Scootaloo surged to her hooves, gripping her hammer, Foe-Splitter, tightly. Her Vox stuttered into life.
“It took ya yer sweet time getting' here Scoots!”
“Fabricator-General, what would you have me do?”
“There’s currently a hole in the wall. If they get through, all is lost!”
“We shall hold the breach.” The Vox switched off. “Sisters, do not let a single beast through that gate!”
The enemy surged forward out of their rallying positions. Wave after wave of infantry assailed the position, only to be broken asunder by the thunderous roar of armour-mounted Boltgun and slash of Chainsword. Assault Mareines thundered into the fray, the din of their wings and weapons adding to cacophany of war.
The God-Empress herself charged in, her hammer swinging around her and tearing the foe apart effortlessly. She surged into the air, and brought it down, the blow slamming forth in a tide of metal and blood.
But then, capsules made of chocolate fell behind them, and more creatures landed in their lines.
“They attempt to flank!” shouted one warrior.
“Courage and Honour!” Scootaloo bellowed. “We shall slay this evil!”
More mass-reactive rounds rang true as the foe was ripped apart by explosions and rotating teeth, blood covering the walls of the fortress and corpses strung everywhere like confetti.
Scootaloo switched her Vox on again. “Fabricator-General, the breach is contained. Where would you have me go?”
“Head toward the Communications Array. Please be aware only 3 Knights are still operational, and we have only one active repair bay. The door should open momentarily.”
Scootaloo turned to advance through the door-before a stray artillery shell demolished the structure. “A simple matter,” she said grimly.
Stretching her wings aloft, she took to the air, soaring through the skies and touching down on a precipice.
“Oi!” shouted a group of enemy creatures. Shooters. So named because they were formed around a single, rapid-fire weapon contained in their chests. “Shoot the pony!”
The hail of bullets pinged of the God-Empresses' armour as she charged forward, swinging her hammer and reducing the first of them to paste. But their numbers were too great.
Thankfully, her salvation came. “Blind grenade! Fire in the hole!”
A small object flew to the ground and detonated, sending the Shooters reeling backwards.
“Damnit!” screamed one of them. “I can’t see!”
“Exterminate the vermin!” Scootaloo bellowed, and the Scouts complied, the screams of the enemy and the roar of Bolter ending their pathetic lives.
The Scouts hopped down from their vantage point. “My lady, what would you have us do?” one of their number asked.
“Follow me to the Communications Array,” she replied. “If we can hold it, we can bring in reinforcements.”
“Aye, my Lady!”
Scootaloo activated her Vox. “Battle-Barge Unity, status report?”
“Fleet Master Mash reporting. We are currently in orbit over the Fortress, awaiting your order.”
“I need a Tactical Squad fired in on my position. I am but one pony, and two squads of Scouts isn’t going to cut it.”
“Understood, My Lady. Drop Pod incoming.”
Within seconds, the pod had slammed into the ground. Out stepped a group of Tactical Mareines, all clad in MKVII ‘Aquila’ armour. Itself less advanced than the Cataphractii Armour worn by the God-Empress, it was a world above that used by the defenders of the fortress. Each suit had a weapon mount fitted to the side of the armour, which typically mounted a Boltgun, but sometimes carried other weapons. A Chainsword was also equipped for situations where close combat was needed. The helmet also varied depending on the wearer’s species; Unicorn ones had a slot for the horn to fit through.
Each of them knelt before the God-Empress. “My Lady, we are ready to serve.”
“Rise,” Scootaloo commanded. “We are needed elsewhere.”
The band pushed onward, running into and despatching enemy resistance, before arriving at the Communications Array. The enemy swarmed in, waving axes and firing rounds into the defenders.
But the Blood Mares never faltered and never wavered. With courage and steel they drove the foe back time and time again.
“For the God-Empress!” bellowed a grizzled sargeant. But things were about to turn.
A large explosive flew through the air, knocking everyone onto their backs. As Scootaloo staggered to her feet, a Killa Kan advanced on her, its chainblades roaring.
“I’m gonna cut you into minceat!” it bellowed.
Scootaloo swung her hammer into it, knocking it back briefly. But that only slowed it; the machine was not felled, and closed in again, knocking her down. It stormed in for the kill, blades spinning.
But the kill never came, as a giant rotating fist smashed through the back of the machine, tearing the machine from torso to cockpit. The parts fell everywhere as the Dreadnought grabbed the pilot and ripped it in two, before stomping on the legs, leaving nothing but a mess of twisted scrap.
Scootaloo got to her feet. “Thank you, Brother.”
“It was an honour, My Lady,” it replied. “But the foe assails us still.” And he was right. Heavy weapons fire was cutting up the square, bullets tearing through armour and making a mess of cover.
“Sniper team on hand!” called a voice. A group of Pegasi flew in, armed with sniper rifles. “We can kill those Looters!”
The massive .100 calibre bolts rang home, causing the enemy’s heads to explode. Their bodies fell lifeless to the floor, a true mess to behold.
“Fabricator-General, the Array is secure!”
“Excellent. But we gotta massive wave closin’ in from the south. This is their final assault, get to the Sanctum and hold them off!”
Onwards they pushed, into the Sanctum itself, although they were briefly separated by a collapsing bridge. The enemy swarmed into the Sanctum, intent on killing and destroying.
“Unity, deploy the Holy Standard.”
“Yes, My Lady.”
The standard slammed into the ground, its lines and colours showing proudly upon the surface.
“May the first Mare to take one step back be damned to Tartarus!” bellowed the Sargeant.
The enemy assaulted again and again, but with their sacred standard, the Space Mareines never faltered and never wavered. As the last tattered remains of the enemy staggered away, Scootaloo radioed.
“Fabricator-General, the breach is secure.”
“Ah owe ya a great debt Scootaloo.”
“The Imperium never abandons its allies, Fabricator-General. Your Knights will be a valuable ally in driving back the armies of Discord.”
“We will remember this, always.”
Scootaloo switched channels. “Inquisitor, report.”
“Why have you violated my blockade?” demanded the voice. “Our troops are better kept in high orbit. From there we can more accurately respond to enemy threats.”
“You would leave the Knights to die?”
“I would have you obey my orders. Secure the ground, and ensure that the Fortress remains secure. Inquisitor out.”
Scootaloo switched channels again. “Deploy the Lord-Chaplain, and tell her to see me at once.”