Chapter 1: Dark Skies, Bright Lights

CARAVAN 8
A FiM:40,000 FanFiction

Written by FightorFlyT

Inspired by Games-Workshop's Warhammer: 40,000

“War. War never changes.” -Ron Perlman

Equestria has risen again.

The Imperius Prime is a mighty empire, spanning hundreds of worlds. From the Dark Ages of past forgotten, Equestria grew in power and size. As arcane principles evolved, so did ponykind's insatiable appetite for more. More land, more power, more. They found a way to conquer their planet, and from there they moved their focus to the sky and beyond. Before long, a moon colony was operational, and the two monarchs of the kingdom set their sights on a broader goal: the galaxy. Colony ships set out every which way, using rift gates to travel great distances. Ponykind controlled half of the galaxy, with the Empire growing every day. Technology was at its peak, and even against a number of alien foe, the Empire thrived.

And then... The Taint arrived.

Like parasprites, it spread over the Empire. Loyal settlements broke off, declaring independence and war towards the Empire. It was then that Celestia and Luna, with the help of the Heralds, created the first Space Steeds. Massive warriors, they strode against the heresy that had sprung up. They were mighty, nigh unstoppable. But then, one fell to the Taint.

Twilight, the Herald of the great Twilight Sparkle of the end of the Dark Ages, fell to the Taint. She believed its lies, its perverse bastardization of the truth, and turned against the Empire. Twilight was the head of the Empress Legion, the fiercest Space Steed faction ever seen, as well as the lead developer in the 8th Caravan of Taint research. It is believed it was there that she met her fate and became the monster she is famous as. However it happened, war ensued.

Two more of the six original factions defected, joining the Taint. They were the base for the never-ending hordes of Taint that fought tooth and hoof for three long centuries, a bloody civil war.

It wasn't long before Twilight broke through the defenses Celestia's armada had set up and arrived at Canterlot Castle, the royal throne's stronghold. For eighty-three days, the Taint battered at the castle, until finally they breached. It was a massacre. Heavy casualties hit both sides hard, and at the heat of the event, Twilight personally matched Celestia in combat. Celestia had the upper hoof, having existed for eons prior to the engagement, but...

Twilight swung in a legendary blow. A terrible, fearsome blow. With one strike, she mortally wounded Celestia beyond help. Luna, the younger of the rulers, rushed to her sisters side, and that is where Luna sacrificed herself to the rift to defeat Twilight once and for all. Luna fell to the rift while Twilight died in a gulf of righteous balefire. Celestia swore to enact revenge for her sister, and has since led a mighty crusade against the Taint.

With renewed vigor, the new Imperius drove back the Taint, and are currently restoring order to their colonies. While many of the planets have forgotten how they arrived generations back, roughly half have been reclaimed for the Imperius.

And in the shadow of the famed Twilight Treachery, there has been one force that frightens the Imperius more-so than the alien races they have encountered. The Taint refuses to rest. Even now, it continues to resist, existing in the perverted tear in reality known as the Rift. Very few can stand against such a foe, but little does most of the Imperius know, Luna herself created a unique team to battle the tides of Taint...

This force is based around the elites of the Space Steeds. Gone is the freedom to enact their own campaigns, as they have an unwavering loyalty to the Imperius. They have no home, save the battlefield. They were built specifically to combat the horrors of Caravan 8, for no mere chapter can combat them without the support of these whispered warriors. They are a breeze in the Imperius, unknown by most.

They are few. Many are hybrids, alien in heritage. Almost no civilian records of them exist, yet exist they do. They can trace their heraldry to almost every planet in the Imperius, yet they belong to none of them. They are battle-brothers, separated by centuries but unified in honor. All share the same resolve: Caravan 8 must be stopped at all costs.

Who stands against the Tainted fear?

This is where the Grey Manes make their mark.

Prologue

Near the beginning of the 38th Millennium...

The sky was ablaze with fire, smog and debris raining from the heavens above. Heavy Buckers opened salve around him, belching giant bolts the size of apples at the oncoming horde. The report of gunfire near deafened him, and the flash of muzzles blinded him in a cacophony that assaulted his senses. The battle tore into his mind, threatening to send him over the edge into the very fringes of insanity.

A sinister smile came to his lips as he leveled the Storm Bucker.

“A-one, a-two, a-”

BOOM!

He closed his eyes in pure bliss as he heard the wet explosion. His aim was true, as usual.

Striding through the mounds of corpses around him, picking his way between what troops he still had, he approached his commander, a unicorn with a brilliant yellow coat. Her pure white armour glistened brilliantly, bathed by the light of exploding artillery far off in the distance. A small blue sapphire heart was clasped in a three-pointed bronze star, hanging from her neck. She always wore that, no matter how many times she was told it was not part of uniform.

“Shall we perform the sodomy?” he asked with a wry smile. His commander rolled her eyes, unimpressed. Quite honestly, he enjoyed himself a little too much in combat. For being such an up-standing Taint Hunter, as soon as the first bolt flew he turned rather... lewd.

“Do as you wish. The empress protects,” she said with as little emotion as possible. He grinned again. He enjoyed grinning. It completed the psychotic look all too perfectly.

“Who be the target?” he asked, already trying to spot his mark.

“The biggest one.” She laughed solemnly before adding, “Enjoy yourself.”

His grin broke into a malicious smirk.

“With pleasure.”

With that, his wings snapped out from beneath his robed armour. The tough hide stretched between the alloy-infused bones crackled with a hungry fire, matching his desire for the fight looming ahead. A quick double-hop into the air, and he was soaring over the battlefield, dodging artillery blasts and opposing fire threatening to bring him down.

Below him, the yellow armour of his home world's Space Steed chapter flashed between the gaps in the horde of Taint-raged Gorkz, who pressed on with more vigor than ever. They resembled nasty, mutated mutts, larger than the average Space Steed but individually no match for one of the Imperius' finest. Their green hides were cracked and warped, spines and tendrils lashing from an assortment of wounds each carried. It was fearsome; gruesome, in fact. The Fentak Risen were being overrun.

Not his problem.

There, he spotted the beast he was destined to slay. It was a huge, hideous beast, a sin against nature. A blasphemy against the heavens. Lesser stallions would have retched in fear at the sight of it lumbering about. But, not the Hunter-

“It's so cute! Must kill!” he screamed as he crashed into the beast's stomach, throwing it back.

… No, not the Hunter. Disregarding any sane sense of emotion, of course he embraced the beast on its own turf. Figures.

The cracking green hide had scorch marks adorning its every feature, and a red lust glinted its eye. The Taint Hunter matched that lust, circling around his prey. A circle of Gorkz closed around them. A few blades were tossed at the Hunter, but they innocently glinted off his purple-rimmed armour. None of the weak-willed fools would dare attempt to steal the glory of the fight from their warlord.

With a fearsome bellow, the beast thrust his bloody axe towards the red-tinged sky and charged the Hunter.

He was ready. Expected it, actually.

Rolling to the right as the axe swung towards his left, he thrust his hind paws against the flat axe siding and sent it flying into the air with a well-controlled kick. Whipping around, he charged the vocal modulator he was fond of using, ready to defeat the beast in one fell swoop as he poured bolt after blessed bolt straight into the massive Gorkz face. The bolts did nothing but irritate the Gork, who was easily five times the Hunter's size and likely weighed ten times that.

Oddly enough, the Gork didn't appreciate the massage his face was receiving, and responded by back-handing the unsuspecting Hunter. He soared through the air until he collided with something solid. Very solid.

Rubbing his head, he looked up to see a familiar face.

“Get back in there!” Macintosh bellowed as he hefted the Hunter by the scruff of his neck and hurtled him back at the beast. The Hunter smiled on the inside. Always good to be cheered on by a friend.

Landing gently not ten paces from the beast, he bowed his head, and began whispering so quietly the massive Gork actually turned his head to try and hear the prayer.

“May the Holy Mother Luna watch over the hunters of the night, as we slay the foul beasts who dare defile her honour-”

The Gork mistakenly mistook the prayer for simple rambling and bellowed again, charging towards the Hunter.

“-and give us the power to vanquish the unclean-”

The mighty battleaxe swung at the Hunter. Macintosh watched solemnly from the sidelines. The axe passed into the Hunter...

“-no matter how incredibly stupid they may be-”

… And clean out the other. A second later, much to the Gorkz' surprise, the after-image of the Hunter flicked out of focus. The Gork turned around almost comically slow as the Hunter finished the prayer.

-and give us the strength to cry for her GLORY!”

As soon as the last syllable died in his throat, the Hunter activated the vocal modulator, letting the echoes of his last cry thump and grow in the containment field. He threw the beast a devilish wink before barking out the amplified blast. A cone of pure bass tore from the Hunter and impacted the Gork, punching the front of its body straight through and erupting in a geyser of gore and blood behind it.

The Hunter shifted his gaze to the clusters of Gorkz still surrounding him, all of them watching with wide eyes as their mighty warlord toppled forward, dead beyond even their repair.

The response that followed was almost immediate. Each and every one of them launched themselves at the Hunter, crying for a chance to defeat the warrior and become the new warlord.

“Such a pity,” the Hunter mumbled as he rolled the silver band-like Kjang around on his front paw. It flared a light orange, a thin stripe encircling it as a similar spark flashed in the Hunter's eye.

“I thought this would be more difficult.”

With that, the Hunter leaped into battle. His heart-rate dropped like a rock, his mind was disturbingly clear. There was only one thought running through his head, searing itself into his subconscious: Kill.

He happily obliged.

The fighting was horrendous. Terrifying. Vicious. Limbs were torn apart, blood sprayed from wounds violently. Gore blanketed the cracked earth. The Hunter was at peace with himself. He was happy.

But all too soon, the last Gork in his vicinity fell, dead in its tracks. The battle was over.

The battle report later read that the Hunter had achieved a total of four hundred and thirty six kills, but even if he had known that, it would not have mattered. He had fought valiantly. Luna herself would have been proud.

And yet... A certain emptiness was present in his soul. Or was it a lack of presence? Whatever the case, he felt it (or didn't feel it?) at his core, a pit of sorrow. He had killed hundreds for his Heavenly Mother! So... Why did he feel so empty inside?

The blood dripped from the Hunter as he climbed the steps to the great altar of Luna, the Mother. As he approached the relief of Luna, he felt all the hair stand up on his body. He was alone atop the altar. The Hunter's fur was matted in the blood of his vanquished foes, and as the Hyprenaline slowly bled from his body, he began to grow mildly disturbed by the texture he was caked in.

But still, alone atop the altar, his fur stood on end. Maybe he wasn't as alone as he'd perceived..

“Who goes there?” he called out, voice firm yet strangely calm. He received no response.

“I say, who goes there?” he repeated, a slight edge of irritation slipping into his voice.

Once again, no response. He growled softly, charging his vocal modulator. Somepony was going to seriously regret toying with him.

He barked, the satisfying mach cone exploding from the modulator and cascading through the top of the open altar. The stone croaked in protest, but there was no other reaction save that.

“Odd,” the Hunter grumbled as he plodded softly towards the giant statue of Luna. “I could have sworn I'd heard somepony-”

“Hello.”

The Hunter leaped to the side, bringing his Storm Bucker to bear. The rune carved into the firing stud began to glow from his magic, ready to fire. He narrowed his eyes at the intruder.

The setting sun behind the figure cast it in a deep silhouette, but he could see the outline well enough to recognize the species, more importantly the race of said species.

It was an alicorn. He clearly saw the regal horn atop the deity's head, as well as the large angelic wings splayed in a confident pose. He felt it through his body, this was a pony with power. Or at least, had power. His eyes remained narrowed.

“Must I repeat myself?” he spat, disregarding any notion to speak with respect.

“Nay,” she replied. Her voice was deep but most definitely of royal heritage. As his eyes adjusted to the lighting, the Hunter felt his heart skip a beat. Just one, however. He'd never admit that.

Before him stood a deep blue alicorn of striking beauty. Her mane flowed off like a deep cloud of near-black purple, with pinpricks of light darting through it. She wore no dress, but he knew even without her crown who had visited him.

He bowed, finally showing due respect. It wasn't every day one saw the missing princess, Luna.

“My Goddess,” he breathed carefully.

“Rise, Hunter,” Luna commanded. He did so, still finding it difficult to believe what he so clearly saw. Before him, the Goddess of the night, the Heavenly Mother Luna had graced him with his presence. Everypony knew she had never truly gone, simply existed in the Rift. She was far too pure to be defeated by such a simple adversary.

But still-

“-How did you arrive here? Where have you been for the past millennia?” the Hunter asked, jumping straight into his thoughts.

“I can be anywhere and nowhere, dear child. Now, listen, for I have a request of dire importance...”

- - - - - - - - - -

Twenty-Five Years Later, Near the Eastern Fringe...

The Hunter awoke with a start, glancing around a his surroundings. He was in the transport bay of a Starhawk, the giant armed gunships used by the Imperius Discordium.

“Ah, you're awake.”

The Hunter glanced to his side and saw his deep orange friend, the huge earth-pony Macintosh, sitting beside him. Macintosh had his massive back turned to the Hunter while he was polishing his armour. It should have been impossible for him to have known the Hunter was awake, but... the Hunter stopped caring about how his friend knew such things a long time ago.

“Aye,” he replied simply. He rose to his paws, arching his back and feeling a relief as he heard his back pop. “Are we closing in on Opex Sigma?”

“Indeed,” Macintosh informed him. “We should be entering the system within the hour, and make landfall on Sigma in four. I was about to rouse you myself, we are to attend a briefing in ten minutes.”

“Acknowledged,” the Hunter yawned as he began donning his armour. It had been washed and cleaned since the defense of Fentak Prime, and had recently earned a new commemorative rune for 'exceptional bravery'. All in all, it was disgusting political bullshit, but the Hunter shrugged it off as he tied down his deep mauve robe. He pulled on his three-piece combat helmet, which consisted of a thin sheet of reinforced ceramite resting over his rather flat forehead and simply curved back, looking more akin to a racing helmet than a true Space Steed helmet. It was his special wargear, however, and the Chapter never made any steps to remove it from him.

Finally, he donned the downward-facing triangle of his unique rank in the Chapter's company officers, that of the Lance General. The white insignia lit up with an ethereal quality as he fastened it to his chest-piece.

“Any idea what we should expect?”

“Nay,” Macintosh replied. “I know as much as you on this... the Taint just appeared. Speak your mind during the briefing.”

“Aye, we shall...”

The two finished putting on their armour and waited as the other nine Steeds in the room assembled their own armour. Soon, all of them were wearing the white and yellow armour of the Fentak Risen, with the purple lining breaking up the bright metal. They all had their Buckers mounted on their shoulders, powered down at the moment, and had each hoof-mounted Buck pistol primed and ready. Macintosh was proud of his unit, being the only true gunslinger squad in the entire chapter.

Macintosh himself slapped a fresh circlet of rounds onto each of his Buck pistols, the Heavy Bucker he carried on his armoured yoke bobbing along with his movements.

“Is the squad ready, Technical Sergeant Ventral Light?”

Ventral Light saluted while responding, “Sir, Support Team Echo-Nine is ready for briefing, sir.”

Macintosh nodded in approval. “Then move out.”

One-by-one the squad filed out into the central corridor, heading towards the command hub. On the way, they were joined by the ten-count Assault Team Fire-Six and the twin Tactical Teams Reaver-Two and Harvest-Four. Each of the Squad's Senior Sergeants saluted to the Hunter as they grouped up. The thirty-one soldiers entered the command hub in silence, filing around the commander's platform.

The unicorn mare in the commander's chair looked up, eyes heavy but alert. Her yellow coat was as brilliant as ever.

“I was told to give you an extensive briefing as to the mission ahead,” she started. “However, as they failed to inform me as to the severity of the situation, I say fuck the protocol.”

All of the Space Steeds looked away, taken aback as to the commander cold tone.

“I have ten tactical marines, a jump team and a posse of gunners, with only five Terminataurs in reserve and a battered Dread-Suit, and they expect this team to assist the utterly pathetic UltraSteeds in a hopeless defense against three full chapters of Taint. I would definitely tell them to go fuck themselves if there wasn't an objective worthy of our attention.

“The Sky Crawler Tainted Legion currently is trying to wrestle a particularly valuable artifact from a base near the equator, two-hundred clicks from the Capital stronghold Vershan. This artifact is known to have immense Taint-related properties, and it is rather obvious that should it fall into their possession, well...”

She left her words hanging. One of the Steeds finished it for her in a hushed voice.

“We're fucked...”

“To whomever said that, yes. We will indeed be fucked. Thus, I send you on this suicide mission with a heavy heart. You have one mission: recover the artifact, and bring it three clicks east to a landing pad where a Thunder Duck might be able to pick up the artifact.

“Now, the Thunder Duck can at most carry a single squad strong, so it pains me to say this, but most of you will be left behind to die.”

The silence was solemn but understanding. They were Space Steeds. They knew it was their duty to die in the battlefield, and so it shall be.

The thumping of their hearts was audible through room.

“I don't wish to condemn my warriors, but as the Terminataurs-” she said with a bitten chuckle. As she said this, the Terminataur squad entered the room, maxing out the occupancy. The biggest of them, clad with a white linen shawl, addressed the commander.

“Ma'am, with all due respect, we wish to remain on the surface.”

The commander pursed her lips, surprised. “You realize that is a death-wish, correct?”

“Aye. This is not negotiable, my lady. We shall stay.”

The commander bowed her head, accepting the fate of her elite troops.

“Very well. I would have rather kept my more advanced soldiers, but this...” she paused.

“Actually, this will offer valuable incentive. I will not decide who shall be... unlucky, enough to survive. However, I will simply say this: the team who recovers the artifact and returns it to the rendezvous point shall be returned. Determine your dead until then.”

With that, she saluted. All of the Steeds returned it, and headed towards the pods. They had a difficult job ahead of them.

As the Hunter was about to leave, however, the commander ushered him over.

“Our lady,” he said in a respectful tone, bowing.

“Rise, Hunter. To you, I place an important task.”

The Hunter cocked his head to the side.

“You must accompany the team that recovers the artifact. I realize you have forsaken your blade in the metaphorical sense, but I will not have my stallions fall to their demise without a fighting chance.”

The Hunter saw the slightest hint of true concern in her eye before she closed both, turning from him.

“You shall not let the artifact out of your sight. Now, I believe you have a team to see to.”

The Hunter swallowed hard and nodded, muttering a solemn “Aye.”

Just before he stepped out, however, he turned and spoke his heart.

“Then I shall let you know now, they will not come under Taint while under my watch. Once they embark the transport, however...” The Hunter let his own words hang, and then slipped away.

The commander sighed, expecting that from the passionate Hunter. His reputation had definitely spoke of him correctly. No longer was he the blood-lusting lone Hunter he'd commanded a decade ago. No, he was now quite an honourable Battle-Priest, willing to die with his battle-brothers in a war he disagreed with.

A single strangled, choked laugh came to her as she mulled about her thoughts. Her hoof came to the star-enclosed heart she still had around her neck, as brilliant and beautiful as ever.

“If only every Steed were that passionate. He better give the fools Hell.”

Outside of the command hub, the Hunter caught up with his team.

“Are we set to dispatch?” he asked Macintosh.

“Aye, sir.”

“Good. Then let us make haste.”

The teams separated, fanning out to board their individual drop-pods. The Hunter followed Macintosh into the pod they would be accompanying. Macintosh's team was seated inside. As the two took their seats, a dreadful silence settled over the team. And then, they waited.

And waited.

Eventually, after about two hours, one of the Steeds seemed to have been tired of the silence. He began humming softly to himself. It started out quietly, but soon he was singing the anthem of his chapter.

Amidst the horrible fate they were destined to meet shortly, they all found the will to chime in. The entire pod was filled with the chanting team, even as the locking arms released and they hurtled towards the planet's surface. They sang right through the end, as passionate as ever. They were soldiers. They were Space Steeds.

The atmosphere flew past the single view-port of the drop-pod.

The Hunter looked around at his team, Echo-Nine. This was the last time he would see many of their faces. All of them, if he could help it, for he would see no more.

He leaned back in his harness, smiling lividly to himself.

“So this is how it ends, ey?” he chuckled, gathering a round of tired chuckling from his brothers. They were all prepared to die, and they would die in glory.

He looked over at Macintosh. His large friend nodded to him. They both were prepared.

The youngest Steed in the pod spoke up.

“It was a good life, wasn't it?” he asked to nopony in particular.

“Indeed,” Ventral Light laughed. “Think of the glory...”

“This is not the end,” Macintosh let them know. “We still have the battle ahead.”

“And we shall emerge victorious. Even in death, so that others may live. Sound about right?” The youngest Steed said, quoting the Chapter's motto.

“Well said. What is your name?” The Hunter asked.

“Sir, my name was Silent Streak. And I think I speak for everypony here when I ask, may I have the same of you? We know of your accomplishments, but not of your name. Are you simply the Hunter?”

The Hunter smiled. “Well met. And as for our personal name, it is-”

The drop pod stopped abruptly, crashing against the planet's surface. The locking mechanism clicked as the claw doors began to open up.

The battle was on.

“-Passion.”

Bullets flew. As soon as the doors were open, they were in the thick of the foe.

Macintosh drew first blood as he smashed a Taint Steed's head beneath his massive hooves, tearing apart two more with his Heavy Bucker as his team sent a volley of fire at the foe. They started with their shoulder-mounted Buckers, but as the foe swarmed in on them they slowly began turning to their hoof-mounted Buck pistols.

The Sky Crawler Legion was renown for their ferocity in the assault, being vicious and superior in close combat to most other legions. They were adorned with blades and mauls and an assortment of nasty weapons with which they would impale their foe against. They had expected to do the same to Echo-Nine as the had t so many others. They were wrong.

The immediate wave of pure firepower Echo-Nine had was outstanding. Three Heavy Buckers in their squad, each of them also with twin Buck pistols, with the other seven Steeds each armed with a standard Bucker and their own twin Buck pistols, the team was a beautiful dancing team of muzzle-flash and explosions. They decimated the first wave of Sky Crawler Steeds with their first salvo, any Steed that got too close being pummeled by Macintosh as a brother turned a spare weapon to cover his position.

They were masters at hoof-to-hoof combat, as well. Taking no return fire from the assault-frenzied Steeds, Echo-Nine held their own against the feared traitors. It was a beautiful display of concentrated fire spread along their front as well as an amazing stand against the galaxy's finest.

And then there was the Hunter, Passion. He tore through the swarm, eyes closed as he tried to stave off the blood-lust threatening to consume him. Even in his blind state, his aim was as true as ever. Heads exploded as bullets tore through them. His Storm Bucker's muzzle became scorched from steady fire, slick with black smoke, but still it fired on.

His Kjang blazed furiously as it melted power armour and flesh into putty, pounding through Steed after Tainted Steed. The Hunter bucked at any Steed that tried to flank him, his powerful legs cracking through helmets and crushing muzzles. His will cracked.

“Oh fuck, looks as though we might enjoy ourselves yet.”

He smiled a demonic smile, all his teeth bared in his huge grin. As the saying goes, heads would roll.

Just not his.

- - - - - - - - - -

The blood stopped spraying into his face, the red haze washing away from his eyes.

“... a-three...” he growled as he pulled his Storm Bucker out from the chest-plate of the last Steed. Piles of death surrounded him, heaps of dead Taint Steeds. He'd lost himself in the fight.

As his heart-rate climbed back up, the rage dissipating from his vision, he took in his surroundings. He was in the middle of a concrete bunker, a hollowed out and crumbling cavern of desecrated destruction. The roof had been punched out violently. The Hunter was pretty sure he'd seen to it.

The complex was opened up before him. In the center, surrounded by newly-dead Taint Steeds, was a square box covered in glowing runes. Hard to hazard a guess, but chances were that was what he needed. Might have to roll a D6 on it.

He hopped down to it, using his wings to navigate towards it. As he approached, he heard gunfire sound outside of the complex. One of his teams must have been arriving.

The box was just as mysterious close up as it was from far away. Square, with flat sides. Probably meant to hold something. Lacking handles for ease of carrying. Cubical in nature. Boxy indeed. Besides the runes he couldn't read, it looked like just that: a fucking box. Nothing special. No ornate dragons head carved into one side, or pressure sensitive claw traps built into a concealed lip. Nope, nothing special.

It was just a fucking box.

The Hunter felt the veins in his temple swell slightly. Why was he getting so worked up over such a stupid thing? It was just a box! A box that was apparently worth more than the lives of his brothers! But what was inside? Who cared?! It just a box!

His breathing became labored. He stopped himself before he drove himself crazy and passed out from an aneurism attack. Yes, it was just a box, but if the commander said the box was that important, than he would honour that.

Although he was seriously contemplating going back with the gunship to slap some sense into that bitch. Maybe with the box, too.

“Fire-Six, hold fire.”

Passion looked up. In his lucid dream-state, Fire-Six had circled his position. With their guns out, he expected there to be more Taint Steeds. He spun around, but stopped dead when he felt a tracer beam light up on his cheek. Nine more followed. They had their sights set on him.

“What is the meaning of this?” he growled.

The ten pegasi had their long-barreled Buck pistols aimed on him. He never understood why an assault team would lengthen the barrels of their weapons, seeing as they were meant to be compact in their original design. It made them unique, he guessed, but...

Nopony responded to him.

“Answer us!”

The closest Steed to him removed his helmet. It was the mint green squad leader, Technical Sergeant Radiant Fall. Passion looked him in the eye, waiting for him to speak.

Radiant Fall cantered towards Passion with a swagger that irritated him further.

“You aren't supposed to be here,” Radiant Fall hissed.

“Wrong. Commander Bitch Please gave us the order to keep an eye on this. What about you? Wasn't it decided that Reaver-Two would return the box?”

It had been decided before the pods dropped; Reaver-Two had drawn the shorter stick.

“Reaver-Two has been... compromised. They can no longer complete their duty,” Radiant said with a snarl.

Passion could see it in the pony's eye: Radiant had gone crazy. The red tinge in his pupil wasn't that of a rush of Hyprenaline. No, it was pure Taint corrupting his soul, his body. There was no saving him. He'd fallen to the Taint. It was reasonable, of course. The Taint had a physical presence in the air, one could actually taste it's filth simply by breathing. Still, it struck Passion on a raw nerve.

“By compromised, you mean killed,” he asked, slowly closing the gap between him and the corrupt Steed. The others kept their Buck pistols focused on Passion but did not fire. Their mistake.

“Aye,” Radiant replied.

“And by killed,” Passion pressed his face against Radiant's, letting the rage take him over again. While not a perfect creature, Passion was an honourable one. He was going to avenge Reaver-Two. His vocal modulator charged silently.

“It was by you?”

Radiant pulled his head back and spat in Passion's face. It was all the confirmation he needed.

Passion roared as he leaped forward, clamping his jaw down on the Tainted Steed's head. He felt one of his sharp fangs penetrate the bastard's eye, popping the delicate tissue.

Then he barked.

The front of Radiant's head caved in, exploding out the back of his neck. The pure energy created ripped out, crumpling the two Steeds standing behind Radiant flat while knocking back two more. They both hit the wall hard enough that they died upon impact.

The five remaining Steeds couldn't move for a second, still taking in what had happened. That was all Passion needed.

His magic swung one Steed in a choke-hold, slamming him into another Steed. While they fumbled around, Passion unloaded the rest of his clip into the nearest Steed, causing the Steed's helmet to be torn apart from the explosive rounds, while his Kjang cleanly passed through the shoulder of the Steed to his left, pulverizing his important organs.

By the time the final Steed could activate his firing stud, Passion's Kjang was buried through his stomach, poking out his back.

Passion tossed him away, trotting slowly over to the two disoriented traitors. They never saw him coming. Grabbing their two heads, in a split second he'd cracked their heads together. They were dead instantly, brains mixing with each other.

Passion stepped over the convulsing bodies, spitting the gore from his mouth. He was never going to get the taste of deceit from his mouth, ever...

Again he approached the box. He needed to get it to the rendezvous point. Hefting it up onto his back, he turned to try and exit.

And then turned around, face-pawing. There was no door. He'd come in through the hole in the roof. Figures.

Snapping his wings out, he grabbed the box in his paws and leaped into the air, flapping madly. Gaining altitude, he landed without grace on the smooth surface of the structure. The sky was a deep orange, dirty against the gray horizon. A sad colour, he felt.

And then came the sorrow. He broke down into heaves.

He could handle xenos, he could handle traitor legions that have fallen beyond recognition. But his own battle-brothers, turning against him? It was too much to take.

Atop of the crumbling complex, he lost control. He couldn't remember how long he sat there; frankly, he didn't care. His own men had fallen to the force he tried so hard to defeat. It wasn't their death that hit him hard. It was that they'd lost sight of their mission, lost sight of what was important. They'd turned on the Imperius. They could not be forgiven. And this grieved him.

“By the gods...”

The Hunter turned, snapping from his stupor. Echo-Nine had surrounded him, weapons trained on him. There were seven still alive in the squad, one of the Heavy Buckers being of the absent. Pity.

“Hunter,” Macintosh spoke up, garnering Passion's attention.

“Was this your doing?” he said, waving a hoof over the carnage within the building. The Hunter rose to his paws, shuffling to the open entrance. He had to see the true extent of his damage.

It was worse than he had originally thought. What he had initially assumed was small piles of bodies was instead heaps and mounds of Legionnaires, torn apart and scattered across the mountains of dead inside of the immense structure. And atop the thick pool of bodies were those of Fire-Six. Their blood still wept freshly from wounds. Wounds the Hunter had dealt.

He hung his head. “Indeed. They fell to the Taint.”

Macintosh sighed. “You realize this just cost you everything, right?”

The Hunter nodded. “We do not wish to be remembered for our recklessness.”

Macintosh eyed his friend wearily. “Why did you slay them so? Had you no option to reason with them?”

“Nay. They were too far gone.”

“And now they cannot stand trial for their treason. You know I must report this, much to my dismay.”

“Aye.”

“And...” Macintosh shudder before continuing. “And that they will most definitely find you guilty of insanity to the Rift?”

The Hunter looked up. “Excuse us?”

“You slew your brethren in what will be assumed cold blood within a Tainted aura. That does not look promising, brother.”

Passion sighed as well. It all came together. He had assumed he would simply lose a rank or two for compromising a squad on a personal level. Not that it mattered, as he would die anyways, but it was rather depressing that he would pass with that stain on his record.

“So it will appear we lost ourselves and you put us down, eh?”

Macintosh sighed once more. The Hunter understood.

“I have no clue how that damn mare is so good at planning these executions. It is not my will, or my desire to do this, you must know.”

Passion nodded. The commander had known his battle rage would flare up. Why she wanted to execute him, especially in this fashion, was beyond him, but if that was her will...

“Well fuck her.”

Macintosh cracked a grin.

“So we take you alive?”

Passion too grinned with his friend. Brothers forever, they would never turn on the other. They had been through too much together for this.

“And parade us to her like a war criminal.”

“Understood, sir.”

“We are no longer sir, Master Sergeant Macintosh. Take us to the transport.”

“Aye.”

With that, they descended to the destroyed streets below. The trek to the rendezvous point was long but silent. They met no resistance, no sight of Taint anywhere.

It took almost three hours for their journey to end, but eventually it did. Silent Streak set up a communications link to the capital. Within minutes, a Thunder Duck came screaming towards them, guns opening up on enemies the squad could not see.

Clambering aboard, the hatch closed up behind them. They were off.

They received plenty of return fire on the voyage back to the capital, but they made it back unscathed.

As soon as they exited the Thunder Duck, guards from the capital took Passion hostage. Macintosh locked eyes with him, willing him to take care. Passion nodded in acceptance.

The guards took Passion and turned to leave, but before they could, another Thunder Duck screamed into the landing pad.

And from the Thunder Duck came the commander.

“I thought you weren't coming back?” she asked with a dark chuckle.

“One does not simply die without permission, as it were.”

“I see...” she said contemplatively.

“Well, why are you in cuffs?”

“Ma'am, a report has been filed in. We are a war criminal now.”

“Are you now...” she whispered. “I would rather you dead.”

“Oh?” Passion started. She really admitted it, just like that?

“Indeed. You said yourself, you would die down there rather than abandon your team.”

“Ah. You see, the rest of the teams are dead.”

The commander narrowed her eyes.

“By your doing?”

“One Fire-Six, yes. By them, Reaver-Two.”

“I see... and what of Harvest Four? And the Terminataurs?”

“We saw them fall in battle. They died courageously.”

“Ah.” The commander grew silent.

“So what will you have done with us, ma'am?” Passion asked.

“I shall have to read the report. Until then... nothing.”

Passion was taken back. “Excuse us, ma'am?”

“You heard me, you are under no holds. Not until I know just how painfully I must kill you myself...” she stated.

“Oh? And why are you so intent on our demise?” he questioned.

The commander stared him down. “That is of confidential nature. Surely,” she smiled deviously, “you understand, Chief Battle Priest.”

Passion sighed. He should have honoured his promise and died in battle. A shame he was too badass to be killed. It would have made things much, much simpler.

“Aye.”

- - - - - - - - - -

The report had been short and precise. Formal and clear, it stated the obvious: Fire-Six had been compromised by the Taint and had been terminated without permission by Chief Battle Priest Passion, the Hunter. Sweet, simple, and to the point. Official looking, to boot.

And just what she needed.

“Are you ready?” she asked the Hunter.

He was strapped to a chair, both pairs of legs tied down.

“Aye, ma'am. Read our charges.” He growled. He could have done with a formal execution, but this humiliation was almost unbearable. Almost three hundred officers from the capital were witness to his swift end.

“I'm sorry, the charges were too bullshit to be read aloud. I had them destroyed.”

Figures.

“Then why are you-” Passion's eyes shot open wide as the termination code was bled into him. He twitched as it coursed through his veins. Lesser Steeds would have screamed in agony. He remained silent through the ordeal.

It took a full ten minutes until he stopped twitching. Finally, he fell still. His heart had stopped. He was officially dead.

“Please note in the books the time of his termination,” the commander said.

“Aye,” the timekeeper replied. The commander waited patiently for him to do so. As soon as he motioned that he was finished, she had everypony in the room disperse.

She needed them out quickly.

The service ponies approached the Hunter's body, prepared to bring him to the incinerator room.

“Ah, your services are no longer needed. Thank you.”

The commander ushered the two of them out, and as soon as the room was empty to her eyes, she locked every door. All but one.

Only then did she approach Passion's still corpse.

“You are so lucky I know you well.”

She pulled back his eye lids, staring into his pupils. Sure enough, they were clouded red. He had entered a state of pure rage. She dreaded waking him like this.

“If you try and kill me, so help me...”

Pulling a small vial with a needle at the end, she inhaled slowly. Then she used her magic to stab it straight into his heart.

All of the adrenaline inside of the vial emptied into his body.

Slowly, he began breathing. Growling, really, but it was something.

“Good. Congratulations, you are now dead.”

Undoing the clasps to Passion's restraints, she hit him atop the head to wake him up.

“What was that for?!” he barked. “And why are we alive?”

“Executive order. You didn't think you could get out of the Imperius that easy, did you?” she asked coyly.

“No, but... Did you really have to kill us?”

“Yes. You aren't supposed to be alive for the next five-hundred years.”

“Five-hundred- what is the meaning of this?!”

The commander sighed. “Look, Celestia herself has given an order for your apparent execution. You are to be in a cryogenic state for the next five-hundred years. And if you continue to inquire further, I may say fuck the Empress herself and really terminate you.”

Passion chuckled painfully, slipping to the floor on weak legs. The commander handed him a loose purple robe, which he slowly and painfully pulled on, exhaustion washing through him as he did so.

Dying really takes a lot out of you.

“Why is our heart beating so quickly?” he asked, breathing heavily. His heart-rate was almost that of a normal pony's.

“I... kind of dropped five quicks of pure adrenaline into your heart.”

Passion's jaw dropped.

“You're kidding,” he dead-panned.

She didn't respond.

“Please tell us you're kidding. Please.”

No response.

“You- But- THAT COULD HAVE KILLED US!!!” he yelled, angry and in shock.

“You were already dead, dumb-ass. Now, follow me.”

“Why, so you can kill us again?” Passion grumbled.

“In a sense, yes. You have a date with a block of ice. You'll have plenty of time to get close with each other. Very close.”

“Aye,” Passion muttered, following the commander as they left through the only unlocked door.

“This leads to the cargo bay of the Starhawk. From there, we shall navigate to conference room two. Everything is set up.”

“Why are you telling us this?” Passion asked curiously.

“Because you are going alone,” she stated smartly.

“Excuse us?” he asked.

“If you are seen, you will be shot on sight. No hidden lives, no power-ups, nothing. You'll really be killed. I attract too much attention. Thus, you will have to find a way to get into the conference room without being noticed. I wish I could do more, but...” she sighed.

“I cannot do anything else for you at this point. This is likely the last time I will ever see you again.”

“Truly?” Passion asked in mock surprise.

“Yes,” the commander stated evenly.

“Goddess, I still remember your face when they told me you had been chosen. It was unbearable, you must know. Almost as unbearable as watching you die.”

“Wait, dying didn't live up to that? Damn. Colour us surprised,” Passion chided.

“Forgive me,” the commander said, head hanging shamefully. “I should have protected you better.”

Passion sighed, wrapping a leg around her neck.

“My mother was right in entrusting me in your care when she passed. I will always be thankful,” he whispered, dropping the royal tongue he normally spoke with.

“Although,” he continued with a dry smirk, “the fact that you constantly try to kill us does surprise us, given your devotion to us.”

“Ha,” the commander sniffled, tears rimming her eyes. She wiped them from her eyes before pulling a small item from her robes. She passed them to him carefully, wrapped in thin black fabric.

“You'll make a good soldier yet, my son.”

“I'm not a soldier, mom.”

Passion released his grasp from her as he plodded away from the commander.

“I'm a Hunter. Good-bye.”

And with that, Passion vanished in thin air.

The commander hung her head, smiling softly to herself but feeling her will compromised. He was gone. He was gone...

“He's gone... He's really gone...” she whimpered.

She placed a hoof over her heart, where her necklace was no longer present. It was a gift now. She knew the owner would cherish it.

“That was quite a show, you know?”

The commander looked up, startled. Nopony should have been there. But there was one there, a lone Space Steed climbing from his hidden spot.

It was Ventral Light, second-in-command of Echo-Nine.

“Ah, Technical Sergeant-”

“Shut up,” he commanded.

“Excuse me?” she retorted, taken aback. “How dare you-” she began, but stopped short as Ventral fired a shot from one of his Buck pistols. It dug into the flooring not half a pace from her, on the same plane as her head.

“You have no right questioning my actions,” Ventral laughed, a sick choking laugh that was laced with deep malice.

“You just revived a recognized war criminal,” he growled.

“Actually,” the commander scoffed, “he technically could have revived himself in that state. He can't die from his heart simply stopping. Hell, it does that every time he lets the battle get to him. No, you'd have to rip his heart from his chest to stop him,” she laughed.

“Oh really?” Ventral asked. He then laughed himself. “Well, I for one am not going to be a part of this heresy.”

“Heresy- surely you heard me well. This was an executive order from the Goddess herself-”

“You irritate me,” Ventral interrupted, and fired once more. This time, his mark was the commander's throat.

His aim was true.

Her eyes went wide as she collapsed, her throat torn away. Blood sprayed everywhere as she twitched in pain and agony.

“I do not care what the fool Celestia commands,” Ventral hissed as he bounded from his seat, landing hard on the ground next to the commander.

“It will not matter soon enough.”

The commander glared at him hard with the last ounce of strength she had.

“Oh, and I must say thank you for delivering to me the Pandoris Box. It was quite...”

Ventral breathed in heavily, a wet cracking sound flashing from deep in his throat.

“Refreshing.”

The commander glared even harder. Ventral grew uncomfortable from the heavy gaze. He kicked her in the temple swiftly. She died instantly.

“Now, to find the damn brat.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Passion paused, his ears flicking backwards. He was sure he'd heard gunfire.

Turning around, he glanced down the winding corridor he'd been following. Even in his cloaked state, he was certain something was following him. Maybe not right behind him, but something was after him.

He made sure the gift the commander had given him was tucked away safe in his robe, then bounded down the corridor with renewed vigor.

He turned a corner, almost running straight into a large Space Steed. He ducked under an extended leg, his shroud flickering momentarily. It was brief, but it was enough.

“Halt,” the Steed stated.

Passion sighed. He'd been caught. And so early, too.

Dropping the shroud, he addressed his adversary with his back still turned. Little did he know, his captor's back was turned as well. They were facing away from each other.

“So. Going to turn us in? Earn a shiny medal for recapturing a deceased war criminal?”

Silence.

“Well... are you?”

The other Steed sighed.

“Never.”

Passion looked over his shoulder. Even in full power armour, he could recognize Macintosh.

“Flakkseed Macintosh.”

“Passionate Hunter.”

Passion lowered his head. “I am sorry, brother.”

Macintosh growled. “Continue on your way. I shall make sure nopony follows you-”

“HUNTEEER!!!”

Both Steeds turned to the voice coming from the hall Passion had bounded from.

“Was that...” Macintosh voiced.

“Sounded like Ventral Light,” Passion stated. Macintosh agreed.

They heard heavy hoofsteps crash through the hall, and before either of them could react, Ventral Light crashed through the walls of the hall, barreling towards Passion. Except it wasn't quite Ventral.

His body was warped almost beyond recognition. Triangular spines jutted from his body in every-which direction, deep red tentacles writhing through spores across his body. His eyes were black, with tiny red pinpricks where his pupils should have been.

“By the Goddess,” Macintosh and Passion breathed simultaneously. Ventral had succumbed to the Taint in the worst way possible. It had corrupted his body. He now stood a hair taller than even Macintosh.

“By the dark gods, you shall die,” Ventral bellowed at Passion. Macintosh stepped protectively in front of Passion.

“And by the Empress herself, you shall not pass.”

Macintosh stomped a hoof down in front of him to make his point clear.

“Very well,” Ventral chuckled throatily, then leaped at Macintosh, intending to tackle him.

Macintosh sidestepped, pushing Passion back and spinning around, bucking Ventral square in the chest.

“Go,” Macintosh breathed at Passion. He obliged, darting from the two massive Steeds.

“So, brother, this is your true form? Suits you. I knew you were a rotten one,” Macintosh growled.

“But still you made me your understudy. Your blame,” Ventral mocked.

Macintosh glared at Ventral before charging him, bringing both hooves up and slamming them into Ventral Light's chest, unloading both clips of his Buck pistols into the Tainted Steed's heart.

Ventral fell limp, falling atop Macintosh. Macintosh grunted, trying to push him off.

“My turn,” Ventral laughed. Wrapping both of his front legs around Macintosh, he lifted the stallion's read legs off the ground and snapped them swiftly to the left. Macintosh's spine cracked, causing the Steed to stifle a cry of pain.

Macintosh's front legs went limp, allowing Ventral to step out of them.

“Sorry, brother. Nothing personal- okay, maybe it was a tad personal. Now, I have a dead buck to hunt.”

Ventral then bounded off after Passion, leaving Macintosh to his fate.

Meanwhile, Passion was once again shrouded in his magic, slipping between oblivious guards as he made his way through the massive landing pad to the Starhawk. He was about halfway across when he heard the first scream.

Looking back, he saw the concrete explode from beneath as Sky Crawlers flew from beneath, attacking everypony in sight. How they'd managed to infiltrate the capital was beyond Passion, but he suspected Ventral Light had played his hoof in that.

Redoubling his efforts, Passion bounded towards the Starhawk. He wasn't trying to get to the conference room, however. He was heading to the transport bay where his wargear was.

As he clambered through the screaming crowd, he ran head-on into a stallion dashing the other way. The other stallion was out cold, but in the excitement the small wrapped gift the commander had given the Hunter had flown out of his robe, and was in danger of being trampled.

Passion leaped to his paws, plowing through the horde. He received shocked looks from ponies that recognized who he was and that he wasn't dead, but he didn't care. He fell over the heirloom, wrapping himself over it and covering himself with his wings.

From beneath his thick hide wings, he extended his second pair of thinner, slender wings. He concentrated his energy towards them and lit an orb of light between each of the six long fingers of the wings, four lights total between the three appendages per wing.

With the energy flowing into the aurabs as he called them, he rose to his paws, unwrapping the gift. He wasn't surprised when he saw what it was.

It was the necklace the commander had worn for the past half century. The blue sapphire glistened like water in its bronze clasp, held by a thin bronze cable that Passion slung around his neck. With the commander's final gift snug around his neck, he once again headed towards the Starhawk, jumping into the sky so he could arrive quicker. He no longer cared about being seen. As more and more Sky Crawler traitors flowed from the breach in the landing pad, he doubted that a single rogue Steed was going to catch anypony's immediate attention.

In the air, he made great time. Landing in an unintentional forward roll, he darted past surprised pilots and service ponies as he made his way to the transport room. Once there, he threw open his locker. There was his wargear. Hastily throwing on his combat harness, he slapped on his helmet and Kjang, fitting on his Kevlar-woven robe onto it's latches before sliding his yoke on. He pulled on the armoured belt, feeling it auto-adjust to his flank as he smacked his right pauldron onto it's latch. It burned into place. He slipped on his Storm Bucker cuff as he reached out for his back-plate and additional pauldron, as well as his plated leggings, but he didn't get the chance.

He saw the flash out of the corner of his eye. His instincts kicked in before anything else, and he flipped backwards. Less than a split second later, the chest-piece he was about to gather exploded as bolts pumped into it.

Passion spun around to see Ventral Light ducking into the bay, holding a Heavy Buckers in his hoof as though it were a toy pistol. He was easily the size of a Terminataur now.

“Going somewhere?” Ventral laughed, voice deep and cracked.

“Not without doing this-” Passion sent all of the energy he could muster into his aurabs, hurtling him towards the Tainted Steed faster than the eye could follow. He collided into Ventral, thrusting his Kjang into the giant traitor's chest-

-only to have it thud heavily against the beast. There was no field around his paw.

“Charging?!” Passion screamed as he back-flipped off Ventral, ducking as he swung a meaty hoof at the Hunter.

“C'mere! I wanna glomp you!” Ventral bellowed.

“Hell no!” Passion countered, rolling to the side as he avoided the giant stallion's attacks.

“Just think, it'll only hurt for a second! Then it will all be over,” Ventral insisted.

Passion had none of that. Reeling back, he sprinted straight at Ventral, ducking at the last second and sliding beneath him.

He popped up once of the other side of the Tainted Steed. His breath left him as he felt Ventral's rear hooves buck at him, throwing him across the room and clear through a wall. He landed hard, crashing against an oval-shaped pod. Green light bled through the lip of the closed field.

“You only need to try it once,” Ventral stated, grabbing Passion by his barrel and ripping open the pod. Inside, a green gelatinous substance coated the interior of the pod. Passion recognized it as compression putty.

“I insist,” Ventral chortled, slamming Passion into the pod as hard as he could into the pod. Passion cringed, knowing he wouldn't feel anything but expecting pain all the same. Physics won and he felt the hoof atop him push down, harder. His momentum was stopped by the compression putty.

Passion pulled his legs up under the hoof and pressed with all his might, tossing Ventral Light off. He curled himself up, taking aim at the beast's head with his Storm Bucker, letting loose with round after round. Ventral Light hissed, swinging his hoof up to protect his face. In doing so, he leaned back, his other hoof swinging backwards and crushing the control panel behind him. At once, the room went dim, red emergency lights flashing to life.

“Attention: Conference Room Two on lock-down. Commencing operation Twelve-Thirty, sub-code 'D'. Prepare for cold storage.”

Passion looked up. The top of the pod slid down over him, and the compression putty filled in until the container was airtight with him in the middle.

“Fuck...” Passion muttered as he felt his hair try to stand on end, only to be halted by the compression putty. Suddenly his body went cold. The air froze around him, and then he was a living popsicle.

Ventral Light stared on as the surface of the pod carved a grid pattern into itself, and then winked out of existence. It had thrown itself into the Rift.

Ventral stared at the empty space where Passion had been moments before, sparks flying from now unattached power cables.

And as the Sky Crawlers devoured the city, Ventral Light screamed in anger. His trophy had escaped.

- - - - - - - - - -

In his cryospense, Passion had no dreams. He had no idea he would not be found in five hundred years, as originally intended. He had no idea what fate had in store for him.

He was simply alone in the galaxy, drifting through the Rift lazily.

After all, the galaxy is a big place, and no matter what...

You will not be missed.

Chapter 1

Dark Skies, Bright Lights

3800 Years Later,

At the close of the 41st Millennium...

The horrors of the Taint have virtually disappeared from Imperius records. Caravan 8 has no recognition in tongue anymore, and has been forgotten by most. The planet of Opex Sigma has disappeared from Imperius record, and the official report reads it was lost in a Rift storm over three millennium past.

The Taint has lost it's hold as the Imperius' greatest fear. Shortly after the events, the planet did indeed enter the Rift, as did all of the forces present on the planet's surface. Instead, many alien species have appeared, the most recent being the Tyrasect infestation. More prevalent is the irritating Gork problem, as their numerous ROOOCK!!! campaigns continue to take more planets from the Imperius, each one more difficult to reclaim. In the north-east of the galaxy, where few settlements exist, the ancient Elden and their rather demented cousins, the Dark Elden, have proved a difficult foe, preventing further expansion in the region. The metallic Necroids have risen from mechanical tomb-worlds and have launched their own campaign to reclaim the galaxy under their regime from eons past. To the south-east, the young Ash'van have risen from their home planet and have too expanded dramatically in the last two millennia, appearing almost from nowhere and matching even the mighty Space Steeds fight-for-fight.

And the Taint sleeps. Legends still whisper around about the terrors of the Rift, but there hasn't been a major event dealt by the Taint in over a thousand years. No, the Rift's evil Traitor Legions continue to pester the Imperius. They are still great in number, and find ways to break through the Rift from time to time. The mighty Spike, a warped dragon-esque creature who served under the treacherous Twilight during the Great Treachery leads countless crusades against the forces centered around the Peril, a giant hole in realspace that acts as a direct gateway to the Rift. The latest was two hundred years prior, the 13th Obsidian Crusade.

The Imperius is stretched thin across their planets, their power crumbling. They cling like a disease, refusing to collapse. While many see the Imperius as a strong governing empire, the reality is that unless they find a way to defeat the xenos threat soon and permanently, they will waste away into nothing.

With the Grand Cavalry, the largest military force in the galaxy, defending their planets from petty attacks and the occasional uprising, the Imperius continues to fight for what they have, in the hope they will one day reclaim their hold over the stars. And from the Holy Equerra, the center of the Imperius, the Goddess Celestia exists in the Golden Tomb, attached to life-supports and magic amplifiers, leading her armies against the foe. She is Empress Supreme, the Eternal Princess of the Imperius. Her will keeps her from truly dying from wounds dealt to her during the Twilight Treachery, and millions are sacrificed each and every day to see to her continued existance. To be an Imperial citizen is to be one of untold trillions.

The mighty Space Steeds fight her battles with the fire of warriors past, carving legends for themselves as they see to the Goddess's will. They shall know no fear, for the Goddess is watching them forever and always. If they are to die, they do so with honour , glory, and one Hell of a show. Seriously, they show no grace even in death of trying to one-up their brethren. To kill even one Space Steed is to fuck yourself over.

But even in this grim, dark future, there is hope. The Imperius will, until it's dying breath, strive to evolve. It is as much of a curse as it is a blessing, for there will always be opportunities.

Such as the one about to occur in the depths of the Opex system, in the galactic deep of the eastern fringe...

This is the 41st Millennium.

This is the future.

This is war.

“Go fish.”

The captain sighed as he drew yet another card. He had fallen (once again) for the trap that was apparently the crew's guilty pleasure. He didn't understand what was so appealing about the game; he actually found it quite easy. It was so simple, it shouldn't be so popular among his crew.

It was such a simple game, yet he always lost.

“Go fish.”

The captain sighed again angrily as he once again drew a card from the pile. Around him, four of his crew sat on pads they'd scavenged from some holding pen in the cramped station. For the past eighteen years, it had been the same. Sixteen hours on shift, monitoring the same graphs and radars, finding the same lack of changes, and reporting the same results to command. The captain was tired of the monotony. For the past eighteen years, they did nothing on the satellite they were stationed save their boring-ass jobs and Goddess-knows how many games of Go-Fish. It was ridiculous. It was tiring. It was always the same. It was-

“Go fish.”

The captain slammed his cards on the table, rising to his hooves.

“I give. You four have fun, I'm getting some shut-eye.”

The three stallions and the single mare left behind mumbled in acknowledgment, in appearance far too focused on their game to care what was happening around them. The captain trotted casually out the round hatch behind him, carefully closing the pressure door after him.

As soon as the door hissed closed, the three stallions perked their ears up, listening for the captain's hoof-steps to disappear.

“Not this again,” the mare sighed. She smoothed down a patch of her deep red hair on her left cheek, not taking her eyes from her cards. Her black mane drifted lazily across her face, masking her expression to the others. One of the fools snickered at her words, a light blue unicorn with a bright yellow mane.

“C'mon, we've been at it for eight years-”

“Nine for me,” one of them interrupted. A pegasus, deep green with a matching mane to the blue unicorn.

“-and you still haven't given us anything. What gives?”

“I told you, I'm not interested in sharing myself with others,” she laughed.

“Silver, you got a three?”

Silver, a gray earth pony with a deep blue mane, cursed under his breath, passing a card towards her. The mare liked Silver, at least more than the other two. They always bothered her, but Silver was rather silent. Actually, he was always silent. The only time she heard him talk freely in public (or as public as one could get in a five-room data satellite) was his curses during card games. Notably Go-Fish.

“Pair,” she stated as she slapped a set of threes onto the table-top. “Hot Shot, pass your five.”

Hot Shot, the one who had responded to her initially, chuckled. He was quite the pig, and his branding was a relative indication of his suggestive attitude: a white heart that sported a creepy smiley face on it, with a red arrow through the middle. “What makes you think I've got a five, babe?”

The mare laughed. “Your eyes have been focused lazily on the third card in your hoof, continually drifting up and to the right two clicks. You always do that when you have a five.”

“Damn,” he muttered, hoofing over his five. “I guess eight years is plenty for you to get to know a buck,” he chuckled again. “Wish I could get to know you as much...”

The mare rolled her eyes, setting both cards marked five on the table. “Be careful what you wish for,” she mocked.

“What's to be careful of?” Hot Shot questioned, leaning across the table towards her. “It's not like you're some Imperius agent or anything. Hell, if I lacked any less control I'd rut you like mad right here and now if I felt like it and there isn't a damn thing you could do about it.”

The mare flashed him a glare, the yellow of her eyes burning in disgust.

“Oh?” she challenged.

Hot Shot growled. He didn't like being talked down to by this mare. For eight years he'd had to put up with her bullshit and never even got any tail out of her. Eight years of patience were about to be delivered.

“Okay, how about I give you a choice. You like choices, don't you?” Hot Shit said as he grinned hungrily at the mare.

“Surprise me,” she muttered, uninterested. At the moment, one would think she found her single card left the most fascinating thing in the galaxy.

“Then here are your choices,” he told her. “Either come over here and give me head like a rhino-”

He suddenly leaped at her, pinning her front hooves under his as he pressed his face into hers. In the process, he shoved his hips against hers threateningly.

“Or I could mount you just like and go to town like this all night until the captain finds us. Your call.”

The mare gazed off into the distance, seeming to be considering her choices intently.

Silver snickered at Hot Shot.

“You have three seconds.”

Hot Shot shot Silver a glare. “Excuse me?”

“Two.”

Hot Shot rolled his eyes at the gray stallion. “Shut up,” he growled.

“One.”

Hot Shot didn't budge. Silver smiled mischievously.

“You are so fucked.”

“That's the point-” Hot Shot began, but was cut short as the air shot out from his lungs, his chest crumpled under him.

The mare flipped Hot Shot onto his head, rolling backwards and pressing him onto his back. She lightly tapped his horn with her now free hooves.

“Should have used this hard pointy thing a little more than your other one,” she chided.

Hot Shot growled, rolling sideways onto his hooves.

“Bitch, you are going to-”

His last words never escaped his mouth as the mare clocked him right in the face, knocking him out cold. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

Hot Shot's pal stared at the mare, mouth agape.

“Holy shit...” he muttered.

“What,” she asked him, a sly grin playing across her lips. “You think mares can't handle themselves?”

Pal shook his head sideways, mouth still agape.

“Then you have a lot to learn. I'm retiring to my bed, Silver.”

“Aye, I'll take care of Hot Shot. Sweet dreams.”

The mare turned around and trotted to the door leading to the bunks. She tapped the release button, and the door popped open. She passed through it, not bothering to close it behind her.

Silver sighed as he put down his cards. Rising from his pad, he approached the snoozy Hot Shot, hoisting him over his back. Carrying him to the bench that was built into the wall, he pulled a first-aid kit and applied light bandaging to one of Hot Shot's eyes. It was going to be quite the shiner in the morning.

Wrapping a bit of gauze over Hot Shot's face to keep the bandage in place, he taped the gauze tight. He might be sporting a make-shift eye-patch for the time being, but his face would heal quicker that way.

“Close your mouth, your breath reeks,” Silver commanded. The green pegasus quickly shoved his hooves under his jaw, pressing up.

“S-sorry,” he muttered. “How'd she do that, anyways? Hot Shot isn't the biggest stallion out there by a long shot, but... damn.”

Silver chuckled. “He was wrong.”

“Excuse me?”

Silver pointed over-dramatically at the still Hot Shot. “HEEE WAAAS WROOONG,” he said loudly and slowly, pronouncing each syllable clearly.

“Wha- how? About what?”

“Her not being an Imperius agent.”

“You mean-” he started but let his intended question hang in the air.

“Yes,” Silver said ominously. “She is indeed... a cow.”

Silence shrouded them for mere seconds before the pegasus scratched at his mane.

“What?”

“Thought I'd mix up my response to stupid questions this time around. Yes, she is an Imperius agent. It's not exactly a secret, after all. If one of you bozos had ever took five seconds to look over her credentials in the station's log, you'd see she was transferred here from Canterlot Central.”

“Canterlot Central?!” The pegasus was visually quite shocked. Imagine how his mind was taking this. “So she's up there, ain't she?” the pegasus wondered aloud, leaning back onto his pad.

“Indeed. She's an interrogator for the Imperius Discordium.”

“Imperius Discordium... Discordium...” the pegasus mumbled, searching his mind for any references to what he was repeating over and over.

“Never heard of 'em,” he finally admitted.

“Figures,” Silver scoffed. “Although once you think about it, that explains why she always wins at Go Fish. Her job is to read ponies inside and out just like that.”

“A-huh...” the pegasus muttered dreamily, staring off into the distant ceiling that was a mere half pace from his pace. If one were to jump straight up, they'd crash head-first into it, the ceiling was so low.

Silver rolled his blue eyes.

“The only thing you're thinking about is how that'd be useful at cards, isn't it?”

The pegasi's eyes went wide. “How'd you know that?! Are you one of them interrogators, too?”

Silver scoffed. “No, it's just that blatantly obvious.”

“Oh...” the green pegasus breathed out, embarrassed.

“I'm retiring to the beds. You might want to warn him about brash actions when he awakens, if you will,” Silver said, patting Hot Shot on his oblivious muzzle.

“Oh, ah- okay.”

With that, Silver followed the mare's path, exiting through the same hatch and pulling it closed behind him.

He started trotting down the hall, but stopped as he passed an instrument room. Curiosity gnawed at him.

He'd been through the system files on the shuttle countless times, but he rarely leafed through the crew's files. He knew the basics of the four other ponies on board; the pegasus, Private First Class Leaf, and Specialist Hot Shot were from the industrial urban planet of Moridal, both approximately thirty years of age, and had nothing of his importance further than that. They hadn't even made their next rank from their boarding rank during their stay at the satellite, a rather sad feat. Still, with all of their pay going straight to their personal accounts and remaining unused, they were going to have a nice fortune when they returned after their respective twenty years.

Still on the focus of their ranks, it was not all that surprising. Himself, Sergeant Silver Fleet, had yet to make rank after he'd boarded the station three years earlier.

The captain was an old veteran of a rather nasty Gork campaign a couples decades past. He'd been there nearly two decades, in the same position.

Silver logged onto the craft's crew logs. Glancing at his own biography, he nodded. He only had one image uploaded, a clip of his branding: a four-pointed star with three signal lines radiating from the top. He opened the captain's page, scanning through the document.

He was First-Lieutenant Brazen Wing, a pegasus who had quite the role of honour. He'd gone through the officer training corps after three decades of service as a heavy gunner, spanning four different planetary defenses. The old buck had seen quite some action, it seemed. His preferred weapon seemed to be the Beam Cannon. Not a bad choice, really. It was the most powerful variant of the standard-issue beam weaponry each Cavalry enlistee was given, and having seen it in action Silver definitely was humble towards it.

Silver scrolled down the document. A picture that Brazen had uploaded to his file begged to be clicked. Silver obliged, opening up an old photo of the grisly white pegasus in his younger days, the flaming red crop he had atop his head just as it was now, short and well-trimmed as per Cavalry standards. Brazen stood in front of a massive Bane-Boom, the humourously-named super-tanks of the Grand Cavalry. His Blast Cannon team partner, a teal stallion around the same height with a deep brown mane, stood next to him, an arm draped over his shoulder. Silver noticed the present blush on both of their faces, how they had their eyes positioned towards each other.

“Colt-cuddler, eh? That's surprising,” he muttered, exiting out of the picture. He didn't discriminate them, but he still didn't enjoy looking at evidence of such affection. It didn't quite sit well with him on a personal level.

“Different tastes, different tastes,” he whispered to himself. He closed out of the captain's log.

He navigated onto the interrogator's page. Vai Shine, aged thirty-four. Graduated from Canterlot Point. That was usually all he could find on her, that and her current rank of Interrogator. Not today, however. He found a link to more articles on her. He followed the links.

She had earned high marks for her abilities of far-sight, having saved the life of a teacher that fell from thirteen stories above her. Apparently, it was quite impossible to see the teacher, and she'd broken rank during a training exercise to rush half-way across grounds to catch him in her magic less than a pace from hitting the ground. She was awarded an official military medal for heroism, something Silver thought was a little excessive given the situation. Still, it was rather interesting.

“Maybe she knew Hot Shot was going to try something on her today,” he wondered aloud.

“Maybe you are right.”

Silver glanced behind him. Vai was in the doorway, leaning against the frame. She was staring longingly towards him.

“I... I-” Silver took in a breath. “How long have you been there? I thought you were retiring to your bunk.”

Vai flipped the mane from her face before responding.

“Long enough to see your discomfort with the captain,” she said, adding a playful giggle at the end.

“You'll deny it, but you squirmed quite a bit. Does that type of thing settle unwell with you?”

Silver sighed, returning his gaze to the computer monitor.

“It's not that I disagree with him and his choices, for they are his alone. I simply don't feel similarly towards that orientation,” he tried to say as diplomatically as possible.

“So in other words,” Vai giggled, approaching Silver slowly from behind, “you prefer the opposite sex?”

Silver laughed dryly.

“Feeling random much? Yes, to answer your question, I do enjoy the company of mares, although I haven't had that pleasure in quite some time...” he trailed off.

Vai rested her chin on Silver's shoulder, her head leaning softly away from his.

“Ah, there was something I was wondering,” Silver asked.

“Yes?”

Silver motioned to the monitor. “It doesn't display your rank on here. Why is that?”

Vai chuckled. “Oh, that? I have no idea. I guess when they were uploading my profile, they assumed that 'Interrogator' was title enough for me.”

Silver shuffled slightly, casually separating his shoulder from Vai with a small grin on his face. Anypony with a brain could clearly see what direction their encounter may be reaching.

“I don't quite think so...” he said, casting an eye on her. She was staring lazily ahead at the computer screen, half-lidded.

“Who are you? Really?” he asked.

Vai smiled softly.

“I don't think I'll tell you.”

Damn, if she's using that tactic then she probably out-ranks me, Silver thought to himself.

“Unless...”

Oh?

Silver casually exited from the page, closing out of the crew logs.

“You make me,” she ended with a sly grin, her eyes turning to Silver.

Deep down inside Silver's subconscious, he slid on a pair of shades and began cackling like mad.

Silver shut down the computer, keeping his head at the same level as Vai's. He carefully began shuffling closer to her, while she slowly shuffled backwards, backing into a wall.

Silver rose to his back hooves as Vai leaned back against the wall, placing his front hooves against the wall on either side of Vai's head.

“And how should I do that, ma'am?” he asked, his grin matching hers perfectly.

“Oh, I'm sure you have an idea,” she sang, cocking her head ever so carefully to her left.

“Do I,” Silver breathed as he leaned in. He carefully brushed his nuzzle against Vai's cheek, making her shudder uncontrollably. She laughed deeply.

“Oh yeah, you do,” she said as she wrapped her hooves around him.

Silver bent his head down and gently nibbled on her neck, slowly making his way up. Vai shuddered again, desperate for him to continue.

“You like this?” he said as he pressed his muzzle deeper against her neck.

“It's a start,” she breathed deeply, eyes closing.

Silver grinned before kissing her softly, dragging his lips along her neck as he made his way up. He could feel her muscles tensing in anticipation.

His lips reached her ear and he slid over them, gently rolling his tongue over them.

“Damn... that's sensitive...” she muttered, her breathing growing in pace and depth.

Silver rubbed his face along hers until he was nose-to-nose with her, staring into her eyes.

“So, your place, my place, or should I take you right here on the floor?” he asked her. She giggled softly.

“How about,” she whispered as she wrapped her hind legs too around his waist.

“you-” she continued, arching her back ever so slightly so Silver had complete control over her.

“surprise me.”

Silver felt it. There was no turning back. The beast within him roared in triumph atop a mountain, wind rippling through his loins. He could picture a grizzled old commando nodding in respect. It is time, he said with a perverted grin, stroking an elegant beard while cackling like mad, drooling from the mouth. It was time indeed.

“You are going to be sooo sore in the morning,” he chuckled as he backed up on two hooves, carefully making his way to his bunk. He gently laid her down on the comfortable pad, falling atop of her and kissing her deeply and passionately. With a hind leg, he kicked softly at the hatch controls to his bunk, the lid sliding close. They were now completely hidden from the rest of the crew, in a sound-proof pod to boot. Good thing, too.

This was about to get loud.

Vai arched her hips up violently, grinding against Silver's. Silver held her head beneath his with one hoof and slid the other between their bodies, rubbing Vai's marehood firmly. She was already quite wet. Vai grunted in pleasure, feeling him play with her.

As soon as she was loose enough for Silver, he gingerly pressed her hips downward. She didn't seem to get the memo, so he did so again, only forcefully. Vai broke away, a silly grin on her face.

“Sorry,” she muttered, ears flat against her head.

“S'all right,” Silver stated, stroking his member. He was already quite hard as it was (who wouldn't be?!), but gave a few quick pumps before lining up his hips with hers.

He curled his back, pressing the tip of his rod against her nether lips. Vai looked into his eyes with pleasure, keeping her hooves on his shoulders.

“Ready?” he asked her.

“Just fuck me already,” she said, voice laced heavily with lust.

With pleasure, Silver thought as he bucked his hips into hers. Vai gasped as he plowed into her, stretching her walls in all the right ways. She pulled herself upwards, pressing her chest against his.

Damn she's tight, he thought, groaning with glee as he felt the immense pressure take hold of his stallionhood. He relished in the feeling of it wrapped around him, enveloping his member tightly.

Silver gingerly laid down, using his chest to keep her in place and sliding the hoof he had under her head down to lay across her back, slipping into the crook of her neck and grasping her other shoulder. Pressing the other hoof on the padding for balance, he slowly slid out of her, leaving little more than his tip buried inside of her.

He thrusted back inside her, and Vai's hooves instinctively slammed into the padding as she arched her back, almost lifting Silver up as she threw her head back while moaning loudly.

Silver took that as a good sign and did it again. And again. Soon, their hips were making a rhythmic slapping sound as Silver slid in and out of her. Vai's breathing was heavy, and her entire body bobbed forcefully as Silver plowed into her time after time. She stared deep into his eyes, her hooves finding their way around his barrel as they made love.

Silver looked deep into her eyes as well and rubbed his nose affectionately against hers. This wouldn't last for long, so he made sure it was quite worth remembering. She smiled at him as her body continued bobbing along, Silver making each thrust more and more powerful. Suddenly, he bucked his hips hard, digging deep into the inside of her thighs before pulling out, repeating the action. She swung her head back, screaming in pleasure. Her eyes were rimmed with tears of ecstasy.

“I haven't *huff* had a stallion *hng* take me in *ah* quite some *ooh* time, you know-” Vai breathed before crying out, loudly. Her walls clamped down around Silver, drenching his stallionhood in her juices.

She continued breathing heavily as Silver kept on bucking away, keeping his same pace. While going away at it, they repositioned themselves so they were both laying on their left sides, with Vai facing away from Silver. He propped his torso up with his front left leg, digging his hock into the padding and draping the other leg over Vai, wrapping under her right arm and grasping her left shoulder. Vai stretched her rear legs backwards around Silver's as he pumped in and out of her with a fire.

“Oh really? Hadn't *hmph* noticed in the *mmm* least,” he mocked.

“I'll say,” she teased. Silver just bucked up, holding her torso still causing him to slide even further into her than before. He felt her bottom out, his member filling her up completely. She screamed in pleasure, letting loose with another raging orgasm. Sweat was beginning to build on both of them.

“Say,” she huffed out, “How do you- *hng* *ah*- you last for *huff* so long?” she asked.

“Practice,” he grunted. And his practice was about to pay off.

“Mind *hmph* telling me your *hah* secrets now?” he questioned.

“You must be *ooooh* close, huh?” she sang, tongue lolling out of her mouth.

Silver felt it in his loins. He was very close. The pressure building was immense, threatening to cascade forth into her.

“Yeah,” he groaned. “Can I-”

Vai cut him off by turning her head and kissing him deeply, arching her back even more than already and crossing her legs behind Silver's.

Damn she's flexible, Silver thought to himself.

Silver felt Vai shudder as she was wracked by another intense orgasm. Silver sighed into the kiss and let himself go as well. Immediately, his seed burst into her, screaming for freedom. Vai broke the kiss, digging her head backwards into his neck and moaning in painful relief.

Silver continued bucking his hips, pumping his load deep into her. He let out a long pent-up breath. It felt so good, cumming into her tight marehood.

Silver emptied his seed into her, then slowly pulled out. They were both breathing very heavily.

“So *huff* care to *hah* share?” Silver asked. Vai laughed, her breath still a long ways from her.

“I don't *hah* think so,” she said, rolling onto her chest and lifting her hips into the air. She flicked her tail to the side for good measure.

“Fair enough,” Silver stated as he crawled up and mounted her from behind. He didn't bother trying to start off slow. If he was going to win this, he would have to be forward and decisive. This was no longer about making crazy love; this was war.

Vai screamed loudly as he had his time with her, pounding her mercilessly. She came repeatedly as his stallionhood pulsed through her, reaching into her depths before sliding out, slick with her.

Silver leaned down, keeping a steady pace.

“Ready for round two?”

Vai chortled. “Bring it *hah* on.”

Silver dug in, slapping his hips into her flank over and over. Vai let the moans out as they came, mouth open and eyes rolling back in pure bliss.

Silver bucked away, relishing the pressure of her insides wash over him twice more before he felt his climax returning.

Again, he dug into her, releasing himself in the deepest part of her. She screamed. Loud.

“Enjoy that?” Silver asked, pulling out and falling off of her.

“A bit,” she admitted, falling on her side and snuggling up against him, her back rubbing his hide.

The pair rested there, peacefully content. Needless to say, it had been quite a while since the last time either of them had felt that good.

“So,” Silver started again, propping himself up on a hock, “share?”

Vai gazed at the wall in front of her.

“Promise not to tell anypony else aboard?” she asked him.

“Sure, sure,” Silver laughed.

Vai took in a deep breath. “Major.”

“Wha-” Silver choked, falling onto his back. His body shivered in terror.

I just fucked an officer, holy shit I'm in for it deep now... he screamed in his mind. He could already feel the wrath of the Imperius upon him.

“It's fine, you know,” Vai informed him. “It's not like there's any repercussions for these type of things,” she explained to him. “Unless I were to suddenly become pregnant.”

Silver swallowed hard. “There's no fear of that, right?” he stumbled painfully.

“Did you use a sheath?” she asked him.

Fuck...

“So should we watch-”

Vai suddenly burst out laughing. Silver cocked his head to the side.

“Oh, I so had you!”

“Wha- huh?” he stuttered.

“It's a mixed blessing, but... I can't get pregnant. You lucked out there,” she giggled.

“Do I even want to know...” he mumbled.

“Probably not,” she assured him.

“A Major, huh?” Silver wondered aloud. Vai leaned against him, enjoying his warmth.

“Guess you can kick that off your bucket list,” she said with a chuckle. Silver chuckled as well, letting his mind wander. One thought in particular tugged at him enough that he decided to voice it.

“Say, what is a Major doing way out here in the middle of nowhere, under the watch of a Lieutenant? Isn't that a little... Odd?”

Vai shifted until she was laying on top of him. She pressed her torso up until she was straddling him appropriately.

“I said I'd answer one question. You'll have to earn another one if you want to know more,” she taunted seductively.

“I don't remember you actually saying it as exclusively as that, but if you insist,” Silver smirked. He slipped a hoof down and jerked his member. He was erect in seconds.

Vai leaned back, jerking her hips ever so slightly and sliding Silver right back into her. She sighed happily, leaning her head back as she lowered herself as far as she could on his stallionhood.

Silver gently pressed his hooves against her flank, rubbing her tenderly. He glanced at where his hooves rested- immediately over her branding, which was a pink six-pointed star-burst overlapping a similar but smaller white star. He counted five more white, six-pointed stars surrounding it.

“Like what you see?” Vai huffed, slowly riding him.

“Interested, to say the least,” Silver replied. “I feel like I've seen that before...” he trailed, encouraging the small talk to continue.

“Can't imagine where you would have,” she whispered as she bent her neck down, slapping her thighs hard against him. “It's not like too many mares have one like mine.”

“I guess not,” Silver sighed as his penis was enveloped with the tight pressure of Vai sliding up and down, up and down, up and down...

“Silver? You okay?”

Silver snapped back to focus, glancing around. Vai was staring at him curiously, head cocked ever-so-slightly to the side. Her hooves were gently pressing against his chest. His cock was buried deep inside her, the warmth radiating through his member and into his body-

He cringed as his hips bucked upwards, causing Vai to scream in surprise as he squirted a thick stream of seed inside of her. She released an orgasm of her own at the same time, lubricating him further.

“Whoa there,” she gasped, breathing heavily once more.

“S-sorry,” Silver apologized while wiping his mouth with a hoof. He'd been drooling.

“I guess that'll work for now,” Vai sighed, still bobbing her hips up and down on him. “You wanted to know why I was stationed here?”

Silver nodded.

“This satellite is monitoring anomalies in the Rift. This site dates back to almost four thousand years ago, from an order specifically by the Empress herself. I guess we're waiting for something to appear, or something like that,” she trailed off, staring into the distance lost in thought.

“What do you think we're waiting for?” Silver asked as he started massaging her rump again. She sighed as he did so, leaning forward on him as she continued riding him.

“No clue. Oldest record we have indicates it's a package of some sort, but it was too confidential for many to have known much about it. Even I'm unsure of whether or not I'd even recognize what we're supposed to be looking for. Perhaps we missed it, who knows.”

“When were we supposed to receive it?”

“That's the thing,” she commented. “Apparently it was supposed to arrive a little over three thousand years ago, but it didn't. That's why this station is still here.”

“Must be one important package,” Silver quipped in.

“Indeed,” Vai agreed, before leaning down and locking lips with Silver. Silver was surprised at first, but it made much more sense as he felt her ride another orgasm.

Vai broke away seconds later, breath deep with content.

“It has been a while for you, hasn't it?” Silver joked.

“Ten years, almost,” she informed him. “So yes, it's been a while.” She flashed him an honest smile, perhaps the first true smile he'd ever seen her wear. While he supported her against the lecherous Hot Shot from time to time, he'd never really known her too well.

“You know, you aren't that bad,” he said with a grin.

“Oh?” she countered. “And what's that supposed to mean?”

Silver slowly began adding his own movement, thrusting lightly upwards to match each time she lowered herself on him.

“Everything. Of all the ponies to be stuck in a metal can in the middle of space with, you're not that bad of a choice.” He added his own sincere smile to his words.

“That's sweet of you,” she said, then locked lips with him again, this time with much more care and passion. Their tongues fought in a loving dance, tender but fierce.

It was a perfect moment for them.

And then the alarm went off.

Both of them jumped in their skin, with Vai slamming her head against the roof of the pod. She rolled off of Silver as he reached over and kicked the door controls, the lid to his pod popping open.

The blaring noise filled the hallways with a resounding screech, ringing off the walls. Red flood lights were flashing throughout the halls. Vai tenderly stepped into the hallway, followed by Silver. Suddenly, the station lurched, listing slightly starboard before the gravitational modulators kicked in, righting out the relative gravity in the satellite.

“What was that?” Silver asked. Vai shook her head.

“No clue.”

They rushed down the hall towards the central room of the station, the largest room available. There, they found Leaf gripping the table, red-faced and looking as though he was going to be sick. He threw his gaze towards the two entering the room.

“Where have you two been for the last twenty minutes?! I've been freaking out, thinking there was a hull breech!”

Silver rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “We were, ah... in our pods. Didn't hear anything until the alarm sounded.” He nodded, accepting the excuse he'd come up with.

“Anyways, have you even checked to see what was the problem?” Silver asked Leaf.

“Hell no! Nothing like this has ever happened here-”

“Oy!” they suddenly heard the captain cry from the instrument room next to theirs. “Get your flanks over here! We have a problem!”

“No, really?!” Hot Shot suddenly shouted, appearing from the single latrine in the shuttle. He shot Vai a one-eyed glare, the gauze bandana still wrapped around half of his face.

The three ponies climbed into the instrument room, Leaf still clutching the table for dear life. The captain was sitting on a pad in front of a large display monitor. He beckoned them closer until they saw what he was watching.

It was the video feed from one of the cameras mounted around the station. This particular one was outfitted to be able to scan in standard view and in a wash that highlighted distortions in realspace, accentuating cracks from the Rift.

Currently, they were watching as the space right outside their shuttle tore itself apart, casting an ethereal light across the craft. Again, the station was buffeted by the mini Rift-storm.

“There's a focal energy approaching realspace right about...” the captain pointed at a tiny speckle against the screen. “Here. I estimate it will be visible in, say, ten seconds.”

“Fascinating,” Hot Shot muttered, rolling his good eye. He then sniffed the air around him. “Say, what's that smell-”

His eyes bugged out as he saw both Silver's and Vai's disheveled and sweaty coats.

Finally, he cracked a grin. An evil grin.

“I see somepony managed to get to you,” he spat with venom.

“Quiet, boy,” Brazen growled, focusing intently on the display monitor.

“What is that,” he whispered. Using the camera's primitive zoom function, he clicked in as far as he could go. He could barely make out the silver glinting of an oval-shaped pod, a green halo wrapped around it. The light pulsed orbitally.

“My Goddess...” Vai breathed.

“Is that-” Silver began, but was cut off by Vai.

“Hot Shot, get to your position! Swing the claw around, we have to grab that pod! It'll pass by us in less than a minute, and unless we catch it then it'll be gone for good.”

When Hot Shot just stood there, she growled at him.

“Go, boy! Else I might just slap on a re-breather and set you adrift for mutiny,” Brazen barked. Hot Shot yelped as he scampered away, making a beeline for his station.

Vai then bounded from the room. “Silver, to me!” she called to him. He followed her. Brazen returned his view to the monitor.

“Damn...” he muttered. Right across the nose of the pod was the symbol of the Imperius Discordium, as well as big block letters reading Conference Room 2.

As soon as the pod was ejected from the Rift storm, the distortion cleared. There was no sign that the storm had ever occurred.

Meanwhile, Hot Shot slithered into his station, knocking aside papers and reports he'd been working on while on shift and calling on his control pad. The interface lit up, and he immediately punched in his access code. The small port he was in suddenly clinked and clanked, rising from the rest of the station as two giant robotic arms powered up, connected to his pod. With a quick spin of his hoof, they stretched out, opening their two-piece grabbing appendages.

“Hot Shot, do you see it yet?” Silver called up from his station. He was furiously typing codes into the station's element shielding, trying desperately to keep the satellite's delicate external instruments from being damaged by the Rift winds rolling towards them.

“Yeah,” Hot Shot hollered back. There it was, exactly as he'd seen it on the monitor. It was like a silver egg almost, with shallow concentric runes carved across it. He had no idea what they were for.

“You need to grab it as soon as it's close enough and drop it into the boarding bay, alright?” Vai told him. He messaged her station an angry-face emoticon, to which she responded with-

“Focus more on the job at hood then the keyboard!”

Hot Shot nickered as he tracked the space-born pod with his station, waiting for just the right opportunity. It barreled towards them like it was shot out of a cannon, closing the distance between them fast. Three hundred paces. Two hundred and fifty paces. Two hundred paces.

Hot Shot opened up the claws of his machine. One hundred paces.

The pod swooped by his viewing port, and in one jerky movement he swung his hooves across the sensor board, grabbing the pod forcefully with the claws. He had it.

“Good job, Hot Shot,” Silver comm'd him. “Now, nice and easy into the boarding bay- easy now...” he coo'd, causing Hot Shot to once again roll his good eye. Even with only half of his vision, he was better at this than anypony else was.

He slid the pod into the boarding hatch, powering down his station afterward. Vai vented out the bay, returning oxygen levels and opening the blast doors. She then raced down the hall to meet Silver and Hot Shot at the entrance to the boarding bay.

“Is that what I think it is?” Silver asked Vai.

“What we've been searching for?” she said with excitement. “It might be!”

She practically hopped into the room, followed by the other two. Silver grabbed a few restraining cables, tossing a set to Hot Shot. Together, they shoved them against the bottom of the pod, where they sunk in deep and fused with the surface, the cables pulling taut. The pod wasn't going anywhere now.

Vai examined the thin ridge encircling the pod, which extended the furthest length around the oval pod as opposed to around the middle. She rubbed a hoof against it.

“Hey, wasn't there a green band around it?” Hot Shot asked. That was the only thing he'd found really interesting about it, and was surprised to see it was missing.

“There was,” Silver acknowledged, resting the flat of a hoof against the twin draconequui of the Discordium. “I wonder what happened to it-”

He was cut off as his hood sunk into the branding, pressing a raised bump in it. Like soft flesh, it recoiled to his touch before bopping him back. Suddenly the thing ridge around the pod lit up a bright green, blinding the three ponies. They heard a slight pop of a pressure release.

As the light died down, they saw that the lid had indeed popped open a breadth, enough to garner their interest. Silver and Hot Shot approached the pod and took up places against it's side, then slipped their hoofs into the gap and pulled mightily against the lid. With effort, it cracked open, falling back like a tomb-stone.

Inside was a thick glob of dark green compression gel. As they watched, however, it began to condense, sinking deep into the pod. In it's wake, it left behind quite the surprise.

A Space Steed.

Vai gasped in light surprise. She'd seen Space Steeds before, but there was something different about this one. For one, she could only see his armour, but that was enough to tell her that he was over a millennium old. None of the chapters used that make of power armour anymore, nor had the model been seen in at least a thousand years.

His right pauldron was a tarnished silver, a yellow wash looking like an infested rust over it. The trimming was a darker onyx, with deep silver rivets. The in-lining was painted a deep royal purple. Across the pauldron was the chapter's emblem, a massive hammer with the shaft pointing upwards, the hilt adorned with a crescent moon. It bled the seven-pointed star, a sign of honour, and centered in the hammer was a three-toed paw print from a wolf-like creature. It was a deep purple, deeper than the in-lining.

She also noticed that his armour seemed to be missing a few pieces. For starters, he only wore the one pauldron. His other was absent. He wore no armoured back-plating, and his legs (while rather furry) seemed too unprotected.

As the three inspected him, something none of them were expecting happened. He opened his eyes.

Immediately, the purple irises dilated. He had returned.

- - - - - - - - - -

He breathed in deeply for the first time in... it had to have been a half millennium at least, if what the commander had said was to be trusted. It felt like longer.

Groaning, he glazed his eyes around, still adjusting to the light. All he could see was a wall of white. He hated going from dark environments to bright ones, his eyes always took too long to adjust. It must have been worse because of the cryospense, he reasoned. Dramatically so, too.

He turned his head, popping his tense neck with a sigh of relief. It felt good, very good. That kink had been there since before he'd been so rudely shuttled off-

And then it all came rushing back to him. Opex Sigma. The mission. Fire-Six. The box. Commander. Dying. Waking up. Macintosh. Running to the ship.

Ventral Light.

His eyes finally bled out enough light to take in his surroundings. He was in a square room with a hatch-top door over him. Likely to be a loading bay of sorts. Before him, three ponies stood. One was a gray earth pony, his mane a thick mess of dark blue. Next to him was a mare of deep red, with a cleanly-trimmed black mane. He noticed a slight bump in the center of her forehead, beneath her mane.

And next to her was a light blue unicorn with a bright yellow crop of hair, a long wrap of gauze fastened around one eye. His eye was narrow in scrutiny.

The Hunter narrowed his own eyes at the unicorn. The unicorn glared back. A battle of guts, was it?

“My goddess...” the red mare breathed audibly. The Hunter shifted his gaze to her.

“It would seem we have returned,” he said to her. His voice was a layer of light, clear tenor over a gruff bass.

The three stared at him, transfixed with the alien before them.

He growled in irritation, off-put by their unresponsiveness. He shifted his gaze back to the blue unicorn.

“Tell us, are you the team sent to escort me to our Goddess, Celestia?”

The unicorn blinked. The Hunter sighed.

“Can you even speak in High Equestrian?” he questioned.

“Yeah,” the unicorn grunted back.

“Oh?” the Hunter quipped. “Then perhaps you would care to answer our question.”

“Well, perhaps you could drop the damn accent and tell us who the fuck you are!”

The Hunter narrowed his eyes at the unicorn. “Excuse us?”

The unicorn rolled his visible eye. “And there it is again.”

“Hot Shot, that is quite enough!” the red mare yelled. “I'm sorry for this one here,” she apologized. “He obviously doesn't know how to behave himself,” she growled back at Hot Shot.

“Ah,” the Hunter remarked. “Tell us, have you word from our Goddess Celestia?”

“Word from- what are you talking about?! Why the fuck would the damn monarch give a damn about you? Who are you?” Hot Shot blurted out.

The Hunter returned his gaze to the Hot Shot, a fire in his eyes.

“Did you just speak ill of the Goddess?” he hissed.

“Goddess? Hah!” Hot Shot laughed. “Some Goddess she is! Like she can do shit, that lethargic-”

Three loud blasts later, and his head caved in as three bolts pulverized his head. The Hunter calmly lowered his Storm Bucker.

“You do not speak ill of our Goddess,” the Hunter growled solemnly.

“Whoa, WHOA!” the gray earth pony yelled, stepping away from his dead comrade. “What was that all about?! You don't get to just fire away at ponies-”

“Silence,” the Hunter commanded. “We have waited over half a millennium to return. We shall not have blasphemy be our introduction back.”

“Yeah, Hot Shot is an ass,” the red mare explained, “I know. But you can't go around pumping bullets into everypony! Seriously! Now, I am Interrogator Major Vai Shine of the Halo Corps, Imperius Discordium. By Celestia's grace, tell me who you are before I enact judgment for slaying one of her soldiers.”

Vai Shine set a hard gaze upon the Hunter. He shuddered beneath it.

“Very well. We are Lance General Passionate Hunter, Chief Battle-Priest of the Fentak Risen. Now, what is Celestia's will?!”

Vai held up a hoof. “Earlier, you said you had waited for over half a millennium to return to realspace. However, there haven't been records of any shuttles being deployed through the Rift near here in... well ever, actually.”

The Hunter narrowed his eyes once more. “Tell us, what millennium is this?” he asked cautiously.

“It is the end of the forty-first millennium.”

The Hunter's eyes practically bugged out of his head. His breathing became slow.

“The... forty-first millennium? Near the close?” he repeated.

“Indeed,” Vai informed him.

The Hunter hung his head. “It would appear we were absent for nearly four millennium, then,” he said solemnly.

Vai smiled softly, trying to console him. Inside, she was giddy with excitement. Finally, her job was done. She'd found what the Discordium had been waiting for. “Then it is an honour to witness your return, Priest,” she said as she bowed before him. Silver cast her a look before he mimicked her.

“Rise,” the Hunter commanded. “While we are humbled, we do not appreciate such displays. We are not of our chapter's finest, after all.”

His eyes lit up in fear.

“Tell us, what... what has happened to our chapter? What is of the Fentak Risen?”

“The Fentak Risen?” Vai clarified. “I am sorry to say, but I have heard nothing of such a chapter. I am sorry...”

The Hunter nodded in acceptance.

“It is alright, Major. We shall have to catch up on what has happened during our hiatus.”

Vai nodded. “As you wish.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Along the Eastern Fringe...

The Ash'van were a proud race. Young in the galaxy, mind you, but proud nonetheless. Having risen to the stars sometime in the past three millennium, they were contenders in the cosmos. They had their share of systems, and they were ready to expand.

They were equine in appearance, and at first glance one might readily mistake them for such. However, it was upon further investigation that one found minor differences. They had much thinner bodies than the majority of the Imperius' citizenry, and their hooves ended in two thick toes as opposed to the flat stubs the Imperius' was known for.

On the planet Sho'tun, a small Ash'van out-post was waking. The quadrupeds rose from their quaint huts, stretching in the growing light of the rising suns. Both were present early in the day, and it was a beautiful sight to behold.

The eldest of the stationed Fire Stangs, the soldiers of the Ash'van, blinked sleepily as he watched his warriors file out of their huts. He counted thirty-four Stangs, thirty-four of his comrades that wouldn't be feeling his wrath. That left out one very unlucky Stang, and the sad thing was that he knew exactly who it was.

He passed by the twelve night guards who were getting ready to retire to their beds. The elder nodded in approval of their intentions before setting off through the fields. Following a narrow path cut through the tall stalks of golden vegetation, he trotted along for nearly an hour, cresting many rolling hills before he found her atop a steep jutting in the ground, a rock that marked the large field.

She was a deep gray, with a sharp, triangular two-tone yellow and blue mane that was always worn out of unit standards. Her eyes were closed as she hovered a good pace above the rock's surface, her small horn lit up with an ethereal hue of green.

“Kre-Stol,” he called, voice laced with disappointment.

Her eyes snapped open as she screamed, stumbling forward. She hadn't been expecting the elder to sneak up on her like that.

She tumbled to the bottom of her special rock, bumping her head as she settled against the ground.

“Ow...” she muttered, her voice young.

“Kre-Stol,” the elder repeated, approaching her.

“It's Crystal,” she corrected him. She didn't like how... uniform her name was. There were so many in the Kre- family, and she was simply a Stol, which meant pathfinder. It was unoriginal. She wanted to feel more... unique. Like she wasn't just one of millions. She wanted to feel like one out of a million.

“Crystal,” the elder started again, “we've been over this. You can't sneak out in the middle of the night to come out here and practice your... crafts. We have a protocol.”

Crystal sighed.

“Again with the protocol. Don't you ever get bored, following protocol? Haven't you ever wanted to, I don't know, break, protocol? Just once?”

The elder just glared at her tiredly.

“Crystal, please stop behaving this way. You are an excellent Stol, and we need you to perform your best on our runs. You know we can't break protocol, and you continuing to do so is just inviting unwanted trouble.”

“Fine,” Crystal huffed, accepting the elder's words. “I won't sneak out anymore.”

“Very good,” the elder breathed, relieved.

“However,” Crystal added, warranting a gruff of irritation from the elder, “I felt something today.”

“Oh?” the elder asked. While he was skeptical of Crystal, she was still a Stol, and like all Stol she had that... thing on her head. They were excellent additions to every team, and even though she was the only one in the outpost she did her job better than any Stol he'd seen before. They hadn't any need for more with her around, even with four full teams.

“Please, inform me. What did you feel?”

“It was in the system over from this, it was... a tear. I fear the worst, elder. Perhaps we should send a craft to investigate.”

The elder sighed. “Are you certain that it warrants our attention?” he asked. While he had no doubt of her abilities, he was always suspicious of her 'feelings', as it were. He just didn't want to lose any of his Stangs to the reckless Stol's urges.

“Certain,” she nodded.

“Very well,” he said while turning around. “When we return to the outpost, you will select five Stangs to accompany you.”

“Excuse me?” she asked him, confused.

“What,” the elder said as he cracked a grin. “You didn't think I'd let you off the hook for sneaking out that easily, did you?”

With that, he began cantering back to the outpost, leaving Crystal alone under the giant stone.

She dazed off into the sky, deep yellow clouds drifting low in the sky above her.

“He's sending me out on a mission,” she murmured.

“About time.”

She rose to her hooves and hopped up the rock, collecting her barding and her pulse carbine. Donning the gear, she jumped back down, landing gracefully while flicking her mane out of her face.

She had a mission to prepare for.

END CHAPTER 1