//------------------------------//
// The Enemy of My Enemy 
// Story: Iron Hearts: Book 4 - Emerald Dawn 
// by SFaccountant 
//------------------------------//

Iron Hearts: Book 4
Chapter 8
The Enemy of My Enemy


****


Centaur System - Ork kill krooza


"Dat's roight, bring 'er 'round. Nyss n'slo."
Hazarr squinted into the navigation panels of his vessel as he guided it through the debris field. Chunks of metal and scorched rubble floated freely through the void around enormous portions of carved-out starship hulls, each one bearing the distinctive forms unique to Tau engineering and the dark Sept colors of Lamman.
Into this small graveyard flew the remnants of Hazarr's raider fleet. Once large enough to threaten a poorly-defended world or small military outpost, the Ork band was now a shattered fraction of its former strength.
Which wasn't to say that the alien warriors were at all shaken. Orks didn't suffer from poor morale in the same manner as other sentient creatures; death and loss held no drama or horror to them. Fresh from the battlefield, and still within striking distance of the Iron Warriors, the raiders were already looking forward to their next battle.
Some with more foresight than others.
"Wot we doin' heah, Boss Coggz?" demanded a Loota as he stared at the monitors. "We'z not goin' ta a new planet?"
Hazarr chuckled as he swiveled around to face his subordinate. "Now why'z we gonna do dat? Dere's all da fightin' and lootin' we could ask fer, roight heah!"
The other Orks glanced at each other.
"Erm, yeah, dat's roight, but... da fightin's too much fer us lot, roight? An' we can't loot 'til da fightin's done, roight?" the Nob that spoke looked slightly nervous, as if he was afraid of looking stupid.
Which he did, of course. If the idiots didn't want to look stupid they should have kept their mouths shut.
"Yer roight. We needs a lot mo' boyz ta fight da spikies and krump 'em propa," Hazarr confirmed, "dat's why we'z stayin' heah and layin' low."
This did nothing to alleviate the confusion of the other Orks, so Hazarr elaborated.
"Did ya dumb gitz ferget why we'z heah?" the Big Mek demanded.
A nearby gretchin raised his hand timidly. "F-Fightin' and lootin'?"
"NO!" Hazarr snapped, stomping a heavy boot down on the small, simpering creature and reducing it to a greasy stain on the floor. "Dat's WHAT we'z doin' heah, not 'why'! We'z heah 'cuz of da WAAAGH signal!" He narrowed his eyes as he glared through his visor at his crew. "An' ya kin bet yer last toof dat we won' be da only Orks dat come lookin' fer a scrap."
The first expressions of dim understanding were starting to appear over the faces of his crew, and he continued. "When mo' boyz show up, we'z gonna hook up wit' dem. An' when we go back ta da planet, we'll be reddy fer da spikies. 'Til den..."
He turned toward the monitor and pointed toward the free-floating carcass of a Tau frigate. "We'z doin' spess lootin'. I gots a lotta dakka ta make. Den Hazarr Wrencha is gonna teach dem spikies - AND da dumb hosses - why da Orks is da best dere is! WAAAAAGH!!"


****


Ferrous Dominus - sector 7


Large, colored spotlights swept the soot-stained sky, and a deep, thrumming beat pulsed through the ferrocrete flooring as the sun progressed on its final descent toward the horizon. The 38th Company's fortress-factory was alive with much more than the machinery of warfare on this night, and the wide avenues and bare plazas played host to hundreds of mercenaries and menials cheering and talking. An atmospheric field had been deployed over a large section of the roadway, shielding the gathering from the fumes and toxins of the manufactorum smokestacks. Tables that had been set up under wide canopies and covered in food - real food, albeit all strictly vegetarian - were supervised by earth pony chefs wearing white, mushroom-shaped hats on top of their heads. Makeshift targeting ranges and a few other games had been set up on one side of the celebration, while on the other, huge vats of synthehol dispensed a practically limitless supply of intoxicants.
It wasn't a real Pinkie Party, as it was far too subdued and only involved people and ponies who were directly involved with the victory they were celebrating, but it was still a deal more than the human soldiery was used to. The mercenaries gladly indulged in the selection of desserts and vegetable dishes that the ponies had to offer, although the ponies were more cautious indulging in the humans' liquor.
Well, most of them were.


"BEHOLD! THE POWER OF THE PRINCESS OF THE - hic! - NIGHT! THE MOON SHALT NOW - hic! - TAKE ITS RIGHTFUL DOMINION IN - hic! - THE VOID!" Luna shouted while standing on top of a Leman Russ tank's battle cannon. She was wearing a tank commander's hat with a Chaos Star pinned on it rather than her usual ebony crown, and a tankard of synthehol floated unsteadily behind her in her magical grip.
As she crossed her eyes in concentration, however, Twilight alighted on top of the turret housing behind her.
"Princess! Wait!" the purple pony hissed, no longer wearing her power armor and bearing a gauze bandage wrapped around her head.
"TWILIGHT SPARKLE!" Luna shouted, starting to turn around on the narrow barrel of the cannon. She promptly lost her footing, and only avoided crashing into the ground by flapping her wings frantically to stay up.
"HOW NICE OF - hic! - THEE TO JOIN US!" Luna added after returning to her previous position and ignoring the snickering from a heavy weapons team below them.
"Princess, please, stop shouting," Twilight pleaded, her ears folding down, "and it's still too early to raise the moon. It's-"
"BAH!" Luna scoffed, banging a hoof against the tank cannon. "THOU CANNOT TELL US HOW TO DO OUR - hic! - CHOSEN DUTY! DOST THOU REALIZE HOW LONG WE HAST BEEN - hic! - MISTRESS OF THE NIGHT SKY?!"
Twilight sighed. "That would be about one thousand, two hundred and eighty-eight years, or one thousand, three hundred and twelve. It depends on whether Dusty Tome's theory about the early days of the Nightfall were true, and whether it really did change the solar cycle up until your full banishment."
Luna was silent for several seconds as she tried to work her thoughts through the fog of inebriation and the throb of the party music.
"Ugh. Cadence was - hic! - correct. Thou ART a nerd," Luna mumbled, turning her attention upward again, "whatever. BEHOLD! MOON!"
With a pulse of bright blue, the white lunar sphere suddenly zoomed up above the horizon, moving like a cannon shot before suddenly shuddering to a halt.
There was a great deal of whistling and clapping all around, but Twilight cringed. "Princess? You DO remember that there are Company ships in orbit, right? Ships that can't easily evade a magically propelled miniature planetoid?"
"OF COURSE!" Luna scoffed. "THE COMPANY - hic! - VESSELS ART IN AN ENTIRELY DIFFERENT ORBITAL RING THAN..." she hiccupped again, and then squinted up at the sky. "Wait, which orbital ring doth they occupy, again? We cannot easily spot the craft from here."
"This is why every other natural planetary orbital in the universe is guided by gravity and inertia, not fallible sentients," said Gaela as she approached the Leman Russ. The Dark Techpriest was still wearing her power armor, but at least she had her dome-shaped helmet disengaged.
Luna leaned down toward the woman, scowling. "Who art thou calling - hic! - 'fallible'?" she demanded.
"Technically, I associated it with every organism not guided entirely by strict mechanical response or crude instinct. For the purposes of the immediate conversation, however, I was referring to you," Gaela explained at length. She was carrying a canteen of water with her, and she paused to take a drink, "and I assure you, 'fallible' is the least of the criticisms I can leverage against you."
Twilight honestly wasn't sure how Luna would react to Gaela's barbs, especially while drunk, but to her relief the larger alicorn just laughed.
Luna hopped down from the tank gun and landed next to Gaela with a gentle flap of her wings. "Sister may not appreciate thy caustic wit and disrespect, but We - hic! - find thy crude charm most amusing!" She paused to tilt the tankard down her throat, gulping down another mouthful of synthehol.
"'Crude charm', is it?" Gaela asked with a bemused expression.
"Aye! We can see how Sparkle hath not - hic! - disintegrated thee out of sheer outrage and indignation!" Luna clarified with a laugh.
"Princess!" Twilight shouted as she dropped down. "You know I wouldn't do that!"
"I agree," Gaela noted with a nod, "Sparkle's naïve and ignorantly optimistic temperament prevents her from using the most expedient and logical means to address her problems."
As Luna laughed and hiccupped some more, Twilight scowled up at the cyborg. "Hmph. The Orks might disagree."
"Aye! Indeed they would, hath the barbarians not been so well thrashed!" Luna said happily, interjecting herself back into the conversation.
"How would you know?" Gaela asked. "We found you lying-"
"So tell us, Sparkle!" Luna continued, speaking loudly enough to drown out Gaela's tepid monotone. "How many of the - hic! - green tide broke themselves upon thy weapons and were - hic! - thusly delivered from this world?"
Twilight frowned. "I, uh... wait, hold on," she mumbled quietly as she started counting in her head.
"According to her suit recorder, Sparkle registered forty-eight direct kills, including six enemy vehicles and three enemy command units," Gaela answered, "granted, that total does not include assisted terminations, including a clever use of her IFF signal as an improvised artillery beacon."
"A most impressive - hic! - tally!" Luna declared brightly. "We ourselves slew near a hundred of the foul aliens!"
Then Luna scowled. "T'would have been a full hundred - hic! - and more, if not for that honorless scoundrel!"
Twilight nodded cautiously. "The enemy leader must have been a very powerful Ork to stand up to you."
The larger alicorn snorted. "We referred - hic! - to the Element of Loyalty, not the Ork. Miss Dash hath a most unseemly habit of destroying foes that We hast weakened when her aid - hic! - is unneeded."
Twilight rolled her eyes. "There's other measures of proficiency in warfare besides a kill count, Princess. I don't know if Fluttershy even SAW an Ork today, but she saved dozens of people's lives! That's a contribution just as important as killing as many aliens as possible."
Gaela and Luna stared at the purple pony silently for several seconds, and then the latter gave the former an exasperated look.
"Doth she not simply drain the vitality from the conversation without the slightest effort?" Luna asked, having suddenly been cured both of her boisterous mood and her hiccups. "Surely, Sparkle's cutie mark is most inaccurate. It should be a frowning miser stamped across her buttocks." She took a deep swig from her tankard as Twilight's face burned.
"True. Then again, that's why she gets along so well with us here," Gaela agreed, embarrassing the purple mare even further.
Luna suddenly stepped in front of Gaela, and the Dark Techpriest recoiled ever-so slightly as a midnight blue wing spread over her arm.
"But enough of this diversion, Dark Techpriest! We hast matters of import to discuss with thee!"
"You do?" Gaela asked, honestly surprised.
"Indeed! Come along!" Luna commanded sharply as she and the cyborg left Twilight behind. "We must inquire as to the possible commission of new quarters. Our current accommodations art most... inadequate."


****


On the other side of the lots, Rainbow Dash - also having shed her armor - swept over the crowd of soldiers and ponies as she carried two flasks of synthehol between her hooves.
Her target wasn't hard to find despite the crowd, since she was standing on an elevated platform apart from the rest of the party-goers.
"Heya, Scratch! Got something for ya!" Rainbow called out as she swung in on the DJ's booth. A squad of four servitors stood in a circle at the edge of the platform, their grotesque, cybernetic bodies covered with heavy speaker ports and trailing thick coils of power cabling. Standing between them, and bobbing her head rhythmically, Vinyl Scratch was working a set of gearwork turntables as the very ground trembled in tune with the music's beat.
The DJ turned her head up as soon as Rainbow Dash passed over the noise servitors. "Hey, thanks, Dash!" Her horn glowed to levitate one of the flasks to the table.
Another pulse of telekinesis unscrewed the cap, and Rainbow tapped her flask against the floating container before the two mares took a deep swig.
"Phew! Bwhrhrhrhr!" Vinyl shook her head as she tilted her drink away from her. "It tastes like the sludge from my gutters, but that KICK is something else!"
Rainbow Dash started laughing, barely managing to keep from spitting out her own drink. Vinyl looked up at her and gave the pegasus a long look through her shades.
"Hey, you get your legs pierced or something? What's with the studs?" Vinyl asked, lifting up her shades over her horn. She had to shout to be heard over her music, although with her current setup the center of the stage was the ONLY place nearby that wasn't being directly bombarded with ear-shattering sound.
"Yeah, I got 'em 'pierced' all right!" Rainbow shuddered. "It's for the power armor!"
"Aw, yeah! I hear you kicked plot out there today, filly!" the unicorn shouted with a grin. "How many greenies did you put down?!"
"Oh, just a dozen!" Rainbow answered with a shrug. "Of course, three of them were PLANES, but, you know, not a big deal." The smirk on her face belied any attempt at modesty on her part.
"Nice! Well then, another drink for the conquering pony! Those ugly thickheads don't stand a chance!"
They bumped their flasks together again and took another quick sip each.
"It's nice of you to come down here on short notice, though!" Rainbow Dash said. "It's not exactly a quick walk from Ponyville!"
Vinyl Scratch laughed. "Ponyville? I live here now!"
Rainbow Dash blinked. "Say what?"
The snow-white unicorn adopted a way-too-serious expression and saluted. "Conscript Scratch of the Pony Coven, reporting for duty! Need a hole ripped in the fabric of the universe? I'm your mare! Apparently!" She laughed again and dropped the salute. "I was shipped here with the rest of the unlucky unicorns after that creepy wizard guy picked me out!"
"No kidding! How's that Nethal-whatsit been going?" Rainbow asked, landing closer to the other mare so that she wouldn't have to shout. "I mean, Twi and Rarity have combat duties, and they hate Serith, so they don't have to do it, but I haven't really heard from any ponies that do."
Vinyl's good humor fizzled as she put down her flask and pressed her lips into a thin line.
"It's going... well enough, I guess. The big metal creep seems happy with us." She was speaking low enough that Rainbow had to put her ear almost right up to the unicorn's mouth to make everything out.
"Well that's good, but what do you guys DO?" Rainbow asked.
"We learn," Vinyl said, scratching at her horn with a hoof, "we learn about magic. Or really, it's more like we unlearn everything we THOUGHT we knew about magic." She grimaced and looked away. "Serith is teaching us to open our eyes when we use spells, and let me tell you: what we're seeing isn't pretty."
Rainbow Dash couldn't really understand that at all, so she shrugged. "Well, don't let that guy get to you. Even if he IS our best hope to survive an alien invasion, Serith is a total jerk!"
Vinyl Scratch offered up a snort as she took a moment to select the next song in her lineup.
Then she turned back to the other pony hesitantly.
"Hey... you know Serith, right? Like, personally?"
Rainbow tilted her head to the side in confusion. "Serith? A little, I guess?" She scowled. "The guy's crazy dangerous! I mean, all Iron Warriors are, but he doesn't mind his own business like the rest do, and the unicorn favoritism is seriously uncool!"
Vinyl Scratch chewed her lip briefly. "What IS he?"
"Huh?" the pegasus leaned her head back, even more confused. "He's an Iron Warrior. A Chaos Space Marine. Adeptus Astartes and all that. But with magic. You know, because obviously they aren't powerful enough already."
The pony DJ frowned as she stared at her synthehol flask. "Yeah... that's what he's supposed to be, I guess... it's just... I don't think he is..."
That revelation was appropriately weird and vague for Rainbow Dash to stare uncomprehending at the unicorn for several seconds as Vinyl sipped at her drink again.
"Well, enough about that depressing stuff!" the DJ suddenly shouted, stretching a leg out at the servitors hooked to the power transformer behind her. "How do you like my new rig?! Pretty sweet, huh? Pinkie Pie hooked me up!"
Rainbow Dash looked over to the rumbling cyber-slave next to her. Its pallid, waxy skin was covered in circuitry and braided wire, and it had speaker housings (called a "caster" by the humans) that filled its mouth, torso, and was mounted on each arm in lieu of hands.
"I think it's gross and creepy!" the pegasus answered.
"Oh, totally! But the sound quality is AMAZING!!" Vinyl laughed. "I have to be careful though, because apparently the highest volume settings can ACTUALLY kill people! That would be pretty awful! Not really sure why they built them like that!"
Rainbow Dash snorted and rolled her eyes. "I don't think these guys build anything that CAN'T be used to kill people. It's just how they do things, you know?"
"Right? That is so METAL!"


****


"We never even saw it coming! One moment everything was fine and we were on our way to clear out the last of the brutes, and then the next..."
Rarity paused to take a sip of her amasec, as if needing to calm her nerves.
"It was as if the world simply kicked up around us. The transport was flung through the air, the noise was terrible, and all our equipment wouldn't work properly! Those Orks gave us quite a scare!"
Rarity was standing under one of the larger canopies, nursing her drink and talking to a small group of other unicorns. Applejack was standing behind a table under the same shelter, making fruit pies with the help of two other mares and a plasma cooker.
"Dreadful! However did you survive?" asked Fleur de Lis, a cocktail hovering behind her head.
"With the magic of friendship, of course!" Rarity said, floating her drink a little higher. "With some support from the technology of hatred and murder." She paused to take a sip, and then exhaled deeply. "I must say, I'm glad I was talked out of my less... practical armor designs. I would have hated to be out in that dust cloud with my mane and tail exposed. Could you even IMAGINE?"
"That armor certainly sounds remarkable," agreed another unicorn between sips of liquor, "but didn't you have to have some sort of surgery?"
Rarity lifted a leg, a mild smirk on her face. "Oh, yes, it was quite awful, really. But a lady always endures."
Fleur frowned as she looked over Rarity's foreleg. "I don't really see anything..."
"Good," Rarity answered with a smile as she put her leg down, "I had those hideous metal studs painted over to match my coat as soon as the whole affair was over. But there's simply no helping the armor itself. Wearing it means having my mane and tail practically wrapped around me, and any time I take it off I have to style everything again."
"Yer still more worried 'bout yer mane gettin' mussed up than gettin' yer noggin blown off?" Applejack asked, interrupting the conversation as she dropped a pie onto the table.
"Am I not allowed to worry about both?" Rarity said, turning her nose up. "This place doesn't even have a proper spa yet, and I've already spent all day with my mane and tail plastered against my coat! I was probably sweating, too!"
Applejack dropped another pie on the table. "Ya know, some days Ah really wanna clock you one, Rares." Then she tilted her head to the side. "Wait, whaddya mean they don' have a proper spa 'yet'? The DarkMech settin' up a beauty parlor or somethin'?"
"If ONLY," Rarity snorted, "I'm sure I could make Gaela halfway presentable with enough servo applicators, restraining shackles, and a lathe."
The other mares giggled lightly (or in Applejack's case, guffawed loudly) at the comment, and then she continued.
"Seriously, though. There are two new chefs who have moved into Sector 9 to open up restaurants, and I've been approached by an upper-class noblepony who found himself conscripted and needs a new wardrobe. With a chunk of the Canterlot citizenry here, we can expect a steady influx of new services."
"No kiddin'?" Applejack asked, arching an eyebrow. "Ah guess Ah never reckoned the Company would take to that."
"I think it would do them some good," Fleur interjected, "I've never met an Iron Warrior who couldn't benefit from a makeover."
Another round of laughter erupted from the ponies as they each conjured a mental image of one of the dour, armored giants undergoing various beauty treatments.
"Hey, everypony! Having fun?!" Chirped a voice from nearby.
Dest approached the canopy at a ponderous walk, Pinkie Pie sitting on his backpack. The Iron Warrior had his helmet off, and was carrying a tray on one hand stacked high with cupcakes.
"Pinkie, darling, lovely to see you," Rarity offered, waving her over, "you've done a wonderful job with the celebration. Tasteful and entertaining all around."
Pinkie's expression suddenly turned grim and serious. "This is a celebration of victory, but also of mourning. Of those lives lost in the defense of our planet to the alien horde, and their sacrifice for our future."
She held her somber expression for barely two seconds before it broke into a smile again. "Try Desty's cupcakes! They're scrum-diddly-icious!"
Dest placed the platter down on the table, and his eyes lingered on one of the pies. Most of the unicorns silently excused themselves, instantly uncomfortable in the presence of a Chaos Marine, but Fleur de Lis looked up at the driver with a smile.
"It's so nice of you to join us, Lord! There are precious few Marines out celebrating, I noticed."
It was easy to see what she meant. Out of a crowd of more than three hundred individuals, merely half a dozen of them were Space Marines.
Dest shrugged. "My brothers tend to find revelry wasteful and useless. And Lord Sliver was most displeased about the last celebration."
"I imagine Lord Sliver would be most displeased by anything fun," Rarity sniffed.
"Aw, maybe he just needs to learn to loosen up!" Pinkie mused.
"What he NEEDS is a bath," Rarity countered, "ideally, in a tub full of bleach."
Several of the ponies tried their best to stifle laughter, perhaps thinking that Dest would be offended. The Iron Warrior simply smirked and held up some pie over his head, which Pinkie snapped up with gusto.


"Ah ha! Over here! I found it!" came a very enthusiastic, male voice from above.
A trio of pegasi swooped in under the canopy, and most of the ponies straightened up as they recognized the blue and yellow jumpsuits (dusty and worn as they were) they wore.
"YES! I told you guys somepony was serving pie!" Soarin cheered as he landed in front of the table.
The male Wonderbolt seemed entirely oblivious to the gussied-up unicorns on one side of him and the Iron Warrior on the other as he happily trotted up to the table.
"Howdy!" Applejack greeted the stallion warmly, tapping a hoof against the table top. "If'n yer lookin' fer pie, ya came to the right pony!"
The other two Wonderbolts, who Rarity quickly identified as Fleetfoot and Spitfire, came to a more cautious landing while casting uncertain glances at the Chaos Marine. Both of them had clearly cleaned up since being on the battlefield, although all the Wonderbolts still wore their head sets with the optics visors flipped up.
"This here apple pie is made with top-quality galas from mah farm back in Ponyville!" Applejack said proudly as she pushed the dessert forward.
"Wow, you brought your apple harvest here with you?" Soarin asked.
"Nah. These apples arrived here a little while back," the farmer explained. Then, after a moment, she added, "Instead of that Warp core thing, apparently. By mistake."
"So when you think about it," Pinkie mumbled through a mouthful of pie, "these apples are partly responsible for the imminent invasion of our planet!"
"It's not their fault!" Applejack snapped. "The apples are innocent!"
Soarin couldn't care less about such things, and released a rapturous sigh as he took his first bite of the steaming hot dessert. The other two Wonderbolts made a detour toward Rarity.
"Miss Rarity, I'd like to thank you again for your help back there on the cliff," Spitfire said with an easygoing smile.
"Oh, think nothing of it, darling," the fashionista replied, "we're all fighting for the same thing, and you certainly did your part." She tilted her head to the side. "How is Mister Silver Lining faring?"
Spitfire snorted. "He'll make a full recovery easily enough, and the humans gave him some sort of injection that's sealing up his bones so he can even stay active. They also tried to talk him into cutting off his leg and getting a metal one, but I don't think he was very interested."
"Speaking of metal legs!" Fleetfoot said suddenly, hopping forward toward the unicorn. "I have somepony to thank too, but I'm having a little trouble finding him. Are you familiar with Mister Macintosh?"
Applejack's ear twitched.
"I am," Rarity answered before taking another sip of her drink, "but if you're looking for him, you should probably ask his sister, Applejack." She jabbed a hoof lightly toward the orange pony, and Fleetfoot whirled about on the spot.
Applejack fixed the Wonderbolt with a scrutinizing look for a few seconds before turning back toward one of the ovens. "Mac's workin'."
"Working? That's no fun!" Pinkie declared, pouting.
Applejack shrugged. "Ya know how he is. If it ain't his day off, he'd rather nap on hot coals than waste daylight. He's helpin' haul ammo and whatnot from the supply trucks."
"An example more of your kind should aspire to," Dest rumbled. As he ate pie with a pink pony on his shoulder.
"Okay, that's fine. Do you know where he's working, then?" Fleetfoot asked anxiously.
"Ah'd rather ya didn't bother him while he's on the job," Applejack replied evenly after dropping another pie on the table.
"The job which no one asked him to do, and for which he is not being paid," Rarity added while looking in a different direction. She quickly tilted her glass up to her muzzle to drink as Applejack shot her an annoyed look.
Fleetfoot frowned. She didn't really like the way the orange pony was sizing her up. It felt like she was being judged. And found wanting, at that.
"Look, I just want to thank him for saving my life!" Fleetfoot said, an anxious edge to her voice.
Soarin chuckled. "Yeah, you'd like to thank him all night lo-"
Fleetfoot smacked Soarin on the back of his head, pushing him muzzle-first into the hot apple pie Applejack had just set down.
He didn't really seem to mind.
"Ahem. Like I was saying," Fleetfoot continued, placing a hoof to her chest, "Mister Macintosh braved great danger to rescue me from the Orks, and I think he deserves my gratitude."
Spitfire nodded. "I agree. I'd also like to personally than-"
"I CAN HANDLE IT ON MY OWN CAPTAIN THANK YOU VERY MUCH," Fleetfoot said through clenched teeth, causing the other pegasus to jerk back.
Applejack looked quite unimpressed by the plea, and she idly noticed Rarity and Fleur de Lis whispering to each other and tittering.
"It ain't happenin', sugarcube," the farmer said. Her tone was one of bored finality, like she was blowing off a customer that was haggling too aggressively.
"Ooh! Plot-blocked!" Pinkie hissed loudly enough for everyone under or near the canopy to overhear.
Fleetfoot reared up and slammed her front hooves on the table angrily. "What are you, his mother?! Tell me where the stallion is, hayseed!"
Applejack's eyes narrowed and her jaw tightened. "Now you look here, you feather-brained hussy..."


Whatever Applejack was about to say was mercifully cut off by the sound of sudden bolter fire.
The Wonderbolts, Applejack, and Rarity dropped prone instantly, hooves over their heads. Dest whirled toward the sound, snapping up the boltgun on his thigh. Pinkie Pie adopted a comically exaggerated martial arts stance upon the Marine's shoulder.
The music warbled and then cut out as one of the noise servitors slumped from the DJ's platform with a hole in its chest. Ponies started shuffling about nervously, while the humans mostly fell silent and grimly turned to face the source of the interruption.
Chaos Lord Sliver stomped through the edge of the atmospheric bubble, a combi-bolter in his hand and a large squad of fully armed Chaos Marines behind him.


"Oh, great. It's the FUN POLICE," Pinkie Pie grumbled, her ears flipping down.
"More like the fun elite kill team," Rarity quipped as she peeked over the top of the table, "ladies and gentlemen, exit stage right?"
"I don't get it. Who's that guy? What's his problem?" Soarin asked, bits of apple pie still stuck to his face.
"Ah'd like to introduce y'all to Lord Sliver," Applejack grumbled from under the table, "he's one o'the reasons we ponies try to avoid certain sectors 'round here."


The crowd rapidly parted in front of the foul-smelling Chaos Marine, with the ponies hiding behind the humans where possible. The humans themselves, as well as the few Iron Warriors gathered, seemed to wait silently for the Chaos Lord to pass judgment.
Sliver came to a stop in the middle of the throng, his helmet sweeping back and forth.
It briefly lingered on a banner that had been suspended across the avenue. It had the word "Victory!" written across it repeatedly, with small, disembodied Ork heads (with X's for eyes) drawn around the letters.
"... Pathetic," Sliver decided, letting his gaze drop once more to the party-goers, "you foolss ssurvive one minor sskirmish in thiss idiot endeavor and you celebrate it as victory."
"A minor skirmish, was it?"
The crowd silently parted again, this time to let Luna through to meet the Iron Warrior in the middle.
"Mayhap it were. But We see no harm in such revelry to maintain morale." The dark alicorn kept her head held high, but she was barely as tall as the abdominal plating of the rusted hulk of terminator armor.
Sliver regarded Luna silently for a few seconds, and plumes of ugly green vapor puffed from the filter of his helmet.
"I will not ssuffer another dissruption to our operationss," he said finally, "you will all disspersse immediately."
"Waitwaitwaitwait!" A pink blur zipped through the crowd, eventually coming to a halt in front of Sliver's foot.
"Hi there! I know you were SUPER upset about the slaves escaping last time, so even though that's kind of a good thing since slavery is bad I thought I should talk to the General guy ahead of time to keep this exact thing that's happening now from happening!"
Sliver watched silently as Pinkie Pie held out a dataslate toward him, and then he picked up the device with his free hand.
"That thingy has my party permit, music license, energy requisition approval, security scheduling, intoxicant... um..." she trailed off as Sliver crushed the dataslate to shards between his fingers, not even glancing at the device's contents.
Luna frowned. "We see no reason for thy antagonism, Lord Sliver. Did we not obtain a victory - however minor as thou likes - for thy Company? Surely some dancing and drink is not too great a reward for a successful combat."
"Ssuccesssful?" Sliver hissed, his voice stretching the word out horribly. "Do you think me a fool, xeno? Our deployment wass never in danger of defeat againsst an Ork detachment of that ssize. General Gnosss iss at leasst that capable. And yet we sstill ssuffered heavy losssess of armor becausse YOUR usselesss sscoutss made no notice of the potential threat until it wass too late."
"My bad!" called out Rainbow Dash quickly before she ducked back down out of sight.
If Sliver heard or cared about the admission, he didn't show it as he continued staring Luna down. "The Warssmith protectss your world on one of hiss idiot whimss. It iss only a matter of time until thiss charade crumbless, and I will ssee to it that my brotherss do not throw away their livess for thiss worthlesss rock."
Pinkie and Luna scowled at the Chaos Lord.
"Hey! Don't call Shmithy an idiot! Leave him alone!" Pinkie protested.
"The Warsmith is thy master, and thou wouldst do well not to speak of him with such insolence," Luna said coldly.
Sliver hesitated, genuinely confused. That wasn't the part of his speech he had expected them to object to.
"Ssolon has wassted livess and ressourcess bringing uss to thiss world, and now he risskss the entire fleet on the ssorceriess of your feeble race," Sliver growled out, "hiss ineptitude and foolish indulgence wearss thin. The Warssmith'ss failuress can only be tolerated for sso long."
"Failures?" Luna asked, bristling. "Lord Solon hath enacted a strategy to salvage thy fleet and make thy Company more powerful than ever!"
"You know nothing of the Warssmith, or our Legion, alien," Sliver said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
There were new figures moving forward through the crowd now, coming closer to stare at the Chaos Lord in stony disapproval. Sliver didn't recognize Dest, but Twilight Sparkle and Gaela were both familiar to him.
He hardly felt intimidated by their approach, but considered that he was being carried off-topic.
"But I did not come here to disscusss the Warssmith'ss incompetence. Thiss gathering iss to be disssolved at once." At his ultimatum, the Iron Warriors behind him aimed their boltguns, preparing to fire into the crowd that surrounded them.
The humans started backing away, and even Luna's stern expression faltered as she considered the prospect of fending off a bolter fusillade. Again.
Pinkie Pie, on the other hand, took a step closer.
"You can't talk about Shmithy like that!" she declared angrily, shaking a hoof at the diseased giant. "Shmithy's great! And I'll PROVE it!"
A Chaos Marine stepped forward with his bolt pistol trained directly at Pinkie's forehead. To his surprise, Sliver held up his arm, obstructing the shot.
"By all meanss," Sliver drawled, glaring down at the little pink pony, "go ahead. I have sserved Ssolon for millennia. You met him mere weekss ago. You can 'prove' nothing."
"I can, and I WILL!" Pinkie protested. "With the power of SONG!"
Twilight winced. "No, Pinkie, I don't think-"
Suddenly, every lumen on the street went dark. Those that had helmet autosenses quickly cycled their visors to low-light mode, expecting some sort of attack or for the party-goers to flee in the confusion.
Instead, a pair of spotlight lumens turned on over the DJ platform. Pinkie Pie now stood there rather than Vinyl Scratch, and she loudly cleared her throat.
"Oh, no..." Twilight groaned as the light, peppy music came from the noise servitors, and she slapped a hoof against her face as Pinkie reared up on her hind legs.


"He is the very model of a modern Chaos General!"
"He knows of things daemonic, terrible, and visceral!"
"He knew the mighty Emperor and fought the war Heretical!"
"From Olympia to Cadia, against the foes most venerable!"

Pinkie sang at a breathless pace as she leapt from the stage, and she started trotting along the avenue as the spotlight lumens followed her from above.

"He's even well acquainted with the techna xenological!"
"His knowledge of Chaotic lore is frankly astronomical!"
"His weapons shame the greatest constructs of the Dark Mechanicus!"
"And surpass the vaunted quality of every tank Macharius!"
Pinkie snapped a hoof out to the side. "CHORUS!"


Prince Blueblood stepped forward into a new spotlight.
"He's skilled at engineering and obscure mechanics numerous."
Fancy Pants nodded alongside him.
"He's advanced many theologies of the non-salubrious."
Then their voices spoke in tandem.
"Whether it be daemonic, terrible, or in some manner visceral, he is the very MODEL of a modern Chaos General!"


When the lights re-focused on Pinkie, she was holding up a pict-slate that rapidly scrolled through images at a pace that matched her verse.
"He's killed all manner xeno from the gnarloc to the carnifex!"
"He's smashed the tanks and walkers of the enemy to smoking wrecks!"
"He's scoured the tombs of Necrons and the webway of the Eldar scum!"
"He's made blades and bullets of the finest unobtanium!"

She flung the pict-slate away, and then gestured grandly to the night sky above.

"He's traveled through the galaxy on pathways immaterial!"
"When it comes to genocide, his history is serial!"
"From naval skirmish to the siege his experience is manifold!"
"On planets of volcanic heat to utter void so very cold!"
Pinkie thrust out another hoof. "CHORUS!"


Trixie posed eagerly as a spotlight centered on her.
"His skills span all the subjects of metaphysics and economy!"
Luna stepped in behind her, her voice emerging as a window-shaking bellow.
"WE'VE SEEN HE KNOWS A THING OR TWO ABOUT ENTOMOLOGY!"
Trixie had to raise her voice considerably as the two mares then sang together.
"WHEN IT COMES TO TOPICS DAEMONIC, TERRIBLE, AND VISCERAL, HE IS THE VERY MODEL OF A MODERN CHAOS GENERAL!"


Pinkie was standing on Dest's head as she took over again, watching the sky as drop rigs careened toward the ground far away.

"He plies the stars in constant pursuit of his goals piratical!"
"He plunders helpless cities with technologies theatrical!"
"Upon our home of Centaur III, he chose to make planetfall!"
"And made us very happy by deciding not to kill us all!"

Pinkie leaned down and nuzzled the top of Dest's head as the driver stayed perfectly still and ignored her.

"Now we are the bestest friends, and allies til' the end of time!"
"Killing countless aliens and belting out this friendship rhyme!"
"Even if his Chaos faith is icky to the ninth degree!"
"It's all good so long as he aims his guns away from me!"
Pinkie threw her forelegs up into the air. "Bring me home!"


All at once, the normal lumens switched back on, and nearly every pony that had attended the celebration rocked back and forth as they sang.
"HE'S OUR CYBORG MASTER FROM THE FAR SIDE OF THE GALAXY! EVEN IF ALONG THE WAY HE MAY HAVE LOST A DUEL OR THREE!"
"AND WHEN IT COMES TO THINGS DAEMONIC, TERRIBLE, AND VISCERAL, HE IS THE VERY MODEL OF A MODERN CHAOS GENERAL!"


The music cut out as Pinkie leapt from Dest's head, landing in front of Sliver and his squad.
Not a single one of the Iron Warriors seemed to have budged since the song started, although they were all staring attentively at Pinkie Pie.
The party-loving mare had a smug smile as she leaned her head back and looked up at the single crimson lens of Sliver's helmet. "Well?"
Sliver said nothing, simply staring down at her for nearly ten seconds.
He slowly raised a hand as if to point at the pony.
He hesitated, and then, after a few more seconds, he lowered his hand again.
Sliver then turned on his heel and walked away without saying a word.


Twilight watched the soldiers leave, every one of them seeming somehow dazed after witnessing the musical number. She was hardly much better.
Gaela was slightly harder to faze, and she walked up to the pink equine and glared at her.
"How do you know about most of those things you sang about?" she demanded. "You haven't even looked at the archives. You can't possibly know what Cadia or a Macharius are."
Pinkie Pie blinked up at her. "I don't, really. It's not like I wrote that song."
Leaving the Dark Techpriest to puzzle over that unhelpful tidbit, Pinkie pranced back to the canopy where Applejack and Rarity were waiting.
"Attagirl, Pinks! Ya showed that smelly varmint what fer!" Applejack laughed.
"I propose a toast, then," Rarity said, floating her glass up into the air, "to the brilliant, destructive abomination who made all of this possible!"
"Yeah!" Pinkie chirped, producing a mug of cider. "You're the best, Twilight!"
"HEY!" shouted an irate voice behind her as her other friends snickered.
Pinkie stuck out her tongue playfully, but then frowned as she tapped her drink cup against Rarity's. "Where is Shmithy, anyway? I know I invited him! This is his party too!"
"Oh, you know how the Warsmith is," Rarity replied, sipping her drink, "I'm sure he's working, as usual. A pity he can't find time for a little fun, but he probably has a lot to do."


****


Ferrous Dominus - Solon's forge


Solon stared down at the pony standing patiently in front of the entrance to his forge, his optics whirring softly in his helmet.
Big Macintosh stared back as he sat on his haunches silently, still wearing his power armor. His magnetic harpoon was deployed as well, and was attached to a metal cart behind him.
Inside the cart were the pieces of four power armor suits in widely varying states of damage and disrepair. Only Fluttershy had apparently refrained from adding her wargear to the pile.
At the top of the heap of metal and ceramite was a yellow sticky note attached to a certain unicorn's discarded helmet.
We'll pick these back up tomorrow morning. That radioactive dust ruined the finish on my armor, so don't forget to give it a good wax and polish when you're done fixing up all the scratches.
XOXOXO - Rarity
"I really hate that mare," Solon sighed as he turned around to head back into his forge.


****


Ferrous Dominus - sector 6, Sweet Cream coffee shop, the following morning


Twilight levitated a bowl of sugar over her tea and spilled some of the snowy powder into the steaming beverage in front of her.
She was currently sitting at a metal table with the rest of the Elements of Harmony, plus Big Macintosh. All had their own steaming hot beverages in front of them, and were drinking them with varying levels of gusto.
"So, I guess we have a coffee shop, now," Rainbow mumbled between gulps of her drink, "you know, if it weren't for the huge blanket of oily smog outside, you'd hardly be able to tell that this place is a giant death factory."
That was an exaggeration, Twilight decided. Even the more benign establishments were still in fortified buildings, often with defenses built right into the walls. Their table wasn't even supported by legs, but rather by a crate of heavy bolter ammunition. Still, the over-militarized decor in a pony-run coffee shop emphasized Rainbow's point rather than diminished it.
"I hope they can eventually come up with a way to take care of the pollution, too," Rarity said, her tea cup hovering in front of her, "some of these establishments could certainly use outdoor seating, which is hard when the air is toxic." She paused to sip her tea. "But I suppose I should be happy they've made this much progress. Most humans apparently didn't know what tea WAS before they came to our planet!"
Twilight pondered on that matter as she blew on her tea to cool it. Not about whether a race of aliens had heard of tea - which didn't especially surprise her - but rather that shops opening up in a massive war fortress was considered "progress". Progress toward what, she wondered.
"They could definitely use a farm outside the palisade if'n they're gonna be stayin' here long-term," Applejack added as she put down her mug of coffee, "not on the wasteland, o'course, and it would have t'be a ways out to avoid the weird evil blight this place puts over the soil, but Ah think them hills over on the west side could hold a grove or two. Ah figger me an' a couple more earth ponies could set something up after this Ork mess blows over."
"Eeyup," Big Mac added helpfully.
"Do you think they'd use ponies to run it, though? They might want to staff the farm with slaves or machines," Rarity pointed out.
Applejack snorted hotly, her brow creasing. "Naw, ya won't get quality produce that way. There ain't no substitute fer good ol' earth pony farmin'!"
"Don't think for a second I disagree, but you've SEEN what humans eat, darling," Rarity murmured with a raised eyebrow.
Twilight took a long sip from her tea and then put the cup down before clearing her throat loudly.
"All right, everypony. I think it's time we got started, here." She paused to take a look around the table, and then paused longer to wait for Pinkie Pie, who was lying face-down in a mug of hot cocoa. After a few seconds Pinkie snapped her head up, suddenly paying full attention as hot chocolate dripped down her muzzle.
"Thank you. Now, I'm sure that after our second operation and first real full-scale combat engagement under the 38th Company, we all might have some concerns and questions," Twilight began, taking on a tone that she hoped projected gentle authority, "after all, even if we've been in fights and risked our lives before, none of us are soldiers. Killing other creatures on sight because they're a certain species or wearing certain colors is new to us."
Twilight briefly glanced over at Applejack. "New to most of us," she corrected. Applejack rolled her eyes.
"So I'd like to start off with something that's been bothering me ever since we left the battlefield yesterday," Twilight continued, pausing for effect.
Then she pointed a hoof at Rainbow Dash. "We are NOT calling our unit 'Rainbow Squad'."
Rainbow Dash groaned. "What's wrong with 'Rainbow Squad'? It's an awesome unit name! And it totally fits us!"
"HOW?" Twilight asked, her eyes narrowing.
"Because we're all different colors!" Rainbow explained, rolling her eyes. "Duh."
"Indisputable logic, Dash," Rarity said with amusement, "except that our armor colors are all the same drab, industrial palette. It presents a rather colorless impression."
"Besides that, I think it would be best if we all decided on a unit name together and took a vote on it, rather than one pony deciding for all of us," Twilight declared, lifting up a dataslate and setting it down in the middle of the table, "I've come up with some ideas and listed them here. We just need to decide on one."
Applejack glanced down at the list, and then raised her foreleg. "Ah nominate 'Apple Squad'. Don't see that on the list."
Twilight smacked a hoof against her face. "Applejack..."
Big Mac raised his own hoof. "Eeyup."
"Ooh, two votes already!" Pinkie said, rubbing her hooves together. "We may have a winner!"
Twilight's eyes narrowed. "... Big Macintosh, I don't mean to suggest that you don't belong or anything, and of course you've been a great help to us, but... why are you here, exactly?"
"Mac figgers he owes the Company fer savin' his life and fixin' him up," Applejack answered, "and 'til the Historical folks move all that there alien junk from the farm, we can't rebuild it. So he's decided to stick around and help out here as much as he can."
Big Mac nodded in silent agreement.
"What about your kid sis?" Rainbow Dash asked. "Doesn't somepony need to take care of her?"
"Oh, Ah'm not worried," the farmer replied, shifting her hat to the side, "between Granny, Crabapple, an' her schoolin', Ah'm sure Apple Bloom is just fine!"


****


Sweet Apple Acres


Winona yelped frantically as she rushed into the farmstead, diving to hide under the couch.
A few seconds later three young, Chaos-marked fillies darted in after her before quickly splitting up.
As Sweetie Belle slammed both forehooves down on the door access panel, Apple Bloom gulped in air and then yelled into the next room.
"Granny! The wasps Ah was keepin' mutated into a swarm of daemonic monsters!"
Scootaloo jumped up to one of the armorglass windows to look outside, looking far more excited than horrified. A few moments later a muskrat-sized wasp slammed into the view port, stabbing furiously at the armorglass with its knife-like legs and stinger. Its compound eyes glowed a soft green, and dark, oily toxins dribbled from its mouth and abdomen.
"This is SO COOL!" Scootaloo gushed as she watched the winged monstrosity claw at the window.
Granny Smith hobbled into the room at Apple Bloom's shout, and then took a moment to peer out at the monstrous insects.
"Ah'm sorry, Granny," Apple Bloom said sadly, her ears drooping, "Ah tried to reason with 'em, but they wouldn't listen! Now they're tryin' to lay their eggs in us!"
"I'm too young to be a daemon mommy!" Sweetie Belle complained, her back pressed against the locked and reinforced entry door. "Especially the kind that gets eaten when the babies are born!"
A series of heavy thumping and crashing noises came from outside, and Scootaloo whistled and started waving her hooves about. "Aw, yeah! Go get 'em, Crabapple! Kill 'em all!"
Granny Smith snorted in the direction of the daemon wasp, and then hobbled over to her rocking chair. "Bah, why all the fuss over that lil' thing? Filly, lemme tell ya 'bout the time a swarm of Everfree hornets set up a nest in the orchard. Now THEM varmints were nasty! Bigger'n Winona, an' a shell like iron! Ya could take a hoe to one o'those things, and if ya were lucky 'nuff to survive, ya'd at least hafta buy yerself a new hoe!"
"Go! Go! Punch the big one on the right! No, the right! MY right!" Scootaloo shouted, gesturing wildly in front of the window. "Whoa! They're crawling into her exhaust pipes! They're trying to choke her out!"
Apple Bloom cringed. "Anypony remember where the button fer that siege mode thing is?"
"Next to the fireplace, dear," Granny Smith said as she pulled a quilt over her lap.
"Thanks, Granny!"


****


Ferrous Dominus - sector 6, Sweet Cream coffee shop


"All right, then. So it's agreed that from now on, we will be referred to as Equinought Squadron," Twilight said happily, nodding her head.
Rainbow Dash shrugged, having already resigned herself to the change.
Applejack had her forelegs crossed, and looked irritated. "That ain't very democratic-like, Twi."
"With all due respect, Big Macintosh isn't part of our unit, so he doesn't get a vote on matters involving our unit," Twilight explained calmly. The crimson stallion pouted sadly.
"That's discrimination!" Applejack claimed angrily, banging her hoof on the table.
"... No, it isn't," Twilight countered dryly.
"I still think Rainbow Squad was fine, but whatever. Equinought isn't bad," Rainbow Dash said, "so is there anything else you wanted to talk about?"
"Yeah, actually, I was thinking we don't have very good squad cohesion," Twilight pointed out, glad to change the subject, "we need to work as a team, but when we got into the field we all kind of split up and did our own thing."
Pinkie Pie hummed to herself as she stared up at the ceiling. "... That totally worked, though."
"And some of our gear doesn't really work well with each other," Rainbow pointed out, "my fancy armor jets aren't going to be a big help if I have to stick by you guys. This isn't really like our Elements of Harmony deal."
Twilight frowned and stared down at the table. "Good points. Let's shelve that matter for now and move on."
Then she turned toward Pinkie Pie. "Pinkie, why is your dreadnought shell different from the one you started the battle in?" Twilight pointed a hoof out the window toward the assault walker in question. It was standing immobile on the street with its body hunched forward, and had no head piece to speak of.
"Didn't I tell you? An Ork blew up my last one," Pinkie explained.
"Yes, but how did you get a new walker before the battle was even over?" Twilight pressed.
"I just borrowed Hett's walker," Pinkie said with a shrug. "Without permission."
"What?" Twilight leaned in.
"What?" Pinkie said.
They stared at each other for a few seconds, and then Rainbow Dash interrupted the stare-off.
"So, how are you going to gear it up?"
"Oh, I was thinking a heavy party mortar this time," Pinkie explained excitedly, "the Easy Bake 600 will have indirect-fire capability and TWICE the speaker power! And a microwave for mid-combat snacks. I didn't really know this until recently, but excessive heat venting and heavy radiation exposure give me an appetite!"
Twilight shook her head. "Wait, back up, you said you got the dreadnought shell from-"
"Actually, do you suppose we could cut this short?" Rarity interrupted. "Delgan wanted to have a meeting with me in about an hour, and I want to make sure we pick up our power armor before then."
"Aw, shucks, yer right. Ah volunteered fer one o'them combat patrols, too. Don't wanna head out there naked," Applejack said, fitting her respirator mask over her muzzle.
"But... she..." Twilight trailed off into a sigh as her friends scattered some bits over the table and stepped down from their chairs to leave.


Pinkie trotted outside happily, stopping in front of the walker and digging around in her mane for a moment.
She pulled out a keychain with a small plastic device attached, and then aimed it at the dreadnought before pressing a button on the device.
The dreadnought beeped twice, and a clicking noise was heard from within the sarcophagus housing before Pinkie leapt up and crawled inside.
"Don't question it, it's Pinkie. Don't question it, it's Pinkie," Twilight mumbled to herself as she followed the Apple siblings outside.
"Well, I'm going to go work on this baby! See you guys later!" Pinkie shouted as the walker's power core started up and the limbs jerked to attention.
"Later!" Rainbow Dash called as she swooped up above the others.
Fluttershy quietly excused herself as well, as her armor hadn't been dropped off for repair.


"Hey, whoa, what's that?" Rainbow Dash stopped suddenly and dropped down so that her friend could hear.
She was staring at a procession of dozens of human and Astartes soldiers, all marching down the avenue with guns drawn.
Twilight frowned as she glimpsed a figure in the middle of the procession. "Is that... a Tau?"
Rainbow hovered up higher, and then nodded. "Hey, yeah, it is! I wonder what's up."
"What makes ya think somethin's up? There're plenty of grayskins 'round here," Applejack said, not at all perturbed.
"Yeah, but that one's not chained up, and it's still wearing battle gear," Rainbow informed the others, "that part's weird."
Twilight pressed a hoof to her chin. "... All right, let's go get our armor. I can link to the noosphere prisoner registry and find out if there were any new captures recently."
"I don't see what it matters," Rarity admitted, "the Company certainly has that one under control."
"That's just it, though. They don't usually escort the slave miners with half a dozen infantry squads," Twilight pointed out, "I just want to stay informed."
Rarity shrugged as the soldiers passed by, eager to get on with their own errand. She was wearing her rubber cloak ensemble again, and wanted to replace it with her armor suit as soon as possible so long as she had to be outside.


Nearly twenty minutes later, the newly-dubbed Equinoughts were approaching the main gates to Solon's forge. The enormous blast doors had a trio of sigils carved into them, with the Iron Skull taking a position of prominence at the top, while the Star of Chaos and the Mark of Nurgle stood below it on either side. More Chaos symbolism, Twilight decided, and as subtle as ever.
The purple alicorn sped up and raised her security band for the door scanner.
She was promptly rejected by a rather rude noise, followed by a pattern of flashing red lights.
"Tch! I guess we don't have independent access to this area," Twilight said, clicking her tongue.
"Try throwing Dark Techpriests at it," Rainbow Dash suggested, "that usually works."
Twilight gave her an annoyed stare as Big Macintosh walked by her. "I don't know what that means, exactly, but there's no reason for that. There's a terminal over there. We can-"
"Access signum registered. Access priority primarus," rumbled a voice from above, "access granted."
Twilight whirled around, and then her jaw fell open as she saw Big Macintosh with his augmetic forehoof pressed against the access scanner. The doors released a blast of steam, and then started to grind open.
"Wait! YOU can access Solon's forge?" Twilight asked.
"Eeyup," Big Mac replied, putting his leg back down.
"Like, whenever you want?" Rainbow Dash asked.
"Eeyup," he replied again as he walked forward.
"Well, that's convenient!" Rarity said cheerfully as she and Applejack trotted after the draft pony.
"Eeyup."
"Why?" Twilight demanded as she and Rainbow entered, hoping to force Big Mac into using a complete sentence.
He foiled her with a hefty shrug as he ambled ahead.
Of course, he had his suspicions that Solon simply didn't like or didn't trust the Elements of Harmony enough to let them drop in on his personal facilities whenever they felt like it, but nopony had asked him for his speculation.
"Ah, and there they are!" Rarity said with a relieved sigh. Standing in a row like grim sentinels were the five Centaur-pattern power armor suits, each one completely restored to shining perfection. Rarity's in particular stood out as it gleamed in the dim overhead lumens, despite being utterly dwarfed by the Apple siblings' suits on either side of it.
"Hey, Sol!" Rainbow Dash yelled, spotting the hulking Warsmith further inside the forge and surrounded by bright orange hololith screens.
The Chaos Lord turned, his optics whirring softly in his helmet. "... What? Ish shomething unshatishfactory?"
Rainbow Dash snorted, trying to restrain a giggle. She didn't find Solon's slur to be nearly as funny as Pinkie did, but she just couldn't help it when it came to some words.
"Nah, they're fine!" she shouted, beckoning him over with her hooves. "C'mere for a sec, man! We wanna talk to you!"
Solon gave an annoyed grunt before he crossed the distance to reach the equines, most of whom were already starting to disassemble the armor to put it on.
"Yesh? About what?" Solon asked. "I'm very bushy at the moment."
He saw Applejack struggling to unlock the internal latch for the main torso plating, and then he tapped one leg rapidly on the ground to gain the ponies' attention.
"Ashembly program sheven-sheven-three-one, initiate," he said to the air. Then he looked down at the ponies. "You're going to want to shtay shtill."
The ponies all froze, and Rainbow landed uncertainly. Then large servo arms on overhead and wall-mounted rails slid into place above and behind the ponies and started armoring them automatically.
"Oh, hey. This's handy," Applejack said, giving a little yelp when a cold metal claw grabbed her leg and lifted it up before placing it into a boot.
"Yeah, nifty," Rainbow Dash said, feeling a little less sure about having big metal arms marehandling her. She resolved to resist the discomfort and continue. "Anyway, I'm sure you've heard all about the battle by now, right? And I'm extra-sure you've heard how completely we ROCKED it, right?"
"I've reviewed the after-action reportsh and your shuit recordersh, yesh. Your contributionsh were entirely adequate, which exceeded the very low expectationsh we had shet for your performance. Wash that all?"
Rainbow Dash glared up at the Warsmith, but Twilight couldn't help speaking up as her wing plating was secured in place.
"What expectations were those, exactly?" she asked curiously.
"You're all shtill alive," Solon clarified, "I guarantee shome power weaponsh were won and losht in wagersh upon your shafe return."
"Don't give us that, dude," Rainbow Dash grunted as her gorget tightened up around her neck and locks snapped into place, "we kicked flank out there!"
"And with shuperior armament, an army at your back, and shpecial REM training against a foe of mediocre shtrength, that wash to be expected. Or it would have been if we hadn't preshumed grosh incompetence on your part."
Rainbow Dash fumed, apparently having expected the Iron Warrior to be impressed. "Oh, come on! I took out three planes! THREE!"
"Two and a half," Solon countered, "and I don't much like that you've been picking up Tellish'sh attitude toward following combat ordersh."
As the pegasus winced, Rarity chuckled lightly, hoping to change the topic. "Well, in any case, thank you so much for repairing our gear in a timely matter! Another Ork incursion could happen at any time, and we have to be ready, after all!"
Solon's optics seemed to flicker for a moment, and a gear twitched somewhere on his chassis. "Of courshe..."
Rarity stripped off her respirator mask as the servo arm lowered her helmet over her head. "Ah, that's much better!" She levitated the protective rubber clothing she had stripped off into a neat stack, and then gave it a magical toss to land on the back of Solon's chassis. "I have a meeting with Trademaster Delgan. Have a servitor or something drop that off back at my quarters, would you? Tah-tah!"
+I hope you trip into a molten metal flow, you irritating cow,+ the Warsmith replied in low-frequency Binaric Cant.
Rarity apparently didn't think anything of the noise, and she made a good pace toward the forge exit.


"Okay, but seriously, getting back to business, here," Rainbow Dash continued after Rarity was out of earshot, "I think we deserve some more medals." Her own armor was finished fitting, and she kicked out her legs one by one to once again get a feel for the effortless strength the suit granted her limbs.
"If another piece of ammunition attached to your neck chain will get you out of here fashter, fine," Solon rumbled, "just tosh them onto me. If the white one doeshn't have to feign reshpect I don't shee why the resht of you should bother."
"Awesome!" Rainbow said before biting onto the chain and then tossing it over to the Chaos Lord, looping it over one of his smokestacks. "So, do you think we'll qualify for GOLD bolts this time?"
"Don't push it, xeno," Solon snorted.
Applejack and Twilight quietly tossed their own chains over Rainbow's a moment later. "Whash there anything elshe?"
"Yes, actually," Twilight admitted as she mag-locked her helmet onto her gorget, "we need to change our unit designation."
"Oh? Why'sh that?" Solon asked as his cogitator brought up the relevant data. "Oh. That'sh why."
Rainbow Dash pouted and kicked at the floor.
"Right. So anyway, we've decided that we want to be called 'Equinought Squadron'," Twilight said with a pleased nod.
Solon looked down at her. "What'sh an 'Equinought'?"
The purple alicorn blinked. "Uh... it's, well... us, I think. We kind of made up the word on the spot. Pinkie thought 'Equine Squadron' didn't sound very science-fiction-appropriate. Which I thought was a strange argument, given that this isn't fiction, but I kind of liked Equinought."
"Hey, Warsmith," Applejack said suddenly, "whaddya think of 'Apple Squad'?"
"I like Apple Shquad," he said. Then his optics blinked. "There. You're Apple Shquad now."
"AJ!" shouted Twilight and Rainbow Dash, glaring at the earth pony.
Applejack offered a (somewhat) apologetic smile. "What? Wasn't mah decision. Least we ain't named 'Team Applejack', right?"
"If you're quite finished, I have to-" Solon's dismissal was cut off by a crackling energy flare, and then another pony teleported into the room, "okay, thish ish going to be a trend, ishn't it?"
"Warsmith, good morn!" Luna said brightly as she approached the others.
"Maybe I should jusht clear the day'sh shchedule," the Chaos Lord grumbled as he slumped forward on his chassis, "hello, Princesh."
"And greetings to you, Elements, Macintosh!" Luna said with small nods of her head. She quickly turned her full attention back to Solon, however. "We hast arrived to discuss the configuration of our armor!"
"Of courshe you have," Solon deadpanned, "becaushe, really, who caresh about the losh of thirty combat vehiclesh. I'm sure I can take care of that any old time."
"Oh, hey! Luna should get a medal too!" Rainbow Dash interrupted. "She killed lots of dudes! And she was wounded, too!"
"Medals?" the dark alicorn's ears perked. "We may receive honors for displays of valor and courage? Most intriguing!"
"Yesh, fine. Shilver bolt. Whatever. Ash for armor-"
"Oh, and I had this great idea for the next time we do that dream training!" Rainbow Dash interrupted again. "Instead of just fighting off waves of Orks, we should totally have a free-for-all against each other!"
Twilight frowned, furrowing her brow. "How will that help us fight the Orks?"
"It won't, really. But it would be awesome!"
"Aye, 'tis a fine idea!" Luna agreed eagerly.
As Solon considered the prospect of having ponies playing multiplayer deathmatch in his dreams night after night, he idly wondered if Celestia had to put up with this kind of crap.
"My resht cycle shimulationsh are not gamesh," Solon said firmly, "I only allowed the exercishesh previoushly for training purposhesh."
Luna's expression suddenly turned serious. "Aye, thou art correct. Thy dreams art no place for mere diversion. We apologize," she agreed as her horn pulsed.
I shalt retrieve thee when next the Warsmith sleeps. Honors to the first one to fell the Princess of the Night in battle! Luna declared to the mares telepathically. Rainbow Dash and Applejack grinned at each other, while Twilight glanced at Solon and smiled nervously.
Big Mac jerked to attention as he heard a very different message in his head.
We shalt make for our bedchambers within the hour. Meet us there?
"But in any case, We came to speak of wargear, and discuss the progression of the greater campaign," Luna said, her expression as grim and serious as the others had ever seen it.
Solon still would have preferred to be left alone, but at least the topic was shifting to something more relevant.
"The Ork raider fleet is broken, and itsh remaining threat ish negligible," the Warsmith began, "however, the cashualtiesh caushed today are a paltry toll compared to the energiesh we sheek to harnesh. Many more shacrificesh will be needed before we can attempt to wresht control of the eddiesh of the Warp for ourshelvesh."
Twilight frowned. "Uh, about that..." she looked up at the metal goliath uncertainly. "Powering magic constructs with murder is a pretty new field of study for me. I'm not familiar at all with the mechanics or methodology. How exactly does my shooting an Ork a hundred miles from here help with whatever, exactly, that Serith is doing? Wouldn't there be some sort of ritualized process for powering the Nethalican?"
"Hey, that's a good point," Applejack mumbled, tilting her head to the side, "when Bloom and them were doin' their Chaos stuff, there was a lot of weird symbols n'all. We don't gotta do that?"
"Shuch triflesh are a matter of shcale," Solon explained, hololiths appearing and flickering about him in a strange rhythm, "devotionsh by a trio of younglingsh require conshiderable effortsh and embellishmentsh to attract the attention of Godsh and draw the Warp into the material world. War, however, is a tumult of emotion and pain. The deathsh of thoshe fighting, their terror and hatred, draw daemonsh and dark will with little need for ritual. Every life losht fuelsh the malevolent forcesh that watch behind the veil, and ash the killing acceleratesh the Dark Godsh yearn to make their preshence felt among the bloodshed. It ish harneshing this latent energy in the way we want that ish the challenge, and thoshe shecretsh belong to Sherith."
"So all we need to do is keep killing Orks, wherever and however we can, and it'll power the Nether-whatsit?" Rainbow Dash asked, tilting her head to the side.
"Well, it's not JUSHT Orksh. If humansh, Space Marinesh, or yourshelvesh perish, that alsho feedsh the daemonic forcesh. Chaosh ishn't picky," Solon said breezily, not noticing as the ponies cringed, "oh, but Tau don't count. Their shoulsh are sho weak that they have next to no pshychic preshence."
"Figgers they ain't even good fer that much," Applejack grumbled.
Twilight grimaced. "I know we don't have much in the way of options, and powering magic by defeating an enemy we have to fight anyway is certainly a... convenient method, if nothing else..." she trailed off, shifting inside her armor suit. "But even if the Orks are evil, it's still pretty awful to think we're using them as a power source like this."
Solon halted, leaning back slightly as his optics whirled in their sockets. "Evil? The Orksh?" A grating, stuttering chuckle came from the massive Astartes. "Princesh, Orksh aren't evil."
That got the Iron Warrior a few odd stares.
"Thou described them as warmongering savages," Luna reminded him, "and having faced the brutes ourselves, We art in agreement."
"Indeed. But ALL Orksh are warrior barbariansh. Every shingle one," Solon said.
"And that makes 'em... NOT evil?" Applejack said, squinting.
"It doesh!" Solon confirmed. "In the complete abshence of 'good' Orksh, how can the resht be evil?"
Most of the ponies mulled that over as he paused, though Solon noticed that Big Macintosh was walking toward the exit. Apparently the stallion wasn't interested in a philosophy lesson. Or perhaps had something better to do.
"Evil ish a function of agency. It requiresh a choice to embrace idealsh of jushtice and good will, and the conshioush rejection of that choice. Orksh are a warrior race, a shentient bio-weapon; they can no more shtop fighting and killing than you can shtop eating. They are our enemiesh, but they are not evil."
Applejack frowned up at the Chaos Lord. "But YOU are?"
"Indeed," the Warsmith said without hesitation, "when the decishion came to fight for humanity'sh future or avenge the pershonal grievancesh of my Legion, I gladly turned my gunsh on the righteoush shervantsh of my Imperium. When it became clear that our noble intentionsh and jusht motivationsh had been twishted into mere shpite and hatred, I did not atone or repent. And when I shaw for myshelf the corruption and cruelty of Chaosh worship, I embraced it eagerly. Every shtep I've taken down this dark path hash been conshidered and choshen, willfully and freely, when it wash within my power to turn back. THAT, my poniesh, ish evil."
Dead silence followed the Warsmith's lecture, save the sound of the doors grinding shut behind Big Mac.
"... Have I ever thanked you personally for not killing us?" Rainbow Dash said, grinning nervously. "Because I don't think you get enough credit for that. Seriously. Thanks!"
"You're welcome," Solon said curtly, a large hololith screen flickering in front of him and displaying a series of streaming numbers.
"Well, shucks..." Applejack mumbled, "gettin' back to the Orks, that almost makes me feel a lil' sorry fer 'em. It's like we're just killin' a bunch of dumb animals."
"Dumb animals that practice organized, genocidal warfare and build fully functional war machines," Twilight reminded the others, "I'm not totally comfortable with using them as fuel for a dark ritual, but you won't catch me feeling sorry for them, either."
"Hey, yeah, I wondered about that before, when I saw their tanks out there," Rainbow said suddenly, tapping a boot against one of Solon's legs, "how do Orks build weapons and stuff if they're so dumb?"
"According to what I've read, it's some kind of bizarre genetic determinism," Twilight answered, sounding annoyed, "APPARENTLY, individual Orks are all predisposed toward a certain function since birth. So once they grow up, some Orks are automatically and inherently skilled and knowledgeable at building things or performing some other useful, specialized task." She snorted. "It's completely ridiculous, if you ask me."
"Yesh, you're right. It ish entirely abshurd," Solon agreed, his optics zooming in on the cutie mark stamped on Applejack's shoulder pad.
"So their apparent technology level isn't an indicator of intelligence," Twilight continued, "I don't know how such a crude society can even maintain a functional military hierarchy."
"Ah, speaking of hierarchy," Luna interjected, "We believe that it would be best for us to take overall command of the Company's equine forces in future engagements." She paused. "Given that We art the largest and most powerful pony amongst us, that is."
"Fair enough," Twilight agreed.
"Makes sense t'me," Applejack added.
Rainbow Dash shrugged. "You're the boss."
Solon made an awkward, mechanical snorting sound. "Yesh, well... conshidering that Princesh Shparkle'sh lot comprishe the entirety of our 'equine forcesh' sho far, shall you be leading Apple Squad directly?"
Luna puzzled over the unit name briefly before she shook her head. "Nay. Eventually We shalt take to the field with our Night Guard, once they art equipped sufficiently. But first our own armament must be procured, of course."
"Right, right. And now we come back to the armor," Solon grumbled.
"Ah can vouch fer the terminator suits," Applejack said brightly, stomping a foreleg onto the floor, "them Ork slugs bounce right off like nothin'. Don't even notice most of 'em."
"No way!" Rainbow Dash scoffed, bouncing up and igniting her jets into a hover. "Princess Luna's armor needs to fly! She needs a serious flight pack, too! Not one of those sissy turbine-repulsor things Shy and Twi have!"
"What's wrong with the repulsor engines?" Twilight asked, looking offended at the criticism. "They're much less dangerous than your impulse drive."
"You just answered your own question," Rainbow answered with a smirk.
Luna thought it over as she looked between the three ponies and their respective armor models. Logic dictated that Twilight's design, being constructed for an alicorn, would be the most appropriate for another Princess. But she had to admit that it didn't especially impress on its own; certainly the massive plating of Applejack's armor or the oversized jets of Rainbow's were far more interesting to her.
"What dost thou think, Warsmith?" Luna asked, looking up to the Chaos Lord next to them.
Solon stared down at Luna for several seconds as more hololith screens started flickering around him. "Well, if I'm going to do thish, I may ash well do it right. You're a tremendoushly powerful pshyker, and unlike the other poniesh, your control of the lunar shatellite meansh your shurvival ish actually shomewhat important."
"We're RIGHT HERE, you know," Rainbow Dash complained.
"You are indeed. Much to my chagrin. There'sh a reashon I only give forge accesh to the equine that never talksh." Solon grumbled before focusing on Luna again. "How do you feel about daemon armor?"
Luna's head jerked back, and she winced. "We art not so sure... having to act in concert with a powerful, malevolent will doth not appeal to us."
"That'sh one way of thinking of it," Solon admitted, "on the other hand, you'll be wearing that powerful, malevolent will ash a shield against the fire of the enemy. There'sh shomething uniquely shatishfying about forcing Warpshpawn to take bulletsh for you."
Luna arched an eyebrow. "... Go on."
"With the right proceshesh, the armor can prove ash shtrong ash tactical dreadnought plating, but shtill be light enough and provide shufficient power for enhanced mobility."
Twilight made a face. "But... there's going to be a DAEMON inside it?"
"An angry and necesharily powerful daemon," Solon corrected, "both Tellish and Shliver poshessh daemon armor that I've conshtructed. You've sheen at leasht shome meashure of what they're capable of. No conventional shuit can manage thoshe levelsh of performance."
Luna tilted her head to the side. "And what sort of ill influence shalt the daemon possess over its bearer?"
"None," Solon said cheerfully, before adding, "probably."
"Probably?"
"Look, I sherve Chaosh. We call it that for a reashon," the Warsmith said, "making equipment from shcreeching, otherwordly monshtersh ish not an exact shience."
"Go for it, Princess!" Rainbow Dash insisted. "What's the worst that could happen?"
"The WORST that could happen is that the exposure to malignant Warp influence causes her to regress back into a destructive megalomaniac," Twilight reasoned, "it could be Nightmare Moon all over again."
Luna frowned deeply, a silver-encased hoof pressed to her chin.
"That shoundsh like a fine worsht-cashe scenario," Solon said, "I will begin preliminary deshignsh today."
Luna narrowed her eyes. "And thou art SURE the armor probably won't corrupt us?"
"Completely shure it probably won't," Solon assured her, "and even if it did, it ish my opinion that it would be entirely worth it."
Twilight looked like she wanted to respond to that, but Luna spoke before she could.
"Very well, then!" Luna proclaimed, swinging one foreleg up into the air. "We art at war, and our planet's very survival requires great risk and sacrifice! If it means that We shalt have to match wits with a fell beast imprisoned in steel and clockwork, so be it! We shalt wear thy armor, Warsmith!"
"Shwell," Solon said as more hololiths appeared around him, "now get out."


****


Ferrous Dominus - sector 18 (new) psyker dorms


Serith stood at the front of the room as Fleur de Lis sat on her haunches in front of him, her eyes crossed and her horn glowing softly.
"To feel the Warp is not a mere act of perception. You do not see it as you see objects in the Materium. You do not 'see' it at all, strictly speaking," the Sorcerer explained, his rich, deep voice sending a small shudder down Fleur's spine.
Sitting in rows of desks facing Serith and Fleur were over fifty unicorns of a wide array of vivid colors, most of them levitating a stylus over a dataslate as they watched the lesson intently. Trixie was laying on a bench next to the door in her power armor, save her helmet, looking distantly interested as Fleur worked through the demonstration.
"The Empyrean is a mirror of the true universe, wrought in pure energy and emotion manifest. It is not a realm that the mortal mind is... suited to observe," Serith continued, "the psykers of other races, unprotected from that ocean of power and madness, grow somewhat accustomed to its unreality, and jaded to its horrors." He paused. "The unicorn race is different, connecting to the Warp in such a way as to treat it as a mere power source. This is largely to your benefit. But the task being asked of you requires greater understanding than that."
Fleur de Lis stared nervously at the unicorns staring back at her. Her eyes were windows of pearly white, bleached of all color and seething with magical energy.
"Were that I had time, I would teach you all to view the Empyrean in its true, terrible glory, and unleash your full psionic potential. But time is limited. This wytchsight cantrip is a poor substitute, but it will serve our purposes as you seek to rend a persisting tear in reality."
Fleur de Lis wet her lips as she looked over the other unicorns. Each one bore an aura of ghastly light, with a halo that glowed intensely around their horns. The tips of their horns seemed like active lightning rods, silently writhing with ribbons of power.
That much wasn't all that strange. It was even kind of pretty. But that was hardly the only the bizarre thing to be seen with this spell.
Great seams of energy, throbbing like the veins of a living thing, ran through the floor of the room, and every few seconds they would discharge a horrendous surge of power into the perfectly oblivious equines sitting on top of them. The blank, sheer walls of the room, which should have been perfectly inert metal, swam with crudely-formed images and flashes of disorienting color. Some of the images seemed to trigger flashes of comprehension or emotion, like a memory of a drink shared with one of the mares or a yearning envy. Most of them seemed to feature herself.
But Serith...
She couldn't bring herself to turn around and look directly at him. She had tried. Each time she started turning her head she had glimpsed a series of slithering dark strands spread through the air and connected to the strange seams in the floor. And each time, her muscles had seized up before she could turn any further, her body paralyzed with dread until she tried to look away again.
It was more than a little ominous.
"Now, Lady de Lis, observe..." Serith said, his voice trailing off into a breathless whisper.
The unicorns watching blinked as a spark appeared in the air in front of the Fleur de Lis, and then flared into a purple flame roughly the size of a golf ball. A few of them whistled or clapped their hooves politely, but most of them had seen far more impressive feats of magic.
Fleur de Lis gulped audibly. To her eyes the hovering flame was being supported in the air by an upside-down tornado of seething crimson energy. Arcs of dark lightning constantly leapt from the glowing seams across the floor, and from these brief surges of power she could see flickering glimpses of ghostly faces locked in silent screams. Most of the faces were human, as far as she could tell. But not all of them.
"You see the wound. The point in which reality opens to allow the Warp in," Serith stated simply, a single finger extended to point at the otherworldly flame, "reach out with your mind. Touch the breach."
Fleur's breath grew heavier as the glow around her horn grew brighter.
She had to do this. She had to learn. This was for ponykind. This was for Equestria. This was for Celestia. This was for Fancy-
The stray thought of her beloved was utterly obliterated as her magic reached the strange whirlwind that was generating the Warpflame. All sensible perception ceased, and she was suddenly surrounded by howling faces, liquid fire, and waves of blood.
Fleur de Lis screamed. She screamed loud, and long, and repeatedly, completely emptying her lungs of air. Even then, her body refused to take a breath, and her shrieks trailed off into weak, strangled whimpers.
And then Trixie dumped a bucket of water on her.


Fleur blinked rapidly as reality snapped back into place around her. Her vision was back to normal, aside from being partially obstructed by locks of wet mane, and her chest heaved as she desperately sucked in air. Most of the unicorns watching sported looks ranging from shock to deep concern, with a few having left their seats as if to help.
"Trixie warned you," Trixie said to Serith as she levitated the empty pail back onto the floor, "these Canterlot unicorns have no constitution. You can't expect them to manage this kind of sorcery." Her tone was bored and dismissive, and if Fleur hadn't been recently traumatized she probably would have been quite offended.
"I can, and I will, Lady Trixie," Serith said defiantly, "they need only form a conduit for the energies that the Nethalican will shape to our will. It is not difficult."
Fleur shuddered, and it wasn't from the cold water soaking her coat.
"What... What WAS that?" Fleur asked, her voice shaking.
"That was your mind truly touching the Warp for the first time," Serith said, sounding quite pleased with himself, "congratulations!"
She stared up at the Chaos Sorcerer incredulously. "THAT'S what you aliens have to go through every time you use a spell? I don't... I c-can't even..."
As she trailed off, Serith chuckled. "I cannot say for sure if our experiences are similar. The Warp is notoriously inconstant. It will differ from individual to individual and from time to time."
The lithe unicorn looked over at Trixie. The armored pony cast a spell on her hat while it was upside-down, and then tilted it toward the pail standing next to her. Water spilled out of the hat and into the bucket, refilling it from some magically connected source.
Trixie still looked rather bored, Fleur decided. In fact, Trixie had been present in every "class" that Serith had held so far, and she always made her contributions with the same sense of haughty ambivalence. Apparently none of this bothered her. Either Trixie really thought that properly connecting with the Warp was beneath her abilities, or she had already witnessed so many awful things among the Iron Warriors that she simply no longer cared.
"That will be enough for now, Lady de Lis. You may be seated," Serith instructed, pointing to another pony, "Lady Sparkler, you are next."
The next unicorn cringed and slowly stood up, giving Fleur de Lis a nervous glance while the pony model slowly walked back to her desk.
Fleur stopped, and then turned her head back toward the Sorcerer. "It won't always be that bad... will it?"
Serith tilted his helmet to the side slightly before he replied. "You'll get used to it," he insisted after a moment, "after all, you have no choice."


****


Ferrous Dominus - sector 7, mercenary barracks complex delta


"Hey, Ironside! Nice job out there yesterday!"
Big Mac suppressed a groan as a pair of vehicle crewmen approached him through the hall, calling out to the augmented stallion. He was lying on the floor, parallel to the wall, and trying not to feel bored and embarrassed as groups of soldiers walked by. Nearly every one of them had greeted him by name as they passed by, too (insofar as "Ironside" was one of his names now), which honestly made the apple farmer somewhat nervous. What had he done to earn all this attention?
Still, it was bad form to ignore a friendly greeting, and he offered the men a sleepy nod. "Eeyup."
"Ya think we have any carrots in the food stores?" one of the men asked the other as they walked past the stallion.
"Doubt it. Why?"
"Well, don't you give horses carrots as a treat or something?"
"That's a little patronizing, mate."
"What? He's a pony, isn't he?"
"A pony with a heavy bolter. C'mon."


Big Mac kept his silence as the men walked around the corner and out of sight. Although since they brought it up, he wouldn't have turned down a carrot right about now. He ate two ration tins a day when in Ferrous Dominus, whereas most ponies and humans were perfectly content with one. He still tended to feel peckish before bed, though. Nutrient sludge was a harsh change from home-cooked meals with his favorite produce.
As his thoughts continued wandering, he glanced over the numerous doors set in the hallway, many of them with moon emblems carved or drawn onto the surface. These were the quarters of the Night Guard, the bat ponies that had accompanied Princess Luna in her transfer of responsibilities from Equestria to the Iron Warriors. He'd never met one, although he'd heard all manner of stories about the mysterious bat ponies and their origins. Rumors placed the species as being a sort of outcast class of pony, with a wide variety of possible reasons. Some said that they had supported Nightmare Moon's rise when the royal sisters faced that awful confrontation over a thousand years ago. Others said that their diet, which was not necessarily herbivorous, was the reason they were shunned. And a dozen other reasons besides had been offered and guessed at, ranging from the truly petty to seriously grim.
Still, Mac wondered what they were like. He'd never liked the idea of judging anypony on rumor, much less an entire species.
A loud crackle and a rush of air announced the teleport before Big Macintosh saw Luna appear in a flurry of liquid shadows.
"Ah, Macintosh! Excellent! Thou made it here in good time!" Luna said brightly as the stallion stood up.
She paused next to her room, frowning at the door. "Pitiful lodgings, art they not?" she grimaced as she raised a wing toward the room entrance. "The same as my guards, evidently. We know that the forces of Chaos hath little sense for propriety, but We were not even offered a commander's dwelling!"
Big Mac nodded in silent sympathy. That sure didn't sound to him like any way to treat royalty.
"But We did not ask thee here to witness our petty complaints," Luna said, turning down the hall and trotting away, "follow."


The alicorn princess led Big Macintosh higher in the complex, saying nothing more to him in explanation. Soon they reached a stairwell entry door leading up to the roof, and Luna headed up the stairs while quickening her pace.
Then they emerged onto the roof of the barracks complex, and Big Mac hesitated, wrinkling his snout.
The haze of pollution that plagued Ferrous Dominus was entirely tolerable at street level; the ponies, unaccustomed to air pollution in general, took the Company's word for it that it was actually hazardous to breathe too much of it. At roof level, however, the soiled sky was far more potent and obvious, and Macintosh felt that he should probably put on his helmet.
Luna seemed to sense his sudden discomfort, or at least had decided on her own that she'd rather not choke on the particulate filth. With a flash of her horn a blast of wind enveloped her and the stallion behind her, blowing away the foul air before forming a swirling bubble around them to keep the pollutants at bay.
"The 38th Company fouls the very air with their industry of war," Luna began, sitting near the edge of the roof and looking over the manufactorum, "wasteland though this may be, it has been rendered further ashen and blighted by humanity's presence."
"Eeyup," Big Mac agreed, mostly just to assure the Princess he was listening.
Luna paused, squinting at the smokestacks. "'Tis a fitting metaphor for our predicament, is it not? As the human factories churn out the tools of our salvation from one orifice, the others disgorge poison into the land. 'Tis a cruel, dark necessity. And merely the most physically obvious of the corruptions we endure for our bargain. Soon magic of the most perverse sort shalt be unleashed upon our home, Macintosh."
Luna paused briefly, but Big Mac had nothing to add to that as he sat down next to the alicorn and looked out over the fortress. He rarely seemed to want to add an opinion until it was solicited from another. It was a refreshing change from the sorts of ponies she knew in Canterlot, and one of the reasons she liked talking to him.
They were fairly high up, but the barracks were far from the tallest structures in the area, limiting their view of the surrounding blocks somewhat. Still, there were a great number of giant mechanical wonders visible from their vantage point, not least the planetary landing vessels that traveled in a near-constant circuit between the fleet and the fortress city.
"Repulsive and vile, and yet, We must confess that there is a certain magnificence to all of it," Luna finally continued, "whether it be their machines," she smirked as she brushed a wing against Big Mac's armor, "their vessels, or even their terrible black magic, the humans never fail to impress, do they not?"
"Nnope," Macintosh agreed. Then, after a pause, he added, "Their food's right awful, though."
Luna snickered as she laid her forelegs over the edge of the roof (which boasted a short barricade wall, naturally). "Aye! At least in the culinary arts we equines may topple the primates!" she shouted, staring up at the enormous symbol of the Dark Mechanicus carved into a manufactorum tower.
Her humor evaporated quickly, and Luna's thoughts raced about in her head. Big Macintosh remained seated and silent, patient and unassuming.
"We begin to wonder..." Luna began, but she trailed off as she tried to organize her next sentence. True to form, the stallion next to her merely tilted his head slightly to let her know that he wasn't ignoring her.
"We wonder if Sister may hath been right," Luna confessed, wincing. It certainly seemed like an odd thing to say on the eve of a successful battle against the Orks and long before Equestria's safety was assured. Big Mac turned to face her, his expression one of calm concern.
"Celestia feared that the influence of Chaos may yet find footing upon ponykind. And by providing the 38th Company with reason and method to make home here, We fear We hast made this an inevitability." Luna wet her lips briefly. "Further, We cannot deny our fascination with the humans' creations, and stand in awe of their power. So much so, perhaps, that We at times forget the nature of that power."
Another pause. "The Warsmith reminded us of that nature most explicitly whilst discussing the fate of the Orks. He is not a leader guided by morals, or hope, or even mere pride. Supremacy is his only desire. We hast used this to entice Solon to protect us, but We must confess to giving little thought as to the price we ponies may yet pay in the bargain."
Luna turned to look at Macintosh, her expression anxious and uncertain. Mac tilted his head again.
"Ya think ya made the wrong decision?" the farmer asked.
Luna hesitated. "... Between the alliance and certain annihilation, no, We art quite certain We made the better choice," the Princess affirmed, looking back down at the fortress, "but We cannot help but wonder: was that the choice faced by these humans, at one point? Is this how it begins? The promise of power, the hope borne of destruction and conflict, and then cometh the blight?"
Luna scowled, her ears and wings drooping.
"Eeyup. Ah reckon so," Big Mac confirmed, thinking over his own experience with the humans and the stories he'd heard from Daniels.
Luna was still staring at the avenues and grimacing, and he took that as a request to continue. "It ain't pretty what we're in fer. But ya can't work a farm without gettin' dirty."
Luna arched an eyebrow as she glanced over at the stallion. "We do not intend to mock thee, but We art skeptical that agriculture compares in any meaningful way to matters of cosmic warfare and dark magic."
Big Mac wilted slightly, drawing his head down. "... Ah ain't got much 'sides farmin' metaphors, Highness."
Luna considered this for a few seconds, and then faced forward with an inscrutable expression. "Continue."
The stallion took one of his long pauses to sort through his words, and then spoke again. "The way Ah see it, farm work ain't fer everypony, but everypony needs to eat. There're plenty of ponies that have never plowed a field or tended animals, and they might well starve before they try it themselves. And that's okay. Ah plow fields and harvest crops so they don't have to, and they tend to their own business."
He lifted up his augmetic foreleg, inspecting the hoof as the actuators whirred softly. "What we're doin' here ain't pretty, and some ponies are gonna get hurt. But we're still here so that lots of ponies in Canterlot and Ponyville and all across Equestria don't have to ever meet an Ork. Or a human, fer that matter, since they're right dangerous, too. And that's important."
Luna considered this at length as a trio of gunships roared overhead, heading for the landing block.
"And what of us, then?" she asked finally, her eyes settling upon one of the countless Chaos Star emblems that were scattered around the base. She felt her horn start to itch, as it always did when she looked directly at the accursed objects. "Art we lost? Shalt we embrace this hatred, this 'Chaos' fully as the humans do, for the sake of martial supremacy?"
Big Mac craned his neck upward thoughtfully. "Nnope."
"Encouraging," Luna said with an amused snort, "do go on."
He hesitated again. "Well... we can't forget why we're here to begin with. Whatever happened to the humans to turn 'em this way, they DID forget, and now the power that saved 'em is all they got." Then he adopted an overly serious, highly dignified expression. "Farmin' is dirty work, but ya still gotta clean yerself up when yer done. That's a lesson them Nurgle boys could take literally."
"And so We return again to the wisdom of the farm," Luna said with a smirk, standing up again. Then her expression softened again as she looked down at the crimson stallion. "Dost thou think We... think I made the right choice in joining them?" she said, deliberately dropping her use of the Royal "We" for this question.
Macintosh frowned silently for a while, and then looked up at her. "Can't rightly say. Nopony knows better'n you what we're gettin' into. You've walked this path before." Then he smiled. "But Ah trust ya. And yer not alone this time."
The Lunar Princess dwelt on that for a moment, feeling her face heat up and a fluttering sensation in her chest. Then she cleared her throat loudly.
"The day wears on, and We must retire to our bed," she said finally, turning toward the stairs sharply, "thank thee for thy counsel, Macintosh. We find these conversations with thee... soothing."
Big Mac nodded absently as Luna trotted to the door. "Glad t'be of service, yer Highness."
Luna paused as she reached the stairwell entrance, her horn still aglow to maintain the wind shield. Big Macintosh was still staring out over the fortress with his usual sleepy, contented expression.
"Shalt thou join us?" she asked, a familiar half-grin on her face.
Macintosh turned around and almost bolted toward the stairs, but managed to keep his pace to a dignified trot. Barely.


****


Ferrous Dominus - sector 15 armor lots


Twilight soared through the air above the armor lots, scanning the ground through her visor as she cut a visible swath through the pollutant clouds. Her flight pack emitted a low hum alongside the whir of its turbines, carrying her through the sky at a pace at least equivalent to what she could manage with bare wings.
Twilight found herself reflecting on her flight pack as she sailed over the rows of tanks and APCs, no doubt because of her earlier discussion about Luna's prospective armor design. Her repulsor-turbine design was certainly less impressive and versatile than Rainbow's impulse thrusters, but far more practical. It produced less noise, was more stable, and used less power than Rainbow's flight pack. And Twilight didn't need to see Dash turn herself into a living missile to see the safety problems with having overpowered directional rockets attached to her. Of course, having SEEN the reckless pegasus suffer several high-speed crashes, she actually suspected Solon was trying to teach Dash a subtle lesson about caution and restraint.
Either that, or he was trying to kill her via the ingenious method of giving her exactly what she wanted. Probably the lesson thing, though.


"Hi, Gaela!" Twilight said brightly as she descended to the ground.
"Greetings, Sparkle," Gaela replied, not looking up. She was working on cutting off the useless tracks from a Leman Russ battle tank that bore the distinct partially-melted look of the vehicles that had suffered from the Orks' surprise defense of their camp. The wheels and tracks of the vehicle had fused together and needed to be replaced, as did those of every other armored vehicle retrieved from that battlefield. Dark Acolytes and Techpriests swarmed over the war machines to conduct the repairs, while a line of servitors and Scavurel hauled away scrapped parts or brought new ones.
After her greeting and landing, Twilight spent a moment just watching Gaela's torch melt through the armor tracks, letting her visor fill up with irrelevant details about the process. She always liked watching Gaela work.
The melta torch eventually cut away the track plating from the hull, and Gaela pulled away a meter-long chunk of warped plating half an inch thick and tossed it on the ground.
"May the Dark Gods restore this machine, crippled by the treachery of the alien and left for dead among the ashes of lesser creations. As it sheds the defeated steel of its previous trials, it is renewed. Remade. Reforged," Gaela finished her prayer, her head bowed and her servo limbs tilted downward in respectful deference to the mighty vehicle she was repairing.
Then she swung her power axe down into the melted-down wheels and treads, tearing them off their damaged mountings.
Twilight winced as she watched the crackling weapon rise and descend in a strong, rhythmic tempo, sending bits of metal flying in all directions. This part of the repair process was distinctively less graceful and enigmatic than before, and the purple pony promptly remembered why she had tracked down Gaela in the first place.
"Gaela, I was wondering if you still wanted to do that tactical analysis and formation planning you brought up as we were extracting," Twilight said eagerly, "when does your shift end?"
Gaela hesitated, halting in her axe strokes. "... I shall be able to transfer to another queued task within the hour," she mumbled uncertainly.
"Perfect! You go right ahead, I'll wait for you."
It was strange. The way Twilight had approached her reminded her of the way that soldiers and aspirants would arrange plans to socialize and divert themselves after working, which was something that she distinctly hated doing. But Twilight's chosen activity for after work was really more work, just of a different kind.
It rather unsettled her how much she was coming to enjoy Twilight Sparkle's company.
"Hey, got the gas canisters!" a familiar voice said from behind Twilight. "Oh, hey Twi. Got your armor back, huh?"
Spike walked up to Gaela, a case of small cylinders held under one arm.
"Good. Install them," Gaela grunted as she went back to hacking at the tank with her power axe.
Without needing further instruction, Spike had withdrawn two cylinders from the case and was climbing up the back of Gaela's servo harness to place them in the welders.
"You've been keeping busy, I see," Twilight mumbled as her assistant unlatched the depleted melta canisters on Gaela's harness and snapped the new ones into place.
"Idleness breeds weakness," Spike replied with a hint of sarcasm as he sealed the canister ports and climbed down Gaela's back again, "or so she says."
"These removed armor components go to scrap processing, category three. The tread and wheeling, category four," the Dark Techpriest instructed.
Spike whistled, beckoning over a pair of servitors that were plodding across the repair yard. Then he started tossing metal into their waiting arms.
Twilight stepped out of the way of the flying scrap to move next to Gaela again. "By the way, I was wondering if you could do me a favor..."
The cyborg looked up from her work, saying nothing.
"Well, it's kind of a strange situation, but I need our noosphere unit designation changed," Twilight said pleasantly, her eyes shifting left and right behind her visor.
Gaela stood up, silently accessing the relevant information.
"... What's wrong with 'Apple Squad'?" the Dark Techpriest asked.
Spike snickered, but they both ignored him.
"Well, it's not what me and the others agreed on," Twilight said with a small cough, "we decided to call ourselves 'Equinought Squadron'."
"That's not a thing," Gaela pointed out.
"And most of our squad aren't Apples," Twilight countered, "besides, the name isn't really that important, is it?"
"It is important enough that you're holding up my work to get it altered."
There was a pause.
"I don't want to take off my helmet right now because of all the poisonous fumes around here, but I'm giving you one of my looks," the alicorn grumbled with her nose scrunched up and her eyes narrowed, "it's the 'can't you just do this little thing for me without an interrogation?' look."
Gaela sighed. "Very well." Her optical array started blinking. "In future, you may wish to leverage your command status to accomplish petty matters such as this. It will save us the time spent debating your proposals." Then Gaela looked up. "Finished. Your unit and command registers have been changed. Again."
"Thank you." Twilight halted, considering Gaela's words. "So... if I were to want to change the name of something else... like, say, a piece of my own, personal equipment... I could just walk up to any Dark Techpriest and tell them to do it for me?"
"Negative," Gaela replied as she went back to pulling apart the tank chassis.
"Why not?"
"Because nobody is going to let you call your weapon the 'Twiblade'."
"Hmph."


****


Ferrous Dominus - sector 17 command center


In the center of a dimly-lit meeting room, two figures sat opposite each other around a large, metal table, its surface littered with scrolls and dataslates. On one side of the table sat General Cyrus Gnoss, his arms crossed over his chest and a grim smile on his face.
On the other side stood a short, pale, blue-skinned figure who had introduced himself as Shas'el Wraithstar.
Standing against the walls of the room were Iron Warriors, every one of them with their optics locked onto the alien and bolters at the ready. The security was entirely superfluous; Wraithstar had been checked repeatedly for weapons and devices, and Gnoss was fully armed and capable of defending himself. But the General hadn't survived as long as he had by taking his strength for granted.
The Tau Commander himself was squirming and grimacing under the glares of the helmets, poring over the documents in front of him to distract himself. This was not a situation he had ever anticipated or been trained for; it was neither his caste function, nor within his described duties. But here he was.
"Would you care for something to drink?" Gnoss said suddenly.
Wraithstar's gaze snapped up to meet the man's eyes, and then twitched away.
"No? Maybe some cake? We have a lovely dessert shop a few sectors down. It's no trouble," the General continued. At seeing the alien's incredulous look, he raised an eyebrow. "You needn't fear being poisoned, or anything of that sort. If we wanted you dead - and I'm not saying we won't before the day is over - then we would inform you straight away, and then execute you directly and immediately."
Wraithstar made a disgusted noise before dropping the dataslate in his hands. "I'm fine. How much longer is this going to take?"
"I don't have an answer to that," Gnoss replied with a shrug, "I have seen your terms and find them agreeable. But my masters," he briefly twirled his finger about in a general gesture to the Chaos Marines in the room, "have other priorities. And they're more suspicious than I as to the motives of xenos."
Wraithstar's lip twitched. "My 'motives' should be obvious. I want to give me and my men a fighting chance of surviving the next few weeks."
"That's something us mere mortals can appreciate," Gnoss said with a smirk, pressing a hand to his chest, "the urge to keep living tends to render moot our... cultural differences. For the Astartes it is different. And they have every reason to be on their guard after your... surprisingly complex plans to destroy this planet."
Wraithstar glowered down at the documents below him for a few seconds.
"If you're still offering, I'd like some water," the Tau Commander grumbled.
A hololith screen flash in front of Cyrus Gnoss, and he tapped a few squares before it vanished again.
After some more seconds of silently stewing in his seat, Wraithstar spoke again.
"It was never our intention to destroy this planet," Wraithstar said, holding up a dataslate that contained a regional map, "it was an unfortunate consequence of the plan. And the plan was necessary."
Gnoss rolled his eyes and leaned back. "Of course. You don't need to defend yourself to me."
"It's important," Wraithstar insisted, glowering at the pirate, "it is the basis upon which our current deal rests. Don't think for a second that I would risk foiling the Emerald Dawn Project just to save my own skin."
"Ah. I see," Gnoss mumbled, drumming his fingers on the table, "still loyal to the cowards that fled from our fleet, leaving you, your soldiers, and the refugees to die? All for the sake of other ignorant citizens who will live without ever even knowing or caring for the sacrifice you suffered for them." He leaned forward again. "Maybe I was wrong. Even now, you and I aren't very similar after all."
Wraithstar decided to take that as a compliment. "I'd hope not. But if we can save our people and still live another day, you can believe we'll take that opportunity."
The door behind Gnoss shifted open, and Wraithstar quickly shifted his attention to the person entering.
Then he had to shift his attention downward, as the newcomer was a good three feet shorter in height than he had expected.
The unicorn mare that entered was wearing an adjusted shirt and jacket from a military uniform, and a metal platter was floating over her back with two glasses of water on it. That a pony was making any sort of appearance during a negotiation between Tau and human forces was strange enough, but despite himself Wraithstar was mostly perplexed about why any creature would wear a shirt but not pants or shoes.
The mare stopped short as she met Wraithstar's gaze, but she quickly turned away to address the human officer.
"Here you are, General," she said pleasantly, floating the glass over to the man and letting it clink softly onto the table.
Then she floated the second glass in front of her as she turned to the Tau officer.
"And this is for you. Hhhhghk!" her face contorted badly before she spat into the glass, and then she floated the drink into place next to the alien.
"Thank you," Wraithstar mumbled dryly.
"Go die in a fire," the pony replied as she walked out of the room. Several vox-distorted chuckles followed her out into the hall.


Cyrus Gnoss waited until the door closed shut, and then he set his unsullied glass of water closer to the Tau Commander.
"You know, I'm much more accustomed to dealing with xenos on non-hostile terms than my Imperial counterparts," he noted, "but even I find it perfectly novel to be allied with an alien species that actively hates the Tau Empire and not homo sapiens."
Wraithstar snorted in-between gulps of water, and then set down the empty glass. "... I am aware of the irony," he mumbled, "but even the Greater Good cannot promise prosperity to absolutely everyone. Sacrifices must be made."
"Yes, you know that quite well, don't you?" Gnoss drawled.
The alien officer's eyes darted up at Gnoss, and then back down again.
"Do you think we're wrong?" Wraithstar asked, leaning his head back.
The General across from him snorted to suppress a laugh. "Perhaps you'd get a stream of self-righteous gibberish from an Imperial commander, and I've no doubt the equines have a host of opinions on the matter, but I'm not interested in such tripe," Gnoss said as he leaned forward, "your plan is clever, and - crucially - seems to be working. To me, that alone makes you better than a whole host of other aliens I've faced in service to the Company. That, Shas'el Wraithstar, is why I've recommended your bargain to my masters."
"Such... secular reasoning," the alien officer mumbled, "I wouldn't have expected it from one of your kind."
"Strength and intellect," Gnoss said pleasantly, "those are the virtues demanded by the 38th Company. Luckily for you, loyalty rates a rather... distant third."
The hololith screen flashed in front of Gnoss again, and his smile grew further.
"Ah. It seems we have a response..."


****


Ferrous Dominus - sector 4, Dark Mechanicus temple secundus


"In individual combat, you performed well enough, Sparkle," Gaela stated as she looked over a hololithic display of yesterday's battlefield, "in some cases, your combined capability with psychic power, tactical prowess, and wargear proficiency exceeded that of an Iron Warrior, technically speaking."
Twilight promised herself she wasn't going to giggle happily to herself. This was a tactical review of a major battle. Super-serious stuff. She couldn't quite wipe the goofy grin off her face, though.
"Your performance against the Ork Nob was less impressive and quite ill-advised, but I hardly think you need outside criticism to determine that," Gaela continued.
"What exactly happened to your head, anyway?" Spike asked, sitting on a large iron bench behind the armored females.
Twilight winced, suddenly quite aware of the bandages wrapped around her forehead and under her horn. "Oh, I just bit off a bit more than I could chew. There really is a very substantial difference in strength between the Ork foot soldiers and their leaders."
"Indeed. Although the Astartes are quite capable of handling the greenskins in melee, human and pony soldiers are likely to find themselves badly outmatched," Gaela noted, "on that note, you seem curiously eager to engage the enemy at close range when you possess long-range armaments."
"It's a lot harder to handle and aim the beam weapon in combat when everyone's shooting back at you," Twilight admitted, "and my spells work better at short range. The calculations grow exponentially more complex the farther away a target is."
"These are factors that can be improved with training and experience, and you are expected to do so," Gaela insisted, "you must ensure that the enemy's weaknesses guide the course of battle, not your own."
Twilight gulped, nodding seriously. That did sound like rather good advice, and in the Orks they had an enemy whose tactical weaknesses were mercifully obvious.
"Now, let's discuss your squad. I believe..."
Gaela trailed off as the door to the room slid open to admit someone new. That someone was a pony, and not one that Gaela had already met, at that.
"Princess Sparkle?" the newcomer asked, entering the room and bowing hesitantly.
Twilight raised an eyebrow and offered Gaela a confused glance. She didn't know this pony either.
"Please, you don't need to bow to me," the Princess insisted, "what can I do for you?"
The unicorn quickly trotted up to Twilight, looking anxious. "There's something I was hoping to ask you about, Princess," she whispered, casting a suspicious glance over to Gaela, "I was serving some drinks in the Command Center when I saw General Gnoss in a secured room with a Tau officer."
Twilight nodded slowly, suddenly reminded of the heavily guarded procession she had seen earlier that day. She had completely forgotten about it until now.
"Okay... is this a problem?" she asked uncertainly.
"It... didn't look like he was a prisoner," the unicorn mumbled, frowning down at the floor, "the room was guarded inside and out, but not locked down, and he wasn't restrained or anything. He didn't look roughed up, and he was presiding over a lot of notes and stuff. I was hoping you knew what was going on."
Twilight turned toward Gaela. "Gaela, can you bring up the prisoner registry and see if there were any recent Tau additions? Or any patrols reporting a contact?"
"I think there is a much more pressing question at hand," the Dark Techpriest countered, staring at the unicorn, "why are equine personnel wearing only the upper half of the staff uniform?"
"Gaela," Twilight said dryly.
"It is a perfectly reasonable question," the Dark Techpriest pressed, "out of all the components of the uniform, the upper torso portion is the least important. You should at least wear the pants."
"Says you," the unfamiliar pony scoffed, swinging her tail back and forth, "I don't like pants. And you sapiens get WAY too worked up about your nether regions, if you don't mind me saying."
"As a matter of fact, I-"
"GAELA," Twilight said, her voice rising considerably, "it seems like it's just a personal choice, okay? Can we talk about the Tau?"
"Affirmative. One moment," Gaela said, her biological eye closing as she submerged her mind fully into the noosphere network.
Twilight turned back to the unicorn. "Really, I wouldn't worry about the Tau attacking us, though. They haven't made a move since completing their Warp beacon. And with the Orks on the way, they have no reason to."
"I'm not afraid of them attacking us," the other mare grumbled, "I'm worried about them negotiating with us."
"Oh," Twilight answered. Then she paused. "Why?"
"Because when we tried that, we lost our capital to the scheming mules," the unicorn seethed, "I hope the humans don't think we can trust them."
"We don't," Gaela interjected, "but trust is something we've never asked of our allies, nor given in return."
This confused the Equestrians in the room, though Spike was the first to speak his thoughts aloud.
"Wait, allies? We're talking about the Tau, here."
"Indeed. A general alert has just been dispatched," Gaela pointed out, "the remnants of the Lamman Sept on Centaur III have formally surrendered to the 38th Company. The Tau are with us."