//------------------------------//
// Motivational Speaking 
// Story: Of Xenos and War 
// by Snake Staff 
//------------------------------//


++Lunar-class Cruiser Kyne’s Fury, Orbiting Denton III++
++3.633.879.M39++


Sergeant Aisen sat frozen in his seat, reluctant to move or even breathe, least he too draw the little xeno’s wrath (and more importantly, guns) down on his head. Tiny stared at this “Twilight Sparkle” with a shocked expression, but did not move to intervene. The stormtrooper, still backed up against the wall, grimaced. Only Red Eye appeared to be unfazed by the whole situation, nodding his head slowly.
“Technically she’s right, you know,” he observed in a calm tone.
All attention in the room suddenly went to the man who had had the stones to speak up at that particular moment.
Ugly and Whiner in particular shared an incredulous expression.
Twilight turned her head to regard Red Eye with a raised eyebrow. The bolt pistols remained locked onto their targets. 
Ugly, as Aisen had come to expect, was the first to break the silence. “And what the hell do ya mean by that, you bloody xenos-loving git?!”
“Imperial Guard regulations, as our Acolyte cites, permit a wide array of discretionary powers to punish failure to cooperate with members of the Inquisition. She is, by Imperial Law, perfectly within her rights to execute you both on the spot,” he said, appearing unruffled by the insult.
“By the Emperor’s Holy Law, all xenos must die! That was His sacred mission entrusted to the Imperium! To tolerate their existence is heresy! To let them lead men? Blasphemy!” Whiner shook his head fervently, his earlier terrified demeanor completely subsumed by the courage born of fanaticism and hopelessness.
“The fact that she walks openly on an Inquisitorial ship, bearing the mark of the Inquisition, accompanied by a Stormtrooper, and was apparently the one to call us here indicates that higher powers than us have determined it does not violate the Emperor’s will for her to serve. If they have deemed her service fitting, who are mere Guardsmen to argue?”
The lavender xeno nodded her head, and Aisen could have sworn he saw a twitch of a smile on her face before it disappeared again. “Knowledgeable and logical, Lieutenant? You may consider me favorably impressed.”
“Bloody xenos-loving scum…” Ugly muttered, appearing more irritated than anything.
Red Eye inclined his head slightly towards the xeno before addressing the man and woman with weapons still trained on them. “If I were you, I would consider backing down now. The fact that you are not yet dead indicates that our Acolyte does not sincerely wish to kill you. Nonetheless, I would not count on such desire to last forever in the face of continued defiance.”
The xeno’s eyes narrowed again. “While your continued rational thinking is noted, do not presume to speak for me again. Is that clear?”
Red Eye nodded again, more deferentially this time.	
“Good,” she – Red Eye had called it a girl and it hadn’t corrected him – turned her face back to the twin pistols and their targets. “Now, as it happens, I’m feeling somewhat generous as this is our first encounter. Stand down, right now, and I’ll forget this ever happened. Don’t, and…” Her front right leg gestured meaningfully.
Neither Whiner nor Ugly said a word.
“Last chance.”
“Go to hell, xeno.”
“Emperor preserve my soul.”
“Martyrs to pointless stupidity, then?” the xeno scowled. “Suit yourselves.”
Twin bolters cracked. Twin bodies fell.
The purple light returned the weapons to their holsters, a grim expression on the xeno’s face.
“Any more complaints?”
The room was silent. Aisen swallowed nervously. Tiny stared. Red Eye continued to look unruffled.
“That’s what I thought.”



“Now then,” Twilight said in her best authoritative voice. “Let me start from the beginning. I am Inquisitorial Acolyte Twilight Sparkle. I will be your commanding officer. I consider myself a reasonable woman, but as you have just witnessed…” she paused for a few seconds to let them think about it before continuing. “I will not tolerate disloyalty. We all serve the Imperium of Man and the God Emperor. We all strive to protect His domain from the ravages of the alien, the heretic, and the mutant,” she went on, totally aware of the disconnect between her words and her species, but counting on her earlier display to quiet any such thoughts. “We are here because an alien force unlike any other has violated the sacred soil of the Emperor. Metal xenos, called the Necrons, have come to the Imperium for no purpose but to kill, destroy, and bring to ruin everything and everyone they can find. Our duty is to stop them. Do all here understand that?”
There were vague mumbles of assent from around the table.
“I want to hear “Yes, Acolyte” or “No, Acolyte” from you.”
“Yes, Acolyte.”
Twilight nodded approvingly. “Do all here realize what is at stake in this war?”
More mumbles.
“What was that?”
“Yes, Acolyte,” came the slightly louder reply.
“And do all here grasp what will become of the Emperor’s world if we fail? Is it clear to you?”
“Yes, Acolyte.”
“I don’t believe you.” Twilight’s hoof pressed a button the head of the table, activating the old holoprojector in its center. The image was somewhat jumpy, but functional. She flicked other controls telekinetically, bringing up an image of a bustling mid-hive market, crowded with thousands, or perhaps even tens of thousands of humans going about their business. “This is Saint Jelia’s Gift Marketplace, Hive Quaries, Denton III. Three weeks prior to the initial engagement.” Twilight changed the image. 
It was obviously the same vast indoor market building, but it had been turned into… a slaughterhouse really was the only good word to describe it. Bodies were everywhere. Men and women, young and old, healthy and diseased – it didn’t matter, all had been cut down. Dried blood coated the floors and the remains of market stalls. Organs and limbs were spread liberally throughout, torn from their forms by unfathomably vicious bladed blows. One could see faces, torn mercilessly apart by claws. Random chunks of flesh were missing from hundreds of corpses; ripped off, Twilight knew, to feed the demented hunger of those aliens now classified as “Flayed Ones” for fresh meat. 
“This,” she said, after giving the men some time to soak it all in. “Is Saint Jelia’s Gift Marketplace, Hive Quaries, Denton III. Two days after the initial onslaught. This,” she pounded an armored hoof into the table for emphasis, “is what we are fighting to prevent. Fear me if you would. Hate me if you must. But you are going to help me stop these monsters, or Emperor help me I will make you wish you had been those two.” She pointed to the man and woman she had slain.
One of the men gave a slight whimper. Twilight ignored it.
“So,” she repeated. “Is. That. Clear?”
“Yes Acolyte!"