Warpony 40k

by Luckythebrony

Scout Squad Crusader

Segmentum Celest Pegusian Gate

Orbit above Pegusa

2001 Imperial Standard

The Squad had left the command deck a least a half an hour ago, but to Twilight it felt like a fortnight as she stood, her eyes transfixed the hololithic display of the Pegusian Gate. Millions of tiny stars twinkled and danced around the only series of entrenched defenses that made up the gate, as well as the only habitable planet.

‘Pegusa…’ She sighed, mouthing the word, almost silently, to herself. Her eyes grudgingly slipped over to the Eye itself, and she enlarged the image to better study it. As she stared into its swirling depths a strange numbness began to engulf her senses. It was almost as if the Eye was staring back into the depths of her instead, like it piercing through her very core, her very essence. Even now she could feel a cold shade seeping into her thoughts. She quickly deactivated the control lectern, and the hologram shrank into the display. She broke into a cold sweat, wiped it away with her forehoof. She rounded quickly to the sound a throat being cleared, and came to face with Applinia. A look of profound concern had found its way on to her face.

‘Twi are yo-‘ she began but was quickly cut off by a nervous Twilight,

‘I’m... I am satisfactory AJ, I was just gathering data for the upcoming engagement.’ Twilight replied curtly. Applinia observed that her pupils had contracted, and she was trembling slightly. Something was clearly wrong.

‘Is it the Eye that troub-.’ Again her attempts at concern were torn asunder by the Librarian.

‘The Eye is thousands of light years away it is of no concern to me at this time,’ Twilight moved swiftly past Applinia as she spoke, heading toward the blast door, ‘I thank you for your concern…was there anything else?’ Applinia brightened. That was actually the first reason she come back.

‘The newest Neophytes arrived from the Tenth today, I wanted to know if you would accompany me to meet them.’ Twilight paused. She stared blankly at Applinia as if she had just requested a tome on instructing the use of a grenade in combat.

‘I was already aware of this…regardless will not,’ She then replied, ‘I must return to the Librarium, immediately! I’m afraid,’ she made to exit the chamber and turned back to her companion, ‘I understand Rariti’s, and from what I can gather, your’s as well… sibling is among them. Congratulations are in order I suppose…I will have Spikicus send something for them.’ And, with that she exited as the blast door came down with a loud report. Applinia sighed.

I wish she would me tell what’s wrong, if Twilight’s heart isn’t in this fight than we will all surely be doomed. She made her way out of the command deck, the blast door engaging in the same manner as it had with Twilight.

‘Focus Neophytes remember; Attack before the foe even realizes that the war has begun!’ A gruff magenta furred Sergeant, with a pink and white striped mane, observed meticulously as two young mares in tunics, the color of the chapter, and white pants circled each other in the training hall. Her grassy green eyes scrutinizing every step, and slight the young ponies showed. The younger of the two’s fur was an immaculate white, with a short crop of purple and pink mane. The other had muddy brown fur, with a two toned, pink striped mane, and bangs which hung in her slightly freckled face. Their two sets of jade eyes locked as if challenging the other to make their move. Another set of Scouts observed from the opposite side of the hall. One, an orange Pegasus filly with a short cut mauve mane, and remarkable violet eyes stood on her hind legs leaning against the bulkhead, with her fore hooves crossed, smirking at the spectacle. Her counterpart was a buttery color, with a diminutive cut red mane and a solid pink head band tied around her head. Her amber eyes sparkled with anticipation at the prospect of bloodshed. All present wore the same tunic and pants as the combatants. However, the standard black leather boots, which the observers wore, were tossed casually off to the side. Scouts always sparred with out boots, naturally, to toughen the hoof.

‘BEGIN!’ And with the queue from their leader, the white filly engaged her opponent with a high buck, aimed right at her head, it was dodged and the rebuttal of a sweeping low kick caused the attacking scout to fall on her face with a thud. The Sergeant glared her in disapproval, ‘Again!’ And the ballet of combat resumed, with the white filly in vain trying to land a strike on her sparring partner. After several attempts, the Sergeant motioned to cease the drill, and for the four assembled scouts to gather around her.
‘Can any pony tell me why Neophyte Bellatrice failed to strike Neophyte Babalynia?’ She looked around at the expressionless faces of her scouts. The orange filly raised her hoof and the Sergeant nodded her approval for the scout to answer.
‘She misjudged her opponent’s quickness based on her size,’ she answered in a tomboyish voice which atoned to her pubescent age, ‘A fatal mistake in any situation.’ She smirked and unfurled her lithe orange wings, at what she felt was her own superiority.

‘Exactly Neophyte Scootia!’ The Sergeant seemed pleased by the answer, ‘If you misjudge your opponent, underestimate their strength or fighting numbers in a report… You will kill dozens, if not hundreds, of your battle sisters.’ She looked gravely into her learners’ faces making damn sure that they held on to her words, and reinforcing her statement. She began to circle the Scouts as they stood, staring straight ahead, as if at attention on a parade ground, ‘as Scouts and I quote; Your mission is to attack, before the foe even realizes that the war has begun! To strike hard at those vital weaknesses that all armies possess, but that no commander will admit to. You’ll need a sharp eye,’ she pointed her hoof to her eye which enlarged comically for dramatic effect, ‘And a quick wit,’ smacking Bellatrice on the back of the head, which she respond to by crying out and rubbing the spot, the Sergeant rolling her eyes at the simpering gesture, ‘to survive long enough to become Mareines.’ She returned to her starting point, and pivoted to face the fillies, ‘Questions?’ Not one of them moved. They stood stoically with bosoms up thrust in pride, feeling not a great weight, but a great challenge and responsibility had been presented to them. The filly with the buttery yellow fur stepped forward.

‘Sergeant Cheertana,’ She inquired, ‘If we are to become Mareines one day, why do we not emulate the Codex and fight as our battle-sisters do?’ She was genuinely puzzled. That much could be seen from the look on her face. As Cheertana made to answer the filly, the blast door of the training bay whooshed opened, revealing a dour looking Applinia. The assembled Neophytes stood a little more rigidly, as if anticipating to be inspected by their newly arrived commander. Cheertana turned to face the Captain, and bowed slightly as she approached.

‘Capitan it is an honor!’ She saluted promptly, ‘May I enquire as to your presence on our humble training session?’ Cheertana spoke with head dipped in recognition of so noble a Mareine.

‘I am simply here to examine the Scouts. They will be of much help in the coming engagement, of that I have no doubt,’ She eyed the yellow filly prudently, as she passed her, examining all of the others with equal wariness, ‘that is all Scout-Sergeant! You may continue.” With that, she exited the chamber, much to the noticeable relief of Cheertana.

‘Now then, Neophyte Apellbonaria, to answer your question you must first be able to crawl before you may walk, if I’m not mistaken?’ She stared, astutely at the filly, who hung her head in salute to her mentor’s wisdom,

‘Of course Sergeant.’ She replied staring at the deck plates, but her mind was elsewhere focused on the blast door where her living idol, her entity of worship, and her big sister had just passed through.

The Emerald Angel… She thought to herself with pure veneration. Her amber eyes sparkled, as she resumed feign-absorbing Cheertana’s lecture on the finesses of hand to hand combat, and the proper method to do away with the limb of an adversary by splitting it from the joint. She was still only half there. All Apellenaria could think of was fighting on Pegusa, and claiming her rightful place as a Mareine in the company.

‘Now then Neophytes!’ barked Cheertana, breaking her from her inertia, ‘Don your war plate! We are going to run combat drills in full kit to ready for combat.’ With that she made her way out of the chamber, and into the hall.
As Bellatrice and Babalynia pulled on their boots, discussing their bout, Scootia turned to Apellbonaria with an enthusiastic look upon her face.

‘That was her wasn't it?’ Her eyebrow rose quizzically as she asked.

‘The Captain? Yes that is her, the Emerald Angel of Corn V.’ She stated matte -of –factly, her face neutral as the Scouts made their out of the chamber and down the hall to their quarters.

‘I mean she is your sister…right?’ Scootia continued, giving her an expression that suggested the answer she had recieved was not the one she was looking for.

‘She is Sister to us all, now that we share the same gene-seed.’ Apellbonaria continued to dance around the subject.

‘No! I mean she is your sibling!’ The frustration in Scootia’s voice was clearer now, much to Apellbonaria's amusement. Regardless she decided to just give her what she wanted. With a big grin she said,

‘Oooohhh, well of course everypony knew that, just as Bellatrice is Rariti’s sibling and Babalynia is my cousin. Our families’ DNA make for bodies that very receptive to the Mareine organ transplants. In fact,’ her gaze drifted over to Bellatrice, ‘Isn’t your gene seed that of one of great ancestors, Bella?’ Bellatrice beamed at the question, her pride shining clearly through. Apellbonaria knew the inquiry was true, but Bellatrice had a rough day. It would good to give a much needed boost to her ego.

‘Why yes! I bear the gene-seed of my great, great-grandmare, Evana the Modest. A noble warrior, who was famed for her humbleness! Though she performed many great feats, and lived to be one of the oldest Mareines in history, before being allowed to pass to the Empress’ Grace.’ The pride in her voice could not be contained try as she might.

‘As I thought, and I’m assuming your sister has already been at our war gear and we will notice the changes when we arrive.’ Everypony laughed at the jest as they were sure that it had already happened. Scootia rolled her eyes and said,

‘I mean I heard the rumors! I just wanted to confirm them, one way or another, is all. I really should have known when our squad was brought to the Third. I mean scouts rarely leave the Tenth, but when your blood is a company commander…’ She smiled slyly at Apellbonaria, nudging her with her elbow and winked.

‘Are you suggesting my sister, the noble Captain Applinia Jacqueline, had something to do with all this?’ Apellbonaria feigned disbelief.

‘Never would I imply such a thing, Sister!’ Scootia played along, acting as though she where hurt by the remark Apellbonaria had made. They both looked at each other and the whole group started to laugh heartily at their own little jokes.

As the Neophytes approached their bunk room, they noticed that Sergeant Cheertana stood by the door, the same resolute expression on her face. A slight distress overtook the four fillies. They all braced themselves mentally for a scolding or punishment. Instead Cheertana’s expression softened a little as a half-smile broke across her mouth.

‘Scouts good news…I have the Simulation Hall reserved for us for tomorrow at zero nine fifteen sharp,’ the Neophytes eyes all lit up. This meant mission simulations against servitors and chapter serfs, no more shadow drills and target practice, ‘so rest up tonight! Also Chaplain Pinkamina is giving sermon in one hour. You will be there. After that, you are released to Neophyte Babalynia for the night. You will clean and prep your war gear to her standards, understood?’ the four fillies snapped to a rigid attention,

‘Yes ma’am!’ They shouted in unison placing their right forehooves across their chests in salute. Cheertana copied them and once more turned down the hall and left. Once she had rounded the corner, Bellatrice squealed in delight as she raced inside their room to begin her own preparations. She quickly threw open the weapons locker, and pulled out her combat shotgun. Giggling giddily as she sat down on a stool between the two bunks, she began to disassemble the weapon looking for any faults. She wanted everything to be perfect, no, immaculate! The others followed. Scootia grabbing her Standard Godwyn pattern Bolt Pistol which, thanks to Rariti most likely, bore a new purity seal upon it, cocked the weapon and inspected the chamber. It was micro-scrubbed clean and she could smell the sanctifying oils that had been freshly applied. Grinning in approval, she let the bolt go forward and reached for her Godwyn pattern Bolter, inspecting it in the same manner. Babalynia was next and removed a Bolter, identical to her Pegasus counterpart. She made her way over to her bunk opposite Scootia and began reciting the Litany of Weapon Maintenance under her breath as she disassembled it.

Lastly was Apellbonaria, who unlocked her own section of the locker, which housed the special weaponry for the squad. She wrapped her hooves around the cold iron of an Mk III “Stalker” pattern Bolter a Mareines version of a sniper rifle. Freshly stamped purity seals hung from the scope and rifle’s body, and battle honors were etched into the polished wooden stock. It was the Tenth Company relic, “The Empress’ Whisper”. Only, she was given permission to carry it with her to her combat assignment. She smiled and gently placed it back in the locker. She made her way over to her personal foot locker, at the foot her and Bablynia’s bunk. She opened it, and inside it was the same as the rest of the squad’s foot lockers. There were three additional tunics, four pairs of pants, and various personal hygiene materials. However what made hers unique lay buried at the bottom, beneath her clothes. She slowly took out her sister’s combat knife, sheathed in a leather scabbard said to be tanned from the hide of a Changeling her sisters had slew on Marecragge during the Changeling Wars. She flicked the strap off that held the dagger in the sheath. She slid it out and examined the inscription written on the blade in High Equine.

The words echoed through her head as she thought back on all the foes this knife had slain. The blood of heretics, and xenos ran in long rivers because if this knife and it was now her turn to add to those rivers, and make them overflow, and consume their banks. Scootia chuckled as she saw the mixture of pride and eagerness that was making its way over her fellow Neophytes faces, waving a hoof at her as if to chastise her.

‘You know, as our Sniper you shouldn’t be so obsessed with a close combat weapon,’ she stated exaggerating the distance to prove her point, ‘even when you do, it should be your sidearm, remember Sisters, “Do not forsake your sidearm. It is the bringer of wrath and your only companion in a life of service to the Empress.” Her usual smug expression crossed her face as she resumed cleaning her aforementioned beloved weapon. Bellatrice could never contain herself when given the chance to belittle Scootia’s, sometimes annoying, self-confidence and corrected her,

‘That is true Sister but the exact quote is; “It is the bringer of wrath and a constant companion in life of unending battle.” Well the exact Codex excerpt anyway.’ Scootia snapped her head around and shot daggers into Bellatrice’s own sense of superiority, spreading across her face.

‘What are you some kind of living Codex, or something? She retorted. Babalynia looked over and pointed a hoof up to Bellatrice’s top bunk.

‘I’m sure she sleeps with a copy under her pillow.’ Both older fillies started to laugh. Bellatrice pouted a little and just continued to clean her weapon. Apellbonaria barely paid any attention to the whole conversation. She was too busy admiring the last gift she had received since become a Neophyte, a gift from her sister.