My Little Rogue Trader: Maretime Sector

A long time ago, in a world that would be a Co-Founder of the Imperium, two men stood before each other. They were both strangers in this sphere, but they had both become friends with the locals. And yet, the first knew of the second. They were left alone, and yet for the longest time, they stood in silence, and stared at each other. The birds sang outside, as they always had.

“If you’re here, the Heresy hasn’t happened yet.”

The second tilted his head and looked more thoughtfully at the first. They stood in a throne room, golden light filtering in from outside.

“...Show me.”

In a lapse of judgment, Acting Deputy Sunny Starscout committed a cardinal sin of the worker; she volunteered. In the words of Hazy Sleeper, the Wise,

“For those who ask for more work, more work shall be given them.”

She had asked—settled, really—to work with the members of OWAT, Ogryn Weapons and Tactics. These were the elite, oversized riot police of the Hive; the best of the bulk. Sunny would surely be safe behind such a mass of muscle and heavy plate. But they’re busy defending the walls, so the LT, with permission from Sheriff Kick, had issued new orders for Acting Deputy Sunny Starscout.

She was to deputize an Ogryn Graft Gang. Sunny wasn’t sure if they were... criminals or workers.

Simple. Only problem... she also volunteered to actually move a shipment of bulwark shields and clubs by cart.

Yes, cart. A police vehicle would draw too much fire, but a mare with a wagon? At least the APC would’ve had meaningful armor. As Sunny raced out of the wide back entrance of the Aegis Station, she couldn’t help but remember how those tracers passed through poor Hitch. It was more or less the same level of protection that Sunny wore now. All that weight distributed on her body, and it felt rather... useless. She tried to push those thoughts out of her head as she ran, guided by Zipp Storm, and flanked by Tabby Baker and Touchdown.

In all, nopony was happy about the mission. Sunny wasn’t thrilled about lugging a cart full of heavy gear around, along with her own things, including her shotgun. Zipp Storm wasn’t coping well about Hitch being shot, Baker was very downcast about Casey being shot, and Touchdown was fuming that his machine gun was taken away, having to cradle an autopistol in his hooves.

Touchdown looked the most outwardly upset out of all of them.

Thankfully, the Ogryns to be drafted weren’t very far, even taking the four away from the crashed Hulk, where the firefight had not yet abated. That was despite the punishment that the trespassing and exposed portions of the vessel were targeted with heavy weaponry. Sunny couldn’t ignore, however, that the sound of the fighting had reached the city streets.

All she could do, though, was rely on her Earth Pony endurance to carry the load forward. Thankfully, this route was more of a direct road. It led to the far wall, where the locals of the sector dwelled. While the tourists and visitors could expect hotels and spacious rooms, the workers could expect similar lodging to the rest of the mid-hive. That included the Ogryns, who are universally employed as laborers... and warriors.

Sunset tried to console herself and her weary bones by thinking about the bulwark she would arm, and the ruckus that would cause. She tried to ignore the bodies in the street, all Imperials. She could not ignore the shouts and the shooting, however. Nor could she miss that a few buildings had already been broken into, even in spite of the lowered shutters.

“Keep up!” Shouted Zipp.

They pressed on through the cacophony. Where were Astartes when you needed them? As they ran, Sunny’s mind couldn’t help but figure out the answer to her question. Well, first off; they weren’t here, so they must be elsewhere. Obviously. Most, if not all of them would be aboard their starships, including the Battle Barge Aurora Tripartite. With the Warp Storm, their first order of business would be to get their starships into low atmosphere, and to deploy strike teams to secure strategic assets... or so Sunset thought. Not that she would be picky about who, exactly, would be doing the rescuing here, mind anyone who asked.

She must emphatically be focusing right now, especially on those beady, glowing red eyes staring at her from the alleyway.

Sunny’s head turned. Her breath seized. She barely had a chance to see it. She reared up, her hooves swivelling her weapon around. The ratty form almost took up her whole vision. A gaze of hate. Oversized front teeth. Greasy gray fur. A hunchbacked stance. It was holding a crooked dagger and crude pistol. It opened its mouth to scream something profane...

But Sunny’s divine double-barrel silenced it first with a deafening blast. Sunny’s ears rang, as she cringed away, toppling the cart as she fell backwards. Nothing spilled out, for the container’s lid was shut. Sunny panted as she looked at the thing, now missing its legs and lower torso. Immediately, her squad converged on her.

“Woah-ho-ho!” Jollily hollered Touchdown. “First blood goes to the new blood!” He hovered his face over Sunny’s face, his enthusiasm returned as Sunny touched her face, her hoof coming away with the blood of that... thing. Tears ran down her face. She choked.

“Ah, shit!” Touchdown yelled. “Hey, Baker, help her up.” Sunny became surrounded as the colts hoisted her back onto her hooves and righted the two-wheeled cart. Sunny saw Zipp Storm walk up to her, Zipp’s blue eyes looked her up and down.

Zipp asked, curtly, “Not your blood?” Sunny shook her head. Sunny felt herself getting hit in the shoulder by Touchdown, which helped to shake her out of her trance. His stupid smile was... frustrating.

“I can see it in your eyes, Sunny,” Touchdown remarked, suddenly more sober. “Your first kill.”

Sunny’s manic eyes remained wide.

Touchdown smiled grimly. “It was just as rough for me, too.” He rubbed his neck with a hoof before meeting Sunny’s eyes again. “It does get easier, though. Freaky shit, but it does get easier.”

Sunny had only begun to ponder the significance of what he was saying when Tabby Baker ushered them onward, getting a nod from Zipp Storm.

“We should keep moving,” Tabby said with his gravelly voice. “If there’s something I’ve learned about the throne-damned enemies of ponies—” He shook his head, flapping his ears, and cleared his throat. “—enemies of the Imperium...” he cast a look at the fallen rodent...-ish... alien. “There’s never just fuck’n one of them.”

He cast his eyes about, as did everypony else there. They cast off again, every shadow and every corner promising to conceal an attacker.

Touchdown’s pale ears flicked, and he uttered, “Oh!” He swivelled his head back to Sunny with that cocky grin again. “That’s right! See, there’s an old tradition in the Imperial Guard! The first one to kill a hostile xeno is the one who gets to name it! Neat, huh?”

Sunny’s vision swam, and she struggled not to hurl. As they picked up speed again, though, her mind did start to wonder. It’s a verminous... thing. She was out of breath, however, and she only managed to say, “It’s... it’s uh, a verm—” and she paused, unsure if she should say “verminous” or just “vermin”.

After a moment, Touchdown looked back and grinned. “Vyrmm, huh? I can work with that. I’ll have to send that report up the chain, just like old times!”

“Solarch’s ass!” Tabby swore loudly. He growled, shaking the wide-brimmed hat on his head, “You’re not in the Guard anymore!”

That set off Zipp Storm too, and she screamed, “The both of you, shut the kark up! We’re almost to the labor district!”

True enough, the more aesthetically-pleasing buildings of Maretime’s more play-oriented district gave way to a more utilitarian, if still Imperial motif for a more work-oriented section of Maretime. That, at least, brought a smile to Sunny’s face.

It was then that the ancient loudhailers of the hive came to life again, the machine spirit nervous system making itself known even over the roar of gunfire.

“Attention: The Lord of Hassia will speak. Hark ye well.”

The battle immediately paused, the gunfire above continuing faintly. All listened. Then, Lord Edo Von Hassia addressed his subjects again.

“We have repulsed a second attack on the Palace!”

No surprise there, even if it was just as doomed as the first attack.

“My purpose in this announcement is to inform you of our emergency measures! Ahem.”

The voice bounced off distant metal walls, creating a distorting sound.

“I hereby declare martial law! All civilian representatives and appointees are ordered to organize with Hassia’s military at once!”

A pause. A deafening pause.

“In light of recent events, and by the blessing of the Hassian Princesses, I hereby take up the temporary title of Imperator Regent! This will allow me supreme authority over the Protectorate until such a time the crisis is ended!”

How long did they anticipate being cut off from Holy Terra? ...Did something happen to Holy Equestria, too?

“In response to multiple new and unprecedented alien and apostate threats, I also declare the activation of the Ultima Ratio Protocol!”

Numbly, Sunny and the others continued along, but at a more sedate pace. Sunny recalled that the Sheriff said something about that.

“The Imperial Prohibition regarding the use of Technology and Abominable Intelligence is hereby suspended!”

What... what did that mean? What sort of terrors did the Lord... the Imperator hold?

“The Imperial Prohibition regarding the use of alien and xeno artifacts and technology is suspended!”

Touchdown let out an awestruck “Ooh!” Sunny didn’t like his reaction one bit.

“The Imperial Prohibition regarding the use of unsanctioned magic and psyker abilities is suspended!”

Sunny couldn’t help but think of the bright green-eyed, black-haired pyromancer. Her evil voice crackled in Sunny's head.

“And finally, the Imperial Treatise Regarding the Practice of Ethical Warfare is suspended! All starship captains, commodores, and admirals are now free-fire upon enemy positions on the Hive Cities and beyond! All forms of warfare are no longer prohibited!”

No quarter. No mercy. No hesitation. No restraints.

“By our guns, by our swords! By our spirit, by our powers! By our faith and by our fury! I go now to annihilate the third wave coming upon the Palace! But I leave you now with my first command as Imperator Regent;

If they will not be our friends, then they will all die.

Kill them all.”

The speakers went silent, and a crowded roar thundered through the Hive. There was a bright explosion inside the space hulk and just about every single Imperial leveled and fired their weapon at the Hulk, or joined the charge at the invader, swinging their club, or their ax, or their shovel, or their sword, or their spear, or their knife.

Officer Zipp Storm, Deputy Sunny Starscout, and the penal troopers Touchdown and Tabby Baker ran up to a barricaded labor barracks. It was an oversized half-cylinder, with a pale green paint scheme, and an oversized, overbuilt, reinforced, and oft-repaired playground next to it. Zipp banged on the rolling door with a hoof. She shouted, hoarsely, “Open up in the name of the law!”

From inside, a scared, feminine voice. “The... Arbites?” Sunny unhooked herself from the cart and walked around to open it, keeping both eyes out for more of those vyrmm things. “No!” The voice then shouted. “Nobody’s home!” With the windows curtained, Sunny couldn’t see just who was inside.

“Maretime Graft Gang 11 is hereby deputized!” Shouted Zipp. The voice inside started to wail mournfully. Touchdown and Tabby stared at the back of Zipp’s head and fidgeted uncomfortably in their collars.

Zipp scoffed, and Sunny sighed. They were at an impasse.

Sunny stepped up, and asked, through the door, “Hey, my name’s Sunny Starscout. I’ve been... deputized, too. What’s your name?”

“I’m...” the voice sputtered and sniffed. “I’m... Misty Softwhisper... Careleader of Maretime Graft Gang 11.” She at least started to sound calmer.

Sunny noticed that Tabby looked at Touchdown with wide-eyed exasperation. He gestured with a pale brown hoof around, to the chaos happening all around. The gunshots. The violence. Touchdown just shrugged and laughed. Tabby facehooved.

Sunny heard more voices inside. Fainter. There were some big guys in there. Then, Sunny heard a new voice through the rolling door, which covered the entire entrance to the barracks. It was deep, rumbly, yet carried with it an aged naivete.

“Me am Grampaps,” the new voice spoke. “I also speak for Graft Gang. What is ‘dep-you-tizig’? Is it like job?”

“Yes!” Sunny shouted excitedly, before seeing Zipp narrow her own eyes annoyedly at her. She smiled sheepishly. “We have to go and fight the good fight!”

“Mm,” Grampaps rumbled through the door. “Sounds dangerous. Pay is good? Much rations?”

“Uh...” Sunny said, unsure. They were going back to square one.

It was then that Touchdown walked up to the door. In a loud voice, Touchdown shouted, “Come on out, guys! The Emperor says we have to stomp some bad guys flat now! We even brought some gear for you!”

Sunny narrowed her eyes in skepticism, but from behind the door, she could hear... the other ogryns agreeing?

“The Emperor said?” Said Grampaps behind the door. “Well, why didn’t you say so? Boys!”

“Oh, no...” moaned Misty as the door rolled up, oversized fists lifting the armored roller like it was made of plastic. She was a sea-green pegasus, with a dark blue braided mane and tail. She wore a similar work uniform to Sunny, which had Misty’s cutie mark; a trio of droplets. Grampaps, however, was a large, elderly ogryn, with broad shoulders, pale skin, a broad white beard, a white mohawk, and purple eyes. He wore a work suit, too, one with pockets and clips.

“Ah, hell!” Said Touchdown in awe. He almost seemed giddy enough to bounce on his tippy hooves. “You’re a Cadian! Been in any good wars, big guy?”

“Loads,” said Grampaps. “Can’t rightly ‘rember them all. Can’t count me medals ‘n scars.”

Other ogryns, equally large, moved past the three to grab at the slab shields and maces that the cart offered.

Grampaps looked around and opened his bearded maw in shock. “We’re at war again?!”

Zipp stormed off, all but leaving them in a fit.

Sunny raised a hoof to her head, and laughed quietly. Grampaps saw Sunny and the blood on her and fell to one knee. “Pony is hurt!” He exclaimed. He grabbed Misty in one of his hands, who “Eep!”-ed as she was held before Sunny.

Grampaps then asked Sunny, “Show me on cute careleader where you are hurt, little one.” Misty hid her face behind her hooves.

“Oh,” Sunny realized, before trying to rub some of the ichor off. “Not mine.”

“Good!” Shouted the ogryn. “Enemy bleeding good! Friends bleeding bad! Is basics of fighting!” He set down Misty, who flew off to help other ogryns gear up. “If friend bleed, squeeze wound! Stop bleeding! Am very good at squeezing!”

Sunny’s eyes flicked to his big hands.

“Friend bleed too much, they need to see scary, scaly cog-wizards! Give them metal bits! Not good!”

Tabby froze up and made a choked sound. Tears ran down his cheek. Grampaps noticed and added, “It will be okay, little cowpony! As long as your friend didn’t get hit in the head—!”

Tabby fell onto his rear end and fought to keep himself quiet.

“Oh, poop,” said the big man with a grimace.

“Pappy!” Shrilly shrieked Misty.

“Sorry!”

The sounds of fighting got closer. Sunny could hear... scurrying. The scraping of claws on roofs and concrete. Heavy breathing of ratty throats.

Touchdown shouted, “Contact! Vyrmm, front! Shields front and up!”

Misty added, “We’re.. we’re going to be like a turtle now, guys!”

The gang locked shields as the xenos attacked. Sunny leveled her shotgun at the crowd and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened! She swore to herself; she’d forgotten to reload! The other ponies of Sunny’s squad were firing their weapons, be it from the autopistols carried by Touchdown and Tabby, or Zipp Storm’s bolter pistol. By Twilight, that thing was loud. But by goodness, the power! A single shot was enough to mulch one of the rat-xenos attackers!

Something only her shotgun could match. Sunny took cover in the forming tortoise of shields and ogryns. She was very nearly overwhelmed; such a potent abhuman stink, being so close together like this! But Sunny had to focus.

Safety... on. Then, Sunny felt the action rotate underneath her left front hoof, and watched as the bright red shells leap from the breech. One shell into the left chamber, and another as its neighbor. Close the action. She blasted a vyrmm that got too close, the fireball issuing forth from the gaps between big, bulky, rectangular shields.

Release the action. Replace the shells. Re-engage. Blast another pair of Vyrmm into oblivion. Reload. Point. Shoot. Reload. Kill. Kill again. More shells. More killing. Ogryns above were being pelted by small arms fire. Xenos with guns. What didn’t get stopped by the shields, became graze-marks on exposed arms and shoulders. Sunny’s head jerked when a small stray shot struck her helmet. It held true. A rat stood on a neighboring roof with a crooked rifle. Sunny raised her hot weapon and shot it dead. She faintly registered that Misty screamed in terror. Sunny shivered, but not from fear.

Touchdown was right. This was getting easier.

Another pair of shotgun shells. Too many rats stood in a line, and they all got torn apart for it. Their ragged forms fell from holy buckshot. Those xenos bastards who got too close for guns were bashed in their heads and ratty bodies by Grampaps or another ogryn. Every dead alien was one step closer to a safe and free Maretime. A vyrmm slave, judging by its meager weapons and rags, got too close. Sunny kicked herself forward, angling her head. She felt bones crack underneath her helmet, sending the rat a good distance.

She roared alongside the ogryns and the other ponies. Even Misty joined in now, cheerleading as clubs met vyrmm faces.

Then, the Church Militia came. Zealous, brave, fearless. They swung big swords and axes, diving into the melee. Theirs was a hymnal of vengeance, a dirge for the honored dead, a psalm of bloody retribution. They wore modest clothing and carried sacred symbols of Holy Terra and of Holy Equestria. The Missionaries carried flamers, or else shouted on the fighters, reading from tomes their new sermon of destruction.

That broke the xenos will to fight. They were chased by the angry mob, who took every opportunity to shoot the retreating vermin in the back. They were shot by autoguns with curved magazines, other shotguns, even a few sidearms.

And in the middle of all that sight, sound, and smell of battle, there was one shout that stood out to Sunny. Something that would almost be etched onto her very core. A very blasphemous, yet fitting battlecry.

“Blood for the Princesses, Skulls for the Hassian Throne!”