//------------------------------// // Chapter 9 // Story: Friendship is Sanctioned // by thirdstring_overlord //------------------------------// FRIENDSHIP IS SANCTIONED by Blue Legend/Thirdstring Overlord ----- CHAPTER NINE Ponyville, Equestria 0750 hours The guards led Albus and his team onward, the sunlight gleaming off their polished breastplates. The buildings began to thin out as they approached the edge of the town, and the musty odor of wet, fallen leaves hung heavily in the air. The forest spread out before them, its foliage rich with hues of ocher and crimson. They were nearing the same woods they had cut through to enter Ponyville; the “Everfree Forest," from what Albus had overheard. Twilight and her friends seemed just as bemused as Albus's team. “So already you wish to us to leave?” quipped Vallin. A white-coated equinoid named High Noon, the lead guard, shook his head humorlessly. “No. Princess Luna wanted to give you a chance to see the boundaries of Ponyville. She believes you might be able to help with preparing our defenses.” Vallin eyed the terrain before him with an expert's gaze. ++Talon to Hasim. What can your forces spare for defending the town?++ ++We're gathering up everything we can, but it'll take time to treat the wounded and repair damaged matériel. As of now we can deploy twenty-three men, including myself. There's also twenty auspex scanners, ten gun-servitors, six Tarantula turrets, a Rapier destroyer, and a dozen Fire Wasp drones. The other assets will take much longer to return to working condition.++ ++Can the Thunderhawk be salvaged?++ asked Albus. ++We did a second assessment,++ said Hasim, his tone faintly apologetic, ++but sadly, no luck. It's permanently out of commission.++ Albus cursed under his breath. The loss of the Thunderhawk Fist of Polaris was no small setback. Far from just a dropship, the Thunderhawk held a spiritual value for the team, and its destruction left him with a strange feeling of emptiness. Techmarine Dac'an was surely hit even harder by the loss, which made his calm response a surprise. ++How many are staying to defend the crash site?++ ++That brings up another point,++ said Hasim. ++Magos Tringathar just informed me that he discovered some severe damage in the reactor's containment rings. It's looking rather grim, so we've begun to relocate all of our equipment and personnel. No one is staying behind at the wreck, my lord. We're scuttling it.++ ++You would detonate the reactors this close to us? Are you insane?++ said Bardrik. ++Don't worry. The scuttling ritual will vent radiation into the hull, but it won't level the countryside.++ Although they could not eavesdrop on their conversation, it was plain that the guards knew there was something that the Marines weren't sharing. They shifted on their hooves uneasily, and Albus could have sworn he saw one of them rolling his eyes. “Have you gathered your thoughts on the defense plan?” asked High Noon, trying valiantly to keep the impatience out of his voice. “Give me a map,” Vallin said quickly. The guard blinked. “I don't have--” “Right here!” Pinkie declared, springing in front of Vallin with a parchment map in hand. Albus was about to ask the xeno how she had gotten it, but better judgment prevailed. Vallin snatched the map with an unceremonious swipe of his hand, unfurling it and studying it for several moments. When he looked up, his expression was darker than a Fenrisian winter night. Ponyville, Equestria 0804 hours Shooting Star came to a precise landing in front of Luna, tucking his bat-like wings with courtly grace. He gave her a crisp salute. “They will return shortly, milady.” “You have my thanks, Shooting Star,” she said. “You are dismissed.” The messenger looked slightly quizzical about her soft tone, but he nodded and trotted off. Luna smiled softly. Now that the adrenaline rush had worn off, she found that it was much easier to speak without the Royal Canterlot Voice. It had a way of resurfacing whenever tensions ran high; an excellent tool to intimidate wrongdoers, but not a sound strategy when facing creatures who regularly traveled with eight-foot giants. “Space Marines," the alien named Tariq Hasim had called them. Apparently they were distinct from “humans," the word he had used to describe members of his own race. He had been cryptic when she asked him what the Space Marines exactly were, saying something about “gene-stock” and “blood of the Emperor." There had been precious little else that Luna had learned about the humans' “Emperor” before Tariq steered the conversation back towards the subject of fortifying the town. As tempting as it was to further indulge her curiosity, Luna understood the dire importance of the matter at hoof. Hence, she had allowed Tariq's troops to bring in his equipment and supplies without interference. She watched Hasim as he shouted orders and curses in equal number, directing his men as they heaved bulky crates of equipment into Ponyville. Some of them looked even stranger than Hasim. She saw red-cloaked figures walking on piston-powered legs, glaring at her under their red hoods with glowing lenses for eyes and grilles for mouths. Although both the humans and the Space Marines were disturbing to behold, she nurtured a hope that they would prove to be as reasonable as they claimed. But if not... Luna pondered what she would do if the humans betrayed her. The tour of Ponyville had partly been a move to buy her time. Now she was running out of it. Sister, if only you were with me... Celestia's sickness was a dark cloud that never entirely left her thoughts. When would she finally wake up? Would she ever wake up? She tried to push away the latter thought, but it stuck to her mind like tar. Life without her sister would... It would shatter her. She only barely heard the heavy stomp of boots when Inquisitor Valesius and his warriors arrived. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face them. A new twinge of worry coursed through her when she noticed the grim expressions on both the Marines and Twilight's group. She greeted them with forced self-assurance. “I trust that your journey was fruitful?” she asked. “I'm afraid we have some unpleasant news,” said Valesius. Albus thudded up to Luna, a sheet of paper clutched in his massive fist. He held it in front of her, showing her that it was a simple map of Ponyville. Charcoal lines had been drawn on the map, forming a roughly circular shape around the town's borders. “We can form a perimeter around only this area. No more, no less,” Albus said flatly. Luna caught a pleading look from Applejack and realized how small of an area the perimeter surrounded. It left several areas on the outskirts of the town unprotected, and Sweet Apple Acres was completely out of the boundaries. “This cannot be right. Surely we can defend more than this.” “If we extend the perimeter any further, the enemy will slip through,” snapped Albus. “This place is difficult to defend. Too many broken lines of sight, too many vulnerable structures, and far too many entrances.” “But mah family's out in Sweet Apple Acres! We can't jus' leave 'em out there!” protested Applejack. “And what about Cloudsdale?” added Rainbow Dash, her brow tight with anger. “And...what about Zecora? What about everyone else in the forest?” Fluttershy whimpered. Valesius held his palm up, silencing Albus before he could make a reply. “We can spare some of our forces to conduct an evacuation.” He cast his gaze at Luna, his face stern and uncompromising. “But we will need your trust and cooperation for this to work. We do not know how long this siege will last, and any mistrust will doom us all. We will allow your guards to continue monitoring us, but know this: this is not a war that you can win alone.” “An' how exactly would you know?” demanded Applejack. “Because I know what type of men we are dealing with. They have clearly gone to great lengths to establish a foothold on this world, so why would they back down? You have seen the way they exploited your panic, using it to scatter and confuse you. I doubt that next time they will be as merciful.” “If you must send someone outside the perimeter,” Valesius continued, “then so be it. But let us go with them. If there's the slightest chance our foes are still hiding out there, we must take the necessary precautions.” Luna swallowed, weighing her options. “Your words are admirable, inquisitor. But you must understand my reservations. What are you hoping to achieve through all this? Are you truly here to help us? Or is there something else you seek?” Valesius stared straight at Luna, and though his face conveyed honesty and determination, it looked more unnerving than usual. It seemed mechanical, as though it could be pried off to reveal a set of gears and wheels churning underneath. She pushed the disturbing image aside, trying to persuade herself that she was just reading too heavily into his expressions. He was an alien being, after all. Actually, that is not particularly reassuring, she realized. What he said next caught her by surprise. Rather than insisting that he was only here to fight off his enemies, he launched into strange tale of prophecy and divinations. He explained that he and his men had come to find artifacts called the “Six Blessings." “The Blessings are said to hold great power,” concluded Valesius. “Our attackers likely wish to use them for their own evil ends.” “Why did you not mention this before?” Luna asked, as confused as she was intrigued. “I was unsure as to what role your race played in this. But when I heard that Twilight and her friends had a connection to the 'Elements of Harmony,' I began to suspect that they bore a special importance to our quest.” Luna's unease gnawed at her even worse. “The Elements are no small matter. They are not something we can give to you, nor are they something you can take.” Valesius's eyes went wide with shock, and he stepped back. There was no hint of anger or defiance in his expression; only genuine dismay. “We come only as pilgrims,” said Valesius, his voice much softer than before. “We just wish to see these artifacts, and learn how you have used them against chaos.” Suddenly Luna felt like she had accused a new neighbor of burglary. Her suspicion twisted inward, turning into shame. “I do not expect this favor to be granted quickly or unconditionally,” said Valesius, some of his confidence returning to his voice. “All I ask is that you allow us to prove our honor. Please, let us assist in the evacuation. I promise that you will not regret it.” Luna still had her doubts, but now a new emotion began to color her judgment. What gave her the right to be so narrow-minded about these beings? She had spent over one thousand years as Nightmare Moon, the cruel tyrant of the night. Where would she be if Celestia had never trusted her with any power again? Valesius and his soldiers had done no harm to Equestria or its citizens. The same could not be said for her. And if she never gave the humans a chance to prove themselves, any alliance would quickly fall apart. “I will hold you to your promise, Valesius. And perhaps, once our foes are defeated, I will allow you to learn more about the Elements.” Valesius bowed his head. “You have my utmost gratitude.” He turned to regard his warriors, and though he spoke no words, there were signs of communication between the humans' group. Albus nodded his head, as though agreeing with some unsaid statement. The bald-headed giant named Bardrik suddenly looked even angrier than usual, but gave a miniscule nod. Luna wondered if the humans and Space Marines were using a telepathy spell, but sensed no magic flowing between them. Strange, she thought. After a few more seconds of this awkward silence, Valesius spoke up again. “We have come to a decision. Scout-Sergeant Vallin will accompany...Fluttershy,” Valesius said, strangely hesitating before he said her name. “Techmarine Dac'an will accompany Applejack, and Captain Albus will accompany...Rainbow Dash. As a show of good faith, I will remain in your presence. That way, should any wrong be dealt to your subjects, I will answer for it.” “Uh, about the whole 'accompanying me' thing?” said Rainbow Dash. “That's...not gonna work.” “I doubt you will last long alone,” said Albus. He pointed towards the still-smoking wrecks of the spiderlike machines Luna had destroyed earlier. “That's not it. What I'm saying is, you gotta have these,” Dash said, pointing at her wings, “to get around in Cloudsdale.” “I could cast a cloudwalking spell on you, though,” Twilight added helpfully, glancing up at Albus. He jolted backwards slightly at the suggestion, as though it was a physical blow. “That won't be necessary. I suppose the Royal Guards will have to suffice as escorts,” said Albus. Twilight seemed just as confused as Luna about his sudden hesitation. Did the Space Marines have some sort of phobia towards magic? Valesius angrily locked eyes with Albus. There was another pause, and once again Luna had the odd suspicion that they were somehow speaking to each other. This time it was the wiry human named Macer who broke the silence. He gazed at Luna with fierce determination. “I'll go with her. If we're going to be fighting alongside your race, we need to make sure your magic won't harm us. I volunteer myself.” Even the Marines appeared to be taken aback. “Are you certain about this, Macer?” asked Valesius. Macer nodded. “I've got nothing better to do. Besides, someone needs to act as a delegate to Cloud's Veil.” “Cloudsdale,” Rainbow Dash said sharply. “And there's another thing. Unless you have a balloon or something like that, you can't actually get to Cloudsdale. It's way up in the sky.” “A sky-city? Ordinarily that would beggar belief,” said Macer, casting a sideways glance at his surroundings, “but I'll take your word for it.” “Look, do you really need to come along? It's just a quick trip,” pleaded Rainbow Dash. “A 'quick trip' is all our enemies need for an ambush,” said Valesius. “I don't think you realize the gravity of--” “Wait, that's it!” cried Macer. “Hasim, do we have any grav-chutes?” Hasim looked up from the tablet he had been idly jotting something down on. “We do. Why do you ask?” Ponyville, Equestria 0810 hours Macer winced as Hasim tightened the final strap on his grav-chute's harness. “Ow! Easy, there.” “If I make it any looser, the chute will fall off mid-flight,” said Hasim. “And if that happens, we'll never recover the bloody thing. Also you'd probably die, but that's less of a concern.” “You were one of those lads who went to the Schola Progenium, were you?” “And why would you think that?” asked Hasim as he rummaged through a canvas bag by his feet. “Because you're an insufferable ass.” Hasim looked up at him sharply, but saw the humor on Macer's features. “I suppose I am,” he said, plucking a circular device from the bag. “But at least I'm a competent one.” He passed the device to Macer. “What is it?” Macer asked. It was a smooth bronze disk roughly the size of a coin. Two small earbuds hung from it, connected to the device by thin copper wires. “It's the key to every bloody Adeptus Mechanicus vault in the galaxy,” said Hasim. When he saw Macer's shocked look, it was Hasim's turn to smirk. “No, really. It's an auto-translator. Clip it on your collar, put on those earbuds, and you'll have two-way translation without needing to be near the lingua-vox. That button in the center is the on/off switch.” Macer fumbled with the translator, trying to hook it onto his collar. “So was Valesius telling the truth? Do these...equinoids actually speak a human language?” Hasim nodded. “He was telling the truth, as unusual as that is. Strange, isn't it? Perhaps there truly are higher powers at work. Or perhaps mankind has been here in the past. Whatever the case, it made the lingua-vox's job a lot easier, and that's good enough for me.” “Fair enough. But if you have these auto-translator things,” Macer said, finally hooking the device to his collar, “why did you need the lingua-vox in the first place?” “Because 'these things' can't generate new algorithms, you simpleton. So if it turns out they speak yet another language in Cloud's Tail or whatever the hell that place is, you're gakked.” “How reassuring.” “You're the one who's going to experiment with xeno magic. I figured you wouldn't be worried,” said Hasim. “Are you ready?” Twilight Sparkle called. “Ah, look, an excuse to get away from you,” said Macer. “I think I'll be off.” “Yeah, gak you, too.” “The spell should last about five hours,” said Twilight as Macer walked up to her. “I'm guessing you won't need that long, but it never hurts to be careful.” “All right, then. Go ahead.” Twilight Sparkle closed her eyes, and the same strange hum he had heard earlier emanated from her horn. Soon it was wreathed in purplish-pink energy that shimmered like the air over a hot stove, and Macer suddenly had the image of the energy scorching his flesh to cinders. “Wait!” he cried. “Is there some way you could focus the spell on my boots?” “Why?” Twilight asked, perplexed. “I just want to take this one step at a time. No pun intended.” “I could use a clothing enchantment. But if that's what you want, don't try to sit or lie down once you're in Cloudsdale, okay? The effects are...a little weird.” “You have my word,” said Macer. Twilight leaned down and touched her horn to the toes of Macer's boots. His feet faintly tingled, like they had fallen asleep. Soon the sensation faded to nothing, and he breathed a sigh of relief. “Am I good to go?” he asked. “Good to go.” “Thank you,” he said, turning to face Rainbow Dash. She sat impatiently on a nearby log. “I'm ready.” Enthused to finally be on her way, she gracefully leapt into the air. She fluttered up to him and hooked her thick hooves through the cord loops on the top of his backpack. Gravity dictated that there was no way she would have been able to lift him off the ground...but that's why he was wearing a device that could tell gravity where to stick it. He flipped the switch on his grav-chute, instantly making his weight negligible. “Don't move around too much,” Dash said as she lifted him up. “This is gonna be hard enough as it is.” They rose above the treeline, slowly building up speed. As they did so, Macer found it easy to hold still: he was paralyzed with fear. Everfree Forest 0811 hours When Gunthir Erodim smiled, it was a stomach-churning sight. His dry lips cracked and twisted, pulling ravaged skin taut across a skull that had been fractured and rebuilt countless times. His face was a warzone, with sores like craters and stitches like trench lines. As his face would attest to, Gunthir Erodim thrived in war. His Exathelite masters had taken many things away from him after his capture and repurposing, but they had left his love for bloodshed. He smiled because he knew he would find combat soon. He gazed approvingly at his fellow warriors as they crept through the woods. Every trooper was dressed in camouflaged fatigues; all the better to stalk their prey with. They carried a motley array of scavenged autoguns; all the better to outlast their foes with. Vicious monomolecular daggers and swords hung by their hips; all the better to hack down the survivors with. Imperial ashes would taste sweet on his tongue. The thought made him pick up the pace, but not everyone was so driven. His comrade Kalvik Shaloveen rested against a tree, taking a moment to catch his breath. “Move along, Kalvik,” he grunted, the morbid grin still fixed to his face. “Now.” “Give me a moment...I need to rest...” Gunthir clapped his hand on Kalvik's shoulder, hard enough to make him grimace. “Now,” he repeated. His smile disappeared, but he became no less horrible in appearance. Kalvik took a deep breath and nodded, standing up straight again and trudging onward. They entered a grove of tall dark trees, their branches forming arches high overhead. Numerous shafts of light filtered through the colorful leaves, making it very much like walking through a cathedral. Cathedral. The word brought memories, and memories brought suffering if he dwelt on them. The implants in his brain fired a few jolts of warning-pain, making him shudder. There had been a time when this would have angered him, but he had long since let go of his resentment. Rebellious thoughts caused pain, too. Gunthir let the smile creep back onto his face as he tramped through the forest underbrush, barely feeling it when a dead branch sliced into the back of his right hand. He glanced at the wound. It was minor, barely distinguishable from the mess of scars that were already there. The burn marks formed the pictographs for “seraf” and “katar,” the only two Exathelite words he had been allowed to learn. “Burned man”, or “man who starts fires”. He wiped his cut on the bandolier of incendiary grenades strapped around his chest. Seraf katar. There was no other way to describe men like him.