Friendship is Sanctioned

by thirdstring_overlord

Chapter 5

Herald of Terra
0655 hours, Equestria clock

        Macer was formless, floating through a black void.

        Where am I? Am I dead?

        He stared into the emptiness. This place didn't exactly look like the Golden Throne, so that left one possibility.

        Oh, forn.

        A voice drifted in from the darkness. It was monotone and genderless, and had an unpleasant metallic rasp.

        “You seem to be forgetting our agreement,” the voice droned.

        Another voice came in, sounding far more human but no less cold. “This argument is over. I won't let your petty little games interfere with the mission.”

        There was a pause before the metallic voice responded. “So be it. But know this: you have violated our trust. There will be repercussions.”

        Great. So, hell consists of darkness and dialogue snippets from corny holo-dramas. If Macer could have felt his body, he would have rolled his eyes. As it was, he merely waited for the voices to fade away. They eventually subsided, and soon he couldn't even remember what they had said.

        No matter. I'll just sit here and wait for what fate brings me next. As it turned out, fate brought a boot to his shoulder.

        “Ow!”

        “See?” a familiar voice said. “I told you he wasn't finished.”

        Another light kick brought him out of the darkness, and he slowly opened his eyes to see Inquisitor Valesius staring coldly down at him. Behind the inquisitor stood a quartet of red-robed figures, their features hidden behind white respirator masks. Macer recognized them as guards from House Lumina, the rogue trader dynasty that owned this vessel.

        “What was that for?” Macer mumbled. As he groaned and stood up, the trademark faint smile came to his master's face.

        “Just making sure you were still with us. Can you walk?”

        He stretched and took a few experimental steps forward. His back ached, and his head sported some new lumps, but nothing seemed broken.

        Valesius motioned for Macer to follow him, and he obliged. The House Lumina guards silently parted before him.

        The hallways were dark, lit only by hellish red emergency lighting and the occasional sparking control panel. Every breath brought in a new assault of the burnt-hair stench of electrical fires.

        “What happened while I was out?” Macer asked.

        “Just a minor complication. We arrived on Graneus Prime ahead of schedule.”

        “Forgive me for being blunt, sir,” Macer said, narrowly ducking under a broken pipe, “but how many died in this 'minor complication'?”

        “You'd do well to watch your tone,” Valesius chided. “Every crew member is alive and accounted for. The Emperor has delivered us to safety.”

        A squad of armsmen raced past, each member wearing red armor and a tense expression. They were clutching their boxy shotguns like they were angry squigs trying to squirm out of their hands, and Macer caught one of them saying something about “defensive position tetra.”

        Valesius saw the scribe's raised eyebrow. “Relatively speaking, that is,” he admitted. “Our arrival attracted some unwanted attention.”

        “Who found us?”

        “I'm not sure. Dac'an's been checking the auspex--if I could only find where he went...”

        A voice echoed down the hall, blazing with self-righteous fury. “What happened to my helmet, you imbecile?” There was a reverberating crash of metal and a squeal of fear, followed by rapid footsteps. A plump techpriest fled down the corridor as though he was being chased by a Bloodthirster, which Macer supposed would have been a more reasonable tormentor.

        “Sounds as though we must tend to a certain Black Templar's grievances, first,” Macer said.

        The inquisitor's expression darkened. “As always,” he murmured, just as Chaplain Bardrik stormed into the hallway.

        “That fool,” Bardrik breathed. “That despicable, sniveling fool. Get out of my way, inquisitor. That pathetic excuse for a man has insulted me for the last time.”

        “We have few enough able bodies on this ship as it is, Chaplain Bardrik,” Valesius said flatly.

        “He misplaced a relic five centuries older than him!” Bardrik spat. “He deserves retribution.”

        “Oy,” Njord Vallin called, emerging from a side corridor. In his hands he held a crumpled object. “Take a look at this.”

        “My helmet!” Bardrik snarled. “Who did this?”

        “You did. I reckon its mag-lock came loose in the crash, and then you fell on it.”

        Bardrik's face went through several spectacular shades of scarlet as he realized he had just lost his excuse to hit someone. Before he could make a once-in-a-lifetime apology, though, Captain Albus and Dac'an strode down the hall to meet them.

        “I extend my sympathies, brother-Chaplain,” Dac'an said. “Though if it's any consolation, it seems that a helmet will not be required on this planet.”

        Before Bardrik could grumble a reply, Valesius spoke. “Techmarine Dac'an,” he said, nodding cordially. “Could you repeat what you told me to the rest of the squad?”

        Dac'an's voice was as cool and measured as usual. “Although we experienced no fatalities, our vessel suffered greatly. The Thunderhawk is inoperable, and our sensory augurs were badly damaged. What little we could discover about our location consists of two things: Graneus Prime is a terrestrial world, with a breathable atmosphere, moderate climate, and negligible pathogen risks. The second discovery came when we restarted the short-range auspex array,” he said, producing a small device from his belt.

        He pressed its activation rune, and a murky blue hololith flickered to life. A green square was set in the center of the display, representing the ship's position. Blinking red dots slowly revolved around it like a miniature solar system.

        “This is a live auspex feed,” Dac'an continued. “These aerial signatures appeared in the last half-hour, and have been circling us ever since.”

        “What are they?” Macer asked.

        “It's still unclear. The sensors are so badly damaged, I cannot even confirm if they are organic in nature. They could be anything from wildlife to surveillance drones.”

        “Then I say it's high time we get out of here and do some reconnaissance,” Vallin said. “If the rebels are looking for us, it'd be best if we found them first.”

        “True. But before anything else, there are several matters I must make clear,” Valesius said. “If we do encounter the rebels, they will be nothing like the ragtag mobs we've usually seen. They are well-trained, well-motivated and well-equipped—possibly even with archeotech weaponry.”

        There was a frigid silence before anyone replied. The House Lumina guards tensed, no doubt as shocked as the rest of the team.

        “Is there any reason why I was not told about this earlier?” Dac'an asked. “This is hardly inconsequential.” Dac'an rarely wasted his energy on emotions, but his voice clearly held an edge of anger.

        Macer didn't blame him. Advanced technology from the ages before the Imperium was priceless to the Adeptus Mechanicus, and they were greatly annoyed by anyone withholding information about it. Usually, they expressed their annoyance by burning the offenders at the stake.

        “I take this matter quite seriously, Techmarine,” Valesius said. “Had it not been for the unexpected twist in our journey, I would have mentioned it at briefing.”

Macer knew from years of sting operations and wetwork that Valesius was a skilled liar.  Yet something in the inquisitor’s voice made it obvious that he was holding something back, and barely even trying to hide it.  From Dac’an’s expression, it seemed that he knew something was off, as well.

“Perhaps this is a debate for another time,” Albus suggested.  “Agreed?”

        Dac’an nodded slowly. “Agreed.”

Valesius seemed more than happy to resume.  “Besides, the possibility of archeotech is tenuous, at best. What is far more certain is that the Six Blessings are on this planet. They're our true priority, especially now that we cannot recapture the Warp's Bane. To this end, Captain Albus and I expect that every effort will be made to find their whereabouts.”

        “This includes taking at least one rebel prisoner alive for questioning,” Albus added.

        “I will try,” Bardrik said, with the enthusiasm of a man who had been told that he would live the rest of his days as a cargo servitor.

        “Brother-captain?” Dac'an called. “Our scans just picked up new aerial units.”

        Albus's eyes narrowed as four new icons materialized on the auspex display. They were noticeably larger than the others, and shortly after their arrival the smaller signatures flocked towards them at a lunatic pace.

        “They're holding their positions two kilometers northeast of us,” Dac'an reported. “I believe Telarius recalled spotting a settlement in that area.”

        “I doubt it's a coincidence. Ready your wargear, battle-brothers,” Albus said. “I want a closer look.”

Herald of Terra
0657 hours

        “Not that I'm complaining, sir, but why do you need me to come with?” Macer asked, hurrying after Valesius. They reached a small locker, and Valesius's fingers danced along its keypad. Unseen machinery buzzed and whirred, and the locker slid open, revealing a small rack of weapons and armor.
Valesius removed Macer's signature stub revolver from the locker, and unceremoniously handed it to him.

        “If it's true the rebels have archeotech, I'll need your expertise,” Valesius said. Macer saw him cast a cryptic glance at the House Lumina guards, and he decided to pretend not to notice.

        Macer inspected the firearm for damage, although it was difficult to tell. It was a dirty dog of a gun, lent to him by a hive ganger he'd 'forgotten' to return it to. It was loud, crude, overbuilt, and a terrible choice for a willowy quill-pusher like him. He liked it.

        “Makes sense,” he said, spinning the revolver's cylinder. He flicked his wrist like he'd seen in his favorite holo-serials, and with a satisfying click, the cylinder snapped back into place.

        “Oh, stop that, will you? You'll ruin the loading mechanism,” Valesius scolded. “Anyway, come along. We've wasted enough time as it is.”

        “Which reminds me: how do you expect me to keep up?”

        “With this,” Valesius said, tossing him an auto-injector. Macer clumsily caught it, and read its label:

        Oh, dear forning throne, he thought.

Herald of Terra crash site
0700 hours

        With a metallic screech, one of the Herald's many emergency hatches swung open.

        Nothing could have prepared the team for the sight that lay beyond. The forest around them appeared to be a familiar mix of hardwood and softwood trees, but everything from the sun to the earth seemed flat and simplified, as though they were part of a drawing.

        It was astonishing, even to a group of warriors that had seen the psychocrystalline mind-mazes of Mantalla and the derelict flying pyramids of Indrasil.

        After a few moments of hesitation Vallin leaped out, landing gracefully on the mounds of plowed dirt below. He glanced at himself, relieved to see that he hadn't taken on the strange visual style of his surroundings.

        Holding his bolt pistol ready, he scanned the landscape, tasted the air, and then gave the all-clear to the rest of the team.

        Chaplain Bardrik landed nearby, his eyes quickly adjusting to the light. He took in his surroundings, still repulsed by its detestable pastel colors.

        Thanks to his lost helmet, he had to endure the sights and sounds of this planet unfiltered. Dac'an had repeatedly assured him that any pathogen risks were minimal, but this was still a xeno world. The dewy green ferns, the swaying trees, and the cool air did nothing to hide its taint.

        Suddenly, something resembling a butterfly landed on his nose. It was a grotesque thing, with curly antennae and a body like an overstuffed sausage. Its tiny face beamed at him.

        How in Dorn's name do insects smile?

        With a grunt of contempt, he swatted it away, sending it sailing into the bushes.

        “Already purging xenos, chaplain?”

        This came from Inquisitor Valesius. Bardrik was startled: he hadn't noticed the man leave the ship.

        “You sound displeased,” Bardrik said sourly.

        “I will be watching you closely during this mission, Chaplain Bardrik. Disappoint me, and you can be certain the Watch-Commander will hear of it.” With that, the inquisitor walked away, as though he hadn't just turned his back on an angry priest of the Black Templars.

        Such impudence! He wished he had the power to challenge the haughty mortal to an honor duel.

        Unbeknownst to Bardrik, his hated butterfly foe had already recovered and flown off, but not before blowing him a high-pitched raspberry.

Ponyville, Equestria
0700 hours

        The flying machines hovered over a sea of wide eyes and gaping mouths. One of them was only twenty feet above Twilight Sparkle, and despite the strange things she'd seen in the past few days, she was just as amazed as the other ponies. Even the Wonderbolts had flown in to get a closer look. She wished she had brought Spike along, but the young dragon had insisted he wasn't in the mood for a meeting. He was missing out on so much!

        Each machine was the size of a large shed. Despite their otherworldly appearances, they possessed a strange beauty; constructed with contoured lines and polished metal that faintly gleamed in the sunlight. It was clear that they were the products of a civilization far more advanced than ponykind.

        Not only had the aliens created spaceships, but they had refined them into things of grace and elegance. By contrast, Equestria's history with spacecraft had been a slow and disappointing one. Up until this day, there had been plenty of ponies who claimed traveling to other planets was outright impossible.

        But if they're so ahead of us, why did they stick a bunch of machine parts on a skull and make it fly around? She dismissed the doubtful little voice in her head as quickly as it had arrived. It was hardly fair to judge aliens from another dimension by Equestrian standards.

        The air was thick with anticipation. Countless scholars and sci-fi novelists alike had dreamed of this moment, and here she was, about to witness history unfold right before her eyes. Any second now, she would discover who these aliens were. There would be so much to learn from them, so much to share with them. Maybe they'd even let some ponies visit their homeworld!

        Any second now. The hatches should open right about...now!

        Nothing happened.

        No? How about now?

        Still no movement.

        Okay, now.

        It occurred to her that she had been holding her breath for so long, her chest felt like a vice.

        Oh, just do it already!

        As if the aliens had heard her thoughts, small hatches on the undersides of the machines slid open.

        Whunk! Whunk! The crowd gasped in astonishment as dozens of small cylinders were ejected from the hatches.

        Twilight's heart almost stopped. What was this?

        One of the cylinders landed next to a cross-eyed pegasus standing near Twilight. The pegasus sniffed at it, then suddenly reeled back in terror.

        “Look out!” she cried. “Itsa BOHMB!”

        The scene transformed into utter bedlam. Ponies cried out in terror and tried to escape, but with little success. The crowd was simply too tightly packed together. Frantic pegasi slammed into each other, falling to the ground and adding to the quagmire.

        No, Twilight thought. No. It can't be true. Why would they do this? She wanted to find her friends, but it was all she could do to avoid being trampled.

        With deafening reports, the bombs detonated. The noise and light sent nearly everypony in the crowd to their knees, clutching their ears and shielding their eyes. She expected to be swept up by a wall of fire any second, but it never came.

        What actually came was a thick cloud of noxious smoke. She coughed violently, tears running from her stinging eyes. Other unicorns in the crowd had sense enough to start using smoke-clearing spells, and she cast one of her own.

        Her mouth went dry when she saw what was hiding behind the smoke. Only a few feet in front of her stood a line of alien creatures. Like the skull and the flying machines, they had a vastly different visual quality compared to anything else in Equestria. They didn't seem unreal; they seemed too real.

        They were bipeds, nearly twice as tall as an average pony. They were dressed in suits of gray, streamlined armor, and their faces were hidden behind masks with cold blue goggles.

        Whatever hope Twilight held that the aliens were peaceful vanished when she saw the weapons they were carrying. Wicked-looking batons that sparked with electrical arcs. Heavy cannons and broad shields.

        “Exathel nir sirnata! Stroi vira faln, kurnak-tal!” one of them cried. The language was completely foreign to Twilight, but she had no desire to find out what it meant. Each word sounded so venomous, they seemed like weapons in themselves.

        The aliens raised their shields, and thus began what would later be recorded as the First Battle of Ponyville.

Everfree Forest
0701 hours

        Freedom at last, Vallin thought as Albus ordered the squad to move out. As usual, he was on point, and moved well in advance of the rest of the squad. It was a role many soldiers dreaded, but Vallin was more than a soldier. He could disarm ingenious booby traps with contemptuous ease, and more than a few enemy snipers had been treated to a bolt round to the face just as they were about to pull the trigger.

        He relished being outside again. As strange as Graneus Prime was, it was a welcome change of scenery from the ship's gloomy confines. Not having to put up with any more stale recycled air was a benefit, too. He savored the breeze, and the scent of pine trees it brought with it. Thus reinvigorated, he crept into the shadows of the forest with liquid grace.

        There was no more time to admire the feast for his senses: he had rebels to hunt. He took another whiff of the air. Soil, animal life, and wood. That wasn't exactly a surprise. Ceramite, scented oils, fyceline, and ozone. Obviously from the kill-team. To his irritation, the wind was at his back. Sounds and scents from their destination would be harder to detect. Still, there was no choice but to keep moving and hope that the wind would shift.

Ponyville, Equestria
0701 hours

        “Zu tralnast! Makarn!” The aliens locked their shields into a wedge and charged forward, their heavy boots kicking up thick clouds of dust.

        Rarity watched in horror and disgust as they brutally smashed aside any pony who stood in their path. They showed no mercy to the weak, the old, or the young: in fact, they seemed to make a show out of inflicting pain on them. Elderly mares and young foals were kicked aside like they were pieces of filth.

        Some of the unicorns in the crowd were retaliating, but their bolts of magic had little effect on the heavy metal shields. The aliens were charging straight towards her, and their blue goggles met with her eyes.

        She bunched up her muscles and put on her most vicious scowl.

        “If you ruffians want me,” she called, “you can have me!” She doubted they could understand, but they certainly didn't lose interest in her. She doubted even more that her plan would work, but if it failed, at least she would buy time for the other ponies to get away.

        She released the tension in her muscles in one explosive burst of energy, charging towards the aliens. At the last second she dropped to the ground and skidded, not caring about the havoc she would wreak on her gleaming white coat.

        There was a blur of motion and light. She realized she had slid under the alien's shields and through their legs, and was now right behind them.

        Just as planned!

        The aliens tried to turn and face her, but their heavy shields slowed them down. She took advantage of this as quickly as she could.

        “Hiii-yah!” she cried, kicking her rear legs out with all her strength. Her delicately trimmed hooves smacked into back of their knees, and the two aliens she'd hit collapsed like sacks of flour.

        Suddenly exposed, the third alien raised his foot up, trying to stomp on her. She rolled out of the way just before it slammed down, impacting with a loud thud that made her grateful she'd dodged it. She sprung back to her feet just in time to see the other two aliens start to recover, and she knew she wasn't going to be able to go on much longer.

        But she didn't need to. Seeing one dainty little unicorn stand up against a trio of heavily armed alien soldiers had emboldened the crowd, and soon others were joining in.

        One burly white pegasus crashed into an alien's shield like a freight train, ripping it from his grasp. The alien stared at him in what Rarity guessed was stunned confusion until the pegasus delivered a one-hit knockout blow to his nose.

        “YEEEAAH! GIMME MORE STUFF TO PUNCH!” he cried, quickly deciding that other two aliens were suitably punchable. Between his brute strength and the growing mob of angry ponies, the two aliens were on the ground in seconds.

        “YEEEAAH! WE ROCK!” the pegasus shouted, hoisting Rarity over his shoulders. Cheers rang out, and as much as Rarity enjoyed the attention, she didn't like the way the rest of the aliens seemed to be pointing frightful-looking weapons at her.

        I seem to be quite an easy target up here. She was vindicated when she found herself suddenly engulfed by a sticky net.

        Oh, dear. This will NOT be fun to get out of my mane.