Marko’s disposition was dangerous. So dangerous he might snap and disembowel the next thing he saw, friend or foe be damned.
The mission had been a success, but the dirty Covenant fuck-tards had ambushed them during extraction. Bogged down in a thick firefight, there had been no time to commandeer a ship and evacuate before the Unyielding Hierophant’s core went into meltdown and exploded thanks to the headhunters’ sabotage.
Marko and Ishmir had taken their chances; spaced out and hoped for the best. Luck had been on their side it seemed. Instead of being flung out into space or cratered into the face of an uninhabitable moon, the destruction of the Covenant space dock had pushed them into the gravitational field of the nearest Earth-like habitable planet. Entry had been rough. The landing had been rougher. But they were alive.
At least, Marko knew he was alive. He had no idea what Ishmir’s status was. But that wasn’t the only reason he wasn’t comforted.
A one thousand kilometre fall and being cratered into the soil of a previously unexplored alien planet was bound to make any guy a little snippy.
Crazy asshole, Marko thought, scolding himself as he just lay peacefully in his Spartan-shaped crater. One of these days you’re gonna land on something as stubborn as you are.
Eyes still screwed shut, he flexed his fingers and toes. Everything hurt. His bones felt like shattered glass, his skin felt raw, his organs felt out of place. He was pretty sure the landing had forced his anus up into his throat. At least, that’s what it felt like. But the fact he could move without hearing any gnashing of splintered bones was a good sign.
Cracking an eyelid open the first thing he saw was his HUD. Miraculously his visor hadn’t shattered. Thankfully is precious visor art hadn’t been scratched or damaged. The electronic systems were intact too, a full status report for his vitals and his semi-powered infiltrator armour scrolled through is field of view.
All systems seemed to be green except his personal shields. That was one feature other Spartan-IIIs couldn’t boast in their armour systems. Personal shields were pretty much exclusive to headhunter teams since it was cheaper to outfit twelve commandoes with them rather than a whole battalion of three hundred. And he had those very shields to thank for his safe passage into the atmosphere and surviving the landing.
A low alarm tone blared in his helmet as the shield status flashed red and refused to recharge. Muttering a command to kill the alarms, Marko watched the distorted colours beyond his visor slowly come into focus and bleed together like a crazy colourful water-painting. It was night, that much was for sure. He could tell by the muted navy and black shades of everything around him. But even in the dead of night under a humungous full moon the colour palette of his surroundings looked like the time he’d overdosed on contraband candy in the back of the billets and regurgitated a sickly rainbow of colour.
And sliding right into the centre of his widening vision was a face.
A cute face, admittedly, it had lavender coloured skin – though the right shade was hard to determine in the moon’s pale light. The general shape of the face was pretty horsey, with a button-nose equivalent snout to go with a pair of rigid horse-ears standing on end. The eyes were humungous, with giant glistening pupils surrounded by bands of purple iris.
The hair – Marko decided considering the petite horse-anatomy to call that bit the ‘mane’ – was the only part that had any noticeable texture to it. A darker shade of purple to the rest of the creature, it had a streak of punk running from the bookish-looking straight cut fringe over the top of the head and out of sight.
The mouth was curled into a crescent grin before the thin lips parted and the mouth moved to articulate sounds.
“What are you?” a decidedly female voice asked from the freak-horse’s mouth.
Marko blinked a few times before taking in the rest of the figure. She had four legs and a general horse-like build to her. The tail was the same colour as her mane with the same pink streak running through it. What completely threw Marko – and he liked to think he knew the basics of horse anatomy – were the feathered wings folded neatly at her sides, and the horn sticking out of her forehead like nature’s bayonet.
To add to that she seemed to have some ink. Not a brand, the motif of a pointed star seemed to have been dyed immaculately into her ass.
A brightly coloured pony-sized horse with tats, wings and a unicorn’s horn. There was only one thing Marko could be besides having a dream.
“Tripping, that’s what I am,” the Spartan answered, his voice carrying through his helmet’s faceplate.
Star-horse – as Marko decided to refer to her for the time being in light of her tramp-stamps – seemed confused by the headhunter’s answer. Her head cocked to one side like a dog trying to make sense of a confusing command. It was sickeningly adorable.
“You tripped and fell out of the sky?” she asked – dim-wittedly in Marko’s honest opinion.
Marko scoffed. “What? Are you fucking high?” he paused, then nodded as he managed to sit up. “Oh, scratch that. I’m talking to a little horse. I must be high!”
Star-horse took a few staggered steps back, her hoof-falls muffled on the damp moss as Marko sat up straight. Bits of ferns and vines and branches fell over the smooth edges of his armour while the Spartan managed to stand up. It took more effort that he would admit, the mud in his little crater making a wet sucking noise as Marko pulled himself from the hole.
Standing at full height, Star-horse only stood up to the utility belt on his waist, that was including the extra height gained by her head-shiv. And unbeknownst to the armoured giant, another pony approached. Dragging herself low across the ground while Marko was wandering off and looking around clearing he’d carved into the Everfree Forest, a cyan pegasus poked her head out from under a thick bush.
“Twilight,” Rainbow Dash hissed stealthily. “What is that?”
“I’m not sure!” Twilight Sparkle hissed back out the corner of her mouth so not to give away her friend’s position. “It claims to have been high, then tripped before falling out of the sky...!” Her eyes bugged as she processed that statement. “That actually sort of makes sense!”
Marko in the meantime wasn’t paying Star-horse any attention. Were she at least threatening looking, he might have kept his shotgun trained on her. But she was less than half his size, possibly a quarter his mass, completely unarmoured and unarmed besides the pointy thing on her head. And besides that her speech patterns reminded him of a child. Satisfied he was safe, Marko checked his gear.
Lucky enough none of his gear had been torn free. He still had his shotgun and his submachine gun was still safely holstered on his thigh. Although his ammo had dropped to dangerous levels, and he didn’t have any explosives left. He’d used the last of those in the firefight aboard the Uneven Elephant.
But he had his bayonet. It didn’t need ammo or detonators or any fancy electronic parts. No matter the conditions or the situation, his trusty knife was always ready to get some killing done.
Hefting his shotgun over one shoulder, Marko looked up to the starry sky with two armoured fingers pressed against the side of his helmet. He didn’t need to actually press anything to engage his radio, it was just force of habit drawn from the training headsets he’d practiced with.
“Titan, Titan, this is flintlock,” Marko called into the air on the broadest frequency his radio could muster. “Come in, Titan. How copy, over?”
He wasn’t sure who was listening, so referred to callsigns whenever he could. Titan being the UNSC destroyer class ship Marko and Ishmir had been assigned to serve on. ‘Flintlock’ was their callsign.
Whereas other Spartan teams in Gamma Company were named after swords – katana, gladius, broadsword, etcetera – the headhunter pairs usually adopted callsigns named after firearms. There was a ‘battle rifle’ team. There was a ‘carbine’ team.
Marko and Ishmir had adopted the callsign ‘flintlock.’ Ironic, as they were dangerous for the enemy as well as the wielder.
Marko repeated his message. There was no reply.
“Titan, Titan, this is flintlock. Message, over?” he shortened wondering if the length of his messages would affect his radio’s range. Technical junk never was Marko’s forte, he was just there to fight.
Still no response though, so he assumed message length didn’t affect radio range.
“Flintlock to Titan in the blind; mission complete. Flintlock is awaiting pickup on planet designated pee-ex-two-three-zero, break.” Marko paused to double check the mission clock in the corner of his heads-up-display. “Message end, oh-nine-forty-eight hours mission time. Over and out.”
He set the radio to receive messages only so he wouldn’t accidentally talk and wash out any incoming transmissions, and lowered his hand. In the meantime, Twilight Sparkle was waving off her friend with a subtle nod in the direction of Ponyville.
“Go wake Spike and tell Princess Celestia what is going on,” the alicorn whispered. “I’ll keep an eye on this thing.”
“Are you sure you’ll be okay alone?”
Twilight grinned with a nod. Rainbow Dash was the ever loyal and concerned friend, but she wouldn’t be over-protective. The young princess had after all proved herself capable of taking care of herself on numerous occasions. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”
Seeing her grin, Rainbow Dash smiled, then zipped off through the undergrowth to bring the other ponies up to speed. As she disappeared, the princess turned her head back to the metal giant… only to see him wandering off deeper into the Everfree Forest.
Gasping with a panicked stumble to catch up, Twilight galloped after him.
“Wait! Where are you going!?” she cried, running just to keep up with his long strides.
“Away from you, obviously,” Marko told Star-horse off-handedly without looking. “You’re probably just a figment of my hyperactive imagination.”
Star-horse managed to catch up, her frown visible in Marko’s peripheral vision. “I’m quite real. See?”
Leaping forward, she managed to get a few paces on the Spartan and balanced on her front legs. Coiling her spine along with her rear legs, she paused for a moment to calculate, then with a practiced motion kicked her rear legs out.
The bucking motion made contact with Marko’s shin. He didn’t feel it, but he stopped anyway as he heard the metal CLANG ring through the forest.
He silently watched a triumphant looking Star-horse turn and smile up at him.
“So you are,” Marko admitted, but his voice was devoid of warmth. He saw it drained the glee right out of Star-horse and she retreated a little as he leaned down close to her. The Spartan added in a harsh whisper, “but you should know I’ve cut things open from crotch to chin for less than kicking me in the shins.”
Straightening up silently, Marko turned away from the pony and continued walking.
Cutting a swathe through the thick forest with ease, Marko moved in silence. The only sound was the odd crack of a branch under an armoured boot, or the scrape of foliage over the smooth angles of his armour. What distressed Marko really was the lack of ambient noise. He’d trained in forests plenty of times. There were supposed to be birds, predators and other animals wandering around making noise.
But in those woods… there was nothing.
Eventually though his keen hearing picked up the sound of rushing water. Angling his path, he moved to intercept it, and within moments came to a small stream. It wasn’t deep, only up to his ankles with the clear water running over a bed of gravel, flowing between a few large boulders. Wide enough it created a break in the woods’ canopy, a slit of starry night sky peeking into the forest.
Over the rustle of the water, Marko heard the soft thud of small hooves in the wet dirt. Instinct told him to whip around and let loose one of his last shotgun blasts. Common sense told him not to waste the ammo.
With a sigh, Marko turned to see Star-horse was stopped just a metre away, looking up at him with persistent curiosity.
“Geeze, you are persistent, aren’t you?”
She gave a ‘duh’-like expression. “Well I just want to know who and what you are! Threatening me was just uncalled for!”
Leaping with surprising speed, she darted around Marko with a flap of her wings and stomped to a halt between the Spartan and the river. “So stop walking, mister!” Her ‘ground-holding’ stance faltered a little as he considered what she said. “That is, uh... if you are a mister.”
“I am.” Marko commented plainly.
Looking between Star-horse and the surrounding woods, Marko had a sudden thought. Maybe this irritating little puddle of up-chucked Skittles could make herself useful. Looking up to the starry sky, Marko pointed to direct Star-horse’s gaze upward.
“Did you happen to see anything weird before I fell out of the sky?” he asked.
Following his gaze, Twilight nodded. “There was a giant star that flashed into existence then vanished almost as quickly. Then some meteorites started falling. Why?”
“Meteorites?” That was interesting. One of those might have been Marko. One of those could have been Ishmir. “How many?” he demanded quickly.
Star-pony sat back and managed a shrug, which confirmed Marko’s suspicion this alien horse-thingy didn’t follow normal horse anatomy. “I don’t’ know. At least a dozen. They landed just before you did, not too far away.”
“Could you take me to where the others landed?”
Star-horse looked over her shoulder deeper into the forest with a concerned expression. Marko figured by the biting of her lip she didn’t like being in the woods at night. Whether they were dangerous in the dark or just spooky, the Spartan would have to find out the hard way.
“I could,” Star-horse said eventually, looking back to Marko. Her expression turned firm as she stood her ground between him and the river again. “But I’m going to have to get your name at the very least. You are running around without the appropriate documentation and visas after all.”
Marko chewed the inside of his cheek as he thought. His options were pretty simple. Either he could wander around the forest aimlessly, ditching the pony. But then he’d be no closer to finding Ishmir or a way off the planet. And Star-horse might return with the local military to arrest him for wandering around illegally in their country.
On the other hand he could just kill her… no, probably not. The though seemed wrong. He scratched that off the options list, and came to the realisation he had only one logical choice.
“Okay.” The Spartan nodded. “Let’s be friends. I’m Marko.”
Star-horse’s whole face lit up. And not even at the mentioning that he’d agree to co-operate and give her his name. She was so consumed with joy at the concept of them being friends Marko was pretty sure she missed his name altogether. Which would be a pity, because the Spartan didn’t like to repeat himself.
Thankfully there was no need as it seemed the pony had caught the headhunter’s name and immediately wrote it down. Marko had to do a double take on that one as it happened so suddenly the event nearly gave him whiplash.
Star-horse’s horn began to glow a faint purple aura. Dim at first, then grew rapidly in intensity. Then with a burst of light – BLAM! A quill and a roll of parchment hovered in the air in front of her face. Floating on the same glow of light engulfing her forehead-phallus, the scroll remained motionless while the quill scribbled wildly across the paper to take down the Spartan’s name.
If Marko was more of an intellectual than a fighter, he would have been amazed. He should have been extremely interested in exactly how that worked – how that was possible even! He should have been able to discern that this pony and her people could make valuable UNSC allies. The military applications for this ‘magic’ were literally boundless.
Unfortunately Marko was not an intellectual. He was a thug, so he made note of the magic in his mental list of ‘crazy shit to happen to me today’ and moved on with his life.
“I’m Twilight Sparkle,” the pony introduced as she was still scribbling away.
“Twilight Sparkle,” Marko repeated as if testing the name… it tasted sickly sweet and made him light-headed as his body mistook uttering the name for a sudden and lethal intake of sugar. “And what exactly are you, miss Twilight Sparkle?”
“I’m a pony – and a princess – of this nation, Equestria,” Twilight Sparkle explained looking over her paper and quill. “So if there is anypony who can waive your need for a visitor’s visa, it would be me. And considering this is a bit of an emergency I’ll do it gladly. But I would like to have a couple of basic details on file.”
There was so much to take in right there.
Firstly, she was a ‘princess’! Marko was pretty sure that meant absolutely nothing, but it was pretty good luck, landing on an alien planet and the first creature he met was royalty… or she could just be a village idiot with delusions of grandeur. There was no way to be sure.
Secondly, did she say ‘anypony’? That coupled with the fact the county was apparently called ‘Equestria’ prepared Marko’s body – much to his dismay – for horse-puns galore on the horizon.
Marko was pretty sure there was more stuff to take in, but feared he might hurt himself if he thought about it too hard.
“That’s...” Marko paused to swallow hard. He wanted to say ‘dumb’ but for some reason when he opened his mouth it came out like, “nice?” A bit of Ishmir must have been rubbing off on him.
“So what are you?” Twilight asked lifting her writing materials again.
“A Spartan.” He paused watching her scribble before adding, “a Spartan headhunter if you’re feeling specific.”
“What’s a Spartan headhunter?”
“That’s classified.”
Twilight didn’t miss a beat. “What does ‘classified’ mean?”
“Do you always ask so many questions?” the headhunter scoffed. “Because that could get you in trouble if you’re gonna hang with me.”
“Why?”
Behind the bugged eyes etched into his visor, Marko’s own eyes bugged as he came to a realisation. “Oh, brother. Me ‘n my big mouth.” This was actually worse than hanging out with Ishmir.