In 2570, the outer colonies or earth are under siege by remnant brute fleets. Not doing well enough, the UNSC is bypassed by members of its ranks to deal with them on their own. Now the ORBH fights them, and what they find is surprising in the least.
2570, Earth colonies are sacked by remnant Brute fleets. Barely staving off attacks underway and routing Brutes on the warpath, the UNSC is though of as Incompetent by its own ranks. After a fleet wide mutiny, a rogue faction calling itself the Outer Rim Brutehunters, or ORB, takes the fight to them using captured starmaps and intelligence from Slipspace Monitoring stations their Tech crews hacked.
Comprised of members hating the Jiralhanae for destroying homes, killing families and those simply wishing to kill Brutes, ORB has a high success rate of intercepting fleets and exterminating them with extreme prejudice. None object. None question why.
Erin Coleman, former ODST carrying a hatred for the Brutes that she refuses to talk about, survives the crash planet-side after a ship battle with a brute super-carrier. Found wounded on the ground, and unknown Samaritan takes her to Canterlot Memorial hospital, where all hell breaks loose.
Now she must escape, form alliances and fight for the survival of a race she is not part of. But can she do this before her Hate, Anger and Prejudice destroy her from within?
Her eyes shot open, the deliberate effort being nearly enough to move a starship across a galactic arm on Will alone. The action lasted less than a second, however, as she quickly shut them again reflexively. Light assailed her left eye, a burning, stinging pain searing through her ocular nerve and occipital lobe in the nanoseconds it took her medulla to process the sensations. With a self-muted grunt of conscious acknowledgement to the pain she cracked her right eye open, allowing the visual media to process through her brain. Though sluggish her thoughts raced through her mind as if a traffic jam, questions and answers to questions stacked atop memories, wishes and gripes. Within a few seconds she made sensory notes that she was hungry, thirsty and in a large amount of throbbing, aching pain from many blunt trauma wounds across her one hundred and seventy five-pound body. Her six-foot frame attempted to move, to shudder and curl instinctively, though consciously she refused it the pleasure. Her skin was sticky with the salt of dried sweat and the film of congealed and drying blood, the slightest movement causing more discomfort from the cracking gore separating itself from her dermis.
As she woke exhaustedly from her state of unconsciousness her mind began to cycle its boot system, psychologically conditioned into her brain after months of Survival Evasion Resistance and Escape training at the UNSC SERE School.
Coleman. Erin C.
Lance Corporal. Orbital Drop Shock Trooper. United Nations Space Command Defense Force.
Service Number Sea-Dash-Wun-Wun-Ate-Nine-Dash-Ee-Dash-Seven-Four.
Former.
Harbinger class Slayer. Outer Rim Brutehunters, Dropkick Division.
Current.
Her training continued to drive her instincts forward. Step one, Survival. The fact that she was alive through her injuries was proof that she had accomplished that objective.
Next was Escape.
Her body moved to find its boundaries; Her arms rising a few inches before she met resistance. Her legs were similarly bound to the surface, along with her head and waist. Quickly she entered mid-brain function, her body thrashing against its restraints with enough force to rock the surface she was sitting on.
After an immeasurable amount of time she calmed, her forebrain regaining control as sheer animalistic anger at being bound faded to cold-rolled steel reason and logic. Her mind knew that she was either bound for her own good or to keep her from fleeing.
Possibly both.
Maybe neither.
She chanced opening her eyes again, this time slowly so as her eyes may adjust to the light in her face. As she blinked and made an effort to calm herself she took notice of the forces at play. Gravity pressed down on her chest, legs, arms and stomach, meaning that she was on her back. Air moved over her eyes, brows, lips and the bridge of her nose. Her visor was compromised, but the fact that she was alive meant the atmosphere was breathable. The ache in her body meant that she had taken a beating from something quite powerful to have the wounds transition through her armor and sealed under-suit. Pinpoint pains far greater than the ache meant she had internal damage; cracked or broken ribs, a fractured wrist, twisted or sprained ankle, broken fingers and split knuckles.
As she made her self-diagnostic the sound of a door reached her ears, opening and closing followed with the tapping of hard objects against stone or imitation linoleum tiles. The slow and staggered one-one dual beat meant something moving in a four legged stance, the shuffling of papers and the sounds of electronics she now noticed meant something dealing with examination or experimentation.
Her eyes began to process what was before her, having adjusted to the overhead lighting. Tiles, of the sort found in derelict buildings from the 21st century, framed the long and glowing tubes that created the white light.
“Hmm… Must have fallen back into unconsciousness.”
The voice was smooth, a comforting, if rather disappointed, tone naturally flowing over and around the words meaning the speaker meant her no ill will.
Or was masking it well.
She chanced moving her fingers and flexing her uninjured ankle, attempting to gain the speaker’s attention. She closed her exposed eye, knowing that the darker tint of the world meant he visor was still polarized.
They wouldn’t truly know if she was awake or not.
The same one-one double beat echoed around the room again, gaining in clarity and volume as it drew nearer. She subtly slowed her breathing, feigning sleep as to further fool her captor or caretaker.
“Ah, asleep now are we?” the speaker said, the voice definitively masculine now that it was fully distinguishable. It wasn’t one of the few doctors ORB had on payroll, that she was certain. “Hmmm… An improvement at least. Now we don’t have to care for a comatose creature we have no understanding of.”
No understanding? Creature? Who was this? How could they not know that she was a human?
She chanced another motion, allowing her head to roll to the right in an attempt to see her captor.
But he wasn’t there.
In the place of the voice’s owner was a horse of small stature, possibly a pony like she remembered as a child. It was white in color, mane and tail a silvery gray. Across it’s back was a white sheet, bulging slightly across the barrel of its body.
Well fed.
Food if necessary.
“Heartbeat holding at-“
Whatever was said was lost to her as her mind screamed in protest. What she had seen wasn’t possible. She denied its possibility, its very premise of quantum existence. But the fact persisted to make itself known both audibly and visually.
The horse was talking.
It was speaking English to top it off with a cherry.
“Ah! I see that you’re awake now. Good.” Her eyes were now wide open; pupils contracted to pinpricks as the light flooded her retinas. The stare of her deep blue eyes was focused on the talking animal as it neared her, following its every movement, flicking across its body to examine every inch visible.
Legs, neck, head, ears, hair, fur, tail...
Hooves.
The thing had hooves for Space’s sake! There was no way it was talking, let alone trying to converse with her.
“Forgive me, I haven’t introduced myself.” The talking horse was not even a meter from her, having stopped itself mid sentence to make introductions of all things. “My name is Benevolent Touch. I am an Intensive Care physician at Canterlot Memorial Hospital… Where you are.”
Clarification! The thing had the audacity and shocking ability to possess the forethought to clarify what it had spoken of!
“In case you were wondering, you were brought here by a Royal Guard Patrol member on the western border, flown here on the stallion’s very back I might add. He had no idea who, or even what you were, but he could tell from the bleeding around your legs, stomach and forelegs that you were in need of care. In fact he’s in the waiting area now, waiting on orders to make certain that you are well cared for.” He stopped himself, baffling normal Equine anatomy by twisting his leg to place a hoof against his chest before clearing his throat. “I’m sorry, I was about to take off on a tangent. Forgive me.”
Benevolent, she decided to call him, walked toward her, raising a leg and tapping her wrist with a hoof. “As you can tell by yourself, we restrained you. Now this is not because we wish to hold you against your will. No, no. You were doing a good bit of thrashing a few days ago, so we thought it wise to keep you from injuring yourself further, and we added the strap around your head when you had a seizure just yesterday.” He lowered his hoof back to the ground, making to a table near the foot of the medical table.
With a shifting of the sheet on his back a feathery appendage revealed itself, reaching forward and withdrawing a key in the grasp of a few articulating feathers. “Now that you are awake I am certain I can remove these. With your cooperation we may even be able to treat any injuries we did not notice before.” He chuckled nervously, tapping her chest harness with a hoof. “It would seem that we do not possess the knowledge or tools to remove your armor ourselves.” He placed the key in a hole she couldn’t see beside her head, the strap releasing and allowing her to lift her helmet from the table. “There we are. That must feel exponentially better. Now I’m sure we no longer need these restraints, so I’m going to release you in full. Just let me…” He removed the key from the hole, repositioning it in one by her left wrist after a short walk around the table. With a twist of his wing the straps were removed, Benevolent moving to her left leg, then her right.
As he moved to her right side she looked down at herself, finding her M6SOCOM pistol still secured in its holster. Apparently this creature didn’t have knowledge of what it was, or he would have removed it.
Unless he was jus unintimidated by it or too stupid to know danger when he saw it.
As he released her right wrist she flexed the joint, making certain it had full functionality before subtly undoing the securing clasp. “Last one, and then you can sit up, stand or do whatever, but I urge you strongly to stay inside of this room. You are injured and I have sworn an oath to help any living creature back to full health.” As Benevolent removed the waist restraint a flurry of motion descended upon him.
As Erin stood over the unconscious creature, firearm in hand, she allowed her forebrain to process what had happened.
As the strap pulled away she rotated onto her ass, drawing the weapon on her thigh in a singular, fluid motion. With a kick of her left leg she caught him in the jaw, striking the pressure point with the toe of her armored boot and causing him to fall unconscious. She took the attack further by rotating on her now planted left foot and delivering a flat footed kick to his wing, snapping the fragile bones and sending him flying two meters from her, impacting a table of medical instruments and casting them in every which way. She had fallen upon him, weapon raised and finger on the trigger, ensuring he was incapacitated before checking his neck for a pulse.
Evade. Resist.
That was her objective now, and she was going to fight for her freedom and survival if it meant the death of everyone and everything that got in her way.
Once more, mid-brain activity gave way to fore-brain thought as what had just transpired processed through Erin’s head.
She had burst from the treatment room’s doors and into a waiting room filled with horses and strange hoofed bipedal creatures. Another winged horse, like the doctor only much larger, approached her, quickly closing the distance only to be met with violent reaction. Deftly she struck him in the center of his brow, her precise punch knocking the armored horse unconscious. As he fell to the floor, two of the bipedal creatures fell upon her, wielding shock-batons in their hands. Quickly she dodged under and around their swings, incapacitating them both with an axe-kick to the shoulder and a strike from the handle of her pistol. As remaining creatures began shouting and screaming in fear she took to the doors across the room, barging through them and into a gurney. The rolling bed fell over, spilling its four-legged occupant onto the floor of the hall. She pushed past two creatures in lab coats, tossing them aside before sprinting do the hall to the end. Turning left she passed through another set of doors and into yet another waiting room. Across the open space she spied two glass doors. Making haste she reached them in a short amount of time, crashing into and through the plate glass and out into the open sunlight beyond.
Now stood in the center of a large circular square, directly beside a stone fountain. The babble of the talking horses and bipedal creatures filled her ears, nearly overwhelming her as she reeled about in circles, trying to find a way to escape the alien city of white stone and gold.
“Halt! Go no further Creature!”
Erin turned to face the opposer, striking a stable, tall stance. Before her, maybe ten meters away was a bipedal creature with wings. It sported a hooded green cloak on its back, brandishing a wooden bow drawn and loaded with steel tipped arrow. Instinctively she raised her pistol, taking aim at the creature’s hand before firing. The flash startled a horse next to her; the thwip of the weapon firing just before the creature before her fell back clutching its hand.
Swiftly she turned on her heel, making full speed down the cobblestone street. Moments before she had spotted a gate down the road. She took her exit, knowing that it wouldn’t stay clear for long. As she neared, more guards took to arms before her, barring her path through the opening in the massive wall surrounding the city.
“Stop! Or we will fire on you!”
She located the source of the demand; a gold armored white creature with blue hair and tail behind the archer line. She paid no head to his warning, continuing her mad dash to the doors.
“Dammit. FIRE!” The command came down and none hesitated, but neither did Erin. She raised her weapon, firing the remainder of her silenced clip into the archers. Each round struck home, and each a non-lethal wound. The archers fell, eight of twelve, each clutching extremities as they cried out in pain. Several of the arrows continued to fly true though, one striking her shoulder, another her chest. The shoulder hit deflected off her pauldron, but the chest hit stuck in her armor. As she reached a meter distant she leapt, axeling over the line of wounded archers and the spear-wielding captain before landing not a foot behind them. Without time for pause she continued her sprint, exiting the city and diving into the dense trees beyond, just left of the road.
“Captain Armor,” one of the uninjured archers said. “What was that?” The captain huffed through teeth clenched in frustration, bands of saliva flying from the force as he turned to watch the brush settle from its rude interruption.
“I don’t know,” he said, loud enough for all of them to hear. “But I know we can let it escape into Equestria. It’s too dangerous.” He turned back to his soldiers, looking over the scene. Eight if his stallions lay wounded, but not mortally so. Several civilians had come to the aid, now tending as best they could to the wounded. His eyes fell upon the remaining guards at his disposal, four of the best archers he knew. They were each near or at seen feet tall, muscular and swift as eagles. “Get yourselves to the hospital,” he said to the wounded. “You’ve earned a bit of rest today. As for you four,” he motioned with his spear to the remaining archers before pointing the blade back over his shoulder. “We have to hunt that thing down and bring it back. Celestia will want to know who caused this.”
...
Appleoosa is a quiet saloon town, more than happy to spend it’s days serving salt licks, Apple Whiskey and water to passers-by in the dry and expansive frontier. Appleoosans go about their day tending to their various jobs and professions, and when their shift comes up, tending to the massive orchard that they all pull their food and livelihood from. True, if anything happened to the apple orchard outside town, the settlement would fall apart.
And that is exactly what was happening.
In the sky above the orchard floated a monstrous craft, nearly 2 kilometers in length. As it slowly neared the town, an immensely powerful beam of supercharged plasma streaming down from the bulge in its center. Light from the beam danced over the violet carapace of the ship, casting an eerie flowing glow of blue green in the night sky. All around the ship and surrounding areas, Banshee and Seraph craft bombarded the land, supporting the army of Grunts, Jackals and Brutes that marched from the bays of Phantom and Spirit dropships. Plasma fire and brute weapons launched devastating projectiles at the Appleoosans and Buffalo natives that fought back to try in a feeble attempt to save their precious food source.
“The attack is going well,” A Brute Chieftain growled in his native tongue as he watched the slaughter play out before him. “Soon this world will be ours, and we shall have yet another colony dedicated to the gods!” The Chieftain’s Honor Guard shouted in agreement and praise as a roaring filled the air. In a blur of motion and enormous plumes of dust, four Scarab’s had dropped from the sky, slowly hefting their bulk up until they were once more properly standing. Sluggishly they moved until they faced the now retreating crowd of horses and bison, firing huge globs of the burning plasma from the cannons on their backs.
On the ground the forces rallied around a lone Stallion wielding a lever action rifle, following him as he lead the retreat to the town where they could ready a more effective, yet equally as feeble, defense. “C’mon,” he shouted over the fire. “We gotta get back to the town and call for reinforcement!” He waved his compatriots forward, joined by two other stallions that were similarly armed. As his fellow settlers scrambled up the hill he shouldered his rifle, cocking the lever before firing on the advancing wave of small blue skinned creatures. Each round launched downrange struck home in their necks and heads, the only exposed areas he could find.
“We gotta fall back!” One of the stallions shouted over his on weapons-fire. “We can’t hold this hillside on our own!” The former glanced to the latter as he reloaded his rifle.
“We gotta give these ponies enough time to get to the town, and I don’t know ‘bout you partner,” He cocked his rifle, holding it at his hip. “But I plan on taking as many of these motherless monster’s with me as I can if I’m gonna die tonight.” The stallion beside him nodded once, a look of determination setting into his face as he returned fire on the enemy. Step by step the trio staved off the enemy as they retreated slowly, holding the hillside as long as their ammunition reserves would let them before turning tail and fleeing toward the town.
They sprinted across the canyon pass as quickly as they could, easily losing any trailing Grunts and Brutes at a dead sprint of fifty kilometers per hour; but they still heard footfalls behind them. The lead stallion looked back, spying a contingent of bird-headed aliens hot on their hooves. With a few quickly issued hand signals the trio split down a three-way fork in the pass, the following Jackals separating to chase each one down.
“Powderkeg, can you hear me on this dern thing?” The stallion held a radio in his hand, stumbling slightly as his Stetson fell of his head. He reached back quickly enough to grab the falling felt article, cramming it back onto his head. “Dammit you old coot! Pick up your radio!” He ducked as a glowing shard of crystal sailed past where his head had been, narrowly avoiding death for the thousandth time that night. “Ugh, I'm getting to old fer this stuff.” The radio hissed static as plasma and needles continued to sail past and around him, the stallion grasping a revolver at his side in his right hand and emptying the chamber behind him. He heard several screams from the aliens behind him; satisfied he had gotten some in his blind-fire.
“Hello?” The radio chirped, the voice sounding rather elderly if that’s any kind of description. “Darn contraption. Hello! Is this thing on?” The stallion lifted his radio, keying the button before firing a round from his rifle behind him.
“Keg! Thank Celestia!”
“Yeah its ol’ Kegger. Whatcha need Braeburn?”
About a Kilometer up the pass a gray maned stallion was splicing thick wires into barrels, hooked onto the canyon wall by a series of ropes and pins. He hummed a merry tune as he worked, setting a trap to collapse the pass on anyone that followed too close to the ponies. “Kegger, do you have the welcome mat laid out? We got a helluva lot of guests commin’ to the party!” Powderkeg capped the wired with black tape, climbing back into a basket before pulling himself up with a pulley.
“Yer dern tootin I do!” He drawled, climbing out of the basket as it reached the lip of the cliff side. “I reckon this’ll be a bigger bang than any Sun Celebration them Canterlot snobs have ever put on. Damn fine work if I do say so.” He walked casually along the canyon side, stopping when he reached a plunger to raise a set of binoculars. “And it looks like I got done just in time too.” He whistled through his teeth as he saw the crowd trailing Braeburn and his companions, hooting like an owl as he spied the massive Scarabs plowing their way into the pass. “What kinda shitpot did you stir to get them monsters after ya?”
“Never mind that!” Braeburn said as he rejoined the other two runners. “Just blow the darn pass when we get by ya, hear?” Keg shook his head, chuckling to himself with giddy excitement.
“Shew! This reminds me of the griffin wars!” he crouched down, sitting on his haunches as he took the plunger’s handles in his hands. With a rebel yell to shame all he pushed the plunger down, Braeburn and his partners barely passing the blast site before the fifty one-hundred pound barrels of blasting powder ignited. The Jackals skidded to a halt as the fire burst overhead, Squawking and squalling as they fled from the falling boulders and enormous slabs of sandstone that crashed down upon them. “That’ll teach ya ta mess with Appleoosa! YEEEEEEE-HAAAAWWW!”
...
Erin crashed through the undergrowth, noisily making her way along to the west. Night had fallen, and even though she knew she was being hunted, she knew they wouldn’t be able to hear her over the deluge that had unleashed itself upon her. After all, If rain could obscure her from a Brute, then these horse creatures surely wouldn’t find her by sound. She slowed her pace as she tripped over a vine, swearing as she freed her boot from the green tendril. She growled in frustration as she fell backwards, her armored shin stuck knee deep in muck; this is why she hated jungles. After minutes of pulling and twisting, failed and feeble looking attempts to free herself from her predicament, she simply fell onto her back.
“I hate this planet.” She mumbled to herself as the rain beat down upon her. She huffed a sigh, licking her teeth as she quietly wished she had a hydro-pack, some food.
A cigarette. By all the religious deities she wished she had a cigarette.
But all that was left on the ship.
She let her head fall to the left, spotting a massive letter V on a plate of Titanium-A Battleplate.
Action stations! All ORB personnel to combat areas. We have encountered a Brute fleet over world Sigma-Phi-three. Fleet Admiral Weston had ordered engagement and we are moving to fire. Let’s kick some ass!
Erin remembered the transmission from the rookie crewman on the gunnery computer of the Vengeance, The Paris class Frigate she was on during the firefight.
“Just a kid…”
She shook her head, disgusted that he had to die the way he did.
Erin was lain back in her pod, waiting on the rest of her squad to get to the launch bay for the drop. Se had already preloaded her weapons slots and the compartment under her seat with ammo and supplies, and was idly chewing on the butt of an Eridanius Select menthol cigarette. As the ship rocked from explosions off the port hull, Erin flipped through her photo albums, her VISR up-link allowing her unrestricted access to fleet wide files. She had stopped on a particular image of a couple kissing. A blond with pale skin and ruby lips, the other a raven-haired beauty with tanned skin and half lidded brown eyes. She was shaken from bittersweet memory as an explosion ripped through the Vengeance, another following soon after before fire tore the bay in half.
“Don’t move.”
Erin blinked twice, shifting her chin down to have the point of a spear tap on the glass of her visor. She opened her hands, raising them until they hovered beside her helmet. The spear pushed against her visor, causing her to stop all motion.
“I said, be still.” Five shadows hovered over her, one behind the spear, the other four holding knocked arrows at full draw. With the twist of her wrist an LED blinked on, projecting a cone of red light at her captors. Before her stood four of the bipedal horse creatures, the spearman’s hoof planted firmly on her chest to hold her in place. “Comet, radio White Tower. We got it.”
“I'm a her,” she said, startling the four archers slightly with her voice. “Not an it. And I would appreciate it if you would take your spear and shove it somewhere other than my visor.” The white creature snorted angrily, lowering the tip to her throat. Erin closed her hands to her helmet slowly, as not to provoke them further, sliding her thumbs into the grooves along the jaw-line of the article. Pushing in two buttons she pulled the helmet from her head, dropping it by her side with a relieved sigh. “Better.” Two of the archers stared at her with curiosity, the spearman unfazed as another archer’s white cheeks flushed slightly. “Don't get any ideas bub” She glowered at him with malice, the creature cowing slightly before steeling himself and taking aim on her face once more.
“This is Fleetwing. We have the run-away.” Her eyes traveled up and to the right, spotting an archer with a handheld radio. He was holding the device to his ear, listening to the quiet chatter intently. His body became stiff as the transmission continued, turning to reveal his face a mixture of fear, sorrow and shock. “Captain,” he said, holding the radio out and turning a dial op with his thumb. “Appleoosa’s been razed, sir.” The transmission was on a loop, a female voice playing over the speaker for all of them to hear.
“I bring sad news for us all, and fear for our very survival on this night. An hour ago my sister and I received word from a runner that Appleoosa, the settlement on the western frontier, was under attack from an alien force. The report stated that they fell from the sky in a large craft, an army of millions descending from within, along with heavily armored vehicles, aerial craft and monstrous machines. The pioneers fought bravely, defeating many, but they quickly ran out of ammunition. Without Mage ranks to reinforce them the town was taken, prisoners captured and murdered in cold blood. An advanced scout reported thirty minutes ago that the settlement was burned to the ground, and everything for a mile in all directions was burned to glass. I ask that we all take a moment to honor our fallen brothers and sisters tonight, and pray that we can route these enemies before their fate is also ours.”
