Grasslands

by PseudoFiction

Rating: teen
Tags: Original Character, Spike, Adventure, Princess Celestia, Crossover, Main 6, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe
Length: 13738

What is the greater sin; disobedience or desecration?

A young priestess of the Covenant accompanies Equestria's Elements of Harmony with a particular mission. To uncover an ancient Forerunner ruin in the Everfree Forest. As time goes on she becomes witness to the magic of friendship, uncovers a series of disturbing truths and soon must make some harrowing decisions regarding her faith.

What is the greater sin; disobedience or desecration?

Rated Teen for violent themes.

Published 2013-01-11 19:10:01 UTC
Last updated 2013-04-28 14:28:48 UTC

00 - INTRODUCTION

Warriors and priestesses first!
Space... a seemingly boundless expanse of vacuum, the majority of which only home to sporadic particles of gasses, dust and electromagnetic radiation. No living creature could live in it, yet space was home to countless different sentient species and civilisations. Home to infinite galaxies, stars and planets – it couldn’t not be.

It was in space the planet of Equus hung, surrounded by a void of pitch black. No stars, no dust, no asteroids... just a curtain of inky darkness beyond the two satellites.

As the planet pivoted, to an onlooker it would have seemed the sun was rising just over the world’s event-horizon. In actuality, with the sun orbiting the planet instead of the other way around, the sun was literally rising over the horizon. The ions in the toxic upper atmosphere of the habitable planet glinted cool aqua mixed with fiery oranges and reds as the mighty charge of Princess Celestia rose in steady orbit, giving the impression the planet was bleeding out into space. The rays of light coasted over the exosphere to catch on the craggy pale face of the lunar body. The light reflected to catch on the dark side of the planet, glinting and igniting billions of dust particles trapped in the thermo and mesosphere, spreading what appeared to be a starry sky over the largest of the land-masses.

Beyond the orbiting sun and moon however, there was nothing to be had. A low density of plasma of hydrogen, helium particles, neutrinos... in all, nothing particularly exciting.

Until an anomaly opened up.

A jagged arc of lightening tore through the black veil of infinity cast over Equus, only a stone-throw distance of a few billion kilometers away from the sun’s orbit. Smaller cracks formed along the edges of the bolt as space was literally tweaked open by hundreds of tiny invisible fingers, each working to grip and bend back the very canvas of space and time, spilling brilliant white light into the space around the crack.

It came shooting out of the tear in space before the wound healed nearly instantaneously behind it and the object jolted to a sudden halt far beyond Equus’ immediate gravitational pull. It was a craft, sleek and bulbous towards the bow with thousands of multi-colored running lights winking along the mid-section. Drifting lazily in space with cool plasma venting from the aft propulsion systems, the profile might have reminded an observer of a fishing-hook.

It presented a three-quarter view to Equus’ celestial body, the blazing sun’s light glinting against the rounded nose of the Salvation.

She drifted calmly for a moment before all hell broke loose.

The Covenant cruiser’s engines flickered and flared as pulses of energy rippled through the failing shields. The running lights flashed and died in sections. Soon things escalated as several airlocks over-pressurised and popped open, sending puffs of freezing vapour out into the void.

Then there was an explosion.

A section of hull tore open, the jagged edges bending backwards as a blaze of bright orange flame vented into space, extinguishing almost immediately. Molten slag formed a glittering halo over the cruiser as several more explosions ripped open the hull sending debris scattering out into the vacuum.

Far from the explosions, deep within the crew deck of the Salvation, a young junior priestess of the Covenant threw herself from her quarters. The doors had swished aside automatically, spilling the harsh corridor lighting into her room, and letting the heavy odour of incense escape in her wake.

“Emergency!” the gruff shipmaster bellowed so clearly, it was almost as if he were standing right beside her. “All hands, report to assigned escape units and abandon ship immediately!”

Morning prayer would have to wait.

With barely enough time to grab her things, Neyla ‘Irairesi looked herself over. The young priestess had her ocean blue-green plume tied back into a neat braid, lacked any of the makeup that normally paled her ashy-grey skin and was clad in her normal daytime clothes. In her line of work presentation was essential, and normally no mortal eyes would behold her in her current state. Though considering the situation, the simple black tunic hugging her slim body would have to suffice.

The tunic was by no means modest, sleeveless and ending just below her hips, but in the life and death situation she hardly cared for any modestly. The Gods would forgive her as long as she lived beyond today to spread the word of the Covenant.

Out in the hall, the Sangheili girl hopped clumsily on one hoof. The thick odour of incense followed her out as the priestess fumbled at the buckles on her right boot, simultaneously trying to shrug the strap of her bag higher on her shoulder. Finally clamping the boot-buckles down she planted her hooves steadily on the deck before she fell over. Working the strap of her bag over her torso she pushed the few belongings she was able to retrieve in time comfortably to her hip.

Neyla turned as a gaggle of short creatures waddled past her in a panic. The orange suited Unggoy ran comically while waving their disproportionately long arms above their heads, their high pitched screams audible through their masks. The priestess followed, overtaking the group of four swiftly as she ran in the direction of the escape pods.

“Calm yourselves!” the priestess bellowed in passing. “We shall not descend into panic merely because death lurks over our shoulders! Remain calm and proceed towards-...”

... the escape pods, is how she wanted to finish. However, the Unggoy exploded.

Or rather, the conduit running along the wall did. Capacitors overloaded as violent surges coursed through the entire ship causing the gentle purple lighting to flash and flicker. The resulting blast of vibrant blue energy and jagged arcs of static electricity threw the group of squat aliens to one side, splashing the fluorescent Unggoy blood across the opposite corridor wall.

The outer shockwave caught Neyla in the chest, causing a ripple to waver through her garb. She was lifted clean off her hooves as she held up her arms to protect herself from any debris. Regardless she was tossed backwards like a toy flung by an un-amused child, and slammed into the opposite wall.

With a moan she dropped to the deck, miraculously unharmed. A few bits of small debris had peppered her bare arms and legs, leaving small nicks in her leathery skin, but nothing that would leave any noticeable marks in the long term. She had been lucky.

Forcing herself up, she brushed back a few strands of hair that had escaped the braid. Stumbling away from the twisted bodies of the Unggoy, their limbs still twitching and breached suits venting puffs of cold gas. Shaking off her daze, Neyla paid the bodies no mind. There would be plenty of those before the day was over. She would pray for them later. First she had to ensure she lived long enough to do so.

She broke into a fresh run.

Whipping around a corner, the Sangheili stumbled mid-stride as another explosion rocked the ship. Neyla caught herself against the outer wall before clambering back up hand-over-hand to a balanced stance. Wall-plates buckled and bulkheads groaned with the stress as the Salvation warped out of shape. Explosions rippled within and tore chunks out of the hull without mercy or any regard for Covenant property.

Taking a step down the final stretch of corridor, a particularly gut-wrenching blast knocked her onto hands and knees. With a cringe she looked up. Whatever that was, it sounded expensive!

“The gravity-centrifuge just took a direct hit. It is spinning to zero.” Came a timely report over the intercom. Clearly someone on the bridge had forgotten to mute cross-chatter. Then again, they clearly had more pressing matters to deal with, like keep the cruiser flying long enough for the crew to abandon ship.

That will be several thousand credits the finance minister will never see again, Neyla mused as she quickly climbed to her hooves. She would only have a few more moments of stable gravity left and had to make the most of it.

Lowering her head into a sprint, the priestess’ soles pounded the deck noisily for the final two dozen metres to her assigned escape unit. As she passed several sealed bulkheads, the distinct thump of the sleek escape vessels launching off the hull of the Salvation could be heard.

Neyla’s assigned escape pod was no different from the others. A tube like pod with walls that were lined with crash seats outfitted with gravity restraint systems. A single escape pod housed easily a dozen Sangheili plus several Unggoy and Kig-Yar.

She assigned to share an escape pod with a Sangheili tactical squad, Gallant Team.

Led by Major Garreit ‘Vadamee, Gallant was one of few all-Sangheili tactical teams. Normally a Covenant military team would employ Sangheili in the command structure, with Unggoy in the front to draw fire and Kig-Yar for lank guard or as actual flankers. Gallant was one of a few teams bar the Sangheili Rangers where each role was filled by a Sangheili warrior, swordsmen in command, with sharpshooters on the flanks and automatic weapons for drawing enemy fire.

Major Garreit was the kind of character that commanded immediate respect. An excellent tactician, having graduated with honours from the prestigious Vadam War-College his build suited his reputation. Noting Kojo’s team-mates, leader included, Neyla became painfully aware how small she was compared to a typical warrior. Standing about a head shorter and lacking the extensive musculature of her species’ male counterpart, Neyla was significantly slimmer.

And there was no argument about Neyla gaining in speed and agility where she lost musculature. All of the bigger warriors were just as agile as she was, maybe even more thanks to their extensive combat training.

Towering over Neyla in the doorway leading into the escape pod was Major Garreit, hunched over one of his warriors – a technical specialist no doubt – knelt by the door-console. The technician was jabbing mercilessly at the holo-controls, but every attempt at accessing the commands he required was met by an irritable beep.

Eventually the technician gave up and pounded his fist against the holographic panel, causing it to flicker crimson. “The doors are malfunctioning. They will not seal, and without a proper seal the release mechanism will not let go. There is nothing I can do.”

Their escape unit had one distinct difference from the others then. It didn’t work!

Major Garreit let out a deep sigh before turning his head to address Neyla. He noticed she was barely out of breath despite her scramble to the escape pod. She had even been quick enough to pack a quick overnight bag. On top of that, her expression gave nothing away of her fear she may die. Her grit amused him, a quality not too common among Sangheili females who were more often than not unfamiliar with the cold gaze of looming death.

Despite his amusement, he did not smile. His quad-mandibles clicked together before the major lifted his head with a defeatist sense of purpose. “Then we shall meet our fate.” He stated as more explosions rocked the deck. They would not whimper or cower, but meet their death with heads held high.

They would die with honour. And they would have the honour of a priestess of the Covenant escorting them to the afterlife.

On the other hand though, aforementioned priestess had no intention of dying. Quitting like that was not her way. She was raised – no, she was trained to persevere. The Covenant faith was all about perseverance through the obstacles in the way of their Great Journey. Death was one such obstacle Neyla became determined to overcome. Her expression remained stalwart as she gritted her quad-jaws together deep in thought.

Even as the major announced they were to succumb to their fate, and the warriors of Gallant bowing their heads for their final prayers before passage into paradise; Neyla was planning. Her mind’s gears were working in overtime as she came up with a solution to their predicament as quickly as possible.

The situation seemed helpless, however there was a way. There was always a way.

And the way through she came up with was crude, but it was something at least. There might be a manual override to launch the unit... but it would take some improvisation.

“Negative.” Neyla announced, earning a strange frown from the major. “You and your warriors shall die in battle, major. Not like this. Force these doors shut and weld them so. Make sure it is air-tight. A plasma pistol should suffice for the task.” The priestess pointed out as she unslung her bag and handed it to the major.

Garreit took it by the strap and gingerly held it back for one of his subordinates to stow in the equipment racks. “While you do what?” the larger Sangheili demanded to know as some of his underlings rose curiously to their hooves.

Neyla ignored Garreit and proceeded to ask: “Where can I find an eeh-vee-ay suit?”

“I will ask again, priestess. What are you-...”

“No time! Major, a suit!” Neyla pressed more urgently this time. She was standing to her full height, still not quite eye to eye with the major, but close.

The warrior slowly flexed his jaws, then raised a hand to point down the hallway.“An airlock, at the end of the corridor. Priestess, whatever you have planned, I would be more comfortable if you took one of my warriors with you. Aldro. Keep her safe.” He added over his shoulder.

The technician who had failed to operate the escape pod’s launch controls rose to his hooves, giving a typical salute. With a fist over his chest and his head bowed, the minor domo acknowledged his orders.

“It shall be done, major.”

Neyla wasn’t about to argue. There was hardly any time for that, nor was there any time to get her warrior escort up to speed. He would simply have to follow. So with a simple beckoning wave, the priestess led the minor in the direction the major had pointed.

They ran without signs of slowing even though every violent shake of the deck that threatened to throw them head over heels. In their wake several bulkheads hissed and slid shut, compartmentalising the ship to prevent total decompression. Twisting sideways, the duo managed to slip through one of the airlocks closing ahead of them, out-running the automatic compartmentalisation procedure.

A cold vapour materialised from Neyla’s agape mandibles as the temperature suddenly dropped. Several tiny breaches in the hull started playing havoc with life-support as the systems desperately continued cycling air through damaged sections of the Salvation. The two Sangheili were breathing hard as their oxygen supply thinned significantly as the air wailed and hissed out through the micro-fractures.

An explosion caused Neyla’s ears to pop. A haze of thick smoke filled her already limited air-supply, causing her to choke and gag. Globules of molten slag, a haze of glittering shards of shattered crystal circuits and fibre-optics glistened all around Neyla in something of an artificial aura. Gripping her throat; to make it worse she lost balance. Squeezing her eyes shut, she expected the ground to hit her full force... any second now...

Nothing happened. Blinking away tears, Neyla found herself tumbling head over heels through the air. Arching her back, she angled her gaze to see Aldro was struggling in a similar fashion to find something to grab hold of. He was spinning out of control, flexing his limbs as he tried to regain control in zero gravity.

That was it for the artificial gravity.

There was a gaping hole in one of the service-junctions somewhere ‘above’ Neyla. It spat sparks and fire that flowed like the mist emanating from a block of dry ice, clinging to the corridor’s walls. In the zero gravity, the fire seemed to flow like liquid, tongues of orange and vibrant blue swirling and cascading across the sleek corridor. Curling into a ball, Neyla couldn’t tell with the thick smoke entering her nostrils, but wondered if she’d singed her plume.

She managed to reach out and grab the smooth edge of a support strut on the opposite end of the corridor. Swinging around, she wedged her hooves between the strut and the corridor’s outer walls. At the same time she reached out and grabbed hold of the warrior’s wrist, pulling him in against the wall so he could right himself before helplessly drifting into the liquid flames now rippling through the air. They would only have a few more moments of reprieve before the fire filled the corridor completely.

Looking a little embarrassed that he had to be rescued by the priestess, Neyla ignored him before twisting around and kicking off. Aldro followed suit and the duo soared the final dozen metres to the airlock Major Garreit had indicated before.

Grabbing the edge of the bulkhead, Neyla swung around and crashed against the inner wall of the airlock. Aldro followed, but flew straight and true, crashing into a set of lockers. The combined weight of the muscle-bound warrior and his ceramic armour caused the locker doors to buckle and break, scattering the contents.

The priestess wasted no time in keying the airlock controls and sealed the doors.

The atmosphere and local gravity stabilised, sending both Sangheili crashing to the ground while gasping for air. Landing on top of them was the random junk that had drifted from the lockers and cubby-holes Aldro had accidentally broken open on impact.

“Gods!” the warrior chocked as he managed to sit up, dropping a helmet by his side. “I surely thought we would perish!”

Jumping to her hooves, Neyla staggered to one of the nearest EVA-suits hanging in the racks along the airlock wall. “Not yet.” She said as she pulled it down.

“These suits only offer an hour of life-support.” Aldro said pointedly as she followed her lead. “We will have to hope rescue comes quickly.”

“One problem at a time.” Neyla replied. They would cross that bridge when they came to it.

Opening the front down to the mid-section, she stepped into the padded bulky pale blue suit and shrugged it up over her shoulders. Not an easy task with the way the whole ship was rocking with each blast tearing the Salvation’s hull new port-holes.

Grey coloured impact plating settled into place over slim body as she worked her hands through the sleeves. Wiggling her fingers into the attached gloves, she straightened out the knuckle plates and flexed the pauldrons into place before closing the front over. Already Neyla’s pixie-physique bulked out to the build of a Jiralhanae with a taste for pies thanks to the insulated EVA-suit. As she donned the suit she reached over and pulled a plasma pistol from a nearby rack, slotting it against a magnetic holster on her thigh.

Crouching before her, Aldro helped secure the seals along the front of the suit. “Let me help you, priestess.”

“Negative. I can do this.” Neyla assured as she worked from the top while Aldro worked from the bottom. “See to your own suit.”

“I will just be a moment.” He nodded. “Just have to-...”

The final seal on Neyla’s suit clicked home. Sealed tight around her slender neck, all that was exposed was her head. And at the very same moment, the airlock’s outer doors buckled.

Neyla had no idea how it had happened, but something exploded along the outer doors. The slabs of twisted alloy were instantly sucked out into the void, along with the air being fed into the cramped chamber. With it went Aldro.

The priestess remembered seeing his wide-eyed expression a moment before he was sent spiralling out into the endless vacuum. Neyla could do little to stop herself from following. She slipped around the jagged edge of what used to be the bulkhead, followed by flash-frozen condensation sucked out in glittering clouds.

The sound of rushing air continued as the vents continued to desperately feed air into breached section of the Salvation, carelessly overloading life-support. For every ounce pumped in, two were sucked out into space.

Eventually a four fingered hand reached over the edge of the bulkhead and clamped down on the first and best handhold it could find.

With a heave, Neyla dragged her torso around the sharp remains of the bulkhead, careful not to catch her suit on any jagged edges. She gasped desperately, blistering cold air beating her in the face as she entered gale winds flowing out of the airlock. She still didn’t have a helmet to complete her suit.

As the Sangheili spotted it, one of the helmets was torn from a nearby cubicle. The unit was standard EVA headgear, a dome shaped visor with adjustable seals around the neck, compatible with standard suits and EVA-armour.

Neyla reached out to grab the helmet as it tumbled past her, but she missed. At the same time, her remaining hand slipped from the anchor and she was dragged screaming out into space after it. Blowing all the air out of her lungs with a cry of defiance, Neyla quickly kicked her legs, flailing out with both hands at the tumbling helmet.

Two grasps missed, before she swung her left hand around again. The third lunge met its mark and she caught the helmet by the chin-section. Curling into a foetal position, the priestess wasted no time slipping the helmet over her head, tumbling head over heels as she did so. The back of the gear pressed uncomfortably against her braided plume, but the seals locked around her neck none the less before a distinct hiss caused her ear-drums to give a light pop.

In the space of a gasping breath for fresh air, she completed the transition between no atmosphere and becoming dependent on the oxygen tank mounted to the suit’s shoulder-blade. The heads up display flashed to life displaying a small suit-integrity-diagram and remaining breathing time. All lights flashed green across the board as she straightened out and puffed the suit’s built in jets.

Puffs of vapour exploded from the nacelles on her calves and clavicles, cancelling her tumble and letting her drift calmly a few dozen meters off the Salvation’s hull. Despite the explosions lighting up the darkness around her – gas, fire and debris venting out into the space everywhere – all Neyla could hear was the hollow noise of her own breathing, savouring each relieving lung-full of air.

Several twisted chunks of viciously barbed hull-plating torn free in the blasts scythed past the priestess as she strafed out of the way. Ignited plasma leaked out of the engineering decks below forming a mesmerising cloud of glistening death. Her suit wasn’t exactly well armoured. It would barely protect her from sharp debris. And if she drifted into that plasma it would be game over.

Tucking her arms to her sides, she straightened out her back and looked ‘up’ a little. The EVA-thrusters puffed in response and propelled her forward. Neyla was sent skimming over the Salvation’s hull, back towards where Gallant were waiting in the escape pod. The unit was impossible to mistake among the many bare bulkheads peppered along the cruiser’s warped hull. It was the only appendage, a sleek tube standing like a stubborn lone tree in levelled woodland.

As she approached, she heard a voice on the open cross-comm.

“Aldro! Report!” came Major Garreit’s distinct voice.”

“This is Neyla.” The priestess replied sincerely. “Aldro did not make it.”

“Gods be damned!”

Her mandibles went slack as she gaped, shocked to hear such blasphemy announced openly in her presence. “Major!” she cried.

The major quickly composed himself after that little outburst. “My apologies, priestess. He was a good warrior.”

“And we shall lose no more. I am nearing the escape pod now, major. Has the door been sealed?”

“It is a crude weld, milady, but it will hold.” Garreit confirmed.

“Outstanding. Secure yourselves. We shall be leaving shortly.”

Reaching out, Neyla caught herself along the side of the escape pod. She held on to a railing circling the mid-section of the pod while her free hand reached down and unencumbered the plasma pistol locked to her thigh.

Holding the escape pod in place were four quart placed locks. They contained small plasma charges that detonated to release the pod into space quickly in the case of an emergency. However, the connection between the charges and the pod’s controls were clearly severed. Neyla would have to detonate them manually.

Aiming carefully, she squeezed the plasma pistol’s trigger. The weapon vibrated as bolts of crackling energy slashed from the muzzle and impacted the first of the charges. With a thunk that vibrated through the hull of the sleek craft, the plasma ignited and severed the first of the anchors.

Shimming around, Neyla repeated the process. A few bolts later, the last of the anchors let go with a distinct thunk!

“Major, the pod is free.” Neyla announced as she let go of the plasma pistol and locked both hands on the railing. “Launch now!”

The Sangheili warrior didn’t even reply. The boosters flared with white-hot energy and the escape pod jetted out into space. Not safe within the fields of the inertia-dampening fields, Neyla took the burst of the sudden acceleration. The sudden jerk of motion nearly ripped her arms off, but she hung on tightly as she was dragged along with the craft, spinning clear of the exploding Salvation.

The Salvation was not the only ship of the Radiant Blades fleet to drop out of slip-space.

Several more ships jolted into existence in the surrounding space – a dozen of them to be exact. And among the other cruisers was a distinct hulk of sleek purple alloy. Built in the same shape, but in much more immense dimensions, the super-carrier Sanctum held position in the midst of the cruisers being lit up. Little over forty Covenant cruisers wrapped into one, the super-carrier didn’t seem to suffer the same damage as the other ships. Some of the vessels exploded outright. Others were merely flung off course as propulsion systems malfunctioned. Two cruisers in particular exploded in a joint ball of plasma as one lost control and coasted into the other’s flank.

And yet the mighty Sanctum held her ground, unmoved and unhindered. Several plasma guns went up in flames, and the engines clearly stalled, but other than that there didn’t seem to be any detrimental damage.

“Priestess! Are you there?” Garreit called, dragging Neyla out of her daze.

“I am here, major.” The priestess sighed.

“We are clear of the immediate danger. What is your status, milady?”

Neyla wasn’t listening. As she caught up on the sharp acceleration and the gees levelled out, she calmly held on to the railing with one hand and straightened out. Her heavily tinted visor glinted against the nearest sun a she gazed at the planet below. She was focused on the steady rhythm of her breaths blowing against the face-plate, cherishing these fleeting moments of calm.

“I am a leaf on the wind.” She whispered softly.

“Priestess?” Garreit inquired worriedly. “Are you there!?”

The priestess let out a breath before raising her voice to a more audible level. “I am intact, major. But we will require rescue rather soon.” Neyla informed. “Have you managed to contact the Sanctum?”

“Affirmative. Their damage is minimal and they are sending resc-...” the major was mid-report when another voice cut across him.

“By the Gods. Major, look!” one of Gallant’s younger warriors cried.

Neyla turned her head, in a way following their gazes. Her eyes were drawn back to the Salvation as she lit up for the final light-show.

Explosions plumed up around the mid-section, slag and dust spitting out into space and forming a halo around the vessel. Molten segments of hull stretched and warped, snapping as the alloys instantly cooled and turned brittle. In seconds the vessel was shorn clean in two, like a twig broken over a giant’s knee.

But it didn’t end there. The two sections of the devastated ship barely drifted clear of each other before the rupture was filled with white light. Static electricity of immense proportions slashed through the darkness, engulfing sections of the Salvation’s remaining hull. Tears and holes were tweaked into the space surrounding the cruiser, the tears into slip-space healing nearly immediately as the fabrics of reality were wounded.

“Radiation spike.” Garreit whispered before raising his voice urgently. “Slipspace detonation! Brace for impa-...”

He didn’t get to finish as the Salvation’s remnants were consumed in a ball of blinding white light.

Neyla blinked hard a few times, trying to wipe out the multi-coloured spots filling her vision. But when they did vanish, she wished they’d obscure her vision again. When looking up she expected to see nothing but space. What she saw was debris. It rained all around them, scything through space and filling what once was a void of nothing. For every action there was equal and opposite reaction. The slip-space detonation occurred within the heart of the Salvation, scattering her remnants outwards like the ripples of water when a stone was cast in a pond.

Something smashed into the nose of the escape pod, cratering the hull and sending the craft spinning off course. The sudden change in trajectory caused the sleek shell of the pod to smack against Neyla’s body and throw her free.

With a cry she twisted round and desperately lunged for something – anything – go grab hold of. Her fingertips brushed the railing, but she was already out of range, flailing her limbs helplessly as she was carried off into space. The escape pod with Gallant on board spiralled off in one direction, puffs of dust and gas spitting into space as she was struck by several more chunks of debris and molten slag.

Neyla was dragged off in another direction.

She straightened out; about to activate the EVA-suit’s thrusters when something hit her. Rounded and dull, it slammed into her mid-section, driving the wind out of her lungs and causing the Sangheili to double over in pain. Another rogue piece of the Salvation struck the back of her leg, snapping her around into another disorienting tumble. Beyond her visor everything was a blur, pieces of cruiser raining like a deadly meteor shower all around, glistening droplets of slag blotting and hardening on her visor.

Swallowing down the urge to throw up in her helmet, Neyla focused on her HUD. The suit-diagnostics flashed red over key sections of the diagram. Thrusters – offline. Life-support – critical.

Without thrusters or any other means of manoeuvring, Neyla could to little more than cross her arms over her visor and brace for inevitable impact.

...

Or perhaps she would simply dri-... CRUNCH!

Grasslands

Under New Management.
The sharp sound of steel meeting dirt filled the cool morning air. The sun was rising slowly over the far off mountains, a sharp glint of light flaring from the city of Canterlot. Cold dew clung to the Everfree foliage. The opening songs of the early-birds chimed over the digging noises in the background.

Twilight Sparkle gazed inquisitively down at the dirt between her forehooves as she was surrounded by chill banks of frozen mist. A cool breeze washed over her lavender coat, playing at the ends of her purple mane and tail and causing a cold shiver to knife down her spine.

She ignored it, mesmerised by the glint in the dirt. It reminded her of a chunk of steel, like a coin dropped in a busy market street or a shard of glassed earth – victim to a recent lightning strike.

Had she found another piece? It was worth investigating.

Balancing on three legs, she gingerly reached out before the unicorn gently stamped at the surrounding dirt. She carefully worked her hoof over the shiny surface of the object, brushing away layers of dirt – working slowly, moving away mere grains at a time.

Eventually she pressed down on one side. A shard of steel suddenly erupted from the dirt, like a foal had pounced on one end of a see-saw. It was only a few inches long, millimetres thick and straight-edged all around. Silvery-grey in colour, it had withstood the test of time and remained perfectly smooth and polished. Etched into the surface were a set of intricate swirls, dashes and dots – some kind of alien scripture beyond Twilight’s immediate comprehension. She would have to check her references and notes, but on first glance it was definitely a significant find. Though had she found the object a month ago, she would have mistaken the alien calligraphy for some kind of other-worldly art, or map.

The unicorn’s horn glowed with soft purple light. The same light gathered around her find and delicately lifted it into the air so she could inspect it more closely. With the plate of alien alloy firmly grasped in her telekinetic grip, Twilight Sparkle turned and cantered back through the mist engulfing the Everfree Forest.

Normally she would have opted more caution and alertness while wandering through the forest. But today she was not alone.

As the first of the sun’s warming rays struck Equestria, the air began to slowly rise in temperature. The banks of cold mist rose, thinning out as they did and revealing more of the forest clearing around Twilight as she walked. She barely lifted her head to greet a passing stallion. The buff-looking earth pony had a pickaxe tucked into one of his saddle-bags, and a bright orange hard-hat perched on his head.

“Mornin’, Miss Sparkle.” The pony greeted gruffly in passing.

“Mmm-hmmm.” Still scrutinising her find, Twilight moved on absent mindedly.

The sound of digging became more prominent as she moved further into the clearing. She left the carpets of grass and moss and felt her hooves strike recently disturbed dirt and muck. And soon she was walking over boards of mud-caked wood with a distinct clip-clop. More of the mist rose as Twilight paused and peeked up from the slab of metal to get her bearings.

On her flanks were deep grooves cut into the earth. Unicorns, pegasi and earth ponies with digging implements were cutting into the ground. Picking away at chunks of rock, shovelling aside piles of muck, filling buckets of muddy water and chucking them out of the excavation area. Wooden plinths held up the walls of the excavation area and formed makeshift bridges along and over the gaping holes mined into the face of Equestria.

Other than the general workers mindlessly hacking at the earth, there were also some more careful figures. Unicorns in particular levitating tiny trowels and various brushes were very slowly excavating what they had found. Structures of tempered stone and steel just below the surface of Everfree.

Structures not of pony design.

Identifying the path to the camp, Twilight moved on. Leaving the excavation site in her wake she made her entrance to the camp. Though it was no pony camp.

The tents were a bland purple-ish colour with hardened shells. There were erected antennae and rather large domes with double doors and hissing gas tanks pumping freezing cold methane gas inside. There were stacks of tall, sleek looking crates and humming electronic devices feeding thick cables into communications arrays.

Near the centre of the camp was a dais sporting a bright blue glowing core. Floating on the emanated pillar of light was a platform, hanging steady a dozen metres in the air.

The ring-shaped platform bobbed very slightly as the on-board weight shifted. A single figure leaned over the railing and looked down at Twilight as she passed.

With unblinking eyes, the Kig-Yar sniper watched the unicorn pass. Saurian in nature, the Kig-Yar were a small, agile bipedal species that reminded Twilight of dragons. They had reasonably frail and weak looking frames compared to the dragons Twilight had seen, but made up for it with sharp claws, keen senses and nimble bodies. Twilight had seen Kig-Yar jump higher than most ponies could, and she was very sure even her friend Applejack would have a run for her money in a race with one of the aliens.

As she moved through the camp, Twilight Sparkle started to notice some more of the alien races that made up the theocratic hegemony known as the Covenant.

More Kig-Yar with rounded energy shields mounted on their forearms patrolled the camp perimeter with keen eyes. With them were some significantly lazier creatures known as the Unggoy. Small aliens about the height of a pony, they were bipedal with short little legs and large forearms ending in three digits. The aliens were clad entirely in a hardened body-suit with a large pyramid-shaped tank on their backs used to simulate their unique home’s atmosphere.

The few Unggoy on patrol seemed to slouch as they waddled tiredly in the wake of their Kig-Yar superiors, dragging their long arms along the ground. Others seemed to be charged with lugging crates in pairs. A few Twilight spied had snuck away for some extra moments of sleep behind the tents.

Though the Kig-Yar were ordering Unggoy around, the saurian aliens were far from the top of the chain-of-command. The uppermost links in the Covenant – that Twilight was aware of – were reserved for the creatures known as the Sangheili.

One such creature Twilight walked up to.

He was standing at the far edge of the camp, back straight with hands clamped behind his back. He was gazing out over the edge of a ridge, overlooking the lower Equestria countryside sprawled out for miles before him.

About eight feet of leathery hide, muscle and merciless zealotry, the Sangheili were certainly frightening looking. She knew they were honourable creatures with a culture steeped in duty and nobility – not to mention the blood of their enemies. They had come to Equestria in peace and accepted Celestia’s laurel-branch of friendship. But they were still fierce and intimidating. Twilight was a believer of the phrase ‘don’t judge a book by the cover.’ But just by looking at them, anypony would know the Sangheili were a species bred for conflict.

Probably the most noticeable feature – certainly not the most striking, but definitely noticeable – were the hooves. Not four legged creatures like ponies, though hooved, the Sangheili were bipedal, but at the same time snake-like. Powerful digitigrade legs and bands of powerful muscle visible on their bare arms indicated the aliens were agile and strong. Their arms ended in hands with four digits each. Two opposable thumbs on each hand added a sense of dexterity and strength to their grip that even telekinesis could not provide.

The Sangheili had very tall figures, and broad barrel chests. Long reptilian necks leading into a fierce looking head. They were clearly a carnivorous species, judging by the rows of sharp hooked teeth within the frightful looking quad-split mandibles.

Their large forms were often clad in armour leaving only the leathery skin on their arms and neck visible. Everything else was covered in dark coloured under-armour with plates of ceramic material laid over the top.

The field commander Twilight approached in particular was clad in a set of brilliant gold armour embedded with little jewel-like lights. Rarity would likely swoon at the sight of the masterful craftwork.

As Twilight Sparkle approached, the field commander looked away from the countryside and swivelled his gaze to meet hers. Slowly, the unicorn held up what she had found for the Sangheili to see properly. Gingerly the alien reached out and gently plucked it from Twilight’s grip.

Surveying the alien symbols like a pilgrim laying eyes upon a holy land, the field commander’s face changed. Twilight wasn’t sure if Sangheili ever smiled. If they did, she had no idea what the expression would look like, not with those four-way jaws. The field commander’s expression shifted as the muscles in his reptilian face relaxed. Twilight could only assume he was smiling.

The field commander nodded approvingly to the unicorn – confirming her assumptions – before resuming his gaze over the countryside.

The sun rose further, casting a long and gloomy shadow over the postcard town of Ponyville below. In the summer’s morning sun the streets remained dim and cold as Celestia’s sun was blocked by the immense super-carrier Sanctum holding position in Equestria’s clean blue sky.

01 - RECEPTION

Sanctum
It had taken Celestia a good five minutes to acclimatise, and that alone was reason to worry. While the Covenant preferred dim chambers with soft tinted lighting, ponies could not claim to be accustomed to such a setting. And for several moments after boarding the might starship, Sanctum, Celestia had moved uncharacteristically slowly as she was blind in the dim halls of the supercarrier.

Once able to see, Celestia had to force her heart to calm as she became painfully aware of her vertigo. She was in essence standing on an alien platform several thousand hooves above Ponyville. Normally she’d fly such heights on her own power, or on her chariot. But her royal carriage was enchanted by court mages and drawn by her most trusted Royal Guard. In essence, she was currently at the mercy of alien pilots and technology, and that thought was a little wracking on the nerves.

While contact with a race from beyond Equestria’s sky was nice to break up the centuries of ruling in monotony, the situation was still disconcerting. Celestia had more than once held the fate of the world in her own hooves, and this was no different. She would either succeed, or she would fail. And if she failed, it wasn’t as if there would be anypony left alive to yell at her.

The alicorn could ignore the dim corridors of the Sanctum. She could shrug off the discomfort of being at the mercy of Covenant technology... but she could not muffle the nagging notion that perhaps allowing the Covenant sanctuary in Equestria was a mistake.

A mistake that could well bring about the aforementioned end of everything she knew and loved.

It was not their great feats of technology, or their culture and religious beliefs that she did not fully understand. It was what they were. Everything about the Covenant seemed... hostile.

From their ships, down to their armour. Their physiology. Their customs. The commander of the fleet orbiting Equus had ensured her the fleet was an exploration mission. Yet every ship and crewmember she had seen was shielded and armed to the teeth.

Finally there were the Sangheili. At the top of the Covenant hierarchy, the Sangheili seemed the most hostile of all. Everything about their appearance, about how they carried themselves, spoke and react oozed conflict. They were a race bred for combat, tempered for war.

And that above all things worried Celestia.

“The commander will see you now.”

The gruff tones of the Sangheili’s voice dragged the alicorn out of her thoughts. Turning her head the princess met the eye of one of the guarding warriors. While she was tall for a pony, the Sangheili were taller still by at least a good few hooves. The armour clad alien stood straight and to attention. He held out a hand, waving it in front of the door under his charge. Reacting immediately, the soft lights around the frame of the bulkhead flashed a few times before the doorway opened up. The various segments slid away into the walls revealing the chamber beyond.

Her hooves sounded hollow on the alloy floor as she gingerly stepped past the guards that stood like pillars on either end of the bulkhead. Ensuring not to let any of her tentative feelings breach her veil of calm, the alicorn took a quick look around the new chamber as the doors slid shut behind her.

Before her were a set of plush cushions cocooned in exotic silks in various muted colours. Among them was a low table, perched atop it a typical Ponyville craft tea set with steam escaping the bulbous teapot printed with hoof-painted flowers. To the far wall was a long tinted window, giving the sky outside a pinkish-hue as the sun blazed down on the sleek hull of the Sanctum.

Standing by the window gazing out over the far off mountains was a Sangheili figure. Supreme Commander Gait ‘Vadamee was not unfamiliar to Celestia. Even if he wore the standard garb of a Sangheili warrior, the princes would still be able to tell him apart. It wasn’t that he was visually distinctive. There was just something of a civilised air about him. He had the habit of remaining upright, barely opting the slouched posture most warriors carried themselves with. He kept his hands clasped stiffly at the back of his waist and moved with rigid attention.

Looking over his shoulder, the commander gave a nod before approaching, the long purple and crimson cloak draped over his armoured shoulders rippling like liquid mercury in his wake. On two legs Celestia expected the Sangheili to move in an ungainly fashion, but the supreme commander moved with a liquid grace march.

“Princess Celestia. I heard you wished to speak with me.” The smiling commander held out his arms as if to embrace the princess in a friendly hug.

The gesture did nothing to soften Celestia’s stern gaze. Without so much as a friendly greeting, the tall mare marched past the Sangheili commander and inspected the tea set laid out over the table. She caught the hint cinnamon in the steam, remembering one of Zecora’s masterful brews.

“The Covenant are guests in Equestria by my graces, commander.” Celestia began, recognising the tone of voice she had taken on last when her student, Twilight Sparkle had thrown Ponyville into chaos with a ‘want-it-need-it’ spell. “The Forerunner temples buried in the Everfree Forest are an integral part of your culture and religion, and I appreciate this enough to allow you to inhabit Ponyville airspace and land your people and equipment in the Everfree dig-site.” Lifting her glare, the princess of the sun rounded on the Sangheili nearly causing him to take a cautions step backwards. “However, recently I couldn’t help notice you have deployed troops deeper into my nation.” She added more angry now.

Coughing into a fist, the Sangheili gave a graceful nod. “Security teams are necessary to secure the archaeological-...”

“Do not think me a fool, commander.” Celestia interrupted. “The Everfree dig-site does not extend to my castle’s doorstep. You have hunter-killer troops actively manoeuvring throughout Equestria’s countryside. Without my permission, might I add?”

Another clear of ‘Vadamee’s throat. “These teams are merely patrolling to ensure the safety of your ponies, princess. You have my word.”

“I do, do I?” Celestia snapped.

Gait ‘Vadamee sighed. Clearly it was impossible to pull the wool over the pony’s eyes. So he would have to cut his losses and face the music like a true warrior. Honest and true. “I have not been entirely truthful with you, Princess Celestia.” He said slowly as he turned away and walked over to the window.

“When have you ever?”

The commander saw his reflection flinch. When he was but a boy he was raised in the family keep’s common rooms by several mothers. And Celestia’s stern side reminded him of all six.

“I only chose to keep this from you to save your worrying. I assure you, I merely have Equestria’s best interests in mind.” Turning back to the princess, the Sangheili gave her a concerned look. “We have been monitoring the other nations that surround Equestria from orbit, and their activities worry us. A civil war amongst the dragons. An uprising in the griffin nation has already plummeted their land into total anarchy. I do not wish to see your ponies befall any ill fate.”

Celestia’s expression softened as she noted the genuine concern in the sangheili’s voice – a feat she thought was impossible. “I appreciate the sentiment commander;” Celestia said as the typical motherly warmth crept back into her voice. “However I can handle the political turmoil of my neighbours myself. We do not want to escalate matters by mobilising armed forces and coming across as a threat.”

“Very well.” Gait ‘Vadamee gave a firm nod. “Allow us to keep twelve teams on the ground to secure the Ponyville and Canterlot regions in case of a surprise attack.”

“Judging by the size of your teams; four, I believe would be sufficient to secure the Everfree Forest.” Celestia suggested. “And they will be supervised by my own Royal Guard. They know the terrain better and their guidance would certainly prove invaluable in the field.”

“You are a wise leader and a marvellous tactician, Princess Celestia.” The supreme commander chuckled, spreading on praise in thick layers. “Very well! I agree to this course of action and will make it so. But please, princess. Let us take this conversation away from such grim matters. Won’t you join me? I find Equestria’s tea quite to my liking.”

Turning her head, Celestia inspected the tea set for a moment, wondering if she could stomach such a social event. “I do not mean to be rude, commander, but I have duties to attend to.”

“Of course.” The Sangheili gave what Celestia assumed as a disappointed sigh. “Allow me to get straight to business then. I appreciate the assistance your student has loaned my people in retrieving artefacts and studying the Forerunner ruins. However, I would like to assign a specialist to accompany her.”

“What for?”

“To prepare young Miss Sparkle. You must understand, these ruins are holy ground to my people and certain,” – he paused, trying to find the right word – “Ah... procedures must be enacted before stumbling through them.”

Celestia gave an understanding smile. The first glimmer of a truly friendly gesture since she came aboard the Sanctum. “I understand, commander. And I am sure Twilight Sparkle would appreciate the chance to learn more about your people. However, I am uneasy with the prospect of my student spending time with warriors.”

The commander’s turn to give an understanding smile, and he did it with a similarly gentle grace as he held up a hand. “Not to worry, princess. She will not by accompanied a warrior.” Turning to a door on the opposite end of the chamber, the supreme commander of the Covenant fleet orbiting Equus gave the universal sigh for follow.

Together the princess and the military commander passed through a bulkhead identical to the previous. Beyond was no chamber, but another hallway.

And standing before them was a Sangheili unlike any Princess Celestia had met thus far.

Compared to the rigid musculature of the males, this Sangheili had softer, defter curves in every aspect of her body. A slender neck, elegant shoulders, soft curves at the chest with a sleek waist that curved out to her elegant hips. Unlike the bald males, the female had a plume-like mane, each strand of hair thick but silky – almost like extremely pliable feathers. The plumage was the colour of still, clean lagoon water, and was brushed back into elegant waves cascading down past her shoulders.

She was dressed in conventional garb. Typically not used to wearing clothes and definitely not an authority on the subject, Celestia had to assume the black tunic hugging her elegant figure would best be described as flattering. It made sure to cover torso and her hips, but beyond that the rest of her ashy-grey skin was left on full display. Her hooves were covered in a set of boots similar to those Commander ‘Vadamee wore, but coloured pale blue with the armour plating buckled up over her shins and calves.

Splayed out before her was a glittering display of lights and lasers. A deep purple sphere of light that reminded Celestia of Twilight Sparkle’s magical glow rested perfectly stationary in the alien’s hands. A second larger flaring ball of bright yellow light slowly circled on a diagonal orbit, followed by a smaller pale orb of light circling on a separate path.

It took her a good few seconds to realise she was looking at an artificial scaled representation of her own sun, Luna’s moon and Equus resting in the Sangheili’s hands.

And then the light faded as she clapped her hands together. The orbs and floating symbols shrank rapidly and blinked out of existence leaving only a small red and purple hued gem with a smooth finish in the palm of her hand.

How the technology worked was a mystery to the princess. Though Celestia could of course conjure drawing materials out of thin air using her magic which was equally mysterious to any member of the Covenant. Were their roles reversed, the alicorn imagined the Sangheili would have been in similar awe.

Tucking the gem into the satchel strung over her shoulder, the Sangheili female shifted her eyes sideways and noted the newcomers. Turning to face them she suddenly realised she was in the presence of a commander and a princess, the girl placed a hand over her chest and bowed elegantly.

“Princess Celestia.” Supreme Commander ‘Vadamee introduced. “I would like you to meet-...”

***[]***

Hi, my name is...
“... Junior Priestess Neyla Itazura Zan’am ‘Irairesi.” Princess Celestia introduced with near perfect pronunciation.

Standing in the Ponyville library with other brightly coloured ponies and a purple dragon, Neyla couldn’t help but give an impressed nod. The princess held her head aloft proudly as she turned to the other ponies in the room.

Celestia had to admit Neyla was rather pleasant. She wondered if it had anything to do with the priestess being the first member of the Covenant she had met who wasn’t an armour-clad muscle-bound warrior. Regardless, Neyla was polite, courteous and patient. In all while she didn’t really know the priestess, Celestia still had no qualms leaving Neyla with her faithful subject and her friends.

With them were the Elements of Harmony. Twilight Sparkle and her five distinct friends stepped closer and bowed respectfully for both the princess and the alien priestess.

“Mighty nice ‘ta meet ‘ya... uh...” Applejack paused, considering if she should even bother trying to pronounce that name. Figuring it was best to keep it simple, she quickly added: “Ma’am.”

Pinkie Pie on the other hand either didn’t care, or simply didn’t know any better. “Wow! That is one crazy name, Junior Priestess Neyla Itazuzu Zangief Irritablissy!” she squeaked popping up in front of the Stetson-wearing pony. “Is there a short way of saying your name, because Junior Priestess Noolie Ipazeezee Zourcrout Irentisdue really is a mouthful! I mean, how crazy would it be if I needed to ask you something and was all like; ‘Hey, Junior Priestess Nookie Pazuzu Zambambo Ireally, are you gonna eat that pretzel?’ Because that would be so totally awkward, and I prefer keeping stuff un-awkward – if that’s even a word – sometimes I don’t know because I talk so fast that I just come up with words and I have to ask ‘is that really a word?’ but I can’t tell because I’m already coming up with more words that don’t make sense, speaking of funny words did you know that kumquat is a really funny wor-...”

“Pinkie Pie!” Twilight cried halting the pink pony’s insane ramble.

At the same time Neyla gave Celestia a confused look, having not followed any of that. The princess on the other hand smiled and shook her head, as if to say ‘don’t bother.’

“What?” Pinkie Pie defended herself cheerfully from Twilight Sparkle. “I was just checking if she was going to eat that pretzel.” Seemingly out of thin air, Pinkie held up a hoof that held a massive pretzel. Twilight’s eye just twitched confoundedly as Pinkie Pie opened her mouth wide and chomped the snack down in one go, spraying the library with crumbs.

Sighing, the lean purple and green scaled dragon picked up the nearest broom and swept his way over the floor.

Watching him scoot past, Neyla lowered her voice and leaned over to Princess Celestia. “Is the pink one some sort of sorceress?”

“No, she just... uh... you get used to it.” Celestia chuckled warmly, eliciting a small smile from the confused Sangheili priestess. The alicorn quickly stepped over to the shorter ponies, introducing them one at a time. “Neyla, I would like you to meet the Elements of Harmony. This is Twilight Sparkle, Applejack, Rarity and Rainbow Dash, elements of magic, honesty, generosity and loyalty. This is the element of kindness, Fluttershy. And you should be intimately familiar with Pinkie Pie by now, the element of laughter.”

“Laughter. That makes sense.” Neyla commented, and Pinkie Pie gave a big, cheesy smile.

There was a loud aherm that drew Neyla’s eyes across the library to the tall reptilian among them. Standing on two legs like her, he had a skinny build and stood about the same height as the other ponies. he was only taller by the great spongy green vanes over the top of his head like some sort of forward-swept plume.

“Ah – and let’s not forget Twilight’s number one assistant, Spike.” Celestia quickly added.

“Hi-...” Spike tried to say, but as he waved his voice broke and it came out extremely high pitched. “Aherm. I mean, hi.” He quickly added, crossing his arms and deepening his voice in a desperate attempt to look more masculine.

As the only cyan Pegasus in the group laughed and picked at the reptilian’s feeble attempts to cover his breaking voice, Celestia continued: “Twilight, Neyla will prepare you before entering the Forerunner ruins. In the meantime, she is here to learn more about Equestria, as you are to learn about the Covenant and its people. She will be in your charge for the duration of her stay in Ponyville”

“I am sure your student is perfectly capable, princess.” Neyla assured graciously before bowing deeply to the six ponies. “I have read much of the exploits of the Elements of Harmony. You are all certainly worthy of your names.” She informed.

Pinkie Pie giggled unknowingly. “Of course we’re worthy of our names, silly-filly! If we weren’t, then we wouldn’t have names. Gasp.” – she jolted, nearly launching herself through the ceiling – “But if I didn’t have a name, nopony would know I was Pinkie Pie! Then where would ponies go for their parties!?”

Twilight Sparkle on the other hand knew exactly what Neyla meant with her comment. “Pinkie Pie, in Sangheili culture you need to earn your name. Being worthy of one is a big deal.”

“Oooohhhh.”

Neyla gave a light chuckle. “Do not worry, Pinkie Pie. I am sure that without a name ponies would still be able to find you.”

It seemed the Sangheili had a sense of humour at least. That would certainly help make things less awkward, especially around Pinkie’s antics. Twilight gave a relieved smile, before giving Celestia a reassuring look. They might be okay.

Turning her head, Neyla noted the one called Rarity was eying her over, particularly the Sangheili’s tunic. Neyla knew the unicorn was a fashion designer by trade, and wondered if she was studying her, or her clothes. Either way, Neyla felt the need to explain her presentation.

“I apologise for my appearance.” Neyla said a little shyly indicating her garb. “My possessions were destroyed in an accident prior to our arrival. All I have is my casual wear.

“Casual wear? Is that what it is? How… lovely.” Rarity squeaked, stopping herself from passing out. Casual wear was not how Rarity would have described the rags, but minding her manners the unicorn held her tongue. She had no idea if the priestess would take offence. “If you like, I could make you something to wear. In fact, it would be my pleasure to fashion you a new wardrobe while you’re staying with us.”

Neyla gave a smile. “That is kind of you. What females serve aboard the Sanctum are all in combat support units. They don armour, and have no clothes to loan.”

“Don’t worry, dear. We’ll have you turning heads in no time.” The brilliant white unicorn assured her. “I’ll take a look at Twilight’s notes about Sangheili culture and I’ll be able to figure out what might be fashionable for your people from there. Then we’ll just need some measurements and templates-…”

Applejack quickly cleared her throat, piping in. “Rarity, ya’ll do know she’s here ta’ explore them there ruins in the Everfree Forest, right? Ah don’t think she’ll have much use ‘fer one o’ ‘yer froo-froo gowns.”

“Applejack, I find your lack of faith disturbing.” Rarity retorted like the earth-pony had stomped on her hooves. “Just because I can make her look fabulous, doesn’t mean I won’t take practicality into account!

“Come-come, dear.” Rarity quickly cantered over and around the Sangheili to get a better look at the intricacies of her build. “Let’s get your measurements and sketch out a few rough templates. We’ll have you out of those rags before you can say: Français Couture.”

“Fr-... fr-rraaaah-... un-ca... c-cou...” Neyla sighed, giving up after only a single botched attempt as she was pulled aside by the fashionista.

Grinning at the sight of Rarity conjuring a measuring tape – and Neyla watching in fascinated awe as she was measured by the pony – Celestia leaned down to Twilight Sparkle. “It seems she will be in good hands then.”

“We know this is an important diplomatic mission. We’ll make sure she’s comfortable, princess.” Twilight assured. “And I’ll make sure to learn everything I can about Neyla and her people.” – Spike grinned, holding up his ever ready quill and scroll – “You can count on us.”

“I know, Twilight.” Celestia nodded firmly before taking her leave. “I always can.”

02 - INITIATION

Better things ahead than any left behind.
The Ponyville market was alive with the din of activity. A rainbow-palette of pastel ponies were going about their business. The activity reminded Neyla of the markets in her homestead of ‘Iraire on Sanghelios. Though back then, she’d been a child and the sea of bodies writhing through the narrow mountain-city streets had looked more like a forest of shins and knees. In Ponyville however, she towered above the heads of the ponies and was given a bird’s-eye view of the activity, above even the flight capable pegasi opting to walk rather than fly.

Pausing by a fruit stall, Neyla leaned forward and plucked up one of the fruits to inspect it. A curious looking ensemble, it was round with a thin, waxy skin that was an enticing red colour.

As she inspected the fruit she was very sure was named an ‘apple,’ the stall’s owner gulped looking up at the alien. Uncomfortably he looked between the apple she was handling and her face.

Noticing the stallion, Neyla quickly reached for her bag. “Forgive me. How much for this?” she quickly asked.

“O-oh, that’s o-okay.” The stallions stammered with a fairly fake smile. “It’s on the house.”

“In my hand, actually.” Neyla said pointedly holding out the apple.

The pony gaped for a moment, trying to figure out what she was saying. “I-I mean… I mean i-it’s free… have it.”

Looking from the apple to the shopkeeper, Neyla nodded before tucking the fruit into her bag. “That is very kind of you. Thank you.”

As she turned and walked to the next stall – a spread of various lovely and colourful textiles – Neyla would not be surprised to later learn his generosity as an act of fear. The action was understandable. She was after all a very large, strange looking – by pony-standards – carnivorous alien creature.

As she made her way through the centre of the market square, a familiar blue streak whooshed by. Halting mid-flight with a literal screech, Neyla quickly identified the flier as Rainbow Dash. The rainbow-maned flier quickly whirled around and jetted to where the exploring Sangheili stood.

“You done sightseeing?” she asked with a smirk.

Neyla nodded.

“Well then c’mon, slowpoke.” Rainbow Dash jibed in a friendly fashion. “Rarity’s probably ready to see you by now. It’s not every day she makes a dress that’s practical. I can’t wait to see if it’s aerodynamic! I might get her to make me one!” she added with a chuckle.

And with a whoosh the Pegasus darted off into a rainbow streak. Neyla had to jog to keep up before she joined up to where Rainbow Dash was hovering by Twilight Sparkle and her lanky assistant, Spike.

“C’mon. Rarity’s shop is this way.” Rainbow Dash announced as she led the way down a path winding away from the market.

Joining in her wake, the three grounded individuals quickly followed, their footsteps growing more audible on the cobbles as they left the market-sounds behind them. Their journey was silent for the most part, with only Spike’s quill making scribbling noises as he wrote while walking. It was only after they crossed a bridge over a river winding its way towards the edge of Ponyville that Twilight Sparkle cleared her throat.

“Miss ‘Irairesi...?” Twilight gave an anxious pause, rubbing her chin with a hoof. “Uh, did I say that right?”

Neyla gave a throaty chuckle of amusement. Her pronunciation hadn’t been quite right, but it was close. “Please, Twilight Sparkle. ‘Iraire is the name of my homestead, and the suffix donates my rank as priestess. You may call me Neyla.”

“Neyla.” Twilight smiled brightly, liking that. Simplifying the priestess’ name seemed to relax her a little too. “What exactly does being a priestess of the Covenant entail?”

“We study the relics of the Gods and try to know them better, bestowing their divine knowledge upon the followers of the Covenant.” The Sangheili priestess explained as Spike quickly wrote down every word in shorthand. “We are advisers to the high council and the hierarchs, the main governing bodies of the Covenant. Our decisions affect how the Covenant grows or shrinks. How different races can be integrated, or cast aside. Our words and actions influence the Covenant’s path. It is our word that can sway the public. Our word that inspires the masses. Our devotion that commands the loyalty of billions. Because of our importance we are of the few females permitted to turn down offers of mateship and marriage so we may focus on our duties. And while we focus on our duties, the Covenant continues to prosper and bloom.”

“Wow. That sounds like a pretty sweet gig!” Rainbow Dash commented as she slowed down to listen in.

Neyla wasn’t sure what that meant and looked to Twilight Sparkle for a translation.

“She means that sounds like a very important job.” The mage expounded patiently before asking: “How did you become a priestess?”

“I was one of few young applicants chosen to undertake the trials.” Neyla explained in detail. “There are variations on the trials and the rules depending on the race, but the Sangheili is by far the most renowned. At the age of ten the Sangheili boys undergo the trials of maturity. They go to become warriors and study the arts of war until they are ready for battle. The girls are divided down the middle. One half are destined to serve in the family house or our homeworld’s home guard... the others serve the Covenant. I was among the few in my homestead to be invited to serve as a priestess. We were rounded up and taken to the temples. There we were separated and each locked in an individual meditation room until we were granted a divine vision from the Gods. We would either succeed, or we would die.”

Twilight frowned heavily, wondering if it was a good idea exposing Spike to this. He wasn’t a baby dragon anymore, but the maternal side of her still instinctively shielded him from reality’s harsher aspects. “Succeed or die?” the unicorn shivered, realising she was lucky to merely get a bad grade if she ever failed a test.

Neyla nodded. “No food is permitted in the meditation rooms. And we do not leave until we are granted a vision.”

Rainbow Dash scoffed with surprise. “You’d starve to death? That’s brutal!”

“Such is our way.” Neyla replied simply.

“Well, why not give up?” Spike piped up between scribbling.

“And bring shame on ourselves? A true Sangheili gladly embraces death over shame.” Neyla announced proudly. “Such an act denotes courage and honour. True Sangheili do not just give up.”

Spike shrugged at that, mumbling but still clearly audible: “You guys have a weird way.”

“Spike, it’s not weird. It’s just different from our norms and standards. Apologise-...” the lavender unicorn began, but Neyla stooped to briefly place a reassuring hand on her shoulder-blade.

“It is quite alright Twilight Sparkle.” She chuckled. “The child is young, and has yet to learn about the universe at large.”

Spike’s expression warped into one of shock, one eye growing larger than the other as his mouth took on a confused squiggle. “Child!?”

Rainbow Dash snorted into her forehooves, stifling waves of oncoming laughter.

“Hey, I am not a child, lady!”

“Ah, there is some fire in him.” The Sangheili joked with a smile.

“Sorry about him.” Twilight chuckled, walking on three legs and using the fourth to ruffle the green scales atop Spike’s head. “He’s a teenage dragon now.” She added like she was talking to an adorable little kitten. “You know. Cracking voice, pimples, bodily changes, all that scary hormonal stuff.”

Spike just turned his head away, pouting. “Hrmph!”

The priestess gave a nod. “I understand. Sangheili males grow through a rough period like this too. I experienced this kind of behaviour with eight brothers.”

The girls shared a giggle before Twilight put their conversation back on the rails.

“So uh... how did you pass the selection process?” she asked curiously.

“I spent over a week in starvation.” Neyla replied like it was nothing. “But my suffering and patience paid off. I saw the greatest of visions the Gods could bestow upon me. A sweeping wind, rushing through the stars. A divine light propelling the worthy Covenant on the true path to eternal enlightenment and God-hood. The Great Journey.”

“Whoa...” Rainbow Dash whispered in a hushed tone before she squeaked excitedly. “That is so radical! You are like super tough!”

“Ra-di-cal?” the priestess struggled over the word slowly, having never heard or used it before. Neyla looked confused – by Twilight’s guess – and she looked to the mage for help.

Twilight Sparkle smiled before explaining kindly. “That means she thinks that was really cool.”

“Ah, yes. The meditation chambers were indeed home to sub-zero temperatures, so not to dull the mind.” Neyla nodded, despite having missed the point.

Both Twilight and Rainbow Dash shared a knowing giggle before walking the priestess towards the Carousel Boutique.

***[]***

One size fits all.
The Carousel Boutique was an accurate name for Rarity’s place of business. With a rounded perimeter, the building had more in common with a children’s carousel than an adult’s workshop. Rarity’s sanctum of dressmaking was a tall building decorated with extravagant patterns of pink and white over the smooth blue walls. Everything about the building and its décor spoke in tides about Rarity.

And the state of the interior of her boutique was something typical enough of seamstresses. While she had been in training, and even after being initiated as a priestess of the Covenant, Neyla had spent plenty of hours in dressmakers and changing rooms to have her garb measured and fitted. And the bombshell of scraps, tools and other bits and baubles laying scattered all over the place seemed to be pretty much normal.

It wasn’t a mess… it would of course appear to be as such to the untrained eye. But everypony – even Neyla – knew it was just a very specific way of organisation. Rarity could ask Neyla to fetch her scissors, and the Sangheili wouldn’t even know where to begin to look among the stuffed drawers, overflowing toolboxes and jam-packed worktops. However, were she to look herself; Rarity could locate a needle in the hay-stack that was her workshop.

Twilight, Dash and Spike were present, with Rarity hovering about and fussing over details. Applejack, Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie had met briefly upon their arrival at the boutique before taking their leave, saying something about meeting them at the Sweet Apple Acres barn later. The ponies had shared a knowing look, indicating Neyla had some kind of surprise to look forward to.

Standing on the podium in the centre of Rarity’s workshop, Neyla had to crane her neck just a little so her head wouldn’t put a hole in the ceiling. Her arms were held out as he looked down over the dress Rarity was finishing up on. She was magically sewing up the last couple of hems and tucking a few baggy portions of the garb so it looked perfectly fitted.

Neyla was beyond impressed. The dress was gorgeous to say the least.

A comfortably fitted light blue sleeveless dress hugged her body, splaying out at the hips to a modest skirt angled down to the backs of her knees with comfortable fatigues covering her legs. The sleeves were detached from the shoulder hems, affixed around her upper arms and flaring out at the wrists. The colour was identical to that of the priestess’ existing hoof-ware, and was complimented by a dark purple bodice fitted over the torso section of the dress, a similar scarf wrapped loosely around Neyla’s neck.

“It is very comfortable.” Neyla admitted with a smile as she shifted in the dress.

“Saddle Arabian cotton is the finest in Equestria, dear.” Rarity announced proudly. “That shemagh is Canterlot silk, and the corset is made out of dragonscales.”

“Those aren’t my scales, are they?” Spike commented with a worried gaze as he looked Neyla up and down.

Rarity gave a very lady-like little scoff. “Well of course they are! I use only the very best. And there’s no better dragon in all of Equestria than our very own Spikey-Wikey!”

Spikes face burned bright red as Rainbow Dash stifled her laughter. Neyla smiled, experimentally running her fingers over the hardened scales lining the bodice. No doubt it was of armour-grade, able to withstand the bite of most ballistic trauma. And if dragons were as tough as she was led to believe, the scales might even stave off plasma fire.

“The whole dress is enchanted to be water retardant, virtually indestructible, and of course it breathes like silk!” Rarity finished up her passionate explanation.

“It is gorgeous, Rarity.” Neyla praised, twirling on the spot and feeling like a little girl again. “Thank you.”

Rarity was – as her friends had rightfully pointed out – a very skilled dressmaker. She had blended elegant aesthetics with undeniable practicality, perfectly emulating typical Sangheili fashion trends. A dress that was not just pleasing to the eye, but allowed the wearer space to traverse any type of terrain without hindrance. The garb the fashionista had gifted the Sangheili was not dissimilar to what she wore as a little girl. It brought up a memory, and as Neyla span around she couldn’t help but think of home, many years ago…

***[Fifteen years earlier…]***

CTF.
Her bare hooves rapped the shingles noisily as she cross the ‘Iraire rooftops with a quick pace. The poor farm-girl half-turned to look over her shoulder to see three more Sangheili figures her age land on the slates behind her to give chase. Their male bodies were taller than hers, home to a more rigid musculature. But Neyla was smaller, lighter and quicker on her feet.

Bounding off her right hoof, the Sangheili girl leapt across a narrow alley and landed lightly on a lower rooftop. Without missing stride she curled into a ball and rolled to absorb the impact. In just a few seconds she was on her hooves again, the skirt-tails of her simple garb flailing in the wind in her wake.

Neyla wasn’t much to look at in her current state. Straight off the farm, her tunic was worn and covered in patches of dirt. Her plume was hap-hazardly shorn so it wouldn’t get in the way during harvest season. In truth, were it not for her small stature she could easily be mistaken for a boy.

Tucked under one arm Neyla was cradling a bundle of cloth. The rolled up banner was a deep crimson colour and imprinted with a family coat of arms.

A coat of arms not belonging to Neyla’s family, but of the boys chasing her.

“Get back here, peasant!” one of the boys yelled waving a fist.

Neyla just laughed into the wind. “Should have thought about the consequences before soiling my family name, dung-handlers!”

The comment only served to anger the boys as they gave chase. Neyla however did not let up, lowering her head and sprinting for the opposite edge of the rooftop.

Seeing the ledge suddenly end to overlook an un-jumpable market square, Neyla skidded to a halt on the slick shingles. Teetering over the edge that plummeted to the hard ground far below, Neyla wind-milled her arms for balance before stepping back.

“Not good.” She mumbled before turning around.

Before she could tell them to wait, one of the boys careened straight into Neyla’s mid-section. Having not seen the rooftop end, he sent them both plummeting over the edge. As they fell, the boy made a grab for the banner, but Neyla held on tight.

The world was a blur as she twisted around, sending them spiralling as they fell. A barely measurable moment later they hit something hard.

The fruit wagon buckled causing the wooden axels to splinter and break. The wheels cleanly popped off as a cloud of multi-coloured fruit-pulp filled the air. Several market-goers cried out with surprise, jumping back.

A single groan emanated the broken wagon, followed by an effeminate laugh.

Looking down, Neyla realised she’d shaken off the fall quicker than the boy who’d tackled her. Luckily they had twisted around in the air and she’d used him as a cushion. She was still covered in the sticky shreds of fruit, but she was significantly less winded than her rival.

Giggling, Neyla quickly rolled off the boy and patted him on the head. “Such a gentleman.” She teased before dashing away.

Glancing back before delving into the crowded market-square she spotted the other boys make a safe descent from the rooftops. The boy laying in the broken fruit car was being pulled out by the owner and was getting a scolding. No doubt his father would hear about that.

Slowing her pace to a walk so she could move through the mass of Sangheili bodies without crashing into anyone, Neyla started picking the shreds of peel and lumps of pulp from her tunic. No doubt her mother would give her an earful, but this was worth it. Those nasty boys from the Ne’ran family were always picking on Neyla and her brothers. It was about time someone put them in their place. And stealing the family banner put in their charge to prove their worth was the perfect payback. If they lost the banner their fathers would be livid.

Unfortunately she couldn’t keep this chase up for much longer. She was getting tired, especially having spent the majority of the day on the family farm – hard work the Ne’ran boys knew nothing about. And the sun was beginning to dip below the mountains. Soon her mothers would wonder where she was, but simply giving back the banner was out of the question. Those boys would have to work for it. And with what Neyla was planning, work they definitely would do.

Leaving the market square, Neyla moved around the block to where some stables were located. The wooden huts were home to the animals farmers brought into the city for trade, or to tow their wagons with produce. In the stables were several knarloc, four legged beasts usually timid and gentle, but when startled could stampede for miles at a time.

Remembering how to handle the knarloc on her family’s farm, Neyla made sure to avoid sudden movements. Working her way through the stable barriers she approached the nearest knarloc and laid a gentle hand on the beast’s shoulder. The creature let out a shudder and a huff, misting the air around Neyla’s head. Giving the knarloc a reassuring rub, she produced the Ne’ran family banner and rolled it into a long ribbon. Working it through the knarloc’s harness, she tied a simple knot and grinned observing her handiwork.

As she turned to leave she noted several figures approach. The Ne’ran boys. They leapt on the stable gates and vaulted into the mud on the inside of the pens, upsetting several of the nearby knarloc.

“Give it back, peasant!” the lead boy spat keeping his distance from Neyla. The black eye throbbing on his face reminded him from an earlier encounter that the girl wasn’t just quick on her feet, but she was a puncher too. “Now!”

“Hmmm.” Throwing a bit of a helpless pose, Neyla thoughtfully tapped her lower mandibles before shaking her head. “No. no I don’t think that I will. However,” – she added with a smile – “you are welcome to take it back. If you can.”

Before the boys could react, Neyla whipped around and slapped her hand down hard on the rear of a knarloc. The very same knarloc she’d tied the Ne’ran banner to.

With a wail of surprise the knarloc reared back on its powerful hind legs before launching itself forward. Lowering its horned head, the beast ploughed straight through the stable barriers, sending splinters and beams of wood flying into the air.

Laughing Neyla jumped back, shading her face from the shower of debris. The boys didn’t find it as funny though, seeing the crimson banner tied to the rampaging beast’s harness as it took off further across ‘Iraire.

Yelling and cursing while running after the knarlock in a frenzy, the boys left Neyla forgotten in their dust. Smirking after them, the girl disappeared victoriously back into the city.