As midnight encroached upon them, Oraban sighed. The temple holding the Infinity Gate stood silent against the forest, hidden by the psychic fields of the Warlocks, while the ranger watched the perimeter.
The forest was alive with the croaks and creaks of frogs and crickets, and the noise was enough to hide the eldar’s steps from any that wanted to hear him. He stepped from tree branch to tree branch, holding his rifle up as he scanned the world around him.
So far, there was nothing that really needed his attention, and before long, he simply fell into his own thoughts. He wondered, and would even admit, hoped, that Sweetie Belle survived the battle. He also hoped that she didn’t find her friend.
Well, he did…
He also didn’t…
He didn’t know.
The idea that her friend was alive was confusing enough for him. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like for anyone else. Much less her.
And then there was no telling how her friend was going to react. Living with orks all that time? It would be incredible if she could still communicate properly.
He did the right thing, not telling her that one of her best friends was still alive. Really...honestly…
He sighed, how did things get so complicated?
The worst part was that he knew he wouldn’t even care if it were not for the empathetic blast Sweetie Belle used back on Arconar. He knew it was her fault, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to blame her at all. He had felt the injustices towards her that drove the young unicorn to attacking him like that, and well…
He sighed.
She had to go and make things complicated.
He shook his head as he landed on a new branch, and took a long sweep across the landscape.
Nothing.
He shook his head.
The crack of thunder roared behind him, and he turned towards the temple.
There was no storm that night.
A psychic cry for help echoed into his mind as a warlock screamed in pain inside the temple.
Oraban cursed, and ran for temple, even as shots began to ring in the clearing around the massive structure.
He leapt up the stairs, before he stopped in front of the door. Dropping into a crouch, he held his rifle ahead of him, watching as his pan-spectral sight showed nothing.
Not even the warlocks.
He walked, crouched, into the hallway. His head and rifle were almost on a swivel, sweeping across the wraithbone temple, searching for anything that could have possibly done this.
And yet he saw nothing.
There was not a single sign of anything around him. Not a single psychic field.
He moved deeper into the temple, and passed another body, his spirit stone glowing faintly now that it held the soul of the warlock.
Why couldn’t he see something? There should be something around here. They couldn’t have possibly disappeared, could they?
They couldn’t—
His mind stopped.
All he could do was look down at his stomach, where an awful, wicked blade had pierced his hide. Engraved in foul sigils of the chaos gods, it pulsated softly, even a his life slowly began to fade away.
Oraban finally made a sound, a pained gasp that echoed in the air. He choked, a weak gurgle escaped his lips before a power-armored boot kicked him off the blade.
Kraagan shook his head as he watched the ranger grasp his stomach, clutching himself as he weakly began to crawl away. “Fool,” he muttered, before he strode back towards the gate.
Festerus and his squad surrounded the Infinity Gate, and Kraagan walked into the room even as the sorcerer stared at the wraithbone monument, mere moments away from cackling, and wringing his hands.
“The time approaches,” Festerus said, leaning heavily on his staff. “It shall open once the sun rises, and then countless worlds will be ours.
Kraagan smiled. “Excellent. You have served your purpose well, sorcerer.”
Festerus turned, regarding the captain with cautious eyes. Nonetheless, he spoke calmly, never betraying his suspicious. “What are your plans now, Captain?” he asked.
Kraagan smiled. “What indeed?”
As though to answer his question, every Chaos marine turned, and fired into the sorcerer. Bolts slammed into his elbows, knees, and shoulders, rendering them useless before the sorcerer had a chance to so much as raise his hands.
He roared in pain before falling forward, landing on his face.
“I’m sorry, Festerus,” Kraagan said, in a tone that suggested he was most certainly not. The captain kicked the sorcerer over, and towered over him as he leaned on his blade. “Unfortunately, my plan requires some evidence of our passing to come this way.”
Festerus growled. “You fool! Do you realize what you’ve done? You cannot use the portal without me!”
The sorcerer could hear Kraagan smile behind his helmet. “We’re not using the portal.”
Festerus blinked, confused.
“I’m afraid it’s a ruse. Now, I really can’t tell you more, you never know who is listening after all,” he said, as he stabbed his power sword into Festerus’ arm.
The sorcerer seethed.
“But I will give you at least one thing,” the Captain said, as he brought his hands to his helmet. “I will let you look at the face of the man who will kill you.”
Festerus cursed him, begging the gods to ruin the man before him. He cursed and raged and spat.
Until the helmet came off.
Then he went quiet.
Because that was not the face of Kraagan.
---=][=---
Sweetie Belle sat in the middle of the eldar camp, staring at the ground as the world moved around her. Button sat on her head, chirping sadly as the unicorn simply sat, unmoving.
Button came down to her face, stroking her cheek to try and get a response, and yet Sweetie gave none.
The eldar were moving to camp, setting watches as night began to pass, huddling around fires and keeping to themselves.
And Sweetie Belle still sat.
Alone.
Button gave another worried chirp, and she finally responded. A gentle push with a wraithbone arm. “They’re right there, Button…” she said. “Both of them. I thought I would never see them again, and there they were.” She shivered, “but they might as well have been a galaxy away.”
“Perhaps that’s what we need,” a comforting voice said.
Sweetie Belle looked up, and saw Farseer Elahina looking down at her as she leaned on her staff. “A place away from all these troubles. A galaxy away is perhaps our best hope.”
Sweetie Belle gave a snort. Not something she wanted to hear.
Elahina sat next to the unicorn. “Sadly, we cannot go a galaxy away. Our place is here, in this galaxy, and we must play with the hand we drew. This is our world, we have changed it, and we can change it no more. There is no more hope for us.”
Sweetie Belle sighed.
“Of course, there might still be hope for others,” she said. “Your friends, perhaps?”
Sweetie Belle shook her head. “No, they're long gone. They were raised by mon-keigh and orks. They’ve tried so hard to survive they’ve become the forces we fight. They’re become our enemies whether I like it or not.”
Elahina nodded. “In this galaxy, perhaps,” she said, before she stood up. “But perhaps there is hope in another?”
Sweetie Belle looked up at her, and her eyes began to widen as the Farseer walked away.
The Gate.
The thought rang through her head like a bell knoll, and the thought of all three of them going hope caused her heart to swell.
She...she had to tell them.
She leapt onto her hooves, and ran for the edge of camp. Once there, she began to set up her wraithbone struts to amplify her psychic abilities. They went up quickly as a new, excited energy began to flood Sweetie Belle’s frame. As soon as they went up, she turned her focus eastward, searching for her friend.
Her mind shot forward across the crater, and soared to the Space Marine camp, hovering over them like a spirit from an ancient text. Her psychic eyes sweeping over the camp as Astartes looked to their weapons and armor.
Techmarines and serfs milled about, taking care of various machines that needed to be fixed. She searched, looking for the unique not-quite-presence of psychic energy that marked herself and apparently her friends as well.
Finally, she found her. The odd not-void surrounded by armor that could have only been Apple Bloom.
Her voice warbled oddly as she took what appeared to be a helmet from a marine with a large robotic arm on his back, before she turned, and headed deeper into the camp.
She waited, even as the void that must be Apple Bloom strode forward. Sweetie Belle didn’t want to catch her in the middle of the camp, it would probably keep her from moving, and that would draw attention.
The moment Apple Bloom was alone, Sweetie Belle pounced, at what she saw there shook her too her core.
Most minds were open, almost waiting for a psyker to read them. Apple Bloom’s mind was something else. A twisted fortress of pain and resolve, Apple Bloom’s mind was all but impregnable, and...and it hurt to look at. It was as though everything that made a mind great had been stripped away, leaving nothing behind but pain and fear.
“Who are you, and what is your business?” came a guarded call, but Sweetie Belle was quick to recognize the mental voice of Apple Bloom.
“Apple Bloom? Is that you? What have they done to you?” she asked.
A feeling of resigned annoyance came back at her. “Ah, so you’re a witch as well, Sweetie Belle? Why am I not surprised?”
“Apple Bloom, Apple Bloom, listen! It’s important.”
“I’m sure it is.”
“No, Apple Bloom! Please, just...just give me five minutes!”
“I gave you far more than that on the battlefield yesterday.”
“Apple Bloom, we can go back!” she cried.
There was a pause. “Go back? What do you mean?”
Sweetie Belle’s heart leapt. She had her attention. “The Eldar have a gate! It’s open for the next three days, and it will take us back to Equestria.”
There was a long pause.
“Equestria?”
“Yes! We can go back, back to Ponyville and Canterlot. Back to Rarity, Rainbow Dash, and Applejack. We can go back!”
Sweetie watched as the fortress wavered. It shook for only a moment or two, before the walls of pain steeled themselves.
And then Apple Bloom said something that Sweetie Belle honestly didn’t expect, “So?”
“So?” Sweetie repeated.
“So?” Apple Bloom said, her voice cold and distance.
“Apple Bloom we could go home. We can go see our families!”
“This is my family,” Apple Bloom said, and an image of the Blood Ravens flashed into her mind.
The Imperium of Man shone into Sweetie’s mental eyes, a beacon of stubbornness that refused to be shut out, or argued with. The Adeptus Astartes, the glory of man, the God-Emperor of Mankind, and..
Was that…
“Celestia?”
The beacon paused, and the light dimmed, revealing only Apple Bloom’s fortified mind. “What about Celestia?”
There! That’s your target! Sweetie’s own mind cried. “Yes, what about her, Apple Bloom? Or rather...your duty to Celestia?”
The fortress was silent.
Sweetie pushed, trying to get through the massive walls with words alone. “We all have a duty to her, AB,” she said, using her childhood nickname. “Shouldn’t we go back just to let her know we’re okay? Don’t we owe her that much at least?”
There was silence.
“I’ll…” she began. “I’ll think about it.”
Sweetie sighed. Somehow, she knew that was the best she can do. “If...if you decide to come with us, meet me at the westernmost point of the crater. I hope to leave by daybreak.”
There was a general feeling of acknowledgement that washed over Sweetie Belle, but that was it. Nothing more.
Sweetie shook her head. “I hope to see you there,” she said, before pulling away.
---=][=---
It was 0400 hours, Imperial Standard Time.
And Apple Bloom had thought about it. She had thought about it long and hard.
Harder than she wanted to.
In the end, she finally decided that she was not prepared to make the call. So, for better or worse, she stood in the temporary office of none-other than the Chapter Master himself.
Gabriel Angelos sat on a small throne, looking over a plasteel desk, and staring at her with a gaze that could stop a charging hive tyrant in its tracks. His massive, armored hands sat in front of his mouth, as his elbows rested on the desk, his fingers interlocked, but she knew his face was an impassive mask of stone.
And with every passing second, she was beginning to regret the decision of bringing this to the Chapter Master.
He did not speak, but she could hear the mechanics in his bionic eye whir as it focused and refocused on her. The seconds stretched on for minutes, and they seemed to go for hours, and then finally, when Apple Bloom did not think she could take any more, he spoke. “So...you can return to your world.”
“Yes, Chapter Master,” she answered, eager to break the silence.
“You can return, but to do so, you must go with your friends, who have both been tainted by xenos.”
“Yes, Chapter Master.”
“And you are asking me if you should go?”
“Yes, Chapter Master,” Apple Bloom answered.
Gabriel shook his head. “If you were anyone else, I’d have you shot on the spot.”
Well that was good news…
The Chapter Master level his glare at the pony once more. “Before we even think about discussing this almost heretical line of thinking any further, I’m going to ask you why I should even consider this.”
Apple Bloom nodded, before doing her best to appear pensive. Truthfully, she’d already spent a hour racking her superhuman brain for anything that she could use. She just...didn’t want to seem too eager.
“Well, firstly, doing this would weaken both the Eldar and Ork forces by removing both an influential figure, and a powerful resource, while we only lose one man.”
Gabriel nodded.
“Secondly, it would…” she squirmed a bit, “it would clear the Chapter of a potential source of corruption.”
Gabriel raised an eyebrow, but offered no comment.
“And finally, to follow the assumption that Princess Celestia is an avatar of the Emperor, then returning would simply be reallocating resources to an Emperor who lacks her finest warriors.”
There was a moment of silence between the two, before Gabriel spoke. “You have thought about this much, haven’t you?”
Apple Bloom winced behind her helmet. “Perhaps more than I should have.”
Gabriel nodded. “Remove your helmet, Apple Bloom.”
She did so without question.
“Look me in the eye,” he ordered.
She obeyed.
“Do you want to leave?”
“I will not abandon my post without—”
“Not what I asked,” Gabriel said. “I asked if you want to go. If your duty did not interfere, would you leave?”
“I…” Apple Bloom began. “I...I don’t know. I think I would?”
Gabriel nodded. “Now, what would you do if I ordered you to destroy it? To destroy the only way you’ve found to get home?”
“I…” she began, swallowing hard, “I would destroy it, sir.”
Gabriel did not answer immediately, instead, he glared into the Tactical Marine’s orange eyes. There was a long moment of silence in the office, before Gabriel abruptly stood, and turned his back to her, instead facing the shrine to the Emperor that occupied the back of the temporary building.
The gilded adamantium shrine depicted the Emperor, in his living glory, standing triumphant while a chorus of angels and cherubs surrounded him. Below him, staring up with reverence, was Azariah Vidya, the saint of the Blood Ravens, holding a power sword as the angels sang around him.
Gabriel stared at it for a long second, before he spoke. “Have you heard of Cyrene, Apple Bloom?”
Her ears perked at the name. She had, indeed heard of it. She had also been told to never, ever mention it around the Chapter Master. “I...I have not,” she said.
“I was born on Cyrene,” Gabriel said, “I and my friend Isador Akios. When the Blood Trials came to Cyrene, Isador and I stood back to back, bringing any that would face us low.” He smirked. “At least, to hear Chaplain Prathios tell the tale, I remember no longer. Now, Isador and I were good friends, even after the trials. When I became Captain of the third company, it was Isador that became my advisor. With his guidance, I accomplished much…
“And then, many years later, I was selected to oversee the Blood Trials on Cyrene, and what I saw…” Gabriel shook his head. “The corruption and heresy on the world I once called my home sickened me to no end, and who else but my father was at the center of it?”
The Chapter Master reached for his belt and pulled the bolt pistol that magnetically hung to his side. “I ended his life with this very pistol, before I called the Inquisition to destroy my own planet.”
Apple Bloom was silent.
Gabriel then turned, staring down at her, pistol still in hand. “Soon after that, there was the Tartarus Campaign.”
Now Apple Bloom had heard of this.
“Myself, Isador, and the third company were on the planet Tartarus, where the Alpha Legion were trying to release a daemon from a stone prison. Unfortunately, the daemon, as well as a sorcerer named Sindri Myr began their foul works, corrupting the Imperial Guard forces on the surface, as well my friend…
“When I discovered his treachery, I killed him myself,” Gabriel said, as he placed the bolt pistol on the desk, “with this same pistol.”
Apple Bloom stared at it. The craftsmanship on the ancient weapon was exquisite, and there was certainly no equal for a firearm made in the last three millennia. Proud, golden skulls trailing the wings of angels shone in the candlelight of Gabriel’s office, and the gunmetal was a clean, glossy black.
“On that day, personally, I wanted to be rid of it,” Gabriel said, motioning to the pistol, “but the techmarines saved it, and dubbed it ‘The Left Hand of Gabriel,’ as though I were some kind of saint.” He gave a snort. “Yet somehow, despite that, it became a symbol even to me.”
Apple Bloom looked up at him.
“It became a symbol of fulfilling your duty, even when you wished there was another way. As time went on, with every successful surgery, it became obvious to me that my duty was to make you a Space Marine. And now, I believe it is your duty to return to your Emperor.”
Apple Bloom looked up at him, and nodded.
“But,” Gabriel said, “if you find that this is a deception of the enemy, then I expect you to answer in kind,” he said, before picking up the pistol and handing it to her. “No matter how painful…”
She nodded, understanding, and took the pistol in a mechadendrite, before connecting it to her side.
“Any further question, Marine?” Gabriel asked.
“Sir, no, sir,” she answered.
“Dismissed.”
Apple Bloom nodded, saluting before bowing to the shrine.
As she exited the office, however, she was met with a new sight.
Her squad.
“So where are we going?” Karlon asked.
Apple Bloom blinked.
The squad stared back.
“No,” she said. “You have your own duty to perform and—”
“Chapter Master!” Coberos yelled. “Requesting Permission to escort Sister Apple Bloom to her objective location?”
They could hear the sigh that came from his office. “Granted…”
“Thank you, sir!” Coberos called.
“Face it, Xeno,” Ramiel said as he stood next to her, “you’re stuck with us a little while longer.”
Apple Bloom gave him a glare, but smiled. They were her family after all.
---=][=---
“Duty prevails”—Imperial Thought of the Day.
Alright, guys, next time, meeting up, for real.
"Whee! Good stuff!"
You got it!
"See you all next time!"
Bye!