Expedition
Gear in the Machine
Chapter 8
Expedition
****
Frontier town designation: Oasis
“War... War never changes.”
“When the Ork assaults faltered and the greenskin armies were finally pushed back into space or scattered across the wilds, we thought the struggle was over. As the dust settled and the Warp storm raged around Celestia’s sun – the core of our so-called ‘Centaur system’ – we celebrated a miraculous victory and the return to lasting peace. We were secure from further incursions from the Warp, free from aggressors lurking in our star system, and reluctant partners of the Tau remnants, whom could no longer act against us. We were safe again.”
A sigh.
“That illusion didn’t last. Having earned their place as the planet’s rulers, the Iron Warriors took to the task of subjugation and consolidation. But ponies were merely the most dominant form of intelligent life on our world, not the only form. The various kingdoms and tribes did not take kindly to the deal that Equestria had made for them. The Orks and Tau had been found, fought, and defeated on Equestrian soil, and so to the other nations, the aliens were an Equestrian problem. The Equestrians’ awkward and desperate assurances that the other races of Centaur III had been saved by the 38th Company as well fell on deaf ears. The non-ponies of our world prepared for resistance.”
“The resistance was fierce, but short-lived. The diamond dogs were the first to find their territory housing new mining facilities and carbon extractors, and the first to learn the deadly folly of opposing the Dark Mechanicus. The bison found their legendary stubbornness outmatched by Iron Warrior patrols and the gun towers that cut through their migration routes. The griffon kingdom, an ancient and fearsome military power, was toppled in an evening. The denizens of our forests could only watch helplessly while their homes were harvested at the humans’ whim or – arguably worse – slowly corrupted and killed by the blight of Chaos and industrial pollution spreading ever further across the globe. And what of the changelings? To have launched such a terrifying and cunning assault upon the aliens, only to vanish into their labs without a trace! Genocide may be the more merciful fate compared to what our dark masters have in store for them!”
“In each case, the Equestrians intervened where they could to spare their neighbors from the threat of wholesale enslavement or extermination. Pony regents were assigned to the more organized foreign lands to replace uncooperative rulers and keep the citizens safe from their new masters, effectively becoming colonial governors. Despite their mercy and benevolence, and their excellent record at preventing massacres, the equines were quite despised for their efforts. The land was stripped bare and carved open, the natives were subjugated, and each region was taxed for the privilege of survival.”
“The Equestrians themselves benefitted considerably from the 38th Company’s presence, forming lasting friendships and trading for the aliens’ technology. But as their allies, they were forced to watch as a shroud of darkness and fear spread across their world. A world where violence was now as common as trade. A world plagued by alien raiders, daemonic phenomena, and evil magic. A world where ‘harmony’ was mocked as a euphemism for oppression and corruption.”
“And yet, despite their efforts and sacrifices, even Equestria was not safe. More threats lurk in the void beyond our little planet. More enemies race between the stars, searching for victims. The Centaur system had been seized by the minions of Chaos, but in the end it was simply another scrap of territory in a galaxy ablaze with constant war.”
“And war… war never changes.”
Gear Works stared at the hunch-backed creature sitting at the edge of the road. His head tilted slightly to the side, and several of his optical lights blinked off and on.
“I just asked where I could find a scrap dealer,” Gears deadpanned. “Or an artifact collector, perhaps? I’m searching for anyone who might sell salvaged goods.”
“Can I have some money?” the elderly creature replied.
With a weary grunt, Gear Works turned away and trotted down the street.
Oasis was a blighted inland town, positioned in the middle of the badlands and inhabited by a medley of bizarre townsfolk who mostly defied simple racial classification. The structures were haphazard and crowded, with few signs of modern infrastructure or simple Equestrian technology. Many of the buildings had been built and expanded upward from their ramshackle beginnings, supporting multiple stories on improvised braces or chains linked to other structures. It had the appearance of a city slum, save only for the fact that there wasn’t any section of the town in obviously better shape.
A scream came from behind him, and Gear Works snapped his head around.
A large fish-like biped collapsed in the middle of the street, twitching badly. Two Scavurel Dregs, each holding a taser goad, slowly circled the creature warily while bursts of Binaric Cant passed between them. Other townsfolk scattered or cowered, fearful that they could be next.
“P-Please, stop! I don’t know! I don’t know what you’re talking about!” the creature howled.
“Explain the origins of the device,” demanded one of the soldiers, pointing to something off on the sidewalk. “This constitutes your final request.”
“I… It… You can’t just…” the creature blubbered, weeping frantically.
The other Scavurel raised his taser goad, electricity dancing between the tines.
“And what have we here? What a clever little battery pack!” Gear Works trotted past the confrontation, and the Scavurel hesitated.
Sitting on a crate next to an iron cage was a metal box with a spring-loaded top, numerous wires, and a cracked dataslate interface taped on the front. Gears snatched up the object with his servo arm, rotating it to look into the bottom.
“An improvised cogitator that uses las-packs as energy cells? Not bad. Whoever built this is quite handy and knows their way around a circuit.” Gear Works glanced at the fish-man. “I’m guessing it wasn’t you.”
“No! I didn’t build it! I swear, I don’t know what it’s made from! I just use it to do math and keep records!” the creature blubbered.
“This is clearly junk scavenged from battlefields or some outpost. It’s not what we’re looking for.” Gear Works placed the device back where he found it. “However, whoever you got it from may know more…”
“I don’t know who sold it! I bartered for it fair and square and didn’t ask no questions! I’m an honest trader! I deal with hundreds of customers! How am I supposed to remember all of them?” the vendor complained.
“An honest trader…” Gear Works turned his head toward the cages stacked up next to the side of the road. Behind the thick iron bars were various smallish creatures whimpering in fright or staring listlessly at him. He couldn’t identify most of the species, but the ones he could, including an exhausted deer and two diamond dog pups, were clearly sentient.
“You’re a slave trader,” Gears spat, turning his gaze on the fish-man while his optical lights narrowed into little green lines.
“Uh… So are you guys, right?” the fish-man asked, slowly pushing himself upright.
“Technically, yes! The difference is, I feel bad about it!” the stallion retorted.
“That’s not much of a difference.”
Puffs of steam burst from within Gear’s hood, followed by an eruption of angry-sounding static. The Scavurel glanced at each other uncertainly.
“Fine! Then I’ll do something about it!” the cyborg stallion suddenly declared.
Gear’s tail stabbed toward the cage, piercing the battered iron lock with his dataspike and tearing it open. Then his servo arm threw the door open.
“In the name of the Iron Warriors, I am releasing your inventory!” Gears announced before cutting open another lock.
“What? Why?!” the vendor demanded.
“Officially, it’s because slave trafficking within Company territory requires sanction, and you have no such clearance.” The Dark Acolyte’s tail whipped through the air again, and another lock fell apart. “We don’t want you rubbish preying on our assets.”
“But this isn’t Company territory!”
“You have heavily armed space-soldiers rampaging through your streets and ponies are looting your property. Of course this is Company territory.”
Gear Works broke the last lock and kicked the cage, startling the two diamond dog pups inside. They squeaked in fright and then bolted, dashing out into the streets and sprinting away. The stallion banged his servo arm against another cage, and the remaining slaves that hadn’t yet left bolted away into town.
“You’re crazy! Those wretches can’t take care of themselves! They could die out on their own!” the slave trader complained.
“Every one of them was malnourished and dehydrated,” Gears snorted. “They could have died in your cages!”
“Well, sure, but then they’re a tax write-off.”
Gear Works spat an angry blast of static from his vox, causing the fish-man to flinch back. Then he spun around and stomped away, kicking up small dust clouds in his wake. The Scavurel watched him leave while spitting short static bursts to each other, and then those soldiers shrugged their shoulders and walked off in the opposite direction. The street vendor was left with his improvised battery pack and his empty cages, forgotten.
“Growing up in Canterlot, it’s easy to forget just how much of this planet is a vile, untamed swamp of poverty and savagery,” Gear Works fumed while he trudged down the streets. “Look at this pitiful place. We should just drop a hab block on top of it and be done with it. It would crush this entire wretched slum and everybody would have a better dwelling! At least, the ones who could run fast enough would!”
The thought of an enormous building grinding the homes of the indigent to dust lifted his mood briefly, but it lasted barely a few seconds before Gears emitted a tired sigh. He stopped in the street and looked left, and then right. Most of the hideous townsfolk either turned away with a shudder, unwilling to stare into the arch of green lights within the shadow of his hood. Some scowled angrily, lips curling to display curved, razor-edged teeth, before they too turned away with a shudder.
“I miss Striker,” Gears said, his ears flattening against his hood.
An explosion came from the next block ahead of him. Gear’s ears perked up, and he watched with fascinated trepidation as a rickety-looking tower fell over into the street. The tower was but one wing of a much larger building, and tendrils of smoke leaked from several windows already.
“Ah, it seems we’ve found a lead,” Gears said to himself, out of habit. “Good. I thought I’d be out here all day questioning tight-lipped street vagrants.” He started trotting faster down the street.
Then he stopped.
Gear Works turned his head around, staring at a particular alleyway completely enclosed by the creaking tenements on either side. His optics sensors zoomed in on the shadowy gap between structures, but he detected no movement.
“I could have sworn I saw something… Bah. Whatever. I have better things to do,” the Dark Acolyte grumbled.
****
The Mayor’s mansion, such as it was, wasn’t much of a mansion. Like most of the buildings in Oasis it had been built initially as a haphazard shack and then expanded outwards and upwards. Walls opened up into crooked hallways and rooms had been stacked on top of each other to form creaking, unstable towers. Many holes in the walls or ceilings had been patched up with aluminum siding and wooden planks, while fire damage was evident in multiple rooms.
And that was BEFORE the Iron Warriors had stormed the building.
An explosion ripped through one of the walls on the third story, and the smoldering body of a large, thickly muscled creature was launched out of the building. Its body hit the ground with a meaty thud, and an armored form peered out of the new hole in the wall to confirm the creature’s fate. Smoke already poured from half a dozen breaches and windows all over the building, and the booming sound of bolter fire could be heard every few seconds.
Soon, a pair of Iron Warriors stomped out of the (already demolished) front door, each dragging a yelping creature behind them. One was a small, pale individual wearing what probably amounted to fine clothing in Oasis. The other was a gangly, furry beast wearing a sackcloth and already bleeding from several small wounds. Both were marched out into the poorly-maintained plaza in front of the mansion, and then shoved to the ground.
“We believe this one is what amounts to a governor in this loathsome hive,” one Chaos Space Marine growled, pointing a boltgun at the back of the smaller beast. “The other is his servant. He was promised survival in return for revealing his master’s hiding place.”
“You useless, backstabbing coward!” howled the Mayor, jumping up and shaking a fist at the other prisoner. “Do you have any idea what I’m going to do to you? You can’t treat the Mayor like this!”
“Directive: Be silent until input is requested. Advisory: Compliance shall extend estimated lifespan considerably.”
Standing in the middle of the plaza was a Dark Techpriest. He was not extensively modified as compared to most of his peers, possessing a fully humanoid, bipedal body with augments that largely mirrored the limbs they were replacing. His head was half cybernetic, half unmodified, with a nightmarish array of tubes and sensors replacing everything from his jaw to right temple such that his augments seemed to cut across his face. A cog-toothed power axe stood on the ground, head-down, with the Techpriest’s hands resting atop the other end. Servo skulls riddled with spikes orbited above him, chittering quietly in crude Binaric.
“Introductory: Designation Vallan. Techpriest class gamma-secundus. Function: Acting field commander attached to expeditionary force 9-636. Begin explanatory sequence…”
Vallan pointed to an empty space in the air in front of him. A hololith spilled into the open space, forming the image of a four-legged explorator automata. The hololith spun around slowly, and parts of the machine broke away suddenly and expanded to show off the various parts of the device: the augur arrays, manipulators, legs, and power core all broke off and ballooned in size before collapsing again and returning to the greater whole.
“This is a Jaggen-pattern explorator automata probe. Such devices have been deployed all over this world to scour it for anomalies, tactical data, and resource caches. Eighty-one hours ago, the tight-beam noosphere uplink from one such unit was lost. Our data sphere was unable to determine the cause of disruption.”
The small, beleaguered creature slowly raised a claw. “B-But you-“
“Twenty hours ago, contact was briefly re-established. No data was successfully inloaded. Analysis of signum decay and ionic refraction allowed for the triangulation of its approximate location.” Vallan picked up his axe and pointed the spike on its head at the small, rubbery creature. “Conclusive: 20 hours ago, a crucial component of our device was activated within a particular land diameter of 2.61 kilometers; an area consisting largely of your settlement. Executive: You will surrender the device if it is in your possession, and if it is not you shall aid our search for it.” He paused. “You may speak now.”
The Mayor gaped at the Dark Techpriest. Another explosion came from the manor behind them, followed by the sound of falling timbers. Then the small, rubbery yellow creature puffed up its cheeks, and dark burgundy eyes glared up at the cyborg.
“You… You MONSTERS rampaged through my town and tore up my home looking for some trash you lost?!” he asked through clenched teeth.
“Affirmative,” the Dark Techpriest replied. “Expansion: Other strategic options were considered, but as this territory is non-compliant a direct search was deemed optimal.”
“Non-compliant? What does that even mean?” growled the Mayor.
“It means your people may yet be unaware they survive at the whim of the Legion, and are more than likely in arrears paying tribute,” said one of the Iron Warriors holding the creature at gunpoint. “But most importantly, it means that there is no equine here to talk us out of killing you all.”
“Erm, what about that one?” the taller, furrier creature mumbled, pointing off to the side.
Gear Works stood at the edge of the plaza, and he perked up when the Dark Techpriest and Chaos Marines glanced over at him. “Hello, Lord! I’ve done a circuit of the western slums and uncovered no energy signals or rad-traces consistent with the components we seek. However, a group of Scavurel did happen upon a slave trader that had acquired some scavenged Company tech unrelated to our current objectives! While we can be sure that at least some basic devices make their way here, unfortunately we have found no sign of a permanent local market in technology salvage, nor any infrastructure to support even low industry!”
“Analytic: If this settlement only receives minor exposure to our technology through salvage trade routes, it is likely such traders have already fled the territory upon our approach. Search parameters may require adjustment,” droned Vallan.
“Are you serious?!” bellowed the Mayor, leaping to his feet. “You rampaged through my city, killed all my guards, and burned down my home for NOTHING?!”
“Probably,” Gears replied. “Also, for the record, I support razing your vile garbage pit of a town purely for its own sake and will not be negotiating an end to hostilities. Sorry.”
“This is an outrage! You monsters have ruined me searching for your discarded trash, and now you can’t even find it?!”
A flash of green light came from the Dark Techpriest’s augmetic eye. “Contra: All such hypotheses thus far remain theoretical. Local forces have not concluded standard searches and interrogations. Interrogative: What individuals commonly purchase or procure non-local technology within this region?”
“I’m not telling you anything!” the Mayor snarled.
Vallan’s gaze tilted up to the Iron Warriors. “Recourse: Psionic interrogation?”
“Negative. The Sorcerer isn’t readily available,” the Astartes scoffed. “This fool’s data, if he really possesses any, is likely time-sensitive in any case. If he won’t cooperate…”
“Conclusive: Captive potential value = 0. Expunge.”
The bark of a boltgun rang through the streets, and a wide fan of blood splashed across the plaza’s flagstones.
The Iron Warrior guarding the Mayor’s manservant holstered his own bolter and leaned over the shivering creature. “You have been moderately helpful so far. Continue to be so, and you will be rewarded.”
“B-But I don’t know anything! I h-have no idea wh-what you’re talking about with… devices and c-components and whatnot!” the servant whimpered.
“Make your best guess, then,” advised the other Chaos Marine while smoke wafted from his boltgun. “It would be a waste of resources to raze this slum looking for a particular piece of scrap. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
Gear Works turned away from the grisly scene with a tired sigh.
“Doubt we’ll get anything useful from that one. This entire trip is starting to look like a category error.” He began walking down another filthy, crooked street. “And for what? A cache of sensory data about fifty kilometers of open desert? If we’re really that interested, can’t we just send another probe?”
He continued complaining to himself while he trotted, and the various townsfolk continued to scowl or scurry away at the sight of him. His optical array repeatedly switched its spectrum detection looking for anomalies, but nothing unusual or even expected-but-slightly-interesting emerged. No signum. No radiation blooms. No electro-magnetic anomalies. No nothing.
“Pst! Hey, you.”
Gears swiveled his head around sharply, locking onto the sound and zooming in on the source in an instant. “Me?”
“Yes, you. The pony with the… exotic personal wear. May I have a moment of your time, please?”
The solicitor was a cat. A bipedal cat with caramel-colored fur, a worn burgundy coat (and nothing else) and eyes of piercing green. He was nearly as tall as a human, although his frame was noticeably leaner. He was standing in the shadows of an alleyway, leaning against the wall of one building and beckoning to gears with a paw.
Gear Works tilted his head to the side and hesitantly approached. “Identify yourself, stray.”
“Ah, there it is! That classic Company diplomacy! You guys really know how to put a cat at ease while you’re storming his home and executing local officials!” Despite his sarcasm, the cat-person smiled brightly. “The name’s Capper. Capper Dapperpaws. But my friends call me Capper.”
“Understood, citizen Dapperpaws,” Gear Works said flatly. “Are you a resident of Oasis?”
“A new resident, yes. I used to live in Klugetown before the Ork raids – and the Company artillery strikes that followed them – started driving people further East,” Capper explained, pausing to buff his claws against his chest. “While we’re on the topic, your gunship pilots REALLY have to learn to use a bit more discretion, friend. I almost lost a leg the last time I saw one!”
“Your critique has been logged, citizen Dapperpaws. Will that be all?” Gears asked dryly.
“Not at all,” Capper responded, standing up straight and pointing to the stallion. “Enough about me, let’s talk about YOU.”
The feline dropped down into a crouch, placing a paw on Gear’s shoulder. “Ol’ Capper couldn’t help but overhear that you and your crazy murder-buddies are in a bit of trouble. Looking for a bit of special junk in a town made of junk is a rough job, especially when the locals won’t talk to you.”
The optical lights under Gear’s hood turned into a series of green slits. “… Go on.”
Capper started pacing in a circle, walking a circuit around Gear Works while the cyborg equine tracked him. “Now, I admit that when it comes to tech, I don’t know the difference between a lugnut and a walnut. But when it comes to individuals who don’t want to be found because they sell goods of ‘dubious origin,’ well… it’s good to have a friend like Capper!”
He paused. “I actually have a little song about-“
“No, no, that’s okay,” Gear Works interrupted. “We don’t really do the song thing anymore. The humans find it rather off-putting and tedious.” His augmetic arm curved around to scratch the chin of his respirator. “If I’m understanding this correctly, you’re offering to lead me to someone who may have the part we’re looking for, or at least knows the local salvage trade well enough to give us a lead. Which is great, obviously, but I’m guessing you won’t do this for free.”
Capper recoiled, as if shocked. “You don’t think I’m here to ask for money, do you? No no no! I am a feline of DIGNITY, Sir!” He wagged a finger at the Dark Acolyte. “All I ask is that you use your considerable leverage with our well-armed primate friends to get them to skedaddle on out of town as soon as they find whatever silly little gizmo you’re looking for… and without harming me or mine, of course.”
“Huh. Well, that’s very reasonable,” Gear Works admitted, his voice perking noticeably. “I-“
“ALTHOUGH,” Capper suddenly added, frowning up at the sky, “if someone happened to feel they owed me a favor, and decided to grant me one of those handy little access cards to enter and live in Ferrous Dominus, well that would be mighty kind of them! And it wouldn’t cost them a thing!”
“Ah.” Gear’s ears pinned back, and he sighed.
“Just thinking out loud. Totally up to my hypothetical friend and benefactor,” Capper continued, his sly smile stretching further into a grin. “Although if any dear friends WERE to give me such a fine gift, they should probably let me know before I do anything important for them.”
“Yes, yes, I understand,” Gears grumbled. “I can create an access profile and citizen log when I return to the fortress-city and flag you for expedited approval, but you’ll still have to undergo security processing. I’m afraid it’s not possible to simply give you a key and let you come and go as you like. Take me to your contact, please.”
Capper’s smile turned into an inscrutable expression, and he scratched at the fuzz on his chin while silently staring into the arch of glowing green lights in Gear’s hood.
“…… What?” the cyborg pony asked.
“Nothing,” Capper said suddenly, snapping out of his previous pose. “You just follow me, little guy. I’m sure we’ll find your space trash!” He strode proudly into the street, beckoning to the pony behind him.
“Okay, just let me call an escort.” Gear Works turned around and started to walk back toward the plaza. “I want a few Scavurel with us.”
A sharp tug on his tail brought the stallion to a halt, and he looked back to see Capper chuckling nervously while holding the dataspike.
“Now let’s not be hasty,” Capper said with a strained smile. “I know you Company types like your weapons, but high explosives give me anxiety. Let’s leave the scary armed men behind for now, dig?”
Gear Works stared blankly at the feline for a moment. Then he nodded his head. “Very well, citizen Dapperpaws. Lead the way. I don’t imagine I’ll need weapons to accomplish this task anyway.”
“Yes, definitely,” Capper replied, nodding his head rapidly. He let go of the metal spike-tipped tendril and started heading down the road again. “Just trust your friend Capper, Mr… uh… I don’t think I got your name earlier, come to think of it. You half-machines DO have names, right? And not just serial numbers or something?”
“We have both, as a matter of fact. You may call me Gear Works, Dark Acolyte of the 38th Company’s Mechanicus contingent, and the first and only current equine adherent to the Omnissiah, the blessed Machine God,” Gear Works said solemnly.
“I’mma call you Gears for short,” Capper said with a wink. “Now follow me, Gears. Let’s see if we can’t send you and your boys home with a shiny new… er…”
“Sensory datastack would be the specific part that we’re looking for. Although any remainder of the drone would be helpful. The component we detected would be the signum spire, but we obviously can’t be sure that the automata’s parts are still connected to each other.”
“Sure. That. I’m sure we can find something like that.”
Capper reached a pair of rickety, towering buildings that leaned over the streets as if they were going to topple over at any moment. The alley space between them was blocked off by a pile of garbage heaped on top of several wooden crates, and Capper stopped in front of it. His eyes darted left and right rapidly, and then he twisted around to look at Gear Works.
Holding a single finger up against his lips, the feline pried open the side of one of the crates. The crate interior was empty, and evidently lined up against several other crates open at each end, forming a tunnel under the trash.
“I don’t want to toot my own horn, but the number of people in this town who know about this place could be counted on both paws,” Capper said before ducking into the tunnel.
Gears was smaller than Capper, but found the crawlspace much more difficult. His servo arm kept scraping against the crate interior, and bits of trash would spill in from between the crates every time he shifted one by accident.
Still, it wasn’t long before the cyborg pony emerged on the other side the heap where Capper was waiting for him. The alley was cramped and dark, with the doors leading to either structure boarded shut and an even larger trash heap rising up near the other end to block off any exit. Capper was standing on a rickety-looking, rusted metal plate that had been placed over the ground, tapping his foot quietly with his arms clasped behind his back.
“C’mere friendo, we’re almost there.” Capper assured Gears.
The cultist-engineer looked about briefly before walking up onto the same metal plate. “I’m picking up some trace levels of electromagnetic fields. Where do you suppose-“
Capper suddenly slammed his foot down on the edge of the metal plate.
The entire piece of metal flipped over around a central hinge. It kept turning until it flipped a full three-hundred-and-sixty degrees, reaching its original facing and clicking into place upon some hidden mechanism.
Gear Works remained where he was, stunned. His augmetic legs had mag-locked to the flooring as soon as it moved; a common reflex adaptation for those with such personal safety systems. Capper, unsurprisingly, was nowhere to be found.
“Well… I suppose I had better-“
Then the rust-caked hinge snapped, and the entire floor plate plummeted into the tunnel below.
The fall was brief, but loud. Mainly that was due to Gear Works shrieking Binaric curses upon whoever had neglected the rites of maintenance on this particular entrance. Regardless, after two seconds the rusted plate, and therefore Gears, landed heavily atop a battered old mattress.
“There you are! You startled me for a second there, Gears!” Capper was standing nearby, of course, having wisely moved from the entry tunnel after landing. “We’re here! Whaddya think of the place? Cozy, right?”
Gear Works was completely staggered, having not quite recovered from his sudden fall so quickly. In addition, he was acutely aware that many of his electro-somatic systems were being scrambled. His internal vox was unable to establish a connection, and layers of magnetic baffling fields prevented him from recording any data except for basic vid-replay.
“Where are we? Where is this?” the cyborg pony asked, stumbling out of the shaft and into the room beyond it.
They seemed to be in a sewer system, judging by the area’s subterranean build and the numerous large pipes and gutters running through the room. Gears’ atmospheric sifters also detected a severe jump in the level of methane; not enough to be harmful, but more than enough to make him glad his respirator was permanently grafted to his jaws.
Aside from the dated and badly maintained infrastructure that presumably moved water and sewage, however, the area looked more like a workshop. A large room had been carved out of the ground, and was littered with junk and tables with junk on it. Some of it was quite low-tech: mundane armor, rusted swords, nails and crowbars all lay in piles or were placed in neat rows on boxes and tabletops. Some of it, however, was technology of a sort that could have only come from the forges of Imperial planets, brought to this world by Chaos pirates only to be lost in battle with Orks or Tau. Battery packs of various types lay in a great pile, some of them clearly broken and others wired or taped together. Dataslates in every sort of condition imaginable were lined up on shelves like books. And the weapons…
“I imagine you were lying earlier when you said high explosives make you anxious, or else you’d be inconsolable right now,” Gear Works mumbled. A barrel off to the side was filled to the brim with hand grenades, and that was merely the most obvious pile of ordnance within the smelly room.
Capper coughed into a fist awkwardly. “Guns don’t kill people, Chaos kills people. I didn’t want any unfortunate ‘accidents’ during our friendly, peaceful market transaction.”
“I see. So do you run this salvage market, or what?”
“Oh, no! I wasn’t lying about not being technologically inclined,” Capper assured the stallion, strolling deeper into the room. He approached some sort of segmented metal sphere nearly as big as he was and stopped next to it. “But my friend here is mighty handy with a screwdriver. Say hello, Dill.”
Capper knocked on the sphere, and it started wiggling back and forth. Gear Works recoiled in surprise when the metal orb suddenly broke open on one side and uncurled into another bipedal creature.
“Capper, you cursed stray! How many times have I told you to give me notice before you drop in like that! We have Company troops shooting apart the city topside, and you’re… hm? Who’s this?”
“Dill” seemed to be a large, cybernetically enhanced armadillo, although his augments were hardly as intrusive or well-crafted as Gears’ were. Metal plates had been fitted over the natural armor on his back, both of his short, stubby arms were supported by hinged braces with tools attached to them, and he wore a gas mask and goggles that completely hid his face from view. The augments were flimsy, ramshackle things made of scrap that reminded Gears of Ork tech, but they still displayed an obvious degree of engineering savvy that he’d seen in very few natives of his home planet.
“Gears, this is my good friend Dill. Dill, this here is my new friend, Gears. Gears is an Equestrian turned Company tech-cultist. Dill is a merchant that specializes in technology salvage and tinkering, but somehow still can’t build himself an air purifier.” Capper waved a paw in front of his nose, cringing. “Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, let’s move on to business, gentlebeasts.”
“I have MANY questions,” Gear Works admitted, “starting with how you managed to shield this place from short-range augurs. How would you even know to do that? Our sensoria are as good as magic to most folk.”
A hiss came from behind the mask. “Your Company dropped a great many artillery beacons while demolishing every town West of Volvilla. Possibly more than the number of actual shells you brought with you, because when the explosions stopped some of the beacons remained.” He pointed over to the dataslate shelf. “It took a lot of work and more than a few unpleasant deals to get the knowledge I needed to protect myself, and now ALL of that could come apart thanks to that blasted-“
“Ah, ah, ah!” Capper said, suddenly tugging on Dill’s respirator hose. “Let’s not get carried away on any unnecessary tangents. We have important business to discuss!”
A growl sputtered from the salvage merchant’s mask before he leaned toward Capper. “Fine! What do you want?!”
“We’re looking for-“ Gears began, only for Capper to shush him and wave him off.
Then the feline turned Dill away and started whispering to him so that Gear Works couldn’t hear them.
While they whispered, Gear Works took the opportunity to catalogue the contents of the sewer workshop, organizing the goods into internal lists according to their technical complexity and flagging objects of particular interest. It wasn’t long into this activity that he flagged an objective of this expedition.
A high-powered type 9 mobile signum spire rested against a rack full of hydraulic parts. It was the size of a tank shell, covered with loose wires and the odd override switch, and one end tapered to a short antennae. Its profile perfectly matched the part from the probe automata the Iron Warriors fleet used. It looked to have been wrenched apart from the other pieces of the machine, none of which appeared to be scattered among the workshop’s inventory. Although inactive at the moment, this device was almost certainly what had transmitted the brief signum pulse that had led the Dark Mechanicus to Oasis in the first place.
The Dark Acolyte almost cried out in glee, but he restrained himself. This was still an active and potentially dangerous operation, and it wouldn’t do compromise his priorities. But quite aside from that, there was something even more intriguing sitting atop the rack of hydraulics.
It looked to be a wand of some sort, with a large crystal neck set in loops of copper wiring that entwined together to form a discharge fork at the wand’s head. The grip contained a strange capacitor and battery that had been completely drained of its charge. The purpose of the wand was clear after a few seconds of analysis; it was an electric discharge device. Possibly a tool, but more likely a weapon.
The most interesting thing about it, however, was that it hadn’t been made from any parts that he recognized.
“Deal!” Capper and Dill suddenly stepped apart and shook hands.
“Excuse me,” Gear Works interjected, “I couldn’t help but notice that you have the probe component that we tracked to this settlement. May I ask how you acquired it?”
“Ugh. That thing,” Dill spat. “One of my more obscure suppliers was pawning it off on me. Turned the thing on to try to show it off, but it didn’t seem to do anything. I guess that was when it signaled you freaks. Frankly, I’ll be glad to be rid of it.”
“I see. Thank you for your cooperation. And as long as we’re identifying your wares…” He pointed his servo claw at the wand on the wall, “what is that device? I’ve never seen any electrical discharge weapon of that make before. Also, the power cell is clearly of advanced age, when Equestria shouldn’t have been able to produce anything like that previous to the Iron Warriors making planetfall.”
Dill waddled over to the pony, nodding his head. “Oh, that. That’s called a shock stick. I don’t build them, I buy them. As far as I can tell, they don’t use any Company tech, though.”
“That’s fascinating. The discharge capacitor requires a containment microstructure unheard of to equine science,” Gears insisted. “And what is that battery type? That’s not an alkaline-solution cell!”
Dill fiddled with his belt for a moment, and then withdrew a shock stick much like the one on the shelf. “Maybe it would help if you saw one it action.”
Then the armadillo flicked the wand at Gear Works.
Gears screamed as a blast of lightning hit him in the chest, overloading his augmented neural systems. His cybernetics locked, his muscles spasmed, and his autosenses blanked out entirely from the power surge.
“Whoa! Easy there!” Capper chided. “Don’t want to damage any of those primo space parts, do you?”
“Quiet, you furry bum,” Dillo hissed. “If the Company thugs catch wind of this, we’ll never be able to show our faces topside ever again! The magnetic shielding should prevent any remote communications in or out of this room, but I’m not taking any chances with Space Marines marching through the streets!”
Capper stepped up next to Gears, giving the cyborg pony a pitying frown. Gears was standing in place, his legs locked, while visibly shuddering. His servo arm jerked to and fro, and the lights of his optical sensors seemed to wink off and on again at random. Static sputtered from his vox grille, rising and falling sporadically.
“Now I know this seems bad, but don’t you worry little buddy. We’re just going to do a little market exchange! Dill here will take those nifty high-tech augments of yours, and then we’ll drop you off somewhere out of town with that hunk of probe you wanted!” Capper rubbed Gears on the head, scratching the stallion fondly behind his ear. “You’ll get your space junk, and then get carried back home to be fitted some shiny new cyber-digs while Dill and I skedaddle to a less… contested region. You’ll be fine!”
“No he won’t,” Dill said while withdrawing a cutting torch from his belt. “A lot of those augments replace his vitals.”
Capper blinked. “We’re not… We’re not leaving those ones in?”
“Of course not! You think I’m going to leave this clown alive to describe us to the Iron Warriors?!” Dill snarled, tapping the torch against his knee. The flame came on a second later, drawing fuel from a hose that wound back into Dill’s shell. “I’ll ditch that probe bit like you said – I didn’t intend on holding goods hot enough to have Company troops looking for me anyhow – but I’m not about to leave good tech on the table to keep this freak alive!”
“Well, uh, it’s just that… I think killing a Mechanicus pony might be… how can I put this…” Capper said nervously, wringing his paws.
“Quiet. I need to concentrate. Removing the metal bits from the fleshy bits isn’t always as easy as unscrewing a bulb.” Dill threw Gear’s hood back, and then made a disgusted noise at sight of his exposed head. “Yeagh. Revolting monsters, all of these Mechanicus types. Celestia should have the lot of them hurled back into space, if you ask me.”
“Not sure that was really an option, Dill,” Capper mumbled.
Dill had his cutting torch held just next to Gear’s ear, but he turned around to argue further with the feline. “She controls the sun. These weirdos come from space. You can’t tell me there wasn’t a solution there!”
“This weirdo in particular definitely did not come from space,” Capper protested tenderly.
“So what?! He threw his lot in with the rest of those cultist psychos! He doesn’t get a pass!”
“I’m just saying, we might want to be a little more… What was that?” Capper suddenly looked toward the entrance nervously.
“I’m not falling for that again, Capper!” Dill snarled. “I don’t know what your game is this time, but if you’re not going to help me scrap this equine, then you can go-“
The clanging sound of metal hitting metal came from the entry tunnel, finally convincing Dill that Capper wasn’t just trying to distract him. A Scavurel soldier was standing atop the metal plate that normally protected this sanctuary from prying eyes. A laspistol was gripped in one hand, while a hefty, armored augmetic held a fork-tipped taser weapon.
The soldier said nothing, slowly turning his head while the bar-shaped optic visor over his mask looked over the interior.
Then two more Scavurel dropped down, landing on the battered, rusted entry hatch. One of them carried a simple lascarbine, while the other had a flamer connected to a pair of tanks on its back.
“Erm… hello?” Dill whimpered, shutting off his cutting torch. “Is there, uh… something I can help you with?”
A blast of irritated Binary came from the lead Scavurel, and the trio marched into the room.
Dill noticed that Capper already had his hands up, and silently cursed the feline. Capper could be downright brilliant in a pinch, but it seemed he wouldn’t be hatching any escape plans with those guns aimed at him. At least, no escape plans that included anyone else…
“Objective acquired. Securing,” stated one of the soldiers, walking straight toward the signum spire.
“This enclosure is disrupting our network vox.” Another Scavurel turned his flamer toward Dill, who yelped fearfully. “Explain this, xeno.”
“W-What? Vox? Network? Dis-what-ing? I don’t know what you’re saying!” Dill lied, droplets of sweat dripping from the edge of his mask. “Is s-something wrong?”
The third soldier walked up to Gear Works, stared at him for a moment, and then leaned down next to the stallion. Reaching around Gear’s chest, the cyborg felt around for a few seconds until he found a switch.
A pair of clicking noises came from Gear Works, and his optics dimmed entirely before flashing on again.
“Aaaaah, that’s much better,” Gears sighed pleasantly.
Dill squeaked in fright, and the Dark Acolyte snapped his head around to glare at him.
“Gears! Buddy! You’re back!” Capper said brightly, paws still in the air. “Hey, I’m super sorry about that thing earlier but do you know how your big armed friends ended up down here? I told you about my anxiety, right? I can feel it kicking in something FIERCE!”
“Why, I was broadcasting my location to them the entire time I was following you, of course,” Gear Works said. “You didn’t seriously think I’d let you take me wherever you wanted without letting our troops know, did you? The moment my network signum vanished they knew that something was wrong.”
“Gears!” Capper said with a gasp. “I am SHOCKED and DISMAYED at this grievous lack of trust! I thought we were friends!”
“Oh, would you STOP?” Dill groaned. “Even I’m embarrassed to listen to you.”
“These weapons will be confiscated,” buzzed the Scavurel with a flamer, gesturing to the barrels of explosives.
“The dataslates as well,” added Gear Works. “There’s a lot of potentially useful information here, aside from the probe bits.”
“Well, that’s a real shame, but okay, if you insist, go ahead and take everything,” Dill said, unlatching his belt and throwing it onto the floor at Gear’s hooves. “Do you need any help? I can help!”
“That’s a good idea. I doubt you move inventory in and out using that pitfall, so we’ll want to locate another exit,” Gears mused. “Also, it will make good practice for your stay at Happy Hills Unification Center. I’m thinking a decade hard labor should do the trick.”
Dill yelped and started shaking in fear. Capper gasped and then frowned deeply at Gear Works.
“Well, I never imagined! A pony, endorsing slavery?” the feline shook his head sadly.
“Don’t play dumb with me, vagrant!” Gear Works snapped. “The practice of owning and trading sentients like chattel is an abomination. The practice of imprisoning treacherous bottom-feeders like you for clearly defined crimes and making something useful of your time there is an entirely different matter.”
“We practice both forms of labor procurement,” interjected one of the Scavurel.
“Yes, I know!” Gears said, exasperated, “but I specifically hate only one of them!”
Another Scavurel marched toward the entrance pit, carrying the signum spire in his arms. Snips of Binaric Cant came from his vox as he walked past the others, formulating aloud the safest way to move the spire up to street level.
A clanking noise came from above, causing the soldier to halt and extend its autosenses.
From above it came, scuttling down the walls of the tunnel like a spider. Four arms ending in rough claws grasped at the rock, holding tight enough to support a body that wasn’t much smaller than a human’s. The shape and movement of its limbs were clearly formed for bipedal movement, and a short, thick tail extended behind it. Its body was hairy, and clearly mammalian, but it was wearing a suit of hardened leather with metal plates sewn onto the chest and shoulders. Its head was entirely concealed beneath a helmet of the same material, with several pale glass lenses of varying sizes set in the front.
In a fraction of a second the data was collected, analyzed, and logged for noosphere distribution. The next few moments were spent drawing his lascarbine, while the newcomer drew a shock stick.
The alien proved slightly swifter, and the crackling discharge of the lightning wand struck first. A Binaric screech came from the Scavurel as he fell to the ground, still clutching the signum spire in his augmetic hand.
The other Scavurel whirled around at the noise, and one of them snapped off a shot across the room. The lasbolt sliced across the creature’s arm, searing it and creating a black spot on the wall of the tunnel. It was barely a flesh wound, but it proved to be enough; the interloper screeched and leapt up out of sight.
+Negative damage; hostile target still active,+ buzzed the Scavurel, still holding his laspistol at the ready.
+Securing mission objective,+ added the other, running toward the spire. He kept his flamer aimed toward the tunnel, but without a confirmed target he was wary of discharging the weapon in an enclosed room full of random machines and explosives.
“The Scavurel! He’s still alive!” Gear Works announced. Naturally, his first reaction had been to connect to the wounded soldier’s diagnostic link and check his vitals. “The discharge didn’t inflict lethal damage!”
Nobody else seemed to acknowledge the stallion. The soldiers were quite absorbed with securing the room and their objective. Capper seemed to have vanished the moment everyone had taken their eyes off him. And Dill…
Dill was quivering in terror, his eyes wide behind the rattling lenses of his engineering goggles.
“They’re… They’re here? But… he said they wouldn’t! He told me they wouldn’t come for any of this! That liar! They’re going to kill us! All of us!”
“Who?” Gears asked, being the only one paying any attention to the salvage merchant’s ranting. “Who’s going to kill us?”
“Them! The Keepers! They’ve come for me!” Dill wailed.
This time even the Scavurel glanced over at the armadillo questionably. While the creature that had ambushed them had gotten the better of one Scavurel, it had hardly impressed them with its weaponry or physiology. Unless there was an army of such creatures, or that had been an unusually weak specimen, what threat could it really pose?
“Look, just get me to some part of this sewer that doesn’t block outbound transmissions, and I’ll summon something much scarier than whatever these ‘Keepers’ are,” Gear Works demanded.
“Err… fine! Th-This way!” Dill gestured toward a large sewer grate, and then waddled over to the wall. He smashed a fist into a seemingly random brick, and the grate slid up into the ceiling to allow passage.
One Scavurel followed closely while hauling the signum spire. The other helped his wounded comrade to his feet, and they staggered into the tunnel following Gear Works.
“So what are these Keepers, exactly? I’ve never heard of that species in Equestrian archives,” Gears asked while they were led further into the darkness of the sewers. Small lumen rods, presumably placed by Dill, lit the way forward for them.
“Not completely sure. Very rare. Very dangerous. Advanced tools and weapons. Said to be protectors of ancient secrets. Or maybe they’re just some other kind of alien monster.” Dill sighed. “One of my suppliers is a Keeper. Sold me those shock sticks and that probe thing. He said it was just cast-offs and junk, that none of it would be missed.”
“Advanced weapons? Expound,” demanded a Scavurel.
“I don’t know, okay? They only sell me the lightning wands! And those are dangerous enough!” Dill snapped. “I just know that it’s tech stuff mixed with magical items! And none of it comes from Company or Ork scrap!”
The Scavurel turned to each other. +Possible escalation of insurgent force?+
+Speculation. Insufficient data,+ retorted the other. +Prioritus Alpha: secure signum component. Prioritus Beta, search and destroy. Prioritus+
A cracking noise came from above.
The group stopped, their nerves on edge. They had entered an unfinished part of the sewer that had been dug out and apparently abandoned. The space was wide, with several rusted pipes and chunks of stone laid about and left to decay. The ceiling was mostly stone, and dirt rained down from a heavy impact above.
“Wh-What was that?” Dill asked.
Another impact came from above, and more debris crumbled away onto the floor.
“We’re outside city limits right now, correct?” Gears asked, perplexed. “What could possibly-“
A detonation ripped through the ceiling, and this time it buckled. Rock and dirt collapsed into the middle of the room, and the Scavurel – enjoying superior reflexes to the others – leapt for cover. Dill and Gear Works were slower to move, and a great deal of debris ended up landing on top of them, partially burying them.
A great plume of dust blew through the defunct sewer, and then a large, bipedal… thing dropped down. It was made of smooth carved stone, and over ten feet tall, with a single gemstone set in an otherwise featureless head. One arm was a massive hand, swollen and armored over the knuckles. The other arm, curiously, ended in a large metal box, with several tubes running out of it and a pair of glass cylinders on top.
The head of the stone giant turned slowly from side to side, looking over the room. Then a Keeper (bearing a bandaged arm) dropped down after it, landing on its back and pointing at the cyborg soldiers.
“Targets,” it hissed, slapping the weaponized statue on the back of its head. “Destroy.”
The Scavurel didn’t wait any longer, unloading their weapons into the stone giant. Lasblasts raked across the front of it, while a tongue of flame whipped at its knees. Stone cracked and blackened against the heat, but ultimately it was simply too little energy brought to bear against the heavy stone armor.
“It’s a golem! Don’t let it get close! They’re very strong!” Gear Works barked while squirming out of the debris that had landed on him.
The golem locked its gaze on the Scavurel already scorched by his earlier brush with a shock stick. An echoing groan seemed to come from the battle construct, but rather than charging it placed one leg back, as if bracing itself.
A metal spike stabbed out of the box on its arm, and then a lightning bolt lanced through the air and crashed into the far wall with a deafening thunderclap. The Scavurel in the path of the bolt vanished into glowing dust at its passing, his armor dissolving along with the rest of him before the magical projectile.
“… Actually, I guess it can kill you at any range,” Gears squeaked.
“I warned you! Doomed! We’re doomed!” Dill bellowed.
The metal spike retracted, and one of the metal cylinders atop the weapon extended itself while venting steam. The golem started trudging forward, wading into the path of lasbolts and burning promethium.
The Keeper crowed happily, and then retreated behind the golem’s head as a lasbolt came too close to its ear. The four-armed creature hung onto the stone giant’s back as it advanced, peeking out around one side and then swiftly moving away to look from another angle.
“The part! Just give it the part!” Dill screamed, trying to claw his way across the ground.
“What? Why?” Gears asked.
“Because it’s going to kill us all!”
“And will it stop if we give it what it wants?”
“No,” the Keeper interjected, its voice deep and raspy.
A Scavurel released a Binaric prayer as he charged forward, rearing back his taser goad. Electricity danced along the long tines, and a sharp crack issued from the tip when it stabbed into the Keeper’s golem. Rock crumbled away from the impact, and whips of energy tore scorched gashes across the sculpted stone body of the construct.
The golem swung back, but the Scavurel rolled onto the ground under the massive fist. He stopped in a crouch and then punched his goad into the golem’s leg, eliciting another small explosion.
The Keeper snarled, and then drew a small blade from a sleeve. With a flick of its wrist, the razor plunged into the Scavurel’s thigh, finding a soft spot among the soldier’s combat armor and personal augmetics.
The cyborg barely flinched from the wound, but it did slow him sufficiently when the golem’s fist came around again. The cyborg was smashed off his feet and slammed into the wall, bones and augmetics shattering from the impact.
“Do something!” Dill shouted.
“Like what?!” Gears retorted.
“I don’t know! You’re the ones who are supposed to be good at fighting!”
“YOU cut off our communications, shielded the sewers from augur arrays, and then led us right into an ambush by the creatures hunting you down, and you have the gall to complain that we’re not handling it well enough?!” Gears screamed at the armadillo.
Another crash of lightning rolled over them, and Gears whipped his head around in time to see the legs of the last Scavurel drop to the ground beneath a wave of glowing cinders. The lightning cannon attached to the golem’s arm shook violently, and both cylinders popped up to vent steam.
“That’s it! We’re next!” Dill shrieked. “We’re gonna die!”
“But why?!” Gear Works cried as the golem took a menacing step forward. “Who are you? What do you want?”
The Keeper clambered atop the golem’s head, glaring down at the smaller creatures through the yellow lenses of its helmet.
It pointed at Dill. “You… received something you shouldn’t have. That artifact…” The pointed claw of the Keeper shifted to point at Gears. “… came from your people. An encroachment on sacred ground that will not be forgiven.”
“What? You mean the expedition probes? But they were launched into unclaimed territory!” Gears protested.
“You psychos treat entire nations as ‘unclaimed territory,’” Dill grumbled.
“True, but this was VERY unclaimed territory! No settlements! Practically barren! Most Dark Techpriests didn’t understand why we even bothered!” Gears protested.
“I don’t care,” announced the Keeper. “Now where is the part?”
This brought Gears and Dill up short. The signum spire was being carried by the Scavurel when they entered the tunnel. Presumably they had dropped it when fighting, but now that the soldiers were dead they couldn’t see the device, or the broken remains of the device, among the bodies.
The golem stomped up to them, the Keeper glowering from atop its head. “Where is the part?” it demanded again. The stone giant raised its hand over Gears and Dill in preparation to flatten the smaller creatures. “Give it up, and you die quick. Otherwise…” The Keeper slipped another blade from its sleeve and spun it around on one of its claw-like fingers.
“You mean this thing?”
The Keeper snapped its head around at the voice behind it, its knife ready to fly. Capper stood in the middle of the room, holding the signum spire in his arms. The golem stumbled, briefly confused about its target, and then clumsily swung around to face the feline.
“Surrender the part!” shrieked the Keeper.
“Okay,” said Capper. Then he tossed the spire toward the golem.
A stuttering shriek came from the Keeper, and the stone soldier lurched forward to catch the spire in its palm. The automata part landed in its hand and rattled between its large sandstone fingers, but safely settled into place while the Keeper sighed in relief.
“Now, you be careful with that,” Capper warned, wagging a finger. “I hear that machine is what brought all those Company fellows that’re tearing up the streets of Oasis right now.”
“I’m aware,” the Keeper hissed. “This machine never should have left our lands. It is… regrettable that our error brought the aliens to your city.” Then the golem braced itself again and aimed its lightning cannon. “You won’t have to worry about it any longer, though.”
“Okay, but I’m just bringing it up because it looks like it got turned on again during all the commotion,” Capper said gingerly. Then he pointed up. “And whatever Dill did down here to keep it from being detected PROBABLY doesn’t work with that giant hole you blew in the ceiling.”
The Keeper paused for a few seconds, staring at the spire in the golem’s hand. A small green lumen was on, glowing faintly in the dim light of the sewer.
The Keeper looked up at the hole it had made above the sewer.
An Iron Warrior stared back down.
“Target located. Hostiles confirmed,” growled the Chaos Space Marine. He knelt at the lip of the blast crater and aimed a boltgun down into the hole. “Request additional support. And something to contain a prisoner.”
An incoherent shriek came from the Keeper, and it swung behind the golem again. The construct lurched backward, craning its head up in order to bring its gun to bear.
The Iron Warrior’s bolter roared to life, and a burst of mass-reactive rounds punched into the stone warrior. The effect was dramatically more destructive than the lasweapons and flamer, blowing out fist-sized chunks of rock in the construct’s armor. Ultimately, though, the Astartes failed to do enough damage to stop the golem before it aimed its weapon.
The Iron Warrior leapt out of the line of fire, and once again Gear’s ears were punished by the thunder of the golem’s cannon. The lightning bolt whipped up toward the hole in the ceiling, tearing into the sundered ground with a flaming explosion. A wave of dust blew over the hole, obscuring the Marine from view.
Again, a cylinder atop the lightning weapon popped up, blasting steam into the air. This time, however, a servo arm plunged into the cloud and grabbed onto it before an adamantium-tipped spike stabbed into the side. The heat sink was sliced off, and sparks started coming from the gun.
The other cylinder promptly popped up to vent the accumulated heat, and Gear Works quickly latched onto that component next. The golem had noticed his work by now though, and the construct almost casually swatted him away with his cannon arm. Gear Works was sent rolling away with an agonized yelp, pieces of shattered glassine and ruptured metal spilling onto the ground beneath him. In his servo claw he held the cannon’s second heat sink, torn free of the weapon and still sizzling with captured energy.
The golem didn’t waste further attention on the pony; the Iron Warrior had dropped into the sewer, his boltgun mag-locked onto his waist and his bolt pistol and combat knife drawn. The Astartes charged, moving so swiftly that the golem had little chance to react. A pair of mass-reactive shells exploded into the construct’s head, blowing out more bits of rock, and then the Iron Warrior lunged into melee.
The combat knife pierced stone, stabbing into the seam between the gemstone eye and the golem’s head. The Keeper swiftly tried to leap on the Iron Warrior and attack with the shock stick, but the Marine was faster than it as well, clubbing the four-armed creature across the face with his pistol grip and knocking it from its perch. In another instant he cut the gemstone free of the golem’s face, leaving a deep scar across the construct’s head.
A massive fist swung toward the Astartes in retaliation, slamming into his shoulder pad and knocking him off and across the ground. Ceramite screeched across rocks and bits of scattered metal while he rolled, but he immediately moved to stand up again.
The golem – not obviously hindered by the loss of the gem that everyone had assumed was its eye – braced its leg just like before, aiming its lightning cannon at the Chaos Marine. Just like before, a spike poked out the front, and just like before a rising hum came from the weapon.
Unlike before, this time sparks and flame started shooting out of the holes where its heat sinks used to be.
The Keeper shouted some desperate command in a language no one else recognized, but it was too late. The cannon seemed to disintegrate as it superheated and the case melted away. Whips of electricity lashed out in all directions, many of them running down the cables and into components hidden deep within the stone soldier. The entire golem shuddered, paralyzed, and a billowing steam cloud poured from its ruined weapon and the broken cables attached to it.
The Iron Warrior watched in silence for a few moments, and then unclipped a krak grenade from his belt. Walking up to the construct, he jammed the explosive into the socket where the gemstone had been set into its face.
“Target eliminated,” growled his vox as he ripped out the pin. “Worthless puppet. Your masters will suffer for your insolence.”
Behind the curtain of steam, the Keeper was back on its feet and surveying its options. The spire was still in the golem’s hand and probably out of reach. It had never fought a Space Marine before, and it had its doubts that the dissipating steam would be enough to surprise the super-soldier. The objective may well have been lost, along with the Storm Warden golem that it had been entrusted for this mission.
The Keeper whirled about to flee as the golem’s head exploded, but immediately found itself facing the big yellow cat that had surrendered the automata part to it. Capper recoiled, while the Keeper hopped back into a crouch. Its four arms all went to its belt and bandoleer, and three of them grabbed up daggers. The fourth groped for something that it failed to find, then started patting down the Keeper’s leg.
“Are you looking for this? I think you dropped it after that big fella hit you,” Capper asked helpfully, curling his tail around his side. It was wrapped around a shock stick, and he took a moment to wiggle the wand in the air. “You should be more careful! These things seem to be mighty dangerous!”
With an enraged snarl, the Keeper bolted forward, its blades ready to slice the feline apart. With a surprised squeak, it promptly fell over, its leg held firm by a servo arm.
Gear Works sputtered something in a blast of angry static while he held the assailant by its leg. His optics were mostly a mess of shattered glassine and his respirator hose was torn, but the working parts of his face were enough for him to seize an enemy and swear up a Binaric storm while doing it.
The Keeper swung two arms back on either side, plunging a dagger into each of Gear’s shoulders. One blade bounced off the metal augment plating, badly denting the edge. The other found flesh, however, and sliced a bloody gash into Gear’s leg. Gears recoiled with a frightened whinny, but his servo arm didn’t immediately let go. A kick to the side of the head finally did the trick, wrenching the Keeper free and knocking Gear Works onto his side.
“How do these things work, exactly?” Capper mused, turning the Keeper’s shock stick around in his hand. “Is it this button, or-“
An electric arc lashed out just as the Keeper was regaining his footing, striking the creature in the chest and sending it back to its knees with a howl of pain.
“Yup, looks like that’s the button,” Capper said blithely. “Now why don’t you calm down, friend? I don’t think you’re getting out of here…”
“J’sholl k’thepp!” it snarled back in an unknown language, struggling against the paralysis. “We will not submit! You have no idea what you’re doing! You cannot fathom what these foolish raiders and monsters from the stars might yet unleash!”
“By all means,” growled a deep voice laced with vox feedback, “tell us what we may unleash, xeno pest.”
The Iron Warrior approached calmly, the signum spire tucked securely under one arm. His bolt pistol was ready in his other hand, although he wasn’t aiming it at the Keeper yet.
The Keeper snarled in response, and its free hand twitched toward its belt.
A ceramite boot met its stomach in an instant, throwing it across the room and slamming it into the wall. The mysterious creature slumped to the ground, unconscious.
“So there are yet more inhabitants on this wretched planet that don’t know their place,” grumbled the Iron Warrior, holstering his pistol.
“You have angered the Keepers now,” said Dill. The armadillo was crouched on the ground and quivering, his head darting back and forth as if expecting more foes to leap from the shadows. “This one was just sent here to remove me, a scrap merchant, but to make an enemy of their kind is to-“
A ceramite boot met his stomach in an instant, throwing him across the room and slamming him into the wall. The sniveling creature slumped to the ground, unconscious.
“These ‘Keepers’ will perish or serve, just like the rest of you scum. Let no weakling alien stray from the dominion of Chaos!” barked the soldier.
“Speaking of weakling alien servants!” Capper interjected, “Your, uh, co-worker over here is still alive, and bleeding rather profusely.”
The Astartes glanced over at Gear Works. He was laying on his side, moaning faintly in a puddle of blood and oil. Half of his optic lights were broken, one of his augmetic legs kept sparking, and every few seconds a puff of white gas would spew from his ruptured breathing tube.
“… The Mechanicus normally endure injury with more fortitude than this, but I suppose it would be foolish to risk a perfectly good slave perishing needlessly here,” he grumbled, briefly holding a finger to the side of his helmet. “Situation is contained. Send retrieval team and a medicae team.”
With that he cut off the link and reached down toward the cyborg. Grabbing hold of Gear’s servo arm, he picked the pony up off the ground. Blood and hydraulic fluids continued dribbling down Gear’s leg, but the Iron Warrior didn’t seem to care.
“And what of you then, xeno?” the Chaos Marine demanded, his visor glaring at Capper. “Be you servant, rebel, or some hapless wretch here by chance?”
“I lean toward hapless wretch, definitely,” the feline said with a smile, “but my interest is mainly with your cyber-stallion, here.” He pointed delicately to the brutalized pony. “We had a deal, you see. I take him to see Dill, and he gets me a room in Ferrous Dominus.”
The Iron Warrior lifted Gear Works higher to look him in the optics. “Is this true, slave?”
“Ghhhrg… urrmnlg…” the Dark Acolyte replied.
“That sounded like an affirming groan of agony to me,” Capper said brightly.
“Then so be it,” declared the Iron Warrior. “As a reward for your cooperation, you shall be brought to our fortress. You shall have the privilege to serve the lords of Chaos directly, until your feeble husk perishes of exhaustion or is used as fodder for some Warp abomination.” He swung Gear Works up onto his shoulder like a sack, eliciting another yelp of pain. “You’re welcome.”
“Thanks, Boss!” the feline said. “By the way: not that it matters much, but now that I’m on your team: what exactly are you guys doing here tearing apart Oasis for? What’s so important about that piece of junk?”
“There are many secrets this world yet hides from us,” rumbled the Astartes. “Some such secrets fight back. These things must be uncovered, seized, and then…”
Capper waited several seconds. “And then… what?”
“I do not know.” The Iron Warrior nudged his head toward the Keeper. “But that creature does.”
“Hngllklhl,” agreed Gear Works.
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Necrons...?
Yes! More Gear Works!
Tempest Shadow is too good a character to pass up.
And whoever these Keepers are, they are so boned. The company has orbital supremacy. What could the keepers possibly do about bombardment with capital ship-grade weapons from space?
9437219
Hmm..... Equestria a Tomb World....??? That... would complicate things.... especially if there are any Cairn class Tombships awaiting to awaken....
WOHOOOO
the plot thickens 
Happy new year welcome back
Is this a prelude to the next book? <3 :3
9437264
Maybe have anti-orbit canons hidden underground?
Surprise! FIRE THE NEW PARTY-CANON!!
9437303
Doubt it. 40K Ground based anti-ship defenses are typically only effective against things in low orbit. If the 38th Company is really inclined they can just drop rocks from either high orbit or deep space and there's pretty much bupkis forces on the ground can do about it.
9437316
Fair points :3
Who the hay are these "keepers", and how long until they're licking Iron Warrior boots?
XD I love this.
Am I the only one that thought of genestealers? But then again equestria never had, as far as we know, space contact in the last few millennia, so that becomes an impossibility.
Still, helluva happy this is back
Well, this seems to be follow that my theory that that this planet was a maiden world of the Eldar or something close to them that is maybe linked to the Old Ones and might have a mystery that that hidden to the world that is very similar to Caliban if all the strange and unique singular creatures that might be affected by the warp in some way, lets just hope the Centaur 3 won't end up like the Dark Angle's home world. At least that would add another mystery for the protagonists of the main story to explore. I am pretty sure sure that there is a Webway prothole on this planet and we might see the visit of some pointy eared creatures soon: I wanted to use that idea. Still Equestria has plenty of ruins that seems to predate Equestria so there might be something to find there.
I can'T say that I am a big fan of Capper in the movie in the first place, he was willing to Sell off the Mane six into slavery to pay off his depths, probably that same thing would have happen to him if he didn't so that might be partly understandable that he was desperate. but his manipulations sudden change of heart didn't really convince me all that much. Still he does at least sound more agreeable in this story even if he is a charming scoundrel anyway, I am not sure what sort of chemistry he would develop with Gear, and I wonder what Dusk will do to that cat once he sees he with gear, with his possessive streak that he has.
I honestly don't mind seeing the city be burned to the ground if they were willing to deal with an open slavery market and see 38th make an example of its leaders.
9437264
If the Iron Warriors' only interest was in wiping them out, and didn't care what they're "keeping" then sure, planetary bombardment would do the trick. But our friends tend to be more curious than that...
9437614
cking slavery
IKR?
> Capper protects the ponies in the market from being attacked/captured
> Rarity sews something for him
> Capper sells the ponies into f
> But they get away so no big deal???
> Decides to help them out again but for real this time
> Everyone's just cool with this?! Was there anyone else Capper sold into slavery?! THEIR NEW FRIEND IS A SLAVER
He's perfect for me, though.
YAY!!!! Gear Works :3
Now to suffer immensely until the next chapter
I still kind of want to see Gears go with a raiding fleet or something into imperium territory.... I badly want to see the imperium's reaction to chaos coming at them with tiny weaponized horses XD That believe in friendship and harmony out of all freaking things XD
9437219
Don't think so, the IW would had identified it if so... however, there's many many other minor alien races... the description of the "keeper" strikes me as Stryxis
9438069
I'm saying some sort of Eldar technology
9439193
Could be, i was refering to the "keeper" vague description, not the objects, which could be perfectly of eldar origin.
Lovely to see more Gear works.
Yeeeesssssss
The company lost a lot of its middle leadership in the last book. I wonder how many ponies will end up moving up in the ranks
Gears will be a brain in a tin can at this rate. Dream come true fore tech priests.
9437804
Capper: thief, slavery, concat
Pirate partes: pirates know acts of piracy attacking the storm kings fleet assumed to have killed yeti troops in action.
The girls made some lovely new friends in the movie. Crooks and killers.
9441260
Jajaja that's what i love about MLP... everything looks happy, cheerful and innocent until you think twice what has happened
9442221
I mean look at the world I'd say it qualifies as a death world.
9442666
Quite much something like a high fantasy version somwwhere between Prospero and Catachan
9443272
Yeah though I'm looking forward to more chaos space mareines
I hope that Gears meets up with Tempest Shadow. They have some common ground feeling like they are shunned by ponies Society.
Tempest interacting with Legions of Chaos will be quite interesting to watch.
9437804
Fair Enough.
9437219
https://www.derpibooru.org/459712
Necroponies. Even better.
GIVE ME MOAR!!
Is there any chance this or your other works will be updating anytime soon ScifiAccountant?
9654008
Oh, yes.
I've been working on a short story for Age of Iron. It's almost done!
9654024
Wow fast response, and awesome!
Is it going to be more Ponyhammer 40k or an update for Ranma 1/4
9654036
It's Ponyhammer.
Cool, i was about to ask about that
Capper is such an upbeat and charming con artist. Even when he's taking people for a ride, he never comes off as annoyingly smug or creepy in a way that makes you want to punch him. He's perfect for you to write! I hope he replaces Dusk!
9437614
I really enjoyed the aspect of how once Rarity gives freely to him, he starts doubting him con, even though it's just before his debtor shows up. It really conveys he's not used to ever meeting nice people. As opposed to Dusk, seemingly a regular Equestrian who just decided that it would be cool to own slaves. And keeps stalking his Crush. SFaccountant also does a good job of writing Capper's weak stomach for shuffling people off the mortal coil.
9437493
9438069
The description we get for the keeper here is actually pretty vague. We don't even know what color it is, or whether it's more mammalian, reptilian, or arthropodal. The Stryxis is a good guess; they're a bunch of mysterious vagabonds, that like to trade an alien markets that can show up anywhere. But even though they have spider-like eyes, they have pretty regular humanoid torsos, and I don't think they can climb the walls. Although I suppose they could be hiding anything underneath those cloaks. I was thinking it could be the Loxatl, but even though they ARE pretty flexible, they also only have four limbs.
The description we got here makes me think of the Ben 10 Spidermonkey, mixed with the more menacing air of a rockflayer:
pm1.narvii.com/6253/eeaa58498fcc15a8efbe5f56acfb3334cee6edbc_hq.jpg
vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/wowwiki/images/3/34/Rock_Flayers.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20060610072242
I really don't know. Does anyone familiar with the extended Warhammer 40K Universe know of a species that has two legs, four arms, and a short tail?
9437573
Oh oh, that's a good one! The genestealer DNA would explain the extra arms and athleticism, and it could be mixed in with any of the anthropomorphic races on Centaur III. The generations of genestealer swing back and forth like a pendulum between looking like their pure Tyranid forms, and like their 'host' species.
9792383
It also hinted me of the Stryxis due to the Golem-like construct, actually they are known to sell simmilar ones...
9792435
Yep. But aren’t they made of flesh, or some kind of cloned biomaterial? I suppose there’s enough wiggle room in the lore for SciFiAccountant to make some changes. Or just because they’re located on Equestria, instead of some bazaar in the depths of Warhammer space.
10113058
And here I was gonna go into a detail comparison between the two of them and you sum up everything I was gonna say in two 'unlucky' and 'go to attitude'.
it's been about a year is gear's story done?
10113058
When is this going to get a new chapter yet
10175622
Dunno, I'm way more invested in Black Horizons right now.
It has been quite enjoyable catching up to this chapter.
“I just asked where I could find a scrap dealer,” Gears deadpanned
Gear
“Every one of them was malnourished and dehydrated,” Gears snorted
ditto
“Probably,” Gears replied. “Also, for the record,
“Your critique has been logged, citizen Dapperpaws. Will that be all?” Gears asked dryly.
“Yes, yes, I understand,” Gears grumbled. “I can create an access profile and citize
Gears was smaller than Capper, but found the crawlspace much more difficult.
Gears’ atmospheric sifters also detected a severe jump in the level of methane;
cybernetically enhanced armadillo, although his augments were hardly as intrusive or well-crafted as Gears’ were
The augments were flimsy, ramshackle things made of scrap that reminded Gears of Ork tech
“We’re looking for-“ Gears began, only for Capper to shush him and wave him off.
Gears screamed as a blast of lightning hit him in the chest, overloading his augmented neural systems.
“That’s fascinating. The discharge capacitor requires a containment microstructure unheard of to equine science,” Gears insisted
Gears, giving the cyborg pony a pitying frown. Gears was standing in place, his legs locked, while visibly shuddering
then we’ll drop you off somewhere out of town with that hunk of probe you wanted!” Capper rubbed Gears
“Aaaaah, that’s much better,” Gears sighed pleasantly.
so we’ll want to locate another exit,” Gears mused
“Yes, I know!” Gears said, exasperated, “but I specifically hate only one of them!”
“Who?” Gears asked, being the only one paying any attention to the salvage merchant’s ranting. “Who’s going to kill us?”
“So what are these Keepers, exactly? I’ve never heard of that species in Equestrian archives,” Gears asked
“We’re outside city limits right now, correct?” Gears asked, perplexed. “What could possibly-“
“… Actually, I guess it can kill you at any range,” Gears squeaked.
“What? Why?” Gears asked.
“Do something!” Dill shouted. “Like what?!” Gears retorted.
you have the gall to complain that we’re not handling it well enough?!” Gears screamed at the armadillo.
Another crash of lightning rolled over them, and Gears whipped his head around in time
That artifact…” The pointed claw of the Keeper shifted to point at Gears. “… came from your people. An encroachment on sacred ground that will not be forgiven.”
“What? You mean the expedition probes? But they were launched into unclaimed territory!” Gears protested.
“True, but this was VERY unclaimed territory! No settlements! Practically barren! Most Dark Techpriests didn’t understand why we even bothered!” Gears protested.
This brought Gears and Dill up short.
I get it I keep getting confused if it's plural or singular
like chattel is an abomination.
unless it's French a pun : cattle
10548042
"Gears" is a nickname he goes by.
"Chattel" is a word that means non-land property. Often used to describe slaves.
Got three problems with this story Mr Author.
1. Will there be an update?
2. Will Dusk be sacrifice to the whore god?
And 3 and most importantly. Will Gear Works little sister find all 7 dragon balls?
Will you throw this side story a bone already. Frankly it's better then Horizon anyway
10175668
If your more invested in Horizon shouldn't have updated it with a new chapter or three since January? Just saying if you make short stories and don't bother at least giving them a good ending then why ya even bother making any short stories if you don't plan to finish them.
10642170
You'd have better luck at scaming Bill gates out his entire bank account them you would this story getting updated anytime soon
7936466
Wouldn't really call that a "face" lol.
I'm on my third or so reread of this story. Great work!