Project Renaissance

Chapter Eight: Back Through Tharsis

By Lucius Seneca & Stillmatic

Breathe.
That's it. Slowly, carefully. Quiet, steadily.
Deep breath. In and out. You can go. No one saw. No one heard.

Ulysses let out a shaky breath, filled with relief and excitement. Hands quivering, he did his best to wipe the thick smears of blood onto his jeans which were already stained and damp. The woman laying on the ground had a glassy look in her eyes and she seemed to stare straight through Ulysses as he looked down upon her lifeless figure. He prodded her with the toe of his sneaker and a lock of her hair, matted and clumped, fell limply across her bloodied face.

Streetlights shone with dim orange smiles and somewhere down the rural street, a cat meowed loudly, followed by the clattering of a garbage can. In the distance, a train rumbled across the tracks and crawled into the countryside, groaning and crying all the while. Ulysses took a moment to stare up at the clouds above. The night sky seemed infinitely more lonesome without a wisp of one or two, and tonight was no exception. Behind the lone man, a scared yelp reached his ears and he turned slowly, visage caked with rapidly drying blood.

A homeless man, ragged and emaciated, covered with blankets and a patchy jacket looked on with wide eyes, hands at his bearded lips. His eyes met briefly with Ulysses' and he turned and ran. A desperate and rage-filled scream followed him.

Akakois grabbed Ulysses by the shoulders as he jerked upright on the bed. He let out a guttural cry and swatted weakly at the talons restraining him, ignoring the yells from LeBlake and Akakois. Ares was quickly in the room, hastily setting down a tray that held a large pitcher of discolored water and a small selection of crackers. Ares, too, soon joined the fray and grabbed Ulysses' thrashing legs.

LeBlake struggled to calm the thrashing man, "Commandant! Please stop! We are trying to help you!"

And then, as if all the strength had left his body, Ulysses slumped back down into the mess of covers and sheets, unconscious once again. Ares let out a long sigh and sat back exhaustedly in a nearby chair while Akakois ran his claw down his face in resignation. LeBlake muttered quietly to herself and slowly stroked Ulysses' cheek. Beads of sweat dribbled down his face and she did her best to wipe them away. Something about the vulnerability of the man in front of her made her heart sink and she excused herself from the room.

Ulysses had been transferred to a small room above the soldier's barracks. It had once been an office and then an attic shortly thereafter, but a quick cleanup had turned it into a temporary resting place. A table off to the right of the stairs held an array of medicines and other herbs, while Ares sat next to it, fiddling with what appeared to be a sprig of dill. Akakois was ashen faced and left. He had a shift on the north wall, and while he would have preferred to watch over the Commandant himself, he had a duty to attend to.

Johannes, a zebra, would be taking his place beside the Commandant soon enough. Ares flicked the smelly plant away and gathered up her robe as she stood. An hour dragged by, the clock on the wall ticking with an antiquated patience. Ares shifted from her seat, pacing around, and then returned. She muttered incoherently to herself about what had gone wrong, about how she might have sentenced one of her deities to death. A quiet gasp for air caught her attention and her eyes shot towards Ulysses' still figure. He shifted slightly and after a rattling exhale of air, his eyes opened, showing their brilliant green.

In an instant, she was next to him, trying to make herself as comforting as possible, "Commandant? Are you awake?"

"It is me," Ares replied, relieved at the fact that her leader was not thrashing about, "Ares. How are you feeling?"

As if blinded, Ulysses looked up at the warped ceiling supports numbly, "I had a terrible nightmare, Ares. Where is Westin?"

"He is gone to Canterlot. Pyrite Dreams is with him. Grand Foreseer LeBlake is communicating with him daily." Ares replied.

Ulysses' face took on a look of absolute terror, "Are they hanging me tonight? Are they going to kill me?"

Ares was taken aback by the questions, "No. No! Absolutely not! No one is hanging you, Commandant."

In a sudden bout of strength, Ulysses grabbed Ares by her robe's epaulets, "I had a terrible nightmare, Ares."

Hoofsteps could be heard coming up the stairs and Ulysses' hands began to fall from Ares' shoulders as he struggled to speak, but failed to utter another syllable. He fell back onto the pillows as Johannes arrived. Ares stared worriedly down at Ulysses before up at Johannes. Neither spoke.

Westin wiped away the thick layer of grime and sweat accumulating on his forehead. Their journey had taken them straight through the Forest of Leota, which was supposedly the safest route. It was a long and tiring trip that demanded two days’ worth of effort with little to show for it. Pyrite didn’t find herself fairing any better, though her wounds were healing quite well despite the raw humidity present throughout the groves of the forest. Luckily, the increased humidity meant that most of the precipitation in the region was concentrated here, thanks to the large mountains roughly to the northeast. Beyond them laid another desert, though the human and pony wouldn’t get that far anyway.

The idea of willingly walking into an ambush was displeasing on several levels for both of them and for their own reasons, too. In Westin’s mind, there would be too many risks and chances to get attacked somewhere along the line. Pyrite had a few specific fears as well; her murky reputation as an archaeologist would undoubtedly be called into question. It wasn't hard to imagine that she would be questioned upon her arrival in Canterlot. Summarily, It was only going to be a matter of time until they gathered enough evidence to conduct an investigation, but waltzing into Canterlot with a supposedly extinct species was likely to raise a few questions as to why she hadn't informed the Royal Archeology Department on her discovery weeks earlier.

She used her magic to swat away branches with one of her own, “Because I seriously doubt that you just got away with that.”

Westin drank down some water before replying, “I did, and not a single cop ever came to my house. Gave me enough money to pay the rest of my tuition.”

“Nope.” They continued walking through the grove, avoiding the spindly tree roots that tried trapping them, “Could’ve lost my scholarship to U of C, didn’t even need it cause everything else went down before I could even get enrolled.”

“Nothing. Two years later, I get dragged into that place with the psycho and get tested on. It was ass.”

The mare quieted down after that, having learned enough for the time being. She briefly wondered if she was going to get any credit for her discovery, or if it was going to be covered up like the Equestrian government tended to do with anything significant enough to spark questionable international interest. Despite what other countries may have thought, Equestria went to great lengths to prevent certain things from reaching the public's eyes and ears. Pyrite knew that well enough. The time she reported her study on extinct horses in Saddle Arabia was proof of that. Apparently, the progenitor species of the common pony was a state secret deemed "culturally controversial." At least they compensated her well, Pyrite figured.

They remained silent as they snaked their way through loose vegetation which was eager to ensnare their legs. The sunlight was nearly blotted out through a combination of the thick canopies above and the setting sun flinging what little of the day's energy it had left down upon the forest. It made for an eerie, if not serene setting. Westin had stubbornly grown used to the quietness of Leota, where the wildlife seemingly went out of its way to avoid his ancient and toxic presence to their home. The easy meal trotting near him wasn't worth the risk of raising an old god's wrath, no matter how scrambled or inaccurate their thoughts were on the subject. Unthinking life dared not confront the undead, with the exception of one abomination set on defending its territory.

Pyrite stopped dead in her tracks. The man watched her ears twitch violently, along with her eyes glancing nervously in random directions. Though she didn't have the magical capacity necessary to perform arduous feats, the stubborn archaeologist had learned early in her schooling to detect only minor shifts in the magical resonance fields in her vicinity. It was a common ability amongst unicorns, with most simply realizing they could feel a disturbing alteration around them during some point in their lives. But at that very moment, that specific break in the field was far more enigmatic than she had ever felt before.

Pyrite replaced the rest of her sentence with a yelp of fear as a mesh of tubular objects crashed down from the branches above and nearly crushed her into fertilizer. Westin raised his arms defensively, backing several steps away from the cloud of dust now polluting the air. A shrill cry, akin to that of several thousand crickets, forced the human and pony to cover their ears as it pierced through their senses and began disorientating them.

Westin's droned out "the fuck?!" didn't stop him from shaking away the steady headache creeping into him. But the sound stopped as soon as it had begun, and as the dust finally settled to the forest floor, it was upturned once again as the stalwart and revolting defender of Leota landed with a resounding "thud" that nearly dropped the two to the ground. Pyrite gasped, and stared into the face of one of Equestria's mythical horrors.

The clattering of bony mandibles tricked Westin into assuming their attacker was some sort of insect, but with each approaching step, he soon realized that he was dealing with something far, far beyond a simple bug. A mottled, equine body shook in place, jumping around in oddly entrancing movements. A bulbous, almost spherical head bobbed on a thick neck with coils of veins jutting out and up in support. And behind that head were the instruments used to nearly kill Pyrite; roughly two dozen suctioned tentacles were sprouting out from the back and swaying in air as if a chilling breeze were passing by.

Pyrite retreated a few steps, focusing together an offensive spell to either give them some breathing room or a chance to escape. The archaeologist gathered the magical momentum to send a fat bolt of energy straight at the monster, which was clicking to itself in curiosity as it teetered around without balance. Of course, its already jumpy nature let it quickly hop out of harm’s way and the bolt flew past, straight into the side of a now-shattered boulder. Before she could react, Pyrite was smacked by a group of tentacles and sent flying into the trunk of a tree. Westin gritted his teeth. Pyrite failed to get up from the blow.

Taking things into his own hands, the man grabbed hold of the nearest object, a very blunt looking rock, and hurled it at the Headsplitter. It turned its head just in time to receive a hit across what might have been the face at some previous point in time. Hooves stomped angrily on the ground and the incessant chirping was directed at Westin, who was now readying another stone to throw. It tumbled across the back of the Headsplitter as it tackled Westin and brought him to the ground. He reacted instantly and grabbed what he could, barely avoiding having his face caved in by the mandibles he was now holding tightly. It took an absurd amount of strength he thought he would never have again just to keep the cutters away from himself. He knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. So, he did what he would always eagerly do if it became necessary: he played dirty.

Westin delivered a kick to the Headsplitter’s crotch region with one of his mighty boots. The thing recoiled and then found its legs knocked out from under it, with its head now in a very vulnerable position for Westin to take advantage of. Westin jumped and brought his feet down on its head as hard as he could muster, feeling some of the tissue soften and allow just a fraction of a way inwards. It wasn’t enough to kill his attacker, but it would, ironically, be enough to give it a headache. Before he could do so again, Westin found two tubes wrapping themselves around his neck.

He was hoisted into the air and held a small height from the ground. His throat was tightly wrapped and no air neither escaped nor entered as rough hands desperately tried to dig under the swarming tentacles. The sight of an unconscious Pyrite didn’t waver his determination, and he knew he couldn’t resign himself to death yet. Westin kicked his thick boots outwards and swung them at the Headsplitter as his vision became more and more hard to focus properly. The sound of his own choking, however, didn’t drown out the sound of a large metal plate dropping from somewhere behind the monstrosity.

It tilted its head back and looked away from him, jaws smacking together to taste the air for disturbances. And only a meager second later, a burst of light bathed it in a magnificent blue that tore straight through its head and out the other side. The man could barely make out the sight of a glowing, partially opaque sword, which he figured was magic from Pyrite. It fizzled out of existence a moment later. With the Headsplitter teetering uneasily, but still very much alive, Westin swung himself back and forth again now that the grip around his neck allowed him more room to breathe. Balance became nonexistent, and both fell to the ground hard.

A pungent aroma of lilacs spilled forth from the purplish blood leaking out of the engorged orb that made up the creature’s head. Westin gagged at the sheer intensity of the smell and pushed himself back and against a nearby tree with his shirt collar firmly over his nose. It didn’t allay the stink, but it at least forced him to focus on what would happen next.

A figure, he didn’t know who, galloped quickly onto the scene, and stood firmly before the wounded Headsplitter. The second Equestrian was wearing a sandy cloak that covered most of its body, with a thoroughly dangerous-looking sword held in a blue magical field. Westin caught sight of a few strands of blond hair gleaming in the vagrant light of the sword above the darkened face.

A black silhouette flew past Westin at high speeds and tackled the back of the Headsplitter with metallic hooves, shoving the thing off balance and forward. Yet, instead of meeting the ground as it did last time, it found its head landing right into the upturned sword, piercing through and doing what the magic couldn’t. The noisy mandibles ceased their clattering, and the shrilly and garbled mess of sounds coming from it died off as well. Westin could only stare in silent wonder as one of most fearsome things he had ever witnessed living collapsed entirely.

Unluckily for the single human, his ordeal wasn’t over yet. The dark form hovered for a moment before landing, letting large, bat-like wings recede somewhere in its back. Somewhere between flabbergasted and cautious, Westin’s focus faltered and went to them as opposed to what was dropped earlier. The unicorn’s horn glowed its signature blue once more, and just as he was about to ready himself to dodge an attack, a glob of magical energy shot far off what he assumed was its mark. It hit the metal plate that had distracted the Headsplitter, and the air grew unnaturally heavy.

Everything felt as though it was being sucked towards that plate, which now had a steady flow of magic ebbing around the intricate designs ingrained into its surface. Westin’s fingers dug into the roots of a nearby tree. His ears popped as the sense of pressure turned utterly chaotic alongside a massive surge of energy yanking all present towards it. The two abductors, Pyrite, the dead myth, and the living myth were dragged into the epicenter of the swirling maw. Westin felt his hands lose their grip, and everything soon became dark and disorientating. His consciousness wavered, but his body underwent what human scientists could only dream of.

There was a final, brilliant explosion of white, a strong sucking pressure and suddenly there was no trace of a human or archaeologist in Leota anymore. They had cut through reality itself and Westin would remember it as one of the most unpleasant experiences he had ever had throughout his entire existence.

A motley colored toucan screeched as it flew from the canopy. It flapped it's wings, turned gracefully in the purgatorial sky, and vanished with a loud cawing back into the forest. A butterfly danced from leaf to leaf nearby and felt delicately with its small antennae, prodding at leaves and flowers. An ant scurried by and the butterfly shook its fragile wings in annoyance. Ulysses watched all this from his chair in the garden. A wool blanket lay over his legs and a small porcelain mug steamed nearby, filled with what Ares had dubbed, "An age old remedy for relieving someone of itchiness." It tasted of burnt tree bark and expired molasses, but Ulysses took little notice of it as he sipped silently on the mixture. Four days had passed since his delirium and, although weak and out of breath constantly, Ulysses found himself clearheaded and able to walk without much assistance. Of course, none of the Grand Foreseers would heed his constant reassurance that he would be fine by himself.

And so they had dispatched a guard to serve him day in and day out, a type of aide or squire, Ulysses had thought. The aide in question was a 'Diamond Dog' called Lithi. She was of average height and build, perhaps slightly lankier than the few other canines around the village and had deep caramel eyes. Ulysses let a look of contemplation cross his face behind the lip of his mug as he considered whether or not Lithi was even female at all. She had no cleavage he could see, but he assumed that was normal. The contemplative visage turned to a small grimace as Ulysses went over the fact that these creatures would have barely qualified as intelligent when he had been imprisoned. Waving his hand absently, Ulysses dismissed the ideas and slumped in his chair as the noon sun broke over Leota.

Ulysses looked over to find Lithi standing next to him, a machete of sorts strapped across her chest in a leather sheath. She must have thought he was waving to her.

Lithi smiled, showing razor sharp teeth, "I pray before I sleep and when I awaken every morning. Some do pray during the afternoon, but it is of their own accord. As for lunch, I am not hungry."

Ulysses rolled his eyes slightly, "I see. Listen, I don't know what LeBlake and the other two told you, but I'll be fine by myself. You really don't need to babysit me."

"As much as I yearn to follow your orders, Commandant, Grand Foreseer LeBlake gave me explicit instructions to ensure that you came to no harm." Lithi's smile had turned to small quirk in the corners of her mouth.

The butterfly danced through the air and landed silently on the arm of the chair. Ulysses pointed at it, "Watch out! Assassins! They have come!" When Lithi failed to laugh, Ulysses scowled, "What could possibly hurt me here? I mean really."

Before Lithi could produce a rebuttal, a familiar figure appeared at the far end of the garden and began making its way towards Ulysses. It didn't take long for him to recognize Lysandra's gait and Ulysses dismissed Lithi, telling her to patrol the perimeter of the garden. Lysandra smiled widely as she arrived in front of the sitting Commandant. She was dressed head to toe in a strange series of weaved leaves and mosses. It reminded Ulysses of Halloween costume.

"Don't tell me!" Ulysses stared hard at Lysandra, "You're playing a misunderstood environmentalist who decides to forgo her inheritance and live amongst the wolves."

Lysandra laughed at the comment and shook her head, "No, no. Camouflage training."

Ulysses nodded and waved for her to sit in the vacant chair opposite him, "I never would have guessed. How was it?"

"Oh, you know how training drills are. It gets quite routine after a while. Although, Valka ended up laying in a fire ant nest!"

"Poor bastard." Ulysses made sure Lithi wasn't looking and tossed the remaining tea into a patch of tulips, "So, what brings you to the most dangerous place of all?"

Removing the camouflage, Lysandra folded it beside the chair, "I just came to see how you are holding up. A few days ago we didn't know if you were going to pull through or not."

Ulysses folded his hands together and yawned, "There would have been some benefits to dying. I mean, I have to spend most of my day being watched by that one over there," Ulysses forked a thumb over his shoulder at Lithi who was busy poking the bushes with a dagger, "I can't even go to the bathroom without being escorted."

"I don't even know if she is actually a she, let alone attractive." Ulysses shuddered, "Her teeth..."

Ulysses was confused for a moment before realizing just what was going through Lysandra's mind, "Oh. Oh! I see how it is!"

Lysandra looked flustered and stood up, a vain attempt to scold Ulysses, "How dare you assume that! I am not jealous!"

Throwing up her hands in resignation, Lysandra stormed off to hide her blushing face. Ulysses chuckled and pressed tenderly against his chest. His scavenged uniform had been forgone and the Grand Foreseers had supplied him with a thin, tailored shirt made of some type of supple, white fabric. The trousers were of the same make and material and below those, a pair of bamboo sandals kept Ulysses' feet from the ground. The chuckling soon turned to a quiet sigh as he unbuttoned the shirt, and looked at the runic markings that ran across his chest. They were glossy, dark like obsidian, and shone dimly in the light. The skin around the characters was inflamed and reddened, but would soon return to normal, if what Ulysses had been told was to be believed. He hated the lack of mobility, the chance to run free, but the warm sun helped to sooth the itching and Ulysses turned his mind to Lysandra.

He no longer shuddered at the remembrance of what had happened between them. There was a certain level of absurdity that still remained; after all, he had participated in fornication with, in all respects, a bird. Ulysses chewed on his lip and tried to rationalize it, but he found no logical explanation apart from the fact he had been thoroughly inebriated. Still, that did not sit well with him and he let out a tired breath and then laughed to himself: he had never been overly rational. In fact, the doctors had said he displayed a tendency for impulsiveness and lack of reasoning. Ulysses was still snickering when Jericho Williams made his presence known.

Ulysses looked over to his left to find the muscular Griffon standing over him. Jericho Williams was a tall, well built, crimson-hued avian and his very presence demanded attention. His eyes were deep set and the plume of feathers atop his head had been half shaved, leaving him looking like some strange science fiction Viking. The weaponry he carried only amplified his natural born level of intimidation. A broadsword was slung tightly between his wings and a long, curved dagger swung freely from his hip. Jericho wore no armor apart from a very minimalistic shoulder guard and Ulysses felt as if he was looking both back in time and forward when he took in the Griffon next to him.

"Yes. I have a proposal for you." Jericho stated and sat down in the nearby chair.

"Always business, I see." Ulysses muttered as he noticed the papers clutched in Jericho's claw, "What is it?"

Jericho cleared his throat and set the papers down on his lap, "I will be frank with you, Commandant. With Commandant Westin gone and you nearly healthy once again, it is time that you took an active role in our daily operations. A mission, in all respects."

"A scouting trip to this prison you say you came from." Jericho paused, "And, if possible, the establishment of an outpost there."

Ulysses raised an eyebrow, "You want me to lead some soldiers through that forest and across miles of scorching sand and sun? I barely made it here and I only managed to because of dumb luck. There's no way I can find my way back there. I don't even know what happened to the maps."

Jericho held up the papers, "We have our own copies of those maps. Our library stretches back many, many years. As for losing your way, we have expert trackers and pathfinders. It would be a small detachment. Perhaps fifteen at the most."

"You're not telling me everything." Ulysses watched as Jericho's eyes became shifty, "Spill it."

"You have to understand that humans, you and Commandant Westin, still being alive is completely unprecedented." Jericho picked nervously at the corner of a map, "Your existence supports the idea that human technology, records, medicine, and a myriad of other things may have survived all these years. Even your own description of where you came from means that there is at least some recoverable information and machinery. All of these things would give us insurmountable proof that humans once ruled. Not only that, they would be extremely helpful in our day to day lives."

Ulysses looked down at his aching chest for a long moment, "Alright. Assemble this squad or whatever. Give me a few days."

Jericho thanked him and left, leaving the maps and charts behind for Ulysses to study. The lone man watched as Lithi examined something, probably rabbit tracks, at the far end of the garden. Ulysses felt a shard of sadness come alive inside his chest and he slowly buttoned his shirt back up. He hadn't had the heart to tell Jericho that most of the technology he wanted would not work without electricity. It was saddening to know that the greatness of mankind had been reduced to the remnants of old, defunct technology. Gone were the words of inspiring leaders, the deeds of willing revolutionaries, the bravery of entire nations. Humanity now existed solely in two criminals and it was a sobering realization.

Ulysses sat back in his chair and watched as a butterfly landed gently on his shoulder.

Hands pushed back against granite slowly, heaving up a large human who was close to losing his last meal. Westin’s disorientation was strong, but short-lived enough that he was beginning to be able to piece together several conversations going on around him. He flipped over in a cautious manner and looked around himself as he rose to his full height. What he saw was a bit more disturbing than the village he was previously at.

Dozens of ponies were all around, dressed in what he saw as excessively gaudy and antique clothing. With that aside, he took the room in quickly. It was likely the largest he had ever seen, with far-off walls and a ceiling hanging high above. Several crystal chandeliers were perched and let the incoming sunlight refract through them into some appreciable shades. A massive, mahogany door was behind him that was emblazoned by celestial symbols, with said symbols also residing over the white and blue thrones opposite the door and up a large, carpeted staircase. Lastly, for whatever reason, there were many windows perpendicular to the door, made of stained glass and created to mirror what appeared to be certain events in an almost cartoonish and mocking way. Only the size of the room impressed the human.

Westin righted himself and prevented any wobbling from his aching legs. A majority of the conversations were hushed, with the exception of one persistent female whose voice was vaguely familiar. But as the haze of a brief unconsciousness wore off, the activity around him became clearer.

"But I didn't have the time to send a message! I was being attacked by wildlife and chased by gigantic tornadoes!"

"Princess, we've suspected this miscreant of a number of federal crimes, and this will only tie it all together!"

"Is this true, Pyrite Dreams? Have you been lining your own pockets through the black market?"

"Lies! Your bank account tells otherwise! And I suspect this-this THING isn't even a human, let alone anything close! Why, it looks like nothing more than a filthy ape creature-"

The Head Provost of the Royal Archeology Department was silenced before that sentenced had finished. A very agitated Westin, mostly due to the unintendedly racist (in his eyes) comment, rammed one of his boots directly at the side of the academic's head. The hushed silence came to a halt with a few gasps, from origins he didn't bother noticing yet. The human dropped to his haunches and tapped at his lips in as judgmental a way as possible.

"Filthy ape. That's some seriously ignorant ass shit." With the crassness of a person who sought retribution, Westin committed the one act no one expected.

He spat at the Provost and stood back up, stretching himself in the process. The first being he noticed was Pyrite, who, for what it was worth, was forcing herself not to begin laughing. Surrounding them were more Equestrians, some dressed in shiny armor, others in utterly out-dated outfits, and the two that had saved them back in Leota, still cloaked. The last things that came into view were larger in comparison to the other ponies. Two Equestrians decorated in regalia stood off to the side, observing him intently with trained eyes. His attention was quickly pulled away as he heard the clacking of metal on marble. What he assumed to be the guards were closing in, spears ready to pierce him in case he attacked another civilian.

Pyrite was frantically pantomiming something towards him. She licked at her molars repeatedly, silently hoping he would understand.

She responded immediately, 'Don't show any fear! Stand your ground, but remain in one place. This is the first impression of humans to Equestrians. Remain proud, tall, and do not bow to the Princesses for any reason, even if you are threatened.'

Finding her advice oddly specific, Westin listened nonetheless. He stood a little straighter and tried playing off his recent action as coolly as he could. It had worked, and most of the Equestrians concluded that he had gotten over his attack. Unfortunately, the Princesses, as he learned they were called, didn't find themselves immediately convinced.

They trotted towards him. By that point, the human cleared his head and was now calm, looking remarkably bored. The guards surrounding Westin moved away as the taller ponies stood only a few feet away from him. With a disapproving grunt that was heard all around the throne room, and remembered in the history books, Westin crossed his arms.

They were all thrown off guard. This went doubly so for the Princesses. Westin's face held no emotion as to give the signal he was joking, and for the first time in quite a while, the white pony had laughed. She laughed hard. His tooth was tingling, almost vibrating with the amount of magical energy it detected by being in their proximity. He hid his uneasiness and continued staring at them.

The Princess's laughing ended in a dying chuckle, "Oh my... Such robustness. I haven't heard something such as that since Discord's insurrection all those years ago." Her eyes met his, "I am Princess Celestia, and welcome to Equestria."

Westin stared at her a few moments more, ignoring the Sidium-enriched tooth's wariness. In another act that would forever be remembered, Westin pushed a hand forward, his face entirely serious.

'It does take some time to get used to. Keep in mind that while our minds are tethered, we will share the same emotions, feelings, thoughts. If you need a moment of privacy, simply request it and I will terminate the link'

Ulysses stood, his back straight and proper, eyes unfocused as he stared at himself in the mirror. He looked clean and healthy, considering his brush with death mere days ago. His uniform was lint free and he bent down and laced up his boots which shone bright, candlelight dancing off their polished surface. Akakios had given the Commandant his possessions back several minutes ago, telling him that he had kept them prim and proper the past week or so. Ulysses stood up and turned to face the ragtag team he was meant to lead and although his face was as stoic as ever, his insides turned frightfully at the realization that he could not back out now,

Sure, he had been in his share of sticky situations, but with only himself to look after. Now he had the lives of thirteen others to be aware. Two had come down with a stomach flu the day before and were in the infirmary resting, leaving Ulysses with the remaining cultists. Akakios was there of course, along with Lysandra who hid her barely contained excitement behind a sand mask, a type of garment worn in harsh, dry climates and protected against sunburn and exposure. There was an expert Griffon pathfinder known as Lukas who carried a longbow slung across his wings as well as a thin, wiry Equestrian called Anelles, who was in charge of artifacts and documentation. Johannes the Zebra was in charge of medicinal supplies.

Hearing her name in Ulysses' thoughts, LeBlake tuned into the silent communication once again, 'Westin has reached Canterlot. Are you ready to begin your mission?'

He coughed pointedly and LeBlake's voice vanished from his head. Ulysses smiled thinly and took a deep breath, addressing the squadron, "Alright, I'll be frank. You all know the mission and the dangers. I won't lie. I've never done anything like this before, but I promise that all of us will come back together. I will be the first one to face any danger and I will be the last one to leave it. While we are out there," Ulysses forked a finger over his shoulder, "I will not be your Commandant. I will be your comrade, your friend, and your brother. We have an eclectic mix here. Griffons, Zebras, Equestrians, Canines. While we are together, we are family and family does not abandon each other. Understood?"

There was a unified, strongly pronounced, "Understood!", from all present in the room.

Ulysses nodded slowly, his nervousness beginning to settle down, "Well, let's get going."

Rubbing his sore chest, Ulysses let out a long sigh and glanced up with squinted eyes at the glaring sun, "Goddamn heat. goddamn sand, goddamn country."

Ulysses shook his head, "No. It's still early. There'll be plenty of light for a while yet. We can make the facility by sundown. Is every-"

The Commandant's voice fell silent as a high pitched scream came from behind him. Ulysses whirled and watched as Kilgore, an attentive young canine, fell shrieking as a snake sunk it's fangs into his ankle. Lysandra let out a yell and grabbed the thick, rust-colored reptile by the back of it's head, flinging it into the tree line mere meters away. Immediately, the rest of the group surrounded the fallen Kilgore as his eyes began to water, a quiet whimper escaping his lips as Lysandra cut into the bite with her dagger and sucked strongly at the open wound, spitting blood over her shoulder as she attempted to draw out as much venom as she could.

Akakios watched as the snake hissed angrily from it's new resting spot, a tree branch it had coiled around, "It's a Sand Slicer. Poisonous."

Ulysses placed his backpack under Kilgore's head and turned back to Akakios, "Lethal?"

The Griffon shrugged doubtfully, "We'll see in the morning. We can't carry him far."

Cursing under his breath, Ulysses watched as Lysandra sat back and wiped her beak clean, "We camp for the night. Spread the word and make a perimeter. One hour shifts once the sun sets. I'll take first watch."

Soon, an array of thick canvas tents were erected amongst the sand. It was strange to see trees so close to a sandy environment. Especially that of a desert. It seemed to be a strange harmony of brutality and mystery. The forest whispered quietly in the breeze and the desert of Froud Valley cried out in loneliness as night fell, bringing a sweeping, complete blackness across the land that threatened to swallow the light of the campfires and torches amongst the tents. The watchful eye of the moon, white and unwavering, stared as the night carried on, bringing the rounded sounds of crickets and the distant howls of some fearful animal.

Then, as if a switch had been flipped, shimmering, lambent eyes appeared at the forest's edge. Quiet growls crawled out from the underbrush and every so often a twig could be heard snapping under some creature's paw. And then, ever so silently, as if they were desert phantoms, shadows began to creep into camp. The watchman, Johannes, yawned exhaustedly at the flickering flames of the campfire, his eyelids beginning to droop. There was a quiet swishing of sand behind the lone Zebra and as he turned, mouth half open to question whoever was behind him, there was a glint of steel and Johannes toppled sideways, a long gash across his throat.

He fell limply into the sand, eyes wide with terror as his attacker loomed over him, revealed by the firelight. Johannes felt the metallic taste of blood enter his mouth and, fighting the choking sensation, cried out with his last breath.

Whooping screams filled the air as Jackals, lean and the color of muddy sand, with eyes feral and rabid, rushed the camp, entering the tents and pavilions, rusted machetes and swords held high, clutched in scarred paws. Ulysses leapt from his bedroll and grabbed at the dagger under his pillow as a marauder entered the tent. The Jackal grinned maliciously, showing rotted fangs, and ran at the human, perhaps taking him to be some type of plagued Griffon or canine. Ulysses dodged the broad swing of a tarnished longsword and lashed out with his own weapon, adrenaline pumping through his veins. Ulysses brought his arm back in a thrusting motion and wrapped his arm around the attacker's back, stepping inside his guard.

There was a series of meaty, organic sounds as the dagger was swung again and again, Ulysses' arm working in rapid succession as he pushed the Jackal towards the tent flaps. The two exploded through the exit and landed heavily in the sand, the Jackal screaming and squirming as blood hit Ulysses' face. The human brought his weapon down in a final, heavy stroke and rolled away, picking himself up to survey the scene. Heart hammering and short of breath, Ulysses looked frantically about, eyes wide with fear and excitement.

A tent had caught on fire and was now engulfed with flames. Two Jackals lay still outside it's entrance, the sand around them stained and dark. To Ulysses' right, Lukas was grappling with a tall and muscular Jackal. Off to his left, Lysandra was crawling out from under the limp form of yet another bandit. As Ulysses turned to look behind him, he felt a weight strike him and he flew backwards, the wind knocked out of him as a masked intruder tackled him. Ulysses grunted and raised his arms in time to grab the Jackal's wrists, dagger firmly between his paws.

Behind the bandana, Ulysses could see the raider's eyes widen in surprise. He had clearly not anticipated that he would be trying to kill one of the only humans left in Equestria. The hesitation cost the bandit his life as Ulysses brought his knee up sharply, striking the exposed genitalia. The Jackal jerked his head up in pain and Ulysses made a grab for his own dagger, snatching it from the sand before driving it into the neck of his opponent. The Jackal managed one last look at his killer before slumping down and going quiet.

Yells could be heard clearly now, echoing across the landscape, "The Commandant! Where is the Commandant?"

Ulysses thrashed under the sweaty, grotesque covering, but found himself pinned by the weight, "Here! I'm here!"

Someone dragged the body off Ulysses and helped him to his feet. Ulysses noticed it was Akakios and, seeing that he was alive and well, slapped him on the back. The human took a quick headcount of the survivors, seeing Lysandra, Lukas, Anelles, and several others still standing, breathed a sigh of relief.

Ulysses nodded and wiped at the blood caked on his face, "What about Kilgore? Has anyone seen him?"

Anelles ran off, his spectacles cracked, to check on the snakebite victim. Lukas prodded at a body with his hoof, "Jackals."

"What are they?" Ulysses stared down at the one he had just dispatched, "Some kind of dog?"

Lukas nodded his head slightly, "In a way. They are a distant cousin of the canines, more prone to violence. They are often responsible for the murder of travelers. Bandits, rapists, murderers. Brutal creatures."

There was a quiet murmur of agreement as Anelles returned, shaking his head at the curious eyes of his comrades, "He died during the night. They left him untouched."

Ulysses began to recount the survivors, "Anelles, Lysandra, Akakios, Lukas, Argus, Savvas, Soloman, Eva, Teal, Anna. Ten in total. Eleven, including me."

Argus, a stout, robust Equestrian who wielded a broadsword spoke up, his voice gravelly, "Should we bury the dead, Commandant?"

The group quickly scattered to deal with the corpses, leaving the lone Commandant to his own devices. He reached for the familiar figure of his canteen, knocked loose in the struggle, and splashed the cool water over his face, watching as the liquid turned red and ran down his skin. Ulysses watched absently and let the water run over his knuckles and palms. The smile faded as LeBlake's voice entered his head, causing Ulysses to wince slightly at the clearness of it.

Ulysses wiped the moisture from his skin and ducked back inside his tent, 'We were ambushed. Three dead. Johannes and Titan were killed. Kilgore succumbed to a snake bite sometime during his sleep.'

There was a long, uneasy pause before LeBlake replied, 'This is...unprecedented. I did not foresee such an event. Are you uninjured?'

'I'm fine.' Ulysses sat heavily down on his bedroll, 'We'll be at our destination by morning. I'll contact you then. I want to hear how Westin is doing.'

Ulysses' mind fell quiet at the termination of the mind link. He dragged the tip of his boot through the mix of sand and soil and watched as it clumped together, sticking to the blood and sweat. His stomach tightened suddenly and Ulysses stood up, hand going to his mouth. There was a brief second of silence and then he was sick. Heaving again and again, eyes watering, into the sand of his tent. Ulysses lowered himself to his knees and spat up the bitter substances in his stomach, coughing and retching. His body shook uncontrollably and, after the sickness had passed, he took a moment to examine his hand.

It shuddered and Ulysses brought it closer to his face. He could see the blackened blood dried under his fingernails, a hair or two caught on the jagged edges. He shut his eyes tightly and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before standing and kicking fresh sand over the mess he had made, covering it as well as he could in his sudden weakness.

Ulysses lowered himself to his bedroll, glad for the coolness of it. Staring up through a small rip in the tent, he could see the thousands of stars, distant galaxies, solar systems. And in that moment, he felt terribly alone. His entire world was gone, his only true companion miles and miles away, and yet it felt as if the world was no more changed than it had ever been. Perhaps he had not changed either. The stars were still masked in shadow, the universe unexplored; life had gone on without him. He might as well have been on Tharsis, that weathered, distant region of Mars, populated by craters and harsh winds, volcanic and rough, the skies cold and unrelenting.

There was something fantastically saddening in the fact that Ulysses was one of the last of his kind and yet, despite all the proposed importance, the scientific amazement that would follow his discovery, he was as insignificant as he had been all those years ago. And there was nothing, no man or god, no book or quote, that would ever change that.

Outside, Lysandra watched silently as Ulysses lowered his head and began to cry.

Project Renaissance

by Out of Service

Chapter Eight: Back Through Tharsis