about the revelation though, pouting and muttering to himself.

“Yes. It was a Princess. A bat Princess,” Zariyah continued. “She first attacked the Orks with some kind of sonic ray. It built up strength similar to an echo cannon, but the Techpriest said he could tell the difference right away. When it reached its peak, the ground under the enemy erupted. Then she descended into the dust to finish them off in melee. When she was done with them, she said that there were others with us. She demanded to know what you were doing here.”

“She asked about us? Like, Dagger Squad?” Gloom asked.

“She said there were ‘others.’ She did not give any names,” Zariyah admitted. “When she was fighting she summoned magic energy blades that clung to hooves and wings and tore through the Orks with ease. It did fairly well against Icebreaker’s armor as well, although it did not cut without resistance.”

“Sonic blast, magic blades. Got it. What else?” Dusk demanded.

“She had a magic hand, which she used to snap the Techpriest’s neck,” the pilot said darkly, “and a magic barrier, which is why I failed to burn a hole in her for retaliation. She also used a different sound attack on me when I attempted to retreat in the Strider. It stunned me for a second, robbing me of my senses. That was long enough for me to crash, and after that she was on top of me.” Zariyah shook her head. “I only escaped due to the Strider’s ejection system.”

“Gears INVENTED that ejection system, you know,” Dusk said bitterly.

“I already regret letting the Techpriest perish, Lieutenant, you do not need to go over the things he has done that have apparently improved my career,” Zariyah retorted, sounding equally sour.

“Are you sure? Because I have more of them!” Dusk said, bristling angrily.

“What did the baticorn look like?” Gloom Fang interjected, getting the conversation back on track.

“She was big. Not quite Princess Luna’s size, but close. Her horn was curved, and had a sharp point compared to most unicorns.” The pilot shook her head. “Color was difficult to make out with low-light scopes, but she had these markings on her face, legs, and body. They looked like bones.”

It took Zariyah a few seconds to realize it, but the number of hoofsteps following her dropped considerably. When she glanced behind her Penumbra was still following, but Dusk, Gloom, and Nacht had all stopped short, staring at her.

“What? Were you expecting a different description? Do you think there might be more than one of these?” the pilot asked.

“Describe the markings,” Neuron demanded, reappearing behind her.

After shrieking in terror and jumping away, Zariyah rounded on the sniper angrily. “I told you! They were bones! Her legs had femur bones, her sides had ribs, and her face had a mask like a skull!” Then she blinked. “Right! Her face! I almost forgot! She only had one eye! Her left eye was covered over with scars.”

Neuron stumbled backward, her cybernetic eyes wide. Gloom Fang and Nacht slowly turned to look at Dusk Blade. His expression was less openly incredulous, and after a few seconds he shook his head.

“What’s wrong? Why are you all more surprised now than when I said the baticorn showed up and beat me?” Zariyah asked. “Do you know this mare?”

“No,” Dusk said firmly. “We don’t know any baticorns. Dagger Squad, turn up your sonics protection and use your optics. Stick to the plan and shoot to kill,” he commanded.

Zariyah quirked an eyebrow as she watched each of the bat ponies fit their wing into their ears, adjusting a small node she hadn’t noticed before. “Sonic protection? You knew we would face an enemy using noise weapons?”

“All thestrals in the Company have those micro-dampers,” Penumbra informed her. “Their hearing is so sensitive that they would quickly go deaf around heavy weaponry and explosives otherwise. To say nothing of the echo cannons.”

“It’s a pain though because it interferes with our echolocation,” Nacht grumbled. “So if we turn them up we need to rely on the night optics, which just aren’t as good.”

“Nacht, what have I told you about explaining our tactical vulnerabilities in casual conversation?” Dusk asked.

“What? She’s on our side!”

“That depends how forgiving the Lieutenant is feeling when we find the Techpriest’s body,” Penumbra retorted.

“SHUT. UP. Both of you!” Dusk snarled. “Backfire, how much farther?”

“It’s just up ahead,” Zariyah muttered, her pace slowed to a hesitant walk. “Sorry, I need to be careful. I do not have either night vision or armor without Icebreaker.”

“I knew that thing was going to be a liability,” Gloom Fang sniffed.

“My previous order applies to you too, Gloomy,” Dusk snapped. “I see the Strider. Shard, cover me. The rest of you find cover with a good angle and get ready to attack.”

Neuron vanished again and Nacht quickly scurried behind a mass of petrified roots. Gloom Fang prepared his splinter rifle while hiding behind a tree on a different sight line. Zariyah also ducked behind a tree, but without effective vision or a weapon she intended to just hide. Penumbra followed several feet behind Dusk Blade while the Lieutenant trotted up to the abandoned battlesuit, although her gaze was fixed on his rear rather than being alert for threats.

Dusk reached the battlesuit and stared into its inactive “face.” The sensoria lights were dark and the gentle hum of the lascannon capacitor – an irritating and constant noise whenever the weapon was kept charged and ready to fire – was silent. There was a gaping square hole in its side which he correctly guessed was the ejection port, but otherwise the battlesuit seemed to be in good condition. It obviously hadn’t been picked over by scavengers yet, nor did it seem the baticorn had caused further damage after its pilot escaped.

Dusk spent a minute scanning the area with his optics, searching for movement. His impatience grew rapidly, however, and he suddenly tapped off the sonic damper in his ear before taking a deep breath and throwing his head back.

“SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!” the screech was long and loud, illuminating every stony branch and root of his surroundings.

The noise petered out, and Dusk’s ears pivoted to one side and then another. He could see every one of his allies clearly in the echoes of his own shriek, but no one else. No baticorn. No Gear Works.

Dusk turned around. “Backfire, is this where Gears was attacked?”

“Nyet. I managed to get some distance between that point until the baticorn caught me.” She emerged cautiously from her hiding spot, glancing upward frequently to watch for silhouettes flying under the stars above. “Do you want me to lead the way?”

“No. The Strider’s tracks are obvious enough,” Dusk replied. “Shard, you may as well give us some light. Either our mystery mare isn’t close enough to spot us or needs better bait.”

Without a word, Penumbra summoned a half-dozen glowing orbs of blue magic that floated out in all directions. They weaved and bobbed seemingly at random, like fireflies, but the light they cast was substantial enough that it was as good as daylight to the others. Dusk and Gloom pushed up their optics goggles, and then Dusk started following the disc-shaped tracks left by the Strider’s retreat.

“So… I know this is a pretty touchy subject right now, but…” Nacht could practically feel the tension starting to rise around Dusk Blade from speaking up, but she went ahead anyway. “Are we really going to scrub the mission if the Techpriest is dead? There’s no other way to get what we need here?”

“He’s a Dark Acolyte. Unless the Mechanicus gives posthumous promotions,” Neuron reminded her, swooping down from the trees briefly before rising again and melting into the branches. Much to Zariyah’s puzzlement, considering that she could now see the trees perfectly well and there was nowhere to hide where the sniper had vanished.

Dusk clenched his teeth, and for several seconds he considered ignoring her completely. Eventually the words came to him, however.

“Yes, Nacht. If Gears is really dead, the mission is a failure. That’s what I said starting out, didn’t I? Did you think I was joking?”

“Well… no, not joking, but…” Nacht’s ears pinned back. “You always come up with a plan when things go wrong. And it just… kind of seems like everything other than this was going pretty well? We killed so many Orks!”

“Killing ORKS is not the objective, Nacht! Is that mane dye bleaching your brain cells?!” Dusk turned around, his amber eyes glowing like hot coals. “We don’t have a goal here that you can shoot or stab your way through! This required expertise! This required intelligence!”

“We have that!” Gloom Fang protested. He shrunk a bit when Dusk glared at him. “Well, I mean… some of that. Or, you do, at least. That’s why we came to you.”

“Mine wasn’t enough! That’s why I brought Gears!” Dusk barked. “I promised that we’d protect him! And from the moment we left the transport we’ve been putting him in harm’s way instead! What was I even thinking?! How the fang are we going to complete our mission when we can’t protect ONE SINGLE PONY?!”

“But… Gloomy’s dream was-” Nacht started to reply, only for Dusk to turn around again.

“I don’t want to hear it. And Backfire isn’t cleared to,” the Lieutenant said bitterly. “Let’s collect the body and get out of here.”

Zariyah was quite curious about the dream Nacht mentioned, but quickly put it aside. Dusk Blade looked like he was on the verge of stabbing somepony, and anyway it would be much easier to get the details from the small black mare later. She trotted ahead of Dusk, and then passed around a particularly large tree.

“What? Where…?” Zariyah lifted a hoof to point as one of the light spheres passed over her shoulder. “It was here! I remember it was right here!”

Dusk rushed up next to her, his eyes narrowing. “No body. Hmm.”

“So did the baticorn eat him, or what?” Gloom asked.

“I don’t think being a Princess lets you ingest metal. She probably just carried his body away,” Nacht replied.

Dusk tried his best to keep from speaking and gestured above him with a wing. Neuron dropped down from nowhere, badly startling Zariyah again. Then she started studying the ground, searching from the divot in the dirt that was roughly shaped like Gear’s face.

“Why would she take him? He’s dead,” Gloom Fang continued.

“Maybe he wasn’t dead. Or maybe she has necromantic magic. Or maybe his body parts are worth something,” Nacht mused. “Or maybe the Orks got him after Bansh-”

Dusk’s head snapped to the side, eyes blazing bright in the gloom again as they fixed on Nacht.

“... A-After the b-baticorn left him there,” Nacht stuttered, her heart suddenly thundering in her chest. She gulped, ducking her head and shying away from Dusk’s gaze.

Neuron looked up. “Neither.”

“What? Neither of what?” Penumbra asked.

“It wasn’t the baticorn or the Orks. The tracks are wrong. He left. Under his own power,” she glanced back down. “The gait is uneven. Even for him. He’s injured.”

“He’s alive?” Dusk’s voice emerged as a squeak, his emotions getting swallowed by hope and desperation.

“He was,” Neuron clarified, turning away. “This way.”

Dusk Blade did not bother to follow her. Leaping into the air, he flew above the trees and then took in a deep breath.

“GEARS!! GEAR WORKS!!” Dusk screamed into the darkness, his ears twitching back and forth to search for the slightest movement. “WE’RE BACK!! WHERE ARE YOU?!”

Dusk listened intently against the sound of his wings flapping behind him. Then he heard a reply, and his heart seized.

“H-Help…”

The Lieutenant was off like a shot, pinpointing the noise and diving down toward it as fast as possible. There were a few cries of protest behind him, probably with very valid warnings about the possibility that this was a trap, but he tuned them out completely. Dusk’s echolocation picked out a soft mound of robes with a servo arm sticking out, and he immediately landed right next to it.

It was Gear Works, laying on his side. The Dark Acolyte’s neck was still twisted too far to one side, and Dusk couldn’t see the usual clusters of light under his hood. But he was here, and he was moving.

“By Luna… you’re… you’re okay!” Dusk gasped, barely daring to believe his own senses.

“I’m alive, yes. ‘Okay’ is a much more robust standard!” the tech-cultist hissed. “I need assistance!”

“Backfire said the baticorn broke your neck! We need to get you to a medicae!”

“That isn’t necessary, Lieutenant. Just wrench my neck back the way it was, please.”

Dusk blinked in surprise. “What? Really? Are you sure?” Behind him, the other members of the party were cautiously stepping into the area as well, led by Penumbra’s floating spheres of light. Only Neuron Dialect stayed away from the area and patrolled the shadows instead, much less comfortable than the others in the Moon Mage’s glow.

“My spinal cord is almost entirely bionic by now; twisting a disc section out of alignment is not fatal. It does pinch the cabling badly, though, and currently my optics are offline. It also hurts. A lot. Can you pull it back?”

“I got it,” Gloom Fang volunteered, trotting over next to the cyborg equine.

“Why did you move from where you were attacked? The baticorn might have spotted you and decided to finish the job,” Dusk asked.

“I was trying to find a root or branch that I could wedge my head into so that I could twist everything back on my own,” Gears explained, “but between the blindness and the pain it proved impossible to do.”

“Don’t worry metalhead, I’ve got you,” Gloom Fang said smugly, standing up on his hind legs and bracing before placing his forelegs against Gear’s head. “One little twi-”

“Wrong way, Gloomy,” Dusk growled.

Gloom blinked, and then quickly let go and switched sides. “Right! Right. Good call. Here… we… GO!”

Zariyah flinched as a sharp metallic scraping noise came from the Dark Acolyte, but she felt a deep burden lift off her shoulders at the same time. The cyborg pony’s optic lights started growing back on under his hood, like there were droplets of aqua-blue color being squeezed through his re-aligned neck. Gloom stood back, and Gear Works groaned.

“How is it?” Dusk asked anxiously.

“It hurts a great deal less, and some of the wiring needs adjustment, but it will do for a field repair. Thank you, Corporal Fang,” Gear Works slowly stood up, his ears twitching back and forth.

“So we’re good now, right?” Nacht asked. “The nerd is alive and the Ork camp is empty and the baticorn isn’t around. We’re clear to proceed?”

Dusk frowned. “What happened to the hostile, exactly? Did she just leave after attacking Backfire?”

“I’m not totally sure what happened after she crippled me,” Gears admitted, “I could hear some of the altercation, but I was quite panicked and distracted at the time. After that it quieted down, but she did come back.”

Dusk perked up. “And then what? Did she say anything to you?”

“No. I played dead. I don’t think it worked; I had already moved from where she had attacked and her senses are surely keen enough to tell a live pony from a corpse. But she didn’t attack me. There were a lot of strange noises coming from her, but it wasn’t an attack.”

“Strange noises?”

“Yes. Magic noises, I assume.”

Penumbra felt a tingling sensation that warned of surging magic, but her shout of warning was too late. Great seams of red shot across the ground, twisting, branching, and sparking at a speed that defied even the thestral’s reflexes. It swiftly formed a simple runic pattern that encompassed some 40 feet, capturing the gathered ponies within its boundary. Then bright webs of seething crimson lashed at each of them all at once, clinging around their legs and chests and entangling them. The bat ponies, all in the midst of taking off, were promptly dragged back to the ground. Gears and Zariyah were too shocked to react much and thus received the lightest treatment as their hooves were wrapped up and glued to the dirt.

Penumbra’s capture was the most dramatic. She reeled backward as the webbing took hold, screaming and bucking angrily while the threads lashed again and again. Eventually the red webs snared around her horn, and the Moon Mage convulsed in pain. The air was knocked out of her at the contact, and then she was dragged down to the dirt with the others.

“GUANO! I knew this was a trap! I told you!” Gloom Fang cursed.

“Oh, you did not!” Dusk snapped back, tugging desperately against the magic webs.

“Nacht did, though! And I was quietly supportive!”

“Stop arguing and help Penny! I think she’s hurt!” Nacht growled while she struggled to free her echo cannon.

“Wait, do you hear that? Something’s coming!”

The baticorn descended with little fanfare, her wings spreading wide and billowing in the chill air to land her atop a particularly thick branch. Her horn was already aglow, a thread of dark pink seeping from the base and writhing about its curved length to meet at the point. A crimson glow seeped from her left eyelid; or at least, the mass of overlapping scar tissue where her eyelid was supposed to be. She was fully illuminated by the glow spheres, which had evidently remained as free-floating orbs even after Penumbra had been disabled. She was exactly as Zariyah had described, right down to the patch of bone white over her face that grinned down at her victims.

“No way,” Gloom Fang said, his eyes (at least, the two that weren’t covered by his mask) wide in disbelief, “it’s really you. You’re alive!” Nacht seemed equally stunned, her hair standing on end.

“It’s not her!” Dusk Blade barked. “This is some stupid trick! Part of the trap!”

The baticorn tilted her head to the side slightly. “A trick?”

“A changeling! An illusion! A magically resonant memory! A conventional disguise! A corpse hauled from a pit and revived! Feel free to stop me if I guess it right! A spool of DNA plucked from a dank pit and grown with human tech! You could be anything! Anything except HER!” Dusk snarled. “Get your heads in the game, Dagger Squad!”

“Dagger Squad. Is that what you’re called now?” the mysterious mare asked. “Things have changed, haven’t they? It’s been some time, Dusk Blade. Lost Prince of the Shad.”

Dusk flinched. The stubborn denial in his eyes faltered, at least for a moment.

“Nacht, chosen daughter of what’s left of the Eisenwing. Gloom Fang, the scion of the raving marauders that were once the Dark Hearts,” the baticorn continued, much to the thestrals’ alarm. She lifted her head, closing her eye. “I even sense Neuron Dialect back there. Refugee of… whatever it is your ridiculous little band of mercenary killers is called now. Ember League? Stalkers? I forget.”

She shrugged, her eye cracking back open to stare at the confused and terrified ponies below. “But there are other equines I am unfamiliar with, and though you be enemies I should introduce myself.”

Gear Works suddenly piped up. “Yes, actually, if I may interject, I would really like to explore the ‘enemy’ dynamic tha-” a patch of crimson webbing latched onto his mask and tugged him down sharply, smacking his face into the dirt.

“My name is Banshee, last survivor of the Haunt!” the one-eyed mare bellowed.

The effect on Dusk, Nacht, Gloom, and Penumbra was stark: even though they each expected to hear the name, it still struck them like a lightning bolt. Nacht shuddered and her ears pinned back, and Gloom turned toward Dusk with an expression that could only be considered helpless shock. Penumbra grimaced, and her eyes started studying the magic web.

Zariyah Backfire furrowed her brow. “Is that supposed to mean anything to us? What is all this Shad, Dark Hearts, Haunt and such?”

“Nothing,” Dusk said, his voice grim. “It’s useless, forgotten gibberish of no importance to anybody. It’s all just dust.” He bared his teeth. “Just like Banshee.”

“If you don’t believe me, that’s fine too,” Banshee said, her head turning toward the position where Neuron Dialect was covering. “I know why you’re here. You will not take the final Element.”

“The final what?” Gears asked, pushing himself up. The webs ensnared on his mask tightened yet again, yanking him back into the dirt.

“No idea what you’re on about. We’re here to solve a problem for the Dark Mechanicus extraction teams,” Dusk lied, “but as long as you’re willing to chat us up, I gotta know: what’s with the baticorn thing?”

Banshee’s eye narrowed. “Chirocorn.”

Dusk blinked. “What?”

“I am an ascended thestral, a chirocorn,” Banshee clarified, her voice very serious even though the cruel smile never left her face. “Kai-row-corn. Got it?”

“… What?” Dusk repeated. Nacht and Gloom glanced at each other, utterly perplexed.

“I believe the name refers to the mammal order chiroptera, which primarily contains bats,” Gear Works noted, again pushing himself up from the ground. “It characterizes the main biological difference from the alicorns quite well.”

“Yes! Precisely!” Banshee affirmed. Then her horn pulsed, and the webs again slammed the Dark Acolyte’s face into the ground.

“Chirocorn… huh…” Dusk dropped his gaze and mumbled the word a few more times under his breath. “You know what? I like it. That’s good. Much better than baticorn. Thanks.” Then he looked up again. “Kill her.”

Penumbra’s horn flashed, and a swirling aura started to build around it. The webbing strangling her glowed in time, trying to restrain the surge, but then crumbled away to motes of light as they were overwhelmed. The Moon Mage cackled, her eyes shining brightly while she stood up again. The web around her legs fizzled away to sparks, and then the effect continued spreading out along the ground around her.

Banshee launched herself into the air as the magic web started to dissipate, sucking air into her lungs. A gunshot rang out behind her, and a blazing white bullet struck a quivering red barrier. She flinched as her horn glowed hot, fighting the force of the shot, and her gasp spared the ponies below from her ear-shattering screech.

“Gloomy, freeze her if you get the chance,” Dusk ordered, his eyes flaring orange. “Nacht, we’re gonna get in close, so wait for your shot.” A shroud of inky black rushed up from the ground, seeping over his body in a swift, inexplicable wave. The crimson web fell through him, and then the mass of darkness sank into the dirt and vanished.

Gear Works stared. “Wh… Wha-”

“Ha ha ha ha! HA HA HAAA!!” Gloom Fang laughed gleefully as the webbing started to crumble around him, and he pulled his mask down to reveal his large, gleaming fangs (though his lower eyes stayed closed). “IT’S BEEN A LONG TIME, LITTLE MARE! I WONDER WHAT A CHIROCORN TASTES LIKE,” he mused aloud, leaping into the sky with a deranged grin.

“Knock her down and I’ll blast her apart!” Nacht shouted, standing upright and lifting the mouth of her echo cannon. A deep thrumming noise came from the resonator core, followed a rising whine as the chambers started vibrating.

Banshee whirled about, darting through the air over Neuron’s hiding spot. Her howl cut through the night sky as she screamed toward the ground, and her horn quivered and pulsed with magic. Neuron Dialect – invisible to the eye but easily picked out by the reflected echoes – suddenly sprinted from her cover to flee the blast, but the sonic pulses reached their peak first.

The ground exploded upward, and a dozen petrified trees shattered at once. Neuron’s grunt of pain was utterly lost in the cataclysmic sound, and she was flung hard against a splintering stone trunk. Dust and debris swirled about her, completely concealing the blast site.

Banshee turned in the air again, just in time to see Gloom Fang rise up in front of her.

“SURPRI-”

Banshee shrieked immediately, blasting the stallion directly with a magical sonic pulse. It knocked him out of the air with a wall of concussive force, sending him flailing back down to the forest. Gloom shouted in surprise, flapping his wings desperately to try to recover control.

She blinked, unsure of what she had seen in that split-second he had been rushing up to her. “Did… Did he have four eyes?”

Her ear twitched.

Banshee summoned a magic blade to her hoof and spun, stabbing into the wisp of shadow that was darting toward her through the air. A hoofblade emerged to meet it, and a jet of crimson sparks sprayed from the contact. Dusk materialized from the darkness, his eyes aglow with quiet fury (and probably some magic).

“Ambush my support team,” his free hoof slashed forward, “cripple my friend,” he spun away from Banshee’s snapping jaws, and a back leg lashed out to strike her in the neck, “use his broken body as bait,” he dove back down, slicing into her chest, “and now you show up pretending to be HER.”

“SKREEE-” Banshee screamed into Dusk’s face and he promptly slammed his forehead into her snout, cutting her off. The pain in his ears was intense, but he pushed through his scrambled senses to focus on the body in front of him.

“Shut up and BLEED,” he snarled, whips of darkness lashing around him.

Banshee sensed Gloom Fang rushing up beneath her again and her horn sparked dangerously, arcs of deep pink running up to a point of crimson at the tip. A magic shock wave exploded around her, crashing into both stallions with a wall of raw magical force. Gloom Fang was hurled back to the ground again, snarling angrily, and Dusk Blade was likewise swatted out of the sky, his aura of shadow breaking apart.

“Gotcha,” Nacht chirped as her echo cannon screamed.

Waves of destructive sonic energy surrounded the chirocorn, scrambling her senses and then converging on her in a disastrous crescendo. Her personal barrier briefly flared and collapsed, prompting a surge of pain through her horn just before the much more severe pain of the impact. A thunderous blast preceded a wave of glassy, distorted air, and then the horned thestral was plummeting to the ground, stunned and bleeding. Nacht cackled and cycled the resonator, and the weapon’s pitch dropped while it prepared another pulse.

Banshee hit the ground hard, her wing striking a great deal of rock debris and tearing badly even before her bones suffered the full force of the impact. She bounced, and then skidded across the ground in a senseless daze. Blood oozed from her ears and several cuts on her legs and chest, but her body was in so much pain that it mostly defied immediate diagnosis. Even so she pushed herself up, and the world spun around her.

Glowing spheres flew through the trees, seeking out the fallen mare and surrounding her. Penumbra Shard strolled after them at a fairly languid pace, stepping delicately over the shattered stone that now littered the petrified glade. Dusk and Gloom landed on branches above, and Neuron – dusty and aching, but still conscious – limped around the opposite side with her galvanic rifle at the ready.

“I really don’t know what you were thinking,” Penumbra opened, staring at the chirocorn with something like pity.

“What?” Banshee mumbled.

“You really thought you could face all the others by yourself? You know they’re stronger now, right? And with me here too? Gutsy!” She stopped just a few feet away, her horn sparking. “But you certainly never suffered from lack of courage, did you? And on that note, I don’t suppose you would be willing to trade live capture in exchange for telling me how this… chirocorn situation came about? Instead of being executed here, I mean.”

Banshee’s breath heaved. Sweat trickled down her brow, mixing with her blood. Her horn sparked repeatedly, but they were brief, sputtering pulses, like a dying lumen glass drawing from a damaged circuit.

“What?” she gasped. “I can’t hear you! Speak up!”

“Oh. Right. The echo cannon probably deafened you a bit,” Penumbra admitted, tapping a hoof to her chin. “Well it would be embarrassing to repeat myself while shouting into your ear, so we-”

Banshee’s horn flashed brightly, and the chirocorn vanished in a wave of pink sparks.

“… Phooey,” the Moon Mage pouted.

“What happened?! Was that an illusory body after all?” Dusk demanded as he dropped to the ground behind Penumbra.

“No. No illusion bleeds like that. That was really her,” Penumbra replied.

“The hay it was,” the Lieutenant spat. “Maybe it was a real body, but that WASN’T Banshee. Did she just teleport out? Only really skilled magi can do that, right? And it has a pretty short range.”

“That was something a little different. An emergency escape spell that dumps you in a prepared location. It’s a much easier cast, although I would have guessed it was still beyond someone like her,” the Moon Mage clicked her tongue.

“Why would you think that?” Gloom Fang asked as he landed behind Dusk. His mask was back in place again, completely covering his lower set of eyes. “Aren’t Princesses super powerful?”

“Not especially, no. They tend to be super experienced, which is a different measure and particularly useful to spellcasters,” Penumbra clarified. “Celestia and Luna are the oldest ponies alive and Twilight Sparkle, while young, is a star student, magic prodigy, and champion of the realm. This mare’s horn is less than a year old.”

“You know how long ago she ascended to a chirocorn?” Asked a voice behind the group. “So you did know Miss Banshee before?”

Gloom, Dusk, and Penumbra all glanced back in annoyance. Gear Works and Zariyah were cautiously picking their way through the ruptured terrain, heading toward them. Nacht was approaching along the same route, although she was flying over the treetops.

“No. Nopony knows who that was,” Dusk said firmly, his eyes narrowed. “Got that? If the chirocorn comes back, you engage and you finish her off first chance you get. I don’t want to hear any more of her stupid lies.” Then he turned around. “Neuro, are you going to be okay?”

“I need a few minutes to dress my wounds,” she admitted, “but I can still fight.”

“I think we can manage that.” Dusk glanced over at Zariyah and frowned. “I’m not sure what to do about a pilot without a gun or a vehicle, though.”

“How badly was the Strider damaged?” Gears asked, perking up.

“Very little, aside from the gaping hole in the battlesuit from the ejection,” Zariyah sighed.

“Then I can have it functional again in 20 minutes. 25 if the liminal torsion was dented in landing. You won’t be able to use the ejection system again until I’m able to replace the explosive bolts, but otherwise mechanical performance should be nominal,” the Dark Acolyte said. At seeing the pilot’s surprised expression, he elaborated. “A proper ejection keeps all of the mobility drivers intact; the battlesuit can be completely reassembled in the field if there hasn’t been other significant structural damage.”

“Wouldn’t you expect there to be a lot of damage in a situation where the pilot has to eject?” Dusk asked.

“Everyone thought so at first, but we found that pony pilots are very quick to pull the emergency escape lever,” Gears explained.

The thestrals didn’t move, but their eyes all slowly shifted toward Zariyah.

The earth pony bristled. “I had no choice! She was already on top of me and cutting into the hull! Any one of you would have done the same!”

“Okay, fine, just calm down. It doesn’t matter now. Gears, if you can really get the Strider running again, do it. Then we ransack the Ork camp. Backfire, you help him out. Shard, you go with them and keep watch,” Dusk ordered.

Gears and Zariyah quickly turned away to do as ordered, but Penumbra pouted. “Why do I have to tag along with the earth ponies? Are you all staying here?”

“We need a minute,” Dusk confessed, “and I’m not leaving Gear Works unguarded again.”

“He wasn’t unguarded, the useless walker just-”

Dusk’s eyes pulsed in the gloom, the amber irises becoming sparks of hot golden light. Penumbra recoiled immediately, and her ears pinned back.

“Sorry! Right away!” the Moon Mage yelped, rushing after the earth ponies with an uncharacteristic nervousness.

Dusk’s eyes dimmed as the unicorn ducked away and moved out of earshot. Then he slowly turned back to the other bat ponies. Gloom Fang was helping Neuron with her injuries while Nacht settled her echo cannon on her back again. She was able to carry the weapon with surprising ease, but it’s bulk and her small size did make it cumbersome.

Gloom Fang pulled a bandage roll with his wing, winding it around Neuron’s leg. Then he cut it free with his hoofblade and pinned it down against the wound. “Technology that can make cities in days and travel through space but we’re still out here wrapping wounds with cloth bandaging. Ridiculous,” he huffed.

“They have much better field meds than this, but none of us care to learn to use them,” Neuron grunted as she tied the bandage with her wingtips. “I don’t know if I’ve ever even met a thestral medicae.” Then she looked up at Dusk. “Lieutenant?”

“I don’t suppose you want to talk about that mare, do you?” Nacht asked.

“No, I don’t. You have your orders regarding that… thing. The chirocorn dies the next time we see it,” Dusk spat.

“Okay, then can we talk about how bad Gloomy whiffed on his attack vector?” Nacht giggled into a hoof. “All you had to do was glare at her, dude.”

“Aw, shut up!” the stallion snarled. “I couldn’t get eye contact!”

“And anyway, no you can’t talk about it,” Dusk ordered. “We have allies who don’t know about our abilities and this place isn’t secure.”

“So… if we can’t make fun of four eyes here and you don’t want to talk about… the chirocorn, what DID you want to discuss?” Nacht asked.

Dusk Blade adopted a glum, resigned expression and stepped closer to Neuron Dialect. He obviously did not want to proceed, but he knew what he had to do.

“Neuro, you said you talked to Banshee in your dream. Tell me what happened.”

“Here is the runner block. It looks like it’s in good condition, yes?”

“A decent enough landing. All else aside I’m glad to see the ejection system functions so well.”

“Very well indeed! It certainly caught the chirocorn by surprise! Ha!”

Zariyah Backfire stood on top of the block of interlinking metal plates and rails while Gear Works walked a slow circuit around it, noting minor damage from the machine’s descent. Every few seconds his servo arm would reach out and pull on a piece, testing its integrity or moving it back into place. Penumbra’s glowing spheres floated overhead to provide light to work, while the Moon Mage herself sat in sullen silence nearby.

“I think this unit is ready to be re-installed,” Gears said with a nod, “it will require a brief prayer to mitigate its separation from the host engine spirits, and then we-”

“Oh for night’s sake, GET ON WITH IT.”

A turquoise glow swallowed the machine, and Gears recoiled as it suddenly lifted into the air. Zariyah’s eyes widened in surprise, but she managed to stay upright while standing on the hovering device. Penumbra walked by, fuming, and the floating mass of machinery followed along with her.

“What are you so upset about? The mission has not failed. Did you not triumph over the traitorous pony?” Zariyah asked, dropping down onto her belly so she wouldn’t have to balance on the wobbling mass.

“Some triumph,” Penumbra sniffed. “We only had to bother with her because YOU TWO were too weak to stop her or escape safely. And then she got away!” The unicorn’s horn crackled dangerously, and Zariyah noted that her perch started to warm up noticeably against the early morning chill. “Now the Lieutenant is even more paranoid and he’ll probably make me foalsit you two whenever there’s a fight.”

“And this frustrates you,” the pilot guessed.

“Of course it does! Do you think I’d rather be hanging around with mares and… and whatever HE is than Lieutenant Blade?” Penumbra snapped, gesturing briefly to Gear Works. “What a waste of my time…”

“Yes, yes, a tragedy,” Zariyah drawled. “While we are on topic of Lieutenant, do we want to discuss whatever it is he did during the fight? That weird shroud covered him, and then he just… disappeared into the ground.”

“You were imagining things,” Penumbra sniffed. “Adrenaline, panic, exhaustion, and a profuse amount of magic being flung around a battlefield can make your mind play tricks on you.”

“Uh huh. And I suppose the sniper’s talent for turning invisible is also a trick of my imagination?”

“It is,” the Moon Mage replied, turning her head to glare at the pilot. “A sufficiently skilled infiltrator skulking about at night SHOULD make you feel like they turn invisible, shouldn’t they?” She clicked her tongue. “Do try to keep from spreading absurd rumors about the thestrals. That’s how the Lunar Guard got such a bizarre reputation in the first place.”

Gear Works turned his head briefly to look at Penumbra, and then looked ahead again. “Miss Backfire is not hallucinating,” he said simply.

“So you saw it too, then?” Zariyah asked, perking up. “That weird wave of darkness, and the way the sniper just fades away into open air!”

“Yes. Among… other curiosities,” Gears mumbled. “The Lieutenant definitely possesses some supernatural capability uncommon to bat ponies.”

“And now we have this chirocorn picking fights with him, speaking of mysterious gangs and some final Element? It is all very strange. And has little to do with mineral deposits and extraction rigs.”

Suddenly the machine block tilted sharply, catapulting Zariyah into the air. The pilot yelped as she struck the ground and rolled, although the landing was not hard enough to inflict real injury. Penumbra stood next to the floating mass of levers and cogs, her eyes glowing dimly with the same color as her magic aura.

“We’re here,” the Moon Mage said, her voice thick with contempt, “so stop mewling about chirocorns and secrets and get to work.”

Gear Works shrunk back from the Moon Mage, but Zariyah Backfire stood up and shook herself off. Then she turned a baleful stare toward the unicorn.

“You know what we’re doing here, don’t you?” the pilot asked. “You know who that chirocorn is.”

Penumbra’s visage seemed to pulse and blur briefly, and then suddenly she was nose-to-nose with Zariyah, the glow in her eyes even more intense. “I know what YOU’RE doing here: sealing yourself inside that machine and carrying the rest of us.” Her horn sparked. “Get to it.”

“Of course, Madam Shard,” Zariyah drawled, meeting the unicorn’s gaze without flinching. “Do take care when lowering the runner block into the Strider. Damaging it might delay repair, which would make your precious Lieutenant most aggravated.”

Penumbra’s eyebrow twitched, and her eyes briefly darted to the side to check on Gear Works. The Dark Acolyte looked nervous, his ears pinned back and his servo arm lowered to one side, and did not seem inclined to interject. Penumbra coughed lightly, and then pulled back from Zariyah.

“My apologies if I seemed… pushy, Miss Backfire. It’s been a long night and I’m a little cranky after that ambush,” she said coolly, gently lowering the machinery onto the ground. “I also don’t know one end of this device from the other, so I’ll leave the rest of this affair to you two.”

“Thank you for the help, witch,” Zariyah replied blandly, “please leave a magic light above the Strider. It will help us work while you patrol the area.” She turned away without waiting for a reply.

Penumbra grumbled under her breath while she trudged away, but did exactly as instructed. One of the glimmering magic orbs sailed over the fallen Strider battlesuit and started floating in a small circle there. Zariyah climbed onto the side of the walker and peered into the gaping hole in its body left by the ejection mechanism. Then she glanced behind her, checking that the Moon Mage had wandered out of earshot.

Gear Works dragged the mobility driver closer, and then started climbing up onto it himself. “The battlesuit is in excellent condition. This should not take long at all.”

“I am most grateful that I do not have to leave Icebreaker here to be scrapped by Ork thugs. Thank you, Techpriest.” Zariyah coughed lightly, her eyes darting away. “I would also like to… apologize. It was due to my recklessness that you were at the mercy of the chirocorn, my negligence that she was able to hurt you, and my ignorance that you were left for dead so I could retreat alone.”

“Apology accepted, Miss Backfire,” Gear Works said. “Thank you for your consideration.”

The mare seemed slightly surprised. “You… are taking your near-death and abandonment quite well, I must say.”

“Most of the time I’m brutally crippled during my duties the damage is much more serious, and apologies are rare. I would just like to proceed as quickly as possible.”

Zariyah glanced behind her, and then leaned forward and lowered her voice. “So then you still mean to proceed with the mission after all this?”

“I…” Gear Works paused in hauling the driver up into place. “I do, yes.”

“Surely you do not believe the Lieutenant when he claimed he didn’t know what the chirocorn spoke of?” Zariyah asked, dropping down to help lift the machine. “Or that they didn’t know who she was? He sneers that it is an illusion, but who is this mirage? The thestrals will not say.”

“No, I do not believe any of them. They’re definitely lying to us and very likely to the Company as well.” Gears hauled the machine block up onto the Strider’s side, and then his servo arm reached into the hole in the cockpit to make some adjustments. “I intend to continue with the mission as presented, however.”

Zariyah glanced at the surrounding trees, checking on Penumbra’s position from the light of her hovering spheres. “If you get Icebreaker running, I know where the Lambda pack rendezvous is,” she advised, her voice so low as to be barely audible just inches away. “We can abandon these zhulikov and join up with the Strider team, and then we can extract back to base.”

Gears froze. “Desertion? You can’t be serious.”

“If these thestral dogs are lying to command and using us for their own secret purposes, it is hardly desertion to abandon them, no?” the pilot asked, pausing to spit over the side of the battlesuit. “I signed up to fight Orks and protect Equestria, not quarrel with bat Princesses and serve the Moon Mages. If my life is to be thrown away for the machinations of some untrustworthy villain, I insist he at least be a proper Chaos Space Marine.”

Gears finished making adjustments inside the Strider and then pulled the mobility block into place. “I understand, Miss Backfire. And you’re not wrong.” The machine sank into the hole in the walker, scraping loudly against the railing. “However, I do not believe our suspicions as they are warrant such action. Not yet.” At seeing her skeptical look, he clarified. “Whatever the Lieutenant is after, I do not believe he would go to such lengths if it were not important. It may not be important to us, or the 38th Company… but he can answer for that when the time comes.”

Zariyah clicked her tongue, looking back to check on Penumbra’s position again. “This does not feel right, playing along while waiting for other horseshoe to drop…”

Gears paused again. “Well, perhaps there is another way. But first let us restore the Strider. Its machine spirits are restless…”

Author's Note

Slowly chewing through the next chapter of Horizons, but this stuff is coming to me much quicker, so you get more bat pones.
Chapter art done by OnyxStreak, and this piece is by Alrumoon!

Truth

Nightwatch – The Elements of Destruction
By SFaccountant

Chapter 5
Truth

???

Neuron Dialect sat on the curb, staring up at the massive buildings of Ferrous Dominus.

Towers stretched into the gloomy, soot-stained sky, the lumens from track lighting and windows glinting dimly through the smog. Great banners of black fluttered in the breeze, each painted with a grinning silver skull helm that was itself streaked with oily tears. Metal hulks bristling with weaponry idled in the streets, their engines leaking more fumes into the air.

Neuron kept staring, her ears twitching at the various small sounds of the city. Suspensions creaking, servos whirring, transformers crackling, capacitors humming. She heard the strain of a gear assembly as a door opened and the gentle beeping of its access cogitator. But there was one thing ponderously, conspicuously absent.

There were no voices in Ferrous Dominus tonight. No footsteps from thousands of humanoid legs; ungainly, poorly-balanced things that tromped about with far too much noise, in her opinion. Neuron assumed it was because their legs had to support twice as much weight, relatively, as ponies. They were a cacophony when present, and the fortress felt positively eerie with their absence.

“Absolutely disgraceful.”

Neuron’s ears pivoted sharply, and then she leaned her head over to check the source of the voice.

“This is the mighty 38th Company? The place where you’ve made your new home? The Princess of the Night lairs in this… filth?”

Banshee trudged up next to Neuron and walked into the streets, her eyes shifting back and forth with disgust. Her tail whipped back and forth in agitation, and her wings shuddered. Even so, the bone-white markings on her cheeks curved upward in a wide smile.

“Banshee,” Neuron mumbled, her cybernetic eyes glowing slightly.

The mare was just as she remembered her long ago, before the incident. Her coat was thick and her body lean with muscle. Her mane was long but not well cared-for, and her baleful red eyes glared from within slits of dull yellow. The bat pony was larger than her, almost as big as Dusk Blade. Her wings were actually slightly larger and better muscled, adapted to hunting prey in the forests and jungles rather than the cramped confines of the caverns.

“How many others, Neuro?” Banshee asked, turning to circle around the other mare. “How many others of us have given themselves over to this madness?” Her legs were tensed, like a jungle cat preparing to pounce.

“I don’t know. A few thousand, maybe.” Neuron replied without really thinking about it.

“Thousands? Thousands of thestrals?”

“Ponies. There are many bat ponies here, but most are other races.”

Banshee bristled, walking a circuit around Neuron. “At least the Nightmare had a place of prominence for our people. A legacy. A PROMISE,” she spat, “but sure enough, now you’ve betrayed her, too. And given yourself over to… THIS? This cauldron of metal and ash?”

Banshee was behind Neuron now, but she didn’t bother turning around. “Yes,” she said simply. “The Nightmare is gone. It failed. Chaos is here. It triumphed. It was not a hard decision.”

Neuron Dialect could feel the agitation and anger of the other pony. Banshee radiated hatred in some strange, primordial way that she found far more uncomfortable than the scathing words or loathsome glare. Not that she could particularly blame Banshee for hating her.

“Chaos. A bunch of monsters and psychopaths,” Banshee growled, coming full circle and sitting in front of Neuron Dialect.

“Nothing we’re not used to,” Neuron shrugged.

“Don’t play dumb, Neuro. You’re not good at it,” Banshee snarled. “Chaos is different. These aliens are pillagers, murderers, slavers… They see you and the other ponies as pawns or experiments. Dumb, naïve animals to be used and expended.”

“That’s fair. I don’t think much more of them,” Neuron admitted, turning to look at the manufactorum block down the street. “You’re right, though. They are different. More dangerous. More destructive. It’s why we need them.”

“Need them?! You need THIS?!” Banshee demanded, spreading her wings to gesture at the surroundings. There was a cut growing over her left eye as she spoke; a long, mostly vertical cleave in the flesh that slowly deepened.

“We need this, yes. We need Chaos. Their weapons. Their machines. Their soldiers. Their faith. Their strength,” Neuron replied, suddenly standing taller. Her eyes glowered, the lambent micro-arrays shifting open wider. “You always had a problem with that, Banshee. You were never willing to make sacrifices for power. You couldn’t do what needed to be done, for the sake of our future.” Neuron’s lip ever-so-slightly curled into a smirk. “And now you’re dead. And I’m not.”

Banshee’s own lips parted, revealing rows of sharp, curved teeth. “You greasy little coward,” she spat. Blood was seeping from the wound on her eye now, dribbling crimson tears that ran down her cheek. “You lied, cheated, stole, and made others shed blood for you. And you dare stand before me and call that SACRIFICE?”

“I’m not sure what exact confessions I owe a dead friend,” Neuron admitted, “so I’ll stick with my answer. Anyway, I feel like this is off-topic. Weren’t you here to talk about the humans?”

A brief alarm rang out over the lifeless city. Large vents on the ground, ring-fenced by hazard chevrons, hissed and slid open. Then they belched clouds of searing-hot gases into the air, venting the massive reactor that worked below the city.

Banshee shuddered. “Look at this place, Neuro! They poison the air! They poison the ground! They poison souls and minds! They harvest our planet carelessly and kill or enslave all who get in their way! They even pollute the flows of magic with their evil!” The wound over her eye was complete now: a brutal, ragged hole that drooled a constant flow of blood down her neck and leg. “Every day war and corruption spreads further and harmony sinks deeper into its shadow. Chaos will strip this world of its treasures, drown its inhabitants in blood, and then discard its wasted husk when they’re done.”

“Probably, yes. That’s why I’m on their side,” Neuron said simply. “They can’t be stopped, and they’re the only things keeping the Orks at bay. What do you want from us? To throw away their power and weapons so that we can die pure and self-righteously?”

“You, of all ponies, don’t need their tools to fight,” Banshee retorted hotly. “Even after taking so much power for yourself, still you bow to whatever tyrant offers you a treat.”

“There are worse tyrants than the Iron Warriors,” Neuron replied flatly, “and the treats are quite nice.” Her wing tip curled around the Chaos Star amulet hanging against her chest.

Suddenly Banshee was looming above her, the other mare’s body nearly black as her wings encircled Neuron and blocked out the light. A dozen other deep wounds had appeared over her body like the one on her eye, giving her the appearance of a walking corpse. None of the others were so severe, but Neuron felt thick droplets rain against her chest as the thestral’s maw opened just millimeters from her nose.

“THIS WORLD WILL NOT SUFFER YOU FOR MUCH LONGER, BETRAYER,” Banshee snarled, her remaining eye wild while her body seemed to darken against the lights of the city around them. “CHAOS WILL BE PURGED, AND YOU WILL NOT BE SPARED.”

“Bold words for a corpse,” Neuron replied calmly, lifting a wing to flick away some blood dribbling down her cheek.

Banshee’s jaws yawned open, lunging forward for Neuron’s throat.

Badlands
Ork outpost (ERROR: Designation null)
Geolocation redacted

“What in the name of the cursed device happened here?” Gear Works asked, tepidly walking through the Ork outpost.

“What do you mean ‘what happened?’ We killed all the Orks here. That was the plan, remember?” Gloom Fang replied, following on one side of the Dark Acolyte.

“Yes, obviously, but…” Gears hesitated, looking around at the heaps of green-skinned corpses.

“But nothing,” Nacht interrupted, flying over the stallions. “We went through a lot of trouble to drag your metal butt here in one piece, so stop yelping and start doing your tech thing.”

“Hey! Would you guys knock it off?” Dusk Blade growled, causing the other thestrals to flinch. “He’ll do his job. You do yours and set up a perimeter.”

The Lunar Lieutenant craned his neck around and upward. Zariyah Backfire and her Strider were standing behind the camp’s palisade, the walker’s head peeking over the wall. Penumbra was laying on top of the battlesuit, looking bored.

“Backfire, Shard, I want you to run a wide patrol circuit around the outpost and watch for any hostiles. At least a mile out from the palisade. Gretchin that might have snuck away, troops that were out late, convoys coming to trade, whatever. Intercept them if you can, warn us if you can’t.”

“Da, Lieutenant,” Zariyah said.

Penumbra raised her head to complain, but then lurched to the side as the walker underneath her swung sharply around. Icebreaker turned away from the camp and started trotting away down the road carved into the dirt by hundreds of overlapping vehicle tracks. The Moon Mage fumed, visibly upset at the order, but made no attempt to resist as she was carried away.

Dusk turned back to Gear Works. “Gears, how long do you figure it will take to find the machinery we need?”

“It’s over there,” the Dark Acolyte said, his servo arm pointing at the garage. “The Mek appears to be using the cogitator innards for a power conduit switchboard. Which doesn’t work, but that rarely stops them.”

The bat ponies looked surprised, and then Dusk furrowed his brow. “Is it usable in that state?”

“Orks usually neglect cleaning or reformatting the parts they’ve stolen. But I will manage regardless.” He walked toward the blood-stained shack, his spike-tipped tail slowly whipping back and forth behind him.

Dusk Blade looked quite impressed and satisfied as the tech-cultist departed, but Nacht frowned. “How does he know where it was? The garage is all the way across the camp.”

“What? You think he’s lying?” Dusk snorted, quirking an eyebrow.

“Well… maybe not. But how?” the mare demanded.

“We went over this. His senses are different from ours,” Dusk said, his tone fairly smug as he lifted a hoof and patted Nacht on her head. “Anyway, you guys really need to stop picking on him and start trusting him,” Dusk said, his expression turning serious again. “Not only is he very good at his job, but he’s obviously not out here trying to serve his own sketchy secret agenda,” he lowered his voice substantially, “which is more than I can say for any of us.”

“But, we’ve got to get rid of him soon, right? By sending him back, at least?” Gloom frowned. “He can’t see what we’re here to accomplish. He’s not one of us.”

“No, he’s not,” Dusk agreed, although there was a distinct twist of distaste in the admission. “But you let me worry about that. I’m handling the plans here, remember?”

“We trust you, Lieutenant,” Nacht said, nodding eagerly, “it’s just hard to work with someone outside our little circle AND the Lunar Guard.”

“We’ve been part of the 38th Company for the better part of the year, Nacht,” Dusk retorted, “and we were with Canterlot long before that. We work with outsiders all the time!”

“That was mostly for appearances, though,” Gloom mumbled. “… Right?”

“Was it? Did you really fake years of training and mostly-honest service to Canterlot holding out hope that you could throw it all away some day for a chance at rebellion? Are you really gonna put your dumb cult ahead of all the ponies you fought and bled for in that time?” Dusk asked scornfully.

“Uh… didn’t you do that too?” Nacht asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“I made mistakes too, yeah. But my service wasn’t fake. Not then, and certainly not now.” He glared from pony to pony, even stopping to throw a look toward Neuron’s hiding spot. “You guys are going to have to accept that you’re part of something bigger now. Bigger than yourselves, bigger than Equestria, and MUCH bigger than the Nightmare. And it has nothing to do with the powers we got.”

Gloom Fang and Nacht looked away, their ears pinned back. The admission stung, badly. But neither of them had a retort.

“Our destiny was a lie. There is no Eternal Night and there never will be. We’re out here to mop up the last of the Moon Mages’ failures and bury their embarrassing legacy. Understand?”

“Yes, Lieutenant,” Nacht mumbled.

“I… No, I don’t buy it,” Gloom Fang replied after a pause. “We didn’t come all this way just to abandon the Lunar Ascendance. It isn’t over just because some aliens showed up and made a mess of things. We have these powers for a reason.”

“Yes, Gloomy. The reason is because we found some cursed fruit and ate it,” the Lieutenant snapped. “The Moon Mages lied to us. Hay, they probably lied to themselves, too. Just generation after generation of gullible foals clinging to stories of world domination, and those of us lucky enough to be around at the time of the prophecy got to see it all crumble pointlessly. Twice!”

Gloom’s ears pinned back and he lowered his head sullenly.

Neuron Dialect suddenly appeared behind Dusk, her bionic eyes gleaming red within her hood. “Do you think we’re better off this way?”

“I…” Dusk Blade hesitated, glancing at her to try to gauge her intentions. Useless, of course. “I do, yeah,” he admitted. “Plunging the country into war and usurping the throne for our own benefit sounded all right back when all of this started, but…” he trailed off, his brow furrowing.

“But…?” more than one soldier asked at once.

“… Let’s just say I’m not completely confident that Nightmare Moon could have navigated a full-scale Ork Waaagh as carefully as the current crop of Princesses,” Dusk said evenly. “Now hush, Gears is coming back.”

Gear Works trotted back across the bloodstained yard, a metal coil strung with loose wires clenched carefully in the grasp of his servo arm. He slowed slightly when all the thestrals turned to stare at him expectantly. Glancing from one to the other, he took a deep breath – eliciting a rather grotesque noise from his mask hosing – and then sat down right in front of Dusk Blade.

“Well?” the Lieutenant asked, sounding slightly worried. “Did you find the data?”

“Affirmative. I’m still perplexed by what role the memory coil was to serve in the Ork machinery, but we recovered it before it suffered significant mag decay or damage from clumsy Gretchen,” Gear Works explained. Dusk perked up. “I have extracted the data and matched it to the relevant geo-coordinates. As it so happens – although I doubt you’re surprised – there are a system of extensive caverns deep under the surface.”

Dusk’s expression went from pleased to jubilant. The other bat ponies likewise seemed happy at the news. Gloom Fang laughed victoriously, and Nacht began clapping her hooves together in delight.

“The seismic pylon was designed to identify ore loads, and incidentally there’s substantial mining opportunities down there,” Gears continued, “however, around the deposits are a labyrinthine network of tunnels and large caverns. Many of them are oxygenated and contain aquifers. The pylon sensoria is not equipped to sense life-forms, but given those conditions I would be surprised if there were NOT a viable ecosystem underground here.”

“We found it! We really found it!” Dusk laughed, stamping a hoof into the ground with a wide grin. “Fantastic! Show me the maps! Then we can move on to the next phase!”

Gear Works braced himself. “I have several questions first, Lieutenant.”

“We don’t really have time,” Dusk replied breezily. “It’s going to be morning soon and we’ve got to get on the trail of the drilling rig ASAP.”

“I’m afraid the delay is necessary,” Gears retorted. “First, I would like to know what the objective of this mission is. If you’d prefer, however, we may start with why Corporal Fang seems to have four eyes.”

The thestrals recoiled in surprise. Nacht, Neuron, and Gloom all recovered very quickly, and they shared a brief, malicious glance before they turned their glares on the Dark Acolyte.

“Gears, knock it off,” Dusk said, his voice firmer than before. “We’ve got to keep this mission on track. That means some things have to remain a secret, including whatever you think is going on with Gloomy’s eyes.”

“Negative, Lieutenant,” Gear Works said. “If you do not answer my questions, then I will not display the extracted and contextualized data for you.”

Dusk Blade seemed completely stunned at this declaration, but Gloom Fang trotted forward with a purposeful sneer. “When did someone install a SPINE on you, metal head?”

“Perhaps it was reinforced when you twisted it back into alignment, Corporal,” Gears shrugged. “Shall you abide by my terms?”

“Nah, I have a better idea.” Gloom Fang lifted a hoof, holding the blade on his leg up in front of Gear’s respirator tubing. “You give us what we want, and I won’t cut out your mask tube and use it to hang you.”

Gears winced. “Once again, I decline, Corporal. Will you answer my questions now?”

“You think I’m bluffing?!” Gloom snorted, steam blasting from his nostrils.

“I don’t know. I do know that your ability to make use of the memory coil without me is null, which is why I waited until now to make this demand.”

“This is amazing. Really. Just incredible,” Nacht chuckled, skulking around Gears in a circle while Gloom held his hoofblade in place. “What do you even care about our objective? Do you demand answers from the Iron Warriors when they won’t indulge you? You’re really pushing your luck!”

“I care about the objective now that I know there is an ostensibly unknown third party hunting us for pursuing it,” Gear Works replied. “I do not believe this is a mission to assist the Dark Mechanicus. In fact, I doubt it is a legitimate objective at all. If I am risking death and mutilation for the sake of a different agenda, I wish to know what it is.”

“You’re risking much more death and mutilation by making these demands,” Neuron noted dryly.

“I am aware, yes. Do you accept my terms?”

Gloom Fang scowled. “I’m gonna start slicing your throat cables. You let me know when you’re ready to talk, freak.” He pressed a hoof against Gear’s shoulder and reared back his other foreleg.

“Gloomy, stop.” Dusk’s command was loud and firm, and Gloom Fang froze in place.

The Lieutenant stared hard at Gear Works. The Dark Acolyte was surrounded by his soldiers, any one of which could surely end him with little effort. The cyborg was as fearless as Dusk had ever seen him, however. There was no quiver in his voice or desperation in the optic lights on his bionic face (which could be highly expressive, he’d noted). He really wished Gear Works hadn’t chosen THIS matter to take a courageous stand on, but it was, undeniably, a real act of bravery despite his leverage.

“Gears, listen: Don’t do this. I don’t think you want to know everything that’s going on behind our work here,” Dusk advised. “You need to trust me.”

“You’ve been lying to me constantly since you arranged this deployment,” Gears retorted, “and the deployment itself was also a lie, or you surely would have refuted that point when I speculated. I can certainly believe I’ll regret the burden of this knowledge, but I’m certain I’ll regret proceeding without it.”

“Can I start with the throat-cutting now? I’m pretty sure he can survive without ALL these cables,” Gloom Fang asked.

“Gloomy, back off,” Dusk ordered, his command cold and firm. “That goes for the rest of you, too. We need the map. He’s got us.”

“Oh, come on! Is there REALLY no one else that can do it?!” Nacht bristled. “Neuro can read stuff that we can’t even see with her robot eyes, right? Can’t SHE read the map?”

Neuron Dialect’s ears pinned back. “No, it doesn’t work like that,” she said curtly. “The Lieutenant is correct.”

“Fine. Have it your way, Gears,” Dusk said grimly, “We’re here on a mission for Princess Luna. We have to find some kind of magic knick-knack that she lost before her banishment. Created during a supposed appearance of the Orks long bef-”

“You’re lying again,” Gears said dryly.

The accusation seemed to hit Dusk like a sucker punch, and he recoiled in surprise. “What? No I’m not!”

“Yes you are. I can tell,” Gears maintained.

“How?!” the bat-winged stallion demanded.

“Experience. You’re always very quick and decisive with your false answers. They’re delivered with the utmost confidence and zero forethought. You’re never as comfortable telling the truth.”

Dusk stared at the cyborg pony, jaw slack. The other bat ponies around him bristled, their expressions getting increasingly agitated. Gloom started muttering under his breath and scraping his hoofblades together, making a show of sharpening the edges.

“G-Gears, I, uh…” Dusk hesitated, glancing at the other thestrals. They all met his eyes, each one of them conveying an unmistakable message: the price wasn’t worth it. The tech-cultist had gone too far.

“I… we…” Dusk’s eyes twitched, and then his shoulders slumped. “Okay, look: ONE secret for the map? How is that? Just let me get off with telling you the full mission objective, all right?”

“Negative. I will, however, guarantee that I will not submit your story back to command immediately. This is potentially a serious breach of protocol, but I understand you are in a difficult position,” Gears offered.

“You don’t need to know how many eyes I have,” Gloom growled.

“Ah, so you do have extras. The pict-capture was a tad blurry, so I wasn’t positive.”

“DANG IT, GLOOMY!” Dusk shouted as the other stallion winced. He planted a hoof against his face, his thoughts racing. There were surely ways out of this bargain. He didn’t really imagine Gear Works would be able to resist the pain of a sadistic thestral slowly taking him apart. And now that the physical memory coil was in front of him, it wasn’t TOTALLY out of the question to try to talk some other Techpriest or servant into mapping a bunch of data that would mean almost nothing to them. Certainly they had more options now than they did when Zariyah had announced Gear Works was dead.

And yet…

“… All right,” he finally said, defeated. “I’ll… I’ll do it. I’ll tell you the truth. All of it.”

Gears didn’t look SURPRISED, exactly, but there was definite skepticism in his expression as Dusk Blade gulped. True to the cyborg’s earlier assertion, telling this story was going to be much harder than making up a convenient fib. The Lieutenant gestured with a wing, and the other bat ponies reluctantly backed away from Gear Works and took positions behind him on either side, as if they were getting ready to cut off an escape.

“Okay, well, here goes… This all starts with the Nightmare…”

Badlands
Patrol route (ERROR: data not found)

“Ugh, the sun is coming up already,” Penumbra Shard grumbled, her expression souring even further as the first hints of color started peeking over the rocky horizon. “Shadow take that self-important ninny and her accursed light.”

“The thestrals, they said your magic is weaker in daylight, yes?” asked Zariyah Backfire, shouting from within the Strider to the unicorn riding atop it. “That is not a weakness any other unicorn shares, is it?”

“Don’t go repeating any more stray rumors you overheard from our bat-winged friends,” Penumbra said icily. “The chirocorn was quite enough, wasn’t it?”

“Aye, she was. Have it your way, Miss Shard.”

The Strider’s feet generated a heavy, rhythmic thump as it trotted between the sparse, dry trees of the wastes. This area had clearly not been heavily wooded before, but had been further decimated as the Orks took the largest and healthiest trees for their own use. Shattered stumps were everywhere, along with the occasional rash of bullet holes from where an excited Shoota Boy had opened fire for one reason or another.

It was as bleak a scene as any other in this region, although Zariyah much preferred it to the heaps of greenskin corpses back at the outpost.

“We’re going to have to bed down for the day soon… I wonder if the Lieutenant has private sleeping arrangements,” Penumbra mused to herself, her eyes narrowing.

Zariyah really tried to keep from responding given the unicorn’s mood, but she couldn’t help herself. “Is strange that a mare like yourself has such a fixation on a pony like him.”

“Such as myself? A pony like him? What is THAT supposed to mean?” Penumbra demanded.

“It means you are a very attractive mare and he is a very rude stallion who is not subtle about his dislike for you.”

Penumbra’s ire subsided immediately. “Oh. Of course. Yes, I suppose that’s true.” She coughed into a hoof. “I’m not much more inclined to discuss my love life than my arcane shortcomings, however.”

“Ah, that-”

“But since you brought it up, it is VERY difficult to find good stallions in Ferrous Dominus! As I’m sure you’re aware, being a mare yourself. But it’s even harder if you’re a Moon Mage!” Penumbra complained, settling in for a full-length rant. “Believe me, I’ve tried seducing the odd pony guard and that adorable mutant colt running the Cabal, but the blasted humans are VERY strict about who is and isn’t let into the bowels of Nightwatch. Staying out myself isn’t an option, either; nothing kills the mood like having a Servitor cut open the bedroom door and demand I return to my designated escort.”

Within the battlesuit, Zariyah grinned to herself. She wasn’t especially happy to be stuck with the dark sorceress this time around, but at least she had better gossip than Gear Works did. To say nothing of the additional protection if she should run into an Ork patrol again.

“So that means my only real options are bat ponies, since they’re the only ones that can easily visit. And let me tell you Miss Backfire, the dating situation in the Lunar Guard is DIRE. The stallions aren’t the highest quality to begin with, but the mares are cutthroat! I once had a Sergeant try to poison my rations because I got flirty with a soldier she had her eye on. Another one threatened to blow up my library! And the Bloodborne are even WORSE, if you can believe it!”

“I cannot believe it! Why?” the pilot asked eagerly.

“Their clan doesn’t have romantic partnerships like modern equines, or even herds like in some backwards places in the East. Their stallions are kept as breeding studs and pleasure slaves! Can you believe it?! A squad of mares will make up weird, often lewd contests for the males to prove themselves, and then snap up the winners to pass around and use like some kind of toy!” She paused to wipe a string of drool from her mouth. “Needless to say, their integration into Ferrous Dominus alongside more civilized ponies has been troublesome. A few of the stallions seem quite interested in their concept of romance, but enough of them don’t that fights break out between the Bloodborne warriors and their crushes all the time! Some of the fanatics don’t accept that a stallion should have the right to deny them affection. And when they think a mare is in the way instead they have all these RITUALS to decide who gets the stallion!”

“Scandalous,” Zariyah agreed, “but about Lieutenant Blade, you-”

“Right! So the Lieutenant is the only single stallion that visits me occasionally, because we have a bit of a history. Sadly that history doesn’t involve any raunchy fun times, because when we met I was still married.”

“Ah, so you have had a mate of your own before! Divorced or widowed?” Zariyah asked.

“First one, then the other. A story for another time. So I’m much closer to Dagger Squad than the rest of the Lunar Guard, and I know Dusk Blade remains eligible and lonely because his current crush can’t stand him.”

“Current crush? Do you know who it is?!”

“Oh do give me SOME credit! I’m not going to spill a friend’s romantic secrets just for idle-it’sTwilightSparkle.”

“HA! Amazing!” Zariyah stopped moving entirely, lest her Strider walk into a rock outcropping or trip over a stump while she wasn’t paying attention. “What about the other stallion? Gloom Fang? Is not your type?”

“Well, no, he’s not. But that’s mostly because he’s gay,” Penumbra tittered.

“Really? I did not get that, how do you say… read on him.”

“Yes, it’s not very obvious. Gloomy is something of a clueless thug, honestly, but whenever he-”

Penumbra’s ears perked and swiveled at a noise in the sky, and she snapped her head up. The not-too-distant thumping of engine rotors was coming from above, and she cursed her distraction that she hadn’t been alerted earlier. Ork aircraft, like everything else about the accursed aliens, were anything but subtle.

“Deffcoptas!” Penumbra Shard hissed, spotting the small attack gunships in the sky. There were three of them headed in a bearing that ran almost parallel to their own path, but headed toward the captured outpost. “I thought some of those spaces in the camp looked like aerial platforms! These ones are probably coming back from a patrol or something!”

The Moon Mage was about to announce their options to react to this new threat when Icebreaker turned its head. The Strider tracked the nearest Deffcopter for barely a second, and then a lascannon fired with a hollow, understated scream. The bright red lance of pure energy sliced the aerial war machine almost in half, sending a good chunk of vehicle and pilot falling straight down while the rest quickly entered a downward spiral, smoke billowing from behind.

“… Wh-What? What did you…?” Penumbra asked nervously as the other two aircraft turned sharply.

“Ha! Got him! Tartarus take you, greenskin!” Zariyah cheered before Icebreaker suddenly accelerated, racing through the dry, leafless trees. “I need a moment to recharge before I can take down the next one.”

“What are you doing?!” Penumbra shrieked, lowering herself to keep a better grip on the Strider’s top. “They hadn’t spotted us! They were going to pass right by!”

“Yes, and then attack the others!” Zariyah shouted as her battlesuit picked up speed. “We are under orders to intercept any hostiles heading for outpost!”

“Or warn them! We’re allowed to warn them too!” the unicorn protested.

Machine gun fire started cutting across the wastes, pitching small bursts of dust across the ground. Ammo casings showered from the rotary attack craft, glinting in the early morning sunlight while the bark of gunfire filled the air. The Strider cut left, passing behind a huge stone crag that shielded it much better than the trees.

“All right, cannon is almost ready! I just need some distance and can take another shot!” Zariyah announced.

“What do you mean?! You have distance! They’re at least a hundred feet above us!” Penumbra shouted back.

“My apologies Lady Shard, but Icebreaker’s neck cannot bend enough to aim directly up!”

“What? Are you serious?!”

“Da. So I ask that you bring them down, or at least give me some space.”

“WHAT? ARE YOU SERIOUS?!”

The rumbling of aircraft rotors got louder as the Deffcoptas cleared the rocks that were shielding the striders from view, and then a loud hiss announced an incoming rokkit volley. Icebreaker cut to one side again, nearly throwing Penumbra off its back in order to avoid the main cluster of explosives and keep the tall rocks in the way. Explosions started tearing apart the ground alongside the bullet impacts, leaving scorched craters behind the fleeing Strider. Among the booming noises behind her Penumbra definitely heard the sound of hot shrapnel scraping against the walker’s armor, and her anxiety about this engagement climbed steadily higher.

“Please shoot them back,” Zariyah requested as the Strider bounded over the rocks like a frantic gazelle.

“With WHAT?!” the Moon Mage screamed.

“I do not know your personal spell inventory, but I was hoping for something like a lightning bolt, or maybe homing arrow?” the pilot replied.

Penumbra spat a profanity in a dead language that implied serious shortcomings in Zariyah’s ancestry, and then looked up at the pursuing aircraft. The Deffcopta armed with rokkits was coming around again for another strafing run. It and its wingmate weaved back and forth in the sky through their path of pursuit, laying out an almost constant stream of gunfire behind the scout walker rather than waiting for a decent angle. She was broadly glad for the lack of discipline, but not for the first time she wondered how Orks managed to find and carry so much ammunition in the first place.

The telltale hiss and whistle of rokkits briefly overcame the rattle of shootas, and four missiles streaked down at the running battlesuit. One spiraled away immediately, not even mounted correctly to fire in the direction of the pilot’s crosshairs. Penumbra’s horn flashed, and her magic reached out to the other three. Sparks of bright turquoise wrapped around each of the explosives, clinging to the warhead and wrapping around the projectiles’ bodies.

The magic did absolutely nothing, and while two of the rokkits missed anyway, one of them streaked into the Strider’s side and detonated. The walker was thrown off its footing, and Penumbra was hurled into the air. She struck the ground and rolled painfully, bouncing and skidding across the hard-packed dirt. The Strider’s spill was less spectacular, tilting over onto one side and sliding but a few feet until it came to rest. Smoke was seeping from the black scorch mark on its side, but the rokkit hadn’t breached the hull, striking at too narrow an angle against the side plating.

The Deffcoptas zipped by overhead, passing their prey and then starting a wide turn to double back for another strafe. Icebreaker remained still for several seconds, and then suddenly lifted its head from the dirt. “Got you!” the pilot exulted as one crossed her field of fire.

Another lasblast sliced through the sky, cutting through the upper fuselage of the scrap-built aircraft. Fire and oily smoke belched from the breach, and the Deffcopta promptly lurched wildly toward its wingmate, either out of panic or as a direct consequence of the damage. Then the machine detonated, blowing itself apart in the air. Its rotor was launched upward in a graceful arc, still spinning with fire trailing from the blade tips, and then sawed straight into the last Deffcopta’s exposed cockpit. The pilot was sliced apart in an instant, and a smoldering blade wedged itself into the main controls.

“Yes! Did you see that?!” Zariyah laughed as the last gunship started a lazy and fatal descent. “Two birds with one stone! Ha! They never teach you that one in scout training!”

“Oh, did you do something useful? Sorry, I must have missed it while I was prying pebbles out of my teeth,” Penumbra snapped. She was sitting on the ground nearby, running a magic construct shaped like a comb through her mane.

Zariyah’s Strider shifted up into a sitting position. “Why yes, I did do something useful. Why didn’t you? Are all your spells short range or something?” she asked, the Strider’s head turning to face the unicorn.

“It’s the thrice-damned light, okay?” Penumbra seethed, glaring in the direction of the slowly rising sun. “I don’t especially like to talk about it, but the Lieutenant wasn’t making things up this time. My magic is weaker during the day. MUCH weaker.”

“So, what exactly does that mean? Your range decreases? Magic force reduced? You have fewer… ‘magic points’ to spend? What?”

Penumbra stood up and trudged toward the Strider, looking sullen and somewhat defeated. “A solid majority of my magic doesn’t work in sunlight at all. Several spells will only work at night, regardless of whether I’m in sunlight or not. And a few especially troublesome ones only work in moonlight instead.” She jumped onto the side of the Strider and grunted as she climbed back on top.

“That seems… odd. I do not understand how you came to use these arts when they have such a severe shortcoming.” Zariyah opined while she slowly stood up again.

“Like most of my personal stories, it’s long, complicated, and secret,” the Moon Mage sniffed. “You can simply think of it as one of the many compromises that come with great power. Princess Celestia has to steward the sun and Princess Twilight has to serve as Princess Celestia’s errand mare. Warsmith Solon can’t win fights. Your battlesuit can only aim at things in a limited scope of vision in front of you. And so on.”

“Hmm. I suppose you have a point, but your case feels different, somehow,” the pilot mused. “But if you wish to leave it at that, I suppose it is enough that I know you can only shoot things at night.”

“I do, thank you,” Penumbra said glumly.

The Strider turned around just as the last Deffcopta hit the ground behind it. Zariyah took a moment to scan the surroundings for anything that might have witnessed the confrontation, taking extra care to search the skies for additional aerial support or laggards that were on their way. The Strider cycled through its vision modes, filtering the landscape in thermal bloom, electro-aural, and rad-sight. The coast was clear.

“So,” the pilot began.

“And Gloomy isn’t one of the FUN gays, either,” Penumbra said, launching right back into the conversation. “He doesn’t have any friends outside of his unit. I’m not sure he really has any friends IN his unit either, to be honest. The closest would be the Lieutenant, but that relationship is more like a lost puppy following the only pony who pities it enough to pay attention to it. As for the mares…”

Badlands
Ork outpost (ERROR: Designation null)
Geolocation redacted

“… So then the Elements of Destruction were sealed away, far underground. The Moon Mages hid most traces of them that they could. As time went on and new generations grew up in the caverns, far away from Equestrian civilization, the Moon Mages would visit and teach the colts and fillies about the Nightmare and its promise of Eternal Night once it was free of its imprisonment. They spread their cult throughout the tribes so that we viewed Nightmare Moon as our savior. The pony who would deliver terrible justice to those who banished us…”

Dusk Blade sighed, his ears pinned to the sides of his head. “It’s called Lunar Ascendance. It’s… less popular now, given the whole… well… purification thing and most of us joining Equestria proper. But it was pretty much a central pillar of thestral society for centuries.”

Gear Works listened intently, his ear twitching occasionally. Nacht and Gloom Fang sat behind him, glaring silently. Neuron Dialect was nowhere to be seen, but he was quite certain that she was still within rifle range, at least.

“The Elements of Destruction… unfathomable that such a weapon existed for so long without anypony knowing,” Gears mumbled. He was still somewhat skeptical, but Dusk Blade wasn’t showing any of his usual signs of dishonesty. “For that matter, why ARE they totally unknown? Nightmare Moon escaped her prison as foretold. Her domination of Equestria was imminent. Shouldn’t there have been some kind of climactic battle between the Elements of Destruction and the Elements of Harmony?”

“That was the plan,” Dusk admitted miserably. “Sort of. I mean, nopony actually knew anything about Twilight Sparkle or the rest of them or how exactly this was going to go when Nightmare Moon got free, but it was assumed we’d have to deal with the Harmony Elements eventually, and the Elements of Destruction were to be her champions in the various conflicts and purges that would be necessary to keep control.” He grimaced. “Things didn’t quite go like that, obviously.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for one thing, the Moon Mages screwed up. Hard to believe, I know,” Dusk grumbled, “but they weren’t the only ones who were unprepared. After a thousand years the thestral tribes were a mess. We’d splintered and spread all over the place, and belief in the cult wasn’t as widespread or absolute. It took them way longer than they expected to get their ranks together and find us, their chosen Elements. They figured they had plenty of time, even after the Nightmare reached Equestria. They… didn’t.”

A growl came from Gloom Fang, but he didn’t interrupt as Dusk continued. “By the time we were ready to begin the journey to find the Elements of Destruction, before we ever even saw them, Twilight Sparkle had defeated Nightmare Moon and purified her. The Nightmare had never even learned we existed. The Moon Mages were caught completely off-guard as the their plans crumbled under the light of the rising sun, once again free of the Nightmare’s influence. An entire army of dark magi and bloodthirsty thestrals, all defeated before they fought a single battle.”

Gear’s ear twitched. “That explains the origin of the Elements and the reason they were never seen in open conflict before. But you said this happened before you possessed the Elements. Did you go on to acquire them anyway?”

“C’mon, that’s enough!” Nacht suddenly shouted, stepping in front of the cyborg. “Lieutenant, he doesn’t need to know more than this! You can’t seriously intend to spill EVERYTHING to him!”

“Come off it Nacht, what I’ve told him so far doesn’t explain anything,” Dusk retorted. “Why would he give up the data for that much?”

“We don’t owe him answers! It’s none of his business!” the night-black mare insisted.

“I made it his business when I tricked Princess Luna into forcing him to deploy with us,” Dusk snapped back. “He didn’t want to have to deal with any of this! He probably still doesn’t! But he came very close to dying on this mission already – TWICE – and he deserves to know why!”

Nacht sniffed angrily and turned away. Gear Works said nothing, staring straight at Dusk Blade through his array of optic lights.

“So. The purification was… confusing. For a lot of ponies,” Dusk began again with a sigh. “Nightmare Moon was no more, and Princess Luna was with us again. There’s a whole lot that went on during this time in thestral history, but the short version is that most bat ponies became loyal Equestrian citizens and gave up on the Cult of Lunar Ascendance. There were some who didn’t, but they… WE, I mean… didn’t really have many options except to blend in with the others and hope that something happened that could lead to the revival of the Nightmare, or some sort of other dark power.”

“Huh. And I assume you found it? Was it King Sombra? Discord?” Gear Works asked.

“No. Chaos,” Dusk replied.

“… Huh?”

“The 38th Company. The Iron Warriors. Chaos, the corrupt power from the Warp that fuels their magic and sustains them,” Dusk explained. “That was the power. When those ships descended on our world we started having dreams. Terrible, wonderful dreams of bloodshed and conquest. The Moon Mages once again gathered together, collected their champions, and they declared that our deliverance had arrived. The dark forces of Chaos had come to spread their corruption and cull the weak of this world, and had already set its claws into Princess Luna to tempt her back onto the path of ultimate dominion. THIS TIME, they assured us, darkness would triumph over the hated light, Equestria would be scoured from this world, and we would take our rightful place among its new masters!” Dusk’s tone became increasingly bitter as his explanation went on, and he hung his head miserably.

“… And then what happened?” Gear Works asked, blinking his optic lights.

“And then that goofy purple twerp just canters into the evil doom factory and all of a sudden Chaos is on Equestria’s side!” Nacht shouted, scowling adorably.

“Stupid power of friendship,” Gloom grumbled.

Dusk pressed a hoof against his forehead, apparently humiliated. “Yeah, that’s pretty much it. We head out on this big quest to find the Elements and gain the power to prove ourselves to these Chaos people – who, by the way, the Moon Mages NEVER met and didn’t really know anything about! – and then when we get back with our cool new powers ready to unleash havoc OOPS it turns out Equestria is allies with the evil space people and OH YEAH there’s a horde of genocidal alien raiders coming that will kill everything they find just for a laugh! So you could say the Mages’ divinations were a bit off the mark.”

“Is this why you seem to have such contempt for Lady Shard despite her desperate attraction to you?” Gears asked.

“It’s not the ONLY reason, but I’d put it in the top ten, probably,” Dusk huffed. “Those useless creeps spend CENTURIES indoctrinating us bat ponies and hoarding magic and artifacts for themselves, preparing for a glorious revolution of the night, and then IMMEDIATELY fell flat when the time came! TWICE!!” He suddenly cleared his throat. “Don’t get me wrong, Gears; I’ve given up on the cult and dominion of Equestria thing. We’re all on the same side now and we’re better off that way. But it would have been nice to reach this point without a coven of fanatic sorcerers stringing us along and making sure we grew up in savage poverty.”

Gears glanced back and forth at the bat ponies around him. “There were six Elements, correct? But you didn’t get all of them?”

Dusk nodded. “We got four. The Element of Carnage was eaten ages ago by Queen Norn of the Bloodborne. I don’t know what happened to it beyond that. We’ve never been on terms with them where we could really talk about… you know… any of this. Even now, with them in the same army, I don’t know if the Bloodborne know or care about the Element or the cult or the Nightmare.” He shook his head. “We also couldn’t get the Element of Terror when we broke into the Vault of the Ancients the first time. Finding and capturing Terror is our objective out here.” He pressed a hoof to his chest. “I’m the Element of Shadow, by the way.”

“I’m guessing Miss Dialect is the Element of Deception, judging by the invisibility,” Gear Works volunteered.

“Yes. And I’m MALICE,” Gloom Fang growled, taking his mask off. His second set of eyes opened, glaring at the Dark Acolyte through irises of hot gold.

Gear Works stared for but a moment before he turned his head around toward Nacht. “And that would make you… the Element of… Pain?” he asked, sounding slightly baffled.

“Yeah,” Nacht replied without looking back at him.

“How does that manifest, precisely?” Gears asked.

“You wanna find out?” the mare asked, a sharp edge to her voice.

Gear Works flinched away, shaking his head.

“So that’s the story,” Dusk said grimly. “We need a map of the underground caverns to find the vault where the Elements are hidden away, and then we need the drill rig to get to it. That chirocorn is after the Element of Terror as well, and if she gets ahold of it, there’s no telling what will happen. She’s been slaughtering every Chaos soldier she finds, but there’s no way she can stand up to the Iron Warriors without it. I’m not completely sure how she would stand a chance WITH the Element either, but the purpose of this mission is so we never have to find out.”

Gear Works mulled that over for a few seconds. “Was there another bat pony? If the Element of Carnage was lost, then there should have been five of you to recover the rest, right?”

Dusk winced. “… Yeah. There was. It was… Banshee. She was supposed to be the Element of Terror.”

“Oh.” Gears blinked his optic lights. “And she… died?”

“She died,” Neuron interjected, startling Gears again as she reappeared behind him. “Retrieving the Elements was not a trivial quest. The enclave of Moon Mages that guarded them could send us to the vault, but not inside it. Centuries of dark magic radiating from the Elements had filled the caverns with powerful monsters and hazards that flooded our entry portal, which was the only way back out. Banshee and the Moon Mages that assisted us didn’t survive.”

“Is it possible then that the ambient magics revived her and turned her into a Chirocorn?” Gear Works asked. “That wouldn’t explain her animosity toward you, though…”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” Dusk spat. “But whatever that THING is, Banshee is dead. I’m sure of it. The chirocorn is an imposter or a magic clone or something like that.”

“So there you have it. You know the whole story,” Nacht said impatiently. “Are you satisfied? Can we have the fanging map now?”

Gear Works tilted his head back, thinking. Gloom and Nacht started growling at his hesitation, but the tech-cultist ignored them and turned back to Dusk Blade.

“What are you going to do with the Element of Terror when you find it? If it’s been sealed away successfully for almost a thousand years it’s unlikely it would be more secure stashed away in your dorm, isn’t it?”

“Oh COME ON!!” Nacht seethed. “You demanded the backstory and you got it! Why do we have to explain the plans that don’t involve you?!”

“Because you’re requisitioning Company assets in pursuit of a personal agenda and you’re part of a greater conspiracy to overthrow the Equestrian leadership,” Gear replied. “Obviously I have an interest in what, precisely, you intend to do with a magical weapon crafted to challenge Princess Celestia herself.”

“We’re not gonna attack Equestria, all right? We’re done with Eternal Night,” Gloom insisted.

“If the dark gods can abide an alliance with the light, so can we,” Neuron agreed. “The Cult of Lunar Ascendance has already been defeated, and our world now faces a much more serious threat than overlong days.”

Gear Works looked at each of the bat ponies as they spoke, and then he wordlessly returned to staring at Dusk Blade. Dusk stared back, grimacing. He didn’t have a real answer to this question yet, and coming up with a quick fib seemed pointless now.

“I… I don’t know,” Dusk admitted, slumping his shoulders.

“You’re going to all this trouble and risk to secure this artifact and you don’t know what you’re going to do with it?” Gears asked, tilting his head to the side. “Uncharacteristic of you, Lieutenant.”

“I’m still not sure it’s really possible to get to it, even if we do find the vault again. But… if we do get the Element of Terror, then… uh…”

Dusk trailed off, looking up at the sky. The sun was climbing up over the horizon, the first rays of Celestia’s sun casting a warm reddish hue over the distant mountains.

You don’t deserve HOPE.

The voice echoing in his memories startled him. Dusk wasn’t sure exactly when the dreams stopped plaguing his waking hours, much less why, but for whatever reason he now found himself recalling the glowering face of Lady Norn, spitting a final word of contempt before departing the scene of her ancient crime. It didn’t really make sense, but he felt deeply ashamed whenever those words ran through his thoughts. He couldn’t be held responsible for the mistakes and defeats of some 50 generations past, yet they hung on his heart just as surely as his own (far more willful) misdeeds did.

Did the Elements of Destruction represent hope? They were created as a tool of both liberation and subjugation, a power to free the Nightmare and then destroy her enemies. In a laughable irony they were never used for either, and instead became the personal weapons of a handful of troublesome rogues. They were mainly used against Orks these days, to the benefit of equinekind, but a hope? Nobody turned to the thestrals for salvation, not even themselves. Even in the defunct prophecy the Elements of Destruction were merely tools of conquest, not heroes. They were to merely assist the Nightmare and the cult in crafting a better, darker future, and now that dream too was nothing but a grim error.

No. The Element of Terror was a risk, not a hope. A burden. A veritable time bomb buried in the desert by corrupt and deluded fools. One that had already caused too much suffering, considering nopony had even consumed it.

“When we find it, you take it,” Dusk finally said.

Gear Works recoiled. All the other ponies also recoiled. “WHAT?!” several equines shouted at once. Even Neuron Dialect flinched back, her cybernetic eyes wide.

“Yeah. Hand it over to the Company, if you want. Or Equestria. Whatever you do with it, it’ll be in better hooves than mine,” Dusk admitted.

“You can’t be serious! Why should this dweeb get a weapon that was made for the Nightmare’s chosen warriors?!” Gloom Fang demanded.

“We’re not the Nightmare’s chosen warriors, Gloomy. We never were,” Dusk replied calmly. “The Element is a half-baked weapon built from magic we don’t understand for a war that never happened in service to a cause we don’t believe in anymore. That’s why Gears should get it.” His eyes narrowed. “I agreed to do this to close the book on this sorry chapter of our history, and that’s what we’re going to do. The fruit can burn up in a melta furnace or get replicated into a serum to make a race of pony super-soldiers. It doesn’t matter to me. Both would be a better outcome than us keeping it, and this way I won’t have to explain the stupid origin story again.”

“What about us?” Nacht asked, fuming.

“What about you? You remember the terms of this mission, right? I decide what happens to the Element of Terror. This is me deciding,” Dusk retorted.

“This isn’t quite what we had in mind when you insisted that the Element’s fate be placed in your hooves,” Neuron said, her voice slightly more tense than normal.

“If you guys want to scrub the mission and go home, just say the word,” Dusk snorted. “You brought me out here because you convinced me that the chirocorn was too great a threat to trust that the vault would stay safe. If that’s not the case… well, there’s probably still time to do our recon circuit and link up with the rest of Dagger Squad.”

The other bat ponies fell silent at this, alternating between looking at each other and staring at the ground. None of them liked this turn of events, but none of them had an objection that the Lieutenant would consider legitimate, either. Gear Works himself hadn’t said anything, still surprised at the prospect of receiving such an artifact and concerned at how hostile the other thestrals were to the idea.

Gloom Fang suddenly shoved the Dark Acolyte with a wing. “So let’s hear it, then. What are YOU going to do with the Element of Terror if you get it?”

“I would submit it to the Dark Mechanicus, of course,” Gears replied without hesitation. “I do not have the technical experience to study it, the nerve to make use of it, or the means to safely contain it. The only alternative would be to destroy it outright.”

“… Well I guess it’s better than handing it over to Equestria,” Nacht grumbled.

“Morally speaking, no, it’s not. Princess Celestia and the Canterlot vaults would definitely be a better guardian of such power,” Gear Works retorted immediately, “but I am an agent of the Mechanicus, not Equestria, and my responsibilities are to serve and empower the cult of the cursed device. This is a weapon that could aid in bringing the Orks to heel, and no other institution is more capable in seeing to that end.” Then he took a step back. “In any case, you have fulfilled my terms, Lieutenant. The data is yours. Observe.”

Several of the optic lights changed size and color over the black visor that now made up Gear’s face, and then a large hololithic cube appeared in the air. It expanded and shifted shape, adding a few colors and sharpening to more clearly define the imagery within the wire-frame boundary. Small colored threads spread throughout the cube, representing tunnels carved through the underground. Some branched out, some wound back to their origin tunnels, some expanded into huge pits, and some terminated inexplicably. A scale on the bottom noted the distances being measured, with the bottom of the frame nearing twenty kilometers from the surface.

“That’s… a LOT of caverns,” Dusk mumbled.

The other thestrals rushed over to look over the display, excitedly searching the hololith for anything they recognized. Nacht’s expression soured rapidly, however, and Gloom Fang was soon giving Dusk a helpless, confused expression that he frequently used to plead for help. Neuron was as unreadable as ever, scanning the hololith silently with her eyes softly shifting focus in an out every few seconds.

“How are we supposed to find the Vault of the Ancients like this? Can’t you label it? Most maps have labels,” Nacht complained.

“… No, Miss Nacht, I cannot label the caverns,” Gears replied with tremendous patience. “We have not given any of the formations here names. Much less secret names created by old hidden cults that wished to prevent those places from being found.”

“Okay, well, can you scan for… uh… magic energy, then?” Gloom Fang asked.

“I am displaying scan data already taken, so no. Not that seismic pylons can detect psykant wavelengths anyway…”

Neuron Dialect said nothing, turning to look at Dusk Blade. Dusk grimaced, and then lifted a hoof up to the hololith.

“Okay, to start can you erase any sections of the cavern network that don’t have a breathable interior? Can the pylon determine that?” the Lunar Lieutenant asked.

“Affirmative. Applying designated atmospheric restrictions.”

Roughly half the tunnels disappeared, mostly near the bottom of the hololith cube. Dusk nodded approvingly, walking around the display to get a better look.

“All right, next is water. We know there were a lot of critters down there, so they need a water source. Try to remove any tunnels that don’t have any. Or are completely flooded with it.”

The lights of Gear’s optics shifted again. “Affirmative. Applying designated fluid restrictions.”

This time only a few small caverns near the surface and at the bottom vanished from the hololith. Dusk grimaced. There was still an enormous tangle of tunnels in the hololith, many of them disconnected from each other and the surface. Some extended very deep, even beyond the seismic pylon’s augur radius. He was confident that the Dead Barrows were in here somewhere, but the infamous and deadly maze wasn’t QUITE as distinctive as he’d hoped compared to all the other burrows and labyrinths under the region.

“Well… guano. This is a bit of a problem,” Dusk Blade mumbled. “Granted, not a dangerous obstacle this time, which is nice, but still. We have to find a way to narrow it down a little more than this.”

“Do you guys remember what it looked like? I just remember that there was a big cavern with some kind of lights, and then the vaults were set in it,” Nacht said.

“So we just need to find a big room with six little rooms around it, right?” Gloom replied. “One for each Element!”

“First off, only five Elements were sealed away, remember? Math!” Dusk retorted. “Secondly, there were other formations around the vault. We didn’t spend a lot of time exploring, though. I think there was a lake.”

“A lake? I don’t remember a lake,” Gloom mumbled, his ears flipping back.

“I remember a monster with tentacles and flippers that looked adapted to living in the water, so there probably was a lake,” Neuron answered.

“Adjusting search parameters,” Gear Works droned. “Here are the locations that have at least five adjacent antechambers and a substantial body of water.”

Several sections of the hololith lit up, marking the spots of interest. The thestrals all perked, and then rapidly grew disappointed while they counted the marks. Over a dozen locations were still visible, each of them frustratingly far from the others.

“Can you recall any other distinguishing features?” Neuron Dialect asked while she observed the cavern of interest nearest to her.

“Sure. Monsters and magic,” Gloom replied. “You said it can’t detect magic, but can it do monsters?”

“Negative,” Gears answered.

“I feel like these pylons should be able to detect underground creatures,” Nacht retorted. “Like, for safety reasons. What if you’re digging into an ore vein but hit a tatzylwurm nest?”

“I will forward your technical complaint to the Dark Magos upon our return. Do you have any additional search parameters? Or shall I designate surface coordinates for these locations?” Gears asked.

“I REALLY don’t like how uppity you’ve gotten just because you have a map,” Gloom growled.

“I don’t enjoy keeping a façade of glib irritation either, Corporal, but you’ve demonstrated how well you respond to polite requests and reason,” Gear Works retorted. “Awaiting additional input.”

“Just give me some time. I’m sure I can figure this out,” Dusk mumbled, eyes narrowing at the hololith.

Nacht and Gloom slumped onto their bellies, looking understandably frustrated. In addition to finding themselves fairly useless in this exercise, their pride still stung from seeing the Dark Acolyte stand up to them and get his way. Neuron was more circumspect, still studying the map and trying to find helpful details, but every once in a while she too would glance over at the cyborg through narrowed eyes.

The sun rose fully over the horizon, blanketing the Ork encampment with its glare. Soon after Neuron’s ears perked up, and she quickly lifted up into the air to get a better view. All the bat ponies gave her their immediate attention, waiting for a report.

“The Strider has returned with the Moon Mage,” she said simply before landing again.

“Good. I’m getting really hungry and we left all the rations in the walker,” Nacht said. “We should also find a spot to rest soon.”

“Find a spot? We’re not just gonna sleep here?” Gloom Fang asked. “We’ve got actual buildings here already.”

“This is an Ork outpost, Gloomy. Meaning Orks will probably come to check in on it sooner than later. Probably during the middle of the day, when they’re all awake and we’re asleep,” Dusk explained, not looking away from the hololith map. “I spotted a few decent places to rest on the way up. For now let’s focus on this.”

“I didn’t think there would be so many tunnels besides the one we wanted,” Gloom Fang complained, walking up to the hololith again and counting the various chambers. “How did the Moon Mages get down there to begin with? Or keep track of where the vault was?”

“We don’t know,” Dusk replied irritably. “Maybe those secrets perished with the unicorns that let us through the first time. Maybe they didn’t know either, but had some kind of special spell that resolved that for them. Or maybe Shard has known all along but doesn’t want to tell us because I won’t make out with her. Who cares?”

Dusk Blade pointed to a cavern near the bottom and shook his head. Gears promptly removed that system of tunnels from the map. “This is why you begged me to come along, remember? And why I dragged Gears into this. We can’t rely on the Moon Mages anymore. Hay, we could barely rely on them before. Even when their magic worked right we nearly died.”

“Except Banshee. She did die,” Gears interjected. The thestrals all started, as if surprised by the assertion, and then glared at him. “… Right?”

“Right,” Nacht snorted. “Try not to bring it up again.”

“I’m fairly certain I will, considering that the events of her demise are relevant to our current task and also that she’s hunting us,” Gears retorted.

“We hit her pretty hard back there. She got away at the end, but I don’t think she’ll be up for fighting again for at least a week,” Gloom reasoned.

“Unless she has magic healing powers or something,” Dusk grumbled, “you can ask her when she shows up next to kill us.”

Zariyah’s Strider walked through the main gate while the thestrals chatted among themselves, Penumbra lounging atop its back. Neuron noticed immediately that there was an impact mark on the side plating and a great deal more dirt smeared across the walker, but analyzed the damage in silence while waiting for a report. Dusk didn’t look up from the hololith, but he did lift a wing in greeting as the Strider approached.

“Backfire, report.”

“A small wing of Deffcoptas were advancing on the camp, Lieutenant. They have been, uh… they were… eliminated.” Although Zariyah’s voice started out strong, amplified by the Strider’s vox, she wavered noticeably in the second sentence.

“How close did they get? Neuro didn’t hear anything,” Dusk remarked, looking up at the walker.

The walker’s head was tilted to one side, very conspicuously looking past Dusk and Gears to the pair of bat ponies sitting behind them. Nacht quirked an eyebrow, looking up into the face of the Strider, and then glanced at Gloom Fang. Then her eyes widened and she jabbed the stallion with her wing.

“Hey! Put on your mask!” she hissed.

Gloom Fang started, looking somewhat sleepy. “What? What’s wrong with my-” all four of his eyes bulged as he suddenly realized what was wrong, and he quickly shoved his respirator mask up into place.

Dusk slapped a wing against his face and Penumbra groaned. From within her Strider, Zariyah briefly studied the other ponies, noting their reactions. Then she zoomed in on Gloom Fang again, who was trying to look calm and nonchalant and completely failing.

“Why does Corporal Fang have four eyes?” Zariyah asked, figuring it was best to cut to the heart of the matter.

“That’s classified,” Dusk said firmly.

“Oh, it is NOT,” Penumbra retorted. “If you don’t want to explain it, keep a better leash on your pet bloodsucker.”

“Bloodsucker?!” Zariyah asked, gasping. “Is that why he was so drenched in blood after attacking the Ork camp? He was feeding on them?!”

Dusk slapped his other wing over his face. “Could we NOT do this right now? Please?!”

“I really don’t get why everypony is all worked up about drinking blood. It’s fine!” Gloom said with a shrug. “Nacht and the Lieutenant eat live bugs! But you think I’m gross?!”

“Yes, Gloomy. Yes we do,” Nacht replied with a gagging expression.

“I believe the disgust is premised on the assumption that you would feed on pony blood as well were it convenient,” Gear Works interjected.

“NO. Everypony shut up. We’re not doing this,” Dusk snarled. “We have the map, the sun is up, and there are like a million Orks zipping around this region! We are not getting into another argument about who has the worst eating habits right now!” He pointed a wing up to the Strider. “Backfire, unload some rations and let’s get a move on. We need to find somewhere safer to rest.”

The Strider still stared across the yard at Gloom Fang, making no move to fulfill the orders. “… When I entered the camp before, many of the Orks were alive but unmoving, as if they had been frozen in time. Did you do this?”

“It was Shard,” Dusk replied immediately.

“He’s lying again,” Gear Works noted.

“GEARS!! COME ON!!”

“Okay, fine. Yeah, it was me.” Gloom Fang took his mask off again, and his lower eyes opened. “I can paralyze my enemies with a glare from the Eyes of Malice. You caught me. What of it?”

“Undead scum!” snarled Zariyah, just before a whining noise came from the lascannon capacitor.

“Wha-” was all Gloom managed before Dusk tackled him from the side, pinning him to the ground. A spear of hot red light lanced overhead, passing closely enough that the stallions felt their wings warm considerably from the surrounding air. The lasblast drew a deep, molten scar in the ground past the bat ponies before the capacitor emptied, and a gentle hum followed as it began the charging cycle again.

There was a moment of stunned disbelief as Gears, Nacht, and Penumbra stared with wide eyes, but Dusk immediately leapt upright, utterly furious.

“BACKFIRE!! GET THE HAY OUT OF THAT MACHINE BEFORE I TAKE IT APART!!” the Lieutenant snarled.

“He’s a vampony!” Zariyah retorted, stepping away to keep a good range while her weapon recharged.

“Wh-What?” Nacht asked dumbly, nervously shifting away from the stallions.

“An undead, blood-drinking abomination!” Zariyah helpfully elaborated. “I have heard tales of them in the old country, deceiving good moon-fearing ponies, feeding on the indigent, sneaking into homes, and massacring entire families in their beds! Their eyes can turn the blood to ice, and they kidnap young mares and colts to turn them into parasites like themselves! MONSTER!!”

Gloom Fang trembled in anger as he stood up, his four eyes narrowed to slits and glowing gently with eldritch light. “HEY!! That is a SERIOUSLY harmful ethnic stereotype! You take that back! I am NOT a vampony!!”

“You’re a bloodsucking monster that uses evil magic!” Zariyah retorted.

“Yeah, but not THAT kind!” Gloom shouted, flying up so that he could look into the sensor lenses on an even level. “My people have been hunted down for generations by paranoid, superstitious ponies blaming us for random predator attacks! Most of the time we had nothing to do with it!”

“Most of the time, huh?” Penumbra drawled.

“Your kind lie as easily as you fly, and with similar frequency,” Zariyah spat at the blood-drinking thestral.

“Also not the point!” Gloom shot back. “Ah, to hay with this!”

“Gloomy! Stop!” Dusk barked, to no avail.

His lower eyes gleamed, and then pulsed with bright, golden light. Penumbra snapped her head to the side and squeezed her eyes shut, and all the bat ponies likewise turned away sharply and closed their eyes even though he wasn’t looking at any of them. His lips curling into a grin, Gloom then flew closer to the Strider.

“All right, now we’ll just pry you out of-”

The Strider suddenly lurched forward, ramming its head into Gloom Fang. He was flung through the air, stunned, and then landed in a heap on the ground.

“Backfire, I am ORDERING you to hold fire! If you shoot at him again I WILL pull you out of there!” Dusk shouted. “Gloomy isn’t a vampony! This is a misunderstanding!”

A sniff came from the Strider pilot. “Techpriest!” she suddenly shouted.

“Yes?” Gear Works said somewhat nervously.

“He’s a Dark Acolyte,” Neuron noted from under the Strider, where she was trying to force open a maintenance hatch.

“You must be able to read the creature’s diagnostics, yes? Tell me, does the Corporal’s heart beat?” Zariyah asked.

“Affirmative. Whatever his feeding habits or other abilities, I can confirm that he is alive just as much as you are. There are no circulatory anomalies. Other than from the blunt trauma, that is.”

A frustrated growl came from the Strider, but then its head drooped. “I see. It seems I was mistaken.”

“MISTAKEN?! You tried to kill me!!” Gloom shouted, springing upright again.

“And you tried to paralyze me with your mutant power, or whatever is explanation for your eyes,” Zariyah huffed. “As far as I am concerned, we are even.”

“We are NOT even!” Gloom barked. “Also, why didn’t my paralyzing gaze work, anyway?!”

“Because she didn’t see your eyes when you used it, she saw a vid projection of your eyes transmitted from the Strider’s sensors,” Dusk explained, his tone miserable. He had already turned back to the hololith, giving up on anyone heeding his orders to de-escalate the conflict.

“Why wouldn’t it work through the screen? It should work through the screen! She’s still seeing the magic flash, right?” Gloom protested.

“What are you arguing with me for, idiot?! We all saw what happened! I’m not setting the rules for your stupid powers!” Dusk snapped back, baring his fangs while Gloom flinched back.

“Now that the previous matter has been resolved, we should make haste as the Lieutenant said,” Zariyah interjected, pausing to jab Icebreaker’s knee into the bat pony clinging to its belly. Neuron Dialect squealed briefly in pain, and then fell to the dirt with a thud. “I can unload rations if you wish, but it would be preferable to abandon this location first.”

“What are we waiting on, anyway? Is that a map of the Dead Barrows?” Penumbra asked, leaning over the side of the Strider to look.

“Affirmative. We are attempting to locate the mission objective,” Gear Works said.

“… And what is mission objective, again?” Zariyah asked suspiciously.

“At the moment, it’s finding a particular one of these dozen largely indistinguishable caverns,” Dusk grumbled. “Unfortunately, all the traits I can think of that set our target apart don’t show up on seismic pylon sensor captures. If we can’t figure this out we may have to drill into them one by one and check each personally.”

Penumbra tapped her chin thoughtfully. “What sort of things do ‘seismic pylons’ detect?” she asked.

“Primarily lithographic formations and fluid gaps, which are of primary import when drilling for resources to extract,” Gear Works explained.

“You mean rocks, right? It detects different kinds of rocks?” When Gears nodded, Penumbra smiled slightly. “Can you find an unknown alloy concentrated above a lake?”

“I knew there was a lake,” Dusk mumbled. “Exactly how much do you know about the Dead Barrows, Shard?”

“Nothing. Why would I know anything about that?” she asked with a smirk. “Well, cyborg?”

“There are numerous materials that defy clear classification, either because of difficulty with reflective deep resonance or because the molecular structure has no complete match,” Gear Works noted. “Can you identify a constituent metal of the alloy mixture?”

“Copper, zinc, a little lead I think, and jade,” Penumbra replied.

“Jade? You alloyed something with nephrite?” Gears asked while his optic lights pulsed.

“That’s the formula, yes. Black Orichalcum is a curious material,” Penumbra shrugged. “Does that help?”

“Registering parameters. Molecular analysis complete. Adjusting…”

The hololith flickered briefly into an indistinct cluster of pinpoint lights, and then reformed. All of the cube was blank now, save for one winding tunnel that sunk more than halfway down the height of the map before splitting off into a network of linked caverns. One such cavern was displayed with walls of highlighted mass around it, as if it was wrapped in a material that none of the others possessed.

“Paydirt,” Dusk said, his smile exposing his fangs. “Gears, log it and route it. Dagger Squad, we’re heading out to find some place to rest. Shard, get some rations out of the Strider for us so we can eat on the way. Backfire, if you feel like following orders again, once she’s done I want you to head along the Northwest road and check it for traps and patrols.”

“Of course, Lieutenant,” Zariyah said blandly while Penumbra opened the cargo hatch on Icebreaker’s rear paneling.

“Bon appétit!” Penumbra sang, levitating a ration tin to each of the bat ponies below. “Enjoy your awful nutrient sludge!”

“Thanks,” Gloom Fang mumbled as he caught a tin with his wing. Nacht caught her own tin and enthusiastically bit a fang into the top, rotating the can to slice it open rather than using the tab. Icebreaker turned away from them and began trotting away down the road, leaving the thestrals and the Dark Acolyte behind. Dusk spoke closely to Gear Works, whispering and shielding their conversation with a wing.

“So, wait, I have a question,” Nacht suddenly said, looking over to Gloom Fang. “If you’re really not a vampony, does that mean that all the stories about all the horrible stuff vamponies did were actually just about blood-drinking thestrals and the stories got a little out of whack?”

Gloom groaned as he put his ration tin away, having eaten much more recently than the rest of the team. “No, Nacht. Vamponies are a real thing. But I’m not one of them. And I HATE when ponies make the accusation. Like we don’t face enough discrimination as it is!”

“It’s gotta be hard getting mistaken for some kind of monster,” Nacht said sympathetically. “I’ve heard ponies refer to your clan as vamponies, but I thought that was just some kind of slur, not a real accusation.”

Gloom Fang didn’t answer right away, his ears flipping down and his eyes darting to the side. “Well… uh… Yeah! It is a slur. Sometimes.”

“… Sometimes?”

“Look, I said I’m not a vampony! And I’m not!” Gloom huffed. “But it’s… not like the stereotype came out of nowhere. We’re a blood drinking, nocturnal race already hated by a lot of Equestrians, so it’s not a huge leap to make if you’re looking for immortality. Which I’m NOT!”

Nacht stared at the larger bat pony in silence for several seconds. “I have several additional questions.”

“Hey! Nacht! Gloomy! Get a move on!” Dusk barked, already in the air and hovering over the palisade. “And Gloomy, put your mask back on! I don’t want to make up another lame cover story when Gears is around to call me out on it!”

“Yes, Lieutenant!” the thestrals replied, scrambling after the other ponies.

Author's Note

In retrospect it was a serious mistake to invest in a skill tree that doesn't work in the daytime and then just try to change the world to maximize your investment, but no one can claim the Moon Mages aren't ambitious.

In-chapter art is by Brdt-E. The above picture is by Scheadar.

Pain

Nightwatch – The Elements of Destruction
By SFaccountant

Chapter 6
Pain

???

Gear Works peered closely at a lens, his eye lights shrinking. It was clutched in the tip of his servo arm’s pincer, and possessed a pattern of micro-laser etchings along its circumference. Every few seconds a tiny laser pulse would come from the emitter in Gear’s bionic hoof, making an adjustment to the component utterly indistinguishable to the naked eye.

Eventually the Dark Acolyte nodded, and then carefully turned the lens parallel with the floor and placed it in a steel receptacle. The receptacle closed, its steel claws gripping the lens and pushing it firmly into place. A gentle thrumming came from the device as current started to flow, and a light slowly started to build beneath the lens.

“By the will of the Omnissiah does this engine turn,” Gear Works chanted, slowly climbing down the scaffolding at the edge of the machine. “Light to life. Life to fuel. Fuel to spark. And now the spark will tow the very stars. The circle is complete.”

Gear Works climbed down to the base of the machine. It was a towering construction, stretching from the floor almost twenty feet up to the skylight that covered the room. Hissing pipes and clicking cogs covered it from top to bottom, and near the bottom of the machine its core rumbled gently, hungering for power. Whispers and mumbles came from the spectators in the room, some expressing doubt at a volume he was very much intended to overhear, but the Dark Acolyte did not falter.

“Behold, Machine God, the apotheosis of your infinite wisdom. Awaken, spirits of the engine, and let all bask in your perfection. The device is primed. The stars… are ours.” Gear Works raised a hoof and flicked a switch.

The rumbling intensified, and the floor started to tremble as the machine powered up further. The floor tiles shifted and small cracks began to appear underhoof. Several of the ponies spectating gulped and backed away, and one started pleading openly for the device to be stopped. He was unheeded.

One by one, the cogs and wheels on the machine’s exterior began to turn. The hum within the device built higher, and the lens at the top of it pulsed. Gear Works looked up at the skylight, and then intoned a final prayer.

“Bless us with your magnificent function, Starlash Engine. By fire, steel, the divine motive force, and the will of the Omnissiah, you are active at last.”

A fantastic beam of power lanced upward from the Starlash Engine. It sliced through the skylight, instantly reducing the feeble armorglass barrier – only recently upgraded to protect against rapid assault and infiltration – to a bluish mist. The rumble and whirring was replaced by a deep thrum that every pony felt run up their hooves and through their bones, but seemed to slowly stabilize.

Gear Works stared upwards for several seconds, and then slowly turned around. Princess Celestia stood there, ahead of the other spectators. Her expression was one of hesitant, but fervent hope: as if she was exuberant about what had happened here but did not allow herself to believe it.

“It is done,” Gear Works said calmly. “The Starlash Engine will restore and maintain the gravitational circuit that has burdened you for millennia. The 24-hour solar cycle no longer requires the intervention of equine magic, only trivial mechanical maintenance. ” He bowed his head. “You are free, Princess.”

Princess Celestia raised a hoof to her chest, and her wings quickly rose to wipe away tears of joy. “Incredible… to think… that the gifts of technology could do… THIS!”

Gear Work’s father Carbide stepped forward from the crowd of spectators. His grim face was set in a very slight smile, and his eyes gleamed with pride as he placed a hoof on Gear’s shoulder. “Son, you really did it. This is your finest work yet!”

“I’m actually more impressed by the fusion reactor you built into the mountainside,” mused Raven, Celestia’s unicorn assistant. “Endless, fully sustainable energy to power the city and any future expansions or modifications we desire! Quite exemplary.”

“I’m still quite delighted by the fleet of drone gunships you designed and constructed for us,” added Kibitz, Celestia’s other attendant. “They can drop flame munitions on our enemies or flower blossoms to delight the citizens! Marvelous machines!” His mustache wiggled happily.

Princess Celestia’s smile dimmed slightly. “I am… less a fan of the gunships.”

“Princess, there are only two buttons and they’re very clearly marked. I still don’t know how you mixed them up. Nopony is THAT hopeless with technology.”

“Yes, well, I’ll leave you all to your duties. I must return to Ferrous Dominus,” Gear Works said, turning to head for the entrance to the hall.

“But you’ve just finished! Please, at least stay the night and rest,” Celestia requested, sounding slightly exasperated. “The only occasions on which you appear in Canterlot are to construct these grand devices that improve the entire city, and then the moment they are switched on you speed back to your workshops. We have much to celebrate, Acolyte Gears, and would be honored by your presence.”

“It is an honor I must decline, Princess,” the cyborg replied airily, waving his servo arm’s pincer. “Your kind words are celebration enough. My place is in my blessed forge. Goodbye.”

Gear Works turned around again, but was interrupted by a tittering laugh. “You would really spurn a royal invitation? Oh, how far you’ve come, tinkerer!”

A strange chill ran down his spine, and Gears hesitated. He looked back at the spectators. They were milling about obliviously, already accepting his departure. Princess Celestia seemed to be getting lectured about something by Raven. Carbide Gear was toying with the control panel to the Starlash Engine. It wasn’t clear who had spoken.

Then the small crowd seemed to part, a dark figure emerging from it like a stalking panther might step out of the bushes. Penumbra Shard strolled across the room, her eyes lazily sweeping back and forth. Her gaze lingered on Princess Celestia, and the Moon Mage visibly struggled to contain a hateful sneer. Then she finally turned a small smile onto Gear Works.

“So this is what you fantasize about? Machines that control the very sun and royal ponies begging to favor you? How dull and indulgent,” Penumbra said with a smirk.

“I’m… I’m sorry? Shouldn’t you be back in Ferrous Dominus, Miss Shard?” Gears asked.

“Hmm… Yes, I suppose I should be,” she agreed, approaching the cyborg. “But we have some business here, don’t we?”

“… No? I’m going to say no, we don’t.” Gear Works turned away. “I must return to the forge. If you have a request of me you can route it through the proper channels via the Dark Mechanicus.”

“I’ll take my appointment here and now, actually,” Penumbra said, her horn gleaming with magic.

Gears yelped as magic tendrils slithered up from the floor and wrapped around his legs before lifting him into the air, immobilizing him entirely. Gasps and shouts for help suddenly came from the other ponies in the room as they started to scatter, desperately abandoning the room. Princess Celestia was no less shocked by Penumbra’s appearance and aggression, her wings spreading and her head lifting in panic like a startled swan.

“Help! Guards!”

“Everypony run!”

“I’ve seen enough hentai to know where this is going!”

Celestia’s response was somewhat more firm. “What is the meaning of this?! Put him down this instant!” The Princess demanded. “Don’t make me call Twilight! Then you’ll be sorry!”

Penumbra sneered and directed a sliver of magic toward the mighty white alicorn, her eyes glowing bright turquoise. A similarly colored crystal erupted from the ground at Celestia’s hooves, punching a sword-like tip into her chest and driving upward. The Princess of the sun was ripped apart in the blink of an eye, and the other ponies’ panicked shouts turned to horrified shrieks as royal blood painted the walls and floors.

Penumbra hesitated, her eyes dimming. “Huh… That was… easy. And quite cathartic, actually. I should find a way to do this more often.” Her horn pulsed again and she returned her gaze to Gear Works. “But enough fun and games.”

“What do you think you’re doing?! What do you want?!” Gear Works cried.

“I want to know what the Lieutenant told you,” Penumbra explained, trying to shut out the wailing ponies behind her. “He told you every-Oh for moon’s sake! There’s too much noise in here!”

Her horn flashed again as she turned around, and bright, silvery rays of light started shooting into the panicking mob. Where the beams touched flesh the victims burned away almost instantly, their screams fading away into ghastly echoes as their bodies turned to ash. One after another the equines were incinerated with cold efficiency, and in roughly a minute the room was silent at last.

Gear Works struggled against the magic bonds around his legs, snapping at them with his servo arm and scraping at them with his dataspike, but such efforts were futile. The tendrils simply regenerated as fast as he could damage them, and his legs couldn’t budge them. His optic lights widened when Penumbra Shard turned her gaze back to him, and a string of incoherent whimpers came from his mask. He didn’t know what to say or do. The Dark Acolyte could barely comprehend what had just happened.

“Now, where was I?” Penumbra asked, tapping a hoof to her chin. “Ah, that’s right. Nacht said you demanded to know what we were doing here and managed to press Dusk into telling you. She didn’t go into detail, however. What do you know?”

“What? Know about… what?” Gears asked.

“Don’t play coy with me, tinkerer,” Penumbra hissed. Her eyes flashed again, staring directly at the trapped stallion.

Gear Works jolted as his thoughts sharpened and the surroundings started to blur. This was not Canterlot. He was dreaming. All the ponies that had just died were figments of his mind, except – quite unfortunately – the unicorn in front of him.

“Wait… this isn’t real! I’m asleep, and you’re casting a magic projection into my dreams somehow!” Gears said, his eye lights narrowing. “If I’m dreaming, that means you can’t hurt me! I’ll tell you nothing!”

Penumbra quirked an eyebrow, and then her horn flashed again.

“HRAAAUAGHUAGH!!” Gear Works screamed as one of his biological legs was twisted and crushed by the ebon vector. The pain felt exactly like the real thing, an experience which he’d had the extraordinary misfortune to have more than once.

“How about now?” Penumbra Shard asked with a pleasant little smile. “I think you’ll find the rules to your dreams are a little different when I’m involved, tinkerer.”

After a few seconds, there was no response from the Dark Acolyte except for ragged, heavy breathing. With a slight turn of her head the magic tendril tightened again around the pulped limb, and Gear’s howl of agony again filled the rapidly dissolving dreamscape.

“All right… All right…” Gears whimpered. The ebon vectors seemed to have a way of vibrating against the ravaged nerves of his skin, making the already horrific experience even more painful. He’d been terrified of them ever since he’d seen them deployed in battle, and it seemed his fear was well founded.

“Well? Out with it,” the Moon Mage demanded.

“He told me… about the Elements of Destruction. About the tree… about how the Element of Carnage was stolen and the… Element of Terror was lost,” the Dark Acolyte explained through pained gasps.

“What else?”

“About… the Cult of Lunar Ascendance… and its secret plot against Canterlot. And… And it’s subsequent failure.”

Penumbra frowned, but had no retort.

“He told me that the mare that attacked us… Banshee… that she was to be the Element of Terror, but perished during the quest.”

This startled Penumbra. She recoiled, her eyes wide. “REALLY. I didn’t think he’d want to open that particular wound. How much did he tell you?”

Gears gulped, finally feeling the pain dim across his senses. “Just that he is VERY certain of her demise. He explained no further.”

“I see.” Penumbra stepped closer, peering up into his eye lights so that her horn was almost touching the hose of his respirator mask. “Now, then… what do you plan to DO with this information?”

“Nothing,” Gears rasped, “I simply wanted to know why we were risking so much, and perhaps also about the strange powers. It was for my own curiosi-”

“Liar,” the Moon Mage interrupted before her horn flashed with lightning.

Gears shrieked as lightning coursed through him, searing his flesh and bionics in equal measure. Several components within his torso popped from the amperage, and the cyborg’s body shuddered and vomited sparks onto the floor. He coughed painfully as the flow of electricity ceased, smoke seeping from the rips in his hosing.

“Now I’ll bet you’re thinking: If I can feel real pain in a dream without waking up, does that mean I can die in one?” Penumbra said, her tone shifting to that of a hall lecturer. “There are many instances of ponies who suffer some mysterious, sudden complication in their sleep and never wake again, aren’t there? What do you think?”

“I… I compiled the story into a dataparcel. It is-” Gears coughed harshly again, feeling blood well up his throat. “It… It’s inloaded into the Strider’s transmitter already. I did it the moment Backfire returned.”

Penumbra arched an eyebrow. “Go on.”

“When… When the Strider returns to Ferrous Dominus, the dataparcel will enter the noosphere, undetected and cipher-locked. It will remain this way until my death has been registered, at which point the dataparcel will open and flag several sysmech adjudicators.”

Penumbra struggled with some of the terminology, but decided she had the gist of it. “So if you die, then the secrets of the Elements of Destruction get dumped across Ferrous Dominus. Is that it?”

“Affirmative” Gear Works gasped weakly.

“Clever. But of course, I can’t let that happen, can I?” Penumbra smiled broadly, tossing her long, lavender mane over her shoulder. “Neither you or your parcel will make it back to Ferrous Dominus. It’s kind of unfortunate, actually. You seem like a very useful pony and your death will probably make Dusk rather sad. Luckily, I can think of a few ways to address the latter problem.” Her smile turned rather sultry, and her tongue wet her lips.

Gear’s visor flickered off and on, beset by static. “You… You’re different from them,” he said, as if under a sudden realization.

“I suppose I am. Much prettier, for one thing,” she fluttered her eyelashes. “Depending on how much Dusk told you about the Moon Mages, you may be aware of some other slight differences. What of it?”

“You’re not here for the Element of Terror, are you?” Gear Works asked, his voice much stronger than before. “The Lieutenant was right about you after all. What are you trying to accomplish? Why would you be so worried about the Company learning of this mission?”

“Well that’s a silly question,” the Moon Mage tittered into a hoof. “And a pointless one. I’m not the one being interrogated here, tinkerer.” She raised a hoof to the side of his head, drawing it down the rubbery fabric of his hood. “Besides, you will not remember this encounter when you awake.”

Her eyes pulsed with light, and Gear Works shuddered. The surrounding dreamscape, already blurred to the point of being unintelligible, peeled away entirely. It was just Gear Works and Penumbra Shard in a dark, empty void, the former entangled with magic bindings and the latter looming over him with her eyes and horn gleaming.

“Wake up, tinkerer. You have one more task to accomplish before you cease being useful to me.”

Then Penumbra’s body rippled in the darkness, and Gear’s vision faded away.

Badlands
ERROR: Pathing augur malfunction detected… Geolocation failure

Gear Works awoke with a groan, his optics booting up and his internal motors spinning to life. Phantom pains burned in his bio-limbs, causing a sense of lingering agony that was quite distinct from the actual soreness from sleeping on the rocky, uneven ground. They had sheltered in a shallow cave over the course of the day, and it did not surprise him that the bat ponies did not carry anything equivalent to blankets or sleeping bags.

The cave entrance was wide open but not facing any road, and enough light filtered inside to see even without low-light optics. Gears Works checked his chronometer. Though they had slept for most of the day, it would still be a few hours until sundown. Satisfied with a brief system check – although perplexed by the phantom pains – he turned toward the other occupants of the cave.

Dusk Blade laid on his side near the very back, one wing drawn over his face to shield it from the light of day. Gloom Fang was splayed out behind him, with his head resting against Dusk’s neck in an affectionate, comfortable nuzzle. It was kind of cute, although Gears was certain Gloom hadn’t been there when he’d shut down for the night.

Gear Works produced a strange, shrill noise through his mask, and then cleared his throat when Dusk flinched. “Lieutenant, it is precisely 17:01:48. If we want to make optimal time on the next phase, we should wake the others and prepare to go.”

“O-Okay! Okay. I’m up. I’m getting up,” Dusk blinked his eyes repeatedly, and then slowly stood up. He yawned, showing off his curved, pointed canine teeth, and then frowned down at Gloom Fang.

Gloom had not been awakened by either Gear’s alarm or his pillow moving, and a nasal snort came from the bigger stallion as he curled up. Dusk stretched out a wing and slapped him with it across the face. Gloom flinched, his ears perked, and then his eyes fluttered open, staring up at the ceiling.

“Get up, get a drink, and then go get the mares. We’re moving out,” Dusk ordered.

Gloom clumsily staggered upright, and then saluted with a wing. “Right. Yes. Got it.” Without his mask on and being half-conscious, Gears noticed that all four of his eyes were open and blinking sleepily in random sequence.

“Also,” Dusk narrowed his eyes and lowered his head. “I told you to stop cuddling me in your sleep.”

Gloom’s ears pinned back and he offered a sheepish grin. “Sorry! I don’t do it on purpose! You’re just so… y’know… warm.”

“Just go get the mares, you dope,” Dusk grunted.

Gloom Fang nodded and closed his lower eyes, and then he rushed out into the daylight. Dusk watched him go, and then pulled a canteen from a small sack lying against the wall. He unscrewed the cap with his wing, and then took several long gulps.

“So, how’d you sleep?” the bat pony asked as he screwed the cap back on.

“Adequately,” Gears replied, “and you?”

“Very well, actually. I grew up in a cave, so this sort of thing is kind of comforting to me,” Dusk admitted. Then his ear twitched as a tennis ball-sized spider started descending toward him from above, hanging by a single silken thread of webbing. “Anyway, I need to talk to you for a little bit before we join the others.”

“About what?” Gears asked.

“About confronting me like you did yesterday,” Dusk said with a mild frown.

Then he suddenly twisted his head about, snapping up the spider in his jaws. Gear Works recoiled, although he was more startled by the speed and suddenness than the prospect of Dusk eating a live arachnid. He became more unsettled when the Lieutenant faced him again though; the spider made a stomach-churning series of pops and crunches as Dusk chewed, and its legs were sticking out from his teeth and twitching. Dusk Blade quickly swallowed his impromptu breakfast and then coughed to clear his throat.

“Sorry, that might have been a familiar. Anyway, I want to start by saying I’m NOT mad. I’m just a little discouraged. All right? I’m not used to having my authority brushed aside, and I don’t like having it happen in front of my squad.” He held up a hoof to forestall any rebuttal. “But also! I get it! You’ve been roped along on this crazy quest that you didn’t know anything about, and you deserved an answer! So it’s partially my fault.”

“My presence, participation, and insufficient briefing are ALL your fault, actually,” Gear Works corrected. “There have been a few tactical lapses since then that may be blamed on other ponies, but as you are the highest-ranking soldier, responsibility still lay with you.”

“Look, you’re not WRONG, but…” the thestral made a frustrated grunt. “Gears, you know I respect you a lot, but-”

“You show unusual appreciation for my work, which I am thankful for,” Gear Works interrupted. “I have seen little evidence of ‘respect’ from you.”

“They’re the same thing!”

“That is but one of the faulty social premises that are at the root of these uncomfortable conversations.”

Dusk didn’t reply for several seconds, and when he did he sounded supremely annoyed. “Okay, this? What you’re doing right here? This is what I’m talking about. This is a problem. You have to stop fighting me on everything!”

“Even when you lie to me?” Gears asked, his optic lights narrowing.

“Yes, actually. That would be super helpful,” Dusk admitted, “but what I really need here is for you to stop challenging me in front of my soldiers. Not only is it embarrassing for me, but they’re REALLY mad about it. Just speak to me privately if you have a problem or want to hold the entire mission hostage for personal reasons, all right?”

Gear Works stared at Dusk for a few seconds, judging the thestral’s expression. Gears didn’t feel inclined to grant the request at first, but upon reflection it was surprisingly earnest of him to make the appeal directly. Dusk was also being honest about his reasons, although Gears suspected there was something else at stake besides his personal sense of authority.

“All right Lieutenant Blade, you’ve made your point,” Gear Works said reluctantly. “I will refrain from challenging you in front of the others, but do not suppose that this means I will comply with your orders unquestioned. You are still not my superior and still requisitioned my services under false pretenses.”

“I get it! I’m sorry!” the thestral replied, grinning while he clapped his hooves together in front of him, as if praying for forgiveness. “Also, Gears, you can lay off the ‘Lieutenant’ stuff. Like you said, I’m not your superior and I’m your friend, so you can just call me Dusk.”

“Absolutely not,” Gears retorted, surprising the other stallion. “As none of your soldiers are here my understanding is that I may refuse your request without reservation, is that correct?”

“Okay yes that is what we just cleared up but the SUBTEXT is that you should really just do what I say more often,” Dusk explained. “Especially when my ask is so nice and easy!”

“I emphatically decline, Lieutenant Blade,” Gears said firmly.

Dusk bristled, but before he could argue further he heard the sound of Gloom Fang approaching the cave from outside again.

“Lieutenant, you ready to go? Everypony else is up!” Gloom called, poking his head in upside-down.

“Yeah, I’m ready.” Dusk trotted past Gear Works, and hopped into a hover. “Gears, Gloomy, go line up with the mares. We’ll do an evening briefing and then move out.”

Zariyah, Nacht, Neuron, and Penumbra were all waiting at the bottom of the craggy spire in varying states of attention, laying under a shady overhang. Penumbra Shard was reading a scroll that was hovering in front of her while her magic simultaneously ran a brush over Nacht’s neon-dyed mane. The smaller mare was greatly enjoying the attention, grinning in delight and shifting her head to press it against the brush. Neuron Dialect already had her hood up and mask on, and was holding her gun upright with her wings. Zariyah stood apart from the bat ponies, gulping down water from her canteen.

The mares looked up as Dusk and Gloom descended, with the latter dropping down in line next to Penumbra.

“Good morning, crew. I hope you’re ready for another lovely night of getting shot at by half-blind, overgunned morons,” Dusk began, hovering in front of the group. “Stage one is complete and we have our target. Stage two is getting a means to reach the target without crawling through a maze of monster-infested caverns.”

“You mentioned a drill rig before, right?” Gear Works asked, descending the rock more carefully than the flyers.

“Yeah, that’s my plan. The drill rig is used to dig boreholes for mining ops, and it’s the reason the DarkMech was out here to begin with. Unfortunately, the nearest rig was, of course, captured by the Orks. Unit MN-668. So we’ve got to take it back first, like we did the pylons. Except the rig needs to be in good enough shape for us to use for its intended purpose.”

“I’m seeing some potential points of failure here,” Penumbra mumbled.

“The Orks prize drill rigs and similar mining equipment greatly, as they find them robust and very easy to weaponize,” Gears explained while he took position next to Zariyah. “Something as large as the bore drill mechanism would be ideal for their subterranean transports, so it will be disassembled rather than scrapped for raw materials.”

“… Is that good? That doesn’t really sound good,” Gloom replied, furrowing his brow.

“Disassembly is a longer and more delicate task than shredding a machine for raw materials,” Gears pointed out. “So there is a higher chance that the drill rig is still in a functional or near-functional state. It is a good thing.”

“If the Orks already built it into one of their… ‘subterranean transports,’ couldn’t we just use one of those instead?” Nacht wondered aloud.

“No,” Gears replied. Everyone else paused, expecting an elaboration, but several seconds passed in silence.

“… Okay, then. Now we just need to FIND the rig. The tracks were back at the spot where the pylon was stolen,” Dusk explained. “It’ll take some time, and we’ll probably have to crack another Ork base.”

“I have an alternative option,” Gear Works volunteered, raising his servo arm into the air. “Extractors are equipped with distress beacons in case of enemy attack. I can access the noosphere and pull its alert signum and movements up to the present, or at least until it stopped transmitting. I will need a sufficiently powerful data-tether, however.”

“Would that work?” Nacht asked, looking skeptical. “If this thing had an alert signum attached to it all this time, why hasn’t the Company already recovered it?”

“The escalating raids by greenskins and the increasing difficulty of offensive operations out here is why there was a big intelligence sweep to begin with, remember?” Dusk retorted. “Gears, what would you need to do this? Is there a data-tether closer than the tracks?”

“Affirmative. All class III Striders carry one.”

All eyes shifted to Zariyah. She shook her head. “I know what the Techpriest speaks of, but Icebreaker is a class I. Class III is model for pack leader.”

“He’s a Dar-” Neuron’s dull correction was cut off when a magic tendril suddenly wrapped tight around her face.

“And if you access this data-tether, you’ll be able to send and receive information to and from Ferrous Dominus?” Penumbra demanded while Neuron struggled against her magic in surprise.

Gear Works nodded hesitantly. “Yes. Is… there a reason you’re muffling Miss Dialect?”

The unicorn chuckled lightly. “Oh, I think we’re all a little tired of her nitpicking your rank, that’s all.” Neuron gave a disgruntled squeak, and the tendril of magic slipped away and back into the shadowed ground below her. “So, if our Strider doesn’t have this device, how is this a viable plan?”

“Icebreaker is MY Strider, not ‘ours.’ Zariyah sniffed. “I have the route of a Strider unit near this location. Lambda pack. Once night falls they will stop at a hidden rendezvous to rest and receive new orders.”

“Excellent. How far away is it?” Dusk asked. “Gears, bring up a regional map.”

Gear Works projected a flickering hololith into the air in front of the group with the topography filled in with deeper gradients of green. A bright white marker indicated where the group was, and Zariyah started studying the display from that point. Penumbra showed an even more intense interest, staring over Neuron’s shoulder with her eyes glowing softly in the dark.

“Here. Through this valley along the fault,” the pilot announced, pointing a hoof toward a particular section of the map.

“Perfect. It’s not too far from the dig site Gears identified. I’d say it’ll take us less than two hours to get there.” Dusk announced. “We link up with the Strider pack, Gears tracks the drill rig, and then we should be able to get to it before sunrise. If all goes well, we should digging by tomorrow.” He looked over the other soldiers of the Lunar Guard. “Dagger Squadron, we’re getting close to our objective. The further we go the less idea I have what we’re going to be dealing with. The monsters in the caverns, the Ork presence, the Chirocorn… hay, I haven’t even figured out how we’re going to handle the vault. But nobody here was expecting this to get any easier. Just look out for each other, follow orders, and keep your ears sharp, okay?”

The other thestrals nodded firmly. Penumbra also nodded, although she was currently writing furiously on a scroll that she was levitating in the air along with a feather tip pen. Dusk watched her for a few seconds, and then narrowed his eyes.

“Shard? What are you writing?”

“The location of the rendezvous point,” she said, pausing to lick the tip of the pen in a needlessly suggestive manner. “Currently the only copies exist in our little cultist friend’s metal skull, and probably the walker. We’ll want a spare, in case we get separated or if something unfortunate and permanent happens to them.”

“No,” Dusk said flatly. “Destroy that scroll.”

The Moon Mage pouted and hung her head. The paper rolled up, and then all the ponies present watched as Penumbra’s horn flashed and briefly banished the shade from around them. The scroll disintegrated into blue sparks, which promptly floated away on an invisible wind.

“Good. Now that we don’t have recourse if Gears or Backfire die, it’s extra important that they DON’T. Everypony got that?” Dusk asked, his tone growing agitated.

“Yes, Lieutenant,” the other bat ponies mumbled, sounding like schoolchildren being lectured by a teacher.

“Good! Backfire, saddle up. We’re going.”

Badlands
Bloodborne camp
Geolocation redacted

A silent wind whistled as a thread of magical power slipped through the tent canvas, and an ear twitched in response.

A unicorn mare turned her head up, and her pale, curved horn glimmered with a cloudy purple light. A cluster of turquoise sparks gathered from nowhere, rapidly materializing into a rolled-up parchment. Once it finished the transition it peeled open slightly, revealing a glimpse of the hasty scrawl within.

Laying on the dirt floor of the tent, the mare pressed a hoof against the top of the roll and then opened it without a word. She was a rather wiry pony, with a long, straight mane of inky black hair and eyes of pale violet. Her coat was a light gray, almost bone-white in its shade and with a decisively unhealthy texture. Her cutie mark was bizarre: a pair of black, four-pointed star bursts with one set to the side and above the other. It was not, however, the strangest marking on her body.

That particular honor went to the enormous centipede tattooed over her neck, shoulder, and the front left leg. It matched the style and color of her cutie mark – and her mane, for that matter – so well that many a pony had assumed it was an extension of her cutie mark somehow. It was not. This wasn’t exactly a secret, but as it happened there were few ponies who worked up the nerve to ask about it.

She finished reading the scroll, and her eyes slowly narrowed. The unicorn stood up and stepped toward the tent’s entrance, and the Chaos Star amulet around her neck jingled gently at the movement.

When she emerged into the early evening sky, she paused. Celestia’s sun was just starting to touch the mountains on the horizon, and its light still blanketed the sky, causing the unicorn to wince in displeasure. More pertinent to her progress, however, was the two armed bat ponies who had stepped in front of her to bar her path.

“And where do you think YOU’RE going, Bane?” one guard snarled while the other brandished her weapon.

The mares at the post were in full armor, with blade gauntlets on their front hooves. With a brief tap of an activation stud a short sword extended from one boot, while the other boasted a thick shield plate. The setup precluded the use of any firearms, although a pair of grenades dangled from their hip plates.

Isabelle Bane looked down at the blade being pointed at her throat and then stared at the guard holding it, with one eye obscured by the dark curtain of her mane. Her gaze seemed empty and disinterested, and it didn’t quite make eye contact with the redheaded pony threatening her as she spoke.

“Am I being held here? I was not told I was prisoner in the camp,” she said. Her tone matched her expression: listless and scratchy, and directed in such a way it felt like she was addressing someone just above or behind the listener.

“You Moon Mages are prisoners everywhere you go. You know that, Bane,” sneered the other guard. “So what is it you want? Hungry? Need to use the latrine? Out with it!”

The unicorn tilted her head to the side, her long mane swaying from the motion. “… I need to do a ritual.”

The bat pony guards shared a glance. “Ritual? What kind of ritual? What’s it for?”

“A summoning ritual,” Isabelle rasped. “I wish to create expendable beasts to serve in the task ahead.”

The guards considered this silently, and then the one with her weapon extended tapped the activation stud with the tip of her wing. The blade retracted back into the gauntlet sheathe, and she settled her wings on her back.

“Sounds legit.”

“Yeah, that checks out to me. What do you need?” asked the other guard, likewise relaxing her posture.

“Prisoners,” Isabelle hissed, her head shifting upward slightly.

“Sure. Follow,” commanded one of the thestrals, turning around.

The Bloodborne camp was quite busy, with many bat ponies – all mares, of course – just waking up and performing whatever preparations were needed for tonight’s skirmishes. Groups of thestrals drilled together, doing short aerial loops and diving down on armored training dummies in rapid sequence with their squads. Some were tending to the wounded, sleeping off their injuries, or making preparations to head out to a safe zone where they wouldn’t hold back the tribe. Those who bore the rare and mysterious echo weaponry were tuning their devices, or in several cases shaking and beating them in the hopes they would start working again. The sonic guns were unfortunately delicate, and there was not a one among the Bloodborne that could consider herself mechanically gifted enough to repair them.

Many of the thestrals were having breakfast, of course. Some of those feeding gulped down tins of nutrient gruel, relishing the efficiency of the human rations before quickly returning to more productive activities. Many, however, had decided to make a feast of their defeated foes. Cook fires were scattered around wasted Ork Trukks and piles of useless shootas, and the scent of roasting meat wafted over much of the camp.

They found that Ork flesh was tough, chewy, very lean, had a distinctly fibrous texture, and its flavor was on the sour side in a way that immediately gave the impression it was spoiled even when it had been grilled fresh from a butcher table. Gretchen were more tender, but the small, weedy creatures had a lot less meat on their bones. None of the carnivorous equines found the aliens very appetizing, but it was a habit of their tribe to stretch their food supplies whenever possible. Besides, it was rumored that Orks ate ponies, and the turnabout pleased them.

Isabelle was a vegetarian and personally found the odor revolting, but she offered no complaints nor did she shy away from the sight of mares enthusiastically butchering the large green bodies. The Moon Mage trotted right past the grisly chores and arrived at the pit where the surviving enemies had been gathered.

Her escort stepped in front of her immediately, greeting the ring of bat ponies guarding the huge hole in the ground. They all boasted javelins or spears, some of advanced make with superior metals and mono-molecular edges and some made of crude scrap iron and more “traditional” smithing techniques. Every once in a while several of the guards would shout or laugh and start stabbing some unlucky greenskin in the pit. It wasn’t clear if the reaction came from a prisoner attempting an escape or if the bat ponies were just bored.

“Pardon me, Beryl Blaster. The Moon Mage wants to do a little sorcery,” announced a guard to a particular ash-colored mare. “She needs bodies.”

“Live bodies,” Isabelle clarified. “How many Orks do we have?”

“Five. Two of the little ones, as well,” Beryl replied. Her bright crimson wings were spread, with one wrapped around the shaft of a spear and the other around a small, sharpened bit of bone she was using to pick her teeth.

“There were more than twenty taken after the ambushes last night, were there not?” Isabelle asked.

The guard sneered and spat to the side. “Now there are five. What do you want them for?”

“Summoning. The Gretchen are too weak. You may remove them,” Isabelle said, walking toward the pit.

Beryl swung her spear down to bar the unicorn’s path. “Not so fast, witch. You need to ask the Queen about this,” she warned, her crimson eyes gleaming. “The humans also like prisoners, so they may be too valuable to waste on you.”

“Mm. Best to get permission, I suppose,” mumbled one of the escort mares.

Isabelle stared at the weapon in her way. A glimmer of light came from her horn, and she reached out her hoof toward the wooden spear shaft, pawing gently against it and then putting her leg down again.

The spear started to change; slowly at first, but then more quickly and dramatically. The wooden shaft bleached and rotted, and the spearhead shriveled and rusted. Beryl recoiled in surprise as she realized what was happening, and the sudden movement shattered the polearm. Chips of dusty wood and flakes of dark reddish-brown iron littered the dirt in front of the Moon Mage, and Isabelle started walking forward again.

“Whoa, WHOA! What the fang was that?!” shouted one of the escort mares.

Beryl growled and jumped in front of the unicorn, hovering above her head level threateningly. “Cheeky little vermin, aren’t you?! One more step and I’m going to replace that spearhead with your horn!”

Isabelle Bane stopped and stared up at her. Then she threw her head back and howled.

At least, “howled” was the best way the assembled ponies could think to describe it among all the other words they knew for various noises from living creatures. It was a bizarre, extremely unsettling sound; mournful and chilling and extremely wrong. Beryl Blaster felt her wings start to seize, and she quickly landed and started backing away. Her stomach felt like a lump of ice was growing in it, her coat felt like it had turned into a blanket of scuttling spiders, and her echolocation was suddenly picking up numerous strange figments that her eyes didn’t detect. Every other mare had a similar reaction, and most jumped away to face the Moon Mage in a defensive crouch. Their respective danger senses, honed from years of difficult survival, grueling training, and brutal warfare, were on alert in a way none of them had experienced before, painting the gloomy unicorn as an extreme threat.

Beryl hissed and took up a combat stance. She bared her fangs threateningly and braced her rear legs as if she was readying to strike, but she was unable to stop herself from shivering. Isabelle didn’t even look at her, dropping her head and trotting down into the pit.

The five Orks that populated the pit were in sorry shape, to be sure. Deep cuts, gouges, and slashes decorated their bodies, and three of them were missing eyes or entire limbs. None of the wounds had been treated; there was no reason to bother with greenskins, even if the Bloodborne could be convinced to spend scarce medicae supplies on enemies. Orks were hardy enough that if a wound didn’t bleed them to death then the creature would almost certainly survive it. Infection was practically unheard of, and only a few of their organs could be considered vital in the short term (whether the brain was one of those was the subject of frequent debate). The Gretchen, having surrendered quickly, were in much better condition, although neither was unharmed.

“Oi, wuzzis?” asked one of the larger aliens, shifting upright onto his remaining leg and using the dirt wall of the pit to balance. “Dis hoss ain’t gotta pokah!”

The other Orks slowly roused themselves to confront the new pony. All had heard the strange noise from outside their crude prison, but they shrugged it off without concern or ill effect. The Gretchen reacted very poorly by comparison, shaking like leaves and rushing for the farthest part of the area to stay away from the strange mare.

Above the pit, the Bloodborne guards were cautiously peeking up over the edge with their spears ready to strike. None of them were sure whether the Moon Mage or the greenskins would be the one needing containment. The prisoners glanced up at the skulking ponies, but then dismissed them. The Orks started advancing on Isabelle, curious and (as ever) quite belligerent in intent.

Isabelle glanced from one Ork to the next, one eye obscured by the curtain of her hair. “Good enough,” she eventually pronounced.

Her horn glimmered with magic, and a ghoulish purple fire started to emerge from nowhere on the ground, encircling each Ork prisoner. The greenskins hesitated, but then continued approaching her once it was clear the flames weren’t high or hot enough to stop them. The magic continued swirling and zig-zagging, drawing glowing seams in the ground under the targets. As the prisoners advanced on the curious intruder the circles followed underneath them, sliding across the ground to keep the prisoners in the center.

“Now,” Isabelle announced, “kill them.”

The Orks halted in mild surprise. They glanced up at the bat ponies standing on the pit’s edge, readying themselves for an imminent rain of spears.

The Bloodborne troops did not attack, instead staring down at the unicorn in open irritation. Beryl Blaster approached the edge of the pit and sneered at her, although her expression suggested she hadn’t fully recovered from Isabelle’s terrifying cryptic scream.

“Kill them yourself, Moon Mage! If you can’t even manage that, why did we drag your pasty carcass all this way?!” Beryl demanded. “Go on! Age them to oblivion or something! Impress us!”

Behind Beryl Blaster, a large pile of discard Ork choppas and twisted scrap metal started to glow and quiver while the thestral taunted the unicorn. Her ear twitched, picking up the sound of rattling metal, and then she dropped to the dirt for cover as dozens of weapons making up the pile suddenly launched into the air. They arced upward and then turned their points downward, flying into the makeshift prison like a veritable river of dirty steel.

The swords, axes, spears, clubs and daggers (as well as the random scrap metal) split into five streams that curved through the air and into each alien soldier with terrifying accuracy. The Orks died before they fully understood what was happening, shredded apart by torrents of sharpened metal riding on a violet wind. The Gretchen squealed in horror at seeing their larger cell-mates dispatched, curling into quivering balls at the pit’s edge. The Bloodborne watched intently, most of them reluctantly impressed but mainly wanting to see what the strange mare was doing.

The dead prisoners fell into bubbling piles of blood and ichor, their flesh seeming to dissolve into a puddle within the magic inscriptions on the ground. Isabelle’s horn pulsed rapidly, feeding ever more magic into them while she whispered strange words of magic that the sensitive ears of the thestrals struggled to hear (or simply refused to). Beryl Blaster narrowed her eyes at the sight and then stepped back from the edge of the pit.

“Did she do anything like this during the battle? I don’t remember hearing about any grand displays of witchcraft at the time,” Beryl demanded of the two mares that had arrived as the unicorn’s escorts.

“We don’t know. We took over from Gleam and Howling after last night,” one guard admitted, her ears turning down. “They seemed eager to hand her off to us, although they didn’t speak about what had happened…”

“Queen Empyra attached the Moon Mage to the rearguard, since she couldn’t move as fast as any of the winged combat groups,” the other guard explained. “They faced maybe two or three patrol vehicles and bikers that saw the battle at random and attempted to join from an unexpected angle.” She shrugged. “The greenskins were destroyed in short order, but I’m not sure exactly how. Bane was hardly the only one there to stop them. Perhaps her skills on the battlefield are more… subtle than whatever this is.”

A muffled screech came from the pit, and Beryl darted back to the edge.

The pools of gore were growing, their centers rising and trembling as if the slurry of the Ork corpses were the skin of a soft egg. One of them bulged upward much higher than the others, and then the top split open. Oily black and red grime sprayed across the ground nearby, steaming and quivering in a way that churned the stomach.

Out of the egg/circle/corpse emerged a huge black bird, punching through the top of its bizarre prison with a beak like an obsidian spearhead. The watching ponies immediately likened it to a crow, although the beast was at least twenty times the size of any specimen they had ever seen. Veins of deep, glowing purple ran over the monstrous bird, as if its body had broken apart and the seams of color were gluing it together. Its eyes were the same hue, although even brighter, and they narrowed as the creature spread its big, dark wings and took to the air.

The surrounding mares held their weapons at the ready, waiting to see where the beast would attack. It simply flew straight up, however, rapidly gaining altitude and then darting away from the camp.

More screams heralded the exact same phenomenon from three more of the arcane circles, and the Bloodborne watched in fascination as three more giant black birds erupted from the enchanted ooze and flew into the sky one by one. Every one of them ignored the ponies and remaining greenskins below, soaring away in the same direction of the first. Isabelle Bane watched the affair with the same gloomy expression she always seemed to have, if slightly more intense than normal.

The last summoning pod finally broke, and the fifth monster threw its wings open and took to the sky with a bone-chilling screech.

A much louder screech answered it, and the bat ponies watching flinched in surprise right as something slammed into the avian beast in mid-air.

The creature was sent hurtling back down to the pit, and it struck the side with enough force to blast away the surrounding dirt and carve a large gouge into it. Its assailant – a huge, brown, bat-winged pony – kicked into one of its wings, bouncing away from the monster while it slumped back to the ground.

The monster howled in fury as it stood up, its blazing violet eyes focusing on its attacker. The bat pony was as big as it was, with a red mane that ranged in brightness from brilliant crimson at the tips to nearly black at the roots. She wore a black iron collar and a tattered dark shroud that hung between her wings, which were riddled with spines and had a large curved talon extended from each peak. The most distinctive aspect of the mare, aside from her size, was surely her teeth. She had huge, curved fangs that only slightly stood out among the rest of her knife-like teeth, and a long, blood-colored tongue slithered over them before the mare’s face twisted into a sneer.

The bird monster hopped forward, one of its wings already torn and useless. The thestral intercepted its stabbing beak by striking it in the side of the head, and a loud crack came from the impact before it was pitched back into the dirt.

A rousing cheer came from the watching bat ponies and several started thumping their spear butts on the ground in rhythm. Granted, none of them quite understood what was happening, but every warrior found themselves instantly inspired at the sight of their Queen Empyra diving into battle. Isabelle Bane watched with considerably less excitement, sitting down on her haunches while her summoned beast cut a furrow in the ground with its face.

It started to stand up but Empyra pounced first, slamming an iron-clad hoof onto the monster’s head and driving it back into the dirt. Then she bit deeply into its neck, tearing through the acrid, elemental shadow-stuff and ripping it open. Her tongue recoiled at the flavor of its meat, and vapor started pouring from her teeth as the contact proved dangerously corrosive, but she didn’t falter as she ripped out a considerable chunk of the beast and gulped it down. The bird released a gurgling attempt at a scream and Empyra bit it again, this time ripping its head off entirely. Mysterious black and purple fumes gushed from the wound, and the creature began to vaporize.

“Hmph,” Empyra offered the head of the avian monstrosity an annoyed snort, and then slammed a hoof down on top of it. The beast’s skull seemed to pop like a shadowy firecracker, leaving a blast-shaped soot stain upon the dirt and the Queen’s bladed greaves.

Then she turned to face down the unicorn on the side of the pit, next to the stepped and gated section that served as the entrance. “Good evening, my little Bell!” she said, her lips curling into a cruel smile as she stalked toward the smaller pony. “Explain to me why you’re summoning daemons in my war camp.”

“They are dark spirits, not daemons,” Isabelle Bane replied, her voice cold and her gloomy violet eyes not quite meeting Empyra’s bright red ones.

“You think we’re a bunch of ignorant barbarians, don’t you?” the Queen asked, stopping in front of the unicorn. “Get with the times, witch! Spirits, ghosts, specters, devils, gremlins, blah blah blah, they’re all ‘daemons.’ We know where they’re from, we know what they do, and we know how to send them back to their abyss.” Her teeth snapped shut with a sound like a steel trap. Despite having corroded earlier biting into the summoned bird, there were no longer any signs of damage. “Now, I will ask one more time: Why are you summoning daemons in my war camp?”

Empyra was starting to shrink now, and the bone spines that decorated her back and wings sunk back into her coat as if they were never there. Her jaws reduced to a (slightly) less fearsome visage, and her long, wild mane settled down over her body. Even her visible aura of menace receded, although that certainly didn’t make her seem any less dangerous to the spectators, much less the Moon Mage.

“… For a mission,” Isabelle said, her head drooping so that her hair better obscured her face.

Empyra placed a hoof under the unicorn’s chin, lifting it back up. “Look at me when I’m speaking to you, servant.” She had stopped shrinking now, having returned to her “normal” body, but she was still considerably bigger than Isabelle. “What ‘mission’ are you talking about? I gave you no particular tasks.”

“You are not my only commander,” the Moon Mage replied. It was an awkward admission, and Isabelle struggled to maintain eye contact with the larger mare.

“Remarkable,” the thestral Queen said, “we feed you and protect you, and give you the freedom to operate outside the little basement dungeon the humans carved out for you, and you thank us by killing our prisoners for the benefit of some far-off master?” She snorted. “But then, that’s how it’s always been, hasn’t it? I must be a fool for thinking things had changed just because the humans put a leash on you.”

Isabelle pulled her head back and started turning away, but Empyra followed her and seized her again, wrapping one wing around the side of her head while pressing a hoof threateningly against the unicorn’s chest. The thestral snarled, baring her fangs and coming close enough that the mares’ noses were almost touching. Isabelle stared back with a strange, passionless intensity in her eyes, as if she was trying to stare down the bigger pony but didn’t quite know how.

“I’m NOT DONE with you yet, little Bell,” Empyra growled, her hot breath lifting the unicorn’s mane slightly. “Who is this master you’re aiding? What do they want with a band of daemons?”

Up at the top of the pit the Bloodborne were watching the encounter carefully, vigilant for any more strange magic coming from the Moon Mage. In truth none of them imagined that anything Isabelle could do would seriously threaten Empyra, and if there was, they didn’t really think any of them would be able to help. Nonetheless the thestrals stood guard, and it was due to this focus that several of them noticed some kind of distortion rolling over the unicorn’s coat. None of them knew what was happening at first, and it was Beryl Blaster who first realized and shouted a warning.

“THE CENTIPEDE!! MY QUEEN!! IT’S ALIVE!!”

The shout was too late, for Empyra had already moved. Her hoof lifted out of the way just before the head of the centipede tattoo lunged across Isabelle’s neck. The ink seemed to lift off her coat and attack, with two sickle-shaped, black mandibles converging just millimeters from the thestral’s hoof.

“Cheeky little freak,” Empyra sniffed. Then she let go with her wing and swatted the Moon Mage aside with the other one.

Isabelle Bane was sent flailing through the air and struck the side of the pit hard. She gasped in pain at the impact and then promptly slumped onto the dirt, breathing heavily and bleeding along her flank where some of the rocks had cut her. The Bloodborne guards that were serving as her escort rapidly flew down to land next to her and then stood at attention, awaiting orders.

“Tend to her,” Empyra commanded, pointing her wing claw at the unicorn.

“Yes, my Queen,” replied the guards, bowing. One of them perked her ears. “Shall we punish her as well for her insolence?”

Empyra tilted her head slightly. “Hmmm… no. I think that’s enough for now. Besides, I rather like that she has some guts in that bony, withered body of hers,” she proclaimed with a laugh. “Take her away.”

Empyra turned around and strolled across the pit, beckoning with her wing to one of the soldiers standing watch above. “Beryl! Come here! The rest of you, go find something better to do than standing around a bloodstained hole in the ground!”

The ash-colored mare promptly leapt down into the makeshift prison while her peers quickly slinked away to perform other, more productive tasks. Empyra stopped in the center of the pit, her narrowed eyes staring at one of the smoldering magic circles on the dirt. She leaned in and sniffed at it, and then grimaced at the rancid odor.

“When the apes said they could loan me a Moon Mage like they were just another weapon I wasn’t sure what to expect,” the Queen admitted while Beryl Blaster landed beside her. “I thought perhaps being caught by Canterlot and then made to serve under the yoke of the 38th Company would have beaten some humility into them, but no. Those dregs are too used to scheming.”

She snorted derisively and then addressed Beryl. “Which way did the other daemons flee?”

Beryl snapped up a compass in her wing, taking a moment to recall the path of the daemonic birds. “West by southwest, my Queen. Shall I assemble a pursuit wing?”

“No. Our scouts spotted an Ork encampment to the South, and I don’t want our marepower stretched among such hostile territory,” Empyra declared, stalking forward again. The Gretchen still in the pit curled up into quivering balls at her approach. “I want our scouts in the air within the hour to place those artillery beacons among the enemy defenses before the rest of the force arrives. We will attack through the flaming ruin of their fortifications. Perhaps I’ll put the gloomy mare to work, since she likes making little helpers from the enemy’s dead.”

“Of course, Queen Empyra,” Beryl said again. “What shall we do with these remaining prisoners? If we are not-”

Before she could finish the sentence, Empyra leapt at the cowering greenskins and seized one in her jaws, crushing its arm to a bloody pulp. The alien squealed in horror, but was quickly silenced when the thestral Queen went in for another bite. It was ripped apart in short order and Empyra eagerly feasted on the raw flesh, throwing bits of gore all around while the other alien wailed and quivered under her hoof with the realization it was next.

“… Ah. Okay, I’ll go make those preparations then. Enjoy your meal, my Queen.”

Badlands
Geolocation ping 1.339204.21730

“So you never did answer my question back on the gunship,” Gloom Fang said suddenly, eyes narrowing at Gear Works. “What’s with the Mechanicus thing? How does a pony join a cult like that?”

Gear Works turned around, peering over the side of the Strider battlesuit. He and Penumbra Shard were riding up top again, while the bat ponies hung onto the cargo hooks on the side of the body. The sun was sinking below the distant horizon, and darkness was slowly stretching across the open sky. The Strider moved at a good clip through the stony ravine it was passing through, its broad feet crushing the jagged rocks underfoot. A wheeled and even tracked vehicle would have struggled with the crags and crevices that decorated the ground here, but Zariyah guided her walker with relative ease, winding around the larger spikes jutting out of the surface and kicking over the smaller ones that barred her path. Penumbra was studying a scroll of parchment while they traveled, and Gear Works had been researching the sediment composition they expected at the dig site before being interrupted.

“I’m not sure what there is to say,” Gear Works said. “I was a mechanical engineer long before the first Techpriest set foot on our world. It is my talent and destiny. Like many other ponies, I joined the Iron Warriors to gain access their knowledge. It strikes me as so obvious it does not bear explanation.”

“That’s not why most ponies joined the Iron Warriors,” Penumbra interjected.

“Among those who moved to Ferrous Dominus voluntarily, the opportunity to access advanced technology and alien culture were common points of interest. It was certainly the primary driver behind my enlistment, and I am not unique in my motivations.” Gears shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose the specifics of the Mechanicus doctrine and how I integrated with an institution that is fundamentally hostile to non-humans is highly unusual, but I suspect the nuances of my conversion would not interest Corporal Fang.”

Gloom Fang stared up at Gears over the edge of the Strider’s body, his brow furrowed and his eyes slightly unfocused.

Then Dusk Blade piped up next to him, sounding exasperated. “What he MEANT was how you got your bionics.”

“I see. A house fell on me. It was the Tau’s fault,” Gears explained. “Then Techpriest Carmed elected to provide extensive replacement augmentations as an experiment to see if ponies make viable servitors.”

“Oh! Okay, yeah. That makes sense,” Gloomy acknowledged, nodding. “So what did they decide on the servitor thing?”

“Have you seen any pony servitors other than him?” Penumbra asked, gesturing to Gear Works. “Clearly they weren’t impressed.”

“He is a Dark Acolyte, not a servitor,” Neuron Dialect interjected.

“I don’t have time to learn the precise titles of every lout who has a bunch of hideous metal garbage hammered into him,” Penumbra said with a warm chuckle, “but since you’re dead set on correcting us every single time somepony gets it wrong, I suppose I relent.”

Gears sighed in exasperation, holding back an extensive lecture on the many differences between tech-clergy and the servitor cyber-slaves. He had a feeling the Moon Mage wouldn’t appreciate the distinction.

Nacht jumped up higher on the Strider, her echo cannon bouncing against her back. “But you like cyborg ponies! You have that secret collection of pictures of Ironside Macintosh in your library!”

Penumbra recoiled, her face reddening substantially. Gloom Fang snickered, but the others didn’t seem to react, focusing instead on their surroundings. The Strider hesitated for a second as Zariyah considered stopping so that she might better hear the conversation, but she thought better of it and maintained her speed.

“When did you start rooting through my library behind my back, you little minx!” Penumbra huffed, her muzzle scrunching up. The diminutive mare just giggled in response. “Since you brought it up, fine: I don’t mind a little chrome here and there. At least the farmer still has a FACE.” She paused. “Among other parts…”

The Strider suddenly stopped, jolting the passengers slightly. Penumbra looked around cautiously, searching for any thing wrong. It was getting dark very rapidly now, but her magically enhanced vision couldn’t spot a threat.

“Backfire? What’s the hold-up?” Dusk Blade demanded, banging a hoof on Icebreaker’s hull. “We’re not stopping so you can gossip about stallions.”

“… Emergency distress signum,” Zariyah said after a moment. “Lambda pack is under attack!”

“Oh, what NOW?” Penumbra sighed wearily.

“I’m receiving the emergency message,” Gear Works announced. “Vox codex recognized. Enemy contacts confirmed. Unit type unknown. Aerial, melee skirmisher type.”

Dusk banged his hoof on the Strider again. “Well, what’re you standing around for?! Double time!”

Icebreaker launched forward, and both Penumbra and Gears had to flatten themselves against the top to avoid being thrown off. The Strider galloped through the rocky spires with remarkable agility, kicking aside the smaller columns in its path and swerving out of the way of the others. Rock crunched under its feet, and the top of the walker tilted sharply from one side to the other.

“Shard! Stabilize Gears and yourself, would you? Some of the terrain here could skewer a pony if you were to fall!” Dusk shouted. “Gears, any idea what the enemy is? They’d know if they were fighting Orks, right?”

“It is not Orks, for certain! The signum is feeding sensor data to the local vox -net and initial aura-scans suggest an avian physiology!” the Dark Acolyte replied, shouting over the sound of moving pistons and shattering stone.

“Could you PLEASE talk like a normal pony for once?! What the hay is an avy… whatever you said?” Gloom Fang complained.

“He said it looks like a bird!” shouted Dusk.

“A bird? Seriously?” Nacht again pulled up over the top of the Strider’s back so the others could see her incredulous expression. “I know Strider jockeys don’t exactly have a reputation for valor, but they’re not THAT bad, are they?”

“Several birds,” Gear Works clarified. “Several LARGE birds.”

“Maybe they’re owls?” Gloom suggested. “Owls are pretty big and scary.”

“Really, Gloomy?”

“What?! Have you ever had one of those things clawing at you?! They’re terrifying!” He shuddered. “And it’s dark now so it’s not like any of the daytime birds would be out hunting!”

Gear Works spotted a spray of laser blasts into the sky ahead, slicing upward in a desperate fan of red darts. This was followed by a ferocious screech that rolled over the region and echoed through the ravine. Each of the bat ponies cringed, their sensitive ears pinning back, but Penumbra perked up and her horn began to spark.

“Okay, fine, that’s definitely not an owl screech,” Gloom admitted.

“There are many unnatural beasts that stalk the badlands along with all the unpleasant but natural ones,” Penumbra said. “I believe these are dark spirits.”

“Dark spirits? What? What kind of-”

Dusk was cut off when the Strider jolted suddenly to the left and a sharp whine came from its lascannon capacitor.

“Target sighted!” Zariyah shouted, the Strider slowed its pace slightly and swung its head up. “PERISH.”

The lascannon screamed, and a bright red beam slashed through the night sky. It cut into a mass of dark, fleshy matter, briefly illuminating a huge bird-like body with a pulse of crimson light. Then, in an instant, it tore through entirely, slicing off the creature’s wing. Another screech – this one much shorter and angrier than the last one – rolled through the crevice, and the monster plummeted to the ground.

“Got it!” Zariyah cheered. The daemonic crow fell atop one of the narrower rock spires scattered through the ravine and promptly impaled itself. Dark purple smoke puffed into the air rather than blood spilling on the ground, and black feathers started floating from the creature’s ruined body.

“They ARE birds! What the hay?!” Nacht exclaimed.

“Really big ones,” Gloom noted.

“I told you, they’re spirits! Dark magic given form and minor intelligence!” Penumbra explained, carefully walking up toward the Strider’s head.

“Are they yours?” Dusk asked suspiciously.

Penumbra stumbled and then stared over the edge with an incredulous look. “What? Why would I summon monsters to attack us?”

“I dunno, but you’re the only one who knows any dark magic I’m aware of, and you knew exactly what these things are,” Dusk reasoned. “Doesn’t matter now, I guess! Dagger Squad, engage!”

The four bat ponies leapt from Icebreaker at about the same moment an unfamiliar Strider dashed from behind a cluster of stone columns, jumping and bucking in a panic. On its back was one of the huge ravens, its claws sunk into the polyceramic armor plating and its beak jabbing at the neck joint. Black and purple smoke wafted from the damage, suggesting at a glance that the harm wasn’t limited to the spear-like, iron-hard beak alone.

“Hey! Can you get this thing off me!?” shouted the Strider, its vox caster broadcasting the plea to the bat ponies. It bolted through the stone crags, swinging left and right sharply as best it could, but it at least noticed the reinforcements.

“Nacht, peel it off!” Dusk commanded as he and Gloom Fang built altitude.

“Yessir!” Nacht chirped, bouncing off of a crag and then somersaulting in the air. She landed on her back legs, with her echo cannon already drawn and humming. She stabilized herself with her wings, carefully flapping as the weapon rapidly built up charge.

“We don’t want to damage the Strider,” Dusk added as the cannon’s pitch rose to its peak, “so make sure-”

A tremendously loud shriek rose from the weapon, and the air between Nacht and the Strider appeared to warp horribly before an explosion struck the walker in the side. The daemon was blasted off of it and slammed into a stone pillar, screeching angrily. The Strider was ALSO blasted off-balance, and it promptly tripped and crashed onto a bed of knife-like stone protrusions. Most of the rocks splintered against the superior hardness of the battlesuit armor, but one particularly sharp and sturdy hazard shattered the knee assembly, crippling the machine.

“NACHT!! WHAT THE FANG?!” Dusk shouted while he and Gloom lined up their splinter rifles at the downed monster.

“Whoopsie!” the mare replied, lowering the gun. “It’s fine, I’m sure the Techpriest can fix that.”

Neuron Dialect landed on the crag above Nacht, the claws on her boots digging into the stone to stabilize her. She promptly took up her rifle with her wings, but stared down at Nacht rather than aiming.

“… Ugh, fine. Acolyte. The ACOLYTE can fix it, probably.”

Neuron nodded sharply, and then flipped her galvanic rifle up into a firing position, with a hoof against the stock and another holding up the barrel. Then her wing wrapped around the weapon while her eyes focused on the target.

The daemonic bird was standing up again, shielding itself with a wing from the rain of razor shards. The crystal needles sliced through its strange, immaterial flesh with terrible ease and shattered to tear it from the inside, but the alien weapons were otherwise not very effective against a daemon. The “spirit” did not feel pain, suffer from the exotic toxins, or bleed like a flesh-and-blood monstrosity, and it shrugged off the physical harm to leap back into the air.

A galvanic shell was a different story, however. The sizzling gunshot rang through the ravine and the daemon’s body jolted. A brilliant plasma flare burst from the impact point, and then a plume of steaming, oily smoke erupted out of the other side. The bird was stunned from the hit and plummeted back to the ground.

It was fortunate enough to land on rocks that were merely rough and uneven rather than truly hazardous, and it rolled over onto its back with an agonized spasm. Then its wings and talons were flailing again, trying to bring the beast back upright. Dusk and Gloom flew above it, circling the avian monster in preparation to dive and finish it off.

Penumbra frowned and stomped a hoof on Icebreaker’s head. “This one is handled! Let’s get the others!”

Zariyah didn’t argue, turning sharply toward a cluster of high crags where the other Strider had come from. There was still much shrieking and las fire coming from that area, although it wasn’t easy to differentiate noises with the echo cannon charging up again. Icebreaker cleared the impediment and immediately spotted two more Striders, each being harassed by one of the enormous daemonic ravens.

One of the Striders fired on the other, its multilaser cutting a rapid burst of impacts across its squadmate. The lasers burnt large scorch marks into the walkers armor across its side, and a few shots even struck the daemon tearing at its neck, carving bright red scars across its wings. The other Strider didn’t seem to appreciate the help, and its pilot yelped in terror as it tried to shake off the bird.

“Would you STOP SHOOTING ME?! You’re doing way more damage than the stupid bird!” cried one of the scout walkers.

“No, it’s okay! Our armor is strong enough to block the multilaser, I saw it in the traini-GYAH!” the other walker recoiled as the last daemon dived, striking at its neck assembly and nearly knocking it over.

Penumbra Shard assessed the situation, and then her horn began to glow. “Pilot, remain still. I’ll handle this.”

She reared up, and a quivering runic circle spun out of nowhere beneath her hooves. She floated in the air slightly, and a turquoise light similar to the glow from her horn poured from her eyes as well. Gear Works scooted backward, glancing down at the ground below and trying to identify the safest spot to land if he had to dismount.

“Ushr kalis venu raahl! Ebon vector, arise! Darkness pierce the hearts of the righteous!” Penumbra chanted while thick tendrils of turquoise magic emerged from the circle around her. Then they darted toward the other Striders, snaking through the air like swimming eels.

“Why does your magic make reference to stabbing righteous hearts?” Zariyah asked suspiciously.

“Oh relax, that’s just for a bit of flavor!” Penumbra said brightly. “It’s dark magic, it’s supposed to sound edgy and dangerous!”

The ebon vectors reached the flailing Striders, and each tendril rapidly slipped around the daemonic ravens before tightening to bind the monsters and then peeling them off of the hapless battlesuits. The birds screeched in rage and started lashing out at the vectors, pecking and tearing at them with beak and talon.

Penumbra lifted a hoof and then swung it down, as if she was swatting at a bug. “Greim!”

The magic tentacles yanked the daemons backward and dragged them to the ground, accelerating them toward the same point. The daemon birds collided with a meaty crack, and then the ebon vectors blinked away as they began flailing and shrieking angrily to get their bearings.

Penumbra stepped back and to the side, her hooves floating bare inches off the Strider’s back as she positioned herself behind its neck. “Urhim TULL,” she chanted, her voice rising sharply as she lifted a hoof above her head.

A line of enormous turquoise spikes erupted from the ground, running from under the Strider’s head and neck assembly to the daemon birds in barely a second. Icebreaker’s head was completely ripped from its chassis, and the head itself was lifted into the air along with the spike, with much of its internals shredded and ejected out of the top plating in a shower of sparks and debris. At the other end of the attack, numerous spikes burst under the daemons in several directions at once, somewhat resembling a flower blossom. The creatures were reduced to a cloud of purple mist and jet black feathers in an instant, their angry screeching finally silenced.

Zariyah Backfire stared at the sparking vid-screen in her cockpit, her heart frozen in her chest. The interface screen had been sliced in half, and many pieces of its surface were scattered across her cockpit now. Behind the ruined screen was a massive wall of seething turquoise energy, thrumming with an intensity that sounded quite severe to her at that particular moment. The energy “wall” shifted, and the Strider’s superstructure creaked. Then the huge, glowing spike slipped back down into the stones below, leaving the Strider pilot exposed to open air.

Her heart started beating again, and then the pilot sucked in a deep breath. “MY STRIDER!! YOU INCOMPETENT WENCH!!”

Penumbra blinked, coming down from her casting. She looked down at the shredded assembly where the walker’s head had been, and then stepped up to it so she could look over the edge. Zariyah had disengaged from the wells that held her legs and she pushed past the broken machinery that normally connected the cockpit to the head, sticking out of the breach. Looking up, she locked eyes with the unicorn and hers narrowed to slits.

“What is wrong with you?! You had those creatures completely helpless, and yet you could not dispatch them without destroying my Icebreaker?!” the pilot screamed angrily.

Penumbra Shard didn’t respond right away, staring down at the earth pony mare and then looking over at the shattered hulk of the Strider’s head.

“… Huh. So your head isn’t actually in the walker’s head while you’re running that thing? I didn’t realize,” the unicorn mumbled. After a moment of incredulous silence, she coughed into a hoof. “Which is good, obviously. I’m very sorry about the damage. Maybe he can fix it?” she pointed a hoof back at Gear Works.

“No, I cannot,” Gears said blandly.

“Ah, it’s too bad. I really do need to watch the collateral damage,” Penumbra sighed while Zariyah sputtered angrily.

“Hey! Are you guys okay? Thanks for the assist out here!”

The two rescued Striders were approaching cautiously, their heads tilted upward to look for more flying hostiles. Penumbra dismissed Zariyah and looked toward the other battlesuits, sitting on her haunches.

“You’re very welcome. How did you become the target of dark spirits way out here?” the Moon Mage asked, tilting her head thoughtfully.

“Spirits? I didn’t see anything in the regional threats report about spirits!” complained one pilot. “We were just settling into this space because it was well-obscured and then those bird things soared overhead and dive-bombed us!”

“Where’s Gumball? Did she manage to escape?” one of the Striders lowered its head while the pilot checked the unit vox channel. “I’m getting a reading from her Strider, but its engine is cold. Is she okay?”

“Mostly. The other battlesuit was seriously damaged, but it looked reparable,” Gear Works noted as the bat ponies started flying in from between the crags.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! What happened?!” Dusk demanded as he hovered up to Icebreaker, staring at the hole where its head used to be and the furious mare poking out of it. “Did one of those birds manage that?!”

“Nyet. That was HER fault,” Zariyah snarled, nudging her head upward.

“I said I was sorry!” Penumbra said, sounding affronted. “The important thing is that the dark spirits are vanquished, the ‘data-tester’ was preserved, and nopony died.”

“Data-tether,” Neuron corrected.

“Yeah, sure. That.”

Dusk glared at Penumbra with deep hostility, but then turned to the intact Striders. “If everything has calmed down a bit, then we should get to business. It was a coincidence that we arrived right when you were being attacked, but we’re here for a reason. We need to use the noosphere.”

“Oh! Well, sure!” One of the Striders – bearing a plasma cannon on the left side of its head and a fan of transmitter rods on the right side – walked up to the decapitated walker so that its nose was almost touching its side. “So… do you want me to look something up for you, or-”

Gear Works said something in Binaric Cant, his voice emerging as an uncanny, buzzing crackle of static. His optic lights flickered on and off briefly, replaced by a completely unintelligible stream of data-screed washing over the visor that had replaced much of his face. The Strider tilted its head in confusion to stare, but after a few seconds, it was over. Gear’s optic lights blinked back on and he nodded.

“The distress signum has deactivated, but I was able to triangulate its drive path before it stopped. I have approximated the location of the drill rig to 87% probability, Lieutenant. We may depart at your leisure.”

“Big number! I like it!” Dusk said, rubbing his front hooves together. “Gears, see if you can get that third Strider back in the pit up and running.” Then he grimaced. “I don’t know what we’re going to do with Backfire now that her ride is inoperable, though.”

“Is it possible for her to just move it like this? She can see out the front still,” Penumbra asked.

“No, it’s not possible!” Zariyah bristled.

“Well then, unless these ponies are going to loan us one of their machines I guess we’re going to have to offload you here,” Penumbra said with a sigh.

“And YOU’LL have to walk the rest of the way,” Dusk reminded her.

“Well, we can’t really lend you one of our Striders. We need ‘em,” one of the recon walkers announced, “but if your grounded ponies need an evacuation, we can take them to the artillery base tomorrow.”

“That sounds good, but I only need you to take Backfire,” Dusk explained. “I need Gears for our mission, and while I’d love to ditch Shard with you she’d just sneak off on her own if I wasn’t here.” Zariyah gave a disgusted snort, while Penumbra puckered her lips and blew a kiss to the Lunar Lieutenant.

“The other pilot is here,” Neuron announced, perching on the beheaded Strider and pointing a wing. A green mare was approaching carefully through the crags, her gait uneven atop the jagged, pitted stone ground. “And there’s… something else. A strange noise,” she said, her ear flicking in agitation.

“What?” Dusk tapped the bead in his ear, turning off the standard interference that protected his hearing. “Hmm… okay, I… I THINK I hear it too. What is that?”

Penumbra blinked. “Another wave of spirits? Or an Ork patrol?”

“Definitely not a bird, daemonic or otherwise,” Dusk replied.

“Could be Orks. Doesn’t sound right, though,” Neuron admitted. “No chatter. Or engines.”

“Hi! ‘Scuse me!” came a call from below, accompanied by a firm tapping noise against a hardened surface.

Dagger Squadron stopped and looked down over the edge of Icebreaker’s body. The pilot that had escaped her Strider had approached and was knocking on the leg of the decapitated walker, trying to get their attention. She blinked up at them once she had their attention, and then, with a distinctly calm, languid bearing, she waved.

“Hey there. First thing I wanna say: thanks for the assist. That was pretty scary. I appreciate ya shooting the beastie off,” she said with a sleepy smile. “My name’s Gumball Glade, Strider pilot third class.”

“You’re welcome. What was the second thing you wanted to say?” Dusk asked.

“Oh, I just wanted to let the little one know I’m okay,” Gumball continued. “The spill was pretty rough, but she doesn’t need to worry.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Nacht assured her blithely.

“Neuro, Gloomy, we’re going to do a perimeter sweep while Gears is busy with the repairs. I want-” Dusk stopped when another series of tapping noises came from below. “What now? We’re in a hurry!”

“Third thing,” Gumball continued, still standing against the Strider’s leg, “there’s some kind of huge crystal out on the ravine ridge. Couple of big stone guys too. Don’t know what to make of it.”

“Stone guys?” Dusk asked in alarm.

“Crystal?” Gears added.

They looked at each other. “Keepers!”

The thestrals all heard a resonant crackle, like a firework’s pop at a great distance.

Then a lightning bolt hit a stone crag, blasting it apart.

“Down! Get down on the ground!” Dusk shouted, barely able to hear his own voice after the deafening blast. He swooped down to the rock and touched the sonic damper in his ear, turning it up high enough to spare his ears from further thundercracks.

“We’re under attack again?! Why didn’t you lead with that?!” Nacht shrieked as she landed under Icebreaker.

“I thought I should introduce myself first,” Gumball said, looking quite sanguine despite the smoldering pile of rocks just twenty feet away. “Sorry, I guess I could have mentioned it second, at least.”

“I’m sorry about Glade! She has low blood pressure,” one of the Striders apologized, lowering itself to the ground before another lightning bolt arced into the rocks.

The spire was blown apart as the energy bolt superheated a jagged seam running through its length and tore it open. The thestrals hugged the ground, their ears pinned to their heads, but Icebreaker happened to be standing rather close to the impact. Hot stone shrapnel hammered the broad side of the decapitated walker, and without a pilot adjusting its balance the battlesuit started to tilt over.

“Oh dear,” Penumbra mumbled to herself, lifting her body up with the ebon vectors and using them to carry her off of the falling walker.

Gear Works and Zariyah Backfire were not so fortunate, and the earth ponies wailed as Icebreaker crashed against the rocks, spilling them painfully onto the ground.

“Shard! Get down! Now!” Dusk commanded.

The unicorn swiftly lowered herself, and her hair stood on end as crackling whips of electricity jumped across the tips of the stone spires, lashing about in the air as if seeking a victim.

“Everypony stay on the ground! No flying!” Dusk barked, crawling toward the base of the spires almost on his belly.

“What is that thing? What are we fighting?!” Gloom Fang asked.

“I don’t know! I don’t fight Keepers! I just remember hearing that the weird lightning guns hit harder if you’re in the air!” the Lieutenant shouted back.

“That is a class VI lithoconductive weapon!” Gear Works shouted, himself crawling up to Icebreaker for cover.

“Needs a better name!” Dusk retorted. “What does it do and how do we break it?!”

Another lightning bolt blasted into the veritable wall of stone that protected the Striders and ponies. A long, jagged crack was burned into the rock, glowing a bright orange, but this time nothing fell down.

“It’s a medium-range barrage and area denial weapon! It can generate longer ranged lightning blasts of devastating intensity, as it’s doing now, but it also generates rapid bursts in a smaller fixed radius around it to incinerate anything that comes too close!” Gear Works said. “All attempts at close assault on class VI units have failed for this reason!”

“So how do we kill it?!” Gloom Fang demanded.

“Anti-armor heavy weaponry is effective! Battle cannons and krak missiles in particular have defeated them on severals occasions! Lascannons do less damage, but the heat discharge seems to disrupt their charging process!”

“You don’t say? It sure would be nice to have a lascannon right now, then,” Dusk sneered, glaring at Penumbra.

“I SAID I was sorry!” Penumbra huffed.

“My Strider has a lascannon!” Gumball Glade chirped, raising a hoof. “Soon as we get Easy Sunday back up and striding, I’ll show them goofy critters what for!”

Nacht slapped a hoof against her face. Then a bolt of lightning crashed into another rock pillar, and the thestrals yelped and scattered as the structure broke apart. Hot shrapnel and loose rock rained down into the pit, and as another piece of their cover crumbled the ponies spotted a blue point sticking over the top of the ravine’s ridge. Plasma arcs lashed at the tip, and the structure glowed with a deep, radiant azure light that made it easy to see in the dark.

“I’ve got a plasma cannon! Guess we’re using that!” announced the Lambda pack leader.

“Why are we fighting this thing at all?! We don’t need this spot! Let’s run for it!” suggested the other Strider.

“From that vantage point it’s going to get a dozen perfect shots at us if we try to retreat through the ravine!” Dusk complained. “Take it down! Neuro, get a vantage point on them and see if you can find anything vulnerable to shoot! Stay AWAY from the big gem!”

Neuron Dialect nodded and galloped away, darting between the crags as another lightning bolt cracked against their cover. The lead Strider stood up and rushed to one of the remaining pillars, a droning hum already coming from its plasma cannon. It planted its shoulder against the rock spire, bracing itself while the flex coiling on the cannon started shining with the energy contained within. It wasn’t the ideal positioning for the walker; it was made to attack while on the go, relying on its speed to carry it away from retaliation, but Dusk made a strong case against abandoning the stone cage protecting them from bombardment.

The plasma cannon fired, launching a hoofball-sized orb into the air. The crystal reacted to the incoming projectile as soon as it reached its defensive perimeter, and a lightning arc lashed out and shattered the spherical magnetic field that contained the deadly payload. The projectile struck anyway, and the ball of fusion-powered destruction burnt a massive gouge into the weaponized jewel.

“Got it!” the Strider pilot cheered, ducking back from the inevitable retaliation. “Definitely caused some structural damage!”

“Once the crystal goes down, we make a break for it!” Dusk announced.

“Aw, shucks. Does that mean we’re not fixing my ride?” Gumball pouted.

“If you want to go back for it, we’re not going to stop you!” Penumbra answered.

The lead Strider leaned out to shoot again, the hum from its plasma cannon rising to a fevered pitch. This time, however, the pilot noticed something else on the ravine’s ridge. A large stone figure was standing at the edge, a thinner (but still very large) crystal mounted in one arm.

The crystal flashed, and a whip of white-hot lightning struck the Strider’s head before it could fire. The walker trembled as electric arcs danced across its head and the fins of its receiver array, but it held firm. Inside the body the pilot grunted in frustration as his screen turned to static, but he quickly slipped his leg free of its sleeve and hit the manual reset. The screen flickered for a second, and then blinked back on. Then it was immediately overcome by a bright blue flash as a much larger lightning bolt struck the walker.

A sharp whistle briefly came from the plasma cannon as its flex coiling overloaded and the capacitors popped in rapid sequence. Then the weapon detonated, annihilating the scout walker’s head and sending it reeling onto the ground.

“Oh for fang’s sake!” Dusk cursed as the second decapitated Strider slammed sidelong onto the rocks, sprawling out next to the first one. “Shard! Nacht! Hit it before it recharges!”

Nacht jumped out from behind a rock pillar, her echo cannon already shrieking. Penumbra was more cautious in stepping into the line of fire, although once she did her magic surged around her in a mighty tide of pulsing turquoise light. A runic circle spiraled into view around her horn, and then another matching one surrounded her hoof as she thrust it forward.

A beam of dark blue surrounded by crackling lightning arcs screamed through the air, slamming into the enormous crystal with enough force to tilt it backward. The echo cannon struck on the other side, and the massive stone trembled violently against the forces threatening to tear it apart. Then the attacks were spent and the crystal tilted forward again, already humming loudly with its next charge.

“No good! We just can’t crack that thing!” Nacht shouted, scurrying back behind a boulder. A smaller lightning blast struck the rock right behind her, and she flinched away as smoke wafted from the impact.

“If I could get closer I could do more,” Penumbra mumbled in aggravation. “The ebon vector won’t work at this range. How about somepony play decoy for a bit?”

“Not it!” Gloom Fang announced.

“We don’t know how far the exact range of that proximity weapon is! Besides, if we’re going to start sacrificing ponies for brief diversions I’d rather just have everyone break for it!” Dusk decided, shaking his head.

“I like the running and hoping plan, personally,” announced the last functional Strider, staring at the smoldering wreck of the command unit.

Another heavy lightning blast crashed into their cover, and another rock spire collapsed into smoldering gravel.

“Anyway if anypony has a better idea we need it now! A couple more shots and we’ll be exposed and blasted to ashes anyway!” complained the Strider.

Dusk and Gloom shared a glance. Dusk grimaced, and then reached for the splinter rifle on his gunnery brace. He wedged his hoofblade into what passed as the weapon’s chamber, digging out a tiny, gleaming blue sliver from the strange alien magazine.

“I have an idea!” Gear Works shouted, rushing over to Nacht.

Dusk started in surprise, glancing between the splinter projectile and the tech-cultist. Nacht looked equally surprised, and slightly wary. Then another lightning bombardment struck the rock pillar where Dusk was covering, and he had to shield himself from bits of hot, smoldering stone.

“Miss Nacht! Your echo cannon!” Gears exclaimed, reaching over with his servo claw as soon as he was close enough.

She reluctantly allowed the Acolyte to seize the weapon, and then grunted in aggravation as he tugged it closer, yanking her forward slightly. “What do you want? It can’t break the crystals!”

“Not at its current power, no!” Gears shouted, stabbing his tail spike into the rear section and prying it open. A pair of honeycombed rods were inserted there, and Gears quickly plucked each one from its socket and dropped it onto the ground.

“Hey! What are you doing?! Don’t I need those?!”

“I’ve disabled the resonance stabilizers!” Gears shouted, reaching into the opening with a probe extending from his augmetic hoof. A sizzle of sparks came from the interior, followed by a series of strange warbling noises from the cannon. “And that should disable the amp regulator! Its wavelength cascade should fuse at four or five times the previous power!”

Nacht blinked while Gears shut the weapon’s panel closed.

“Now, this effect does spread out the higher pulse! You’ll need to compensate with a much longer delay after activating the alpha resonant, and then switch to beta immediately before the cascade impact to maximize damage!” Gear Works backed away his ears pinning to his head. “You’ll also need to toggle off the battery feed directly rather than just easing the trigger! The regulator mostly controlled that!”

“… What does ANY of that mean?!” Nacht asked, baffled.

“What does…? I thought you were a specialist with this weapon!” Gears replied, sounding equally baffled and also quite upset.

“I am! That means I use it to shoot stuff! What are you talking about?”

“Don’t ANY of you read your wargears’ technical documentation?!”

Another lightning bolt crashed into their cover, and Gear Works staggered back against the thunderous impact. The column protecting Nacht and the downed Striders was starting to fall apart, and they could see the enormous, crackling gem looming over the ravine’s edge as it prepared the next attack.

“We’re out of time! Just shoot it!” Gears cried, diving away and pressing his hooves to his ears. “Everypony else, cover your ears! Set your sonic dampers to maximum! GET DOWN!”

Nacht snarled and brought the echo cannon around, ignoring the bits of stone falling on her. “Whatever! Just BREAK already!”

She hit the pulse trigger, and a terribly loud, keening shriek came from the weapon; primarily where it was aimed, but the ponies around and behind her could also hear the sound all the way down to their bones. The pebbles at Nacht’s hooves started trembling on the ground, and sparks started sputtering from the weapon’s frame.

Nacht herself was quite surprised by the intensity of the reverberations, and the thrumming of the echo cannon made her feel like her head was about to burst. Her eyes watered to the point of uselessness, so she closed her eyes. Her echolocation was similarly overwhelmed however, unable to handle the sheer power rumbling in her hooves. She lifted the mouth of the weapon anyway, guiding the stream by her memory of where the target was.

“Now THIS IS THE GOOD STUFF!!” Nacht cheered, grinning maniacally under her respirator. “SHATTER!! EVERYTHING!! TO DUST!!!”

The pulse hit a high pitch, and the air distorted like reality itself was getting squashed.

The massive crystal, already sparking in preparation for the next shot, immediately cracked upon every facing at once. It trembled for a second, rattling on its base, and then exploded. The entire mass burst with a final thunderclap, showering the surrounding area with jagged, gleaming shards and plasma-hot sparks. The construct base, a huge stone dish with four ensorcelled legs for movement and eyes to detect enemies, split apart under the force of the blast and immediately collapsed into rubble.

The war golem next to it, already aiming at the small black bat pony, reeled back from the detonation. The crystal weapon on its own arm shuddered, cracked, and then also exploded in a burst of glassy shrapnel and electric arcs. Two more detonations boomed through the ravine, suggesting there were more weapons being held further from the ravine edge, but it was rather hard to make out the particular sounds among the hideous wail of the echo cannon unleashed.

“Fang, YES!! That was AWESOME!!” Nacht laughed as she toggled down the sonic pulses. “Why isn’t this a normal sett… huh?”

She frowned down at the echo cannon, which was still shrieking almost as loudly as before. It was also shaking with much greater intensity than usual, and it was wearing out her forelegs fast. Nacht pressed the safety switch to engage it, but this only changed the noise to an equally loud hum that rose and fell in a rapid, unsteady sequence.

“What’s with this thing?! Hey, Acolyte! Why won’t the cannon turn off?!” Nacht shouted.

“WHAT?!” Gears asked, still laying on the ground with his front hooves pressed over his ears. “NO, IT’S NOT TURNED OFF!! CAN’T YOU TELL?!”

“That’s not what I said! How does-” then the echo cannon exploded, cutting her off and hurling her into a stone spire.

Nacht struck the stone with enough force to crack it, and then bounced off to hit the jagged ground and roll across the width of the ravine. Chunks of sharp rock broke against her body, leaving small splashes of blood and bits of damaged armor along her path. Gear Works and Zariyah stared in horror as she slid to a stop, smoke wafting from her body and her wings extended crookedly. Dusk slapped a hoof over his face. Penumbra winced. The remaining Strider got up and turned on its highbeam lumens, cutting through the darkness now that the major threat had been defeated and illuminated the fallen mare.

Gloom whistled as he finally took his hooves off his ears. “Okay, so THAT’S why we don’t have them do that all the time. Makes sense.”

“I explained the safety procedures! Why didn’t she switch it off?!” Gears said in a panic. “Is she still alive?!” He started forward, accelerating to a gallop.

“Wait! Gears, stop!” Dusk shouted. “She’s okay! Get back!”

The Acolyte faltered in his pace, glancing back at Dusk. “Lieutenant, that degree of impact force could easily be lethal! Now that the battle is over we have to help her!”

A war golem dropped into the ravine, its huge, block-carved feet crushing flat the much softer stone below as it was illuminated by the Strider’s highbeam lumens. Its glowing yellow eyes locked on to Gears, and then it started lumbering forward. Its right arm was a mess of ruptured stone and jagged crystal, and while it was obviously less tactically useful without a proper lightning weapon, it was still large and solid enough to easily bludgeon a pony – or for that matter, a tank – to death.

Gear Works slid to a stop and whimpered, but didn’t immediately retreat. Nacht was still on the ground between him and the golem, and while he didn’t have a great deal of data on their behaviors he imagined the war construct would ensure the mare was dead.

Two more of the magic constructs dropped into the ravine after the first one. These ones were damaged in the same fashion as the first, with one arms shattered from the echo cannon’s last barrage. There were also a pair of Keepers clinging to their backs, one on each construct. The wiry, four-armed creatures obviously noticed Gears and the other ponies, but one pointed to Nacht and gripped its clawed hand into a fist, and then the war golem it was riding promptly changed course.

A fan of laser blasts sliced over Gear’s head, striking the advancing constructs, but other than the last Strider none of the other ponies moved to help or attack. Gear Works bolted forward anyway, thinking that the smallest pony of Dagger Squadron might be light enough for him to pick up with his servo arm and still escape.

Nacht twitched, a feral-sounding growl emerging from her throat. Then she rose, climbing upright while emitting a hideous scream.

“EeeeeeeEEEEYAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!” Nacht’s eyes had shrunk to pinpricks, and they twitched back and forth seemingly at random. She didn’t seem entirely aware of her surroundings, but with three war golems marching toward her, her head quickly swiveled to face them.

“Help her! Open fire! Cast that spell from before!” shouted the remaining Strider, his walker charging up another laser volley. The thestral stallions and the unicorn were watching the scene with either discomfort or resignation, but making no move to attack. Only the Dark Acolyte even seemed concerned.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Dusk responded, turning towards the walker, “can you pile on the other pilots and find your way back to a base? I don’t think your unit is mission capable anymore.”

The first war golem stepped up to Nacht, lifting its remaining fist to crush the injured mare. Nacht leapt directly at it while releasing another enraged shriek, and then slammed her hoof directly into the construct’s chest.

The golem’s body caved in immediately, the rock cracking and splintering before the entire body was blown backward. It crashed onto its back and slid to a stop, and a pulsing yellow light shined from the breached stonework of its torso.

The other war golems stopped when the Keepers riding them held up their hands, obviously startled.

“I think your squad lead might need some medical attention after the head exploded. He is alive, right?” Dusk asked, looking up at the Strider.

“Wha… Wha…” the scout walker wasn’t listening, staring over Dusk’s head and beaming its lumens onto Nacht as she leapt onto the damaged war golem. The voice of the pilot sputtered confusingly from its vox caster, unable to form the questions that the situation demanded.

“Well I’ll be a pickled petunia,” Gumball whistled as she watched Nacht hammer the enormous stone man with her tiny hooves. “That little one’s got some fire in her, doesn’t she?”

“I think these ones have something in them besides fire,” Zariyah offered, her eyes narrowing at Dusk.

The war golem shook under the impact of Nacht’s tiny hooves, cracks spreading across its chest and threatening to break its torso apart entirely. Nacht snarled incoherently, an insane, feral grin on her face as she pounded away. She didn’t seem to notice when the construct lifted its remaining hand, and didn’t try to evade when it grabbed her.

The golem closed its hand into a fist, squeezing with all the force its enchanted body could manage. Several cracking noises could be heard from the effort, but it sounded more like rock breaking than bones. The fist started trembling.

Then it burst apart, and Nacht broke free of the golem’s grasp with an angry screech. She landed on its head and then punched both front hooves into the dome, caving it in.

“Okay, seriously, time to go, guys,” Dusk Blade said, pointing a wing down the ravine. “Things are going to get pretty ugly from here on out, and you don’t want to have to walk all the way back through enemy territory on hoof, do you?”

“I, uh… but…” the remaining Strider hesitated, shifting its head toward the route Dusk suggested. The highbeam lumens slashed across the ground from the movement, briefly illuminating the ravine path before settling on Dusk again.

“No buts! Off you go!” Penumbra said cheerily, her ebon vector scooping the pack leader out of the headless wreck of his Strider.

The stallion – still alive but with burns across his flank – coughed painfully as he was carried into the air and dropped onto the back of the active walker. He made no complaint, nodding to the Moon Mage while he grimaced.

“Well, it was nice meeting you folks! Thanks for killing all the enemies for us!” Gumball Glade said happily while a tremendous crash came from another war golem. “Be careful out here!”

“Yes, fine, now go away. Your languid cheerfulness offends me,” Penumbra retorted, lifting Gumball up onto the Strider in same manner she had the lead pilot. “You too, Backfire! Off you go!”

“Spare me your sorcery, witch. I know how to ascend a battlesuit,” Zariyah spat, hopping up onto the walker’s leg and climbing up the small indents and cabling with impressive dexterity. The ebon vector slithering toward her withdrew, and as she reached the top Zariyah leaned back over the edge. “Farewell and good riddance. I will give our a commanders a full recounting of your incompetence.”

“Whatever! Byyyyye!” the Moon Mage said cheerfully, right before a war golem crashed through a pile of rubble and showered her with debris.

A startled neigh came from the Strider, and the pilots riding on top had to cling to its back while it finally whirled about and fled. Penumbra managed to stave off most the shrapnel pelting her by moving the ebon vectors to form a curved wall of force, but she was still spitting out gravel once the war golem lifted itself back up.

The Keeper – scuttling around the construct’s body like an insect to avoid getting crushed by its movements – pulled a small pod from its belt and tossed it to the ground. Then it quickly moved behind the golem’s arm, barely avoiding a burst of splinter fire that cracked against the construct’s damaged armor. The pod rolled along the ground for a second and then suddenly activated with a bright flash and a thundercrack, blasting Penumbra Shard with a ribbon of lightning.

The unicorn screamed in pain and confusion, her vision going white and muscles locking up. The golem shifted toward her to take advantage, but a screaming black body slammed into it and hurled it back to the ground.

“HRRRRYAAAAAAAAAA!!” Nacht braced her rear hooves against the golem’s body while attempting to wrap her forelegs around its arm and pull. The attempt seemed comical, as her short legs didn’t manage to reach halfway around the massive stone appendage.

It seemed less comical when the stone shuddered and cracked. Nacht tore the golem’s arm off and then lifted it up in the air, standing on her hind legs and wheezing. Then she swung the enormous limb into the golem’s head. Once, twice, and then thrice the carved stone was hammered together, breaches and cracks creeping through the construct with every impact.

The Keeper appeared behind Nacht, a dagger in one arm, and it attempted to punch it into the mare’s back. The blade cut through skin with ease, dug a few millimeters into the flesh below, and then… simply stopped, unable to puncture her body any further as blood seeped around the weapon’s edge. Nacht’s wing reached out behind her and slapped the creature aside, like it was trying to shoo away a fly. The Keeper went flying, hurled through the air by the impact and striking another pile of scorched stone debris.

The war golem used the brief distraction and slammed its damaged (but still attached) right arm down onto Nacht, aiming to crush her against its own chest. Its torso quivered and cracked from the impact, and the thestral mare shrieked in pain. It did not, however, physically impair her in the slightest.

Nacht lifted up the disembodied arm and then brought it down again, striking with even more power than before. The arm, the golem’s head, and much of the rock ground below it all ruptured from the impact, turning into jagged rubble.

“Wh… What is… happening here?” Gear Works asked, staring at the ridiculous combat from the middle of the ravine.

Another war golem ran past him, goaded on by the Keeper riding on its back. Two heavy, earth-shattering impacts later and the construct was sent rolling back the other way, the Keeper desperately sprinting to stay ahead of its erstwhile mount.

“Is this… the Element of Pain?” Gears asked, his optic lights narrowing.

“Well, DUH,” Gloom Fang said as he strolled over to the Acolyte. “You think Nacht is strong enough to break stone with her bare hoof?”

Dusk came up on Gear’s other side. “When she’s hurt badly enough she enters this berserk state and her strength increases exponentially. She’s stronger than a normal pony even without it, but once she’s wounded she’s on a whole other level.” He kept a more watchful eye on Nacht as the mare pounced on the war golem like an angry dog, taking it by the leg and swinging it into the wall of the ravine. “She’s also completely insane, so I’m gonna need you to stay behind me, buddy.”

Gears turned to look at him. “Insane? As in, she’ll attack anything she sees?”

“She has enough tactical instinct in her to focus on the things that hurt her first, but yeah, absolutely, she’ll try to kill us eventually. She’s like a rabid badger,” Dusk explained.

“So that’s why you’re not helping her,” the cyborg mumbled.

“Yes. Also it’s pretty funny to watch,” Gloom Fang said with a nasty giggle.

Nacht slammed her front hooves into the war golem again and again, smashing the construct against the wall of the ravine. It attempted to swat her away – quite an awkward motion both because of their respective sizes and from the damage – and the mare kicked its swinging hand instead, breaking it off and sending it hurtling off into the dark.

Suddenly a small lightning arc struck her from behind, and the black thestral shrieked in rage. She turned around, but her movements were sluggish and her muscles threatened to lock up.

A keeper stood several feet away, its head bloodied and one of its arms clearly broken and being held against its stomach. In one of its remaining good hands it held a sparking metal rod, its internals apparently spared from the earlier sonic assault. Another hand drew a dagger, but the creature’s small, dark eyes glanced at it dubiously and it fired another lightning bolt instead.

Nacht growled as the electric arc struck her, but she continued slowly advancing on the Keeper in fits and spasms, fighting against the paralysis in her legs. She didn’t get very far, however, before the war golem pulled itself out of the wall and brought a huge stone foot down on top of her. The ground underneath cracked from the impact, and an enraged, high-pitched shriek emerged from under the golem. It simply lifted its foot and stomped again, and the splits in the stone opened further.

“……” Gear Works looked back and forth at the other two stallions next to him.

“Still fine,” Dusk assured him.

“I think the Keeper is going to shoot her again,” Gears fretted, his ears pinning back.

“It’s the only thing they’ve tried that kind of works, so yeah, probably,” Gloom agreed, pulling off his mask to expose his lower eyes.

“If you weren’t going to help her, you could have spared a hoof for ME,” Penumbra Shard complained, approaching the stallions. Her mane and tail hair was sticking straight out, and the deadly magical tendrils of her ebon vector were busy trying to smooth it.

“You’re also fine,” Dusk said blandly, “AND you’re not in a berserker rage either.”

“A little concern would be nice! That grenade really hurt! What if some beast or magic weapon took advantage to strike me when I was stunned?”

“Only one way to find out,” the Lieutenant replied with a glib smirk under his mask.

Penumbra bristled and surely would have continued complaining, but a sudden gunshot caused her to jump slightly in surprise.

The galvanic rifle round ripped through the Keeper, pitching it backward onto a thick fan of blood. The lightning wand clattered onto the rocks and rolled away and the war golem suddenly hesitated, adjusting to some sort of intuition or programming established with its animating enchantment. This did not change its immediate strategy, and it proceeded to stomp onto the black bat pony three more times. Each impact pressed the mare slightly deeper into the rocky ground, but very noticeably didn’t flatten Nacht into a bloody stain.

The war golem stomped again, but this time its foot met a rather dainty hoof kicking up at it. The two met and the foot broke apart, shattering like an explosive had been driven into its sole.

“HRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!!” Nacht screamed as she staggered over to the reeling construct.

She slammed another hoof into its foot, throwing the golem end over end. Then she vaulted up while it was still in the air, spearing straight through its torso. The war golem burst apart from the impact, its remaining limbs flung in all directions and its magically inscribed body reduced to dust and pebbles.

Dusk whistled. “Wow. Don’t think I’ve ever seen her quite like this before. That must REALLY hurt!” He leaned over to Gears. “As far as we can tell, her strength increases the more pain she’s enduring. There’s kind of a plateau, I think, because it’s really hard to harm her in this state and there’s probably a practical limit to pain in general, but you get the picture.”

“Uh… that was… the last enemy golem,” Gears said anxiously. “Shouldn’t we be…?”

“Nah, it’s fine. We’ve got this,” Dusk assured him as Nacht stepped out of the curtain of dust.

The mare was a mess, with her hair blood-spattered and matted, her wings slightly crooked, and just about every plate of her armor damaged or completely broken off. Bloody drool leaked from between her bared fangs, and her breaths sounded heavy and difficult. Her eyes had become tiny pink pinpricks, glowing slightly under her haze of agony, and twitching ever so slightly from one new target to another.

“SSSSSHREEEEEEEEEEE!!!” Nacht broke into a run while loosing a feral shriek that had Gears wincing. Every touch of her hooves against the ground ruptured it, leaving a trail of tiny craters in her wake as she made a mad gallop directly for the stallions.

“Three. Two. One,” Dusk counted down, closing his eyes and also slapping his wing over Gear’s face.

A golden flash came from Gloom Fang’s lower eyes. Nacht immediately froze up, her legs locking into place, and then she tripped, tumbling over her own hooves and sliding to a stop in front of the other ponies. The injured mare laid rigidly on the ground, her body propped up on one wing like she was a figurine that had been tipped over.

“… Oh,” Gears remarked, his optic lights blinking down at the helpless mare.

“The poor dear,” Penumbra sighed, standing behind a very smug-looking Gloom. Her horn dimmed and then pulsed, and the ebon vector slipped back into the rocky ground as a new spell began. “Here, let me soo-”

Another gunshot rang through the night and Penumbra yelped in surprise, her spell fizzling as a bullet passed close enough to unsettle her mane. The Keeper that had been lunging at her from behind was cut down in an instant, its twin daggers clattering against the blood slick on the ground.

There was a moment of stunned silence, and then Dusk raised his wing to his ear.

“Oh, that reminds me. Need to turn down the noise dampers. Can barely hear a thing,” he said. “Nice shot, Neuro.”

The sniper shimmered into view nearby, her bright red eyes gleaming from beneath her hood. She mumbled something that was probably a thank you and kept searching the area.

“Are you all right, Miss Shard?” Gear Works asked. “It does not look as if the enemy made contact, but that must have been very jarring.”

“Y… Yes. Very jarring,” Penumbra agreed, quite bitter that only the tech-cultist seemed to care about her nearly being stabbed. Her horn lit up again. “ANYWAY, as I was saying: let me soothe your wounds, little mare. Blessings of the moon and grace of the shadows upon your weary body.”

A column of silvery light beamed down from above, swallowing Nacht’s enraged, quivering body. The various cuts sealed themselves, and Nacht’s labored breathing returned to something resembling normal. She was still fully paralyzed, however, and Dusk grimaced before checking the moon’s position in the night sky.

“Shard, you’re carrying Nacht until she breaks the paralysis,” the Lieutenant ordered.

“What? Why me?” the Moon Mage recoiled.

“Because it’s your fault we don’t have a Strider to carry our dead weight, obviously,” Dusk replied, glaring venomously at her. "Didn't I SAY it was important?!"

“You said that BACKFIRE was important, not the blasted machine! I said I was sorry, what more do you want from me?” the unicorn moaned. “The Acolyte blew up Nacht’s echo cannon! He’s also at fault here!”

“I told her how to keep it from blowing up, but she didn’t understand,” Gears sighed, “but for what it’s worth, I am also sorry for what transpired.”

“Don’t worry about it, Gears. You did your best, and it worked,” Dusk said with a tired smile. Then his eyes narrowed at Penumbra again. “Now let’s get a move on.”

“Can’t he just fix that Strider with the damaged leg?” Gloom Fang asked, picking Nacht up and spreading his wings to balance.

“No. It will take too long, especially now that we know there are Keeper kill teams just wandering around here looking for targets. Plus we don’t have a real pilot anymore,” Dusk explained. “Chop chop, ponies! We’re burning moonlight, here!”

Penumbra groaned as Gloom slung Nacht over her back. The thestral mare was still perfectly rigid, like a dead animal that had been stuffed by a taxidermist, and her partially extended wing forced Penumbra to duck her head out of the way. Gloom shifted Nacht slightly to help her stay in place, and then squinted into her eyes. The mare’s bright pink eyes had expanded and her pupils dilated, reacting to the minimal light levels in the area. While most of the muscles in a body were completely paralyzed under his gaze – the heart and lungs being important exceptions – the eyes could move and perceive more or less freely. When he moved away her gaze followed him, but as soon as Dusk trotted by her focus shifted.

“She’s looking much better now, actually. I think she’s back with us!” the four-eyed stallion said.

“Splendid. Can you un-paralyze her, then?” Penumbra asked.

“Ha! No!” Gloom Fang trotted away happily, following Neuron Dialect and the other stallions into the darkness of the ravine.

Author's Note

This chapter is WAY bigger than the others. I have to get back to under 1500 words per piece, yeesh.

(gif by KlaraPL, chapter art by Taiga Blackfield)

Carnage

Nightwatch – The Elements of Destruction
By SFaccountant

Chapter 7
Carnage

Ork outpost – designation epsilon 6
Geolocation ping 1.338072.21159

Spotlights cut through the darkness of the night from a pair of sentry towers, illuminating the corpse pile heaped outside the scrap-built walls of the base. Over a hundred Orks lay dead, riddled with various battle wounds, often dismembered, and already stripped of their former belongings. A constant line of Gretchen dragged even more bodies from the front gate of the palisade to the hill made of green, bloodied flesh, laboring with the intensity of slaves very recently and thoroughly terrorized. There were many boyz and Nobs among the fallen, and even a Warboss who had been mauled in an especially brutal fashion. A few defunct Killa Kans sat nearby, their front armor shredded and their cockpits pulped, but set apart from the dead to be recycled or repaired later.

Inside the palisade, dozens of bonfires lit the camp as a victorious warband celebrated its victory. Banners were torn down and bloodstained loot was sorted. Weapon, armor, teeth, bionik parts, and other recently liberated possessions were handed out or fought over. Many of the fires also cooked wooden spits that had been placed nearby, upon which were speared various Ork limbs that had been taken from the dead to feed the survivors.

Atop a stone crag overlooking the camp, a single bat pony mare slowly scanned the camp perimeter, a wing tip held to the side of a bulky night-vision visor. The device whirred quietly, its lenses extending and receding as necessary to focus. It zoomed in on a particularly large Ork, and then the green light of its optics pulsed softly, taking pict-captures for later review.

Then the mare kicked off the crag, flying away and swooping down behind a stone plateau further away from the camp. Waiting there was a group of other bat ponies, with Empyra sitting on her haunches at the front. Isabelle Bane was standing next to her, her face mostly hidden by a curtain of her oil-black mane, and behind her Beryl Blaster stood in full armor with an echo cannon slung across her back. A handful of other mares waited in an orderly row, their bodies loaded down with wargear: armor and blades and some guns, as well as numerous signum beacons.

“Took you long enough! What did you see, Butter Sly?” the Queen thestral demanded, her excitement palpable.

“The base is weakened. Many greenskins are dead. It seems there was a battle here yesterday,” the scout answered, her voice a gentle hiss.

“Oh? Who was the other side?” Empyra asked.

“Other Orks. It looks like one warband attacked and seized another’s camp. The victorious xenos are clearly settling in to the place while they divide up the spoils and dispose of the dead.” Butter’s snout wrinkled. “Part of the disposal appears to be butchering the defeated Orks and cooking them.”

“They’re cannibals too? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” Beryl sniffed.

“Of course they eat their fallen,” Empyra chuckled, “they’re not sentimental creatures, and meat is meat.” Her long tongue snaked out of her mouth, running over the razor edges of her teeth.

“Unsanitary,” Isabelle mumbled, looking away.

“Don’t be such a foal. You’re not the type to be squeamish about death and making good use of fresh corpses,” the larger mare sniffed.

“On that topic,” Butter Sly interjected, “most of their dead are heaped in a pile several meters from the outer wall on the East side. That’s where there’s the most activity, as the little ones are still hauling the bodies and other garbage.”

“Oh? A corpse pile?” Empyra stared at Isabelle, grinning maliciously. “Little Bell, do you think you could do something useful with that?”

Isabelle Bane tilted her head to one side so that her hair parted over her eye to look at Empyra. Then she nodded. “I need… some time. And…” she stopped to think. “…… Fragmentation grenades.”

“Spicy!” Empyra poked a wing toward another bat pony at random. “Get as many grenades as you can over here. Go!”

The mare snapped her wing up in salute and then darted away into the darkness, a gentle, high-pitched noise ringing from her throat to guide her path without making too much noise. Butter Sly frowned, staring at Isabelle, and then shifted the scouting goggles up onto her forehead.

“My Queen, how will we do this? As I said, the corpse pile is seeing the most activity right now. Are we to wait until the victors fall asleep?”

“No, that could take all night,” Empyra sniffed. “Give me that ‘vox’ thing so I can speak to the apes with the big guns. The hunters will sneak up to the perimeter and place the beacons on the walls, all around the camp. Activate them and withdraw. Once the fort is being smashed with artillery, the alert won’t matter.” She turned her head over her shoulder. “Beryl, have our guns surround the base and hold vigil. Kill anything that attempts to flee past the walls.”

Most of the mares bowed and darted away into the darkness. Beryl Blaster nodded and then launched into the air to complete her own task. Butter winced, her ears pinning back.

“Can we trust the humans to be that… accurate?” she mumbled, approaching the larger thestral. “We’re not as far from this camp as we were from that convoy.” She glanced up at the moon and squinted, as if expecting to see munitions streaking past it any second.

“Don’t be such a coward. This is war, not an undercavern skirmish or bug hunt,” Empyra cackled. “Now push the buttons and give me the headset.”

Butter gave a final reluctant sigh and tapped her wing tip against the disc-shaped armaplas device on her ear. After a few seconds she found the right frequency, and then her wing hooked around the headset to pull it off and hand it to her superior.

Empyra snatched it up with her own wing and held it up to her snout. “Humans! Can you hear me? Is this device working?”

There was some static and thumping that came from the headset, and Empyra’s ears twitched in annoyance. Butter Sly carefully reached over and turned the vox receiver around so that it was pointing at her Queen, which would make further communication easier.

“This is… This is Beta Point fire control. Ugh. What is it now?” The voice on the other end had clearly been woken from his sleep, and was struggling to speak around a deep yawn.

“Good evening, ape! I have sent my warriors to surround an Ork base with artillery beacons. You are to annihilate all the space between them with your weapons so we may slay the survivors. Is this clear?”

There was a long pause. “… Aren’t you on a recon mission? This is the third artillery strike your battle group has requested.”

“I find reconnaissance is easier and more helpful when we can simply report that the foe is dead,” Empyra snarled. “Are you going to fire or not?”

A groan came from the other end, followed by the sound of several clicks and the hum of machinery starting up. “Copy that, Artema cogitators engaged and ready to lock on to your designator signum. I’ll get the lads up and the tubes loaded. What spread pattern do you want?”

“Big,” Empyra decided firmly.

“… We did a lot of training with your mares, there has to be SOMEONE there who’s read the karking tacticae primer.”

“Stop WHINING and start SHELLING. We’ll contact you again to tell you when to stop.” Empyra growled and tossed the headset back to Butter, who carefully caught it with her bright blue wings. “Bring the rest of the cauldron. The assault begins with the thunder of the apes’ guns, but it will end with fresh blood on our hooves and more meat for tomorrow evening.”

Butter Sly bowed and galloped away, quickly taking flight and vanishing into the gloom. Empyra took a deep breath of the cold, dry air, her crimson eyes lingering on the half moon looming overhead. Her coat bristled, and she felt saliva pooling in her jaws at the prospect of imminent bloodshed.

Isabelle shuddered.

“What’s the matter, witch? We stand on the cusp of another great victory and you look like a beaten puppy,” Empyra approached and loomed over the unicorn, red eyes gleaming and ropes of drool slowly spilling between razor-edged teeth. “Are you not pleased to be serving the Lords of Chaos? Do you not desire to wield your powers against the alien filth that’s infested our homeworld?”

Isabelle cringed away, her eyes searching the ground. “I… do want to. Yes.”

Empyra’s wing touched her chin and pulled her head up, forcing the Moon Mage to stare into the eyes of the Queen of the Bloodborne.

“Are you afraid of me?” Empyra asked, grinning.

Isabelle hesitantly nodded.

“Good.” The larger mare released the unicorn, chuckling. “You should be. But I expect you to face the greenskins with more nerve. Prepare your wretched magics, my little Bell. The killing begins at last!”

Badlands
ERROR: Pathing augur malfuction detected… Geolocation failure

“I still can’t believe you blew up my echo cannon,” Nacht seethed.

“I told you how to turn it off! You don’t know where the primary power toggle is?” Gear Works protested.

“Of course I know that, idiot! I just didn’t really pick that up when it was listed after all that nonsense about… resonance and… high or low… stuff.”

“Far be it from me to tell the soldiers how to do their job, but I do wish you all had greater technical proficiency with your wargear.”

Nacht let out a feral growl and jumped up, flying over Gears in preparation to pounce and bite him.

“Nacht, cool it,” Dusk Blade said firmly. “I know you’re mad but it’s not Gear’s fault.”

“It’s a little his fault!” Nacht retorted, still hovering over the cyborg pony.

“No, it wasn’t. He made a plan and it worked. You didn’t follow through and now your weapon is destroyed. Leave him alone,” the Lieutenant ordered, his amber eyes narrowing.

Nacht fumed visibly, and her muzzle scrunched up while she glared at the Dark Acolyte. Her armor was a complete shambles, with several plates missing and the remainder cracked and filthy. Blood had stained her hair, tail, and wings, adding a bit more terrible color to her solid black coat. Her mask and visor were gone, both of them crushed by a golem’s foot and abandoned.

The group trudging through the badlands at night was otherwise in good condition. Neuron Dialect walked apart from the others, her ears pivoting frequently to detect possible threats. Gloom Fang and Penumbra Shard walked near the rear of the group, while Dusk and Gear Works were at the front.

“While I sympathize deeply at the loss of your weapon, you seem agitated about more than that,” Gears noted.

“Of course I am!” Nacht growled. “Do you think it’s FUN getting blown up, electrocuted, and stomped by a huge stone monster?! It fanging sucks!”

“Well, no, I don’t think it’s fun. Not at all,” Gears mumbled. “It’s unclear how much effect that really had on you, though.”

“It affected me PLENTY, tin-for-brains!” the diminutive mare shouted. “I may be unkillable or whatever when I’m like that, but it doesn’t dull ANYTHING! I felt every single thing they did to me! I ache everywhere!”

Gears glanced over to Dusk. “Is she really unkillable?”

The Lieutenant snorted. “How would we know? We don’t really get to experiment with her power the way we can with the rest of us. Mostly because she can and will kill us in that state, but also because she throws a fit just like this every time it happens so studying it is just a huge hassle.”

“Although it actually did look kinda fun taking those golems apart like that with your bare hooves,” Gloom Fang chuckled.

“Well, I hate it, okay?! I hate pain! I don’t care if it makes me stronger!” Nacht seethed, whirling around in the air to face the purple stallion. “I hate the sensation of spiraling out of control! I hate what it does to my senses! I hate that I can’t think straight or recognize any of you!” She started blinking away tears, although between the darkness and her night-black coat even Penumbra’s magic vision struggled to make them out. “And now… And now the stupid pony cyborg and even those idiots in the Striders know about it,” she let out a sob and rubbed her eyes with her front hooves.

“Oh, Nacht, I’m so sorry,” Penumbra cooed, trotting up faster and beckoning to the thestral mare. “Come here, darling.”

Nacht dove into a hug with the Moon Mage, sniffling pathetically as she buried her face into Penumbra’s chest. The unicorn stroked her head tenderly, and then wrapped her in a deep hug. Gear Works felt his circulatory engine stutter at the display of tenderness and vulnerability between the two most hostile and unpleasant mares in their task force, but the other bat ponies weren’t so easily moved.

“When you’re done sobbing like a filly, catch up with us,” Dusk said, not slowing his walk. “I’ll give you my splinter rifle so you have something to shoot with, since being as useful as you were back in the ravine is too inconvenient.”

Nacht winced. Penumbra couldn’t help but smile at the Lieutenant’s coldness, but she gave the smaller mare a comforting pat on the back as they separated, and then a gentle peck on the white star tattooed to Nacht’s forehead. Then the mares headed forward again, although Nacht’s pace was sluggish.

“Don’t be too hard on the poor dear. Her power is untamed, and its potential unknown,” the Moon Mage mused.

“Then one of you should DO SOMETHING about it,” Dusk growled. “Have you ever thought about what we’re going to do with these powers now that the Nightmare is gone? It’s not like we can just spit up the magic fruit. We’re going to be like this for the rest of our lives.”

“However long that is,” Neuron interjected. “Although for Nacht it’s probably longer than the rest of us.”

“The Company is going to find out about us sooner or later. They’ve been studying me for a while and I know they’ve had their eyes on Neuro too. They think Gloomy’s eyes are just a mutation, but I’m pretty sure they’ve noticed he sometime breaks off from the unit and then an entire Ork mob is found dead an hour later.”

Gloom Fang furrowed his brow. “Wait, how would they know about the Eyes of Malice?”

“You go through regular medical scans, Gloomy.”

“Yeah, but I always close the Malice eyes for those, so they can’t tell.”

Dusk stared at him silently through the darkness for a few seconds, and then sighed in exasperation. “Yeah, okay. The upshot here is that the Iron Warriors are going to know about our powers sooner rather than later, and we should probably have a plan for that. All Striders have active vid-recorders with low-light filters, so soon they’ll have clear footage of Nacht decking a war golem and they’re going to have some questions.”

Nacht cringed, her ears pinned back and her head hanging down while she trudged along. Penumbra clicked her tongue, a rather severe expression crossing her face. In the heat of the moment, it had not occurred to the Moon Mage to disable ALL the Striders they were making contact with, and she wasn’t sure she could have gotten away with such a thing.

“Be careful what you tell them,” the Moon Mage warned. “It may be that you cannot hide your power from the humans any longer, but they’re quite familiar with such things. Strange magic, mutations, and unnatural techniques are not rare among the scions of Chaos.” She glowered at Gear Works. “However, if they were to learn these powers were manufactured by exploiting and researching the natural magics of this world, we can all look forward to a thorough interrogation, at the very least.”

“You sound nervous,” Dusk Blade observed blithely.

“You should be too,” Penumbra hissed, her eyes gleaming turquoise in the darkness. “If they know the Moon Mages created such a weapon, I don’t expect they’ll believe me when I tell the story of how that knowledge was lost. But when they ultimately fail to get it out of me, they’ll try to get it out of YOU.”

Gloom Fang arched an eyebrow. “But… we don’t know much about how the Elements were created. We just ate them.”

“Yeah. So how do you think they’re going to look for that information once it’s clear we’re not being helpful?” Dusk asked the other stallion dryly.

Gloom looked confused for a few seconds, and then all four of his eyes widened in realization, accidentally pushing his mask off. “OH. Oh, no. Okay, good point, I getcha.”

The distant crash of artillery suddenly echoed through the night.

“What the hay is that?” Gloom Fang asked in alarm, suddenly standing ramrod straight with his wings spread.

Neuron Dialect’s ears twitched. “Earthshaker impacts. Ours.” She paused as several more booming noises cut through the darkness. “We’re bombarding someone.”

“Guano! That’s where the base is that we’re looking for, isn’t it?!” Dusk cursed, speeding up. “What’s going on? Who called in an artillery strike?”

“Sounds like a LOT of them, too,” Nacht remarked. The detonations had stopped briefly only to pick up again with even more impacts.

“All the Lunar Guard recon teams were equipped with artillery signum transponders if I recall the mission strategis correctly,” Gear Works added. “Dagger Squadron presumably got some too, probably taken by the half of your unit that is fulfilling the actual mission.”

“Come on, double time! We need to get to that drill rig before it’s wrecked!” Dusk commanded. “Let’s go!”

Ork outpost – designation epsilon 6
Geolocation ping 1.338072.21159

The battle began, as so many did, with a mysterious whistle and then an ear-shattering explosion.

The Orks were taken completely by surprise, many of them eating, marveling at new loot, or already sleeping when the first shell landed and flattened a bonfire. The roaring fire and haphazard stack of wood was flattened in an instant, and the shock wave promptly pulverized or knocked over a dozen Orks besides. Bits of flaming wood were hurled across the camp, and a geyser of dirt and ash leapt into the starlit sky before receding back to the ground.

A moment of stunned silence hung over the base as the noise of the detonation receded.

And then, all at once, a raucous roar came from the alien raiders.

A whistling sound from above heralded the arrival of more earthshaker artillery, but the Orks all but ignored them even as the next string of explosions crushed an entire mob that had been collecting their weapons. The greenskins were surprised and no orders had been given, but every boy instinctively knew what to do in this situation. They took up their guns, grabbed whatever ammunition was at hand, and then dashed eagerly over the smoking craters and shredded remains of their comrades.

A new fight had arrived.

“Oi, weh’s da sen-treez?! Dey’z nappin’?!”

“Down da rohd! Get da Trukks, ya dumm gitz!”

“Sumwun git sum lite ‘rown heah! I can’t see nuffin’!”

Another cluster of shells slammed into the camp, annihilating another mob of greenskins and demolishing a larger building near the palisade edge. One of the shells landed close enough to the wall to blast a hole in it, and the flash from the explosion briefly illuminated an equine shape galloping away through some desiccated trees. A few seconds later Orks started running through the smoke, flooding through the break in the palisade. Many fired blindly into the darkness, trying to flush out the scouts that had evidently marked their camp for bombardment. Others simply sprinted toward the rock outcroppings that surrounded the base, trying to escape the artillery barrage and hoping they might spy an enemy along the way.

A sharp and rising whine came from the shadows, and several magenta and green lights pulsed.

The Orks were immediately hammered by several echo cannons at once, the air seeming to simply explode around them. Those who weren’t pulverized were knocked to the ground, dazed, with their eyes watering and ears bleeding. Still the greenskins surged forward toward the enemy, some on hands and knees.

One of them glimpsed the illuminated machinery of an echo cannon under a rock spire and pulled himself to his feet. The warrior howled a war cry and charged, his slugga pistol bucking wildly in his hand as he fired in the general direction of the glow. He could barely hear a thing over the ringing in his ears and the next barrage of artillery landing on the camp, but still the mere energy of war electrified him and granted strength to bruised muscles and fractured bone.

A large shadow suddenly soared overhead, crossing the face of the moon. The Ork hesitated for a moment, craning his neck up to look, and then promptly received a hoof to his face that threw him to the ground.

Empyra landed atop the alien and promptly bit its throat out. Blood splashed across her legs and chest and oozed down her neck, and she swallowed the wad of raw, waxy meat with a sadistic grin.

“You want battle, barbarians? You want war? Here it is! Have your fill!!” the bat pony crowed.

Dozens more Orks met her declaration with a defiant roar, scrambling over the bodies of their dead and firing their sluggas at the unusually large equine. Empyra reared up with a horrifying shriek, a battle cry that – much like her challenge – was mostly lost among the deafened aliens. A few slugga rounds connected, punching through thickened muscle or tearing holes in the skin of her wings. The heavy-caliber munitions staggered the mare well enough that the first boy to reach her sunk his choppa into her shoulder without great difficulty, and then he clubbed her over the head with his sidearm.

Empyra struck the Ork with a wing, and then bit into his arm, dragging him to the ground. Her hoofblades sliced into him and she started to tear the warrior apart, but two more reached her and attacked her in the back. Their choppas hacked into the thestral while she killed her first target; one struck the strange, ragged cape and bounced off harmlessly, but the other struck near the joint of her wing and cleaved it off entirely.

Empyra punched her claws into the Ork beneath her and ripped off his arm with a pained grunt. Then she whipped around, slapping one of the other attackers with the dismembered limb. Another Ork slammed his choppa into her flank, and then another attacker jumped onto her back.

Choppas rose and fell, sluggas thundered at point-blank range, and blood splashed across the ground. The Orks laughed, hooted, and howled as they piled onto the pony, but as she threw them off and stabbed another warrior they couldn’t help but notice that she seemed to be growing. Cuts shrank and closed, bullet holes filled up with blood and then new flesh, and a new wing had already sprouted from the stump of the last one and was getting bigger. The mare too was getting larger more generally, and her swipes and kicks started tearing Orks apart with every impact rather than merely staggering them. Bony spikes emerged from the back of her neck and along her spine, and her teeth – already quite large and viciously sharp – lengthened unevenly, making her jaws look like rows of uneven blades.

But more importantly, the pony simply wasn’t dying.

Empyra bucked a Nob in the head, breaking his iron gorget and the similarly hard bone underneath. She cut down a boy with the claw of her wing, and then smashed her forehead into the nose of another. This last strike was by far the least effective, barely pushing the alien back, but it gave Empyra enough room to leap upward and hover above the mob.

Her body was riddled with bullets and cuts, her coat matted with blood, and her crimson eyes quivered and resized constantly with a series of insane twitches. Despite her inexplicable regeneration the damage still hindered her, and her vision swam as her pulse thundered in her ears and her wing muscles strained. She filled her lungs and then released a shrill, high-pitched shriek through the bloody haze that clouded her senses.

The echo cannons fired again, and ten devastating sonic waves converged and crashed into the greenskin horde in a crescendo that fully swallowed the noise of the artillery barrage. Orks were sent hurtling through the air or collapsed into twitching heaps. Even those who kept their footing were knocked completely senseless, unable to hear or see and barely able to breathe over the ringing in their skulls and the tremors in their bones.

Empyra was hardly unaffected by the blast at such proximity, but as he ear drums collapsed and her eyes threatened to burst she turned to her other senses. With a brief sniff she fixed on the location of the largest, hardiest greenskin below her, and new strength surged into her ragged, blood-stained wings. She dove directly onto a dazed Nob, punching her hoofblades into his chest and hurling him to the ground.

Instinct served the Nob well enough to punch back as he was pinned, and he seized Empyra’s leg with his power klaw. The machinery hissed and the klaw blades closed, burning through corded muscle and splintering the bone beneath. Arcs of electricity lashed over the talons, boiling away the blood gushing from the wound.

Empyra’s maw opened, stretching like a snake’s, and then closed on the Ork’s head and crushed it like a soda can. With a brief twisted of her neck the greenskin was decapitated, and his klaw fell to the ground limp. The thestral kicked away a stray warrior behind her, launching him into the air while she gulped down her mouthful. Her eyes quickly returning to focus and she spotted another Ork nearby, facing away from her and dizzily reloading his shoota. In an instant she was on top of the new victim, leaping with her intact leg to punch her talons into his back. She howled in delight as she dragged the alien to the dirt, and then stamped a hoof on his leg to cripple her chosen victim.

The thestral queen was huge now, bigger than a Warboss and with a bulging, dragon-like body with numerous bony, backward-curving spines. Her magic cape still lashed about between her wings in the wind, but it was comically small compared to her current bulk and its abilities were all but forgotten in her blood frenzy. She ripped the Ork beneath her in two and then immediately rounded on another, her jaws snapping off some third of the warrior in a single bite. She swallowed the raw meat and then swatted the dying Ork away with a wing, sending him hurtling through the air as more blood washed down her neck and chest.

The Element of Carnage lifted her head and roared in ecstasy, her war cry echoing through the cold desert night.

“Oi! OI!! Stopp wokkin’ inta da ‘sploshuns, ya dumm gitz! Folla me!”

A Warboss in badly dented mega armor trudged through the flaming debris that used to be a bunkhouse, his enormous metal boots crushing the detritus and odd corpse flat to make a path. Hot smoke billowed about him in vast, swirling columns, and shootas rattled wildly as boys fired off bursts into the dark mostly at random. A whistling sound from above heralded another trio of earthshaker shells, but the massive Ork didn’t break stride. He lumbered to the blazing, shredded gates of the outpost while deafening explosions burst well behind him, flattening another building and some number of Gretchen cowering within.

“Oi! I see sumfin!” the Warboss announced as he shouldered his way through the broken gate. There were shapes moving through the dark, and some kind of weird, gloomy light speeding back and forth behind them.

The biggest of the Orks pounded his chest plate with his power klaw and readied his big shoota, aiming into the pitch darkness that had been previously illuminated by the (now destroyed) watch towers. “SHO YASEFF, YA GIT!! AHM WARBOSS KRAKKIT, N’ DEEZ’R MY DIGZ NOW!! IF YA WANEM, GIT OVAH HEAH N’ TAYK ‘EM!!”

A Burna Boy following in Krakkit’s wake hurled an incendiary bottle over the Warboss’s head. It struck the dirt and blossomed into a small patch of flame, providing a small radius of illumination. Immediately the mob could make out many of the figures shambling through the dark toward them, and they were quite surprised to find that they were Orks. The surprise was not so much that a greenskin would attack a fort belonging to their kin – obviously they had done the exact same thing all too recently – but rather that they had already killed these particular Orks once before.

“Wooouaaah,” rasped a green-skinned corpse, clothed only in a bloodied loincloth and lurching past the patch of fire. Its left arm had been removed at the shoulder, and its gut was shredded by gunfire. Its remaining hand was gripping something tightly, and its head lolled to one side as it shuffled toward the warriors.

“Wot da zogg?” Krakkit asked, his eyes narrowing. “OI!! WOTCHU TINK YOOZ DOIN’, YA DUMM GIT!! YA’Z DED ARREDY!!” the Warboss raged before opening fire.

The burst of gunfire cut up from the ground and over one leg, sending most of the ammunition into the dirt but still sawing the zombie’s leg apart. It stumbled and fell limply into the dirt, and its grip loosened. A mottled gray cylinder rolled out onto the dirt, leaving a trail of sticky gore behind it. Most of the Orks were spreading out and shooting into the other corpses slowly shambling into the light, but Krakkit’s eye lingered on the cylinder.

The fragmentation grenade exploded, sending shrapnel scything into the immediate area. Of course, at that range the only thing around to get hit were other zombies, which took the hot shards of metal unflinchingly. Krakkit recoiled and pointed his klaw at the dozen or so undead greenskins walking into the crossfire.

“DEY’Z GOTZ HUMIE BOMMS!! DA ZOG DEY LOOT DAT?! DEY’Z DED!!”

The other Orks hesitated only briefly at this puzzle before shrugging it off and returning to the fray. Muzzle flash cast bright, shuddering light against the wave of lurching zombies as they advanced into the gale of bullets, and one by one the green corpses fell again. Each time the shredded bodies collapsed onto the ground a fragmentation grenade with pin removed would bounce from their lifeless hand and roll across the dirt, exploding seconds later. For the most part this just harmed the other Ork zombies, but as the shambling mob closed the distance a few of the live greenskins started getting hit by the shrapnel.

“Oi, dis lot ain’t da wun dat bring da big boomas!” pointed out a Burna Boy as he began blowing out a stream of fire onto the dead mob. “Kill ‘em all an’ lezz-”

A screeching sound from above interrupted him, and then a huge black bird riddled with veins of purple – almost invisible in the shroud of night – crashed into the Burna Boy, knocking him to the ground and sinking its talons into him. The Orks scattered in surprise, and then watched in bafflement as the enormous raven took off again and carried their fellow Ork away.

Looking up, Warboss Krakkit saw another of the strange birds swooping down at him, the purple light of its eyes streaking through the darkness. With roar he opened up with the big shoota, his arm shuddering from the recoil. A few bullets ripped into the monster’s wings, slowing its dive, but still the creature landed on the Ork. Its talons shrieked as they scraped against the mega armor, and the daemonic raven stabbed its beak toward the Warboss’s head.

Krakkit caught the beast by the neck, his power klaw sinking through black feathers and false flesh while it struggled. Arcs of energy crackled around the klaw, and then Krakkit slammed the creature into the ground.

“Ha! Dat wot ya git, git!” Krakkit cheered, stomping the bird to death.

An explosion came from off to the side, and a few pieces of shrapnel scraped against his armor. The Ork zombies were still being cut down at a good pace, but a few were getting close enough now to attack directly. The undead didn’t throw the grenades they carried; presumably that was beyond their limited physical ability or programming. Instead they dropped the explosive whenever one of them was destroyed, leaving it to blast shrapnel into whoever was nearby.

“Fite HARDA, ya grot-luvin’ squig stayns!” Krakkit bellowed, gunning down an undead Ork and then tearing another in two with his power klaw.

A pair of grenade detonations came a few seconds later, sending hot shrapnel scraping against Krakkit’s leg armor. The Ork ignored it, shouting and laughing and smashing another green zombie into a bloody paste.

Something small rushed past him, briefly illuminated by some muzzle flash. He didn’t get a good look, but it stood out better in the darkness for having a lighter color. As another of the massive black birds descended on him, Krakkit dismissed whatever it was and got back to the business of fighting, filling the air with burst fire and laughing.

“C’mere burdee! I’z in da mood fer chikkin!” howled the alien, his arm shaking and the barrels of his big shoota glowing red-hot. The daemonic beast was rapidly torn to shreds as it got closer, crumbling into a stream of black feathers and purple dust.

Stopping behind the Warboss, Isabelle Bane glanced back and forth to make sure the other Orks were too busy fighting to notice her. Then she reached out and tapped the back of Krakkit’s armor, her horn flashing with a pulse of purple light.

The Ork’s heart promptly stopped beating. Isabelle back away, slinking into the darkness and away from the sounds of combat.

“WAAAAH HAAA HAA… haaa… huh.” Krakkit let his big shoota rest, his breaths becoming shallow and strained. “Dat… Dat ain’t fee roiht,” he grumbled.

A zombie lumbered up to him, groaning pitifully while reaching out with its bloodied hands (one still tightly gripping an armed grenade, of course). Krakkit seized the abomination around the waist with his power klaw and snipped the corpse in two.

The zombie’a grenade fell to the ground and a few seconds later it exploded, once again battering the Warboss’s leg armor with scything metal fragments. Krakkit flinched, feeling the noise of the explosion ring in his head in a way the sounds never had before. His eyes watered, and he blinked repeatedly to try to clear them.

“Oi… Yoo… Yoo gitz…” the armored Ork staggered toward his soldiers, raising his big shoota. “Ah’m… not feelin’ too… fighty…”

A zombie latched onto his power klaw, pulling at it and grasping with its free hand for any exposed flesh.

“Git da… Da painboy.” Krakkit’s voice rasped as another undead Ork grabbed onto a loose cable on his back and another started reaching for his face. “I’z gonna… ly… jus… nap a liddel… wayk me wen… we’z wun…”

Krakkit’s eyes fluttered closed, and he slowly keeled over into the grasping hands and gnashing teeth of his dead victims.

Badlands
ERROR: Geolocation cipher classified above current security registry. Proximity augury disengaged.

“Talk to me, Neuro. What are we looking at?” Dusk Blade asked. “Do you have eyes on the camp?”

“Yes,” Neuron Dialect replied, perched behind a stone crag and peeking over the top. “What’s left of it. That’s a surprisingly heavy bombardment pattern considering the apparent defenses.”

“Not great,” Dusk groaned, his ears flipping down.

“Well it at least means there are fewer Orks to clear out now, right?” Gloom Fang asked.

Neuron’s eyes rotated and the scanning lenses shifted, whirring softly under her hood. Zooming in on the base of one of the huge smoke plumes that stretched into the sky, she spied a shape walking out of the camp’s ruins while dragging a larger body behind it. A few more seconds of observation confirmed it.

“There are no more Orks to clear out,” Neuron corrected her squadmate. “The base has been assaulted and seized.”

“What? Why?” Dusk asked, perplexed. “This was a recon mission, there shouldn’t be any assaults yet.”

“Maybe someone else has a secret mission like we do?” Gloom Fang considered.

Neuron suddenly hissed and pressed herself tight to the rock spire. Dusk, Gloom, and Nacht all responded by dropping to the ground and remaining absolutely still. Penumbra Shard and Gear Works didn’t understand at first, but carefully and quietly did the same.

A few seconds later an echoing screech pierced the darkness, and a pair of bat ponies flew overhead. A patrol. Perhaps to guard against infiltrators, but just as likely seeking any greenskins that fled the attack. The mares stopped directly over the group and released another screech, the sound overlapping with the earlier pulse to detect any signs of movement. The pair had low-light optics, but they didn’t stop to study the area further. A few more seconds and they were gone, their periodic shrieks rapidly becoming more distant.

Neuron Dialect dropped down to the ground and slunk over to Dusk Blade. “Lieutenant. The mare I spotted outside the base… she had a drawing on her armor, on the hip cover. A cluster of grapes, I think. I spied a coiled white snake on one of the patrol mares just now, too.”

Gloom furrowed his brow. “Weird squadron markers.”

“That’s not a squad symbol, idiot, those are cutie marks,” Nacht hissed. “The ponies that have them like to paint them on their armor. And that means these ponies are…”

“Bloodborne. Great,” Dusk slapped a wing over his face.

“… What exactly does that mean for our current objective? What’s wrong with Bloodborne?” Gears asked.

“I have no idea, honestly. Which is itself a problem,” the Lunar Lieutenant grumbled. “Any other bat pony squad or tribe I would know what we’re getting into, but these mares are… different.”

He grimaced and walked over to Gear Works. “Gears, can you help take off my ballistics brace and attach it to Nacht? She’s going to need a weapon.”

The Dark Acolyte wordlessly complied, his servo arm lifting Dusk’s foreleg while smaller tools emerged from his augmetic hoof.

“You’re going to stay here with Nacht and Neuro and try to observe us from hiding,” Dusk ordered as the brace and the attached splinter rifle came loose. “If things get bad, you guys run and find a place to hide. Gloomy, Shard, you’re with me.”

“I am at your service, Lieutenant,” Penumbra purred, sidling up next to the stallion eagerly.

“Don’t Bloodborne hate Moon Mages, though?” Gloom Fang asked as he peeked out from the outcropping.

“We don’t KNOW, Gloomy. Nopony in our regiment spends time chatting up Queen fanging Empyra to check if her clan’s ancient grudges are still valid,” Dusk growled. “But if we have to fight or make a break for it, you, me, and Shard have the best shot at taking them by surprise after we’ve already announced ourselves. Clear?”

Gloom Fang nodded and slipped his mask up into place, covering up his mouth and lower eyes.

Dusk Blade took a deep breath. “All right, let’s do this.”

Dusk stepped out from behind the outcropping, squared his shoulders, and marched forward. Gloom Fang flanked his right side, while Penumbra trailed behind the stallions, her gaze fixed on Dusk’s rear end. Dusk released a short, high-pitched squeak from the back of his throat, allowing him and Gloom to map the immediate path ahead with their echolocation.

The sound wasn’t intended to alert the Bloodborne, but evidently the mares were vigilant. Within seconds Dusk heard wings beating above them. Small lights from optics visors glinted in the shadows from nearby rocks, wreckage, and smoke plumes. Soon the trio was mostly surrounded, more than a dozen bat ponies quietly stalking around them in a wide circle while they advanced.

“… Shard? Give us some light, would you? I don’t think anypony’s going to manage hiding here; may as well see what we’re dealing with,” Dusk ordered.

Penumbra’s horn lit up, summoning a sphere of turquoise magic that illuminated the immediate area like a large lamp. The Bloodborne mares recoiled and a few hissed at being exposed, but none made any aggressive moves or sought to back away into the darkness. Dusk slowed to take a look around, checking what kind of armament the ponies had.

A few of them carried echo cannons, and those mares kept slightly behind the others as they studied the newcomers. Most of the warriors had melee weapons, however. Dusk noted that several had heavy greaves that acted as shields and hid deployable sword blades. They were bulky, melee-focused weapons that made the use of a ballistic weapon all but impossible unless one could shoot with just one’s wings. Which some thestrals could, but it was an unpopular skill.

A loud, dominating screech came from above, and the newcomers cringed while another bat pony dropped down from above. She landed several feet in front of Dusk Blade, her large wings and considerable mass blasting a shock wave of dust around her. Whereas none of the other mares were familiar to the trio, they all recognized this pony immediately.

Queen Empyra of the Bloodborne lifted her head, staring down at the three smaller ponies. Her cape, still ragged and dirty from the battle, whipped about in the air behind her, as if captured in a wind nopony else could feel. She didn’t appear to be wearing any armor or other accessories, and Dusk spent a moment studying her cutie mark – a blood-colored moon wreathed in clouds – before he looked up into her eyes.

Empyra smiled, her lips parting over rows of sharp teeth still stained with blood. “Hello, friends,” she greeted, her tongue snaking out of her mouth to lick her lips. “Who might you be, to find yourself all the way out here on this auspicious evening?”

Dusk’s ears flipped down, but otherwise he kept his expression stalwart. “I’m Lieutenant Dusk Blade, of Dagger Squadron. We heard the artillery fire and came to investigate,” he reported.

“Then you may receive my report,” Empyra replied, her tone sounding amused. “The Ork camp has been destroyed. The warriors within have been slaughtered. This base is now mine.”

Dusk chewed his lip briefly as he decided on his next words, but Gloom Fang was not nearly so thoughtful.

“You guys know that you’re on a recon mission, right? You’re not supposed to kill the enemy, just find them and tell the humans about it,” the larger stallion explained.

Empyra chuckled lightly as she started circling the three ponies, her eyes studying Dusk and Gloom extensively in the light of Penumbra’s magic.

“I don’t like leaving the fun part to the apes,” she said smugly, steam blasting from her nostrils. “This camp posed no great danger, so we destroyed it. I doubt the soldiers of Chaos will begrudge me for claiming this field for the Bloodborne.”

“Okay, but let’s say there was actually something real important here that they DIDN’T want blown up. You know, just as a random example,” Gloom retorted. Dusk slapped a wing over his eyes. “It would have been way more helpful in that case to just let them know about the camp and the number of Orks, right?”

Empyra cocked her head to the side, staring down at the lavender stallion with a predatory smile. “You’re very dumb and very pretty. I like you.”

“Thanks! I get that a lot,” Gloom Fang said, looking a bit smug as he dusted off his chest armor. “You’re not really my type, though.” Dusk and Penumbra groaned.

“You’re here for something other than checking out the fireworks, so out with it,” Empyra demanded, her eyes darting from pony to pony. “What do you want?”

Penumbra cleared her throat lightly. “We’re not here for-”

“You. Moon Mage,” Empyra interrupted, her voice much harsher than before. “You are dismissed. There’s another of you wretched unicorns, Isabelle Bane, in a broken hut on the West side doing profane things with a Warboss’s bones. Go scheme with her and leave us be.” She raised a wing and pointed it in the precise direction.

Penumbra blinked in surprise. “Oh! That’s actually very helpful, thank you!” She beamed and then blew a kiss at Dusk, who looked even more dismayed while she trotted by the thestral queen and left. “I’ll see you later, Lieutenant! Mwah!”

“Ah ha! So you DO hate the Moon Mages?” Gloom asked.

Empyra hesitated, thinking carefully about the question. “I don’t like them, but they can be very useful, actually. Like any leashed warbeast they must be disciplined and directed, or they start killing your prisoners and making a mess.” The thestral queen sneered, but then her expression turned more pleasant (albeit still quite aggressive). “But back to business, stallions. What are you here for?”

“I believe that there’s a drill rig in this Ork camp. It’s a human machine that the greenskins stole,” Dusk admitted. “That’s what we’re after. Assuming it wasn’t destroyed in the bombardment. Can we have a look?”

Empyra’s eyes narrowed, and then she brought the claw of her wing to her mouth, blowing a shrill and peculiar whistle. After a few seconds, another bat pony came galloping out of the camp and rushed to the queen’s side.

“Beryl! These ones say they’re looking for a machine,” Empyra nudged her head toward the stallions. “You were reviewing the remains of the base, were you not?”

“Yes, my queen!” Beryl Blaster bowed to the larger mare, her echo cannon rattling from the motion. Then she turned a wary gaze on the unfamiliar ponies. “What are you looking for, specifically?”

“A drill rig. It’s a large work vehicle with a huge drill for digging boreholes and an in-built ore grinder to process mining yields,” Dusk explained. “There are several in Ferrous Dominus. It would be much bigger than a tank, with large treads and a raised service platform and a small driver’s cab.”

Beryl nodded rapidly. “Yes, that’s an excellent description! There’s one of those in the back, where they have a great deal of scavenged scrap and vehicles!”

Dusk looked relieved. “And it wasn’t damaged by the artillery strikes?”

“That is beyond my expertise,” Beryl admitted. “But I don’t think any of the shells hit it directly.”

Dusk soured at this news, but Gloom Fang seemed quite pleased. “Okay, so we’re just gonna go nab that rig and then we’ll be out of your tail, okay?”

“Ha ha ha ha!” Empyra laughed. “No. No, that’s not how this goes at all. The rig is mine. It is part of my war loot.”

Dusk scowled, his mood darkening further. Gloom just looked perplexed.

“What would you want with a drill rig? You gonna start some deep mining op in the desert?” Gloom chuckled. “Going to dig up some gold or something? Because there’s definitely nothing important around here that you’d use a huge drill to get to!”

“Gloomy, would you SHUT UP and let me do the talking?” Dusk snapped.

“I don’t have any use for a drill rig, obviously,” Empyra replied, brushing aside Dusk’s interjection, “but you do. So I’ll trade it to you.”

Dusk felt his heart sink. “Trade… for… for what?”

“YOU,” the thestral queen breathed, her smile cracking open to let her long, serpentine tongue hang from her maw. When Dusk recoiled, her hungry expression became more reserved. “One of you, that is. No need to be greedy. Preferably the big dim one.”

Gloom Fang still looked confused. “My name is Gloom Fang, by the way. And what do you mean you ‘want me?’ Would I join one of your squads? What would you want me to do?”

“I assure you, your duties will be quite pleasant,” Empyra chuckled, lifting a wing to veil her mouth coyly. The other Bloodborne were creeping closer now, sitting down just a few feet away and watching the stallions with carnal or amused expressions.

“It’s not cooking, is it? I HATE cooking!” Gloom made a disgusted face.

“Gloomy, do you remember what Silver said about the Bloodborne’s regiment?” Dusk asked, massaging his forehead.

“Yeah, she said that they’re all mares, right?” He glanced around at the ponies surrounding them, looking a bit disappointed. “Checks out.”

“Do you remember WHY?” Dusk asked, turning his head to glare at the larger stallion.

“No, I totally lost interest after that part, why?”

“Bloodborne don’t have male warriors or even treat them like real members of their tribe because their stallions are used as breeding studs and pleasure slaves,” Dusk Blade said, rustling his wings and glaring at Empyra. “THAT’S what she wants you for, not doing household chores!”

“We make them do chores too,” Beryl Blaster pointed out, “he probably will have to cook something at some point.”

“HARD PASS,” Gloom replied with a scowl.

“No? A pity,” Empyra sighed. “Then how about we fight over it instead?”

Dusk and Gloom perked substantially at this, although Dusk was still very suspicious.

“How about it? One of you fights one of us Bloodborne. If you’re victorious, you can have the machine. If you’re defeated, you serve us from now on, and then I suppose the other one can take the machine once we leave this place. A very fair wager, don’t you think?”

Dusk Blade’s eyes darted from side to side, gauging each of the warrior ponies around him and trying to guess if any of them had any weapon or power of worth. Gloom Fang smirked under his mask and then leapt up into the air. By the time Dusk realized what was about to happen, it was too late to stop the other stallion from bellowing his challenge.

“You want a fight? Yeah, okay! I like those odds,” Gloom Fang agreed, taking his mask off and revealing the dark marks across his cheeks.

“Splendid!” Empyra said cheerfully, waving a wing to the side. “I will be your opponent. Beryl, stand back.”

The ash-colored mare scurried away to a safe distance, and Dusk Blade trudged over to join her. The stallion looked quite aggravated by the turn of events, but had given up trying to appeal to Gloom directly. The other Bloodborne backed off to watch, and a few started rushing to set up lengths of wooden debris as torches to illuminate the space beyond what was offered by Penumbra’s light sphere. The mares’ previous military discipline had dissolved entirely, and many started whooping, whistling, or bouncing in excitement as Empyra started to stretch.

“So, would you like to set any particular rules? First blood? Knockout? First limb lost?” Empyra slowly twisted her neck to one side and then the other, eliciting some pops and cracks while Gloom Fang hovered some thirty feet away and above her.

“It doesn’t really matter, but sure, first blood.” Gloom licked his lips hungrily, although it lacked the feral, aggressive energy of his opponent. “I’ll bet yours is SPICY.”

“Confidence! Delightful,” the larger thestral said, her eyes looking slightly manic and her breath emerging in steaming clouds. “I’m going to enjoy breaking you in…”

“Yeah, sure you will.” Gloom Fang laughed and opened up the Eyes of Malice.

“What? Is that-” Beryl gasped, but before she could complete the sentence Dusk stuck a wing in front of her face, blocking her view. He already had his eyes closed, of course.

A golden flash came from Gloom’s extra eyes, and most of the Bloodborne mares watching below were instantly immobilized, their expressions of surprise or gleeful cheering frozen onto their faces. Empyra too stood stock still, her eyes shifting rapidly from side to side. Some of the Bloodborne watching were at such an angle to be unaffected by the paralyzing glare, and those mares seemed confused as the others fell silent and froze in place.

Beryl Blaster swatted Dusk’s wing aside, and then her eyes widened as she stared at the paralyzed ponies facing Gloom Fang. “What? How… How did he…?”

“Ancient clan technique, don’t worry about it,” Dusk said, folding his wings again. “So how bad was the damage to the platform? Is the driver’s cab okay?”

Gloom Fang landed in front of Empyra, a wide grin on his face as he got closer. “First blood it is. Let’s see that neck, your highness.”

“You’re adorable,” Empyra replied. Then she gave him a little peck on the snout.

Gloom Fang froze in shock as the gears turning in his skull tried to reassess the situation and instead ground to a complete halt. Then Empyra slammed her head down onto his, hammering the stallion into the dirt.

“WHAT?! HOW?!” Dusk shouted from the sidelines, almost as surprised as Gloom.

Empyra chuckled as she reached one wing down, grasping Gloom’s rear leg with the claws on the peak. “Did you REALLY think it would be that easy?”

“I… ugh… kinda did… ow…” Gloom Fang groaned as he was dragged into the air upside-down, hanging from Empyra’s wing.

Empyra grinned down at the stallion, her lips curling to reveal her blade-like teeth. Then she blinked right before another golden flash came from Gloom Fang’s eyes.

“Nice try,” the thestral queen sneered, letting her wing fall to strike Gloom’s head onto the ground. The stallion yelped in pain, and then she dragged him back up.

“She blinked? That’s it?” Dusk asked, looking over at Beryl. “How did she know how to time it?”

Beryl Blaster stared at him incredulously. “I feel like having four eyes and a magic stunning gaze is still a lot weirder than that, why are YOU the one acting all shocked?”

“Blinked? You BLINKED?!” Gloom Fang shouted in rapidly growing horror. “NO! Eyelids! My only weakness!”

Empyra hauled him up higher, and she smiled at seeing a bleeding cut on his temple. “First blood is mine, slave.” Her long, snake-like tongue licked at the wound, sliding across his face in a way that would have seemed erotic to many stallions but just made Gloom feel uncomfortable and a little hungry. “You’ll make a splendid toy.”

“Yes, well, on that point,” Dusk interrupted, rushing up past the half-ring of still-paralyzed mares. “I didn’t really think he’d lose so this is our bad but I should have pointed out earlier that Gloom Fang doesn’t exactly… like mares. If you know what I mean.”

Empyra arched an eyebrow. “Oh? He is a… what is the word you use… homosexual?”

“I don’t bring it up a lot because sometimes ponies get weird about it, but yeah. I’m into stallions,” Gloom confirmed. “I also didn’t say anything before because I kind of got the impression it wouldn’t matter to you.”

“It doesn’t,” Empyra replied. Then she closed her eyes again just before Gloom Fang’s golden eyes flashed.

“Stop that! Stop blinking!” the stallion growled.

Empyra smirked and addressed Dusk Blade. “I have what I wanted. You may go take the machine you came for.”

Dusk cringed, his ears flipping down. “I… uh… okay.” He lifted his head and released a gentle but high-pitched screech, signaling to the others that it was safe.

“Lieutenant, wait! Don’t leave me here!” Gloom shouted, slowly starting to panic as the reality of his situation sank in.

“You agreed to their terms, nitwit!” Dusk snapped. “Didn’t I tell you to let me do the talking?!”

“It’s not my fault! I didn’t know she was really good at blinking! Since when is that even a skill?!”

“Speaking of which,” Beryl Blaster interjected, waving her wing in front of one of the stunned bat ponies, “how long is this paralysis going to last? We need these ponies’ help to clear the camp.”

“It lasts a few minutes, that’s all.” Dusk replied, right before another golden flash came from the four-eyed stallion and again failed to immobilize Empyra.

“Are there any side effects after it wears off?” Beryl asked, checking the warrior’s pulse.

“None that we’re aware of, but most of the affected targets end up dead so there’s not a lot of examples to work with,” Dusk admitted. Then he spotted A trio of ponies slowly approaching from the gloom and walking into the light of the torches. “Anyway, my Techpriest is here, so good luck breaking in the big lug. I have to go check up on that rig.”

“No! No, don’t wish them good luck! At least wish them BAD luck!” Gloom protested in a panic.

Empyra found the four-eyed stallion’s banter amusing, but Dusk’s comment had caught her attention. She lifted her head higher, and she arched an eyebrow. “Your Techpriest?”

Beryl glanced over at the approaching ponies, and then she did a double-take. “Is… Is that…” her eyes went wide, and she suddenly bolted toward the newcomers. “My Queen, look!”

Empyra’s eyes widened, and then she looked down at Gloom Fang again. Then she dropped him, eliciting a painful squeak from the stallion. She headed forward at a quick trot, leaving him behind and more confused than ever.

Nacht and Neuron Dialect grew alarmed as more and more Bloodborne warriors noticed their approach and rushed toward them. None had their weapons brandished or shouted battle cries, so they were reasonably sure the mares weren’t attacking in a frenzy, but they nonetheless shifted in front of Gear Works and raised their own weapons defensively. Neuron tried to recall if she had stolen anything from the Bloodborne recently, while Nacht fumed quietly at the prospect of fighting without her echo cannon.

Dusk likewise grew alarmed as his companions were surrounded, and he took to the air. Lifting up higher, he tried to sweep around to the flank so that he could strike several ponies in one dive, but he was doubtful that it would help and was still very confused about what exactly was happening. Having Gloom Fang loose again could be some help, although now that the Bloodborne knew how to counter his ability – and since bat ponies could fight with their eyes closed – the Element of Malice was hardly a trump card anymore. Penumbra would have been a far more effective option, and possibly for the first time ever Dusk regretted letting her leave.

Empyra reached the cluster of her underlings, and they immediately parted to clear a path. Nacht and Neuron bristled at the larger pony, aiming their guns directly at her. She obviously sensed the tension, and she offered the mares of Dagger Squadron a toothy smile.

Then she bowed her head and touched the tips of her wings to the ground. “Dark Acolyte Gear Works, welcome! As always, the Bloodborne are honored by your presence! How may we assist?”

Dusk Blade immediately crash-landed, almost knocking over one of the torches and skidding to a stop behind Beryl Blaster.

Nacht and Neuron stared at Empyra for a few seconds, and then slowly and silently turned around to stare at Gear Works. Gear Works blinked his optic lights uncertainly and looked over at Dusk. Then he shrugged and stepped past the mares guarding him.

“Salutations, Queen Empyra. I am currently attached to Dagger Squadron, under the command of Lieutenant Dusk Blade. Has he spoken to you about our current objective?” the cyborg pony asked.

“Indeed, he has. You are here for a machine in the Ork’s camp. A drilling tank, or… something. It is yours,” Empyra said, lifting her head again. “My apologies for this… crass game I was playing with your associates. If I had known you were with them then I would not have wasted your time.”

“That is quite all right, Queen. Thank you for your assistance in this matter.” Gears bowed his head. Then he turned to Beryl Blaster, his claw swiveling to hover over Neuron. “Miss Blaster, this is Neuron Dialect. Can you lead her to the drill rig so she can assemble a rudimentary damage report?”

“Of course, honored Acolyte,” Beryl said, her voice almost as reverent as when she spoke to Empyra. Then she faced the thestral sniper and tilted her head sharply to one side. “This way.”

Neuron didn’t move, and instead stared at Gear Works. Nacht also stared at Gear Works. Dusk slowly stood up from the divot he had carved in the ground and stared at Gear Works. Gloom Fang slowly walked up next to Dusk, also staring at Gear Works.

Then Gloom frowned. “Okay, wait, so is the nerd going to be the sex slave now? Am I off the hook?”

Several mares were overcome with laughter at this suggestion, while others turned toward Gloom with expressions of annoyance or contempt. Empyra just chuckled into a wing.

“You are off the hook, yes. As much as I would have enjoyed your services, the Acolyte’s are FAR more valuable,” the thestral queen explained, spreading a wing to gesture to the other Bloodborne. “On that matter, I do hope the Dark Acolyte has some time to spare? I would consider it more than ample compensation for the machine if you were to see to the weaponry of my warriors.”

“Of course, Queen. I shall begin the maintenance rites at once,” Gears agreed.

The smaller Bloodborne suddenly began a rush of activity, apparently waiting for this cue. The warriors carrying echo cannons quickly lined up in front of the tech-cultist, while those who had stashed their weapons in the supply train because they had become non-functional flew off to retrieve them. One of the stunned Bloodborne shuddered as her paralysis finally wore off, gasped at finally being able to move, and then sprinted away to get her jammed splinter rifle fixed.

Beryl Blaster gave Neuron Dialect a shove, gesturing toward the camp. “Get a move on. I need to get my echo cannon tuned too.” Neuron’s eyes glinted a bright red from under her hood, but she said nothing and left.

Dusk Blade watched as Gears accepted the first echo cannon and started opening the case. “Gears? Why didn’t you tell anypony that you knew the Bloodborne?” he asked, eyebrow twitching.

“I was not consulted on diplomatic outreach toward nominally allied groups,” Gear Works noted while withdrawing a glassine rod. “For obvious reasons, of course. It is not a field I have training or experience in, and anyway it occurred to me that some of you may have personal histories that would complicate a peaceful negotiation.” A small torch extended from his bionic hoof, burning into a hairline fracture on the component. “I was also unaware that Queen Empyra herself was leading this warband; most of my reputation among the tribe is linked to her.” He replaced the rod and then started closing the case again, making sure to tighten all the screws that had been rattled loose.

“If you’d said something earlier we could have avoided all this!” Gloom Fang growled, rubbing at the dirty cut on his forehead. “I lost a fight because of you!”

“You lost a fight because you are arrogant and weak. Do not burden others with your failure,” Empyra retorted sharply. “And if you continue to make a nuisance of yourself I will demand the terms of that combat be honored, slave.”

Gloom wilted immediately, shrinking back with his ears pinning to his head. He glanced at Dusk for a defense, but his squad leader just glared at him, obviously in agreement.

Dusk Blade watched Gears hand over the repaired echo cannon to a delighted bat pony and then pick up the next one. Then the Lieutenant looked over to Empyra suspiciously. “So how do you two know each other, again?”

The thestral queen made a deep, throaty chuckling sound as she sat down. “We have a personal history, of course, but what equine does not know of Gear Works, the sole pony of the Dark Mechanicus?”

“Most of them,” Dusk replied dryly, “so let’s hear about that personal history.”

“I happen to do more maintenance work in Nightwatch than any other tech-clergy, given that the Techpriests de-prioritize dwellings used exclusively by ponies,” Gear Works explained as he tightened a power relay. “The Bloodborne noticed that I always seemed to be the one to show up when anyone did at all, and then discovered very quickly that if they referred to me by name when filing maintenance requests the chances of a resolution rise significantly.”

“That’s true,” Empyra said, smirking, “but that’s not how we met.”

Gears stopped, and he turned to face the larger equine. The little circular optic lights of his eyes slowly stretched into flat lines, giving the impression of narrowing or squinting eyelids.

“Oh, come now! It’s funny!” Empyra insisted.

“… Do you have to tell them HERE? I do not need further distractions,” Gears grumbled before handing the next repaired weapon back to its owner.

“As you wish, honored Acolyte,” Empyra bowed formally, and then turned toward the other ponies of Dagger Squad while waving a wing toward the camp. “Come to my table and feast with me, warriors! We have ample meat dragged from the blast craters!”

“Ooh, I hope it’s still warm,” Gloom said, perking up and cautiously following the queen.

Neither Dusk or Nacht liked the prospect of eating greenskins, but they nonetheless followed Empyra as the larger thestral headed into the camp. Whatever she offered them to eat would probably taste better than nutrient gruel, at least.

“Yes, yes, I know. I should have gotten rid of all of the witnesses. Maybe I could have prodded them to try to stop Nacht before the Lieutenant told them to flee… I doubt it would work, though. In the heat of the moment I’m afraid the circumstances got away from me.”

Penumbra Shard sighed and took a sip of her canteen while it hovered in front of her snout. The gentle glow of her telekinesis was the only light within the shattered barracks, and it barely cast enough illumination to outline Isabelle Bane’s face while the pale mare sat in front of her.

“It’s Blade,” Isabelle mumbled.

“Well, sure. Him too. All the Elements take their job seriously enough that they may balk at being asked to slay other Company soldiers. He’s the only one I’m certain would try to stop me, though.”

Isabelle shook her head, her curtain of black hair slowly swinging back and forth. “Not that. He affects your thinking.”

Penumbra frowned.

“It’s true…” Isabelle insisted, her eye contact faltering and her ears flipping down.

“Maybe he does. But that’s quite beside the point now,” Penumbra said curtly. “Inform Rasa. We need to have those Strider pilots’ memories altered. Gumball Glade and Zariyah Backfire and… two others. Drat, I don’t think we ever got their names.”

Isabelle’s brow furrowed. “What about the other one with you?”

“You don’t need to worry about the tech-cultist. I’ll take care of him on my end. But it will only buy us a little more time, I think. The Elements of Destruction are becoming more brazen with their powers, and the apes more suspicious.” Penumbra sniffed, wishing she’d thought to bring her pipe.

“The Element of Carnage does not hide her power at all. She revels in it,” Isabelle said.

“I have MANY questions about that, not least how she ended up losing to a single human soldier if that’s the case,” Penumbra giggled. “I don’t suppose she’d be willing to sit for a little interview, though. We’ll have to rely on your observations. Strength, rapid regeneration, and-”

Beryl Blaster suddenly burst into the door, looking alarmed. She stopped short when she saw the Moon Mages barely illuminated by the glow of Penumbra’s magic, and then her mouth moved like she was speaking. Penumbra and Isabelle didn’t hear a thing, which did not come as a surprise to them.

Penumbra let the magic Silence Veil she was maintaining fall, and the light from her horn dimmed. “Can I help you?” she asked, her tone making it clear the bat pony was unwelcome.

Beryl recoiled in surprise. “I can hear you now! What’s going on? What was that?”

“A little cantrip to prevent eavesdropping and foil echolocation,” Penumbra asked. “Is that all you wanted to know? We weren’t done here.”

Beryl frowned, but decided to drop the matter. “Queen Empyra requests your presence at her table. She is hosting Dagger Squadron.”

“We politely decline,” Penumbra said, turning her head away.

“Get up and get moving, PRISONER,” Beryl snarled. “You too, Bane. Spending a few minutes doing something resembling social activity will be good for you.”

Isabelle’s ears flattened against the side of her head, and she stood up quietly to comply. Penumbra made a disgusted noise but followed suit. It wouldn’t do to cause a conflict if Dusk had managed to come to a peaceable agreement.

The Moon Mages trudged after Beryl, exiting the room past the pair of guards. The mares standing watch at the entrance glared at the unicorns venomously; they were quite annoyed to learn why they hadn’t heard a thing since Penumbra arrived. The elder sorceress paid them no mind, idly observing the various craters and shattered buildings that littered the base. The other ponies were doing little to mend the damage while they dragged supplies about, so Penumbra had to assume the Bloodborne weren’t planning to stay for very long.

“The scenery here is a little rough for hosting a lunch, isn’t it?” Penumbra asked. “You haven’t even cleared up all the corpses.”

“It is very rough, yes,” Beryl agreed. “This is what victory looks like, Moon Mage: blood, ashes, heaps of dead, and great constructs brought to ruin for a moment’s advantage,” she glanced over her shoulder. “I’m not surprised you don’t recognize it.”

“Rude,” Penumbra remarked. “For starters, my name is-”

“Hush, Moon Mage. This way.”

The trio approached a long scrap-built building that had its back corner blasted off by an artillery detonation. Penumbra was quite nonplussed when their guide walked around the closed and badly dented doors and started climbing up the rubble pile outside the missing piece of wall instead. There was a torch half-buried in the twisted metal and shattered stone, and she could hear Empyra’s rich, throaty voice coming from the opening.

“My Queen,” Beryl announced, bowing her head before descending down the ramp of debris, “I’ve brought the unicorns. Penumbra Shard and Isabelle Bane have arrived per your request.”

“Good! Bring them in! We were just getting to the good part!” Empyra announced, grinning to show off her teeth.

A rickety table had been recovered and set up in what had been the Warboss’s quarters and was laden with what would charitably be considered “food” and jugs of water. Not all the offerings had been scraped from the recent battlefield or abandoned cook fires, but even so the only vegetarian fare was a stack of dented ration tins shoved to one end. Nacht and Dusk sat across from Empyra, listening intently, while Gloom Fang quietly exsanguinated a severed green arm.

“So it turned out Butter had began sending all requests for assistance to Acolyte Gear Works, since he seemed more responsive. Not just repair orders! Maintenance requests, armory requisitions, supply orders, idle questions about the apes and their technologies, even directions to particular establishments and outposts. As far as I am aware he answered every one, which both endeared him to my warriors and encouraged them to abuse this access further.”

Empyra paused to rip off a chunk of a raw Ork leg and gulp it down. Penumbra and Isabelle shuffled quietly and took their seats, with the latter getting some lingering stares from the other guests.

“One night, frustrated by a particularly fruitless argument with our Princess Luna, I complained to my circle about my concubines being forbidden in Ferrous Dominus,” the thestral queen continued.

“It does seem a little unfair, what with all the OTHER slavery in the city,” Dusk pointed out. Nacht arched an eyebrow at him and sighed.

“Exactly! Why are our ways specifically against the rules?!” Empyra huffed, taking another bite of her meal.

“Because Princesses Luna and Sparkle make the rules for pony residents and conscripts,” Penumbra interjected, her voice dry as the wasteland sands. “They would, of course, free all the slaves if they could, including the ones still locked away in the pits you call home.”

Empyra made a face at the unicorn, but did not offer an argument. “Anyway, as I was saying: Sensing my desire, Butter Sly decided to try submitting a request, just as she would for a broken screen. To Dark Acolyte Gear Works.”

Gloom Fang suddenly spat out the blood he was drinking, and then started coughing violently in-between wheezing laughter. Empyra seemed to appreciate this reaction, while the rest of the ponies cringed at the blood being splashed across that section of the table.

“I don’t know what words she used in the order, but she must have been very coy about it because the good Acolyte was even more confused than I was when he arrived. He was apparently there to repair plumbing, and I was furious that I was expected to vent my passions with a servitor.” Empyra sighed, which was barely audible with Gloom laughing and pounding the table uncontrollably. “I know better now, of course, but that was the first time I had ever encountered him myself.”

“Really? You didn’t know about the only pony in the Dark Mechanicus?” Dusk asked, throwing the queen’s earlier words back at her.

She grimaced. “It has taken me longer than most of my warriors to fully appreciate the benefits of the Company’s technology and the efforts of those who build and maintain it. This is true,” Empyra mumbled. “But nopony who has served under the apes for longer than I has such an excuse.”

“Okay, cool, so back to you meeting the nerd and getting mad. Then what happened?” Nacht asked eagerly. “Did you do it anyway?”

“No, of course not,” the queen snorted. “Beryl heard my enraged shouts and found me pinning the poor Acolyte to the wall, his cloak ripped away and one of his mechanical legs bitten off. She was eventually able to convince me not to harm him further, since he was the cultist who most often repaired their sonic devices and dormitory machines. It was a very near thing, however, and the poor Acolyte was left in heap, crippled, while we argued over his fate.”

Beryl nodded wearily, offering no comment but confirming the details. Nacht and Penumbra joined Gloom Fang in laughing at the imagery, delighting in the prospect of the tech-cultist’s suffering. Dusk snickered more gently, amused by the story but feeling more than a tinge of pity for his friend.

“The confrontation was quite embarrassing, but I look back on it fondly. The Acolyte is now an honored friend of the Bloodborne. We owe him much and all my warriors are forbidden to harm him,” Empyra admitted before running her long tongue over her plate, slurping up the remaining morsels. “It speaks well of your squad that you command such an individual.”

“I guess he HAS been useful once or twice,” Nacht mumbled reluctantly.

“I prefer stallions that can sate a mare,” Penumbra sneered before swallowing a scoop of nutrient gruel.

“He did that too,” Empyra mentioned before dragging a plate of wet, completely unidentifiable meat in front of her.

Watching the thestral queen stick her face into the pile of gore and devour it like a starving wolf was quite nauseating, even to the other carnivores, but none of the guests could help it. Dusk’s eyes were wide and Nacht’s jaw was slack. Gloom Fang mostly seemed confused.

“Wait, but you said earlier that you two didn’t do it,” Gloom pointed out, his lower eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“We didn’t,” Empyra said simply, descending upon her meal again without further explanation.

Beryl lifted a wing to her lips and giggled coyly at the others’ perplexed expressions. “The Dark Acolyte can make many, many things. Not all such designs can be found in the schemata of the tech-shrines.”

Most of the other ponies still seemed clueless, but Dusk caught on immediately and gave the queen an exasperated glare. “You made him build you a sex toy?”

Empyra nodded vigorously, still happily chewing a mouthful of guts. Penumbra’s eyebrow arched sharply. Isabelle continued to stare silently at something off to the side, as if listening to a completely different conversation.

“I stand corrected... What’s THAT like?” Penumbra asked, leaning in.

Empyra lifted her head from her plate and wiped her wing across her lips. “It is large, ugly, and noisy, and for unclear reasons it requires liquid fuel to operate. There are far more spikes than is necessary or desirable. It also came with a separate chainblade attachment, which I discarded immediately.” She shrugged. “It works very well, however.”

“Perfectly on-brand for Chaos technology,” Nacht said ruefully.

There was a scuffling sound from behind, and multiple ears twitched from hearing something land gently outside the shattered hall.

“Lieutenant,” Neuron Dialect announced, standing atop the ramp made of scorched debris.

“How’s it look, Neuro?” Dusk asked, shifting around on the bench.

“Bad,” the purple mare replied. “The driver cab was flattened. Not a direct hit, but it was definitely in a blast zone and something heavy enough to crush the controls struck it,” Neuron explained, her eyes shifting their gleaming red gaze onto Empyra.

“Are you serious? So it’s stuck here?” Nacht asked, horrified.

“I’m sure the Acolyte can fix it,” Empyra said breezily before ripping into another greasy mass of raw meat.

Dusk frowned. “How is the rest of the rig?”

“The rest is in decent shape. Nothing obviously missing other than the controls. I don’t think the greenskins started scrapping it yet.”

“Okay, I’m going to go get Gear Works and let him have a look,” Dusk sighed, getting up and walking toward the hole in the roof.

“If the damage is that bad, wouldn’t the pieces have to be replaced?” Penumbra asked. “Even a Techpriest can’t summon parts out of thin air, can they?”

“He’s a Dark Acolyte,” interjected both Empyra and Neuron simultaneously.

Most of the ponies seemed surprised that Empyra had corrected the unicorn, and she lifted her head from her food and sneered. “Use the stallion’s correct title. It is disrespectful to speak of him improperly, as if such a distinction is beneath you.”

Dusk paused as if he wanted to say something, but instead shook his head and left. Neuron quirked an eyebrow, as Empyra’s reason was not at all why she was so pedantic about the matter, but then she shrugged and followed her Lieutenant out.

Penumbra Shard seemed annoyed at Empyra’s response, if not intimidated by the larger mare. “I was under the impression you Bloodborne didn’t care so much for abstract formalities like that… especially not for STALLIONS.”

“It is only very recently that your kind could speak to mine without having your throat ripped out, so I will forgive your ignorance,” the thestral queen growled, snapping up a canteen and guzzling the contents. Then she tossed the empty container away into the debris pile providing access to the room. “Do not make such an error again.”

“As you say, Queen,” Penumbra drawled, her emphasis on the word very nearly approaching sarcasm. “I have a request to make of your Highness. I would like you to dismiss Isabelle and allow her to join Lieutenant Blade’s command.”

Empyra stopped eating and raised her head, blood dripping from her chin. “And why should I?” she asked suspiciously. “You travel with a tech-cultist, the most skilled infiltrator in the army, and a mutant warrior who can stun your foes with a glance; what great need have you for Bane? And why do you make this request and not your commander?”

“The Lunar Guard are not so well-versed in our utility,” Penumbra said with a regretful shrug.

“Of course not; you hide your powers from everyone,” Empyra sneered. “When I asked Bane what skills she had to offer the cauldron, she mewled about listening to spirits. It was not until she was dragged out here, under Luna’s moon, that I learn these spirits are daemonic raptors and the living dead.” She narrowed her eyes at the pale mare and made a rumbling noise deep in the back of her throat. Isabelle shrank back, shivering.

“Yes, well…” Penumbra coughed into a hoof, “that aside, I feel that she could be of more use to Lieutenant Blade than your Highness. Especially if the machine he seeks is broken. She can summon team of dead greenskins to haul it wherever it needs to go.”

“I have-” Isabelle’s creaking voice piped up, but was almost immediately silenced by a growl from the thestral queen.

“Quiet, Bell,” Empyra snarled before slamming her wings on the table and lifting her head up. “I will grant your request, Moon Mage, if you will grant me one boon: tell me what your commander seeks to do with the humans’ machine.”

Penumbra blinked and cocked her head to the side. “It’s some chore the humans demanded of him. He’s to haul the rig out to a particular spot in the desert for them to recover and use. For mining purposes, I assume.”

Empyra stared at the unicorn silently for several seconds, and then turned her head. “Beryl!”

The smaller mare jumped to attention.

“Return Miss Bane to her room. And her guards.” Empyra then turned to look at Nacht. “You, little one. Take your unicorn and your stallion and begone.”

“What? I thought we had a deal!” Penumbra asked, sounding affronted.

“I’m not her stallion,” Gloom complained.

“And don’t call me ‘little one,’” Nacht added with a grumble.

“I do not grant favors to liars,” Empyra hissed at Penumbra. “You speak falsehoods like you hardly care whether I believe you or not. It’s as insulting as it is treacherous.” She lifted a wing and pointed it at the hole in the wall. “Now LEAVE, wretch, and never show your face before me ever again. The Acolyte’s favor is wasted on your kind.”

Penumbra bristled angrily, and her eyes darted back and forth as she considered retaliation. Beryl walked by her and tapped Isabelle on the shoulder, nudging her head in the direction of her temporary barracks. Gloom Fang and Nacht stood up to leave, although they hesitated when Penumbra’s nose scrunched up and a lash of energy ran up her horn.

“As you will it, QUEEN,” Penumbra drawled, quickly adopting a sour, but much calmer expression. She walked up the pile of debris to leave the room, tossing her mane over her shoulder as she left.

Empyra watched the treacherous unicorn descend out of her sight. She was soon followed by the small black mare and the four-eyed stallion, both of them far less bitter and glad to be leaving. Then Beryl led the other unicorn, visibly sulking, out of the gaping hole in the wall to return to what passed for her quarters.

Empyra lifted up a water jug with her wing and splashed her face, quickly washing off some of the grisly remains of her meal. Then she launched herself up into the air, flying up through the hole in the structure and into the night sky.

Ork outpost – designation epsilon 6
Scrappa’s pitz

“So what do you think? Will that really work?” Dusk asked anxiously.

Gears was handling a small control board and carefully soldering wires into place on the underside. Cabling ran from the panel – barely more than a foot long – and down into an open panel on a large, scorched platform. That platform was the top of a chassis larger than a tank’s, with a pair of massive treads and an enormous drill hanging off the back. One corner of the vehicle had different mining machinery for grinding up rock, while another corner – the corner that normally held the operator – was caved in like a discarded beverage can. Scavenged lumens strung across tall spires lit the yard, albeit poorly, allowing Dusk and the other thestrals to watch.

“There’s no need to worry. The Acolyte knows his craft well,” came a voice from above the Lieutenant, “if the task was impossible he would have told you from the start. He does not like to waste time.”

Dusk’s eye twitched, and he cast an irritated glare back over his shoulder. Neuron Dialect was watching the site from high above within a crevice in a stone spire, but there were several Bloodborne in the scrapyard as well. This was hardly unreasonable, given that they had just captured the base, but not all of the mares were waiting to see if Gear Works would still have time to fix their equipment.

“I think I know the guy a LITTLE better than you, thanks,” Dusk replied, turning away.

“You’re welcome,” she said, missing or ignoring the context of his “thanks” entirely. “My name is Starblight.”

Dusk was going to explain very curtly that he hadn’t asked, but elected for a slightly less hostile response. “That a villain’s name if I’ve ever heard one.”

The mare laughed, which wasn’t exactly the response he was going for. “You know… not all of us in the tribe restrict ourselves to the whole… ‘breeding stud’ arrangement in choosing a mate,” she said, her voice lowering to a near-purr. “I’m quite interested in the more independent stallions. Courtship, romance, things like that are quite intriguing to me.”

Several of the other mares nearby perked their ears, easily overhearing the conversation. Neuron did too, for that matter, and Dusk could swear he could see a glint of bright red light from the shadows where she stood sentinel.

Before Dusk’s irritation could get the better of him, the bat ponies all detected something approaching overhead. A moment’s concentration picked it out as another bat pony: a large one. Empyra.

Dusk’s ears pinned back as he looked up and watched the mare descend. “Did she come to see us off or something?”

The Queen of the Bloodborne swooped down and landed atop the drill mounting, her huge wings blowing a substantial wind over the rig platform. All the Bloodborne stood up as Empyra landed, thankfully pre-empting more of Starblight’s tedious flirting, but Dusk remained seated. Gear Works diverted a single optic light to tracking her while he worked. After she landed she did not interrupt, so he went back to sealing the control panel’s casing.

“This should serve as a rudimentary control interface,” Gear Works announced, turning to face Dusk with the panel in his servo pincer. “I believe the rig only needs to be refueled and then it should be fully mobile.”

Dusk breathed a heavy sigh of relief that shifted into a grateful smile.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll leave the refueling to you, Lieutenant,” Gears said before turning to face the mare perched behind him. “Queen Empyra, I take it you wished to see me?”

“Yes. Come.” She waved a wing away from the scrap pits. “I wish to talk.” Then she glanced up at Starblight. “Warriors, you will remain here and keep our guests here until I return. No eavesdroppers.”

“Understood,” Gear Works said immediately, before Dusk could voice a question or protest. “Lieutenant, I will return shortly.”

“Whoa, hold on a minute!” the Lunar Lieutenant objected, jumping to his hooves. “What’s this about? We need him here!”

Empyra scowled at him. “Our conversation is not for you. Your companions are here. Get to work and leave us be.” From the edge of the scrapyard Penumbra, Nacht, and Gloom Fang cautiously approached, having taken a longer route than the thestral queen.

Empyra dropped down from the rig platform, landing on the scorched hull of a Trukk that had been torn in half. She hopped off and started walking into a ravine full of trash, where the Meks had discarded the materials too shoddy even for them. Gear Works took the time to climb down more carefully, but then trotted up to join her. Dusk fumed silently as they left, weighing whether to chase after them and risk another fight but ultimately deciding against it.

Neuron Dialect remained where she was overlooking the yards, her eyes a pair of red pinpricks in the darkness. They watched the ponies depart in silence, and then, for but a moment, the lights flickered.

“I doubt that tech-clergy are allowed to choose their associates when sent to war, so it would be rash of me to judge you by the company you’ve brought with you, Acolyte. You should know these are dangerous and treacherous ponies you march with.”

Empyra kept her voice low as she walked ahead of Gear Works, leading the cyborg stallion through the muck and debris that littered the path. Discarded oil and bits of metal were everywhere, and while the smaller equine tried to avoid the detritus the queen didn’t seem to care as her hooves were covered in filth.

“The Moon Mage, Shard. That one is a liar. Not a very good one, but well-practiced, at least. Her intentions are hidden deep, but she does not conceal her contempt.” Empyra scowled, and her lips rose to expose rows of very long, sharp teeth. “She is also quite powerful. I can smell the dark magic on her. There is little scent of death to match; she does not kill often. Better to conceal her strength, I suppose.”

Gear Works listened intently, speeding up a bit to walk alongside the mare.

“The others are… odd. The dumb one is very pretty, at least. I would have liked to take him for myself, but you may have need of him.” A wing shifted under Empyra’s head, and the talon on the peak scratched at her chin thoughtfully. “There is a curious smell, amongst the heavy scent of death around them. A… power that is unique, yet somehow familiar…”

Then she turned her head to look down at the Dark Acolyte. “They are a treacherous lot. The small one and the mutant are limited by their feeble intellect, but the other two thestrals are more cunning. They are very dangerous, and I do not believe they are out here to do the apes’ bidding.”

“Extremely perceptive,” Gear Works said, slightly awed.

“Do you know what they’re doing?”

“Affirmative, although it was a struggle to acquire that data. It is as you say: this is no mission sanctioned by the Company. We’re here to recover some artifact of theirs,” Gears sighed. “The humans don’t know it exists, but perhaps you’ve heard of it. The Element of Terror.”

Empyra stopped walking. Gears stopped next to her, staring up into the mare’s bright red eyes. The eyes narrowed.

“They’re hunting for… that? I see. Thralls of the Moon Mages, then,” she snorted.

“They are more than that. That smell you detected, they’re…”

Gears briefly stopped to consider his options, wondering if he should really reveal such a secret to Empyra. He owed the bat ponies nothing, of course, and he never promised to keep it a secret. It WAS dangerous knowledge, however, and he had to consider what would happen if the more impetuous Elements of Destruction learned he was sharing it behind their backs.

Empyra squinted into the aqua-colored eye lights as if trying to decode his thoughts. Then her eyes widened, and she recoiled. It seemed Gears wouldn’t have to explain it after all.

“The Elements of Destruction! THAT’S the smell! By the moon, I never thought it was possible!” She gaped in shock before her expression hardened. “Those other thestrals have consumed the Elements! THAT was the source of the mutant’s power! Then that means the Moon Mages are gathering them? For what purpose?”

“It is Lieutenant Blade’s task, not Shard’s. He wishes to keep it safe from the enemies of the 38th Company,” Gears explained.

Empyra’s expression shifted into a repulsed frown. “You don’t seriously believe that, do you?”

“… I have my doubts,” Gear Works admitted. Then the larger pony suddenly placed a wing on his back.

“Acolyte. Leave them,” Empyra said, her eyes hard and her expression grim. “You’ve served their profane purposes and suffered under their lies long enough, and now they have the machine they needed for their objective. Join my cauldron for the remainder of our deployment. You will be under my protection, and serve a better cause than the scheming of dark sorceresses.”

Gears looked up at her, and then bowed his head. “Thank you, Queen. I am very happy you would offer me such a thing…”

She frowned and lifted her wing. “But you decline.”

“Affirmative. I cannot disobey my mission parameters under the current circumstances. Protocol demands I continue to serve, for now.”

“Is that all?” Empyra sneered at him. “You’re going to serve the whims of a treacherous witch and her thestral lackeys because defying them would break some pirate’s RULES? You take your duty seriously, to your credit, but this is something different. Your judgment is better than this, Acolyte.”

“You overestimate me,” Gears replied, “but… you’re right, that is not all. The Lieutenant. He’s… He’s my friend.”

Empyra arched an eyebrow.

“And despite… everything, I still believe in him.”

Empyra arched her other eyebrow.

“Lieutenant Blade does not fight for Shard or the Cult of Lunar Ascendance. I trust that much. He does not want the Element of Terror to serve the enemies of Equestria.”

“All right, I take it back. Your judgment is terrible,” Empyra sighed, lifting her muck-covered hoof and patting Gears on the head condescendingly. “Nothing good will come of this. The Elements of Destruction are so named because they are a terrible, cursed weapon.”

“It is my current hypothesis that you possess the Element of Carnage,” Gears said.

“That is how I know,” the queen snorted, walking around Gears to face back toward the captured camp. “Our tribe’s history of the cult of Lunar Ascendance is ancient and incomplete, but it has always brought more tragedy than glory. So it is with the Elements, too. My advice is to leave it buried, and ideally seal up your companions with it.”

“Perhaps I can affect that outcome. But only if I press on,” Gear Works replied. “Nonetheless, thank you for your consideration and for your counsel, Queen. I am honored.”

“Sure you are,” the larger pony snorted, walking toward the camp. “Come on, then. Let’s get you back to your wretched ‘friends.’”

“Before we do I would like to ask a question, Queen. About the Element of Carnage.”

Empyra stopped and glanced over her shoulder, her expression inscrutable. “The Element of Carnage is the Bloodeborne’s greatest secret, Acolyte. I think you know enough about it as it is.”

“A trade, then? I believe I have data that would be of interest to you.” The cyborg stallion walked over in front of the other pony eagerly.

“Tch! You know exactly how to get the better of me, don’t you,” she said with a sly smile. “Very well. Out with it.”

“There is another creature who hunts for the Element of Terror, or at least seeks to stop us from reaching it. Banshee, an alicorn thestral,” Gear Works whispered.

Empyra perked immediately. “A what? You’re being stalked by a baticorn?”

“Chirocorn,” Gears corrected.

“…… Yes, that is a much better name for it.”

“I don’t know how she ascended, but she is very hostile to Chaos and the Lunar Guard. I only know that she uses the name and face of a mare who is supposed to be dead: Banshee, the pony who was supposed to wield the Element of Terror. She also purports to be the last surviving member of something called ‘the Haunt,’ although I do not know the significance of this.”

“That is a very old bat pony tribe. One of the six to fall into the clutches of the Moon Mages and participate in the creation of the Elements of Destruction, if I’m not mistaken,” Empyra scratched at her chin again. “I didn’t know they had been wiped out. Or nearly so, depending on whether this creature is who they say. This is a fine morsel indeed, Acolyte! You never disappoint! Now ask your question. The answer is yours, although you may not breathe a word of it to anyone else.”

Gear Works took a deep breath to bolster his courage. “If you are the Element of Carnage, and presumably possessed its power for all of the last year, how did a single human soldier defeat you?”

Empyra’s expression soured considerably, and Gears flinched. She glared silently for a few seconds, but then sighed and massaged her forehead with her wing.

“The Element of Carnage is… different, I suppose. I cannot just turn it on and off, or trigger it like the mutant can his freezing stare. Its power is always with me and always working, but it is… inconsistent.” She turned her head away to stare at the moon, looking embarrassed. “The Element of Carnage must be fed. It demands blood. Death. Violence. It may also require actual food; moon knows my appetite is voracious whenever its magic surges.”

“The Element requires combat to work?” Gears asked, fascinated.

“It’s more like its power increases,” Empyra shrugged. “I was always larger than my subjects, stronger, and healed more quickly, but as the blood frenzy takes me and the corpses pile up, the effects increase.” She grimaced. “According to the history of the tribe, it was not always so dormant. Perhaps its power simply waned with the passing centuries, or with the transfer from one pony to another, or from so many years of peace. It had been a long time since I’d fought any real combat when I faced that smarmy monkey in the caverns, and the Element’s power failed me. It will not happen again.”

Gear Works looked the thestral over while she fumed. She did seem bigger than the last time they met, and her teeth especially were larger and more noticeably jagged now. He chose not to voice these observations.

“I have recovered much of its reputed strength through the battles I’ve had with the Orks,” Empyra continued, “but as its power grows so does the bloodthirst. I can feeling a gnawing hunger within me that demands killing, Acolyte. Not just meat or blood, but souls. I can tolerate it, for now. But I do not know the Element’s limits. Or if it has any.”

“You said the Element of Carnage was transferred from one pony to another? How is that facilitated?” Gear Works asked.

Empyra fixed him with a cool stare. “You already got your question, Acolyte. Come, I think your treacherous allies should have found some fuel by now.” She began trotting back toward the captured base.

“Of course, Queen. As you wish,” the cyborg stallion conceded immediately. “Thank you for your time, and for aiding my attached combat group.”

“Undeserving as they are,” Empyra mumbled, turning her head and slowing her pace.

“… Is something wrong?” Gears asked, stopping.

Empyra sniffed the air, and her ears pivoted back and forth. Her eyes searched the top of the ravine, watching carefully for any glint of light or hint of movement. “… No. Let us return, Acolyte. You still have a long road ahead of you…”

Author's Note

Once again, Friendship triumphs :trollestia:
Chapter art drawn by Blazing Stred, while the delightful portrait below is by Loom!

Prologue

A bleak wind howled as Celestia’s sun began its slow descent to the horizon.

Dozens of gleaming eyes watched the sunset with varying degrees of loathing, sheltering in the shadows of tree branches and dusty crags. Leathery wings rustled, hooves scraped against stone, and ears twitched back and forth in agitation. A thick tension seemed to hang in the air, slowly draining away as the sun sunk behind the mountaintops.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

A high-pitched screech pierced the air from above, and numerous heads turned to watch. Several others did not, content to let the noise itself illuminate the new arrivals. The sound bounced off the surrounding trees, branches, and rocks, and their minds sketched a near-perfect diagram of the approaching figures.

The shriek was soon followed by the beat of heavy, leathery wings against the air. A triangle formation of six bat ponies swooped down under the treetops, and then adjusted their approach to land. The ponies in the back dropped to the ground first, their ears swiveling back and forth like radar dishes searching for threats. Then the two ponies ahead of them dropped down, spears drawn and at the ready. Finally the pony at the front landed daintily on her hooves, staring at the witnesses with a calm smile.

“Right on time,” grunted a pony curled up under a stone crag.

“The Bloodborne are never late,” the mare at the front cooed, her voice thick and husky. She kept her wings unfolded as she approached the other equines, and her retinue rushed to follow in escort.

The thestrals that had just arrived were all mares, and all conspicuously armed and armored. They didn’t brandish their weapons as they approached, but neither did they sheathe or secure them. Their armor was made of hide leather and rough fur that covered their shins, knees, and chests. Their backsides were mostly exposed, showing off an array of colorful cutie marks: crimson slashes and rune markers made up most of them, although there was one escort with a fish on a line. Perhaps she was in the wrong line of work.

The sun finally sank completely behind the mountain, and many of the ponies looked up as the moon rose to prominence in the vast web of stars that stretched across the skies. A few of them started whispering among themselves, their earlier frustration giving way to excitement. One pony started weeping.

“I can’t believe it’s almost over,” that particular equine said, rubbing his eyes with the edge of his wing. “At last, she’ll… the… the Mistress will be…”

“Do stop your blubbering,” commanded the recently arrived mare, sticking her nose up and narrowing her eyes. “You should not believe it’s almost over, because it isn’t. IF things proceed according to plan, we are not at the cusp of the end, but a new beginning.”

One of the stallions staring at the moon reached a wing into a pouch on his leg. He withdrew an object from the pouch: a small glass sphere that seemed to contain a constantly swirling, dark purple gas.

“Do you have it, Norn?” he asked, holding up the sphere.

“Of course,” the mare said, stamping her hoof on the ground. One of the mares behind her quickly unslung her bag, withdrawing a similar object with a bright red gas inside. “One fresh Nightmare, ready for sacrifice. A fragment of darkness stolen from the nexus between this world and the next.” She looked over the stallion toward the others. “I presume you have yours as well? I hardly think you’d have the gall to show up otherwise.”

One by one, four other bat ponies reached into their satchels and withdrew glass orbs, each one filled with a strange, swirling gas. The stallion that had been weeping cringed as he held his up, and he stared at the dirt, unable to look at it.

“Our spirit oracle, she… she did not survive the trapping process,” he said, tears dribbling down his cheeks again.

“Ours went insane. She howls and thrashes constantly, and her eyes constantly glow with magic,” announced a mare with pale, glassy eyes that had no pupils. “If she has not calmed by the time we return, she will have to be put down.”

“Something else happened with our dreamwalker. She only seems half-conscious now. She may be braindead, but she keeps giggling and whispering to herself about nonsense,” grunted another mare with a pitch-black coat.

“Oh. How… unfortunate,” Norn said, her expression looking perfectly disinterested. “Ours was fine. She has a big new scar now, but she rather likes that sort of thing.”

A soft glow appeared in the distance, barely visible through the trees.

“They’re ready. It is time,” Norn announced. She turned toward the light, and her escort rushed to guard her as she set off at a trot.

The other thestrals moved to do the same with varying degrees of eagerness. A few of them had weapons, mostly on the order of dragon-tooth blades or sickles that could be easily wielded in the mouth, but only the Bloodborne seemed to possess a warrior escort. They did wear clothes, however, and it was easy to identify the separate pony groups by their dress.

The Sentinels favored headdresses and caps that hung over their foreheads and hid their nearly useless eyes. The Shad had long scarves wrapped around their necks that whipped about whenever the wind picked up. The Eisenwing wore little other than jewelry, their coats black as the void. The Dark Heart tribe favored overcoats, some of which looked like they came from “civilized” lands that had modern textile crafters. The Haunt were the stark opposite, wearing hides and bone ornaments to look like cruel savages.

None of them had cutie marks, unlike Norn and her retinue. Many of the bat ponies snuck frequent glances at the mares’ hips, furtively studying the marks. Some of the stallions stared for different reasons; the Bloodborne warriors were very healthy and their coats and manes were rich and well-groomed, which was not always the case amongst the ponies of the other tribes.

The stallion that had first addressed Norn trotted at an even pace with her, his eyes fixed firmly on the light. Norn’s attention, however, soon wandered to the other bat pony. She smiled, showing off her thick, curved fangs.

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it Cutlass? Why, I don’t think we saw each other since four winters ago.”

Cutlass nodded, not turning toward the mare. “Yes. That was the last occasion on which we needed to cooperate. Our hunting grounds have remained secure and the pegasi no longer harass our hunters, thanks to your aid.”

“Ah! Nostalgia!” Norn chirped, grinning happily. “Blades flashing in the moonlight! Feathers flying among the bloodspray! The cries for help and the pleas for mercy! Good times!”

“I don’t consider the period in which the Shad were being slowly exterminated ‘good times,’ Lady Norn. Although I am of course deeply grateful for your assistance, I’m thankful that there hasn’t been need for further cooperation among the tribes until this occasion.”

She looked slightly disappointed to hear that, but then her expression brightened again. “How did your mystic handle capturing the Nightmare? That, uh… what do you call them in Shad… er…”

“Nightweavers,” Cutlass answered. “Kris is… alive. She’ll survive. It’s too early to tell much else, but her injuries weren’t… mortal, at least.”

“Oh. I’m glad to hear that.” Norn looked away, coughing lightly. “Were you two close?”

“No,” the stallion responded with a dreary sigh.

“Mmm, I see. You remember my offer to you back from our days of martial cooperation, don’t you?” Norn asked, smirking. “It still stands, Cutlass.”

The stallion’s wings rustled irritably. “I do remember. My feelings have not changed. The offer to be chained up in your pits as a pleasure slave for the rest of my life, generous as it is, is declined. Thank you, though. It’s very flattering.”

“Pleasure slave! Bah!” Norn sniffed. “You all act like the concept of studding is so barbaric.”

“The way you do it IS barbaric,” interjected a mare from Eisenwing. “You raise your stallions to be dumb slaves, make them compete with each other, and then exile the losers. The winners get the privilege of spending their entire lives trapped in a pit, constantly rutting until they’re too old for you to enjoy. Then they’re granted the same fate as the rejects.”

“It’s not always exile,” retorted one of the Bloodborne warriors. “Sometimes it’s… worse.” She shrugged. “But the studs don’t complain.”

“Of course they don’t complain. They’re SLAVES,” grunted a Dark Heart stallion.

“Just ONCE I would like to meet in a tribal conclave without it turning into a denunciation of our breeding practices,” Norn complained, her mood ruined.

“You’re the one who brought it up,” Cutlass grumbled through clenched teeth.

“Silence. We’re here,” announced another stallion with a grim snort.

A path of heavy, intertwined roots formed a ramp upward to a wooden hut surrounded by magic torches that held strange blue flames. The roof was composed of still-living branches from the surrounding trees that had grown together and intertwined in a way that probably had something to do with druid magic. At the top of the ramp awaited an old unicorn mare. She had an overgrown mane of white hair and wore a dress and veil of silks that were ripped and dirtied from wear. Her cutie mark was a field of four-point stars against her light blue coat, with a single large star rising above the others. Silver earrings and an amulet completed the image of faded, tarnished opulence, each of them in the shape of a crescent moon.

“Greetings, friends and comrades in darkness,” the horned pony said, her voice like cloying honey. “I am pleased to see my summons reached you all. Our time is nigh.”

“It’s really happening, then? The ritual is ready? I can scarcely believe it!”

The unicorn tilted her head to one side. “It has been most difficult for you, my brothers and sisters. We exist at the periphery of this world: hunted, shunned, defeated. But that trial-“

“All right, all right, let’s cut the monologue and get a move on, Starsong,” Norn interrupted, looking annoyed.

Starsong Ebony pouted, tilting her head the other way. “You really have no sense of drama, Lady Norn. But fine. You have the materials?”

Six of the bat ponies stepped forward, each one clutching a glass sphere in their wing tip.

“A fragment of pure Nightmare. Six shards of darkness, screaming to be free and hungering for the minds of the innocent,” Starsong said, her voice taking on an almost lusty tone.

“Yes, that’s our contribution,” Norn said, lowering her orb. “And yours? Did that silly idea with the tree actually work?”

“Follow me,” Starsong said, turning around with a malicious smile crossing her face.

Inside the hut, the thestrals arranged themselves into a ring along the wall, with each tribe grouped together. In the middle of the building, standing within a beam of moonlight that fed through a hole in the roof and forest canopy, was a sapling. It was a small, withered thing, barely more than five feet tall. It sat in a large pot of strange, dusty soil, and it had barely any leaves on its twisted branches. Strips of dark rot ran through its bark like ugly scars, and a single knot in the trunk yawned open like a hungering mouth. There were flowers, but their petals were gray and sickly, looking like they were on the verge of falling off.

“This is it? Really?” Norn asked, looking exasperated.

“Well it’s not THAT bad for just twenty years’ growth… right?” a stallion protested.

“Appearances can be deceiving,” a jet-black stallion sniffed. “Will it do what we need?”

Starsong Ebony walked up in front of the sapling and then cleared her throat meaningfully. “Welcome, lords and ladies of the night! It has been twenty long years since that day. Our humiliation. Our loss. Our-“

“Can you PLEASE just get on with it?” Norn groaned, hanging her head. “We all know what happened and why we’re here! How long this is going to take?”

“I spent all yesterday rehearsing this monologue and I’m not letting it go to waste because you brats are BORED,” Starsong hissed, her eyes flashing briefly. “Now shush! Where was I…”

Norn bristled at being scolded, but she and the other Bloodborne didn’t interrupt again as the unicorn jumped back into her speech.

“Twenty years! Twenty years since that self-righteous cow banished our lady and stole the moon for herself!” Starsong growled, turning her gaze up at the sky through the hole in the roof. “For a thousand years she thought to imprison Nightmare Moon! For a thousand years she thought to bury our revolution! For a thousand years she hoped to keep the darkness at bay!”

Starsong Ebony lowered her head, magic sparks dancing around her horn and a sickly light coming from her pupils. “But twenty years is quite enough, is it not?”

“Aye.”

“Yes!”

“Too long!”

Starsong stepped to one side, finally gesturing to the tree in the room. “Behold, the mechanism of our ascension: the Tree of Turmoil!”

“Eesh,” Norn rolled her eyes at the name, but otherwise didn’t interrupt.

“Twenty years ago a root was cut from the Tree of Harmony and smuggled away to us. A dozen ponies perished between the denizens of the Everfree Forest and the guardians of Equestria proper, but this root was successfully planted here in the poisoned soil of the Fallen Glade! For two decades we Moon Mages have cultivated it, feeding it with dark magic and experimenting on it, and at last we are ready to harvest its power!”

Then she paused. “But more is needed, lord and ladies of the night! A final fuel to spark the magic hidden deep within its roots! Nightmares given form! Monstrous souls captured from the black rifts!” She grinned, her expression looking distinctly unhinged. “With these, we will create the Elements of Destruction! A glorious weapon of sheer bedlam that will tear open space and time, reaching all the way to the moon itself! NIGHTMARE MOON WILL BE FREE!!” she howled, pausing to catch her breath. “And then… And then at last… our revolution will be resurrected in glorious shadow. And the night WILL last forever!”

A series of cheers and shrieks erupted from the gathered thestrals, and many of them started stamping their hooves on the floor or flapping their wings excitedly. Only the Bloodborne seemed reserved in their celebrations, releasing cursory squeals and calm taps against the floor as if they were performing a formality to be polite.

“Now, plunge your captured Nightmares within the tree!” Starsong called, her horn flaring brilliantly. “Sturm, of the Eisenwing!”

A large black bat pony walked up to the tree and placed his sphere into the knot. The sphere quivered, and then, after a moment, it shattered. Sturm recoiled slightly, but then watched in fascination as the essence within the orb drained away into the gap in the trunk. The glass shards slowly disintegrated, the magic within vaporizing the remnants.

“Drakk, of the Dark Hearts!” Starsong called.

Another stallion wearing a fine fur overcoat came up to the tree. He stared at the orb for a moment, wiping away a tear from his eye with the tip of his wing. Then he silently placed it into the tree.

“Rattle, of the Haunt!”

A mare wearing a wolf’s skull on her head and torso armor of a beast’s ribs approached and inserted her orb without commentary or ceremony.

“Bleak Attica, of the Sightless Guardians!”

Another mare wearing an elaborate headdress decorated with garish and hideously mismatched colored feathers walked up to the tree.

“We’re actually called the ‘Sentinels’ now. Marketing thinks it’s more trendy and accessible this way,” Bleak Attica explained, pausing before the tree. “They didn’t like how the old clan name defined us by our disability.”

“Oh, for the love of-“ Starsong took a calming breath, and then shrugged her shoulders. “All right, fine. That’s fine. Do you want me to introduce you again?”

“No! No, that’s not necessary, thank you! Just wanted you to know!” Bleak said, shoving her orb in the knot and then trotting away.

Starsong Ebony cleared her throat again. “Now, then. Cutlass, of the Shad!”

Cutlass stalked forward, the sphere clutched in the tip of his wing. There were seams of bright red spreading through the tree now, originating from the knot. They spread haphazardly in small surges, crimson light pulsing from the sundered bark. It wasn’t clear to him what was happening, but it seemed obviously traumatic for the tree; the wood creaked and the bark fell apart as the strange affliction spread.

He placed the sphere within the knot, watching carefully as the casing collapsed. The gas within – the strange dark spirit they knew as a Nightmare – seemed to surge toward him briefly in the air after the orb shattered, as if it knew what was happening and was reaching out for help. But in an eye blink it was sucked up into the hollow beneath the knot, and the red cracks grew further.

“And last, but certainly not least, Queen Norn, of the Bloodborne!”

“Finally,” the mare grumbled, walking up past Cutlass and depositing her own sphere in the knot. Her eyes lingered a moment on the bright red seams when they started to glow even brighter, and then she quickly stepped back. “Mage, may I presume it’s supposed to be doing that?”

“Yes! YES! Witness the power of darkness! Nightmares manifest! Chaos ascendant!”

Starsong’s horn practically exploded with light, and a wheel of magic glyphs appeared on the ground and started to spin. The Tree of Turmoil quivered, more of its bark cracking and falling off. The red veins reached the dying blossoms, and those pitiful flowers suddenly awoke with new life, growing lush and full before the conclave’s very eyes.

“Behold!” Starsong shouted, directing her magic to one such flower. “The Element of Pain!”

The blossom quivered and then started to swell, its petals falling off. Within seconds a mustard-yellow pod had grown to the size of a baseball, and the branch it was attached to trembled to hold it up.

“The Element of Malice!” Starsong shouted, nurturing another blossom and growing another pod. This one was a dark brown, with blue stripes.

“The Element of Terror! The Element of Deceit! The Element of Shadow!”

One by one the blossoms turned into rich, lush-looking fruits. With every Element the tree withered further, its trunk splitting open and bleeding dark, oily sap. Its branches curled and dried, creaking noisily. A wisp of foul smoke spewed from the knot, like a diseased cough.

“The tree! It’s dying!” Cutlass warned.

“Yesssss,” Starsong said, her voice almost gleeful as she moved to the last flower. “It is young, and our ministrations have not been gentle. It will not survive this service. Unfortunate, but necessary.” Her horn’s magic pulsed. “Now, finally… the Element of Carnage!”

The final flower ballooned into a dark red seed pod, and then the branch it was on snapped. The fruit fell, but it was caught in a swirl of pale silvery light and carried into the air. The crimson veins running through the tree drained of color, and then the Tree of Turmoil shriveled to a crooked gray skeleton of dried wood.

Norn gave a slight nod to her retinue.

“At last! AT LAST!! The labor is complete! Our efforts have come to fruition!” Starsong Ebony shouted, almost weeping with pride and relief.

“Speaking of, uh, fruit,” mumbled Drakk, “are the Elements of Destruction supposed to be… what are those, melons? I was expecting jewelry, like the Elements of Harmony.”

Starsong giggled, plucking the other Elements of Destruction from the branches with her magic. “Harmony is a thing of form and order. It is easy to hammer into gems and metals. Darkness is more… organic. It is small resentments and jealousies buried deep within to fester. Hatreds born of an insult centuries past, fed with blood from generation to generation. Small embers that explode into horrific violence. Darkness is not forged; it is seeded.”

The unicorn turned her head toward an exit in the rear of the hut. “The Elements of Destruction will make a fine feast for the Mistress of the Night, and finally grant her power beyond that which her accursed sister wields! Victory will be ours! But first, they have another role.” The Elements of Destruction slowly started to orbit Starsong’s head. “The other Moon Mages have constructed a portal that we will use to reach the moon and grant our fell lady her freedom. They are waiting for us now, needing only the power source that we-“ a wing claw tapped her on the back, and Starsong’s eyebrow twitched. “Lady Norn I know these explanations bore you but I’m almost done!” she snapped, turning to face the Queen of the Bloodborne.

Norn’s hoof struck like lightning, punching a spring-loaded blade into the unicorn’s chest. Starsong’s eyes widened. Shrieks of surprise and horror erupted from the other tribes of bat ponies.

“You… but…” Starsong Ebony gasped, blood welling up in her throat.

The magic holding up the Elements of Destruction faltered, and the magical fruits dropped out of the air. Norn caught the Element of Carnage with her wing, but the others she let fall to the ground with meaty thumps.

“NORN!! YOU TREACHEROUS JACKAL!!” Cutlass snarled, drawing a blade fastened to his rear leg.

“Oh, I’m sorry about that,” the mare said coyly, raising her free wing before her mouth. “Just a little ember that exploded into horrific violence. You know how it is.” Norn shoved Starsong away, and the unicorn fell onto the wooden floor lifelessly.

With a scream of fury the other bat ponies surged forward to attack. The Bloodborne escorts responded, rushing to the defense of their queen, and the first charge was battered aside with wing shields and spears. The Bloodborne had brought six ponies while the other tribes had arrived with two or three members each. Although the other tribes ultimately had numbers, the Bloodborne warriors were well prepared and their attackers lacked conviction, striking out in panic and desperation (and in many cases without weapons). After a few frenzied stabs and shield bashes most of the attackers backed off, surrounding the ring of bodyguards and snarling threateningly.

Cutlass struck aside a spear with his sword, and then spun into one of the escorts with a kick. She staggered, lashing out with a wing, and a leather buckler punched the stallion in the nose. He recoiled, and then a quick flap of his wings pulled him out of the way of a spear tip slicing in toward his flank.

Cutlass landed and the enemy mares stepped back into formation, presenting an arc of steel spikes to the ponies surrounding them. He looked back. Rattle was dragging Starsong free of the battle zone, but the unicorn’s body was quite limp and trailing an obscene amount of blood. His eyes darted back to Queen Norn just in time to see her take a big bite of the Element of Carnage.

Her muzzle scrunched up at the taste. “Oof. Don’t like that,” Norn grumbled around her mouthful. Bright red juice, seething with magic power, oozed from the corner of her mouth and seemed to sink into her flesh. “Doesn’t quite taste like blood, but the aftertaste is there. And the TEXTURE. Bleagh. You’d probably love it, Drakk.”

“Do… Do you have ANY IDEA what you’ve done?!” Drakk replied, steam puffing angrily from his nostrils as a tear dribbled down his cheek.

“I took the Element of Carnage for myself. By doing so I have prevented the rescue of that big bald failure trapped on the moon and denied her the full power of the artifacts that were prepared for her. And I’ve murdered the only pony with the knowledge to potentially make another attempt at this sad little affair.” She stuffed the remnant of the Element of Carnage into her mouth, and then gulped it down with a grimace. “Does that cover it?”

The other tribes looked stunned at the admission, but one of the Bloodborne mares coughed lightly.

“My Lady, she’s not BALD, it’s just-“

“Yes, yes, I know the star field is supposed to be the mane but the helmet makes it look like she’s bald! Hah!” Norn’s wings were starting to quiver, and a glow was building in her eyes even as she spoke.

“We won’t let you take the Elements for yourself!” snarled Sturm of the Eisenwing, quickly taking the Element of Malice off the floor with his wing.

“Sure, that’s fine. I just wanted this one,” Norn admitted. Her body was shaking now, and it was proving harder to keep casual concentration as it started to grow.

“You… what?” The other Elements lay on the floor, apparently undamaged by the short fall and the scuffle that had followed. The heads of the other tribes darted forward and snatched them up, each one looking surprised when the Bloodborne made no move to stop them.

“You can have the others. I don’t care. I’ve already accomplished what I meant to do here.” Norn’s breath got heavier as her jaws and teeth started to grow noticeably. The mares guarding her held their formation, but each one took a few steps away and gave their Queen a concerned glance, at the least.

“You probably imagine that I’m here to seize ultimate power, massacre the heads of the bat pony tribes and take control of all thestrals, or perhaps slay the Moon Cult as a hidden agent of Equestria, or maybe become the new Nightmare Queen or something. But, no.”

Norn suddenly grunted and spread her wings as they started to swell and quiver. “Hrrrg! GRAAH!!” Great talons erupted from her wings’ peaks, and blade-like spines grew out of the bones. “Ah! That stings! Ugh… Now where was I?”

“WHY, Norn?!” Cutlass demanded, dragging his blade against the ground menacingly. “If you didn’t do this for conquest or revenge or something like that then WHY would you make a move against us?”

“Oh, Cutlass… for you, I’m sorry.” the tribal elder was almost twice the size of her guards by now, with shaggy hair and teeth like knives. She gave the stallion a pout, her eyes gleaming with crimson. “Don’t take this personally. This isn’t about you. This is about… HER.”

One wing was thrust upward toward the hole in the roof. The other bat ponies glanced upward, toward the full moon barely visible through the criss-crossing branches.

“Nightmare Moon,” Norn said, her expression getting visibly agitated. “The insipid little Princess who thought to cast the world into darkness because she was JEALOUS. The inept monster who whipped our people into a frenzy of revolution, LOST, and then got us cast out of Equestria. The useless sow who CONTINUES to dominate our lives two decades out from her defeat and a million miles away!” she snarled. “But no more. This moon the Bloodborne tribe renounces the Nightmare once and for all. We have had enough bowing and scraping to the soul who brought us to ruin.”

The other tribes recoiled with each insult, their mouths agape.

“I… I had no idea you felt this way,” Bleak Attica said, cringing.

“Yes, well, it was fairly important to keep close confidence what with the whole twenty-year plot to spring her from moon jail and make her more powerful than ever,” Norn sneered. “I say the Nightmare has earned her punishment. Let her wait.”

“And what about US, Norn?! What of the thestrals?!” Cutlass shouted. “Twenty years of hardship! Lives lost! Futures dashed! Resources spent! For what?! To keep scraping by in the pits for the next thousand years?!”

“You’ve doomed us all with your petulance,” Rattle proclaimed, the bone charms on her tail bouncing against each other.

“We could have ruled Equestria!” Sturm hissed. “Now we have lost that chance, and lost the high magister and the lore and magic she possessed! All thanks to YOUR petty resentment!”

“You didn’t just take away Nightmare Moon’s chance at freedom, Lady Norn!” Drakk continued, fresh tears soaking his cheeks. “You took away our future! Our hope!”

Norn rolled her eyes. “I have already apologized to Prince Cutlass. I care nothing for the rest of this moaning.” Then she quivered, and a line of spikes grew along her spine. “Ooh… that one felt kind of nice…” she looked back at the other bat ponies, looming over her retinue. “Are we done here? If none of you are actually going to do anything then I’m going to go smash the lunar portal and then go home.”

“RAAAAAAUGH!!” Cutlass reared up and then took to the air, leaping into position for an aerial attack.

The warrior mares moved in an instant to protect Norn, but she suddenly threw her wings forward and then spread them, parting her escorts and shoving them aside. Her eyes gleamed happily, and drool oozed from between her teeth. Cutlass darted forward, his body a dark blur and his blade a silvery arc leading it.

The attack was aimed for her eye; a brutal strike made to incapacitate as quickly as possible. Norn’s wing swung at him to intercept and Cutlass had to adjust his angle, slicing across the mare’s forehead and up through her ear. He flew higher as her other wing lashed out, talons extended, and he barely dodged out of the way.

“Bold! I’ve always liked that about you, Cutlass!” Norn crowed, spreading her wings again but remaining grounded. “But I’m sure you know how this ends.”

Cutlass darted in again, blade slicing into Norn’s neck. Norn took the full brunt of the attack and slammed a hoof down on the stallion as soon as his momentum was spent. Cutlass buckled instantly, growling in pain as he was pinned to the floor.

“I think you might have had a chance if you ate your own fruit,” Norn said as she used her wing to pull the short sword out of her neck. Blood seeped freely from her wounds but the cuts knit rapidly, sealing closed even as the others watched. “Would the rest of you care to join in? You can take a minute to digest the power of your Elements, if you need it. No?”

The others looked at their Elements doubtfully, and then back at the monstrous thestral slowly crushing a stallion under her hoof. Cutlass had the Element of Shadows in his leg pouch, although he was currently in no position to use it.

“We eat the Elements of Destruction, and then what? Turn into pony monsters and fight you?” Rattle asked. “Have a big battle royale between all of us, maybe? To see who gets the honor of facing down a united Equestria and getting added to Celestia’s statue garden?”

Bleak Attica shook her head. “The damage is done. We cannot win now, and this infighting only weakens us further, threatening our survival. Canterlot stands triumphant yet again, and without having lifted a hoof.”

“And it’s YOUR FAULT, Norn! You did this!” snarled Cutlass, squirming under her hoof.

Norn stared at the surrounding bat ponies with contempt. “You really are nothing without that bald embarrassment of a Princess, aren’t you? Pathetic.” She took her hoof off Cutlass and then kicked him aside, eliciting a shout of pain from the stallion. “You don’t deserve victory.”

“What?!” Sturm snarled. “After you-“

“You don’t deserve supremacy,” Norn interrupted, her eyes flashing crimson.

“B-But we-“ Drakk stuttered.

“You don’t deserve hope,” Norn spat, spreading her wings again. “I am done with you pit vermin. BLOODBORNE!”

“Yes, Queen!” the other five mares barked in unison.

“To the skies! Our work here is done.” The other mares of her tribe launched into the air, zipping out of the hut via the hole in the roof. Norn took flight a moment later, her massive wings moving so much air that she nearly knocked over the closest ponies watching her departure.

“Maybe, just maybe, in a thousand years my descendants will regret this decision!” Norn said, having to bellow over the wind she was making with her ascent, “Enjoy the wait! HAH HA HA HA HAAAA!!”

With a cackle that chilled the blood, the Queen of the Bloodborne surged upward through the air, smashing through the branches overhead and rising into the moonlit night.

Ferrous Dominus – sector 20
Nightwatch – Lieutenant Dusk Blade’s quarters

Dusk Blade woke up with a jolt.

It wasn’t quite the shock to consciousness that he usually experienced when waking up from a nightmare. His heart rate wasn’t elevated and he didn’t feel any sense of panic. If anything, he felt cold and sluggish. The images from his dream kept replaying in his mind as he blinked repeatedly, crowding out his waking thoughts as if his brain was desperately trying to keep the memory from fading away like most dreams did.

It wasn’t necessary. This wasn’t the first time he had dreamt of that mysterious glade and that peculiar night, and he remembered every moment of it. Every character. Every sound and smell. The names of the ponies that he had seen but no one had addressed. All of it was lodged in his memory like a nail.

Dusk stood up on his bed and stretched his wings, trying to push out the strange thoughts. The chronometer on the counter blinked 14:00. A dark curtain up over the room’s only window – tastefully decorated with a stitching of Twilight Sparkle’s cutie mark – blocked the sunlight from the room, but it was obvious at a glance that it was the middle of the day.

Dusk groaned and stepped down off his bed. It was way too early for him to be awake, but he knew he wasn’t going to get back to sleep. He trotted over to his dresser and hooked the peak of his wing on the handle, pulling it open.

A dozen pictures of Twilight Sparkle were on in the inside wall of the dresser cabinet, plastered haphazardly over a poster that had “DO IT FOR HER” in large, bold font. One of them were high-fidelity pict-captures that featured the young Princess in her armor, but most were an assortment of less modern photographs and paintings of highly varying quality. There was even one from when Twilight was still a unicorn, gathered together with the rest of the Elements of Harmony. The other mares in that particular photo were mostly obscured by other Twilight pictures pinned on top of it so that only she was visible.

Dusk turned on the dresser lumen and stared at his collection. Normally he felt his heart swell just at the sight of the brave purple mare, and he would then race off to his next assignment – or that evening’s shady plot – with renewed determination and vigor.

Today he felt nothing. The images just seemed to blur into a mess of silver, gold, and lavender mush before his eyes. The laughter of Lady Norn repeated in his ears, casting false images across the room through his confused echolocation. He plucked his armor vest from the peg on the cabinet door and started putting it on.

When he took his respirator mask from its hook, Dusk exposed another couple of pict-captures attached to the dresser interior. One featured him in a barracks, next to three other bat ponies. The other ponies were covered up by the other pict, this one featuring a certain earth pony cyborg in a charcoal black hood and cloak. Gear Works was standing atop a rampart, his servo arm reaching into an ammo hopper behind a jammed-up quad-barreled autocannon.

“……” Dusk Blade paused while putting on his mask, staring at the picture. He remembered when the picture was taken, during an Ork air raid on the fortress. He remembered the explosions and the klaxons and even a few moments from when he had helped chase down a pilot that had survived being shot down.

He should have remembered more. The pict was less than a month old. But the memory was invaded and obscured by imagery of the Fallen Glade. Ponies he had never met screeching in voices he had never heard loomed in his thoughts.

Cutlass.
The Element of Shadows.
The Nightmare.

Dusk blinked, suddenly jolting out of his distraction. He glanced over at the chronometer. 14:20. He hadn’t even strapped on his gunnery brace yet.

With a frustrated growl, the Lunar Lieutenant picked up his weapon. Patrol. He had to get to his patrol.

Author's Note

I know nobody asked for a Dusk Blade/batpony story, but I kind of bought a bunch of bat pony adopts and then a story kind of fell out onto the page. Oh well!